This script is dedicated to the memory of Archbishop Oscar Romero SJ, an innocent who fell under an assassin’s bullet for his belief that justice was more dangerous than a thief. May his dedication to the poor of El-Salvador never be forgotten.

FORTUNE, THIEF OF BAGHDAD

2

FADE IN:

INT. CASINO NO.14, PARIS - DAY

CLOSE ON a young guy called Adrian Luc entering Casino. His nonchalant expression and attire suggests he is a man of easy manner. Dressed in a scruffy coat, and pink scarf, he fishes into his pocket, pulls out his last one hundred euro note, and a tiny ivory ball. KISSES his fist and smiles. Life is all a big gamble.

INT. REPUBLICAN PALACE, BAGHDAD - NIGHT

A feast is being celebrated one year after the dictator’s arrest.

INT. AT THE BANQUET TABLE - NIGHT

…..is a young American soldier called CHAD. He is sandwiched between a drunken officer called STING RAY. A military yes man known for his biting sarcasm, and a woman, called EUROPE. A shiite with wizened eyes and bright red lips. A bounty of food is laid out before the guests, the champagne is flowing and good will is thick in the air.

Sting Ray picks up the champagne bottle, pours himself another glass. CLOSE ON Chad talking soberly to Europe.

CHAD The tribes aren’t happy. They’re no longer protesting quietly but are shouting insults against us.

EUROPE Leave politics alone. There’s more interesting talk of late like the intrepid thief Fortune, who’s holding sway over one half of Baghdad.

Sting Ray all ears, has picked up the thread of the exchange between Chad and Europe returns the champagne bottle to the iced bucket, and gives a wry smile.

STING RAY What did you say? I wasn’t listening to the conversation. If you would be kind enough to repeat what you said.

EUROPE (cont’d) I was saying that the thief Fortune has more conviction, enthusiasm and devotion to Baghdad than all of the West’s devotion put together. 3

STING RAY (cont’d) But Europe, does the thief have the fanaticism to take the place of all the virtues of democracy whom you know to be a master legislator?

EUROPE (cont’d) I can’t say, but Fortune is highly ambitious and the personification of equality.

STING RAY (cont’d) Do you realise what you are saying has a very strong revolutionary scent. But I excuse you, after all you are the Shiite underclass and cannot be free from the spice of the old falafel.

He rises from the table and wanders off into the crowd. Europe shrinks back, glances around the room, draws Chad to one side.

EUROPE (cont’d) Can I trust you with a secret?

Chad nods thoughtfully. Europe LEANS in.

You must get a message to the thief Fortune. Tell him that on behalf of the people of Baghdad I would like to thank him for his services and for that there is gold to be uncovered.

STING RAY

…….intimate encounter catches his attention.

CHAD (cont’d) (nervously) It’s true that as a data specialist I am privy to many secrets but the identity of the thief is a mystery to me as much as he is to everyone. I would urge you not to get yourself mixed up in criminal matters.

Immediately behind Europe comes the distinct RATTLE of keys.

MYSTERY VOICE Fortune wishes to meet you.

Europe turns round, flustered. No one is there.

4

Chad now feeling restless and uneasy. The pang of remorse he feels for having enlisted to serve his country is growing. He leaves the party.

INT. OFFICE - NIGHT

Chad in his cubicle, flicks on his computer screen. Switches on his email program, looks rapidly for one address: [email protected] and types an email.

Then…… the door bursts wide open. Sting Ray enters, accompanied by three soldiers. He advances toward the computer screen and reads the email.

STING RAY If you have some personal grievance against the United States Government there are better ways of dealing with it. How such a low serviceman can be so arrogant astounds me. You’re under arrest for treason.

EXT. A THIEF IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, BAGHDAD - DAY

LATERALLY TRACKING the screeching siren of a US army vehicle, shaping a course west, then south.

At the wheel is ZOLTAN, Chief of the Secret Police chasing the thief FORTUNE who has jumped from the window of the third floor’s Ministry of Justice.

Stolen, a cashbox worth ten million dollars from Baghdad’s Treasury, the property of the United States Government.

INT. SIDE ALLEY - DAY

The thief SURGES round a corner, gripping hard on the cashbox, RACES down the avenue, pausing momentarily at the howling Apache helicopter overhead.

At alley’s entrance, a young street URCHIN wearing a UNICEF badge selling trinkets, witnesses the chase, SHOUTS to the police vehicle.

URCHIN Police! police! thief!….down the avenue!

The street urchin gives CHASE, the thief swings off speed, STUMBLES, losing the grip on the cashbox. It BURSTS open, bundles of cash scatter across the road.

The street urchin DIVES on the cashbox, SCOOPS up the cash, then disappears. 5

Moments later, the police car careens into the avenue blocking the thief’s path. A door swings open. Zoltan steps out of the car, calmly smoking a cigarette.

ZOLTAN Put your hands in the air and turn around. Do it gently. My finger is on the trigger.

Zoltan’s right hand slides down to his gun holster. The thief puts up no resistance, coolly turns around.

Zoltan butts out his cigarette, pushes back his black beret and steps forward.

Where’s the cash box?

He runs his left hand over the thief. After a few seconds he is unimpressed. There is no cashbox.

FORTUNE Tell me comrade. How much do they pay you to betray your own people?

Zoltan’s eyes widen. Dressed in loose black plants and shirt, a black patch is strapped to Fortune’s right eye. The thief is hideous in appearance. Difficult to determine if it is man or a woman.

Fortune takes a bold step forward, body erect, courage evident.

You understand that I have to steal don’t you?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Don’t argue with me. I always follow a job through.

FORTUNE (cont’d) To condemn me without proof. Surely a comrade could spare me some good faith?

At that moment, Zoltan finds himself hating the role he plays as an American puppet. Fortune does not have the cashbox. He feels panic.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) (stammers) It’s….it’s how the law works.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Let me go and I’ll double whatever Stone is 6

paying you for bringing me in?

Zoltan looks at Fortune a moment, eyes probing trying to read the thief’s mind. The thief deserves to live for mastering such a clever plan by stealing the cash in broad daylight and somehow disposing of it before being caught.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Quick, off with you.

The thief turns, makes a dash down the avenue looking back once over the shoulder flashing Zoltan a glance of approval.

He makes no attempt to go after Fortune. Instead he shakes his head realizing he has been robbed of his wits.

INT. LE EMPORIUM, A SECOND HAND CLOTHING STORE - DAY

Fortune enters. In the corner of the store we see an open window. The eyes search into its dark corners and is momentarily blinded by a flashlight. Gradually vision returns as the beam of the flashlight swings away enabling the thief to catch sight of the street urchin. In his hand is the cashbox.

STREET URCHIN Can the orphanage have ice cream?

Fortune looks amused.

FORTUNE You have earned the privilege.

Fortune grips the cold metallic object like a mother protecting an infant. The halcyon spirit unbreakable.

EXT. A DESERTED STREET BAGHDAD – NIGHT

We see an old woman called Asia walking purposefully out of the Temple Marketplace. Her head is covered in a worn cashmere shawl and, she is carrying a package wrapped in a dirty rag.

INT. MOUTH OF THE CITY’S UNDERGROUND TUNNELS - NIGHT

At tunnel’s edge a light comes from a lamp inside the cave, forcing her head to turn sharply.

ASIA’S P.O.V - a figure in the darkness. She starts to RUN, reaches a door and, begins POUNDING wildly on it until it swings open.

INT. RESISTANCE HIDEOUT 7

Asia enters. A youngish spectacled man in a tattered suit shuts the door behind her. He is an army SURGEON of the old Republican guard working for Baghdad’s resistance against the American invaders under the Command of General Dallas Stone.

INT. A BANDIT’S LAIR - NIGHT

A group of wounded civilians lie on mattresses. Their groans have little effect on the surgeon, immune to the horrors of war.

SURGEON Have you been followed?

ASIA I’m afraid so.

SURGEON (cont’d) It could be a Shiite spy?

ASIA (cont’d) Right now that’s not important.

Asia hands the surgeon the package. He RIPS off the dirty cloth and lets it fall on the ground. Spends a few moments studying the small plastic box that contains valuable antibiotics and morphine.

SURGEON (cont’d) It’s not enough.

The surgeon strides across the room with the box and KNEELS down beside a wounded boy. He is SHRIEKING in agony, apologizes for the noise. The surgeon FLIPS open the box, removes a syringe and, fills it with morphine then in half doses he begins administering the medicine.

Outside an explosion SHAKES the tunnel. Bits of concrete drop down from the ceiling on the ground near Asia.

ASIA (cont’d) I wasn’t able to get the amount you asked for. The Americans have taken everything for themselves. Giant crates of provisions are coming from the United States, enormous supplies of food, medicine, tobacco but nothing for Iraqis. They ship everything to their bases. Washington has classified everything as top secret. Nobody knows what’s going on.

8

The surgeon walks to a small sink in the shadows of the room, WASHES his bloody hands and the surgical instruments under the running water.

SURGEON (cont’d) If you don’t get your hands on more supplies we’re done for. Why not try the black market?

ASIA (cont’d) It’s no use to us. Cash no longer has any value in Baghdad. Everybody wants gold. I’ve used up nearly everything I have just to get what you have.

The surgeon becomes enraged.

SURGEON (cont’d) It doesn’t have to be like this.

ASIA (cont’d) (defensively) What do you mean?

SURGEON (cont’d) Stop lavishing vast sums of money on that blockhead son of yours. If you don’t restrain him, the only winner will be the Bank of France.

ASIA (cont’d) You don’t understand how it feels to be a mother.

SURGEON (cont’d) I know how it feels to be used.

Several long beats pass before someone RAPS on the door and the two look at each other. Next, the door OPENS. We see Europe. She quickly SIZES up the room.

EUROPE Tonight I’m not sorry to be in the company of two such brave people. Think of me as a comrade. I’ve come for information.

The surgeon looks at Europe, she in turn observes the man is wearing the coat of an army surgeon.

EUROPE (cont’d) Forgive me doctor but I’m here to speak to your colleague. 9

She turns to Asia.

Your name is Asia, a clothing vendor at the Temple Marketplace?

Asia tightens her shawl around her head, listens to the facts revealed by the stranger, a look of alarm.

You gave refuge to the thief of Baghdad who escaped miraculously from the Iraqi Secret Police?

Given the accurate set of accounts there is little use in denying the truth.

ASIA So far so good.

EUROPE (cont’d) Listen to me. I have information that I think the thief might be interested in.

ASIA (cont’d) Who are you?

EUROPE (cont’d) My name is Europe. I am editor of the Baghdad Tribune.

ASIA (cont’d) I’m sorry, even if I could help you what makes you think I would?

Europe’s eyes scan the room.

EUROPE (cont’d) Very well. I can see you need time to consider my proposition. Know that what information I have will save these poor souls. I must find Fortune. I don’t care how long it takes. You’ll hear from me again soon.

Asia steps aside. Europe leaves. Torn between curiosity and self-interest, she turns to the surgeon for his diagnosis.

ASIA (cont’d) Do we need to find new digs?

SURGEON (cont’d) 10

It’s too soon to know, only there is one reassuring truth in this. Fortune favors the bold.

EXT. LEPTIS MAGNA, LIBYA – DAY

In a picturesque setting of Villa Silin, we see freelance photographer JACQUES ROTHSCHILD photographing a Carthage residence. It is a rare moment of tranquility in the life of a war correspondent.

A few feet away Sting Ray. Jacques unaware of the troublesome portent who is eyeing him suspiciously. He decides to approach Jacques.

STING RAY (friendly) Good afternoon. What are you doing?

Jacques reaches around his neck, flashes his metallic I.D. badge .

JACQUES I’m a photographer with French National Geographic. I’m doing an article on ancient Carthage.

Sting Ray smiles thinly, recognizes the name. Glances at the camera, speaks his next words carefully.

STING RAY (cont’d) There is nothing here but evil spirits.

The desert wind blows across the vast expanse of Libya’s sand dunes. Jacques begins losing vision, decides to call it a day.

JACQUES (cont’d) (patiently) My work here is done.

He returns to his vehicle. Gets behind the wheel, notices Sting Ray staring straight ahead through the wind shield of his car. He sets his camera down on the seat, and TURNS over the ignition.

CAMP HELLFIRE – DAY

A blistering desert, 180 miles north of Baghdad. The compound is under the control of Commander Dallas Stone; tall, bull shouldered with a twitching of the left cheek.

11

EXT. TERRACE – DAY

Looking northwards from the center tower, Commander Stone stands on the terrace, closes his eyes briefly, finds calm in the shimmering sand dunes below. In that same motion Sting Ray approaches who halts and salutes.

STONE At ease Sting Ray. Give me full details if you will. Begin at the beginning. You know how I like order in all things.

Sting Ray averts his gaze, afraid of the Republican imperialist and his fanaticism for money and religion.

STING RAY Sir, I have discovered the mastermind behind the stolen wages.

STONE (cont’d) The flock is being poisoned. Another conspirator against the United States of America.

Sting Ray looks square at Stone.

STING RAY (cont’d) I’m afraid so. We have intercepted a sizzler of an email that was sent to a man by the name of Adrian Luc. A meddlesome poet who writes on occasion for the Al- Jazeera news bureau and whom we suspect has been masquerading as the thief Fortune. He resides in Paris and is well known in society circles splashing around large sums of cash at roulette tables. Here is the letter of denunciation to our democratic cause.

We sense Stone’s mood darkening, as he reads the email.

Adrian, We have never met but I know of your reputation. Your blistering attacks on Washington makes me believe it is worth the risk. Written on this email is a five digit code. It will give you access to Iraq’s Treasury, a source of great power through its funds used to pay the soldier’s wages. Fortune is in your hands. Yours, Chad 48103

12

STONE (cont’d) So our thief is French. Why does that not surprise me.

STING RAY (cont’d) There is little feeling in France for our cause.

STONE (cont’d) Yes, I know. Nabbing him at the bureau of Al-Jazeera would be foolish for obvious reasons.

STING RAY (cont’d) There might be another way. The only time the poet leaves the bureau is to visit a Dominican priest in the first Arrondissement. Each Wednesday he arrives punctually at the Abbey at 6pm. We’ve done a background check on the priest but so far can’t find anything.

STONE (cont’d) (amused) So a libertine in cahoots with a Catholic priest. A queer set of affairs. To outsmart a hostile country like France we will need to be direct that way before they realise anything has happened we’ll be gone.

Sting Ray salutes his superior officer, hesitates.

STONE (cont’d) What is it?

STING RAY (cont’d) (hesitant) Whilst I was recruiting I spotted a French photographer at the Leptis Magna ruins.

Stone considered this.

STONE (cont’d) So, it’s a world heritage site. But if you’re unsure have him picked up. We can’t be too careful.

Suddenly a messenger bursts into the room. Eyes on Sting Ray, WHISPERS something in his ear.

STING RAY (cont’d) Sir, we’re in luck. Adrian Luc has made an 13

unscheduled visit to the Abbey. Give the order and Boeing can have me in Paris within the hour.

INT. TENTH ARRONDISSEMENT, PARIS - NIGHT

Situated at the far end of the church grounds is a rundown fief, home to a toupee wearing priest, FATHER STAS DEPAUL OP, plump, good humored and bellicose.

INT. THE ABBEY’S CELLAR - NIGHT

Father is in the basement cavorting with his wine collection. Reaching out, he pulls the bottle from the rack. Simultaneously the doorbell shrieks, makes him JUMP. He SHOVES the bottle under his arm and climbs the staircase.

INT. HALLWAY

Panting heavily, Father lays his hand on the front door, opens it and….

INT. ABBEY FOYER - NIGHT

Is face to face with Adrian Luc, dressed in his iconic scruffy coat and pink scarf, a black leather satchel is slung across his shoulder.

ADRIAN (smiling) Good evening.

Adrian enters the gloomy vestibule, carrying an abundance of pretty gift wrapped boxes. They KISS and Father glances briefly at the gifts.

FATHER You’ve had good luck on the roulette tables. That’s the second time this week.

Adrian nods, abashed.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Understand Father, God works in mysterious ways.

INT. ABBEY HALL - NIGHT

Adrian follows Father down the hallway juggling the handful of gifts.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT 14

Easily, Adrian SITS down and sets the gifts on the table. He removes his satchel and, drops it onto the floor.

Father sets the bottle of wine in the centre of the table. Adrian catches the scent of a casserole simmering on the stovetop.

ADRIAN (cont’d) mmm …..smells good.

For the second time, Father eyes the pretty boxes.

Happy birthday you sexy old devil.

Father, abashed sits down, centers his toupee and begins unwrapping the gifts.

FATHER (cont’d) I don’t know what to say.

A monogrammed Luis Vuitton, a black Armani watch, a red Burberry wallet and a gold colored iPhone 5s, shirts, leather goods and cologne are spread out before him.

Father pulls the corkscrew from his cassock pocket, pops the cork. He POURS two glasses of wine. Adrian RAISES his glass, makes a toast. Glasses CLINK.

ADRIAN (cont’d) How old are you exactly?

FATHER (cont’d) (laughs) Fifty six and in fine form.

He sets his glass down, RISES from the table, grabs hold of the casserole pot and sets it down on the table. Father dishes up two bowls, adds a sprig of parsley.

Watch out this is hot.

He ties a white napkin around his neck. Adrian unfolds his, his movements are effeminate. He places it on his knee. Both men shovel down the food.

Afterwards, Adrian PUSHES the satchel across the table.

ADRIAN (cont’d) I think you might be interested in……...

15

Father cuts him off sharply, casts a suspicious glance at the kitchen window.

FATHER (cont’d) They think they’re invisible or I’m stupid. I can’t work out which it is. A black four wheel drive has been parked in front of the church for the past few hours.

ADRIAN (cont’d) More paranoia from the intelligence community.

Father RISES from his chair, draws the curtains across the window. Returns to his chair, UNZIPS the satchel, and lifts out an email. Holds it under his nose, notes the sender is someone called Chad.

You still have Fortune’s absolute devotion. Even after all these years. This came to me a few days ago.

Father throws off the serviette. Shoves one hand in his cassock pocket and presses his finger firmly against the end of a ball point pen. The clicking of the pen timed against each thought. He considers the email dispassionately.

FATHER (cont’d) Fortune’s escapades are helping to pull Iraq out of Washington’s orbit. Ten million dollars worth of kickbacks from smuggling operations has built up strength in the resistance. Interpol will be very interested in this email.

He waves the email in the air.

How did she take the news her only son was leaving Baghdad?

ADRIAN (cont’d) Not very well I’m afraid. We’re no longer on speaking terms.

FATHER (cont’d) What do you mean?

ADRIAN (cont’d) I got the usual story. She accused me of abandoning her like my father had twenty five years ago.

16

FATHER (cont’d) Oh dear. That isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be blamed for the fact that your father needed to grow up. Give her time she’ll come round.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Unfortunately, it doesn’t bind me more than I am bound. But it does bind you.

FATHER (cont’d) To what?

ADRIAN (cont’d) To exposing the unlawfulness of this war.

FATHER (cont’d) How?

ADRIAN (cont’d) After I received the email I began investigating some leads I dug up. Baghdad is under the control of a guy named Dallas Stone. A fanatic who specializes in kidnapping and torture. Let’s say, Stone outsources it to privately run militias.

FATHER (cont’d) The Iraq war is making less and less sense to me. Still, I’m hardly surprised. When you’re in a profession where your job is to kill people, you start to get a little warped. I suppose Stone sees himself as a cross between a lawman and, a priest. How can I help?

Adrian’s throat tightens, realizing that the priest, after all these years had kept his promise to the old moll, and her comrades. If she needed him he would be there.

ADRIAN (cont’d) There’s talk of gold. Five hundred billion to be precise.

Father looks square at Adrian, staggered. If it’s true, this is the jackpot.

FATHER (cont’d) That’s a tidy sum.

ADRIAN (cont’d) America has become distracted by a secret 17

treasure said to have disappeared after the overthrow of the Hashemite monarchy. Fortune wants to get her hands on it and, the only way she can is with your expertise.

FATHER (cont’d) What do I know about hijacking gold?

ADRIAN (cont’d) You did once.

FATHER (cont’d) (angrily) Don’t torment me about my past!

Uneasily, Father begins rubbing the top of his head, the toupee becoming slightly askew.

ADRIAN (cont’d) You’ve always said you want to take the Church to the streets. Here’s a chance to make changes without directly attacking the law.

In that same motion comes a loud THUMPING at the kitchen door. Father JUMPS up and, opens the door wide. He is met by Old DEVEREAUX, his housekeeper of two decades, in a dire state.

DEVEREAUX Oh sir, fly quick.

Devereaux is shaking his hands wildly about in the air.

FATHER (cont’d) Fly, for what purpose?

DEVEREAUX (cont’d) The presbytery is full of the guards of the State.

FATHER (cont’d) What are you talking about old man?

DEVEREUX (cont’d) They want to arrest you.

FATHER (cont’d) Arrest me. For what?

18

DEVEREAUX (cont’d) Theft of treasury funds.

HALLWAY

Father pushes past Old Devereaux, almost tripping on his cassock and, starts down the presbytery hallway.

INT. FOYER - NIGHT

Sting Ray, decked out in fatigues, appears in the doorframe carrying a gun. LATERALLY TRACKING several men in black ski masks pouring in after him, rifles drawn. They level their guns on Father.

STING RAY In the name of the United States of America you are under arrest.

FATHER (cont’d) Arrest me comrade. What the hell have I done?

STING RAY (cont’d) That’s no affair of mine priest. You will explain all that before your judges.

Sting Ray’s eyes catapult across the vestibule.

STING RAY (cont’d) Where’s your boyfriend?

The question provokes irresistible LAUGHTER from Father.

FATHER (cont’d) Ah my boyfriend! I’m afraid….. he stood me up.

Sting Ray gives a signal. Two men STEP forward and seize Father’s arms. The remainder split into two groups. One half fans out and start searching the ground level, inching their way down the corridor just as…..

Adrian appears in the corridor; arms raised and a rifle levelled at his back.

Sting Ray retrieves a hypodermic needle from a tiny tote bag strapped to his belt and, plunges the syringe into Adrian’s neck.

STING RAY (cont’d) Just relax and leave everything to me. Adrian goes limp and his body falls to the floor. 19

Father LUNGES at Sting Ray, but is restrained by the two men. Sting Ray repeats the action. It takes less than a second for Father to go limp.

Adrian and Father are picked up off the floor and bundled into a black four wheel drive.

INT. STUDY - DAY

CLOSE ON Devereaux, punching in several digits on Father’s red telephone. The receiver picks up.

RECEIVER V.O (gruffly) Allo.

DEVEREUX Is this Pierre Page, Interpol’s Station Chief?

V.O. Oui. To whom am I speaking?

DEVEREUX (cont’d) My name is Devereaux. I apologise for the intrusion but I was given your number in case of an emergency. I’m afraid I have a message to call in.

PAGE(cont’d) Yes.

Devereaux lowers his voice, and after several beats.

DEVEREUX (cont’d) Your rabbit has been snared.

It is a CIPHER code connected to the abduction of an active Interpol officer.

PAGE (cont’d) You’ve done the right thing. I know where you are. I’ll send a car over. You aren’t safe.

INT. CAFÉ ZANZIBAR – DAY

Jacques Rothschild is sitting at a small booth in the far corner. A few minutes later a newspaper is thrown down in front of him. Is joined by his friend, MUSTAFA.

A waiter appears, they order coffee. 20

MUSTAFA Seen this morning paper?

Mustafa lights a cigarette. The waiter returns, sets the coffees down. Jacques takes a sip, places the cup down and, scans the headlines.

Iraqi insurgents leave dozens dead in wave of attacks.

JACQUES Christ what a mess.

Mustafa drags on his cigarette.

MUSTAFA (cont’d) I’d love to get back home, instead I’m stuck here photographing a 1700 year old Roman emperor.

He butts out his cigarette, stares fixedly at Jacques.

What’s with the bling? You look like one of Qadaffi’s bodyguards.

Jacques slides his hand around his neck. We glimpse what looks like a diamond necklace under his shirt collar.

JACQUES (cont’d) It’s collateral.

MUSTAFA (cont’d) Collateral for what? Getting your sorry arse inside Baghdad.

Jacques shrugs, evasive.

It’s no secret bloodletting is a favourite American sport and with the oil it’s in their strategic interests. Trouble is, can you prove it?

JACQUES (cont’d) Damn near did that’s why I was thrown out of News Limited’s head office in New York.

MUSTAFA (cont’d) (surprised) You were thrown out?

JACQUES (cont’d) Yep. Quite unceremoniously after a 21

freelance job I did for them turned up some less than flattering evidence on tortured detainees.

MUSTAFA (cont’d) Sounds like the work of Colonel Dallas Stone. A religious fanatic. Trained counter insurgency commandos in Central America, they were known to carry out extreme abuses of human rights.

Mustafa sets his coffee down on the table.

Ridding the world of Saddam Hussein was only a smokescreen. Something tells me Washington has its own agenda.

A tall, stunning WOMAN casually dressed approaches the table.

WOMAN (warmly) Jacques Rothschild? My name is Fatimah Abbah.

They shake hands

JACQUES (cont’d) Have we met?

WOMAN (cont’d) No. I suppose you could call me a fan.

Jacques smiles wryly.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Can we talk?

Her eyes flick between Mustafa and Jacques.

Alone.

Jacques senses something vaguely familiar about her.

JACQUES (cont’d) Saudi Intelligence. Agent Abbah.

Fatimah shrugs.

FATIMAH (cont’d) No. Zanir is my sister.

Jacques invites her to sit down. Mustafa, beginning to feel like the third wheel, RISES to leave but first takes her hand. 22

MUSTAFA (cont’d) One so lovely should not waste time on meaningless pursuits.

Kisses her hand and, leaves the cafe.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I’m sorry about your friend. But I couldn’t risk it.

JACQUES (cont’d) Mustafa’s ego can take it. How did you know where to find me?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Your father is Baron de Rothschild?

Jacques mouth tightens. Feels cornered.

JACQUES (cont’d) You’ve come all the way to Libya to ask me this?

FATIMAH (cont’d) I’m an investigative journalist with Al- Jazeera working out of the Paris bureau. Your father is on the board.

He relaxes a bit.

JACQUES (cont’d) Are you Saudi?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Yes, but don’t hold it against me. My family sent me abroad to advance my career. We live in the hope that one day Saudi Arabia will join the free world.

JACQUES (cont’d) Are they your hopes?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Yes, then the Americans invaded Iraq.

Jacques is suspicious.

JACQUES Why are you here?

Fatimah’s eyes harden. 23

FATIMAH (cont’d) A week ago one of Al-Jazeera’s best freelance writers disappeared. You may have have heard of him. His name is Adrian Luc.

Brief pause.

JACQUES (cont’d) Iraqi. A bit of an idealist with attitude. His poems of American imperial power in the Middle East nearly won him the pulitzer prize, gaining him a lot of enemies.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I see you know your competition.

JACQUES (cont’d) Word is he’s a serious gambler.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Visionaries are always being accused. The last time we spoke Adrian was leaving Pigalle on his way to have dinner with a friend. I’ve left several messages on his answering machine begging him to return my calls but he hasn’t responded. I think something’s happened to him.

JACQUES (cont’d) Pigalle is a purgatory for twisted freaks after dark. Perhaps this is a matter for the police.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Adrian’s a smart guy and, street wise. Not long after he arrived in Paris, he was sent an email that was scathing of a top US American Commander by the name of Dallas Stone and confided in me he was scared.

JACQUES (cont’d) How does a maverick poet with a penchant for gambling possibly threaten the United States of America?

FATIMAH (cont’d) I don’t know. Only that Adrian has a stubborn sense of fair play and believes in sticking up for the underdog. Al-Jazeera have been working around the clock to track him down but without luck. All I have to go on is a text message that was sent to me on my cellphone. 24

Fatimah fishes into her pocket and switches on her cell phone. She shows Jacques.

Your man is taken but I am there to watch over him. We will meet soon. FORTUNE, thief of Baghdad

JACQUES (cont’d) I can see you are well connected.

Fatimah looks round, studying her surrounds; a waiter, intimate couples and a handful of children.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I need your expertise. I’ve heard of your reputation. You work with great fidelity. Once you get hold of a thread, you will follow it until the end.

Jacques runs his fingers through his dark hair trying to conclude if the story is credible enough to risk confiding in her, his own concerns with the US military in Iraq and the reason he is in Libya.

JACQUES (cont’d) (impatient) What do you want from me?

Fatimah senses Jacques is unconvinced. She rises from her seat just as….

JACQUES P.O.V. - a man opposite pointing a gun from underneath he table. He JUMPS up. Struggling feet stumble over twisted arms. A shot RINGS out, shattering a light bulb in the ceiling.

Jacques KICKS the gun across the room. He grabs hold of Fatimah and pulls her through the screaming crowd.

INT. JACQUES CAR - DAY

Jacques GUNS the engine, and pulls out onto the road unaware of a white sedan following him.

FATIMAH Head to the airport. I have a private jet waiting to take us to Baghdad.

JACQUES Us? A private jet? Look I don’t know who you think you are but you are a little too 25

sure of yourself for my………………

Fatimah cuts him off.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Al-Saud women are always sure of themselves. It’s in our birth right.

JACQUES (cont’d) (annoyed, incredulous) You’re who?

FATIMAH (cont’d) I am Princess al-Fatimah Mozia Shekan, grand niece of King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia. Thirty third in line to the Crown. The smartest thing a greenhorn like you could do is stick around. Running away will make you a target for the United States. You’re not the only one who can recognise a US embassy car following us.

JACQUES (cont’d) Forget it! I won’t be intimidated into helping you, and running away only makes me look guilty.

FATIMAH (cont’d) It’s not my intention to intimidate you. But it’s yours. The gunman was taking aim at you, not me. Why would a photojournalist be the target of an assassin? What do you know that you haven’t told me? Now we are both in danger.

INT. A WAREHOUSE AT IRAQ AIRPORT - DAY

Father and Adrian, lying face down in a metal shipping container, conscious but groggy. Blood trickles down Father’s forehead, the two fat wrists pressing hard against the roof of the container.

FATHER These damned Americans have robbed me of my strength.

ADRIAN Father?

FATHER (cont’d) Of course it is. Whom did you expect. The angel Gabriel?

Father shakes his head to recover his wits. 26

FATHER (cont’d) What do you call this then?

ADRIAN (cont’d) They call it prevenue. I wrote about it and, it’s legal.

FATHER (cont’d) What in God’s name is prevenue?

ADRIAN (cont’d) Kidnapping.

FATHER (cont’d) A thief in broad daylight is more honest than this.

Outside we hear the screeching sounds of banging metal, followed by muted sounds of shuffling under loud voices.

FATHER (cont’d) I have an unpleasant suspicion that we are about to be met by the law reform committee.

The ceiling of the container cranks open and, a dozen armed guards LEVEL guns at the hostages. Sting Ray LEANS over and is coolly smoking a cigarette and flicking an ivory handled knife.

STING RAY I should have orders to kill any foreign spy instead, the United States is prepared to be lenient if you return what belongs to them.

He SHOUTS an order in Arabic. One of the guards gives the metal container a hard KICK, the sides COLLAPSE. Father RAISES his head slightly.

FATHER (cont’d) No need for the red carpet treatment. Has it occurred to you that every media outlet in France is getting ready to broadcast our pictures. It will be impossible to move us around without being noticed.

Sting Ray smiles wryly, stunned by Father’s bravado.

STING RAY (cont’d) Then my fat friend I will remove France from any future agenda and make you 27

permanent guests of Baghdad.

He sees Adrian lying perfectly still. Guesses he is unable to comprehend the predicament.

STING RAY (cont’d) Get up! Both of you.

Father’s movements are sluggish but soon gains momentum, and sees a massive cargo truck parked a few feet away. He NUDGES Adrian.

Sting Ray barks orders. Two guards GRAB the hostages under their armpits, roughly forcing them to their feet. Father’s fury is growing. His face now inches from Sting Ray’s.

FATHER (cont’d) Understand. I have the right to give no reply.

Sting Ray SHOUTS a further order and the massive rear door of the cargo truck is opened from the inside. At gunpoint the prisoners are ordered onto the truck. The heavy doors SWING shut. A guard hits the back of the vehicle. The truck moves off.

INT. TRIPOLI AIRFIELD CONTROL ROOM – DAY

We see an air traffic CONTROLLER, fingering a fat danish. He is ready to go on his tea break when the phone rings.

(SECRETARY for King Abdullah) V.O A member of the Saudi Family is about to board the King’s private jet. She will need to leave immediately.

The Controller rolls his eyes. Sets the danish down. Licks his fingertips. He picks up the phone, listens.

CONTROLLER Okay. As soon as the plane is boarded I will clear it for take off. How many passengers will be boarding?

SECRETARY I believe there are two. I want this kept quiet. Understand.

CONTROLLER (cont’d) There shouldn’t be a problem. It will only be a short flight. They’ll be on the ground in thirty minutes. 28

Hangs up the phone.

CONTROLLER (cont’d) (mutters/looks at receiver) What, no shoe shine boy?

SECRETARY V.O. What was that?

The terrified controller PUSHES the receiver firmly back into the cradle.

EXT. THE AIRFIELD - DAY

Doing almost sixty kilometers an hour, the bumper bar on Jacques’ jeep grates against the sidewalk. The doors fly open. Fatimah jumps out followed by Jacques not before grabbing his camera.

Ahead, the tarmac is crisscrossed by dozens of private jets. Fatimah points to a sleek metallic blue Airbus Executive 747.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Follow me. and then…. the wailing of police sirens. Three police vehicles converge on Jacques’ jeep. Doors swing OPEN and a squad of cops burst out onto the tarmac with guns AIMED.

FATIMAH (cont’d) We have two choices. Show good faith and give ourselves up, or get the hell out of here.

A gunshot is FIRED and a bullet barely misses the fugitives heads. Heart racing, Jacques eyes remain fixedly ahead.

JACQUES (cont’d) Maybe a return to faith isn’t now.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I was hoping you’d say that.

EXT. PLANE - DAY

Fatimah and Jacques scramble up the stairs of the 747. There is relief on their faces, they step inside the metal fuselage and the smiling stewardess immediately closes the hatch.

EXT. TARMAC - DAY 29

Awaiting ground crew remove the stairs.

INT. PLANE - DAY

The PILOT, on orders from the control tower has already begun manouvering the plane across the tarmac.

PILOT V.O Sit back and relax. We will be arriving at Baghdad airport in thirty minutes.

JACQUES (cont’d) Baghdad!

After several long beats the STEWARDESS appears and offers refresher towels.

STEWARDESS My apologies for the delay your highness but you took us by surprise.

Fatimah refreshes her face, glances at the stewardess.

FATIMAH (cont’d) My associate and I are grateful for your assistance. We have urgent business in Baghdad and I will need my Koran.

At this signal, the door of the cockpit swings OPEN and the pilot enters the cabin who has switched the airplane to auto. The stewardess steps aside, allowing him to hand Fatimah a leather bound Koran.

PILOT You will be strangers in the city of Baghdad. Let the law of Allah protect you from the assaults of fate.

The pilot and stewardess bow and return to the cockpit. Fatimah opens the Koran.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Before we turn our attention to Dallas Stone I was wondering if you would be open to conversion.

JACQUES (cont’d) You’ve got to be kidding.

Jacques confusion now giving way to anger.

30

I realize I have become a prisoner of the House of Saud but I feel I should warn you that….

Fatimah cuts him off, and begins reading the first three lines of her Koran. All of a sudden a computer screen pops up and the words Top Secret displayed in the pop up banner.

JACQUES (cont’d) (stunned) Does this have something to do with signing me up for a conversion?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Just before Adrian disappeared he told me that he had discovered the US military have resurrected an old French ritual where the principles of law do not apply.

JACQUES (cont’d) What sort of ritual?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Suspected terrorists are taken into custody without questioning and detained at an appropriate location without trial.

JACQUES (cont’d) I’ll be honest with you. I’ve heard rumors and, a lot of gossip.

FATIMAH (cont’d) What do you think?

JACQUES (cont’d) My hunch is CIA. No amount of imagination could conjure up such extraordinary theatre. I can only surmise that given the Americans have spent an entire existence on broadcasting the benefits of democracy the CIA’s oath is to keep its real agenda hidden.

FATIMAH (cont’d) What do you mean?

JACQUES (cont’d) I’m not sure.

Jacques stares pensively out of the window. Forced into a rescue mission he may never return from, a Saudi Princess, a 31

Koran and Fortune, the world’s most wanted thief is their only chance of survival.

How are we suppose too find your mysterious text messenger. On the internet?

PILOT (interruption) Seat belts please.

The executive jet dims its lights and banks a few degrees to the east. Fatimah holds firm the Koran.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I have no idea only that this is the East and like the heroes of the thousand and one nights, courage will be our good fortune.

JACQUES (cont’d) Or misfortune.

INT. PARIS, INTERPOL HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT

Interpol Chief, PIERRE PAGE is standing over his secretary. On a computer screen. She is identifying signals from Agent Stas’s smart blood tracking device.

PAGE Stay on it. We need to know his final destination. Any news from our Libyan asset?

BROUSSARD No sir. Not as yet.

Page returns to his office, sits down at his desk just as Devereaux enters accompanied by Interpol agent, Waters.

Page motions to two comfortable black leather chairs in front of his desk. Devereaux hesitates. Waters gives the old man a gentle nudge.

PAGE What is your name and occupation?

OLD DEVEREAUX They call me Old Devereux sir. I am 71 years old and, have been Father’s housekeeper for twenty years.

The housekeeper removes his black beret and crumples it in his hands. 32

PAGE (cont’d) You live in the Abbey Germain l’Auxerrois under the care of Agent Stas DePaul. Head of Smuggling, a division of Interpol?

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) Yes sir but Father’s no man of mystery to me. We at the Abbey know him distinctly as Father Stas OP, a man of God.

PAGE (cont’d) You are aware that he is an agent of the State?

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) I won’t deny it.

PAGE (cont’d) You opened the door, let the perpetrators in and aided in his kidnap.

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) It’s….it’s… false, sir.

Page picks up a photograph on his desk and holds it up to Devereaux. We see a black four wheel drive leaving the Abbey.

PAGE (cont’d) Technical Services Division downloaded it from the Abbey’s security camera. Do you recognize the car?

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) No.

Waters interrupts and shoots Page a question.

WATERS (cont’d) Surely they’d be aware of security cameras?

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) It was for your benefit sir. They wanted to make a point.

PAGE (cont’d) (angrily) Speak plainly old man!

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) It wasn’t Father they wanted. I assume it was his confidante. 33

His eyes flicker across the room.

PAGE (cont’d) What confidante?

Waters looks away and shuts his eyes fearing the agent priest and, close friend is guilty of something.

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) Father never said exactly and I didn’t like to ask. But his name is Adrian, and a regular visitor to the Abbey. They are very close. Sometimes he would stay all night, other times he leaves after dinner. There is no regular pattern to his visits. Adrian is a nice boy sir and Father’s eyes burned with passion when he was with him. But last night Father’s mood was different.

PAGE (cont’d) Different. How?

OLD DEVEREAUX (cont’d) Tense. He was never like that when Adrian was around. He was like a…..well you know.

Waters and Page trade a look.

PAGE (cont’d) A man in love.

In that same motion, the secretary bursts into the room.

SECRECTARY (cont’d) We have him Chief. The signal we’re getting is coming from somewhere in the Iraqi desert. A place called Camp Hellfire.

PAGE (cont’d) I wished it wasn’t the case but I half expected it.

WATERS (cont’d) What’s happening?

PAGE (cont’d) The old devil has pissed off the Americans again.

Page lights another cigarette. Waters stands, pours himself a glass of water from the carafe on the sideboard. Both men in 34 contemplation.

Contact our man in Libya. Tell him things have taken a turn for the worse. Meanwhile I’ll call my opposite number in Saudi Intelligence they may be able to lend a hand.

INT. STONE’S APARTMENT INSIDE TEMPLE MARKETPLACE - NIGHT

Under a dimly lit lamp, Stone is seated at his antique oak writing desk looking out of the window, sees the old hag Asia closing up for the night.

He opens his upper drawer and pulls out a bottle of Bourbon. A glass is empty on his desk and he pours himself a drink, drains it in one go.

A knock on the door deprives him of a second drink. Stone rises from his chair, walks down the narrow hallway, opens the front door to Sting Ray, who salutes his Commanding Officer.

STONE Where are our prisoners?

STING RAY They are being transported to Camp Hellfire. I am on my way to examine them.

STONE (cont’d) You’ve done well. How is their condition?

STING RAY (cont’d) The poet is scared. A fairly predictable response given that he is of an artistic mind but the priest isn’t so easily frightened.

STONE (cont’d) Give him the VIP treatment. It would be a fatal thing to be lenient in these conflicted times.

Sting Ray nods, aware torture has become the Commander’s habit.

Do you think the poet is guilty of theft or have we been too hasty?

STING RAY (cont’d) He is definitely guilty, but of what I can’t be sure. There is something weak and 35

womanish about him. Perhaps he is only a piece in the puzzle.

INT. THE GREEN ZONE – NIGHT

Inside the green zone is a quaint home covered in ivy. Commander Stone is at the front door. His whips his head from side to side before knocking. Europe opens the door looks up in surprise.

STONE I apologize but this is not a discussion to have during office hours.

Stone barges in. Europe closes the door behind him.

EUROPE You can’t come barging in here as if you own the place. We barely know each other.

Stone pushes his way inside and…..

INT. EUROPE’S HOUSE

….regards the surrounds; the pile of cushions, rich furnishings and seductive lighting. A reminder of her social standing in Baghdad. Stone holds up his hands. A sign of peace.

STONE (cont’d) I’m not here to make trouble. But I’m anxious to talk to you.

Stone starts down the hallway until he reaches the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Starts opening her cupboards, impatient and aggressive.

STONE (cont’d) I’m here for the gold.

He sees a bottle of scotch whiskey, grabs it and, sits down at the kitchen table. Europe follows him in, goes to the cupboard and hands him a glass. He pours himself a glass and drains it.

EUROPE (cont’d) What gold?

Stone pours himself another glass, casually wipes his chin. 36

STONE (cont’d) You know perfectly well what gold.

Europe shuts her eyes. There is no way out, decides in that split second to give Stone only a censored version of the truth.

EUROPE (cont’d) I was five years old living in the palace when I was awakened one evening by a servant. I remember going down a wide staircase and, rushing on in front of us were other servants carrying clothes, jewellery and trunks of personal belongings. My father, the King took off his diamond ring and handed it to my servant and gave an order to stand guard over the trunks at any cost until we were safely out of the country. Loud shouts and gunshots were the last sounds I heard as we fled the palace and were bundled into our fleet of limousines where we were driven to the port where we boarded Turkish ships for Europe. That day my father nicknamed me Europe.

Europe, looking defeated.

There were many of us in exile waiting, hoping longing to return. We were even prepared to pardon Saddam for his coup against us.

Stone has no intention of letting up. He pushes his glass to one side, regards Europe with a critical eye.

STONE (cont’d) What happened to your servant?

EUROPE (cont’d) During the tumult I heard a cry more terrifying than anything I’d ever heard. I turned back and a shot had been fired straight into my servant’s right eye. But my servant doesn’t fall instead, clings loyally to the trunks of gold.

Europe sits down at the table in surrender.

I don’t think we’re going to be friends.

STONE (cont’d) 37

I have no need of friends only gold.

EUROPE (cont’d) Where’s America’s honor?

STONE (cont’d) Honor won’t get you rich. Did you see the trunks loaded onto the ship?

EUROPE (cont’d) I told you I was five years old. All that mattered to me at that moment was my family. Gold is the reason the Sunni’s carry their vendetta against us and the reason why you invaded our country. The very thought of gold and its poisonous lure makes me sick to my stomach. It’s no use. The gold isn’t yours. It has been bequeathed to another.

STONE (cont’d) Another?

EUROPE (cont’d) Yes.

STONE (cont’d) Who?

Europe sees she has been backed into a corner.

EUROPE (cont’d) My servant, Fortune, thief of Baghdad.

Stone gives her a wry smile.

STONE (cont’d) I want the King’s will. Bring it to my offices tomorrow. A permit of entry will be waiting for you at reception.

INT. BAGHDAD AIRPORT - NIGHT

Within a few minutes the fuselage door opens and a CUSTOMS OFFICIAL boards the plane. Both Fatimah and Jacques hand him their passports. The official scrutinizes each page. Seems like an eternity. Passports are handed back but the Official is wary.

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL I’m afraid your arrival has taken us off guard Your Highness. With respect, I’m confused. Iraq 38

is of the understanding that Saudi Arabia would not be sending an Ambassador until Iraq’s security issues improve.

Fatimah waves it off.

FATIMAH We are here on the orders of the great King and, Jacques is my secretary. My uncle has recently reviewed Saudi policy to Iraq and he now wishes to show his support to the new regime by offering economic assistance and, provided I have your cooperation….debt forgiveness.

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL (cont’d) That being the case I can see no harm in issuing you with visas and welcome Saudi Arabia as a future ally.

There are careful slow nods all around.

Let me make a modest recommendation.

The Official’s eyes scan the cabin, mood softens, shows he is not the enemy.

Personally I don’t see the need to engage the Americans in your mission. Why worry the Pentagon unnecessarily. They’ve got enough on their plate.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Of course, a common error amongst Arab leaders. My wish is strictly to reinforce Arab identity to ensure a tactical advantage.

Calmly, the Official hustles backwards.

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL (cont’d) Be careful what you wish for. (bows) Welcome to Baghdad, Your Highness.

INT. RIYADH, SAUDI ARABIA – DAY

Sheik FAISAL, Head of Saudi Intelligence is knocking politely on the Ministerial Chamber.

INT. ROYAL MEETING ROOM - DAY

39

Inside, the great KING of Saudi Arabia is presiding over the Council of Ministers with pinched nerves.

EXT. CHOP CHOP SQUARE - DAY

Outside, a confrontation is growing; an ACCUSED is about to be read his sins before a swinging rope but not before he has something to say about it.

ACCUSED You are truly bastard. You miserable dog. You son of a thousand fathers……I look forward to death so I can come back and box your ears.

The PUBLIC EXECUTIONER reads his crimes.

PUBLIC EXECUTIONER Cavorting with juicy young whores, frequenting gambling dens, dancing to licentious music, filling your glass with wine, publicly flaunting your humour and most despicable of all……making cupid eyes at the Queen.

INT. ROYAL MEETING ROOM - NIGHT

The King LEAPS up from the table, angrily shuts the window at the growing confrontation.

There comes a knock on the door. The minder gets up from the table and opens the door. Sheik Faisal steps uneasily into the room.

KING For your sake Faisal I hope that you’ve something to help me forget about that ungrateful creature who has taken advantage of my charity.

FAISAL (hesitant) I apologize for the interruption Your Majesty but it’s about your grand niece, the Princess Fatimah….um… She’s been kidnapped.

The King stifles a yawn. Knowing whatever Faisal has to tell him will be a burden on his Treasury.

Saudi Intelligence has received a ransom note. 40

Such an event isn’t unusual for the House of Saud, stares coolly back.

KING (cont’d) How much do they want?

FAISAL (cont’d) Ten million dollars.

The atmosphere in the room is tense. The Foreign Minister lunges forward shouting curses. The King waves a hand, silence follows.

KING (cont’d) I’m assuming you’ve tried to contact Princess Fatimah?

FAISAL (cont’d) Yes sire. She arrived in Baghdad this evening in the Royal jet. So far there has been no trace of her. We received the note shortly after.

KING (cont’d) How is the ransom to be paid?

FAISAL (cont’d) We have an account number and name. Strangely, the conspirator is the Iraqi Treasury and the main signatory on the account is an American by the name of Dallas Stone. Sources inform me he engages in the practice of kidnapping.

The King, muttering furiously to himself pulls at the sleeves of his shirt.

KING (cont’d) It seems we are between two fires. The might of Washington or the power of Iraq’s Shiites. Pay the ransom then brief Zanir.

Sheik Faisal nods, bows placidly and exits. The King cups his head in his hands and after a few beats he turns to his minder.

We shall get back our money, but first bring me my treasures.

There is a moment of comedy when the 41 minder returns flanked by bosomy young women, musicians and three dozen cases of Budweiser.

INT. A DESERT HIGHWAY – BLACK FOUR WHEEL DRIVE IRAQ, DAY

From the back seat Father’s eyes are like stones as he gazes out of the window. A COP sits between himself and Adrian who is slumped up against the door. The effects of the drug still evident.

FATHER Where are you taking us comrade?

Father eyes the cop in the rearview mirror.

COP Where do you think? To a bottle factory where you can stand on your feet all day and earn a living for the state.

The driver bursts into LAUGHTER.

FATHER (cont’d) Don’t say that. It makes me think I can hear corks being cut, and my teeth are set on edge.

The vehicle passes through the green zone. The black four wheel drive slows and the DRIVER HONKS his horn. Blockading the vehicle’s path is Asia pushing a handcart full of fabrics.

The driver, familiar with Asia rolls down his window.

DRIVER Get out of the way Asia, you old hag.

An uproar begins between the driver and Asia. She slackens her pace and her savage screams go unheeded by passersby . These wrenching sounds, a combination of bastard fragments of Arabic and French catches Father’s attention and pours distinctly into his ears.

ASIA Await my orders!

INT. THE CELLS - NIGHT

In turn, Father and Adrian are ushered into their respective cells. We see the prison turnkey they call the RATTLER shutting the iron grate behind them. Adrian presses his face against the cell door, bewildered. We catch a glimpse of a faint smile on Father’s face. 42

EXT. BAGHDAD AIRPORT - NIGHT

Jacques and Fatimah cross the tarmac, following the signs to the taxi rank. Fatimah’s mobile sounds, she fishes into her pocket and flips open her phone. A text message FLASHES on screen.

When you arrive at the Temple Marketplace have a one hundred euro note at the ready and say the word Masquerade. Fortune will find you.

Fatimah nudges Jacques, shows him the message.

EXT. TEMPLE MARKETPLACE - NIGHT

The cab enters the Alawi district and pulls to a stop. Crowds swell the pavements. Fatimah pays the driver in American dollars and steps out of the cab carrying her Koran. Jacques follows.

Unexpectedly, a prim elegant MAN in a red velvet hat, and mischievous grin appears. He leans into Jacques.

MAN Would you like a guide sir?

Fatimah dismisses the man and, he vanishes. Instinct aroused.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Check your wallet.

Jacques stiffens and places his hand over his top pocket and discovers his wallet is missing.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Look he’s over there.

Jacques, about to spring forward is held back by Fatimah.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Wait. He’s very entertaining.

We watch the elegant thief stroll through the crowd, smiling and nodding, resting a hand on a shoulder here, lightly touching an elbow there. From time to time, he lets his fingertips graze someone’s pocket. The man is animated and playful, his movements graceful, almost stylized. The thief cocks his left eyebrow and the victims watch melts off the wrist.

JACQUES (cont’d) 43

He’s a thief.

FATIMAH (cont’d) (amused) A pickpocket actually and, a charming one at that. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of him. After all you still have your camera and by the looks of it it’s worth a fortune.

Jacques presses his camera firmly into his chest. A moment later the pair wander deeper into the marketplace. Both mesmerized. A world away from Baghdad’s reality. Colorful banners, rugs and paper mache flowers beneath restaurant canopies decorate the temple.

JACQUES (cont’d) A couple of years ago I photographed an exhibition for the Louvre museum. Did you know that historically in the old French prison system, the word friend was slang for thief; one who abides faithfully by the laws of deceitful liberty.

A small child we know from his UNICEF badge walks up to Jacques waving a handful of trinkets. He rubs the boy’s black curly hair. The boy looks at him with sorrowful eyes. Jacques holds up his hands in gesture of being broke.

A billboard catches Fatimah’s attention. She looks at it curiously.

REWARD of up to $500,000 for anyone with information on Fortune, thief of Baghdad

Slowly, Fatimah turns and stops at a clothing store called le Emporium. She begins admiring the racks of clothing out front. She tucks the Koran inside the top of her trousers and reaches for a black lace veil and places it over her head.

JACQUES (cont’d) You look stunning.

Fatimah looks at Jacques. Her dark eye suggest longing. Abashed, she turns away and continues leafing through the racks of clothing.

Jacques lights a cigarette. In that same motion, a huge shadow shoots out from beneath his feet. Startled, he looks up and stands eye to eye with the PICKPOCKET. He has a menacing look in his eye and a string of pearls slips through his fingers. 44

Jacques takes a step backwards. The pick pocket steps forward and, offers an easy smile.

PICK POCKET (cont’d) Ah…. What a pretty boy. Where are you from?

Jacques, angry.

JACQUES (cont’d) Paris, and you are a thief that sniffs out his victims like rats.

Surprised, the man counters…

PICK POCKET (cont’d) Thief? rat? How cruel. You’re looking at this all wrong. I merely specialise in future used goods.

JACQUES (cont’d) Correct. Goods that used to belong to me. Where’s my wallet?

PICK POCKET (cont’d) (sighs) I’m sorry. I’ll have to check my inventory.

Fatimah returns to Jacques side giggling, holding a feathered black mask to her face. The Pick Pocket reaches for Fatimah’s hand, kisses it. She gently removes it from his grip.

I can see you like the temple’s trinkets.

Pick Pocket’s eyes move to the stack of gold bracelets on Fatimah’s arms. All of a sudden he reaches out and slides a finger along the feathers that rim her mask.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Yes. But I especially enjoy masquerade, and, you are a very curious person.

At the word masquerade the Pick Pocket turns deadly cold and becomes a different man ending the gentleman charade.

PICK POCKET (cont’d) Fortune requests a meeting with you tonight at midnight.

Fatimah and Jacques trade a look.

Make your way to the abandoned Baghdad 45

subway. Once you enter the subway follow the inner walls for roughly quarter of a mile. By then it will be dark and you are unlikely to be followed. If you make it through you will be greeted by a member of Fortune’s entourage and be personally escorted into Fortune’s camp.

FATIMAH (cont’d) What do you mean, make it through?

The Pick Pocket doffs his hat, winks.

May Fortune be upon you. Good evening.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Wait! What’s your name?

PICK POCKET (cont’d) They call me Deadeye. Anything else you would like to know before I leave?

JACQUES (cont’d) Where’s my wallet?

Deadeye places a friendly hand on Jacques shoulder.

DEADEYE (cont’d) I apologize for my actions but Fortune demands it. It’s the only time I don’t give back what I’ve stolen.

He withdraws his hand. A moment later, he throws the string of pearls to Jacques who catches it in mid-air.

This will more than cover your losses.

Jacques catches the pearls in mid-air. Deadeye turns eagerly to Fatimah one last time.

Guard your heart mademoiselle and your prayer book….

Eyes flicker to the Koran. He bows and walks off.

Fatimah’s mood darkens. She watches Jacques swinging the pearls in his hand like a child. Her reality suddenly made clear to her. Has made a mistake?

JACQUES (cont’d) That’s what I call assaulting us with politeness. 46

Fatimah glances up at the stretch of shops beyond the markets entrance way. Confused, she turns back toward Jacques.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I’m sorry.

She retreats, turns on her heels and runs off.

EXT. A THIEF IN THE NIGHT – ROOF TOPS OF BAGHDAD - NIGHT

Glimpsed in the half light of a Baghdad evening, the catlike figure clutches a metallic cash box that is branded on one side with the American eagle.

Fortune alias Asia, perches herself on a rooftop and surveys the stone wall below. A black patch covers her right eye. Its thin strap bisecting the forehead before disappearing into the hair.

She stands up and opens the cashbox containing ten million Treasury dollars and, pours its contents into the grounds of the Baghdad orphanage. She lets out a frenzied like scream. Bringing the children outside who form an unintentional circle underneath.

CHILD#1 cries out.

CHILD#1 Where does the money come from?

CHILD#2 Fortune is on our side.

Suddenly Fortune summersaults backwards and makes a dazzling plow down the drainpipe of the house. Two small, trim feet on bowed legs in black drawstring silk pants swing below the fire escape in the dim light of the alley.

EXT. THE STREET – NIGHT

Fortune staggers from the shock, picks herself up. The sound of a car engine emerges from the shadows, and is momentarily blinded by the oncoming headlights.

A white opel sweeps past her and abruptly halts a few feet away. The car door opens. Fortune dashes to the car door and JUMPS in.

INT. CAR – NIGHT

Deadeye looks into the rear view mirror and speeds off. 47

Fortune checks her watch. Her eyes crinkle in amusement.

FORTUNE Well, is there an answer?

Deadeye nods, thoughtfully.

DEADEYE The Saudi funds are in the account. With a few trinkets I was able to bribe a bank official to hack the Treasury account and transfer the ten million dollars in ransom money over to you.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Ten million dollars is nothing to the Saudi’s. Do you think the pair will come?

DEADEYE (cont’d) I’ve had word the Princess has been spotted at the tunnel but there is no sign of the photographer.

Fortune shrugs.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I was told he was a tricky one especially where women were concerned. Still it’s unlikely he’s changed his mind. I have it on good authority he’s not shy of a challenge and confident he’s right where he wants to be. Baghdad is an enormous risk. What man does not want reward for his daring.

Deadeye looks square at Fortune before fixing his eyes ahead.

DEADEYE (cont’d) I’m not trying to pry but have you news of your son?

FORTUNE (cont’d) (churlish) Not yet.

DEADEYE (cont’d) You mean you don’t care?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Of course I care.

48

DEADEYE (cont’d) I’m wondering why you haven’t dispatched orders to the Rattler? You’d haggle over a gold mine yet not your son.

FORTUNE (cont’d) (hesitating) I’m going through a rough time right now. One that you wouldn’t understand.

DEADEYE (cont’d) Will you take my advice?

Deadeye is careful; aware pride is Fortune’s only vanity.

Very well but I’ll give it too you anyway. For a worldly woman you are behaving like a spiteful child. What do you think is the solution. To abandon him?

Fortune turns on Deadeye, furious.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You think you know better. I have sacrificed my life for my son. As a single mother if one did not want to die of poverty one became a nun or a bandit and for that I am minus an eye. Once again I am all alone in the world.

Deadeye turns off from the main road into a lane until he reaches the entrance to Baghdad’s tunnels and stops the vehicle. Fortune opens the door but hangs back.

You’ve done well. I require nothing more from you tonight. It’s late go home and get sleep.

Deadeye reaches out and presses Fortune’s hand. She pushes it away. Her comrade isn’t surprised sensing Fortune’s heart belongs to another. She steps out of the car.

DEADEYE (cont’d) Wait. I have something for you.

He opens the glove box and retrieves the diamond necklace he stole from Jacques, holds it expertly between his fingers.

Part of the Rothschild fortune.

A look of approval lights up Fortune’s eyes.

49

FORTUNE (cont’d) Pick me up tomorrow morning at 7am sharp and be dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform.

She SLAMS the car door behind her.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

The piercing scream of a woman draws the police car to the scene.

EXT. THE EDGE OF BAGHDAD’S TUNNELS – NIGHT

Before Zoltan brakes to a stop…..

…… Fatimah debouches from the shadows, balances a moment on the wooden running boards at the edge of Baghdad’s abandoned tunnels and hits the ground running.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

A few feet from the tunnel, Zoltan and his deputy alight from the vehicle. Immediately he restrains the hysterical woman. A sea of frightened faces form a semi-circle around a tiny corpse at the woman’s feet. Bending down on one knee, Zoltan feels the pulse of the broken little body.

ZOLTAN What happened?

Several long beats before an answer comes.

Come on. Can’t anybody speak?

Zoltan senses by their silence they’re afraid. They stare blankly at him, then look at each other. It makes Zoltan furious. He gets back on his feet and grabs the arm of a teenage youth.

You saw it kid. Tell me about it!

The youth opens his mouth to speak but the sudden wild SHRIEK from the hysterical woman makes him freeze. Zoltan gives an order to his deputy.

Take her inside.

As the Deputy drags the woman back into her home, several of his agents patrolling the neighborhood arrive on the scene. Once again, Zoltan turns his attention to the trembling YOUTH.

50

Now kid, tell me what happened.

YOUTH The woman was having a party and a group of children were playing in the street then an Apache helicopter appeared and started shooting up that van over there.

The youth POINTS inexorably to a white van riddled with bullet holes parked a few feet from where the baby’s body lies.

Zoltan releases his grip on the youth. He removes his black beret and combs his unruly hair with gnarled fingers just as an ambulance swerves around a nearby corner.

He returns to his vehicle. Without waiting for his deputy, he decides to cruise around the district alone.

INT. POLICE CAR - NIGHT

He climbs in behind the wheel and turns the ignition over. He rolls the car down the street. His car arrives at the opening of the abandoned tunnels. He switches off the ignition, lights up a cigarette and sits in the dark in silence.

INT. HYATT HOTEL – NIGHT

Jacques sits on the edge of his bed twisting and untwisting his camera lens. His mobile phone vibrates in his shirt pocket. Puts the camera down near his feet and his eyes fly open ready to speak to his superior, Pierre Page.

PAGE Jacques.

JACQUES Oui.

PAGE I got your text message from Libya. A lucky break. Are you still with the woman?

JACQUES (cont’d) I’ve decided to go it alone. It’s better that way.

PAGE (cont’d) That’s your decision. Anyhow, I’m sorry to call so late but I’ve just had a rather strange visit from Old Devereaux, you know Stas’s housekeeper. 51

JACQUES (cont’d) What has Stas done now. Boxed the ears of the President?

PAGE (cont’d) Seems we have a spanner in the works.

JACQUES (cont’d) What do you mean?

PAGE (cont’d) Stas has been kidnapped. But he isn’t alone.

Pierre Page is solemn, concerned at the effect it might have on Jacques. Stas is closer to Jacques than anyone in the world.

The other victim is a man by the name of Adrian Luc. Not sure of his relationship to Stas.

JACQUES (cont’d) I don’t believe it.

PAGE (cont’d) Neither can we. There are rumors. If this goes public we’re done for.

The impact of Page’s next words leaves Jacques stunned.

This will give News Corp the opportunity it’s been waiting for. An all out assault on France. We’re already under attack by the UN in refusing to give our signature to the invasion. Interpol is as nervous as kittens right now. If word gets out a Dominican priest was once the lover of an international thief it will be a professional catastrophe… for all of us. We can’t make any connection from his past to his current predicament. As for his friend, the poet. Interpol hasn’t a clue.

We know for a fact Stas is being held in a place called Camp Hellfire in the Mada’in Qaada desert. Since France is officially not involved in the war we can’t take the diplomatic route. You decide what needs to be done.

Jacques clicks off his mobile and looks at the bedside clock. 52

It reads 11.40pm. He grabs his camera, hangs it around his neck and bolts.

INT. CAMP HELLFIRE – INTERROGATION ROOM – NIGHT

Stone takes one quick step forward and hurls himself at the prisoner. Launching into a shallow dive, he grabs the prisoner by the neck and ploughs him into the wall. There is a heavy thud as the prisoner’s head crashes into the wall. His body sliding sluggishly down the wall onto the floor and lies still.

He walks across the room to the washbasin and turns on the tap, douses himself with cold water and squints his eyes hard. A brief moment of confusion before he turns his head to the right to see Zoltan.

ZOLTAN For the last time Stone I’m telling you, I want the prisoners treated as prisoners. No more brutality.

STONE We have hundreds of prisoners and not enough men to guard them. How else do we gain their respect?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) I think you’ll manage to gain their respect by treating them better. Cancer is eating away at me but while I’m in charge of detainees the prisoners are not to be tortured, cheated or murdered.

STONE (cont’d) Is that a threat?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Commander these are my countrymen and I won’t have our uniform dishonored. I know you and that scum bag Sting Ray have been systematically robbing the prisoners. Your only concern here is our Treasury. This cancer means I won’t last very long but while I’m here I hope to have enough time to amass evidence and bring to a court martial all those who dishonor Iraq.

Zoltan turns, walks across the floor and the door slams shut behind him. In the next instance Sting Ray comes hurrying into the prison cell, even expression.

53

STING RAY The French prisoners have been incarcerated but there are rumors.

STONE (cont’d) Rumors?

STING RAY (cont’d) He’s the reason for your disfigurement.

The body on the ground moves and groans. The single bulb light in the room flickers. Stone runs his hand across his cheek.

STONE (cont’d) His name is Stas DePaul. I want to see him.

INT. FATHER’S CELL – DAY

Day break filters through the grimy little window. Father is pacing the floor like a caged tiger.

A few minutes later he hears the rattling of keys in the corridor. The Rattler opens the cell door and Father feels relief to see his old comrade simultaneously a GUARD appears carrying a black bag.

GUARD Stone wants a word with you.

Roughly the guard fixes the black bag over Stas’ head.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM – DAY

Dallas Stone’s eyes are fixed on Father sitting in the centre of the room in a blood stained chair with the black bag over his head.

What is your name priest?

The bag is building confusion in Father.

FATHER (voice muffled) I know your voice?

Dallas Stone places one leg on the corner of the chair leaning his whole body inwards and rips the bag from Father’s head. The sudden burst of light makes Father squint. In a few seconds the image before him is clear and he isn’t surprised.

FATHER (cont’d) 54

I should have known. The Washington War Office cornering another market. If America’s looking for another thrashing all you had to do was ask.

Stone shoots Father a hard glance.

STONE (cont’d) I don’t want any of your nonsense Stas instead I want you to focus.

Stone walks over to a shelf on the opposite side of the room and picks up an electrical device supported by two metal rods.

FATHER (cont’d) I suggest you answer my questions. You won’t be able to stand the pain.

Father’s expression is even.

STONE (cont’d) You know the poet Adrian Luc?

FATHER (cont’d) Yes.

STONE (cont’d) Where did you meet him?

FATHER (cont’d) We met a long time ago. I was an acquaintance of..of his mother.

STONE (cont’d) Can you recall the month and the year when you first met?

Father is defiant. No answer. Stone feels rising anger. He pushes a rod into each of Father’s legs and walks over to the light switch and turns it on. 340 volts of live electric current run through Father’s body. He SCREAMS with the pain. Bright lights flash in front of his eyes and he starts to lose consciousness.

Stone turns off the switch and watches the priest closely.

STONE (cont’d) How is it that a man of the cloth is found cavorting with a person known to prostitutes, thieves and gambling dens?

FATHER (cont’d) 55

(jesting) I’m afraid you don’t understand, Stone. It’s in our mission statement.

Again, Stone plunges the torture weapon into Father’s legs Father grinds his teeth to breaking point. The shrill of live voltage being discharged gets louder as Stone digs the rods deeper to Father’s legs.

I have nothing to say to you except that I have no idea why I’m here. If you do not accept that then finish me off!

STONE (cont’d) And get a knife in my back from the French Government. Thank you no.

FATHER (cont’d) (wearily) At least tell me why am I here!

STONE (cont’d) You are suspected of being an accomplice to the thief Fortune who when in Paris goes by the name of Adrian Luc. Over and above he has recently acquired debts of a million Euros from gambling dens. There is a great deal of secrecy surrounding the poet one which forces me to believe that he is playing a double game. One that makes me believe he is plotting against America’s democratic mission. Poet or thief. Which is it?

FATHER (cont’d) I think it’s funny that you are so concerned about excess in this day and age. If the boy’s guilty of anything it’s indulging his weaknesses. What do you say to that?

STONE (cont’d) Spare us the jokes. I can see I need to be more direct.

Stone walks to the switch and flicks it back on. Every part of Father SCREAMS. The guard breaks into a sweat at the sight of his agony. Stone flicks off the switch. Father, pants vigorously.

STONE (cont’d) I’ll ask you again. Is he, or is he not, 56

Fortune thief of Baghdad?

FATHER (cont’d) (laughing) You kidnap my dinner guest on suspicion of living in luxury and bring me along for the ride because in your wisdom I’m an accomplice to a thief. Seems to me your human comedy would make more sense by taking away his American Express card. The only cheat in this room Stone is the United States Government and, you know it!

Stone’s eyes become cold and cruel again.

STONE (cont’d) Again, who is Adrian Luc! thief, poet, or lover! Answer me priest!

……plunging the rods back into Father’s legs. Again Father SCREAMS in agony. STONE flicks off the switch.

Who is Adrian Luc?

Father SCREAMS out his next words in agony

……he is my son!

….adds Father with an effort then faints.

INT. ADRIAN’S CELL - NIGHT

Adrian is sitting on his bed in quiet contemplation. Four men rush toward him, drag him across the floor and throw him into a single chair in the corner of the room.

Sting Ray enters.

STING RAY You are Adrian Luc. A poet of questionable reputation?

Adrian doesn’t answer. Sting Ray grabs the middle finger of his right hand and pulls it back slowly until he answers.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Yes…yes…don’t hurt me, please.

Holds his finger tightly.

STING RAY (cont’d) You were born……? 57

ADRIAN (cont’d) In Paris.

A puzzled look comes over Sting Ray’s face.

STING RAY (cont’d) Your records show Baghdad.

A few beats.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Yes but….

STING RAY (cont’d) But what?

Adrian looks down at the floor unable to match the confidence and arrogance of the interrogator.

Look at me when I speak to you.

ADRIAN (cont’d) I was born in Paris but my mother is Iraqi. She returned to her homeland when I was an infant, and opened a second hand clothing store called Le Emporium.

STING RAY (cont’d) Are you ignorant of the reason you have been arrested?

Adrian’s body slumps. He shakes his head, tears roll easily from his eyes.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Yes.

STING RAY (cont’d) (raised voice) You are suspected of complicity in the theft of US Treasury funds. The crime has come to light after we intercepted an email from an American conspirator who gave you the code to Baghdad’s Treasury.

Suddenly, the penny drops.

ADRIAN (cont’d) You’ve got it wrong. I am a poet what need do I have for money?

58

STING RAY (cont’d) Don’t interrupt me. I’m not examining you yet. You are a regular visitor to Casino 14, crudely splashing large sums of cash on the roulette tables.

Sting Ray fires off his questions in quick succession.

Are you the thief of Baghdad? Where is the ten million? Answer me!

ADRIAN (cont’d) My mother, my poor mother. It’s bad enough she has only one eye.

Suddenly the cell door opens. Sting Ray looks up at the guard.

GUARD (cont’d) Commander Stone wants to see you in the Situation Room.

On the threshold of the cell, Sting Ray turns back to Adrian.

STING RAY (cont’d) If you are a thief, then you are a very good actor.

And shuts the iron grate behind him.

INT. THE UNDERGROUND TUNNEL – NIGHT

Fatimah gags from the stench. She thinks she hears whispering reaches inside her Koran pulling out a Medusa revolver then tosses aside the prayer book.

A few minutes later a narrow light shoots out illuminating the tunnel’s coarse facade. Fatimah’s eyes widen to see a woman with a black patch over one eye standing in a doorway fingering a handful of polished ingots.

FORTUNE Adrian was right. You are a pretty one. I took a risk sending you the text message. But a mother’s instincts are never wrong. Permit me to congratulate you on your courage Princess. My name is Fortune, thief of Baghdad. I am also Adrian’s mother. Behind me is my secret headquarters; a bivouac made easier to share through camaraderie.

FATIMAH (cont’d) 59

You’re Adrian’s mother!

Fatimah looks sharply, resentfully, into the black uncompromising eye of Fortune.

FORTUNE (cont’d) (smiling) Does that surprise you?

FATIMAH (cont’d) N..no. Yes. Adrian is so honest.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Surprised that the infamous thief of Baghdad has a son so indulgent and weak.

Fortune clenches her hand into a tight fist.

Have the goodness to follow me into my bandit’s collective.

INT. BANDIT’S LAIR - NIGHT

Everything inside shines bright yellow. Gold plated moulds of female torso’s hang from the roof. A magnificent gold flecked sofa stretches across one corner of the room and gold threaded tapestries adorn the walls above. Throughout the cave lush yellow carpet covers the floor.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I have worked all my life for gold and in return gold has worked for me. I love its color, its brilliance the resilience of its natural makeup. Through it I can control labor, purchase allegiance and command loyalty.

A look of almost rapture illuminates Fortune’s eyes. The thief glances sideways.

I was told you had an accomplice?

FATIMAH (cont’d) (hesitant) Yes that’s right but we had a falling out.

FORTUNE (cont’d) That’s too bad.

With a sudden click of her fingers, the bandits form a semi circle around Fatimah. Fortune backs away and shuts the lair’s door behind her, keeping one eye on Fatimah. 60

I can see you aren’t acquainted with war Princess or the concept of divide and conquer. A Christian strategy that I have used to my advantage. The strong are America’s spoils but the weak are mine and scoff at the laws of men who exclude them. They are my comrades and abide faithfully by my code. We are criminals that I can’t deny but with me there is trust not ambition, liberty not imprisonment, honor not deceit.

Fatimah shakes her head.

FATIMAH (cont’d) You are mad, and rich. Rich and mad.

Fortune smiles wryly.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Crime bears some resemblance to madness. But what keeps me sane is that I share my possessions and, my spoils are a gift to my comrades. They belong to all of us. Even to customs officials. One of whom you’ve already met.

Fortune aims a finger at one of the bandits. The customs official moves out of the shadows of the room.

My bandits are everywhere. We are a frustration for the American Dallas Stone and thanks to my spies I know who is behind my son’s disappearance.

The bandits edge in closer, forcing Fatimah backwards. She panics and, looks around wondering what insane impulse has brought her here simultaneously the door SMASHES open.

A FLASH lights up the room, then another and another. Eventually, Jacques swings around and comes face to face with Fortune.

JACQUES Wow this will look great on the front page of Le Monde. These will be the first pictures that prove you really exist.

Fortune looks on incredulous. She throws up her arms.

FORTUNE (cont’d) 61

Why me? Why do these things always happen to me. Um.. excuse me.

Without letting up Jacques turns his head slightly to one side.

JACQUES (cont’d) I’m Jacques Rothschild. But I’m guessing you already know that.

There’s a moment before Fatimah finds the words.

FATIMAH (cont’d) You bloody fool.

Jacques takes Fatimah’s hand and gently kisses it.

JACQUES (cont’d) A fool perhaps but a fool who has made a terrible mistake.

…then turns to Fortune.

FORTUNE (cont’d) (rolling her eyes) I hate this goddamn war. I can’t tell you how much I hate it.

JACQUES (cont’d) Interpol are enquiring after Stas.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Interpol! Where did that come from?

Fortune shoots Jacque’s a questioning glance.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You didn’t tell her?

FATIMAH (cont’d) Tell me what?

JACQUES (cont’d) That there’s another dimension to this and that Adrian wasn’t alone when the Americans kidnapped him.

FATIMAH (cont’d) So I was right. Adrian was kidnapped.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Yes puss and whilst I am grateful you have 62

so much concern for my son I wasn’t expecting you to get muddled up in this affair.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Then why did you send me the text message?

FORTUNE (cont’d) You were a business proposition. As far as your Government is aware you are a victim of a kidnapping. Did you know you are worth ten million dollars?

Fatimah’s eyes widen.

And Jacques Rothschild was an arrangement long before Adrian was kidnapped.....

JACQUES (cont’d) (sheepish) Fortune and I have a mutual friend who was unexpectedly kidnapped along with Adrian.

FATIMAH (cont’d) The priest?

Jacques nods.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You see Adrian and the man have a relationship that…

FATIMAH (cont’d) Please, I really don’t give a toss about who Adrian is mixed up with only that we get him out alive…… and his friend.

JACQUES (cont’d) I’m not your everyday photojournalist. Interpol couldn’t risk an agent. A photojournalist has a lot more room to move in a war. Father put the case to me promising me an exclusive interview with the thief of Baghdad then he was kidnapped.

A coolness settles on Fatimah, facing one of the most crucial situations in a life of adventure. Controls her breathing. Now isn’t the time to get emotional.

FATIMAH (cont’d) What were you doing in Libya?

63

JACQUES (cont’d) The truth; waiting for the Iraq border to open. Then you came along.

FATIMAH (cont’d) A coincidence then?

JACQUES (cont’d) I’d like to think destiny.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Anyway I can see you are both adults who obviously like each other. Holding a grudge won’t help us achieve our objective. We’re all in this together.

JACQUES (cont’d) Interpol owes a lot to Stas. He is one of the higher ups that provide protection for the little guy in this world. It’s my idea I get to Camp Hellfire and negotiate with Stone.

FORTUNE (cont’d) The Americans think Adrian is me.

Fortune sits down on her gold sofa, feeling foolish.

I can see there is only one way open to me. That I take you both into my service.

JACQUES (cont’d) What do you want us to do for you?

FORTUNE (cont’d) You are representatives of the Al-Jazeera bureau. You have been dispatched to Baghdad with ten million dollars in exchange for the release of Adrian Luc.

JACQUES (cont’d) But Stas?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Leave that egotistical philosopher to me. Before I can think about him I have an investment to see to.

JACQUES (cont’d) Jesus, you’re something else. Do you always do motherhood with one eye on business?

64

FORTUNE (cont’d) (smiling) Of course. What sort of mother would I be otherwise?

At the top of the staircase is a studio and in the center of the room is a queen sized bed and a fold up single bed.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

FORTUNE (cont’d) I'm sure you two will find each other fascinating. Now if you will excuse me.

She says it with an intimation of intimacy, then leaves.

Fatigued, Fatimah lies down on the bed. Jacques removes his camera, rests it on the small table next to the bed and looks longingly at Fatimah already fast asleep.

JACQUES (cont’d) Right, since I’m so fascinating, I’ll take the sofa.

EXT. THE STREET – DAY

A white opel is parked outside the tunnel. Three figures emerge, the opel starts up its ignition and approaches.

In war ravaged Baghdad, Fortune attracts attention in fashionable attire from Le Emporium. She disguises her face in a black netted veil. On her finger is a magnificent diamond ring and under one arm, a playful white miniature poodle.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Jump in.

Fortune slides into the front seat, sits the poodle on her lap and feeds it a biscuit. Jacques and Fatimah slide into the backseat.

Deadeye is hardly recognizable in a chauffeur’s uniform. He glances over his shoulder.

JACQUES You!

FORTUNE I believe you’ve met my comrade.

DEADEYE (eyes on Fortune) 65

I’ve had an offer for the diamonds.

Jacques brings his hand up to his neck.

JACQUES (cont’d) Merde I forgot. The diamonds!

Deadeye looks at Fortune.

DEADEYE (cont’d) Our comrade is terribly attached to his things.

JACQUES (cont’d) (sighing) You’re mocking me. It’s because I’m Jewish isn’t it?

Fortune smiling, eyes veer to the rear vision mirror.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Dear boy don’t lay that sob story on me. American medics are ignoring civilian casualties and my people are being denied treatment. The necklace is nothing more than payment for overseas paramedic teams for the Iraqi people.

Stroking the poodle, she fixes her eye on Deadeye.

That’s the trouble with old money. They have no head for business. Did you withdraw the ten million from the account?

Deadeye motions to the glove compartment. Fortune fishes out a white laminated card and hands it to him.

It’s evidence that supports who we are. Diplomats from the French Embassy.

The white opel slowly edges its way into the traffic.

DEADEYE (cont’d) Where too?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Camp Hellfire. I have a little business to take care of.

INT. CAMP HELLFIRE – DAY

66

A tall wire gate. Deadeye flashes the white laminated card at the security guard. The guard waves the white opel on. Fortune turns to her passengers, slips the leather briefcase containing the ten million Saudi ransom money into Fatimah’s hands along with two ID cards .

FORTUNE (cont’d) You will be met by a man called the Rattler. You are too hand him the black leather briefcase and follow his instructions. Any questions?

No one says a word.

Excellent. Then we’re ready to play our parts.

INT. RECEPTION DESK - DAY

A young CLERK is sitting in a swivel chair looking bored to death. He lifts his eyes to the glamorous woman waving an official document in the air and speaking fluent French.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Je suis venue en conformite avec les souhaits du commandant Stone.

Boldly, announcing herself as the journalist Europe. He tries to get a glimpse of the face behind the lace veil.

CLERK Have you a permit of entry? (a beat). Anglais?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Oui.

Fortune waves the permit then looks down at her poodle.

CLERK (cont’d) (impatiently) Then why didn’t you answer me?

FORTUNE (cont’d) What a tongue you have you impudent lackey. Do you think you have earned the right to speak to me? Why I’m in a mind to curry with you such an air that you will find yourself before a firing squad. I would not trust you without good security any more than I would Saddam Hussein.

The innocent Clerk is disarmed, looks at her quite stupid. The poodle starts barking. 67

The Rattler approaches carrying the black leather briefcase containing the ten million dollars of Saudi ransom money. Fatimah and Jacques are nowhere in sight. He glances sideways at Fortune, smiles to himself.

RATTLER I can vouch for this woman. Her name is Europe. She has been cleared by Commander Stone. Check your list.

The Clerk looks down at his printed list of names on his desk, sees the name Europe.

CLERK (cont’d) I’m terribly sorry.

She is led away on the Rattler’s arm towards the bank of elevators.

INT. OFFICES OF BAGHDAD TRIBUNE - DAY

The room is divided into four equal portions by a glass petition that borders a large conference room. Maps of Iraqi military districts are stuck with magnets onto a whiteboard.

The Tribune’s secretary, a one armed ex-soldier is pouring through sheaves of paper. The man has a short fuse, fiery eyes and a crop of red blisters on his cheeks hence the nickname OLD CHARIOT.

He sees Europe approaching.

OLD CHARIOT Words out you had a visitor last night in the name of Stone.

At the mention of Stone, Europe averts her eyes.

Rumor is, Stone is on the trail of the Hashemite gold.

EUROPE News travels fast in wartime.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Why? Why was the Hashemite gold ever made part of the war?

EUROPE (cont’d) Stone knows my family history.

68

Europe’s eyes become misty.

This isn’t one story, it’s two. Both constructed out of history. The first connected to the second by circumstance – on a political crisis that left me a fugitive. Stone doesn’t care about democracy only the gold in which it is hiding under.

Europe bursts into tears. Old Chariot stands up and leads her to his chair.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) How about a glass of water?

He disappears behind a door. Returns with a glass of water. Europe drinks it down, closing her eyes, head presses back against the chair.

EUROPE (cont’d) Stone only wanted to destroy Saddam to seize my family’s gold. I’ve got to get him behind bars.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Sorry. I had to be sure you hadn’t betrayed the newspaper.

EUROPE (cont’d) Not the newspaper. But someone. That’s the simple answer.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Someone? I deserve more than that.

EUROPE (cont’d) Yes you do, and I’ll give it to you. The gold has been bequeathed to someone. A fugitive from the law and they must be protected. Can you promise me that?

Old Chariot nods, thoughtfully. Suddenly there is a beep. A fax machine in the corner of the room slowly spits out a page from an incoming document. Old Chariot ambles over and retrieves the fax.

EUROPE (cont’d) I’ll take a guess. Another journalist?

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) I’m afraid so.

69

EUROPE (cont’d) These pulitzer prize militiamen. They’ve been warned to stay out until the borders are reopened. We’re not babysitters. Who is it?

Old Chariot hesitates.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Your old flame. Jacques Rothschild.

EUROPE (cont’d) Where is he?

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Camp Hellfire. What can we do? We’re only journalists. The Americans have all of Europe behind them.

EUROPE (cont’d) Not all of Europe. I’m giving you a chance to avenge the loss of your arm. Write me an article. We have to bring Fortune out of hiding.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) I’m not a journalist.

EUROPE (cont’d) In the name of Reuters, Al Jazeera and all those who still stand for justice I baptise thee journalist. Now begin with something like, Stone: a most distinguished man: his devotion to democracy shows him to be a soldier worthy of the capture of Berlin.

Old Chariot shakes his head and stops typing.

What the hell is this? You want a showdown?

EUROPE (cont’d) Exactly.

INT. CAMP HELLFIRE INFIRMARY – DAY

The ward is noisy, filled with a cacophony of screams and moans of patients. Father’s memory of the last twenty four hours is a haze of pain and delirium. Fading in and out of consciousness. He begins convulsing.

FATHER (cont’d) My son! My son! 70

He opens his eyes and finds himself in a small, sterile hospital room. There is a blurred image of a man we know as Chad in a prison uniform standing over him pressing a wet cloth against his forehead.

Chad You don’t want to die do you? Open your eyes. Come on.

Chad leaves the cloth on Father’s forehead and sits down on his bed.

FATHER (cont’d) (protesting) That’s cold.

Father looks down at his blood spotted white gown.

Chad (cont’d) You’re awake.

FATHER (cont’d) I thought I was in hell.

Father TUGS at his white gown.

How long have I been out?

Chad (cont’d) About twenty four hours.

Father collects his thoughts. Eyes scoping the room. Chad stands and begins PACING the floor.

Your son. The man Adrian is safe. The guards were talking. A ransom was paid for his release. Are you a priest?

Chad notices the cassock hanging over the end of his bed.

Chad (cont’d) I thought so. It’s touching to hear a priest call their flock son.

FATHER (cont’d) Pass me my cassock.

Chad tosses Father his cassock. Father removes a cigar case from its pocket and opens it. He offers one to Chad but he declines pointing to the no smoking sign. 71

FATHER (cont’d) We’re in the middle of a goddamn illegal war yet if we smoke in a hospital ward we’ll be arrested.

Chad (cont’d) Render that up to God.

FATHER (cont’d) Are you an atheist?

CHAD(cont’d) I’m an out and out atheist. I don’t believe in God, society, or the possibility of happiness. This world is a terrible lie.

Chad’s eyes fill with tears and he pulls a belt from his trousers.

Take a good look at me Father, soon I will no longer exist.

Father offers some reasonable advice.

FATHER (cont’d) Since you have made up your mind to kill yourself then one last cigarette can’t hurt. Come on.

This time Chad takes one and, Father lights it with his own.

CHAD (cont’d) Can I confide in you a secret?

FATHER (cont’d) I am a priest.

CHAD (cont’d) There is gold to be uncovered. Five hundred billion to be precise. It’s yours on one condition. You must find the thief Fortune and share the prize.

At the name Fortune, Father becomes flustered. He tries to get to his feet only then realizing his wrist is handcuffed to the bed forcing him to sit back down.

FATHER (cont’d) (whispering) What do you know about Fortune?

72

CHAD (cont’d) Practically nothing only that the thief has been a thorn in America’s side since this war began. I was entrusted with the secret in the hope that I would find Fortune and ensure the gold is used to give Iraqi citizens back their honor. Straight after that I was arrested and the chances of accomplishing my task seems impossible.

FATHER (cont’d) Why me?

CHAD(cont’d) Your liberty is more assured than mine. I’m being shipped stateside tomorrow.

FATHER (cont’d) (earnestly) Tell me all I need to know.

A nurse arrives on the scene and reads a patient’s chart. A minute later she moves out of earshot to another patient.

CHAD (cont’d) Track down a journalist who goes by the name of Europe and…….

Without warning the door to the hospital ward CRASHES open and a PRISON OFFICER enters followed by a file of guards.

PRISON OFFICER Which of you answers to the name Chad?

CHAD (cont’d) I do.

Stunned, Father instantly realizes he has been talking to the sender of Adrian’s mysterious email.

The prison officer steps forward and takes Chad by the arm. He does not resist. The entourage leave.

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

Fortune sweeps up the poodle in her arms and looks sharply at her comrade, the Rattler.

FORTUNE (cont’d) How is the old rogue?

RATTLER (cont’d) 73

All things considering he’s in exceptional spirits though a new toupee wouldn’t go astray.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Am I compromised?

RATTLER (cont’d) Not yet.

INT. INFIRMARY - DAY

Fortune takes a hesitant step inside the crowded hospital ward. Her eyes scope the room feels unnerved. Zoltan enters surprised to see a fashionably veiled woman and her poodle.

ZOLTAN I’m sorry madame, there is no communication allowed with the prisoners.

Fortune angles her head slightly.

FORTUNE I have an Entry Permit.

…and proffers a piece of paper.

Pressed for time, Zoltan grabs it from her but is distracted by her magnificent. He attends to a private matter leaving the NURSE, angry.

NURSE Who are you?

Fortune’s anxiety vanishes as she fixes her eyes on the patient beyond.

FATHER I hope you brought oysters and champagne. The food here is enough to make a man commit suicide.

She looks over and sees Father sitting on the edge of the bed in a white gown, off centre toupee, vulnerable, and gives the smallest of rueful smiles. A tiny moment of contact between the two.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Oh my dear Abbe! How can such a holy man be shut up in here.

Fortune gives the nurse a look that lacerates her to the core. The nurse moves aside, timidly. Fortune KNEELS down beside 74

Father’s bed. Father leans over and clasps both her hands in his and, begins raving incoherently in Latin.

FATHER (cont’d) Addio marchesa…..that took a lot of nerve.

FORTUNE (cont’d) More than you know……. Bless me Father. Protect all Baghdad citizens…and our good son Adrian, Adrian, Adrian!

FATHER (cont’d) How is the old force?

Fortune glances around the room.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Well but stretched. Cash has no value anymore. Gold is what matters. I’ve used up nearly all my stock just getting supplies for the wounded. The way things are going we won’t last long.

FORTUNE (cont’d) (shouting) Can’t you see this holy man is in despair, that he has been unjustly accused!

FATHER (cont’d) What about Adrian?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Our son is in good hands.

FATHER (cont’d) Our Father who art in….. I shall make your revenge a point of my game.

After several beats.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I can see from your eyes you have a secret.

FATHER (cont’d) Ava Maria….. Don’t be stupid.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You must do better than that.

Father pulls away, looks at her with sudden clarity.

FATHER (cont’d) 75

You are very disagreeable if you don’t get your own way.

FORTUNE (cont’d) What kind of a catastrophe is it?

Father pushes his toupee back slightly.

FATHER (cont’d) I didn’t say it was a catastrophe.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Will it make me rich again?

FATHER (cont’d) You’ll be shitting gold bricks old girl. But first what’s the escape plan?

FORTUNE (cont’d) To walk straight out of here.

Fortune throws Father his cassock draped at the end of the bed, straightens his toupee.

I am only too willing to assist anyone who can honor me with gold.

FATHER (cont’d) Give me a hairpin.

FORTUNE (cont’d) What?

FATHER (cont’d) Don’t argue with me.

Fortune pulls a hairpin out of her hair and, slips it into Father’s hands. He inserts it into the handcuff’s keyhole and it springs open. Next, Fortune loosens the drawstring purse around her wrist. She stands up, and advances towards Zoltan.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Here’s something for the relief of the poor prisoners.

BRIEF ACTION SEQUENCE: Fortune sweeps up her poodle, grabs Father by the collar of his cassock. She opens the door, and before it register’s with Zoltan they run for it.

The Rattler is standing at the bank of elevators. Shoots Father a friendly glance.

76

THE RATTLER How are you comrade?

EXT. OUTSIDE - DAY

The moment they are visible, Deadeye starts the engine. Fortune leads them towards the white opel parked out front. Behind the wheel Deadeye SHOUTS.

DEADEYE Get in!

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, guns the engine. The vehicle ploughs into the prison gate sending guards LEAPING to safety and choking on rising dust.

INT. SITUATION ROOM – CAMP HELLFIRE

Commander Stone is sitting alone at the end of a large oval table. His eyes fixedly on an open lap lap. Sting Ray enters. Stone doesn’t look up, motions to him to sit. Stone shuts the laptop and, lights a cigarette.

STONE What’s your verdict on the poet?

STING RAY (cont’d) I believe he’s innocent. He’s too honest to have real worth. He just sobbed like an eight year old. What was ridiculous, when I asked him to tell me what part the priest played in the affair he sobbed even more and, blamed his mother. Stranger still, he claims his mother is the proprietor of the clothing store, Le Emporium.

Stone can’t hide his exasperation.

STONE (cont’d) It’s strange enough that the priest is claiming to be his father. I’m beginning to wonder if I should have ordered a paternity suit.

STING RAY (cont’d) There’s something else. The two Al-Jazeera journalists.

STONE (cont’d) Well what about them?

STING RAY (cont’d) The guy. He’s the photographer I saw in Libya. 77

STONE (cont’d) mmm…. I see. Since we’ve already got the ransom money throw them in prison until I decide on things.

Sting Ray rises to his feet and is about to leave when the door CRASHES open. Zoltan enters, visibly flustered. In his hand is an official document. He glares momentarily at Sting Ray who salutes him, turns and leaves.

ZOLTAN You’re a difficult man to find.

STONE (cont’d) Well you’ve found me now.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) A woman is here waving a Permit of Entry. She’s making a commotion all over the prison. I’m assuming you have a good explanation.

Stone looks square at Zoltan.

STONE (cont’d) She is a journalist from the Baghdad Tribune.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) She didn’t look like a journalist.

Stone takes a deep breath.

STONE (cont’d) What do you mean?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) She was exquisite. She looked like she’d been decked out by the old hag Asia. Not to mention the eye popping diamond ring on her finger bearing the Hashemite crest. I recognized it the moment I sized her up.

Stone stiffens.

STONE (cont’d) I instructed the Rattler to write up a Permit of Entry for the journalist Europe. Nobody else.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) 78

Well I have the Permit of Entry here.

STONE (cont’d) Show it to me.

Zoltan throws the Permit of Entry across the table. Stone sweeps up the document, freezes. It’s blank.

Did she and the priest have a long conversation?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) No more than five minutes. She kept crying and repeating the words over and over, our son Adrian then left cash for the prisoners.

STONE (cont’d) Christ it’s Fortune. No it’s Asia. No Fortune. Asia is Fortune. We’ve just been had by a master con artist.

INT. MEETING ROOM – DAY

Europe enters nearly colliding with Zoltan exiting the room. She senses Stone is agitated.

EUROPE I had some trouble getting past the Clerk. You were supposed to leave me a Permit of Entry.

STONE (cont’d) There’s been a mix up. Did you bring it?

Europe fishes into her handbag, pulls out a white envelope containing the will and throws it on the table.

STONE (cont’d) Wait. I have a story for you. We are on the trail of the bandit Fortune whom we suspect disguises herself as the second hand clothes dealer, Asia.

Europe’s face freezes like a rictus.

EUROPE (cont’d) What do you mean?

STONE (cont’d) We have a prisoner who betrayed the whole awful, amazing puzzle of Fortune.

79

Stone looks at her a beat.

STONE (cont’d) Either we get the gold or Iraq stays dead.

His eyes look deadlier than ever. Europe backs away and leaves.

INT. CORRIDOR - DAY

Safely in the corridor, Europe rummages around in her handbag finds her cell phone, FLIPS it open and types a text message to Asia at Le Emporium.

INT. MEETING ROOM - DAY

The telephone rings on the oval table. Stone recognizes Sting Ray’s number, picks up.

V.O. STING RAY Have you seen this afternoon’s paper?

STONE (cont’d) No. Why?

V.O. There’s an article signed by you.

STONE (cont’d) What does it say?

Stone listens intently trying to discern a trap.

Fortune is afraid of me but she can’t avoid me. All her interests compel her to confront me since I’ve got her son.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Send Zoltan to Le Emporium and have him deliver a proposition to the thief of Baghdad.

V.O. Which is?

Stone glances at the envelope containing the will.

STONE (cont’d) Let’s see what her son is worth to her.

STING RAY (cont’d) 80

Why not kill her and be done with it?

STONE (cont’d) Too risky. I have to handle this very delicately. She controls the tribes. We can’t push her too hard. There is another way. I’ll offer her a deal.

V.O. What if she refuses to negotiate?

STONE (cont’d) Then I’ll leave it up to the courts to decide her fate. After all in the eyes of the law, she is a thief.

Stone breathes hard. There is nothing left in his heart but gold.

INT. ADRIAN’S CELL - DAY

Adrian is sitting on his bed. Fatimah rushes to his side. He looks into her eyes, his heart is moved by her Sunni loyalty.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Fatimah, beautiful Princess Fatima. I’ve nothing to live for anymore. My finger hurt and my mother hates me.

The Rattler watches Adrian and begins feeling the same stab of annoyance Sting Ray felt.

FATIMAH (cont’d) (smiling) Normally I’m not a prying person but suicide is unrewarding comrade.

ADRIAN (cont’d) Comrade! I see you’ve come into the orbit of my mother. How is she? Does she know I’m here? Oh women are such mysterious creatures.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Your mother is truly a mystery to everyone.

JACQUES (cont’d) What’s mysterious about self-interest. We’ve been had by a first class trickster. We’re no better off than him.

Jacques points an inexorable finger at Adrian who in turn looks towards Fatimah. 81

ADRIAN (cont’d) Who’s the shouting, angry guy?

Before Fatimah answers, the Rattler steps forward. He finds words and uses them quickly.

RATTLER (cont’d) Forget trying to second guess a woman otherwise we’ll all be a little crazier for it. I don’t know why you’ve been apprehended. At a guess there is a conflict of interest somewhere. But I want you to trust me. I’m a spy working for the resistance and if Allah preserves Iraq then expect Fortune to have some influence behind it.

The Rattler walks slowly, patiently towards the cell door.

Don’t try and escape. A thief is never without a motive.

Adrian presses his back against the pillow. He fishes into his pocket and, pulls out an ivory ball. Looks at Fatimah.

ADRIAN (cont’d) How about a game of roulette to pass the time.

Jacques, arms up in the air, pacing the floor, wild with fury.

JACQUES (cont’d) (mumbling to himself) You have my word as a thief. The questioning will be easy. She says. The Americans are simple. She says. It’s all very straightforward. Jesus. She talks out of both sides of her mouth. Sacre diable, the woman’s a devil. No wonder he turned to priesthood.

Adrian turns to Fatimah.

ADRIAN (cont’d) My mother?

She nods.

FATIMAH (cont’d) That’s Jacques Rothschild?

Adrian glances again at Jacques, still pacing the floor and muttering to himself.

82

JACQUES (cont’d) Why should I be in prison? I haven’t robbed anyone. The woman’s a tiger with five claws. An incarnate fiend whose only concern is her pocket. Les mecaniciens du Diable. Why can’t women just tell the truth. It’s not as though men don’t listen.

All of a sudden, Fatimah stands up and gives Jacques a sharp slap across the face. He puts a hand to his cheek.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Jacques Rothschild meet Adrian Luc. Your confidante’s, confidante.

ADRIAN (cont’d) …..and paternal father.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Father! Now I am prying.

INT. ROAD BACK TO BAGHDAD - DAY

They’ve been driving in silence for the last hour, each preoccupied with his and her own thoughts. Father is staring pensively out of the window.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Jacques Rothschild is here.

FATHER (cont’d) In Baghdad?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Yes.

Father stares at Fortune in the rear view mirror.

FATHER (cont’d) Why the hell now?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Didn’t you promise him an interview with the thief of Baghdad? Given that he is a highly experienced war correspondent I decided that the boy deserves something more authentic.

FATHER (cont’d) What does that mean?

FORTUNE (cont’d) 83

He’s in prison, right now lodging with Adrian.

FATHER (cont’d) Prison!

FORTUNE (cont’d) I admit it’s not what I intended but at least now our son can be a useful servant to his country instead of costing me money.

FATHER (cont’d) Cost you money! The boy is extremely self- sufficient. More or less.

FORTUNE (cont’d) On the roulette tables and I’m fool enough to stake him.

FATHER (cont’d) Right now Stone is controlling all the moves. We have to take the initiative away from him.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You mean go public?

FATHER (cont’d) That’s exactly what I mean.

EXT. TEMPLE MARKETPLACE - DAY

The white opel pulls up outside Baghdad’s Temple Marketplace. Fortune and Father get out of the car and look around.

FORTUNE (cont’d) This way.

She unleashes the poodle and it disappears into the marketplace. TRACKING them through the crowds towards Le Emporium.

EXT. LE EMPORIUM - DAY

Father looks at the sign and billows his cheeks. Fortune catches the disapproval.

FORTUNE You’re surprised at the choice of business?

FATHER (cont’d) No. It’s common knowledge the rag trade is full of thieves. 84

Fortune enters the shop. Father follows. She is greeted by her savvy young shop assistant.

Father begins circling the shop astonished by the magnificence of the garments.

Fortune whispers to her young assistant who begins sizing up Father. Smiling wryly.

FATHER (cont’d) You’ve become quite at home with business.

FORTUNE (cont’d) After we split up I had so great a need for hope that I was ready to believe in anything. Matter and the present is the best I can do.

FATHER (cont’d) Matter has no soul and cannot live eternally.

Fortune laughs, it has has a hard edge to it.

FORTUNE (cont’d) What would you prefer that I’m a hard kept old woman?

Looking at her ASSISTANT.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Has anything unusual occurred this morning.

ASSISTANT We’re safe here, at least for the moment.

The assistant walks to the door, turns the open sign around and freezes. The door opens. Zoltan walks inside and looks around with casual interest. A sharp pin striped suit catches his eye.

Father stiffens. He recognizes him from the infirmary. Fortune collapses the veil over her face. A few minutes pass in silence.

ASSISTANT (cont’d) I see you have expensive taste.

Zoltan looks at the price tag.

ZOLTAN 85

Can we negotiate a price?

ASSISTANT (cont’d) I’m sorry sir, but Le Emporium is not a place for bargaining.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) I must have this suit. I am attending a gala dinner tonight at the palace. Perhaps if you could let me speak to the store’s proprietor?

Fortune gestures to her assistant who immediately backs away. Zoltan looks hard at Fortune, his eyes penetrating the veil. A minute later he turns to Father. The glance brief but pointed, the message clear. I’m here to make a deal.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I am Asia the store’s proprietor.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Splendid because you know who I am.

After a few beats Fortune lifts her veil. Zoltan has to almost force himself to look at the ugly face with a black patch staring back at him.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Am I to give myself up?

FATHER (cont’d) He’s not here to arrest you. He’s here to offer you a deal.

Zoltan eyes flicker to Father.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) What makes you so certain?

FATHER (cont’d) A logical assumption. No honorable Iraqi would take the trouble to silo the one last hope that would rid Iraq of Washington.

Zoltan lights a cigarette then collapses like an omelette souffle.

INT. PRISON CORRIDORS - DAY

Fumbling her way in the shadows, Europe sees the outline of a door underneath a staircase. She plunges into the door and shuts it behind her. 86

The room is partially lit. In the shadows is the Rattler sitting on the edge of a bed polishing a huge set of keys with a white cloth. A black leather briefcase is set down beside him on the ground.

There is a moment whilst they look at each other. Coolly, the Rattler reaches into his top drawer and pulls out a newspaper. He picks up his keys and rises thoughtfully to his feet. The clanking of the metal is deafening.

RATTLER A newspaper is an excellent weapon. The resistance thanks you.

EUROPE Who are you?

RATTLER (cont’d) Mostly I’m the turnkey. Lucky for you I’m also one of Fortune’s agents. They call me the Rattler and, they call you?

EUROPE (cont’d) My name is Europe and I have come for a prisoner.

The Rattler twirls his key ring in amusement.

RATTLER (cont’d) Well that could be tricky.

EUROPE (cont’d) He’s a French national. A friend.

RATTLER (cont’d) (smiling grimly) Assuming that I can help you and that’s a hell of an assumption. How do you expect your French national to leave here without being noticed?

EUROPE (cont’d) (impatiently) So what do we do? Wait until his execution order is given?

RATTLER (cont’d) Stone is about to leave for Baghdad to attend a gala dinner at the Republican Palace. Everybody will be there. After he’s gone the guards will slacken off a bit 87

which means we can get to the foreigners undetected. in the meantime join me for a cup of tea.

INT. LE EMPORIUM – DAY

Fortune takes Zoltan’s hand and, pats his cheeks until he comes round. The assistant rushes forward with a glass of water and pushes Zoltan’s mouth onto the glass. Father kneels down beside him.

FATHER I can see you are poorly.

Something in Zoltan is relieved.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Tell me priest why do you keep the company of thieves and tricksters. Surely a man in your position could go far if you changed direction.

Several beats while Father considers the question for a moment.

FATHER (cont’d) I’m under a vow to protect those very people.

An overpowering weakness comes over Zoltan. He doubles over in agony.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) (choking his words) I’m afraid its cancer. The gut. I always lacked guts. That was my trouble. I’ve never seen so many men wasted so badly. He glances at Fortune. Stone wants to see you right away. He’s offering a truce. The gold for your son. Don’t be afraid. You have thousands of admirers. Stone has none. The war is over for me but it’s not for you.

Zoltan rises unsteadily to his feet. Slowly he walks to the front door then turns on the threshold. His eyes flick to Fortune.

ZOLTAN Be at the Republican palace tonight 8pm sharp. Stone’s expecting you. Your name will be left at the door.

88

The door shuts behind him.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Why does Stone assume I have the gold?

Father pushes his toupee back off his forehead. Troubled.

FATHER (cont’d) I’m not sure. Still, there’s no harm in playing along.

Suddenly a gust of wind blows the shop door opens. A freakishly tall woman of around thirty enters the Emporium, dressed in a stylish black leather hooded jihab. Her name is Zanir, agent working for Saudi Intelligence. A tattoo is etched into one half of her face. She walks silently past Fortune and, selects a classic white twin suit off the rack. Places the garment on the counter. Fortune moves quickly to the counter and smiling, slips the garment into a carry bag.

FORTUNE (cont’d) The pieces are magnificent. Are you a diplomat?

The woman is ice cold. Easily she removes one thousand dollars from her pocket. She doesn’t wait for the change and leaves.

The moment the door swings shut behind her, Fortune holds up two bills between her fingers.

She didn’t wait for the change.

FATHER (cont’d) Did you ask her too?

FORTUNE (cont’d) There’s no shame in robbing the dead.

Fortune walks behind the counter and, selects a set of keys that are lying next to her smart phone. In that instance the phone begins vibrating. A text message flashes on the screen. She clicks on the text. It reads: Asia, come on most urgent business regarding the pile of gold. EUROPE

FORTUNE (cont’d) Time to get rigged up old boy. We’re going on a treasure hunt.

Enthusiastically, Fortune walks to the fancy dress rack and selects a pair of baggy black leather pants and a white puffy 89 pirate shirt from the emporium’s rack. She holds it up in front of Father.

FATHER (cont’d) You must be joking!

INT. ADRIAN’S CELL – DAY

The cell door swings open and, bounces off the brick wall. The occupants of the cell turn round. Europe stands on the threshold tapping her fingers on the inside of the prison Wall.

EUROPE Rothschild! You lousy bastard.

Jacques rushes at her. Europe gives him that deep searching look that he remembers so well but from where? Europe slaps Jacques face hard. His head almost swivels.

Fatimah WHISPERS to Adrian

FATIMAH (cont’d) Who’s that?

ADRIAN (cont’d) Her name is Europe. A Baghdad heiress and never without a muse.

FATIMAH (cont’d) What are you saying that she and Jacques?

ADRIAN (cont’d) I’m not saying anything. It’s what everybody else is saying.

The Rattler enters the cell.

RATTLER (cont’d) Hurry. We don’t have much time.

Everybody rushes forward. On the threshold, Adrian has second thoughts.

I’m afraid I have to stay.

Shocked faces all round.

I won’t desert my father. He might disappear on me again. Together, we might stand a chance at survival. 90

The Rattler throws up his arm.

THE RATTLER (cont’d) Suit yourself. Quick. Everybody hurry.

Fatimah looks at Europe, and makes a choice.

FATIMAH (cont’d) I’ll stay with Adrian.

INT. TRIBUNE HEADQUARTERS – DAY

Old Chariot is standing halfway up the rung of a ladder inserting cartons of cigarettes into pigeon holes. The lower pigeon holes are filled with general office administration. The top pigeon holes are delegated to cartons of cigarettes used to pay off sources.

Fifty boxes are spread out on the floor below. Old Chariot, with the patience of a fisherman scales the ladder, one box at a time.

Around the same time, a mischievous young CADET, alert and mocking strolls over to steady the ladder. Shortly joined by three other young cadets.

CADET (shouting) Hey Old Chariot good news, you’ve won a ticket to a fancy dress ball. It’s the Baghdad Theatre Company’s annual fundraiser.

Old Chariot whips his head round.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) What the devil are you playing at?

CADET (cont’d) I thought you’d be jumping at the chance for a visit to Le Emporium, the second hand shop.

On the floor the cadets burst out laughing.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Abdullah you clown!

Furious, he flies down the ladder one handed and slips on the third rung falling directly onto the remaining cartons of cigarettes. The cartons burst open and the boxes of cigarettes scatter across the floor. 91

Lying in ambush are the Tribune’s cadets who shamelessly dive in.

I’ll shake you out of your wits.

Cheekily Abdullah taps his ear with his fingers implying deafness sending Old Chariot into a deeper schism…..

..just as Father and Fortune enter the fray. Amused by the supernatural spectacle Father turns to Fortune.

FATHER (cont’d) Who’s the lead in the drama?

Old Chariot looks at Father, dumfounded. Accused by a man with an off centre toupee and, dressed in black leather pants and a white puffy shirt.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) (snaps) I may well ask you the same question?

From the rear of the office the young cadets are heard LAUGHING at the exchange between the two men.

Old Chariot wanders over to his desk and sits there with a hostile expression.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Who are you and, what do you want?

FATHER (cont’d) Fortune, thief of Baghdad is here to see Europe.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) Very well. But you’ll to wait your turn alongside Ali Baba and his 40 thieves.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Then convey to Ali Baba I am here to talk gold.

Old Chariot is cautious. Many people claim to be Fortune but no one like her. The woman has her signature trademark. One eye.

OLD CHARIOT (cont’d) You really are the thief of Baghdad?

FORTUNE (cont’d) 92

The same. Where is Europe?

Fortune stands alone. Several long beats and humiliation wells up inside her.

If I’d been a beautiful woman things would’ve been different.

All at once APPLAUSE and CHEERING fills the room, making Fortune smile. Even the smart aleck cadets join the chorus of applause just as Europe and Jacques appear, minus the Rattler.

Europe regards Fortune speculatively, recognizing the woman as Asia, the second hand clothes dealer from the Temple Marketplace.

Father rushes forward embracing Jacques simultaneously looking for Adrian.

CLOSE ON Europe.

EUROPE I’m glad you came.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I’ve had a change of heart.

EUROPE (cont’d) Good. Would you come with me please.

INT. EUROPE’S OFFICE – DAY

Outside is a dull boom and, a cloud of black smoke spirals upwards. Flames spurt in the distance, sirens sound. Europe sits at her desk and lights a cigarette. She motions to Fortune to sit opposite.

EUROPE (blunt) Who are you?

FORTUNE In business I go by the name of Asia, tradeswoman at the Temple marketplace. A dealer in second hand goods.

EUROPE (cont’d) You have another name?

FORTUNE (cont’d) When duty calls I become Fortune. A thief working for the Resistance. 93

Europe probes the one eyed woman.

EUROPE (cont’d) What are you. Thief or servant?

FORTUNE (cont’d) Is there a difference? A thief is servile and a servant is always accused of theft.

EUROPE (cont’d) Why do you steal?

FORTUNE (cont’d) The bourgeois satiate themselves with luxury, property, wine, food, furniture, gold. I belong to the law of nature, and as such everything belongs to the poor. The law says I am a thief but I say the real thief is the one who robs the poor.

EUROPE (cont’d) That’s not how the legal world sees it or the State.

FORTUNE (cont’d) What do I care for State when the State does not respect the people!

EUROPE (cont’d) Listen. You are Fortune, thief of Baghdad. I’m happy to accept as much. But you have to prove it in a court of law to people who have every interest in denying you any good faith. How will a Treasury theft in broad daylight be judged by those who can influence the courts. Fortune, your life has been a sad story that is until now. How far back does your memory go?

FORTUNE (cont’d) To a time when life under the King was one of peace. How is your father?

EUROPE (cont’d) Dead.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I’m sorry ……..

EUROPE (cont’d) Don’t be. Thanks to you he lived peacefully in Paris up until his death…. And he is forever 94

in your debt.

Europe is oblivious to the quiet smile on Fortune’s face.

EUROPE (cont’d) To put it in a nutshell he bequeathed you something in his will but there is a clause. Do you remember his final instructions to you?

FORTUNE (cont’d) (hesitant) Return his ring and preserve the honor of the Kingdom.

Fortune holds out her right hand and pulls the diamond ring off her finger but before giving it too Europe, stealthily manipulates a spring hidden under the stone and a tiny key falls on her lap.

EUROPE (cont’d) The Hashemite gold belongs to you……if you can steal it back from Stone that is. He has the will and intends to bargain you out of it.

Fortune thinks a few beats.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I’m not afraid of Stone. He’s not a person to me, simply an event that is part of a business arrangement. But can I ask something of you?

Europe nods deferentially.

Contact Saudi Intelligence. Tell them that the Princess Fatimah is a prisoner at Camp Hellfire.

INT. RECEPTION, OUTSIDE EUROPE’S OFFICE – DAY

Europe’s entourage are mingling with the journalists. The talk is all about tonight’s dinner at the Republican Palace. Jacques snaps, photo after photo.

Fortune sidles up to Father and, shoves car keys in his hand.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Drive back to my shop. By now the Rattler would have returned the leather briefcase to my 95

assistant containing the ten million dollars Saudi ransom money. Have her give you the briefcase then tell her to open the door at the top of the inside stairwell. The door opens into a separate residence occupied by Dallas Stone.

FATHER (cont’d) What about our son?

FORTUNE (cont’d) I’ll get to that.

FATHER (cont’d) You care more for the gold than you do your own son?

FORTUNE Everything I’ve done, as cold as it may seem is to save Adrian’s future. As Stone’s landlady I got to learn his habits very quickly. I was doubtful ten million dollars would buy Adrian’s freedom when he knows he can fleece me out of $500 billion in gold.

Father’s eyes widen.

Still I needed to be sure. The naive love birds were the perfect dupe.

Father makes a sign of the cross.

Where’s your courage Stas?

FATHER (cont’d) It’s not a matter of courage. It’s a question of logic. You’ll accomplish nothing by negotiating a financial deal with Stone.

FORTUNE (cont’d) I intend to get my revenge one way or another. Now take this.

Fortune shoves the tiny key she emptied out of the diamond ring into Father’s hand.

Somewhere inside Stone’s apartment is an antique writing desk that bears the word Hashemite. There are six drawers in total. Three on either side of the desk. Next insert the key into the drawer on the top left hand side of the desk. Slide the draw 96

open and place the briefcase inside it. Do not close the drawer.

INT. STONES RESIDENCE – NIGHT

Stone is in his bedroom removing a tuxedo inside a garment bag from his wardrobe when the telephone rings. He sees it’s Sting Ray.

STONE Ah Sting Ray I hope you’re ringing to give me good news.

STING RAY Well I’m not sure. I’ve just received a phone call from the Saudi Foreign Minister. There’s talk of offering the Iraq Government economic assistance. The department is sending someone along to the anniversary dinner tonight. They seem rather anxious to discuss the matter.

STONE (cont’d) Didn’t I tell you that the Saudi’s would be kissing my arse. Getting the militias under control is having a positive effect.

STING RAY (cont’d) (warily) I strongly advise against it sir. You could be exposing yourself to unnecessary danger. The Saudi’s are Sunnis. It could look like you’re favoring one side.

STONE (cont’d) I don’t see it that way. I see it as reinforcing Iraq’s Arab identity. If I reject their offer I’ll never be able to show my face at the Arab League. If that’s the case I might as well go home. And Sting Ray……..I have no intention of doing that not until the gold is mine.

STING RAY (cont’d) Then I shall make sure we extend the Saudi representative every courtesy.

STONE (cont’d) Good. I want the palace guarded like Fort Knox. Now that the Saudi’s are cooperating let’s put on a good show. I’ll see you in half an hour. By the way, have 97

you spoken to that confounded turnkey lately. Sometimes he can be very secretive?

STING RAY (cont’d) He asked for the afternoon off. Can I help?

STONE (cont’d) Not unless you have ten million dollars to give me.

EXT. LE EMPORIUM - NIGHT

The white opel pulls up outside Le Emporium. Father straightens his toupee and hops out of the car. He surges towards the front door of the Emporium and pushes it open. The young assistant is standing in the doorway.

FATHER Get me the black briefcase. Hurry.

The assistant disappears to a room out the back of the shop. A few minutes later she returns with the briefcase containing ten million dollars.

Open it.

The young assistant flicks open the locks on the briefcase and several fat bundles of cash smile back at Father, and he likes it.

INT. STONE’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

The apartment is tidy and plain. Directly ahead, set underneath a large window is a writing desk laden with documents, a handgun and a bible. An envelope is sticking out from underneath the bible. He sees a tiny silver plaque on the top left hand corner of the desk that bears the word Hashemite.

Father inserts the tiny key into the third drawer on the left. It opens. He eases the briefcase inside the drawer being careful not to close it. Father cranes his neck to look at the envelope sticking out from underneath the bible. Curiously, he slides out the envelope and sees the official Hashemite seal and, reads the will.

Outside a siren erupts and Father inadvertently slips the will inside his shirt pocket. Father peers out of the window.

EXT. THE STREET

98

Under the spill of the streetlight an entourage of uniformed guards form a semi-circle outside Stone’s apartment. Agent Zanir of Saudi Intelligence is out in front dressed in a white twin suit. A guard shoots the door handle off its hinges. Seconds later, the thud of steel tipped boots hit the floor.

INT. THE CLOSET - NGITH

Father’s head swivels. He sees the closet, jumps in, angling his large frame inside the tight space. He closes the door and spies through the keyhole.

INT. STONE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Zanir is leading several uniformed guards into the apartment. She walks to the writing desk, and sees the briefcase inside the third drawer. Gently she removes the leather briefcase, places it on top of the desk and opens it.

A middle aged MAN with eccentric manner, and close cropped hair and tortoiseshell glasses enters the room; an ipad tucked under one arm. He brushes past the woman and sits down at the desk, first adjusting his glasses.

MAN I’ll ring through when I’m finished. Verification can take some time.

ZANIR Just hurry will you.

MAN (cont’d) Please. I am a special investigator with the Bureau of Taxation and Records, Division of Fraud and Conspiracy for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I work directly for the Crown at His Majesty’s bidding. I cannot hurry. My numbers are immaculate, totally immaculate. Extortion is a serious crime. That’s why his Majesty has requested my services.

ZANIR (cont’d) (impatient) You have one hour.

Zanir snaps her fingers then crosses the floor. The guards follow her out of the door.

The MAN places the ipad down on the desk. He removes the rolls of cash and begins verifying the serial numbers of each banknote. 99

CLOSE ON CUPBOARD

……..Father rolls his eyes

FATHER (mutters to himself) You must be joking.

then falls asleep.

EXT. THE REPUBLICAN PALACE – NIGHT

Fortune looks fixedly at the turquoise dome of the Republican Palace. Simultaneously, two figures converge on the road, separating to either side of Fortune. Each dressed upscale in black; their hands buried in pockets.

Fortune looks at her comrades, Dead Eye and the Customs Official.

FORTUNE (cont’d) This is just another walk around corporate gig. Lie, cheat and above all do not get caught. Begin by taking inventory so you can get a feel for who they are and what they may have.

EXT. GATES OF PALACE - NIGHT

Moments later she and her two comrades enter the gates to the Palace. It’s riddled with security, photographers and reporters.

Fortune and entourage start towards the entrance to the Palace. Onlookers catch sight of the old hag Asia and a look of horror light up their faces. Edging her way to the left side of the doorman, Asia/Fortune announces her name.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Fortune, thief of Baghdad.

The stunned DOORMAN looks down at his list then ticks her name off. He doesn’t dare prevent them from entering. Fortune ambles across the threshold.

DOORMAN (cont’d) (into earpiece) She’s arrived sir.

INT. THE BALLROOM – NIGHT

100

The trio enter a magnificent ballroom and thread their way through the crowd. Fortune’s comrades go straight to work, using the crowds well, excusing themselves politely but firmly, one on the right, one on the left, closing in like two prongs of a pincer attack.

Fortune isolates herself in the center of the room. She takes out a few gold coins and turns them over in her hands then she sees him. A meticulously groomed Stone sipping a glass of wine and greeting guests. Sting Ray at his side.

Suddenly, a loud CRASH and Fortune jumps. She spins round to see a waiter has dropped a tray and is picking up the broken plates. She looks around the festive ballroom then gets a gentle tap on the shoulder.

STONE (cont’d) So very pleased to meet you Fortune. I’m Commander Dallas Stone.

She offers her hand.

Let’s forget the laws that separate us and I’ll look upon you as my guest. You’ll see it will be better for everyone.

FORTUNE (cont’d) As you say comrade. It’s better for everyone.

Stone lifts the wine glass to his lips feeling the thief’s eyes studying him.

STONE (cont’d) Please forgive the delay at the door. It was rather humorous, in fact.

FORTUNE (cont’d) In what way?

STONE (cont’d) I’m afraid you rather startled the guests. It’s not often that a thief arrives without prior notice.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You must be joking Commander. It’s the only way a thief arrives.

STONE (cont’d) Let me introduce you to Sting Ray, my First Lieutenant. 101

Sting Ray hesitates at her repulsiveness.

STING RAY (cont’d) I am very pleased to meet you. The Commander’s friends are my friends, his enemies, my enemies.

Sting Ray disappears into the crowd. Conversation takes a moment to continue. Out of the corner of his eye, Stone perceives a freakishly tall woman we know as Zanir, her face covered in a veil entering the massive ballroom. Fortune recognizes the cadaverous apparition who starts towards Zoltan on the other side of the room.

Zanir, glides across the floor in Stone’s direction. She gently lifts her veil in passing. Stone’s hair stands on end. The snake tattoo seems to move and hiss with displeasure. Stone comes halfway back to life.

STONE (cont’d) You owe me a fairly large sum of money, and to hold you to your word your son stays in prison until the will is revoked and you confer powers of attorney over to me.

Hearing her enemy express himself with perfect lucidity, Fortune continues the charade.

FORTUNE (cont’d) The will. Where is it?

STONE (cont’d) Ah ……the will. I assure you it is quite safe as is your son. Five hundred billion is a handsome enough consolation for the trouble you’ve caused my operations. I think it’s reasonable to assume that fortune is now mine.

FORTUNE (cont’d) You are a just man and believe that I have made the right decision. I’m at your disposal comrade.

The servility comforts Stone.

STONE (cont’d) Nobody in the world except me knows that you were once a servant in this palace and I shall never tell. On condition that you serve me like the two fingers of my right 102

hand. You will find yourself in a sphere where your talents can be appreciated.

FORTUNE (cont’d) Think of me as the thief who came in from the gold. Everyone has seen me, ugly and ill-formed as I am. Let’s shake on it.

STONE (cont’d) (grinning) To hell with it. This party has been a good idea.

In Stone’s mind they’re persuaded of each other’s skill.

STONE (cont’d) I see you are exhausted and suggest that we go somewhere quiet. No games?

FORTUNE (cont’d) No games.

INT. SMALL BOUDOIR IN THE PALACE – NIGHT

When Stone pushes the door open he’s surprised to see Zoltan seated in a straight backed chair with his back turned. Next to him is a massive silver candelabra. A cell phone is in his hand, and he is perusing its contents.

STONE What are you doing here? I have business to conduct.

Zoltan swings around and puts the cell phone down on the desk beside him.

ZOLTAN Business? Can I ask what business?

His eyes flicker between Fortune and Stone.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) It wouldn’t be that your business has the hallmarks of criminal activity would it?

Zoltan’s disloyalty begins to unnerve Stone.

STONE Accuse me all you like but warn you I will declare my own war against you.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) 103

Make all the threats you like Commander but I will make you live with the consequences of blackmailing the Saudi royal family. Invading Iraq gave America the opportunity to rebel against OPEC, to take revenge on the royal family who is the likely contender for the five hundred billion barrels of gushing oil.

Stone reaches for the phone on the desk. Zoltan collapses his hand over it.

Forget it. You had something better going. Kidnapping a Saudi princess and demanding a ransom of ten million dollars. I can’t understand that uniform. It’s no secret you wanted to make a fortune out of this war. I’m sick of you. The world is sick of you!

Stone’s nervous tic returns to his cheek muscle as screams and shouts and the sounds of men running in panic fills the palace.

STONE (cont’d) What ransom? What Saudi Princess? Sting Ray!

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Forget it Stone you’re finished.

STONE (cont’d) You’re insane. Nothing works without Washington. The Saudi’s won’t give you freedom!

ZOLTAN (cont’d) (SHOUTING) Guards!

The door CRASHES open and half a dozen guards converge on the scene. ZOLTAN singles out one guard.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Arrest Commander Stone.

The guard steps forward and, places a firm grip on Stone’s arm. Zoltan leans into Stone and WHISPERS.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Goodbye Commander. We are separated from each other by ten million dollars, Saudi revenge and a war predicated on personal 104

agendas. Take the traitor away!

INT. THE BALLROOM - NIGHT

Fortune is standing at the bottom of the oak staircase. Zoltan gestures to his guards. Pistols drawn. Fortune pushes her way across the floor until she reaches a pillar in the center of the room. She feels her way across until she fingers a protruding button. Depressing the button, the door opens up onto a descending staircase. Like Aladdin’s slave of the lamp, Fortune vanishes in the twinkling of an eye.

INT. LE EMPORIUM – NIGHT

Father enters the store and, stares in disbelief. There are a dozen individuals seated in the room around a large table. His eyes widen in shock. Sheik Faisal, Head of Saudi Intelligence is sitting at the head of the table with pipe in hand and the black leather briefcase in front of him. Princess Fatimah sits on his right. The Saudi special investigator of Fraud and Conspiracy, at his left.

FAISAL Come in, Agent Stas. We’ve been expecting you.

Opened in front of Faisal is a file.

Seems there’s a lot of manoeuvring in the world of high finance and kidnapping these days. Trouble is nobody wants to say who’s manoeuvring whom?

Father sits there in stunned silence, trying to absorb what the Sheik is telling him. He stumbles over his words.

FATHER No…no… no one is.

FAISAL (cont’d) We have the physical evidence. It’s enough for a conviction. Stone was caught red handed with the ten million dollars ransom money. According to Princess Fatimah, the prison is full of detainees kidnapped from all over the world. Picked up off the street and flown here. Stone seems to have created an underground economy based on ransom.

If Father had known the background, he could have made an 105 intelligent guess instead he stifles a sigh and pushes his toupee back in place.

FATHER (cont’d) Fine with me. Shame we can’t get a commission on what we seize.

Faisal looks square at Father.

FAISAL (cont’d) We’re going to want to move fast on this. Stone’s been arrested and charged with kidnapping. Of course he’s denying everything. The loss of face for Washington will sting them pretty good. This war is history now and the world has a right to know about these unforeseen events. I take it you’re fully satisfied with the case.

FATHER (cont’d) (uneasily) Yes Faisal. It’s solid.

FAISAL (cont’d) I’ll take your word for it then.

Pierre Page emerges from the shadows followed by Jacques Rothschild. He LOOKS at Father in disbelief.

PAGE I hope for your sake Stas you’re in disguise. Otherwise you’ll be recommended for a psych evaluation.

Father dismisses his superior with a hand gesture and turns his attention to Jacques but gives him a moment. CLOSE ON Jacques and Fatimah.

FATIMAH You look tired.

The words set Jacques heart on fire.

JACQUES I’ve been running around a little.

Jacques holds up his camera.

I’ve got it all here. Stone’s arrest, the kidnap victims detained at Camp Hellfire. The images have already been uploaded to the Al-Jazeera network. They’ll be front 106

page news by the morning. It will set off a global scandal.

Suddenly Zoltan bursts through the door startled to see the esteemed head of Saudi Intelligence. Sheik Faisal stands and offers his hand.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Saudi Arabia is a strange race. In peacetime they are impossible to manage, but in a crisis they are magnificent.

FAISAL (cont’d) I take that as a thank you for our support.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Yes. But whilst one enemy of the State has been arrested his accomplice is hiding here.

FAISAL (cont’d) What are you talking about?

Zoltan scratches his head.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) The law must do its duty. I’m here to make another arrest.

FAISAL (cont’d) Who?

ZOLTAN (cont’d) The proprietor of this establishment kept by a certain Asia otherwise known as Fortune, thief of Baghdad.

Boldly, Father steps forward.

FATHER (cont’d) You can never find her.

The occupants are silent. Faisal lights a cigar guessing the matter isn’t of concern for Saudi Intelligence.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) She is wanted for the theft of treasury funds estimated at ten million dollars.

FATHER (cont’d) Fortune never committed a shadow of a 107

crime. The matter is between Saudi intelligence and Fortune. The money never belonged to Treasury.

ZOLTAN (cont’d) Then our account is settled. The kidnapping victims will be released in the next twenty four hours and repatriated back to their country of origin.

Zoltan leaves.

Faisal snaps his fingers, and his entourage rise from the table. In an orderly manner they shuffle out of the room. The Princess Fatimah lingers.

Pierre Page and Father accompany Faisal to the door, exchange a handshake that is accompanied by quiet banter.

FATIMAH

…………. shifts her eyes to Jacques. He pulls her gently towards him.

JACQUES (cont’d) Can I see you….

Fatimah puts a finger to Jacques lips.

FATIMAH (cont’d) Don’t say anything Jacques. Let’s leave it the way it is.

JACQUES (cont’d) You know I’m in love with you.

FATIMAH (cont’d) But I am Muslim and you are Jewish.

FAISAL (cont’d) (eyes sidelong) And the King is waiting…..

JACQUES (cont’d) Perhaps it’s just a case of getting use to a new recipe. See you in Paris Princess.

The entourage leave. Page turns to Father.

PAGE (cont’d) Adrian will be back in Paris tomorrow night. He’ll be glad to hear his mother has 108

been exonerated. Word around town is she’s struck gold. Do you have any idea where she is?

Father smiles wryly.

FATHER (cont’d) On her way to Basra I suspect.

PAGE (cont’d) What in God’s name is in Basra?

FATHER (cont’d) Five hundred billion dollars in black gold. Shall we go, gentleman?

Satisfied, Page shoves his hands in his pockets.

PAGE (cont’d) By all means.

FADE OUT