A short film treatment featuring a postman-cum-hitman
A hitman makes a mistake
We see PHILIP in a print shop getting some business cards. He rushes out with them because someone enters the shop whom PHILIP does not want to talk to.
PHILIP is struggling to get the business cards into their plastic box, but some cards get blown away by a fierce wind.
One ends up in a postbox.
CUT TO POSTBOX.
JACK opens up the postbox and begins to gather the letters into his post bag. He sees the business card and picks it up. We see the card reading "PHILIP STAINES Web Design" and a web address [to be registered].
Later we see JACK at his expensive computer looking at PHILIP STAINES's website and filling in the "Contact Us" page. He writes briefly about the possibility of setting up a website about little model boats, for a club he's a member of.
There is an almost instant reply in JACK's inbox, and we see PHILIP STAINES's home address. JACK scratches his head.
VOICEOVER : Odd. Ah well, JACK me lad, a job's a job.
We see JACK arriving at PHILIP's address. PHILIP opens the door and lets JACK in. And we see JACK makes sure that PHILIP stays in front of him as they go into the living room where there is an old CRT computer screen.
PHILIP then shows JACK a sample website on the screen, with pictures of little boats. JACK stands behind PHILIP.
JACK gets out a gun and a silencer while PHILIP talks of JavaScript and CSS. JACK screws the silencer onto the gun and shoots PHILIP in the head, cleanly.
We see JACK then take a lot of time cleaning up after him, in an obviously professional way. He also leaves a few odd things behind that might interest a detective or the forensics.
VOICEOVER : They'll take care of that, usually do me old son, lets get outa here.
JACK leaves being careful all the while.
At his home, we see JACK looking at his online bank account, and refreshing it a few times.
VOICEOVER : Well, that's very odd, it's always gone in two days after. That particular one hundred grand was all going the grand-son. It's all too odd, and not my usual. Bugger, this is a wee bit too different. Maybe I should have questioned it when I found out the fella's address all too easy? But, never done that, never will. Question a job? Nah. I've done loads of jobs, all follow pretty much the same patter, but this one? And my one hundred percent success rate has proved I'm good. None has ever been in the newspapers. None. But ...
(PAUSE)
Well, it was a job, and an easy one at that. Move on, the next one may be merry hell.
The murder of Philip Staines hits the news.
VOICEOVER : Shit! Shit, shit buggery. Fuck it, right, maybe I'm getting on a bit for this game, I'll do it. I'm gonna have to h'officially question this last one. Bugger.
We see JACK leave the computer and go into the kitchen, reaches at the back of a cupboard and brings out an old tobacco tin. He opens it and pulls out a small piece of paper. We see a phone number 07700 900676.
VOICEOVER : Well, I did wonder what the BOSS sounds like, now I'm going to find out. Fuck it.
JACK reaches behind another cupboard and brings down a biscuit tin, full of burner mobile phones. He picks one, turns it on, waits and dials 07700 900676.
BOSS immediately answers.
BOSS : It's in the news. You're a liability. You're off the books. Remember the training where you would off your Aunt Fanny if necessary? Did you check the dot?
JACK No, it's always been a simple business card in the post box, never needed to check the dot, all was ok.
BOSS You didn't check the dot. A business card. With the hit details. With a dot. However faint, two cm down, two cm across from the top. Basic training. You're a liability, a liability.
We hear a click, and the line goes dead.
JACK goes into the lounge and sits on his sofa.
VOICEOVER : Right. I do actually have an Insurance Policy. I can go to the Cops and ask for Queen's Witness. Occasional slips here, references there, a name or two, I've made a note of them all. There's that Insurance Policy. But - only if the coppers track me down. At the moment they have no clues.
We see the calendar. Days, weeks, months pass.
VOICEOVER : I must have cleaned up well. In the news. No-one to see me. Looking good. I have lots of money - I could go to a very obscure place, start a new life, or risk it with the Authorities and be QW - safe house, new id, all in exchange for what I've gleaned. Will it be enough? Obscurity in a new part of the world, or stay here? I've hit 27 people, so, QW might not work. Off to a new life then - I'll sort it out - I have a few fake passports. Mongolia it is - I'll learn enough of the Lingo to help me along the way.
We again see the calendar - Four months later.
A loud rap on JACK's front door. We see a WOMAN, pretty and a nice smile in the videophone. We see JACK going to the door to look.
WOMAN : Jack Frasier
VOICEOVER : My operational name - no-one knows it, apart from The BOSS - bloody hell. Well, this must be it, the hit-woman come to hit the hitman.
JACK waits. The WOMAN waits. She's still there a good while later.
WOMAN : Jack Frasier, you're in trouble, I'm not a hit-woman, I want to help.
JACK takes his firearm from a holster under his jacket and holds it against the door. He steps back and opens the door, pointing the gun at the WOMAN. She holds her hands up and JACK frisks her, pointing the gun at her head. JACK finds nothing.
VOICOVER : But there are lots of ways to kill a man, not just something that sticks out on a frisk.
Gun to her temple, JACK lets her in.
VOICEOVER : Let's see what she has to say then.
WOMAN : I know, and I know about your Insurance and I know about Philip Staines
JACK : How are you here to help me? I assume you have some way of doing me in, it's only natural, you've no firearm as far as I can tell, so what is it? And, for God's sake, make it quick.
WOMAN : Nope, nothing
JACK : I don't believe you, not at all, so....
JACK walks back a bit, still pointing the gun.
VOICEOVER : Prepare to meet my maker, I've had a good life so far, no complaints, it's all been rather easy and fun, to be honest.
WOMAN : Fortunately for you, I'm not that kind of gal, so sit down, and we'll chat for a while. Do you have any whisky in the house?
JACK : Yes, some Talisker - to your liking?
WOMAN : Fabulous, let get steamed together. I didn't spot a dot either, I'm on the same list as you.
JACK : Why would it be better for two of us to go AWOL together?
WOMAN : Husband/Wife - looks so much more natural.
JACK : I guess, yes. Half the attention to detail, we'll both be on the lookout. Ok, maybe. As I say, make it quick.
WOMAN : No - I shall strip naked.
JACK : No.(PAUSE) Actually, yes do that.
She does.
VOICEOVER : Nothing on her - but maybe she has a cyanide pill 'twixt her teeth?
JACK takes a very good, professional look at her all over.
VOICEOVER : No. Nothing. She's on my side, phew, that's a relief. Phew, bloody phew. I have an ally, now that's something I didn't expect. We're all loners in this job, we do it, we get paid, we do the next one. It's a life. Sometimes quite an exciting one, when you look back. Not always at the time though, bloody scary, guns and arrows even. But, at the end of the day, we were us and they were them, a constant battle. Sometimes we were top, sometimes they were. But, as a foot soldier, a mercenary, it didn't matter. Just like anyone else, we had a job to do, we did it, and we were paid. Then we got to enjoy the money. Ninety percent of which is going to my grand-son, when he's twenty-one, to give him a good start in life. He deserves it, he's a good lad.
For me, the ten percent is enough to pay my way and have a few luxuries. A fine life, really, I've enjoyed it. And now I have a friend who knows the job, who's on my side, and we'll go off and be two people, enjoying a very different life indeed. That's quite lovely really. I’ll take a good long swig of this Talisker and toast the new partner in my life.
We close up on JACK’s hand reaching for the whisky.
A shot rings out, the screen fades slowly to white. The whisky glass falls in slow motion.
VOICEOVER : Not quite quick enough, but it'll do.
