The telephone rings over a BLACK screen. Quiet sound of it picking up, beep as it’s answered. Peter’s a British expatriate, a part of the Royal Ulster Constabulary for a time, and involved in some of the horror that happened there. Michael Peter? It’s Michael. I. I’ve fucked up. Int Hotel - Night ECU of PETER’s jaw as he answers. Enough of his face is shown we’ll know it’s him in the next scene, but for now that’s as much as we see. Peter Slow down, mate. Michael My daughter. They’ve taken my daughter. They’ve- Peter Slow. Down. The fuck’s this about? There’s a pause. Michael We, shouldn’t do this over the phone. Meet me. That place. Last time. You know it. Ext. Church- Night Peter approaches the burnt-out husk of a church. He hears the screams of his friends, Michael included, shrieking as if driven mad, as if they were being murdered, and for a moment, Peter believes he sees the burnt-up corpse of a young girl, staring at him, a girl he recognizes as ANNA. But she is not there, and he lights a cigarette. Michael’s dialogue is so abrupt, ending the harsh silence, that it scares the crap out of us, but Peter was expecting it, and doesn’t react. Michael You really ought to quit. Peter So says the junkie. Michael Fair enough. Peter Why here? Michael It’s safe. And I wanted you to remember how much you owe me. Peter I hadn’t forgotten. Michael I, know. But what I’m asking; may cancel the whole debt. I owe a lot of money. Peter I haven’t got it. Michael You could get it. But that isn’t why I called. Peter already knew that. Peter No. Michael The money isn’t the thing. They’ll kill her either way. She’s just leverage. Peter Have you a picture? And I’ll need their address. INt. apartments- night STEPHEN opens his door a crack; it hasn’t one of those peep holes. He’s tired, and a bit buzzed, but he’s expecting it’s someone who wants to pick up a shipment. Peter is standing there, holding his wallet open. We think we see a policeman’s badge. Peter Police. Open up. Stephen looks over his shoulder at Bill, cooking something up on a folding table. Bill tells him very hurriedly. Bill Bolt it. Stephen tries to shut it, but Peter kicks the door in on him. Stephen tries to rush him, and Peter backhands him with a snub-nosed revolver with no exposed hammer. Bill rushes between Peter and the drugs he’s been preparing with his palms up. Bill Wait. You can’t. Everything here. Very flammable. Peter aims the pistol at him, and he moves away, gets down on his knees with his hands behind his head. Peter knocks the cooking equipment over onto Stephen, who cries out. Peter flicks open his lighter, and lights it, holding it over the spilled table contents. Bill The fumes will kill us all, everyone in the building. My daughter, upstairs. Please. Peter drops the lighter, and the whole mess catches fire. Stephen screams. Peter walks over to a whimpering Bill. Bill Please. Peter Where’s the girl? Bill My daughter, she’s upstairs. Please- Smoke is filling the room. Peter puts the gun beside Bill’s face. Peter No. Michael Davis’ daughter. Where- Bill coughs on the smoke as he speaks. Bill I don’t know, I don’t- Peter ends the conversation by smacking Bill with the pistol, hard. To BLACK. Silence for a moment. FADE IN as Bill comes to. The room isn’t on fire, nor is there smoke, or evidence there had ever been a fire, and Stephen’s looking him in the face. Bill Are we dead? I; I saw you burn. Who, who was that? Int. Hotel- Night Peter angrily walks across the room. Michael looks very nervous, sitting on the bed. Peter Your daughter wasn’t with those men; never was. Michael I swear, I thought- Peter I’m not your bloody hatchet man, here to sort your business. BLACK. Sound of the receiver picking up again. Travis Tanya’s dead. Thought you should know. Peter I hadn’t heard from her- Travis You hadn’t heard from any of us. That’s how we wanted it. Int. Hotel- Night Peter glares angrily as he snarls into the phone. Peter Then why am I hearing from you now? BLACK. Travis Because staying away from you wasn’t enough. And now we need your help. You got all of us into this. It’s time you got us out. White letters appear on the black background: THE CON.