The Rhythm Section

Think of your heart as the drums.

Your breathing as the bass.

Lisa! Front bedroom.

Hi.

I'm Keith.

Half an hour, 100. An hour, 150.

I just want to talk.

Let's get the money out of the way.

Yeah.

What's your name?

Lisa.

Is that your real name?

My name's Lisa.

Unless you want it to be something else.

- How about Stephanie? - Sure.

Stephanie Patrick?

Your parents, they were on the Northeastern Airlines flight

that crashed, into the Atlantic three years ago

with your sister and your brother.

I'm a journalist.

I'm writing an article.

Look, it wasn't an accident. There was a bomb on board.

Have you got a cigarette?

No.

The bombmaker is here. He's in London.

He's free. He's walking the fucking streets.

I'll be back in a minute.

Up. Come on.

Get off me. Get off me!

I just want to talk, Stephanie.

- Go on. Get out, guv. - All right, I'm going!

You have one saved message.

Hello, sweetheart.

Dad left his wedding ring on the counter.

Can you grab it?

See you at the airport.

We love you.

What are you doing?

- Can you prove it? - Just get in.

So where are we going?

You can't have sex with me.

That's a relief.

Fuck you.

Can you move?

You want a drink?

I'm gonna get a beer.

Is that the man who killed my family?

That's Mohammed Reza.

He made the device.

- So he's a bombmaker. - And the security services,

they've got him under surveillance,

- but they won't bring him in. - They know who made the bomb

and they won't fucking bring him in?

No.

- Well, why not? - I'm not sure yet.

Maybe they're worried that if they do,

they might lose his network.

Maybe they're also more scared of who he might lead them to,

maybe one of our friends in the Middle East.

Ramifications of that could be huge.

Can you imagine if this stuff gets out?

That they've let a known bomber walk the streets of London?

That all of this, all this... The plane crash was a cover-up?

The fallout would be catastrophic.

How do you know all this?

Research. And my source.

- And I'd prefer it... - And you know your source...

- ...If you don't smoke, please. - ...is telling the truth?

- How do you know? - I'd prefer if you didn't smoke.

How do you know your source is telling the truth?

He hasn't steered me wrong yet.

So this source, what does he need you for?

He can't do it himself.

He's part of the intelligence community.

Ex-MI6, but he's still an insider.

And he needs you to help him.

Is that right?

I can help you.

You should have left me alone.

But I didn't, did 1?

"Cause I make such a good headline.

Some tragic, middle-class student.

I'm not that kind of journalist.

And I'm not here to sell papers.

You could have had any life you wanted.

This is the life I want.

Instead of being the top student at Oxford that you were?

I don't believe you.

Why did you come for me?

You're another victim.

You're just not dead yet.

Who was Martin Douglas?

The man in the seat meant for me.

He was an architect.

From Uniondale, New York.

- Was he married? - Yeah. Yeah, he was.

Did he have children?

Two.

B.

- Who else knows about all this? - No one.

Well, what about your source?

B.

Is that your source?

What's B stand for?

- Is B in Scotland? - Leave it.

What's his name?

What's B stand for?

It doesn't matter. You'll never find him.

I've got to go out. I've got a meeting. So...

That's if you need anything, and there's some keys.

I could disappear and take your keys.

And I could change the locks.

- That a new coat? - No.

What do you think, I'm a fucking Travelex, Lis?

What do you need, one or two?

And a gun.

You? A shooter?

Do me a fucking favor, Lis.

I'll just find someone else.

Can I help you?

The bag.

Where's my bag?

Stop!

Hey. I need to go that way.

Sorry, we're going into the town.

You'll just have to make your own way.

Get the fuck off me!

Get the...

Let go of me!

Stop!

Take off your coat.

Take off your coat!

Empty the pockets.

- How long since your last hit? - I'm not an addict.

- You're not an addict? - I'm a user.

- This for me? - No.

Is this for me?

You'd have to get very close. Close enough to hit me with it.

It's not loaded.

Wait!

Stephanie. That's your name, isn't it?

That's right.

Your parents would be proud.

Who else knows you're here?

- My parents are dead. - I know.

Who else knows you're here?

- No one. - I can't hear you.

No one.

No one knows. No one knows. No one knows I'm here.

No one knows.

Why did you come here, then?

- I'm gonna kill Reza. - Oh, God.

He must be terrified.

Help me find him.

You want to kill Mohammed Reza, you need to hire a professional.

I don't have any money.

Well, you have a job. You're a prostitute, aren't you?

You're...

You're B. You're Proctor's source.

Sorry?

I could go to a newspaper

and they would...

They would want to hear about you and Proctor, I'm sure.

They'd want to hear about you for...

Was that the same Proctor you managed to get killed?

You might as well have shot him yourself.

Look at me.

Look at me!

You don't have a clue

about the scale of the mess you've caused.

No!

Where is Reza? Help me find him.

Why would I do that?

You spooked Reza with your cafeteria stunt.

Thanks to you, he's vanished.

- I need to kill him. - You can't even walk.

Then help me walk.

Laces.

Fuck you.

One second. One second.

Just one second, please.

I'm gonna say this now, So you never turn around to me

and say I didn't warn you.

You're not made for this.

Can we talk about Reza?

You're wasting your time.

Hey.

I can get you fit. I can teach you survival.

But in the end, you'll still be you.

It'll take longer than you want. It'll hurt more than you think.

Can we talk about Reza?

Almost certainly, you won't succeed.

But if by some miracle you do succeed,

this is what you'll discover:

It's not worth it.

Come on.

Just stop it.

- Give me a minute! - Oy.

Don't treat me like I'm fucking worthless.

All right, take off your clothes.