Fame, big money. All this is coming. And ultimately, having all this, but without love, good friends, ordinary worldly happiness, a person loses all sense of life. Certainly, the harmful effects of alcohol and drugs are also pushing it, but they only speed up the process of making such a decision, how to settle scores with life. The demons inside of us begin to rejoice at such thoughts, and will do everything that we would eventually accept the only true solution for them. And they will find another lost soul, and they will happily rub their hands in anticipation ...
The last concert was played almost a month ago, the plans for recording a new album, and a tour of the cities. A whole month of free time. But today's date, the sixteenth of April, only made us remember the anniversary of the disappearance of her daughter. Taking a small travel bag, Charlie went to the airport. The flight schedule indicated that the next flight to Syracuse, New York in an hour. After buying the ticket and after registering, Charlie sat on the bench, and tried to sleep. He has long been tormented by nightmares, strange dreams, one of the last, his daughter is somewhere alive, and asks to take her away from here. But where is she? The place does not seem to find out, it's dark. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and grabbed it sharply, turning, Charlie saw a frightened girl in airline uniforms.
Girl from the air company
"Mister, are you all right?"
Charlie
- Yes, I'm sorry! Charlie looked at his watch. It was time to pass for the passengers' landing.
Action 2 Int. Motel in Syracuse
The city was met with torrential rain. He has been here, and more than once. This is the city in which he grew up. Over the past twenty years, of course a lot has changed. There were new buildings, reconstructing the bridge. But on the whole it is the same hole in which people and people are drinking and killing each other, most often on domestic soil. Once Charlie was lucky to leave here, and become a famous musician. Leaving the bus, he headed towards the standing taxi cars, passing people did not recognize him, and it was for the best. A heavy rain washed away the path, leading seems to a myriad of crosses and monuments. Passing by them and reading the dates of people's lives, you involuntarily ask yourself what kind of people they were? From what did they die? Slipping along the wet grass, Charlie reached the grave of his daughter, who was on a low hill. Now only a heavy, marble stone reminded us that a part of Charlie himself was buried here. The water rained down from above, to a lonely man standing, bending his head above the gravestone. The next destination was not a large, cheap motel in the north of the city. Late evening. Arriving by taxi, and having paid off with the driver, he registered in one of the rooms of this motel.
Motel Administrator
- "Your key is Mr. Banton, room 208." We have breakfast from eight to nine in the morning. Have a nice rest!
Said the young guy-administrator, with the appearance of Briolin, from the film with John Travolta. It's a little amused Charlie, and he, restraining the smile, thanked the administrator and went to his room. Closing the door, he turned on the TV, according to which a politician promised a good life, decent wages and peace throughout the world. After pulling out the bag from the bag, Charlie gently took out a few tablets, then threw it into his mouth, and swallowed them. On TV continued to show news about politics, military conflicts, victims, among civilians, killed soldiers. But it was not given in Charlie's brain, all this information passed him, and he just sat in an armchair and looked blankly at the flickering screen of the TV. Suddenly, some people appeared on the screen, they peered over this side of the screen, shone brightly with a flashlight, but what they were talking about was incomprehensible. Instead of them a young girl appeared, who, with tears in her eyes, repeated the same thing, too.
The girl from the TV screen
- Do not! Please! No!
Finally he fell asleep. But he was awakened by loud blows at the door, it was already seven o'clock in the morning. The blows to the door did not stop.
Charlie
- What a hell? Who's there?
Charlie grumbled, and sharply opened the door, preparing to pile on the annoying knocking at his door. On the threshold stood a man in a raincoat, and in a black suit, in his hands was a large envelope, which he handed to Charlie.
Stranger
- "Mr. Banton, hold the envelope, all the information you need is in it."
Charlie
- "What kind of envelope?" What is there? Charlie asked in confusion.
Stranger
- I do not know, I was only asked to deliver it to you. Good luck!
Charlie gazed intently at the envelope, on which his name and surname were written. On the reverse side, there were no inscriptions. Thinking that it was some kind of mistake, Charlie went downstairs to the reception desk. But instead of yesterday's guy-administrator, now was completely different. Not giving much importance to this, Charlie asked.
Charlie
- "Did you see where the man in the black cloak went?"
Motel Administrator
- "What man?" I have not seen anyone here.
Charlie
- "Can we see the surveillance cameras?"
Motel Administrator
- Oh sure. With these words, the administrator showed the cameras, having rewound them at the right time. But on them, there was no man in a black cloak!
- Are you sure that someone was here? Have you lost something? Can call the police?
Charlie
"No, no, it's all right!" Thank you!
Once more, looking around, Charlie went to his room.
Action 3 Int. Motel Syracuse. Charlie's room. Day
Closing the door and looking out the window, Charlie opened the packet. There was an ID of an FBI agent with his photograph, a gun with two magazines and a silencer, five packs of one hundred dollar bills, and also an inscription for the agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Tommy Brighton. It was written about the loss of a girl. With attached photos. Her face seemed to him familiar, somewhere he probably saw her. The girl was named Elizabeth Fowley, twenty-four years old, was born in Lansing, Michigan. According to the parents, March 10 last year, went to New York, to study, after that, nothing is known about her, and her tracks are lost.
As a child, Charlie loved detective stories and dreamed of becoming a policeman. But his passion for music made him a popular singer-musician, although he still liked to watch detective films and read similar literature.
But what happened now, did not fit into Charlie's mind. He's an FBI agent who needs to find the missing girl? What the hell is going on? Is this someone's joke? Prank?
Down again to the reception desk, Charlie asked for help in finding the phone of the New York Police Department.
Motel Administrator
- "Any trouble?" Why the police in New York? We can contact our department.
Charlie
- Everything is fine! Just give me the police number of New York, please.
Motel Administrator
"All right, one minute." But, find it, write it down. Keep a pencil and a sheet.
Charlie dialed the number. At that end, a pleasant female voice responded to the New York police department.
A woman's voice in the phone tube, from the police station.
- How can I help you?
Charlie
- Hello! I would like to know about the missing person, do you have any information and can you confirm the loss? She's a girl, her name is Elizabeth Hawley, twenty-four, from Lansing, Michigan. On March 10 last year, according to the parents, went to New York, after which nothing is known about it.
A woman's voice in the phone tube, from the police station
- And who are you? Why do you need this information?
Charlie
- "I'm an FBI agent, Cha ... Tommy Brighton."
A woman's voice in the phone tube, from the police station
- "A minute, I'll look at the list." Yes that's right. But at the moment no information about the whereabouts is known. The search continues.
Charlie
- Thank you!
Charlie hung up.
Motel Administrator
- "So you're from the FBI?" Are you looking for someone here?
Charlie
- What? No, not here. Thanks for the phone, all the best!
He went up to his room. I opened the envelope again with the case. But there were more questions than answers.
- So, okay, the girl really disappeared, I have a certificate for the name of the FBI agent unknown to me, but for some reason with my photo, and it was I who should find her. Mmm... interesting. Well, I'll go to New York, maybe I'll learn a little more.
Picking up his bag, Charlie picked up the tablets from the table, which he put in his pocket. The TV continued to work. Now there is some scientist, maybe just a charlatan, telling about travels beyond the bounds of his mind. The stars flew on the screen, followed by various inserts from photos with waterfalls, forests and other beauty of nature. Turning off the TV, he again went to the reception desk to pay for the number.
Charlie
- "Room 208, how much from me?"
Motel Administrator
- "208, so." You have already paid for a week.
Charlie
- Yes? It's strange. Oh well. Thank you!
Motel Administrator
- You are welcome!
The young, administrative guy sat down on the armchair and stared at the TV screen, where the same scientist continued to talk about what was sometimes hidden from us.
The road to New York took quite a bit of time. In New York, he also had to visit. Here began his career as a musician. Here lived his ex-wife, with his son. So he knew the city was not bad. I was thirsty all the way, so when I got off the bus, he first went to the nearest store, bought a bottle of water. At the cash register of the store, there was clearly not a young, battered-up seller, with long hair that was already shining with greyness, and with tattooed hands. He sometimes looked at the image on the TV where the Charlie band clip was shown, and shook his head to the beat, the seller obviously liked this music. At this point, Charlie was already at the ticket office with a bottle of water, and his thought was that now he would recognize him, ask for an autograph, make a joint photo. He has already prepared a phrase, like yes-yes, it's me, here's an autograph, a photo? Come on, of course! But no, nothing like this happened. The salesman looked at him, muttered that you had a dollar, and then shook his head to the rhythm of the music, every now and then, glancing at the TV. This surprised Charlie. How? He did not recognize him? It's strange. It was not ordinary, but for some reason he liked it. For all his musical life, he was rather tired of the crazy fans, and lately, he wanted peace and quiet. Although the concerts, which were attended by thousands of people, gave him great satisfaction. They first shared their irrepressible energy, and then they took it away, leaving devastation behind themselves.
Leaving the store, Charlie headed to the nearest police station. At the entrance, he handed over his check bag, got it back, he went to the policeman sitting at the table and showed his ID to the FBI agent.
The policeman on duty
- "Are you on any business, Mr. Brighton?"
Charlie
- Yes, I need to talk to a detective who is looking for missing people.
The policeman on duty
- "Go to the third floor, the office is three hundred and ten, you need detective Dawson."
There were three people in the office, two were talking on the phone, and one was assiduously typing some text on the computer keyboard.
Charlie
- Hello! I need Detective Dawson.
The man typing, looking up from the computer. And looked up at the stranger.
Detective Dawson
- It's me. How can I help you?
Charlie took an identification card from the inside pocket of his jacket and opened it.
Charlie
- "My name is Tommy Brighton, I'm from the FBI, I have a case for looking for a missing girl, I was told that you can help me."
Detective Dawson
- "Come in, sit down." What girl?
Charlie
- Here you have it.
Charlie handed the envelope with the file and photos. The detective, frowning, carefully read the contents of the dossier and looked at the pictures.
Detective Dawson
- Now I'll look, I think, I remember something.
After a couple of minutes of searching on the computer, the detective confirmed that he really remembers this matter, despite the fact that it's been almost a year now.
Detective Dawson
- Yes, I remember there was a statement about the search for a girl, here it is written that I saw her last time, on April 14th, in a bar called "The Black Comet", one of the guards of this bar remembered her, but with whom she was, one or not, what time he left, he never remembered. After that, I have no information about her whereabouts at the moment. If you want, I can make copies of my information.
Charlie
- It will be useful. Please do. - Yes, I can see somewhere all the statements about missing people in the last year, do you have such a database? And I'm also interested in the archival numbers of the main newspapers, unless of course you have such information.
Detective Dawson
- Of course, you can take this place, now I will open the base, and I will show a place where you can see all the archives of newspaper issues.
Charlie hoped to find any data about who Tommy Brighton was, and if he was not dead, perhaps he was on the list of missing people. Having flown through the newspaper for a couple of months, last year since the date of Elizabeth's disappearance, nothing has been found about the murder of Tommy Brighton. Perhaps he was still alive, or dead, but the corpse so far has not been found. Then he began to study the statements about the missing people. Finding an article about Elizabeth, who did not tell anything new, Charlie took this as the starting point of his further search, and yes! The result did not take long to wait! The FBI agent, Tommy Brighton, his photo, where he is from, the signs on which number you can call, if his location is found, disappeared without a trace. (Well, the detective did not remember that name, thought Charlie). He sprinkled the table, found a pen and paper, and copied everything that was written about Tommy Brighton. Having received copies of the documents about the missing girl, Charlie went to the exit, thanking the detective for help. Near the site was an old, painted and painted bench, which, apparently, was already tired of putting in order the city services. Sitting on it, Charlie began to carefully study the papers that he received. In them he found a note about a survey of witnesses, the same bar where the last time the missing girl was seen. The witness was called Larry Simmons, it is indicated that he works in the guard of the "Black Comet" bar. There was a premonition that it was he who was holding something back. The telephone number and the name of another person, the visitor of this institution, who also called the police, when he saw the announcement of the loss of Elizabeth Fowley, was also specified.
Charlie
- Excuse me, can you tell me where the automatic telephone is?
Slightly embarrassed, he asked the patrol policeman, Charlie.
Patrol policeman
- At that angle, turn right and immediately it will be in front of you.
The policeman showed his hand, handsome, with a serious face. This is a bearing, thought Charlie. You need a little more courage, and even the question about the phone, he asks in a shy tone. Apparently, he does not have very pleasant conversations, in which he is unlikely to be offered tea and biscuits. Thoughts about food, responded in his hungry stomach, in the last six hours he did not eat anything. So, at first at least something to eat was the first priority. He also thought about why he was involved in all this? It's not even his business, although the inscription on the document from the envelope said the opposite, but still. But on the other hand, something was driving him, arousing interest in him, as if someone were controlling him. Opposite the place where he sat and studied the documents, there was not a big, old shop, with a sign of hot dogs, burgers. This attracted the attention of Charlie, since there was a much stronger desire, and there was no desire to seek something. Therefore, having bought a pair of hot dogs and a hamburger, taking a glass of cola, he decided to sit again on the same bench and read the case more attentively. But it was not possible to find more interesting things in it, the only clues and opportunities to learn a little more than what he now knows is to make a call to the bar's visitor and pay a visit to the guard, in the hope that he is still working there. After eating, Charlie threw the glass and napkins into the trash can and walked confidently toward the phone booth.
Action 5 Ext. Street. Phone booth.
Dialing the number, he heard an answering machine on the other end, and he was ready to hang up, but the automatic voice interrupted.
Voice in the tube
- Yes, Hello.
Charlie
- Hello! Is this Jimm Stones?
Voice in the tube
- Hello, that's right.
Charlie
- "My name is Tommy Brighton, I'm from the FBI, I have a few questions for you."
Voice in the tube
- "What kind of questions?" I'm listening to you.
Charlie
- "I'm on the case of a missing girl, I have evidence that you saw her on April 14th of last year, at the bar" Black Comet ", her name is Elizabeth Fowley, maybe you'll remember any more details?
Voice in the tube
-"I told the detective everything from the police, but I can repeat it to you." Yes, I remember this girl, there was a man with her. I was there for quite a long time, and I remember that it was already nearer to the night, she was very drunk, she introduced herself a little defiantly, this was remembered. A guard came to them, and this man was talking to him about something. Then, they took this girl, and got out of the bar. What happened next, I do not know, since I did not follow them. I have no more information. Unfortunately, I can not help you.
Charlie
- Thank you, your information was very useful. Have a nice day!
Voice in the tube
- All the best!
After hanging up, Charlie reflected for a few minutes. What kind of man was with her, why did the guard not mention anything about him, in his testimony? In any case, it is necessary to pay a visit to the bar "Black Comet", and talk with this guard, maybe he will be able to remember something and describe that man, maybe he was a frequent visitor in this institution. In the telephone directory, Charlie quickly found the address of this bar. It was located at the other end of the city, so the most convenient way to get to it was the metro, which was very near.
Action 6 Int. Bar "The Black Comet".
It was an unremarkable institution on the outskirts of the city, with a sign on which it was indicated that they were working until the last visitor, as well as an invitation to a strip striptease, every evening. Now was the day, there were not very many visitors. A couple of people were at the bar, a few more sat in different places. Another two discussed something at the billiard table, one of them held a cigarette in his teeth, and carefully rubbed the tip of the cue with chalk. Charlie went to the bar counter, behind which was a young-looking bartender with hair tied in a ponytail, diluting something in bottles.
Charlie
- Good afternoon. Can you tell me, does Larry Simmons work here?
Bartender
- Kind. Yes.
Charlie
- "Is he here now?"
Bartender
- "Not yet, in about twenty minutes."
Charlie
- Thank you!
Bartender
- Yes, not at all! Will you order something?
Charlie
- Coffee, without milk, with sugar.
Bartender
- Good. I will bring it now.
In anticipation, Charlie looked again at this bar. In the corner he noticed a hanging TV on which American football was broadcast. Without sharing the love for this game, he was now staring intently at the screen, realizing that he liked this sport. Strange feeling, but he even knew these teams, and that show a match between Chicago Bears and the Detroit Lions, whose composition for some reason he knew by heart.
Bartender
- "Your coffee!"
These words were brought back to reality. The barman moved the cup, and again took up his previous business, mixing and shaking something. Charlie poured sugar into the cup, and stirring with a spoon, looked around. The door of the black entrance opened and a man entered.
Bartender
- "That man is Larry Simons."
The bartender said, pointing to a tall and stocky man, about forty years old. Charlie put aside the unfinished cup of coffee and put five bucks on the counter.
Charlie
- Hello! My name is Tommy Brighton, I'm from the FBI.
He showed Charlie's ID and put it back in his jacket pocket. The man was intently, with surprise, and somehow angrily looked at Charlie.
Larry Simmons
- Yes it's me. What you need?
Charlie
- I about the missing girl, in April of last year, her name is Elizabeth Foley, here is her photo. You gave evidence to the police, and said that you saw her in this bar. I would like to know if you remember any more details, moments?
Larry Simmons
- "I've already told the police." Yes, I saw her, she was not much drunk, broke the glass. But she paid for it, and nothing else remarkable happened. With whom she was, what time she left, honestly, I do not remember. There was a lot of people that night. Are there any other questions?
Charlie
- No, thanks for help. All the best!
Charlie looked into Larry's eyes, but nothing showed on his face except scorn and aggression, which he held back. He obviously does not talk, but why? Does he have anything to hide? We ought to find out, in another situation, to follow him. With these reflections, Charlie left the bar and thought that it would not hurt to rent a car, so it will be much more convenient. Again the telephone directory came to the rescue.
Action 7 Int. Vehicle interior.
Charlie rented for a week, the old Cadillac Eldorado, cherry-colored. After inspecting the salon of the car, he found an open pack of cigarettes, in the glove compartment, a few cents that lay on the floor and quite stylish glasses, on the shelf, at the bottom of the car radio. Without wasting time, he went to the side of the bar "Black Comet", before arriving at a cafe with burgers and pies, taking two packages of food, so as not to leave the car. The spot for surveillance of the guard, he found inconspicuous, not far from the black entrance, since, Larry Simmons, entered from the black entrance to the bar, from there one could observe, and go to the toilet on need, without going far, and not attracting attention. The main thing is that he would leave too, from the black entrance, otherwise all his surveillance will be wasted time. Time for eating and listening to jazz, it was still very long. After inspecting the rented car again, Charlie found an old newspaper, fifteen years old, in the back of the seat. His attention was drawn to the article by the scientist Benjamin Harrison, devoted to the transfer of souls, their missions, completed cases. Somewhere he had already heard about it. And I've already seen this man. Yes! This is the same scientist, from the TV! Wow, as he has been doing this for a long time, in the last few days, I have already come across him for the third time. The evening was replaced at night, then the first rays of the sun, lit up the windows of houses and cars. People have already left the bar before, but they were not the waiters, not the cooks, but maybe someone else. I wanted to sleep. And so, the door opened again, shaking hands with someone, Larry Simmons came out. He headed for the parked Lincoln bar, then the car started. After letting go of him, Charlie started his Cadillac, and sat on his tail, trying not to attract attention, forcing ahead of another car, but keeping Lincoln, Simmons, in sight. The journey took about twenty-five minutes. It seems that this was the house in which he lives. Charlie stopped not far from his house, and decided to wait a few minutes to inspect the house outside to see if there was anyone else in this house, or now Larry Simmons alone. After waiting about ten minutes, but without knowing anything, Charlie decided to go for a trick. He noticed that Larry did not put his car in the garage, but parked next to the house, putting it on the alarm. There was no one on the street, but it was necessary to act as quickly as possible. Charlie hid behind Larry's car, from the invisible side of his house. Sitting next to the front wheel, he hit his fist on the car's wing. There was a loud alarm sound, which soon ceased. Apparently, Larry looked out the window, and turned off the alarm. After waiting a couple of minutes, Charlie again hit. And again the alarm sound, calmed down after a short time. Charlie listened in silence. He must go to his car! Another blow, again the alarm was very quickly disabled. And there were footsteps, muttering curses. When Charlie realized that he was already very close to him, without getting up, lightning struck him in the groin, and knocked his feet, while striking him in the jaw. After receiving a knockout, Larry fainted. Then Charlie threw his arms, on his shoulders, and carried, as if drunk in the direction of the house.
Action 8 Int. In the house of Larry Simmons
Cold water quickly led Larry to the senses. He tried to get up, but was tightly bound to his hands and feet.
Larry Simmons
- "You were killed !?" Is not it so? I was told about this! What a hell?
Charlie
- What are you talking about?
Larry Simmons
- "You were already here a year ago, with this investigation." Did you forget your memory?
Charlie
- "I do not remember anything, I see you a second time." I do not understand what you mean.
Larry Simmons
- You came to the bar, asked the same questions, and what's more, you already began to bore some people. I heard that you were ordered, and killed.
Charlie
- "Who ordered me and killed me?"
Larry Simmons
- How should I know?
Charlie
"But I know that you lied to me, and it's not good." Why did you say that you did not see anyone with Elizabeth? I know for sure that you helped accompany her to a taxi, along with some kind of person. In your own interests, do not try to deceive me and tell me honestly.
Larry Simmons
- And if not? What then? What will you do?
Larry snarled, spitting blood from his broken lip to the floor.
Charlie
-"But if you do not, you will not have any sweetness, and then forensic experts will long wonder what kind of person is in front of them." So, choose.
Larry Simmons
- "If I tell you, in any case I'm an undead." So, you went!
Charlie
- You should not be so, so what do you want with this? Look, what a big house you have, a steep car, surely the girls are whole crowds. And you now want to lose all this?
Charlie took a deep breath. He looked at the watch with the second hand hanging on the wall.
Charlie
-"I give you just a minute to think."
Larry Simmons
- "I repeat, I've gone to hell, I will not tell you anything!"
Charlie
- "Oh, time's up, it's time for sincerity and honesty!"
With that, Charlie grabbed an empty plastic bag from the table, wrapped it around Larry's head, tied it tightly with a rope, removing the air from it, and began alternating strokes on his face and stomach. A minute later, Charlie took the package from Larry's head.
Charlie
- Well? It helped you to remember the name of this person, and how to find it?
Larry's face was swollen, his lips became even more broken, blood blew from his nose, panting and spitting out a large blood clot, he confidently uttered.
Larry Simmons
- "Fuck you asshole!"
Charlie
- And I thought you were a smart guy, okay, apparently you like it.
Pulling the package back on his head again, Charlie did not beat him anymore, but just looked at the clock, which counted down seconds again. Two minutes passed when Charlie took off the package again. Swallowing greedily, Larry said.
Larry Simmons
- "Enough, I'll tell you, I'll tell you." This is Ben Lowell, he is a pimp, is engaged in the delivery of girls and collecting money from prostitutes.
Charlie
- Come on! Where can I find it?
Larry Simmons
- He sometimes comes to the bar "Black Comet". He's in business with my boss. But where he dwells I have no idea, honestly, I do not know.