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with her finger.

DELIA (V.O.)
He also grows roses. Beautiful
roses.

INT. LARKHILL LOUNGE - NIGHT - FLASHBACK

Dr. Surridge and several other Larkhill appointees relax
after dinner.

DELIA (V.O.)
December 24th: I was in the mess.
It was about half past ten when we
heard the first explosion.

A massive explosion shakes the building to its very core, its
windows shattering and hooded pendulum lights swinging.

EXT. LARKHILL LOUNGE - NIGHT - FLASHBACK

Men and women clutch at their throats as they tumble out into
the yard.

DELIA (V.O.)
The ones at the front ran straight
into the gas. It was horrible.

They drop to the ground, gasping and vomiting.

The back door is kicked open, Dr. Surridge following two
guards.

DELIA (V.O.)
A few of us made it out through the
rear door. You could hear men
screaming everywhere. I hate the
sound of men screaming.

She looks out, men running, collapsing, dying in a yellow
green haze that seems everywhere.

DELIA (V.O.)
In the center of the camp,
everything was on fire. Everyone
running in all directions. We had
hardly enough time to get our
bearings when the ovens exploded.

Another explosion wracks the compound. The pillar of flame
rises into the black sky, dwarfing the men in the camp.

Dr. Surridge sees a gaping hole in the medical block, its
insides turned out like an unholy birth.

DELIA (V.O.)
It was the man in room rive. I
couldn't have known. The chemical
supplies, grease solvents, ammonia,
fertilizer. He'd been making
things with them.

Close on a soldier, doubled over, hacking up bile.

DELIA (V.O.)
Mustard gas...

A sticky blue fire licks up from a blackened body like a dura
flame.

DELIA
And napalm.

Dr. Surridge turns as a silhouette crosses the yard, backlit
by a curtain of fire.

DELIA (V.O.)
And in the yard, I saw him. He had
the flames behind him. He was
naked.

The man stops.

DELIA (V.O.)
He looked at me...

Dr. Surridge seems to wilt under his stare but cannot look
away.

DELIA (V.O.)
As if I were an insect. Oh god.
As if I were something mounted on a
slide.

The flames convulse hypnotically behind him.

DELIA (V.O.)
He looked at me.

INT. LEADER'S OFFICE

Finch snaps Dr. Surridge's journal shut.

He sits in front of the Leader's desk puffing on his pipe
while Susan stares coldly.

FINCH
That's the last entry until six
months later when Dr. Surridge is
back in London. There is no
mention of the man in room five
again. End of story.

He tosses the journal on Susan's desk.

FINCH
Except that it wasn't the end of
the story.

Finch rises, crossing to the wastebasket.

FINCH
Between 2009 and 2012, over forty
men and women who were previously
stationed at Larkhill met with what
were believed to be accidental
deaths. Eventually, only three
remained.

He taps his pipe into his hand, pouring the contents into the
wastebasket.

FINCH
The three he'd been saving until
last.

Finch brushes the ashes from his hands and begins repacking
his pipe.

FINCH
Everyone who worked at Larkhill.
Everyone who could have identified
him. You see there are two
possible motives here. Not one.

Susan raises his head.

FINCH
The first is revenge. He escapes
from Larkhill and vows to get even
with his tormentors. The whole
exercise an elaborate, chilling
vendetta.

When he finishes repacking the pipe, he replaces it in his
mouth.

FINCH
That's the explanation that I find
most reassuring, funnily enough.
Because that means he's finished.
It's over now.

Finch begins relighting his pipe.

FINCH
The second motive is more sinister.
Like I said, everyone who could
have identified him is dead.

A flame leaps into the air.

FINCH
What if he's just been clearing the
ground?

Another burst.

FINCH
What if he's planning something
else?

The lighter slips back into his pocket.

FINCH
You see, the diary we found was in
full view. We didn't have to
search for it. He left it there.
He wanted us to find it. He wanted
us to know the story. Or...

Finch returns to his chair, letting out a huge cloud.

FINCH
For all we know, the diary could be
a complete and utter fake.
Codename V could have written it
himself.

Finch leans forward.

FINCH
He's playing games with us. He
might never have been at Larkhill
at all. Do you see? It could all
be another smoke screen, a false
trail, another cover story --

LEADER
Enough!

Susan punches the desk.

LEADER
Mr. Finch, would you please explain
to me the nature of this meeting?!
Because I was under the impression
that you had some information about
the terrorist, codename V!

And punches it again until his fist hurts.

LEADER
No more questions, understand! I
want answers! I am not interested
in where he grew up, what kind of
flowers he likes or his favorite
color!

Susan's collar chokes his face to an unnatural crimson.

LEADER
Do I make myself clear?

FINCH
Yes, Leader.

After a moment, Finch stands, Susan hanging on his last word.

LEADER
Dismissed. England prevails, Mr.
Finch.

Finch turns, Susan calling after him as he leaves.

LEADER
Mr. Finch, the girl. Do you have
anything on the girl?

Finch pauses at the door.

FINCH
No, Leader. Not yet.

INT. CELL

Evey stirs as voices drift in from the hall outside her door.

MAN
Wake up, cow.

Three guards are silhouetted in the doorway of a cramped jail
cell. Still sluggish from the chloroform, Evey looks down at
the coarse slipover she's now wearing.

One of the men, Rossiter, crosses toward Evey, swinging a
pair of shackles. He grabs Evey, slamming her face down into
the hard cot, driving a knee between her shoulder blades.

Evey screams.

GUARD 1
Tsk. This pathetic whore is the
famous Miss Hammond?

The shackles bite down on her wrists as they laugh in the
hall.

EVEY
You've made a mistake.

Rossiter stands her up, shoving her into the wall.

ROSSITER
Shut up.

EVEY
Please. I haven't done anything --

He slides a thick hood over her head.

ROSSITER
I said shut your hole!

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM

The hood is lifted from her head. Evey squints hard, awash
in a blinding, burning light.

A man sits, unmoving, at a desk across from her, a guard at
his side, both backlit by a harsh white kliegs.

Evey's eyes start to water as she blinks.

INTERROGATOR
Do you know why you're here. Evey
Hammond?

EVEY
No, please, I didn't do anything.

INTERROGATOR
Allow me to be more precise. Did
you participate in the murder of
Dr. Delia Surridge?

EVEY
No.

INTERROGATOR
Did you participate in the murder
of Derek Almond, director of the
Finger?

EVEY
No, I --

INTERROGATOR
Did you participate in the murder
of Bishop Anthony Lilliman?

EVEY
Oh god, I don't --

INTERROGATOR
Have you ever participated in a
terrorist act against your country?

EVEY
No --

INTERROGATOR
What is the identity of codename V?

EVEY
I don't know.

INTERROGATOR
You are a lying cunt.

A monitor next to the desk lights up. From the snowy static,
an image begins to form.

A girl is talking to a man. She is shoving her hips at him,
propositioning him. When more men appear from the alley,
Evey realizes she is watching herself.

EVEY
They were going to rape me, kill
me --

Rossiter grabs a handful of her hair.

ROSSITER
Shut up.

She swallows hard when she sees V emerge on the screen. The
image freezes on his smiling face.

INTERROGATOR
This board will not tolerate any
more of your lies, Miss Hammond.
We have over 120 minutes of audio
and videotape and 75 pages of
testimonials from eye witness that
identify you as an accomplice to
the terrorist, codename V.

The monitor blinks off.

INTERROGATOR
Do you want to know why you're
here? You are formally being
brought up on charges of murder on
fourteen counts and sedition
against your Leader and country
which brings an automatic sentence
of death.

EVEY
Please. I didn't do anything.

INTERROGATOR
Process the prisoner and return her
to her cell until she is more
cooperative.

Rossiter slips the hood back over Evey's head.

INT. PROCESSING ROOM

Evey cries as a rough hand runs a pair of electric clippers
over her head. Huge sheaves of her hair fall to the ground.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CELL

Evey lies crumpled on the hard floor, unmoving, as a tray of
food is slid through a slot at the bottom of the door.

She watches as a rat crosses from a hole in the wall,
sniffing the murky rendered gelatin in the wooden bowl.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PROCESSING ROOM

Evey hangs limply from a set of manacles as she is washed and
deloused by heavy hands.

She coughs in the yellow bug powder cloud as it burns her
eyes and the red welts on her back.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CELL

Evey is curled up on the cot like a dry fetus, now gaunt arms
wrapped around her legs. She blinks when she hears something
moving in the rat hole.

Evey raises her head as something is pushed through the
crevice.

Tentative fingers search the hole, pulling out a length of
toilet paper. Over every inch of it is a delicately scrawled
message.

We move into the rathole, its edges slowly filling the frame
until black.

EXT. INTERROGATION ROOM

Pull back from a shadow, the outline of the interrogator's
silhouette against sharp light coming into frame.

EVEY (V.O.)
I read her letter. Hid it. Slept.
Woke. They questioned me. And I
read her letter again.

Rossiter is buckling Evey's thin arms and legs into a chair.
Her now frail frame can barely hold up the frayed brown
slipover.

EVEY (V.O.)
Over and over...

On the table in front of her, there is a large wash basin of
water. Rossiter dunks her head into it.

EVEY (V.O.)
Her name was Valerie.

INT. CLASSROOM - DAY - FLASHBACK

A teacher reads from her lesson plan in front of rows and
rows of uniformed pubescences in this all girl private
school. Her voice drones on and on like Muzak.

VALERIE (V.O.)
I was born in a rainy burg in
Nottingham in 1975. I passed my
eleven plus and went to girl's
grammar.

A blonde tomboy sneaks a smile to her curly haired friend
next to her.

VALERIE (V.O.)
I met my first girlfriend at
school. Her name was Sara. Her
wrists. Her wrists were beautiful.

Her hand slides across the desk, fingers tickling the young
flesh of Sara's wrist.

The teacher's voice slows, dropping octaves, becoming --

INT. BIOLOGY LAB - DAY - FLASHBACK

A man's voice.

VALERIE (V.O.)
I sat in biology class staring at
the pickled rabbit fetus while Mr.
Herd said it was an adolescent
phase that people outgrew.

Valerie looks at Sara across the room, her head down in
shame.

VALERIE (V.O.)
Sara did. I didn't.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY - FLASHBACK

Two teenage girls stand in front of a middle aged couple.
They are holding hands.

VALERIE (V.O.)
In 1994, I stopped pretending and
took a girl called Christine home
to meet my parents.

The greying woman repeats the sign of the cross over and
over, sobbing into a handkerchief. Her husband's face is
contorted in disgust.

VALERIE (V.O.)
A week later I moved to London to
go to college and study drama. My
mother said I broke her heart.

EXT. PARK - DAY - FLASHBACK

Two young women cuddle on a park bench under a London summer
sky, feeding the pigeons.

VALERIE (V.O.)
But it was my integrity that was
important. Is that so selfish? It
sells for so little but it's all we
have left in this place...

The black haired girl nibbles on the blonde's ear.

VALERIE (V.O.)
It is the very last inch of us...

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM

Evey struggles against Rossiter's weight who keeps her head
submerged.

VALERIE (V.O.)
But within that inch we are free.

INTERROGATOR
Enough.

Rossiter wrenches back and Evey sucks hard for air, coughing
out water.

INTERROGATOR
Now Miss Hammond, let us review the
facts.

Evey stares at him, eyes red, heart pounding in her ears.

INTERROGATOR
You work for codename V. Codename
V killed Delia Surridge and then
Derek Almond with your help and
that is why you were found outside
her home.

Evey begins to shake her head, water sluicing off her thin
face.

INTERROGATOR
Isn't that what happened, Miss
Hammond?

EVEY
No. No, that isn't true --

INTERROGATOR
Oh dear, Rossiter?

Rossiter grabs Evey's neck --

EVEY
No, wait!

Plunging her head into the bowl. Water fills Evey's nose and
ears.

VALERIE (V.O.)
London. I was happy in London.

INT. THEATRE - NIGHT - FLASHBACK

The packed house watches as a Prince kneels before a woman's
bare foot with a slipper of glass.

VALERIE (V.O.)
I played Dandini in Cinderella.

The woman glances into the dark sea of faces.