To Kill Again: Episode One Read Online Free Page B
Author: Darren Howell
He begins to gulp down air, turning back to the scornful gaze of Ratski.
RATSKI : You should’ve let me go.
PRESIDENT : No, I wanted a cop. I wanted Dyson. Besides, what you’ve done already is more than I could ask of any man.
A moment of silence as they share their surreptitious exchange once more.
INT. DETECTIVE’S OFFICE, POLICE STATION - DAY
Dyson bounds in energetically, nearly collides with Sarah coming the other way. He dances round her, still smiling from ear to ear.
SARAH : What’s got into you?
DYSON : Rhythm, baby!
Sarah watches him incredulously as he bounds over to his desk.
SARAH : I tried running the CCTV images from last night, but the system’s down for an update or something. I’ll try... again... Are you okay? Where’ve you been?
Dyson slips out of his jacket. Shakes off the rain.
DYSON : Out?
SARAH : Any luck?
DYSON : With what?
SARAH : Dennis and Richards?
He stops dancing. Pulls an awkward face.
DYSON : Yeah, about that. I don’t wanna be wasting too much manpower on them.
SARAH : What?
DYSON : We have a murder, three rapes, an armed robbery, a child abduction, plus two dozen more bullshit cases we’ve yet to even open. I’m just not prepared to assign the whole department to couple of career criminals who knew what they were getting into when they sold their first eighth. (beat) Somebody did us a favor if you ask me.
She places her hands on her hips, eyeing him up suspiciously.
SARAH : Okay, what’s going on?
Dyson shrugs innocently.
SARAH : What happened to the Dyson mantra: ‘Murder is murder is murder’?
DYSON : Maybe it’s time for a new one. ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword.’
SARAH : (shakes head) Incredible. A complete character transplant. What will they think of next. You do know Khan’s downstairs. The boys brought him in. You told them to.
DYSON : Let him go. We’ve got nothing on him.
SARAH : Let him go? No, he’s demanding to see you. He wants the organ grinder not the monkeys. His words.
Dyson heads for the exit.
DYSON : Fine. I’d better not keep him waiting then.
SARAH : This... you, Mr. Couldn’t-give-a-shit. This has something to do with the guy in your office, doesn’t it?
Dyson stops at the doors for a moment, before heading off. Sarah follows, out into the --
CORRIDOR
SARAH : John?
Dyson doesn’t stop.
SARAH : John! Have you even called MIT, about Dennis and Richards?
But Dyson’s gone, leaving Sarah alone in the corridor.
SARAH : I’ll phone them then, shall I?
INT. INTERVIEW ROOM, POLICE STATION - MOMENTS LATER
The product of a mixed race communion, FRANKIE KHAN, 45, sits at a table. A vicious crime lord, and Dyson’s nemesis, his thick body is wrapped in the most expensive of Italian suits.
His lawyer, NAZIR SINGH, 40’s, sits at his side. A faithful dog of law.
The door opens and Dyson enters. Khan looks up and scowls, speaking with an abrasive Cockney growl.
KHAN : Well?
DYSON : I’m good thanks. You?
KHAN : No, I mean... I’ve been sitting here for four hours, picked up over me breakfast. On your orders.
DYSON : Only four? Well I did wanna ask you about Dennis and Richards, but I’ll be frank, Frank , I’ve got bigger fish to fry now.
Khan’s features cloud innocently. He shakes his head for effect.
KHAN : Dennis and Richards?
Dyson sits opposite as the lawyer begins to bark.
SINGH : Mr. Khan is distraught at the treatment he’s received here today. We haven’t even been offered a hot beverage. Rest assured, I will be filing a complaint.
Khan holds up a pair of shaky hands to halt him, every finger wrapped in tacky but expensive gold sovereign rings.
KHAN : S’okay, Nazir. I’m only happy to help the detective here. We all have to do our bit. Play our part for the community, huh? (to Dyson) Who are... Dennis and Richards?
Dyson sighs.
DYSON : They worked for you, Frankie.
KHAN : They did. (to Singh) They did?
Singh shrugs, wearing his best poker face.
SINGH : I have no knowledge of
RATSKI : You should’ve let me go.
PRESIDENT : No, I wanted a cop. I wanted Dyson. Besides, what you’ve done already is more than I could ask of any man.
A moment of silence as they share their surreptitious exchange once more.
INT. DETECTIVE’S OFFICE, POLICE STATION - DAY
Dyson bounds in energetically, nearly collides with Sarah coming the other way. He dances round her, still smiling from ear to ear.
SARAH : What’s got into you?
DYSON : Rhythm, baby!
Sarah watches him incredulously as he bounds over to his desk.
SARAH : I tried running the CCTV images from last night, but the system’s down for an update or something. I’ll try... again... Are you okay? Where’ve you been?
Dyson slips out of his jacket. Shakes off the rain.
DYSON : Out?
SARAH : Any luck?
DYSON : With what?
SARAH : Dennis and Richards?
He stops dancing. Pulls an awkward face.
DYSON : Yeah, about that. I don’t wanna be wasting too much manpower on them.
SARAH : What?
DYSON : We have a murder, three rapes, an armed robbery, a child abduction, plus two dozen more bullshit cases we’ve yet to even open. I’m just not prepared to assign the whole department to couple of career criminals who knew what they were getting into when they sold their first eighth. (beat) Somebody did us a favor if you ask me.
She places her hands on her hips, eyeing him up suspiciously.
SARAH : Okay, what’s going on?
Dyson shrugs innocently.
SARAH : What happened to the Dyson mantra: ‘Murder is murder is murder’?
DYSON : Maybe it’s time for a new one. ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword.’
SARAH : (shakes head) Incredible. A complete character transplant. What will they think of next. You do know Khan’s downstairs. The boys brought him in. You told them to.
DYSON : Let him go. We’ve got nothing on him.
SARAH : Let him go? No, he’s demanding to see you. He wants the organ grinder not the monkeys. His words.
Dyson heads for the exit.
DYSON : Fine. I’d better not keep him waiting then.
SARAH : This... you, Mr. Couldn’t-give-a-shit. This has something to do with the guy in your office, doesn’t it?
Dyson stops at the doors for a moment, before heading off. Sarah follows, out into the --
CORRIDOR
SARAH : John?
Dyson doesn’t stop.
SARAH : John! Have you even called MIT, about Dennis and Richards?
But Dyson’s gone, leaving Sarah alone in the corridor.
SARAH : I’ll phone them then, shall I?
INT. INTERVIEW ROOM, POLICE STATION - MOMENTS LATER
The product of a mixed race communion, FRANKIE KHAN, 45, sits at a table. A vicious crime lord, and Dyson’s nemesis, his thick body is wrapped in the most expensive of Italian suits.
His lawyer, NAZIR SINGH, 40’s, sits at his side. A faithful dog of law.
The door opens and Dyson enters. Khan looks up and scowls, speaking with an abrasive Cockney growl.
KHAN : Well?
DYSON : I’m good thanks. You?
KHAN : No, I mean... I’ve been sitting here for four hours, picked up over me breakfast. On your orders.
DYSON : Only four? Well I did wanna ask you about Dennis and Richards, but I’ll be frank, Frank , I’ve got bigger fish to fry now.
Khan’s features cloud innocently. He shakes his head for effect.
KHAN : Dennis and Richards?
Dyson sits opposite as the lawyer begins to bark.
SINGH : Mr. Khan is distraught at the treatment he’s received here today. We haven’t even been offered a hot beverage. Rest assured, I will be filing a complaint.
Khan holds up a pair of shaky hands to halt him, every finger wrapped in tacky but expensive gold sovereign rings.
KHAN : S’okay, Nazir. I’m only happy to help the detective here. We all have to do our bit. Play our part for the community, huh? (to Dyson) Who are... Dennis and Richards?
Dyson sighs.
DYSON : They worked for you, Frankie.
KHAN : They did. (to Singh) They did?
Singh shrugs, wearing his best poker face.
SINGH : I have no knowledge of
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