[still black screen]

Man

Yes, sir… No, sir… as a matter of fact, he did show. Wasn’t much of an entrance, to be quite hon-… oh, right, sorry sir… 3 hours… right… yes, sir. Norman out.

Sorry.

Woman

It’s fine.

…

Work call?

Man

Yeah, you could say that. Why do you ask?

Woman

Oh, nothing. Just thinking about work.

…

Man

Right; what is it that you do again?

Woman

I’m a curator.

Man

Yes! …I asked you that already, didn’t I?

Curator

Yes, you did.

Man

Haha, sorry…my head’s somewhere else today.

Curator

Don’t worry about it.

…

Man

So uhh…where you from? Originally I mean?

Curator

New York, and you?

Man

Oh me? I’m a Boston guy. Haha, guess that means we’re enemies?

Curator

I was never a big sports fan. Doesn’t mean much to me.

Boston Guy

Well, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t matter then… you ever been to Boston?

Curator

Yes, when I was very young we saw the USS Constitution, and Faneuil Hall. I don’t remember much other than the brick-laid streets and the street performers. It was a very nice trip.

Boston Guy

It’s a great city to take kids to! When I was a little guy, my ma and dad used to do all kinds of things: the aquarium, Sox games, fishing trips, you name it!

Curator

It sounds like your parents are great people.

Boston Guy

Yeah, yeah, they were…gone now though, o’ course.

Curator

I’m sorry to hear that.

Boston Guy

Nah, Ts’okay. Miss ’em sometimes. How about you? Your parents in New York?

Curator

I never knew my real mother and father; I was adopted as a baby.

Boston Guy

Ah, well how about that? Your foster parents were good to you then?

Curator

They never really understood me. They meant well, but I was happy to leave for school and work.

Boston Guy

Sounds like you know how to take care of yourself.

Curator

You could say that.

Boston Guy

Well, uh…anyway. I was gonna grab a coffee at the dining car; you want anything?

Curator

No, but thank you.

Boston Guy

Can’t get myself one without offering to such a lovely lady…

[CURATOR gives a ‘look’ that says ‘Excuse Me?’]

I’m sorry, that was totally out of line. I really am sorry. Be back in a jiff.

[CURATOR smiles, laughs after he leaves. Shot follows BOSTON GUY to the dining car, close behind like another person on the train, giving it a claustrophobic feeling. Heads back immediately once he gets the coffee.]

Sorry again, sometimes I don’t think before…

[CURATOR is gone; he puts down the coffee and calmly grabs his cell phone]

This is Boston. Tango in the wind.

(searches compartment for cupboards or passages under and behind the seats. Starts checking the windows if they could be opened or not when CURATOR walks back in.]

Curator

What are you doing?

Boston

OH! Hi! Geez, you startled me, haha. Uhh, I was just…admiring the design of this compartment. They sure do make these things sturdy, don’t they? Where were you? I didn’t see you on my way back…

Curator

Ladies Room. Haha, and I supposed they ought to, for a train moving this fast. Don’t worry about earlier, by the way; it was a nice of you to say.

Boston

Didn’t mean no disrespect, that’s for sure. You’re just a very stately, articulate woman. Couldn’t help but notice.

Curator

Well, you’re a very friendly, generous man.

Boston

You’re gonna make me blush, haha. Say, I saw some newspapers down in the dining car on tables. Did something bad happen in Manhattan yesterday?

Curator

I wasn’t aware of it. What did it say?

Boston

Something about a major art heist. You didn’t hear about it at all?

Curator

I think someone might have mentioned it at dinner, but not really, no. My works leaves me fairly isolated. I don’t hear about a lot of things.

Boston

Gosh, such a shame though. They said it was a Van Gogh; I love his art.

Curator

You’re… an art fan?

Boston

Hey hey, don’t let the accent foul you! I’m as cultured as they come.

Curator

Oh really? Well then, name your 5 favorite composers.

Boston

Oh, that’s easy. In no particular order: Debussy, Mahler, Tchaikovsky, Ravel, and Gershwin.

Curator

Wow. I’m actually impressed.

Boston

Looks can be deceiving, my dear.

Curator

Well, tell me more about this art theft; these things make me nervous for our own collection.

Boston

Well as I said, I only took a glance, but they said the thieves impersonated museum employees and took it off display for overnight ‘restoration work.’ By the morning, the thing was well out of the museum.

Curator

That’s so sad. It’s hard enough to find good people to work in a museum, and then they turn out to be thieves? I might have to check in to my own people.

Boston

Oh, yeah? Well, it just so happens that I might be able to help with that. See, you never asked me what I did for a living yet: I’m a PI! A private investigator.

Curator

[slight nervous flinch, doesn’t break gaze] Oh, really?

Boston

Yeah! I can run backgrounds checks and all that jazz; if you like, I’ll take your card and send you some information.

Curator

No, no, that’s ok. My staff is fairly small, I don’t think that will be necessary.

Boston

Please, Miss, I insist. These days, who knows if anyone’s really who they say they are, right?

Curator

I appreciate it, but I don’t have any cards on me. I’ll look into it though, once I return. Thank you for the advice.

Boston

Oh, of course. And uh…where was it you were going again? To visit family?

Curator

Yes; my foster mother is ill, she’s at a nursing home outside Alexandria and I’m going there to be with her until she’s well.

Boston

I thought you said they lived in New York…

Curator

They moved to DC when they got older.

Boston

Hmm…[quick shot at CURATOR, who is hiding her nerves]…  that makes sense. My folks did the same actually, moved to Connecticut once I had a career and family of my own.

Curator

Do you have children?

Boston

I do! They’re my pride and joy: Laura and Michael. They’re 5 and 8 now respectively.

Curator

They sound wonderful; and they’re mother?

Boston

Deceased; unfortunately. About 3 years now. Car accident.

Curator

Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that.

Boston

Drunk drivers; when will people learn, right? Anyway, that was a long time ago. Now, my kids are more than enough for me to handle, haha. I’m headed to DC on business, but I’ll be back to see them off to school on Monday morning.

Curator

That sounds nice. Well, I think I’ll close my eyes for a bit. We’ve got another 2 hours or so, yes?

Boston

Just about; I’ll get some reading done. It’s been very nice talking with you, Miss…

Curator

Scarlet. Heather Scarlet.

Boston

Miss Heather Scarlet; what a lovely name? Rest well.

[sequence of note taking, a chance to reveal BOSTON’s FBI badge and name, Special Agent James Fielder, details about the theft, HEATHER SCARLET’s history as a thief, her alleged murders, and her known aliases of which ‘Miss Heather Scarlet’ is one. Her real name is VALERIE CAINE. He receives an email on his phone that her accomplices have been caught. She’s the last one left and is likely to be dangerous when/if she learns this. He quietly steps across and pulls a silenced Walther PPK/S .22 out of her purse. He slips six rounds into his S & W .38 special under his coat. He intentionally wakes her  with the click of locking the chamber back in place.]

Heather Scarlet

Hmm?

Boston

Rise and shine, Miss Scarlet. You slept like a rock; we’re almost here.

Heather Scarlet

I did? Oh, that’s great. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.

Boston

I could tell when we first got on. But go figure, who knew staying up all night stealing paintings would do that to you?

Heather Scarlet

What? What are you talking about?

Boston

I know who you are: Miss Scarlet, Janet McCoy, Barbara Truman, or your real name, Valerie Caine. I’m telling you this now, so we can have a conversation about all of this before the train hits the station. Which will be in about…15 minutes.

Valerie Caine

Who the HELL are you? [reaches for the gun in her purse, but can’t find it]

Boston

[pulls hands out of coat pockets, holding her gun in one hand and his in the other] Looking for this? The sleeping thing was cute, but you’d already said enough for me to identify you.

Valerie Caine

[sorts herself, sits up properly as if for the principal, smug look]

Boston

My name is Special Agent James Fielder; I’m with the FBI. I’ve been tracking you for close to 5 years now, you know?

Valerie Caine

[With her natural, cockney London accent] Glad I wasn’t too easy for you.

S.A. Fielder

Nah, just the way I like it. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you first before this all goes down. When we arrive, federal agents will be waiting, not to mention whatever local police decides to contribute, so you can accept that this is the end of the line. I’ve already received word that your partners Vegas and Firefly have been taken into custody. Your third partner, code-name Xander, was killed in a firefight with NYPD.

Valerie Caine

[gasp] No…you demons. You have no idea what you’re doing in this world. You patrol with your big guns, and think you’re keeping everyone safe, while the chaff of society gets no protection or service at all. We four raised ourselves by trust in each other and getting the job done right. You have no idea what it takes to survive in this world, you privileged, silver-spoon–

S.A. Fielder

[cocks hammer] You might want to watch your words. Life’s tough, for everyone in it. Most of what I said wasn’t a lie; I lost my parents before I was 20 and my wife before 30. But this isn’t about my story right now; I need you to talk to me. Tell me why you’ve been doing the things you’re doing, no one becomes an art thief randomly. If you tell me the truth, I promise I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get what you deserve; especially if that’s forgiveness.

Valerie Caine

Fine, I’ll tell you my bloody story, but it’s nothing special so don’t get your hopes up. [S.A. FIELDER puts his guns down at his sides as a sign of trust] I did know my parents. They had nothing, but somehow managed to scrap together a childhood for me. Commoners in London had no luck then, and they worked two or three jobs at a time just to keep a flat. Me? I loved art almost as much as I loved them. I spent every spare day wandering the galleries and museums, witnessing beauty manifest upon canvas and walls. Unfortunately, I had to stop when my parents got sick. They could never afford medicine; they’d be ill for weeks at a time. I ran awake to make money as a con-artist, but when I came back with my first payday, they were gone. Dead. They died because society was too rich to give a shit about them. Now, when I went to the galleries, I watched the privileged percents and I hated them so. The first painting I stole, I never sold. I burned them. The world didn’t deserve to look at them ever again. But eventually, I met some people who were getting back from society what they deserved for it, and I joined their cause. [pause] I bet Xander fought like a lion before they took his life.

S.A. Fielder

The boys said he was a killing machine. Like a wild animal.

Valerie Caine

I’d never seen someone handle a gun like him. It was as if his hands were possessed.

S.A. Fielder

I hope you understand that like a dangerous, wild animal, he needed to be put down.

Valerie Caine

[eyes welling with tears] I understand.

S.A. Fielder

[silently, pulls a recorder out of his coat pocket] I also hope you understand that you had the right just now to say nothing to me. You always have the right to remain silent, as the world can use your words against you. You have a right to defend yourself in court once we get there, or to have an attorney defend your case in stead. If you cannot afford one, we’ll make sure you’re not alone. Even if you continue to speak with me, you have the right to stop answering my questions at any time. Do you understand all of this, Valerie?

Valerie

[tears roll down her cheeks, but she’s done crying] I understand, thank you…James.

James

Thank the society who gave you those rights. This system may be broken in many places, but it’s meant to protect you.

[train lurches to a stop]

We’re here. Time to go.

**end**