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It was a wasted night just like other ones.

I was in between strangers who would pretend...

to dance, to laugh and whose shadows would appear...

like a shaky tango.

I was alone.

I don't remember how long or what I'd been waiting for.

I felt empty, translucent.

I was one too many amongst those fake dancers.

I might have drank too much to kill time.

The organization wasn't giving me anymore work as if they were suspicious.

I was... useless... I was waiting.

I'll have a tomato-vodka please.

You mean a Bloody Mary?

Yes Sir.

I was watching without thinking of anything.

There was a pretty blonde girl laughing in the...

nightclub I've never seen before,

even though most of the nights I ended up there.

The slightly drunk stranger was flirting with me.

I thought why not.

I had nothing to lose.

I don't have a name.

I'm sorry. I lost it.

I'll let you know if I find it.

I have a phone but it's not working.

Nobody can call me.

You'll hear: 'The number you called is not in service.'

I'll find you if I need to.

Maybe tonight.

Maybe never.

Or maybe yesterday.

Time doesn't exist for me.

What is this horrible thing you're drinking?

No.

No, she didn't want to tell her name.

No, she didn't want to give me her phone number.

No address. No first name. No last name.

She was making fun of me.

I was wasting my time.

I was wasting my time.

Then Sara called me.

Are you Walter Raim?

Yes.

Somebody is on the phone for you.

Thank you.

Yes, boss.

Ok, boss.

Ok.

You got it, boss.

In 15 minutes, same place, at the crossing of the graves.

No, I'll go from there. I don't need to go back home.

I don't need to go home or anywhere, because nobody was waiting for me.

I was free.

It was the one condition the agents ask for,

even for the juniors who work for the organization.

Have no relationship, of any kind,

and be able to leave at anytime.

Yes, boss.

Goodbye, boss.

While I was on the phone, my beautiful partner disappeared,

and I had no way to get in touch with her ever again.

However Sara Zeitgeist was waiting for me with new orders,

and unfortunately I had no choice.

Hello Walter.

Good evening boss.

Do you know Henri de Corinthe?

The senator?

Yes, from the old majority.

You must meet him, as soon as possible.

You have to find an excuse.

Any excuse.

Alright boss.

Tonight if you can.

It's an emergency.

Somebody is in danger?

In a way. Yes.

You'll give him this letter and make sure he opens it in front of you.

Does he need to give you an answer?

It would be better for him.

Bye.

Good luck.

I'm driving at night again.

The trees are lit with the headlights of the car,

and they look like they suck you in.

I turned the Fifteenth Quartet on again.

To Sir Count Henri of Corinthe.

Are you hurt? Can you hear me?

Do you have anything broken? Do you understand what I'm saying?

If you understand and you can't talk, give me a sign with your eyes,

or your mouth.

I'll help you get up.

Do you think you can walk?

I'll take you to a doctor.

What's that? I'll take them off later.

You're safe now.

Let's get in the car.

I'll take care of you first.

After a long drive that flew by like a dream

I finally saw the gate of a house with lights on.

Wait here.

A woman is injured in my car.

Please let me in to make a phone call.

Here you go. You're safe now.

You should go lay down and wait for the doctor.

Good evening gentlemen.

Excuse me, I'm looking for a phone to call a doctor.

This young woman is injured!

Sir, do you understand what I'm saying?

It's a good thing you brought her here, handcuffed and barefoot.

Very interesting, isn't it?

Yes, not bad!

The most beautiful prisoner was brought here tonight.

Indeed. What can she do?

Training her would be a charming thing.

Can I make an offer?

Is she a regular?

No. She must be new.

The first fruits should be honored.

How much is he asking for?

I have a feeling he already has a buyer.

He should say the price, but I'm sure you can raise it.

Move away! Let me go through!

What's that? What kind of drink are you giving her?

Sir, I'm looking for a phone to call a doctor!

I am a doctor.

Doctor Morgentodt.

Come with me. I'll take you in a more quiet room.

Wait for me here.

I'll go get my case and check her out.

Try also to find something to cut those off of her wrists.

Doctor?

Doctor!

Help me Walter.

Come save me.

Come closer.

Come.

LA BELLE CAPTIVE Adapted from Rene Magritte

Marie-Ange Van de Reeves

The whole house seemed to be blasted.

Like a hurricane hit it last night.

Or maybe more like a tidal wave that came through the gates and the columns,

leaving rubble on its way out.

Like on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean.

I barely remember those men last night.

They were still and didn't seem to understand what I was saying.

They were saying things that sounded like my language...

but it did not make any sense.

I did not even recognize the sound of my own voice.

There was no sign of the tragedy in the park,

only broken branches and trees pulled out.

Probably because of the thunderstorm that broke last night...

right after I came into the house.

Nothing else happened,

and I had to face the fact that I drank way too much in that nightclub.

Suddenly I remembered the letter Sara gave me.

I had an important mission,

an urgent message I had to give to the count of Corinthe.

I'll go right now.

I couldn't wake him up in the middle of the night anyway.

The tape-cassette was still playing the quartet...

of Schubert since last night.

It was 'Death and the Maiden' or 'The Young Captive' or something like that.

I pictured her hands handcuffed and her provocative smile.

Did I dream about her arms and legs hugging me like moving algae?

Her warm body and her insatiable mouth were...

taken away by the tidal wave last night.

I didn't know exactly where I was.

I was disoriented because the streets were too big or too narrow.

And soon the streets became dirt roads in this area that I've often driven through.

I finally saw a little bar that looked lost as well.

Good morning. I'd like to have a coffee.

Espresso please.

ABDUCTED THE DAY BEFORE HER WEDDING

Weird story.

This guy must be a drug addict or crazy.

Maybe he's hiding something.

He couldn't tell the police the name of the girl who was living with him.

And that he was supposed to marry the next morning.

Sir, are you ok?

Is there anybody?

Is there anybody?

VILLA SECONDE

Besides the sign saying 'Villa Seconde'...

it was hard for me to recognize this weird hotel...

used for prostitution where I spent the night...

with this complex fiancee of Corinthe.

This beautiful stranger the police was looking for.

Don't bother ringing the bell.

It's not working anymore.

It's been broken for a long time...

and the gate doesn't even open anymore.

So how do you come in?

You don't come in.

It's been centuries now.

It's been three years since I've driven by this house twice a day.

I've never seen the gate opened.

Never.

Does somebody live here?

No.

What do you want?

It's totally empty.

The windows flap in the wind and the inside is falling apart.

That's what I've heard.

You should ask the neighbor for information.

But just so you know, he's a little weird.

Goodbye.

And good luck!

You should ask the neighbor.

But just so you know, he's a little weird.

Goodbye.

And good luck!

Excuse me madam, the house next door...

Yes? The house next door?

But it doesn't exist sir! The house next door doesn't exist!

Excuse me, do you have an idea of how I could get into the house right next...

People next door are crazy, sir! Crazy!

Sometimes we hear them screaming all night long!

Screams coming from... a crazy woman.

Or maybe they're fighting.

They also play music.

They must be dancing or something.

What kind of music?

Maybe you're just hearing the wind...

Or maybe there are dogs!

Hundreds of lost dogs that scream to death all night long...

Calm down.

Calm down.

Who are you talking to?

Excuse me Sir, the house next door...

What about the house next door?

What are you doing here?

Who allowed you to come in?

The house next door has been empty for at least ten years.

If you want to rent it go to the real estate agency.

What agency? There's no sign!

I don't know, sir! I'm not a real estate agent!

Can't you see that there are sick people in here?

Get out! You should have never come here!

Sorry to insist, sir, but was it you last night...

I sleep at night Sir!

Are you hurt?

You should have told me you were looking for help.

You can trust me.

I'm a doctor. Have a seat.

It's nothing.

It's just a little flesh wound.

Don't be scared. You just lost a little bit of blood.

Hurry up! I've been called for an emergency.

There was a huge deserted beach,

with small successive waves coming from the sea, far away.

Hurry up! I've been called for an emergency.

There were heavy red curtains half opened in the foreground,

like an Italian theater.

Where did they come from? What were they doing here?

I was very confused with that picture in mind,

like a dream coming back every time you close your eyes.

As if it meant something important I didn't understand.

Then I thought of it again.

Sara gave me a letter for Henri of Corinthe.

'As soon as possible', she said.

Like it was a matter of life or death.

I already wasted a lot of time,

and now Corinthe was the only way for me to understand my own story.

Sir Henri of Corinthe please.

Sir of Corinthe is dead.

You're his cousin, aren't you?

Heart attack.

It was probably due to the extreme fatigue of the patient.

You must be a postcard collector, Sir.

Me? Why?

You just took one that belonged to the count of Corinthe.

Inspector Francis.

As you know we're investigating a missing woman.

Sir Corinthe's fiancee.

You're the cousin. You can help us.

No, it's a misunderstanding.

I'm not his cousin.

This is exactly what I thought.

May I ask what are you doing here?

I came here for business.

Indeed.

So you had a business relationship with the deceased.

Do you know his fiancee?

No.

I saw her face for the first time this morning in the paper.

Perfect.

By the way this picture was a mistake.

She's not the woman who disappeared,

but she's an old time girlfriend of the count.

You must have been confused because they look alike,

or because the patient was distracted last night.

One last question and you're free to go.

Could you show me what you have in the right pocket of your raincoat?

I wouldn't want it to be a gun.

No it's not.

It's just a woman's shoe.

I see.

You're a fetishist like everybody.

It makes sense.

No.

A friend told me to give the shoe to the cleaner to get rid of stains.

It seems like a bloodstain.

The woman we're looking for was wearing the same shoes.

It doesn't mean that you kidnapped her.

You wouldn't carry an incriminating object.

You must have taken it here, in a hallway.

You must be part of a private police force and you're doing your own investigation.

It all makes sense.

Unfortunately I have to take it from you.

I'll give you these in compensation for your collection.

Mr. De Corinthe had lots of those.

The soul breaking up.

The high tide.

Shoes on the sand.

An easel.

Red curtains.

An urgent message for a dead person.

Sand.

Shoes, And blood.

'My dear count, she doesn't remind you of anyone?'

'Sara Zeitgeist'

Symbolic exchange.

Drop cloth.

I didn't know what to do with this letter because

I couldn't give it to Corinthe anymore.

So I'm waiting for new orders.

Why did you take the postcard on his desk?

And why are you showing it to me?

What does it have to do with the mission I gave you?

Is that a possible lead?

Or does it remind you of something? Or what?

No. Nothing. I don't know.

I brought it to you because the inspector had duplicates.

I thought it was weird.

I thought maybe you knew why.

But I took this postcard without thinking,

without any particular reason.

No reason.

Be careful Walter.

Are you trying to hide something from me?

No. Hide what? For whom?

But you're right. I haven't felt good since last night.

Like somebody drugged me at this nightclub.

And I don't really know what I'm doing now.

Maybe I should...

What's happening now?

Here I am.

Here I am Walter.

What do you want from me? How did you get here?

Is this the way you're welcoming me after this long trip?

You look like you're scared.

Scared of me, your fiancee.

You told me your wish was to see me again.

Here I am.

You don't recognize me?

Can't you see these eyes,

these arms,

and this mouth..

you were so attracted to?

What old crime are you,

demon dressed like a bride,

haunting me for?

What's happening to you? Are you crazy?

Why did you lock the door? I couldn't get in!

The door was not... I didn't...

And you're bleeding!

Are you hurt?

It must have been during my struggle.

Why did you struggle? With whom? You were alone.

Did you see something?

Are you scared?

You look like a child after a nightmare.

No. I didn't see anything special.

I felt like I was choking.

Like something was squeezing my throat.

Does it happen often?

No. Sometimes, since last night.

You should go see a doctor.

No! Not a doctor! Not a doctor!

Calm down!

There's nothing wrong with going to see a doctor.

How do you feel exactly? Are you choking to death?

Yes something like that.

The pain comes from the bottom of the throat,

as if somebody was choking me.

And then I fall and drown.

But don't worry. It will go away.

I need to go back to the Matchu club.

What for? I didn't ask you anything.

Now that Corinthe is dead, your mission is over.

Over by default.

What we were planning is not possible anymore.

I have to go back.

I'd like to know something.

What thing?

I don't really know, but I have to go back.

Hello.

Could you do me a favor?

Man to man.

I danced with a pretty blonde girl last night.

She was wearing a black dress. Very see-through.

And she was laughing a lot.

I'm trying to contact her.

Do you remember?

She was a regular maybe.

It was crowded last night.

And I had better things to do than watching who was with whom.

You were not busy.

I didn't see only one girl dancing with you or with anybody else.

No blonde and no see-through.

Here is her picture.

It was in the paper this morning regarding something...

...a small incident.

Yes I know her.

She used to come here very often.

But she couldn't have been here last night.

Why?

She's been dead for maybe six or seven years now,

in an accident.

She was the daughter of Professor Van de Reeves,

an old crazy man who's into spiritualism.

What kind of accident?

Very strange.

She died on a fishing boat.

Rumors say that they never found her body.

And she was on her honeymoon with the count of Corinthe...

or something like that.

Rumors has it that the investigation was not done properly,

for the funeral.

You never heard that story before?

Yes I did.

It rings a bell.

The girl from last night looks exactly like her.

It was crowded.

We found it while we were cleaning the room.

One client must have been drunk, hopping on one foot going home.

I'd love to keep it as a souvenir.

One of your colleagues just asked me for the same favor.

Your investigation is making progress.

Here we are with three shoes that belong to the same pair.

Maybe we'll find more.

If you want to know what I think, someone is trying to make it confusing...

by putting shoes on purpose in front of us.

And you are, dear collector, directly implicated in their discovery.

I'm not saying that you did it.

But despite what I said this morning, you are the main suspect.

How is Sara Zeitgeist?

You know Sara?

Indeed.

The different police organizations meet all the time.

You are also related to Doctor Morgentodt.

Strange guy.

We might arrest him as well.

Here, now you seem to be interested in Professor Van de Reeves.

He will probably tell you his secret of spiritualism.

I'm giving you his address so that you don't have to look for it.

So even if you don't really want to say it,

you think you danced with my daughter Marie-Ange.

I'm not surprised.

I was at the movie theater last week...

and I realized I was sitting next to Marcel Proust.

You look sick.

A few people told me they met Marie-Ange since she died.

Apparently she still looks the same.

Proust did not change either, even with his illness.

He was there that night with an old lady who looked like my grandmother.

Unfortunately she drowned in 1927.

Do you know, sir, that most of the people you see in the street are dead?

That's why it's crowded everywhere.

And to avoid making a fuss they dress like us.

Almost.

Are you ok?

It's nothing.

My stomach is empty.

Empty stomach, mind full.

You should eat something here before you go.

You could even sleep here.

I have an empty bedroom right there waiting for you.

Otherwise you might get lost in the area.

It's dark, the streets don't have a lot of lights...

and there is no sign.

Yes you're right.

I'm exhausted.

Your hospitality is a relief.

The door at the back...

With relief.

With anxiety.

Or with hope.

...on your right.

Or with the worst fear.

Good night!

Or with quietness, finally recovered.

It's you Walter?

It's you Walter? Spending the night in my house?

You're so far away Walter.

You're far away.

Come closer.

Where is he now?

Final scene. With the soldiers.

On this deserted beach.

There's a parasite noise.

Like an engine, that stops from the execution.

Finally.

I thought you would be here.

Yes.

I wasn't sure about the appointment but you told me...

Why would I be here if we had an appointment somewhere else?

Yes, obviously.

Or maybe something else is controlling us.

Maybe somebody is manipulating us.

What are you talking about?

I feel like I end up every time in the same places.

Like in a bad dream.

Or like if I was trapped.

You lost your mind Walter.

I don't know if I'm worried about you or if you're getting on my nerves.

Where did you spend the night?

I tried to call you, everywhere you could have been.

I slept at a crazy man's house.

But nothing special happened.

I don't know anything else.

Forget about it.

I can't.

Why did you want to show a picture of a bloody shoe to the count of Corinthe?

To remind him.

One of his political opponents thinks that Henri of Corinthe killed his lover,

who he called his fiancee, six or seven years ago.

He camouflaged his crime as as an accident.

It was on a deserted beach in the south Atlantic around Uruguay.

Now that he's dead it doesn't matter anymore.

You never know what matters and what doesn't.

You should rest.

Yes you're right.

I'll go to sleep.

Always at the right place at the right time.

You're mission is over.

Over by default.

What a nightmare!

You were the boss of an execution organization that was about to kill me.

It was on the beach again, high-tide.

It was always the same beach with fine sand,

with successive and regular waves, one at the time.

You were wearing a black leather suit and riding a motorcycle.

I think it's the noise on the street I was hearing in my dream.

There was also a doctor.

He was doing some kind of psychological experiment on me.

Or he was looking for a way to communicate with the after-life.

I don't know. Something like that.

I also remember... barely...

I don't know.

I don't remember.

Are you tired?

No. I'm feeling good.

But I didn't sleep very well.

The beach had big red curtains half opened,

like drop cloth in a theater.

You screamed.

You scared me.

You were screaming for a long time, like a child haunted by his nightmare.

It's funny.

I wanted to scream in my dream but no sound came out of my mouth.

Some invisible hands were choking me.

I remember now that I was dreaming too.

Your scream was in my dream.

I think.

You never dream.

I heard that it doesn't exist, people who don't dream.

Are you sure you don't need anything?

Do you want me to get up?

What for?

I'll have a coffee next door. I have to hurry.

I'll call you from the office.

All right.

You have a tough day today.

What time is the moving company coming by?

They said 9.30am.

Call me if you have a problem.

'Greetings from Corinth'

The angel of death.

Nobody can guess what it looks like.

And when you see it for the first time you can't tell.

It has a sweet and caring face.

But when you know what's behind it, it's already too late.

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