Do I work for intelligence services? Several, just like you.
You wouldn’t do business with someone who wasn’t savvy enough to be recruited. Hell, the CIA provides two-thirds of the market for fissile material.
SATOR:
They’re usually buying, not selling. But we do live in a twilight world...
PROTAGONIST:
Is that Whitman? It’s pretty.
SATOR:
Next warning’s a bullet in your brain.
PROTAGONIST:
No balls in my throat?
SATOR:
There’ll be no time for such things in Tallinn.
Sator gestures to his men – they lift the capsule. The Protagonist spots DRIED MUD from the latches on the table... SATOR (CONT'D) Make your way there. I want Volkov on the team.
The Protagonist struggles to his feet.
PROTAGONIST:
No. I spring the materials, you pay me off. Your wife does the exchange.
SATOR:
I never involve her in my business.
PROTAGONIST:
That’s why I trust her.
SATOR:
(to Volkov) Put him ashore.
PROTAGONIST:
How do I contact you?
You don’t.
SATOR:
PROTAGONIST:
How do you advance me funds?
Sator TOSSES the Protagonist the BLOODY GOLD BAR – the Protagonist FUMBLES it onto the table. Volkov SNEERS –
SATOR:
Handle the plutonium better than that.
The Protagonist, looking Volkov in the eye, picks up the gold bar, scooping DRIED MUD into his hand, unseen.
EXT. DOWNTOWN STREETS, TALLINN – DAY The Protagonist walks the crowded streets with Neil.
PROTAGONIST:
What did you find on the gold?
NEIL:
Three hundred thousand at today’s price, no franks, mould marks.