Sebastian Hayes

The following is a scene much later in the film.

EXT/INT. CAFÉ “LA VILLE D’ORAN” PARIS – AFTERNOON

The outside of a run-down café in the Arab quarter. It has an air of faded splendour but is now falling to bits. Inside there are the typical marble topped tables of Parisian cafés of the time with the cast-iron Art Nouveau chairs, a bar of zinc and not many bottles behind it. There are some small metal teapots on trays as in North African cafés. To the right of the bar is a decorative bead curtain giving the place a faintly Turkish air. An overweight, moustached, middle-aged man stands behind the bar gazing into space. The only people inside are a few disconsolate looking men of North African origin who appear to have nothing better to do than to hang about in  such places. They sip  tiny glasses of mint tea and two pairs are  playing backgammon. There are no women present. On the walls are typical posters of the time showing shots of Oran and other North African towns mixed in with posters of Edith Piaf and one or two black and white photos of American male film stars such as Humphrey Bogard.

Jean-Jacques enters. He looks entirely out of place and one or two men turn round to glance at him, then return to their backgammon. He has a bag with him which he places on a table by the window. He goes to the bar.

Jean-Jacques A beer, please.

Barman I’ll bring it over to you.

Jean-Jacques goes to his seat. The Barman pulls a glass of Kronenbourg and brings it over.

Jean-Jacques Thanks.

He hesitates to speak but catches the Barman’s attention as he moves away. The Barman looks at him questioningly.

Jean-Jacques Excuse me, but… is Abdul  here?

Barman Abdul who?

Jean-Jacques takes out a sheet of paper from his bag.

Jean-Jacques Abdul Herool.

Barman You know him ?

Jean-Jacques Well, not personally. But…

The Barman shakes his head and walks away. He goes through the bead curtain.

Desultory conversations in mixed Arabic and French. Jean-Jacques looks uneasy, fiddles with stuff from his bag and takes out a newspaper. He lights a cigarette, stubs it out after a few puffs, lights another shortly afterwards.

ABDUL, a spare, intellectual looking North African in a suit, about 50, comes through the bead curtains with the Barman who resumes his position behind the bar. There is something incisive and commanding about this man without it quite being sinister.

Jean-Jacques looks up. Abdul comes over and stands by the table. Jean-Jacques is about to offer his hand but thinks better of it.

Abdul Who sent you here ?

Jean-Jacques Harif.

Abdul stis down opposite Jean-Jacques.

Abdul Did Harif give you something to show to me?

Jean-Jacques Yes.

He pulls out a paperback book from his bag. The title is “Le Silence de la Mer” by Vercors. Abdul picks it up, glances at the title, opens it and reads a few lines. He closes it and hands it back to Jean-Jacques who puts it away.

Abdul Why have you come here?

Jean-Jacques I’m in charge of the local student group of the AANC.

Abdul Go on.

Jean-Jacques We think we’ve found a place that’s used as an arms cache by the OAS. I thought….

Abdul (Raising his voice deliberately so as to be heard ) You want Afghan or Moroccan?

Jean-Jacques What? Oh, Moroccan.

Abdul Come with me.

Jean-Jacques follows Abdul out through the bead curtain.

INT. ROOM ABOVE THE “VILLE D’ORAN” CAFE – MOMENTS LATER

A wood-panelled somewhat grimy room containing a desk, old-fashioned telephone, bookcases full of books in French and Arabic, many of them Soviet and Chinese state financed works of Communist authors. On one wall is a huge map of Paris.

Abdul Show me.

Jean-Jacques goes up to the map and points.

Jean-Jacques It’s about here. Montparnasse. There’s a third-rate night-club…

Abdul Eugene’s Wild West Bar?

Jean-Jacques Yes.

Abdul We know about this place. Yes, OAS people go there. But what makes you think they’ve got arms?

Jean-Jacques Seen them myself. I work there part time. Someone delivers chests of stuff, they store them in the cellar and other people come and collect. On Thursdays usually.

Abdul goes to the window, reflecting on what to do. Shots of the street outside. He turns abruptly.

Abdul Why come here?

Jean-Jacques Look, you don’t have to get involved directly. We can -

Abdul Do you have your Identity Card on  you ?

Jean-Jacques nods.

Abdul Show it to me.

Jean-Jacques hands it over.  Abdul examines it, checks it by Jean-Jacques’ face, then pockets it.

Jean-Jacques Look here —

Abdul I’ll make some checks on you. Your card will be delivered to your lodgings tonight.

He pushes across a sheet of paper and a pen.

Abdul Write your address here.

Jean-JacquesBut look, I need my card. What if I get picked up ?

But he sees it is futile to argue and eventually complies.

Abdul If you get picked up just say you came here to buy hashish and someone stole your card. The police don’t care about that. We’ll be contacting you. Now leave.

Jean-Jacques gets to his feet and goes out. Abdul looks after him suspiciously.