(Glances in rearview mirror) Where to, love?

Long silence. Kristine looks at her broken shoe, then at the driver’s confident, calm face.

(Adjusting her hair, smiling) I still made the meeting. Barely. My stockings were ruined, though. Had to present in bare feet. (Laughs) Did I regret it? Ask me after the bonus hits.

Interior of a black cab. Hidden cameras are rolling. The driver, "Alex," picks up a woman in a sharp business suit near a financial district.

Fake Taxi – Kristine

(Suspicious, but desperate) How private?

Tell you what. I know a shortcut. Gets you there in eight minutes. But it’s a private route. Not on the meter.

(Arms crossed) Look, I don’t have cash for a scam. I have a corporate card and zero patience.

This isn’t Canary Wharf.

The driver takes a sharp turn into an underground tunnel. The lights dim. He pulls over next to a concrete wall.

(The scene continues in the back seat. Kristine starts off hesitant, still talking about her presentation, but slowly gives in as the driver takes control. Her blazer comes off. Then the blouse. The camera catches her biting her lip, then finally laughing—a real, relaxed laugh.)

(Quietly) That’s not why I got in this cab.