'Homeland' is a thriller with a lot of cloak and dagger spy stuff, which is one of the things that makes it so much fun.
How do you solve a mystery? How do you write a book? The techniques for starting both are surprisingly similar. Find an intriguing question and, pen and dagger tucked under cloak, search for clues.
In 2007 the 'dagger' of an idea that killed President Bush's effort at reforming the immigration system was lax border security.
The incognito of lower class employment is an effective cloak for any dagger one might wish to hide.
Guard: Volunteers comin' in!
Faudron: [kneels] William Wallace, we've come to fight and to die for you.
William Wallace: Stand up, man, I'm not the Pope.
Faudron: [smiles and stands] My name is Faudron. My sword is yours. I brought you this.
[reaches for something, Hamish tries to stop him]
Guard: We checked 'em
for arms.
Faudron: I brought you this.
[pulls out a sash]
Faudron: My wife made it for you.
William Wallace: Thank you.
Stephen: [starts laughing] Him? That can't be William Wallace. I'm *prettier* than this man!
[to the sky]
Stephen: Alright, Father, I'll ask him.
[to William]
Stephen: If I risk my neck for you, will I get a chance to kill Englishmen?
Hamish: Is your father a ghost, or do you converse with the Almighty?
Stephen: In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.
[to the sky]
Stephen: Yes, Father!
[to Hamish]
Stephen: The Almight says, "Don't change the subject, just answer the fuckin' question."
Hamish: Mind your tongue.
Campbell: Insane Irish.
Stephen: [draws a dagger on Campbell; everyone draws weapons] Smart enough to get a dagger past your guards, old man.
William Wallace: That's
my friend, Irishman. And the answer to your question is "yes". You fight for me, you get to kill the English.
Stephen: [grins] Excellent!
[removes his dagger]
Stephen: Stephen is my name. I the most wanted man on my island, except I'm not on my island, of course. More's the pity.
Hamish: "Your island"? You mean Ireland?
Stephen: Yeah. It's mine.
Hamish: You're a madman.
Stephen: [nods and starts laughing, then Hamish does as well] I've come to the right place, then.
Galadriel: You carry something. It came to you from Radagast. He found it in Dol Guldur.
Gandalf: Yes.
Galadriel: Show it to me.
[Gandalf takes out a package]
Elrond: What is that?
Galadriel: A relic... of Mordor.
Elrond: A Morgul-blade!
Galadriel: Made for the Witch-king of Angmar and buried with him. When Angmar fell, the Men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock, they buried him. In a tomb so dark, it would never come to light.
Elrond: This is not possible. A powerful spell lies upon those tombs, they can
NOT be opened.
Saruman: What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?
Gandalf: I can find none.
Saruman: Because there IS none! Let us examine what we know: A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen, a dagger from a bygone age has been found and a human sorcerer who calls himself the Necromancer has taken
up residence in a ruined fortress. It's not so very much. After all, the question of this Dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf. I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they had come to me, I might have spared them from this disappointment...
Galadriel: [while Saruman talks] They are leaving.
Gandalf: Yes.
Galadriel: [smiles] You knew.