Sid Holmes I'm a Philadelphian. I ain't from LA but I wanna sell this script. If you like it, let's tawk. ZWORYKIN'S NIGHTMARE - Sid Holmes Log line: Two burglars striving to go straight in the security business, instead, plot to extort six million dollars from the NYC police department after they fall upon a laser capable of killing people through a television. ZWORYKINÕS NIGHTMARE SIDNEY HOLMES FADE IN EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT A pale moon, countless stars pinned against the sky. DRIFT DOWN to the distant Brooklyn Bridge. New York City skyline glowing in the background. A FOGHORN sounds. DOWN past the treetops to a well-tended lawn and tall hedges surrounding a four bedroom home. MOVE IN and in the shadows are TWO FIGURES; DAVID VON ALLMAN; white, 32, in good shape, and JULIAN NORRIS; black, 30, athletic. They're outfitted in full stealth regalia; black jumpsuits, gloves, and knapsacks, as they creep toward an open garage door. They stop a few feet short. JULIAN There it is, Ferrari Dino. Black. Right where Nick said it was. He starts toward the car, but David clamps a wary hand around his forearm. He freezes. David shakes his head. DAVID Too easy. Julian waits as David squats. His hand feels for, finds a small stone. He tosses it at the Ferrari. There's a SHOWER OF SPARKS AND A PUFF OF SMOKE as the stone strikes an INVISIBLE BARRIER, deflects to the grass. Julian whistles, relieved, as David slides his knapsack off his back. Digs through it. Julian gingerly strokes the barrier, testing its effect. It CRACKLES AND SOFTLY SPARKS at his touch. DAVID It's a force field. We had them in covert ops. Be careful. Reach too far, it'll knock you out. Julian jerks his hand away. INSIDE THE CAR Like a cobra's head, a flexible steel stalk awakens. Rises from the center console next to the gearshift. It's lone red eye flicks open - a TV camera. A small monitor nestled underneath the dashboard comes to life. David and Julian fill the tiny screen. DAVID removes a QUARTER-SIZED METAL DISC from his bag. Steps over to the side of the garage. Slips it behind an electrical panel and returns. Faces the Ferrari. Pulls out a SMALL BOX with a button on top. He motions for Julian to move away from the garage door. DAVID Now watch. David presses the button. The perimeter of the force field GLOWS BRIGHT WHITE for an instant, then, JUST AS SUDDENLY DIES OUT. Short-circuited. David, triumphant, nods to Julian. It's his turn to get to work. INSIDE THE CAR The cobra shadows Julian's movements as he enters the garage. Target sighted, it locks onto his advancing form. CROSSHAIRS appear over Julian's face on the monitor screen. JULIAN senses danger, the cobra's staring red eye. Too late. The cobra strikes. A RED LASER BEAM ERUPTS FROM THE EYE. Slams flush into Julian's forehead. His legs buckle. He hurls backward in a heap. His body colliding with David, who clumsily catches him. Unconscious. DAVID The cobra's red eye. Intuitively, he jumps sideways, still clutching Julian's dead weight. The eye spits ANOTHER ROUND that narrowly misses his shoulder, strikes the grass. They tumble to the ground. Dogs start BARKING in the distance. He recovers, scrambles over to Julian. Slaps his face, once, twice. Julian revives suddenly, grabs David's hand. Wards off the next blow. They struggle to their feet, Julian cursing, composing himself. THE COBRA snaps violently. Whips from side to side, desperately trying to position itself for a clean shot. But David and Julian are out of camera range. The SCATTERED LASER BLASTS harmlessly hitting the grass. INT. NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE - NIGHT A curtained window. A phone on a nightstand. LASER BLASTS from the cobra FLASH in the distance. A feminine hand lifts the receiver. SOUNDS of 911 punched in. OPERATOR(FEMALE,VO) This is the police. Can I help you? A SERIES OF SHOTS of David and Julian, running across lawns. Making their getaway. Fluid. Single file. Without panic. A well-disciplined pair. INT. HAN'S JAVELIN - NIGHT Tall, rumpled, 43, weathered. White. Old-fashioned work ethic. HARRY HAHNEMAN steers with one hand. The other holds a beer he swigs liberally. His car - cancer riddled, muffler shot, worn upholstery - isn't doing any better. It BACKFIRES. Horribly. HAN Shut up. This is a nice neighborhood. On the STATICKY radio the Bee-Gees song ends. Segues into a throbbing modern rock tune. Han tugs at his tie. Unbuttons his collar. Shifts the beer to the opposite hand. As he does so: HAN(CONT) Goddamn new age bullshit. He punches in another radio station. More 70's rock. Not paying attention to the road. Eyes return just in the nick of time. He slams on the brakes. Narrowly avoids Julian and David who have seemingly materialized out of the darkness. They don't even break stride. The beer can drops. The cold liquid soaking Han's trousers. He curses. Swipes haplessly at his pants. Peers into the dark as David and Julian meld into the night. The police radio SQUAWKS. DISPATCHER(VO) All units, vicinity of Meadowood and Ithan. Report of a two-eleven. Two suspects fleeing the scene on foot. Han flings the beer out the window. Snatches the microphone, stamps on the gas. The tires SQUEAL. The engine ROARS to life. No backfire now. HAN (into mike) This is Hahneman, seventeenth precinct. I have a visual on that two-eleven. Suspects heading north on Ithan Avenue. Am in pursuit. DOWN THE STREET - NIGHT David hears the Javelin advancing in the distance. Glances over his shoulder. Pinpoints of light growing brighter. He taps Julian's shoulder. Shoves him, guiding them over to the curb and across the grass towards the sheltering hedges. HAN slows. Squints up ahead. Nothing but grass and trees. He stops. Fumbles through the glove box. Scatters gas receipts and old maps. Shit, can't find them! Gropes under the front seat. Extracts a pair of NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. Puts them to his eyes. Flicks the switch -but they don't turn on. He curses. Smacks them. The light on top BLINKS RED. THROUGH THE GOGGLES The night is ILLUMINATED GHOSTLY WHITE. Except for the FADING RED TRAIL of David and Julian's IMAGES GROWING SMALLER in the distance. Damn, these guys are fast! HAN (into mike) It's Hahneman. They're heading towards Lancaster Avenue. I'll cut them off. Get some backup out here! The Javelin surges down the long street. Makes a wild, wide left turn rounding the corner. A speeding police cruiser, lights FLASHING, siren WAILING, appears behind Han's car. Joins in the pursuit. EXT. LANCASTER AVENUE - NIGHT David and Julian sprint down the deserted street. Streetlights cast heavy shadows. In the distance up ahead, three cruisers looming. Silent running, LIGHTS FLASHING. Eating blacktop. Wheeling about, they scan the storefronts, begging for a safe haven. Julian motions David toward a doorway. A card key lock. David reaches into his pocket. Pulls out a magnetic entry card. Slides it through the lock. The lock BUZZES as it speeds through combinations. The LED readout FLASHING THE DIGITS as it scans. Julian, jittery, muttering. Urging the card to hurry up and do its stuff. The door HISSES, unlocks, slips open. Julian scrambles inside. David hesitates, indicates to Julian, 'one second.' THE JAVELIN makes another lurching left turn, onto Lancaster Avenue. Barely holding together. Trailed now by two screaming police cruisers. DAVID hears the SCREECH of the faraway Javelin. On the opposite end of the street, the three cruisers gaining. Fast. He pulls a small cylindrical device from his knapsack. Switches it on. It HUMS. He pitches it down the road. It bounces, rolls, rests at the tire of a parked car. He rushes back to the door. Shuts it softly behind him. THE CRUISERS AND THE JAVELIN converge. Brakes HEAVING, tires SQUEALING as they meet hood to hood. The police and Han jump out. The GLEAM of a gold shield hanging from his jacket pocket. Han orders the men to spread out. INT. BUILDING - NIGHT David and Julian lay motionless in the darkness. Crouched against the door. MUFFLED VOICES. SQUELCHING police radios. Blue-red FLASHERS stream through closed blinds. HAN stands alone. Raises the goggles to his eyes. THROUGH THE GOGGLES a SEA OF RED illuminates the entire scene. The stores, trees, cars. All glowing brightly. HAN curses. Slowly rotates, scrutinizing the street. The police begin drifting back to their cruisers. Shining flashlights in windows, tugging at doors as they return. Yelling out if anyone has seen anything. Han removes the goggles. Walks down the street, head turning left to right. A thorough inspection. DAVID AND JULIAN Stiffen. Hold their breath as they hear the TWO VOICES moving closer. The door jiggles. A flashlight's beam cuts a swath through the blinds. HAN sees the device next to the tire. He crouches. Guardedly picks it up. Rolls it in his fingers. Raises the goggles for a look. THROUGH THE GOGGLES the RED LIGHT IS AS BLINDING AS THE SUN. HAN yelps out in pain. Snatches the goggles away. He staggers, clearing his head. Rubs his eyes. The officers rush over to him. COP Inspector Hahneman, the area's clear. We can't find anything. HAN (shakes them off) Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shit. He slips the device into his pocket unnoticed. They disperse, give him room. All except for one young cop. YOUNG COP So you're Hahneman. Han stops rubbing, recovers instantly. HAN You got a problem with that? The young cop stammers, gestures as if to say 'no problem.' INT. BUILDING - NIGHT SLAMMING car doors. The cruisers PULLING AWAY. Tension easing. David and Julian adjusting to their new surroundings. Still frozen. Aware of new SOUNDS. MECHANICAL. WHIRRING. JULIAN (low) What the hell is that? David silences him with a hand. He crawls, advances towards the sounds. Then - DAVID They're computers. He rises to his feet. Calmly walks over to a long row of tall mainframes against a wall. They're in a HIGH-TECH LAB. JULIAN Computers? David pulls off a glove. Runs his hand along a faceplate, admiring a polished steel machine. DAVID Uh-huh. No Radio Shack bullshit either. Julian removes a flashlight from his bag. Shines it at a shelf. A row of bound scientific volumes. Half of them written by an Edward L. Odessa. A professional TV videocamera. Plaques. Citations. The beam lights on a large framed photo of a man. Young. Obviously plastered. Horn-rimmed glasses crooked on his face. A schock of brown hair dangling over one eye. A blond woman perched on his lap. His arm draped around her waist. She's wearing black fishnet stockings and bra. Writing on the picture. Black felt tip pen. The woman. A hint of recognition. Julian moves closer. Reads: JULIAN (reading) To Eddie hugs and kisses...Madonna? David, check this out. He turns to David, who has seated himself behind a desk and has removed his other glove. Booted a computer. He types commands on a keyboard next to a large monitor. Madonna and Eddie quickly forgotten. Julian heads over to him. JULIAN What's going on? DAVID We'll see in a second. ON THE SCREEN is EDWARD L. ODESSA. The same man in the photo. But more nerdy and serious looking in starched labcoat, white shirt and narrow black tie. Behind the same desk. A man pleased with himself but bored with routine diary entries. ODESSA(ON SCREEN) October 21st 1999. Day 556. Have finished construction of the weapon and am about to conclude full scale tests. Anticipate delivery within one week. Will remind consortium to have the three million ready for payment. Odessa out. DAVID Three million? Julian's interest piques. JULIAN Well, damn, whatever he's talking about itÕs got to be in here. Julian starts rifling through the lab drawers, leaving David, who continues watching. ODESSA(ON SCREEN) October 14, 1999. Day 549. Have completed ALBAD testing and except for a few adjustments to the phone relays, the machine functions perfectly as ordered. Odessa - JULIAN - David, I found something. David moves toward Julian, who has removed a large attache case from a drawer and is opening it on the counter. They stare at the disassembled parts of the ALBAD - or whatever it is - encased in gray, molded plastic. David involuntarily recoils. DAVID Leave it and let's get the hell out of here. JULIAN What are you talking about man? David moves swiftly. Begins shutting down the computer terminals. Doing his best to make sure the lab appears undisturbed. DAVID I've seen this kind of operation before. It's trouble we don't need. JULIAN He said three million dollars. Julian faces him. Grips his shoulders. JULIAN(CONT) Three-million-dollars, man. The figure sinks in. Weighs against his objections. No time to argue. DAVID Grab it and let's go. Now! Julian, victorious, shuts the case. David peers through the blinds. The coast is clear. They cautiously exit. EXT. LANCASTER AVENUE - LAB - NEXT DAY The street bustles with activity. Stores open, their doors swung wide. PASSERSBY stroll down the sidewalk. Women push baby carriages. Steady TRAFFIC. A red jeep shudders to a stop. The radio BLARES modern rock. Odessa. Black slacks, white shirt, skinny black tie. Despite his jeep, his music, his mod clothing, his youth; he still looks half a step above a physics teacher. He bounds out, small paper bag in hand. Waves to the WOMAN ACROSS THE STREET who waters the pots of flowers in front of her shop. Shakes her head once his back is turned. At the doorway he grabs a computer DISKETTE FROM THE TINY SLOT marked NYT. His card key slips open the door. INT. THE LAB - DAY As Odessa glides in. Blows Madonna a kiss. Puts the bag and diskette on the desk. Slips on the labcoat hanging on the wall hook. ODESSA (to the air) Einstein, lights, radio. The lab automatically BATHES IN LIGHT. And REVERBERATES with the same modern rock. The lab is extremely HIGH-TECH. Crammed with the most advanced super computers in existence. Shiny blue steel machines. Worth millions. He pulls a cup of cappuccino and a cream cheese bagel out of the bag. Takes a bite and a sip. Bops to the music as he moves around the room booting computers. He slides open the drawer. The attache. Gone. His eyes stretch wide and he mumbles curses. Flings open cabinets, bagel hanging from his mouth. He scrambles to the door. The lock. Nothing out of the ordinary there. ODESSA Einstein, radio off! Instantly, the room FALLS SILENT. Odessa flops down to the swivel chair. Tears the bagel from his mouth. ODESSA(CONT) Who was in here last night? The wall behind the desk switches on - a huge wall TV screen. The COMPUTER GENERATED IMAGE OF GRAY-HAIRED ALBERT EINSTEIN MATERIALIZES. Seated in a shiny easy chair. Wearing a cardigan. Casually smoking a pipe. A soothing voice. A stark contrast to the harried Odessa. EINSTEIN(ON SCREEN) Two males. They entered at nine forty-one and departed at nine-fifty. ODESSA Did you tape them? He takes a leisurely drag on the pipe. EINSTEIN I'm not programmed to record the activity in this room. Odessa flings the half eaten bagel at the screen. Einstein, unmoved, watches it hit at his shoulder. ODESSA You asshole! Odessa grabs the telephone. Thumbs through an address book. Punches in a number. Einstein sucks his pipe. EINSTEIN You're upset with me aren't you? Odessa glowers at him. Says nothing. The phone RINGS ONCE, then - COMPUTER VOICE(VO) Name please. ODESSA Odessa, Edward W. Sixty-one-oh -two-point-zero-six. He bites his thumbnail. We hear a VERIFICATION CHIME and then - OPERATOR(VO) Good morning, Doctor Odessa. ODESSA Deckard - get me Deckard! OPERATOR(VO) One moment please. DECKARD(VO) Deckard here. ODESSA Where is it? DECKARD(VO) Where's what? ODESSA The Albad. You took it. DECKARD(VO) We didn't take anything. ODESSA Then it's gone - stolen! DECKARD(VO) Stolen? How the hell did - ODESSA - I don't know. I just got here. It's gone! DECKARD(VO) (a beat, then) Listen carefully. As of this moment you are not to call me. Under any circumstances. You either get it back - or build a new one before deadline. ODESSA But that'll take weeks. DECKARD(VO) Then it takes weeks. I'll stay in touch. The line CLICKS, goes dead. Odessa looks dumbly at the receiver. Presses the redial button. It RINGS. PHONE VOICE(MALE,VO) White electrical supply. Can I help you? Hello. Hello? Odessa hangs up the phone. Slowly. Looks at Einstein who wears a stupid, detached expression as he exhales a cloud of white smoke. Odessa's teeth clench. He slams the desk hard with his fist. ODESSA Goddamit! INT. JEWELRY STORE - DAY David and Julian. Seedy sportcoats, ties. Standing in front of a counter. A classy establishment, located on the ninth floor in a high rise. Fine quality rings, bracelets, mounted necklaces and gemstones adorn walls and glass cases. Their clothing announces clearly, that David and Julian couldn't afford to buy a keychain in here. They watch as several WORKMEN install two huge panes of glass in the front doors at the shop's entrance. WORKERS behind them wash down and patch the lobby walls. Mr. GIOVAN breezes in from a room in the back, across the floor. Short, plump, impeccably dressed, Mr. Giovan is a perfect complement to his elegant store. He greets them good morning. Pumps their hands with gusto. He holds a videotape. He is terribly excited. MR. GIOVAN Gentlemen the system worked perfectly. We're so pleased. The bars, the wall, came down (demonstrates) shoom! Come, I show you. He directs them to a large TV monitor. Puts the tape in the VCR, switches it on. ON THE SCREEN POV - A SECURITY CAMERA MOUNTED HIGH ABOVE THE ELEVATOR DOORS The doors open and FIVE MEN emerge. Some carry tools. All wear ski masks and overalls. One kneels, lights a blowtorch. The others converge around the door's locking mechanism. An efficient operation. The SOUND is MUFFLED, but we faintly hear the RINGING OF THREE CHIMES. They stop, turn, just in time to see a row of STEEL BARS PLUMMET from the ceiling to the floor. Separating them from the elevators. A solid STEEL WALL DROPS. It SLAMS behind the shop's front doors, sealing off any hope of escape. They cower like trapped animals, waiting for - MR. GIOVAN'S VOICE(OS) And now the piece de resistance! The elevator RINGS. The doors open. Slowly. TWO no-nonsense SECURITY GUARDS emerge, automatic machine guns at the ready. They spray the lobby with GUNFIRE, blowing the men to SMITHEREENS. Blood SPLATTERS. Bullets RICOCHET. They stop firing, admire their handiwork. One guard sticks his foot through the bars, kicks at one of the bodies. Makes sure he's dead. They return to the elevator. The doors shut. BACK TO SHOT Mr. Giovan is ecstatic, clasping his hands. Laughing. Julian grimaces. Glances at David who, dumbfounded, turns to Mr. Giovan. DAVID Was that really necessary? INT. DAVID'S HOME - NIGHT Masculine. Modest, if a bit dated. Sectional furniture. Dark wood. Imitation prints on the wall. A large floor model TV. A stereo with a turntable and a bunch of albums stacked in a built-in bookcase along with a few CD's. 70's DISCO MUSIC in the air. Night fever. A PARTY. Mixed crowd; black, white, male, female. Friendly. Loose. Cigarette smoke. LOUD VOICES. A little too much alcohol. Maybe a joint passed around. David and Julian play host; move from glass to glass, hoisting liquor bottles. Mingling in the cramped living room. A helluva time had by all - except for one woman. DIANNE, female, blond, late 30's. Attractive, but understated. She stands in a corner. Sips a glass of white wine. Observing. David, pleased that his party is going well. Notices she's not mixing in. Sidles up to her, glass in hand. Wraps his arm around her waist. She cringes. Touches the side of her head. DAVID You okay? DIANNE A little tired. I'll be alright. He brushes back her hair. Kisses her forehead. DAVID I promise this won't go too late. She nods. The doorbell RINGS. David lets her go. Wades through the crowd. Indicates to Julian - who'd rather answer the door himself -that he'll get it. Julian talking shop with three men; all suited, collars undone. Phil. Balding. Older. Obviously the boss. Slightly drunk. PHIL I'm glad we reached an agreement Jules. JULIAN Me too, Phil. PHIL You can appreciate how we like to keep our business in the family, PHIL(CONT) so to speak. I mean with you and David being such good tenants. He embraces Julian's shoulder. Grips him tight. PHIL(CONT) Your business grows, you take up more space in my building. Polite chuckles at Phil's little joke. Julian frees himself. Raises his glass; a toast. JULIAN Here's to our biggest account to date, Tyrex. Cheers all around. A sip. JULIAN Our guys'll be there bright and early tomorrow. PHIL (nods vigorously, gulps his drink) Very good. Very good. INT/EXT. DAVID'S HOME - AT THE FRONT DOOR - NIGHT David's smile evaporates as he opens the door. Sees the smoking figure; well-muscled, white, tall, thinning gray hair. Each line in DECKARD's craggy face tells a story of deception, deceit. He stamps out the butt, smiles, as the door swings opens. DECKARD Hello David. He moves to step inside, but David remains fixed. Blocks him. DAVID How'd you find me? DECKARD Is that any way to greet an old friend? I taught you better than that. He looks past David's shoulder. Notes the party. The NOISE. DECKARD And I wasn't invited? The glass in David's hand. DECKARD(CONT) Still drinking, eh, von Allman? DAVID Club soda - what do you want Deckard? DECKARD Your help. DAVID (shutting the door on him) Wrong door pal. Deckard stops the door with his foot. Takes a step inside past him. Eyeballs the modest foyer. Reaches in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. DECKARD Nice place, David. Looks like things are going pretty well. You still in the business? You and that nigger partner of yours DECKARD(CONT) - what's his name? Ah, Julian, right? DAVID (withdrawn) Yeah, Julian. Business is okay. He circles Deckard. Stands between him and the party. Lights his smoke. DECKARD Let me show you something. He reaches into his hip pocket. Pulls out a TV WATCHMAN the size of a cassette tape. Switches it on. Sticks it right under David's nose. ON THE SCREEN It's dark. Two images. Crouched in the doorway of a chain stereo store. Disabling the alarm system. The picture is GRAINY, BLACK AND WHITE. Nonetheless, as we move CLOSER, we clearly see that the figures are David and Julian. Outfitted in their stealth gear. The door falls open. They enter. Over this: DECKARD An academy award performance, huh. And really clever, kid. Robbing that jewelry store and coming back a day later peddling a security system. (almost apologetically) I keep tabs. Deckard stops the video. Puts the watchman back in his pocket. While doing this: DECKARD(CONT) So let's cut the blowjob, okay, bright eyes. DAVID I'm listening. DECKARD A group of scientists working on a secret defense project. Weapons - lasers. That kind of thing. We've got a deadline to meet and they're, running behind schedule. DAVID What do you want with me. DECKARD They might need some help. That's where you come in. You're the best electronics man I ever had. Couldn't hack it as a soldier, but - Deckard stops abruptly. Dianne has appeared undetected behind David. DIANNE David do you have anymore Coke in - Her voice trails off. Aware that she has intruded on a tense situation. DIANNE(CONT) Oh, I'm sorry. DAVID That's alright. He was just leaving. Deckard doesn't flinch. Studies her face. David moves toward the door. Begins to force him out. DECKARD (to Dianne) The shrink, right? (to David) I've got some business in Caracas. But I'll be back soon. Be ready. (to Dianne, nods) Ma'am. David shuts the door. Looks up at the - OVERHEAD SECURITY MONITOR as Deckard strolls down the driveway. Takes stock of the grounds. Sniffs a rose as he heads to his car. A beat up van in the driveway. DIANNE(OS) David, who was that man? DAVID Someone I used to know. DAVID finally looks at her. DAVID(CONT) There's Coke in the cabinet next to the refrigerator. Dianne confused. She watches David transfixed on the monitor. Doesn't push the issue. Heads for the kitchen. With Deckard out of eyeshot, David hustles to the living room. Pulls a protesting Julian away from a conversation with an attractive woman, VICKIE. David leads him up the stairs toward the study. JULIAN Man what are you doing? DAVID I think I know what this ALBAD thing is? JULIAN Fine, but two weeks later, couldn't it wait just one hour? INT. THE STUDY - NIGHT Julian follows David, who shuffles a few GUESTS out of the study, enters. The study has a large wooden desk with a fluorescent lamp and computer on top. A swivel chair. A loveseat faces a floor model TV. A built in bookcase is filled with technical volumes. David heads straight to the desk. Pulls out the attache, and, as if guided by Odessa himself, begins assembling the pieces. Julian shuts the door. Sinks into a loveseat. Still a grumbling about the woman and lost opportunity. David says nothing, instead, finishes assembly. Offers the ALBAD to Julian who takes it. An ominous looking - whatever it is. Similar to a rifle. He hefts it. JULIAN Great. Now what is it? David is opening a window. DAVID I think it's some sort of laser. Let's try it. JULIAN Right here? DAVID (taking it back) Why not. He shoulders the weapon. Aims through the window at a tree. Pulls the trigger several times. Nothing happens. JULIAN Man, this ain't shit. Now can we go back downstairs? DAVID (handing him the weapon) Wait a minute. His back to Julian, David scrutinizes the one remaining ALBAD piece still in the attache. Slides his hand along the rim of the attache. Probing fingers feel a ridge. A HIDDEN SLEEVE. Reach in. Pull out a paper folded like a map. JULIAN A bit curious now. Pointing at various objects around the room. Tugs at the trigger a few times. JULIAN POV aiming at a lamp looking through what would be the SCOPE. We see nothing but unobstructed lamp. JULIAN absently points the ALBAD at the television on a shelf. The late news is on. He aims at the ANCHORMAN, LERONE FOSTER. JULIAN POV It is only now that we see the THIN CROSSHAIRS of the scope. We MOVE BACK to the lamp and they disappear. MOVE BACK to the television and the crosshairs return. Centered on the anchorman. DAVID unfolds the paper over the attache. Numbers and technical data printed on it. BLUEPRINTS. DAVID Julian - Turning around as - JULIAN squeezes the trigger. A BLUE LASER BEAM STREAMS FROM THE BARREL. DISAPPEARS INTO THE TV SCREEN. David and Julian exchange bewildered looks. INT. CHANNEL 3 - NEWS SET - NIGHT Lerone's dialogue is heard as we move FORWARD across the studio floor. Sweeping past SOUND MEN and CAMERAMEN to the news desk where Lerone Foster and his CO-ANCHOR, JOANNE CARTER are delivering the newscast. LERONE The preliminary hearing of a man charged with smuggling more than 130 pounds of cocaine into New York last summer might conclude tomorrow. A judge is expected to rule on whether or not the drugs were seized illegally by police - In one swift motion, Lerone clutches his chest, pitches forward, collapses into Joanne's lap. She screams, jumps up. His head bounces hard on the desk as he falls to the floor. His torso sticking from behind in view of the camera. Sound men and STAGE CREW dive to his aid as all hell breaks loose on the set. One SOUND MAN kneels over Lerone. Looks up. His ashen face already confirms the worst - he's dead. Expression changes to horror as he - SOUND MAN POV Looking at a bank of overhead TV monitors. His stunned face, close, fills the screens as they are still on the air! Beneath the monitors, in the control room - EVERYONE IS IMMOBILE! Staring down at the grisly scene. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - THE STUDY CLOSE on the TV. TECHNICIAN(on the screen) Turn us off dammit! For god's sake - CUT US OFF! The screen GOES TO STATIC. DAVID AND JULIAN Speechless, staring at the TV. There's knocking at the door. QUICK SHOT - DIANNE IN THE HALLWAY. DIANNE David? Julian? Are you in there? BACK TO SHOT - THE STUDY David and Julian snap back to attention. David fumbles, takes the weapon apart. Julian switches off the TV. Springs to the door, holds it before Dianne can open it. As they do so: DAVID Just a second. JULIAN (whispering) Hurry up David. David shuts the drawer. Spins around just as Julian opens the door. Dianne enters. Sees their stony faces. Laughs. The wine glass sways in her hand. DIANNE (impish) What are you boys doing in here? She giggles when they don't respond. She snatches David's hand. DIANNE(CONT) Come on you two. It's not polite to abandon your own party. David extracts her glass. Places it on a shelf. DAVID I think you've had enough. DIANNE Okay, okay. You're as bad as my father. (kisses his cheek) But I love you anyway. They exit. Julian last. He pauses. Looks at the TV. Smiles faintly. Flicks off the lights. EXT. HIGH RISE OFFICE BUILDING - DAY Old. Stately. Thirty stories. A NEON SIGN mounted at the top reads: TYREX INT. TYREX BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY David and Julian enter through the huge glass lobby doors. In the background, outside, is an ornate marble courtyard. The UNIFORMED DOORMAN formally greets them good morning. They return with a hello. Across the spacious marble floor, on the far side near the garage door entrance, TWO WORKERS install a security camera. One stands on a ladder. They wave. On the other side, near the elevators, is an office. It has a broad glass window. David And Julian head over to the door. Pebbled glass reads: SECURITY OFFICE. Big black letters. They step inside. INT. TYREX BUILDING - SECURITY OFFICE - DAY WORKMEN scurry about. The SOUNDS of HAMMERING and a CIRCULAR SAW. LOUD. CLOUDS OF SAWDUST kicking up. Three men struggle with a bank of TV monitors they are fitting into a space carved out of the wall. The console off to the side awaiting its turn. MIKE, the foreman approaches, but not too close. JULIAN (loud) How's it going Mike? Mike gives the 'OK sign.' Julian returns with the 'thumbs up.' He and David exit. INT. TYREX BUILDING - LOBBY As they step out of the security office, heading toward the elevators. DAVID We land the biggest contract of our lives. Redoing this whole building. Things are just getting good. I don't want to blow it. JULIAN Blow it? We just hit the big time, man. We're in hock up to our eyeballs fronting this fancy fucking office. This ALBAD thing is a dream come true. DAVID Uh-uh, it's not that. Julian wheels around. They stop. JULIAN I don't get it. DAVID I want to quit the break-ins. Settle down, get married, maybe... We're legit now. JULIAN Dianne? David nods yes. DAVID She needs me. And I love her. JULIAN Look, we do this job and you'll never have to work again. Aren't you tired of humping your ass for pennies. I damn sure am. They reach the elevators. Julian presses the up button. DAVID I'm not a killer. Haven't been for a long time. JULIAN Fine, I'll handle it. You did your share. Uncle Sam owes you. But are you with me? Six million dollars, David. Fifty-fifty. David registers the figure. The elevator doors open. They hesitate. Julian sweeps his arm in an exaggerated manner. JULIAN After you. INT. THE LAB - SAME DAY As Odessa bolts through the door. Heads straight to the desk. Minus the paper bag but with the NYT diskette. He boots the computer, commands the wallscreen to turn on. Einstein obeys. He slides the diskette into one of the computer slots. It CLICKS as it downloads. The huge wall screen comes to life with the FRONT PAGE OF THE NEW YORK TIMES. A big photo of Lerone Foster. Tapping the keyboard, Odessa zeroes in on the article underneath, mumbling, reads: ODESSA ...body taken to Newbury Hospital. He enters commands; deft, sharp keystrokes. The screen scrolls ADDRESS BANKS of businesses beginning with the letter 'N.' Stop at NEWBURY HOSPITAL. The name FLASHES; asking for a password. Odessa reaches across the desk to a stack of books and magazines. He pulls out a magazine. The cover reads 'Hacker Code Quarterly.' He thumbs it. Finds the correct password. Taps it in. Smiles. ON THE COMPUTER SCREEN is a DIRECTORY OF DEPARTMENTS; administration, housekeeping, various medical floors, operating rooms. We scroll and stop at the MORTUARY. More scrolling, this time through names paired with the dates when the bodies were signed in. Stop at Lerone Foster's name. Pull up his AUTOPSY RECORD with a photo of his cold, dead face. INT. COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY The rows are packed with MURMURING SPECTATORS. At the defense table sits three pin-striped YUPPIE LAWYERS. They surround the DEFENDANT; the slim young man in the garish yellow suit: ALDUS NORTH. At the other table, standing, is the PROSECUTOR. Female. Youngish. Trim. Overwhelmed. Han sits next to her. On his other side sits CASEY HAMILTON; black, very middle-aged. Short salt and pepper afro. Weary. Fidgety. Has put too many years in the job to be saddled with the bullshit he's about to experience. He raps a pen on the desk. CASEY (to himself) This is not good. Not good. The door to the judge's chambers opens. BAILIFF All rise! The court of the state of New York is now in session. The Honorable Judge Patricia Johnson presiding. The JUDGE strides in. Black. Gray-haired. Matronly. Dignified. Strictly business. She rustles papers as she sits down. Slides on the glasses hanging from her neck. Everyone sits. JUDGE JOHNSON Before the court gives judgment in this matter I have a few words concerning the conduct of the police. Inspector Hahneman please rise. Han obeys. Casey also obliging. Buttons his jacket. Nudges Han to do the same. He doesn't. JUDGE JOHNSON(CONT) Aldus North was apprehended with sixty-one kilos of cocaine, that much is true. However, and I address this specifically to the Inspector, there's a document in these United States called the Constitution that insures some measure of protections, including, among others, the fourth and fifth amendments which guard against unlawful searches and seizure. Might I remind you Inspector that bursting through Mr. North's front door and yelling 'up against the wall motherfuckers' does not satisfy those requirements. (quick) I have no other recourse but to drop the charges and free the defendant. Case dismissed. She bangs the gavel. High fives all around at the defense table. WHOOPS from the spectators. The room starts to empty. The judge leans over toward Casey and Han. Crooks her finger, beckoning them to come closer. She covers the microphone. JUDGE JOHNSON(CONT) In the future Lieutenant, I suggest you teach your officers a bit about the law. CASEY Yes, ma'am. Dismisses them with a wave of her hand. They head out of the courtroom. Casey furious. Embarrassed. Han, impassive, but smoldering inside. CASEY (to Han) Don't say shit to me. Not even one word. INT. COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - DAY A REPORTER adjusts her clothing, microphone, earpiece. Readying to do her standup. OTHER REPORTERS nearby do the same. Spectators file out of the courtroom. Some cheer their hero, Aldus North, who is rushed down the corridor with his lawyers. Her CAMERAMAN counts down. Uses his fingers: CAMERAMAN Standby, Rhonda, five-four-three-two - He points. She's on live. RHONDA Good afternoon, Bill. The courtroom is emptying, the preliminary hearing over. Judge Patricia Johnson has dismissed cocaine trafficking charges against Aldus North, saying that Inspector Harry Hahneman illegally searched his Manhattan home, invalidating the arrest. (moving now) Inspector Hahneman is leaving the courtroom now. Han and Casey come through the heavy wooden door. A sea of reporters descends on them. Jostling them. Microphones thrust in their faces. The CAMERA LIGHTS ARE BLINDING. Casey shields his eyes. He is not pleased. Han fumes. They keep moving. FIRST REPORTER Detective Hahneman are you surprised the charges were thrown out against Mr. North? HAN No comment. The reporters are now all asking questions at once - which Han manages to ignore. Except for one question. SECOND REPORTER Are you upset with the judge's decision? HAN What the fuck do you think? What kind of fucking question is that? INT. DAVID AND JULIAN'S OFFICE - DAY Cramped, old, but clean. David and Julian sit. Eating lunch. Chinese food cartons on the desk. Julian sits behind it. They eat with chopsticks. TV on a shelf. They watch the spectacle in the courthouse hallway. Han and Casey pushing through. Doing their best to ignore the pain in the ass reporters. DAVID (softly) That's our man. INT. POLICE STATION - DETECTIVE DIVISION - DAY A large, airy room. Rectangular desks shoved together in rows; mismatched, scratched, dented. A cubicle with a Mr. Coffee machine, sink overflowing with dirty mugs. HUSTLE AND BUSTLE OF DETECTIVES; questioning suspects - some in handcuffs - taking statements. RINGING phones. Bright fluorescent light overhead. Paperwork galore. Despite the computer terminals on each desk and the state-of-the-art telephone system, it's still the same crummy squad room it's been for the better part of the century. Casey's office is glass-enclosed with blinds. Sits off in a corner. It has a TV and VCR on a shelf behind the desk, along with lots of family photos in gold picture frames. His WIFE AND THREE YOUNG CHILDREN. Two girls and a boy. Precious. A computer on his desk along with an autographed baseball on a stand. Two wooden chairs and a tattered couch face the desk. Han enters from the outside hallway. Heads turn as he walks a gauntlet through the desk area. Detectives ribbing him - some of it not so nice. Flops down to his chair. Next to MURPHY, who looks up from some paperwork, grins. Casey sitting at his desk, behind his computer. He notes Han's arrival. Rises. His jacket hangs on a hook. He wears a shoulder holstered 9mm pistol. MURPHY Nice going hot shot. HAN Fuck you Murphy. The message indicator on Han's phone FLASHES RED THREE TIMES in rapid succession. He slips on his headset. Pushes a button. The messages play. A WOMAN'S VOICE. WOMAN(VO) Hey, baby...Not there? Call me. Next message, same voice. And the next. He cuts off each one before it ends. The phone RINGS. He answers. Same voice. Han on the phone. She babbles. He begs off. Not a chance. A conversation he'd rather be bothered with right now - especially with Casey approaching. He looms over Han's desk. He holds five computer diskettes wrapped in white tape. HAN I gotta go - I'll be there - yes, tonight - Casey stands expressionless. Waits him out. Murphy's enjoying the show. HAN(CONT) (low) Yeah, me too. He hangs up. CASEY You embarrassed me. You embarrassed your department. You embarrassed your badge. Too damn stupid to be embarrassed for yourself. Eight months of work down the drain. Your reward. He flips the diskettes on the desk under Han's nose. Han picks them up, reads the tape. HAN Marathon duty! CASEY That's right. The marathon. The logistics of every cop, K-9, cruiser, emergency vehicle and barricade for twenty-six point three miles in your hands. And don't fuck up. Casey turns, heading back to his office. HAN It was a clean bust. Come on Lieutenant, I'm a detective not a clerk! A little too loud. Casey turns back. Heads turn in their direction. CASEY You're whatever I say you are! Why? Because I'm the guy who has to clean up your shit when it floats upstairs. That's why. (genuine, lower) They wanted your badge, but - You've got good instincts Han. But you have no discipline. Get some. He stalks to his office. Slams the door. MURPHY Nice going hot shot. HAN Fuck you Murphy. The phone RINGS again. Han answers. HAN(CONT) Terri, it's not a good time - DAVID(VO) Detective Hahneman? HAN That's me. Who's this? DAVID(VO) You like TV? The voice on the other end makes his skin crawl. Han sits up straight, takes note of the time. Jots it down on a stray piece of paper. Over this: HAN Yeah, so what? DAVID(VO) Try Channel twelve. Tonight. Six-fifteen. The line CLICKS, goes dead. Han, puzzled, hangs up. INT. HAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT A large efficiency. The barest of furniture; battered coffee table, couch, dining room table doubling as a desk; a computer and printouts on top. Three chairs. A wallscreen - not as big as Odessa's. A single bed. Unmade. Workout gear coated with a layer of dust. Dirty dishes. A pit. We hear SHUFFLING FEET, A card key unlocking the door. Han enters, carrying a bag of groceries. A couple of Chinese food cartons poke out on top. Over this: HAN Sherlock, I'm home. The WALLSCREEN SWITCHES ON. SHERLOCK MATERIALIZES. A man dressed in a butler's uniform. Woefully out of place. His eyes follow Han around the room as he heads to the kitchen, puts the bag down, grabs a beer from the fridge. A ritual for him. SHERLOCK (looking about) I thought you were going to clean up? HAN Good evening to you too. He uncaps the beer. Tilts his head way back drinking as he shimmies out of his jacket on his way to the couch. HAN(CONT) I get any mail? SHERLOCK More bills. You should pay them. They're long overdue. HAN You sound like my mother. He rises, moves over to the wallscreen. There's a device mounted next to it; similar to a MODEM, it has a white plastic imprint of a hand with the fingers spread. Han rests his hand on it. The imprint GLOWS RED underneath. Han steps back about two feet. Keeps his hand level with the modem. A CYLINDRICAL BEAM OF ULTRAVIOLET LIGHT the size of a half dollar slowly shoots from the palm of the modem's hand. Touches Han's palm illuminating an INVISIBLE BAR CODE imprinted on the skin. Sherlock steps to the opposite side of the screen and HAN'S BILLS appear in his place; big, black letters read GAS, ELECTRICITY, PHONE and SHERLOCK, along with the charges for each. HAN (reading) Gas, two-four-five-thirty. Pay. Electricity, three-two-two-eighty-seven. Pay. Phone six-one-forty-five. Man that's low. Pay. SHERLOCK You don't have any friends. HAN - Who asked you? (then, continuing) Sherlock. Three-eight-seven-twenty-four. SHERLOCK (almost pleads) My charges are three months overdue. In four days they'll cut me off. HAN Doesn't sound like a bad idea. He drinks his beer. SHERLOCK What are you waiting for? Han stalls, enjoys the moment, then finally - HAN Pay. SHERLOCK Thank you. The charges ALL GO TO ZERO, then VANISH. Along with the ultraviolet light. Han drops his hand. Heads to the kitchen area to unload the groceries, the Chinese food. HAN Any messages? SHERLOCK Just one, from Terri. She's cooking you dinner tonight. HAN Shit, that's right. He opens the fridge. Quickly stuffs the Chinese food inside, then, as an afterthought, the entire bag of groceries. Goes for his jacket. Over this: HAN(CONT) Why didn't you remind me? SHERLOCK I'm not your mother. Han is out the door. INT. TERRI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Neat. A one bedroom - bigger than Han's. A large living room/dining area. Same wall screen as Han's. Tidy. African art on the walls. Soft lights, SOOTHING JAZZ on the stereo. Incense. Unlit candles on the dining room table set nicely for two. Real mellow. TERRI at the stove tending to the pots. Mid-30's, Black. Nice figure. A real looker. She wears a white nursing uniform. Stirs a pot with a wooden spoon, tastes. It's good. The doorbell rings. She moves to answer it. It's Han. He hesitates. Thrown off by the cozy atmosphere and dim lighting. Steps inside. Pecks her cheek lightly as he does so. HAN Hey, baby. She holds him, arms around his waist. TERRI You can do better than that. Give me a hug. A half-hearted, forced hug - which Terri is aware of, but manages to ignore. She breaks away, heads back to the pots. It is then that Han eyeballs the special preparations; the candles, the music, the table. TERRI(CONT) Want some wine? HAN (suspicious) Sure. Smells great. I'm starving. She opens the refrigerator. Han moves to the couch, taking off his jacket. As he sits she turns back. TERRI Not there. The food's ready. Sit at the table. He goes to dining room, slowly seats his weary body. Wondering what's in store. A lamb at the slaughter. She fills his wine glass as she sits down. TERRI(CONT) I saw the news. How bad was it? HAN Pretty bad. He reaches for the wine. An enormous swallow. TERRI And what did Lieutenant Hamilton have to say? HAN He tore me a new asshole. Then he put me on desk duty. TERRI Nothing to do with me I hope. Han, somewhat shocked at the implication. Takes her hands. HAN Oh, no baby. It's got nothing to do with you. He's not like that. I really blew it this time. He still looks puzzled. She can't hold back any longer. TERRI What's wrong? HAN (slow at first) You know I hate that uniform. You work around sick people all day, throwing up, piss and shit everywhere. Don't you worry about bringing home a disease or something. She rises, determined not to let him ruin the evening. TERRI I'll change. (heading for her bedroom, sarcastic) Why don't you go wash your hands, Mr. Clean. She shuts the bedroom door. Han surveys the room again, rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Heads for the bathroom. INT. TERRI'S BATHROOM - NIGHT As Han enters, shuts the door, pulls down his zipper. Takes a long pee. It feels good. There's a pink box in the wastebasket. He zips himself, goes to the sink. Washes his hands. That box. He fishes it out of the basket. Holds it close. A HOME PREGNANCY TEST KIT. He glances backward - as if he can really see through the door. Terri cheerily sings with the song on the radio. He places the box on the sink's edge. Kneels. Gingerly kneads through the toilet paper, etc., until he finds it. The PREGNANCY TESTER. Slim. Like a pen. He studies it. TWO DOTS. He snatches the box, reads. Compares it with the tester. His head snaps back to the door. INT. TERRI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT As Han steps out of the bathroom. Terri is sitting at the table lighting the candles with a long wooden match. She's wearing a clingy, silk robe. Real sexy. He joins her - jittery inside, but hiding it well. He takes his glass of wine, sees that her glass is empty. HAN Aren't you having any? TERRI (waving out the match) Oh, I don't feel like it. His heart sinks. Terri heads to the kitchen, begins fixing his plate. TERRI(CONT) I hope you're hungry. HAN Not really. TERRI I thought you said you were starving. He shifts his weight, avoiding a lie. Terri lays steaming plates of food on his placemat and hers; chicken, greens, macaroni, black eyed peas, cornbread. She sits, dives in. He watches her, stares at his own plate. Picks at it with his fork. She notices. TERRI(CONT) Something wrong? HAN It's okay. I just wasn't expecting soul food. TERRI (laughing) You'd better get used to it. Wrong answer. An awkward pause. He glances at his watch. It's six-thirteen. Remembers David's phone call. Eyes searching for the remote control. HAN (standing) Where's the remote. She stops eating. TERRI For once, can't we eat without the TV on? HAN It's for work. Honest. He sees the remote on a bookcase, goes for it. Points it at the wallscreen behind Terri, presses the button. The screen flicks on. Han switches to Channel 12. ON THE WALLSCREEN there's a cooking show. The French chef, MADAME DEFARGE, bends over a stove, savoring the aroma wafting from one of her steaming pots. She wears an apron, enjoys her work, prattles on about the food. TERRI Since when has the department required cooking lessons? HAN Hey, I, it just - INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT A whole lot neater than the night of the party. Liquor bottles stuffed in a cardboard box pushed in front of the stereo. David and Julian on the sofa. Julian cradling the ALBAD. The TV is on. Channel 12. He shoulders the weapon. Sights her down. THE CROSSHAIRS aligning on Madame Defarge. She opens the oven door, bends MOMENTARILY OUT OF SHOT and under the counter as she removes a roast. JULIAN eases up. David, behind him, stays tense. ON THE TV Madame Defarge rising. Julian aims again. JULIAN No turning back now. DAVID No turning back. Julian fires. The BLUE LASER BEAM STREAMS FROM THE BARREL, VANISHES into the TV. He lowers the weapon, watching as it disappears. INT. TERRI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Han, eating now. His mouth full. Behind Terri ON THE SCREEN as Madame Defarge rises, bearing the platter with the juicy roast. Proud as a peacock. Places it on the counter. But suddenly, she rears up. Her body pitches forward, the platter thrust from her hands, splattering over the counter and falling to the floor. She falls backward. Her grabbing hands knocking over pots as she disappears behind the counter. The heavy pots follow, landing on top of her. The boiling contents drench her clothing. Scald her flesh. She lets out a blood curdling shriek. YELLING VOICES from the onlooking sound men, cameramen. The screen goes BLACK. Then to STATIC. HAN staring at the TV. Eyes wide with shock. His fork, in midair, drops. It CLANGS hitting the plate. Terri missed it all. But she sees his face. TERRI What happened? HAN Ulp - I, I gotta go. He jumps up, hustles to the living room, gathering his jacket. TERRI Where are you going? HAN Got an errand. TERRI (her mood, the meal ruined) Well, what time are you coming - Han is already out the door. It SLAMS. Terri, despondent, a little pissed, jabs lightly at her food. She reaches for the remote, stabs at the wallscreen. It switches off. INT. THE JAVELIN - NIGHT Han speeding. Intense. Adrenaline pumping. Streaks through a red light. Horns BLARING. INT. CHANNEL 12 - ENTRANCE LOBBY - NIGHT POV - RECEPTIONIST'S DESK The glass double doors open wide. Through them we see a stopped PARAMEDIC TRUCK. Halfway blocking the entrance, its doors swung wide. Red lights FLASHING. HAN hurries in. Doesn't break stride as he flashes his shield at the SECURITY GUARD who acknowledges him with a nod. The RECEPTIONIST in the middle of painting her nails bright red. Same color as her hair. Sweeps her arm, pointing to the corridor to her left as he runs by. RECEPTIONIST Straight down, to the left. INT. CHANNEL 12 - DEFARGE STUDIO - NIGHT As Han bursts in from the corridor. Studio lights. Hot. Bright. CLUSTERS OF STAGE CREW milling about. Shaking heads and sad talk about how great a person Madame Defarge was. They keep a respectable distance away from where the TWO PARAMEDICS have placed her lifeless body on a gurney and covered it with a blanket. One paramedic cleans up, retrieving spent medical supplies strewn about the floor. The other secures the body to the gurney, tightening the fat yellow straps. Han steps right to him. HAN What happened? PARAMEDIC Heart attack. Han strips the blanket off her face. Grimaces. Reminds him of his mother. The paramedic stops what he's doing. PARAMEDIC(CONT) Hey, who the hell are you? HAN (flashes the shield) I'm a cop. The paramedic backs down. Watches as Han, his back to him, pulls the blanket down further for a quick visual; her arms, legs. PARAMEDIC It's a heart attack, man. Probably from eating all that rich French food. Han freezes for a beat. Not funny. At all. The paramedic takes note. Han takes her chin in his hand, rocks her head from side to side. Over this: HAN What hospital? PARAMEDIC Newbury. It is then that he sees it. On her neck. A tiny, neat RED CIRCLE. Much smaller than a dime, but perfectly round. On the flesh just above the collarbone. Han shifts, grabs her head by the hair. Lifts it up, checking the back of the neck. Nothing there, he lowers it gently. HAN (to paramedic) Who's in charge here? A voice. Directly behind Han. RANDOLPH(OS) I am. Han turns around. The producer, CHET RANDOLPH, extends his hand. Thinks better of it, quickly pulls it back before Han can shake it. Over this: RANDOLPH(CONT) Chet Randolph, executive producer. Han flashes the shield. HAN Inspector Harry Hahneman. Did anything strange happen right before she fell? See anything unusual? RANDOLPH No? HAN - Any guests, somebody standing around not normally here during the broadcast? RANDOLPH No, just the crew and myself. HAN Anybody in the crew she didn't like - or didn't like her? He resents the implication. RANDOLPH Inspector, whatever your name is. If you've got something to say, spit it out. Han doesn't want to draw attention. A pause. Randolph's eyes mist. HAN Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to get you upset. Just doing my job. RANDOLPH We were together for twenty years, Monique and me. She was the loveliest woman. (indicates) I was standing right here. Han looks past Randolph, to the studio set. An INTERN clumsily mops the mess on the kitchen floor. The roast sits naked on the counter. Over this: RANDOLPH(CONT) Everything was going fine. Then she just, fell down. Can you believe that. A heart attack over the pot roast. Damn! Where am I going to find a replacement for her. HAN (dryly) Your concern is touching. Randolph, embarrassed. Han lets it sink in. HAN I want a list of everyone who was in this studio during the broadcast. Nobody leaves until I question them. Capisce? Randolph nods yes. INT. HAN'S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT As Han shuffles in, dog tired. Drops his keys on the living room table. Heads straight to the kitchen area. On the way, stubs his toe on a dumbbell. Curses. The only light in the apartment comes from the slatted blinds and the blue computer screen. He opens the refrigerator, grabs a beer, unscrews the cap. Sighs. Takes a long swallow. HAN Any messages, Sherlock? SHERLOCK(VO) Just one, Terri. He swallows harder. HAN Skip it. SHERLOCK(VO) But she said come up no matter what time - HAN - I said forget it, didn't I. Goddamn machine... I'm gonna have you reprogrammed. No response. Han sighs again. He flips on the light, reaches in his outside jacket pocket. Pulls out a SHEET OF PAPER. It has the Channel 12 LOGO on it along with about a DOZEN NAMES. Randolph's list. He shakes his head, crumples it, shoots for the kitchen wastebasket next to the counter. Misses. He shrugs his shoulders, takes another swallow. Then, something in his head clicks. He moves over to the can. There's a small, greasy cardboard box next to it filled with DISCARDED BLUE DISKETTES LABELED NYP. Han picks up the box, walks over the computer, sits down. Slides a diskette into the slot. He takes another swallow as the computer CLICKS, downloads, brings the image up. ON THE SCREEN IS THE FRONT PAGE OF THE NEW YORK POST. A big picture of Aldus North. On the courthouse steps. Cheering, his fists clenched, arms raised in victory. Takes up half the page. The big, black HEADLINE reads: WE DID IT. HAN curses. Pops the diskette out, flings it across the room. Fishes for the next one, slips it in. ON THE SCREEN is ANOTHER NYP FRONT PAGE. Same size photo of Lerone Foster. Reproduced directly from the on-air broadcast. At the news desk, clutching his throat. The HEADLINE reads: ANCHOR AWAY. Sub-head reads: STORY, PAGE 3. HAN scrolls down to the text on page three. Leans forward. HAN dead of...heart attack..Newbury Hospital. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - STUDY - SAME NIGHT David has the ALBAD and blueprints spread out on the desk. The bright fluorescent light close, illuminating the immediate area. The computer pushed to the side. The blueprints are VERY TECHNICAL. Lots of numbers and an EXPLODED DIAGRAM of the ALBAD that only an engineer could love, let alone comprehend. The main body of the weapon is open. Within the MAZE OF CIRCUITRY are TWO BRIGHT RED LED READOUTS. Side by side. Each with a four- digit number and a fine adjustment next to it. Directly underneath is ANOTHER PAIR OF LED READOUTS. LARGER. The first has the same four-digit number as one of the smaller LED's. The other LED is blank. Not on. David is hunched over the weapon, his hands guiding a small tool inside the main body. It screws into the fine adjustment of the small LED - above the blank one. He rotates the tool. The LARGE LED LIGHTS UP, NUMBERS SPINNING as David deftly manipulates. Trying to match the numbers. But he passes the correct number. His touch too hard, not delicate enough. He curses softly, sighs, sits back in the swivel chair. Rubs his eyes. He hasn't been aware of DIANNE who has entered the room undetected and is behind him. She lightly places her hands on his shoulders. Startles him. DIANNE Why so jumpy? He eases. She begins to massage his shoulders. He moans. DAVID That feels good. DIANNE (bending over him, sees the ALBAD) What's this? David moves quickly - but not fast enough to arouse suspicion - closing the body of the weapon. Folding the blueprints. Over this: DAVID Nothing. Just a little project I'm working on. Trying to pick up some extra cash. Still leaning over him, Dianne takes his forearms in each hand, kisses his neck. Her hair spills over his shoulders, tickles his face. DIANNE Your project can wait. I can't. David swivels around. Takes her face in his hands. Kisses her deeply, smiles. DAVID I guess it'll have to, won't it. Dianne stops, teasingly pushes him back. Takes his hand. DIANNE Not here lover. I need room. She switches off the light. EXT. JUNGLE - DAY A lush CANOPY of trees and vegetation allows narrow shafts of the rising sun to peek through. Peaceful SOUNDS of the JUNGLE AWAKENING accompanied by soft Central American FLUTE. We slowly descend further, moving to a clearing crudely hacked out of a valley. Then, the DEAFENING WHINE OF POWERFUL TURBINES shatters the tranquillity as two MILITARY ASSAULT HELICOPTERS pounce to the ground in perfect formation, kicking up enormous clouds of dust and vegetation. The instant the skids hit, an ASSAULT TEAM materializes, hustling from the exotic foliage towards the choppers - or at least tries to. Several of the dozen or so men are wounded, one dead man carried on another soldierÕs back. Two men are half-dragging another comrade. His mouth hanging open, head tilted back; heÕs completely out of it. The others grapple with COMBAT GEAR and WEAPONS, heaving themselves through the chopper doors. Garbed in jungle camouflage clothing and makeup, their outfits bear no insignias or identity badges. They are urged on by a MAN, obviously their COMMANDER, who leans out of a chopper door, his frantic arm insisting on double-time. The last to reach the helicopters is a SOLDIER with his head wrapped in a bloody bandage. He clutches an AUTOMATIC PISTOL, planted firmly into the back of the head of a short, tattered LATIN AMERICAN MAN, whose hands are bound behind his back. The soldier roughly shoves him inside, and follows. The choppers roar skyward as quickly as they arrived. INT. THE HELICOPTER - DAY The PILOTSÕ VOICES can be heard coordinating their maneuvers as their screaming helicopters race over the jungle at treetop level. It is only now that we see that the commander is DECKARD. He glances disgustedly at one of his wounded men, who GROANS as he lies on the steel deck. DECKARD (menacing) I donÕt lose men. He turns to the head-bandaged soldier, DAVID. Their eyes lock. Then, without looking, in one swift motion he slams the Latin American prisonerÕs face into the deck. The prisoner howls in pain as the cabin reverberates and pitches. DeckardÕs head snaps to the wounded man, who rolls in synch with the helicopterÕs movements. DECKARD (sharp, to another soldier) Harness that man! The SOLDIER obeys, strapping him to a bulkhead. Quickly. Despite his fatigue. DECKARD (to David) You speak their language don't you? David nods. DECKARD The rest of those Sandinista bastards? David leans over, translates the question. The prisoner really freaks out now; his answer merely sobs. Deckard rolls his eyes, taps the pilot's shoulder with the back of his hand, gestures 'higher.' As the chopper rises, Deckard snatches the prisoner's neck. Thrusts his head through the open bay door. The cabin rocks furiously. The sight of the earth below makes the man howl even louder. David grapples for the handstrap. The chopper levels off and Deckard pulls the prisoner back inside. Deckard grabs him by the hair, pulls the prisoner's face close to his own. The steel in his eyes. Wags his finger his face. Slaps him hard. Drops him to the deck on his knees. DECKARD (to David) I won't ask again. Deckard leans back, watches as David puts an arm around the prisoner, bends over. Asks the same question as before. But the answer is more sobs and denials. Deckard shakes his head, waves his hand. 'I give up.' For a moment nobody moves. The ENGINE NOISE. The WHIRRING ROTOR blades. Then, Deckard quickly reaches between the prisonerÕs legs, yanking the rope binding his hands. The prisoner tumbles forward, propelled through the cabin door. We hear a shrill scream as he hurls to his death. CUT TO: INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT David on the bed. Sweat rains from every pore. The sheets soaked. His eyes clamped shut, teeth clenching, body trembling. MOVE OVER to the other side of the bed. To Dianne. Her eyes wide. Hypnotized. Staring. The sheet pulled up over her chin. As close to the edge of the mattress as she can get. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NEXT MORNING Light streams through slatted blinds. David rolls over, stretches for the ceiling. Yawns. Gently lowers his arms, reaching for Dianne. Gets a handful of sheet instead. His eyes snap open. EXT. WIDENER PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE - DAY A huge imposing stone structure that looks like a castle. A painted sign posted in the grass near the iron gate at the entrance reads: 'Widener Psychiatric Institute.' A gray LEXUS turns in, roars down the long driveway. INT. WIDENER PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE - DIANNE'S OFFICE - DAY As Dianne rushes in, tosses her pocketbook into the nearest chair. Wearing a smart business suit, silk blouse. Pearls. She goes to her desk, drops to the oxblood leather chair. Boots the computer. Opens the diskette holder looking for - it's not there! Goes over to the file cabinet with the potted plant on top. Reaches in, finds the right diskette, rushes back to the computer, pushes it into the slot. It downloads CLICKING. ON THE SCREEN is the name: David von Allman DIANNE types in the word search command. The computer requests a word. She types in 'flashback.' ON THE SCREEN Only ONE DATE pops up, FLASHING: June 04, 1994. Then - Dianne appears behind the same desk. Her hair tied back, away from her face. A few years earlier. Wearing the same type business suit. No pearls. Looking directly into the camera. Occasionally glancing at the paper in the manila folder she holds. DIANNE(ON SCREEN) Have concluded my first session with David von Allman, whose case has been transferred to me from Dr. Poussaint, may he rest in peace. As noted in his final entry, the patient appears to have made tremendous progress for treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Mr. von Allman continues to maintain viable employment, exhibiting no evidence of alcoholism or recurring flashbacks. DIANNE sits back, ponders for a moment. Presses the speed call button on her telephone. She's on the SPEAKERPHONE. There's a CLICK on the other end as Dr. Cusick answers. DR. CUSICK(VO) Hello, Dianne. She picks up the receiver. DIANNE Jack, I need to check the records of a former patient of mine and Dr. Poussaint's, David von Allman. DR. CUSICK(VO) I have some time now. Come right down. She hangs up. INT. WIDENER PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE - DR. CUSICK'S OFFICE - DAY Bearded, glasses, gray hair, bowtie, tweed jacket, warm manner. DR. CUSICK sits behind his desk. His back to the door as Dianne enters. He turns around from his computer, which is on the shelf underneath the window. Plants crowd his dark wood office. DR. CUSICK I've already downloaded Charles' files. Who's the patient? Dianne joins him behind his desk. DIANNE David von Allman. A-L-L-M-A-N. Cusick types in the name. ON THE SCREEN A LIST OF DATES appears; David's therapy sessions with Dr. Poussaint. Starting with the most recent; June 01, 1994. Cusick scrolls downward. The sessions are SPACED ABOUT A WEEK APART. He keeps scrolling. The list is long. Very long. As Cusick continues, the dates between sessions grows shorter; from a week to four, three, sometimes two days apart. By the time Cusick scrolls to the end - August 15, 1990 - the sessions are being held almost daily. CUSICK looks at the screen. Whistles. CUSICK Looks like Mr. von Allman has been a very busy boy. He saw Charles up until the week he died. DIANNE Can you do a word search? CUSICK Sure. What word? DIANNE Try flashback. Cusick types it in. ON THE SCREEN are twelve dates; from October 16, 1993 to August 15, 1990. CUSICK(OS) (into it now) Which one? Dianne's finger points. DIANNE(OS) Do August fifteen. The first day he saw Dr. Poussaint. Cusick types commands. Over this: CUSICK(OS) Of course you know these are manual entries. No pictures. CUSICK reads the first entry when it comes up. CUSICK David von Allman, preliminary session, August 15, 1990. Random outbursts, flashbacks, alcoholism and mood swings culminating with a court-martial for executing seven Nicaraguan civilians in cold blood. Thank you Major Deckard, for delivering to me another of your walking wounded. CUSICK turns back to Dianne. SheÕs a little shook, but hides it well. CUSICK(CONT) How long has Mr. von Allman been your patient? She can't meet his eyes. DIANNE Three years - he stopped seeing me two years ago... He called today. CUSICK Flashbacks? She nods. She canÕt cover her emotion. Cusick notices. CUSICK(CONT) (turning back) Let's see if we can go back a little further. He types. Stops. CUSICK(CONT) That's strange. There's no record of the institution that referred him to us. Have you any idea? DIANNE No. More typing, then - CUSICK Well, I'll be damned. THE SCREEN flashing, reads: ACCESS DENIED. CUSICK smiles. Moves closer. Over this: CUSICK(CONT) Ah yes, but since Charles is dead, I've got his code. He types more commands. Hums as he waits. Dianne, on the edge now, cranes her neck to see. But Cusick is so close to the screen that he blocks her view. He stops typing, turns abruptly. CUSICK(CONT) Dianne. Did you know this man was CIA? INT. WIDENER INSTITUTE - DIANNE'S OFFICE - DAY The phone is RINGING as Dianne bursts through the door. Wipes her watery eyes with the back of her hand. She grabs it. DIANNE Hello. It's David. DAVID(VO) I missed you this morning. DIANNE I, I had an early appointment. A session. I didn't want to wake you. DAVID(VO) You should have. You know I like to wake up next to you. DIANNE Yeah... How do you feel? DAVID(VO) Like I just slept ten years. I've got an idea. Why don't you meet me for dinner. DIANNE Tonight? DAVID(VO) No, tomorrow. Of course, tonight. DIANNE Where? DAVID(VO) The Fairmount. Early, say five-thirty. I'll make reservations. DIANNE I'll be there. Five-thirty. She hangs up. Worry etched on her face. EXT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - PARKING LOT - SAME DAY The Javelin pulls up to the booth. BACKFIRES so loud the ATTENDANT jumps. He looks back. Han shrugs. Takes the ticket from the machine. The car CHUGS in, parks. Han gets out, heads to the automatic glass doors. He is wearing black Ray-bans. Big, bold letters over the entrance read: NEWBURY HOSPITAL. INT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - LOBBY ENTRANCE/RECEPTIONIST'S DESK - SAME DAY POV - A SECURITY CAMERA HIGH ABOVE WITH A SWEEPING VIEW OF THE LOBBY, ENTRANCE AND RECEPTIONIST'S DESK BLACK AND WHITE VIDEO as Han comes through the glass doors. He doesn't stop. Walks past the receptionist's desk and down a corridor. INT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - MEDICAL RECORDS - DAY Han approaches the desk. A large sign reads: MEDICAL RECORDS. A YOUNG CLERK sits, dressed in a blue jacket and John Lennon glasses. Looks up from behind her computer. A gold ring in her nose. Han pulls off his shades with an exaggerated manner. That nose ring. CLERK Can I help you? HAN I need to see an autopsy report. CLERK What's the patient's name. A FEMALE VOICE YELLS out. NURSE(OS) Wait a minute! She rounds the corner. Goes behind the counter to the clerk. It's Terri. She doesn't acknowledge Han, but instead, lightly scolds the clerk. TERRI I know you're new, but you don't just give out patient information to the first person who comes up and asks for it. (to Han) Who are you? HAN (willing to play along) I'm a cop. TERRI Do you have any identification? Her expression and tone deadly serious. Then, as if hit by lighting, Han recalls; last night. He stood her up. He reaches for the shield. HAN Yeah, I got ID. He pulls it out. Terri takes - almost snatches it. Takes her time studying it. The clerk notices, maintains a low profile, her eyes shifting from Terri to Han for the duration of the conversation. TERRI How do I know you're really a cop and you didn't buy this badge off the corner? HAN You'll just have to take my word for it. TERRI (ungiving) You don't get the message do you? HAN But I didn't get your message. TERRI Well you should have. For a moment there's silence. Terri examines the badge again. Makes him wait. Smiles, finally extends it to him. TERRI (to the clerk) Give him what he needs. He takes it. HAN Thank you nurse. TERRI No thanks necessary. (mocking) I'm just doing my job. She turns, takes a step back, stops, turns back to Han. Purses her lips, and is gone. The clerk sees this, stares at Han. He shrugs, gestures, 'I don't know.' CLERK Whose report do you need? HAN Lerone Foster's. Died a couple days ago. She enters the name into the computer. CLERK The anchorman. Heart attack, right? INT. THE LAB - SAME DAY Odessa, dressed in his usual labcoat and black slacks. Sitting on the stool. Hunched over the counter. PIECES OF METAL, PLASTIC AND COMPUTER CIRCUITRY spread about. Tools. Intense concentration; he's assembling some sort of device. Modern rock MUSIC PLAYS. The volume not too high. Suddenly, we hear a BEEPING sound. Like a WATCH ALARM, only louder. Odessa looks up at the COMPUTER SCREEN where a large RED BELL ICON BLINKS in the center of the screen. ODESSA stops what he's doing. Hurries over to the computer. Starts typing commands. ON THE SCREEN we are back in the autopsy files. Pull up Lerone Foster's autopsy records. The BEEPING STOPS and the BLINKING BELL VANISHES. ODESSA ecstatic, like he just scored the winning basket, WHOOPS, yells - ODESSA Finally! He types some more. Sings with the music. And then - ON THE SCREEN POV - THE SAME VIEW OF THE HOSPITAL LOBBY FROM THE SECURITY CAMERA AS WHEN HAN ENTERED MINUTES AGO as Odessa has hacked into the video camera system of the hospital security office! ODESSA(OS) Now to find it... As we hear typing, we see SHOTS FROM SECURITY CAMERAS STATIONED ALL OVER THE HOSPITAL; an operating room, a nurse's station, a hallway, the kitchen. We stop at the nurses' locker room. Five nurses are standing at their lockers, chatting away. In various stages of undress as they prepare for their shift. We linger. Catch an eyeful. Odessa whistles. We stray for a few seconds more, then - More typing and more hospital shots; at an elevator, the maintenance area, then - the Medical Records sign. And Han. His back to us. Standing in front of the counter at medical records as the clerk types at her computer. ODESSA spins around in his chair, pumps his arms in the air, yells - ODESSA Bingo! Back to the computer, watching Han and the clerk doing their thing. ODESSA Come on, come on. Turn around... INT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - MEDICAL RECORDS The clerk stops typing, relieved. CLERK There, all done. She reaches under the counter, pulls up a HELMET with what looks like an OVERSIZED SUN VISOR on it. There's a small antenna attached to the side and a long cord she coils around her arm. CLERK(CONT) Follow me. INT. THE LAB ON THE COMPUTER SCREEN as the clerk rises, heads around the corner. Han follows, but with his head down. His face to the side. Not a clear profile. ODESSA(OS) Come on. Come to papa. Come to papa. And at the last second Han, as if paranoid, turns. Glances up, his face looking dead into the camera. ODESSA(OS) Touchdown! Einstein - On Screen! More typing, then, Han's image freezes. THE WALLSCREEN switches on and we see the SAME SHOT OF HAN LOOKING AT THE CAMERA -BUT MUCH LARGER. It takes up the whole screen.. ODESSA types more commands. Quick, deft keystrokes. Now he's humming to the modern rock. ON THE WALLSCREEN A YELLOW LINE DRAWS A CIRCLE around Han's head. Stops. More typing and suddenly - the rest of the picture VANISHES, leaving only Han's outlined face against the white background. ODESSA types. ODESSA Now, let's get a match! ON THE WALLSCREEN underneath Han's face, is a large REPRODUCTION OF A DRIVER'S LICENSE. A man's face on it. His name is AARON ALEX. Side by side with Han's face. Odessa has hacked into the New York State Drivers' License bureau! ODESSA pushes the enter button on his keyboard and - ON THE WALLSCREEN Aaron's driver's license disappears - not a match - replaced by the NEXT ALPHABETICAL LICENSE; AARON ALEXANDER. Also not a match. The next one pops up, then the next. Faster and faster. ODESSA leans back in his chair. Puts his feet on the desk. Pulls an apple out of his labcoat pocket. Rubs it on his chest. Takes a big bite and watches the FLICKERING IMAGES as the computer scans the file. INT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - MEDICAL RECORDS HOLODECK - DAY The MR holodeck is an oblong, sterile, TOTALLY WHITE room with bright, overhead fluorescent lighting. It is completely empty, except for a four-foot high POST WITH A CONTROL PANEL mounted near the center of the room. The panel has three buttons on it. The door opens and the clerk enters. Han follows. He doesn't have a clue. She goes over to the control panel, unwraps the cord, extends the helmet to him. As she does so: CLERK You haven't done this before, have you? He takes the helmet. Shakes his head. HAN No. CLERK We use virtual reality now. It's kinda fun. Put it on. Tentative. Han pulls it over his head. The visor covers down past the tip of his nose. He looks like an astronaut. CLERK(CONT) Can you see me? He nods yes. CLERK(CONT) (indicates) The three buttons are the controls. Left for the skeleton, middle for the internal organs and right for the skin. Ready? HAN Uh-huh. She flicks the switch on the side of the helmet. It HUMS as a surge of electricity powers it up. She heads for the door. CLERK You won't need gloves. Have fun. She exits. Han presses the first button. There's a CLANGING NOISE then - THROUGH THE VISOR directly in front of the control panel, hovering four feet above the floor is LERONE FOSTER'S SKELETON. Positioned as if laid out on an examining table. Arms at the sides. The bones, skull, bleached ghostly white. Han utters a soft gasp. ANOTHER ANGLE We see Han standing at the control panel. There is nothing in front of him but empty space. He presses the middle button. THROUGH THE VISOR We hear another CLANG and - in a flash - FOSTER'S INTERNAL ORGANS; muscles, stomach, etc. are encased around the hovering skeleton. HAN squints at the grotesque sight. Ready to faint. INT. THE LAB The computer BEEPS. Loud. Steady. Odessa sits upright, tosses the half-eaten apple into the trash can. ON THE WALLSCREEN the computer has FOUND A MATCH. Han's face, side by side with his driver's license; his face, name and address. ODESSA types furiously. ODESSA Alright, Mr. Harry Hahneman, let's see who you are. He finishes, waits, then on the - WALLSCREEN appears Han's CREDIT PROFILE. His credit is lousy. Full of delinquencies and late payments. ODESSA types some more. ODESSA I know you're poor as hell. A short pause then - ON THE WALLSCREEN appears an EXACT REPRODUCTION OF HAN'S LAST TAX RETURN. More typing then - the top of the tax return grows larger, CLICKING as it does so. ZEROING IN on the space marked OCCUPATION. It reads: ODESSA(OS) - police officer? This guy's a cop! ODESSA types more commands. ON THE WALLSCREEN Han's circled face REAPPEARS. ODESSA(OS) Einstein. Quadrants one and four. Enlarge. We hear more CLICKING as the face grows larger. ODESSA stares at Han's face for a beat, then - ODESSA Einstein. Hard copy. A slot on the front of the computer spits out a COLOR PHOTO of Han's face. Odessa snatches it, grabs his keys off the counter, and is out the door. INT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - MEDICAL RECORDS HOLODECK Han, now more dazzled than grossed out. Pressing the three buttons with abandon. THROUGH THE VISOR We see Foster's body structure in RAPID SUCCESSION; skeleton, then skin, then internal organs, then skeleton. The CLANGING ACCOMPANIES EACH CHANGE. Han finally tires of the game, stops, leaving the body in its skin state; nude with a pair of red jockey shorts. He bends over, studies the virtual reality corpse. Lifelike. He gingerly rolls it over to examine the back. Rolls it back, touches the chest, searching. FROM ANOTHER ANGLE We see Han moving about, fingers spread, examining and poking at the empty space. It looks like an LSD crazed pantomime. THROUGH THE VISOR Han at the chest. A neat, RED CIRCLE. Just above the collarbone. Just like Madame Defarge's. HAN bolts up straight. Snatches the helmet off his head. Astonished. Comprehending. He switches it off, pauses, looks down at his hands. Feels like he should wash them. He smells them. Virtual reality, remember. He quickly unplugs the helmet, exits. EXT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - MEDICAL RECORDS As Han hurries around the corner, to the clerk. He lays the helmet on the counter, keeps moving. CLERK Neat, huh? HAN A real treat. Next time I'll bring the wife and kids. EXT. NEWBURY HOSPITAL - PARKING LOT Odessa's jeep speeds up to the booth. He takes the ticket from the machine. CUTS OFF the radio. The barrier rises and he pulls in, tires SCREECHING. The lot is crowded. He finds a space - right next to the Javelin. Han strides through the double doors. Pauses. His gaze impassive. Slips on the sunglasses. ODESSA cuts off the jeep. A man approaching. Pulls the photo out his labcoat pocket. Compares it. It's Han. Coming directly towards him. Puts the photo back. Scrunches down in the seat. But instead of looking inconspicuous, the move has the opposite effect. HAN reaches the Javelin, unlocks the door. Notices Odessa but prefers to mind his own business. Steps inside. Cranks the engine. DOESN'T START. Han smacks the dash. Mumbles, urging it to kick over. Odessa snickers. The car starts. WHEEZES out the space. At the booth Han gives the ticket to the attendant, who wears a smirk of self satisfaction. Han flashes his shield. The smirk disappears. The gate rises. ODESSA waits a few seconds, starts the jeep, pulls off. INT. THE JAVELIN - DAY Han drives. Through the rear windshield, the jeep in moderate midtown TRAFFIC. Following several car lengths behind. Han routinely glances at the rear view mirror. EXT. CHANNEL 3 - PARKING LOT - SAME DAY A large square CHANNEL 3 LOGO hangs on the side of the building near the entrance. Big glass doors. The lot is crowded. The Javelin parks and Han steps out. Heads for the doors. The jeep pulls in. Parks at a space some distance away from the Javelin. INT. CHANNEL 3 - LOBBY - RECEPTIONIST'S DESK - SAME DAY We see Han talking to the RECEPTIONIST. Shows his badge. She picks up the phone, speaks. A few seconds later, JIM, a VIDEOTAPE EDITOR, comes through the door directly behind her. An introduction. INT. CHANNEL 3 - CORRIDOR - DAY Jim leads Han down the narrow hallway. JIM I was in the control room that night. Geez. Talk about expect the unexpected. HAN Who you telling? Passing by a partially closed studio door. Han stops, peers in. Joanne Carter sits at the news desk. A SOUND MAN clips a mike to her silk blouse. An ASSISTANT fusses with her CO-ANCHOR's jacket. He looks up, smiles, chats with Joanne. A handsome, blond, talking head. JIM (looking inside) That's Ray Cunningham, Lerone's replacement. Dumb has a cartload of jackasses. Jim resumes walking. Han lingers for a moment, then follows. INT. CHANNEL 3 - VIDEOTAPE EDITING ROOM - DAY A large, IMPRESSIVE-LOOKING CONSOLE dominates the room. In front of it are FIVE TV MONITORS. Each screen displays a DIFFERENT CAMERA ANGLE of the news set. The monitor in the center is very large. It has a WIDE SHOT OF THE ENTIRE STUDIO FLOOR; the other four cameras, the news desk, the control booth and crew, etc.. Jim sits at the controls. Han stands behind him. JIM I set it so all five tapes run simultaneously. (takes a breath) Ready? Han nods. Jim presses a lighted button and the tapes roll. ON THE TV MONITORS runs the last minute of Lerone Foster's final broadcast. Five different camera angles show the action as he clutches his throat, falls, and all hell breaks loose. JIM stops the tapes when the monitors go staticky. All except for the center monitor which continues rolling tape as the crew tries unsuccessfully to revive Lerone. They rise, walk away shook. Jim is visibly struck. JIM He was a real class act. Han notices Jim's reaction. HAN If you want, I'll take it from here. JIM Thanks. I don't need to see that again. He rewinds the tape, rises. Over this: JIM(CONT) I'll be next door. Come get me when you're done, okay. He hustles out the room. Han settles behind the console. It might as well be the helm of the space shuttle. He guesses, presses one of the buttons. Curses. Not the right one. ON THE BIG MONITOR in 8X SLOW MOTION. The blue laser beam slowly emerges from the 'on' camera, crosses the set floor and strikes Lerone. All hell breaks loose on the set as he falls - HAN(OS) ...Well kiss my ass two times! INT. CHANNEL 3 - LOBBY As Han enters from the door behind the receptionist desk. Han thanks her, heads for the entrance. He carries a VIDEOTAPE CASE. EXT. CHANNEL 3 - ENTRANCE/PARKING LOT The doors swing open. Han steps out. Still moving, he slips on his shades. Spies the red jeep parked way across the lot. Odessa in the front seat. Han snaps his fingers - forgot something - makes a U-turn. Heads back inside. INT. CHANNEL 3 - LOBBY Han approaches the receptionist. HAN Is there another way out of here? EXT. CHANNEL 3 - PARKING LOT As a side door opens and Han steps out. Sunglasses in his pocket. The red jeep. Han looks at the videotape case, unbuttons, stuffs it in his shirt. Crouches. Pulls up his pant leg and unholsters a 9mm PISTOL strapped to his calf. Still crouched, Han sneaks down the rows of parked cars. Uses them for cover as he weaves his way toward the jeep. The 9mm pointing straight up. At the rear bumper of a car parked directly behind the jeep, Han stops. SOUNDS OF MODERN ROCK coming from the radio. Not loud enough to draw attention. Odessa inside. Head rocking side to side. The white labcoat. Han looks at his gun, then Odessa. The gun. ANOTHER ANGLE as Han sneaks up to the driver's side of the jeep. He taps Odessa's shoulder. As he turns Han presses a STUN GUN to his neck. The FLASH of the charge. Odessa's body flops like a fish. Mouth wide. Then his head drops. Out cold. Han stands erect. Blows the tip of the stun gun like he's just mowed down Jesse James. EXT. CHANNEL 3 - PARKING LOT - ODESSA'S JEEP - LATER Han sits in the passenger seat. Calmly pops peanuts from a bag into his mouth. 70's ROCK on the radio. Air Supply. Odessa sprawled over the steering wheel. Starts coming to. Shaking his head, rubbing his neck. HAN Peanut? ODESSA (still clearing himself) No - hey! Fast as lightning, he leans over, punches a button on the radio. Switched back to MODERN ROCK. Han watches, keeps stoking peanuts. Odessa painfully grips the steering wheel. ODESSA(CONT) What's your problem man? HAN Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. HAN(CONT) (offers the bag) Last chance. Almost gone. Odessa shakes his head. Clearing the cobwebs. HAN(CONT) You'd make a lousy detective, you know. Why were you following me? ODESSA I wasn't following you. HAN Come on. I saw you back at the hospital. This car's kinda hard to miss. (admiring it) Pretty color. ODESSA So what? Anyone can go to the hospital. Han pulls the photo out of his own jacket pocket. Drops it in Odessa's lap. Odessa looks down. HAN Bears a strong resemblance to me, wouldn't you say? Odessa silent. The bag empty, Han crumples, tosses it over his shoulder without a second thought. Smacks the salt off his hands. Shifts, turning to Odessa. HAN(CONT) Tell you what. Let's play another game. You know word association? I say laser, you say - ODESSA (uninspired) Touchdown... INT. POLICE STATION - DETECTIVE DIVISION - SAME DAY As Han and Odessa enter. The room in its usual state: chaos and mayhem. CASEY in his office drinking a cup of coffee. His door open. He sees Han enter. Slams his mug down and is out the door. Storms up to him, spouting off. CASEY (to Han) I got a call this morning from a very irate TV producer who said you questioned his staff until after midnight. HAN Guilty as charged. He directs Odessa to Casey's office. Points. Tucks the videotape under his own arm. HAN(CONT) (to Odessa) In there. And don't move. Casey finally notices Odessa, who passes by without saying a word. Into his office. Han heads toward his desk. Casey does a doubletake, then, hot on Han's heels. CASEY Who the fuck is he? Han glances at the message indicator on his phone. It's not blinking. Flips several message slips on the desk; they're old. Casey rants the whole while. Murphy at his desk buried in a mountain of paperwork. Trying to ignore the whole scene. HAN (to Murphy) I get any calls? Murphy looks up. Shakes his head no. Back down. CASEY What the hell's going on Harry? Han turns Casey around. Steers him to his office. As he does so: HAN Lieutenant, give me five minutes. Just five minutes and I'll explain everything. You're not gonna believe this. INT. POLICE STATION - CASEY'S OFFICE - FIVE MINUTES LATER The door is closed. Han sits backwards in a chair. Odessa on the couch. Casey standing behind his desk. Arms folded tightly across his chest. An incredulous look on his face. CASEY You're right. Sounds like bullshit to me. Han rises, snatches the tape off the desk, moves to the VCR and TV. Switches them on, pops in the tape. As he does so: HAN Bullshit, huh? The tape rolls. Casey watches. His eyes wide as the 4X SLOW MOTION tape shows the laser beam striking Foster and all hell breaking loose on the set. Stage crew diving at him. Han pushes the stop button. Another believer. They both stare with wonder at Odessa, who sits with a shit-eating grin on his face, stammers like an imbecile, gestures with his hands, crosses his legs. ODESSA What can I say, I'm good. Casey rolls his eyes. CASEY (to Han) Who else knows about this? HAN Him, me, and now you. CASEY That's all? Han nods. CASEY(CONT) Any more contact with the shooter? HAN Not since yesterday afternoon. CASEY Good work Han. (to Odessa) Any idea how we can get this Albad thing back? ODESSA I thought you guys were the cops. HAN (pointing) Watch it buddy. You're in enough trouble as it is. CASEY What does ALBAD stand for anyway? ODESSA Amplified laser beam assassination device. Stunned incredulity on Casey's and Han's faces. Casey grabs his jacket. CASEY We're going back to your lab. Now! Han and Odessa rise. He ushers Odessa out the door. Casey takes the videotape out the VCR, puts it in his desk drawer. Locks it. They start to exit. Then, Han, as if seized by an epiphany - HAN (to Casey) Lieutenant, what about the marathon? CASEY (a beat, then) Give it to Murphy. He doesn't do shit but shuffle papers anyhow. INT. POLICE STATION - DETECTIVE DIVISION As Casey, Han and Odessa exit Casey's office. Heading towards the hallway. Han stops them before they reach it, gestures as if to say, 'one second.' He heads over the his desk, opens the drawer. Pulls out the five diskettes, still wrapped in white tape. Drops them under Murphy's nose. Murphy looks up from his paperwork mountain. HAN Fuck you, Murphy. Pissed and dissed, Murphy says nothing as Han rejoins Casey and Odessa. They exit the room. EXT. THE LAB As Odessa pulls his jeep to the curb, cuts it off. He's parked right behind a marked police cruiser. JAKE, a uniformed cop, stands guard at the lab door. Stares from PASSERSBY across the street. Casey and Han chug up in the Javelin. Parks behind the jeep. Han cuts the engine and it BACKFIRES. So loud that Jake ducks, clutching his hat. INT. THE JAVELIN - DAY Casey opens the door. While doing so, looks at Han. Hard. Like he's just experienced Mr. Toad's wild ride. CASEY There's laws against driving a car in this condition. And if there aren't, I promise I'll get one passed. HAN She's built for speed not for comfort. They get out. Right as Odessa, furious, rushes up to them. ODESSA (indicates Jake) What's he doing here? CASEY You'll be under twenty-four hour surveillance - for your wn protection of course. Odessa, in a huff, turns for the door. Casey shoots Han a knowing glance. Jake, a good-natured fellow, steps away as Odessa approaches, slides his card key into the slot. The door slips open. The cop acknowledges Casey and Han as they enter - INT. THE LAB Odessa tosses his keys on the counter, floats around the room, starts booting computers. Casey and Han entering slowly right behind him. Over this: ODESSA Einstein - lights - radio. The lights SWITCH ON, along with the MODERN ROCK. Not too loud. Han winces. Casey oblivious. ODESSA(CONT) Welcome to my lab. HAN scans the room. Scratches his head. Whistles. In spite of himself he's impressed by the high technology. Takes note of the photo of Odessa and Madonna. Indicates to Casey with a tilt of the head. CASEY's suspicion deepens with each step as he strolls around the room taking it all in. The computers. The scientific books. Odessa the author. The TV camera. He shoots a glance at - ODESSA who sits at his desk, types commands into his computer. In his own world. HAN at the doorway now, checks out the lock. CASEY CASEY (to Han) It's a longshot but let's get the lab to dust for prints. He spies the metal and plastic pieces, circuitry boards, spread out on the counter. Whatever this thing is, it's closer to final assembly than when we saw it earlier. He approaches. CASEY(CONT) (to Odessa) What's this? Odessa turns around, hustles over to the counter before Casey or Han can touch anything. He picks up the device. ODESSA This gentlemen, is our only hope. I call this the counterweapon. HAN Counterweapon? ODESSA It'll cause the power supply of the original Albad to overload and explode. CASEY How's it work. ODESSA (putting it down) Oh, it's too complicated to explain. Han takes a step toward him. HAN (with implied violence) Try us. We're doing okay so far. ODESSA Alright then. (to Casey) It uses microwaves to lock onto the signals from the Albad's microprocessors and generators causing them to overload. CASEY Sort of like feedback when you put a microphone too close to a stereo speaker. Odessa's eyebrow raises. Like Mr. Spock. ODESSA Very good lieutenant. CASEY (ignoring it) When will you have it ready. ODESSA A couple of days or so. HAN Good. Then we can end this soon. Odessa wags his finger 'no.' ODESSA Not so fast detective. There's still another problem. HAN What's that? ODESSA The generators are powered by plutonium. HAN So what? ODESSA Well when they overload they'll explode, releasing tremendous amounts of energy. CASEY You mean like a bomb? How big? ODESSA Everything within two hundred yards will be destroyed. HAN Two hundred yards? ODESSA Uh-huh. CASEY People? ODESSA People. HAN Buildings? ODESSA Everything in a two hundred yard circle, detective. The figure settles in. Then - HAN That's just fucking fantastic. A beat then. CASEY Anything else we ought to know about this thing? ODESSA There are other possibilities, other applications - INSERT - DAVID IN THE STUDY - SAME DAY David hunched over his desk. The Albad main body open. David manipulating the fine adjustment with a tool. Trying to match the large LED's four-digit code with the smaller one's code. The numbers spin. He overshoots the correct number. He sits up. Sighs. Takes a swallow from the beer that's next to the lamp. Looks at the clock. It's four-thirty. He rises. Cuts the light. Over this: ODESSA(VO) - But unless these burglars are geniuses like me - which I sincerely doubt - BACK TO THE LAB ODESSA(CONT) - there's nothing to worry about. HAN (to Odessa) Hey, genius. I'd say they're about even right now. INT. FAIRMOUNT RESTAURANT - EARLY EVENING - SAME DAY Ritzy. Linen tablecloths. Fine china. The whole shebang. DAVID sits. Impatient. Looks at his watch. Glances at the room's entrance. Drains the last of his scotch. Wondering where the hell she - DIANNE appears at the entrance. Speaks to the MAITRE D'. He smiles reassuringly. With a sweep of his arm he directs her past tables of DINERS and across the floor to David. The maitre d' seats her. She's slightly flustered. He notices. MAITRE D' Would madame like a cocktail to begin with? Dianne starts to order a drink, but David interrupts. DAVID A bottle of Dom Perignon please. MAITRE D' Very good sir. He departs. But before he does so, David gives him an almost imperceptible nod. Dianne taken aback. For the first time she actually notices David's dashing appearance. Freshly shaved, nattily attired in a tie, pastel sportcoat. Smells great too. Genuinely impressed. Intrigued. Feeling special. Her concerns temporarily dissipate. DIANNE Oh, is this a special occasion? DAVID (dead serious) Very special. A WAITER appears with the champagne and two glasses. Dianne giggles as he pops the cork. INT. FAIRMOUNT RESTAURANT - AT THE MAITRE D' STAND - QUICK SHOT The maitre d' punches in the number he reads off the BUSINESS CARD he's palming. BACK TO SHOT - DAVID AND DIANNE As Dianne's pager BEEPS. A bit loud. Stares from other tables. An embarrassed smile. She glances down at the pager clipped to her skirt. Rises. DIANNE The office. I'll make it quick. She exits the room. David smiles, watches her disappear. When she's gone he reaches into his jacket pocket. Pulls out a small box. He takes out the ENGAGEMENT RING, drops it into her glass of champagne. It tinkles when it hits the bottom. Dianne returns. Sits. DIANNE That's weird. Nobody answered the phone. She takes a sip of champagne. Eyes widen as she sees the ring. Gasps. Clasps her hands to her chest. More stares. DIANNE Oh, David! David fishes the ring out with a fork, slips it on. He reaches over, strokes her cheek. DAVID Dianne, will you marry me? She gapes at the diamond on her finger. Looks deep into his eyes. Lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his body. DIANNE Of course I'll marry you David! The other diners clap heartily. David sucks it up. Dianne doesn't. DIANNE We have to talk about last night. DAVID Last night. What happened last night? DIANNE Uh, nothing. I'll deal with it myself. INT. POLICE STATION - DETECTIVE DIVISION Han trots in from the hallway. Heads to his desk. He's carrying a fistful of printouts. He reaches inside the drawer, slips something into his jacket pocket that we can't see. His phone message indicator isn't blinking. No message slips either. But there's always Murphy. HAN Any calls. Murphy flips him the bird. Han turns, hustles toward Casey's office. Papers waving in his hand. As he does so: HAN(CONT) (to Murphy) If my phone rings hit the button and transfer it in here. INT. POLICE STATION - CASEY'S OFFICE As Han enters, throws the door shut. Casey on the phone. Pacing. Behind the desk. Han drops into the couch. CASEY (into phone) I want written and voice-mail reports on all of Odessa's activities on my desk every eight hours! I want to know when he takes a leak - You got that? Those bugs in yet? Good, include a phone log too. Every call in and out of his home too. He hangs up, sinks into his chair. HAN Still no word from the shooter. Casey sighs. A long day. CASEY So what do you know? HAN (reading the papers) Edward L. Odessa. Born March 6, 1972. Cleveland. CASEY Ohio. It figures. HAN An only child. Mother and father killed in a car crash when he was six. Raised by an aunt - Casey has raised a hand. CASEY - Cut to the chase. HAN He's a genius alright. Graduated from MIT at nineteen with a masters and a doctorate. Nuclear technology and subatomic physics. Tops in his class. An IQ of 193. CASEY A genius and an asshole at the same time. What about money? That equipment's got to be worth millions. HAN Been working as an independent consultant to defense and aerospace companies. Lockheed, General Dynamics. A lot of it's supplied by them. CASEY The plutonium? Han shakes his head. Has no idea. CASEY(CONT) Anything else? Han flips more pages. HAN I did some checking on the burglaries in the area around the lab on October twenty-first. The only one was from a woman who saw two guys running from a house a few doors down. Trying to steal the neighbor's Ferrari. I think I nearly ran them over on my way home that night. Two guys wearing black running outfits or something. CASEY Did you get a good look? HAN Uh-uh. They got away - from me and five black and whites. But they left this behind. >From his jacket pocket Han produces the CYLINDRICAL DEVICE David threw during the chase. Hands it to Casey, who reaches for it. Holds it close to his face. CASEY What's this? HAN Beats me. But whatever it is, it damn near blinded me when I looked at it through my goggles. CASEY Looks like there is more than one genius in this thing. The phone RINGS. Casey answers. And brightens. CASEY(CONT) Hey, sugar! How you doing? Could be better, but no sense complaining. They're alright. She's fine. Hey, do you know where we can find a good maid? The one we have isn't working out. Okay, thanks. Hold on. His expression hardens. Extends the phone to Han. CASEY(CONT) It's for you. Han rises, takes the phone. As soon as he hears the voice on the other end, he turns around. Slow. Casey sits. Withdrawn. Watches Han talk. HAN This isn't a good time. Yeah, it's real busy. I don't know. I can't talk right now. (low) Yeah, me too. He hangs up. Slow. Casey can't hide his disgust. Han sinks back into the sofa. An awkward pause. Then - HAN You don't like me do you? CASEY I don't dislike you. HAN Then what's your problem? You've been treating me like shit for years. Ever since I started dating your sister. Why? Because I'm white? Casey sighs, stares at the ceiling. Stands. Wanders over to the blinds, pulls down at a couple of slats. Looks out. Han's eyes follow him as he does so. CASEY Look out there. Tell me what you see. Han turns around, bends the blinds. THROUGH THE BLINDS is the normal chaos of the desk area. Detectives hunched behind computers, doing paperwork, questioning suspects. MEN being led around in HANDCUFFS. A WHACKED OUT PROSTITUTE in a nod slumped in the corner. NOISY WITH VOICES. Phones RINGING off the hook. HAN turns around. Looks at Casey who keeps staring, transfixed. HAN It's the floor. So what? CASEY Look harder. I mean what do you notice about most of the people in that room who aren't being paid by the city of New York. Han tries again. THROUGH THE BLINDS A HANDCUFFED MAN being led towards the hallway by a COP. The cop prods him with his nightstick. Another seated at a desk. Giving a statement to a detective. He presses a bandage against the side of his wounded head. HAN And then it sinks in; most of the people who aren't on the payroll are not white. CASEY aware that Han got the point, lets the blinds go. Returns to his desk. As he does so: CASEY A white man can be the devil himself. But a black man will go to prison for jaywalking. He sits, leans back. CASEY(CONT) You know if black people knew what white folks had in store for us, we wouldn't get up in the morning. HAN What's this got to do with me and Terri? Casey pauses, takes a deep breath. Picks up the baseball off its stand. Passes it from hand to hand. CASEY My baby sister is thirty-five-years-old. How long have you been 'dating' her? HAN Five years. CASEY Five years. (leaning forward) How come you haven't asked her to marry you? Han at a loss for words. For a long moment. Casey waits him out. Stops flipping the ball. Then - HAN When I eat my family's fed. That's the way I like it. CASEY (arms wide) Then let her go. Let her go man! So she can get along with her life. Han is puzzled. CASEY(CONT) You're a good detective Han. The best. You're smart. Got great instincts. But you still don't know what's important in life. Casey reaches behind, takes one of the GOLD FRAMED PHOTOS off the shelf. The largest one with Sharon and the three kids - seven, six and three - huddled together on the grass. To die for. Everyone mugs for the camera. Casey tilts the photo so Han can get a full view of it. CASEY(CONT) See your occupation is being a cop. But by virtue of your being born on this earth, your job, your duty, is to leave it in a better state than the way you found it. And that means getting on with the business of life. Cause you never know when the meter stops running and your time is up. He stares at the picture for a moment. Then leans back, carefully replaces it in the exact same position on the shelf. Over this: CASEY(CONT) Odessa hasn't figured that out yet. And in your own strange way, you haven't either. No, I don't hate you Han. But I do feel sorry for you. CUT TO: INT. TERRI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT Han and Terri in bed. On opposite sides. Heads against the backboard. Ramrod straight. A moment. then - TERRI And then what did you say? HAN What could I say. I just sat there. For a moment there's silence. TERRI Han? HAN Yeah. She crawls on top of him. TERRI I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. She hesitates, then - TERRI(CONT) If I am pregnant, I want to have this child. Han says nothing. Expressionless. She sits up. Looks deep into his eyes. To his soul. TERRI I want you to come with me. He kisses her softly. Cradles her head. She drops to his chest. HAN What time? TERRI Four-thirty. You'll be there? HAN (nods) I'll be there. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT The room in shadows. MOANING. A trail of clothing leading to the bed. David and Dianne making love. David on top. Sweat beads. Smooth. In sync. Breathing faster. Approaching simultaneous climax, then - DAVID stops suddenly. Arches his back high. Dianne's eyes snap open. Guttural sounds low in his throat. Looking deep into her eyes. He grips her hips. Brutally yanks her closer. A deep thrust. She gasps. Her fists ball the sheets. Another. And another. They establish a rhythm. Faster and faster to the moment of orgasm. They cry out. He collapses on her, rolls over. She leans onto him. Clinging. Laughing. Crying. Kissing. Her nose nuzzles his armpit. His eyes staring at the ceiling. EXT. JUNGLE - A PALATA - DUSK At the edge of a clearing. Sun setting low over the horizon. INT. PALATA - DARK on a WOMAN's face. Candlelight dances on her cheeks. Her head lying on a pillow. Eyes wide in animal fright. Fingers clasped together, pressed against her chin. She trembles. As we PULL BACK we see that she is very young. A teenager, really. She clutches a blanket. Elbows to her knees. DAVID sits on the far side of the bed. Buttoning his camouflage suit. Adjusts the soft hat on his head. He turns to the girl, playfully leans over reaching for her ass to squeeze. She shirks even closer to the edge. He laughs. Slaps his boots. Pulls a few bills from his shirt pocket. Drops them on the table next to the candle. Slakes his thirst with the last swallow of whiskey from the glass sitting there. Rises. Mumbles something in Spanish. Exits the palata still chuckling. The girl scoots across the bed. Snatches the money. Counts it. Looks out after him. Wipes a tear from her eye. EXT. THE PALATA David walking along the trail. On his way back to camp. Looks up and sees a LATIN AMERICAN MAN. Less than twenty feet away. The same outfit as the prisoner. He becomes aware of David's presence. All of a sudden goes pale. Stops. Their eyes lock. David intuitively reaches into his waistband for his automatic. Not there. His eyes wide. The Latino realizes that, he too, has no weapon. Rolls his shoulders. Both assume the hand to hand combat position. Measured paces. David springs. Misses. Lightning fast, a looping right kick slams into his abdomen. David doubles over. Still stooped, David charges him. Uses his head as a battering ram. They fall to the ground in a heap. POV - GIRL IN THE PALATA - QUICK SHOT David and the Latino. Standing now. Giving each other their best shots. BACK TO SHOT In the background, the girl races from the palata. Disappears into the forest. David and the Latino. Both men bloodied. A draw. Another kick, this time connecting with his head. David tumbles backward to the dirt. The Latino is upon him. They struggle. David searching for a weapon; stick, rock. Anything. Nothing. In a burst of strength, David flops him on his back. Pins him. Rears back. Mouth wide. Sinks his teeth deep into his throat. Clamps his jaws tight. The sickening SOUND OF CARTILAGE CRUNCHING. David thrashes. Blood spurting everywhere. Saturating his uniform. The trachea ripping apart from the neck. The Latino twitching. The lifeforce draining from his eyes. Motionless. David sits up on his haunches. Winded. His face dripping crimson. Sounds of voices approaching. Three soldiers running toward him. The girl trailing. Deckard in the lead. SAME CAMOUFLAGE SUIT as David's. They stop, stare at the bloodied body splayed in the dirt. Eyes wide open. David rises unsteady to his feet. FIRST SOLDIER Sheesh. What a mess. The second soldier turns his head. Grips his abdomen. Vomits. Deckard. Grinning broadly. Slapping David's back. DECKARD (to David) A goddamn killing machine! INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM as he bolts awake. Bathed in sweat. Shivering. Freaking out. Dianne awake instantly. Grabs him. Holds him close. Cradles his head. A soothing voice easing him down. His arms enveloping her. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NEXT MORNING Dianne fully dressed for work. SOUNDS OF A SHOWER running in the background. She picks up the phone. INT. JULIAN'S HOUSE - BATHROOM - MORNING Julian in the mirror knotting a tie. The phone RINGS in the bedroom. A FEMALE VOICE announces she'll get it. Answers. Vickie pops her head in the doorway, handing Julian a cordless phone. She struggles with a black high-heeled shoe. VICKIE It's for you. He takes it. JULIAN Hello? Dianne's voice on the other end rattles him. We can't understand what she's saying but her conversation is rushed. Upset. JULIAN(CONT) Dianne, slow down - tell me what's wrong. What's going on? Is it David? INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM DIANNE Shower still running. In the background a SHAFT OF LIGHT appears as the bathroom door opens. David appears in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. DAVID Dianne? Her head snaps back in his direction. INT. JULIAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM Julian on the phone. DIANNE(VO) I've got to go - The line CLICKS off. Julian stares at the phone. Looks in the mirror. Hard. VICKIE Is everything okay? INT. DAVID AND JULIAN'S OFFICE - SAME MORNING David seated behind the desk. An early morning news show BLATHERS on the TV. Breakfast for two; fruit, coffee, eggs, hotcakes, sausage. The works. David scarfs down his food. Julian's plate barely touched. Picks at his eggs. Bites his lower lip. DAVID You're not eating. JULIAN Not hungry. DAVID (wiping his mouth) Man needs a good breakfast. He gulps his coffee. Clicks off the TV with the remote. Reaches for the phone. Pulls a DEVICE from his jacket pocket. Slips it over the mouthpiece. DAVID It's now or never. Ready? Julian looks blank. INT. POLICE STATION - DETECTIVE DIVISION - SAME MORNING Han at the coffee machine pouring a cup as the phone RINGS. Hustles over to his desk. Murphy's desk has been pushed aside; replaced by TWO TECHNICIANS who command a bank of IMPRESSIVE-LOOKING ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT. A long cord connects to Han's phone. One stocky technician adjusts the dials while the other slips on a headset. Casey hovers around the desk. Other DETECTIVES milling about including Murphy. They don't have a clue. TECHNICIAN (to Han) Keep him on for as long as you can. Han sits, lifts up the receiver. HAN Hello. DAVID(VO) Hello Hahneman. The voice is LOW. MECHANICAL. It ECHOES. The gauges on the equipment jump wildly in sync with the voice. A tape recorder rolls. HAN Is this Channel twelve? DAVID(VO) You got my message. That's good. Shows you can follow directions. I want two-hundred-thousand in cash in a leather bag. I'll call back in an hour to tell you where to bring it. HAN I can't get that kind of money in an hour. DAVID(VO) You will. Or do you need another demonstration. Han says nothing. Shoots a glance over to the technician with the headset. He gestures, twirls his hands, 'keep going.' HAN Ah, what do I get in return? DAVID(VO) No more victims. Isn't that what you want? HAN How do I know I can trust you? DAVID(VO) You can't. All you have is my word. And my word is bond. Have the money ready by noon. Wait for my instructions. Han shoots a glance at the stocky technician who labors furiously at the controls. There's silence for a moment, then - DAVID(VO) Time to say goodbye. The line CLICKS. Goes dead. CASEY (to technician) Did you get it? The technician pulls off his headset, shaking his head. TECHNICIAN Not one digit. He must have some sort of jamming mechanism. HAN Shit! MURPHY (to Han) Han, what's going on? INT. POLICE STATION - CASEY'S OFFICE - LATER Casey standing behind his desk. On it an open leather bag filled with bills tied in bundles. Han knocks, enters without waiting for a response. HAN You got the money. CASEY Two-hundred grand. Cash. Han steps forward, picks up a bundle. HAN You count it? CASEY Think I didn't? Han drops the bundle back. Casey shuts the bag. CASEY(CONT) Don't lose it. It's not just money in there. It's a career. HAN I'll keep that in mind. What did you say to the chief? CASEY Told him a little girl has been kidnapped. Hell that's so common nowadays he barely flinched. This can't go on much longer. Word'll get out somehow. He pushes the bag toward Han. CASEY(CONT) Just bring it all back in one piece okay? HAN Yassuh, boss. The phone RINGS. Han looks through the open blinds. Murphy pointing at him. Excited. The technicians standing by. Han picks it up. HAN Hello? DAVID(VO) You got the money? HAN Yeah, I got it. DAVID(VO) Tyrex building. Right out front. Be there in half an hour. Alone. Han checks his watch. It's twelve-ten. HAN One more thing. DAVID(VO) What? HAN I don't get it. How're you doing them? Silence. Han afraid David will hang up. HAN Hello? DAVID(VO) I'm here. You just be at Tyrex. The line CLICKS, goes dead. Han hangs up. Pokes his head through the door. The technician pulls off his headphones. Shrugs, as if to say, 'it's useless.' EXT. TYREX BUILDING - AFTERNOON A sunny day. Lunchtime. The courtyard is well-populated with BUILDING EMPLOYEES who sit on the marble benches in the courtyard; eating lunch, smoking, gossiping, catching some rays. Shiny metal food carts on the sidewalks - fruit salad, Chinese food. A news stand. HAN takes it all in. Not good. Too many goddamn civilians. He selects a spot on the most deserted bench he can find. Sits. Places the bag between his feet. HAN (low) Can you hear me okay? QUICK SHOT - A SURVEILLANCE VAN ACROSS THE STREET Cramped. Overflowing with ELECTRONIC GEAR. A bank of TV monitors. THREE TECHNICIANS fine tuning sound and video equipment. Casey in the middle. Hunched over. A clear view of Han on one of the screens. Technician with a handset pressed to his ear, nods yes. CASEY (into walkie-talkie) Loud and clear. (checks his watch) It's showtime people. Keep your eyes peeled. BACK TO SHOT Han glances at his watch. It's twelve-forty. INT. TYREX BUILDING - LOBBY - AFTERNOON Employees flowing in and out from all directions. The elevator doors open. Julian and David step out. Scan the lobby as other employees step in around them. They walk across the marble floor. Straight to the security office. INT. TYREX BUILDING - SECURITY OFFICE - AFTERNOON The office is up and running now. The console and bank of monitors are on and functioning properly. SHELDON, a guard, sits. Watching the activity on two dozen screens; the garage, the lobby, the elevators, various views of the courtyard. He is alone in the office. Julian and David enter. He turns around. JULIAN How goes it Sheldon? SHELDON Oh, hi, Mr. Norris. Mr. von Allman. Back to the screens. SHELDON(CONT) Looks good. Everything's real quiet. DAVID Why don't you take five. Have you had your lunch break? We'll mind the shop. SHELDON Sounds good. Sheldon relinquishes his seat, exits. Shuts the door. David and Julian slide behind the console. DAVID Let's see if Hahneman brought some company. David presses a few buttons. Then flicks a switch. Thwock! ON THE MONITORS All the screens now have SHOTS OF THE COURTYARD AND STREET. A lot of different angles. Among them: - Han sits on the bench, looking from side to side. - several people smoking cigarettes. Some sitting. Two women leaning against the side of the building. - a fruit vendor leaning out of a cart hands over a plastic bag and change to a customer. - a man reading a newspaper and eating Chinese food. Some of them seem to be wearing hearing aids. DAVID's face contorts. Julian immediately sees this. JULIAN What's wrong. DAVID I told that fuck to come alone. There's a knock on the door. It opens. Phil, the building's owner, pokes his head in. He beams. David works into a quiet rage. PHIL What's going on guys? JULIAN We're kind of busy, Phil. Phil won't take no for an answer. Steps inside. PHIL This won't take a moment. I've got to tell you. Everybody's so pleased with the new security - David stands abruptly. DAVID (holding his rage) I'm going out there. Julian rises swiftly. Grabs him by the arm. David wrangles free. JULIAN Wait a minute, David! But David is out the door. Phil looks stupidly at Julian. PHIL What's wrong with the Davester? INT. TYREX BUILDING - LOBBY As David moves across the floor and out the double doors. The doorman greets him. David sweeps past ignoring him. His expression unreadable. EXT. TYREX BUILDING - COURTYARD Han glances at his watch. One-thirty. He grips the handles on the bag. Stands, taking a step. Doesn't see David coming toward him and moving swiftly. They collide. The bag drops. Spills open slightly. QUICK SHOT - THE VAN CASEY watches the collision on a screen. Not good. He curses. BACK TO SHOT Han stooping over, collecting the bag. Making sure the bills don't fall out. As he does so: HAN My fault. I'm awfully sorry. DAVID Why don't you watch where you're going? HAN (to his feet) I said I was sorry. DAVID You blind or something? Heads turning in their direction. Han looking about. Doesn't like the attention. QUICK SHOT - THE VAN CASEY watching the confrontation on a screen. Raises the walkie-talkie to his mouth. CASEY (into walkie-talkie) Get rid of him Han. BACK TO SHOT - HAN casually parts his jacket. Slightly. Just enough for David to see his shield hanging from the inside pocket. His gaze is directed across the courtyard. Impassive. HAN Why don't you take a hike, fella. DAVID (backing off) No problem officer. David turns away. Heads for a fruit stand. Gets in line. Han relaxes, returns to his seat. INT. TYREX BUILDING - LOBBY As David returns from the courtyard. Eating from a container of fruit with a plastic fork. The doorman gives him a hard, uncomprehending stare. Julian, in the lobby now. Hooks his arm. Draws him away to the elevators. JULIAN Let's go upstairs. EXT. TYREX BUILDING - COURTYARD - LATER Nearly deserted. Han is one of three people still outside. Tired of waiting. Looks at the bag. His watch. QUICK SHOT - THE VAN Casey checks the time. Gives up. CASEY (into walkie-talkie) It's almost four-thirty. Let's pack it in. INT. POLICE STATION - CASEY'S OFFICE - LATER Casey seated behind the desk. His chin in his hands. The bag one foot from his face. Staring at it. Han stretched out on the sofa. Trying to catch some rest. The door is shut. CASEY This is not good. HAN We should've known he wasn't gonna show. That was a test. And we got a big red F. CASEY I only pray that he didn't spot any of our guys. HAN Any word from Odessa? CASEY Still working on that counterweapon thing. Says he'll be done in a day or so. HAN We don't have 'a day or so.' Any calls? CASEY Just his aunt in Cincinnati. He hasn't made any calls out yet. HAN What if that explosion's as big as he says? CASEY Don't even think about that. For a moment there's silence. Then - CASEY(CONT) Han, about the other day. I want to apologize. I don't have the right to judge you. Lord knows, at thirty-five, Terri's a grown woman. Han sits up. HAN Ah, don't worry about. You did make me think about a couple of things though - His voice trails off. Eyes widen. He jumps up. His watch. The time. The phone. Terri! He reaches. HAN(CONT) Oh shit! But as he puts his hand on the receiver it RINGS. He hesitates. The blinds. Murphy waves. Casey nods. Han answers. Puts it on the SPEAKERPHONE. The low voice. The ECHO. HAN Hello? DAVID(VO) You need your hearing aid checked Hahneman. I said come alone. HAN I was alone. DAVID(VO) You piss down my back and tell me it's raining. Turn to Channel seventeen. Casey switches on the TV. Channel seventeen. The Mets are playing the Phillies. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM/CASEY'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON A SERIES OF SHOTS DAVID on the couch. The TV on. ALBAD in his lap. Uncapped bottle of scotch on the table. ON THE TV SCREEN The game is between innings. The camera pans the CROWDED STANDS. Zeroes in on a LITTLE BOY. He's trying to stuff an entire cotton candy in his mouth. Eyes like saucers. Not having very much luck. His PARENTS laugh hysterically. ANNOUNCER(VO) Will you look at that Tom. This kid thinks he's Jaws. DAVID puts on the SPEAKERPHONE. Shoulders the ALBAD. Sights it. ON THE TV The kid's still trying. A real trooper, bless his heart. Over this dialogue we hear the ANNOUNCERS. Yakking it up. Having a field day. DAVID(OS) Maybe this little boy can teach you what I couldn't. HAN eyes wide with terror. His face drains of color. Casey, looks on, stunned. HAN Don't do it. Please-don't -do-it!!! DAVID aims. THE CROSSHAIRS aligned on the little boy's head as he struggles with his candy cloud. The announcers in hysterics. A real hoot. HAN AND CASEY shitting bricks. DAVID His finger wrapped around the trigger. The skin whitening. A beat then - ON THE TV the station goes to commercial! DAVID unshoulders the weapon. Grunts. The doorbell RINGS. His head snaps in that direction. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE - FRONT DOOR - EARLY EVENING QUICK SHOT Dianne at the doorway. She RINGS again. BACK TO SHOT DAVID picks up the receiver. CASEY AND HAN sweating buckets. The phone imbedded to Han's ear. DAVID(VO) Don't fuck with me again Hahneman! It SLAMS. Han frozen in the moment. Finally, he exhales. Slowly hangs up. Drops his head between his legs. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - AT THE DOOR - EVENING The doorbell RINGS again. David goes to answer. Slips the ALBAD into the hall closet. Does his best to straighten himself up. It's hopeless. Opens the door. He looks like hell. Pockets under bloodshot eyes. Dianne takes notice of his appearance. Puts her head down as she enters. DIANNE Hello, David. She walks past him. Straight to the living room. He says nothing. Follows her as she heads to the couch. She stops. The bottle of scotch on the table. DAVID Have a seat. She sits. He joins her. The look on her face. DAVID(CONT) (reassuring) What's wrong? She closes her eyes. Mustering up the strength. She dips into her purse. Pulls out a business card. As she does this: DIANNE I want you to call Dr. Hirst. I told him about you. He's very good. DAVID Dr. Hirst? DIANNE You need help David. And I can't give it to you! I'm too involved! David is incensed. DAVID No more shrinks. She extends the card to him. But he recoils. Rises. Swats at it with hurricane force. So strong that his hand catches her cheek. A solid, hard smack. She grabs her face. It feels like fire. Tears well. He stands over her. His eyes like fire. DAVID(CONT) (bellowing) I've had enough therapy for three lifetimes! She jumps up. Crying. Runs for the door. As she does so she screams. He stands there smoldering. Doesn't go after her. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE - EARLY EVENING Julian pulls up to the curb. He drives an '83 Mustang. A heap. Parks hood to hood with Dianne's Lexus. Gets out just as she comes streaking through the front door. Rushes past David's beat up van in the driveway. Tears streaming. Face reddening. They meet. JULIAN What's wrong? DIANNE (angry now) That's what I need to ask you. JULIAN Huh? DIANNE I'm not stupid Julian. Something's going on with you and David. What is it? JULIAN Nothing. She stares in his eyes. Knows he's lying. He's uncomfortable. JULIAN(CONT) Honest, Dianne. There's nothing going on. A beat, then. She unlocks her door. Gets in. DIANNE You tell David that when he decides to tell me the truth, he can call me. Starts the car. As she does so: DIANNE(CONT) And you're supposed to be his friend. JULIAN (right back) And you're supposed to be treating, not screwing him. She ROARS off. Julian stands there watching. Turns to the house. Takes a deep breath. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM There's KNOCKING at the door. DAVID(OS) Come in. Julian enters. Warily. David in the living room. Faces a wall. Julian heads over there. Scanning the area as he moves. As he does so: JULIAN I just saw Dianne. DAVID Don't you start in on me either. JULIAN Hey man, she's worried about you. David turns around. DAVID I can take care of myself. Julian stops. Shocked at David's haggard appearance. Manages to hide his reaction. Spies the scotch on the table. No glass. Looks up at him. Wants to be rational. JULIAN Why don't we put tomorrow on hold. DAVID What? JULIAN Let's wait. We can do it later. David moves swiftly past him. To the closet. Retrieves the ALBAD. As he does so: DAVID No we can't. Tomorrow's our only chance - you know that. Our last job. Remember? He steps toward Julian. Stands inches from his face. The ALBAD between them. David lifts it up. Slowly. Stops just under Julian's chin. His steely eyes. Intimidating. DAVID(CONT) And I don't intend to postpone it. Understand? Julian gets the message. Loud and clear. INT. HAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Han enters. Bushed. Flicks on the lights. Drops his keys on the table. Collapses onto the sofa. HAN Any messages Sherlock? Sherlock MATERIALIZES on the wallscreen in his butler's uniform. SHERLOCK Terri called. Five times. Han slaps a hand to his forehead. Makes it to the phone. Punches in her number. Slouches in a dining room chair. Preparing to get cursed out. Again. There's a CLICK when she answers. We can't hear what she's saying but, we know; a virtual verbal barrage. HAN I'm sorry - What do you mean? I said was sorry. I know there's no excuse -I was busy. Terri. Terri! Terri - The line CLICKS, goes dead. He looks at the receiver. Tilts his head upward. Rolls his eyes in exasperation. Sighs. Rises. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT The ALBAD and blueprints on the desk under the bright light. David manipulates the fine adjustment. A steady hand. The numbers on the large LED spinning then - THEY SUDDENLY STOP. FLICKER. THEN LOCK. The code matches the smaller LED. David sits back. Takes a deep breath. Smiles. He turns on, boots the computer. Types in commands. ON THE SCREEN it reads, flashing: Number unlisted. Access denied. DAVID snorts. Reaches over to the bookcase. Pulls out the 'Hacker's Code Quarterly.' Different edition than Odessa's. He thumbs it. Index finger finds what he wants. Taps it into the computer. We hear a CHIME, then: JAMES EARL JONES(VO) Welcome to the Bell System. ON THE SCREEN the computer reads: Unlisted Directory. It requests a name. DAVID types. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING WE DO NOT SEE DAVID'S FACE DURING THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE The radio FLICKS ON. Loud. A couple bars of Eric Clapton's cover of 'I Shot the Sheriff.' David's slender hand shuts it OFF. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - STUDY - MORNING The ALBAD is on the desk. Hands reach inside the drawer, open the case. Slowly remove THE ATTACHMENT from it's mold. Screw one end over the ALBAD's nozzle. There are TWO TELEPHONES on the desk. One of them is a cordless. Hands unscrew the cap off the mouthpiece of the regular phone. Push the mouthpiece to the other end of the attachment. It SNAPS in place. A perfect fit. On the desk is a pad with TWO TELEPHONE NUMBERS written on it. The hand punches the first number into the cordless phone. INT. HAN'S APARTMENT - MORNING Close on the phone as it RINGS. And RINGS. PULL BACK slowly. There's nobody home. The phone STOPS RINGING. INT. CASEY'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING The family sits at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Jamal, Kiya, Tiffany making a lot of racket. Sharon trying to keep the lid on while Casey butters his toast. Looks like a Norman Rockwell painting - but with black folks. The dining room phone RINGS. Tiffany shimmying off her chair, says 'I'll get it.' Casey, rising, beckons her to stay down. Just adorable. Sharon gently touches Casey's wrist, as if to say, 'wait, don't get up.' A remembering nod. Takes another bite of his eggs. SHARON (calling out) Cora. Cora. The phone KEEPS RINGING. She sighs. Rises. Her voice trailing off as she exits. SHARON (to Casey as she goes) We've got to replace her soon. I can't take much more of this. INT. THE STUDY The ALBAD ready. Attached to the regular phone's mouthpiece. In David's lap. A finger puts the SPEAKERPHONE on. There's a CLICK as the connection is made on the other end. The finger wraps around the trigger. White with pressure. FEMALE VOICE(VO) Hello. Hello? Is anybody there? The finger squeezes the trigger. A HUM and a VIBRATION then - the SOUNDS OF A BODY SLUMPING to the floor. A receiver BANGING ABOUT. Followed seconds later by CHILDRENÕS' PANICKY YELLING AND CRYING. The hand hangs up. INT. HAN'S APARTMENT - MORNING The phone RINGING. The door flings opens. Han rushes in. Reaches it before it stops. Dopey from no sleep. He pinches between his eyes. HAN Hello. Oh, Lieutenant? What's up. Is it serious?! Yeah...I'll see you later. He hangs up. Ponders. INT. THE LAB - DAY As Han throws open the door. Odessa, startled, looks up, turns from his stool where he is hunched over the counterweapon. Han's eyes burn like cobalt. HAN You bastard! He charges Odessa. Knocks him down off the stool. It SPLINTERS. They hit the deck, Han pummeling the shit out of him. Stands him on his feet. Throws him against a cabinet. Circuit boards, electronic do-dads hit the floor. CRASH. Grabs his collar. A clean shot to the jaw sends him sailing across the room. Right into a shelf. His self-authored volumes scatter and plaques - but he catches the TV videocamera. He crawls toward the stool. HAN(CONT) I'm gonna kill you! He pounces. But Odessa catches him with a roundhouse swing of a broken stool Leg. CRACK. The ribs. Han, more stunned than hurt. Odessa falls back into a mainframe. Collapses slowly down to the floor. Han stands there. Huffing and puffing. The front door opens. A head pokes in; Jake. The mess. Odessa clawing for his glasses. Han winded. JAKE Everything okay, Harry? HAN Get the fuck out, Jake. Jake shuts the door. Odessa crawls to his desk. Climbs onto his chair. Reaches in his pocket for a hanky. Dabs at his bloody mouth, as if amazed his blood is red. Massages his limp jaw. Jiggles a loose tooth with his finger. Han watches. Doubled over. It did hurt. Catching his breath. ODESSA That make you feel any better. HAN I don't feel any worse. Han moves toward him. Chest heaving, he places a hand on Odessa's shoulder for support. Reaches down. Unholsters the 9mm. Places it to Odessa's temple. A soft CLICK as he cocks it. Voice dripping with hate. HAN(CONT) Give me one reason why I shouldn't. Just one. Odessa. Slowly raising his hands. Thinking of something to say. Then, a light bulb - ODESSA (a question) Because I'm the only - INT. POLICE STATION - CASEY'S OFFICE - DAY Casey sitting on his desk. Leaning over. Han on the couch. His shirt raised. His ribs taped. Trying to sit up. He winces. The door is shut. CASEY - the only hope we've got! That son of a bitch. When this is over I'll kill him my goddamn self. HAN Get in line. (winces again) How's the maid? CASEY In intensive care. Doctor says she'll make it though. HAN Sharon and the kids? CASEY She's fine. But they'll probably need therapy for a few years. The phone RINGS. Casey and Han look at each other. Unsure. It RINGS. And RINGS. CASEY This is not good. And RINGS. Han moves toward it. A thought - HAN Speakerphone. He pushes the button. The voice FILLS THE ROOM. DAVID(VO) Hahneman. HAN You sick bastard. DAVID(VO) Don't make me do something like that again. Han does not reply. DAVID(VO) You still there? HAN I'm here. DAVID(VO) You don't like our game anymore? HAN Just waiting for the next inning. DAVID(VO) Here's the pitch. Diamonds. Uncut. In a pouch. Six inches high. Four inches wide. Two inches deep. Six million dollars worth. HAN Six million dollars! Casey shushes him with a wave. DAVID(VO) Have it ready tomorrow morning. Early. Wait for my instructions. The line CLICKS, goes dead. INT. TERRI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT Han and Terri in bed. Her elbow bent. Hand supporting her head. She wears a silk slip and an astonished look. HAN And that's the whole story. We're practically helpless against this guy. She keeps staring. Waits for him to say it's a joke. Finally - TERRI You're right. That's an unbelievable story. But even you couldn't make that up. Examines his side as she says this. TERRI(CONT) And your poor ribs. I forgive you. She leans over. They kiss. She's back. He's satisfied. Horny. Suddenly his ribs don't hurt so much. She yawns. TERRI Oh, I'm sorry. Tired. She rolls over, faces the wall. TERRI(CONT) You should've told me this last night? Then we'd have been done arguing at two instead of four-thirty. He snuggles up to her. Wraps his arm around her back. Nuzzles her neck. HAN You barely believe me now. You wouldn't have listened being so pissed off. He kisses her neck. She starts to resist. TERRI I've got to get some sleep. He persists. She pushes his arm away. TERRI(CONT) No really. I've got a busy day tomorrow. Han, now nibbling her shoulder. HAN Now what could be more important right now than you, me and this moment? TERRI (as if by rote) Two thousand ace bandages. Four-hundred ice packs. Ten-thousand salt tablets and at least six-hundred fifty runners with shin splints, dehydration, muscle pulls and god knows what else. That damned marathon. Han stops nibbling. Perks up. HAN Marathon? EXT. STREETS OF NEW YORK - DAYBREAK SERIES OF QUICK SHOTS of the city awakening; Cars. Pedestrians. Bread deliveries. Tugboats. Taxis. Vendors setting up carts. City workers and police erecting barricades. Closing off streets. Brightly colored banners swinging from buildings and trees. They read: New York City Marathon, 1999. INT. POLICE STATION - BRIEFING ROOM - MORNING Grimy. Dirty walls and dented folding chairs. MEN AND WOMEN bend and stretch. They wear shorts, tank tops, running shoes. Papers with black printed numbers hang from their backs. Casey and Han up front. Han wears a dark blue NYPD field jacket and a cap. Casey claps for quiet. CASEY First, I want to thank you officers who've trained so hard for this race for your sacrifice. You can be sure that a commendation is going into each of your jackets. A VOICE from the crowd yells 'How 'bout a 'C' note instead?' Everyone laughs. Except Casey, who returns with a look that could melt iron. They pipe down. Fast. CASEY You'll be divided into two groups. First one runs the entire race. The second stays with me until Han receives the location of the drop. He holds a small leather sack. Up high so everyone can see. CASEY(CONT) When the bag is picked up, whoever is closest to the suspect, grab him. Anyone else around join in and push him over to the barricades. We'll take over from there. HAN (right behind him) Remember you gotta move fast! One officer speaks up. Tall. Lean. Like a gazelle. THOMPSON. THOMPSON We'll do our best, sir. CASEY I know you will Thompson. Any questions? There are none. CASEY(CONT) Then move out. And good luck. They are herded out the room. CASEY (low to Han) I wish there was another way to do this. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE - FRONT LAWN - DAY Julian on the grass. Stretching his hamstrings. Stone faced. David reviewing their plan. He looks wired. Julian has a thick sweatband around his head. David holds a tiny TRANSMITTER. An EARPIECE with a short cord dangles from his hand. He squats, meticulously secures the transmitter under the headband. Hands Julian the earpiece. Julian bends forward. Does something with it we cannot see. As he does so: DAVID I'll keep in touch after the race starts. Right up until you get the diamonds. Julian silent. Worried. David senses this. They rise to their feet, David helping him up. JULIAN I just have one question - DAVID (interrupting him) Julian. I didn't mean what I said last night. It was Dianne. (shrugs) You know. Julian remains unconvinced. JULIAN It's cool. Don't even worry about it. David extends his hand. Julian hesitates, then covers his hands over David's. Clasps it. David does the same. Over this: DAVID The last job. JULIAN Last job. Watch my back, man. Julian turns, heads to his parked Mustang. As he does so: DAVID Julian. Good luck. Julian nods. Gets in. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - STUDY - DAY David leans out the window looking at the Mustang. He wears a WIRELESS HEADSET. He taps the microphone jutting inches in front of his chin. DAVID Can you hear me Julian? Julian's hand waves out the window. DAVID(CONT) Talk to you soon. He flicks a switch on the side. Shuts it off. Sticks his head back in. Turns around. We now see that an entire wall of the study is COVERED FROM FLOOR TO CEILING WITH TV MONITORS. Huge. Just like MTV. Each one on a different channel. In bold living color. David sits at the desk behind his computer. Taps in commands. The screens go to static. More commands. Then - THE SCREENS Thwok! The SCREENS CHANGE SHOTS. We see SHOTS of the marathon route; crowds lining up along the race barricades, a cop with a whistle directing traffic, competitors milling about the starting line - hundreds of them. A glimpse of a sportscaster sticking in his earpiece. Microphone in hand. Testing, testing, 1,2,3. A big ABC logo in the corner of each screen. Over this we hear the MURMUR of TV ANNOUNCERS, SOUND MEN AND TECHNICAL CREW. A cacophony of SOUNDS AND SIGHTS. DAVID has hacked his way into the network's satellite system and is receiving their transmissions prior to the start of the race. INT. A WAREHOUSE AWAY FROM THE STARTING LINE - DAY Cavernous. Empty. Moist. The POLICE RUNNERS do their warm up. Stretch. Tie shoelaces. Calisthenics. The SOUND of a KLAXON. Not too distant. CASEY (loud) Alright people. It's showtime. Let's move. EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY The police runners exit the building. EXT. NEAR THE STARTING LINE - DAY Police runners melding unnoticed into the CROWD. Spacing themselves in pairs. Thousands of competitors. Julian kneels. Reaches into a key pouch on the tongue of his sneaker. Pulls out the earpiece. He rises. His fingers connect it to the transmitter. A bump from behind. He turns. It's Thompson, who apologizes, but keeps walking toward the starting line. Over this we hear the - STARTER(OS) Runners get ready - INT. CASEY'S OFFICE - DAY Han sitting backwards in a chair. In front of the desk. Facing the shelf. On it are three televisions. Different models, different sizes. Same channel. The sack on top of the TV in the middle. Han sips a cup of coffee. Sighs. Murphy comes in. Hands over some printouts. MURPHY Here you go. Every barricade, cop and K-9. Han's eyes don't stray from the TV's as he takes the printouts. HAN Thanks Murphy. Murphy turns to leave. Stops. MURPHY Still can't tell me? HAN (waving him off) When the race is over. I swear. Murphy exits. Han glances down at the papers. ON THE TV SCREENS STARTER(VO) On your marks. Get set. Go! A PISTOL SHOT. The race begins. EXT. CITY STREETS - THE RACE - DAY A SERIES OF SHOTS - of the race in progress; some from the ground. Others from the air. - the spectators lining the sidewalks. Huge crowds. - runners gliding past them. - Julian. THE LEADER, CARLOS SILVA. Rock steady footsteps. Barely cracking a sweat. In front of him is a SPORTSCASTER, JACK LANG. Perched in the back seat of an ELECTRIC CAR moving several yards ahead. A CAMERAMAN up front points a camera dead at his face. JACK We're fifty minutes into this race and Peru's Carlos Silva is setting a blistering pace. It's a warm day - not too hot. But I wonder if he can continue at this level for the duration of the race. Let's check on the women's leader, Jackie Laroupe of Zaire - Barbara. INT. THE STUDY ON A MONITOR SCREEN JACKIE LAROUPE is surrounded by other runners. Male and female. Over this: BARBARA(VO) Jackie Laroupe isn't doing so badly herself. With about three miles to go to the halfway point at Fourth and the Bowery, she's a minute shy of the women's record. From here they'll cross Manhattan Bridge, swing through Brooklyn, and back across the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. DAVID hovers over the desk. A large map of Manhattan spills out over the edges. He makes an X on the map with a red pen; Fourth and the Bowery. There's a trail of red X's marking the progress of the marathon. He looks at the screens. The DIFFERENT SHOTS OF THE RACE. Headset on a shelf. ALBAD on the loveseat. He picks up the phone. Punches in a number. INT. CASEY'S OFFICE The phone RINGS. Han spins around. Murphy waves. His desk back in its proper spot. Han picks it up. DAVID(VO) Put the bag against a barrier on the northeast corner of Centre and Canal. An outside leg. Be back in half an hour. The line CLICKS, goes dead. Han grabs the sack, runs out the office. INT. BRIEFING ROOM - As Han runs in. A small television sits on an open chair. About two dozen SEATED DETECTIVES AND UNIFORMS slouched around it. Bored to tears. Some dozing. Han hustles over to BLOCKER; 29. Meaty. A giant. Imposing in a blue patrolman's uniform. HAN It's going down Blocker! Centre and Canal. The dozers stir. BLOCKER You heard the man! Get to stepping! Everyone jumps up. They head for the door. EXT. ON THE STREET - DAY Moving. Han's speeding Javelin trails two SWAT TRUCKS and what looks like a GULFSTREAM MOBILE HOME. Sirens WAILING. Lights FLASHING. INT. THE JAVELIN - DAY Han pumped. Grabs the mike. HAN (into mike) I gotta lay the bag on a barrier at Centre and Canal! EXT. OPEN SPACE - UNMARKED VANS - DAY Off a side street. Three LARGE UNMARKED VANS. Engines idling. Exhaust billows. Quiet. INT. UNMARKED VAN - DAY Casey in the front seat. Mike in his hand. An UNDERCOVER DRIVING. CASEY (into mike) We got it covered. (to the driver) Let's roll. EXT. OPEN SPACE The three vans pull away. Casey's in the lead. His hand reaches out, sticks a FLASHER on top of the roof. INT. THE STUDY David slips on the headset. Adjusts the microphone. Heads to the couch. Eyes glued to the screens. EXT. CENTRE AND CANAL - DAY HUNDREDS OF SPECTATORS line the avenue on both sides. Twenty deep. Behind them on one side, the SWAT trucks and the Javelin screech to a halt. The uniforms and undercovers jump out. Blocker bulls his way through the crowd. Han right behind him. Sack in hand. The uniforms make the crowd give room. The undercovers vanish into it. The mobile home turns around. Wedges itself into an alley. Han pops through the crowd. Gets his bearings, his direction. Gingerly squats, lays the sac against the correct leg of the barrier. Stands. Scans the crowd. Nods to the UNDERCOVER COP across the street watching him with an eagle eye. EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE - DAY Silva takes his first stride onto the bridge. A trickle of runners behind him. EXT. AT THE END OF THE BRIDGE - DAY >From here the runners will make a right turn onto Centre Street. The three vans pull up on a side street. Inconspicuous, if not well hidden. Casey jumps out. Slides open the side door on the other side. The police runners sit huddled. Knees together. In the background Silva has made it to the middle of the bridge. CASEY I'll let you go ten seconds apart. INT. DETECTIVE DIVISION as Han hustles in on his way to Casey's office. On the run, yells to Murphy. Asking if anyone has called. Murphy says no. INT. CASEY'S OFFICE Han. Back to the chair. The TV's. ON THE SCREENS The FIRST TWO RUNNERS reach the end of the bridge. Make the right turn up Centre. The crowd erupts into cheers. Over this: JACK(VO) - And you know this is the portion of the race the athletes enjoy the most as the crowd gives them their due - INT. THE STUDY David and the monitors. He checks the LED's on the ALBAD. Lighted and ready. EXT. AT END OF THE BRIDGE The MARATHONERS. The trickle turning into a sea. Pounding across the deck. Casey and the FIRST PAIR of police runners standing next to the van watching them round the corner. He releases the pair with a pat on the butt. They blend into the pack. The next pair lines up. EXT. ON THE BRIDGE The race continues. POV - JULIAN We see Jackie Laroupe. In front of her, an ELECTRIC TV CAR ROLLING with BARBARA positioned in the back. Her CAMERAMAN in the front. Over this, we hear David giving Julian instructions. DAVID(VO) When you come off the bridge, get over to the right side of the street. INT. CASEY'S OFFICE Han leans forward. Face intense. ON THE SCREENS We see a SHOT of Silva further down Canal. Ahead of the rest of the pack. HAN(OS) (to himself) If I were making that pickup I would want the maximum number of cameras on me. Couldn't be near the front. I'd want a small crowd around me... ANOTHER ANGLE A SHOT of Jackie Laroupe, nearing the end of the bridge. Over this: BARBARA(VO) And here comes Jackie. You might think those guys alongside her are helping her keep a pace. But don't fool yourself. She's probably pacing them. HAN like lightning, leaps to the phone. Punches in a number. EXT. AT THE END OF THE BRIDGE As Casey releases another pair into the race. There are only a few more police runners in the last van. A RINGING phone. Coming from Casey's pocket. He pulls out a cellular. Extends the antenna. Switches it on. CASEY Hamilton. HAN(VO) The woman! Coming off the bridge right now! Around her! POV - CASEY as he turns and sees Barbara's TV car slowly round the corner onto Centre. Followed by Jackie Laroupe and a crowd of marathoners. CASEY turns to the remaining police runners. CASEY The woman! Stick with her! They scurry away from the van. Disperse into the pack trailing Jackie. INT. THE STUDY David. Eyes on the monitors. On some of the screens we see Jackie. Julian near her. He touches the microphone. DAVID I can see you Julian. Two blocks to go. EXT. ON THE STREETS A SERIES OF QUICK SHOTS. The spectators, Julian, Jackie Laroupe, Barbara on her TV car, Casey, Han. INT. THE STUDY DAVID DAVID You should see it about now. EXT. CENTRE AND CANAL POV - JULIAN The sack against the barricade leg. INT. THE STUDY ON A SCREEN Julian, Jackie Laroupe, other marathoners. DAVID(OS) That's it, keep moving right. DAVID hoists the ALBAD. Shoulders it. EXT. FIRST AND THIRD As Julian deftly scoops up the sack. Drops it down his shirt. One fluid motion. And instantly, two police runners grab him. INT. CASEY'S OFFICE Han's eyes. Riveted to the TV screens. INT. THE STUDY By now Barbara's cameraman has focused on the commotion. ON SEVERAL SCREENS are close shots of Julian grappling with the police runners. The other marathoners narrowly avoid them; clearing a space as they run past that grows wider with each step. An undercover cop leaps from the crowd over the barricades. Joins the fray. A marathoner slams into him. They both tumble. He springs to his feet. Spectators' heads turn. Gasps. DAVID levels the ALBAD at a screen. Sights it. His finger. The trigger. THROUGH THE CROSSHAIRS Julian. The police runners. The struggle. David fires and the BLUE BEAM VANISHES into the monitor screen. EXT. FIRST AND THIRD One of the police runners grabs his neck. Falls to the street. Another police runner is there now. And another undercover right behind him. Julian surrounded. Being shoved to the side. INT. THE STUDY David aims again. But suddenly, Julian bursts from the huddle. And in that instant David fires. ON THE SCREEN AS THE BLUE BEAM HITS THE SCREEN squarely in Julian's chest. He screams. His eyes wide. And he falls OUT OF FRAME. EXT. CENTRE AND CANAL Utter chaos. Bewildered spectators. Dumbfounded cops. Holding the crowd back. Scratching heads. Marathoners keep passing - off to the left side. Two track-suited bodies lying on the ground; Julian and Thompson. A police runner checks for a pulse. Everyone frozen by the moment then - Casey pops out from the spectators. Behind him, uniformed cops part the crowd. A barricade moved to the side. Undercovers and police runners still stunned. CASEY (yelling) Pick 'em up. Let's move! They spring to action; bend down, lift the two bodies. Whisk them through the space where the barricade has been moved. Past the gauntlet of spectators and up the side street. EXT. SIDE STREET BEHIND CENTRE - ALLEY - DAY The doors to the mobile home are swung wide. The undercovers and police runners bearing the bodies hustle down the side street. They shove Julian's body inside. Thompson is placed in the ambulance. Uniformed police everywhere. POV - CASEY - LOOKING AT THE MOBILE HOME This vehicle is not a mobile home at all; It is a HIGH-TECH LAB FILLED with the medical equipment unlike any in existence today. Real NASA looking machines. FLASHING LIGHTS, BEEPING do-dads - the works. Four labcoated MEDICAL TECHNICIANS descend on Julian's body, attaching IV lines, wires, etc.. They operate mechanically, efficiently. Among the things they do individually are: - scrape Julian's tongue, put the sample on a slide, stick it in a machine. The machine takes a genetic scan, displaying his DNA SEQUENCE on a screen in full color. - draw a blood sample, spin it in a centrifuge, draw a couple cc's with a pipette, stick it in a machine. It displays its MOLECULAR STRUCTURE and a list of its CHEMICAL COMPOSITION on a screen. - wedge two plates into Julian's mouth, attached by wires to a machine. It displays a rotating 3D-IMAGE OF THE UPPER AND LOWER TEETH complete with sparkling fillings. - open the eyelid and stick on a suction cup attached by wires to a machine. It displays a blowup of the eye on a screen, does a RETINAL SCAN. - takes Julian's FINGERPRINTS, runs them through a machine that compares them to and displays thousands on file. CASEY watches the technicians work on Julian's body. Frowns. The sack at Julian's feet. Discarded in the excitement. Casey picks it up. Opens it. Reaches in. Pours some stones into his palm. Shakes them to the street. ROCK SALT. He drops the sack to the ground. Moves over to the ambulance. A MEDIC straddling Thompson performs CPR. It's useless. He climbs off of the body. The others throw in the towel, disconnect IV's, etc.. Casey stares stonily. Head snaps back at the lab. His cellular rings. He answers. CASEY Hamilton...Yeah, they're working on the son of a bitch right now. If he ever farted in an elevator weÕll find out who he is. Any word from the shooter? INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON David looks like shit. Tilts half a bottle of vodka to his lips. Drains it. Stares at the empty for a moment. Hurls it at the TV screen. It promptly shatters. Smokes. Then he goes nuts. Smashes furniture, albums, photos. To the kitchen. Plates. Glasses. Wrecks the entire downstairs. Dripping sweat. Winded. Then - something clicks. His eyes dart toward the stairs. He runs to them. INT. CASEY'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON Han on the phone. The TV's on. The race continuing. HAN Okay, Lieutenant. He hangs up. But it RINGS before he can take his hand away. And RINGS. He shoots a glance at Murphy. Not at his desk. Han unsure. HAN (to himself) He wouldn't kill me... He scoops it up. A beat, then - HAN Hello? ODESSA(VO) Detective? Han sighs. HAN Yeah. ODESSA(VO) It's Odessa. HAN What is it? ODESSA(VO) The counterweapon. It's operational. Han's eyes light up. HAN - Be right there. Springs to his feet. Spins. Stops. To the desk. Shuffles through papers. A printout. A phone number. He tears it off the page. INT. DETECTIVE DIVISION - AFTERNOON As Han runs out of Casey's office. Murphy taking his seat. A cup of coffee in his hand. Han over to him with the torn paper. HAN (on the run) Forward my calls to this number! And he is gone. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - AFTERNOON As David rushes in. Stumbles to the closet. Belches. Presses another liquor bottle to his lips. Throws it behind him. It shatters on the wall. Drops to his knees. Arms moving like a tiller. Tossing shoes behind him. Digs for, finds - a trunk. Drags it to the center of the floor. Labored breathing. Sweaty. Fatigued. Deranged. INSIDE THE TRUNK is the CAMOUFLAGE UNIFORM. Neatly folded. He pulls it out. A cedar box underneath. Lifts the lid. A SNIPER'S RIFLE. And AMMO. Slender silver bullets. Lots and lots of them. DAVID(OS) (mumbling, repeating) Hahneman...Hahneman...Hahneman. EXT. THE LAB - AFTERNOON The Javelin screeches to the curb behind the jeep. Jake at his usual post. Having a smoke. Han leaps out. A quick acknowledgment. INT. THE LAB - AFTERNOON As Han dashes in. Odessa seated behind his computer. His jaw swollen. The counterweapon on the desk. Compact. Steel. A rubber nozzle on the end. Han snatches it up. HAN Tell me what I gotta do. Odessa stands. Takes it back. As he does so: ODESSA It operates on the principle that light energy can - HAN - Cut to the chase. Just tell me how to make it go. Odessa moves over to the videocamera, which is now mounted on a tripod on the floor. ODESSA Slide it over the camera like this - ODESSA(CONT) (demonstrates) - and press the button. It'll do the rest. HAN How can I tell it's working? ODESSA Believe me. You'll know. The phone RINGS. Odessa moves toward it, but Han gestures, 'don't answer.' It RINGS again. And again. Han takes a deep breath. Lifts it up. QUICK SH0T CLOSE ON David's mouth. Now smeared with BLACK COMBAT PAINT. DAVID Hahneman... BACK TO SHOT - HAN on the phone. DAVID(VO) You and me. Fort Greene Park. One hour. Alone. HAN Fort Greene Park? The phone GOES DEAD. During this call Han has made the mistake of turning his back on Odessa. Oblivious to the 'genius' who has unhooked the videocamera from its tripod, and is raising it over his shoulders. And when Han hangs up, he lets it go. Crashing down on his spine. Just below the neck. Han's legs buckle. Arms shoot straight out. Eyes to the top of his head. He crumples in a heap. Moaning. But still clutching the counterweapon. ODESSA Touchdown, asshole! Odessa snatches the counterweapon out of his hand. EXT. THE LAB Odessa strolls to the jeep. As he does so: ODESSA Just going to my car. He steps in. Starts it. Waits. Jake, exhales. Stamps out the butt. Strolls over to him. Leans over. JAKE You're not supposed to be - Odessa delivers a solid right to the jaw. Jake staggers. Odessa roars off. Jake, stunned, whips out his pistol to shoot out the tires. But a hand clamps on his wrist. Han. A pained look on his face. Without a word he hustles to the Javelin. Turns the key. The engine WHINES. He beats the dashboard. HAN Please, baby, baby. Please... The engine CRANKS. BACKFIRES. Han LAYS RUBBER after Odessa. EXT. SIDE STREET BEHIND CENTRE - ALLEY Casey is speaking to one of the medical technicians. TECHNICIAN Fingerprinting. DNA mapping. Genetic scan. Retinal scan. Dental records. Nothing. He's clean Casey. Casey shakes his head. The technician returns to the mobile lab. One of the uniforms trots over to Casey. COP Hahneman's on the radio, Lieutenant. Casey and the cop rush to the van. The door is open. Casey reaches inside for the mike. CASEY (into mike) Go ahead Han. INT. THE JAVELIN - AFTERNOON Odessa up ahead. Driving like a maniac. Han in pursuit. Driving like a lunatic. HAN (into mike) Odessa's in his jeep heading for Fort Greene Park! EXT. SIDE STREET On Casey. HAN(VO) He hit me when I got off the phone. And he has the counterweapon! CASEY (to the cop) Call the fifteenth. Get them to set up a roadblock CASEY(CONT) at the end of the bridge. Casey jumps into the van. Takes off tires SQUEALING. INT. DIANNE'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - AFTERNOON Diane on the bed. Reading a book. Iced tea. Blue jeans. Sweatshirt. Glasses. Chilling. The TV news is on. Sports. A story about the marathon. She glances up. ON THE TV are CLIPS of the marathon. We see and hear: ANNOUNCER(VO) The biggest field ever turned out for the silver anniversary New York City Marathon. The winner was Carlos Silva of Peru who finished in two hours, eleven minutes, thirty-nine seconds. And for the second time in three years, Zaire's Jackie Laroupe won the womenÕs marathon. The only incident marring the race occurred on Centre Street when three runners collapsed and had to be carried away from the scene. No report on their condition so far - DIANNE recognizes Julian as he is carried away. Mumbles his name. Reaches for the phone. Hesitates. Punches in a number. INT. THE STUDY David. Passed out on the loveseat. Outfitted in the camouflage suit. Black combat paint. Black boots. Racks of rifle ammo crisscrossing his chest. Nasty silver bullets. Rifle at his side. ALBAD under his body. The phone on the floor. Off the hook. INT. DIANNE'S HOUSE - BEDROOM Dianne. A BUSY SIGNAL. Hesitation. She hangs up. Snatches a jacket off the back of a chair. ON THE STREET MOVING QUICK SHOTS of Han and Odessa's chase. The jeep weaving in and out of traffic. Fast. The Javelin closing behind. No backfire now. INT. NEWS HELICOPTER - AFTERNOON Deafening chopper noise. A REPORTER sitting next to the PILOT casually surveys the city below. Sees the chase. Nudges him. Points down. ON THE STREET The jeep makes a sharp right. Streaks through the intersection on two wheels. Barely misses a WOMAN CROSSING WITH THREE KIDS. Han right behind him. The cars barreling down the avenue. INT. NEWS HELICOPTER REPORTER Sweet mother of Jesus! Where's the fire! They scan the horizon. Ahead, the distant FLASHERS of the police setting up their ROADBLOCK AT THE END OF THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE. The pilot leans over. PILOT (yells) Isn't Eric's crew around there? EXT. A STREET CORNER - AFTERNOON An ICE CREAM TRUCK. KIDS in line. Except for the big one up front and wearing the suit. ERIC DAVIS. Pays for two vanilla cones. Strolls back to a van with a big Channel 3 logo on the side. Hands one cone through the window to the CAMERAMAN who is driving. Steps around to the passenger side. Gets in. INT. NEWSVAN - AFTERNOON Eric and the cameraman enjoying their cones. PILOT(VO) Chopper one to newsvan six. Eric reaches for the mike. ERIC (into mike) Not now Charlie. I'm on my break. PILOT(V0) That can wait. We've got a chase that'll end up at the Brooklyn Bridge! The cops are setting up a roadblock now. Control's gonna break you into the broadcast. ERIC (to cameraman) What're you waiting for? The cones tossed out the window. The van surges off. EXT. THE CHASE During the chase: - the jeep barrels down a street nearly running over PEDESTRIANS. - crashes through wood barriers not gathered from the marathon. - the Javelin crashes into several parked cars while rounding a turn. - stalls, but starts again. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE AT THE FRONT DOOR - AFTERNOON The Lexus SQUEALS to the curb. Dianne jumps out. Pocketbook slung on her shoulder. Sprints to the front door. David's van in the driveway. She RINGS the bell. INT. THE STUDY David stirs at the sound of the RINGING bell. It rings again. And again. And again. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE No answer. Dianne pulls out a key. Unlocks the door. INT. DAVID'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON As Dianne opens the door. Gasps. Enters slowly. Guardedly surveying the destruction as she wanders around the downstairs. Her feet crunching broken glass. Debris everywhere. Calling out David's name. INT. THE JEEP POV - ODESSA streaking down Lafayette Street. In the distance ahead we see the flashing lights of the roadblock on the opposite side of the bridge. EXT. THE ROADBLOCK AT THE END OF THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE In the background, across the river, the jeep and the Jav zooming toward the bridge like landbound F-16's. Patrol cars lined up hood to hood at the end of the bridge. A PHALANX OF UNIFORMED POLICE milling about. Preparing. Shells being loaded into shotguns. MALE VOICE(OS) Here they come! Take up your positions! The police scatter. INT. CASEY'S VAN - AFTERNOON Siren WAILING. FLASHERS. Casey with the pedal to the metal. Staring daggers ahead. CASEY (to himself, repeating) This is not good... EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE Cops poised over trunks and hoods of patrol cars. SIRENS. Shotguns, pistols at the ready. The newsvan SCREECHES up. Eric leaps out. The cameraman grabs his gear. ANOTHER ANGLE As Eric and the cameraman make their way to the front of the roadblock. Eric slips on a headset. Nobody paying them any attention. Eric giving the cameraman instructions. A SERGEANT hears this. Turns around. Does a doubletake. SERGEANT (to Eric) Get the hell out of here! But before anyone can take a breath, from afar, the jeep rounds the turn on two wheels. Cops yell out, bracng themselves into position. Eric touches the side of the headset. Vigorously nods his head. SERGEANT (to all) Get ready! The cops aim. Sight the jeep. CAMERAMAN Eric, five seconds, four, three, two, one - INT. THE JAVELIN POV - HAN The jeep rounds the turn. Up ahead. Another speeding vehicle. A light on top. Flashing. A van. INT. THE STUDY ON ALL THE MONITOR SCREENS is Eric Davis. All smiles. All seventy-five teeth. In the background, the jeep moving across the deck. The Javelin GROANS around the turn, RUMBLES onto the bridge. The van right behind it coming from the opposite direction. ERIC Yes, Bill. We're live on the Brooklyn Bridge. And as you can see behind me - Eric's dialogue continues as - DAVID hears Dianne's calling out his name. Louder. He shakes his head. Groggy. Zonked out. Trying to regain his senses. Sits up. The NOISE. The FLASHING LIGHTS. The blazing screens. INT. THE JEEP POV - ODESSA The roadblock. Dead ahead. The cops. The lights. The sirens. The shotguns. Shotguns! EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE The Jeep veers sharply to the right. Smashes into a pylon. Comes to rest with its front wheel dangling over the roadway. The Javelin shudders to a stop. The van close to its bumper. Too close. CRASH. Odessa jumps out. Runs toward the roadblock. Hand clutching the counterweapon. Casey rushes to the Javelin. Forces open the door. Han spills out. He helps him to his feet. Together they take off down the bridge after Odessa. INT. THE STUDY David with more of a sense of self now. Recognizes the first running figure moving closer on the screen. The one wearing the white labcoat. And the other man hot on his heels. The same picture on all the screens. He rises to his feet. Alert. Closes the door. Softly. The ALBAD. On the loveseat. INT. THE LIVING ROOM Dianne hears the door shut. Her eyes snap to the ceiling. The stairs. INT. THE STUDY David hustles to the computer. Furiously types in commands. Thwock! The screens combine to form one single picture. One VERY LARGE picture. Of the three men heading closer to the camera. David scrambles to the loveseat. Snatches the ALBAD. Sits. Shoulders it. Aims at Odessa. Sights him. Fires. ON THE SCREENS The BLUE BEAM HITS ODESSA AT CHEST LEVEL. VANISHES into the screen. EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE Odessa, suddenly, clutches his chest. Falls to the road. Dead. His hand opens. The counterweapon slips out. Casey and Han stop. Frozen by the moment. Casey scans ahead. The cops. The cars. The shotguns. The cameraman and reporter. Cameraman and reporter! He runs toward them, frantically waving them away, yells: CASEY Get that camera outta here! INT. THE STUDY Casey looming on the screens. David sights him. Fires. The BLUE BEAM STRIKES THE SCREEN AT CASEY'S NECK. EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE Casey. Stops abruptly. His eyes widen. He drops to the roadbed. Dead. HAN stunned. Scrambles to Odessa's body. Stoops. Grabs the counterweapon. Takes off for the camera. INT. THE STUDY THROUGH THE CROSSHAIRS As Han charges. Closer. Filling the screen. His face contorted. Functioning on sheer gutpower alone. DAVID sighting him. As Dianne bursts in. Bam! Her momentum spilling her into the loveseat. Knocks him off balance before he can get off a shot. They tumble to the floor. EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE As Han reaches the cameraman. Slams the counterweapon home. The nozzle pressed against the lens. Secure. Han presses the button. INT. THE STUDY Dianne and David. Their eyes meet for a brief, intense second. She snaps out of it. The camouflage suit. The black face. The rifle. The ALBAD. On the floor. The screens - NOW BLACK. Uncomprehending. And then - We hear a BEEP COMING FROM THE ALBAD. The sound, low at first. Then growing LOUDER. INCREASING IN PITCH. HIGHER as it beeps FASTER. And faster. And higher. And faster. David understands. Completely. Rises to his feet. Quickly. Rushes to the drawer. The attache. He snatches the blueprints. Moves to Dianne. With his free hand he grips her by the bicep. Drags her to her feet. DAVID Come on. We've got to get out of here. Dianne asking questions. 'What's wrong?' 'What's going on?' But he doesn't reply as he leads her out the door. INT. THE STAIRS As they stumble down the steps. David making sure Dianne is in front. Across the foyer to the doorway. The sound of the ALBAD now ONE CONTINUOUS, LOUD TONE. EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE - EARLY EVENING As the front door bursts open. Dianne and David hightailing it. She ain't asking any questions now. They streak across the driveway. And then there is a - EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE - BLINDING, WHITE FLASH. In the distance behind the roadblock. An instant later there's an EXPLOSION. A tremendous BOOM - so deafening everyone ducks for cover. But Han faces it. A column of brown rises slowly. Carrying dirt, wood, glass, metal. Billowing upward. The earth rumbling. The PLUME continues rising. Flame licking the sky. HIGHER AND HIGHER. Until it flattens out wide at the top, forming a MUSHROOM CLOUD. And slowly, the rumble begins to fade. Without a word, before the speechless, bewildered onlookers, Han walks over to the cameraman. Eric and the cameraman now have sheepish looks on their faces. Han snatches the counterweapon off the camera. Walks over to the side of the bridge. Smashes it to bits against a railing. Tosses the pieces over the side. Down to the cold, black water below. FOLLOW THE FALLING PIECES IN SLOW MOTION Over this we hear: HAN(VO) ...And that's how it ended - DISSOLVE TO: INT. FEDERAL COURTHOUSE - CHAMBER - DAY HAN seated in a chair. HAN - It was over just that quickly. ANOTHER ANGLE The courthouse chamber. Han is being interrogated by half a dozen GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS, CIA and FBI AGENTS. Deadly serious looking men. They sit before him on a raised platform. Behind a semi-circular wooden desk. Han's chair is the only one on the floor. Deckard is in the small group. For a moment no one speaks. Absorbed in the story. Finally - FIRST OFFICIAL Detective Hahneman. What about this 'consortium' Doctor Odessa talked about. HAN We never got any names. Your guess is as good as mine. SECOND OFFICIAL Didn't you say Odessa mentioned something about blueprints in that attache case. HAN Yeah, he did. He - DECKARD (interrupting) - We haven't been able to find them yet in all the rubble. CUT TO: EXT. DAVID'S HOUSE - EARLY EVENING A SMALL CRATER where a neighborhood street used to be. Wood. Glass. Charred metal. Hulks of cars. Upheaved earth. Destroyed houses. Black smoke. Flame. SIRENS. RED LIGHTS. Firetrucks. Firemen putting out blazes. Cascading water. Ambulances. Rescue workers scurrying about. Stretchers. Shovels. Barricades. Looks like the aftermath of a bombing raid. A huge SILVER TRUCK in the middle of this destruction. MOVE OVER to what used to be David's house. Men dressed in SPACESUITS scoop scorched earth using shovels with tiny steel blades. Dropping it into plastic bags. Other spacesuits sweeping GEIGER COUNTERS over the earth. Intense CLICKING. One spacesuited figure moves away from the pack. Over to where a tattered blanket is draped over - the figure stops. Draws back the edge of the blanket. David and Dianne's crumpled remains. Their lifeless, charred faces. Unceremoniously, the figure drops it back. Turns. David's hand poking out. The fist tightly clenched. The figure kneels. Removes the paper from the stiff fingers. It is singed and torn. He looks left to right. Stands. Walks forward. ANOTHER ANGLE The spacesuit. Now on his knees. Digging. Prowling through the debris. Until he finds it; a charred, dirty, crumbled paper. BLUEPRINTS. The figure folds them. Makes sure nobody else is watching. Slips them into a side pocket. Rises. Through the visor. The steely eyes. Over this we hear the following dialogue. It is - DECKARD(V0) We don't know where they are - INT. FEDERAL COURTHOUSE - CHAMBER On Deckard. DECKARD(CONT) - but they were definitely removed from that attache. THIRD OFFICIAL (quick) We've got to find those blueprints! An awkward silence. Then - FOURTH OFFICIAL You're a hero Detective Hahnemann. The country owes you a debt of gratitude. HAN I don't feel like a hero. A slight chuckle from the officials. FIFTH OFFICIAL You'd better get used to the publicity. After the ordeal you've been through - HAN (cutting him off) - Is there anything else? FIFTH OFFICIAL Ah, no. That covers just about everything. If we have any questions we know where to find you. You should take a few weeks off. A vacation. You look like you could use the rest. HAN I just might do that. He rises, buttoning his jacket. They watch him in silence. And admiration. HAN Oh, one more thing. Tiffany, Kiya and Jamal. THIRD OFFICIAL Ah, who are they? HAN Casey Hamilton's children. FIFTH OFFICIAL Oh, well we're certain that after the investigation has FIFTH OFFICIAL(CONT) concluded, the appropriate measures will be taken to insure their living and educational expenses. INT. FEDERAL COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - DAY The door opens. Han emerges. Wiped out. The hallway is dark. Deserted. Except for Terri. Sitting in a wooden chair near the door. She rises. They embrace. He hugs her with all his might. For a long, long moment. They sway. Her hands wrapped tightly around his back. Her gold WEDDING BAND GLEAMS in the dim light. His does too. In the background, we hear the SOUNDS of PUSHING AND SHOVING. They release. Turn their heads in that direction. The exit doors at the end of the hallway. Sunlight streams on a throng of REPORTERS. A lone UNIFORMED COP holding them back. He's not doing so well. Terri looks into Han's weary eyes. TERRI You ready? He nods. HAN Yeah. He takes a deep breath. Wraps his arm around her shoulders. They turn around. And walk slowly down the hallway to them. FADE OUT ??