THE S A I N T
by Jonathan Hensleigh
Director: Phillip Noyce
February 8, 1995
New York City
The only difference between the
saint and the sinner is that every
saint has a past and every sinner
has a future.
- O. Wilde -
FADE IN:
The majestic city and bay, as seen from the elevation of the surrounding
Shan Ho hills as we SUPER –
HONG KONG – 1965
PANNING away from the city, we come before the bleak facade of the SAINT
IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE.
BOY'S VOICE (o.s.)
Simon Magus was a magician and
sorcerer in uhhm... Sumatra.
INT. HONG KONG - SAINT IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE - DAY
Twenty boys, aged 7 to 12, sit at spartan desks, bibles raised. FATHER
O'NEAL walks amongst them. A career Jesuit with razor eyes and thin lips. An
awful man.
FATHER 0'NEAL
(sternly)
Sumeria.
And what happened to him Francis?
FRANCIS, 12, is the eldest and largest boy.
FRANCIS
Jesus' disciples came and performed
miracles. When Simon Magus saw the
miracles he offered disciple Peter
gold for the powers of God.
FATHER 0'NEAL
What did disciple Peter say to that?
Michael Quinn?
Father O'Neal stands before the youngest, littlest boy, who, unlike the others,
exhibits no fear in his huge, intelligent eyes. Father O'Neal hates this boy.
The boy, MICHAEL QUINN, doesn't respond.
Father O'Neal snatches his bible, revealing a SECOND BOOK hidden behind it.
It's a dime store pulp adventure with a gaudy cover entitled "THE KNIGHTS
TEMPLAR."
FATHER 0'NEAL
Answer the question Michael.
The little boy stares up at him.
MICHAEL QUINN
That's not my name.
Father O'Neal yanks the boy from the chair. Drags him by the arm across the
room and out into the corridor.
THE OTHER BOYS wait two seconds, then they spring up and run, en masse,
to the door. Grouped in the threshold, straining for a good view, they watch
as --
FATHER O'NEIL pulls Michael Quinn into an office down the corridor. The door
has a stained-glass window.
It begins. We see it in SILHOUETTE: Father O'Neal with a CANE SWITCH in
his hand, the boy beneath him. Down the switch comes. Again. And again.
The boy YELPS. And again and again and again... and now he SCREAMS...
THE BOYS HUDDLED IN THE DOORWAY begin to wince. With every repeated,
merciless descent of the switch...
INT. SAINT IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE - EATING HALL - NIGHT
THE BOYS sit at benches. Michael Quinn stares stoically ahead. The back of
his shirt is striped with blood.
FATHER YIN, 50's, a Chinese Jesuit, grim in black frock and white collar,
paces amongst the benches. Father O'Neal watches from the side.
FATHER YIN
Why one child is born into a good
home and another into poverty - that
is but part of God's design. All of
you are unwanted, put here because
of the sins of your unwedded
mothers. The church has fed you and
educated you. Given you a home. A
name. An identity.
Stopping before Michael Quinn, he points to a PORTRAIT ON THE WALL of a
stern-faced Jesuit.
FATHER YIN
Who is that, boy?
MICHAEL QUINN
Father Michael Quinn.
FATHER YIN
Yes. A great man. You ungrateful
little cur, you will sit here
without food until you appreciate
your namesake.
(to the other boys)
All of you will sit with him. Put
lunch away, Mr. Fong.
MR. FONG, the orphanage cook, wheels a FOOD CART into the kitchen and
locks the door. Father Yin exits, followed by Father O'Neal and Mr. Fong,
leaving --
A HUNDRED BOYS staring at Michael Quinn.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ORPHANAGE - NIGHT
Again, Father Yin stands before Michael Quinn. The boys are seated for their
evening meal.
FATHER YIN
What is your name, boy?
Silence. Michael Quinn stares straight ahead.
FATHER YIN
Put supper away, Mr. Fong.
MR. FONG wheels the FOOD CART into the kitchen and locks the door. Again,
a hundred boys stare at Michael Quinn.
INT . ORPHANAGE BUNKROOM - NIGHT
A long, narrow room with bunkbeds. The boys aren't sleeping. They're
grouped around Michael Quinn's bunk. One boy has his hand clamped to
Michael's, mouth, the others are wailing on him... and outside --
INT. ORPHANAGE - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE BUNKROOM - NIGHT
Fathers O'Neal and Yin watch through the door.
FATHER YIN
Spareth the rod, spoileth the child.
INT. ORPHANAGE - MORNING
Father Yin grits his teeth, staring down at Michael Quinn, whose face is
welted. Nothing has changed.
FATHER YIN
Put breakfast away, Mr. Fong.
Again, the FOOD CART goes into the kitchen. The Fathers and Mr. Fong exit.
The boys rise, moving toward Michael Quinn. They're going to kick the living
shit out of him.
MICHAEL QUINN
Stop. You'll have your breakfast.
Michael Quinn walks to the locked kitchen door.
The other boys, curious, follow.
Michael Quinn kneels before the door, examining the lock. He looks around.
On a counter next to the door are EATING UTENSILS. Michael Quinn picks up
A FORK. He bends the fork's tines. Inserts it in the lock.
He fishes around for a second. Nothing happens. He pulls the fork out,
rebends it, and inserts it in the lock again. And CLICK.. ..the lock pops.
Michael Quinn turns and smiles. The boys flood inside.
The hungry boys go for the food cart, scooping up eggs and sausage. They're
ravenous. Francis, mouth full of sausage, beams at Michael Quinn.
FRANCIS
They should've named you Simon, like
Simon Magus the sorcerer.
MICHAEL QUINN
No. Simon. . . .
(pulls the "KNIGHTS TEMPLAR" paperback from his back pocket)
...Templar.
Suddenly a SHARP WHISTLE. The boys, startled, whip their necks around.
MR. FONG stands in the doorway.
Father O'Neal and Father Yin enter quickly.
The boys back away from the food cart.
FATHER YIN
Who.. . who did this...?
The boys look at Michael Quinn. Then Francis speaks:
FRANCIS
I did father.
And another boy, James:
JAMES
I did father. .
And another and another: "I did father." They all say it. And the littlest
youngest boy, surrounded by his new confederates, smiles slightly. His eyes
glint.
CUT TO:
Begin MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA - NIGHT
A chilly September night. A rally is underway in the Dvortsovaya Ploshchad,
the vast square at the foot of Nevsky Prospect Boulevard. The Winter Palace
and Hermitage loom in the b.g.
500,000 ST. PETERS BURGERS' stand shoulder-to-shoulder, listening to a
SPEECH. INTERNATIONAL T.V. CREWS (the BBC, CNN, etc.) are transmitting
the event.
SPEAKER (o.s.)
In I917 Lenin stood here and
promised a new age. The result?
Tyranny. Poverty. The darkest
years in our history.
THE SPEAKER stands on a platform behind a cluster of microphones, his
image projected on a huge screen (like the Sony screen in Times Square)
above and behind him.
He is MICHAEL ROMANOV, coal-haired, fierce, ardent, eyes glinting like onyx,
voice cutting the night air.
ROMANOV
In 1987 Gorbachev stood here and
promised a new age. The result? An
end to communism. Democracy. A
free economy. And what else?
Chaos.
(crowd CHEERS)
The economy run by criminals, the
government run by charlatans. And
they are in league together!
Thieves! Traitors!
(louder CHEERS)
Men and women of St. Petersburg,
citizens of Russia, the salt of this
country, this must end!
(deafening CHEERS)
Join me then in the song of our
forefathers.
Romanov begins to sing, ably, the first verse of "Mother Russia"
(the Russian anthem before the Bolsheviks).
THE CROWD joins him. The Ploshchad rings with the voices of half a million
Russians...
CUT TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - NIKKO HOTEL - CONTINUOUS
We're 12 stories up, outside the city's Nikko hotel.
The rally across town is a distant glow.
We hear the singing crowd.
TWO HANDS appear, gripping the nooks of the exterior architecture. A MAN
IN BLACK climbs up, securing a sling to the window frame in which to sit. A
bulky BACKPACK hangs from shoulder straps.
He produces a diamond cutter; begins carving a man-sized aperture in the
window. Below, in the foyer –
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - GRAND FOYER BALLROOM
-- A JAPANESE SECURITY MAN sits at his guard station, watching C.N.N.
NEWS on a small television. Wolf Blitzer is reporting live from the rally.
WOLF BLITZER
(on t.v.)
An extraordinary allegation,
Bernard, that Russia's present
leadership, including President
Victor Karpov, is connected with the
country's underworld.
Inside the foyer ballroom, Japanese businessmen are hosting a reception. The
Nikko Hotel's core is hollow, like the Hilton in New York; thus, the ballroom's
"ceiling" is 12 stories up.
CHAMPAGNE SERVERS are passing out glasses. A grey-haired Japanese
businessman, HIRO MYAKI, clinks his glass. The guests pay attention.
During this we focus on a CHAMPAGNE SERVER moving toward the lobby
elevators with a full tray.
HIRO MYAKI
Ladies. Gentlemen. The Myaki
Corporation looks forward to many
profitable days ahead. To our new
manufacturing facility in St.
Petersburg. To the new Russia!
As the crowd CLAPS...
EXT. NIKKO HOTEL - EXTERIOR WALL
...the Man In Black kicks at the cut section of window, pushing it into the
hotel and plunging inside after it.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - CEILING SUPERSTRUCTURE
The Man In Black catches hold of a steel girder and dangles, and,
miraculously --
THE PIECE OF WINDOW doesn't fall.
It's stuck to his feet with suction cups.
The Man In Black moves, hand over hand, toward the mezzanine balcony, the
window stuck to his feet.
IN THE LOBBY BELOW
Everybody's beaming, toasting, congratulating, etc., totally oblivious to THE
MAN IN BLACK, 12 stories up, inching hand-over-hand across the roof
superstructure.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - CEILING SUPERSTRUCTURE OVER MEZZANINE
The Man In Black has reached the mezzanine.
TWO JAPANESE SECURITY GUARDS, armed with automatic rifles, walk their
shift directly below him. They pass a wall mounted television, also carrying
the NEWS:
WOLF BLITZER
(on t.v.)
One thing's certain, Bernard:
Michael Romanov, age 32, French born
and Oxford educated, descendent of
the last czar, is a political force
to be reckoned with.
The guards move down the mezzanine; one jokes, the other laughs. They
disappear around a corner.
The Man in Black hangs from the girder with one hand; with the other he
yanks the piece of window off his foot-mounted suction cups.
He drops to the mezzanine. He rests the glass against the wall. He peers over
the balustrade at the party below. Satisfied, he removes his hood, ENDING TITLES.
This is SIMON TEMPLAR. A hard, self-reliant, crafty man. You should treat him
as such or be very sorry you ever met him. It is unfortunate that a man of
Templar's various talents can be so lacking. How?
His journey has been through a tough world and he has come fast. This one
gives no quarter. Ever. Though his outward self glows with life, he is dead inside.
Templar, focused utterly, steals inside a corridor.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - INTERIOR CORRIDOR
A long corridor with a door at the end, on which is engraved: MYAKI
CORPORATION. At the entrance, secured in a niche, is a BRONZE BUST OF
HIRO MYAKI.
Templar stops cold. A RUG (an oriental runner) extends the length of the
corridor.
Templar kneels, lifting an edge of the rug.
Revealing ANTI -THEFT PRESSURE SENSORS.
Templar produces a DARTGUN (the size of a flare gun, silenced, with a spool
of steel cable attached to the top). He aims down the corridor and fires.
A STEEL DART explodes from the barrel, spooling out the cable, and imbeds
above the door at corridor's end.
Templar yanks the other end of cable from the spool. He looks around for
something to secure it.
TEMPLAR
Sorry about this.
He ties the cable around Myaki's bronze neck.
He hangs from the cable, testing it. It will hold.
He pulls out an aluminum contraption with small wheels and two handle grips.
It's A GLIDER for the cable.
He attaches the glider to the cable, grips the handles, and glides the length of
the corridor.
THE OTHER END OF THE CORRIDOR - OVER THE DOOR
Templar bumps up against the door. He pulls his knees up and over the
handles of the glider, then flops over backwards, hanging upside down.
HIS FACE is now right next to the door handle, over which is an ELECTRONIC
LOCK (opened by punching a code).
Templar pulls out a BLACK BOX. It's a really small, really powerful computer
and its job is to run through every possible number combination in about a
minute and a half. Templar wires the computer to the lock with two needlelike
ELECTRODE PROBES.
He activates the system. The little computer starts running through
combinations of numbers. He waits, hanging upside down. Meanwhile--
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MEZZANINE - ELEVATOR LOBBY
The Japanese guards are smoking by the elevator, joking, laughing. One of
these guys is a riot...
The elevator opens. The CHAMPAGNE SERVER comes out, tray in hand.
CHAMPAGNE SERVER
Compliments of Mr. Myaki.
JAPANESE GUARDS
(delighted)
Ahh!
Beaming, they each take a glass. They clink and drink.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - INTERIOR CORRIDOR
The computer BEEPS. It's finished.
Templar turns the door handle; pushes open the door.
He pulls himself up. Hangs from his hands again.
He swings his legs back and forth, getting momentum up.
He releases from the glider and lunges inside.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MYAKI CORPORATION OFFICES
A grand boardroom with Japanese furniture and art.
At the end of a fifty-foot mahogany table is a PAINTING OF HIRO MYAKI.
Templar walks over to it.
TEMPLAR
Sorry again.
He RIPS the painting off the wall and heaves it aside.
And here, where the painting was, is A SAFE.
Templar unshoulders his backpack. He pulls out a 40-pound CARLSBAD &
RINKER industrial diamond-tipped drill, as big as a jackhammer. No finesse
here, people.
No, there's no time for high-tech. He's going to drill right through the bitch,
right through four inches of tungsten steel. He starts setting up the drill.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MEZZANINE LOBBY
Two CHAMPAGNE GLASSES lie shattered on the floor, and next to that mess
lie the JAPANESE GUARDS, now unconscious. The champagne server's
gone...
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MEZZANINE
...because he's here, moving quickly toward the Myaki Corporation's office,
and he's not a champagne server, but a thief and a killer, a blonde Russian
named ILYA.
Ilya stops just outside the interior corridor. With the GUARD'S KEYRING, he
shuts off the anti-theft mats and moves around the corner into the corridor.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - INTERIOR CORRIDOR
Ilya stops short. His eyes spark.
He sees Templar's cable and glider.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MYAKI CORPORATION OFFICES
Templar, wearing goggles, leans into the drill as THE BIT CHEWS into the
tungsten lock. This is a violent exercise. SINEWS OF METAL spit out like
shrapnel.
He's through the lock in seconds. Templar heaves the drill aside; it lands with
a THUD on the beautiful mahogany table. He opens the safe.
INSIDE THE SAFE is one object: A SMALL BOX, the size of a cufflink keeper.
Templar grabs it and opens it.
INSIDE THE LITTLE BOX is a tiny MICRO-CHIP.
Templar closes the box and pockets it.
ILYA (v.o.)
Don't move.
Templar freezes. His eyes twitch.
This wasn't in the plan...
ILYA (v.o.)
Turn around. Slowly.
Templar faces Ilya. Ilya has a silenced handgun.
ILYA
On your knees.
(Templar sinks to his knees)
Give me the box. Slowly.
Templar pulls out the box. Tosses it to Ilya.
Ilya raises the handgun at Templar's head. Smiles.
Try something: throw an extension cord on the ground. I guarantee it will
land coiled in several places.
Ilya happens to be standing inside one of the coils of the drill's extension
cord.
And this is not lost on Templar.
Templar, on his knees, grabs the cord and yanks it; the coil tightens around
Ilya's ankles. His legs fly from under him and he goes down, the gun
clattering across the floor.
Ilya tries to get to his feet.
Templar floors him with a right cross.
Templar grabs the box and his backpack and sprints across the room. Ilya
gains his feet and grabs his gun; sprints after Templar.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MEZZANINE
Templar runs to the balustrade and climbs atop it.
He jumps, clutching the ceiling girder above.
He's going out the way he came in.
Suddenly ILYA'S HANDS are around his ankles.
Templar falls. He's going 12 stories to his death.
No. His fingers clutch the outside of the balustrade. Templar dangles there,
looking up at the sadistic face of Ilya. And suddenly below --
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - GRAND FOYER BALLROOM
-- A JAPANESE WOMAN, looking up, pointing at the man dangling from the
balustrade above, SCREAMS. And now everybody looks up.
HIRO MYAKI
Sound the alarm! Call the police!
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - MEZZANINE
Ilya and Templar. Ilya calmly compresses his foot against Templar's left
knuckles.
ILYA
The box please.
Templar, grimacing, reaches with his right hand and pulls the box from his
pocket. Hands it slowly to Ilya, who reaches over the balustrade for it...
TEMPLAR stuffs the box in his teeth and grabs Ilya's hand, jerking him over
the balustrade.
Ilya falls 12 stories to his death.
No he doesn't. He falls one story and miraculously catches the balustrade
there.
Templar clambers up again, atop the balustrade.
He jumps to the ceiling girder.
Hand over hand, swinging like an acrobat, Templar's across the girder in
seconds.
He releases from the girder to the window frame.
There's one further problem. BULLETS. Ricocheting all around him. Fired by --
ILYA, one floor down.
Templar reaches over his shoulder. Pulls a GUN from his backpack. To return
fire? No, it's the DART GUN.
Templar aims the dart gun out the aperture he cut in the window and fires.
EXT. NIKKO HOTEL - 12TH FLOOR
A STEEL DART launches from the window, flies fifty yards, and imbeds in the
STAIRCASE BULKHEAD OF THE BUILDING ADJACENT TO THE NIKKO.
INT. NIKKO HOTEL - CEILING SUPERSTRUCTURE
Templar ties the cable to the ceiling girder.
He pulls out his black hood and drapes it over the taught cable. He grabs both
ends of the hood.
And he jumps.
EXT. NIKKO HOTEL/ADJACENT BUILDING
Templar flies through space, across the cable, the hood acting as a makeshift
glider.
He lands on the roof of the adjacent building.
Templar looks around. SIRENS ARE WAILING.
He runs across rooftops, disappearing into the St. Petersburg night.
INT . NIKKO HOTEL - GRAND FOYER BALLROOM
Total chaos. Women screaming, everybody running around. Ilya comes
through the panicked crowd.
Ten ST. PETERSBURG POLICEMEN enter.
ILYA
I tried to stop him! He went out
the window!
Five policemen go for the elevators. Five more exit quickly. Ilya follows.
EXT. NIKKO HOTEL - ENTRANCE
The befuddled police race off, looking skyward at the top floors of the
building.
Ilya curses silently. And peels away from the cops and commotion, off into
the night.
CUT TO:
INT. A BRITISH-AIR 747 - MORNING
The First Class section. The plane is in flight.
A STEWARDESS, young, perky, comes down the aisle pushing a
magazine/newspaper cart.
STEWARDESS
Newspaper sir?
SIMON TEMPLAR sits there, dressed as usual without much heed to fashion.
Note this, reader: Templar is not a super-spy, super-hero, or super-rake. He
is a thief.
He's examining several antique Russian BRACELETS and LOCKETS. He looks
up at the stewardess.
STEWARDESS
(Cockney)
Wow, are those gorgeous or what...
TEMPLAR
You have an eye for beauty. Of course - you see it every time you
look in the mirror.
She blushes, fidgets, as his eyes bore in on her.
STEWARDESS
Why thank-you, Mr...
(reads seat assignment)
Templar.
She continues down the aisle, smiling to herself.
Templar resumes with his lockets.
INT. BRITISH AIR 747 - FIVE HOURS LATER
The plane has landed.
PASSENGERS are filing out past the Stewardess.
STEWARDESS
Goodbye, goodbye, enjoy your stay in London, etc.
Templar moves past the Stewardess, carrying TWO CARRY-ON BAGS. He
winks at her. She winks back, and fingers one of the RUSSIAN LOCKETS, now
around her neck.
STEWARDESS
Good-bye, Mr. Templar.
As Templar moves off, she smiles to herself and CUT TO:
INT. LONDON - HEATHROW AIRPORT
Templar walks briskly away from customs.
A MAN IN TRENCHCOAT falls in behind Templar.
TWO MEN appear in front of Templar, blocking his path; the man behind
Templar comes to his side. They are Scotland Yard men BAKER, TEAL, and INSPECTOR MACDUFF.
INSPECTOR MACDUFF
How's the weather in St. Petersburg?
TEMPLAR
Cold.
INSPECTOR MACDUFF
Let's warm things up for you.
Baker and Teal gruffly take Templar by the shoulder and walk him forward and CUT TO:
INT. HEATHROW CUSTOMS - INTERROGATION ROOM
A spartan room, a table and two chairs. MacDuff ransacks TEMPLAR'S BAGS
while, across the room --
Templar kisses the wall, hands outstretched, as Baker finishes frisking him.
Templar turns.
BAKER
He's clean.
TEMPLAR
(to MacDuff)
Careful with that. It's delicate
equip...
MacDuff lifts Templar's 9MM PISTOL from the bag.
TEMPLAR
. . . ment.
MACDUFF
Yes. Very.
TEMPLAR
It's for protection.
I deal in antique....
MACDUFF
(snaps)
I know what you deal in. And these?
Your pajamas?
He holds up Templar's black bodysuit.
TEMPLAR
For jogging. My doctor's
recommended five miles a...
MACDUFF
Sit down and shut it.
Templar sits down.
Baker has Templar's papers. He holds up a certificate.
BAKER
He's licensed to carry, Inspector.
MACDUFF
Let's see the passport.
(Baker hands MacDuff
Templar's passport)
What's your nationality this week,
Templar?
TEMPLAR
I forget.
MACDUFF
(looks at passport)
Issued by the Principality
of.. . Yemen? You're bloody joking.
TEMPLAR
(shrugs)
Call the embassy
MacDuff whips the passport at Templar. Templar calmly moves his head; the
passport flies by. Hits the wall.
MACDUFF
Shut it.
MacDuff leans down, coming in close.
Templar doesn't blink. His expression never changes.
MACDUFF
You pass through Russia for a day
with that gear and, what a surprise, a prototype
computer chip worth quarter of a billion quid is nicked
from the Myaki Corporation the night you arrive. We know
you didn't fence it in Russia. Where is it?
The door opens. Teal enters, tossing several X-RAY PHOTOGRAPHS on the
table before MacDuff. Two are of Templar's bags, two are of his body.
TEAL
(Cockney)
All negative. He didn't swallow it.
An embarrassing pause.
TEMPLAR
You've got three options: charge me,
or release me.
MACDUFF
What's the third.
TEMPLAR
You can kiss my ass.
A dreadful pause. MacDuff smiles.
He turns away, then turns back and viciously backhands Templar across the
face; Templar's head jerks. The blow would knock most men out.
Now Templar smiles. Like a serpant. And says calmly:
TEMPLAR
I'm a busy man. Make up your mind.
MacDuff stares at Templar, gritting his teeth.
Templar rises. Begins collecting his things.
CUT TO:
INT. LONDON RESTAURANT - EVENING
A quaint place off Piccadilly. The STEWARDESS (from Templar's flight) gulps a
martini. She is tipsy. She shows it.
STEWARDESS
.. . then me mum says, call uncle
Charlie, he's in the airline
business, there's jobs there, good
benefits too, and.. ..where was I?
TEMPLAR, enduring this, sits opposite with a scotch.
TEMPLAR
How you got your job.
STEWARDESS
Right!
(hiccups, giggles)
'Scuze me.
Templar motions to a passing WAITRESS.
TEMPLAR
Another round please.
STEWARDESS
Ye're tryin' ta get me drunk, aren't
you? Are you cute or what? I gotta
freshen up.
(she rises)
Where's the loo in 'ere?
TEMPLAR
Back there. Leave your locket.
I'll polish it for you.
She smiles crookedly; hands over the locket.
STEWARDESS
Are you a dearheart or what...
She blows Templar a kiss and lurches off to the bathroom. Templar watches
her a moment.
When she's gone he puts the locket on the table.
He pries open the back of it with a pen-knife.
INSERT - THE LOCKET - there is a compartment in which sits THE STOLEN
MICRO-CHIP. Templar plucks out the chip and drops it into an envelope.
BACK TO SCENE - FOLLOWING THE STEWARDESS
as she returns to the table. She sits down. Looks around. Templar's gone. The
locket's gone. The waitress appears.
STEWARDESS
Maam, where's the gent who was
sitting 'ere?
WAITRESS
He left, luv. Said you'd take care
of the bill.
She hands the Stewardess the bill. She stares at it.
STEWARDESS
What?
She sinks down, confused, blinking, near tears. CUT TO:
INT. LONDON - MUSGRAVE HOTEL
A small, plush, discrete residential hotel in the heart of Mayfair (Regent Street, Grovesnor Sq. or equivalent). TEMPLAR approaches the front desk with his carry-on bags. CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON and the HOTEL MANAGER are behind the desk.
CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON
Mr. Templar! Good to see you sir.
Your room key - south penthouse as
usual. Your suits are up from storage,
pressed of course, and
there's a bottle of Oban on the
dresser.
TEMPLAR
Thanks Harry. Oh, and Harry...
(pulls out the envelope with the computer chip)
.. . ship this by overnight courier to that address.
CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON
Very good sir.
JIMMY, a young Bellman, takes Ternplar's bags. Templar doesn't let go. An
uncomfortable pause.
CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON
Jimmy, Mr. Templar carries his own bags.
Templar steps past Jimmy into the elevator.
JIMMY THE BELLMAN
What's with the bags, gov'nuh?
HOTEL MANAGER
They're all he ever brings. The
man's bills are paid by a bank in
Switzerland and his mailing address
is a corporation in Lisbon. Bloody strange...
CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON
Mr. Templar, strange? No sir, he's
just shy.
CUT TO:
INT . MUSGRAVE HOTEL - SOUTH PENTHOUSE
Ternplar sits at a desk with a bottle of Oban scotch and glass, staring at the
screen of a modemed MINI-COMPUTER.
-- Templar types: LION CONTACTING ZEBRA: IS ZEBRA HOME?
-- And this comes back: AFFIRMATIVE, LION.
-- Templar types: PIGEON IS FLYING; WILL ARRIVE A.M.
-- And this back: EXCELLENT. LION GETS LION'S SHARE. -- Templar types a
new command. A new screen appears:
******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******
PRIVATE UNMARKED ACCOUNTS
PLEASE ENTER SECURITY PASSWORD
Templar types in: 77N8LS473Z. This appears:
******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******
ACCOUNT OF: TEMPLAR, SIMON
BALANCE (AS OF 8/1S/95): U.S. $47,895,12S.12 (Not a typo, reader. It's forty-seven million bucks.)
Templar picks up his scotch and drinks, staring at the screen. He's waiting for
something...
The first digit, "4," vanishes.
A "5" appears in it's place. Now fifty-seven million.
Templar permits a slight smile, having just made 10 million dollars, and
drinks his scotch.
The phone RINGS. Templar eyes it skeptically. He picks it up.
TEMPLAR
Yes.
A voice with an Eastern European accent:
VOICE
Is this Simon Templar?
TEMPLAR
It depends.
VOICE
A meeting. Midnight, Blackfriars
Bridge.
TEMPLAR
Involving what?
VOICE
A lot of money. If you want it.
Click. Templar recradles the receiver; He stares at it a moment and CUT TO:
INT. MUSGRAVE HOTEL LOBBY - LATER - NIGHT
Templar enters the lobby wearing a fresh suit under a black leather trench
coat. He goes to the desk, where concierge Harry Winston looks up.
TEMPLAR
Harry, I'm going for a walk over
Blackfriars Bridge. Midnight.
Pause. And Harry, just perceptibly, nods. And returns to his obsequious self.
HARRY WINSTON
Very good, sir.
Templar walks off through the lobby.
HARRY WINSTON
Jimmy
(Jimmy walks over)
It's about time I taught you how to
run the front desk.
CUT TO:
EXT. LONDON - BLACKFRIAR' S BRIDGE - MIDNIGHT
Fog. The bridge lights cast everything in a sickly yellow glow. Below, A
TUGBOAT plows the river, horn BELLOWING. The lights of Southwark twinkle
beyond.
Templar enters from Victoria Embankment.
TWO FIGURES emerge from the fog. Templar approaches.
One is a huge dim-wit with greasy hair, as tall and wide as a bookcase. His
name, aptly, is ZERO.
The other is middle-aged and strongly built. A high forehead; clipped, irongrey
hair; square jaw and aquiline nose; deep-set, ruthless, unblinking eyes.
This is GREGOR TRETIAK. To characterize him as the John Gotti of Russia is to
demean him. He is vastly more powerful.
TRETIAK
Interesting.
(sizes up Templar)
You are not a big man. But men like
you never are. It is my pleasure,
Simon Templar. My name is...
TEMPLAR
I know who you are. Tell me what
you want, or I keep walking.
TRETIAK
Suppose I don't want anything.
Suppose I want to kill you.
TEMPLAR
Suppose there's a high-powered rifle
trained at your head.
As Tretiak's eyes dart about, Templar raises his hand, waving, signaling to
someone below the bridge --
BELOW THE BRIDGE - ON THE VICTORIA EMBANKMENT
-- that someone is CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON, in a cloth cap and rain
mack now, and yes, he has a 30.6 scoped rifle trained at Tretiak's head.
BACK TO THE BRIDGE Tretiak's jaw muscles twitch. He smiles thinly.
TRETIAK
Rumour has not lied about you, Mr.
Templar. Last night something was
stolen in St. Petersburg. My city.
TEMPLAR
You talk about the place as if you
own it.
TRETIAK
(sinisterly)
I do, Mr. Templar. May I ask who hired you?
TEMPLAR
You can ask. I won't answer.
TRETIAK
What you stole I wanted very badly.
(beat)
Ilya.
Ilya emerges from the shadows.
Locks eyes with Templar. The thief from the Nikko!
TRETIAK
What is the saying - if you can't
beat them, why not join them?
An American phrase, no? Or are you
British? Australian?
TEMPLAR
I'm nothing. Except bored.
Get to the point.
TRETIAK
(smiles)
Of course. An American scientist
has worked ten years to develop a
certain technology. I am informed
that the technology will be made
public at the annual nuclear science
symposium in Washington D.C. I
would like the plans and
specifications for this technology. Before the symposium.
TEMPLAR
What are we talking about?
TRETIAK
A nuclear fusion generator. We have
a man on the inside.
TEMPLAR
Why can't he steal it?
TRETIAK
He's tried. The scientist trusts no
one and keeps no hard records of the
technology in the lab.
TEMPLAR
Nuclear fusion. They say it's
mankind's only hope after all the
oil's gone. This guy's actually done it?
TRETIAK
She.
TEMPLAR
Come again?
TRETIAK
She, Mr. Templar. The scientist is a woman.
(hands over a dossier)
Her dossier. All the information
you will need.
TEMPLAR
My fee is fifteen million U.S.
dollars, half up front, half when I
deliver. You'll hear from me.
Templar turns and walks off.
TRETIAK
Templar, one question.
Templar stops. Turns.
TRETIAK
I ask you to steal a person's entire
life's work. You have no reaction.
Are you that cold?
Templar stares back, expressionless. He turns and disappears into the fog.
TRETIAK
No, rumor hasn't lied about you, Templar.
CUT TO:
EXT. WESTCHESTER COUNTY - ESTABLISHING SHOTS
Various establishing shots of this suburban community just north of
Manhattan. Pretty, charming, affluent.
INT. WESTCHESTER COUNTY - SUPERMARKET
A large suburban supermarket.
The aisles are full of Westchester women: affluent, country clubby,
housewifey types.
A HAND reaches for a BOTTLE OF LEMONADE (100% Natural) , bringing it
down to the eye level of --
JILLIAN ST. THOMAS. She is lean, a swimmer's body perhaps, with terrific
acuteness and authority in her thought, speech, and action. Debate this
woman? Fine, but you'd better know what the hell you're talking about. Her
stare can stop a train.
She's casually dressed. Only her JACKET stands out.
It's waist-cut, with a colorful diagram of protons and electrons circling a
nucleus embroidered on the back.
JILLIAN
(reads ingredients)
Filtered water, high fructose corn
syrup. Lemon juice concentrate.
Citric acid. Gum acacia...?
(grumbles)
Totally natural, yeah right.
She returns the bottle and turns, coming face-to-face with SIMON TEMPLAR,
wearing a moustache and glasses now.
He has a bottle of LEMON JUICE in his hand.
TEMPLAR
Try this.
(smiles)
Sorry, I overheard.
(hands her the bottle)
The real thing. No chemicals,
no preservatives.
She reads the label. Satisfied, she looks at Templar.
JILLIAN
Thanks.
She puts it in her cart and wheels off and CUT TO:
INT. SUPERMARKET - PRODUCE SECTION - MINUTES LATER
Jillian is examining apples. There is a THUMPING NOISE. It persists. Finally
she looks over at --
TEMPLAR. He's standing in front of the watermelons. He's thumping one with
his thumb. He notices Jillian.
TEMPLAR
Hello again. These aren't ripe.
How are the apples?
JILLIAN
Excellent. They're in season.
Templar walks over to the apples. Picks one up. Studies it for a moment.
TEMPLAR
I wonder why He didn't want us to eat these.
A pause. She looks at him, puzzled.
JILLIAN
Who?
TEMPLAR
God. In the Garden of Eden.
JILLIAN
Oh right. Sorry, little slow today.
Bad headache.
(looks at the apple)
Uhm, actually, I don't know.
TEMPLAR
Why wasn't it: "No bananas." Or:
"Avoid, at all cost, kumquats."
Wonder what God had against apples.
She gives him a funny look and turns away.
JILLIAN
Sorry. Can't help you.
TEMPLAR
How about William Tell? You really
think he shot one of these off his
brother's head with an arrow?
Jillian turns around again. A pause.
JILLIAN
Do I know you?
TEMPLAR
Unlikely. I just moved to New York.
She stares at him. This is a very strange man.
Intriguing yes, but also possibly a lunatic. She decides to take the dismissive
route:
JILLIAN
Well uhhm, sir, to answer your apple
questions, one, I don't know what
God's problem was. Two, William
Tell, like Paul Bunyon, never
existed. And in case you're
wondering, Isaac Newton discovered
gravity through planetary
observation not because one of those
fell on his head, and I seriously doubt
that eating one a day will keep the doctor away.
(beat)
Okay?
She wheels her cart off. Says over her shoulder:
JILLIAN
By the way - welcome to the Big Apple.
Templar watches her wheel off. His eyes glint. This is going to be
interesting...
CUT TO:
EXT. WESTCHESTER SUPERMARKET - PARKING LOT - DAY
Jillian slams down the hatch of her station wagon, now filled with groceries.
She gets in.
The car pulls out of the parking lot.
INT. JILLIAN'S STATION WAGON - DRIVING
Jillian, driving, drinking her lemonade, listens to a cassette tape. An
authoritative, scholarly, Indian voice:
VIJAY SINGH (v.o., cassette)
Nuclear fusion occurs when pairs of
nuclei meet and their protons and
neutrons fuse together into a single
nucleus. The fused nuclei move off
at high speed, producing energy.
Nuclear fusion could provide us
with almost unlimited power.
JILLIAN
No, really? Moron.
VIJAY SINGH (v.o., cassette)
All you need are two hydrogen gases,
deuterium and lithium, and a machine
to make them fuse under controlled conditions.
JILLIAN
C'mon, Dr. Singh. Tell me something
I don't know.
Jillian sees something through the windshield.
She turns down the volume and squints --
JILLIAN'S POV - THROUGH WINDSHIELD
A ROLLS ROYCE sits on the road shoulder. As we pass the Rolls, we see
SIMON TEMPLAR standing next to it wearing a hopeless expression.
BACK TO SCENE - JILLIAN
looks at the Rolls in the rear-view mirror. She frowns.
JILLIAN
Just keep driving.
Jillian frowns again. Against her better judgment, she pulls over. Throws it in
reverse.
EXT. WESTCHESTER - SUBURBAN ROAD SHOULDER - DAY
Jillian's station wagon backs up to the Rolls Royce on the road shoulder. Jillian
gets out.
TEMPLAR
Hello!
She walks up to him. Together they look down at THE REAR TIRE. It's flat, a
pancake.
JILLIAN
Where's the spare?
TEMPLAR
I.. .well.. .I'm not really certain.
JILLIAN
You do know how to change a tire.
TEMPLAR
Sorry.
(beat)
I'm not very...
mechanical.
Jillian rolls her eyes.
JILLIAN
Give me your keys.
Templar hands them over.
They walk to the rear. Jillian opens the trunk.
They both look down at -- .
THE TRUNK'S INTERIOR - THE SPARE TIRE is also flat.
TEMPLAR
(sheepish)
Sorry.
Jillian rolls her eyes again.
JILLIAN
All right, where do you live?
TEMPLAR
Close.
JILLIAN
It's your lucky day.
(begins to walk off)
Come on.
Templar watches her walk off. He smiles grimly.
CUT TO:
INT. JILLIAN'S CAR - DRIVING
The car winds through Westchester roads.
VIJAY SINGH (v.o., cassette)
Research has centered on a machine
called a tokamak, developed in
Russia, essentially a doughnut
shaped tube that contains the gases to
be fused.
At this, Templar stares at the tape cassette.
VIJAY SINGH (v.o., cassette)
The tokamak hasn't worked because
the two gases must be heated to a
temperature of hundreds of millions
of degrees, and kept together for
several seconds.
JILLIAN
Try room temperature, idiot.
The Tokamak's got it all backwards.
TEMPLAR
Uhhm. Excuse me. Who is that?
JILLIAN
Him? A powerful, well-respected man
who doesn't know a goddarnn thing
what he's talking about. If I got
one tenth of his funding...
Jillian reaches down and yanks off the cassette player.
She looks out the window, grumbling. They drive on.
TEMPLAR
It's the next left. First driveway on the right.
EXT. WESTCHESTER COUNTY - TEMPLAR 'S HOME
Jillian's station wagon pulls into the circle of the largest mansion in
Westchester County. Just stupendous.
INT. JILLIAN'S STATION WAGON
Jillian stares, open-mouthed, at the mansion.
JILLIAN
You live here?
(turns to him)
Are you for real?
He picks up Jillian's lemonade bottle.
TEMPLAR
Like the label says. No chemicals,
no preservatives.
JILLIAN
(points at the house)
You work for this or inherit it?
TEMPLAR
My father made shoes. I inherited
the company. Now I make shoes.
JILLIAN
(looks at the house)
That's a helluva lot of shoes.
TEMPLAR
Uhm listen, I'm not very good at
this and I realize we just met,
but I'm even-tempered, politically
moderate, belong to no religious
cults, have no children I know of,
am free of communicable diseases, I
happen to find you attractive...
JILLIAN
Wait a minute, hold on.
Are you asking me out on a date?
TEMPLAR
Yes.
JILLIAN
How do you know I'm not married?
TEMPLAR
I believe the fourth finger on your left hand is...
JILLIAN
(quickly)
Okay so I'm not married.
I could have a boyfriend.
TEMPLAR
I'd be surprised if you didn't have several.
JILLIAN
Be surprised. Lemme give you a hand.
Jillian pops the wagon's back hatch and gets out. Templar follows. They walk to the wagon's rear.
JILLIAN
What about you? There's no wife stashed
on some island someplace?
TEMPLAR
No wife stashed on some island.
They pick up Templar's groceries; each takes two bags.
JILLIAN
No mistress? C'mon. No bimbo on the side?
TEMPLAR
Not a one.
They walk toward the mansion.
JILLIAN
Well, that's a start. Here's the
deal with me: I am not particularly
even-tempered, I'm staunchly
liberal, belong to no
religious cults but I do believe in God as a
basic force of good, have no
children because one has to have sex
to do that and, well, let's not
pursue that, am free of communicable
diseases, see above, and you're an
attractive man, if a little weird,
and well.. .hell, why not.
(smiles)
You've got a date, shoemaker.
What's your name?
TEMPLAR
Michael. Michael Quinn.
They reach the mansion's front veranda. They set the groceries on a wicker
couch.
JILLIAN
I'm Jillian St. Thomas.
They shake hands. Jillian fishes for a pen.
JILLIAN
I'll give you my number.
TEMPLAR
Just say it. I have a good memory.
JILLIAN
(looks at him)
Eight seven seven, five two nine eight.
TEMPLAR
Good. Great. I'll call you.
JILLIAN
I've heard that before.
TEMPLAR
I will call you. You saved me
today. Thanks again.
She walks off to her car. Templar turns toward the front door. Jillian suddenly
stops. Turns.
JILLIAN
Hey.
(Templar turns)
What's my number?
TEMPLAR
(without hesitation)
Eight seven seven, five
two nine eight.
JILLIAN smiles and continues toward the car, mumbling:
JILLIAN
And he has a brain.
What do you know.
AT THE MANSION'S FRONT DOOR - TEMPLAR watches Jillian get in her wagon
and drive off. Then Templar keys open the door and enters.
INT. WESTCHESTER MANSION - DAY
The place is empty. Totally. No furniture. Nothing.
Just Templar's two CARRY-ON BAGS on the floor in front of Templar.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. WESTCHESTER MANSION - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
It's late now. About 10 p.m.
Templar sits on a packing crate in the vacant living room with a glass of
scotch, studying Jillian's life.
There are pages of personal data and many photographs: Jillian in cap and
gown; Jillian in a lab coat; Jillian at the beach, etc.
DISSOLVE TIME CUT TO:
A LEGAL PAD, with Templar's handwritten note:
NO HARD COPIES - COMPUTER SOFTWEAR
TEMPLAR stares into the screen of his mini-computer.
It is two hours later.
INSERT - THE MINI-COMPUTER SCREEN - Templar has entered every detail of
Jillian's life. Looks like this:
Home state: Massachusetts
Hometown: Milton
Highschool: Milton Academy
Highschool mascot: Bulldogs
University: Harvard
University mascot: Crimson
It just goes on and on: names of parents, family members, teachers, pets,
boyfriends; favorite movies, colors, sports teams, hobbies, etc.
DISSOLVE TIME CUT TO:
TEMPLAR finishes entering the details of Jillian's life.
He copies it onto a 3 1/4 disk, pulls out the disk and shuts off the minicomputer.
He leans down and picks up a SHOE BOX. Opens it. He lifts out a WOMAN'S
SHOE and jerks the heel, which lifts away from the sole on hinges. revealing a
hidden compartment, in which Templar places a small transistor.
He clicks the heel shut. THE SHOE --
MATCH DISSOLVES TO:
THE SAME SHOE, now on Jillian's foot and WIDEN TO --
INT. MANHATTAN - LE CIRQUE
-- Jillian and Templar at a corner table in Le Cirque. The meal is over. They're
drinking coffee, laughing, at ease. The "date" is going well.
TEMPLAR
I am not eccentric.
JILLIAN
No? You live in the biggest house
in America but do your own shopping,
you talk to strange women about the history
of apples, and you give
a first-time date.. . shoes?
Isn't the tradition flowers?
TEMPLAR
You said you liked them.
JILLIAN
I do. I'm joking. They're
beautiful. Thank-you.
They smile at each other. A WAITER brings more coffee. There's a sudden
commotion. Jillian and Templar look --
ACROSS THE ROOM - a group of WAITERS are clapping their hands for a
YOUNG COUPLE seated at a table.
JILLIAN
(to the waiter)
What happened?
WAITER
(smiles)
He just asked her to marry him.
Anything else?
JILLIAN looks at the radiant young couple. Smiles.
TEMPLAR
Just the check please.
(the waiter exits; Jillian looks at him)
You didn't answer my question.
Maybe it made you uncomfortable.
Maybe I should just shut up...
JILLIAN
No, it's all right. Okay: "Why
Jillian never got married, chapter
One:" I don't know where you're from. . .
TEMPLAR
Canada.
JILLIAN
I don't know what it's like there,
but here, if a teenage girl doesn't
want to be a cheerleader, or drink
'till she pukes every weekend, or
talk endlessly on the phone every
night about absolutely nothing, then she
doesn't win many popularity
contests, know what I mean?
That pretty much took care of highschool.
TEMPLAR
College?
JILLIAN
Try earning double p.h.d.'s
from Harvard before you turn twenty-three
and having a social life.
TEMPLAR
Can I ask a personal question?
(she nods)
What's your I.Q.?
JILLIAN
(laughs)
That's personal? My I.Q.?
Let's just say it's high.
TEMPLAR
Very high.
JILLIAN
Yes, very high. As high as yours.
TEMPLAR
You don't honestly mean that.
JILLIAN
Oh, you're a smart one, shoemaker.
It's in the eyes. I can always tell.
They stare at each other. Neither averts eyes.
JILLIAN
I just don't often get
the opportunity. It feels nice.
TEMPLAR
For me, too.
(and he means this:)
You're very pretty.
JILLIAN
Stop it. Flattery will get you...
someplace. I don't know where yet.
She smiles. The waiter arrives with the check; gives it to Templar. Jillian picks
up her purse and takes her wallet out. Templar sees her doing this...
TEMPLAR
No no no, absolutely not.
Put that away.
JILLIAN
It's not for us. It's for the couple over there.
(points at the couple across the room)
Waiter, put their bill on my card please.
WAITER
Maam? Are you sure?
Jillian nods. The waiter takes Jillian's card, exits.
Jillian smiles at Templar. [Due to his mean origins and evolution, Templar has witnessed approximately three charitable acts in his whole life, and this was
the third.] Thus does Simon Templar smile uneasily back.
CUT TO:
INT. WESTCHESTER COUNTY - JILLIAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Neat, modest, non-descript. Jillian and Templar enter. Jillian walks across the
living room into a bar alcove off the living room.
JILLIAN
I'll make the booze.
Turn on the news. I want to catch up on that
Russia thing.
Templar turns on the T.V. His eyes rove around, casing the place.
JILLIAN (o.s.)
What do you want, Michael?
I've got everything.
TEMPLAR
Scotch please. No ice.
CNN EVENING NEWS with anchor BERNARD SHAW comes on.
BERNARD SHAW (on T.V.)
.. ..of the steadily growing NeoCzarist
Party, leveled more allegations against
President Victor Karpov. According to
Romanov, two men, Gregor Tretiak...
Templar looks at the T.V. and double takes.
A PHOTO OF GREGOR TRETIAK has appeared on the screen.
BERNARD SHAW (o.s.)
.. . and Ivan Gracha...
A PHOTO OF IVAN GRACHA, 50's, short, beady-eyed, sinister, appears on the
screen.
JILLIAN pokes her head out of the bar.
JILLIAN
What brand?
BERNARD SHAW (o.s.)
...allegedly the most powerful of
Russia's underworld bosses, are
linked to President Karpov in
illegal enterprises...
JILLIAN walks over to Templar. They watch together.
JILLIAN
That country's going to explode.
TEMPLAR
It very well might. Oban.
JILLIAN
What? .
TEMPLAR
My brand of scotch.
Oban. Have any?
JILLIAN
No, but there's a liquor store
five minutes away.
She grabs her coat, heads for the door.
TEMPLAR
Wait. Don't be ridiculous.
She stops. Looks at him.
JILLIAN
I want to be ridiculous.
(pause)
Michael, I haven't had anybody
over in...a long time. And I
happen to like you. I want to do
this right. Okay?
(he smiles; nods)
I'll be back in ten minutes.
(points at fireplace)
Build a fire.
She winks at him and exits.
Templar walks to the window and stands there, waiting.
We hear Jillian's car start, see the headlights.
TEMPLAR
You're making this too
easy, dear.
He pulls from his pocket a BLACK CASE, flips it open, turns it on. On a
miniature computer screen is a detailed map of WESTCHESTER COUNTY. Two
locations are pulsing: 1) Jillian's house and 2) a moving object, transmitted
from a homing device, which we now see –
INT. JILLIAN' S CAR - DRIVING
-- it's in JILLIAN'S SHOE as she stamps on the brake at a stoplight and waits
and we CUT BACK to the house...
INT. JILLIAN' SHOUSE - BACK HALLWAY
TEMPLAR moves down the hall opening doors, looking for Jillian's lab. He
moves quickly, ruthlessly.
He comes to a heavily locked FIRE DOOR. He unpockets a set of burglar's
tools.
For Templar, these locks are a joke. He opens them with alarming speed. He
pushes open the door, revealing a DESCENDING STAIRCASE. He descends.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - BASMENT
Templar finds a lightswitch and flips it on.
His eyes widen. Here we find --
JILLIAN'S LABORATORY. A POOL OF WATER (the size of a small swimming
pool) is surrounded by HUNDREDS OF TEST TUBES of various shapes and
sizes containing chemicals.
Templar moves through, eyes scanning everything.
He sees JILLIAN'S COMPUTER. Walks over to it.
He unpockets the HOMING SYSTEM and sets it on the desk.
The PULSING LIGHT is still moving; Jillian hasn't yet reached the liquor store.
He turns on Jillian's monitor and hard drive. The COMPUTER SCREEN blinks
on. We see a MENU:
A.) Personal finances
B.) Income tax
C.) Things to do
D.) Addresses
E.) Research
Templar positions the cursor on "E.) Research" and hits "enter." The modem
engages; this appears:
******* WELCOME TO THE INTERNET *******
PLEASE WAIT
Then this appears: RETRIEVAL CODE: _____________________
TEMPLAR
Smart girl. Send your data into
cyberspace and only you can retrieve
it. Because only you have the code.
He unpockets the 3 1/4 disk containing the data from Jillian's life and pushes
it into the disk drive. He types a command; a new screen appears:
DATA ENTRY SYSTEM
Press any key to begin
Templar hits a key and the old screen reappears:
******* WELCOME TO THE INTERNET *******
PLEASE WAIT
RETRIEVAL CODE: ______________________
But now, in the space next to "Retrieval Code," Templar's data appears. word
after word, like this:
-- "Massachusetts"
-- Computer: ACCESS DENIED
-- "Boston" --
-- Computer: ACCESS DENIED.
-- "Milton" --
-- Computer: ACCESS DENIED
-- "Milton Academy"
-- Computer: ACCESS DENIED
-- "Bulldogs"
-- Computer: ACCESS DENIED
It's incredibly fast, a new word appearing every second, as the system tries to
crack Jillian's code. But the computer denies access to each word.
The HOMING DEVICE suddenly BEEPS. The pulsing light has stopped,
indicating Jillian is at the liquor store.
Templar grimly turns back to the computer.
CUT TO:
INT. WESTCHESTER LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT
The clerk, WALTER, hands Jillian her change.
She exits with a SCOTCH BOTTLE in a brown wrapper.
CLERK
Goodnight Jillian.
JILLIAN
‘Night, Walter.
INT. JILLIAN'S LABORATORY - NIGHT
Templar paces; he looks at the homing device. The PULSING LIGHT is moving
back toward Jillian's house.
Templar looks at the computer; his system continues entering words:
"Hendrix." ACCESS DENIED. "Purple Haze." ACCESS DENIED. "Red Sox."
ACCESS DENIED. "Celtics." ACCESS DENIED. On and on...each is met with
ACCESS DENIED.
INT. JILLIAN'S STATION WAGON - DRIVING - NIGHT
Jillian, driving, turns on the radio. She hums along.
INT. JILLIAN'S LABORATORY
Templar stares at the HOMING DEVICE; the pulse is getting closer; it's do or
die now...
Templar's system suddenly stops. It has run through every word. Each has
met with failure.
TEMPLAR frowns. He yanks the system disk from the disk drive. He begins
pacing...
TEMPLAR
Okay, think. Think.
Templar suddenly gets an idea.
He sits and types: "Tokamak." ACCESS DENIED Templar stares at the screen
in frustration.
He looks at the HOMING DEVICE; the pulsing light is getting really close.
Templar concentrates with every brain cell.
We can feel him think. He's remembering something.
MEMORY FLASHBACK
We're in Jillian's car again, when they first met.
JILLIAN
Try room temperature, idiot.
The Tokamak's got it all backwards.
BACK TO THE LABORATORY
Templar grabs a pencil and notepad and spells out:
TOKAMAK. Under this he spells it backwards: KAMAKOT.
He turns to the computer and types: "KAMAKOT" And instantly this flashes:
ACCESS GRANTED.
TEMPLAR
Open sesame.
The retrieval begins: A DOCUMENT appears on the screen:
THE GENERATION OF ENERGY FROM COLD NUCLEAR FUSION
Submitted by: DR. JILLIAN ST. THOMAS
Templar scrolls through the document; we see a dizzying display of graphs,
tables, plans, specifications, etc.
Templar pulls out the disk containing Jillian's data and shoves a fresh disk
into the disk drive. He begins copying Jillian's research from harddrive to disk.
He looks at the HOMING DEVICE. Christ, she's almost back.. .and indeed --
EXT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE
-- Jillian's car comes wheeling into the driveway.
INT. JILLIAN' S LABORATORY - NIGHT
The document is copied. Templar grabs the copied disk from the disk drive
and rips the slip of paper from the notepad. He flicks off the computer and
sprints across the lab, then up the stairs.
EXT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE
Jillian reaches for the doorknob and enters --
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE
She comes in. TEMPLAR, relaxed, lounges on the couch, flipping through some magazines.
He smiles:
TEMPLAR
That was quick.
She walks past him to the bar alcove.
JILLIAN
Now Mr. Michael Quinn, let's have
that scotch. Hey, what happened
to the fire?
TEMPLAR
I thought we'd create our own.
JILLIAN
(smiles)
Down boy.
He gets up; goes to the fireplace; grabs some logs and lays them across the
andirons and we --
DISSOLVE TO:
THE LOGS, now gently burning. Cole Porter is playing.
CAMERA PANS past Jillian's shoes on the carpet, past the Oban Scotch on the
coffee table, now half empty, to --
-- the couch, where Jillian and Templar are locked in a heavy kiss. Jillian stops.
JILLIAN
Whoah whoah whoah, time to put
on the brakes. Those lips oughtta be
licensed buddy...
TEMPLAR
Sorry. I wasn't trying to...
JILLIAN
I know you weren't but if we keep
going I'm gonna be the one who gets us
both in trouble. Whew!
(fans herself)
Haven't felt like that for awhile.
(she brushes a lock of hair from his eyes)
Am I going to see you again?
A pause. Perhaps, just perhaps, for the first time in his black life Templar's having a hard time lying...
JILLIAN
Michael?
TEMPLAR
(smiles at her)
How about breakfast?
JILLIAN
It's a date. I'll walk you
out, shoemaker.
EXT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
In the threshold they kiss again.
TEMPLAR
Good-night.
JILLIAN
'Bye. Drive safe.
Templar walks off to his Rolls Royce parked in the driveway. He smiles at her and waves.
He turns toward his car; his face goes hard and cold.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - NEVSKY PROSPECT - CONTINUOUS LATE AFTERNOON
On the Nevsky Prospect, St. Petersburg's equivalent of the Champs-Elysees –
MICHAEL ROMANOV stands on a raised platform outside the gates of a
PALATIAL MANSION taking up a whole city block. TEN THOUSAND
SUPPORTERS surround him. Many carry large, slogan-filled banners.
Four THUGGISH-LOOKING MEN stand guard inside the mansion's compound,
giving Romanov the eye. One is ZERO (Tretiak's bodyguard on Blackfriars
Bridge).
MICHAEL ROMANOV
Where is Russia's capital? Moscow? The Kremlin? No, Russia's capital is...
(points at mansion)
THROUGH THOSE GATES!
(crowd CHEERS)
A den of thieves!
A LIMOUSINE pulls through the crowd, which reluctantly parts. The guards
within the compound open the gates.
MICHAEL ROMANOV
And here - the Prince of Thieves!
GREGOR TRETIAK sits in the back of the limousine, silently glaring at
Romanov. The limousine rolls inside the compound, the gates CLANGING
shut.
MICHAEL ROMANOV
Every citizen in St. Petersburg
knows what that man does, yet the
police don't arrest him. They
protect him! How can this be?
Maybe we should ask our elected
whores in Moscow!
The CROWD CHEERS WILDLY and starts hurling rocks, bottles, etc, through
the gate at --
-- TRETIAK, emerging from the limousine. Tretiak's guards surround him;
they move quickly up the mansion's marble steps, dodging the thrown debris.
SIRENS WAIL. Four large police vans roar up, the back doors flinging open.
ST. PETERSBURG POLICE, in riot gear, deploy from the vans.
The police push into the crowd, wielding riot shields and batons. A melee
breaks out, Romanov supporters versus the police.
INT. TRETIAK' S HEADQUARTERS - EVENING
Tretiak and his men move past A GUARD STATION manned by TWO GUARDS
watching six SURVEILLANCE MONITORS (showing, at all times, certain areas of. the compound).
This is a former nobleman's residence; a 20 foot diameter CRYSTAL
CHANDELIER hangs from the domed roof fifty feet above. A spectacular
staircase ascends to a mezzanine, with offices (formerly bed chambers) off it.
Tretiak approaches a man in a lab coat, ZUBOV, wearing a grim, anxious
expression. Zubov chainsmokes constantly.
ZUBOV
There's a problem.
Tretiak follows Zubov down stairs into --
INT. TRETIAK' S HEADQUARTERS - BASEMENT LABORATORY
-- a large room with TECHNICIANS hunched over computers.
Tretiak follows Zubov to a large bank of computers.
ZUBOV
(indicates computer)
This is the data your thief sent us.
Tretiak looks at Zubov's COMPUTER SCREEN.
INSERT - THE COMPUTER SCREEN. Again we see:
THE GENERATION OF ENERGY FROM COLD NUCLEAR FUSION
Submitted by:
DR. JILLIAN ST. THOMAS
BACK TO SCENE
TRETIAK
(confused)
Cold fusion?
ZUBOV
Yes. Fusion at room temperature. Regarded as an impossibility by the scientific community. A myth.
(smiles)
Then I read this.
Zubov begins scrolling through the document; again we see the displav of graphs. tables. plans. Specs.. etc.
ZUBOV
She first proves why hot fusion - the tokamak - is impractical. You must heat the hydrogen gases so high, more energy is wasted than created. Here she goes into the benefits of cold fusion.
(scrolls more pages)
The hydrogen isotopes needed.
(scrolls more pages)
The physical plant. She even estimates its cost. Extraordinary.
(scrolls more pages)
The next pages are the critical part, what no one in fifty years has discovered.
(looks up at Tretiak)
The combination of chemicals in which atoms will fuse at room temperature.
Tretiak leans toward the screen, waiting.
TRETIAK
Well? Let's see.
ZUBOV
Tretiak - I think from reading
this that the woman's done it.
She may have found a source of
unlimited energy.
TRETIAK
What do you mean
may have. Show me.
ZUBOV
I said there was a problem.
Zubov hits the "scroll" key. The next page appears; we see the heading at the top of the page: THE CHEMICAL ENVIRONMENT FOR COLD FUSION
But there's something wrong with the rest of the page.
Terribly wrong. We know this because of –
TRETIAK'S EXPRESSION, and it's not too happy.
TRETIAK
Where's the rest of it?
ZUBOV
It's in her head.
and CUT TO:
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING
JILLIAN, humming the Cole Porter song from the previous evening, fills a basket with breakfast for two: eggs, bagels, etc. Sunlight streams in. Birds chirping.
She wears jeans and her jacket with the atomic diagram embroidered on the back. She grabs flowers from a vase; tosses them in the basket. Smiles.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM
She enters with the basket. Looks at the disheveled couch and the bottle of Oban. She hums the Cole Porter song, stabs her feet in THE SHOES TEMPLAR GAVE HER and goes to the front door.
EXT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - FRONT
Jillian comes out, running into --
YURI, her lab assistant, who comes up the front stoop. Mid-20's, heavy
Russian accent, white lab coat.
YURI
Good morning, boss.
Where are you going?
JILLIAN
To see a friend.
Be back in a couple hours.
She gets in her car. Yuri gives her a look, goes inside.
INT. JILL IAN'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM
Yuri enters. The foyer phone RINGS. Yuri answers.
YURI
Doctor St. Thomas' residence.
ILYA (o.s., in Russian)
There's been a change of plans.
Yuri stares at the phone and --
CUT TO:
EXT. WESTCHESTER - TEMPLAR' S MANSION - MORNING
The huge estate, as before. Jillian's station wagon pulls into the circular driveway. Jillian gets out with the breakfast basket. Moves up the flagstoned walk.
Suddenly the front door opens. A WOMAN, mid-30's, pretty and well-dressed, comes out and locks the door.
JILLIAN watches her. The woman comes down the walk.
WOMAN
May I help you?
(beat)
Do you have an appointment?
JILLIAN
A what?
WOMAN
To see the house.
JILLIAN
The man who lives here...
who owns the house...
WOMAN
What man. The estate is rented
for weddings and corporate events.
Are you. ..interested...?
JILLIAN
No. No.
The rental agent gives Jillian a funny look and gets in her car. Drives off. Jillian stares at the house, thunderstruck. Then she sharply inhales:
JILLIAN
Oh my god. ...
Jillian gets in her car.
CUT TO:
TEMPLAR'S COMPUTER screen, which reads:
******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******
PRIVATE UNMARKED ACCOUNTS
PLEASE ENTER SECURITY PASSWORD
INT. J.F.K. INT. - FIRST CLASS LOUNGE - CONTINUOUS
TEMPLAR sits in the British Air lounge. He has shaved and his eyeglasses are
gone; he looks like himself again. In the b.g., businessmen are relaxing, reading newspapers, drinking coffee. Over the intercom:
INTERCOM VOICE
Varig Air flight 157 to Rio
de Janeiro, departing at 8 a.m,
boarding now from gate seventeen.
Templar checks his wristwatch: It's 7:40 a.m.
Templar types in his password and waits.
On the screen, this:
******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******
ACCOUNT OF: TEMPLAR, SIMON
BALANCE (AS OF 8/15/95): U.S. $57,895,125.12 (the same balance since
London).
Templar frowns. Something's not right.
He hasn't been paid.
CUT TO:
INT. JILLIAN' SHOUSE - BACK HALLWAY - MORNING
Jillian runs down the hall, breath escaping her lungs.
JILLIAN
The supermarket, the flat tire, all a set-up. You fool. You fool.
(calls down the hall)
Yuri!
She unpockets her keyring, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - LABORATORY - MORNING
Jillian races down the stairs and across the lab to her computer. She moves in a panic, as if in a living nightmare. She turns the computer on. She types in the code word, "kamakot," and her research paper appears on the screen. In the lower right corner it reads: LAST ENTERED: 10:23 p.m.
JILLIAN
No.. . ..
She sees something on the desk. The NOTEPAD on which Templar wrote his notes. The page is indented with Templar's pen marks; the words "tokamak" and "kamakot" are clearly visible.
JILLIAN
No, this can't be happening. Yuri!
(turns, calling)
YURI!
She jumps, startled, because YURI is right behind her.
He moves toward her and --
CUT TO:
INT. J.F.K. INT. - FIRST CLASS LOUNGE - CONTINUOUS
WOMAN (o.s.)
Is that a good system?
A WOMAN, 40's, dowdy and serious in an accountant-like way, has sat down across from Templar. Points at Templar's computer.
TEMPLAR
Yes.
WOMAN ACCOUNTANT (o.s.)
Going to Europe?
(Templar ignores her)
Uhmm, I'm going for coffee.
Like some? It's really no trouble. ...
Okay lady, anything to get rid of you:
TEMPLAR
Sure. Black please.
She smiles and walks off to the coffee counter, passing A BUSINESSMAN, who sits down with a steaming cup of coffee and starts reading the WALL STREET JOURNAL.
Templar eyes the man, then looks back at his computer.
He begins typing. The phone modem engages. –
Templar types: LION CONTACTING BEAR. IS BEAR HOME?
-- This comes back: AFFIRMATIVE.
-- Templar types: LION HAS NOT BEEN PAID. EXPLAIN.
-- This comes back: LION'S DATA IS DEFECTIVE.
-- Templar types: DEFINE "DEFECTIVE."
-- This comes back: LIONS EMPLOYMENT TERMINATED.
Templar stares at the screen, his mind racing...
THE ACCOUNTANT WOMAN comes back to the table with Templar's coffee.
Sets it before him. Smiles.
TEMPLAR
Thanks.
INTERCOM (v.o.)
British Air flight 74 to London
now boarding from gate fifteen.
I repeat, British Air Flight 74...
The Woman Accountant rises, picks up her bag.
WOMAN ACCOUNTANT
Well, that's me. So long.
She smiles. Templar sort of smiles back. She walks off to catch her flight. THE BUSINESSMAN next to Templar, hidden behind his newspaper, sets his coffee cup down next to Templar's.
The Businessman flips a page, engrossed in an article.
He reaches back for his coffee, but takes Templar's cup.
He drinks from the cup.
TEMPLAR
Excuse me, that's my. . . .
The Businessman's newspaper is shaking. Violently. It falls to the table. The Businessman's face is flushed. He twitches. He pitches over. His head THUDS on the table.
Templar feels the Businessman's carotid artery. He's dead. Templar picks up his coffee and smells it. Templar's eyes dart to the lounge. The Lady Accountant is gone. Nobody in the lounge has noticed what's happened. Templar hurriedly collects his things.
CUT TO:
EXT. WESTCHESTER - JILLIAN'S NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY
AN AIRPORT TAXI stops at the curb. Templar gets out, paying the cabbie. The taxi pulls away.
Templar approaches the house, eyes darting. He moves toward the door,
unpocketing his 9mm pistol. He checks the doorknob, turning it. It's open. ...
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - DAY
Templar enters. No one is here. He moves through the living room into the back corridor, glancing into the kitchen, where we see that --
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY
-- SOMEONE is behind the refrigerator, holding a SILENCED GUN in a blackgloved
hand.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - BACK CORRIDOR - DAY
Templar moves through the hall, looking in each door.
He comes to the lab staircase. The door is open.
Templar heads down the stairs.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - LABORATORY - DAY
Templar comes down; he walks to the computer.
He looks at the document on the screen. He begins scrolling, going to the end
this time.
We see the graphs, tables, plans, specs., etc. Then the critical page appears:
THE CHEMICAL ENVIRONMENT FOR COLD FUSION
And under that. . . .. A NINTENDO GAME. Little spaceships are flying around chasing other little spaceships! TEMPLAR stares at it, stunned: what he sent the Russians is essentially worthless. Templar shuts off the monitor. The screen blackens. The black screen reflects light. It reflects A PERSON coming down the stairs. A person with a gun...
Templar dives away as THREE BULLETS blow the computer monitor to shards.
THE WOMAN FROM THE J.F.K. LOUNGE, not an accountant but an assassin,
draws a bead on --
TEMPLAR, who scrambles across the room ducking under lab tables as
BULLETS shatter bottles, beakers, test tubes; glass fills the air.
TEMPLAR stands up, his 9mm leveled at the woman.
The woman's gun is leveled at Templar. -
TEMPLAR
That's a Reuger nine shot.
I counted nine.
FEMALE ASSASSIN
What if you're wrong.
The tension boils. Templar was right: her hand flashes to the gun, ejecting the spent clip. She tries to ram in a fresh clip but she's not fast enough...
TEMPLAR'S across the room in half a second. He presses his gun to her
forehead.
TEMPLAR
When were you hired and for what?
I'm not in a very good mood...
Templar cocks the hammer. This gets her attention.
FEMALE ASSASSIN
Okay. Take it easy. I was hired a week ago to take you and the woman out, and detonate the house. It was empty when I got here.
TEMPLAR
Who's your employer?
FEMALE ASSASSIN
I don't ask names.
TEMPLAR
Did they have accents? Russian?
(she nods; he lowers his gun)
I'm paying you out of your contract.
Don't ask questions. What's your price?
FEMALE ASSASSIN
Fifty thousand for you, fifty
for her, fifty for the house.
Templar pulls out his wallet, from which he unfolds three pieces of negotiable paper. Hands them to her. She examines them.
TEMPLAR
U.S. bearer bonds. Good as cash.
FEMALE ASSASSIN
About the airport - no
offense you understand.
TEMPLAR
None taken. Go and
don't come back.
And she turns and walks off.
INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM
Templar enters, looking around, thinking. He looks in the bathroom. He looks in the closet. On the floor are Jillian's footwear: sneakers, pumps, cowboy boots, etc.
Right, Templar, the shoes...
TEMPLAR pulls out his HOMING DEVICE and clicks it on.
INSERT - HOMING DEVICE SCREEN
Like before, an electronic rendering of WESTCHESTER COUNTY. But no
pulsing light. Templar enters commands, adjusting the screen, widening it to GREATER NEW YORK. Somewhere in Queens, fairly close to the Atlantic Ocean, we see a PULSING LIGHT. But it's fixed, inert.
The pulsing light begins to move east, quickly.
Templar watches it. The pulse is moving too quickly for an automobile. And it's heading for the ocean. And it goes in the ocean!
TEMPLAR
(dawning on him)
A. . . .plane.
Indeed, Simon Templar, a plane.
CUT TO:
INT. PRIVATE JET - IN FLIGHT OVER ATLANTIC
A mid-sized gulfstream. JILLIAN sits in a wheelchair, covered with a blanket.
She stirs. Mumbles something.
Slowly opens her eyes. Yuri approaches.
Yuri lifts away the blanket. Jillian's wrists are tied to the wheelchair armrests,
her ankles to the footrests.
Yuri produces a SYRINGE. He grabs Jillian's forearm and pushes in the needle.
Jillian's head bobs forward.
CUT TO:
INT. J. F. K. INTERNATIONAL - CONCOURSE
Templar hurries through the concourse with his carry-on bags, taking a left,
moving past sign:
AIR FRANCE CONCORDE - - - - >
INT. J.F.K. - "AIR FRANCE" - CONCORDE TERMINAL
The passengers are in a line, going through security. Templar walks up next
to A GUY IN A BROOKS BROTHERS SUIT. Stares at him. After a few seconds
of this...
BROOKS BROTHERS MAN
Can I help you with something?
TEMPLAR
Your ticket. What'd you pay for it?
BROOKS BROTHERS MAN
What?
TEMPLAR
I'll give you twenty grand for it.
Cash. Right now.
(they stop)
I need to get on that plane.
BROOKS BROTHERS MAN
Very badly obviously.
(studies Templar)
Fifty thousand and it's yours.
Templar rolls his eyes but the guy is unmoved. Templar scowls and pulls out his bearer bonds...
CUT TO:
INT. MARSEILLES - AIRPLANE HANGAR - CONTINUOUS
A hangar at Marseilles' Marignane Airport. A MAN is sprawled inside the
engine cowling of a WWI classic BIWING FIGHTER. We only see his legs.
VOICE
Remy! Telephone.
REMY
(IN ENGINE COWLING)
Oui. Un moment.
REMY SAMARKAND, 40's, Algerian, pulls himself up and sits on the engine
cowling. Bandanna around neck. Cigar. A tattoo here, a scar there...
COCO, a young mechanic, hands Remy a CELLULAR PHONE.
REMY SAMARKAND
Merci, Coco.
(Coco walks off)
Remy Samarkand Aeronautique,
Remy Samarkand.
TEMPLAR (v.o.)
I need a favour, Remy.
REMY SAMARKAND
(smiles)
Anything for Simon Templar...
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS, FRANCE - CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - THREE HOURS LATER
The Concorde touches down as we SUPER:
CHARLES DE GAULLE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, PARIS, FRANCE
EXT. DE GAULLE AIRPORT - TARMAC
Templar, with his carry-on bags, and Remy Samarkand run across the tarmac toward a LEAR JET being fueled. In the b.g. sits the huge Concorde jet. They yell over the howling jet engines.
TEMPLAR
IT'S A LITTLE JET, MAYBE A TURBO
PROP. ENTERED SCOTLAND FIVE
MINUTES AGO, GO ING TO ST. PETERSBURG.
CAN WE GET TO IT BEFORE THEN?
REMY SAMARKAND
OUI . OVER FINLAND.
INT. REMY' S LEAR JET - MINUTES LATER
THE HOMING DEVICE - The screen shows a MAP OF EUROPE. Two locations
are pulsing: 1) Remy's jet, moving north from Paris; and 2) The jet carrying Jillian, moving across Scotland heading due east.
The plane is in flight. Templar's homing device and mini-computer sit on the cockpit console.
TEMPLAR
What are you smuggling these days?
REMY SAMARKAND
Oh, things. How long has it been –
two year? Three? Now tell me:
what's so important about this plane?
TEMPLAR
Fifteen million dollars
of my money.
(picks up cellular phone)
And a score to settle.
Templar punches numbers and CUT TO:
EXT. EAST BERLIN - DAY
The city's decrepid industrial section. PANNING PAST buildings we come to the facade of "APEX ELECTRONICS," the only well-maintained building on the block.
A throbbing drum-beat is heard within...
INT. EAST BERLIN - APEX ELECTRONI CS - DAY
Organized. Spotless. You could eat off the floor. A STEREO plays GERMAN
TECHNO-ROCK at a zillion decibals.
A COMMUNICATIONS SATELLITE hangs from a hoist. BERTA FRANK (hereafter
"FRANKIE”), late 20's, blonde spiky hair, pretty in a sort of dangerous way, is soldering a panel of transistors to the satellite.
A wall-mounted T.V. plays a news program.
GERMAN NEWS ANCHOR
(German)
In Russia, Michael Romanov has
been accused of inciting riots and
violence in St. Petersburg...
The phone RINGS. Frankie grabs it.
FRANKIE
Ja.
TEMPLAR (v.o.)
How's the weather in Berlin, Frankie?
FRANKIE
Simon? Where are you?
INTERCUT - SIMON IN REMY' S PLANE / FRANKIE IN BERLIN
TEMPLAR
Unimportant. How soon can
you be in St. Petersburg?
Frankie looks at her wristwatch.
FRANKIE
Five hours. What type of job?
TEMPLAR
Eyes and ears. Two hundred
thousand cash for two days work.
FRANKIE
Who's the mark?
TEMPLAR
Gregor Tretiak. His headquarters.
His office in particular.
Frankie lights a cigarette. Thinks.
FRANKIE
Gregor Tretiak is not a very
nice man, Simon. Four
hundred thousand.
TEMPLAR
Deal. Now listen, Frankie...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. THE RUSSIAN GULFSTREAM - DAY
Four hours later. Jillian sits, head bowed, unconscious. Yuri sits opposite. He is nodding off. If only Jillian could wake up...
The PILOT shouts back.
PILOT
We're over Helsinki.
Yuri wakes, sits upright. Yawns.
INT. REMY'S LEAR JET - DAY
Remy's peering out the window. Sees something.
REMY SAMARKAND
Simon, there!
Two miles ahead, THE RUSSIAN JET roars past, heading east toward St.
Petersburg. Remy jerks the stick, banking into a right turn behind the Russian jet. Remy
looks at his ALTITUDE GAUGE.
REMY SAMARKAND
They're descending.
Remy looks at Templar; Templar nods back.
Remy pushes the stick; the Lear jet begins descending.
INT. THE RUSSIAN GULFSTREAM - DAY
Jillian sits, still unconscious. Or is she?
JILLIAN' S POV - THROUGH SLITTED EYES
Through the tiniest slit of eye, so as not to appear conscious, Jillian looks at Yuri, then at TWO PARACHUTES shelved above the emergency exit.
BACK TO SCENE - YURI stands up and stretches. He goes to the window and
looks out. [Wheelchair trivia: wheelchair armrests are removable, enabling a patient to
transfer himself from the chair to a regular chair, or car seat, etc...]
JILLIAN'S RIGHT HAND (photographed in extreme close-up under the
blanket) pulls out the PIN securing the armrest to the wheelchair. She lifts the armrest, separating the aluminum tubing, freeing her right wrist.
INT. REMY'S LEAR JET - DAY
Through the windshield is the RUSSIAN GULF STREAM.
Remy, his headset on, turns to Templar.
REMY
The St. Petersburg tower wants us to circle.
TEMPLAR
No. Follow them down.
REMY
What do we do when we land?
TEMPLAR
Haven't figured that out yet.
INT. THE RUSSIAN GULFSTREAM - DAY
The aircraft is tilted forward in descent.
The PILOT shouts back to Yuri:
PILOT
(Russian, subtitled)
Prepare for landing.
The Pilot shuts the cockpit door.
Suddenly JILLIAN'S EYES are open; her hands are free and she's throwing off
the blanket and gripping the wheels.
She pushes; the wheelchair bursts forward.
YURI gets to his feet; the wheelchair slams against his shins. Jillian WHIPS
the detached armrest across Yuri's head. Yuri falls backward, dazed.
Jillian rolls to the emergency door, one hand yanking open the door, the other
grabbing a PARACHUTE from the shelf. Wind howls through the cabin.
Jillian gets the parachute on. Her ankles are still bound to the footrests. To
hell with it, she'll lose the wheelchair in mid-air. She pushes forward as --
-- YURI lunges across the floor, grabbing the wheels. JILLIAN AND THE CHAIR
teeter on the edge of emergency door exit, half in, half out.
Yuri clings to the chair wheels. His body jerks forward. He's sliding on his
stomach. Jillian and the chair are pulling him out. Terror in Yuri's eyes. He
grabs for the door frame. His fingers slip.
Jillian, the wheelchair, and Yuri hanging from the wheelchair, plunge from the
aircraft.
INT. REMY' S LEAR JET - DAY
Templar's bagging his computer and homing device.
REMY suddenly clutches his arm.
REMY
Simon.
Templar looks up.
TEMPLAR' S /REMY' S POV - THROUGH WINDSHIELD JILLIAN AND YURI fall from the aircraft.
INT . THE RUSS IAN GULFSTREAM
The pilot, looking down at Jillian and Yuri, clicks on his short-wave radio:
PILOT
We have a problem.
EXT. SKIES OVER ST. PETERSBURG - DAY
JILLIAN freefalls in the wheelchair, her ankles still bound to the chair's
footrests. YURI is beneath her, clutching the wheels. He tries to pull himself
up.
JILLIAN yanks the rip-cord; a plume of silk spills out and Jillian and the chair
SLINGSHOT UP, decelerating from 120 m.p.h. to 20 m.p.h. in two seconds.
Yuri can't take the "G" force; his hands rip away from the chair. He
plummets, SCREAMING, and 3000 feet later he will hit concrete in St.
Petersburg.
Jillian pulls out the footrest pins (the footrests separate from the chair in the
same manner), freeing her ankles. The chair releases, falling away.
INT. REMY' S JET - CONTINUOUS
Templar turns to the cockpit storage hatches behind him.
He yanks open one designated: PARACHUTES.
REMY SAMARKAND
Don't!
TWO HUGE TOUCANS fly out of the hatch.
They flap around the cockpit.
Templar looks askance at Remy...
TEMPLAR
Remy...
REMY SAMARKAND
I get ten grand for them in Paris.
Maybe a Russian would pay more?
Templar grabs a PARACHUTE PACK and races to the back of the plane. He
YANKS OPEN the EMERGENCY EXIT DOOR. Cold air blasts his face.
TEMPLAR
Put down in Helsinki
and wait for my call!
And Templar jumps and --
CUT TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - STREETS
An autumn day in Peter the Great's city.
Peaceful. Normal. Pedestrians walk the streets.
[note: St. Petersburg is called "Venice of the North" because it's built atop
marshy islands connected by canals. There are over 400 bridges; on the
canals, boat traffic is often as dense as automobile traffic.]
A WOMAN, glancing up, notices something.
WOMAN (Russian)
Look.
(points skyward)
Look!
Other pedestrians stop. They, too, look up at --
A PARACHUTIST (Jillian of course) descending into the heart of the city!
And down she comes, landing hard in the middle of an intersection. TAXIS
and AUTOMOBILES swerve aside, nearly killing her. Others SCREECH to a
stop.
JILLIAN gets to her feet, wild-eyed and frantic, tangled in cord and parachute
silk. She looks around at --
CROWDS OF PEDESTRIANS staring at her.
JILLIAN
Help me. I'm American. Police!
A ST. PETERSBURG POLICE CRUISER comes through the intersection to a
stop. A YOUNG COP, just 20, hangs up his c.b. radio and gets out. He
approaches Jillian.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - PETER AND PAUL FORTRESS CITY PARK
Across the Neva River from Jillian is a city park with a HUGE EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF PETER THE GREAT. Under the statue, two OLD RUSSIAN GEEZERS are playing chess, smoking
pipes, arguing, etc.
Down TEMPLAR comes. The parachute snags on the BRONZE HORSE'S HEAD.
Templar dangles 15 feet off the ground. He looks at the GEEZERS directly below. Hello there.
TEMPLAR
Sorry about this.
He shrugs off the parachute pack and falls, landing on the chess board,
scuttling the pieces. The Geezers fall backward on their behinds.
Templar gets to his feet, gaining his bearings, looking for Jillian. He takes off running.
INT. POLICE SEDAN, DRIVING - CONTINUOUS - DAY
Jillian sits in the back seat, catching her breath. The Young Cop looks at her in the rear-view mirror.
JILLIAN
Do you speak English?
YOUNG RUSSIAN COP
Yes. Some.
JILLIAN
Thank God.
(takes a deep breath, composes herself)
I'm an American scientist. Last night, in New York, a man stole something from me, then this morning I was kidnapped by my lab assistant, god this sounds like a bad novel . . . . .
Suddenly a ROCK bounces off the windshield.
JILLIAN
What was that?
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG STREETS - DAY
The police cruiser moves past A THRONG OF MICHAEL ROMANOV
SUPPORTERS carrying placards and banners. They begin pelting the cruiser with rocks and bottles.
INT. POLICE CRUISER - DAY
The cruiser clears the Romanov supporters.
Rocks and bottles smash on the back windshield.
YOUNG RUSSIAN COP
There could be revolution maybe.
City very dangerous.
IN THE INTERSECTION AHEAD - TWO OTHER POLICE CRUISERS pull into the
street, blocking it. The Young Russian Cop brakes; the cruiser comes to a stop in front of the other cruisers.
An OLDER RUSSIAN COP, followed by a PLAINCLOTHESMAN, approach the
young cop's cruiser.
EXT. TROITSKY BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS - DAY
TEMPLAR sprints across the Neva River Bridge connecting the Peter and Paul Park with downtown St. Petersburg.
He suddenly stops short, seeing --
TEMPLAR' S POV - TWO BLOCKS AWAY
-- JILLIAN in the cruiser, the Older Cop and the plainclothesman approaching.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - INTERSECTION - DAY
The Older Cop leans in the window.
OLDER COP
(Russian)
Is this her?
YOUNG COP
(Russian)
Yes sir Sergeant Ravik.
The plainclothesman emerges from behind the Older Cop.
In one shocking, effortless motion, he places a silenced handgun to the Young
Cop's head and squeezes the trigger. Blood spatters the windshield.
JILLIAN gasps in horror at the plainclothesman. It is...ILYA.
The Older Cop opens the door, shoving the Young Cop's corpse to the
passenger side. Ilya gets in back next to Jillian, pressing the HANDGUN into her ribs. The cruiser ROARS off into St. Petersburg traffic.
EXT. AT THE FOOT OF TROITSKY BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS
TEMPLAR looks around. He sees A MOTORCYCLE STAND filled with MOTORCYCLES. Runs to it. Chooses a big, powerful, Honda street machine.
He pulls out his burglar's tools; jams one in the ignition. He has it running in seconds. He throws it in gear and ROARS off.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG STREETS - CONTINUOUS - DAY
Templar blasts through traffic on the Honda. He's on a street parallel to Jillian's.
AT AN INTERSECTION Templar looks to his right, where he can see, one block over on the parallel street --
THE POLICE CRUISER moving through traffic. Templar guns the motorcycle. The engine WHINES. He races ahead,
accelerating through the gears. AT THE NEXT INTERSECTION - TEMPLAR throws the cycle into a skidding, hair-raising turn. He's going 'round the block to cut off the sedan.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG INTERSECTION - DAY
The police cruiser moves through the intersection. Suddenly TEMPLAR'S MOTORCYCLE, Templar-less, veers into the path of the cruiser. The cruiser hits it head on. The motorcycle rides up the cruiser's hood and smashes through the front windshield. The cruiser careens out of control. It fishtails twice and crashes into A STREETLIGHT POLE.
INT. THE POLICE CRUISER - DAY
UP FRONT, the Older Cop is unconscious; he's taken the full brunt of the motorcycle through the windshield.
IN THE BACK, Ilya is groggy, semi-conscious. JILLIAN is reeling also; there's a gash on her forehead. The BACK PASSENGER DOOR jerks open. TEMPLAR lunges inside. Ilya raises his gun but he's weak, disoriented. Templar yanks it from his hand and pistol whips him. This has all happened so fast. Jillian looks at Ilya then at Templar...
JILLIAN
What...? WHO...?
And Templar yanks Jillian out.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG INTERSECTION - CONTINUOUS - DAY
The intersection is chaos: PEDESTRIANS running up, surrounding the police cruiser, vehicles stopping, etc.
Templar, virtually dragging Jillian, plows through the crowd, passing a
Russian Army Corporal who's just gotten out of his ARMY SUPPLY TRUCK.
RUSSIAN ARMY CORPORAL
(Russian)
Let me help!
TEMPLAR
(Russian)
(pointing back at the police sedan)
Help them!
The Corporal runs to the smashed cruiser, and --
TEMPLAR and JILLIAN run to the Corporal's SUPPLY TRUCK.
INT. RUSSIAN ARMY SUPPLY TRUCK - DAY
The driver's side door opens. In comes Jillian, then Templar. Templar shoves Jillian across the front seat and gets in, behind the wheel. He floors it.
They accelerate into traffic. Templar looks at Jillian. She's trembling, staring
catatonically straight ahead.
JILLIAN
Who are you. Tell me who you
are and what the hell is going on.
TEMPLAR
I was hired to steal your research,
but you know that by now. You left the critical
data off the disk.
Where is it? memorized, right?
(she doesn't answer)
That's a bad cut. Here.
He hands her his HANDKERCHIEF. She swats it away.
TEMPLAR
Look, you're in big trouble.
The guy who hired me will do anything
to get your research. Once he has it, you're a
corpse. Give me the missing data and I'll get
you out of here. You can trust me.
She stares at him in disbelief.
JILLIAN
Trust you?
(chews the word)
Trust you...?
She grabs the door handle and yanks it open. Templar grabs her arm, pulling her back. They wrestle back and forth...
TEMPLAR
Damn it, don't be stupid...!
She picks up the CORPORAL'S STEAMING CUP OF COFFEE, sitting in a holder
on the console between them, and throws it in Templar's face.
TEMPLAR
ARGGH!
Templar recoils, blinded, releasing Jillian. He jerks the steering wheel to the side and stomps on the brakes. JILLIAN lunges out before the supply truck fully stops. She hits the pavement running. She hurries off, blending into the crowded sidewalk.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - STREETS
Templar gets out, cursing, wiping the hot liquid from his eyes. He looks around. Runs off in Jillian's direction, abandoning the supply truck.
CUT TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - LOMONOSOVA AVENUE
Templar, running, out of breath, rounds a corner onto Lomonosova Avenue, in the city's shopping district. It's jammed with PEDESTRIANS, SHOPPERS, MERCHANTS, etc. Templar moves through the crowd, eyes scanning left and right. There's no sign of Jillian.
Then he sees her.
Just a glimpse. 50 yards ahead. Moving through the crowded sidewalk toward the FONTANKA (the largest and most beautiful of the city's grand canals).
EXT. LOMONOSOVA AVENUE - FONTANKA CANAL BRIDGE - SUNSET
Templar runs over the Fontanka Canal Bridge. Nothing. He comes back the
other way. Nothing.
He stops in the middle of the bridge, exhausted, out of breath. Below him,
passing under the bridge, all types of WATER CONVEYANCES (skiffs, barges,
dinghies, etc) are navigating the canal.
And emerging from underneath the bridge, seated in the back of a WATER
TAXI,...is Jillian. Templar races off the bridge.
EXT. FONTANKA CANAL - EMBANKMENT PROMENADE - SUNSET
Templar sprints down the sidewalk promenade next to the canal. The water
taxi is 50 yards past the bridge.
JILLIAN sees him coming.
TEMPLAR closes the gap. 30 yards. 20 yards. Now 10. Now he's running
alongside the taxi, staring at Jillian.
And she stares back at him, stony, expressionless.
The canal is wider now, and the water taxi accelerates, pulling away from the
slower skiffs.
Templar slows to a jog. He stops, lungs heaving. The sun is setting to the
west.
The water taxi speeds off into the setting sun, leaving Templar with this
image of Jillian: eyes unblinking, staring at him with pure, unadulterated
hatred.
CUT TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - NEVSKY PROSPECT - NIGHT
Night is falling. Down the street from Tretiak's headquarters, A FEDERAL
EXPRESS VAN rolls up to a traffic light.
INT. FEDERAL EXPRESS VAN - NIGHT
FRANKIE has arrived in St. Petersburg. She sits at the wheel in a Federal
Express uniform. She pulls out a charge of C-4 plastique with a timer. She
opens the van door; tosses it into a sidewalk TRASH RECEPTACLE.
She accelerates through the light, now green, and takes a left into TRETIAK' S
HEADQUARTERS, parking behind a LIMOUSINE which has just entered.
The limousine's doors open. Several dark-suited men get out. One of them is
IVAN GRACHA (the Russian mafia figure shown on the C.N.N. broadcast).
INT. TRETIAK'S OFFICE - NIGHT
A MAP OF ST. PETERSBURG AND OUTLYING REGIONS is spread out on
Tretiak's desk. Tretiak, Ilya, Zubov, and ten men are present.
ILYA
There could be another solution.
The woman is not-the only scientist
working in this field. Is she?
Tretiak turns to Zubov, who nods.
ZUBOV
No. There are others.
TRETIAK
Get on a plane. Leave tonight.
The door opens. Zero, the huge bodyguard, enters.
ZERO
Gracha is here.
Tretiak goes immediately to his desk, pressing the "RECORD" BUTTON on a
v.c.r. within. The surveillance camera in Tretiak's office begins taping the
meeting.
IVAN GRACHA and six bodyguards enter.
GRACHA
This had better be important.
It's my wife's birthday.
TRETIAK
My apologies to your wife.
GRACHA
An apology from Tretiak?
An historic moment.
TRETIAK
(placating)
Come now, Ivan, why must we feud.
GRACHA
We feud because we hate each other.
TRETIAK
It is true there have been harsh
words between us. We are rivals. But rivalry
is bad for business. Upon what conditions would
you accept a partnership? Be reasonable.
GRACHA
Fifty percent of the drug trade
in St. Petersburg and Moscow. A third of
prostitution and gambling.
TRETIAK
Agreed.
(they shake hands)
I need the men in your areas, Ivan,
for two days. Particularly Moscow
and points South.
GRACHA
Why?
Tretiak hands TWO PHOTOGRAPHS to Gracha. One is of JILLIAN, taken
somewhere in Westchester, wearing her "atomic" jacket. The second is an
Interpol photo taken of TEMPLAR in a cafe in Amsterdam.
TRETIAK
To find this woman...
and kill this man.
GRACHA
(smiles)
This is a private matter, I take it.
(Tretiak smiles)
Then you'll have them.
TRETIAK
Ilya - some wine for Ivan Gracha.
INT. TRETIAK' S HEADQUARTERS - NI GHT
TWO GUARDS man the guard station, eyeing the bank of six video monitors.
Frankie enters with a big DELIVERY BOX.
FRANKIE (Russian)
Delivery.
Frankie hands Guard 1 the box and hands Guard 2 a clipboard for his
signature. Frankie looks at the surveillance monitors and raises an eyebrow.
ON TRETIAK'S OFFICE MONITOR - we see Tretiak with Ivan Gracha raising a
toast. In the screen's lower corner are the letters "REC." The meeting is being
taped.
EXT. NEVSKY PROSPECT - NIGHT.
THE C-4 in the trash receptacle blows. It blows up TWO CARS and A TREE. A
monstrously concussive explosion.
INT. TRETIAK' S OFFI CE
Gracha drops his wine glass; it shatters on the floor. Gracha and his men
unholster their weapons. Tretiak's men go for theirs. A tense stand-off.
GRACHA
What is this, Tretiak?
TRETIAK
Put your guns down.
Tretiak goes to his desk; stabs an intercom button --
INT. TRETIAK'S HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
The guards, save one, barge out the front door. The remaining guard answers
the intercom, leaving FRANKIE unattended by the surveillance monitors.
Her hand moves to THE CO-AXIAL CABLE behind the video monitors, yanking
it. She plugs a TRANSMITTOR into the monitor, then replugs the co-axial
cable into the transmitter. The guard turns to Frankie.
FRANKIE
What was that?
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - STREET - NIGHT
TEMPLAR stands in a shop doorway. He pulls out his homing device. Adjusts
the screen.
INSERT - THE HOMING DEVICE
The computerized screen now shows the ST. PETERSBURG CITY GRID. Two
pulses: 1) a fixed pulse (Templar) and 2) a moving pulse (Jillian) on the other
side of town.
Templar turns his collar up; walks off into the night.
EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - STREETS - NIGHT
TEMPLAR comes down a street in a scummy part of town. A GUY in a doorway
swigs a vodka bottle, looking dangerously at Templar. A few PROSTITUTES
pass.
Templar pulls out the homing device.
INSERT - THE HOMING DEVICE - The MOVING PULSE is one block from
Templar, emanating from inside a huge building, the NEVSKY RAIL STATION.
BACK TO SCENE - Templar pockets the homing device and walks across the
street to the train station.
INT. NEVSKY STATION - MAIN CONCOURSE - NIGHT
An enormous facility, 100 yards long with a vaulted ceiling and entrances at
the north and south ends.
Templar-enters from the north, looking around. He walks quickly to the center
of the station concourse.
STATION LOUDSPEAKER (v.o.)
Next train to Moscow boarding on platform 8.
Templar approaches Platform 8. Passengers are boarding the next train to
Moscow. Against the wall, a gang of ten PROSTITUTES are smoking, drinking
vodka, laughing.
Templar freezes.
JILLIAN is with the prostitutes. Her back's to Templar, but it's her. Same
"atomic" jacket, the shoes Templar gave her, same height, same weight. ...
Templar isn't the only one who's spotted her...
TWO MEN IN BLACK TRENCHCOATS, obviously Tretiak's men, are converging
upon Jillian from the other direction. They haven't yet seen Templar...
Templar moves off quickly, drawing his gun. As Tretiak's men move in for the
kill.
TEMPLAR falls in behind them, WHIPPING the barrel of his gun over one, then
the other. They fall, unconscious. The PROSTITUTES, alarmed, whirl around
and...
...It's not Jillian.
Templar, thunderstruck, looks at THE PROSTITUTE'S feet. She's wearing
JILLIAN'S SHOES and JACKET. On her wrist is JILLIAN'S WRISTWATCH.
Templar turns. The TRAIN TO MOSCOW is pulling out of the station. ...
Templar sprints away, back toward the station concourse. It's all clear now;
Jillian sold her clothe
