Oliver Butcher & Stephen Cornwell
Adapted from the novel "Out of My Head" by
Didier van Cauwelaert
INT. PASSENGER JET - EARLY MORNING
Sleepy thick fatigue, the end of a red-eye flight. Most
passengers still asleep, a few read, or stare blankly.
In business class, A HUSBAND and WIFE, mid-30's. He's awake,
reading a document. She sleeps nestled against his shoulder.
He's trim, sharp, good looking in an academic way. Even in
sleep, she's beautiful. Wide-mouthed and honey-haired.
The plane's aspect SHIFTS, the pilot's voice comes on in
German. The man lifts his window shade, peers out at the
first rays of sun touching the skyline of Berlin.
EXT. TEGEL AIRPORT, BERLIN - EARLY MORNING
Halo of lights. Giant talons, the airplane's LANDING GEAR
appears through cloud. Tires hit slick asphalt.
INT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL, TEGEL AIRPORT - SAME
The couple. Dr. Martin Harris and Elizabeth Harris. WIDER: a
German IMMIGRATION OFFICER glances up at MARTIN and LIZ. KA-
CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! Stamps both passports, swipes the bar
codes over a scanner, hands them back. Martin slips his into
a leather briefcase.
EXT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL, TEGEL AIRPORT - DAWN
Raining. A melee of travelers and vehicles. Liz beside him,
Martin wheels a baggage cart through the crush. An ATTENDANT
ushers them toward a waiting cab and DRIVER...
a CRASH of THUNDER -- the rain suddenly triples in
strength. A DELUGE. The taxi driver hustles Martin and Liz
towards his car. He shields his head with a newspaper,
piling their bags into the trunk, cursing.
Martin sets down his case, moves to help the driver...
I/E. TAXI CAB - DAWN
The DRIVER merges onto the autobahn. Liz yawns with jet-lag,
studies Martin who stares out at the passing city.
Hey... You're gonna do great.
You always do.
I/E. TAXI/HOTEL IMPERIAL, BERLIN - MORNING
Modern 'Deco Revival' hotel/conference center. A banner
welcomes delegates to the World Biotechnology Forum. The
Harris' taxi pulls up in the forecourt thick with red-eye
travelers arriving for early morning check-in.
Martin takes out his billfold.
I'll do this. You check in.
Liz pecks his cheek, gets out. Martin leans forward.
How much do we owe you?
INT. HOTEL LOBBY - SAME
Liz presses up to the crowded desk. A busy RECEPTIONIST
takes Liz's booking slip.
The Eisenhower suite. Dr. and
EXT. HOTEL FORECOURT - SAME
A BELLHOP holds a large umbrella up to the rain, loads the
Harris' bags onto his cart. Shuts the trunk, the taxi pulls
away. Heading for the entrance...
Welcome to the Hotel Imperial.
Have you stayed with us before?
No, this is our first visit to
Berlin. We're --
-- he stops short, staring at their bags, stacked on the
luggage cart. He turns, tracks the their taxi, already
pulling out of the drive...
INT. HOTEL LOBBY - SAME
a stab of concern on Liz's face.
What do you mean the suite may
not be available?
I have to check with the manager.
Security inspections of the rooms
are still being completed.
But we confirmed two months ago.
Receptionist raises an apologetic hand as she attends to a
ringing phone. Liz sighs, glances back toward the entrance.
Suddenly curious as she sees...
LIZ'S P.O.V. -- THROUGH THE GLASS WALL
. Martin standing in the open door of the next taxi in
line. He speaks to the bellhop who nods, quickly pushing the
cart in through the doors, headed for Liz...
I/E. TAXI/BERLIN - SAME
Martin getting in, agitated.
Tegel airport. Arrivals. Quick.
The driver pulls out into traffic. The rain still heavy.
Martin stares out at the wet city. Eyes track as the shadowy
columns of the Brandenburg Gate pass by. He lets himself
relax a little, enjoying this moment of forced calm.
He catches sight of the driver in the rear-view. Young,
female, shortish hair. Tomboy cute. Smart eyes, older than
her years. Layers of clothing. GINA.
She glances into the mirror, catches Martin watching her.
Everyone says how much it's
Eyes connect, brief. Wipers flip-flap.
.I wouldn't know. First time.
Yes, me too. I mean, I wouldn't
know either. You're American?
He looks back at her, inquisitive...
For the airport, it's always
Americans in the morning...
Asians at night.
Martin nods, pulls out his phone. Service dies as Gina
downshifts, Doc Martins working the pedals, accelerates away
from the large "Flughafen" (Airport) sign, down a cobbled
road next to main route.
I think you missed...
He stops, smiles as he realizes she's navigated around a
large construction back-up, saving them time.
You do what you do, I do what I
What do you do, when you're
She laughs. He smiles, nods. Okay, dumb thing to say.
Sorry, I didn't mean anything --
It's okay. I know what you
Her eyes meet his in the mirror.
She swings the taxi onto Wilhelmstrasse. Stops at a red
light. Ahead, the Marshall Bridge over the River Spree.
LIGHT TURNS GREEN
Gina moves the taxi mid-stream in the traffic heading onto
the bridge. Martin checks his phone, he's got service. He
starts to dial...
Suddenly -- the cars in front of her start VEERING WILDLY IN
DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS, just missing the boxed REFRIGERATOR
tumbling off the truck in front of them. The box BURSTS
open. Gina swerves to avoid it, CLIPS the corner...
front tire BLOWS OUT... taxi skids crazily, HITS the
CURB. Tires SHREDDING... shower of SPARKS. Taxi SLAMS over
the curb, THROUGH the rail. Plunges off the bridge.
Strangely serene. Intense vivid IMAGES... the playing card
'ACE TAXIS' logo on the dash... GINA'S EYES in the MIRROR...
Silent free-fall dive. Timeless. Dreamlike.
WHAM--! TAXI HITS THE WATER
Martin's head SMACKS against the side window. Gina cushioned
by the airbags, which she wrestles back. WATER SPRAYS IN.
Gina can't open her door. Steel steering-lock on the floor.
Grabs it, SMASHES the side window. Hauls herself out...
INTO THE RIVER
. gasping. On the bridge above, people frantically flag
down traffic... Gina turns, sees the Taxi, midstream,
sinking. Martin still in back, unconscious.
No time. Gina gulps air, dives. She reaches into the front
of the cab, grabs the steering lock, HAMMERS it against the
passenger window, glances up:
THE SURFACE, starts to recede as the taxi slips underneath,
Gina hammers at the glass again, it BREAKS. Grabs Martin's
limp body, drags him up to the surface.
A CROWD ON the bank. People wading out to help. Taking
Martin from her, carrying him up onto dry land. LIGHTS,
SIRENS... The POLICE arriving, pushing back the crowd.
PARAMEDICS quickly laying Martin out on the concrete.
Everyone's focus on the unconscious man. Gina eases back...
melts away into the growing horde of on-lookers as the
paramedics rip open Martin's shirt...
feeding a tube down his throat. Pushing on his stomach.
DEFIBRILLATOR paddles. WHINE as defibrillators charge.
A PARAMEDIC lifts Martin's eyelid, shines a flashlight...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- FAINT HALO OF LIGHT
in a dark fog. Distant voices --
SUDDEN SHIFT --.INTENSE FLASH OF MEMORY...
UNIVERSITY LECTURE HALL. Youthful MARTIN speaking on the
spotlit podium. Intense, energized. A college age LIZ in
the audience. LAUGHTER of rapt students. Loud APPLAUSE. A
jovial older COLLEAGUE eagerly shaking Martin's hand...
SMASH BACK TO THE RIVER BANK...
Paddles on Martin's chest. Paramedic calls out:
WHOMPF! The charge surges into Martin's body.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- FLASH OF WHITE LIGHT...
a CONSERVATORY. Martin as a CHILD. Fascinated,
delighted as his FATHER shows him the opening bud of a
blossom. Butterflies' wings SHIMMER in sunlight...
WHOMPF! SECOND ARCING CHARGE...
Martin's chest heaves up. Slumps back down...
SMASH CUT INTO MEMORY -- TWO BODIES MOVING...
. Liz and Martin making love. Passionate, intertwined.
WHOMPF! ANOTHER SURGE OF ELECTRICITY...
Martin's chest rising up...
SMASH CUT AGAIN -- LIZ...
. half-dressed, hair ruffled and wet. Towelling it.
Turning toward us. Smiles. Her lips moving...
WHOMPF! A FOURTH PULSE...
Martin's body slumping back. Sudden QUIET now, the world
removed. Just his face. His eyes.
They say your whole life flashes
before you... but it's the little
things... the details... the
moments. Its like looking at a
painting. Stand close, all you
can see are the brush strokes.
It's only when you step back that
you get the whole picture...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- THE FILMY RED
. of light seen from behind closed eyelids. Quiet...
except for a distant sound. CRACKLING. Like falling rain.
The sound growing. Close now. Filling our ears, as...
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
.a tiny pin-hole of light, TOO BRIGHT. GLIMPSES of a NURSE
as she tears the wrapping off a fresh drip sac...
.A man's voice... distant. German words. Small, faded
image of a German DOCTOR, speaking with the nurse...
.again, a pin-hole of consciousness. The Nurse, taking a
private moment, speaking in German on her cell-phone. The
Nurse looks over, straight at us, realization in her face,
she hurries from the room.
We REVOLVE... finding... MARTIN HARRIS. Arms by his sides.
A few days beard. A sutured cut on his temple. His eyes
fluttering, barely open... then closing.
Clipboard beside the bed. An admission form. In German.
Where Martin's name should be: "unbekannte maennliche
Person", and the SUBTITLE becomes our MAIN TITLE...
'UNKNOWN WHITE MALE'...
CLOSE - MARTIN'S FACE
Squeak of a door. Distant FOOTSTEPS. Quiet again. Just the
distant PULSE of his heartbeat. His eyes... flick OPEN.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. - HIS SURROUNDINGS...
Vision BLURRED, BLINKING to focus. Scrubbed floor, white
walls, Banks of drips and monitors, his possessions on a
table near him...
Konnen Sie mich horen?
MARTIN'S EYES -- TRACKING OVER
Daylight through a window. Sitting by the bed is a dark-
haired man with a van Dyke beard. DR. FARGE.
Wenn Sie mich horen konnen,
blinken Sie zweimal.
He watches as Martin's eyes tilt. Look directly at him. A
sound. A dry croak... slowly forms itself into speech:
I... I don't... speak German...
(beat - accented)
Are you English?
A beat. Farge signals the Nurse to come in. Speaks to him
slowly and clearly in English:
My name is Doctor Farge. You are
in the Waldfriede Hospital. I'm
the head neurologist here. You
have been in an accident.
Can you tell me your name?
Beat. Martin nods. Voice weak.
Martin... Harris. Doctor...
Farge exchanges a look with the nurse. To Martin...
Where are you staying? Is there
anyone here, in Berlin, that we
Martin suddenly looks around, struggles to sit up.
My wife.. ?
Where's my wife? Liz...? Is she
hurt? Where is she --?!
Doctor Harris, it's all right.
The taxi you were in went into
the river. You were the only
passenger. Your heart stopped
for six minutes. It is Thursday,
November 27th. For four days you
have been in a coma.
Thanksgiving... but my wife...
she's in Berlin with me. Where
is she? Why isn't she here?
We didn't find any identification
with you, Doctor Harris... the
driver, who saved your life,
disappeared soon after the
accident and no one else has come
forward. I must apologize, but
we had no idea who you were.
It sinks in. Martin shakes his head wretchedly.
Oh, Jesus... Liz doesn't know...
She'll... she'll be worried sick.
Calm down, Doctor Harris, please.
Where can we reach your wife?
Does she have a cell phone?
Yes... yes, she does... it's... I
His voice trails off. A long beat. Farge asks gently:
Can you tell me what you do
remember, Martin? Do you
remember what day it is?
A beat. Giving it thought... then:
Thanksgiving. You told me that.
I remember... almost everything.
But I don't know how I got here.
Another beat. He shakes his head. Scared...
It's called retrograde amnesia.
With severe trauma of this kind,
memories get lost, or fractured.
Most return... although it's
unlikely you'll ever fully recall
the events around your accident.
In the meantime, let us see if
anyone has filed a report looking
for a Martin Harris, okay?
Yes, yes... okay.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DUSK
The light outside greying into dusk. On the TV, a German
chef showing how Americans prepare Thanksgiving dinner. The
NURSE comes in; starts to makes a note in Martin's chart.
My wife...? Meine Frau... ?
Beat. The nurse shakes her head, apologetic.
Martin watches a FAMILY, a wife and children, pass his door,
visiting another patient.
He turns his head, stares at his belongings...
. His clothes, Neatly laundered and folded, shoes beneath
them. A Rolex with a stainless steel band, a ballpoint pen,
a wad of CASH in a billfold. Three hundred or so Euros, a
small blue BOOK. Crinkled, water-stained.
Painful effort, he rises, reaches out and picks up the watch.
It's 6.48. He turns the watch over. An engraving on the
backplate: "E.H. to M.H. 7.18.03".
FLASH OF MEMORY...
Snow falling outside a warmly lit living room. A fire
crackles. Martin unwraps a present: The Watch. He turns it
over, reads the engraving, smiles up at Liz across from him,
beautiful, also smiling...
BACK IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM
.She gave it to me, our
The Nurse smiles, shakes her head, not understanding.
Martin sets the watch down, picks up the little blue book
beside the watch -- 'Horticus' -- the classic botanical
reference. He flicks through it, reads the handwritten
inscription: "For Martin, that he may discover the worlds
inside..." A distant smile...
FLASH OF MEMORY -- GENTLE, LESS VIOLENT
Martin as a child sits with his father in his father's study.
His father shows him the illustrations in the new book.
Martin's eyes are wide.
BACK IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM
Martin starts to close the book, tracks some NUMBERS,
handwritten on the endpaper. A beat.
He shuts the book, glances at the TV, silently playing the
local English language TV News: "Prince Fahad arrives in
Berlin..." Biotech Forum logo. A striking 30-something
Saudi man shakes hands with German dignitaries. A shot of
the Hotel Imperial...
Hotel Imperial... I'm here for
Doctor! Please, get the Doctor.
INT. EISNENHOWER SUITE, HOTEL IMPERIAL
A high-end suite, empty, but with the signs of someone
staying there. The phone rings... and rings...
INT. NEUROLOGICAL WARD, RECEPTION AREA - MINUTES LATER
Martin fully dressed. Farge has just hung up the phone,
trying to reason with him.
-- you have to realize the risk --
Doctor, I've been gone for four
days. My wife is out there, in a
city she doesn't know. She must
be terrified... I need to find
her before --
-- Let me call the hotel again.
We can leave a message...
Yes, fine, but look, I know her.
She's looking for me. You're
married, aren't you? What would
Farge tracks his own wedding band. A long beat. He sighs.
Not happy about this at all.
This is my card. Any nausea,
dizziness, difficulty with
speech, you contact me
immediately. Do you understand?
EXT. HOTEL IMPERIAL FORECOURT - NIGHT
A Taxi pulls up. Familiar biotechnology forum banner.
Martin gets out, strong Deja Vu. Trying to orient.
INT. HOTEL IMPERIAL - CONTINUOUS
Eyes peeled for a possible glimpse of Liz, Martin heads for
elevators. HOTEL SECURITY is everywhere. An entrance to a
ballroom is flanked by guards, checking IDs and invitations.
INT. 14TH FLOOR, HOTEL IMPERIAL - NIGHT
DING. Martin steps out into carpeted silence, makes his way
down the hall to the 'Eisenhower Suite.' About to knock when
he sees the door is ajar. A beat. Martin pushes it open...
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
. hallway leads into the spacious sitting room. No one
there. Draped over a chair, Martin recognizes Liz's jacket.
Martin smiles, blinks against tears, he's home.
Sound of MOVEMENT from the BEDROOM DOOR...
Liz! I'm here, I...
A HOTEL MAID appears from the bedroom door. Startled as she
My wife... Meine Frau... I'm
looking for Mrs. Harris...
She suddenly gets him... nodding, pointing down.
Ah. Entpfang... reception...
INT. HOTEL IMPERIAL, MEZZANINE LEVEL - NIGHT
World MUSIC. GUESTS flow in through the ornate doors. Martin
moves among them. Significantly under-dressed in his
tattered jacket, the sutured head injury. Almost at the
doors... when a hotel SECURITY GUARD intercepts him.
Excuse me, sir. Do you have an
No... I mean yes...
Distracted, still looking at passing faces...
I don't have it with me. My
name's Harris, Dr. Martin Harris.
I'm on the list. My wife is
I'm trying to find her. I've
been in the hospital.
As the guard checks a screen, a crop-haired man in a cheap
suit nearby tracks them: HERR STRAUSS, head of hotel
security. He approaches, also checks the screen as the guard
speaks to him quietly in German.
Dr. Harris. Do you have any
other identification? Passport?
I've already told this gentleman,
I've been in the hospital. I was
in an accident...
Martin sees someone through the crowd...
P.O.V. -- ENTERING FROM THE FAR DOOR
a striking, intense-looking man with dark, wiry hair, a
designer laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Smiling, arms
around his two ten year old daughters, twin GIRLS, prettily
dressed. Immediately the center of attention. People moving
forward to meet him. Flashguns POP...
MARTIN, raises his hand, calling out:
Words lost in the noise. Martin pushes toward him. But:
I'm sorry, sir...
That's Professor Bressler, right
there. He knows me, he can
confirm who I am.
If you would be patient, sir.
No, I'm done being patient...
Martin stops short. Staring past them:
That's her, that's my wife. Over
there. By the buffet table.
P.O.V -- GLIMPSED THROUGH THE CROWD
Liz. Looking superb in a black evening dress. In
conversation with a group of men and women.
Seeing her. The look on his face. Processing... an
overwhelming mixture of confusion and relief.
That's her. That's Liz, my wife.
Strauss stares at him blankly. Martin starts to lose it.
Look I have been missing for four
days and she has no idea what
happened to me! So you need to
take me to her, right now.
Heads are turning. A beat. Herr Strauss mutters to the
guard, then beckons Martin to accompany him inside.
MARTIN AND STRAUSS
thread through the crush. Martin ignoring the glances he's
getting. His eyes fixed on Liz... her back to him. A glass
of wine in her hand... her golden hair... the ivory skin of
her shoulders. Strauss taps her on the arm. She half
Excuse me Madam. Your husband is
here. He needs to --
Liz turns fully. That beauty. A flash of surprise as she
sees Martin. His clothes. The suture on his head.
Oh, Jesus Liz, I --
Moving in to embrace her... abruptly she steps away from him,
a flustered look of confusion on her face. Beat.
Liz, I... I was in an accident.
I was in the hospital, in a coma
I'm so sorry, they didn't
know who I was ---
Excuse me... do I know you?
Liz stares at him, nonplussed. Her group also staring.
Liz...? Please. It's me.
And just who might 'you' be?
Amused whispers. Martin, bewildered, growing angry.
It's me. Martin. Your husband.
Liz half smiles, glances around. Is this a joke? To the
security guard, flustered:
This is a... misunderstanding.
I... I don't know this man. This
is my husband... Martin.
She calls to a MAN nearby engaged in conversation. Mid-30s
like Martin. Elegant, groomed, athletic... conspicuously more
handsome in a chiselled way. Know him as MARTIN B.
You are Dr. Harris?
Last time I looked...
He checks his name tag. There it is: 'Dr Martin Harris.'
MARTIN B (CONT'D)
Yeah... still me.
More laughter. Martin pales. A beat. Turns to Liz.
Is this some kind of a joke?
What are you talking about... ?
-- because it really isn't funny.
joke about what?
Do you have any idea what I've
No. I have no idea what you've
I've been in the hospital for
four days! Where were you? Were
you even trying to find me --?!
Moment's strained silence. Strauss unsure what to do,
signaling a guard. Martin B steps in...
Look, You seem like you've had an
accident, or perhaps --
-- who the hell are you!?
Okay, okay. Can you please just
get him out of here?
Martin rounds on Martin B. Jabs a finger.
You. Whatever you think you're
doing, you need to stop it.
Liz, please. This is...
He tries to put his hand on her arm. Liz shies away. Martin
B between them now. Martin shoving him back.
Get out of my way --!
Guard GRABS Martin's shoulder. Martin shakes him off. Guard
grabs him again. Martin elbows him. A scuffle.
Liz --! Please...
. Martin's hauled back... away from Liz.
If you don't leave now, sir,
we'll have to call the police.
Martin pulling free, steps away.
Great! That's the first good
idea anyone's had. Call the
police. Call the God damn Army!
(to Liz, serious)
It's not funny. I was hurt...
Liz just stares at him, afraid, anchored to Martin B's arm.
TNT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT
Seen through glass. A WALL OF MONITORS show images from
around the hotel. Inside, Martin sits, surrounded.
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - SAME
Martin rocks in a chair; restless, hands knotted. A FEMALE
DETECTIVE watches him. An OLDER DETECTIVE is on the phone.
Strauss sits near him, studying him, while a TECHNICIAN fast-
forwards 4-PANE video of the hotel reception area, the drive
in front of the hotel...
There! Right there!
ON THE VIDEO: Slowing to real-time. Liz, arriving at
reception, speaking with the Receptionist, gesturing outside.
That's Liz, and I... I must have
been outside, I... I can't
The video plays on. Liz thanks the receptionist, leaves.
As you can see... you're not
Martin STARES at him, helpless. The Older Detective hangs up
Immigration confirms the arrival
of a Doctor and Mrs. Harris on
November 23rd at 16.37. An hour
later they checked into their
suite at the Hotel.
Martin breathes in. Chooses his words carefully.
He's not Martin Harris. I am
Martin Harris. The man
downstairs is pretending to be
And this impostor... may I ask?
Did he also steal your wife?
Silence. Martin searching for a response. The hint of a
smile on the female detective's face.
He's forcing her... he must have--
-- but why? Exactly? .Why?
There's no answer to that. Martin looks down. A beat.
This... this is insane.
He stares at their faces. He calms himself, trying to get a
grip. A memory resurfacing...
My lab number... at Dartmouth...
Call my assistant, she can verify
who I am. Call her right now...
He picks up a pad, scribbles down the number. Beat. The
female detective picks up the phone, dials. She switches to
speaker. RINGING TONE. CLICK. A recorded message...
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
Hello. This is 235-0535, the
office of Doctor Martin Harris.
If you're calling...
The older detective presses "off". Martin recalling...
it's Thanksgiving... no one's
going to be there till Monday...
(racking his brain)
Rod... Rodney Cole... he's a
colleague. A friend. I know his
Female detective dutifully dials the number. RINGING again.
CLICK of a machine. Then a jovial male voice:
This is Doctor Cole. I'm having
an out-of-office experience right
now, so... leave a message.
Click. Awkward SILENCE. Martin flailing...
Professor Bressler, talk to him.
He's why I'm in Berlin.
You want us to disturb a Nobel
prize winning scientist, simply
to attest to your story... when
no crime has been committed?
But it has!... That man has taken
everything from me, don't you
see? You have to arrest him...
For what? Entering the country
legally? Presenting all the
ON ONE OF THE MONITORS: A view of the Rose Room: Liz and
Martin B visible in the corner, dining.
(off the monitor)
.And sharing a hotel suite with
his wife? Excuse me, your wife?
She is my wife!
Even if she is your wife, sharing
a room with her is not illegal.
Not in Germany.
Look at her. Soon we'll have
twenty more men claiming to be
The room tries not to laugh, can't help smiling. The monitor
image flips, now just a corridor.
I'm sorry, I didn't realize this
was funny to you.
The Older Detective frowns, offended. The Female Detective
speaks into her radio. Martin tracks, panicking.
Listen... you have no proof you
are even American. We can arrest
you only for that.
I told you, I was in an accident.
I lost... I lost all my -- Wait,
what are you doing...?
The Female Detective listens to the radio response, nods to
the Older Man who checks in with Strauss.
Oh God... You're going to arrest
me. You're going to --
On Monday, you can speak with a
lawyer. Tell him who you are.
The Older Detective confers with the Female Detective.
ON THE MONITORS: the image from the Rose Room reappears: Liz
and Martin B visible: laughing, drinking.
Martin's gaze darts, panicked: The image. The detectives.
Strauss. Martin... coming to a decision...
I'm sorry... you're probably
Faces look over, interested.
I... the accident. I haven't
been remembering things, very
well. Perhaps this is just...
perhaps I'm confused.
Martin remembers something, fumbles in his jacket and
produces Farge's card.
This is my doctor, at the
hospital. He warned me this
might happen. I should go back
there. I'm really embarrassed...
Strauss LEANS in, half convinced.
So... now you are saying that you
are not Dr. Martin Harris?
ON MARTIN. Eyes tight. Point of no return.
I... I don't know.
Please, I won't be any more
trouble. You can call the
EXT. SERVICE ENTRANCE, HOTEL IMPERIAL - MOMENTS LATER
Martin in a humiliated daze as TWO HOTEL GUARDS escort him
out of a service entrance. Dirty pavement, a few bellhops
smoke in the cold by a propped-open door. The guards move
Martin along, out towards the hotel taxi stand.
INT. TAXI CAB - SAME
Martin climbs into the back seat. One of the guards hands
Dr. Farge's business card to the driver, speaks to him in
German. Door slams, cab starts to move.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- THE HOTEL
Even as they pull away, several high-end Mercedes are
sweeping up. SAUDI SECURITY get out of the first and last
cars, check around before opening the doors of the center
car. The man we saw on TV gets out. PRINCE FARAD, flanked
by bodyguards and gorgeous female companions.
The HOTEL MANAGER and CONFERENCE HEAD greet him, smiles and
handshakes, they usher his entourage inside.
Martin tracks the Prince, then FOCUSES BEYOND: A view into
the hotel bar. Liz and Martin B entering...
His gaze FIXED on them as the cab starts to move again...
Wait! Stop! I've changed my
Martin thrusts a few bills forward, steps out...
EXT. KONIGSTRASSE - NIGHT
SCRRECH! A large brown Range Rover locks up tires as Martin
steps out in front of it. A brief moment, Martin staring up
into the tinted front glass... can't make out the driver.
He holds up his hand, apologizing, makes his way to the
street. weaving back through pedestrians, eyes fixed on the
bar... FREEZES as he sees them.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- LIZ AND MARTIN B
He leans into her, speaks quietly. She nods, intimate,
smiles and shakes her head. What an evening...
Liz and Martin B get up, leave. She takes his arm, intimate,
heading out to the lobby. P.O.V. DARTING, SEARCHING... PICKS
them up again in...
. an EXTERIOR ELEVATOR rising up the side of the building.
The two of them inside. Alone...
EXT. BERLIN STREETS (VARIOUS) - NIGHT
Martin walks fast, blind, lost. Miasma of LIGHTS and SOUNDS.
Frozen MANNEQUINS in windows... the din of CLUBS and BARS...
sex-shop neon SIZZLING. Nowhere to go but to keep going.
The river. Martin gazes at the dark water...
MARTIN'S P. O. V. -- SHOCK CUT -- MEMORY FLASH
silent free-fall. WHAM! The taxi hits the water.
The RATTLE of a U-BAHN TRAIN on a bridge snaps him back. Its
PULSING LIGHTS STROBING like a silent movie.
EXT. STREET PAY PHONE - NIGHT
Faint VOICE in Martin's ear as Rodney Cole recites his
message. Hands numb with cold, Martin pumps in change.
Rodney it's me, Martin. Rod, I'm
in Berlin for the conference, but
it's Liz. She's... I'm in
Phone issues a DEMAND for more money. Martin fumbles for
change, drops a crumpled ball of Euros into the GUTTER.
INT. TRANSIT HOTEL - ROSENTHALER PLATZ - NIGHT
'Hotel' is a charitable description. Martin counts out
sodden bills, hands them to a WOMAN behind the desk. She in
turn gives Martin a form to fill.
Fur Reisepaf3... passport...
A beat. Martin looks at her, helpless. The woman sighs.
Pushes back his money.
Nicht Reisepal3, nicht
Hotelzimmer. Police... very bad.
EXT. TRANSIT HOTEL - MOMENTS LATER
Martin exits, pulling dirty clothing closed against the cold.
He scans the street, unnerved, frowns as he spots A BROWN
RANGE ROVER, up the street, parked, idling. He squints,
paranoid, checks the other way...
His eyes lock on a lit S-BAHN station across the Platz.
EXT. S-BAHN STATION BERLIN MITTE - NIGHT
Martin pushes through the turnstiles, his footsteps echo in
the empty tile corridor as his eyes play over the
advertisements. Happy sexy Germans smile back at him... The
SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS behind him, matching his. He slowly
becomes aware, glances back.
MARTIN'S P.O.V.: The empty corridor, curving away...
Martin STOPS, listens... nothing. He starts to move again,
aware that the delicate "click" of the following steps also
UP AHEAD, the corridor straightens out at the train platform,
several late-night travelers waiting. Martin begins to
hurry... the FOOTSTEPS also increase in speed.
Another sound: A TRAIN APPROACHING. Martin gives up cool,
starts to run as the train barrels into the station, its
noise eclipsing all sound. Doors open and Martin leaps in,
turns to face the open door...
.moments pass, the car's bell signals. Then a MAN appears,
rushing from the corridor, one hand raised.
Please! Hold the door!
He's mild-faced, glasses, carrying a shopping bag in one
hand. He FROWNS as Martin does nothing to stop the door.
The two men stare through the glass as the train begins to
move. The man shakes his head: foreigners.
INT. S-BAHN TRAIN - NIGHT
Martin shivers with cold and exhaustion, eyes play over the
few passengers in the car... a nondescript man a few benches
down who stares at him, then back to his paper.
Martin eyes him, paranoid. Slowly gives up, lets his gaze
plays over the adverts. Times, dates... Nov 26th. Memories
Has to write something down. Fumbles in his jacket for his
the copy of 'Horticus,' looking for a blank page to write on.
A piece of CARD falls from between its pages. Something
printed on one side. Martin flips it over, scribbles on the
other: "28th. Bressler. 12.30..." Other times, dates,
numbers. Everything he can remember...
Sudden overwhelming fatigue. The roar of the train. VOICES.
Lights racing by the windows. Martin's eyelids droop.
SUDDEN FLASH CUT - FRACTURED MEMORY...
. LECTURE HALL, younger Liz in the audience. Students
CLAPPING. Smiling older colleague SHAKING his hand...
becoming... bees' WINGS swarming in their hive... YOUNG
MARTIN watching mesmerized through a magnifying glass...
their movement morphing into NAKED BODIES. Urgent,
passionate. Martin and Liz making love.
WHOMPF! SUDDEN SHIFT -- A HOTEL BEDROOM...
. Liz towelling her hair. Only now it's dark, and cut
short. Turns, smiles at him. Face close. Lips moving.
Are you ready...?
INT. S-BAHN TRAIN - MORNING
Martin's eyes creak open. The train is still moving, but
everything has changed. Morning passengers crowd the car,
giving him space. An AMERICAN COUPLE, their bags tucked
tight. The WIFE staring down at him.
INT. S-BAHN BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Martin runs water, combs his hair with his fingers. Tries to
press creases out of his stained suit. He stares into the
graffiti-stained metal mirror of the bathroom.
Are you going to give up?
okay. Solve the problem...
INT. INTERNET CAFE - NIGHT
Martin sits in front of a stickered and stained monitor, eyes
glued to the screen as he types in an URL. The Dartmouth
Mail website appears. Martin types in his login, password.
"Login failed. Please try again."
Another attempt. Same results. He switches tactics. Types
"Martin Harris" into Google... 605,000 results come back at
him. On an impulse, he clicks "IMAGES."...
.page after page of men young and old. Getting married,
posing, partying, historical illustrations...
Behind Martin, door jingles, a YOUNG MAN comes into the cafe,
seats himself across and to the side of Martin.
Martin focuses, tries 'Martin Harris, Phd'... Cursor clicks.
A new window opens. 'The role of Gorytini and Thynnidae in
Drakea pollination.' 'Research Faculty information: Dr.
Martin Harris...' Contact numbers. No picture.
He stares in disbelief... suddenly becomes AWARE of the man
across: Young, nondescript, his head bobbing gently to
whatever his Ipod earbuds are playing, staring into his
computer... The young man looks over, meets Martin's eyes,
holds for a long moment, small smile, looks back.
Martin studies him for a moment, forces his gaze back to the
page, the negation of his life on a small screen.
THE YOUNG MAN
. Glances over again. Martin catching him.
Can I help you? Hello?
The guy points to his headphones, shrugs. Martin STARES at
his screen, ears listening for the tell tale sound of music
seeping from the earbuds... nothing.
Martin rises suddenly, looks to the bored ATTENDANT who nods
towards the back. Martin moves past college kids on
Facebook, to a dim back corridor, a door marked "Manner," and
what's he's looking for: a back door, cracked.
EXT. ALLEY BEHIND THE INTERNET CAFE - NIGHT
Martin slips into the alley, trots towards the street,
glancing back. No one is following.
He moves onto the street, waits at a light... eyes lock onto
the familiar "Ace Taxi" logo of a taxi passing...
SUDDEN FLASH OF MEMORY --: CARTWHEELING TAXI...
Silent freefall dive. The 'Ace Taxis' logo... The face in
the mirror. Looking back at him. Gina. Eyes meet...
I /E. TAXI DEPOT - BUCHER STRASSE - EARLY MORNING
Revving ENGINES. Echoing VOICES. Hunched against the
drizzle, Martin pauses outside it. The playing card 'Ace
Taxis' logo. Martin ducks under the open steel shutters...
INT. 'ACE' TAXIS - DISPATCH OFFICE - EARLY MORNING
The DEPOT MANAGER, a bully with a face like boiled meat,
rants at Martin in German. BIKO, a gentle-looking Somalian,
translates. His English is impeccable.
He says he doesn't care if she
saved your life... the bitch cost
him 20,000 Euros... the insurance
won't cover the cab because she
had no license... the driver who
was letting her moonlight in his
taxi, skipped town...
The depot manager's rage reaches a Hitlerian climax...
. He says illegal immigrants
are destroying German society...
So. I'm guessing he doesn't know
where she is.
No one knows where she is.
Martin studies Biko, nods.
Please thank him for his time.
EXT. TAXI DEPOT BUCHER STRASSE - EARLY MORNING
Biko exits the depot, starts to tuck in Ipod earphone when
Martin catches up with him, meets his pace.
Hey, American. I'm sorry we
couldn't help you --
You know where she is. You
paused. I could tell.
Please, I just want to thank her.
She saved my life.
Biko eyes him, wary...
I thought, maybe she could use my
help. Maybe I could give her
I just want to thank her.
Martin puts out his hand, sincere. Biko sizes him up, then
takes his hand, shakes it.
Solomon... Solomon Obiko. My
friends just call me Biko.
Martin. Martin Harris.
INT. HASIR CAFE - CONTINUOUS
Berlin's 'Little Istanbul'. A Turkish working man's joint.
Steam rises around a busy food counter. Condensation on the
GINA picks up steaming food from the kitchen, drops it off
with two Turkish men, chats with them briefly in fast
Turkish. There's a bruise around her eye, now healing.
She moves to the register where a beefy OWNER counts off a
week's pay and stuffs it in an envelope for her. She thanks
him in German, tucks it away and ducks behind the counter to
steam milk for a coffee. Glances up... freezes.
ACROSS THE COUNTER: MARTIN
. Stares at her, gauging her reaction. A long moment, she
looks back down to her work.
You remember me. You know who I
She finishes the Turkish coffee, starts another.
I was in your taxi.
I don't drive a taxi.
She takes the two drinks towards a table. He follows.
Across the room, the owner eyes them.
No, you do. I was in your taxi,
we crashed. Why did you leave?
Why didn't you talk to the
She puts up a hand, calming him.
Okay. Okay. How did you find
Your friend, Biko.
(cutting her off)
It's not his fault. I told him I
had money for you.
No. I mean, not now. I --
Gina laughs, shakes her head, tries to push by him. He gets
in her way. Eyes from around the room track.
Please. Listen to me, I've been
in the hospital, since the
accident. My memory, it's... I
don't remember what happened but
something is going on and there
are some people I need you to
speak to. I need you to tell
them what happened.
Gina ducks back behind the counter.
Look, things have been happening
to me. I think I'm being
That got her attention. Her eyes lift, scan outside.
You're my only link to before
Yes, crazy... but it's true.
The Owner is now.really watching.
You have to help me --
She rounds on him. Patience snapping. Pushes through doors,
gesturing him with her into...
INT. KITCHEN, HASIR CAFE - CONTINUOUS
.pots, pans, food bubbles. Immigrant cooks work, glace up
but speak no English. Gina, really angry.
What do you expect me to do? I'm
an illegal, driving a taxi
without a permit, in an accident
without insurance. If the cops
catch up with me they'll throw me
in jail. If I'm in jail, I lose
everything, understand? If I'm
in jail, they deport me.
You're not listening to me --
No! It's you who is not
listening. You're an American.
Go to your fancy embassy. Go to
the Police. There a million
people here who will help you.
But you know who I am.
No, I don't. What's your name?
Martin Harris, Doctor M --
Okay, fantastic, you're Martin
Harris. You're whoever you say
you are. Yes, I picked you up
and we crashed. It doesn't mean
I know who you are!
She backs off, a hand raised against him. He STARES after
her, the truth of what she's said hitting him.
Where was I going? In the taxi?
To the airport. Arrivals. You
were in a hurry.
But I'd just arrived. It doesn't
make any sense...
She raises her hands, enough. He looks at her, takes in the
bruise on her face.
You got hurt, too. In the crash.
(off her shrug)
Thank you. For saving my life.
You'd have done the same.
No. You can't be sure how you'll
act. Not until something like
Well... I know me. I jump in
without thinking. It causes me
lot of trouble.
She looks up at him. Meets his eyes square for the first
So please. Just leave me alone.
He nods. She turns, pushes back into the restaurant. He
watches her explaining to her boss... Then turns away,
towards a back door.
INT. US EMBASSY - MORNING
Fluorescent lights. Linoleum floor. Martin sits in a small
plastic chair filling out paperwork. Alone. The place is
closing early for the long weekend.
A man opens a door, looks at Martin.
INT. OFFICE. US EMBASSY - DAY
MARC SPIEGLER is German, fluent English. Patient, but
wishing he was on his way home as well. He looks over
Martin's paperwork as Martin places his watch and the
"Horticus" book on the table.
Where the form asks for a complaint, Martin has written
(not looking up)
Have you contacted your Credit
No. You don't understand. As I
explained to the last guar -- who
went home by the way -- it's not
about Credit Cards. Someone has
taken over my identity. Someone
is pretending to be me. Here.
Spiegler nods, sensing this won't be an easy one.
Did you contact the local
Yes. They... They believe the
other man. I need a new
passport, papers to prove --
Spiegler sighs, a mixture impatience and sympathy.
Why do they believe the other
Because... Because my wife. He's
staying with my wife. They must
be forcing her --
Spiegler suppresses a small laugh, looks away.
You don't think I know how it
sounds? Let me ask you this, if
my wife was having some hot and
heavy affair with another man,
why not just leave me? Why this?
After all, we're in Europe,
Spiegler burns, nods.
Look, I need a passport.
(tapping the forms)
I need the documents that this
embassy is supposed to provide.
Do you know, the things people
will do to get a US Passport...?
Anyway, we're closing until
Monday. If you come back then --
Monday?! They've kidnappedmy
wife. You need to find out who
this other man is, you need to be
in contact with my wife --
Spiegler exhales, cuttint Martin off. He picks up Martin's
Rolex, glances at the initials. Looks at his copy of
'Horticus', the inscription on the inside cover. As he does,
a slip of paper comes loose, Martin picks it up.
You understand, we're not a
detective agency, we...
Spiegler stops, sensing Martin isn't listening anymore.
Martin's staring at the slip of paper where on one side is
scribbled: "28th. Bressler. 12.30 pm..."
I have a meeting with Bressler...
Never mind. You've been very
unhelpful. Earlier a woman
yelled at me because I had it so
easy... being an American. Have
a nice day...
Spiegler watching him. Second thoughts. Consults his
address book. Scribbles down a number...
Hey. Martin Harris. Here...
Martin takes it.
An old friend. He needs work,
and he's good at finding things.
He may be able to help you.
INT. ENTRANCE HALL, TECHNICAL UNIVERSITY - DAY
Cavernous lobby, echoing VOICES and FOOTSTEPS. Ancient
brickwork and tile contrast with new-age furniture and
technology. An atomic clock reads 12.35. Martin heads to
Excuse me. I need to find
Professor Bressler's lab. I have
an appointment at 12.30... I'm
The female RECEPTIONIST behind the desk consults her screen.
Your name please?
Dr. Martin Harris. The professor
knows who I am. We scheduled
this meeting weeks ago.
The professor knows you?
Well, we haven't met, but we've
been corresponding. He invited
me here to discuss my thesis.
Dr. Martin Harris...
She frowns, rises from the desk.
Wait here please.
Is there some sort of problem?
No answer, she disappears into a back office. Martin shakes
his head, exasperated. He scans the building plan on the
wall... 'Bressler. L.P - Molekulare Botanik - 305'...
Suddenly about-turns, heads for the stairs. The woman out of
the office. SEES him.
Nein... eingang ist verboten:
She quickly grabs the phone on the desk, speed-dialing.
INT. BRESSLER'S LABORATORY - MORNING
Surreal. Rows of head-height CORN in a large humid chamber
under bright lights. Above, ancient rusting girders and
brick. Insects HUM. RESEARCH STUDENTS clip seed spikelets,
bagging and logging the samples.
Martin slips quickly in through a door, unseen. Heat and
moisture hitting him. Above the drone of bugs... VOICES.
Martin tenses. He recognizes one of them...
MARTIN B (O.C.)
Drakea, named after Anthea
Drake, the English botanist who
wondered how it manages to
reproduce when it doesn't appear
to attract any insects...
A wave of anger... that's Martin's work he's discussing!
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LAB - MARTIN B WITH BRESSLER...
It's puzzling, one wonders how --
Bressler stops talking. Stares past Martin B at MARTIN,
heading toward them down a corn row, eyes burning.
Martin B turns, sees him. His eyes harden. But it's
Bressler who speaks first. Alarmed, indignant:
This laboratory is a restricted
area. Who are you?
It's all right, Professor...
What the hell are you doing here?
You know this man?
-- how did you get in here? Are
you absolutely out of your mind?
Professor. He is not Martin
Harris. I am Martin Harris.
That's a conversation stopper. Bressler looks to Martin B...
who shakes his head, embarrassed. Martin pointing:
A phone RINGS somewhere in the room. It's picked up.
So what is this? Some sort of
hybridized propagation? There
are two Martin Harrises?
No... let me explain. This man
showed up at the hotel last
night. Security had to remove
him. The police were called...
I called the police, you
-- seems he checked himself out
of the hospital. He was in an
accident of some sort.
. one of the research students CALLS to Bressler in German.
Martin catches the word "polizei". A surge of panic. He
looks around. Sees a straw he can grasp at...
Drakea Drakensis... Miss Drake
. the PLANT SAMPLE on the table behind Bressler.
A single insect was attracted,
but she couldn't see it. It's
too small and it moves too fast.
Thynnidae. It's a kind of wasp,
but it looks like an ant. Only
the males have wings. The orchid
re-produces the pheromones of the
female wasp to lure it in. It's
a trick. It's pretending to be
something it isn't...
Bressler looks to Martin. Surprised... curious now. Martin
sees his opening. Hope in his voice...
We talked... you and I... on the
we discussed your interest in
alternative forms of propagation.
I told you about my father, a
school teacher... his passion for
science... how he passed that on
-- I don't believe it! You've
been listening to my calls? Just
who the hell are you?
I said I'd like to do the
same for my kids. You talked
about your children... Two
girls... right? Yeah... their --
His voice falters... tails off into silence. Searching his
memory. Expression shifting to one of panic...
You... you told me their names...
I can't... I know them... I...
Martin B picks up for him. Icy clarity:
... Laurel, and Lily.
Martin frozen as Martin B goes on...
MARTIN B (CONT'D)
Twins... ten years old. The same
age I was when I told my father I
wanted to be a botanist. We
discussed that on the phone,
Professor... how I'd never seen
him so happy.
Martin sways on his feet, sweat beading...
No! That wasn't you. Don't you
remember? We spoke of how brave
our wives were to marry ---
-- to marry scientists. I told
you about our honeymoon --
-- our honeymoon in Paris. My
wife and I. Liz wanted to go to
the museums. All I wanted to do
was visit the --
-- THE ECOLE POLYTECHNIQUE...
MARTIN B (CONT'D) MARTIN
but she insisted and . but she insisted and
that's how I first saw that's how I first saw
Leonardo's Vitruvian Man! Leonardo's Vitruvian Man!.
A beat, a breath. Bressler looking between them. Wow...
MARTIN B (CONT'D)
Look STOP IT!
Martin B suddenly seems to SNAP.
MARTIN B (CONT'D)
This is my wife we're talking
about! My father, whom I loved.
You may think it's funny, but
it's my life. Whatever sick
pleasure this gives you -- I'm
tired of it. I'm done. You need
Martin just STARES at the Martin B who's shaking, upset.
Like looking in a mirror that has taken your emotions.
I... this isn't happening...
. the POLICE suddenly there. Two OFFICERS. Bressler
signals for them to stay back. Martin lifts his eyes...
I... I'm... He's not...
A beat. Martin B shakes his head.
I can't believe I need to do
He reaches in his jacket. Produces a passport. Martin B's
face. Dr. Martin Harris. Then he opens his wallet. Credit
cards, New Hampshire driver's license... a PHOTOGRAPH in the
wallet's plastic sleeve...
Martin sees the photograph. His EYES WIDEN...
P.O.V. -- THE PHOTOGRAPH
. dog-eared with age. A younger Martin B with Liz. In the
Tuileries in Paris, his arm around her. The image CLOSER
BLURRING out of FOCUS... VERTIGO SPIN... The floor RUSHING
UP... WHAM! Then NOTHING.
Flickering like a candle in darkness. Suddenly CLOSER.
BLINDING. Voices behind the light. A distorted form slowly
TAKES SHAPE. A familiar bearded FACE...
INT. EXAMINATION ROOM, WALDFRIEDE HOSPITAL - DAY
DR. FARGE fans a penlight across Martin's eyes. Propped
up on a gurney. Flinches at the glare.
The police brought you here. The
mistake was mine. I should never
have let you leave.
Martin blinks, bleary. Farge talks briefly to the nurse in
German. She nods, starts prepping a hypodermic at a table.
Farge looks back to Martin. Explains gently:
Confusion... memory loss... the
complete or partial loss of
identity... these are common
stages in recovery. Some
temporary, others longer term.
We're going to do an MRI. Try to
find out what's happening.
Martin stares out the window, not fighting, hardly listening.
A bird alights on a branch.
The mind is like a jigsaw puzzle.
The pieces fit together to create
the person we are. With major
trauma, the puzzle is shattered.
But the brain's ability to
recover is remarkable. The mind
needs a narrative, an identity...
a soul. Without memory, without
a past, we are nothing. In the
coma state, memories are rebuilt.
In some cases the pieces move.
In others they go missing. And
sometimes... completely new
pieces are found.
The bird flies off. Martin's eyes track... empty.
Comas sometimes perform a kind of
alchemy. A patient awakes
convinced of a reality that was
previously only fantasy.
New men, in effect, with new
lives... new loves.
Doctor... Do you know what it
feels like, to become insane?
..There is quite a lot of
literature on the subject. But
finally, I would say it's a
I can tell you.
Martin looks over, Farge almost RECOILS at the intensity in
Martin's eyes. Fear. Loss. Anger.
It's like a war, between what you
He taps his forehead.
.and what you believe.
His hand moves down his body to his chest, taps his heart.
He LEANS towards Farge.
.who do you think wins?
Martin SMILES. Tight, hurting, fatalistic. Farge, almost
afraid, nods to the nurse who slips the needle in.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- THE NURSE'S FACE FADING INTO...
Far-off VOICES. Gurney MOVING beneath him. Looking up.
Lights passing. RHYTHMIC SOUND of the wheels becoming...
INT. MRI ROOM, WALDFRIEDE HOSPITAL - DAY
.Claustrophobic nightmare; a support holds Martin's head
rigid, earphones piping soothing CLASSICAL MUSIC, but the
noise of the machine is all-engulfing. DUNN-DUNN-DUNN. The
sound DEAFENING. Scanner moving over him...
Martin's eyes empty... far far away.
SMASH CUT INTO MEMORY - FRACTURED IMAGES...
Undulating bodies moving over each other, Martin and Liz
making love. Urgency building. Suddenly SHIFTING...
. Martin B and Liz drinking in the hotel bar... she leaning
over, whispering to him, intimate.
BACK TO SCENE -- SUDDEN QUIET
an abrupt jolt. Electric WHINE. Platform moves, sliding
Martin out of the tube. His eyes open, take in the room.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- TWO ORDERLIES
.tending to him. One raises a needle, injects a CLOUDY
SUBSTANCE into Martin's IV bag...
.The MRI Control Booth, empty. Martin squints, a little
confused. He raises his eyes, looks into the face of the man
from the Internet Cafe! Call him JONES.
his mind struggles to compute. The sudden overwhelming
realization that he's not insane. This man is HERE. His
eyes DART as the other orderly glances over, the man from the
train tunnel. Call him SMITH. He smiles at Martin, polite,
nondescript. Ghostly in his disinterest.
Hello, Martin. This won't take
Martin tries to raise up but can't move -- his arms and legs
are like lead. He opens his mouth to call out, his voice
barely a murmur. His eyes lock on the IV bag, the steady
drip... drip... down the line into his body...
The two men quickly lift Martin, hefting him face-down onto a
gurney. One arm dangles.
MARTIN'S P.O.V.-- STRAIGHT DOWN
-- The Men's shoes, thick soled, black. Linoleum Tile.
Wheels of the gurney.
-- Jones, stuffing his clothes and effects into a plastic
bag, tossing them under the gurney. Smith pushing...
Excuse me, where are you taking
Martin's vision RACKS, traces the Nurse's white sneakers,
standing in the now open doorway to the room. Martin STRAINS
to yell, to speak, nothing. He can just move his head enough
to eyeball the IV. Drip... drip... drip...
We have instruction to move this
patient to the American Hospital
at Wiesbaden. Here are the
The rustle of paper. Martin CONCENTRATES, eyes on the IV
tube, hanging between the bars of the gurney and his arm.
Great Effort, He LEANS, pinching the tube closed.
CLOSE ON THE IV: The drips... stop.
I'm surprised I wasn't
informed... Let me check with --
A SOUND, like paper torn quick...
and THE NURSE FALLS TO THE FLOOR, STARING UP AT MARTIN,
HER THROAT CUT.
Martin gazes down at her in HORROR as she bleeds out, staring
upwards at him, the light in her eyes dying.
Around him Smith and Jones start to MOVE, locking the door,
opening cabinets, working fast, Martin's eyes lock on: a pair
of scissors, tucked in her apron.
Eyes watering, adrenaline surging, Martin WILLS his hand to
reach down, palm the scissors, just as the Nurse's body is
dragged away, leaving a trail of red...
INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - DAY
The MRI ROOM door opens, the two 'orderlies' wheel the barely
conscious Martin out into the corridor. Behind them, the
room is spotless.
They round a corner, almost at the EXIT... Doors ahead BLOW
OPEN. Doctors, Paramedics rushing forward with various
WOUNDED on gurneys. Something big has happened.
Smith and Jones eye the madness coming their way, command
decision, they duck into
INT. PATIENT'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
. where a feeble OLD MAN mumbles at them from his bed.
They ignore the man, go about checking Martin. Jones lifts
his head, pries open one eyelid after the other while Smith
ties down his arms, covers him with a sheet.
Suddenly, the door OPENS. A DOCTOR, breathless.
You two. We need help!. Right
(off their hesitation)
COME ON! NOW!
No choice. They exit after the doctor, Jones glancing back
at Martin as the door swings shut behind them.
A beat. The covered shape on the gurney starts to MOVE.
Martin's hand saws back and forth, using the scissors to cut
the straps that bind him.
ACROSS, the Old Man tracks the motion... scared.
Success! A strap gives way. Martin paws the blanket weakly
away. Feels along his arm, and pulls out the IV. Blood
drips. He rises up, trying to orient...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- FLARED, DISTORTED
. the old MAN staring at him... DAZZLING daylight framed by
a window... strange reverberating ECHOES...
. pulls himself upright. Tries to stand, but his body is
like Jello. Reaches out, grabs the leg of a steel equipment
trolley which TEETERS... CRASHES to the floor, showering
Martin with a CASCADE of instruments and dressings.
INT. RECOVERY ROOM (ALONG CORRIDOR) - SAME
ALARMS RING. Emergency team clusters around a lifeless
PATIENT, working fast. Smith and Jones, resentfully holding
drip bags. They heard that. Turn, eyes meeting. Set down
their drip bags. Edge back toward the door...
INT. HALLWAY, HOSPITAL - SAME
Smith and Jones, hurrying down the hall. Quick check
into the patient's room reveals Martin GONE, the old man
They moves on, fast, around a corner into...
INT. HOSPITAL E.R. RECEIVING AREA - CONTINUOUS
Very busy. Patients... doctors and nurses. Smith and Jones
push into the room, scanning... see:
A FAMILIAR FIGURE
shuffling towards the doors! Given away by the plastic
bag and the hospital gown showing under the jacket.
BAM! Entrance doors SLAM OPEN. PARAMEDICS charge in,
wheeling in MORE ACCIDENT PATIENTS on a gurneys past Martin
as he exits. Smith and Jones break into a run, trying to
press through TWO MORE CREWS coming through with more CRASH
EXT. HOSPITAL E.R. ARRIVALS - SAME
CHAOS here. Ambulances arriving, departing. Crews slamming
their rigs closed, taking off, SIRENS WAILING. Other
arriving with wounded...
Smith and Jones rush out of the hospital doors, pull up. The
many ambulances, the crowds... no sign of Martin.
I/E. AMBULANCE/ BERLIN STREETS - SHORT WHILE LATER
Cop cars and fire trucks surround an accident scene where a
truck has side-swiped a trolley-car. Ambulance pulls up
behind them. PARAMEDICS jump out, one of them pulling open
the back doors...
startles as he finds Martin, now dressed back in his
clothes, a reassuring hand held up, climbing out unsteadily:
It's okay... I'm fine...
Paramedic would do something, but his colleague's YELLING at
him to hurry. Just has to watch Martin go...
EXT. FRIEDRICHSTRASSE, BERLIN MITTE - DAY
. weaving down the busy sidewalk, buffeting against annoyed
shoppers. Looks behind to see if he's being followed.
Nobody. Keeps pressing on, finally arriving at
A FOOD CART
tended by a Middle-Eastern Man who stares at Martin.
Martin eyes warm Gyros and Souvlakis, rummages for money...
comes out with just a slip of paper with writing on it: The
slip the man from the embassy wrote on.
He focuses, his mind clearing: A name: Jurgen. An address.
INT. HOSPITAL - DAY
A CORONER's hand slides a zipper closed, past the lifeless
eyes of the Nurse.
ACROSS THE ROOM
The two DETECTIVES from the Hotel Imperial sit with Farge who
pours himself a drink with remorseful hands. The entire
scene in German, subtitled:
.The man's condition was
unusual, yes. But there was
nothing to indicate violence.
Is he still dangerous?
Farge watches the Coroner wheel away the Nurses's body.
To someone who threatens that
fantasy...? Yes. I believe he
INT. S-BAHN - NIGHT
Metro train car almost empty, save for a few noticeably down-
at-heel passengers. Martin looks up at the map.
EXT. MARZAHN, EAST BERLIN - NIGHT
Bleak, uniform blocks of Communist-era housing. Graffiti-
covered walls: hammers and sickles, swastikas... Martin stops
outside one, checks the address on the card.
INT. APARTMENT BLOCK - CONTINUOUS
Urine stench. Water pooling on concrete. 'Gebrochen' sign
blocking off the elevator. Martin climbs the steps.
Approaching FOOTFALLS, SHOUTS from above. A group of young
SKINHEADS thunders past him, on downward...
INT. FIFTH FLOOR, APARTMENT BLOCK - NIGHT
Martin presses a bell. Hears it RINGING. No answer. A door
behind him OPENS. A grey-haired LADY peers out. A beat.
Martin tries the BELL again. COUGHING from inside, the sound
of a LOCK. The door half opens...
revealing ERNST JURGEN. Piercing eyes in a face far
older than its sixty-some years. Frayed suit jacket, stained
shirt; grey hair yellowed by nicotine.
Alles in ordnung, Frau Brunner.
He smiles. Frau Brunner retreats back behind her door.
Jurgen turns to Martin. Eyes reading him.
Come in. Come in.
INT. JURGEN APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
Jurgen leads Martin down a hallway piled with books.
Siegler used to work for me.
Did he tell you that?
His laughter becomes a COUGH that racks his body. Lets it
pass, before ushering Martin into a tiny living room.
Points Martin toward a battered chair. opens a bottle of
cheap brandy, pours two glasses. Turns to find Martin
looking at FRAMED PHOTOS on the sideboard...
. a YOUNGER JURGEN in East German army uniform... in a
large office... smiling beside a Russian-made sedan...
The Staatssicherheit. The
Ministry for State Security.
That's where Spiegler worked for
you? The secret police?
A true believer, like the rest of
us. Now look at him. I should
have had him shot.
Another laugh, more COUGHING. Hands Martin a brandy.
He forgot. Germans are experts
at forgetting. We forgot we were
Nazis. Now we've forgotten forty
years of Communism. All gone.
But it's not just history that's
forgotten. It's people, too.
He sinks into a chair. Tired smile.
But enough of me...
LATER -- SMOKE RISES FROM A CIGARETTE
Jurgen jots notes in a pad. Hand unsteady, he perches his
cigarette on the ashtray, picks up the 'Horticus'.
I always have it with me. It was
a gift from my father...
Jurgen flips it open. Notices the inscription, the NUMBERS
written inside the front endpaper. A beat.
These mean anything to you?
No. It's my wife's handwriting.
So, they mean something to her.
He looks to Martin. Direct.
Her involvement in this. There
must have been something... in
the past... some indication?
A beat. Martin shakes his head, at a loss. Jurgen leafs
on... the piece of CARD drops from between the pages. Jurgen
picks it up. Martin's notations from the night before in the
train: times... dates... places.
My schedule... for this week.
It's everything I remember.
Jurgen turns over the card. German print. A cheery cartoon
Uncle Sam: 'Uncle Sam's Bowling & Billiards'.
My friend Rodney Cole told us to
go, said it was a blast.
LATER STILL -- JURGEN
Tapping his pencil on the pad... intrigued.
Passport, credit cards, family
photos... things like these take
time to prepare. You say this
man has detailed knowledge of
your research, of your
Professor Bressler. He knows
Including the fact that you were
going to have a random accident
that would allow him seamlessly
to take your place? These people
may be good, but they're not God.
The question is, why would they
want to take your place? What
could they gain from being you?
They tried to kill me.
Yes, did you a favor I'd say.
Now you have... Redlichkeit...
Now you know you are right.
Do you believe me?
A beat. Jurgen pours them both another brandy.
In the Stasi, we had a basic
principle: Ask enough questions
and a man who is lying will
eventually change his story. But
a man who tells the truth cannot
change his, however unlikely his
story sounds. I believe you are
telling the truth, Doctor Harris.
A long beat. Jurgen closes the notebook.
I'll start by calling these
numbers again... as you say, it's
and there's the time difference,
so it may take time to make
contact. And then there is the
of money... ?
Yes. Of money.
Martin takes off his Rolex. Sets it on the table.
It's all I have. I'll pay you in
cash as soon as I can.
Jurgen nods, picks up the watch. Turns it, looks at the
engraving on the back. As Martin turns to leave...
A wince of pain as Jurgen gets up. Lifts a tea tin off the
shelf. Opens it. Takes out a hundred Euros...
A loan against your guarantee.
I'll need twenty-four hours.
Call me tomorrow afternoon. Do
you have a place to stay?
A long beat. Off Martin's FACE...
INT. HASIR CAFE - NIGHT
Gina is cleaning up for the night, counting her tips, jotting
numbers in a small notebook. The television plays the
evening news quietly. In a corner, her boss is tallying the
days receipts at a table.
Gina ducks under the counter, calls out to a man who's parked
in a corner seat, out of sight.
Hey, friend. We're closing...
The man looks up: It's Martin. He's exhausted, wet. His
eyes full of need and fear.
I thought I told you to --
I'm sorry. Please. I had
nowhere else to go...
She starts to respond, holds it back. Nods.
I know the feeling.
I just need to know. The man you
picked up, the man who's life you
saved. That was me, right? It
She looks down at him, moved. Eyes track his wedding ring.
You're married. What about your
I... don't know.
Can you imagine what it's like,
to wake up one day, and your
life... has been erased.
Beat. He starts to rise, collect himself.
It was you. Martin Harris. You.
He starts to go. She puts a hand on his arm. He stares at
it. Human contact.
Don't be an idiot. Come on...
He hesitates, then lets her lead him out of the cafe.
In the corner, the owner watches them go. The TV NEWS
changes, flashes a special. The Owner looks up:
ON TELEVISION: Martin's face, caught by a camera at the
hospital. Juxtaposed next to it, a smiling picture of the
Nurse. German text scrolls: "Wanted for Murder..."
The Owner's hand moves, picks up the phone.
E/I. STREET / RANGE ROVER - NIGHT
The Brown Range Rover idles on the street. Exhaust plumes.
Inside, two figures statue in silence. Smith and Jones.
Waiting. The engine idles, the vents blow heat. Suddenly,
an ELECTRONIC SCRAMBLER on the dashboard SQUAWKS in German.
EXT. BERLIN STREETS - NIGHT
Martin and Gina walk side by side, unused to the company.
So, how long are you married?
Where did you meet her?
Yale... I was a teaching
assistant. Liz heard me lecture.
And there's no way she just
didn't... recognize you?
He shakes his head. They reach the cement steps of an
.You don't have to believe me.
It's crazy, I know.
Gina pauses, stares through chain-link at the cars below.
Everyone has a story... Where
they came from, where they are
going, what happened to them.
Why they're not happy, or
( l ooking over)
Who cares what I believe. It's
bullshit. All that matters is...
(pokes his chest)
Who you are, what you do, right
She reaches in her jacket. Opens the notebook she was
writing in. Columns of figures.
This is me. 2,259 Euros and
counting. The number's the only
thing that changes. I reach
4000, I can buy papers...
Or maybe I'll come home one day
and find a stranger who claims to
be me. I'd like that. Walk
away. Leave it all behind.
You could do that.
Martin shakes his head.
I'd still have my memories.
You see? We're different. You
like your memories. very
American of you.
He nods. She shrugs, turns away.
INT. GINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Key in the lock, door opens. Gina shows Martin in.
Run-down but clean. Rainwater seeps in through the window.
Martin sits, watches Gina as she goes to a sideboard and
uncorks a bottle. Pours Martin a glass of clear liquor.
He takes a sip. Then another. Gina watching him. Muffled
TV and arguing VOICES in Turkish from the floor below.
The walls are made of
cardboard... but it's home.
Another smile, tired. A long beat. Abruptly, Gina gets up
and leaves the room. Sound of drawers opening.
You can sleep on the floor in
there. I have an extra mattress.
She reappears... tosses something to Martin. A sweater, a
pair of man's jeans. Before he can speak...
EXT. INTERNET CAFE, STRAUSBERGER PLATZ - NIGHT
Night-owl STUDENTS and BACK-PACKERS at rows of terminals,
fingers tapping. The unlikely figure of Jurgen waits in the
line at the counter. Signs in, gets his swipe key.
AT A COMPUTER TERMINAL
Moment's thought, Jurgen types Martin Harris Ph.D into the
search window. Hits return.
CLOSE on the list, the same Martin got. No pictures.
Jurgen writes something in his notebook. Types again...
'World Bio-technology Forum' homepage. Schedule...
delegates... speakers... photo of Bressler, sub-heading:
'Keynote Address'... An enlarged color PHOTO: Guest of Honor
and forum sponsor Prince Fahad.
Google search results... NEWS HEADLINES: 'Saudi Prince in
assassination attempt'... 'Failed killing highlights
controversial figure in Arab world'... Another CLICK...
CLOSE ON SCREEN -- YOU-TUBE VIDEO CLIP
Al-Jazeera News footage. Fahad at a press conference.
Sudden shift of focus, someone approaching the podium.
Security move to intercept. EXPLOSIVE FLASH of a grenade.
Blood on the lens, hand-held pandemonium.
INT. HASIR CAFE - NIGHT
The Cafe Owner is still watching the local news, looking for
another glimpse of Martin. Door jingles. He glances over to
see two men, one holding up a POLICE Badge.
You guys are quick...
The BADGE lowers. It's Jones. Looks utterly nonthreatening,
plain. But the Owner's voice falters.
INT. GINA'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Martin sets the borrowed clothing down on the bed, looks
around himself as he takes off his jacket.
Intimate, to be in here. Photographs on a cluttered vanity:
Old country, Bosnia. Men in suits and women in long dresses.
Children, a boy and two girls... Gina?
IN THE KITCHEN
Gina goes to the fridge, removes a pot of plain stew and sets
it on the stove. She uses a spoon to pull off a chunk of
fatty meat. Drops it on a chipped plate and opens the
leaning out into the rain, Gina reaches up, slides the
plate onto a sloping roof above. Excited YOWLS as stray cats
come running from every direction.
Gina ducks back inside, pulls the window shut, glances
towards the cracked door to her bedroom as she ducks into the
bathroom, turns on the hot water...
The light's bust so you have to
leave the door open if you want
to see anything. Don't worry, I
EXT. GINA'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
The RANGE ROVER pulls up outside the building.
INT. GINA'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Martin takes off his shirt, lays it down. Notices several
charcoal drawings, tucked behind a radiator. He pulls a few
out. A lonely man in the park. A woman with her child.
Dark, shadowed... Beautiful.
Gina clears her throat. Martin looks over, sees Gina
standing in the doorway, realizes.
Oh. I'm sorry, I just... I'm
sorry. Did you do these?
I give you a place to stay, it
doesn't give you the right to --
No, you're right...
(putting them back)
I'm sorry. They're beautiful.
You should --
I should what? Have been an
artist? Perhaps in Bosnia...
(beat, quoting him)
"Can you imagine what it's like,
to wake up one day. And your
whole life... has been erased?"
He STARES at her, moved. That connection again. He looks
away. Looks back again...
What is it?
Your eyes... It's the one thing
I remember about the accident.
Your eyes in the mirror...
He tails off. Face-to-face...
BANG! BANG! Pounding on the door. Gina motions Martin out
of sight as she opens the door...
.It's Biko, the soft-spoken Somali taxi-driver. He grins.
Tries teasingly to peek past her into the apartment.
You got company?
She puts her foot against the door, inscrutable. Biko drops
a set of keys into her hand.
Bring it back to my place. Leave
the keys on the TV. And don't
forget to reset the meter.
You're the best.
She pecks him on the cheek. Biko pushes in the door, just a
little, but enough to catch Martin, in his undershirt,
carrying the rest of his clothes, halfway to the shower.
I'm... I'm just going... in here.
Biko looks at Gina, raises an eyebrow.
Yes, that's right. I sleep with
every married American you send
my way -- Thank you for that, by
Hey, no need to explain to me.
Get on your way! Go!
She pushes him out, closes the door. The stew has started to
SMOKE. Gina moves it off the burner.
IN THE STAIRWELL
Biko trots down stairs, laughing to himself. Passes two men,
working on the PHONE BOX tucked below the stairs.
Hey, while you're at it, check
the line to number eight. She's
always getting bad service.
One of the men lifts his face. It's JONES. Biko takes them
in, their clothes... frowns.
EXT. PAY PHONE, KARL MARXSTRASSE - NIGHT
Jurgen making a call, rain dripping off his coat.
"The Eye". Banks of CCTV SCREENS monitoring Tegel's
passenger areas. Night-shift STAFF sip coffee.
An incoming CALL. DESK OFFICER answers. Calls to an older
UNIFORMED MAN, who picks up, punches a button.
Hans. It's Colonel Jurgen. From
the old days. I need a favor.
INT. GINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Gina punches PLAY on an old boom-box and a cool Bosnian hip-
hop groove plays. She spoons some of the stew into a bowl,
sets it on the table.
IN THE BATHROOM
Martin lets the hot water run over his head, drip across his
face, allowing himself a tiny moment of relaxation.
IN THE KITCHEN
BANG! BANG! Knocking on the door again. Gina puts the bowl
in the sink, heads for the door.
Just a moment, Biko. And you're
going to be late --
She throws open the door... SMITH and JONES press in! Jones
clamping a hand over her mouth.
Watching them work is awe-inspiring, chilling. There's no
wasted motion whatsoever. Their faces calm, observant.
Jones holds Gina, gun covers the dark entrance to the
bathroom where the shower still runs as Smith turns the music
up LOUD, then opens the oven, blows out the pilot light,
turns on the gas...
CLOSE ON THE GAS -- A hazy layer, rippling over the floor...
Smith grabs a candle off Gina's table, lights its wick,
sets it on top of the stove.
IN THE DARK BATHROOM
PRESSED against the wall, trapped, fully aware of what's
_ going on, Martin. He's pulled on clothes. By looking in the
small mirror over the sink, he can see the men going about
their work. He can see their weapons.
His eyes SEARCH for anything useful, anything at all.
There's nothing. He reaches towards the small window to the
exterior. It swings open, revealing the FIRE ESCAPE beyond.
IN THE APARTMENT
The gas HISSES as it spills into the room. Smith grabs the
bottle of alcohol, douses Gina as with one hand Jones
produces a hypodermic...
. A LOW THUMP from the bathroom. Smith REACTS instantly,
KICKS in the bathroom door, gun lined...
. on NOTHING. The empty shower runs. The window to the
exterior swings gently.
Terror-stricken, realizing Martin has abandoned her.
Jones nods to Smith who goes out the door, covers the hall.
Jones FLIPS Gina onto her stomach, presses her face to the
floor, pulling down the top of her pants as he prepares to
inject her with the hypodermic.
She struggles, SCREAMS IN RAGE, chokes on the gas. Her EYES
WIDEN as Jones slides the needle in, starts to PRESS...
. CRASH! Martin blasts in from the fire escape, through
the window nearest them, catching Jones in the face, cutting
his face. He tumbles over -- his gun sliding away...
MARTIN AND JONES
. Tumble together, SMASH into the sideboard which
collapses, splintering into the kitchen.
Martin tries to hit Jones who easily deflects the blow, leaps
cat-like to his feet, moving towards his gun as Smith re-
enters, weapon drawn, and FREEZES, his eyes tracking:
THE CANDLE, teetering on the stove... now falling over...
Jones, Smith, Martin... all track the candle, its progress
towards the edge of the stove...
Jones and Smith RUN towards the door. Martin grabs Gina,
HAULS her towards the bedroom as the candle falls...
KABOOM --!!! GAS EXPLODES. Doors SPLINTER outward...
. BLAST hurls Gina and Martin onto the bedroom floor.
Martin covering Gina. PRESSURE WAVE sweeps over them,
burning debris raining.
FRACTURED VISION... TINNITUS DAZE...
Fires spreading, the main room beyond the bedroom an INFERNO.
Martin pulls Gina up. They move to the window and the fire
escape. Gina begins to slide it open...
She tracks his gaze: Down below, Jones exits the building,
looks up amidst other onlookers. Wipes blood from his face.
Martin looks around, wild, for anything, his gaze settling
on: the far wall. Flames FLARE in, growing.
With a ROAR Martin rushes the wall, IMPACTS it with his
shoulder, goes right through!
INT. NEIGHBORING APARTENT - NIGHT
LANDS HARD in a small empty bedroom, Turkish decorated.
Drywall and plaster everywhere. Gina follows him through as
they thread through the abandoned flat out into...
INT. STAIRWELL, GINA'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Martin and Gina slip out a door, into a crowd of immigrant
families, other residents fleeing down the stairwell. Smoke
is thick, flames roar.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- SMITH
Laying in wait near the entrance to Gina's place. Hand
tucked in his coat. Gaze RACKS, looking for another way...
We have to go up...
He starts to pull her, but she's FROZEN, staring in horror.
Martin tracks her gaze: Biko's body, tucked under the
stairs. Lifeless eyes stare back.
EXT. GINA'S APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
Immigrant families emerge from the flaming building. Jones
stands next to the Range Rover, eyes tracking the crowd, the
upper floors, now engulfed in flame...
EXT. ROOF TOP, GINA'S APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
Martin and Gina emerge at the top, run to the edge. He
LEANS... reaching across to the next building...
BELOW HIM: Five flights down. A mortal fall.
Martin's hands grip a ledge, pull him over. He reaches back,
pulls her across. They keep moving...
EXT. STREET, KREUZBERG DISTRICT - CONTINUOUS
Crowds parting as FIRE TRUCKS scream around the corner.
Smith comes out, the last to exit the building. He meets
eyes with Jones, satisfied.
DOWN THE STREET
Martin and Gina emerge from the neighboring building. See
Smith climbing into the Range Rover.
Martin takes Gina's arm, steers her away. Notices an old
Mercedes Diesel taxi at the curb, covered in debris. Biko's.
The keys. Where are the keys?
Gina stares at him, lost. Martin reaches into her pockets.
Finds Biko's keys. He HAULS broken panes, debris off the
car, manages to get it open. He bundles her inside.
INT. TAXI - CONTINUOUS
Martin fumbles the key into the ignition. He turns it.
Warning light delay as the diesel's glow-plugs warm up.
IN THE REARVIEW: The Range Rover, making a U-Turn, heading
INT. RANGE ROVER - SAME
Jones drives, Smith shotgun. They cruise slowly, keeping an
eye peeled. Pass the debris-covered taxi, empty. They keep
moving, gaze still tracking. Smith pops his cell phone.
I./E. TAXI/KREUZBERG DISTRICT STREETS - SAME
Crouched down, Martin watches in the mirror as the Range
Rover turns a corner. He restarts the engine, puts the car
in gear and pulls them away from the curb.
Gina still in stunned silence. Wipes tears and grime off her
face. She looks across at Martin. He glances up at the
sudden change in his expression. Gina turns, sees...
BEHIND THEM -- THE BROWN RANGER ROVER
Four cars back. Jones driving. Smith riding shotgun. Faces
expressionless as they swerve out into traffic, deftly cut
back in one vehicle closer to Martin and Gina.
Gina turns back to Martin. Eyes wide. This can't be
happening. Adrenaline clearing her mind...
Left --! Turn left...
Martin spins the wheel. Taxi swerves across oncoming traffic
into a SIDE-STREET. Gina waving frantically...
Left again! Left again! Now
right. Here. HERE!
Just in time, Martin pulls a right. Cab drifts, SLAMS a wall
side-on... bounces back into the center of the road.
A look from Martin: What? Gina glances behind. No sign of
them. Moment's relief. Turns to her right. Sees the RANGE
ROVER racing down the parallel side-street...
They're going to cut us off!
Right. Turn right -- !
Martin SCREECHES into a turn. Heads for the parallel alley.
Range Rover FLASHES through the intersection just ahead.
Taxi cuts across feet behind them...
IN THE RANGE ROVER
Jones spots the taxi in the mirror. BRAKES, high speed
180... races back up the alley.
IN THE TAXI
Martin floors the gas. SCREAMS out into oncoming traffic,
across a red light. Zig-zags past cars. Edge of control.
Zooms through open gates into...
EXT. VOLKSPARK CEMETERY - CONTINUOUS
Tree-lined avenue. Closed GATES at the far end...
. Range Rover moving fast down the street alongside the
cemetery. Suddenly cutting left across traffic. Bounces
over the curb, full-speed into the grounds. 4WD slaloming
past gravestones, rapidly closing on the taxi...
Closed gates ahead. No choice. Martin puts his foot down.
SMASHES through the gates. Flying hinge SLAMS the windshield
-- glass instantly spidering opaque...
Martin driving blind. Careens against the embankment,
WHIPLASHES up, spin on its axis. Rolling...
over the edge of the embankment, TUMBLING over and over.
SLAMS DOWN right way up, axles crumpling. QUIET. Steaming
HISS of the engine.
Martin's hands still locked on the wheel. Gina next to him.
Martin shoves open the door. Clambers out.
EXT. BERLIN RAIL YARDS - CONTINUOUS
A maze of tracks and power lines below street level. S-Bahn,
U-Bahn, high-speed ICE trains, freight... tracks
disappearing in each direction into tunnels. A sound.
Martin turns, looks up...
THE RANGE ROVER, Jones at the wheel... SPOTS THEM. Engine
GUNS, Range Rover plunges headlong down the embankment...
Whistling ROAR... as a HIGH SPEED TRAIN hurtles out of the
one of the tunnels. Martin grabs Gina's hand.
Running side-by-side. Train horn BLASTS as they cross right
in front of it as the Range Rover, cut off, SPINS 90 degrees,
races down the tracks alongside it.
Martin and Gina scramble across tracks, towards a tunnel...
. the Range Rover passes the back of the train. HARD
right, over the tracks. Too Fast. The car catches air...
. BELLIES down hard onto the next set of tracks. Front
tire EXPLODES... . Range Rover SPINS... rear wheels SLAM into
the track. Another tire BURSTS. Scraping STOP, car
straddling the rails. Jones shifts into reverse. Rims SPIN
ACROSS THE TRACKS
. Martin and Gina sprinting towards the tunnel. Smith
jumps out of the Range Rover, lines his weapon. BLAM! BLAM!
INSIDE THE TUNNEL
Martin and Gina hit the ground, bullets chipping ceramic off
the walls. Up ahead, illuminated, some utility stairs. Gina
GASPS air, spent. Martin looks behind them...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. - SMITH IN SILHOUETTE. COMING IN AFTER THEM.
Martin GRABS Gina, pulls her after him.
IN THE RANGE ROVER -- JONES
Jams shift into 'drive.' Pedal to metal. Four wheel drive
rims SCREAM on the rails, inches forward. Almost off the
tracks. A vibration. Jones looks around...
FREIGHT CARS -- LUMBERING RIGHT FOR HIM...
Shunted by a rear engine; no way the driver can see him.
Scrambles for the door. Too late - !
. FREIGHT TRAIN PLOWS INTO THE RANGE ROVER! Coupling
smashes through the window. Impales the car, CRUSHING Jones,
pushing the mangled wreck along the tracks...
INTO THE TUNNEL
Range Rover scraping along the wall in a tail of SPARKS.
Smith dives out of the way. Car wreck and freight cars
THUNDERING past him...
.toward Martin and Gina, pelting full-speed... almost on
them... last second, they DIVE into the alcove... through the
steel door into the utility access STAIRS.
Gina doubled, gasping for breath... but they've got to keep
going. Both staggering up the zig-zag iron steps...
Jumps up. Sprints after them. Through the steel door...
INT. UTILITY STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS
Smith sprinting up to a landing. Another landing. Narrow
tunnel. Booming ECHOES. Rush of AIR. Smith dashes around a
INT. 'U-BAHN' STATION - CONTINUOUS
. breathless. Station JAMMED with SOCCER FANS. The bars
have let out. Faces painted. Singing, drinking, a swarming
party. A train just emptying, the mass crowding out.
Martin and Gina, squeezed together between laughing faces,
drunken youth, singing, chanting...
. Both of them in this chaotic oasis. Almost peaceful.
Gina struggling to catch her breath. Relief. Shock. Grief.
Anger. Martin, looking at her. He knows what she's feeling.
She meets his eyes a moment, glances back...
.sees Smith, caught in the crowd, but pushing his way
They push their way forward through the crush.
EXT. S-BAHN TRAIN STATION - NIGHT
The crowd dissipates into the night. Gina takes Martin's
hands, pulls him along a street of neon club signs, lines of
youth waiting to get in.
BEHIND THEM. Smith emerges from the station, tracks them.
EXT. BERLIN STREET - NIGHT
Gina hurries them past bars and clubs. They come to a door
crowded with youths, Middle-Eastern and Balkan.
Gina pulls Martin to the front. Unfriendly eyes STARE down
Martin, the huge BOUNCER nods recognition to Gina.
ON THE STREET
Smith stops, takes in the many clubs, the various Bouncers
guarding their doors. Looks down at his boring suit, nods
defeat. Turns and walks away.
INT. 'SHINE' NIGHT CLUB- NIGHT
The club is barely-lit, punctuated by beams of moving light,
constant music. The bar a glowing oasis. Gina leads Martin
through. They pass down through old WWII bomb shelter
construction, through curtains, into...
Even darker, only small glowing lights, candles, neon tubing
casts shadows. Quiet almost, only the dull 'thud" of the
bass reaches them.
He puts a hand on her shoulder... she pushes it off.
. and she LOSES IT. Flies at him, slapping clumsily. Like
an enraged child. Martin grabbing her... holding her tight.
Bodies pressed together... as her anger and fear and grief
dissolve into sobbing...
His family is in Africa. The
money will just stop coming...
they'll never know why...
. Martin calming her, stroking her head. Her hand finding
his, gripping it tight, wanting the contact. Martin looking
down at the face buried in his chest. Feeling versus memory.
Gina... Liz... Torn.
A long beat. Her control returning. And her strength. She
separates from him.
You saved my life.
No response. Eyes locked.
.You never know, what you will
do, until the time comes, right?
Martin looks down, unsure. She stays on his face. Looking
for... Her eyes shift:
ACROSS THE SPACE
A young Serbian MANAGER speaks with a female BARTENDER. Both
cool, young, tough. Gina makes eye contact, heads nod in
Martin watches her go, speak with them through low light and
smoke. His gaze wander... into the strobing lights...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- SUDDEN CUT -- MEMORY FLASH
.all WHITE. It's snow, drifting down... settling on a
small idyllic home. Picket fence. Lights glow inside...
. Suddenly INSIDE. Liz sits on the edge of a bed, glass of
red wine in her hands. Martin enters the frame, his clothing
and hands covered in drywall dust.
Are you ready... ?
Liz rubs dust off his face, leans in to kiss him...
INT. SHINE NIGHT CLUB- NIGHT
Martin's eyes flick open and the SOUND and LIGHT of the club
come flooding back in...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- GINA. UNDRESSING
Low, moving lights pass across her body, wifebeater
undershirt and jeans. She unzips the jeans, pulls them down
long legs, pulls off the wifebeater, no bra...
. hesitates. Looks back, sees that Martin is watching her.
Beat. Beat. Lights catch glimpses of her body, her breasts,
the arch of her back.
She turns slightly away from him, pushes a pile of borrowed
clothing towards him. A heavy coat, some jeans.
.Put these on.
She pulls a mod shirt on, glances back as he now undresses.
Were you happy?
He looks up, shirt in his hands. She doesn't waiver.
Your marriage? Was it happy?
.Yes. I think so... I don't
remember... how it felt exactly.
She approaches him, leans in so she can see his eyes...
So why would she do this to you?
.For the same reason I would.
If I thought it was the only way
to protect her.
Gina nods, distant. Martin presses on, difficult.
I keep having a dream. Liz is in
the bedroom of our home, although
it's different somehow. Her
hair's different... she's
smiling, about to say something.
Then it ends. I can remember
I just can't remember... how I
He stops. Just the low pulsing BEAT from the other room The
lights revolving over them.
Gina watching him. Looking back at her. That connection
again. He looks away.
She shakes it off, produces a borrowed joint, offers it to
him. He shakes his head no. She shrugs, sparks it. Inhales
deeply, eyes close. She leans back.
You'll need to get out of town.
There's a man who's helping me.
He can --
(seems to ignore him)
In Bosnia... It was not like you
probably imagine. It was nice.
.there were cherry blossoms.
One day, I was sixteen. My
sister and my brother came to me
and said hey let's play hide and
seek, down by the creek. He had
ten Marka for whoever won. It
was amazing, the way he just said
Beat. She raises the joint, hits it again. Her eyes open,
but she's deep in the memory and it's intense.
.So I went down to this place I
knew, under the small bridge over
the creek. And I hid and waited.
Not really that long... Then I
went back home, to find my
brother and collect my money.
He, and my father and my uncle
were dead. And so was my mother.
My sister was alive... for a
She turns her head, eyes blaze straight at Martin.
It was not enough, to kill us.
They wanted us to remember, every
day, for the rest of our lives.
No. No one touched me. But
now... I'm not going anywhere.
I'm not running anymore.
She nestles in under his arm. Closes her eyes. He lets his
hand gently stroke her hair.
I won't let anything happen to
Liar... Say it again.
I'll protect you.
She opens her eyes again, looks up at him, smiles, on her way
CHILL SPACE - LATER
Gina sleeps, at peace. Martin leans over the one object he
has left, his copy of "Horticus." He studies the number
markings on the flap, working...
EXT. BERLIN VELODROME - DAY
Vast windowless cylindrical building on the city's edge.
INT. BERLIN VELODROME -- DAY
Cheering CROWD; a sound like THUNDER. A massive indoor
STADIUM, CYCLISTS racing on a reverberating wood track below
a suspended lighting rig the size of a spaceship.
MARTIN at the counter of a busy bar. Jeans, T-shirt, Bomber
Jacket. Different look, to say the least. Across the bar,
GINA nurses a coffee. They exchange looks, briefly. A
familiar grey-skinned figure settles next to him: JURGEN.
Thank you for coming.
Martin glances around, edgy. Jurgen watches him, glances at
Gina long enough to let Martin know he's spotted her.
You know, the most dangerous man
in the world is the man who feels
that he is drowning. He will
drag under anyone who tries to
Jurgen sets his newspaper on the bar. A picture and article
about the murdered nurse. Martin's picture, fuzzy.
I... I didn't do it.
Jurgen studies him, hard. Looks back at Gina.
You said you had something.
Martin feels in his pockets, takes out the copy of
'Horticus', turns to the numbers on the end papers.
These numbers, are a code. The
first number refers to the page
of a given book. The second to a
specific line on that page. The
third number to words on that
line. If I didn't have the exact
edition of the book, the code
would be unbreakable.
And what do the numbers refer to?
That's where it breaks down --
the words are the Latin names of
two plant species... Calochortus
Albus... and Umbellularia
Californica. Fairy Lantern...
and California Bay. Both common
Not part of your work? Or
Martin shakes his head. Jurgen grunts. Pencils notes...
Your thesis. The one you sent
Bressler. What was the title?
"The role of Gorytini and
Thynnidae in Drakea pollination."
And it was after reading it that
he invited you here. Correct?
Correct. Yes. Look --
Did you ever know someone called
Martin looks at him quizzically. Shakes his head.
He was a graduate student at the
University of Wisconsin. He died
in an auto accident earlier this
year. He was doing research very
similar to yours.
Jurgen studying him closely. Martin shakes his head.
What is Professor Bressler's
relationship with Prince Fahad?
Fahad's sponsoring the Forum,
Bressler's the keynote speaker.
So they're not close?
In a way... they're opposites.
Bressler wants to end world
hunger. Open research...
universal access to all his data
on crop cultivation...
But Fahad's just a businessman.
They're both progressives. Fahad
knows we'll need food long after
oil. New agricultural patents
are worth billions...
But his progressiveness has cost
him... his own people hate him...
the attempts on his life...
He's got balls, that's for sure.
Another beat. Jurgen slides the 'Uncle Sam' bookmark card
from the pages of the 'Horticus'... turns it over, Martin's
remembered schedule scribbled on the back.
There's a cocktail party, before
Bressler's speech tonight?
It's in our suite. Champagne and
hors d'oeuvres for Bressler and a
few of his guests.
Is Fahad going to be there?
Yes. Bressler invited him...
Martin trails off. Starting to get there...
Martin Harris... with just a few
guests, in a confined space with
Prince Fahad. For some, that
might be a very good reason to
want to be you.
Oh, Jesus... You can't --
Jurgen flips his notebook shut. Gets up.
-- I need a few more hours. You
need to go somewhere you will not
be seen. Then meet me outside
the Cafe Adler on the
Kochstrasse. 6.30 sharp.
EXT. NEUKOLLN DISTRICT, BERLIN - DAY
Martin and Gina thread their way through streets teeming with
AFRICAN and MIDDLE EASTERN immigrants, music blasting from
An ELECTRONICS STORE. In the window a muted TV flickers with
the NEWS: A report on the hospital murder. Martin's image.
Gina glances around... a COP up the street.
We have to go. We have to do
what Jurgen said, stay out of --
She starts to pull him away, but he's not moving. He's
staring at the pre-paid cell phones on display.
Jurgen may have nothing.
(beat, to her)
I need your help.
INT. EISNENHOWER SUITE, HOTEL IMPERIAL - DAY
Liz sits in front of the bedroom vanity in her bra and skirt,
putting on makeup. The room's shower is on.
CLOSE as she applies mascara. The Camera searches her face,
her small gestures, looking for clues... Shower stops.
IN DEEP FOCUS behind her, Martin B comes out of the bathroom,
nude. He picks a robe up off the bed, pulls it on as he
approaches her, places his hands on her shoulders.
They stare at each other in the vanity mirror... RING! RING!
Martin B picks up the phone.
Dr. Harris speaking.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Yes, hello, Dr. Harris. This is
Else Adlam from Dr. Bressler's
office. Dr. Bressler was
wondering if you might be able to
meet with him today...
EXT. TIERGARTEN PARK - DAY
Gina, dressed in the modish cap and shades, on a new pre-paid
.No, I don't know, but he
stressed it was important.
Eleven o'clock, if that's all
right? Weinhaus Huth on
She closes the phone. Across from her, Martin, a cap pulled
low over his features. He opens another phone, dials...
Yes, hello, this is Dr. Harris.
I have a message for Dr.
INT. LIBRARY BUILDING, FREIE UNIVERSITAT BERLIN - SAME
Jurgen hands over a library card. A LIBRARIAN finds his
request slip, slides two documents across the counter. One
a printed monograph; the other a photocopy in brads.
A WHILE LATER -- JURGEN AT A DESK
He finishes reading the printed monograph. Closes it.
Looking down at the cover... "The role of Gorytini and
Thynnidae in Drakea pollination" by Martin Harris, PhD.
He slides the bound photocopy next to it. "The process of
Drakea pollination" by Laurence Darnell, University of
Wisconsin. A long beat. The two titles side-by-side.
Sudden thought... Jurgen takes something out of his pocket;
the card that was inside Martin's 'Horticus'. The scribbled
schedule notations on one side... turns it over: the bowling
alley's Uncle Sam logo. Jurgen holds closer, studying it.
His mind clicking...
. printed German text. A number: 21. And right at the
bottom, a small time-clock stamp...
EXT. TIERGARTEN PARK -- DAY
Martin and Gina stand amidst a flow of tourists and locals,
near the entrance to Berlin's equivalent of Central Park and
its zoo. Across, the Weinhaus Restaurant is a fin-de-siecle
style brasserie bordering the avenue.
.The zoo. She loves Polar
Bears. I never knew exactly why.
Gina nods, looks over to the restaurant. Looks back at
Martin who hasn't moved. She checks her watch.
Okay, go. You're going to be
late for your date.
Martin nods, heads into the park. Long, curving paths
bordered by green. A labyrinth.
AT THE PARK'S ENTRANCE
Gina watches, sunglasses on, as a taxi pulls up and a wiry
haired man steps out, pays the driver. Lap-top bag over his
FEW MOMENTS LATER
Another taxi arrives, Liz and Martin B get out.
This shouldn't take long. I just
need to see what Bressler wants.
Liz's gaze settles on the painted sign for the zoo.
Take your time, I want to see the
ON LIZ. Memory, or nostalgia, touch her cool face.
I love the Polar Bears...
Martin B nods, watches her go. He checks his watch and heads
OPPOSITE SIDEWALK -- AMONG THE SHOPPERS
GINA, doing her best to casually window-shop at a designer
storefront. Stolen glance across the street...
INT. WEINHAUS HUTH RESTAURANT - SAME
The WAITER offers to take Bressler's lap-top bag. Bressler
politely declines him...
The waiter nods, leaves. Bressler opens the computer bag,
checks on the lap-top inside. Zips it back up. Positions
the bag by his elbow. Smiles to Martin B.
I thought we might have a table
for three, in case you still had
your alter ego with you.
No, thank God. I assume he's
safely back in the hospital.
Well, it's a lesson. You never
know what people will do. All my
work used to be on-line, my e-
mails on an open server. A year
ago, someone broke into my office
and stole my computer. I believe
they were after my research.
Luckily, I split my data up and
double encrypt it until I put it
all together and make it public.
That's why this stays with me
until tonight's over...
Martin B nods, starts to look at his menu...
Now what was so important that it
could not wait until this
ON MARTIN B, REALIZING he's been played. A single BLINK. A
beat. When he looks up, he's cool.
I hope you can forgive me. It
was something you said...
.It's been tormenting me.
UNDER THE TABLE. Martin B has his phone out and is TEXTING,
EXT. TIERGARTEN PARK - CONTINUOUS
SMITH sits on a bench near a pond, tossing bread crumbs to
ducks. His phone chirps, he checks it and is MOVING...
EXT. TIERGARTEN STRASSE - SAME
Gina ducks into a store doorway. Takes out her cell phone...
EXT. TIERGARTEN PARK - SAME
. the other cell phone in MARTIN'S hand. He answers it...
They just sat down.
Martin's gaze doesn't waiver. Up ahead of him, glimpsed
through the crowds... Liz.
He follows, watching, transfixed.
INT. 'UNCLE SAM' BOWLING ALLEY, BERLIN - SAME
CLATTER of falling pins... 'Uncle Sam' logo. Juke box Elvis
serenading desultory daytime bowlers. Jurgen hands the
TICKET from Martin's book to a bored ATTENDANT.
She goes away... returns a moment later with a purple bowling
TOTE BAG. Plonks it on the counter. Rips off a ticket
counterfoil - '21'. Checks the time-stamp...
August. Three months. That'll
be twenty-five Euros.
A beat. Jurgen pays her, picks up the bag...
EXT. ENTRANCE TO TIERGARTEN ZOO - DAY
Parents buying tickets... excited kids push through the
turnstiles under the gilded elephants of the entrance.
Liz buys a ticket. Passes beneath the elephant gate.
Martin starts to move forward... then DOUBLES BACK as Smith
arrives, hurrying, again checking his phone. He pushes to
the front of the line, pays his way in, eyes searching.
Martin moves out behind him, hat pulled low.
INT. DESIGNER STORE/TIERGARTEN STRASSE - SAME
Watchful staff; soothing music. Gina at a rack of dresses,
anxiously looks out of the window, staring at Martin B and
Bressler in the restaurant, a silent heated exchange...
INT. WEINHAUSE RESTAURANT - SAME
Bressler in high form, reacting --
No! God NO! You're focusing on
the science, but this...
(patting his laptop)
.this is history. You open the
research before it's finished,
the conglomerates gobble it up.
In the entire history of human
development, name me one time
when business has ever acted
except in its own self-interest.
Martin B catches a waiter's eye, signals for the check.
Bressler catches this, looks to Martin B, questioning.
I'm sorry, it's my fault.
Another appointment I forgot.
It doesn't matter.
(jumping back in)
But see you, you say I am too
cautious. It's an idiot thing to
say. I'm a realist!
EXT. TIERGARTEN ZOO - SAME
Liz wanders past some flamingos, checks a sign, heads in
Behind her, Martin keeps his distance, keeps his eyes on
Smith who's shadowing Liz, one path over...
INT. WEINHAUSE RESTAURANT - SAME
Martin B standing. Bressler, collecting his bag and scarf...
I'm sorry if I offended you, Dr.
Bressler. I just --
Don't be stupid. You can't
offend me. We are colleagues,
this is good discussion. But
please, Dr. Harris -- Power is an
animal, all to itself. It
adapts, mutates to whatever form
will best preserve it. It's
always closer than we know.
ON MARTIN B, extending a hand...
.Perhaps you're right.
EXT. TIERGARTEN STREET ---SAME
Gina, crossing the street, searching the restaurant windows,
the table empty, busboy gathering up plates. P.O.V. urgently
. Bressler outside the restaurant getting into a taxi.
He's alone. No sign of Martin B. Pulls out her phone...
EXT. TIERGARTEN ZOO - SAME
Liz, following the winding path lower as it descends. The
sound of a cell-phone RING. Liz glances back...
.Martin, pressed out of sight against a wall. He SILENCES
his phone, tucks it away.
EXT. TIERGARTEN PARK - SAME
Martin B striding through the park toward the zoo...
Gina way behind, trying to catch up. Dials again,
Martin's phone going straight to voicemail.
EXT. TIERGARTEN ZOO - SAME
P.O.V. -- LIZ PAUSED AT A GLASS WALL -- GETTING CLOSER
Her slim shoulders; her hair tucked into a scarf against the
rain, silhouetted in front of an underwater view. The giant
Polar Bear swims, inches in front of her.
LIZ'S FACE. Her eyes, soft. A smile... which fades as she
senses a presence. Turns. FACES us.
Standing across from her in this protected space. A strange
numbness. Doesn't know where to start...
Just that syllable. She stares back, features tense.
What are you doing here?
Liz. What's happening?
You're crazy -- you have to leave
Why --?: I have to know why,
Liz. Are they making you do
this? Are they threatening you?
.How did you find me --
The zoo. The Polar Bears.
You see? I KNOW YOU, Liz. You
Liz's eyes fixed on his. She searches his face. A long
beat. Her facade seems suddenly to crumble...
You can't what?
. can't get out. Can't leave.
They'll kill me.
EXT. ZOO PATH - SAME
Smith's path has veered him away from Liz's. Frustrated,
he's a little lost. His eyes play over the entrance to the
lower area, other women, also with umbrellas...
EXT. ZOO ENTRANCE - SAME
Martin B waiting in the ticket line at the gates...
Gina approaches, breathless. Sees Martin B. Hangs back
from the ticket line. Spots a large party of school kids.
Gina steps past the line, confidently joins the group... just
another parent. Swept through the turnstiles. Behind her,
Martin B steps up to the ticket window.
BACK WITH MARTIN AND LIZ
What are they making you do? Is
it about Fahad?
I... I can't answer that.
Come with me, right now. We can
No! They'll kill us both!
Who are they?
She shakes her head, tormented.
Please. Not now. Not until
we're safe. Then I'll explain
everything, I promise. All I
want is for us to get out alive.
You have to believe me...
Urgent look around. Her eyes lock on his.
She closes on him. A wave of emotion as she's almost in his
arms, her hands on his face, searching his eyes.
Your briefcase. It got left
behind. At the airport. That's
why you were going back there.
You need to find it...
In an hour, there's a chance for
me to get away. Meet me at the
airport at three o'clock. We can
Martin's eyes. Mind racing. Eyes suddenly catching GINA,
walking right by. Moment's urgent eye contact. The signal.
Martin B's here. He's on his way...
What can he do? He knows he can't stay. Suddenly, Liz moves
her face to his. Kisses him on the lips. Whispers...
I love you.
A beat. Martin steps back slowly. Their eyes hold. Then he
turns, walks quickly away...
Behind the glass of the penguin exhibit. She saw the kiss.
Cuts up a small path rising up from the Polar Bear area. At
the top he turns, hiding himself, looking back.
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- BELOW
Smith and Martin B converge from opposite directions on Liz,
speak at her, close, heated. Smith pops open his phone.
Martin B GLARES at Liz, almost pushing her back against the
glass. She GLARES back up at him.
.Nothing he can do now. He turns away, moves to the top of
the path where Gina waits for him. They walk in silence...
Martin doesn't acknowledge. Each face a mix of emotions.
EXT. MARZAHN DISTRICT, EAST BERLIN - DAY
A light rain. JURGEN crosses the street to his building,
carrying the bowling bag.
INT. JURGEN'S APARTMENT - SAME
The phone on his desk starts RINGING. No one to pick up.
EXT. TIERGARTEN STRASSE - DAY
Martin and Gina hurry across the street. Cellphone to
Martin's ear. Listening to it RING...
INT. APARTMENT BLOCK - SAME
Jurgen lumbers asthmatically up the stairs. Gets to the
fourth floor. Sound of the PHONE RINGING above. Trudges up
the last flight...
.Phone STOPS RINGING just as Jurgen reaches the top. He
stops, wheezing. An ENVELOPE propped against the door. He
picks it up. Thumbs it open. Takes out:
DETAIL SHOT -- TWO PRINT-OUT SCANS...
from the security camera at airport Immigration. A
couple at a desk. Liz and Martin. Unmistakably Martin.
hears the phone START RINGING again inside his apartment.
Fumbles in his pocket for the key.
INT. JURGEN'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
Jurgen grabs the phone. Puffing:
Is that Ernst Jurgen?
Yes, it is.
My name's Rodney Cole. You left
a message on my phone. There
were two from Martin as well.
What kind of trouble is he in?
INT. LEHRTER BAHNHOF TRAIN STATION, BERLIN DAY
Trains rumble and whoosh. Booming ANNOUNCEMENTS. Hurried
commuters pushing past...
. RODNEY COLE -- he's the academic colleague we've seen in
Martin's memory flashes -- an avuncular man about ten years
Martin's senior. Talks on a cell phone:
Oh my God... that's unbelievable,
the poor man. Well here's the
good news -- I've just arrived in
Berlin... yes, I've been teaching
in Leipzig, at the Hochschule fur
Technik. I came up for the last
day to hear Bressler's speech...
I'll come right over, it's not
far... No, it's no problem.
INT. JURGEN'S APARTMENT - SAME
I appreciate it, Herr Cole...
Puts the phone down. A beat. Another look at the airport
scans of Martin. Studying them a moment.
Jurgen opens the bowling bag, up-ends it onto the table.
Bowling shoes, a shirt, a hand towel...
Taking a knife from the counter, Jurgen cuts around the
bottom of the bag... lifts away a false floor. Reaches
inside. The contents hidden from us... a shadow of tension
crosses his face. Then a slow, enigmatic smile.
A LITTLE LATER -- A KETTLE BOILING...
. the mournful HOWL of its whistle. Jurgen turns off the
gas. Spoons Nescafe into a mug. Opens a closet, reaches
over a musty clutter of jars and boxes...
finds a rusted sugar tin. Inside is a single ancient
sachet of sweetener. A beat, pensive. He tears it open,
adds it to the Nescafe. He looks up. Listening for...
. the lively KNOCK at his door.
Jurgen opens the door... it's RODNEY COLE, grinning...
shaking rain from his coat.
Dr. Cole... Please, come on in.
Jurgen ushers him in. Leads them into the living room.
Drink? I've a bottle labelled
'brandy', which is more than
likely hair lacquer... or some
vodka my neighbor gave me after
it made her husband go blind.
No, thank you...
Maybe some coffee? I'm making
some for myself.
I'm good. Thanks.
Cole looks around the tiny apartment. Sees the framed photos
on the mantel. Looks closer.
You were in the military?
The Stasi. In East Germany.
Wow, wait till I tell my son. He
loves all that Cold War stuff.
Look at that car. What is that?
A 'Zil'. Suspension of a donkey
cart and smelt like a tannery.
Vanished as quickly as the Wall.
Cole studies the other pictures. Notices Martin's Rolex
beside them. Jurgen pours the kettle into his mug.
So. This business with Martin.
A hell of a thing. How did he
Quite by chance, as it happens.
Sounds like he was damn lucky.
So, what can I do to help?
Come with us to the authorities.
Help them confirm his identity.
The authorities? Jesus, it's
that bad? A guy comes to you
with a story like that. What
made you take the case?
Curiosity? Is that all?
Professional curiosity. There's
not much in this world left to
interest an old spy like me...
Cole's face tightens... his back still toward Jurgen.
. a few questions I still think
over. One in particular. From
when I worked for the Aufklarung:
our foreign intelligence wing.
Cole still hasn't moved. Discreetly slips open a button on
his jacket. Jurgen cradles his coffee, steam rising.
There was this rumor. Of a US
based assassination unit called
Section 15. Freelance, deniable.
They'd work for whoever would pay
-- public sector, private sector.
Second-to-none in their planning
and efficiency. They never
failed. What's more, they were
invisible. They'd strike, and
nobody would even know there had
been foul play. It was only
rumor, of course...
Cole turning to face Jurgen. Smile gone. Glint of a gun
inside his packet. Jurgen looking steadily back at him.
Takes a deep gulp of coffee.
You had fifteen minutes after I
called. Why didn't you run?
Where would I run from Section
15, Mr. Cole? I can hardly walk.
The edge of a smile, another large gulp of the coffee.
Jurgen sets down the cup. He wheezes...
Before I could get Chesterfields,
I smoked sixty machorkas a day.
Filthy Soviet things. Killed
more Russians than Stalin. My
doctors assure me I'll soon be
joining their list of casualties.
Cole looking back at him, impassive.
I want to know how he found you.
I want every number, every source
you've contacted on his behalf.
And then what? We shake hands
and you go away?
Cole reaches a hand inside his jacket...
There's no need for that.
Beat. Cole's eyes flicker. Jurgen's body tightening... the
coffee... the empty sachet of sweetener...
Cole looks at Jurgen. A moment's glimmer of respect. He
doesn't move. His gaze lingering. Understanding.
You never think... you'll have
the courage to use it.
But we do. The best of us.
Jurgen coughs again. Suddenly sways. Puts a hand out to
steady himself. Knocking over the mug of coffee...
as the cyanide sweeps through him. Trembling hands clasp
the edge of table. Building force. Shaking. His piercing
eyes never leaving Cole... through the pain:
Tell me... if he remembers
everything. What then...?
No answer. Jurgen's hands slip. He slumps forward, his head
hammering down onto the table. A final convulsion. Then
A long beat. Cole buttons his jacket. Slips on some gloves.
Gently lifts Jurgen's head from the table top, rests it on a
forearm, as though Jurgen were asleep rather than dead.
Restoring some dignity to him.
Cole goes to the mantel, wipes off the one framed photo he
picked up. Takes Martin's Rolex, drops it into his pocket.
He turns, casting an expert eye over the apartment... The
legs of the stove... ever so slightly askew...
The phone RINGS... RINGS... Cole ignores it, moves forward.
I./E. "JET EXPRESS" BUS/AUTOBAHN - LATE AFTERNOON
Martin hits re-dial on his cell. Listens, frustrated. The
phone RINGING and RINGING. He flips it shut. Gina's eyes
meet his. A long beat. She looks back out the window.
Sleeting rain streaks the glass. Endless grey city-scape.
He tracks a clock: 1:40. Looks back at Gina who senses his
gaze, keeps hers straight out.
INT. JURGEN APARTMENT - LATE AFTERNOON
COLE -- THE STOVE PULLED AWAY FROM THE WALL
He finds a section of loose KICK-BOARD. Carefully pries it
away. Reaches into the hole: The PHOTOGRAPH of Martin and
Liz, arriving. And Jurgen's NOTEBOOK.
He turns up the gas, feeds the photograph to the flames. As
he watches it burn, he leafs carefully through the notebook.
I/E ARRIVALS TERMINAL, TEGEL AIRPORT - LATE AFTERNOON
Cathedral-like, overcrowded. Inaudible PAs. Carts loaded
with luggage. Watchful POLICE and SECURITY.
Martin and Gina, heads down under caps, navigate a surge of
passengers rushing out of the doors, clutching bags,
competing for taxis in the pouring rain...
Martin stops. Deja-vu overload. His fractured memories.
Past and present merging. The FACES. The SOUNDS...
An AIRPORT SECURITY Man glances over, concerned. Gina tracks
the attention, moves into Martin, fake-romantic, her face
close to his...
Gina touching his face. Bringing him back. He glances to a
clock on the wall: 2:10...
INT. LOST AND FOUND TEGEL AIRPORT - CONTINUOUS
Martin and Gina wait at a counter. Clock reads 2:25. A
WOMAN returns with a leather briefcase. A name tag on the
handle. 'Dr. M.A. Harris'. Martin stares at it... reaching
for memories. The woman checks her computer.
May I see some identification?
She looks up. Martin's expression distant...
He doesn't have any. He was in
an accident, that's why the bag
The combination. For the lock.
It's 2... 8... 0... 6...
A beat. The woman and Gina both looking at Martin. The
woman enters the numbers. The locks pop open. She lifts the
lid, picks something up. A pause... then her expression
softens. She turns it toward Martin...
Filled with personal effects. Sitting on top a US passport.
A long beat. Martin's hands unsteady as he opens it...
His photo. And his name... Doctor Martin Harris.
INT. AIRPORT CAFE -- LATE AFTERNOON
Noisy and busy. Gina uneasy... watching Martin as he
carefully examines each item in the case. Everything
familiar, yet strange. His, but somehow not his.
a copy of 'Scientific American' magazine, a comb, some
gum, a Newark Airport parking ticket. His published paper --
the same edition Jurgen found at the library.
his leather wallet. Martin studies it. Identical to the
one Martin B had. Opens it...
CLOSE -- THE WALLET
New Hampshire Driver's license. Credit cards. Martin
fumbles inside a pocket, pulls out...
. the EXACT SAME PHOTO we saw in Bressler's lab of a
younger Liz with a younger Martin B in Paris. Except this
time it's a younger Martin beside Liz-in the photo.
gazing at it. He runs his fingers over its dock-eared
corners, every bump and crease. Looks up to find Gina
watching him. A long, awkward pause. She reaches over.
Takes the photo from him. Studies it.
Can you remember now... how you
Martin's silence hangs in the noise and activity around them.
Gina handing back the photo. He stares down at Liz again as
Gina stands, start to collect her things...
We shouldn't stay here, it's not
safe for you...
Her voice trails off as she looks at Martin, really sees him
in this moment. He looks up at her, torn, back down at the
pictures, the relics of his life, his memories, spread out in
front of him. He glances at the clock: 2:55...
Gina tracks his gaze... gets it, takes a step back...
Oh, God. I'm an idiot. She's
meeting you here.
Martin meets her gaze, open book.
.Yes. I'm sorry. Yes. She's
my wife. She's in danger. I
have to --
That's good. I'm happy for you.
I have to go.
No, wait. I meant what I said.
We can take care of you. I can
get you money, arrange --
Stop. Be quiet. You've got what
you wanted. You don't need me
anymore and in case "we've"
forgotten, I take care of myself
She starts for the door. Martin getting up...
Gina stops, turns. A beat. Sadness, anger.
One kiss and suddenly...
Everything that's happened? To
Biko? To us? -- I know, she's
your wife. Like I said, I'm an
She turns away again. Martin, frozen, watches her go.
EXT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL - SAME
Gina keeps walking. Pouring rain... ROAR of traffic. No
look back. She joins the line waiting for taxis.
INT. AIRPORT CAFE - SAME
Martin still sitting there. The photo of him and Liz in
Paris. Sudden decision, snaps the briefcase shut...
EXT. AIRPORT TAXI RANK - SAME
Gina almost at the head of the taxi line. A glance back.
People... vehicles... no sign of Martin.
EXT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL - SAME
Martin out of the doors. Eyes frantically searching for
Gina. In the distance... he sees her...
EXT. TAXI RANK, TEGEL AIRPORT - SAME
Gina at the front of the line. A taxi pulls up. She steals
a last look back at the terminal...
TAXI DRIVER (O.S.)
Hey, lady. You ready...?
Gina's face suddenly lighting up... she can see Martin!
Spins back to the TAXI DRIVER...
Wait. There's another passenger.
EXT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL - SAME
Martin weaving quickly through the crowds toward her... BUMPS
PAST a man who looks back, his face lighting up...
Martin hesitates, turns. Sees...
RODNEY COLE. Beaming smile. Martin stares at him,
Jesus, Martin, how are you doing?
Rodney? What are you doing here?
You called me, remember? You
left a message on my machine.
Yeah... but how did you know --?
Cole suddenly right up close. Presses a rolled newspaper
into Martin's side. Cold steel of a concealed Qun.
Stay one step ahead of me. Any
move, I'll shatter your spine.
His voice flat with menace. Martin's mouth opening...
What are -- ?
Martin glancing round. Cole jerks him back, guiding him
toward the passenger pick-up zone.
EXT. TAXI RANK. TEGEL AIRPORT -- SAME
Gina looking back around. Bemused. Martin vanished again in
the crowd. Then a sudden stab of alarm...
GINA'S P.O.V. -- MARTIN... MOVING FAST
A man she doesn't know carrying his case... headed toward a
parked commercial van. Driver waiting for them. She
recognizes him... SMITH. Martin hustled into the back... Van
door shuts. Engine starts. A VOICE snaps us...
. BACK TO SCENE -- THE TAXI DRIVER...
standing in front of Gina -- losing patience.
Miss. I ain't got all day.
Mind racing. Beat. Points to a suitcase a few yards away.
Help me with my bags, please.
The driver goes to fetch the case. Is stopped by its OWNER.
Raised voices. Moment's confusion. Then...
.the SQUEAL of TIRES. The taxi driver spins around to see
Gina gone and his own taxi pulling away. He YELLS after her,
furious. But she's off in traffic...
I/E. VAN/BERLIN CITY MOTORWAY - DUSK
Smith drives. Deadly silence. Martin motionless. Cole
opposite him with the gun, impassive.
Interior goes dim as Smith takes a hard right, into an
ABANDONED PARKING STRUCTURE, taking a ramp, spiraling up.
dart between Cole and Smith. Heart racing. Struggling to
make sense of things. Cole studying him in quiet amazement.
Shakes his head. Thinking out loud...
My God... she's right. You're
completely gone. You really
think you are Martin Harris.
What the hell Rod! You're my
oldest friend! You know who I
am. It's me... it's not that
other guy. He's not --
-- Martin Harris? You're right.
He's not. He's the guy who took
over for you after you went
Exasperated, Cole leans forward. Spelling it out.
But you're not Martin Harris
either. There is no Martin
Martin staring at him. Blank. Confused. Scared.
Martin Harris doesn't exist. You
invented him. He's your legend.
A fiction you created. You made
him up as a cover to get Bressler
to invite you to the
No... That's insane. Liz, she----
'Liz'...? Your "wife"? How do
you think she feels about all
this? You two were a good team,
then you go and get Norman
fucking Rockwell on her.
That's not... she...
-- they aren't real memories.
Don't you get it? Martin Harris
is a fabrication... but you've
one and filled in the caps,
invented a whole damn life for
him. They could write a textbook
about you! Jesus --!
Martin's face. Spinning. Refusing to believe. The Van
SCREECHES to a stop, Smith gets out pops the doors. The
distant sound of the city traffic, a light wind, whistling.
INT. TAXI CAB - SAME
Gina, driving through traffic, searching, no sign of the
van... then her gaze LOCKING ACROSS THE RIVER, four stories
up on a parking garage: The white van.
She hauls the wheel over, Taxi sliding through a U-turn.
EXT. TOP STORY PARKING GARAGE - SAME
Martin is tossed out onto the asphalt. Picks himself up,
trying to orient...
The structure abandoned, broke. No side rails, just pavement
to the edge. Trash and graffiti everywhere. Desolate.
Cole approaches, losing it now. Boiling with rage:
All that studying... planning.
Hell, you even had us take out
that kid after we ripped off his
thesis. A year of prep and you
try to screw it up... . we do
everything to bring you back in,
but you go on trying to screw it
up. Do you know how much time
you've wasted? It's Thanksgiving
for Christ's sake! I should be
eating turkey with my kids, not
here cleaning up after some wacko
who bumps his head and decides
his cover story's for real.
Martin's eyes... staring back at him. Crumbling...
But... I... who am I...?
A pause. Cole shakes his head, pats him on the cheek.
You. You were my best boy.
.suddenly Cole SLAMS a fist into Martin's stomach. Martin
doubles over. Cole WHIPS the gun across his FACE. Kicks him
AGAIN. Martin on his hands and knees, spits blood. Cole
glaring down at him. Disgusted.
Smith covers Martin as Cole moves into the van, empties out a
junkie's works: dropper with needle, bottle top, cotton
balls, lighter. Expertly cooks up a fix of brown heroin.
Draws it into the syringe, glancing back:
Look at you now. Nobody. A no-
one. Just another dead junkie...
Streak of CONCERN as the sound of tires screeching reaches
them. Cole looks up in time to see Gina's taxi, rounding the
ramp, accelerating towards them!
Smith steps forward, gun raised, firing!
INT. TAXI CAB - SAME
Gina DUCKS as bullets pierce the front windscreen. The image
of Smith, firing, grows large...
BAM! -- IMPACT!
EXT. TOP STORY, PARKING GARAGE - SAME
Taxi catches Smith, carrying into the van, crushing him as
the two vehicles slide towards the edge...
Cole is HURLED across the van like a rag-doll, his legs are
crushed between buckling rows of seats as...
. The van SLIDES with the TAXI'S IMPACT... front wheels
pushed off the garage edge... teeters, see-sawing.
Gina scrambles from the wrecked taxi. Runs toward Martin,
lying on the ground. Pulls Martin away, arm around him...
Martin breaks free, walks unsteady to the rear of the van,
locks eyes with Cole, trapped, clawing towards the back...
Martin puts a hand out... and takes his briefcase.
Is it true...?
Caught, the van TEETERING... Sneers at Martin, starts to
speak.. Eyes go WIDE as...
THE VAN... TIPS... FALLING off the edge, Smith's body going
with it... disappears. A moment of calm silence and then
CRUNCH! A dull sick crash as the Van hits below.
Stares down at the wreck. Mind spinning... Gina comes up,
touches his shoulder.
He turns, MOVES. She chases after him...
EXT. GRUNERSTRASSE - CONTINUOUS
Pouring rain. Vehicles hiss over the bridge. Gina catches
up to Martin. Her voice straining above the traffic:
Martin! Stop! Martin, what's
wrong... ? Martin!
. Jurgen... we were going to
meet... I have to see him.
We've got to go... leave Berlin.
We've got to get out of here...!
I have to!
Martin's face. Blood streaking in the rain. Absolute. A
long beat. Gina takes a deep breath.
INT. CAFE ADLER - AFTERNOON
A cafe looking onto the Kochstrasse, Checkpoint Charlie.
Rain mists the windows. Mostly empty...
TWO FIGURES, sitting in the shadows. Martin and Gina. He
STARES down, lost, shivering -- not from the cold.
He glances up, lost, looks away. Gina takes his hand in
hers, presses it to her lips. Holds it. Places it against
the skin of her neck and collar bone. Stares at him.
He looks up... the intimacy. From far away:
he told me I'm one of them...
the things he said... the things
he said I've done...
How can I be that person?
Listen to me. You're not.
Martin, looking up at her, lost. His eyes back to the clock
on the wall: 6.15... Martin closes his eyes. Gina reaches
out. Quiet. Gentle:
Martin. He's not coming.
A long beat. He nods, heavy-hearted. She's right. As they
stand to go... door JINGLES...
P.Q.V. -- IN THE DOORWAY
a FIGURE peering around anxiously .. FRAU BRUNNER --
Jurgen's neighbor, breathless determination as she hurries
over. The bowling tote b in her hands.
She thrusts it at Martin, talking rapidly and urgently in
German. Gina translates...
She's sorry she's late. She says
Jurgen gave it to her. He said
that you'd know... that Martin
Harris would know what to do...
Slowly, almost dazed, Martin takes the bag. Frau Brunner
looking at him intently, still talking...
Herr Jurgen told her to wish you
good luck... that it was a
pleasure knowing Dr. Harris.
Martin looks at her, nods slowly. A beat. Finally...
Frau Brunner nods. A pause. Then she turns, bustles away
out the door, into the rain. Martin looks at Gina. In the
half light of the cafe window, he unzips the bag...
MARTIN'S P.O.V. -- INSIDE THE BAG...
Shoes... towel... shirt... digs down, pushing them aside.
The floor of the bag neatly cut out. Revealing...
A hidden compartment. Thick roll of BILLS... Euros, US
dollars, Swiss francs... and TWO PASSPORTS...
Canadian. He takes one out, flips it open. An entry stamp:
'Berlin... August 28th.' Finds the photo page...
It's him. Martin! But fair-haired, and in horn-rimmed
glasses. The name... 'Tim Carmichael'... a Canadian citizen.
The second passport...
'Rachael Carmichael'. It's Liz... with short, dark hair.
The Liz from his recurring memory.
SUDDEN P.O.V. MEMORY FLASH -- HITTING HARD, CLEAR...
Liz towels short dark hair. Door of a hotel bathroom. Liz
turning... smiling. Embroidered on the towel... the 'H...
I...' now visible in detail: 'Hotel Imperial'...
BACK TO SCENE -- MARTIN RISES FAST
His chair falling. Gina moves to help, he pushes her away.
No! Leave me alone.
He stumbles away, pushing towards the bathroom.
INT. CAFE BATHROOM - SAME
Martin lurches in, locks it, goes to the small sink, STARES
at himself in the mirror.
SUDDEN P.O.V. MEMORY FLASH -- PUSHING OPEN...
the door to the Eisenhower suite bedroom... moving
through the suite... towards the bathroom...
SMASH CUT -- BACK TO MARTIN
He puts hand out against the memory, covers his reflection.
His eyes stare back at him all the same...
SUDDEN SUPER-INTENSE MEMORY FLASH... CLEAREST YET...
.Liz towelling short, dark hair. She smiles up. Lips
Are you ready...?
.and MARTIN ENTERS THE FRAME, hair cut and colored
differently. There's drywall dust on his hands and clothing.
As he leans to kiss her, we CONTINUE...
.INTO THE BATHROOM... to a wall beside the shower... panels
cut away, exposed plumbing. Something integrated into the
wall behind the pipes. MOVING CLOSER...
Semtex plastigue... circuits and wires... dii� video
timer connected to a high-tech DETONATOR...
SMASH CUT -- BACK TO MARTIN
Shaking his head, knowing. Tears streak, he wipes them away,
hard. His fingers find his shirt pull it open...
.STARES at his own body in the mirror. Fingers trace a
scar across his chest, a healed knife wound. Three small
raised bumps on his torso: healed bullet wounds.
He blinks. His breath flows out of him. Surrender.
INT. CAFE ADLER - MOMENTS LATER
Gina, uncertain, with the passport... looking at the small
photograph of 'Tim Carmichael'... notices Martin's paper in
the case, the one he was reading on the airplane. Pages
Cautious... she removes the document. Opens to the end.
Paragraphs, underlined. A biography of sorts...
HER P.O.V. -- GLIMPSES OF LINES:
"Martin Harris, principle biography... married to Elizabeth
Terman, August 12, 2002. Martha's Vineyard... Father died,
Sept 9, 1987 of a Heart attack... Encouraged scientific study
from an early age... Elizabeth... loved DaVinci..."
I made him up... I made him up to
kill a man I've never met.
Gina STARTS, puts the paper down. Martin is at the table,
looking down at her. His emotions sick, his gaze rotten.
The entry stamp in your passport.
You were in Berlin three months
Martin, like a statue. Voice, dead.
Prince Fahad is going to be
assassinated today. There's a
bomb in the suite. I put it
A long beat. Gina's eyes meet his, brief, scared. Sudden
shift. Martin stuffs the cash back in the bag. Grabs her by
the arm, propels them both outside...
EXT. KOCHSTRASSE - SAME
Martin pushes them into the alley next to cafe, jams the bag
into her arms.
Take this... get out of Berlin.
Gina shaking her head.
Take it and go! Get as far away
from me as you can.
I'm not leaving you! Listen to
me: Maybe you're not the man who
went into the water. But you are
the man I pulled out...
Martin, staring into his reflection on the wet street...
Martin, there's no way you can
show your face at the hotel.
Everyone is looking for you. I
WHAM! MARTIN LURCHES UP AT GINA! He SLAMS her back against
the brick wall, his hand around her neck, cutting off her
air, literally lifting her feet off the ground.
Look at me. Look at me...
Gina SPUTTERS, tries to draw air. Her eyes LOCK on his.
.Is this what you want? Is
this the person you still want to
You should have let me drown...
She sputters, eyes start to roll back in her head, losing
consciousness. Martin RELEASES and she drops in the dirt
water of the Alley, hands and knees, GASPING for breath.
Martin stares down at her. He picks up the bag, drops it in
front of her face...
Pure instinct and adrenaline. Gina grabs the bag, stumbles
across the street, HORNS BLARE as cars swerve to avoid her...
And she's gone.
EXT. BERLIN STREETS - LATE AFTERNOON
Martin walks... numb. He waits at street corners, crosses
with lights, moves through the city...
EXT. MARSHALL BRIDGE - SUNSET
Martin stands at the broken railing where Gina's taxi plunged
into the water seven days ago. The tire marks are there.
The railing is half-repaired, half taped off.
He stares down into the oily black water, toes near the
edge... weight shifting... then his knees give. He sits
hard, his hands moving uselessly, almost on their own.
Tears flow freely. Sobs RACK his body.
PULLING WAY BACK -- ACROSS THE STREET
. to where Gina stands, hidden in shadows. She's followed
him here. Now frozen, watching him suffer.
E/I. HOTEL IMPERIAL & CONFERENCE CENTER - NIGHT
Lit up for the big night. Taxis and limos pulling in. In
the lobby, beautiful people mingle with the celebrities of
science. Herr Strauss scans the crowd, watchful.
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - SAME
Two attentive SECURITY GUARDS scan monitors, roll through
different views of the hotel.
ON MONITORS: Crowds pass through security on their way into
the conference room. Outside, a line of Mercedes pulling up.
Fahad entering the building, surrounded by his entourage of
security and beautiful women.
E/I. SERVICE ENTRANCE, HOTEL IMPERIAL - SAME
The same entrance Martin was led by before. Two BELLHOPS,
wearing only T-shirts, enjoys smokes in the crisp night air.
One tosses the butt, reaches for his jacket... it's gone.
Martin, buttoning the last button of the jacket, moves into
the hotel. No longer lost. Here to make amends.
INT. 14TH FLOOR HALLWAY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - SAME
PRINCE FAHAD, flanked by his entourage, arrives at the door
to the Eisenhower Suite. Hum of a party from within.
Security KNOCKS. Beat... Liz opens the door. Radiant.
Your highness... we're honored
you could attend this evening.
(kissing her hand)
The honor is all mine.
Liz BEAMS, gestures him into the room filled with a dozen or
so notable guests. Martin B engrossed in a conversation...
Look, I probably have it
somewhere... Perhaps my wife --
BRESSLER, held at the door by Fahad's security, searching his
pockets for an invitation.
I'm late. Very un-German of me.
(to his security)
I don't think the professor needs
an invitation. He is, after all,
the reason we are all here.
Bressler steps in, takes Liz's outstretched hand. He looks
her up and down. Matter-of-fact.
Now I can see why somebody would
pretend to be Martin.
Liz laughs, her face lighting up... then chillincj as
Bressler's TWO DAUGHTERS appear behind him, smiling shy.
.I didn't realize the girls
were coming this evening.
But of course. Lily and Laurel
are the real reason any of us put
up with Leo at all.
Fahad bends down and the girls run to him, a familiar face.
Fahad hoists one up, takes the other by the hand.
ON LIZ. Hard beat. Looking to Martin B who stares back,
cool. Liz nods, accepting the casualties. She takes
Bressler's coat, reaches for his computer bag.
Let me take these...
Bressler hesitates a moment, then lets go...
Separation anxiety. Just leave
it there, if you could.
He gestures to a sideboard in open sight.
LIZ -- WITH HIS BAG
She turns, hangs up his coat. As she does so... her fingers
slip inside the laptop bag. Slide a tiny Bluetooth
connection card into the computer's bus port.
Liz turns away. Smile gone. Moves down the hall towards...
Same P.O.V. we've seen in Martin's flashes. SMASH CUT...
INSIDE THE BATHROOM WALL
The BOMB. Semtex... circuit boards... a TIMER vamped from a
DIGITAL VIDEO RECORDER. A sleeping monster.
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - SAME
The Security Guard on the monitors squints, watches a
"Bellhop" moving down a hall. Something about the way he
moves... ZOOMING in on him.
Where is Herr Strauss...?
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE BEDROOM - SAME
Liz closes and locks the door. Sits at the desk at another
laptop, firewire plugged into a Linksys antenna.
CLOSE -- THE COMPUTER
Liz's fingers tap the keyboard. The 'desk-top' divides in
two... files headlined in German; Bressler's computer.
'Password blank' pops up. First encryption.
Liz opens a new copy of 'Horticus' to a marked page. Finds
the words. Types in: 'Calochortus albus'. Another 'password
blank' flashes up. Second encryption. Liz types:
'Umbellularia Californica'. Screen blanks, then refreshes.
Padlock icon gone... Liz quickly drags them across to her
desktop. Spinning egg-timer symbol. Files transferring...
INT. 14TH FLOOR, HOTEL IMPERIAL - SAME
Elevator doors open, letting out a few guests and Martin. An
arrow indicates "EISENHOWER SUITE."
He starts to move, clearing a corner, up ahead the entrance
to the suite... OOOFF! The wind taken out of him as four
BURLY MEN in suits SCOOP him by his arms...
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE - BEDROOM - SAME
Egg-timer disappears... 'file transfer complete'. Liz shuts
the laptop. Slips it in a case.
She picks up the REMOTE CONTROL for the suite's plasma TV.
Selects 'Menu', thumbs in a ten digit code. Points the
remote at the wall. Tight pause... Presses 'enter'.
INSIDE THE BATHROOM WALL -- THE DIGITAL TV TIMER
SUDDENLY COMES ALIVE, 00:08:00, 00:07:59, 00:07:58...
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE - SAME
Bressler's daughters, shyness gone, play hide--n--seek amidst
the grown ups. Bressler steps away from Fahad, heads over to
his computer. Stops as Liz comes out of the bedroom.
Ah, Mrs. Harris...
Checking on your baby again?
I can't help it.
Why don't you just wear it? As a
nerdy accessory? Here, turn
Liz picks up the bag. Adjusts the strap... slipping out the
Bluetooth. Places the bag over Bressler's shoulders.
TIMER COUNTING DOWN: 00:05.12., 00:05:11...
INT. 14TH FLOOR HALLWAY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - NIGHT
Elevator doors open on an ELEGANT COUPLE who step forward
revealing... Gina, at the back at the elevator. She's
transformed: An elegant designer dress, plunging neckline.
As she moves forward, toned legs flash from a high slit in
the dress. She's graceful, beautiful, heads turn...
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - SAME
Martin is pushed roughly into a chair facing a displeased
HERR STRAUSS. A GUARD handcuffs his wrist to the chair.
You're not listening! There is a
bomb, in the Eisenhower Suite. I
put it there.
But isn't that the suite 'you'
are staying in, 'Dr. Harris'...?
Or wait, you're not Dr. --
I've told you! There's no time
to explain this...
Strauss rises, starts to turn away. Martin's gaze lands on
one of the VIDEO MONITORS. Eyes lock:
P.O.V. -- ON THE MONITOR: Gina, beautiful, approaching the
I can prove it. Pull up your
lobby recordings from August 27
of this year.
Strauss, startled by the ferocity in Martin's voice.
Do it. NOW. Do it or many
people will die. I'm not lying.
A beat... Strauss nods to one of his technicians who starts
to type into a console...
INT. 14TH FLOOR HALLWAY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - NIGHT
Gina reaches the door to the suite, stopped by security.
She meets the guard's gaze with cool superiority. Her eyes
flick to Fahad across the room.
Are you serious...? Why don't
you ask the Prince?
The guard hesitates, unsure... it's all she needs. She moves
by him, into the room.
INT. EISNENHOWER SUITE - SAME
Gina quickly takes in the suite. Far away, Bressler and
Fahad, engrossed in conversation. One of Bressler's
daughters, LILY, peeking out from under a table. At the bar,
Martin B, drinks in his hands, turning towards her...
She turns towards a picture window, watches the reflection...
. makes eye contact with Liz across the room, she heads
towards the back. He begins to follow... hesitates...
He looks back, to the picture windows. Empty now.
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT
Martin, sweating, nervous, eyes flicking to the monitors as
the technician brings up the reception video, starts fast-
forwarding through footage. Images go by, almost too fast...
.What exactly are you hoping to
Martin ignores him, his eyes TRACKING.
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Fahad finishes a joke. Laughter. Martin B still scanning
the room... Gives up, turns to meet Liz already there with
their computer case and a sportsbag. She hands him the
sportsbag, they wordlessly leave through the rear door...
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Unseen by anyone, a monitor shows Liz and Martin B, entering
an emergency stairwell, hurrying. Martin's eyes scan...
The technician freezes the image: A dapper couple, checking
in. He wears a sportsjacket, light-haired, horn-rimmed
glasses. She's got short dark hair.
Martin points. Strauss leans in, sensing it.
INT. EISNENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Gina approaches Bressler and Prince Fahad, intense, urgent.
Fahad's SECURITY reads her expression, GRABS her arm.
Sir! Your highness! You're in
danger here. There is a bomb in
Bressler and the Prince look over, confused, interested...
. and Fahad's Security ACTS. A gun lined on Gina, pushing
her back. Two men grab the Prince, pushing back other
guests, hustle him toward the suite's emergency exit,.
Champagne crystal, hors d'oeuvres and furniture FLYING.
Fahad in the middle, looking back as he's swept out, captive
to his own security...
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT
The image ROLLS FORWARD, slowly: The man at the counter
kisses his wife's hair, glances upwards... It's MARTIN.
Do you see...?
Beat. Beat. And then MOTION on the monitors: The Prince
and his detail, rushing down a corridor. Strauss tracks...
Sound an alarm. Evacuate the
(to 2 of his men)
You and-you, you're with me.
We'll meet the Prince at the
(to a Guard)
You, take him downstairs.
Strauss and his men flood out. The guard pulls keys, starts
to uncuff Martin from his chair.
INT. EMERGENCY STAIRCASE - SAME
Martin B and Liz stop in their tracks. Doors opening ABOVE.
Sound of panicked guests pouring onto the stairs.
. Liz's face. Ice cold. Processing. Deciding. Hands
Martin B the computer, takes the sportsbag from him.
Stop the timer. I'll finish it.
Martin B nods, takes the stairs back up two at a time,
shouldering his way past the folk streaming downward...
TIMER COUNTING DOWN: 00:2:05., 00:02:04...
INT. EISNENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
ALARMS BLARE! Lights flash. Guests press out. A German
voice comes over speakers, advising people to leave...
Gina moves towards the exit, turns to see Bressler standing
in the middle of the room, one daughter in his arms,
frantically searching for the second.
Professor! Over here!
Gina at the table she saw Lily at before, lifts the
tablecloth to find a frightened little girl staring back.
It's okay, come on...
The girl, convinced, swept into Gina's arms. She and
Bressler head for the door, each carrying a child.
INT. MEZZANINE FLOOR - SAME
Confusion, alarm. People doubling back down the stairs.
Automated evacuation ANNOUNCEMENTS...
INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM - SAME
Guard begins to cuff one of Martin's arms. Martin faces the
monitors, SMILES as he sees Fahad's people meet up with
Strauss at the loading dock, hustle Fahad into a Limousine...
ANOTHER MONITOR: Martin B, rushing back upstairs.
Martin watches... interested... eyes track... narrow.
ANOTHER MONITOR: Gina and Bressler, running into a corridor
with the two girls. Martin smiles a little, relieved...
The smile... dying. Realization...
Bressler's daughters... Lily.
Laurel... Calochortus albus...
He SCANS the many monitors, LOCKS onto: Liz, moving down a
Fahad was never the target. It's
Bressler! You have to tell
Strauss! They're after Bressler!
The guard shoves him against the console, starts to cuff his
other arm. Martin LURCHES back, both of them tumbling over.
Martin scrambles for the door...
INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
Martin stumbles out into a crush of panicked stragglers,
ducks down, lost in the press. Moments after, the guard
appears at the door, speaking into his radio...
INT. EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Martin B rushes into the room. Stops. Like Pompeii: a party
abandoned. Furniture upended. Guests. All gone.
Urgently searching for the remote. Down on his hands and
knees. Looks at his watch. Pales...
INTO THE BATHROOM -- MARTIN B
. KICKS at the wall. No good. RIPS the heavy cistern lid
off the top of the toilet. SMASHES it against the plaster.
Dents... dust... beginning to give...
INT. LOBBY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - CONTINUOUS
Gina and Bressler come out onto the floor with the girls,
heading to the bottleneck at the exits...
LIZ, moving purposefully towards the group, closing, her hand
in the unzipped top of the sportsbag slung over her shoulder.
Glimpse of an oiled-black Uzi machine pistol.
FAR ACROSS THE LOBBY
The other direction. Martin appears, handcuff dangling from
one wrist. He SCANS frantic through the bottlenecked crowds.
SEES Gina and Bressler! Martin starts forward, ducks back as
Strauss re-enters, commanding his security.
Liz closes, tracking, finger flicks off Uzi's safety.
MARTIN is moving, pressing through crowds.
Gina hears his voice, can't find him through the crowds as
next to her Bressler comforts his daughters as BEHIND THEM
Liz moves closer, closer...
. Suddenly seeing Martin. A decision, sudden SHIFT. Liz
passes, brushing Gina lightly as she goes.
GINA, registering the touch, looks up at the woman walking
away from her now recognizing Martin, pressing through the
crowd towards her. Gina's face lighting up!
MARTIN, pushes by a group of people, closing towards Gina and
suddenly Liz is in his arms, grasping him, romantic...
Oh thank God you're here!
Martin stares at her in horror as she beams up at him. One
hand caressing his cheek...
.her other hand pressing a knife against his chest.
Seeing Martin and Liz, embracing. Confused. Alarmed. Hurt.
LIZ AND MARTIN
Liz still hugging him tight, whispering hard, her free hand
sliding something metallic into his pocket.
Hello, Martin. I just placed a
gun in your jacket pocket. One
bullet. There's really only one
person, one right way to kill
Bressler now, isn't there? The
crazy man whose been stalking
him, the crazy man who pretended
to be Martin Harris...
Oh, and after you've shot him,
point the gun at the Police.
I won't do it...
God you're weak. The 'Martin' I
knew wouldn't have been able to
go on living like you are.
Her eyes duck, purposeful, he tracks her gaze. Sees the Uzi
in the sportsbag...
I'll kill them all. Bressler,
the girls... your new girlfriend,
and whoever tries to stop me.
Look at it this way: I'm giving
you a chance to save most of
them. You can be the hero...
A kiss, sexy. Gina in the background, taking a step back...
Ooops, bet you wish you could
explain that. Time's up, Martin.
Go finish what you came to Berlin
for in the first place.
On Martin. Caught. No play. He turns, walks...
INT. BATHROOM, EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Martin B has a small hole opened up. He can see the digital
timer. 00:00:14, 00:00:13...
Jams his hand into the hole. Trying to force it past the
narrow opening. Desperately feeling for the controls.
INT. LOBBY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - CONTINUOUS
Martin, on a suicide mission. Walks in a daze towards Gina,
Bressler beyond. His hand moves into his pocket.
Gina, stepping forward...
He STARES at her. Tears in his eyes...
REAR ENTRANCE TO THE LOBBY
Strauss re-enters, commanding his security. STOPS as he
recognizes Martin, mouths words to his men...
INT. BATHROOM, EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Martin B, forcing his arm further. Fingers reach the
controls... search for the right one...
.his finger flips a small switch. The timer... STOPS.
Martin B sighs, breathes hard. Holy shit that was close.
INT. LOBBY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - CONTINUOUS
Martin and Gina, locked, staring. Her face a million
questions... No answers. Martin shakes his head, turns away
from her, towards Bressler, his hand coming out of his pocket
with the gun... In Martin's face: horror, deadly
conviction... Time SLOOOWS. Sound AMPLIFIES...
STRAUSS AND HIS MEN
.Seeing the gun. Shouting! Weapons being drawn!
Also seeing the gun. A hand going out, a scream building...
Bringing the Vun up, pointed at Bressler's head, perfect kill
shot. No choice. Finger on the trigger...
INT. BATHROOM, EISENHOWER SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Martin B stands, dusts off his coat, starts to walk out of
the bathroom... "crunch" he steps on something. A soft
"beep." He looks down, REACTS to: The remote control...
under his foot.
VISION RACKS TO THE BOMB: 00:00:02., 00:00:01...
KABOOM!!! WHITE OUT BLAST
as the bomb DETONATES. Martin B atomized. Sheets of
flame bursting through windows.
INT. LOBBY, HOTEL IMPERIAL - CONTINUOUS
KA-BOOM! The blast ROCKS the room. People tumble,
chandelier falls. KER-ASH!
LIZ dives aside as a column SLAMS down near her. SPRINKLERS
burst on. Water rains down. Main lights black out... beat,
then emergency lights come on. Total CHAOS. Find...
BRESSLER, clutching his DAUGHTERS as SECURITY reaches them,
surrounding them, searching for signs of Martin...
GINA, dazed, bleeding, picks herself up. Searching the room
for Martin... gone.
INT. KITCHEN. HOTEL IMPERIAL -_CONTINUOUS
Food-laden serving carts, cook-tops, pots and pans, knives.
Falling plaster and debris... deserted.
Liz walks through, brisk, angry. Dress torn, a cut across
her forehead. She stops at a disposal chute, disposes of the
sportsbag. Reaches high under her dress, comes out with a
knife, starts to toss it as well...
.She STOPS. Looks up, into the distorted mirror of the
stainless steel surface in front of her.
REVOLVING... to find Martin there. Bleeding, hurt, covered
is debris, but holding the gun on her in unsteady hands.
Be careful, that might go off.
She turns to face him. Hair slicked, clothes drenched.
Stunning despite everything
Five years as a team... and you
end it like this.
Her hand almost casually moves back, the knife still seated
in her palm. Martin tracks it, steadies the gun.
Don't. Keep your hands where I
can see them. Please...
GROANING from the hotel structure. Plaster and cables fall,
SPARK across the floor. Martin FLINCHES, tries to keep
steady. Liz is steady, cool. Laughs a little.
You know, working with you... it
almost wasn't work. We were so
good... You, were so good. At
the job. At other things...
She smiles a little, warming.
Don't you want to know your real
Let go of the knife, Liz.
'Liz?'... Don't you want to know
y real name? Don't you still
She leans forward, just a breath. Warmth radiating, Martin
Please, just stop, Liz...
Her face, reading him. His fear, his uncertainty... She
smiles, just a little... Liz throws the knife! Martin FIRES
as the blade sinks into him, sending him reeling back onto
His hand going to the knife sunk in his shoulder, SCREAMING
in agony as he rips it out, looking up at...
A soft distance in her face. A small hole in her chest, just
below her beautiful collar bone. Her eyes find him, focus,
You'll never know. You'll never
know who you are...
A long beat. We're not sure when exactly the life goes out
of her eyes. Finally, Martin pulls himself forward. Gently
closes her eyelids.
EXT. HOTEL IMPERIAL - NIGHT
Police keeping people back. FIRE TRUCKS everywhere, jets of
water fighting back the flames. A collective GASP...
as the bomb-damaged corner of the hotel starts to FOLD
INWARD in a spray of dust and smoke.
moves through the crowd, anxiously searching the stream of
people still pouring from the building...
She JUMPS as a hand takes her arm. Turns her. Martin. she
stumbles back, hands raised against him. Fear, betrayal,
love... Him standing there, empty, bleeding...
Gut instinct wins. She takes a step towards him, he pulls
her tight to him. Holds on. All he has. All he knows.
IN THE MIDDLE DISTANCE
Hotel survivors... Bressler: shaken, oblivious that he's the
epicenter and object of the destruction all around him...
CLOSE ON A TV... BACKGROUND NOISES...
Echoing CHIMES of a PA calling platforms... an espresso
machine nearby. ON SCREEN, CNN... the Hotel Imperial. Day-
after shots of the blown-out 14th floor.
Less than twenty-four hours after
the failed assassination attempt
on the Saudi prince...
Image switches to Fahad seated in a PRESS CONFERENCE where
Bressler is speaking...
TV ANCHOR (V.0.) (CONT'D)
. Nobel laureate Professor Leo
Bressler announced the
development of a new strain of
corn... fast growing, self-
propagating, drought tolerant and
pest resistant... To be made
available worldwide without
patent or copyright costs...
Rapturous applause. Standing ovation...
TV ANCHOR (V.0.) (CONT'D)
applauded the announcement, while
the Dow Jones saw agri-business
stocks plunge four percent...
PULL BACK from the TV... one of several in the central CAFE
INT. LEHRTER BAHNHOF TRAIN STATION, BERLIN - DAY
. FINDING two figures nestled among the travelers... Martin
and Gina, seated close. The two of them, gentle. Small
touches. Getting used to peace...
Hey... Do you know? What you
would have done...?
He looks back at her, starts to speak. An ANNOUNCEMENT cuts
through, their train leaving. They stand, move off...
as we CRANE UP SLOWLY above the crowds streaming along a
platform to board an inter-Europe express -- families,
business travelers, soldiers on leave... ordinary people...
another day in their lives...
They say your whole life flashes
before you... but it's the little
things... the details...
Gina reaches out, takes Martin's arm. Draws him closer.
MARTIN (V.0.) (CONT'D)
I don't know who I am now, what I
would have done. But one thing's
for sure... I'm not the man I
was. And I'm going to try my
best to find some sort of
redemption, for what he did.
Because maybe, just maybe...
Slowly we LOSE THEM among the sea of bobbing heads...
MARTIN (V.0.) (CONT'D)
I can become the man I was
always meant to be.