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Enemy Of The State Movie Script

Writer(s) : David Marconi

Genres : Action, Drama, Thriller

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                     ENEMY OF THE STATE

                             by

                       David Marconi
                            and
                        Aaron Sorkin





















                                           February 10, 1997






     FADE IN:

     EXT. SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK, SCENIC VIEW LOT - MORNING

     Shenandoah mountains. A cold dawn. TWO BLACK TOWN CARS
     sit side by side, facing a view of a farming valley below.

     Two MEN in dark suits and long coats stand near the
     cars, casually on the lookout. If we caught a glimpse
     underneath the coat of the taller of the two, we'd see
     that he was carrying a 9mm. Glock.

     INT. BLACK TOWN CAR - CONTINUOUS

     In the backseat of the car sit HAMERSLEY and REYNOLDS,
     each well-kept and in his early 50's.

                        REYNOLDS
            "I know thy works and thy labour
            and how thou canst not bear them
            that are evil. And thou hast tried
            them who say they are apostles and
            hast found them to be liars".
            Revelations II.

                        HAMERSLEY
            What the hell does it mean?

                        REYNOLDS
            It means who's side are you on?

                        HAMERSLEY
            You didn't ask me to meet you 30
            miles from my office for a Bible
            study class.

                        REYNOLDS
            It's a bi-partisan issue. Everyone
            needs to swallow hard. No one,
            including you, wants to be fingered
            as the one obstructing efforts to
            crack down on terrorism, and--

                        HAMERSLEY
            Fuck you.

                        REYNOLDS
            What?

                        HAMERSLEY
            I said fuck you.

                        REYNOLDS
            Is that anyway to talk to an old
            school chum?

                        HAMERSLEY
            You're gonna finger me as soft on
            terrorism? Terrorism, you
            unconscionable asshole?

                        REYNOLDS
            There are planes falling out of the
            sky, buildings blowing up. American
            buildings. Americans getting bombs
            in the mail. What are we gonna do!?

                        HAMERSLEY
            We're not gonna hand you and your
            band of lunatics the keys to the
            kingdom. I'm not gonna sit in
            Congress and write a law that
            allows the NSA to point a camera
            and a microphone at anything they
            damn well feel like. And the next
            time you have something to say to
            me, we do it above-board, in my
            office, like everyone else. Now get
            outa my car, I've got a committee
            meeting on the hill.

     REYNOLDS regards HAMERSLEY a moment, then opens the car
     door--

     EXT. PARKWAY - MORNING

     HAMERSLEY's car snakes down the twisting mountain road.

     INT. HAMERSLEY'S CAR - CONTINUOUS

     HAMERSLEY MAKES VERBAL NOTES concerning the Reynolds
     meeting into his memo-recorder as he drives. He picks
     up his cellular phone and punches in a number.

                        VOICE (O.S.)
            Senator Albert's office--

     The line goes dead.

     HAMERSLEY tries again but can't get a dial tone. Then,
     in the rear-view mirror, a BROWN SEDAN gains fast.
     Whoever the guy is, he's flying. Then a man with a
     rifle leans out the sedan's window. Aims.

     HAMERSLEY flies into a blind curve. Tires SCREECH as he
     rounds the bend to see

     A PROPANE TRUCK. Blocking both lanes of the road.

     HAMERSLEY's eyes widen. He stomps the brakes, SKIDS and
     SLAMS into the truck. The EXPLOSION engulfs everything.
     HAMERSLEY and the car are consumed. The pursuing sedan
     slows to a stop. The men watch. The car's an inferno.

     The MEN pull a 'U' and drive away.

     INT. CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA, TALL OFFICE BLDG. - DAY

     A well-appointed big-city law office filled with
     citations of merit and pictures of a wife and child.

     ROBERT DEAN, a likable young lawyer, sits behind his
     desk with his back to an OLDER MAN. He stares at a
     commanding view of Washington, D.C. as he listens to a
     tired, smoke and whiskey voice.

                        OLDER MAN (L.T.)
            I don't know how much longer we can
            hold out, Mr. Dean.

                        DEAN
            I don't know, either, L.T. Maybe
            you guys should get yourself a
            labor lawyer.

                        L.T.
            Well that's why I'm here, Mr. Dean.
            'Cause you're a labor lawyer.

                        DEAN
            Good point.

                        L.T.
            Last night, Larry Spinks, he works
            the Steel Press, he goes to a bar
            with his wife Rosalie to have a
            glass of chianti 'cause it's his
            birthday, and these two guys, these
            Guido mother-fuckers, they jump him
            when he goes to the bathroom.

                        DEAN
            L.T., in this office I'd prefer you
            say Italian-Americans.

                        L.T.
            I'm sorry, Mr. Dean. But Larry's in
            St. Lukes now, so I'm a little--I'm
            not myself. The Union bosses say
            unless we take Bellmoth's offer,
            it'll only get worse.

                        DEAN
            That's because your Union bosses
            are those Guido mother-fuckers.

                        L.T.
            I don't under--

                        DEAN
            The Union's trying to railroad you
            into accepting terms worse than
            what you have now.

                        L.T.
            Why would the Union--

     DEAN swivels around in his chair and faces L.T.

                        DEAN
            Because they've been paid off by
            Bellmoth.

                        L.T.
            Mr. Dean--

                        DEAN
            My name's Bobby. I'm your lawyer.
            Don't do anything 'till I talk to you.

     DEAN gets up and walks a grateful L.T. to the door,
     calling to his secretary as they go--

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
               (calling)
            Martha!

     MARTHA appears in the doorway...

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            Larry Spinks, St. Lukes. Send him a
            case of chianti from the firm. And
            send his wife Rosalie some flowers.

     EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY

                        RACHEL
            How's the trout?

                        DEAN
            It tastes like fish.

                        RACHEL
            It is fish.

                        DEAN
            I mean it tastes like every other
            fish I've ever had. Every fish
            tastes the same.

                        RACHEL
            Do you like fish?

                        DEAN
            Not that much.

     DEAN dines in a booth with RACHEL BANKS, 30's. RACHEL
     opens her briefcase, removing an 8x10 envelope.

                        RACHEL
            Here's what you asked for. Brill's
            note said it was everything you'd
            need to, shall we say, coax DePinto--

                        DEAN
            When do I get to meet him?

                        RACHEL
            DePinto?

                        DEAN
            Brill.

                        RACHEL
            Never.

                        DEAN
            That wasn't the answer I was hoping
            for.

                        RACHEL
            What answer were you--

     DEAN is reaching inside his jacket pocket. He removes
     an envelope marked "BRILL".

                        DEAN
            "Soon". Or at least sooner than never.

                        RACHEL
            It's how he works.

                        DEAN
            Brill?

                        RACHEL
            Yes.

                        DEAN
            So you've said.

     DEAN hands her the envelope.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            Ten thousand cash. I don't know if
            it's Brill's prices going up or
            your commission.

                        RACHEL
            I take a straight 15 percent.
            Brill's fee varies with risk.
            Perhaps you'd be more comfortable
            using someone else.

                        DEAN
            Other than Brill.

                        RACHEL
            Other than me.

                        DEAN
            Why would I--

                        RACHEL
            Someone with whom you don't have
            quite so personal a--

                        DEAN
            I like our history. And I like you.
            I'd probably like Brill if I ever
            got to--

                        RACHEL
            He doesn't work that way.

                        DEAN
            I just want to make sure I'm not
            breaking the law.

                        RACHEL
            You're not.

                        DEAN
            How can I be sure.

                        RACHEL
            I wouldn't let you. Good luck with
            DePinto.

                        DEAN
               (pause)
            Thank you.

                        RACHEL
            Eat your fish.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Mr. DePinto? My name's Robert Dean.
            I'm an attorney with Seth, Silverberg.

     EXT. BUSY STREET - DAY

     DEAN weaves his BMW through D.C. bumper-to-bumper
     traffic as he eyes the photos that Rachel gave him
     which are lying on the passenger seat. The photos show
     DePINTO sitting in a motel lounge with TWO MOB TYPES.
     He's talking on the phone.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. BELLMOTH STEEL OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

                        DEPINTO
            What can I do for you?

                        DEAN
            Well, I was hoping you might stop
            by my office to swear out a
            criminal deposition against some of
            your friends and co-workers.

                        DEPINTO
               (pause)
            Is this a fuckin' joke?

                        DEAN
            I don't believe it is, no.

                        DEPINTO
            Why the hell would I--

                        DEAN
            I've got photographs of you at the
            Trenton Ramada looking very--

                        DEPINTO
            That ain't me.

                        DEAN
            It's not?

                        DEPINTO
            You don't know who the fuck--

                        DEAN
            That's not you having a whiskey
            sour with Carmine Morada.

                        DEPINTO
            This is fucked. You don't know
            who's in that--

                        DEAN
            You're right, Mr. DePinto, and
            maybe I jumped the gun.

                        DEPINTO
            You're goddam right you jumped the gun.

                        DEAN
            That's probably not you in the
            picture. I tell you what, I'll just
            run the thing by the Grand Jury,
            see if they can't--

                        DEPINTO
            I want to talk to a goddam lawyer.

                        DEAN
            Good news there, Mr. DePinto,
            you're talking to one.

     EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY

     News helicopters hover over Hamersley's wreck as police
     direct traffic around the media circus.

     INT. OLD CAR - CONTINUOUS

     DAN ZAVITZ, looks older than he is, balding with a
     weight problem, sweats behind SLAPPING wipers of a
     beater car plastered with environmental issue stickers.
     NPR drones on the radio as a police car crawls behind
     him, SIREN YELPING, lights flashing, trying to get by.

                        ZAVITZ
            Alright, alright already, I see you.

     ZAVITZ POV: Wreckage surrounded by squad cars,
     ambulances and media circus. Something's happened.
     Something big.

     EXT. SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK - DAY

     A tall ladder leans against a dead oak. ZAVITZ sweats
     and climbs to a branch where a platform's been built
     supporting a large phony bird's nest. He lifts away the
     nest, revealing--

     --Two microphones and three motion-activated digital
     video cameras and recorders. ZAVITZ checks the cameras'
     viewfinders to see--

     --TIME-CODED VIEWS - WIDE, MEDIUM AND CLOSE of a
     squirrel's nest containing three newborns. The parents
     are nowhere to be seen.

     ZAVITZ eyes the recorders. The video disks are spent.
     He ejects and pockets them, replacing them with fresh ones.

     EXT. SOUTHEAST CAPITOL DISTRICT - DAY

     An old building needing rehab. A SIDEWALK VENDOR does
     brisk business, we DRIFT to an apartment window above.

                        TV NEWSCASTER (V.O.)
            Police are labeling it an accident
            but promise a full investigation.

     INT. ZAVITZ APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

     ZAVITZ is staring intently at his computer monitor. We
     don't know yet what he's looking at, but he's scared to
     death as we continue to listen to the NEWS REPORT...

                        NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
            Don Hamersley, senior GOP
            congressional leader, was serving
            as a negotiator on the House/Senate
            sub-committee studying the Anti-
            Terror Bill...

     ZAVITZ leans in a little closer to get a better look at
     his computer screen, not wanting to believe what he's
     seeing...

                        NEWSCASTER (CONT'D) (O.S.)
            ...the controversial legislation
            that would give various law
            enforcement agencies expanded
            authority in the fight against
            terrorism.

     And now we see what ZAVITZ is staring at on his
     computer monitor. The film he shot at SHENANDOAH PARK...

     ...the meeting between HAMERSLEY and REYNOLDS.

                        NEWSCASTER (CONT'D) (O.S.)
            Known as the Voice of Caution,
            Hamersley was an outspoken advocate
            of...

     ZAVITZ reaches over, picks up the phone, and punches in
     some numbers with one hand. With the other, he punches
     some keystrokes on the computer. The screen zooms in on
     REYNOLDS, getting out of HAMERSLEY's car.

                        NEWSCASTER (CONT'D) (O.S.)
            Sixty-eight years old, Hamersley
            leaves behind a wife and four children.

                        ZAVITZ
               (into phone)
            Tell him it's Zavitz. I need to
            speak to him. Tell him it's important.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE - SAME TIME

     A cluttered office belonging to a radical, fringe
     newspaper. ALFONSO, mid-50's, long, graying hair, works
     at a computer.

                        ALFONSO
            Zavitz, what? You want your old job
            back?

                        ZAVITZ
            Listen to me--

                        ALFONSO
            Tired of chasing squirrels around
            the park?

                        ZAVITZ
            Listen--

                        ALFONSO
            Lemme ask you something. I put a
            bird feeder out in the yard, but
            the squirrels, they keep taking--

                        ZAVITZ
            Turn on CNN.

                        ALFONSO
            They keep taking the bird seed. I
            thought since you're the expert on--

                        ZAVITZ
            Goddammit, shut the fuck up and
            turn on CNN!

                        ALFONSO
            Alright, I made a joke about
            squirrels, don't get so--

                        ZAVITZ
            Do it!

     ALFONSO clicks his TV to CNN. The HAMERSLEY re-cap is
     still on.

                        NEWSCASTER (V.O.)
            Once again, police at this point
            are calling Hamersley's death an
            accident...

                        ZAVITZ
            I was doing motion-activated taping
            up in Shenandoah. That's where
            Hamersley had his accident. He
            wasn't alone. He met someone. They
            argued.

                        ALFONSO
            You've got it on tape?

                        ZAVITZ
            Clear as day.

                        ALFONSO
            Who else have you told?

     INT. TECH ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     A place with mind-boggling technology and high-tech
     recording devices. DAT recorders spin silently.

                        ZAVITZ (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            No one. But I'm a little nervous.

                        ALFONSO (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            When can you get it here?

                        ZAVITZ (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            I'm doing a transfer now.

                        ALFONSO (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            Come straight here. Don't talk to
            anyone.

                        ZAVITZ (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            I'll come straight there.

                        ALFONSO (O.S.)
               (through speakers)
            Be careful, Danny.

     INT. TOWN CAR - DAY

     CLOSE ON REYNOLDS sitting in the back. Well-dressed and
     alone, he reviews a bible. His cellular phone RINGS. We
     HEAR static as two encrypted lines find digital
     compatibility. Finally, a confirmation TONE--

                        REYNOLDS
            Go ahead.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     EXT. KENT ISLAND - SAME TIME

     Misty forests sweep down a hill to the Chesapeake Bay.
     A road leads to a high-voltage security fence and
     guard-shack. Beyond are several windowless concrete
     structures bristling with microwave antennas and
     satellite dishes. A sign reads:

                  KENT ISLAND RESEARCH FACILITY
             Prohibited Area. No Photos or Sketches.
          Violators Subject to Immediate Arrest and Fine
           Under Penalties of the Internal Security Act

     SUPER:

      NSA SIGINT INTERCEPT STATION - KENT ISLAND, MARYLAND

     INT. TECH ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     The banks of high-tech digital recorders record
     incessantly as a TECHNICIAN holds a phone to his ear.

                        TECHNICIAN
               (into phone)
            Someone had automated cameras in
            the park. A nature photographer.

                        REYNOLDS
            Jesus H. Christ.

                        SILVERBERG (V.O.)
            How're we with pre-trials. Ms.
            Saunders.

     INT. DEAN'S LAW FIRM, CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

     Packed seats around a long conference table. The entire
     law firm reviews the proceedings. DIANE SAUNDERS
     answers the questions from her senior partner.

                        SAUNDERS
            I'm expecting a favorable ruling
            this afternoon on the evidenciary
            motion, but I could use some more
            manpower with the interrogatories.

                        SILVERBERG
            Mr. Dean, would you care to give Ms.
            Saunders a hand with the
            interrogatories.

                        DEAN
            God knows I would, sir, but I have
            a previous engagement this evening.

                        SILVERBERG
            And may I ask what could possibly
            be more important than Fawell Oil v.
            U.S. Environmental Agency?

                        DEAN
            I have to go lingerie shopping.

                        STILWELL
            Lingerie shopping?

                        DEAN
            A Christmas present for my wife.

                        SILVERBERG
            Go to Harrison's. They've got
            models that'll try the garments on
            for you.

                        SAUNDERS
            Bobby, this is a 40 million dollar
            client. I really need some help
            tonight.

                        DEAN
            Diane, maybe you didn't hear Mr.
            Silverberg. They've got models
            that'll try on the garments.
               (to SILVERBERG)
            Thank you, sir.

                        SILVERBERG
            Merry Christmas, son.

     EXT. OLD BROWNSTONES - AFTERNOON

     Establishing. Apartments on upper floors, businesses on
     lower.

     INT. ZAVITZ APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

     Jacket on, ready to leave, ZAVITZ sits at his computer
     finishing a transfer. A TONE beeps as a COMPUTER TIME
     GRAPH sweeps to 'finished'. The screen reads: TRANSFER
     COMPLETE.

     There's a KNOCK at the door...

     ...ZAVITZ looks over.

                        ZAVITZ
               (pause)
            Yes?

                        MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            Federal Express for 'Zavitz'.

                        ZAVITZ
            Federal Express?

                        MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            For Daniel Zavitz. I just need a
            signature.

                        ZAVITZ
               (beat)
            How'd you get in the building?

                        MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            The door was open, sir. I just need
            a signature.

     ZAVITZ disconnects a video digitizer, removes a game-
     cartridge containing the digitized video...

     ...and inserts it into a Gameboy.

     He steps to the door and eyes the peep-hole.

     ZAVITZ POV: A fish-eye view of a Fed-Ex man, JONES,
     looking bored.

                        ZAVITZ
            Can you tell me who it's from?

                        JONES
               (checking label)
            Micro-Tel Electronics. Sunland.

                        ZAVITZ
            Can you--would it be possible to
            leave it by the door?

                        JONES
            Not without a signature.

                        ZAVITZ
               (stepping to the window)
            All right. Okay. Just give me a minute.

     ZAVITZ POV: TWO DWP INSTALLERS hovering in a bucket
     across the street. Down below, a cargo van with a
     multiple roof antenna is double parked near a Fed-Ex
     van. Then--

     --Through a street window's reflection, ZAVITZ sees his
     building's front entrance. SEVERAL TENANTS are being
     prevented from entering by TWO MEN, plain clothes, one
     with a radio communicator pressed to his ear.

     Shit.

     ZAVITZ backs from the window, seized by panic. He grabs
     his phone...

     ...dead.

     He picks up his fax line. Also dead.

     He grabs the GameBoy, goes to a small side window and
     opens it. A ledge snakes around the corner. An athlete
     he's not but there's no choice. He squeezes out.

     INT. ZAVITZ BLDG. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS

     PRATT, wearing a Fed-Ex uniform, is laying in wait.

                        RADIO VOICE (O.S.)
               (through PRATT's earphone)
            Go to three. Go to three. Package
            is out the window.

     PRATT sprints down the hall, pulling out his pistol, as

     JONES kicks in Zavitz's door and rushes in. The
     window's open. JONES looks out as the last of ZAVITZ
     goes around the corner of the ledge.

                        RADIO VOICE (O.S.)
               (through JONES's headset)
            305 to 308. We've got the eyeball.

     EXT. ROOFTOP - CONTINUOUS

     It's the rooftop ZAVITZ is heading to. Two MEN crouch
     behind a wall, watching ZAVITZ approach.

                        MAN #1
               (into headset)
            We'll take delivery from here.

     ZAVITZ inches along, scared breathless. He looks back.

     No one.

     Maybe he was wrong.

     A pigeon suddenly flies by...ZAVITZ loses his balance,
     struggles...and falls.

     He crashes through an awning and into a sidewalk fruit
     stand.

     Dazed, ZAVITZ crawls to his feet as passersby watch
     speechless.

     Things happen fast. The cargo van rips from the curb
     but is suddenly blocked by a delivery truck. HORNS BLAST.

     HICKS, 30's and athletic, leaps from the van.

     Fears confirmed, ZAVITZ starts down the sidewalk,
     shakes off pain, and moves to a run.

     Except now there's someone in front of him. He's
     trapped. Reaching a doorway, ZAVITZ pushes. The door
     opens to--

     INT. RESTAURANT SUPPLY SHOP - CONTINUOUS

     ZAVITZ charges through and kicks open a fire door. An
     alarm blasts as he exits to--

     EXT. ALLEYWAY - CONTINUOUS

     A garbage truck screams up the alley. There's no way to
     outrun it. There's a fire escape above a dumpster.
     Breath rasping, he struggles on the dumpster, pulling
     himself up the ladder just as the truck OBLITERATES all
     below.

     ZAVITZ struggles and climbs. Reaching a landing, he
     pauses for breath...

     ...and sees HICKS and two others just moments behind.
     ZAVITZ grabs a fire escape door, tugs, pulls and bangs
     it open to--

     INT. A DILAPIDATED HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

     ZAVITZ hurtles by, trips, get up, runs again, adrenaline
     pumping as PURSUING SOUNDS near. He pitches down a
     staircase, shoves TWO PEOPLE and rips through--

     INT. COFFEE SHOP - CONTINUOUS

     He flies past the diners and exits into--

     EXT. BUSY STREET - CONTINUOUS

     HICKS and ANOTHER fly out of the diner, just in time to
     see ZAVITZ melting in with Christmas shoppers that are
     entering a department store.

     We see that the large sign over the entrance to the
     store reads: "HARRISON'S".

     INT. HARRISON'S DEPARTMENT STORE - EVENING

     An upscale store packed with Christmas shoppers.

     At a fashion ramp, a small crowd of mostly WOMEN have
     gathered to watch leggy models feature a particular
     line of lingerie. Mixed in among this group is DEAN, a
     shopping bag in each hand, his briefcase tucked under
     one arm, trying his best to affect an air of the
     studious shopper.

                        WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            May I help you?

                        DEAN
               (startled)
            Hm?!

     The WOMAN is sales clerk who's been in this situation
     before.

                        SALES CLERK
            Do you see anything you like?

                        DEAN
            I'm married.

                        SALES CLERK
            That's fine.

                        DEAN
            I'm married to my wife...of several
            years...and I'd like to buy...as a
            Christmas present...

                        SALES CLERK
            You'd like to buy your wife some
            lingerie as a Christmas gift.

                        DEAN
            Yes. I have her permission.

                        SALES CLERK
            It's okay. I think it's a wonderful
            gift.

                        DEAN
            Can you help me?

                        SALES CLERK
            How 'bout Christian Dior?

                        DEAN
            Is that good?

                        SALES CLERK
            Very good.

                        DEAN
            I don't know anything about this.
            Well, I mean, I know a little
            about--from a certain perspective.
            My point is, I don't want to do
            anything foolish.

                        SALES CLERK
            It's a little late for that.

                        DEAN
            I'll say.

                        SALES CLERK
            What size?

                        DEAN
            Pardon?

                        SALES CLERK
            What size?

                        DEAN
            Eight.  Size eight.

                        SALES CLERK
            I'll be right back.

                        DEAN
            Thanks.

                        SALES CLERK
            Remain calm.

                        DEAN
            Okay.

     The SALES CLERK goes around the counter to the rear
     area. DEAN glances at the fashion show when he glimpses--

     ZAVITZ, hurrying through the women's dressing area,
     desperately looking for an exit. No luck. ZAVITZ moves
     toward DEAN, about to break for the front, but HICKS is
     there searching. Trapped, ZAVITZ ducks behind a display.

     DEAN watches, unaware of ZAVITZ's pursuers. Then it
     clicks...

                        DEAN
            Daniel?

     ZAVITZ turns, frightened....

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            It's me, Robert Dean.
               (beat)
            From Seth, Silverberg. I worked on--

                        ZAVITZ
            Bobby--

                        DEAN
            It's been a few years.

                        ZAVITZ
            Yeah.

                        DEAN
            I'm just doing some Christmas
            shopping. It's for my wife, no
            kidding. Though, this isn't the
            main present, it's just, you know,
            a little--

                        ZAVITZ
            I need help.

                        DEAN
            Tell me about it.

                        ZAVITZ
            How can I reach you?

                        DEAN
               (beat)
            Are you okay?

                        ZAVITZ
            Are you still in Crystal City?

                        DEAN
            Yeah, what's going on?

                        SALES CLERK (O.S.)
            I think she'll like this very much.

                        DEAN
            Listen, Daniel, hang on one second.

                        SALES CLERK
            For that matter, I think you will too.

                        DEAN
               (to the SALES CLERK)
            Could you give me just a moment to
            talk to a friend of mine here? Not
            about this, but...Daniel?

     DEAN looks around...

     ...ZAVITZ is gone.

     EXT. HARRISON'S DEPARTMENT STORE - EVENING

     Out on the street, ZAVITZ shoves into a group of
     shoppers waiting for the light. Then he sees HICKS and
     his PARTNER. They see him.

     Fuck the light.

     ZAVITZ runs into the street as--

     --a BUS speeds through yellow. ZAVITZ is caught in its
     path.

     BAM!

     Only stunned witnesses remain.

     DEAN exits the department store. He sees the commotion
     and makes his way over.

                        DEAN
               (to a bystander)
            What happened?

                        BYSTANDER
            A guy got hit by a bus.

                        DEAN
            Ah, Jesus.

     SIRENS can be heard in the distance. DEAN eyes the
     ground where the body lays. He sees Zavitz's BLOODY
     JACKET...

                        DEAN
               (quietly)
            Ah...Jesus.

     EXT. ANNAPOLIS - NIGHT

     DEAN's BMW drives through a neighborhood of stately
     homes, all magnificently decorated for Christmas.

     INT. DEAN'S BMW - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN drives, a little shaken by events. The RADIO plays
     an AT&T COMMERCIAL relaying the joys of home tele-
     conferencing. DEAN enters the driveway of his picture-
     perfect home.

     INT. DEAN'S HOME/FOYER - NIGHT

     DEAN enters with his shopping bags and briefcase.
     Searching for family members, he enters--

     INT. DEAN'S HOME/DEN - NIGHT

     DEAN's 8 year old son, ERIC and Eric's friend DYLAN sit
     by the big-screen TV, glued to a video game. A NANNY is
     nearby, lost in a magazine.

                        DEAN
            Excuse me, have any of you seen an
            eight year old boy, good looking,
            about yea-big.

                        ERIC
            Hi, dad.

                        DYLAN
            Hi, Mr. Dean.

                        DEAN
            Hello. Hello, Maria.

                        NANNY (MARIA)
            Hello, Mr. Dean.

                        ERIC
            We can't get to the fourth level.
            We keep getting vaporized by the
            Black Knight.

                        DEAN
            You're learning a cruel lesson.

                        ERIC
            Are those my Christmas presents?

                        DEAN
            Some of 'em.

                        ERIC
            Can I open 'em up?

                        DEAN
            Sure, go ahead.

                        ERIC
            Really?

                        DEAN
            In your dreams.

                        ERIC
            Dad!

                        DEAN
               (to DYLAN)
            You staying for dinner?

                        DYLAN
            Is it okay?

                        DEAN
            You got any money?

                        ERIC
            He's kidding.

                        DEAN
            Where's mom?

                        ERIC
            She's in the kitchen.

     INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

     The kitchen is in the midst of a remodel. A wall-
     mounted TV is showing "CROSSFIRE", where the two HOSTS
     are mediating a battle between TWO SENATORS.

     STACY watches the show with one eye, cooks with the other.

                        SENATOR TASKEN (TV)
            Laws service society and they need
            to be flexible to meet changing
            demands. We've got to be able to
            deal with a terrorist threat before
            it occurs.

     DEAN enters...

                        DEAN
            Hey.

                        STACY
            This guy's a fat-assed Rotarian gasbag.

                        DEAN
            Uh-oh.

                        STACY
            Listen to him.

                        SENATOR TASKEN (TV)
            This is no longer a theoretical
            problem, it's a reality. Turn on
            the news. Bombings, hostages--

                        DEAN
            He's got a point.

                        STACY
            Bobby!

                        DEAN
            Not a very good one, but--

                        STACY
            So you tap everyone's phone? You
            use computers to probe financial
            records? New Search and Seizure laws?

                        DEAN
            Just for the criminals.

                        STACY
            We won't suspend the civil rights
            of the good people.

                        DEAN
            Right.

                        STACY
            You should take this seriously.

                        DEAN
            I think you're taking it seriously
            enough for both of us.

     He kisses her. A good one.

                        STACY
               (softer)
            You're a lawyer. Don't you care
            what's going on around you?

                        DEAN
            Something bad happened tonight.

                        STACY
            What?

                        DEAN
            I saw a man die.

                        STACY
            What do you mean?

                        DEAN
            In front of Harrison's, he got hit
            by a bus. I knew him. The firm did
            some pro bono work for his
            organization a few years back.

                        STACY
               (beat)
            I'm sorry.

                        DEAN
            The thing is, when I saw him, it
            seemed like he wanted to tell me...
               (beat)
            ...he was upset about something and
            he said...
               (beat)
            Doesn't matter now.  I'm gonna wash up.

                        STACY
            What'd you buy at Harrison's?

                        DEAN
            A toaster. And no terrorist talk at
            dinner. You're spookin' the kids.

     DEAN heads upstairs...

                        REYNOLDS (V.O.)
            "Do thou, O Lord, protect us--

     INT. CATECHISM CLASSROOM - SAME TIME

     REYNOLDS lectures a class of young CATECHISM STUDENTS.

                        REYNOLDS (CONT'D)
            --guard us ever from this generation.
            On every side the wicked prowl, as
            vileness is exalted among the sons
            of men." Psalms 12.7 and 12.8. Tell
            me what this means, Mr. O'Brian.

                        O'BRIAN
            It means--

     REYNOLDS cellular phone rings. He opens his briefcase
     and takes it out.

     INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS 

     REYNOLDS busts out of the room, phone to his ear. Two
     MEN IN SUITS wait like pit bulls, ready for anything.
     Over the phone, we HEAR CONNECTING HANDSHAKES as the
     lines find digital compatibility.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     HARRISON'S DEPARTMENT STORE - CONTINUOUS

     The store is now closed.

     INT. SECURITY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

     HICKS holds a cellular phone as PRATT questions the
     SALES CLERK. Nearby, a monitor shows a time-coded
     surveillance tape of the lingerie section. DEAN and
     ZAVITZ are in playback, engaged in their earlier meeting.

     Finally, a confirming tone...

                        REYNOLDS
            What happened?

                        HICKS
            He's dead. An accident. Hit by a bus.

                        REYNOLDS
            What about the tapes?

                        HICKS
            We found the originals.

                        REYNOLDS
            The originals?

                        HICKS
            There was a transfer.

                        REYNOLDS
            Am I to understand--

                        HICKS
            He never made it to the newspaper,
            but there was private sector contact.

                        REYNOLDS
            Who?

                        HICKS
            Several indiscriminates and one
            primary who we've ID'd as Robert
            Dean. A Crystal City attorney.
               (silence)
            Mr. Reynolds?
               (silence)
            Sir?

                        REYNOLDS
            Contact COINTEL. Profile. Assess
            the threat. Then cross-check
            against Zavitz. Red-flag the
            intersects and anything we can
            exploit. Also NRO. Pull up the
            keyhole tapes. I need to own him. I
            need to own him now.

     EXT. NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY, BLDG 227 - DAY

     Establishing. Fort Meade. A massive complex surrounded
     by razor wire and surveillance cameras.

     SUPER: NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY, FORT MEADE, MARYLAND

     We PUSH IN on one building several blocks long. Its
     roof is bristling with antennas, dishes and domes.

     INT. BUILDING/A LARGE SPACE - CONTINUOUS

     TIGHT ON MANILA folder stamped

                        TOP SECRET - UMBRA
                 HANDLE VIA COMINT CHANNELS ONLY
                      HAND CARRY - NO COPIES

     A SKINNY MAN clutches the folder, walking by endless
     cubicles of high-tech industriousness. He stops where
     an ANALYST types on a terminal near a retinal scanner.
     The ANALYST opens the folder to see a request for a
     PRIORITY WRAP on ROBERT DEAN, followed by a Social
     Security Number. The ANALYST enters in the number.

     A MONTAGE OF IMAGES GAINING IN SPEED--

     CLOSE on COMPUTER SCREENS showing in the harvesting of
     DEAN's electrical identity. His phone bills scroll by.
     Names, addresses, employment people called--

     Months, years flashing by quickly. Other data banks are
     probed. Insurance policies, credit histories, video
     rentals, library checkouts, school transcripts, ATM
     transactions, tax returns...everything. Irregularities
     are red-flagged.

     A matching ZAVITZ ITEM is found. DEAN's banking info is
     red-flagged. He has large cash withdrawals with no
     matching purchases. His withdrawal dates match up with
     unaccounted-for cash deposits...

     ...in RACHEL BANKS' savings account.

     CLOSE ON PRINTER. Conclusions spill out labeled "RISK".
     More probes are recommended into the RACHEL BANKS/ROBERT
     DEAN money connection.

     CLOSE ON EYE BEING SCANNED - We HEAR a TONE.

     PULL BACK to a PREGNANT WOMAN sitting with her head
     pressed to the scanner. A second verification TONE
     sounds. A poster above her work station reads:

                        IN A DIGITAL WORLD
                  NUMBERS DON'T LIE - PEOPLE DO

     She enters a phone number in her terminal. The computer
     DIALS. She waits, snacking on rice cakes. Finally,
     another computer ANSWERS. On screen appears: PAC-TEL
     TESTING BOARD. The screen fills with choices. She
     highlights -

                  AT&T LINE-VERIFICATION REQUEST
                        LOG-IN ACCESS CODE

     She enters another command. A new prompt reads: ENTER
     LINE REQUEST NUMBER.

     Eyeing DEAN's folder, she enters the phone number and
     commands "ENTER". "RECORD".

     The telephone tap is instant.

     A VOICE GRAPH appears in-sync with CONVERSATION now
     coming over the speakers.

                        DEAN (O.S.)
               (mid-conversation, over speakers)
            Diane's instinct is that it's sabre
            rattling. I think they're gonna
            file suit.

     She enters more commands. An Automated-Voice-Transcriber
     kicks in. DEAN's CONVERSATION is now transcribed
     automatically.

     INT. NRO, KEYHOLE-12 LAB - CONTINUOUS

     A massive, dark place growing with monitors and tech.

     SUPER: NATIONAL RECONNAISSANCE ORGANIZATION, CHANTILLY,
     �������VIRGINIA

     Names of world regions are posted above endless monitor
     screens displaying live, digital-image feeds of Earth
     coming in from the Keyhole-12 Spy Satellites. Every
     populated area of the planet is covered here. ANALYSTS
     attend the many feeds.

     A poster reads:

                     THE KEYHOLE '12' SERIES
                 MAKING THE WORLD AN HONEST PLACE

     On another poster, a man's running shadow in a target
     bulls-eye with a caption reading:

                    YOU ARE A SECURITY TARGET

     Beneath a sign reading U.S. North-East Coastal Region,
     an ANALYST reviews time-coded, digital SAT videos of
     Washington, D.C. As seen from space, the Capitol
     appears to be nothing more than a greyish mass. The
     ANALYST keys commands into his system.

     CLOSE ON MONITOR - The overhead SAT view of Washington
     moves in closer, soon streets are discernible, then
     cars and buses - then an accident in an intersection
     with flashing ambulance lights and a bus. A body lies
     twisted in the street - it's ZAVITZ.

     The ANALYST enters additional commands. The ZAVITZ/bus
     accident freezes, then plays in reverse as if recorded
     by the eye of God.  The scene continues reversing,
     following close on Zavitz as he back-tracks into
     Harrison's Department Store.

     INT. ANOTHER VIDEO LAB - SAME TIME

     CLOSE ON ANOTHER ANALYST facing three monitors showing
     additional views of ZAVITZ's escape as captured by a
     traffic camera, an ATM camera and the security inside
     Harrison's.

                        FIEDLER (O.S.)
            We've checked everything. NRO tapes,
            traffic surveillance monitors -

     INT. IMAGE ENHANCEMENT LAB

     TWO TECHIES huddle by a monitor overseen by FIEDLER, a
     computer expert. The monitor displays the Harrison's
     surveillance tape of the ZAVITZ/DEAN meeting.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            - and two ATM cameras. The one
            showing promise, though, is this
            security camera from the department
            store.
               (to TECHIE)
            Freeze there.

     The TECHIE hits a command. ZAVITZ and DEAN freeze on
     screen.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            Times ten.

     The TECHIE boxes the area to be enhanced. He types
     commands. The boxed area increases ten-fold.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            Focus on the drop.

     The enlarged view shifts to DEAN's gift bags. The
     picture's fuzzy. Someone passes by, blocking the view
     at a crucial moment.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            Enhance, then forward, frame by
            frame...

     More keystrokes. The computer takes over, clarifying
     the image with passes of resolution.

     HICKS leans in closer as the image of the bag inches
     forward.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            Just before the view's blocked,
            Zavitz reaches in his jacket for
            something. When the view returns,
            there's a shape change in Dean's
            bag. See the shadow variance? We
            reverse imaged it--

     FIEDLER points to another screen displaying a digitally-
     enhanced image of the shadowed object and its
     approximate shape.

                        FIEDLER (CONT'D)
            Something's definitely been added.
            It's not a video cassette, the
            shadow's wrong.

     REYNOLDS steps forward. His eyes are red. It's been a
     long night.

                        REYNOLDS
            What's your opinion?

                        FIEDLER
            It's hard to say for certain, these
            things are--

                        REYNOLDS
            I'm not asking you to say for certain.
            This is what you're trained to do,
            right?

                        FIEDLER
            Yes sir.

                        REYNOLDS
            Then what's your goddam opinion?

                        FIEDLER
               (beat)
            Zavitz had digital compression
            equipment. He could've downloaded
            into something. A disk, a chip,
            anything small enough to put in his
            pocket and run with. Whatever he
            put it in, he dropped it in that bag.

                        REYNOLDS
               (to HICKS)
            Get it.

     REYNOLDS heads for the door.

                        HICKS
            We'd have to--

                        REYNOLDS
            Get it.

     INT. RANGE ROVER - NIGHT

     DEAN drives with STACY as ERIC sleeps in the back seat.
     Various hats and souvenirs tell us that they've just
     come from a Redskins game.

     They drive in silence for a moment before...

                        STACY
            Bobby?

                        DEAN
            Yeah.

                        STACY
            How'd you get the information on
            DePinto?

                        DEAN
            What do you mean?

                        STACY
            Who did you work with to get the--

                        DEAN
            A guy named Brill. Same guy as always.

                        STACY
            Yeah, but you said you've never met
            him. How did you--

                        DEAN
            Honey, I don't like to talk about
            this stuff in front of Eric.

                        STACY
            Have you been working with Rachel?

                        DEAN
            No.

                        STACY
               (beat)
            Sorry.

                        DEAN
            It's okay.

     The RANGE ROVER pulls into the driveway.

     INT. DEAN'S HOME/ENTRY FOYER - NIGHT

     The DEAN's enter the doorway. ERIC and STACY are first.
     They stop, faces shocked. DEAN hasn't noticed yet. His
     hand automatically goes to the alarm key pad.

     CLOSE ON THE PAD - The LED reads: ARMED. DEAN punches
     the code -

                        STACY
            Oh my God -

     DEAN turns.

     The house is ransacked. The ALARM suddenly BLARES,
     adding mayhem.

     CLOSE-UP ON THE CEILING VENT - The CAMERA PUSHES IN
     TIGHT revealing a concealed, fiber-optic video lens the
     size of a pin-head.

     EXT. DEAN'S STREET - CONTINUOUS

     Several cars and a florist van are parked on the quiet
     street.

     INT. FLORIST VAN - CONTINUOUS

     The van is really an electronic surveillance post
     jammed with the latest equipment. A TECHIE with
     headphones eyes a monitor.

     CLOSE ON THE MONITOR showing the PIN HOLE SURVEILLANCE
     VIEW of STACY walking through a disheveled room in a
     state of shock while DEAN pulls out his cellular phone
     and dials.

                        DEAN
               (through the TECHIE's headphones)
            This is Robert Dean at 3325 Sutton
            Place. I want to report a break-in.

     INT. RACQUETBALL COURT - MORNING

     A black ball slams against a wall. PULL BACK to DEAN,
     who's angry, frustrated and drenched in sweat. He's
     embroiled in a hard, fast game with his friend, JERRY.

                        DEAN
            They took the espresso machine. The
            espresso machine, Jerry! Which
            makes sense, you know, because the
            crooks probably wanted to make
            themselves a latte before fencing
            the stereo.

                        JERRY
            Did they take your clothes?

                        DEAN
            No.

                        JERRY
            You've got a bunch of Armani suits,
            they didn't take 'em?

                        DEAN
            No.

                        JERRY
            Usually they take clothes.

                        DEAN
            Why don't you give 'em a call.

                        JERRY
            What about jewelry?

                        DEAN
            They didn't take the jewelry. They
            took the computers. They took the
            big-screen TV, they took my blender.

                        JERRY
            The blender?

                        DEAN
            I love my blender.

                        JERRY
            They didn't take the silverware?

                        DEAN
            No, but they took my blender.

                        JERRY
            Sounds like they didn't want
            anything that wasn't electric?

                        DEAN
            What?

                        JERRY
            They only took electrical appliances.

                        DEAN
            Serve the ball.

     INT. DEAN'S OFFICE BUILDING/LOBBY - MORNING

     A busy lobby for a major complex. DEAN, freshly
     showered, steps from a door marked: TO PARKING LEVELS.

                        MALE VOICE (O.S.)
            Robert Dean?

     DEAN turns to see MORELOS, 40's, an obsessive man with
     a terminal smile.

                        DEAN
               (beat)
            Yes?

                        MORELOS
            I didn't want to bother you during
            your racquetball game.

                        DEAN
               (beat)
            Thanks.
               (beat)
            Who are you?

     MORELOS shows him his badge.

                        MORELOS
            I'm sorry. Detective Morelos.

                        DEAN
            Hey, did you guys find my stuff?

                        MORELOS
            Your stuff?

                        DEAN
            The robbery.

                        MORELOS
            No, sir, I'm not involved with that.
            I'm doing a quick follow-up on a
            bus accident took place a few
            nights ago. Your name keeps coming up.

                        DEAN
            Oh...yeah, I didn't see the accident.

                        MORELOS
            Witnesses said you were there, but
            I notice you didn't file a report.

                        DEAN
            A report?

                        MORELOS
            A police report.

                        DEAN
            That's 'cause I wasn't there.

                        MORELOS
            You weren't at Harrison's Department
            Store the night before--

                        DEAN
            I was in the store, the accident
            was outside. It was a bus.

                        MORELOS
            Someone said you spoke to Mr.
            Zavitz before he died. I thought
            you might know something.

                        DEAN
            About what?

                        MORELOS
            About the accident.

                        DEAN
            I'm no expert, but I'm assuming
            that the impact of a moving bus
            against his body caused--

                        MORELOS
            Mr. Zavitz was in trouble.

                        DEAN
            What kind of trouble.

                        MORELOS
            You tell me.

                        DEAN
            I can't.

                        MORELOS
            Are you invoking attorney/client
            privilege.

                        DEAN
            I'm not his attorney.

                        MORELOS
            Than why can't you tell me.

                        DEAN
            Because I don't know.

                        MORELOS
            I'm just trying to determine if Mr.
            Zavitz was involved in something
            more than a simple bus accident.

                        DEAN
            Than why don't you talk to the bus
            driver?

                        MORELOS
            Why so edgy, Mr. Dean?

                        DEAN
            Somebody took my blender.

                        MORELOS
            We'd appreciate your cooperation.

                        DEAN
            I'm happy to help you all I can.
            But I didn't see the accident and I
            barely knew Daniel Zavitz. I've
            gotta go to work.

     DEAN starts walking--MORELOS follows him.

                        MORELOS
            Did he give you anything?

                        DEAN
            No.

                        MORELOS
            Anything at all?

                        DEAN
            No, sir.

                        MORELOS
            Was he with anyone?

                        DEAN
            Not that I could see.

                        MORELOS
            Nobody gave you anything?

                        DEAN
            No.

                        MORELOS
            Why'd you go to Harrison's?

                        DEAN
            To buy lingerie.

                        MORELOS
            For your wife?

                        DEAN
            Yes, for my wife, what the hell
            kinds of questions are these.

                        MORELOS
            I thought maybe it might be for
            Rachel Banks.

     DEAN stops short and turns to MORELOS. He stares.

                        DEAN
            I don't know what's goin' on with
            Zavitz, but that was way, way outa
            line.
               (beat)
            You understand?

                        MORELOS
            Yes sir.

     DEAN steps into the elevator.

                        MORELOS
               (into concealed sleeve-mic)
            403 to 401. He's coming up.

     INT. LAW FIRM/CORRIDOR - DAY

     DEAN walks down the hall toward his office. He stops by
     PEERS as he enters his office.

                        PEERS
            'Morning, Mr. Dean.

                        DEAN
            Hey. Would you get me what I need
            for Zwernickii and the Bellmoth
            motions.

                        PEERS
            Sure.

                        DEAN
            And do me a favor. Find out what
            you can about Daniel Zavitz. We did
            some work for him a few years back
            and there should be a file.

     DEAN enters his office and turns his computer on. It
     BEEPS, BOOTS and loads.

     INT. BUILDING CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

     LEVIN approaches the men's room. A MAINTENANCE MAN
     cleans up broken glass and water by the door. A sign
     reads: CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. Levin turns and leaves.

                        MAINTENANCE MAN
               (into concealed sleeve mic)
            402 to 401. Doorstep's clear.

     INT. MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     Two more MAINTENANCE MEN kneel in a stall adjusting a
     portable monitor and oscillator. They aim a directional
     antenna using slow, sweeping motions.

     CLOSE ON THE MONITOR displaying the intercepted signal.
     It's Dean's computer screen with text being typed in.
     The words are hard to read due to horizontal drift.
     After adjusting the antenna, the signal smooths.

     We PUSH CLOSER. The signal shows the current display of
     Dean's computer screen. We see Dean's O.S. command pull
     up his E-Mail. A prompt asks for a password.

     XXXXXXX appears.

     A switch is flipped. XXXXXXX becomes PUCCINI. Dean's
     "secure" file opens. Entries appear.

                        MAN #1
            402, this is 401. Password's "Puccini."

     EXT. COURTHOUSE - DAY

     Establishing. A large, busy place. LAWYERS and AIDES
     bustle in and out of this structure.

     INT. COURTROOM - DAY

     A busy morning as ATTORNEYS wait their turn to present
     motions before the JUDGE.

     DEAN is seated next to LEVIN, making notes.

                        LEVIN
               (whispering)
            Dick Burns got a phone call this
            morning from someone wanting
            information on you.

                        DEAN
            The police?

                        LEVIN
            No. He said they were doing a
            credit check. Are you refinancing a
            loan?

                        DEAN
            You remember Daniel Zavitz?

                        LEVIN
            Yeah.

                        DEAN
            He got hit by a bus.

                        LEVIN
            What does that have to do with you?

                        DEAN
            I honestly don't know.

     ANOTHER ATTORNEY sits several rows back, watching the
     proceedings, briefcase in his lap.

     CLOSE-UP on the ATTORNEY's EAR with a mini-receiver.
     From it drift snippets of the DEAN/LEVIN conversation.

                        LEVIN (O.S.)
            Was Zavitz in trouble?

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            I don't know.

     A pulled back leather flap on the ATTORNEY's briefcase
     reveals the tip of a concealed microphone.

                        LEVIN (O.S.)
            You think there was a connection to--

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            Jesus! I just told you. I don't know.

     EXT. COURTHOUSE GARAGE - DAY

     DEAN waits for the garage attendant to bring down his car.

                        PRATT (O.S.)
            Mr. Dean?

     DEAN turns. TWO MEN, PRATT and BINGHAM approach him.

                        DEAN
            Yeah?

                        PRATT
               (pulling out a card)
            We'd like to ask you some questions
            about Daniel Zavitz.

                        DEAN
            Who are you people?

                        PRATT
               (handing DEAN the card)
            I'm an investigator with Pro-Tech
            Security.

                        DEAN
            I went through this with an
            investigator this morning. If I
            could--

                        PRATT
            Mr. Zavitz was involved in an
            extortion scheme. We believe he
            passed you sensitive materials,
            possibly with your knowledge, and
            we need to--

                        DEAN
            He didn't.

                        PRATT
            We believe he did.

                        DEAN
            You're wrong.

                        PRATT
            We have good reason to believe that
            he passed you--

                        DEAN
            If he passed me materials, I'd have
            them. I don't.

                        PRATT
            We'd like to recover any materials
            Mr. Zavitz may have given you--

                        DEAN
            He didn't give me--

                        PRATT
            --otherwise we may have to--

                        DEAN
            Otherwise you may have to what?

                        PRATT
            We'd rather not--

                        DEAN
            Fuck you. You may have to what?

                        BINGHAM
               (beat)
            We may have to explore additional
            avenues.

     INT. TECH ROOM - NIGHT

     We HEAR a recording of the conversation between DEAN,
     PRATT and BINGHAM while we're CLOSE on an INK NEEDLE
     measuring Dean's voice stress levels.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            He didn't give me--

                        PRATT (V.O.)
            --otherwise we may have to--

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Otherwise you may have to what?

                        PRATT (V.O.)
            We'd rather not--

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Fuck you. You may have to--

     HICKS turns off the recorder. Standing with him is
     REYNOLDS, the Dean file and voice stress graph laid out
     before him.

                        HICKS
            He's arrogant and threatening.
            Voice stress points suggest he's
            worrying.

                        REYNOLDS
            Hiding something?

                        HICKS
            It was in his bag. Now it's not.

                        REYNOLDS
            Destroy his credibility before he
            goes public. Neutralize him. I
            don't want anyone listening to a
            word he has to say. Tell me about
            Rachel Banks.

     EXT. EXMOOR COUNTRY CLUB - EVENING

     Establishing. A massive clubhouse surrounded by
     expensive cars and tended grounds. We HEAR strains of
     Gershwin's "They Can't Take that Away from Me" from inside.

     INT. COCKTAIL LOUNGE - CONTINUOUS

     GUESTS mill about. DEAN and STACY are standing by the
     reception table where name tags and seating assignments
     are laid out. DEAN picks up a card that reads: MR. AND
     MRS. ROBERT DEAN - TABLE 122.

     JERRY steps over and puts his hand on DEAN's shoulder--

                        JERRY
            Can I talk to you a second?

                        DEAN
            Table 122?

                        JERRY
            That's what I want to talk to you
            about?

                        DEAN
            I wrote a check for a thousand
            dollars. You guys didn't have a
            table that was in the kitchen?

     JERRY gently pulls DEAN to a quiet corner...

                        JERRY
            The Congressman's very happy to
            have your support, but he's heard
            that there's an investigation.

                        DEAN
            An investigation? It was a bus
            accident.

                        JERRY
            He's heard that it's escalated.

                        DEAN
            Into what?

                        JERRY
            Your Bellmoth case. The FBI thinks
            there might be mob ties.

                        DEAN
            I'm a labor lawyer. There are
            always mob ties.

                        JERRY
            Just be cool.

     INT. DINING ROOM - NIGHT

     CLOSE ON and OLD MATRON carefully chewing her food near
     a table card declaring: 122. The gala swings everywhere
     but here. DEAN and STACY are the only other diners at
     the table.

                        STACY
            I don't understand why Jerry
            couldn't clear this up.

                        DEAN
            Well, you know--

                        STACY
            He's got his priorities?

                        DEAN
            There's just, clearly, some
            administrative snafu. I'm sure this
            is the worst of it.

     EXT. DEAN'S OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

     Establishing. A glass and steel high-rise reaching upward.

                        MARTHA (V.O.)
            Mr. Dean?

     INT. DEAN'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN sits behind his desk as his secretary MARTHA enters.

                        DEAN
            Yeah.

                        MARTHA
            It's Rachel Banks.

     DEAN picks up the phone--

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. RACHEL'S CONDO - CONTINUOUS

     RACHEL cradles a portable phone to her ear.

                        RACHEL
               (into phone)
            I got a call from my firm this
            morning saying don't come in.

                        DEAN
               (into phone)
            Why?

                        RACHEL
            There are reporters wanting to know
            about my relationship with you and
            how long I've worked for the mob.
            The mob, Bobby!

                        DEAN
            All right, look--

     Before DEAN can respond, there's a knock at the door.

     PEERS sticks his head in--

                        PEERS
            Blake and Silverberg want you in
            the conference room.

                        DEAN
               (softly)
            Shit.

     INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

     DEAN sits in the conference room by himself. He waits.

     After a moment, SILVERBERG and BLAKE stride in.

                        DEAN
            Listen--

                        SILVERBERG
            I got a call this morning from a
            source I trust. The Post is running
            a lead this afternoon about your
            involvement in the Bellmoth
            investigation.

                        DEAN
            I don't under--

                        BLAKE
            We've also been informed that the
            Grand Jury is going to call for an
            investigation into your affairs.

                        DEAN
            Why?

                        BLAKE
            They want to hold you in Contempt
            for ethics violations.

                        SILVERBERG
            They claim you helped create a
            shell company for Sam Vollotti in
            Zurich and that through your
            continuing relationship, the
            Gambino family's been able to exert
            influence and provide false
            witnesses to discredit our case.

                        DEAN
            Oh, well, that's true.

                        BLAKE
            It is?

                        DEAN
            Except for the part about my
            setting up a company in Zurich and
            knowing anyone named Sam Vollotti
            and having any relationship
            whatsoever with the Gambino family.

                        SILVERBERG
            Robert--

                        DEAN
            Gimme a week and four guys from
            litigation and I'll have the Post
            pleading with us not to sue for libel.

                        BLAKE
            Tell us about Rachel Banks.

                        DEAN
               (stunned)
            Rachel Banks?

                        SILVERBERG
            The attorney?

                        BLAKE
            Have you two been having an affair?

     DEAN is speechless...

                        DEAN
            What kind of a question is that?

                        BLAKE
            A direct one.

                        DEAN
            I have a professional relationship
            with Rachel Banks. She's the go-
            between for a private investigator
            I use.

                        SILVERBERG
            What's his name?

                        DEAN
            Brill.

                        BLAKE
            Why don't you just call Brill directly.

                        DEAN
            I don't know who he is.

                        BLAKE
            I'm told you had an affair with
            Rachel Banks four years ago.

                        DEAN
            Told by whom?

                        BLAKE
            Considering the enormous exposure
            to which you've subjected this firm,
            I'd think you'd do best to simply
            answer my questions.

                        DEAN
            Really?

                        BLAKE
            Yes.

                        DEAN
            Well considering what a colossal
            douche bag you are, David, maybe
            I'd do best to simply kick your ass
            all over the capitol.

                        SILVERBERG
            Gentlemen--

                        DEAN
            This is bullshit. Someone's mixing
            up a bunch of half-truths to ruin
            me and to ruin my case.

                        SILVERBERG
            Who would do that?

                        DEAN
            Maybe Bellmoth. Maybe the unions. I
            don't know.

                        SILVERBERG
            Well until we find, you're gonna
            have to take a leave of absence.

                        DEAN
            You're firing me.

                        SILVERBERG
            A leave of absence. Until we've
            sorted this all out.

                        DEAN
            Put David on it. He seems anxious
            to clear my name.

                        SILVERBERG
            Bobby--

                        DEAN
            Fuck off.

     INT. DEAN'S HOUSE/FOYER - EVENING

     DEAN enters.

                        DEAN
               (calling)
            Stacy!

     JENNY, early 30's, heads him off--

                        JENNY
            Robert--

                        DEAN
            Where's Stacy?

                        JENNY
            She doesn't want to talk to you.

                        DEAN
               (beat)
            What are you talking--

                        JENNY
            She can't talk to you right now.

                        DEAN
               (beat)
            Why?

                        JENNY
            Because she's reading the newspaper,
            you asshole.

     DEAN pushes past her and heads to the back patio--

     EXT. BACK PATIO - CONTINUOUS

     STACY stares blankly, eyes red. A copy of The Post is
     beside her. A picture of DEAN and RACHEL, arm in arm,
     accompanies a headline.

     DEAN walks in--

                        DEAN
            Stacy?

                        STACY
            How could you let me find out like
            this?

                        DEAN
            Stacy, I found out like this. This
            is the first I'm hearing of--

                        STACY
            Robert--

                        DEAN
            It's not true.

                        STACY
               (reading)
            "Sources revealed an FBI
            investigation into a possible money
            laundering scheme that may have
            sent millions of dollars--

                        DEAN
            I've seen it.

                        STACY
               (reading)
            "At the center of the investigation
            are well-known Washington-area
            attorneys Robert Dean and Rachel
            Banks."

                        DEAN
            Yeah...look--

     STACY whips the paper at him--

                        STACY
            You swore!

                        DEAN
            I have lunch with Rachel once a
            month. She's my connection to an
            investigator.

                        STACY
            I told you I didn't want you seeing
            her.

                        DEAN
            I know.

                        STACY
            You had an affair with this woman,
            Robert, we went to a fucking
            counselor for a year.

                        DEAN
            I see her for business.

                        STACY
            You told me you weren't seeing her
            at all.

                        DEAN
            I didn't want you to be upset. I
            shouldn't have lied. Stacy, there's
            nothing between me and Rachel Banks.

     STACY grabs another paper and shoves it across the
     table. DEAN picks it up.

     DEAN'S POV: A black and white surveillance photo of
     DEAN and RACHEL on a hotel balcony.

                        STACY (O.S.)
            The date stamp on the picture is
            last month. Is that where you and
            Rachel conduct business.

                        DEAN
               (shaking his head)
            It's not real...
               (to STACY)
            That's not me.

                        STACY
            Oh, please--

                        DEAN
            It's not a real picture, Stacy,
            it's been doctored-up.

                        STACY
            I think you should leave now, Robert.

                        DEAN
            Stacy--

                        STACY
            Leave this house.

     EXT. HYATT HOTEL - NIGHT

     Establishing. Downtown Washington, D.C.

     INT. REGISTRATION DESK - CONTINUOUS 

     A busy night. DEAN stands at the registration desk
     facing a DESK CLERK.

                        DESK CLERK
               (returning card)
            I'm sorry, sir, this card's been
            declined.

                        DEAN
            It's a brand new card.

                        DESK CLERK
            Maybe it's not connected yet.

                        DEAN
               (handing him another)
            Here, you can use this.

     The CLERK runs it through. Same result.

                        DESK CLERK
            I'm sorry.

     He returns the card, embarrassed for Dean. DEAN turns
     to leave...

     ...and stops dead. He stares at the empty floor by a
     pillar.

                        DEAN
            My suitcase--

                        DESK CLERK
            Sir?

                        DEAN
            My suitcase is gone.

     DEAN walks quickly around the area, looking at
     everything and everyone.

                        DESK CLERK
            I'm sure we can locate it for you, sir.

                        DEAN
            Don't count on it.

     EXT. BANK MACHINE - NIGHT

     DEAN stands at the ATM, waiting for cash. There's a
     short line of PEOPLE behind him. His bank card spits
     out. The monitor reads:

                  Temporarily Unable to Process
                         this Transaction

                        DEAN
               (pounding the machine)
            God Dammit!

     The waiting PEOPLE back away...

     EXT. CHEAP MOTEL - NIGHT

     A weathered sign reads:

                         All Rooms $39.95

     An O.S. TV DRONES the latest AT&T COMMERCIAL--

                        TV ANNOUNCER
               (soft and seductive)
            Have you ever tucked your kid in
            from a phone booth? You will--

     INT. MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     CLOSE ON AN OLD COLOR TV. The COMMERCIAL ENDS. A
     NEWSCASTER returns to deliver the late-night news.

                        NEWSCASTER
               (on TV)
            In Richmond today, Senate Majority
            Leader Sam Albert paid a visit to
            promote the ten-billion dollar
            Anti-Terror Bill.

     The newscast cuts to SAM ALBERT, late 60's, standing on
     State Capitol Building steps delivering a speech to
     community leaders.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
               (on TV)
            America is under assault, and this
            time it's from within. The gangs,
            the terrorists, the drug lords, the
            cults...

     PULLING AWAY from the TV, we explore the room. Dimly
     lit and cluttered with tired furniture.

                        SENATOR ALBERT (CONT'D)
               (on TV)
            It's a war like any other war. A
            war with victims and a war that
            requires courage and strength.

     Outside the window, a BUZZING NEON SIGN flickers red
     and blue. We finally end on DEAN, sitting on a sagging
     bed, rubbing his eyes...the newspaper with the
     doctored-up photo is sitting next to him.

     EXT. BUILDING - DAY

     Establishing. Italian area of Baltimore. A 40's era
     box-building. A sign reads:

              Italian/American Legion - Members Only

     INT. ITALIAN/AMERICAN LEGION - CONTINUOUS

     Thread-bare chairs and a couch. SAL and FRANKIE, both
     meaty guys in shiny shirts, sit facing DEAN, who stands
     before them.

                        SAL
            I'm sorry. I'm not sure I understand.
            You wanna fuckin' what?

                        DEAN
            I'd like to speak to someone about
            what's happening to me.

                        FRANKIE
               (to SAL)
            What'd this guy say his name was?

                        SAL
            This is Bobby Dean, the Jew lawyer
            who squeezed DePinto.

                        DEAN
            Actually, that's not true.

                        SAL
            You didn't squeeze DePinto?

                        DEAN
            No, I meant I'm Presbyterian.

                        SAL
            Oh.

                        DEAN
            My wife's Jewish. But that probably
            doesn't matter right now.

                        FRANKIE
            What is it you want?

                        DEAN
            Someone's trying to destroy my life,
            and I'd like to find out who.

                        SAL
            And then what?

                        DEAN
            I'll see if I can, you know, work
            things out.

                        FRANKIE
            Well we'd sure like to help you.

                        DEAN
            You would?

                        FRANKIE
            Yes. But we can't.

                        DEAN
            Why not?

                        FRANKIE
            Because we, and our associates,
            have paid out hundreds of thousands
            of dollars to shyster lawyers like
            you, because of shyster lawyers
            like you, and we'd just as soon sit
            back and sip a beer while you get
            ass-banged by as many people as
            possible.

     EXT. STATELY OLD BUILDING - DAY

     Establishing. A sign reads:

            The Audobon Society - National Headuarters

                        WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
            He shot wildlife footage--

     INT. AUDOBON HEADQUARTERS/EDITING BAY - CONTINUOUS

     MEG BURTON sits near an editing machine as two EDITORS
     review endless amounts of bird footage. DEAN sits next
     to her.

                        DEAN
            I know, but--

                        MEG
            Wildlife footage, for God's sake. I
            don't see how he could've slipped
            you something that the FBI would be
            interested in.

                        DEAN
            That's my point.

                        MEG
            What's your point.

                        DEAN
            Well, I need to find out as much
            about Daniel as possible.

                        MEG
            Why?

                        DEAN
            Because my life is being ruined.

                        MEG
            Daniel's life is already ruined.
            Maybe if you guys stopped thinking
            about yourselves for a change and--

     EXT. THE GANG-PLANK BAR - DAY

     Establishing. The Baltimore water front. A crusty bar
     overlooking the bay.

     INT. BAR - CONTINUOUS

     Sunlight slashes blinds revealing a place that is wrong
     during the day. JIMMY, a beefy bartender, takes stock
     of the liquor while RACHEL sits in a dark booth.

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            Rachel?

     RACHEL looks up...

                        RACHEL
            Good. You're just what I need right
            now.

                        DEAN
            You got a minute?

                        RACHEL
               (getting up)
            It's really not a good idea for me
            to be seen with you.

                        DEAN
            Who's doing this?

                        RACHEL
            I gotta go.

                        DEAN
               (blocking the door)
            Will you hang on just a second.

                        JERRY
            Rachel? There a problem?

     She looks at DEAN for a moment...

                        RACHEL
            No. No problem.
               (to DEAN)
            Outside.

     EXT. HARBOR CENTER - DAY

     CLOSE ON a SURVEILLANCE CAMERA on a pole, sweeping,
     making automatic lens corrections.

                        RACHEL (O.S.)
            There's a lot of people asking
            questions about you and me.

     We drift down to the harbor walkway, a greenbelt with
     quaint hotels and bars on one side, Chesapeake Bay on
     the other. DEAN and RACHEL are strolling the walk.

                        DEAN
            I know.

                        RACHEL
            The IRS contacted me this morning.
            They say my lifestyle and receipts
            exceed my income.

                        DEAN
            You being audited?

                        RACHEL
            For the last four years.

                        DEAN
            My firm'll represent you. Free of
            charge.

                        RACHEL
            You don't work there anymore, Bobby.

                        DEAN
            That's temporary.

                        RACHEL
            Bullshit.

                        DEAN
            Rachel--

                        RACHEL
            We're screwed.

                        DEAN
            I'm gonna fix it.

                        RACHEL
            How?

                        DEAN
            Tell me about Brill.

     INT. A ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     A TECHNICIAN eyes a recorder spin as a monitor shows a
     live feed from the park.

                        RACHEL (O.S.)
               (through headphones)
            I can't.

                        DEAN
               (through headphones)
            You have to.

                        RACHEL
               (through headphones)
            I've never met him?

                        DEAN
               (through headphones)
            Goddammit, Rachel, you assured me--

     EXT. THE PARK - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN and RACHEL on their stroll--

                        RACHEL
            Fuck you. When you needed
            information, I got it. You didn't
            care how.

                        DEAN
            I did care how.

                        RACHEL
            This conversation's over.

                        DEAN
            What're you gonna do, Rachel? You
            gonna sit in a bar in Baltimore?
            You want your job back? You want a
            life?

                        RACHEL
            I don't have a life, Bobby. I'm in
            love with a married man.

                        DEAN
            I'm sorry about that.

                        RACHEL
            What makes you think it's you?

                        DEAN
            It's not me?

                        RACHEL
            You're a moron, you know that?

                        DEAN
            Yeah.

     DEAN smiles...and after a moment, so does RACHEL.

                        RACHEL
            When I need to reach Brill, I chalk
            the mailbox on 14th and Main.

     EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

     RACHEL is walking to the mailbox. She casually slashes
     the box with chalk and drops a letter inside.

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            When he sees the mark, he knows
            there's a drop. The location's
            always the same.

     EXT. BALTIMORE PORT - DAY

     Establishing. Wharves, ships, seagulls. A water-bus
     chugs dockside as PASSENGERS board for the trip across
     the inlet. DEAN stands in a ticket line with the other
     PASSENGERS.

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            The number twelve ferry to Glen
            Burnie. Tuesdays or Fridays.

     INT. FERRY - DAY

     DEAN takes a seat. Across the deck is Seat 74. RACHEL
     takes the seat and casually slides an envelope behind
     it, her actions obscured by a bag she carries. The
     ferry BLOWS its departure horn.

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            The drop's behind Seat 74. I leave
            something, he picks it up later.

     The ferry churns water. RACHEL moves to a wind
     protected seat, leaving Seat 74 empty. DEAN keeps watch
     on the seat as he scans the paper.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Any idea what he looks like?

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            My guess is male, somewhere in his
            40's or 50's.

     A MONTAGE of different people occupying Seat 74.

     A middle-aged DRUNK passed out in the seat. A TEEN-AGED
     boy with glasses chats with friends.

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            Race, height, weight, you're on
            your own.

     An OLD LADY reads a book. She sees DEAN eyeing her and
     smiles nervously. DEAN returns to his paper.

                        RACHEL (V.O.)
            Now I don't know how he's gonna
            feel about someone tracking him
            down. He's reclusive. I'm sure he
            has his reasons.

     DEAN's alone now. The ferry docks for the night. The
     last passengers, TWO NUNS, disembark. DEAN rises to go.
     Brill's a no-show.

     INT. FERRY TERMINAL - NIGHT

     DEAN walks down the ramp. It's dark in the empty
     terminal. Not the best place at this hour. Up ahead,
     TWO MEN stand in the darkness, then kissing. Down
     another hall, SOUNDS OF NEARING FOOTSTEPS. DEAN detours
     into--

     INT. MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     Empty. DEAN stands at a sink, water running. He glances
     at the door. He splashes water on his face. Suddenly--

     --DEAN's slammed forward, a silenced pistol is shoved
     into his ear, pinning his face to the mirror.

                        DEAN
            Jesus! What?! You want money?!

                        MAN
            Shut the fuck up.

     Hands frisk DEAN. Up and down the legs, behind the back
     and chest. A wallet is removed, ID's looked at - then
     returned. DEAN turns to see--

     A MAN, early 50's. He sweeps a signal frequency locator
     over DEAN's body. The needle reacts at DEAN's foot.

                        MAN
               (gesturing)
            Your shoe.

                        DEAN
            My shoe?

                        MAN
            Gimme the shoe.

     DEAN complies with the strange request as the MAN flips
     out a knife.

                        DEAN
            Brill?

                        "BRILL"
            Brill's dead. He died of small pox
            when he was two and he was buried
            in a Kansas field.
               (prying away DEAN's heel)
            My name doesn't matter.

     CLOSE ON DEAN's HEEL - a hollow compartment reveals a
     miniature tracking device. The MAN removes it, then
     returns the shoe.

                        "BRILL" (CONT'D)
            A tracker. Thousand yard range.
            They're close.

     The MAN reaches in a trash can, removes a potato-chip
     bag, wraps it around the tracker and flushes it down
     the toilet.

                        "BRILL" (CONT'D)
            C'mon.

     "BRILL" goes through the window. DEAN eyes the window,
     not sure. He eyes the door. Same feeling.

     EXT. LOADING DECK - MOMENT LATER

     DEAN crawls through the window to a loading dock.
     "BRILL" motions him to follow as he moves off into the
     shadows.

     The sounds of the window OPENING behind them, followed
     by FOOTSTEPS. "BRILL" shoves Dean behind a dumpster and
     removes his gun as two men run by. The STEPS FADE.
     "BRILL" looks. They're gone.

     EXT. FERRY TERMINAL - NIGHT

     Establishing. A closed farmer's market by the terminal.
     Several cars are parked. One's a cab. "BRILL" opens the
     driver's door. DEAN grabs the front passenger door.

                        "BRILL"
            No. In back like you're a customer.

     INT. CAB - NIGHT

     "BRILL" sits in the driver's seat, eyes flickering to
     all views, as DEAN climbs in the back. "BRILL" flips on
     the meter and guns into traffic.

                        "BRILL"
            What happened?

                        DEAN
            It started with the information you
            gave me on DePinto. After we talked,
            he agreed to resign. Next, a phony
            detective asked me about Daniel
            Zavitz. Then an investigator
            questioned me about an extortion
            scheme they claimed Zavitz was
            behind. The FBI started looking
            into mob connections. A doctored
            picture in the paper. Overnight,
            I'm ruined. Wife. job, bank
            accounts, everything gone.

     "BRILL" eyes the mirror. A BLACK CHEVY appears several
     car lengths behind.

                        "BRILL"
            DePinto's dead.

                        DEAN
            Oh Jesus.

                        "BRILL"
            They found him yesterday folded
            neatly in a car trunk. What about
            Zavitz?

     "BRILL" starts to weave in and out of traffic. He looks
     in the mirror - the Chevy's also weaving several cars
     behind.

                        DEAN
            I don't know anything about Zavitz.

                        "BRILL"
            You said he was behind an extortion
            scheme.

                        DEAN
            They said he was behind an
            extortion scheme.

     "BRILL" whips the cab around a corner, accelerating.

                        "BRILL"
            And you were the last one to talk
            to him.

                        DEAN
            Yes.

                        "BRILL"
            What'd he say to you?

                        DEAN
            Nothing.

                        "BRILL"
            What'd he give to you?

                        DEAN
            Nothing.

                        "BRILL"
            Don't bullshit me, I can save your
            life.

                        DEAN
            I'm telling you, I--

     The ride from hell gets worse as "BRILL" screeches
     another turn. The car ahead stops and "BRILL" screeches
     past on two wheels.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            I just gave him my card.

                        "BRILL"
            He didn't give you an address? He
            didn't give you a phone number?

                        DEAN
            Nothing. Two nights later I was
            robbed. I'm pretty sure they were pros.

     "BRILL" takes an impossible left into another alley.
     The Chevy follows. "BRILL"'s good. The guy in the
     Chevy's better.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            Um...who's that?

                        "BRILL"
            Don't know. Did you check everywhere?
            Maybe it was hidden in something.
            Maybe there was someone else--

                        DEAN
            Someone else?

                        "BRILL"
            Maybe you bumped into someone who
            took it and you didn't even know.

     The cab is rear-ended hard by the Chevy. Their necks
     snap back from the force.

                        "BRILL" (CONT'D)
            Shit!

     WHAM! They're hit again. "BRILL" pulls out a communicator.

                        "BRILL" (CONT'D)
            209 to anyone! I need some help here!

                        DEAN
            Who are you calling?!

     WHACK! "BRILL" back-hands DEAN with his fist, knocking
     him silly as WHAM!--the cab's rear-ended again.

                        "BRILL"
               (trying again)
            This is 209! Does anyone copy?!

     Then "BRILL" sees that the alley empties into a busy
     street, then a bakery shop.

     He slams the brakes. Tires screech smoke but it's no
     use. The powerful Chevy pushes the cab, bumper to
     bumper, toward the street. "BRILL" grips the wheel.
     It's all he can do as the cab rockets into cross
     traffic and--

     BLAM! They're broad-sided by a delivery truck. The cab
     is shoved sideways along the street and into a fire-
     hydrant, finally stopping under jetting water from the
     broken main.

     DEAN slowly opens his eyes. Water pours in everywhere.
     "BRILL" is sticking halfway through a window, not
     moving. Seeing "BRILL"'s pistol, DEAN grabs it and
     crawls from the wreckage.

     EXT. STREET - NIGHT

     DEAN climbs from the wreck as BYSTANDERS approach.

                        WOMAN
            Look out! He's got a gun!

     They back away as DEAN gets to his feet and looks
     around. Off to the side he sees the Chevy, waiting like
     a coiled snake.

     DEAN limps into the crowd. He rounds the corner to
     ANOTHER STREET and now he's running with all he's got left.

     INT. DEAN'S HOUSE/STUDY - NIGHT

     STACY is at the desk looking at the latest edition of
     the paper, which now has a photograph of DEAN and
     RACHEL walking in the park from the day before.

     The phone rings and STACY reaches for it...

                        STACY
               (into phone)
            Hello?

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. HOTEL LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN stands at a pay phone--

                        DEAN
               (into phone)
            Stacy, don't hang up.

                        STACY
            Do you know what I'm looking at Robert?

                        DEAN
            Stacy--

                        STACY
            I'm looking at a picture of you and
            Rachel taken yesterday.

                        DEAN
            I know, but listen--

                        STACY
            Was that doctored-up, too?

                        DEAN
            No, I was with her yesterday. I
            want you to take Eric and go to our
            parents house. I want you to do it
            right now.

                        STACY
            I went to the grocery store. My ATM
            and credit cards didn't work. I
            couldn't buy food.

                        DEAN
            I know.

                        STACY
            I went to the bank to see why. They
            said you emptied our accounts--

                        DEAN
            It wasn't me.

                        STACY
            This is science-fiction Robert! The
            manager showed me the transfer
            notice with your signature on it.

                        DEAN
            Stacy, somebody's trying to kill me.
            Now goddamit--

                        STACY
            My father's put me in touch with an
            attorney. He'll be--

     A hand suddenly clicks down the phone hook. DEAN turns
     to see a MAN, late 50's, gruff and alert. It's the guy
     driving the Chevy.

                        MAN
            Put the phone down. Do as I say.

     DEAN does nothing, temporarily frozen. A pistol jabs
     him hard.

                        DEAN
            Alright, alright--

     DEAN replaces the phone. The man removes DEAN's gun.
     Nearby, two PEOPLE chat at a restaurant hostess desk,
     unaware.

                        MAN
            Move to the elevators.

     DEAN does but is suddenly redirected through a roof-
     access door.

     INT. VAN - NIGHT

     A TECHNICIAN sits in a van jammed with high-tech
     surveillance gear. HICKS is next to him, a phone
     pressed to his ear.

                        HICKS
            We just picked up his call.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. OFFICE - NIGHT

     REYNOLDS, dressed in a tux, presses his cellular to his
     ear, while behind him MARSHAL and SHAFFER, also in
     tuxedos, have a heated discussion.

                        REYNOLDS
               (into phone)
            30 minutes ago you said we had him.
            What in hell's goin' on out there?

                        HICKS
               (into phone)
            He had help.

                        REYNOLDS
               (into phone)
            Help from whom?
               (he hears the answer)
            Christ.

     EXT. HIGH-RISE ROOFTOP - NIGHT

     Eight stories up and deserted. The lit dome of the
     Capitol building shines like a beacon in the D.C. skyline.

     DEAN suddenly slams against a wall--

                        DEAN
            Hey!

                        MAN
            Forget me, forget what I did for
            you. Don't ever mention my name or
            try to contact me again. Get it?

                        DEAN
            I don't know you, I don't know your
            name, I don't know what the hell
            you did for me except hang up on my
            wife and slam me into a wall, but
            I'm getting pretty fuckin' sick of
            this! Get it?!

                        MAN
            Seat 74.

                        DEAN
               (pause)
            You're Brill.

                        BRILL
            You knew the deal. No contact.

                        DEAN
            Who was that other guy?

                        BRILL
            One of many people who would live a
            word with you.

                        DEAN
            Who are they?

                        BRILL
            You've heard of the National Security
            Agency?

                        DEAN
            What do they have to do with this?

                        BRILL
            That's who they are.

                        DEAN
            The NSA?

                        BRILL
            Yes.

                        DEAN
            You're crazy.

                        BRILL
               (starting to leave)
            Okay.

                        DEAN
            Wait.

                        BRILL
            You drive a black BMW, license
            plate SRK1339?

                        DEAN
            Yeah.

                        BRILL
               (reaching in his pocket)
            I clipped this from your wheel well
            just before they towed your car away.

     BRILL pulls out a disk-shaped object the size of a
     walk-man.

                        DEAN
            What is that?

                        BRILL
            It's a SAT-tracker.

                        DEAN
            I don't know what that means.

                        BRILL
            Like a LowJack, but two generations
            ahead of what the police use. It
            pulses at 230 Giga-Hertz.

                        DEAN
            I don't know what that means.

                        BRILL
            230 Giga-Hertz. They use that band
            for the Aquacade Spy-SAT uplinks.

                        DEAN
            I don't know what that means.

                        BRILL
            It means the NSA can read the time
            off your wristwatch.

                        DEAN
            Why are they after me?

                        BRILL
            If I knew, they'd be after me.
            Which they probably are right now.
            'Bye.

                        DEAN
            Wait. What do I do?

                        BRILL
            Pal, you're cooked. It's over. What
            you did, who you were...that's done.
            I'd find a quiet job somewhere
            shoveling snow.

     A helicopter hovers near the Washington Monument. BRILL
     eyes it cautiously.

                        DEAN
            Why don't they just identify
            themselves and tell me what they want?

                        BRILL
            They're spooks.

                        DEAN
            I don't know what that--

                        BRILL
            Exposure. They can't have it. They
            wanna learn what you know and then
            deal with it.

                        DEAN
            I don't know anything.

                        BRILL
            No shit.

                        DEAN
            What am I gonna do?! I mean, like,
            for the rest of my life?!

                        BRILL
            Hey, if you live another week I'll
            be impressed.

                        DEAN
            What if--

                        BRILL
            Look, you gave me some work over
            the last year. We'll call it even.

     BRILL turns to leave--

                        DEAN
               (blocking the exit door)
            What if I find out what they're
            after. You know these people, I don't.

                        BRILL
            And you won't. Now move--

                        DEAN
            I'll pay you.

                        BRILL
               (taking out his pistol)
            They froze your accounts. Get outa
            my way.

     DEAN continues blocking the door, maintaining calm even
     as BRILL's pistol is pressed firmly to his forehead.

                        DEAN
            I've got a hundred-thousand dollars
            in jewelry in a safe-deposit box
            under a third party name.

     BRILL looks at the ground. Torn.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            How many years have you been hiding
            from them? How many years have you
            been running?
               (beat)
            What'd they do to you?

                        BRILL
               (pause)
            If you find something, chalk the
            Baltimore Sheraton mailbox and go
            to Temperanceville. It's South of
            Salisbury.
               (giving DEAN his pistol)
            And take this.

     And with that, he's gone.

     DEAN eyes the gun. He walks to the ledge, looking at
     the city.

     DEAN'S POV: Several vehicles quietly pull up to the
     building. MEN storm out an move inside.

     DEAN quickly backs away.

     INT. BUILDING CORRIDOR - NIGHT

     DEAN races for the stairwell two steps at a time. He
     hears the SOUND of a DOOR OPENING somewhere below.

                        VOICE (O.S.)
            303 to 301. Floor one secured.
            Moving to two.

     DEAN retreats upward, then he hears SOMEONE COMING DOWN.
     Trapped. He opens the door on '3' and is about to run
     when he sees a security camera directly above.

     Grabbing a fire extinguisher, he pulls the pin. Spray
     coats the lens. Then he yanks a FIRE ALARM. A HORN BLARES.

     DEAN runs for the second stairwell when he sees JONES
     stepping out. DEAN looks back at the stairwell he left.
     That door's opening as well.

     Trapped.

     Using the extinguisher, DEAN smashes the glass door to
     an office and goes inside. JONES starts to enter when a
     shot rips into the wall, convincing him otherwise. He
     retreats as the BLARING FIRE ALARM STOPS.

     DEAN races through the suite of offices trying locked
     door after locked door. Finally, one opens and he
     rushes in and tries to lock it behind himself.

     No lock.

     He sees the MEN and they see him. He slides a desk
     against the door, then backs away, pistol ready.

                        JONES (O.S.)
               (disturbingly calm)
            Open the door, Mr. Dean. There's
            nowhere to go. We'd just like to talk.

     Seeing a phone, DEAN grabs it.

     No tone. Just a RECORDING of Nancy Sinatra's song
     "These Boots are Made for Walking".

                        JONES (O.S.)
            It'd be easier for all of us if you
            just come out. Nothing'll happen.

     DEAN heaves a coffee table up on the desk.

                        JONES (O.S.)
            It's quite hopeless what you're
            doing, Mr. Dean.

                        DEAN
            I swear to God I'll shoot.

                        JONES (O.S.)
               (chuckling)
            I think you might be over-reacting
            there, Mr. Dean. We just want to talk.

                        DEAN
            Go ahead. I hear you fine.

     The door pushes in--

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            I said I'll shoot!

     The door keeps pushing.

     DEAN FIRES high.

     The pushing stops.

     Then DEAN hears the distant sound of SIRENS approaching.
     DEAN rips off his sweater, takes out a lighter, and
     sets the sweater on fire.

     He throws it into a garbage can and tosses styrofoam
     cups in on top of it.

     The pushing starts again, but before DEAN can fire, a
     small cylindrical device drops into the room.

     A STUN GRENADE.

     DEAN ducks as a BLINDING FLASH rocks the room.

     The window is blown open. Smoke billows out. DEAN,
     temporarily blinded and deaf, struggles to a ledge as
     fire engines arrive.

     INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS

     Fire trucks, police cars and an ambulance arrive
     beneath DEAN as HICKS watches from his van.

                        HICKS
            I don't fuckin' believe this!
               (into radio-mic)
            301 to all units. Everyone out! Now!
            We'll take him at the hospital.

     INT. AMBULANCE - NIGHT

     DEAN sits in back with a PARA-MEDIC, covered in soot,
     breathing hard through an oxygen mask as the ambulance
     WAILS and weaves through traffic. He looks through the
     rear window to see--

     TWO CARS FOLLOWING, keeping pace. Off to the side, RFK
     Stadium is emptying, a Redskins game is over.

     DEAN rips off the oxygen mask--

                        DEAN
            Tell him to stop the ambulance.

                        PARAMEDIC
            Whoa there, fella. Just take it easy.

                        DEAN
            Tell him to stop the ambulance.

                        PARAMEDIC
            Now you're a little shaken up, but
            we're gonna get you on your feet in--

     DEAN whips out his pistol and shoves it in the
     PARAMEDIC's face--

                        PARAMEDIC (CONT'D)
               (to the driver)
            --stop the ambulance.

                        DEAN
            Thank you.

     EXT. STREET - NIGHT

     The ambulance pulls over and the back doors fly open.
     DEAN leaps out into the crowd.

     The OTHER CARS pull over and PRATT and JONES exit. They
     scan the area and see DEAN descending a stairwell
     marked: METRO.

     INT. METRO STATION PLATFORM - NIGHT

     DEAN stands at the end of the crowded platform. PRATT
     and JONES work through the CROWD as the train pulls in.
     DEAN slides on board. The departure HORN sounds. JONES
     and PRATT step on.

     INT. METRO - NIGHT

     DEAN huddles in the back car, panic-breathing, as PRATT
     and JONES move through the cars searching for faces.

     DEAN looks for an out. He sees an emergency stop handle.

     He YANKS it forward. PASSENGERS yell. The brakes lock
     and SCREECH. The train slows. Then stops.

     DEAN opens the door.

     And jumps. He looks around. Just black curved track in
     either direction. He starts running.

     Then he hears it.

     The horrible SCREECHING of an approaching train.

     Trapped.

     On one side, the train he left. On the other, a wall.

     He runs down the track with all that's left.

     PRATT and JONES reach the open door and see the
     oncoming train bearing down on DEAN. They duck in as
     the train SWISHES by.

     DEAN lays flat between the tracks, his face kissing
     greasy ground as the train screeches over him.

     Tons of angry steel are teasing his shirt fabric.

     Then it's over. The train's gone. DEAN's alive.

     He gets up to see PRATT and JONES leap to the tracks.

                        DEAN
               (under his breath)
            I hate these guys.

     Then he sees an "EMERGENCY ACCESS" sign beaming in the
     darkness. A God-send. DEAN runs for it.

     EXT. METRO EMERGENCY ACCESS EXIT - NIGHT

     PRATT and JONES fly out the door and into a park.

     It's empty. Quiet.

     No Dean anywhere.

                        REYNOLDS (V.O.)
            I'm confused about something. Maybe
            you can help me out.

     EXT. TERRACE - CONTINUOUS

     The Lincoln Memorial is seen in the distance. REYNOLDS
     has broken off PARTY GUESTS and paces in his tux, an
     encrypted cellular phone pressed to his ear.

                        REYNOLDS (CONT'D)
            I sit on top of the greatest
            intelligence gathering organization
            in human history. Why can't I bring
            in a man whose name is in the
            fucking phonebook?!

                        HICKS
            He's clever. He had help.

                        REYNOLDS
            He's clever? He had help?
               (beat)
            Oh.

                        HICKS
            Sir--

                        REYNOLDS
            No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't realize
            you were hoping to be transferred
            to a weathership outside Greenland.

                        HICKS
            I just meant--

                        REYNOLDS
            I don't care if he's Solomon with
            Saint Joseph sitting in his lap. I
            want the tape and I want him. Now is--

     A WAITER with a tray steps out onto the terrace...

                        REYNOLDS (CONT'D)
               (to the WAITER)
            Yes?

                        WAITER
            Puffed cheese?

                        REYNOLDS
            No thank you.

                        WAITER
            I also have tiny pizzas and
            mushrooms stuffed with--

                        REYNOLDS
            Do I look like I want a tiny pizza?

                        WAITER
            No.

                        REYNOLDS
            Then let's assume I don't.

                        WAITER
            Yes sir.

     The WAITER goes back inside.

                        REYNOLDS
               (into phone)
            Now is that clear?

                        WAITER
            Yes sir.

     REYNOLDS disconnects, breathes deeply, and goes back to
     the party.

     EXT. RACHEL'S CONDO BUILDING - NIGHT

     DEAN watches from the shadows. It seems quiet. He's
     about to move for the entrance when he sees--

     A cigarette lighter flame-up inside a parked car. TWO
     MEN sit inside, watching. DEAN retreats into the shadows.

     EXT. RACHEL'S CONDO - BACK ENTRANCE - NIGHT

     Quiet. DEAN listens through the door and hears nothing.
     He KNOCKS softly.

     No reply.

     He tries the doorknob. It opens.

     INT. RACHEL'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

     DEAN enters. The place is still.

                        DEAN
            Rachel?

     No answer. DEAN drifts through the living room. A lamp
     is knocked over on the floor. DEAN keeps moving into
     the bedroom. He stops in the doorway - eyes fixed inside.

     DEAN'S POV: RACHEL lies on her stomach, naked in bed.

                        DEAN
               (approaching)
            Rachel?

     She doesn't respond. He touches her.

     Nothing.

     He turns her over. Her face is frozen, eyes open, neck
     purpled and bruised with signs of strangulation.

                        DEAN
            Oh God--

     DEAN wants to throw up but holds it down.

     Then, under a night table, he sees a shirt. He grabs it.

     DEAN'S POV: An oxford button-down. The inside collar is
     stamped with a dry-cleaner's marker reading: R. DEAN.

     Panic overtakes horror as DEAN quickly searches for
     anything else of his that may have been planted inside
     the apartment.

     Under the bed - a cufflink.

     In the bathroom - a hairbrush.

     On the desk - documents with his name on them.

     DEAN shoves everything into a garbage bag. Grabbing a
     towel, he retraces his steps, wiping his prints from
     everything he touched.

     Exiting, he wipes off the doorknob as--

     A NEIGHBORS DOOR OPENS. A COUPLE stumbles out, laughing,
     kissing...and noticing DEAN leaving Rachel's condo.

     INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT

     JERRY walks alone through the large underground garage
     on the way to his car. He pauses, thinking he's heard
     something.

     Nothing.

     He continues walking. He reaches his car. Suddenly
     someone comes up behind him fast. JERRY spins--

     --it's DEAN.

                        DEAN
               (whispering)
            Jerry--

                        JERRY
            Christ!

                        DEAN
            Ssh!

                        JERRY
            Bobby--

                        DEAN
            It's the NSA. They're the ones
            doing this.

                        JERRY
            Bobby--

                        DEAN
            The NSA's doing this 'cause they
            think I have something. And they
            killed--

                        JERRY
            Calm down.

                        DEAN
            They killed Rachel.

                        JERRY
               (pause)
            Rachel's dead?

                        DEAN
            Yes.

                        JERRY
            Jesus.

                        DEAN
            My stuff's all over her apartment.

                        JERRY
            Bobby--

                        DEAN
            They're framing me.

                        JERRY
            Why would they--

                        DEAN
            I don't know. I mean--

                        JERRY
            Why would the NSA--

                        DEAN
            I don't know!

                        JERRY
            You're tired.

                        DEAN
            Jerry--

                        JERRY
            Listen to me.

                        DEAN
            You gotta--

                        JERRY
            No, listen to me. You gotta let me
            bring you in.

                        DEAN
            No, I--

                        JERRY
            You gotta let me bring you in to
            the police.

                        DEAN
            I won't make it to the police. They
            won't let me get there. You go.

                        JERRY
            To the cops?

                        DEAN
            To the NSA. Make a deal. Tell 'em
            to stop. Tell 'em I don't have what
            they're after. Make a deal.

                        JERRY
            Bobby, you're in way over your head.

                        DEAN
            Go to 'em, Jerry.

                        JERRY
            I have a family.

                        DEAN
            So do I!

     JERRY looks at the ground for a long moment...

                        JERRY
            I'm sorry, man.

                        DEAN
            No. No, it's okay.

     DEAN starts to leave...

                        JERRY
            Bobby? Piece of advice?

                        DEAN
            Yeah?

                        JERRY
            Turn yourself in.

                        DEAN
            Jerry?

                        JERRY
            Yeah?

                        DEAN
            Go fuck yourself.

     EXT. STREET - EARLY MORNING

     Establishing. A quiet street in Dean's neighborhood.
     Several REPORTERS are camped in Dean's driveway
     entrance, sipping coffees. Farther down the street, a
     JEEP GRAND CHEROKEE is parked. The driver waits and
     watches.

     EXT. BACKYARD - SAME TIME

     DEAN sneaks between two large houses, ducking by
     windows and scaling a fence. Somewhere a DOG BARKS a
     warning as DEAN plows through a large hedge, entering
     the backyard to his home.

     INT. DEAN'S HOUSE/KITCHEN - SAME TIME

     DEAN quietly unlocks the door and enters. He listens.

     The house is quiet. Empty.

     INT. DEAN'S FOYER - DAY

     KEYS JINGLE in the front lock. The door opens and STACY
     enters.

     The TV suddenly REMOTES ON - VOLUME LOUD.

     She turns as DEAN approaches fast--

                        STACY
            Robert--

     DEAN's hand cups her mouth as he pulls her into a
     pantry closet.

     INT. PANTRY CLOSET - CONTINUOUS

                        DEAN
               (barely a whisper)
            Listen to me. The house is bugged.
            So we gotta be quiet, okay?

     STACY nods understanding. DEAN slowly removes his hand.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
               (whispering)
            Is Eric in school?

                        STACY
            Yes.

                        DEAN
            Has anyone been by? Police? FBI?

                        STACY
            Just reporters.

                        DEAN
            I wish you'd gone to your parents
            like I asked you.

                        STACY
            This is my house. Nobody's kicking
            me out of my house. I picked those
            drapes.

                        DEAN
            I don't think anybody wants the
            drapes, Stacy, I think the drapes
            are okay.

                        STACY
            What happened to your head?

                        DEAN
            I was in a car chase and a small
            explosion. Now listen to me: The
            NSA is behind this. They think that
            guy I told you about, Daniel Zavitz,
            they think Zavitz gave me a tape or
            computer chip of some kind that
            could be damaging to them. So
            they're doing all these things
            electronically. The bank records,
            the surveillance. They're the ones
            who broke into the house. Now I
            know there's no reason to believe
            me. But I love you. And I love our
            son. So just believe me anyway.
               (pause)
            Please.

     STACY gently touches his forehead where he's been cut...

                        STACY
            Does that hurt?

                        DEAN
            Well...yeah.

                        STACY
            Good.

                        DEAN
            Stacy--

     She grabs him and kisses him. The kiss lasts a good
     long time before STACY smacks him on the arm--

                        STACY
            I told you they could do this. I
            told you they had this kind of
            capability and that with this anti-
            terrorism it would be just another--

                        DEAN
            Stacy...Stacy...maybe now isn't the
            best time for the I-Told-You-So speech.

     She kisses him again.

                        STACY
            I'm sorry I didn't believe you.

                        DEAN
            That's okay.

                        STACY
            I opened the present you got me
            from Harrison's.

                        DEAN
            You opened the thing?

                        STACY
            The lingerie.

                        DEAN
            That was for Christmas.

                        STACY
            I was missing you.

                        DEAN
            You're as bad as Eric. I've got an
            entire family of people who root
            through--

     It dawns on him...everything starts coming together...

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            ...who root through...uh...presents,
            and...

                        STACY
            What is it?

                        DEAN
            Oh Christ.

     INT. JEEP GRAND-CHEROKEE - DAY

     The DRIVER continues to watch the area. Then--

     DRIVER's POV: THE RANGE ROVER flies out of the driveway,
     tires SCREECHING as it speeds through the quiet
     neighborhood.

     The REPORTERS stare at each other a beat--

     --then leap for their cars.

                        DRIVER
               (into sleeve-mic)
            504 to 501. Rover's fleeing west on
            Sutton. Driver appeared male!

                        JONES (O.S.)
               (radio effect)
            What's the wife's '20'?

                        DRIVER
            She's off location with a friend.

                        JONES (O.S.)
            Alright - move! 501 - all units.
            Take him down!

     EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

     Unmarked cars of various descriptions rapidly appear
     from nowhere giving chase.

                        ANOTHER AGENT (O.S.)
               (radio effect)
            502 to 501, I've got the eyeball.
            He's approaching Ridgeview, we'll
            take him at the intersection.

     The RANGE ROVER speeds through the neighborhood.
     Suddenly, two cars are out in front, blocking the way.
     The Range Rover swerves and breaks as two more cars rip
     up behind, boxing it in. An un-marked Trans-Am lags
     behind, keeping reporters at bay.

     Doors fling open. JONES and THREE MEN, all in plain
     clothes, pistols and MAC-10 aimed at the Range Rover.

     Nothing happens.

     The MEN move closer--

     JONES grabs the door and rips it open, revealing Dean's
     PISS-FRIGHTENED NANNY behind the wheel in Dean's trench
     coat and hat.

     JONES YANKS her out, puts her hard to the ground, gun
     jammed to her head, as other search the Range Rover for
     Dean.

     EXT. DEAN'S DRIVEWAY - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN drives the Nanny's rusted, low-rider Dodge out of
     the driveway. He pauses and looks. The streets are empty.

     He turns onto the street and calmly drives away.

     EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PLAYGROUND - DAY

     Establishing. A playground jammed with kids. A kickball
     game's in progress. ERIC waits his turn to kick. TRACY,
     a college-age teaching assistant comes over.

                        TRACY
            Eric?

     ERIC looks up...

                        TRACY (CONT'D)
            Your father's here.

     EXT. SCHOOL BUILDING - DAY

     DEAN stands at the edge of the playground in clean,
     casual clothes. ERIC runs over, face glowing.

                        ERIC
            Dad!

                        DEAN
            Do I know you?

                        ERIC
            Where've you been?

                        DEAN
            Having an adventure. I can't tell
            you about it right now, but I'll
            tell you about it soon.

                        ERIC
            Are you and mom getting a divorce?

                        DEAN
            No. We're never getting a divorce.
            We were having a fight. It happens
            sometimes.

                        ERIC
            Who won the fight?

                        DEAN
            Men don't win fights with women,
            son, I'll tell you about that
            sometime, too. In the meantime,
            I've got a question for you, and
            it's incredibly important that you
            tell me the truth. Under no
            circumstances will I be angry with
            you. This is a total Get-Out-Of-
            Jail-Free card. Ready?

                        ERIC
            Yeah.

                        DEAN
            Did you take anything--anything at
            all--out of those Christmas bags I
            brought home last week.

     ERIC hangs his head...busted...then shouts to a GROUP
     OF KIDS on the playground...

                        ERIC
               (shouting)
            DYLAAAAN!!

     DYLAN comes trotting over, carrying his backpack...

                        DYLAN
            Hey, Mr. D., what's happenin'?

                        DEAN
            Dylan, I was just asking Eric if--

                        DYLAN
            Oh, God, I knew it was stupid, I
            knew we'd get caught. But the
            Gameboy was just sitting there.
            Right on top of the bag. Yes. Yes.
            We took the GameBoy out of the bag,
            but with every intention of putting
            it back.

                        DEAN
               (pause)
            You're a tough nut to crack, Dylan.

     DYLAN hunts through the backpack as DEAN and ERIC looks
     on. All kinds of junk flies out--candy, comics, game-
     cartridges--

                        DYLAN
            It was broken when we found it, I
            swear. I tried fixing it for you. I
            even put in new batteries.
               (pulling out the GameBoy)
            The screen scrambles whenever you
            boot up. I'd try to get your money
            back.

     DEAN eyes the pieces of the GameBoy, knowing that
     somewhere in the puzzle of plastic and chips is the key
     to his problems.

     EXT. BALTIMORE SHERATON - EVENING

     PEDESTRIANS walk on the sidewalk. A MAN comes along and
     drops a few letters in the corner mailbox.

     From the other direction comes DEAN. Without stopping,
     he casually slashes the mailbox with chalk.

     INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

     DEAN's asleep. There's a SOFT SHUFFLING SOUND. The
     CAMERA EXPLORES for the source, moving by the windows,
     flashing neon, a TV and finally, the door.

     We PUSH CLOSER as a MULE TOOL snakes under the door.

     The tool pops upright against the door's inside. The
     strap drapes over the doorknob and tightens. The
     doorknob turns and opens.

     SOMEONE slips in--

     CLOSE ON DEAN asleep. A HAND covers his mouth. DEAN's
     eyes go wide.

     Then he sees it's BRILL...

                        BRILL
               (whispering)
            Get dressed. We're leaving.

                        DEAN
               (whispering)
            You could knock on the door, you
            know, and I'd open it.

                        BRILL
            Move it.

     EXT. CAPE CHARLES - 4 A.M.

     Establishing. The 10-mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge crosses
     the Bay like a serpent worming toward distant Norfolk.
     Traffic is thin at this hour.

                        NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
            Dean, the attorney recently under
            investigation for a money laundering
            scheme, was seen leaving Ms. Banks
            apartment late last night.

     We PUSH IN on a TOYOTA PICK-UP truck heading south.

     INT. PICK-UP - CONTINUOUS

     BRILL drives with DEAN riding shotgun.

                        NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
            Police are seeking--

     BRILL ejects as cassette from the dashboard and hands
     it to DEAN.

                        BRILL
            I taped it off the 11 o'clock news.

                        DEAN
            And you were worried about me.
            That's nice, I appreciate--

                        BRILL
            I was worried about my hundred and
            twenty 'K'.

                        DEAN
            We said a hundred.

                        BRILL
            The price rises with the temperature
            and right now you're smokin'. But
            you're right, you should shop
            around and get the best price. I'll
            just let you out here.

                        DEAN
               (agreeing)
            One-twenty.

     BRILL checks the rear-view mirror.

     BRILL's POV: Car headlights following in the distance.

                        BRILL
            Did you call anyone?

                        DEAN
            What do you mean?

                        BRILL
            I mean did you call anyone.

                        DEAN
            Look, my wife is understandably--

                        BRILL
            Jesus!

                        DEAN
            I called my wife!

                        BRILL
            What'd I tell you?

                        DEAN
            I didn't use my name.

                        BRILL
            What'd I tell you?

                        DEAN
            I called from a payphone!

                        BRILL
            What'd I tell you?

                        DEAN
            You told me no calls.

                        BRILL
            I told you no calls.

     BRILL does a bootleggers U-turn. Several cars pass by
     in the opposite direction.

                        DEAN
            Sorry.

                        BRILL
            You don't get it. They go through
            your phone records. They fuckin'
            monitor everyone you called in the
            last--

                        DEAN
            I didn't use my name.

                        BRILL
            Oh, I'll bet that threw 'em off the
            scent. I sure hope you covered the
            mouthpiece with a handkerchief and
            used a funny voice!

     BRILL turns off the headlights, does another U-turn,
     pulls off on an emergency road and stops.

     He turns off the engine, rolls down the window, looks
     up into the night sky and listens.

     BRILL's POV: A cloudy night. Silent except for the
     water and a distant fog-horn. No sounds of aircraft.

                        DEAN
               (looking up as well)
            I don't hear anything.
               (on BRILL's silence)
            Maybe you're wrong.

     BRILL is staring upward...

                        BRILL
            A hundred and fifty.

     INT. NRO KEYHOLE-12 LAB - CONTINUOUS

     Re-establishing. A massive, dark place filled with
     glowing monitors.

     CLOSE ON A MONITOR - displaying a live SAT feed showing
     a thermograph image of Brill's truck. The color heat
     image of BRILL looking upward is fairly clear. He pops
     his head back into the truck and pulls onto the road.
     The satellite continues tracking the truck.

                        BRILL (O.S.)
            It's a consumated marriage.

     INT. TOYOTA - NIGHT

     BRILL drives along a high fence surrounding acres of
     empty warehouses, docks and rust-bitten fences. He's
     still on constant alert - looking for sign of their
     presence.

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            The NSA's been in bed with the
            entire tele-communications industry
            since the 40's. They've infected
            everything: Banks, computers,
            phones, mail, name it.
               (stopping the car near
                the gate)
            The more technology we buy into,
            the easier it is keeping tabs on us.
            It's a brave new world.
               (handing DEAN the keys)
            At least it better be.

                        DEAN
            How do you know so much?

                        BRILL
            None of your business.

                        DEAN
            You used to work for 'em, didn't you?

                        BRILL
            I was a traffic analyst.

     DEAN gives him a look that says, "I don't know what
     that means".

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            I intercepted phone calls.

                        DEAN
            How'd you get around the tap orders?

                        BRILL
            They can tap anything as along as
            it's an airwave intercept.
            Cellulars and pagers your kid can
            do.
               (driving through)
            Hard-line calls we'd pick off the
            relays as they were being fed into
            ground cables or fired up to the
            SATs. We'd suck in everything. All
            foreign, most domestic.
               (DEAN re-closes the gate)
            Domestic was my group. Druggies,
            radicals, loud-mouths. Anyone we
            wanted.

                        DEAN
               (climbing back in)
            How'd you have the manpower to--

                        BRILL
               (driving again)
            Meade has 18 underground acres of
            computers. They scan every
            phonecall for target words like
            "bomb" or "President". We red-flag
            phone numbers or voice
            prints...whatever we wanted. When
            the computers found something, it
            was bounced to comparative analysis.

                        DEAN
            Jesus.

                        BRILL
            That was twenty years ago. With
            digital? They can suck a salt grain
            off a beach.

                        DEAN
            Why'd you leave?

                        BRILL
            It was '72. I figured we had enough
            problems without monitoring a
            Berkeley kid's class schedule. So I
            sold my story to Ramparts and split.

                        DEAN
            They come after you?

                        BRILL
               (shrugging it off)
            Well...there'd be too much
            disclosure to prosecute me. So they
            ruined my records and made sure I'd
            never hold a real job again.

     The pick-up stops by a long two-story warehouse.

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            What do you think?

                        DEAN
            Looks like Detroit.

                        BRILL
            Welcome to Santa's Workshop.

     INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

     BRILL and DEAN enter the 2nd story of a large, empty
     structure. DEAN is carrying a crumpled, brown paper bag.

     In the center of the cavernous space, a windowless,
     cinderblock room built on 5-foot supports.

                        BRILL
            I call it the jar. No phone or
            utility lines going in.

     BRILL opens a side door revealing a mini-generator. He
     pushes the start button. The generator HUMS to life.

                        BRILL
            Self-contained. Unplugged from the
            world.
               (opening Jar door)
            Nothing for a wire bug to piggy-
            back in on. That leaves only
            transmitters and signal sweep for
            those.
               (turning on the light)
            Now let's see what we got.

     DEAN tosses the paper bag to BRILL, who empties its
     contents (the pieces of the GameBoy) on to the table.

     EXT. DOCKS - DAWN

     DEAN sits alone, smoking a cigarette, and watching
     Norfolk rise from dawn's fog.

     In the distance we see BRILL coming down from the
     warehouse toward DEAN.

     He stands behind DEAN for a moment before...

                        BRILL
            That is one ugly sunrise.

                        DEAN
               (pause)
            It really is.
               (pause)
            Did you find anything?

                        BRILL
            Yeah.
               (beat)
            Take a walk with me.

     DEAN gets up and joins BRILL. The two of them start in
     the direction of the second warehouse.

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            Remember when Senator Hamersley
            died in an accident up near Shenandoah?

                        DEAN
            Yeah.

                        BRILL
            The NSA killed him.

                        DEAN
            Jesus. Do you have proof?

                        BRILL
            Well, actually, you have proof.
            Could you walk a little faster please.

                        DEAN
            What's going on?

                        BRILL
            They're here.

                        DEAN
            Who?

                        BRILL
            Them.

                        DEAN
            Where?

                        BRILL
            Here?

                        DEAN
            Here?!

                        BRILL
            In the warehouse. They're hiding in
            a duct on the third floor. When we
            go back inside, they're gonna kill
            us. When they notice that we're
            moving toward the car, they'll come
            running out of the building.

                        DEAN
            'Kay, well, could you walk faster,
            please.

     INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS

     JONES and THREE MEN are huddled in a duct.

                        VOICE (O.S.)
               (through radio)
            They're heading to the car.

                        JONES
            Move it.

     JONES and the three men start down the corridor, guns
     drawn.

     EXT. THE SECOND WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN and BRILL are kneeling beside the Chevy, letting
     the air out of the tires.

                        BRILL
            Empty 'em 'till they're almost flat.
            And turn your head. There might be
            some debris flying your way.

                        DEAN
            Why?

     And with that, THE FIRST WAREHOUSE EXPLODES, sending a
     fireball of debris in all directions.

                        DEAN
            What the fuck?!

                        BRILL
            They shouldn't have come without
            calling first.

     BRILL jumps into the Chevy, turns the key and the
     engine ignites. DEAN leaps in. BRILL stomps on the gas
     and tires screech. The Chevy hurtles through the
     warehouse toward a shut garage door. BRILL clicks a
     remote. The door rises.

     OUTSIDE THE WAREHOUSE - The Chevy roars outward,
     screams around a corner, then speeds down a road lined
     with warehouses.

     DEAN looks down an intersecting road to glimpse a
     Saturn sedan gaining on a parallel road.

                        BRILL
            Where's your gun?

     They pass an area with no warehouses. The Saturn turns,
     heading straight at them.

                        DEAN
            Back at the warehouse.

     The Saturn pulls on the road behind them. The MAN in
     the Saturn leans out and fires an assault rifle. The
     side window by Dean's head shatters.

     BRILL one-hands the pistol and checks the load.

                        DEAN
               (re: the pistol)
            Gimme that.

                        BRILL
            You sure?

                        DEAN
            You're driving.

                        BRILL
            Those are Feds.

                        DEAN
               (taking the pistol)
            I didn't see a warrant. Did you see
            a warrant?

     The Chevy enters a narrow lane, the Saturn right behind.
     With the Chevy's tires flat and flapping, the Saturn
     hugs their rear. DEAN looks back again as the RIFLEMAN
     FIRES--

     The rear window EXPLODES. DEAN pops up and fires three
     quick, well-placed rounds.

     The Saturn swerves and drops back. BRILL's impressed.

     DEAN looks forward to see an exit road blocked by an
     iron cross-bar. BRILL, unfazed, pushes the Chevy faster.
     Beam or no beam, he's going through.

                        BRILL
            Think we let out enough air?

                        DEAN
               (realizing)
            Oh my God...

     BRILL and DEAN hit the deck as the Chevy's hood scrapes
     just under the beam. The windshield frame takes the
     full impact. The beam slices through steel and glass,
     decapitating the car. They emerge on the other side
     minus roof and windows as--

     --the Saturn SCREECH-STOPS inches from the beam and
     debris. A MAN leaps out, shoulders his rifle and aims--

     --but the Chevy disappears around a building.

     EXT. HIGHWAY - EARLY MORNING

     A foggy morning. The rural highway's deserted at this
     early hour. The Chevy rumbles by...

     INT. CHEVY - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN and BRILL, windblown but alive, remove shards of
     glass. BRILL eyes the road behind him.

     Empty.

                        BRILL
            We lost 'em.

                        DEAN
            That wasn't so hard.

                        BRILL
            Fuckin-A.

                        DEAN
            Let's not do the tire thing anymore,
            okay?

                        BRILL
            Yeah, I can see where that'd--

     He stops talking.

     He hears ROTOR THUMPS as a black HELICOPTER appears
     over a fog-laced hillside, swooping down.

     BRILL floors it. The helicopter drops in closer as
     BRILL swerves back and forth while taking a curve at 70-
     plus on flapping tires. A helicopter SHARP-SHOOTER aims
     with an M-16.

     A spray of high-powered slugs suddenly rip into the
     Chevy's hood. The engine starts knocking.

                        BRILL
            These guys are incredibly persistent.

                        DEAN
            Tell me about it.

     The road straightens. Up ahead, a tunnel.

     More bullets slice the hood. Radiator fluid starts
     hissing. The Chevy starts dying.

     BRILL stomps the pedal, squeezing out every last kick
     of horsepower.

     Rubber flaps. Tires shred. Steam hisses. Bullets fly.

     The helicopter swoops in lower and lower for the kill shot.

     INT. HELICOPTER - CONTINUOUS

     The SHARP-SHOOTER lines DEAN in his sights.

     The PILOT keeps pace, dropping closer. The SHARP-
     SHOOTER has the shot.

     The Chevy reaches the tunnel's opening on sparking,
     screeching wheel rims.

     The helicopter pulls up, missing the hill by inches.

     But not the power lines. The PILOT sees them too late.
     The helicopter flies into a web of cables. The upper
     rotor slices neatly off. The helicopter's body rockets
     downward to the road where it bounces and skids like a
     rock on water until it meets an oncoming semi-truck
     head-on.

     BLAM!

     EXT. INSIDE THE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS

     BRILL tries steering but metal wheels on concrete don't
     work. The car shimmies like it's on ice. Sparks fly as
     they bash into the tunnel wall, grinding to a stop.

     INT. DODGE - CONTINUOUS

     A GRUNGE-DUDE blasts his car-stereo as he enters the
     tunnel, unaware of the mayhem behind him.

     He slows, seeing a smoking wreck ahead.

     Closer, he sees DEAN waving him down. He slows more.
     Bad move.

     BRILL opens the rear door, leaps in, and points his
     pistol at the GRUNGE-DUDE's face.

     DEAN leaps in front.

                        BRILL
            Drive.

                        DEAN
            We're not gonna hurt you.

                        BRILL
            Drive.

                        DEAN
            Tell him we're not gonna hurt him.

                        BRILL
            Drive or I'll blow your fuckin'
            head off.

                        DEAN
            No he won't.

                        BRILL
            Goddammit--

                        DEAN
            We're honest people and we need
            your help. I'll give you two-
            hundred dollars if you--

                        GRUNGE-DUDE
               (leaping out)
            Take it!

                        DEAN
            Actually, I don't have two-hundred
            dollars.

                        BRILL
            Drive the damn car!

     DEAN slides into the driver's seat, drops it in gear
     and goes.

     The Dodge erupts from the tunnel.

     Up ahead, the Saturn and another car approach fast in
     the opposite lane, speeding toward the tunnel's opening.
     The car's fly by, unaware of DEAN and BRILL passing in
     the Dodge.

     The Dodge continues on, fading into the fog.

     INT. NSA/CORRIDOR - DAY

     REYNOLDS and HICKS walk down a white hallway three
     football fields in length, filled with bustling
     employees conservatively dressed.

                        HICKS
            We found two sets of latent prints
            in the rubble of Brill's studio.
            One was Dean's. The other, we
            believe, belongs to Brill.

                        REYNOLDS
            We believe?

                        HICKS
            Well...his real name's Edward Lyle.

                        REYNOLDS
            Lyle?!

                        HICKS
            Yes sir.

                        REYNOLDS
            You're kidding me.

                        HICKS
            No sir.

                        REYNOLDS
            Dean's with Lyle.

                        HICKS
            And they have the video. That's
            confirmed.

                        REYNOLDS
            So they know everything.

                        HICKS
            If they've looked at the video.

                        REYNOLDS
            Oh, let's assume that they have.

                        HICKS
            If he's with Lyle it means he's got
            resources.

                        REYNOLDS
            Resources, that's a good point.
            He's got resources. All we've got
            is a six-hundred billion dollar
            organization! Now goddammit, Hicks,
            you find 'em. You find 'em and you
            end it now!

     REYNOLDS walks off leaving HICKS to ponder his fate.

     EXT. USED CAR LOT - DAY

     Establishing. Plastic flags and PRICES SLASHED signs
     are everywhere. A blue Taurus pulls off the lot...

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            We'll take the tape directly to CBS.
            I'll hand it directly to the News
            Department.

     INT. TAURUS - CONTINUED

                        BRILL
            Listen to you, "directly". You're
            not gonna get near the News
            Department. And if you did, it'd
            never get on the air. Time-Life
            buried the Zapruder film for 15 years.

                        DEAN
            What about newspapers and magazines?

                        BRILL
            Same thing?

                        DEAN
            So what do we do now?

                        BRILL
            I was thinkin' about asking for my
            hundred and fifty grand and calling
            it quits.

                        DEAN
            What if we do a mailing to Congressmen.

                        BRILL
            It'd never get through. All
            packages are screened, x-rayed and
            then hand-searched for explosives.
            You didn't like my "give-me-my-
            money" idea?

     INT. TAURUS - NIGHT

     BRILL drives. DEAN thinks.

                        DEAN
            What if we hand deliver to their
            homes or office?

                        BRILL
            The area's wired for surveillance,
            they'll be looking for those moves.

                        DEAN
            Well how do I know what they're--

                        BRILL
            I know. I know what they're looking
            for and I'm telling you.

     The car radio is playing a newscast...

                        NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
               (from the radio)
            --after which, Senator Albert will
            address a fund-raiser at Boston
            University.

                        DEAN
            What if we put it on the internet?

                        BRILL
            Have you seen how fuckin' slow the
            net is? It'd take ten minutes to
            unload enough video so that people
            know what they're seeing, and it'd
            take the NSA maybe 40 seconds to
            see it coming down and shut down
            the access.

                        NEWSCASTER (O.S.)
               (from the radio)
            --this will be the last stop on the
            Senator's eight-city tour before
            the Senate votes on Tuesday.

                        BRILL
               (reconsidering)
            But maybe if there were no phone
            line--

     DEAN has started listening to the radio...

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            What if we transmitted it over
            cellular?

                        DEAN
            Listen--

                        BRILL
            Nah, they'd shut down the pin number.

                        DEAN
            What if--

                        BRILL
            If they couldn't do that, they'd
            shut down the whole system, all the
            relays.

                        DEAN
            What if--

                        BRILL
            They've done it before. Takes maybe
            two minutes.

                        DEAN
            What if--

                        BRILL
            What if what?

                        DEAN
            What if we just fucked with 'em?

                        BRILL
               (pause)
            How?

                        DEAN
            Same way they did with you and me.
            We take their biggest guy and turn
            him into one of us.

                        BRILL
            Reynolds.

                        DEAN
            No.

                        BRILL
            Who?

     A MONTAGE OF EVENTS:

     INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY

     BRILL educates DEAN on simple ways to alter one's
     appearance.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Senator Sam Albert, senior
            Republican. Very well respected.

     INT. BOSTON UNIVERSITY/AUDITORIUM - DAY

     A large auditorium. Preparations are being made for
     Senator Albert's upcoming speech. BRILL and DEAN
     casually case the area for vulnerabilities.

                        DEAN
            We'll play the NSA's game only
            we'll play it badly.

     EXT. LE MERIDIAN HOTEL, BOSTON - DAY

     Establishing. A five-star hotel overlooking
     Massachusetts Bay.

                        BRILL (V.O.)
            You wanna get caught spying on Albert?

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            No, I want the NSA to get caught
            spying on Albert.

     INT. HOTEL LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

     CHRISTA HAWKINS, late 20's, the Senator's advance-
     person, stands at registration securing rooms for her
     boss and his team.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            We're gonna lead Albert by the nose
            to one conclusion. And then when
            he's pissed as hell, we're gonna
            drop the tape in his lap. How fast
            can you teach me what I need to know?

                        BRILL (V.O.)
            How fast can you learn?

     Next to CHRISTA, looking conservative and altered in
     appearance, is DEAN, eavesdropping on the Senator's
     room numbers and any other pertinent info.

     EXT. RADIO SHACK - DAY

     Establishing. One of those cheesy places in a mini-mall.

                        DEAN (V.O.)
            Pretty fast.

                        BRILL
            We'll have to re-stock some basics.

     INT. RADIO SHACK - CONTINUOUS

     BRILL and DEAN go shopping.

                        BRILL
            Bugs, frequency scanners, contact
            mics, transmitters, pin-holes,
            fiber optics--

     INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY

     The curtains are drawn. Devices cover the table and bed.

                        BRILL
            What do you know about locking
            cellular phone signals?

                        DEAN
            I know my phone number and I know
            the number for SportsPhone. Beyond
            that--

                        BRILL
            Shit.

     INT. TAURUS - DAY

     DEAN drives while BRILL sits with his open PC lap-top
     connect to his cellular phone.

                        BRILL
            A 'modified' OKI 900 interfaced
            with a lap-top creates an enormously
            powerful tool.
               (referring to the cell-phone)
            I got into the software, did some
            code re-writing and turned it into
            one of the best scan-looking
            systems around.

     CLOSE ON SCREEN - A street map appears with positions
     of the network's relays. Lines appear indicating all
     in-progress cellular calls along with their locations.

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            This is every call on the grid. I
            can lock and position any one I
            want and follow the hand-offs in
            real time.

     BRILL punches a number into the cellular and the phone
     locks on the signal. Through the lap-top, we hear
     RINGING and then an ANSWERING VOICE.

                        WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            Super Shuttle.

                        MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            This is Dr. Jonathan Phillips, 102
            Stern Drive in Brockton. I need an
            airport ride on Friday at 6 PM with
            a return pick-up Monday at 5.
            There'll be two of us and--

                        BRILL
               (disconnecting)
            Need a place to stay for the
            weekend? A new TV?
               (BRILL has repeated the process)

                        ANOTHER MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            Triple-A Emergency Road Service.
            May I have your name and membership
            number?

                        YOUNG WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            Colleen Crane. Card number 020-113--

                        DEAN
            Unbelievable.

                        BRILL
            All from a hundred dollar scanner
            at Radio Shack. But it's time for
            business.

     BRILL dials his computer into a new line. TONES and
     COMMANDS fly quick as Brill's computer modems into another.

                        DEAN
            What are you dialing?

                        BRILL
            AmeriTech's data-base.
               (pointing on the screen)
            There's Albert's D.C. office
            address and his phone's identity
            code. Now we just reprogram out
            phone with his ID code and you know
            what we've got?

                        SENATOR ALBERT (O.S.)
               (mid-conversation)
            --Don't think it could've gone any
            better. Tell me, how's Deb? How're
            my grandchildren?

                        BRILL
            A receiver tuned permanently to the
            Senator's phone.

     EXT. FREEWAY - CONTINUOUS

     A customized RV zips down the highway.

                        SENATOR'S WIFE (O.S.)
            Melissa has a fever. When will you
            be in the room?

     INT. RV - CONTINUOUS

     It's a plush affair befitting the Senator's position.
     ALBERT speaks in the cellular phone while an aide,
     PATRICK, reviews last minute changes for Albert's
     upcoming speech.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Not 'till later tonight. We're
            going to the campus now.
               (beat)
            I'll call you after I've checked in.
               (beat)
            I love you too, dear.

     INT. LE MERIDIAN HOTEL/LOBBY - DAY

     CHRISTA stands at the front desk as the CLERK hands her
     several faxes.

     DEAN, disguised, sits across the lobby reading a paper.

     DEAN's POV: CHRISTA exits the hotel to a waiting car.

                        DEAN
               (into concealed sleeve mic)
            She just left.

     INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY

     Numbered doors on each side. BRILL walks down the hall,
     hair slicked, mustache, wearing a suit and carrying a
     briefcase.

                        BRILL (V.O.)
            The important thing about
            installations is numbers.

     INT. CHRISTA'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY

     SERIES OF SHOTS:

     BRILL entering CHRISTA's room and opening his briefcase
     revealing tools and listening bugs.

                        BRILL (V.O.)
            They may find one, but they're not
            gonna find 'em all.

     --BRILL planting devices behind the headboard--

     --Inside the telephone--

     --Behind the desk--

     --Inside the TV--

     --BRILL rifling through CHRISTA's personal items,
     eyeing paper work, photographing interesting documents.

     --BRILL opening a connecting door, picking a second
     lock, and entering the adjoining suite.

     INT. CHRISTA'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

     A clock reads 1:28 AM. The lights are on and the bed
     unslept in. Christa's not seen. Then the connecting
     door opens--

     CHRISTA steps from the Senator's adjoining suite in a
     silk robe, nothing underneath. She turns in the doorway,
     revealing ALBERT, naked in a towel.

     CHRISTA closes the door, climbs in bed and grabs the
     remote. She clicks on the TV.

     FEEDBACK SCREECHES from the set.

     She tries changing channels but the SCREECHING
     continues. She tries turning off the set, but it won't
     turn off. She grabs the phone and dials.

                        CHRISTA
               (into phone)
            Can you send someone up right away.
            I'm having a problem with my TV...
            It's screeching and I--
               (beat)
            It's screeching and I--

     CHRISTA is noticing that her voice is causing the TV
     image to distort in sync.

                        CHRISTA (CONT'D)
            It's screeching and I can't turn it
            off.

     INT. HOTEL RESTAURANT - MORNING

     SENATOR ALBERT dines with an aide as PATRICK approaches,
     a grave look on his face. PATRICK takes a seat.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            What happened to you last night?

     PATRICK reaches in his case and pulls out one of
     Brill's listening bugs and hands it to ALBERT who puts
     on his eyeglasses.

                        PATRICK
            Christa found it last night
            attached to her TV. It's a
            listening device.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            A bug?

                        PATRICK
            Yeah.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Jesus H.--

                        PATRICK
            We should everything checked.
            There's a company in Cambridge
            called Baudmore. They're discreet.

     Seated next to ALBERT's table is DEAN, unnoticed as he
     sips coffee, skims news, and eavesdrops on their
     MURMURS with a small, concealed parabolic mic and ear-
     phone.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Well get somebody down here today.
            I don't know what the hell this is
            all about.

     EXT. STREET CORNER - DAY

     A phone distribution box is open, revealing a mass of
     circuit boards. BRILL stands at the box holding a
     circuit-dialer phone to his ear.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. HOTEL LOBBY/NEWS STAND - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN watches PATRICK approach a pay phone.

                        DEAN
               (into sleeve mic)
            He's going into the payphone
            outside the restaurant. It's a
            Cambridge company called Baudmore.

     BRILL connects two alligator clips to a line inside the
     box.

                        BRILL
               (into sleeve mic)
            Got it.

     BRILL's phone line immediately rings. He waits...then
     answers.

                        BRILL
               (into phone)
            Baudmore Consultants.

                        PATRICK
            Is Jerry Delsano in?

                        BRILL
            Who's calling?

                        PATRICK
            It's Pat Cary. I work for Senator
            Sam Albert and I was given Jerry's
            name.

                        BRILL
            Jerry's on vacation 'till Monday. I
            can give him the message when he
            gets back. That was Patrick and the
            last name--

                        PATRICK
            The thing is...it really can't wait.

                        BRILL
            My name's Neil. Maybe I can help you.

     INT. SENATOR ALBERT'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY

     CLOSE ON A FREQUENCY COUNTER sweeping a chest of
     drawers. The device starts BUZZING, indicating a
     transmitter.

     BRILL, disguised, is on hands and knees, searching
     under a chest where he 'discovers' a bug he planted
     earlier.

                        BRILL
               (removing the transmitter)
            Oh yeah. Got another one here.

     BRILL shows it to PATRICK, a very embarrassed HOTEL
     MANAGER and a very serious HEAD OF HOTEL SECURITY.

                        BRILL (CONT'D)
            Nasty fella. A TX-703. Remote on-
            off, three-thousand foot range.
            Shit, you could listen from a
            shopping mall across the street.

     INT. SENATOR ALBERT'S RV - DAY

     BRILL stands in front of SENATOR ALBERT.

                        BRILL
            Well, sir, I'm afraid it's not as
            simple as that. Your average
            newspaper guy or Hard Copy lady or
            whatever, they can't buy this stuff.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Well then who can?

                        BRILL
            Ah, sir, you know, it's not for me
            to say.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            What do you mean? Who can buy this
            kind of equipment.

                        BRILL
            The thing is, Senator, and I don't
            want to get in the middle of
            nothing, but--

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            What are you saying?

                        BRILL
            Most of this stuff's only available
            to law enforcement.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Law enforcement?

                        BRILL
            FBI, CIA, NSA, local cops.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Are you sure about this?

     BRILL unwraps a towel revealing the grease-covered NSA
     tracker he removed from Dean's BMW.

                        BRILL
            I yanked this off your RV. It's a
            Global Positioning Tracker.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            Oh my God.

                        BRILL
            Tracks your location to the inch
            and works directly with--you know...

                        SENATOR ALBERT
            With what?

                        BRILL
            With spy satellites. I don't like
            saying these things Senator...

                        SENATOR ALBERT
               (shaking BRILL's hand)
            Neil, thank you for your help.

                        BRILL
            Anytime.

     PATRICK escorts BRILL out of the RV.

     The SENATOR, fuming, opens a book, looks up a phone
     number and punches it into his phone.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
               (into the phone)
            This is Sam Albert. Put me through
            to Langley. Dick Marshal's office.

     INT. UNIVERSITY COFFEE SHOP - DAY

     A place packed with STUDENTS, computers and TEACHERS.
     DEAN sits in a corner reading a magazine, but what he's
     really watching is--

     A WELL-DRESSED MAN at the counter, his back to DEAN,
     ordering a cup of coffee.

     The MAN glances at DEAN off the mirror behind the counter.

     BRILL walks in and joins DEAN.

                        BRILL
            Albert's primed. We'll let him stew
            for a day and then drop the tape.

     BRILL looks over at the WELL-DRESSED MAN.

                        DEAN
            He came in four minutes ago.

                        BRILL
               (pause)
            C'mon.

     They're about to start for the front door when an
     unmarked police car pulls up in front.

     A rowdy group of FRAT BOYS flood in, loud and busy. By
     the time they pass, BRILL and DEAN are gone.

     The WELL-DRESSED MAN scans the coffee shop and sees the
     back door swinging shut.

     EXT. STREET - DAY

     DEAN and BRILL run down the street, through an alley
     and over a fence to another street. They slow as they
     approach the parked Taurus. BRILL takes the wheel with
     DEAN beside him.

     They pull into traffic. Things look good, but then the
     UNMARKED CAR and a SQUAD CAR scream up behind, lights
     flashing.

     INT. TAURUS - CONTINUOUS

     BRILL dumps the car into low gear and the Taurus comes
     alive.

     INT. SQUAD CAR - CONTINUOUS

     A COP picks up the radio-mic.

                        COP
            One-Lincoln-Nine. In pursuit of two
            suspects, one matching description
            of Robert Dean, wanted in connection
            with a homicide. Suspects northbound
            on--

     EXT. BOSTON STREETS - CONTINUOUS

     Through alleys, down streets, under an overpass, down a
     one-way street, barely missing a head-on as they roar
     into a rail-yard traversing the waterfront. BRILL's at
     his best, putting distance between himself and the cops
     at every turn.

     Finally, it looks as if they've made it as they race
     down an alleyway, only to realize it's a dead-end.

     BRILL slams into reverse. They screech backward, tires
     smoking.

     Too late. The squad car rips into the alleyway, boxing
     them in.

     BRILL hits the brakes. He looks back at the dead-end
     and sees an empty flat-bed trailer with a ramp. BRILL
     gives it everything. If they can get enough speed and
     hit the ramp right, maybe they can clear the obstructing
     wall.

                        BRILL
            Feeling lucky?

                        DEAN
            Not particularly, no.

     They hit the ramp full speed. The front end bottoms at
     the Taurus bounces skyward. Tires clip the wall as the
     car flips and smashes into a parked rail-car filled
     with coal.

     They aren't going anywhere.

     Back in the alley, the squad car skids to a stop.

     A ROOKIE climbs from his car, leaps the wall, draws his
     gun and nears...

     Inside the Taurus, the windows are shattered. Steam
     hisses, gasoline drips and coal is everywhere.

     DEAN shimmies out through a broken side window. He
     barely gets to his feet as he stumbles 20 yards or so.

     His foot accidentally dislodges a large pile of coal,
     which buries him up to his waist and immobilizes him.

                        DEAN
            Shit.
               (to BRILL)
            I'm stuck. Help me out.

     He looks back to see that BRILL is hanging out the
     driver's side, bleeding badly and covered in gas.

                        COP
               (on waist radio)
            One-Lincoln-Nine, suspects TA'd
            into a coal car at the Fullbright
            rail-yards. Requesting back-up,
            fire and ambulance.

     An unmarked car with red-flashers races up the rail-
     yard and stops. The ROOKIE turns as JONES and KRUG hop out.

                        JONES
               (flashing ID)
            FBI. What do you got?

                        COP
            Two murder suspects. One's wounded,
            the other's maybe dead.

                        JONES
            Thank you.

     KRUG draws his silenced pistol and matter of factly
     shoots the COP dead.

                        JONES
               (to KRUG)
            Check inside.

     DEAN is watching this all unseen, helplessly trying to
     dig himself out of the coal.

     KRUG inspects the Taurus interior for anything of
     interest. JONES scans the area.

                        KRUG
               (to BRILL as he searches.)
            I hate doin' cops, I really do. You
            I won't mind. Didn't mind that
            Rachel Banks. Didn't mind doin' her
            one bit.
               (seeing DEAN's shoe)
            Your lawyer friend buried over there?

     BRILL can only gurgle blood. JONES pops the Taurus's
     trunk had looks inside.

     KRUG digs quickly through the coal pile, searching for
     Dean. Then BRILL sees him--

     BRILL's POV: DEAN down off the side of the coal-car,
     lodged in the coal pile. He's safe, but not once KRUG
     discovers he's not in the car.

     BRILL pushes in the cigarette lighter.

     JONES dumps everything from the Taurus into the
     unmarked car. SIRENS suddenly fade in.

     KRUG digs faster, looking for DEAN, as JONES approaches
     with his pistol, clambering around for BRILL.

                        KRUG
            Fuck him, he's dead in two minutes.
            Find Dean.

     JONES starts to back out, just as the Taurus's
     cigarette lighter pops out. BRILL grabs it.

     KRUG eyes the glowing lighter. Then he eyes BRILL.

     Shit.

     BRILL ignites the gas. WA-WOOMFF!! A fireball explodes,
     consuming all - the car, BRILL, KRUG. JONES is blown
     off his feet from the concussion.

                        JONES
               (scrambling away)
            Fuck--

     JONES wipes prints off his pistol and silencer and
     tosses it into the flames as the police cars approach.

     DEAN watches from the shadows as flames incinerate
     everything.

                        MARSHAL (V.O.)
            I just came from my office at
            Langley. Senator Albert called me
            there.

     EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. RESTAURANT TERRACE - DAY

     MARSHAL and SHAFFER dine with REYNOLDS at a restaurant
     overlooking the Potomac.

                        SHAFFER
            I got the same call at the Bureau.
            He's upset.

                        REYNOLDS
            About what?

                        MARSHAL
            About what? Do I look stupid?

                        REYNOLDS
            Ken--

                        MARSHAL
            Does Shaffer look stupid to you?

                        SHAFFER
            We're not stupid, Reynolds.

                        MARSHAL
            The fuck do you have goin' on with
            Sam Albert?

                        SHAFFER
            This guy's carrying the flag for
            the damn terrorism bill. You think
            this is the best time to piss him off?

                        MARSHAL
            You have any idea what kind of
            position this--

                        SHAFFER
            He's carrying the damn flag.

                        REYNOLDS
            We're not doing anything with Sam
            Albert.

                        MARSHAL
            He thinks we're stupid.

                        SHAFFER
            He found an NSA SAT tracker on his
            motor home today.

                        REYNOLDS
            It's not ours.

                        MARSHAL
            It was pulsing on your SAT frequencies.

                        SHAFFER
            I don't know what's going on, but
            if you people have tripped over
            your own asshole again, you're not
            gonna get any help from us. It's
            ending at your doorstep.

                        HICKS (V.O.)
            Brill's dead.

     INT. TOWN CAR - DAY

     REYNOLDS rides in the back of the car, a cellular to
     his ear.

                        REYNOLDS
            What about--

                        HICKS (O.S.)
            We don't know.

                        REYNOLDS
            Explain that.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. TECH ROOM - CONTINUOUS

     The room is crammed with people as HICKS talks over the
     phone.

                        HICKS
            Jones had to flee the scene before
            we could locate the second body.

                        REYNOLDS
            What about the tape?

                        HICKS
            We think it was on Brill. If it was,
            it's destroyed now.

                        REYNOLDS
            And if it wasn't?

     ORGAN MUSIC can be heard as REYNOLDS snaps his phone shut.

                        PRIEST (O.S.)
            Peace be with you.

     EXT. SAINT PAUL'S CHURCH - DAY

     Establishing. A beautiful church in an expensive
     neighborhood.

                        CHORUS OF PARISHIONERS (O.S.)
            And also with you.

     INT. CHURCH - CONTINUOUS

     A crowded Catholic mass. The PRIEST delivers a sermon
     from an altar decorated with Christmas candles and
     evergreen.

                        PRIEST
            The Lord said: I leave you peace,
            my peace I leave you. Let us now,
            in the spirit of these holidays,
            turn to our neighbors and offer
            them a sign of peace.

     REYNOLDS stands in a pew beside his TWO DAUGHTERS and
     his WIFE. He turns to those immediately around him,
     shaking their hands.

                        REYNOLDS
            Peace be with you...Peace be with you.

     A disguised DEAN takes REYNOLDS hand and shakes it...


                        DEAN
            Merry Christmas. It's me.

                        REYNOLDS
            Do I know you?

                        DEAN
            I'm Robert Dean. Within twelve
            hours, you're gonna be in jail.
            Peace be with you.

     REYNOLDS is dumbstruck...

                        PRIEST
            Let us now offer up thanks to the
            Lord our God in the words our
            Father gave us.

                        CONGREGATION
            Our Father, who art in Heaven,
            hallow'd be thy name--

                        STACY (V.O.)
            Robert, is it safe to be talking on
            the phone like this?

     INT. A BEDROOM - NIGHT

     DEAN sits on a bed while talking into a modified
     cellular computer. The screen shows his current call
     signal re-routing between relay stations.

                        DEAN
               (into phone)
            I've re-routed the call. They can't
            trace it.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. DEAN'S HOUSE/BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

                        STACY
               (into phone)
            Are you sure you're safe?

                        DEAN
               (into phone)
            Yeah.

     EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. - CONTINUOUS

     CLOSE ON A SMALL GRAY CONE-SHAPED MICROWAVE ANTENNA

                        STACY (O.S.)
            They're saying you killed that
            policeman.

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            That's gonna end tonight.

     EXT. EXPRESSWAY - CONTINUOUS

     CLOSE ON A MICROWAVE TOWER WITH NINE GRAY CONES
     pointing nine directions. The intercepted phone signals
     being relayed.

                        STACY (O.S.)
            Where are you?

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            I can't tell you that.

     EXT. KENT ISLAND - CONTINUOUS

     Re-establishing. A concrete building rising from the woods.

                        STACY (O.S.)
            Can you tell me anything?

     INT. CEMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

     CLOSE ON COMPUTER SCREENS showing hundreds of phone
     numbers scrolling by. A massive vacume cleaner of every
     cellular call being made in the state of Maryland. The
     computer scans for trigger numbers or words.

                        DEAN (O.S.)
            I can tell you this: That anti-
            terrorism bill you were so worked
            up about? I don't think it's gonna
            pass.

     A phone number locks on the screen--

                        TECHNICIAN
            Got it!

     INT. REYNOLDS BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

     The phone on the nightstand begins to RING. REYNOLDS
     wakes as his wife rolls to the other side of the bed.
     He grabs his scrambler phone and goes into--

     INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS

     REYNOLDS closes the door and waits as scrambled lines
     connect. Finally, a confirming tone.

                        REYNOLDS
            Yeah.

     INTERCUT WITH:

     INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS

     HICKS is on the phone.

                        HICKS
            Found him. Kent Island nailed the
            call five minutes ago. He's stationary.

                        REYNOLDS
            Do you have visual?

                        HICKS
            Not yet. He's near "M" and 34th.
            I've got an ELSUR unit on the scene
            now. A residential building. Twelve
            units.

                        REYNOLDS
            What's your ETA?

                        HICKS
            Three minutes. We're going in light.
            Myself and two others. Everyone
            else is held back in reserve.

                        REYNOLDS
            He walked right up to me in church.
            At the holiest time of the wear. He
            approached me in a sanctified place.
               (beat)
            Kill him now.

     EXT. A VICTORIAN APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

     Establishing. Peaceful street, quaint apartments. THREE
     MEN stroll to the entrance of a well-maintained
     building. One jimmies the lock and a moment later
     they're in.

     INT. LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

     HICKS, JONES and DAVIS prepare. All have miniature
     earphones. DAVIS checks his silenced pistol. HICKS
     activates a frequency locator. The needle snaps on. He
     looks at DAVIS and JONES.

     They're ready.

     All hand signals, no words, as the trio ascend the
     staircase.

     One flight, two. Then HICKS stops. The needle says
     they're close.

     HICKS motions. Their target's on two. They move down
     the hall - silent except for a creaking floor and a TV
     SHOW drifting from an apartment.  Someone's up at this
     hour.

     They move on. HICKS watches the needle as it moves. He
     motions DAVIS and JONES to a door. JONES puts a
     reverse-viewer against the peep-hole.

     JONES's POV: A view of an entryway and living room. A
     light bleeds from an O.S. source. Beyond that there's
     no sign of life.

     HICKS puts a contact-mic against the door and listens
     to FAINT CONVERSATION somewhere inside, possibly the
     phone call. HICKS nods to JONES who quickly picks the
     lock while DAVIS eyes the hall.

     After a nervous moment, the door opens and HICKS, JONES
     and DAVIS enter.

     INT. THE APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

     They spread out, searching the well-decorated condo for
     the target.

     They near the room with light. Using a mini-mirror,
     HICKS looks around the bend to see--

     A BEDROOM. There's a briefcase on the bed.

     They enter.

     From the bathroom they hear sounds of RUNNING WATER.
     They slowly approach. Wood again CREAKS beneath them.

     DEAN's VOICE is heard through the locked door.

     HICKS signals "on three".

     He counts, and they SMASH the door open to see--

     --a cellular phone taped to a Baby-Monitor. DEAN's
     nowhere in sight.

                        HICKS
            The fuck is this?

     INT. POLICE STATION/DISPATCH AREA - NIGHT

     Spinning banks of reporters manned by POLICE DISPATCHERS.
     We move to one desk where a phone rings.

     An LED immediately displays the caller's name; KRUGER,
     JACK, along with his social-security number and date of
     birth.

                        DISPATCHER
            Nine-one-one emergency.

                        OLD MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
            My name's Jack Kreuger, I'm at 1102
            Grambling. I just saw three guys
            break into the condo next door. It
            looked to me like they had guns.

     INT. VICTORIAN BUILDING'S BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN has the phone circuit box open and is plugged in
     with a phone-line. Over the phone's mouthpiece, he
     holds an electronic Voice-Mask which alters his voice
     into an old man's.

                        DISPATCHER (O.S.)
            We'll send a unit over there now.
            If it's safe, sir, we'd like you to
            stay by your phone.

                        DEAN
            Yeah, I think I'll stay where I am.

     INT. SQUAD CAR - NIGHT

                        DISPATCHER (O.S.)
               (radio effect)
            Any available unit. Armed 549 in
            progress.

     INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS

     Three TECHNICIANS overhear the police radio call.

                        DISPATCHER (O.S.)
            Three suspects now inside. 1102
            Grambling, apartment 302.

                        TECHNICIAN
            Shit.
               (into radio)
            201 to First Team. Pull out. We got
            the cops.

     INT. APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

     HICKS spins and heads for the door. DAVIS hits it first.
     He grabs the doorknob and pulls--

     --and the knob rips from the door, trailing small wires.

                        DAVIS
            Fuck me!

                        JONES
            What'd you do?

                        DAVIS
            It came off in my hand!

     EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

     TWO SQUAD CARS come rolling up and FOUR COPS get out
     and head into the building.

     INT. THE APARTMENT

     JONES is trying to pry the door open with his fingers.
     No use.

                        TECHNICIAN
               (over radio)
            Get outa there, guys!

     While JONES continues on the door, DAVIS runs to the
     window.

     Throughout this, HICKS will stand in the middle of the
     room and, simply, oddly, stare at the mantle over the
     fireplace.

                        DAVIS
            Goddamit!

     HICKS smiles...and now he starts laughing a little...

                        JONES
            What's so fuckin' funny?

     HICKS motions to a framed picture over the fireplace.

                        HICKS
            It's over. We've been fucked with
            our pants on.

     The framed picture is of Senator SAM ALBERT and CHRISTA
     HAWKINS.

                        HICKS (CONT'D)
            We broke into her condo.

     DOOR WOOD EXPLODES inward. The TWO COPS roll in
     crouched positions, weapons drawn.

                        COP #1
            POLICE! FREEZE!

     HICKS doesn't move, DAVIS freezes like a deer in
     headlights, JONES stares with cold, dead eyes.

                        COP #2
            DROP THE WEAPONS! NOW!

     Two more COPS arrive. JONES and DAVIS drop their guns.

                        COP #1
            ON THE GROUND! NOW! FACE THE FLOOR!

     They do so. COPS THREE and FOUR go room to room making
     sure no one else is lurking. In the bedroom, they find
     the briefcase. Inside the briefcase--

     --listening bugs, installation equipment and
     compromising photos of the Senator with Christa.

                        CHRISTA (O.S.)
            Oh my God! What's going on?!

     Back in the living room, CHRISTA has walked through the
     broken-in apartment door to see JONES, HICKS and DAVIS
     lying on the floor at gun point.

                        COP #2
            Ma'am, is this your apartment?

                        CHRISTA
            What happened?!

                        COP #1
            Would you step out in the hallway
            for a moment, ma'am.

                        CHRISTA
            Oh God.

                        COP #2
            Please. We'll be right with you.

     CHRISTA backs slowly out of the apartment and into--

     INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

     CHRISTA holds her hand over her mouth and is shaking. A
     VOICE comes from an alcove...

                        VOICE (O.S.)
            Christa?

     She turns. DEAN steps out from the alcove.

                        DEAN (CONT'D)
            You got a second?

                        CHRISTA
            Who are you?

                        DEAN
            My name's Robert Dean.

     EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET IN CHEVY CHASE - NIGHT

     An up-scale neighborhood. Two inexpensive cars that
     don't seem to belong there sit in front of a large home.

     INT. SENATOR ALBERT'S PRIVATE STUDY - CONTINUOUS

     DEAN sits with a drink in his hand. Across from him are
     CHRISTA and PATRICK.

     They sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment before
     SENATOR ALBERT enters in bathrobe and pajamas.

                        ALBERT
            I understand we have a problem.

                        PATRICK
            Senator--

                        CHRISTA
            Senator, there were some things I
            couldn't tell you over the phone.

                        ALBERT
            What kinds of things?

                        PATRICK
            Mr. Dean has a video tape from the
            hotel room in Boston.

                        ALBERT
               (pause)
            I see.

                        DEAN
            It's actually DH-1 Digitech
            Pinpoint scanning with a frequency
            modulator.

                        ALBERT
            I don't know what that means.

                        DEAN
            Me neither, but the upshot is I've
            got color live-action footage of
            you and Ms Hawkins and it doesn't
            look good.

                        ALBERT
            So...how much money do you want in
            exchange for not ruining my life?

                        DEAN
            I don't want any money. And believe
            me, I have no interest in ruining
            your life. I'm not interested in
            this tape.

                        ALBERT
            You're not.

                        PATRICK
            Then what do you want from the Senator?

                        DEAN
            I want him to look at a different
            tape. People have been killed.
            Lives have been ruined.
               (DEAN takes the computer
                chip from his pocket)
            Senator, I want you to look at this.
            And I want you to bring the fury of
            God himself upon this man.

     DEAN tosses the chip to ALBERT.

     INT. REYNOLDS BEDROOM - NIGHT

     REYNOLDS is asleep when the PHONE wakes him up. Once
     again, he reaches for his scrambled phone heads into
     the bathroom.

     After waiting for the signal that the line's clear...

                        REYNOLDS
            Yeah.

                        TECHNICIAN (O.S.)
            Sir, we've just intercepted an FBI
            communication.

                        REYNOLDS
               (into phone)
            Well...what is it?

                        TECHNICIAN (O.S.)
            Well, sir, it seems there's a
            warrant out on--

     The DOORBELL rings. REYNOLDS is alarmed.

     Now there's BANGING at the door and DOORBELL RINGS again.

                        REYNOLDS WIFE (O.S.)
               (from the bedroom)
            Who is that, dear?

     REYNOLDS snaps the phone shut and goes downstairs to
     the door.

     When he opens the door he sees TWO FBI AGENTS with
     their ID's flapped open and six uniformed POLICEMEN
     backing them up.

                        FBI AGENT
            John Reynolds?

                        REYNOLDS
            What the hell--

                        FBI AGENT
            You're under arrest. You have the
            right to remain silent. Anything
            you say--

                        REYNOLDS WIFE (O.S.)
               (from upstairs)
            Honey...?

     INT. DEAN'S STREET - MORNING

     A PAPERBOY tosses a newspaper at the Dean's door.

                        SENATOR ALBERT (O.S.)
            Privacy and the right to privacy is
            an inalienable right.

     INT. DEAN'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

     Stacy has C-SPAN on the TV while she makes breakfast
     for ERIC. SENATOR ALBERT is addressing the SENATE.

                        ERIC
            These guys are always making speeches.

                        STACY
            It's an important speech, Eric.
            There's gonna be a vote today.

                        SENATOR ALBERT
               (on TV)
            Today we face a threat to that
            creed. Certain individuals in our
            intelligence community believe
            they're entitled to examine lives
            in minute detail, and claim to do
            it in the name of the common good.

                        ERIC
            If they're voting today, hasn't
            everyone pretty much made up their
            minds.

                        STACY
            Actually, this man appears to have
            changed his mind dramatically.

                        ERIC
            Why?

                        VOICE (O.S.)
            He saw the light, my son.

     ERIC and STACY whip around--

                        ERIC
            Dad!

     STACY and ERIC run to DEAN...

                        STACY
            Is it over?

                        DEAN
            It's over.

                        ERIC
            How long can you stay?

                        DEAN
            I'm not goin' anywhere, Eric. I
            live here.

     ERIC and DEAN hug.

                        STACY
            Get ready for school, you're gonna
            be late.

                        ERIC
            Is it okay to use the phone now?

                        DEAN
            It's okay to use the phone.

                        ERIC
            Alright!

                        DEAN
            No "900" numbers.

     But ERIC has disappeared up the stairs...

                        STACY
            It's really over?

                        DEAN
            Albert's gonna get me my job back.

                        STACY
               (pause)
            I'm sorry about Rachel.

                        DEAN
            Yeah.
               (beat)
            I wish you could've met...

                        STACY
            Who?

                        DEAN
            A friend of mine. I don't know his
            real name. He's dead now.

                        STACY
            You did good.

     STACY points to the TV and DEAN watches for a moment...

                        ALBERT
               (on TV)
            I've lived through the dark ages of
            Hoover's Watch-List and McCarthy's
            Witch Hunts - men who used moral
            crusades, fired by fear, to lay
            waste to our freedoms.

                        STACY
            C'mon upstairs. I've got a
            Christmas present from Harrison's I
            want to show you.

     DEAN arrives as STACY takes him by the arm. They head
     upstairs as ALBERT continues on...

                        ALBERT
               (on TV)
            Our intelligence communities
            presently monitor our phones,
            computers, financial transactions,
            medical histories...all this and
            more. Some of you may say, "Fine.
            I'm not a criminal and I have
            nothing to hide." Well God forbid
            we ever edge to tyranny. God forbid
            George Orwell's version of America
            becomes a reality. We are that close.

     ALBERT's speech continues as we...

     ROLL END CREDITS.








     FADE TO BLACK.