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The Limey Movie Script

Writer(s) : Lem Dobbs

Genres : Crime, Drama

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                               THE LIMEY


                                   by


                               LEM DOBBS










                                                     draft 08/03/98









     NOTE:  THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS.
     THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS SOFT COPY.










     Wilson's first impression of Los Angeles was blue.  He was in
     the sky at the time, so it was a curious reversal, looking
     down rather than up at the color he had always felt was
     nature's finest.

     Swimming pools.  Hundreds of them.  Pockmarking the landscape
     like miniature lakes.  A flat landscape of straight streets
     and square blocks and sparse grass that didn't look quite
     green enough.

     As far as Wilson could remember, he had only ever seen seven
     or eight swimming pools in his entire life and they had been
     public ones.  Here everyone had their own.  Marvellous.

     There was the one at the Butlin's holiday camp where he had
     enjoyed his last legitimate employment -- as driver of a tour
     bus.  And there was the one at Crystal Palace he had gone to
     once or twice when he was younger.  He was most familiar,
     though, with the Chelsea Baths as he had lived for some time
     in a flat nearby in what he now thought of as his good years
     -- before he'd gone grey, went to prison, and found himself in
     a plane over a foreign town arriving to avenge the death of
     his daughter.










     WHOOSH!  The sound of automatic doors opening and --

     EXT. ARRIVALS TERMINAL.  L.A. AIRPORT.  AFTERNOON.

     WILSON steps out into the late sunlight and the heat of the
     day.  A slow-motion moment while he gets acclimatized.  He
     wouldn't have ever felt quite this kind of heat before.
     After such a rigorously air-conditioned interior.  Or seen
     cops wearing guns on their belts.  Or black cops, for that
     matter, with guns on their belts.  Or seen people as fat as
     Americans on their home turf.  Things someone from England
     notices immediately, whether consciously at first or not.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. MOTEL.  EVENING.

     Wilson's not here for comfort.  Shown to a shitty room, round
     the corner of a typical 2nd-level outside walkway.  Airport
     close by.

     INT. MOTEL ROOM.  EVENING.

     He draws a curtain open across a window in one strong easy
     glide.  His moves are neat.  His expressions just as
     economical, not giving much away.  Outside the planes are
     practically on top of us. The sunset colors strange and
     chemical.

     He's only got one light bag.  Unzips, unpacks a few things.
     Change of clothes, a travel kit, and some familiar items
     (shaving foam/toothpaste/deodorant} bearing unfamiliar
     British brand names.

     Goes into the bathroom.  Turns on the shower in there.

     Comes back to sit on the bed.  Takes an envelope out of his
     jacket.

     ENVELOPE

     Turns it over to see the return address on the back.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. TAXI.  NIGHT.

     Wilson in the back.  Stares at the impenetrable name on the
     driver's posted ID. Glances at the driver.

     DRIVER glances back at his quiet passenger in the rearview
     mirror.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. SMALL HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     Wilson walks up a cracked little path to the front door.
     Lower middle-class street.  Two cars in the driveway, one
     behind the other.  Lights on inside the house -- as he rings
     the bell.

     ED RAMA

     Answers it.  Hispanic.  Late 30's.  Chairman Mao on his T-
     shirt notwithstanding, an easygoing sort of fellow.  Not
     looking for any trouble -- anymore.  But once did, and able
     to handle himself if any shows up.  Which it has.

                         WILSON
               Edward Rama?

                         ED
               Eduardo.
                   (rolling the R)
               Rama.

                         WILSON
               You're home, then.

     He turns, waves away the taxi he's kept waiting.  While
     Eduardo Rama waits for an introduction.

                         WILSON
               My name's Wilson.

     Accent speaks for itself.  Hard, working-class.

                         ED
               Wilson?

     Knows the name.  But just now it's unexpected.  He's holding
     a hot TV dinner, hand protected by a dish towel.

                         WILSON
               You wrote to me about my daughter.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ED'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     Ed takes Wilson inside.

                         ED
               I didn't expect anyone.

                         WILSON
               No reason.

                         ED
               I mean, what has it been -- six months?

                         WILSON
               Round about, yeah.

     They've entered a cauldron of family life.  TV blaring
     (SHOWBIZ TONIGHT!).  A couple of younger KIDS yelling "Mama".
     Their MOTHER shouting back at them from the kitchen (in
     Spanish) that she only has two hands.  A sullen TEENAGER
     walking by.

                         ED
               I didn't even know who I was writing to --
               just someone with the same last name.
               She never talked about any family.

                         WILSON
               It was better than a telegram.

     Ed opens a screen door to the backyard.

     EXT. ED'S BACKYARD.  NIGHT.

     They sit at an outdoor table.  Wilson with a TV dinner in
     front of him now too.  Sounds from inside MUTED.  Even this
     little house has a little pool.

                         WILSON
               Who done it, then?

                         ED
               Huh?

                         WILSON
               Snuffed her.

     Ed surprised at Wilson's directness.  Ed stands nervously.

                         ED
               Now, wait up a second, man.

     And paces back and forth.

                         ED
               I never said nothin' about nothin' like
               that.  No, no, no.  That's not what I
               wrote to you.

                         WILSON
               No, but between the lines, eh?
               Mysterious circumstances, and that.

     Ed stops pacing.

                         ED
               Look, I sent you that newspaper clipping,
               all right?  I told you what I know.  It
               was an accident.  I didn't say anything
               about anybody being "snuffed."

     Beat.

                         WILSON
               This bloke she was bunked up with.  This
               Terry what'sit.

                         ED
               Terry Valentine.

                         WILSON
               Valentine.  What's he got to say for
               himself?

                         ED
               I dunno.  What's he gonna say?  They had
               a fight that night, she drove away, she
               was upset?  I don't even know the guy.
               Don't get me wrong, Jenny and me were
               friends, but we didn't travel in the same
               social circles.  She had her life, I had
               mine.

     Makes a kind of scoffing gesture:  and you can see what my
     life is.

                         ED
               Valentine came into the restaurant where
               I work with Jenny a couple times.  He's a
               money guy.  Jenny would say, hey, here's
               my friend Eddie and he would shake my
               hand and everything, but he wouldn't even
               see me, you know what I mean.

     Wilson gazes up at the sky.  Clear night.  Stars.

                         WILSON
               How long had she been in the States?
                   (as if to himself, somewhat
                    wistful)
               Near on ten years, wasn't it?  Long
               enough to know her way about, I reckon.

     Ed leans down, palms on the tabletop, facing Wilson.

                         ED
               There was an investigation, okay?  The
               car was totalled.  Jennifer was ... Her
               neck was broken.  On impact, they said.
               So she wouldn't have ... felt the effects
               of the fire.
                   (helpless shrug)
               It happens up there.  Happens a lot.
               What more can I tell you.

     Wilson taps out a cigarette from a pack of "Silk Cut" he's
     produced from his pocket.

                         WILSON
               What more is there.

                         ED
               I'm just sayin' -- it was a steep
               hillside.  There was no moon that
               night ...

     Wilson's quiet stillness is getting to him.

                         ED
               Coulda happened to anyone, man.  I never
               knew her to be reckless.  I mean, sure,
               she would smoke a little grass, or
               something, have a few drinks.  But that's
               it, nothing more than that.

                         WILSON
               No, not my girl.  Self-control, she had.
               Point of pride.
                   (smokes)
               And people don't change, do they.

                         ED
               I dunno ... Maybe they do.

     Wilson notes the tattoos on Ed's forearms.

                         WILSON
               Going straight, are ya.

     Ed looks at him.  Sits down again.  Keeping his forearms under
     the table.

                         ED
                   (looks away)
               Boomerang.

                         WILSON
               Y'what?

                         ED
               I knew when I was droppin' that letter
               into the mail slot it was gonna come back
               and smack me in the face.
                   (looks at Wilson again)
               I did my time, okay?  My sister, her ol'
               man's up in Chino right now doin' eight
               years.

                         WILSON
                   (re the family inside)
               This ain't your lot?

                         ED
               You kiddin', man?  I don't need a wife
               and screamin' kids.  I still got my
               youth.

     And yet -- he lives here.  Wilson declines to pursue the
     matter.

                         ED
               I go to work, try to keep my life
               together, put all that shit behind me,
               man.  What d'you want from me.

                         WILSON
                   (calmly smoking)
               I only asked.

     Ed sighs.  Reaches for one of Wilson's cigarettes.

                         ED
               Couple weeks before she died, Jennifer
               asked me to drive her downtown.  Said she
               was meeting -- her boyfriend --
               Valentine.  But I think she was looking
               for him.

     FLASH CUTS:

     ED AND JENNIFER. In a car, downtown. She has the same steely
     intensity as her father. Ed looks a little worried.

                         WILSON
                   (lighting Ed's cigarette)
               What, tryin' to catch him with another
               bird?

                         ED
               That's what I thought, man.  But it was
               not a hotel or nothin' that we went to.
               It was someplace else.

                         WILSON
               Where abouts?

     FLASH CUTS:

     JENNIFER. Talking to a beefy SUPERVISOR. Or talking at him.
     Either way, he isn't happy.

     MEAT PUPPETS. Watch instead of working.

     ED. Taking all this in.

                         ED
               Bad place, man.  Bad people.  Some guys
               loading some trucks.  Some kinda deal
               goin' down.
                   (anticipating Wilson's next
                    question)
               I don't know and I don't care.  Maybe
               they're shipping fava beans to Eskimos.

                         WILSON
               Did Jenny know?

                         ED
                   (shrugs)
               Valentine wasn't even there.  If he was
               into something, if she was involved --
               who can say.
                   (stands up again)
               But I'll tell you something.  She stood
               in front of these dudes, man.  Eyeballing
               them.  Checking them out.
                   (beat)
               I felt like she was covering my ass that
               day.

     Unconsciously rubbing his arms where his tattoos are.

                         ED
               I drove her back to Valentine's house.

     FLASH CUT:

     VALENTINE. Standing in front of his house. His expression
     says: We have something to discuss.

                         ED
               He was standing outside waiting for her.
               That's the only other time I ever saw
               him.
                   (a short sad note)
               Last time I saw her.

     He meets Wilson's gaze.  As hard and pointed as a drill
     through his skull.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ED'S CAR.  NIGHT.

     Ed drives Wilson back to his motel.  Wilson silent.  Ed still
     not quite sure who he's dealing with.  Is this really or
     merely a grieving dad?

                         ED
               What you gonna do, man?  You gonna go to
               the cops?

                         WILSON
               Nah, coppers don't do nothing, do they.

                         ED
               Those streets up in the hills, man.
               Gotta be real careful, keep your eye on
               the ball.  Two o'clock in the morning,
               it's dark, your mind is all agitated,
               you're drivin' a little too fast ...
                   (beat)
               Those curves don't kid around.

     Could be talking about the girl.  Wilson doesn't move.  But
     touch him, he'll explode.  Out the window lights are passing,
     but no landmarks.  He might as well be on the moon.

                         ED
               You should talk to Elaine.  That was her
               best friend.

                         WILSON
               She didn't write to me, did she.

                         ED
               She didn't know what to say.
                   (shrugs)
               I thought someone should say something.
               To someone.  With me it was, I don't know
               -- Jenny liked me for some reason.  I
               felt like I owed her.

                         WILSON
               Who'd Jenny get it off of -- this grass
               or whatever?

                         ED
                   (self-conscious again)
               Not me, man.  I'm no drug dealer, what
               you think.

                         WILSON
                   (re Ed's tattoos)
               I think you didn't get that lot in the
               Navy, doing your National Service.

                         ED
               I already told you, man.  Corcoran.  Know
               what that is?  State prison.

                         WILSON
               Nick's a nick, n' it?  No matter what
               state you're in.  State of remorse, most
               likely -- for gettin' caught.

                         ED
               But that's not me anymore.  That's when I
               was into the gang lifestyle.  That's not
               who I am now.  Five years in the joint --
               that's it for me, man.

     Now Wilson drops the clanger.

                         WILSON
               Just got out meself, didn't I.

     And Ed turns.  Looks at Wilson.  Fellow ex-con.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. WILSON'S MOTEL.  NIGHT.

     Wilson out of the car, shuts the passenger door.  Ed on the
     other side, looks over the roof at him.

                         ED
               Go home, man.
                   (plane taking off in
                    background)
               Get on a plane.

     Wilson has other plans.

                         WILSON
               I'll be needing a shooter.

     Makes his fingers like a gun.  And a clicking sound.

                         ED
                   (comes quickly over)
               You're kiddin' me, right?

                         WILSON
               What do I do, then, look in the bleedin'
               Yellow Pages?

                         ED
                   (an urgent whisper)
               These are not guys you can just go run a
               number on, man.

                         WILSON
                   (looking around)
               Thought perhaps there'd be dispensing
               machines, you know.  Bung in your coins,
               come out with a .44 Magnum, fully-loaded.

     Ed throws up his hands, walks back to his driver's side door.

                         ED
               Are you a resident of California?
               You gonna fill out forms, man?  Do the
               background check?  Go through a three-day
               waiting period?

                         WILSON
               Sod that.  Gotta get back before my
               probation officer wonders where I've
               skived off to.

                         ED
               Probation?  Man, you crazy.  They
               shouldn't've let you outta your country,
               much less prison.

                         WILSON
               Travelling on a dodgy passport, n' all.

     Walks round to come face to face with Ed once more.

                         WILSON
               Which is why I thought, save some time,
               get what I need under the table, like.

     ED

     As if resigned and mulling the problem over:

                         ED
               Under the table?

                                                               CUT.

     INT. GUN SHOW.  DAY.

     Hundreds of tables.  Under bright lights.  Displaying every
     kind of firearm.  Handguns, rifles, shotguns, parts to make
     machine guns.  A weapons bazaar.

     WILSON AND ED

     Walking around.  Even a cool customer like Wilson can't help
     but be impressed by America's loving embrace of senseless
     mayhem.

     DEALERS

     Touting their wares.

     VISITORS

     Trying out pistol grips -- or pushing baby carriages.  Guys
     in fatigue jackets with toddlers on their shoulders.  Women
     in stretch pants looking for a little something in personal
     protection.

     WILSON

     Doesn't know where to look.  At the booth featuring "Classic
     Cowboy Collectibles" -- or the most OBESE COUPLE he's ever
     seen who just walked by.

                         PA SYSTEM
               Attention:  the long-range vermin-
               shooting panel is due to commence in two
               minutes in the blue room at the rear of
               the Convention Center.

     ... and other anomalous oddball ANNOUNCEMENTS in the
     background as long as we're here.

     DEMONSTRATION

     At a booth selling laser attachments.

                         BEAM SALESMAN
               BeamSight II is easily mountable on any
               shotgun, rifle, or sidearm and will
               project a small, bright red dot directly
               onto the point where your weapon is
               aimed ...

     For purposes of display, a smiling YOUNG WOMAN is the
     "target."

     WILSON

     Walking past, almost subliminally noting the Young Woman with
     the symbol of death on her.

     TABLE

     A .45 passed from a DEALER's hand to Wilson's.

                         DEALER
               Man knows what he likes.

                         ED
                   (he'll talk if Wilson won't)
               Lookin' good.

                         DEALER
                   (while Wilson checks)
               That's a high-end item.  Total
               reliability.

                         ED
               What'd you call that -- the Protector?

                         DEALER
               Yes, sir.  Won't find a better CQC on the
               market.

     Wilson's eyes glance up -- but Ed asks the question.

                         ED
               CQ what?

                         DEALER
               Close Quarters Combat.  Keep one in my
               own home.

                         WILSON
               Trouble is, I'm not at home, see.
               Fancied a bit of target shooting, y'know,
               while I'm here -- with me mate.

     Nods at Ed.

                         DEALER
               Oh really?  Where you from?

                         WILSON
               England.
                   (sighting the weapon)
               Only, we saw there was a show on, thought
               I might pick something up for a price,
               type of thing.

                         DEALER
               You came to the right place, sir.  My
               wife's second cousin is English.  Well,
               Scotch-Irish.  Can I interest you in a
               holster?

                         WILSON
               Just luck, this, really.  Never been to
               one of these before.

                         DEALER
               You're in gun country now, my friend.

                         WILSON
                   (picks up another, checks it
                    out)
               Been to the Boat Show.

                         DEALER
                   (re Wilson's new selection)
               Packs a punch, but it's compact, has
               accessible features -- makes a nice
               concealed-carry piece.

                         ED
                   (playing the reluctant buyer)
               He don't have a concealed weapons permit.

                         WILSON
               Don't have time for a lot of paperwork,
               y'know.  Just popped over on a quick
               visit.

                         DEALER
               I can take care of the paperwork.

                         WILSON
               Yeah?

                         DEALER
               No problem.  If you don't have a problem
               with me reporting this gun stolen.

     A look of understanding between them.

                         WILSON
               No.  Not at all.
                   (to Ed)
               Do we?

                         ED
               Not me, man.

                         WILSON
               I mean, it's already a steal, n'it -- what
               you said -- four hundred for this one?

                         DEALERS
               Well, I'll have to add another two
               hundred on top of that.

                         WILSON
               Oh, aye?

                         DEALER
                   (another look)
               ... for the paperwork.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ED'S CAR.  DAY.

     Ed drives.  Nervous at Wilson handling his new gun purchase
     beside him.

                         WILSON
               Violation of my parole, this.
                   (a perfect pause)
               -- Goin' abroad.

     Ed shakes his head at Wilson's sense of humor.

                         ED
               You hadda show up on a weekend.  This
               weekend.  Wouldn't've even been a gun
               show ... for another month.

                         WILSON
               Fucking out of order, that.  Shouldn't be
               allowed.

     As he puts away a box of ammo.

                         ED
               Now what.  You gonna take your new
               arsenal, go visit Terry Valentine, just
               like that?  Boom bam boom.

                         WILSON
               It's only insurance.  Can't be too
               careful.  This Terry Valentine, he's
               probably a wonderful fella.  They were
               together how long?

                         ED
               Five years, I think.  Long time.

                         WILSON
               Well, there you are.  Jen must've liked
               him.

     Doesn't make Ed feel any better.  Nor does the way Wilson
     seems now to be studying Ed's driving techniques.  Paying
     attention to the way traffic lights and left-turn lanes and
     cars without clutches work over here.

                         ED
                   (remembering)
               Jenny told me she met him at the beach.
               Got blinded by his smile.
                   (beat)
               You believe that shit?  Son of a bitch
               never smiled at me.  Buried her at a
               "private" service.  Private for who.
               Him?

                         WILSON
                   (confused)
               Hang about.  I thought you said he come
               into the restaurant where you worked with
               Jenny.

                         ED
               He came in with Jenny to the restaurant
               where I work.  That's not where they met.

                         WILSON
               And that's where you met Jenny.

                         ED
               No, no -- Jenny used to work as a
               waitress.  Before she met him.  But
               that's not where she met me.  Not in my
               restaurant.

                         WILSON
               How'd the two of you hook up, then?

                         ED
               Oh, Jenny was in my acting class.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. RENTAL CAR.  DAY.

     Wilson at the wheel himself.  Getting the hang of L.A.
     Driving downtown.  Along one of the major boulevards.

     Glances at a street sign as he goes by.  Picks up the map
     book on the seat beside him to check his route.

     EXT. BOULEVARD.  DAY.

     Wilson makes a sudden lane change to avoid getting fed in the
     wrong direction.  Gets HONKED by another driver.

     EXT. A STREET DOWNTOWN.  DAY.

     Wilson cruises past a particular building.  We don't have to
     really clearly see it just yet (we saw it in the flash cuts) --
     more important we see him seeing it.  Casing it with the eyes
     of a professional.  Sniffing it out; the instinct of a
     predator after prey.

     INT. CAR.  DAY.

     Parks it.  Produces the little leather travel kit we saw him
     unpack at his motel.  Unzips it.  Under the usual assortment
     of clippers, razors, etc., is a hidden layer -- storing still
     more personalized items:  a set of select slim
     lockpicking/cutting tools.

     EXT. SIDE STREET.  DAY.

     Wilson locks the car.  Walks away.  STAY with him.

     AROUND THE CORNER

     He walks down the block.  A nice long walk.  What we get out
     of it besides a sense of Wilson -- cool cat; ambling along;
     loner; sun beating down; not bothered; his shadow doubling
     him -- is this:

     The building approaching.  The one he has his eye on.  The
     target.  It's across the street.  A kind of flat windowless
     warehouse with adjoining loading yard.  Loading yard
     surrounded by a chain-link fence -- topped with barbed wire.

     The actual geography of where he left his car in relation to
     this building.  Safely around the corner.  And how he might
     practically get back to it, either this same way or via a
     more circuitous route round another block.

     The sense you get in downtown L.A. on a lazy Saturday
     afternoon that you're in a ghost town.  Particularly in this
     shabby kind of industrial section.

     EXT. THE BUILDING.

     Wilson crosses over to it now.  From sunny to shade.

     Walks past the chain-link fence.  The padlocked gate, big
     enough to accommodate the (couple of) trucks parked within
     the compound.

     Walks past the closed security door which would appear to be
     the building's main entrance.

     Round the next corner -- SEES there's a steel back door as
     well.

     Comes around this block again.  Looking surreptitiously around
     now.  Streets here utterly deserted.  Not even a passing car.
     Crappy residential building on an opposite corner, SPANISH
     MUSIC blaring from one of the open windows, but not with a
     direct view on the loading yard fence on this side.  Wilson
     nearing it now -- taking something out of his pocket.  One of
     the mysterious metallic tools from his travel kit.  Snaps his
     wrist, unfolding the tool with a CRACK.  Wire cutters.

     He doesn't go for the gate, the padlock, like we might have
     thought.  He suddenly drops to one knee, in shadow where the
     fence meets the adjoining building.  SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP,
     SNAP -- so quick, with great dexterity, though his face
     grimaces with the strength he has to exert with each
     application of pressure -- he cuts just as many links as he
     knows he needs to push in a little flap of fence and roll
     under.  Whole thing accomplished in seconds.

     LOADING YARD

     Walks fast to the cover of the trucks.  Passes.  Looks
     around.  Cement loading docks and bays.  Shuttered doors.  He
     jumps up to one, puts his ear to the metal.  Listens awhile.

     WILSON

     Scans the wall for any sign of an alarm box or anything.
     Then cocks an ear upwards... CAMERA CRANING UP to show us
     what he hears:  an air-conditioning unit HUMMING away.  Which
     means someone must be inside.

     Wilson looks back at his entry options.  Not the loading
     doors -- but a conventional door at one end, with a
     conventional lock his eye zeroes in on.  Gets out his tools,
     going over.

     INT. WAREHOUSE HALLWAY.

     A SCRATCHING at the door.  It opens.  He's in.

     Waits.  Cautious.  Nothing.  He starts along the hallway.

     INT. WAREHOUSE.

     A SUPERVISOR (the one from the flash cuts) does a double take
     as Wilson passes.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Hey!

     Wilson stops and turns.  Says nothing.

                         SUPERVISOR
               How'd you get in here.

                         WILSON
               Walked.

                         SUPERVISOR
               You walked.
                   (coming over)
               What the hell are you doing here.

                         WILSON
               Looking for a bloke named Valentine.
               Know him?

     MEAT PUPPETS (who we saw before as well) who work here
     gathering.  The Supervisor and the Meat Puppets exchange
     glances.

                         SUPERVISOR
               He's expecting you?

                         WILSON
                   (beat)
               I doubt it.

     The Supervisor moves toward Wilson.

                         SUPERVISOR
               So why would he want to see you.

                         WILSON
               I have a message for him.  About Jennifer
               Wilson.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Jennifer Wilson.

     More looks are exchanged.

                         WILSON
               You know her?

                         SUPERVISOR
               Yeah.  I know her, all right.  She came
               down here once, stirred up a shitstorm.
               We lost a full day's work, took me weeks
               to get back on schedule.  If she hadn't
               a' been Terry's woman I would've broke
               her jaw.  'Course, she's nobody's problem
               now.

     Wilson stares at him.

                         WILSON
               Is Valentine here?

                         SUPERVISOR
               What do you think?

     Wilson looks at the Meat Puppets, the loading area.

                         WILSON
               Where is he, then?

                         SUPERVISOR
               Listen, get the fuck out of here before
               you get hurt.  Who the fuck do you think
               you are, waltzing in here, asking
               questions?

     Wilson just looks at him.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Do you hear me, asshole?

     The Supervisor shoves him.  The Meat Puppets move a little in
     anticipation.  Wilson isn't giving any indication that he's
     going to leave.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Jesus, you really want your ass kicked,
               don't you?

     He pushes Wilson again, hard.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Go on, get outta here.

     He pushes Wilson again.  Still, Wilson won't leave.

                         SUPERVISOR
               Fuckin' nut.  Go on.

     This time he tries to slap Wilson.  Wilson blocks the
     Supervisor's hand and then punches him, hard.  The Supervisor
     stumbles back and falls to the floor.

     THE MEAT PUPPETS

     Move to Wilson.  He tries to fend them off, but there are too
     many.  They beat him.  When they find that he's armed, they
     beat him harder.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. BUILDING.  DAY.

     Wilson is taken outside and dumped.  After a moment, he gets
     to his feet.  Dusting himself.  Reaches for ANOTHER GUN tucked
     in his lower back.  He re-enters the building.

     A beat.  We hear several SHOTS.

     Seconds later, one of the Meat Puppets comes stumbling out of
     the door, terrified.  He runs past us, fast.

     A moment later, Wilson emerges, gun in hand.

                         WILSON
               You tell him.  You tell him I'm coming!!

                                                               CUT.

     INT./EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DUSK.

     A series of images that prove Valentine (whoever he is) has
     taste, wealth, and influence, stretching back a good three
     decades at least.

     Walking through some of these shots is a young beauty in a
     bathing suit named ADHARA.  She advances slowly, not entirely
     sure of herself, and stops to look at things just like we do.
     At one point she looks to see a BEEFY GUY (GORDON) sitting at
     the kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine.  He looks
     her up and down, more from reflex than anything.

     She continues on.  Eventually she emerges through sliding
     glass doors and on to a patio.

     HER POV

     A figure by the pool, talking on the phone.  His back to us.
     The pool is spectacular, mosaic tile bottomed.

     ADHARA

     Approaches, then sits beside him.  His voice is soothing, but
     with the tiniest hint of exasperation that comes with being
     slightly ahead of everyone.

                         VALENTINE
                   (into phone)
               Not before.  Not before.  Think about it.
               What does it mean?  What -- no, I'm not.
               Think.  Yes.  See?  You figured it out
               all by yourself.  I know.  Are we done?
               Okay.

     He hangs up, stands, still doesn't turn.

                         VALENTINE
               Adhara.  I told your father, if you're
               looking for a name, you can't go wrong
               with a constellation.

                         ADHARA
               I used to hate it.  Now I like it.

                         VALENTINE
               Could be worse, he could've named you
               Reticulum.

     He turns and we see him for the first time.

     VALENTINE

     Polished.  Handsome.  Charismatic.  Especially when he's
     smiling like he is now.  He leans over and kisses her.

                         VALENTINE
               Is there anything in the world that you
               want or need?

                         ADHARA
               I want to know why you need that scary
               guy in your house.

                         VALENTINE
               Gordon?  He's been with me for years.
               He's not as tough as he looks.

                         ADHARA
               Then what good is he?

                         VALENTINE
               Is it possible that you're too young to
               be acquainted with the idea of loyalty?

                         ADHARA
               Is that a problem?

                         VALENTINE
               Not for you, clearly.

                         ADHARA
               I'm loyal to things that make me happy.

                         VALENTINE
               Am I a thing?

                         ADHARA
               Well, you're certainly not a person.

                         VALENTINE
               I'm not.

                         ADHARA
               No.  You're not specific enough to be a
               person.  You're more like a vibe.

                         VALENTINE
               I'm so glad we're having this chat.

                         ADHARA
               It's not a knock.

                         VALENTINE
               It's not a compliment.

                         ADHARA
               It's an observation.  Like:  I'm hungry.
               When are we eating?

                         VALENTINE
               As soon as you get dressed.

                         ADHARA
               What kind of food?

                         VALENTINE
               Anything but Japanese.

                         ADHARA
               Why?

                         VALENTINE
               I'm not into finger foods.  Too fussy.

                         ADHARA
               Like you.

                         VALENTINE
               I don't like do-it-yourself cuisine.
               Buffets.  Salad bars.

                         ADHARA
               You demand to be served.  A fork
               fetishist.

                         VALENTINE
               It's just fuel to me.  I'm not there for
               distractions.

                         ADHARA
               For some, eating is a sensual experience.
               The sensual experience.

                         VALENTINE
               That's what Gordon's always saying.

                         ADHARA
               Oh, god.

     His cell phone rings.

                         VALENTINE
                   (into phone)
               Yes.

     He listens, then looks up at his balcony, where a MAN (AVERY)
     stands holding a phone, obviously talking to Valentine.

                         VALENTINE
                   (into phone)
               I'll be there as soon as I can.

     He hangs up.

                         VALENTINE (cont'd)
               We can leave as soon as you're ready.

                         ADHARA
               Okay.

     EXT. BALCONY.  EVENING.

     Valentine approaches Avery.

                         VALENTINE
               What.

                         AVERY
               There's been some trouble downtown.

                         VALENTINE
               What kind?

                         AVERY
               What the papers used to call a "gangland
               slaying."

                         VALENTINE
               Our black friends?

                         AVERY
               No, Terry.  They don't work like that.
               Jenny Wilson's father paid a little
               visit, left a message.

                         VALENTINE
               I thought he was in prison, in England.

                         AVERY
               Well, either they have a very liberal
               work-release program, or he's out,
               because he's here in L.A., looking for
               you.

     Valentine is a little ruffled.  Maybe Avery likes that.

                         VALENTINE
               What do we do?

     Beat.

                         AVERY
               We wait, and we watch.

     Valentine just looks at him.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  POOLSIDE.  EVENING.

     Adhara approaches Valentine, who stands staring at the pool.

                         ADHARA
               Italian?

                         VALENTINE
               I'm sorry.

                         ADHARA
               Italian.

                         VALENTINE
               Who?

                         ADHARA
               Not who, food.  Should we get Italian.

                         VALENTINE
               Sure.

     Turns to her.

                         VALENTINE (cont'd)
               Yes.  Are you ready?

                         ADHARA
               As long as I don't have to pass Gordon
               again.  I'm never ready for that.

     He smiles, rises, and offers her his hand.

                         VALENTINE
               No.  I know another way out.

     She takes it.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING.  EVENING.

     ELAINE on her way in.  Handsome woman.  Intelligent, capable-
     looking.  Passes Wilson who's leaning somewhere smoking.

     ELAINE

     Aware as a wary woman will be of a strange man's presence
     without necessarily having looked at him.  Well aware too
     that he stayed where he was -- so she unworriedly unlocks the
     building's security gate and goes through to the inner --

     COURTYARD

     -- and closes the gate behind her, now seeing him amble up,
     arriving as it CLICKS shut between them.  He's looking at her
     a certain way.  She looks back.  And knows.

                         ELAINE
               You're Jenny's father.

     And the recognition on his part:

                         WILSON
               Had a feeling it was you.

                         ELAINE
               You look alike.

                         WILSON
                   (cigarette in hand)
               Perhaps it was the smoke.

                         ELAINE
               Not her brand.

                         WILSON
               She used to pinch 'em off me.
                   (trying to defuse Elaine's cold
                    stare)
               Funny that.  One thing she never tried to
               get me to stop.

     Elaine doesn't soften.

                         ELAINE
               Why did you come here?

                         WILSON
               Wanted to talk to you, didn't I?

                         ELAINE
               No, why did you come here?

     America.

                         WILSON
               Sort a few things out.

                         ELAINE
               Been busy, have you.

                         WILSON
               How d'you mean?

                         ELAINE
               It's been a while.

                         WILSON
               I was skint -- didn't have no money to
               get here.

                         ELAINE
               That's not what I heard.

                         WILSON
               What was that, then?

                         ELAINE
               I heard you were -- what's that adorable
               phrase? -- "at Her Majesty's pleasure."

                         WILSON
               It was the bars, then.

     Indicating his face, viewed by Elaine through the barred
     security gate that divides them.

                         ELAINE
               In any case, I don't suppose the salary
               you make sewing mailbags is really
               commensurate with international airline
               travel.

                         WILSON
               Sewing mailbags?  Me?  Never did an
               honest day's work in my life, dear.
               Wasn't about to start when I was in stir --
               not with all that leisure time on my
               hands.

                         ELAINE
               And not with all that buried loot you had
               waiting for you when you got out.  From
               the Wembley Staduim job, wasn't it?  Pink
               Floyd concert receipts.  Jenny would've
               been ... fourteen at the time?

                         WILSON
                   (trying to conceal his
                    surprise)
               Hardly buried.  Earning interest, love.
               Earning interest in an offshore account.
               Tidy little premium per annum, that.

                         ELAINE
               Well, that kind of security can't be
               bought.  Must be more comforting than a
               daughter to greet you.

     She turns to walk away.

                         WILSON
               Here, aren't you gonna let me in.

                         ELAINE
                   (without looking back)
               Try calling me again.

     INT. ELAINE'S APARTMENT.  EVENING.

     She comes in.  A modest studio apartment.  Puts her bag on
     the kitchenette countertop.  Glances at her answer machine to
     see if she has any messages.  The phone RINGS.  She sits down
     glumly on her couch, holds her head in her hands.

     EXT. ELAINE'S APARTMENT BUILDING.  EVENING.

     Wilson gives up, starts to walk away.  The gate BUZZES.

     INT. ELAINE'S APARTMENT.  EVENING.

     Elaine opens the door.  Wilson in the hall.

                         ELAINE
               I was just going to toss some vegetable
               rolls in the microwave, open a can of
               diet soda.
                   (beat)
               Want to take me out?

                                                               CUT.

     INT. RESTAURANT.  NIGHT.

     Wilson and Elaine at a table.

                         WILSON
               ... No, I went in for more improving
               pastimes.  Philosophy classes, language
               courses, European history, all that lark.
               Did you know that in Paris in the
               Eighteenth Century there were more rats
               in people's houses than there were people
               in people's houses.

                         ELAINE
               Sounds like Beverly Hills.

                         WILSON
               Here, are you always this sarky?

                         ELAINE
               Sarcastic, moi?  Maybe I'll mellow when
               my ship comes in.  It's expected any day
               now.  I'm all packed and ready to go.

                         WILSON
               Weren't you on a television series?

                         ELAINE
                   (has he seen it?)
               If it played in England somebody owes me
               money.  Who told you that -- Eddie?

                         WILSON
                   (yes)
               Said it went on for donkey's years.

                         ELAINE
               Three seasons.  They found that's the
               limit of human tolerance when it comes to
               following the adventures of a family of
               Mormons on the Chisum Trail.
                   (blinks coquettishly)
               I was wife number three -- the ingenue.

                         WILSON
               Oh, it just ended, then.

                         ELAINE
               Now who's being sarcastic?

                         WILSON
               When you've lost as many years as I have,
               love, puts things in perspective, know
               what I mean.

                         ELAINE
               I'm sorry.  I guess the rest of us have
               no excuse for wondering where the time
               went.
                   (raises her drink)
               It must've been the bars.

     Their food arrives.

                         ELAINE
               It's a kind of prison, doing a series.
               Early to bed, early to rise, no time off
               for good behavior, you grab the boodle
               for as long as it lasts.
                   (the kicker)
               Only difference is you can't get arrested
               afterwards.

     Wilson appears fascinated by the cold glasses of water on the
     table.  Ice cubes CLINKING as he holds his.  A BUSBOY
     bringing them to other people, too, just like that, without
     anyone even asking.

                         WILSON
               I can't believe Jenny told you all that.
               About me.  She was always so embarrassed.

                         ELAINE
               Not embarrassed.

                         WILSON
                   (correcting)
               Ashamed.

                         ELAINE
               Not ashamed.

     Wilson looks at her.  Okay.  What then.

                         ELAINE
               Disappointed.

                         WILSON
               She never told Eddie, though.

                         ELAINE
               She never told anyone else.
                   (making light now)
               About the convict strain -- or is it
               stain?  No, I was privileged.  I was
               someone who helped Jenny efface her past.

                         WILSON
               How'd you manage that, then.

                         ELAINE
               When I'm not honing my craft in episodic
               television I do double-duty as a voice
               coach.  Not that her accent would have
               hobbled her progress.  Not with that
               look.

                         WILSON
               Yeah, well, she started all that in
               London.

                         ELAINE
               Modelling.

                         WILSON
               Learnin' 'ow to speak proper.
                   (putting it on a bit there.
                    Then, upper crust:)
               Central School of Speech and Drama.
               It's no doddle gettin' in there, y'know.
               At seventeen.  They offered her a place
               at RADA n' all, only she'd've had to wait
               till the next session and she was always
               in hurry to get on, was Jenny.  She could
               talk posh without any training, when she
               was knee-high to a grasshopper.
                   (indicating himself)
               Show up the old man, you know.

     Elaine smiles slightly.  None of this information new to her.
     But warming to this man.

                         ELAINE
               You weren't disappointed in her, then.

                         WILSON
               In Jenny?  'Course not.  How could I be.
               'Course I wasn't.

                         ELAINE
               She was twenty-one when she came to me.
                   (looks at him)
               ... Straight from leaving you.

                         WILSON
               Footloose and fancy free.

                         ELAINE
               She was happy here.  However the two of
               you might have parted.  Don't think she
               wasn't.

     It's because Wilson thinks the opposite that he's here.
     Looks at Elaine.

                         WILSON
               That's the trouble, n' it.
                   (hard as nails again)
               She enjoyed life.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. OCEANFRONT.  NIGHT.

     They walk along the seafront.  We HEAR the ocean but can't
     see it.

                         ELAINE
               When did you get in?

                         WILSON
               Yesterday.  Afternoon.

                         ELAINE
                   (occurs to her)
               You haven't been lurking outside my
               building all day.

                         WILSON
               No, I had -- some other matters to attend
               to, you know.  Getting a car sorted ...

                         ELAINE
               I might've been away for the weekend.

                         WILSON
               Well, I reckoned, Saturday night, if you
               were goin' out, you'd probably have to
               come home first.

                         ELAINE
               And you've seen Eddie Rama.

                         WILSON
               Yeah, saw Eddie, yeah.  Me and him are
               muckers.

     Mates.  Friends.  Makes a kind of bonding gesture.

                         ELAINE
               I should really give him a call.  He's a
               character, isn't he.  Well, not to you.
               I meant to us squares in the outside
               world.

                         WILSON
               He give me your address.

                         ELAINE
               I gave him yours.  Said, here, you want
               to write, I think this is a relative.  I
               guess I thought I was being true to
               Jenny.  Who told me she didn't have a
               father -- before proceeding of course to
               tell me why.

                         WILSON
               Well, don't suppose she did, really, most
               of her life.  On her own after her mum
               died.  Aunts and uncles for a time -- and
               then the bright lights beckoned.

                         ELAINE
               Were you still married at the time -- to
               Jenny's mother, I mean?

                         WILSON
               Nah, we split up when Jenny was six.  Her
               second husband done a runner after she
               got sick.  They give me compassionate
               leave from Parkhurst to go visit her in
               hospital.  We were always mates, me and
               Jenny's mum.  I like to think they're
               together again now.  Y'know.  Heavenly
               choir.

     Beat.

                         ELAINE
               The address Jenny gave me, that wasn't a
               prison, was it?

                         WILSON
               Nah, accommodation address.

                         ELAINE
               What's that, like a P.O. box.

                         WILSON
               Something like that, yeah.

                         ELAINE
               Where you get your bank statements.

     Wilson gives a laugh.

                         WILSON
               Well, you gotta have something permanent,
               don'tcha.  Even if it's a hole in the
               wall.  No matter which jug I might be
               transferred to, I always got someone on
               the out checks up on it for me, see.
               Anything I need to know, comes round on
               visitor's day -- word in my ear.

     Elaine pauses.

                         ELAINE
               Some word.

     Wilson leans on the wall overlooking the black ocean.  Sound
     of WAVES gently lapping the beach.

                         WILSON
               I already knew.  Knew beforehand.  When
               was it supposed to have happened? -- two
               o'clock in the morning, Eddie said.

                         ELAINE
                   (watching him)
               That's what was estimated.

                         WILSON
               Eight hours difference between here and
               London.  Would've been, what, ten in the
               morning, my time.  I was just coming out
               on the yard.  Now, I was in the habit of
               saving my newspaper till then.  Bit of
               fresh air, stretch me legs -- well,
               stretch the day out, really, that's what
               you wanna do.  And I'll tell ya:  I
               couldn't open the paper.  Could not pry
               the pages apart -- it was like they was
               glued together.  That's how weak my hands
               went.  Thought I was having heart attack,
               only I knew I wasn't.  Bloke come up to
               me, he says, Dave, he says, you've gone
               all white.  I said, fuck me, I've been in
               prison half my life, what d'ya expect.
               But he was dead on, 'cause I could feel
               the blood drain right out of me head.
               And I knew ...
                   (beat)
               Something had happened to Jen.

     They stand here a while.  Listening to the BREAKERS hit the
     shore.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ELAINE'S APARTMENT.  NIGHT.

     They come in.

                         ELAINE
               Make yourself at home.  Steal something.

     That gets her a look.

                         ELAINE
               There's nothing I can't afford to lose.

     She goes to make coffee.  Wilson looks around.

                         ELAINE
               Do you even know who Terry Valentine is?

                         WILSON
               Well, I gathered something from the
               article what Eddie sent me.  Some sort of
               pop music producer, wasn't it.

     Maybe a smile from Elaine at the quaintness of "pop" music.

                         ELAINE
               Rock n' roll, is what we called it.  He's
               sort of a forgotten figure now, but back
               when the West Coast was the grooviest
               place on earth, Terry Valentine was where
               all the happenings happened.  More of a
               kind of promoter, I guess, whatever that
               means.  Just took that whole Southern
               California Sixties Zeitgeist and ran with
               it.  Packaged and sold it.  Made out like
               a bandit.

     FLASH CUTS:

     VALENTINE. At home. Watching as Adhara undresses, either
     deliberately for him, or just casually. She smiles as she
     notices he's looking.

                         WILSON
               What's he done lately.

     That line pregnant with meaning.  Elaine looks at him.
     Avoids answering the question actually implied there.

                         ELAINE
                   (brings a tray over)
               Lives high off the hog and waits for the
               next big thing.  Like me -- but on a
               grander scale of failure.

                         WILSON
               Now, you shouldn't run yourself down.  My
               employer, Mr. Lindgren --

                         ELAINE
               -- Your employer?

                         WILSON
               -- Mr. Lindgren.

                         ELAINE
               Who's Mr. Lindgren?

                         WILSON
               My employer.

                         ELAINE
               What line is he in.

                         WILSON
               Proprietor of a London firm.  Of
               longstanding.

                         ELAINE
               I see.

                         WILSON
               Based in London, but with international
               concerns.

                         ELAINE
               I bet.

                         WILSON
               Various enterprises, style of thing.

                         ELAINE
               I thought you said you never did an
               honest day's work in your life.

                         WILSON
               Well, not to say Mr. Lindgren is
               dishonest, exactly.

                         ELAINE
                   (she gets the picture)
               Right.

                         WILSON
               Anyhow, he's always saying to me, Dave,
               never run yourself down, son -- 'cause
               there'll always be plenty of people
               willing to do it for you.

                         ELAINE
               In what capacity are you employed by this
               Mr. Lindgren?

                         WILSON
               This and that.  Y'know.  Ways and means.

                         ELAINE
               -- When he wants someone run down, you're
               willing to do it for him.

     They sort of come together -- in mutual understanding -- and
     sit down.  Coffee steaming.

                         ELAINE
               So what's the deal.  You and Terry
               Valentine at twenty paces.  Is that what
               this is about.

                         WILSON
               Why not.

                         ELAINE
               Are you serious.

                         WILSON
               Have you ever known me not to be.

     Elaine looks away:

                         ELAINE
               You fuckin' guys and your dicks.

                         WILSON
               What'd you want me to do.  Stay at home,
               twiddlin' me thumbs.  Doing sweet F.A.
               [Fuck All].

                         ELAINE
               You don't believe it was a car accident.

                         WILSON
               What do you think.

                         ELAINE
               Terry's never going to give you
               satisfaction.  Not the type.

                         WILSON
               Depends, don' it.

                         ELAINE
               On what.  What makes you so certain.

                         WILSON
               I'll bloody well ask him.

                         ELAINE
               There's the phone.  You want his number.

     WILSON

     That look again.

                         WILSON
               I got his number.

     ELAINE

     Past caring.

                         ELAINE
               I'm not going to help you.

     She goes into a bathroom.  Shutting the door behind her.

     WILSON

     Sips coffee.  Bites into a cookie.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. HILLSIDE.  UNDERBRUSH.  LATE AFTERNOON.

     Thickets part and we SEE Wilson scrambling up a rather steep
     hill.  Coming to a ridge where he settles down to look at
     something O.S.  His expression changes by degrees from
     curiosity to dawning realization to a kind of frustrated
     disappointment.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR (ON THE ROAD BELOW).  LATE AFTERNOON.

     Ed sits in here, RADIO on.  Wilson appears out of the brush,
     gets in.  Ed turns the radio down.

                         ED
                   (mindful of the odd car driving
                    past)
               Told you you wouldn't be able to see
               through that gate.

                         WILSON
               Gate's open.  I had a butcher's at the
               house.

                         ED
                   (alarmed)
               Who'd you butcher at the house?

                         WILSON
               Butcher's hook.  Look.
                   (doesn't anyone speak English
                    in this fucking country?)
               I don't much reckon those minders of his.

                         ED
               Huh?

                         WILSON
               He's brought in the heavy mob.

                         ED
               What?

                         WILSON
               Extra muscle.  Bodyguards.

                         ED
               Has he?

                         WILSON
               They look a right load of wallies.
               Patrolling back and forth outside the
               gate, all ponced up like the fuckin'
               Household Cavalry.
                   (ducks suddenly)
               Watch it.

     As one of the "bodyguards" runs by, only fleetingly glimpsed
     by us.

                         ED
               That was one of them?

                         WILSON
                   (sits up again)
               See what I mean?  Wearing bloomin'
               uniforms n' all.

     Off Ed's perplexed look ...

     EXT. HILLSIDE UNDERBRUSH.  LATE AFTERNOON.

     Wilson settles into position again, this time with Ed.

                         WILSON
               Look at that.

     Ed just laughs.

                         WILSON
               What's so fucking funny?

                         ED
               Those aren't guards.  They're valets.

     POV

     Now we SEE what Wilson had mistaken for Valentine's private
     army.  Half a dozen VALETS outside Valentine's hilltop home.
     Dressed in matching attire, a couple of them wielding walkie-
     talkies.

     RESUME WILSON AND ED

     Ed's still laughing.

                         WILSON
               Valets.  What d'ya mean valets.  What is
               he, then, the Earl of fucking Doncaster?

                         ED
               Valets.  They park cars.  He's having a
               party.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  LATE AFTERNOON.

     Wilson's car pulls up.  He and Ed get out.  Wilson engages in
     a mini tug-of-war with a Valet over his car key, it so rubs
     him the wrong way having to give it up.

                         WILSON
               Keep it handy, mate, all right?  We're
               not stopping long.

     He gestures, apparently getting the message across that he
     wants the car kept close by.

                         VALET
               Yes, sir.

                         WILSON
               Cheers.

     Exchanges the key for a card -- which he turns over in his
     hand and studies curiously as they head inside.

                         WILSON
               Valets, eh?  Aren't we all la-de-da.

                         ED
                   (nervous being here)
               I thought you just wanted to check out
               the house, man.

                         WILSON
               Well, that's what we're doin', n' it.

                         ED
               No one else is even here yet.

                         WILSON
               First in, first out, that's me.

     Looking over to note the multi-car GARAGE off the main house.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  AFTERNOON.

     Wilson and Ed are among the first to arrive.  A smattering of
     other GUESTS.  Elaborate catered cuisine.  They mosey over to
     the wet bar.

                         BARTENDER
               Gentlemen.  What can I get you.

                         WILSON
                   (suggesting Ed take first
                    crack)
               Dubonnet with a twist?  Baby sham?
               Tomato juice and Tabasco sauce?

     By now his whole dynamic with Ed is a verbal tease.

                         ED
                   (to Bartender)
               Got a Coke?

     INT. VALENTINE'S BEDROOM.  AFTERNOON.

     Valentine is checking himself in a full-length mirror.  TV on
     in background, sound low (ENTERTAINMENT WEEK!).  Not quite
     satisfied, Valentine crosses to the bathroom.

     BATHROOM

     Valentine takes one more closer look.

                         ADHARA (O.S.)
               You have the same posters.

     Valentine turns.

                         VALENTINE
               Hmm?

     ADHARA

     Is lounging in the large tub.  Staring dreamily at a couple
     of framed posters on the walls:  more 60's psychedelia.

                         ADHARA
               That you have down at your office.

     Valentine sits on the edge of the tub.  With a nostalgic air
     as he looks at her:  the embodiment of youth.

                         VALENTINE
               Different ones.

     He strokes her wet skin.  They kiss lightly.

                         ADHARA
               I like the colors.

                         VALENTINE
               We all did.

                         ADHARA
               It must've been a time.  A golden moment.

     Beat.

                         VALENTINE
               Have you ever dreamed of a place ... you
               don't really recall ever having been
               to ... a place that probably doesn't even
               exist except in your imagination ...
               somewhere far away, half-remembered when
               you wake up ... but when you were there you
               spoke the language, you knew your way
               around ...
                   (significant pause)
               That was the 60's.

     With that exit line (practiced?), he starts to go.

     Then pauses, turns again.

                         VALENTINE
               No, it wasn't.  Wasn't either.

     Comes back to her.  Faraway look in his eyes.

                         VALENTINE
               It was '66 ... early '67.
                   (comes back to now)
               That was all.

     He goes.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DOWNSTAIRS HALLWAY.  AFTERNOON.

     Wilson wanders around, exploring the house.  Comes to a wall
     of photographes.  Casually scanning them as he passes slowly
     by, he's caught up short by one.

     POV

     A framed photo of JENNY, his daughter.

     WILSON

     A series of emotions play over his face.  He turns -- SEES
     Valentine coming down the stairs.  Valentine joins the party
     without noticing him.

     BY THE BUFFET TABLE

     Ed peruses the available food.  Valentine comes over to check
     it out.  Glances at Ed without recognizing him.

                         VALENTINE
               Hi.

     And goes away.  Leaving Ed more nervous than ever.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.  AFTERNOON.

     Wilson has come up here.  Peeks into one room.  Moves along to
     another:  the master bedroom.  Opens the door gently.

     INT. MASTER BATHROOM.

     Adhara is still enjoying her bath.

     INT. MASTER BEDROOM.

     Wilson enters.  Careful.  Aware that someone's in the adjoining
     bathroom.  The soft RIPPLE of WATER from in there.  Perhaps he
     even glimpses her through the door as he boldly looks around.
     He notices a video camera on a tripod, a cord running to the
     television.  Suddenly we hear the CHIRP of a cellular phone.

     BATHROOM

     Adhara reacts.

                         ADHARA
               Shit.

     She gets out of the tub and goes for the nearest towel.
     Quickly wrapping herself, she exits.

     BEDROOM

     Adhara enters and goes for her purse.  She pulls the RINGING
     phone out and answers it.

                         ADHARA
               Hello?  Hey!  Great.  You got my message?
               Yeah.  No, Crestview Terrace, not
               Crestview Place.  Yeah, there's like three
               different ways up the hill; the quick way
               is to bear to the right.  Sure.  Okay.
               Okay.  'Bye!

     She hangs up and begins toweling her hair.  After a moment
     she stops.  Something isn't right.  She looks around the
     room, and her eyes stop on the TV.  Her brow furrows, trying
     to place the familiar image on the screen:  a girl towel-
     drying her hair by the bed.

                         ADHARA
               That's me.

     She looks over to see the video camera, which has been turned
     on and pointed toward the bed.  She's not sure if it's funny
     or creepy.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DOWNSTAIRS.  AFTERNOON.

     Valentine mingling, all smiles and movement.

     WILSON

     At the foot of the stairs.  Watches him, all stillness and
     intensity.

     VALENTINE

     Catches Wilson's eye for a nanosecond, does a subtle double
     take, then moves on.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.  AFTERNOON.

     Adhara, dressed, looking great, exits the bedroom and heads
     for the stairwell.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DOWNSTAIRS.  AFTERNOON.

     Adhara descends the stairs.

     WILSON

     Turning to SEE her as she comes down.

     ADHARA

     Makes her way across the room to Valentine.

                         ADHARA
               Hey, I thought you weren't a buffet
               person.

                         VALENTINE
               I'm a gracious host.

     WILSON

     Watching them, when --

                         GUY
               Excuse me?

     Wilson looks at him.  Reluctantly.

                         GUY
               Don't you work with Ian?

                         WILSON
               Ian?

                         GUY
               I could swear I met you with Ian at the
               EMI offices in London.

                         WILSON
               Sorry.  Wasn't me.

                         GUY
               You sure?

                         WILSON
               Unless I'm not who I think I am.

                         GUY
               That's too bad.  Ian's got a good thing
               going over there.

                         WILSON
               Yeah?

                         GUY
               Turned that place completely around.  180
               degrees.

                         WILSON
               No kidding.

                         GUY
               What I like about Ian, he believes in a
               chain of command, but not a chain of
               respect, you understand what I'm saying?

                         WILSON
               Right.  Chain of respect.  That's good,
               that.

                         GUY
               Yeah.  I really admire the guy.  Well.
               Good to meet you.

                         WILSON
               Yeah.  Cheers, mate.

     The Guy leaves.  Wilson sees that Adhara is now on the other
     side of the room, separated from Valentine.  He heads for
     her.

     VALENTINE

     Still dealing with people desperate to be the focus of his
     attention.  He notices:

     WILSON AND ADHARA

     Talking in a corner.  She seems attentive.

     VALENTINE

     In a SERIES OF CUTS, still being the gracious host, still
     keeping his eyes on:

     WILSON AND ADHARA

     Who, in a SERIES OF CUTS, continue to talk.  Finally, they
     separate, Wilson heading outside onto a deck.

     VALENTINE

     Excuses himself from a group of sycophants and goes to her.

     ADHARA

     Valentine approaches and begins talking to her, low.  After a
     few moments of conversation, they both look toward:

     WILSON

     On the deck outside.  Joining Ed, who's taken refuge out here
     with a plate of food.  What Wilson can't belleve when he SEES
     it -- is that behind Valentine's house, which is on top of a
     high hill, is nothing but desolate scrub canyon.  On the other
     side of the railing around the deck, which is surely less
     than regulation height, is a sheer drop into an abyss.

                         WILSON (cont'd)
                   (jumps back with only slightly
                    affected vertigo)
               Flipping heck.

     Ed, a little more accustomed to L.A. architecture, nods in
     agreement.

                         ED
               If you could afford a house like this you
               would buy a house like this.

     Wilson edges forward to the rail again.

                         WILSON
               What are we standing on?

                         ED
               Faith.

     They stand there looking out.  Quite a view once you get used
     to it.  Breeze.

                         ED (cont'd)
                   (nods to the hazy distance)
               You could see the sea from here if you
               could see it.

                         WILSON
               Could you?

     But now Ed gives Wilson a nudge -- SEEING that Valentine
     inside the house is making his way out here.

                         WILSON
               Why don't you go nick one of those little
               cooker what's its warming up the sausages
               cocktail and meet me in the garage.  Look
               about for a toolbox while you're at it.

     Ed considers.  His is not to reason why.

                         ED
               Okay.

     Ed moves off.  Valentine steps up, smile fully loaded.

                         VALENTINE
               Hi.  Terry Valentine.

     He extends his hand.  Wilson shakes it.

                         WILSON
               Pleasure.

                         VALENTINE
               Have we met?  There's something I can't
               quite --

                         WILSON
               EMI in London.  I work with Ian.

                         VALENTINE
               Ah.

                         WILSON
               You must know Ian.

                         VALENTINE
               I don't.

                         WILSON
               Great bloke.  Really turned things around
               there.  180 degrees.

                         VALENTINE
               I suppose that's good, unless things were
               fine the way they were.

                         WILSON
               Oh, I think a shake-up was in order.
               Definitely.  Otherwise, people get lazy,
               don't they?  Forgetful.  Start thinking
               they can get away with things.  Gotta
               shake 'em up now and again, make 'em pay
               attention.

     Wilson looks at him.  Valentine looks back.  Something about
     those eyes ...

                         EXCITED GUY
               Terry, Terry ...

     The Excited Guy appears, tugging at Valentine.

                         WILSON
               Glad I got to meet you.

                         EXCITED GUY
               Ter ... Ter ... you gotta ...

                         VALENTINE
               Thanks.  You, too.

                         WILSON
               Be seein' you.

     The Excited Guy ushers Valentine away.  Wilson watches him
     go.

                         EXCITED GUY
               Charles Grodin is here.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. VALENTINE'S GARAGE.  AFTERNOON.

     Ed, waiting.  Wilson enters.

                         WILSON
               Got it?

     Ed displays the Sterno.

                         WILSON
               Toolbox?

     Ed points to a table, where a toolbox sits.  Wilson crosses
     to it, begins going through the contents.

                         WILSON
               Put the Sterno on the ground, near the
               center of the garage.

     Ed does.  Wilson pulls a brace-and-bit from the toolbox and
     crosses to the rear of one of the cars.  Dropping to the
     ground, he bores a hole in the gas tank.  Ed raises his
     eyebrows and moves toward the door.  Wilson crosses to the
     other car and puts a hole in that gas tank as well.  Then he
     puts the brace-and-bit back in the toolbox and heads for the
     exit, Ed right behind him, giving a quick backward glance.

     THE GASOLINE

     Spills out, slowly but steadily, and slithers toward the
     garage door.

     EXT. BETWEEN VALENTINE'S HOUSE AND GARAGE.  AFTERNOON.

     Wilson and Ed walk briskly along the path.

                         WILSON
                   (gives Ed parking ticket)
               Bring the motor around.  Bang out in
               front, right?

                         ED
               You goin' back inside?

                         WILSON
               One thing I need.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DOWNSTAIRS.  AFTERNOON.

     Valentine is talking to Gordon, his beefy bodyguard, and
     looking around.  He stops as he sees Wilson once again
     stepping onto the deck.  He points Wilson out to Gordon, who
     nods and heads for the deck.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  AFTERNOON.

     Ed hands the ticket to a Valet.  He exchanges looks with a
     couple of the other Valets.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  DOWNSTAIRS.  AFTERNOON.

     Valentine is talking to Adhara, who is introducing her
     Girlfriend.  As Valentine greets her, he glances outside
     where Gordon is approaching Wilson on the deck.

     EXT. DECK.

     Wilson SEES Gordon approaching.  Gets ready to greet him.
     Removes cigarette from mouth, drops it to floor of deck,
     presses it out under his shoe.  Limbers up his shoulders in a
     subtle way.

     Gordon coming towards him.  As if to challenge Wilson's
     legitimacy as an invited guest.  Closer.  About to speak.

     But Wilson doesn't even give him a chance to do that.  In
     quick succession:  Wilson HEAD BUTTS Gordon, splintering his
     nose; KNEES him in the groin; then, using the knee for
     leverage, grabs Gordon by the lapels -- and heaves him over
     the railing!

     It happened so fast that if anyone else is nearby they
     probably didn't even notice -- or didn't readily grasp what
     they saw.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.

     Valentine had turned his attention back to Adhara and her
     Girlfriend.  When he glances back to the deck he's a little
     concerned not to see Gordon anywhere out there anymore --
     just Wilson coming back in.

     WILSON

     Adjusting his jacket, walking back through the house.  Behind
     him, people are rushing to the railing and looking over.  A
     few yells of "Call an ambulance!" etc. are heard.

     VALENTINE

     Moves that way.

     WILSON

     Moving across the room towards the front door.  They are
     heading right toward each other.

     WILSON AND VALENTINE

     Pass each other, eyes locked, almost dream-like.  Wilson's
     eyes cold, though with the hint of a smile.  Valentine throws
     a last look back before reaching the deck.

     EXT. DECK.

     Valentine pushes through to look over the railing.

     HIS POV

     Gordon -- a crumpled, inert heap way down the hill below.

     VALENTINE

     Turns to look toward the front door.  Wilson not to be seen.
     Valentine pushes through the crowd toward the door.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  AFTERNOON.

     Valentine emerges in time to see Ed and Wilson pulling away.
     Wilson looks at him, impassive, through the passenger window.

     AVERY

     Is just arriving in his car.  Valentine gestures at him.
     Suddenly we HEAR a loud, bass-heavy WHHUUUMMMPPP.

     Valentine (and a few others) turn toward the sound, which
     came from:

     THE GARAGE

     There is smoke coming from under the door.

     EXT. CANYON ROAD.  AFTERNOON.

     Wilson's car practically tobogganing back down the hill.
     BOOM!  We hear an explosion from back UP the hill.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR.

     Ed jumps -- though he's driving.  The gas pedal his most
     pressing concern.  Negotiating the dangerously winding road
     comes second.  Exhilaration mixed with panic.

                         WILSON
               Steady on.

                         ED
               You steady on, man.  What the fuck else
               did you do back there.

     EXT. ROAD.

     An especially sharp curve looms ahead.

     WILSON

     Flinches, grabs a handhold.

     CURVE

     Car makes it around on two side wheels.

     WILSON

     Gulps.

                         WILSON
               Bloody hell.

     Ed regains control.

     AVERY

     In his car, takes a different turn.

     EXT. ROAD.  CAR.

     Swerves some more curves.  Should be some sense here that a
     similar skyline route would have been taken by Wilson's
     daughter on her final drive.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR.

                         ED
               Why didn't you just kill him, you had the
               chance.

                         WILSON
               That would be too easy.

                         ED
               Too easy?

                         WILSON
               He's gotta know why.

                         ED
               You think a fuckin' guy like that ever
               will?  What more do you want, man?

     Suddenly out of nowhere -- (a side street) -- BAM! -- another
     car shoots out to cut them off, sideswiping them.

     EXT. ROAD.

     Wilson's car SKIDS into a spin from the impact.

     THE OTHER CAR

     It's Avery.  Chased them via a shortcut down the mountain.
     Now jumps out of his car, levels a shotgun at them and pumps
     off a BLAST.

     WILSON'S CAR

     BAM! -- the trunk pops open as the car rights itself.  Avery
     FIRES again, but the upended trunk is a kind of shield,
     deflecting the shot.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR.

     Despite the fact that Ed is still in the driver's seat (and
     managed rather skillfully to avoid crashing) -- Wilson acts
     like he's not there, grabs the steering wheel, jams the car
     into reverse, virtually sitting on Ed as he pounds his own
     foot onto the gas pedal -- and with his ferocious eyes
     monitoring the door-mirror, steamrolls the car backwards
     towards Avery.

     EXT. ROAD.

     Wilson reverses his car like a speeding tank:  SMASHING into
     Avery's car.  Pushing it right off the edge of the road.

     AVERY

     Falls backwards to the ground as he gets the hell out of the
     way.

     WILSON

     Jumps out of his car.  Gun drawn.  Advancing on Avery with it
     pointed.

     AVERY'S CAR

     CRASHING through underbrush down the steep bank of the
     hillside.

     WILSON'S FACE

     SOUND of the divebombing car OVER.  Another pointed echo of
     his daughter's fate.

     AVERY

     Their eyes meet momentarily.  And before Wilson can shoot,
     Avery rolls over the edge of the road himself.

     ED

     Calls frantically to Wilson from their car.

                         ED
               C'mon, man!  C'mon!

     SIRENS in the distance.

     WILSON

     That consuming rage overtaken him again for a second.  But
     the exigencies of the moment snap him out of it.

     WILSON

     Turns on a dime, goes back to the car.  Before he's halfway
     in, Ed's driving them away again.  Trunk at the back BANGING
     up and down, up and down.

     AVERY

     Pulls himself back up to the road.  Brushing himself off.
     Looking the way they went.

     He gently tosses his shotgun down into some thick brush where
     maybe he'll retrieve it later.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  AFTERNOON.

     Avery returns, sweating, walking back up the road to where
     all the action is.  Party guests milling outside, waiting for
     their cars so they can leave.  A fire truck, a police car.
     SMOKE pouring out of Valentine's garage.

     Valentine finishes talking to a couple of COPS.  Walks over to
     Avery.

                         AVERY
               You should have let me do the talking.

                         VALENTINE
               Why, because you're my security
               consultant?
                   (insecure)
               This cocksucker nearly burnt my house
               down.

                         AVERY
                   (more concerned about police
                    presence)
               What did you tell them.

     Valentine blows air, runs a hand through his hair.

                         VALENTINE
               I told them a long-time employee flipped
               out.  Had a drug problem, refused
               counselling.  Set the garage on fire,
               then committed suicide.  One of my
               "guests" tried to stop him -- but how do
               you stop Gordon.

     In this context meaning how did that rangy Englishman do it.

                         VALENTINE
               I mean, Gordon must weigh a good four
               hundred pounds.

                         AVERY
               Heavier than that now.  But are there any
               drugs in that stomach to back up your
               story.

                         VALENTINE
               As it happens.  I didn't make that part
               up.

                         AVERY
               And where is this guest?  Don't they want
               to interview him.

                         VALENTINE
               I don't know everyone here.  He was so
               traumatized he split.
                   (another notion)
               Maybe he was Gordon's pusher.

     Avery stares at Valentine.  Impressed at him thinking on his
     feet.

                         VALENTINE
               Where do you think he is, Mike.

                         AVERY
                   (already turning)
               We'll find him.

                         VALENTINE
                   (stops him)
               No.  I mean.  Not even your people should
               be involved.  Right?  It's too close now.

                         AVERY
               You could use a few of my prime
               shitkickers up here.

                         VALENTINE
               You think I'm staying?

                         AVERY
               There's already gonna be talk about how
               people close to you keep falling into
               canyons.

                         VALENTINE
               Well, can we make it one more.  Nowhere
               the fuck near me.

     He's being glib, but he's being serious.  His open-handed
     gesture inquiring of Avery:  are you up to the task?

                         AVERY
               I have other resources.

     He turns to go.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  CANYON.  AFTERNOON.

     The huge dead bulk of Gordon hoisted back up to the deck by a
     paramedic team.

     INT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.

     Valentine comes back in.  In the living room beyond, Adhara
     stands anxiously, where she's been waiting for him.  Cops
     visible outside on the deck, peering over the edge.

     VALENTINE

     Heading that way.  Then stops.  Backtracks.  Something
     peripherally had caught his eye and he returns to it.  His
     wall of photographs.

     AN EMPTY FRAME

     The one that had contained the picture of Jenny.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR.  AFTERNOON.

     Safely down the hill.  Driving away in traffic, Ed calmer
     now.

     WILSON

     Pulls the rolled-up photograph of his daughter out of his
     jacket and looks at it.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. POOL HALL.  NIGHT.

     Two characters stand, leaning, against a back wall.  Staring
     ahead, without purpose.  Halfheartedly watching a game of
     pool in progress.  Just hanging out.  Strange, threatening
     characters.  One of them is young.  Lean, hungry-looking.
     STACY is his name.  A shrewd, scheming kid.  But definitely a
     little unhinged.  Weirder is his companion.  UNCLE JOHN.  The
     title isn't one of courtesy.  He's an actual blood relative.
     Maybe 25 years older than Stacy.  But intellectually younger.
     Physically, much bigger.  The man is huge.  Nevertheless, the
     safer of the two -- until Stacy tells him otherwise.  Way
     they're standing next to each other suggests the ease they
     feel in each other's company.  Tight bond.  They're good
     buddies.

     AVERY

     Walks in.  Stops to look around.  Spots his two freaks.
     Walks toward them.

     DOORWAY

     A mysterious black man has followed Avery in.  THOMPSON is
     his name.  He hangs back and watches.

     AVERY

     Makes contact.

                         AVERY
               Stacy.

     Stacy turns to see him.  Uncle John looks vacantly.

                         STACY
                   (bored)
               Hey.

                         AVERY
               Come over here.

     That was in the way of an order.  He nods around the corner
     where it's less crowded.  Stacy stops Uncle John from
     following, and goes after Avery.

     THOMPSON

     At the bar.  Keeping his eye on them.

     AVERY

     Speaks softly.  Alone with Stacy.

                         AVERY
               How they goin', kid?

                         STACY
               Not bad.

                         AVERY
               How'd you like to kill someone for me?

                         STACY
               Okay.

     Avery gives him an envelope.

                         AVERY
               Same as last time -- the rest after.

                         STACY
                   (pockets it)
               Where do we go?

                         AVERY
               When you find the guy, you'll know.

                         STACY
               What shit is this.  I just do it.  I
               don't prepare it.

                         AVERY
               I'll point you in the right direction,
               but you'll have to take it to the end-
               zone.  He's a hit-and-run gunman -- I
               figure he's not cruising the Polo Lounge.

                         STACY
               This is un-fucking professional.

                         AVERY
               See, a successful man like me has
               limitations -- I lose touch at a street
               level.  So I have to depend on a smart
               boy like you who's closer to the nitty
               and the gritty than I am.

                         STACY
               Fuck you, Mr. whatever-your-name is.
               This is a lifestyle I embrace.

                         AVERY
               That's why I'm letting you take care of
               this.  I'm the one with appearances to
               maintain.  But who gives a shit about
               you?  Not even God.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. WILSON'S MOTEL.  NIGHT.

     Wilson on the bed.  Watching TV (ACCESS HOLLYWOOD!).  KNOCK
     at door.  He turns down the TV.  Takes a .45 from the springs
     under the bed.  Looks carefully through the peephole in the
     door.

     Opens it.  Elaine has come to visit.  Lets her in.  After
     closing the door resumes his position on the bed.

     Elaine looks around.

                         ELAINE
               I was in the neighborhood.  I come down
               here quite a bit.  Watch the planes
               taking off.
                   (re this motel)
               Study the architecture of early David
               Lynch.

     But she doesn't really have it in her to be ironic right now.
     Leans back against the door.

     Wilson remains silent.  He's done the same to Elaine now that
     he did to Ed.  Almost magically induced her to a confessional
     verge.

     Elaine, too, isn't sure she wants to be complicit in this
     revenge tragedy.  But here goes:

                         ELAINE
               Jenny was supposed to come to my place
               that night.  She called me, asked if she
               could come over.  She and Terry had been
               -- having some trouble.  Lately.  I don't
               know about what.  On this occasion, it
               reached some sort of crisis point.

                         WILSON
               She told you all about my details but not
               about his.  Lovely.

                         ELAINE
               She'd never called me like that before.
               She sounded more ... pissed off -- angry --
               than upset or afraid.  But she never
               turned up.  I called the house but only
               got the answer machine.  When they found
               her ... she'd been going the wrong way.
               Not the direction she'd have gone if
               she'd been coming to see me.  Or coming
               straight to see me.  Who knows.  Maybe she
               just wanted to drive.

     She looks at Wilson.  Shrugs.  That's it.  That's all.  Isn't
     it?

                         WILSON
                   (measured)
               How did you come to have my address?
               Found it, did you.  Among her things.

                         ELAINE
               You think Terry gave me access to her
               things?  Probably sold her clothes.

                         WILSON
                   (gently urging)
               And how did you get it?

     Elaine looks at him.

                         ELAINE
               She gave me your address.

     Wilson nods.

                         ELAINE (cont'd)
                   (starting to realize)
               Not long before ...
                   (realizing)
               She said if anything ever happened ...
                   (realizes)
               That's how you know.  That's why you're
               so sure.
                   (realization)
               Jenny's telling you.

     She's sitting on the bed now.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. MEAN STREET.  NIGHT.

     Stacy, putting on a jacket that says "Bomb Hanoi" comes out
     of the pool hall.  Uncle John in tow.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               How much.

                         STACY
               Five thousand.

                         UNCLE JOHN
                   (impressed)
               Hey.

                         STACY
                   (taps pocket)
               I got half.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Makin' trouble for someone?

                         STACY
               Yeah.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Which kind?

                         STACY
               The forever kind.

     BEHIND THEM

     Thompson, the mysterious black man, watches them from the
     hall doorway.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. WILSON'S MOTEL.  MORNING.

     Early.

     INT. WILSON'S ROOM.

     Wilson and Elaine.  Getting dressed.  She's in pantyhose.
     Fastening a bra.  He's got trousers on, reaching for a shirt.

                         WILSON
               How long've you lived here?

     Elaine sits on the bed, fastening her skirt.  Her bra strap
     cuts across her bare back.

                         ELAINE
               This town's been chewing my flesh
               since ... what we now refer to as "the
               early 70's."
                   (thinks back)
               Christ, my past became nostalgia and no
               one even asked me.

                         WILSON
               Early 70's.  I was away.
                   (tries to remember)
               Maidstone.  Possibly Brixton.

                         ELAINE
               These more highlights from the Zagat
               prison guide?

     Wilson looks at her:  she's the one who goes to bed with ex-
     cons.

                         WILSON
               You don't seem bothered.

                         ELAINE
               You don't know how I've compromised my
               standards.

                         WILSON
               Tell us about it.

                         ELAINE
               It's too involved; a lifetime of non-
               involvement.  Anywhere else I'd be an
               interesting little number, here I'm just
               SAG number forty-eight thousand and one.
                   (quickly)
               SAG meaning Screen Actor's Guild.

                         WILSON
               Oh, I was gonna say ...

                         ELAINE
               Still, there have been rewards.  It's
               sunny.  And some of the producers who
               call even have credits.

                         WILSON
               I can see the attraction.

     She glances up at him to try and see how he means that.  Is
     he looking at her or out the window?

                         ELAINE
               What did you do?  To make them take the
               early 70's away from you.

                         WILSON
               A jeweller's up the West End.  We
               tunnelled our way under the shop floor
               from the public lavatory down the road.
               Filthy work.  Trouble was, the bloody
               thing collapsed -- after we'd made the
               grab, 'n all.  Would you Adam n' Eve it.

                         ELAINE
               You mean if they'd nabbed you before you
               actually broke and entered you would only
               have been charged with making a mess.

                         WILSON
               We were lucky to be nicked.  Me and the
               lads went down there Sunday evening, we
               weren't discovered till the Monday.  Good
               job we were still breathing.

                         ELAINE
               It didn't discourage you, though.

                         WILSON
               Hey?

                         ELAINE
               From pursuing your chosen profession.

                         WILSON
               I'll tell ya something:  it made me a
               model prisoner.  Put me right off any
               escape attempts.  Tunnel my way to
               freedom after that experience?  Not
               bloody likely.

                         ELAINE
               I was inside once.  I punched a cop at a
               demo.

                         WILSON
               Did you.  What was that in aid of?

                         ELAINE
               Who remembers.

                         WILSON
               Get seven years, did you?

                         ELAINE
               Overnight.  What about just now?

                         WILSON
               Just now?
                   (playful, goes over, ready for
                    more)
               Overnight?

                         ELAINE
               You have been away.
                   (lies back, regards him
                    carefully)
               Or is all this just new to you?

                         WILSON
               It's true.  Has to be said.  I got off to
               a slow start.

                         ELAINE
               I don't believe it.

                         WILSON
               Honest.  Didn't know where to look till I
               was 21.

                         ELAINE
               Pushing the legal limit even then.

     He stands again, vaguely disappointing her.

                         WILSON
               Me mate introduced me to a woman up the
               street.  Funnily enough, she was married
               to a milkman.  Straight up.  I said,
               "Good is she?  Been around?"  He said,
               "Good?  Listen, mush, it's not that she's
               been around, it's that she's been around
               hell of a long time."

     He laughs uproariously at that.  But the point is:  he's sort
     of complimenting both Elaine and himself.  They've been
     around, had their knocks, they've lasted.  Elaine remains
     unsmiling.

     Still leaning back on her elbows on the bed, in bra, skirt,
     hose, no shoes.  She asks again the question Wilson avoided
     answering.

                         ELAINE
               Your most recent incarceration.  What was
               that for?

     And again he evades the answer she wants.

                         WILSON
               It was for nine years.
                   (buttoning his shirt)
               The last nine years.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY.  MORNING.

     For the first time, we see the Pacific coastline.  Impressive.

     And a sleek Italian sports car.  Heading north.

     INT. SPORTS CAR.

     Valentine at the wheel.  Adhara besides him.

                         ADHARA
               I've lived in L.A. all my life, I've
               never done this drive.

                         VALENTINE
               All your life.  That happened while I
               swam the length of my pool.

     Adhara looks back over her shoulder.  Checking the road
     behind.

                         VALENTINE
               What's the matter?

                         ADHARA
               Nothing.  I guess it's hard to pass on
               this road.

                         VALENTINE
               The freeway's faster, but lacks a certain
               majesty.

                         ADHARA
               Just feels like the car behind has been
               following us the longest time.

                         VALENTINE
               I sure hope so.

     INT. THE CAR BEHIND.

     A big utility vehicle.  With Avery in the front passenger
     seat.  And three bodyguards he's brought along to protect
     Valentine.  RICK driving, TOM and LARRY in the back.

                         TOM
               All I'm sayin' is travel time shouldn't
               be the same rate.  Travel time is down
               time, right?  I mean, we're not even in
               the same car as the client.
                   (to Avery)
               You told me the job was at the house.
               When we get to it.  Well, are we shadowing
               the client right now or are we just going
               the same way?  The company I was with in
               Seattle, these distinctions were made.
               Now, I don't dispute him getting the full
               whack.
                   (he means Rick, who's older)
               Seniority and all that.  But if I'm
               getting paid the same hourly rate when
               we're at the house as I am in this car,
               that doesn't sit well with me and I feel
               obliged to say so.  'Cause in Seattle
               what you're paying now for so-called
               travel time was half what we got for
               actual clock-time with the client.  So I
               just feel we should get more when the job
               actually commences.

     After this spineless whining weak-willed sob story, Larry
     just turns to him and says:

                         LARRY
               ... I'd really like to eat your pussy.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. ELAINE'S NEIGHBORHOOD.  DAY.

     Stacy and Uncle John sitting on a bench in a beach setting
     (though we still don't see the ocean).  Or on some grass,
     maybe, in a little park -- opposite Elaine's building.

     People-watching.  In their own unique way.  Stacy commenting
     on fellow humanity all around them.  TIME CUTS between each
     comment:

                         STACY
                   (after laughing loudly at a
                    handicapped person)
               I believe in mocking the afflicted.  Good
               for 'em.  Makes 'em stronger.

     Uncle John picks at the grass or sand.  As they kill the day.

                         STACY
                   (spotting a woman with a dog)
               Ever take a look at the women who work in
               pet stores?  Wow.

                         STACY
                   (as a fat jogger passes)
               Good luck.

                         STACY
                   (watching someone else go by)
               Jesus, are you gay enough or what.

                         STACY
                   (barely out of earshot of a
                    black woman with dyed blonde
                    hair)
               Very attractive.  Good idea.  Now I
               really want to fuck you.

                         STACY
                   (after a long time in silence,
                    just staring at someone)
               ... you can always tell the ones who'll do
               anal.

                         STACY
                   (regarding some other
                    beachgoers)
               Kinda makes you wonder why more people
               don't put a bullet through their fuckin'
               skulls, doesn't it.

                         STACY
                   (reading a newspaper)
               Looks like they just airbrushed the dick
               out of his mouth.

                         STACY
                   (leaning back on his elbows)
               Why don't they have TV shows about people
               whose daily lives you'd be interested in
               watching.  Y'know.  Like SKINNY LITTLE
               WEAKLING.  Or BIG FAT GUY.  SICK OLD MAN.
               FAMILY OF LOSERS.  Wouldn't that be good?

                         STACY
                   (sitting up)
               Two blacks and a Mexican in a car.  Who's
               driving?

                         UNCLE JOHN
               I don't know.

                         STACY
               The L.A.P.D.

                         STACY
                   (observing a "fast-walker")
               Oh yeah, keep doing that.  That's really
               healthy.

                         STACY
                   (his gaze following another
                    unfortunate)
               Can't you do something about your ass?

                         STACY
                   (his head turning after someone
                    else)
               Other people's lives scare the shit out
               of me.

                         STACY
                   (watching some guy rooting in a
                    trash bin)
               "Homeless" people.  Fuck them.  Remember
               when they were just bums?  Everyone with
               an axe to grind.  Like to grind in their
               face.  Pretty soon there'll be shit-in-
               your-pants rights groups.  Stupidity
               activists.

                         STACY
                   (glad he's who he is and not
                    who he's looking at)
               Wonder what it's like being a dumb guy in
               a dumb suit trying to cross the street.

                         STACY
                   (staring at another sad couple)
               Life sure is a minefield.

                         STACY
                   (clocking another female)
               Look at that one.  She's really been
               used.

                         STACY
                   (in a contemplative mode)
               I'd love to be famous so I could snub
               ordinary people.  Imagine, you're famous,
               you're sitting in a restaurant, some fool
               comes up to you, wants you to sign your
               name on his napkin, his wife is there, it
               would be something these poor saps would
               cherish the rest of their lives, talk
               about to their cretin friends.  Bam!  You
               tell 'em to FUCK OFF!  God, I'd love
               that.

     Suddenly Uncle John speaks.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Is that her?  I bet that's her.

     Stacy turns.

     POV

     Across the street, Elaine comes out of her building.  (We're
     supposing this is an apartment building somewhat worth living
     in that has outdoor parking of some kind, visible from the
     street, or only street parking.)

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. SOME STREET.  DAY.

     Elaine's car on the move.  Stacy and Uncle John in a car
     following.

     INT. ELAINE'S CAR.

     Going somewhere.  Unaware of the creeps in her wake.

     INT. STACY/UNCLE JOHN'S CAR.

     An "8x10" of Elaine on their back seat.  Another picture of
     her on a page torn from a "Player's Directory."

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Maybe she doesn't even know the English
               guy.

                         STACY
                   (driving)
               Avery said she was tight with his
               daughter.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               That don't mean nothin'.

     Stacy knows better than to argue with a moron.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               She's nice lookin'.

                         STACY
               So what.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               I dunno.  I just said she's nice lookin'.

                         STACY
               And I said so what.  You think she's any
               happier?

                         UNCLE JOHN
               What d'you mean, any happier?

                         STACY
               Any happier than any other asshole in
               life.

     Pause.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               I dunno.  I never met her.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. SOUND STUDIO.  DAY.

     On screen:  A BEAUTIFUL MODEL -- but speaking in ELAINE'S
     VOICE.

     ELAINE

     At a mic.  Wearing headphones.  Matching her voice to the
     model's lip movements.  Looping this commercial or whatever
     it is.

     INT. HALLWAY.

     Wilson.  Comes to a window where he can see Elaine inside in
     the sound-proofed studio.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. SOUND STUDIO.  DAY.

     Wilson and Elaine talk while technicians change reels.

                         ELAINE
               -- they want Southern, I do Southern,
               they want Midwest, I do Midwest, they
               want tall, blonde, and twenty-two, I'm
               shit out of luck.
                   (pauses)
               One thing I can't do is English.
               Americans can't.  Shouldn't even try.
               And Laurence Olivier couldn't do us.

                         WILSON
               You ever been to London?

                         ELAINE
               Only in the movies.

                         WILSON
               I've 'ardly ever left it.

                         ELAINE
               Yeah, well, you're here now --
                   (re Wilson's accent)
               -- where hurricanes hardly ever happen.

                         WILSON
               I've got the hang of the driving.  Found
               this place all right.

                         ELAINE
               Stick with me, kid.  Looks big when you
               get here but you can cover it in five
               minutes.

     Beat.

                         ELAINE (cont'd)
               So, is there anybody in your family who's
               not a criminal?

                         WILSON
               Not that I recall.

                         ELAINE
               What about your grandmother?

                         WILSON
               Nah -- she was married to me grandad --
               he was as bent as a boomerang -- used to
               make knuckle-dusters down the shop.
               Crafty old sod.

                         ELAINE
               He alive to see this?

                         WILSON
                   (shakes head)
               Dropped dead in the stalls in the Odeon,
               Muswell Hill.  Watching Doris Day.

                         ELAINE
               What'd your father do?

                         WILSON
               Black market during the war.

     Elaine shakes her head.

                         ELAINE
               I guess you're just habitual.

                         WILSON
               You sound like my fucking probation
               officer.

                         ELAINE
               Won't he be looking for you about now?

                         WILSON
               Good luck to him.  He couldn't find his
               prick if he didn't wear Y-fronts.

                         ELAINE
               Minor officials bother you, don't they?

                         WILSON
               Do us a favor.  Can't even go have a
               slash without 'em saying, what're you
               going in there for?

     EXT. ELAINE'S BUILDING.  DAY.

     Elaine and Wilson enter.  Stacy not far behind.  Catches
     outside gate before it slams shut.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ELAINE'S BUILDING.  DAY.

     Wilson and Elaine turn the corner into the corridor
     approaching her apartment door.  Pause to kiss.  Walk closer.

     And Stacy appears at the other end of the hall.  Both arms
     stretched out with the .38 at the end of them.

                         STACY
               Hi, kids.

     Starts to squeeze off a shot.  As Wilson pushes Elaine to the
     floor.  As another SHOT rings out from further along the hall
     behind Stacy.  Catching him across the cheek.  Only skimming
     him.  But knocking him down.  Bullet chipping the wall.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Across from Stacy.  Freezes, his own gun in hand.

     AT THE STAIRS

     Three BLACK GUYS.  Including Thompson.  They approach.  Guns
     pointed at Stacy and Uncle John.

     WILSON

     Hand on his .45 now.  But a fourth Black Guy coming up behind
     him.  Wilson lowers the .45.

     ELAINE

     Flattened herself back against a wall.  Petrified.

     STACY

     Sits on the floor.  Holds his hurt face.  Thompson walks over
     and picks up Stacy's gun.  One of the other blacks relieves a
     reluctant Uncle John of his.

                         THOMPSON
                   (stops at Wilson)
               Come with us.

     If there's any doubt whether Wilson will -- one of the blacks
     gently puts the muzzle of a gun to Elaine's head.  Cocks the
     hammer.

     They all go off down the stairwell.  Except Stacy and Uncle
     John.

     Hit men wondering what hit them.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. ROOM.  DAY.

     Like Wilson's motel room, another version of a cell.

     A small window, high up.  Bricks and debris around the floor.
     And Wilson and Elaine.  Sitting, leaning against opposite
     stone walls.

                         ELAINE
               Tell me you wouldn't prefer a steady
               income.

     Wilson takes a cigarette pack from a pocket.  Lights himself
     one.  Then tosses the stuff over to Elaine.

                         WILSON
               I got a steady income -- I'm on the dole.

                         ELAINE
                   (lights up)
               A leech on the welfare state in addition.
               You don't miss a trick.

                         WILSON
               I fiddle it.  They got me down as an
               immigrant with five kids.

     Elaine sort of shares a laugh at that.

                         ELAINE
               Yeah ... Jenny spoke fondly of her
               imaginary siblings.

     Though real ones might have been nice.  This an unspoken
     thought between them.

                         ELAINE (cont'd)
               Do you remember the last time you saw
               her?

                         WILSON
               Last time might as well've been the
               first.  I remember all the times, don't
               I.  Watching her grow up --
                   (finding the word)
               in increments.

                         ELAINE
               She told me you were a ghost in her life.
               Daddy the friendly ghost.  Coming back to
               haunt her.

                         WILSON
               Well, she twigged by the time she was
               eight or nine that daddy wasn't in the
               Royal Marines or doing scientific
               research in the jungles of Borneo or
               playing Iago in a worldwide tour of
               OTHELLO.

                         ELAINE
               Still, you could never ... do what she
               wanted.

     Wilson shakes his head.

                         WILSON
               She used to tell me she'd turn me in.
                   (tries to laugh about it)
               Little kid.  Ten year old.  "If you're
               naughty, Dad, I'll tell on ya."  She
               didn't want me sent down again, see.
               When I was planning some job.  "I'll tell
               'em, Dad, I promise I will.  Here, look,
               I'm calling the Old Bill right now" --
               picking up the telephone.  I can see her,
               the phone in her hand.  Became a sort of
               joke between us.  Only it wasn't a joke.

                         ELAINE
               She never would have turned you in, not
               in a million years.

                         WILSON
               I know that.  But as time went on ...
               well, it wasn't a joke, was it?  She had
               a feeling about it -- about the last job
               -- how long I'd get the hook for.  Said
               she wouldn't be there this time when I
               got out.

     DOOR opens.  Thompson.  Gun in hand.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. HALLWAY.  DAY.

     Thompson leads Wilson past a row of windows.  Dockyards,
     harbor activity outside.  Toward a door with things
     stencilled on it.  One of them:  US DEPT. OF CUSTOMS.

     INT. OFFICE.

     A man named FEATHER.  Black.  Half sitting on the edge of a
     table.  Wilson is shown in.

     Wilson at the door.  Sizes Feather up at a glance.

                         WILSON
               This is where I come in.

     He walks confidently in.  Outside, through the window, an
     image of a foreign sports car being hoisted in the air by a
     crane.

     There's a chair.  Wilson sits in it.

     Feather squints a little.  Seems ready to listen to whatever
     Wilson has to say.

                         WILSON (cont'd)
               How's it going, squire, all right?  Now
               listen -- when I was in the nick --
               second time, it was -- no, third.  Third
               stretch, yeah.  There was this screw had
               it in for me.  That geezer was top of my
               list.  Two years after I was slung, I saw
               him.  He was sitting on a bench in
               Holland Park.  There was no one else
               about.  I coulda gone up behind him and
               snapped his fucking neck.  But I left it.
               Coulda nobbled him, but I didn't.  'Cos
               what I thought I wanted wasn't what I
               wanted.  What I thought I was thinking
               about was something else.  This berk on
               the bench wasn't worth my time.  See what
               I mean?  It didn't matter.  It meant sod
               all in the end.

     Feather has been listening to this, expressionless.  Now he
     raises a finger as if there's a point he wants clarified.

                         FEATHER
               There's one thing I don't understand.
                   (wants to make this clear)
               The thing I don't understand ... is every
               motherfucking thing you're saying.

                         WILSON
               Look, mush, you're the guv'nor here, I
               can see that, I'm on your manor now,
               right.  So there's no need to get out of
               your pram.  I'm Johnny-come-lately to all
               this.  Whatever the bollocks between you
               and this slag Valentine, it's got nothing
               to do with me.  I don't wanna know.

                         FEATHER
               Well, I'll tell you.  I believe this
               Valentine screwed me out of a fair sum of
               money.

                         WILSON
               I can well believe it.  I'm sure he has
               done, son.  He's about as straight as a
               dog's hind leg.

                         FEATHER
               But I can't be sure.  I don't even know
               who he is.  He's too insulated.  Too many
               layers around him.

                         WILSON
               Your guess is as good as mine, mate.  I'm
               here on another matter entirely.

                         FEATHER
                   (moves to window)
               Yeah, I guess you are.

                         WILSON
               Good job your lot showed up when they did
               or it would've been me for the high jump.

                         FEATHER
               That dude who works for Valentine.  He's
               the one sent those guys after you.  You
               know that.

                         WILSON
               Yeah.  Shouldn't wonder.  Must've done.

                         FEATHER
               So what's your beef, pal?

                         WILSON
               Nothing financial.  Strictly personal.
                   (moves to window)
               I can see how all this import-export
               malarkey might give rise to confusion
               where I'm concerned.  A foreigner,
               showing up unexpectedly, like.

                         FEATHER
                   (looks at him)
               It was you.  Downtown.

                         WILSON
                   (all innocent)
               Eh?

                         FEATHER
               Because that wasn't anything to do with
               me.  And suspicion has been cast in my
               direction.
                   (pondering)
               Didn't make any sense.  Choosing those
               shitheads over me, cutting me out of the
               deal, then screwing them over too.

                         WILSON
               No, I can reassure you on that point.
               Valentine was just as surprised by that
               turn of events as you.

                         FEATHER
               He'd already grabbed more than his
               allotted cut.  Didn't think he'd be so
               bold as to take all of it.

                         WILSON
               All of what?

                         FEATHER
               Of the deal, man.

                         WILSON
               Oh, yeah, right.  The deal.

                         FEATHER
               But if you're mad at him too and he's mad
               at you ... that must make us pals.

                         WILSON
               As you prefer, squire.  As you prefer.

                         FEATHER
                   (weary of his life)
               In which case I'll just do what I usually
               do.

                         WILSON
               And that is?

                         FEATHER
               What am I doing?

     He's standing at the window, staring out.  As if Wilson isn't
     even in the room any more.  A ship being loaded out there.
     Inspectors with clipboards.  Trucks like the ones we saw at
     that warehouse downtown.

                         WILSON
               Looking the other way.
                   (turns to go)
               Gotcha.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. INN.  DAY.

     Along the way up the coast.

     Through a window we SEE Valentine and Adhara enjoying a
     pleasant lunch.

     The bodyguards hang out by the cars outside with fast food
     bags and drinks.

                         TOM
                   (to Rick)
               I mean, how much are you getting?  Just
               as a point of interest.  See, I didn't
               realize there was a sliding scale.

     AVERY

     At a payphone.  His idiots in the background.  Dials a
     number.

     INT. POOL HALL.  DAY.

     Stacy.  Nasty bruise on his cheek.  Takes a cue off the rack.
     Chalks up.

                         STACY
               Straight rotation, no shit, call your
               shot.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Lemme break.

     They're playing against a couple of other creeps.

                         CREEP
               You broke last time.

                         STACY
               Let him break - he likes to break.

                         CREEP
               Fuck you.

                         STACY
               I wouldn't talk.

                         CREEP
               Huh?

                         STACY
               I saw your mother on the Strip last
               night.  She went up to three guys, said
               she'd like 'em to stick one in each,
               know what I mean?

     Creep rushes Stacy.  But doesn't get past Uncle John.  Who
     drops him with one punch.  Flooring him between two pool
     tables.  Stacy then goes over.  Supports himself with a hand
     on each table, swings his boot into the thug's face.

                         BARTENDER
                   (calls)
               Stacy.

     Stacy looks.  Bartender holds up phone.  Stacy goes over.

                         BARTENDER (cont'd)
               I can do without you inhibiting my
               business.

     Stacy just scowls, takes the phone.

                         STACY
                   (into phone)
               Yeah.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Breaks.

     STACY

     Hangs up.  Goes back to Uncle John.  Picks up his cue again.

                         STACY (cont'd)
               We've been fired.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. VALENTINE'S HOUSE.  L.A.  DAY

     Someone we've never seen before and will never see again
     stands in Valentine's driveway.  His name is FIELDING.

     A car comes up.  Another guy, GRAMMS, sits in it.  He waits.
     Eventually Fielding walks over.

                         GRAMMS
                   (re:  the burnt garage)
               Valentine had himself a party, I hear.

                         FIELDING
                   (by rote)
               My client has already given a statement
               regarding yesterday's events.

                         GRAMMS
               A statement?  I wouldn't mind getting a
               statement.  You see, my client -- the
               United States Government -- would love to
               get a statement about a few of the deals
               going down with your client.

                         FIELDING
               Deals?  My client is involved in any
               number of deals at any given moment.
               You'd have to be more specific.

                         GRAMMS
               Your client have a deal in Long Beach?
               How about downtown?  There's some folks
               there -- oh, wait, they're all dead.  Any
               of this ring a bell?

                         FIELDING
               My client is an entrepreneur.  I am his
               lawyer, not his business manager.

                         GRAMMS
               So you wouldn't have any idea how your
               client continues to make so much fucking
               money.

                         FIELDING
               He's always been very forward-thinking.
               He invested wisely.

                         GRAMMS
               Where is he now?

                         FIELDING
               He had urgent business in the north.

     Gramms just laughs.  Just laughs and laughs.  And we leave him
     laughing.  And Fielding not.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. RESTAURANT.  KITCHEN.  DAY.

     Ed takes off an apron, heads out the door.  It's clear that
     he's not the head chef here -- because the HEAD CHEF, an
     Anglo, turns, wondering where he's going.  Over this we hear:

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               Where's Big Sur?

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               Up the coast.

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               How far?

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               I don't know -- few hours, I guess.

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               Fancy it?

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               I could use a vacation.  Of course, I
               keep forgetting, for you this is a
               vacation.

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               Never thought of that.
                   (grunt of laughter)
               Busman's holiday.

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               What's in Big Sur?

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               That's where Valentine's scarpered.

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               How do you know?

                         WILSON
                   (over)
               Bloke told me.

     Beat.

                         WILSON (cont'd)
                   (over)
               You shouldn't go back to your place.  Not
               till ... this is resolved.

     Another beat.

                         ELAINE
                   (over)
               I hear it's a nice drive.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. RESTAURANT.  BACK ALLEY.

     Ed gets into Wilson's car.  Elaine in there too.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. COAST HIGHWAY.  DAY.

     Wilson's rented car.  Heading for Big Sur.

     INT. CAR.

     Ed drives.  Wilson beside him.  Elaine in the back.

                         ED
               What d'you say, Elaine?

                         ELAINE
               Not much -- you?

                         ED
               Same.

                         ELAINE
               Uh-huh.

                         ED
               Last time I saw you, weren't you up for
               some equity-waiver thing?

                         ELAINE
               Probably.

                         ED
               I was gonna be in that Michael Mann
               movie, you know -- with Pacino and
               DeNiro.  Got three callbacks.

                         ELAINE
               Really.

                         ED
               Didn't get it.

                         ELAINE
               Well, those are the breaks.

                         ED
               Not no more, they ain't.  I quit that
               acting shit, man.

                         ELAINE
               You just cooking then?

                         ED
               Hell, no.  I started writing.

     Elaine and Wilson exchange glances.

     EXT. HIGHWAY.  DAY.

     Onwards.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. BAR.  DAY.

     Stacy and Uncle John sit and drink.  Uncle John lamenting
     their monetary loss.  Stacy thinking to himself.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               We coulda used the other two-and-a-half
               grand.

                         STACY
               There's more than a measly few grand in
               this.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               There is?

                         STACY
               Something's on.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               What?

                         STACY
               I happen to know more about Mr. Whatever-
               his-name-is than he thinks I know about
               him and his operation.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               You do?

                         STACY
               You bet.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Like what.

                         STACY
               Like he'd never hire me for real.  Not
               week-to-week.  I don't have the
               credentials.  He thinks I'm just a
               sociopath, someone he can turn to when he
               needs "plausible denial."

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Well, we blew it, didn't we?  He ain't
               wrong.

                         STACY
                   (savage mimicry)
               "He ain't wrong."  Listen, I know this
               asshole who did just go to work for him.
               Full-time.  And this dickhead's parents
               just told me he took a road trip up the
               coast.  That's the type of individual gets
               hired, someone who'll shoot his mouth off
               to his family while on the job.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               I don't get it.

                         STACY
               I don't know who that English guy is.
               Some kind of --
                   (finding the word)
               -- courier or something.  Maybe a seller.
               Maybe a buyer.  But Mr. Avery wanted him,
               those jigs wanted him -- and I betcha
               there's a briefcase somewhere.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               What's in it?

                         STACY
                   (shrugs)
               Drugs?  Cash?  Both if we're lucky.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               How we gonna get that lucky?

                         STACY
               While they're all fucking each other
               over ... couple of parties like us could
               move right in.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. HIGHWAY.  DAY.

     Wilson's car.

     Closer to Big Sur.  Scenery more magnificent.

     INT. WILSON'S CAR.

     Ed still driving.  Wilson next to him.  Opening a new
     cigarette pack.

                         ED
               I've been wondering something.

                         WILSON
               Again?

                         ED
               Do you have any friends, man?

                         WILSON
               Yeah, I suppose.  Call 'em that, yeah.
               Down the boozer Saturday night.  Meet
               some of the lads.

                         ELAINE
                   (a little more pointed)
               Friends and colleagues.

                         WILSON
               You can't count on very many people,
               that's the trouble.  Number of times a
               decent job's been cocked up ...

                         ELAINE
               Poor baby.

     Little back-seat sarcasm there.  Wilson looks kind of bitter.

                         WILSON
               Useless gits.  I was gonna do the Post
               Office once.

                         ED
               What post office?

                         WILSON
               The lot.  The whole British bloody Post
               Office.  I had a brilliant plan -- all
               worked out -- work of genius, it was.
               Could I get anybody interested?  No --
               they're too busy pinching orange squash
               from the milkman.  Lazy sods.  Jumble
               sale on in Watford, they'll be up at the
               crack of dawn.

                         ELAINE
               You're just on a higher plane, Wilson.

                         WILSON
               Too bleeding true, 'n' it.

     Flicks some cigarette pack paper out the window.

     EXT. HIGHWAY.

     The car speeds along.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. HOUSE.  BIG SUR.  DAY.

     An impressive clifftop dwelling.  Isolated on a winding road.
     On a beautiful promontory overlooking the sea.  Valentine
     RINGS the DOORBELL (actually CHIME).  It's opened by his ex-
     wife.  SUSAN.  Very well-maintained.  50-something.
     Surprised to see him.  But not overjoyed.

                         VALENTINE
               Hello there.

                         SUSAN
               What are you doing here?

                         VALENTINE
               Exercising my visitation rights.

                         SUSAN
               Since when?

                         VALENTINE
               I miss my kids.

                         SUSAN
               They're at college.  Or doesn't your
               accountant even tell you where the money
               goes anymore.

     Valentine goes inside.

     INT. HOUSE.

     He looks around.  She doesn't shut the door.

                         VALENTINE
               You've made it ... brighter.

                         SUSAN
               I don't want you here, Terry.

                         VALENTINE
               Sure you do.

     He turns to look at her.  Smiles.  Somehow it doesn't work on
     her.  One of the reasons she divorced him.  Just one.  She
     sighs.  Resigned to his presence.  Starts to close the door.

                         VALENTINE (cont'd)
               Don't shut the door -- I have people with
               me.

     Now she gets it.

                         SUSAN
               What kind of trouble are you in?

                         VALENTINE
               No trouble.

     Susan SEES Adhara get out of the sporty car parked in the
     drive and stand against it in a posture of younger chick
     defiance.

                         SUSAN
               Surely you can think of somewhere else to
               take one of your chippies for a quick
               getaway.

                         VALENTINE
               Susan.

     He actually puts his hands on her arms.  To hold her firm
     while he locks onto her eyes.  And doesn't smile.

                         VALENTINE (cont'd)
               I just need ... somewhere remote.  Away
               from L.A.  For a couple of days.
                   (now the kicker)
               I pay for this house too.

     Susan reads him.  He's not claiming ownership rights.  He's
     telling her this house, because of the connection to him, is
     a target of some kind.

                         SUSAN
               What have you done?

     The Land Cruiser pulls up outside.  Avery emerges, comes
     over, comes in.  Susan notes the bodyguards out there as well.

                         AVERY
                   (to Valentine)
               We weren't followed.
                   (to Susan)
               Susan.

     Valentine lets Susan go.  Knowing she's now speechless at
     what's turned into, as far as she's concerned, a home
     invasion.

                         VALENTINE
                   (moving, looking around)
               Where's ... what's-his-name -- Fred --

                         SUSAN
               -- You know his name is Frank.

                         VALENTINE
               Is he here?

                         SUSAN
               You know I don't live with him.

                         VALENTINE
               Go to him.  Go to his studio, or writers
               workshop or artists colony, Esselin
               retreat, nudist camp --

                         SUSAN
               Are you finished?

                         VALENTINE
               In a couple of days this whole thing --

                         SUSAN
               Who's looking for you?

                         VALENTINE
               Go now.

     Encouraging, if not in fact ushering, her towards a bedroom.

                         SUSAN
               It's been five minutes and I'm packing to
               leave again.  I can't believe this.

                         VALENTINE
               That's right, your life is Shit, and I'm
               to blame.  It's that simple.

     That does it.  Susan turns on him.

                         SUSAN
               It is that simple.  I blame you for
               everything.  Losing inhibitions and
               chicks without bras didn't have to lead
               to hardcore porno in every American
               household:  that was you.  The first on
               your block to turn on a camera in a hot
               tub and peddle it to your friends.  A
               little recreational pot didn't inevitably
               have to lead to the eventual devastation
               of the inner cities:  you made that
               happen, the first time you bought a
               bigger stash than you yourself meant to
               smoke.  It happened when you made your
               first buck hyping some so-called "event"
               that was over before it began or marketed
               some "product" whose only value was its
               instant disposability.  You were the
               first person to see there was a lot of
               money to be made selling Navajo rugs --
               you've even stolen from the fucking
               Indians!  You looked at Charlie Manson
               when all he had to show for himself was a
               guitar instead of a knife and saw another
               merry prankster, the freedom of the
               frontier.  Your pal here --
                   (Avery)
               -- He saw gated communities.  Rich people
               coming to him with their money, terrified
               of what people like you had left of this
               society.  Why invest in a marriage and
               children when you had him?  He's your
               oracle.  But you couldn't even trust in
               friendship, could you?  Still he's the
               dog you call for its dinner.  Because
               everything that might once have been fun
               or nice or sweet you had to turn mean and
               cold and sour.  That was your "genius,"
               Terry.  Haven't you read your own press?

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. MOTEL.  EVENING.

     Wilson and his friends pull in.  Get out of the car.
     Stretch.

                         ELAINE
                   (finding herself at another
                    shithole)
               What is it, you just like the reassuring
               smell of disinfectant?

     Wilson just heads for the motel office.  Elaine and Ed follow
     a little distance behind.

                         ED
               Hey, Elaine.  You even know what he's
               saying half the time?

                         ELAINE
               No, but I know what he means.

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. DECK.  BIG SUR HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     Adhara sways in a hammock.  Staring at Valentine.  Wanting to
     know what the hell is going on.

     Valentine stands smoking at the rail, looking out over the
     dark sea.  Ignoring Adhara.  Avery sits at a table.
     Bodyguards visible inside the house.

                         VALENTINE
                   (finally, to Avery)
               Do any of these guys cook?

                                                               CUT.

     EXT. MOTEL PORCH.  EVENING.

     Wilson at the car.  Elaine and Ed watching.

     Ed has gathered that something has developed between Wilson
     and Elaine.  The way she's looking at Wilson.

                         ED
               ... Reminds me of Jennifer.

                         ELAINE
                   (barely perceptible nod)
               Hard to miss.

     Ed sighs.  Awkward.

                         ED
               I thought maybe you just came for the
               ride.

                         ELAINE
               I'd rather be with him than without him.
               I don't want to be found dead in L.A.

     Wilson walks back to them.  Looking at Ed as if to say, ready
     to go?  At her as if to say ... maybe farewell.

     EXT. VALENTINE HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     Tableau.  Evening has descended.  Surfaces glisten from a
     light drizzling rain.

     INT. VALENTINE HOUSE, BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     Adhara, dressing.  Behind her, outside, way out of focus, a
     figure slithers by.

     INT. VALENTINE HOUSE, LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Valentine and Avery sit watching TV (CELEBRITY REPORT!).  Tom
     is behind them in the kitchen, flipping through Marie Claire
     magazine.

     VALENTINE

     Turns to look through the sliding glass doors.

     HIS POV

     Beyond the deck stands Larry, his back to us, facing the
     ocean.

     EXT. VALENTINE HOUSE.  BACK YARD.  NIGHT.

     Looking toward the house, Larry in the foreground, facing us.
     He takes a bite from a cinnamon granola bar, then looks at it
     unhappily as he chews.

                         LARRY
               Fuck.

     EXT. VALENTINE HOUSE, ANOTHER ANGLE.  NIGHT.

     Looking at the house from the top of the hill.  Rick stands
     in the driveway next to Valentine's car, smoking a cigarette.

     REVERSE ANGLE

     Wilson and Ed watching him.  Wilson nods his head to the
     left, and Ed moves in that direction.  Wilson moves quietly
     off to the right.

     INT. VALENTINE HOUSE.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Valentine and Avery, still watching TV.

                         VALENTINE
                   (re:  the channel)
               Check the news.

     Avery starts looking around.

                         AVERY
               Where's the remote?

     Suddenly, we hear a CAR ALARM.  Tom looks up from his
     magazine.  Valentine looks to Avery, who shakes his head:
     It's nothing.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  DRIVEWAY.  NIGHT.

     Rick turns and looks up the driveway toward the sound.  He
     puts his cigarette out.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK YARD.  NIGHT.

     Larry has turned toward the sound as well.  Through a
     partially obscured side entrance, he sees Rick walking up the
     driveway.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  DRIVEWAY.  NIGHT.

     Rick walks away from us, toward the vehicle (the Land Cruiser
     they drove here) parked up the driveway.  We lose sight of
     him as he crosses to the driver's side.  The alarm goes off.
     We hold for several beats.  He doesn't emerge.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Valentine and Avery are still looking for the remote.  Avery
     stops, his attention drawn to the fact that he hasn't heard
     anything from Larry.  He crosses to the window.

     HIS POV

     The driveway, car at the top partially visible.  No sign of
     Rick.

     AVERY

     His brow furrows.

     VALENTINE

     Notices this, looks out toward the backyard.

     HIS POV

     Same as before, except Larry isn't there.

     VALENTINE

     Moves to the sliding glass door to get a better look at the
     deck and back yard.  Still no Larry.

                         VALENTINE
               Where's Larry?

     AVERY

     Leaves the window and moves to Valentine.  Tom has joined
     them.  After a beat:

                         AVERY
               Turn all the lights out.  I'll get Adhara.

     Tom begins looking for the light switches.

                         VALENTINE
               What's happening?

     Avery is already heading for the bedroom.

                         AVERY
               Stay away from the windows.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK YARD.  NIGHT.

     Tableau.  Avery exits the kitchen and takes the surrounding
     porch to the bedroom.  Are we seeing this from someone's POV?

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     Adhara, finished dressing, looking at herself in the mirror.
     The lights behind her go off.  She turns to see Avery coming
     toward her to turn off the lights by the mirror.

                         ADHARA
               Uh, you've heard of knocking?

                         AVERY
               I need you to come with me.

                         ADHARA
               Why, what --

     He takes her by the arm.  Firmly, but not roughly.

                         AVERY
               Please.

     She sees in his expression that something is up.

                         ADHARA
               Okay.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Tom and Valentine have finally found the light switches, and
     the room is dark.  Valentine moves slowly to the window,
     takes a tentative peek.

     HIS POV

     The driveway.  Hard to see.  Is there something moving out by
     the shed?

                         AVERY
                   (off)
               I thought I said stay away from the
               window.

     AVERY

     Entering the kitchen with Adhara in tow.  He brings her
     around behind the counter.

                         AVERY
               Everybody in the kitchen.

     Valentine and Tom move to join Avery and Adhara.

                         AVERY
               Behind the counter.

     Everyone moves behind the large counter in the center of the
     kitchen and crouches down.  They have a wall behind them and
     all the windows in front of them.

                         ADHARA
                   (scared)
               What's going on?

     Avery and Tom have drawn their guns.

                         VALENTINE
               We think someone is here.

                         ADHARA
               We think?

                         VALENTINE
               We can't find ...
                   (what are their names?)
               ... two of our guys.

                         TOM
                   (fucking typical)
               Larry and Rick.

                         ADHARA
               Did somebody call the cops?

     Tom snorts.  Avery looks at Valentine:  Haven't you told this
     girl anything?

                         VALENTINE
               No.

                         ADHARA
               Why not?

                         VALENTINE
               Because --

                         AVERY
               Because I'm taking care of it.

                         ADHARA
               You guys are fucking nuts, I'm calling --

     She starts to stand.  Valentine pulls her down.

                         ADHARA
               Hey.

                         TOM
               Mr. Avery.

     Avery looks to Tom, who nods toward the back porch.

     THEIR POV

     A silhouetted figure is tentatively making its way along the
     porch, trying not to be seen.  We don't get a very clear
     glimpse.

     AVERY

     Draws his gun and takes aim.

     THE FIGURE

     Careful not to become fully visible, but growing more
     courageous with each step.

     AVERY

     Locked on him, waiting.

     VALENTINE

     Puts Adhara's hand to her ears.

     THE FIGURE

     We see a little more now than we have before.

     AVERY

     He sees enough.  Squeezes off a series of SHOTS, the muzzle
     flash strobing the kitchen area like a flashbulb, Adhara and
     Valentine flinching.

     THE FIGURE

     Hit.  Spinning and collapsing to the ground.

     AVERY

     Lowers his gun.  Turns to Tom.

                         AVERY
               Watch my back.

     Avery moves out from behind the counter and heads for the
     body.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK PORCH.  NIGHT.

     Avery makes his way to the figure, which is on its stomach
     and writhing slightly.

     AVERY

     Careful.  Takes the gun and turns the body over.

     STACY

     Stares up at him, choking on his last few breaths.

     AVERY

     Puzzled.  What the hell is this guy doing here?  He starts
     feeling around Stacy's jacket for anything useful, but is
     interrupted when his hand EXPLODES, accompanied by the sound
     of a gunshot.  He screams in pain.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  KITCHEN.  NIGHT.

     Valentine and Adhara drop to the floor.  Tom, gun raised and
     pointing, tries to see who shot Avery.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK PORCH.  NIGHT.

     Avery is turning toward his assailant, but not fast enough.
     A shot rings out and part of his neck disappears in a blossom
     of blood.  Stunned, he falls on his side, gasping.

     AVERY'S POV

     Uncle John.  Close by, huddled by the lip of the cliff.  He
     starts to move cautiously toward Avery and Stacy.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  KITCHEN.  NIGHT.

     Tom squints, trying to see.

                         TOM
               Fuck.

                         VALENTINE
               What?

                         TOM
               Avery's down.

     TOM'S POV

     A piece of Uncle John's silhouette appears.

     TOM

     Fires at it.  Didn't hit anything.

                         TOM
               Fuck this.

     Tom jumps up and runs for the living room, firing his gun in
     front of him toward where he last saw Uncle John's
     silhouette.

     LIVING AREA

     Tom runs through and reaches the sliding doors to the back
     porch.  A portion of the frame SPLINTERS from a gun shot as
     he gains access to the other side of the back porch.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK PORCH.  NIGHT.

     Tom is through the sliding doors and trying to make his way
     around to the driveway.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Crouched behind the opposite end of the porch, sticks his
     head up.

     HIS POV

     Tom crossing to the steps, slips on the damp wood, tries to
     right himself.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Squeezes off two shots.

     TOM

     Is shot in the ankle as he is about to reach the steps.  He
     yelps in pain, tries to raise his gun.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Crouched down.  A shot flies over his head.

     TOM

     Stops shooting.  Tries dragging his shattered ankle to the
     steps.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Looks over the edge of the porch.

     HIS POV

     Tom turning toward the steps.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Fires at him.

     TOM

     Screams again as his elbow of his gun hand disintegrates.  He
     slips on the first step and tumbles down, the gun bouncing
     beside him.

     UNCLE JOHN

     Sees this.  Stands up to cross the back porch.  Takes a step
     forward but is stopped by a bullet in the chest (about the
     only clean shot anybody makes).  He looks down at himself.

                         UNCLE JOHN
               Shit.

     He looks up to SEE:

     AVERY

     Near death.  Gun in his good hand.  He squeezes the trigger
     again.

     UNCLE JOHN

     A small black hole appears in his cheek.  He blinks, begins
     to raise his hand to his face, and collapses.

     AVERY

     Exhales and rolls over.

     TOM

     Still trying to get to his feet.  He gives up and just lies
     there, panting.

     A HAND

     Reaches for the gun beside Tom.  Tilt up with it to reveal:

     ED

     He puts the gun in his jacket and slides away.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  KITCHEN.  NIGHT.

     Valentine and Adhara are still stuck behind the counter.
     Valentine sees the shadowy shape of Ed slipping behind the
     back porch.

     VALENTINE

     Decides to make a run for it, following Tom's route, away
     from Ed.

                         ADHARA
               Where are you going?

     LIVING ROOM

     Valentine runs to the sliding door, smack into:

     WILSON

     Standing there.  Wet.  Mad.  He grabs Valentine by the shirt
     and pushes him back into the room.

     VALENTINE

     Bounces off the couch and onto the floor.

     WILSON

     Comes toward him.

     VALENTINE

     Grabs a lamp off an end table and hurls it at Wilson.  It
     careens off Wilson's arm and shatters.

     WILSON

     Is almost on him now.

     VALENTINE

     Tries to scramble away.  Throwing anything he can get his
     hands on at.

     WILSON

     Who keeps coming.  He grabs Valentine, pulls him up, then
     throws him into the television.

     VALENTINE

     Crashes into the TV face first and bounces to the floor.

     WILSON

     Goes to him, grabs him by the neck with one hand and pulls
     out his gun with the other.  He seems about to speak when
     suddenly he screams instead.

                         WILSON
               AAAAGGGGHHHH!

     ADHARA

     Has just stuck a kitchen knife into Wilson's back.

     WILSON

     Turns instinctively and whips the pistol around, smashing
     Adhara in the mouth.

     ADHARA

     Hits the ground.  She won't be retaliating.

     WILSON

     In agony, spinning, trying to reach the knife in his back,
     but IT'S JUST BEYOND HIS REACH.

     VALENTINE

     Scrambles through the sliding glass door.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  BACK PORCH.  NIGHT.

     Valentine stumbles out.  Notices Avery slumped on the deck,
     mortally wounded.  Goes to him -- as if concerned -- but
     actually just to take the gun.  Then runs off the porch
     toward the STEPS that lead down to the sea.

     WILSON

     Comes out after him, the knife still in his back.  So intent
     on catching Valentine he fails at first to notice Avery lying
     in the shadows.

     AVERY

     Has just barely managed to reach Stacy's pistol.  Raises it
     weakly.  Points it at Wilson.

     WILSON

     Seems to feel it.  Turns.  Locks eyes with Avery.  Avery
     could already have shot him.  But there's a momentary sense of
     recognition:  both of them just foot soldiers for fat cats --
     and Avery's is not worth saving.

     AVERY

     Lowers the gun.  Nods in the direction Valentine went.

                         AVERY
               ... that way ...

     Wilson moves on.  Avery just lies there, presumably to die.

     EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  STEPS.  NIGHT.

     Valentine hurries down the rickety steps.  Trying not to slip
     in the darkness, though there are tiny Malibu lights
     illuminating the steep and winding wooden framework.

     EXT. BEACH.  NIGHT.

     A rocky cove.  Valentine looks back up the way he came,
     HEARING the FOOTSTEPS coming down after him.  Backs away a
     few paces on the slippery rocks.  Falls.

     Lands on the crumpled, dead body of LARRY, the bodyguard, who
     was thrown off the cliff.  Valentine recoils.  When Wilson
     appears, Valentine FIRES at him.  A wild shot that only makes
     Wilson duck momentarily.  Valentine scrambles to his feet,
     runs on.

     WILSON

     Jumps down from the steps.  Stops for a moment and leans his
     back against the railing.  Bends at the knees slightly.

     THE KNIFE

     The handle is forced upward just enough to be reachable now.

     WILSON

     Grimacing, pulls the knife out and discards it.

     FURTHER DOWN THE BEACH

     Valentine runs.  Or tries to.  It's dark and the ground is
     treacherous.  The beach runs out pretty soon.  Now just
     rocks.  Maybe he thought he could get around the rocks on the
     point at the other end.  But he can't see very far ahead.
     And the tide is in, water making any escape extremely
     difficult.  He tries to scramble over some rocks.  They're
     wet, slippery.  He falls, cries out as he literally breaks an
     ankle.

     WILSON

     A dark figure.  Coming into focus.  Walking inexorably this
     way.

     VALENTINE

     Painfully rights himself.  A small bone protrudes from his
     broken ankle.  He FIRES at Wilson, gun in one hand, other
     hand gripping his wrist to try and steady it.  Doing his best
     to aim.  But the SHOTS miss their mark.

     WILSON

     Steadily coming.

     VALENTINE

     Out of bullets now.  Gun CLICKING crazily on empty.  He
     simply drops it.

     WILSON

     Now stands before him.

     THE TWO OF THEM

     Both breathing hard.

                         WILSON
               Tell me.

     This is not what Valentine expected.

                         VALENTINE
               What.

                         WILSON
               Tell me.

                         VALENTINE
               Tell you ...

                         WILSON
               About Jenny.
                   (closer)
               Tell me about Jenny.
                   (closer)
               About the deal.  Whatever fucking deal
               you had to kill my daughter for when she
               found out about it, you bastard.

     Wilson drops to the ground too, in a passionate fury, starts
     strangling Valentine.

                         WILSON
               Tell me.  Tell me about it, you fucking
               bastard.

     Easing up just enough for Valentine to sputter out a
     response.

                         VALENTINE
               She could've had the deal!  I would've
               handed it to her if she wanted.  I would
               have given her everything.

                         WILSON
               Why then.  Why did you do it!

     They're locked in a kind of embrace.  Sprayed by the waves
     crashing into the rocks.  Sweating and gasping and exhausted
     and hurt and furious.

                         VALENTINE
               She didn't want to share it, she wanted
               to stop it.  To stop me.  She said she'd
               turn me in.

     WILSON

     Shock of recognition on his face.  At those words.

                         VALENTINE
               She said, "You go ahead with this, I'll
               turn you in, Terry."

     Wilson sits back.  Panting.  Totally spent.  The two of them.
     Both on the ground now.  Whatever energy they had left drained
     -- Valentine from his confession, Wilson from hearing it.
     Valentine shaking, sobbing.  Still not realizing the pathetic
     folly of his actions.

                         VALENTINE
               She was serious.  She would have done it.
               She had the phone in her hand.  She was
               going to do it.

     WILSON

     Knows that the girl he loved ... loved Valentine, too.  Having
     heard the truth, the last vestige of revenge has vanished.
     He gets up and walks away.  Leaving the quivering shell of
     Valentine behind.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. BIG SUR HOUSE.  LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Adhara wakes up.  Hand to her smashed cheek and mouth.  But
     it's not her hand.  It's Valentine's.  She sort of shuffles
     away from him along the floor.  Sits against a wall holding
     her face.  Valentine sits back against an opposite wall.
     They stare at each other.

                                                               CUT.

     INT. PLANE.  DAY.

     Wilson, lost in thought.  Accepts a drink from a FLIGHT
     ATTENDANT.  We can see it pains him to reach for it.

                         WILSON
               Ta.

     After setting the glass down, his other hand goes to the
     shoulder where his stab wound was no doubt only temporarily
     dealt with.

     FLASH CUTS:

     WILSON. At the roadside hotel, grimacing.

     ELAINE. Cleaning his wound.

     Wilson rubs his shoulder.  The AMERICAN LADY in the seat
     beside him heard the way he said thanks to the Flight
     Attendant.

                         LADY
               You're English.

     A small beat (which he takes each time he responds).

                         WILSON
               Yeah, that's right.

                         LADY
               I can never decide what I like better.
               Leaving home, or coming back.

     WILSON

     Takes this in.

     FLASH CUTS:

     WILSON. Shaving in the mirror at his L.A. motel. He stops.

     WILSON. In the car leaving Valentine's house. Fingering the
     picture of Jenny.

                         WILSON
               I would have preferred staying home, me.

                         LADY
               You're a reluctant traveller, then.

     Wilson nods.

     FLASH CUTS:

     WILSON. In the car with Elaine and Ed, driving back from Big
     Sur. Everyone in their own world.

     WILSON. At Ed's house. Saying goodbye.

     WILSON AND ED. Shake hands.

     ED. Watching him get into Elaine's car.

                         WILSON
               Got called out to L.A., unexpected like,
               to do a job of work.

     FLASH CUTS:

     WILSON. At the airport, staring at Elaine.

     ELAINE. Staring back.

     WILSON AND ELAINE. She embraces him.

     ELAINE. She watches him leave.

     WILSON. Disappearing into the terminal.

                         LADY
               You'll be looking forward to getting
               back, then.

                         WILSON
               Yeah.  Another little matter needs
               attending to soon as I return.

                         LADY
               No rest for the wicked.

     Wilson nods, exhales.

     FLASH CUT:

     WILSON. In the cab on the way to Ed's, at the beginning of
     the film. Watching the lights go by.

                         WILSON
               Been away a lot.

                         LADY
               Where else?

     Longer beat.  He actually turns to look at her now.  Takes
     her in, then looks forward again.

                         WILSON
               Out on a oil rig.  In the North Sea.
               Nine years.

                         LADY
               Nine years?
                   (laughs)
               Is that legal?

                         WILSON
               Well, time off for good behavior, you
               know.  I shouldn't have even been there
               -- it was these other blokes who shoulda
               gone in my place.  I got lumbered with
               the job they were responsible for.  I
               don't mind pulling me own cart, but not
               someone else's, know what I mean.

                         LADY
               But you stuck it out, anyway, all that
               time.

                         WILSON
               I had to, didn't I.  Nothing else for it.
               Then just when I'd finished my nine years
               -- my contract -- wallop, I had to bugger
               off to the States.

                         LADY
                   (reacting slightly to his
                    "colorful" language)
               Sounds like you need a rest.

                         WILSON
               Could do, yeah.

     Another beat.

                         WILSON
               But first I gotta give these lads a
               talking to, these geezers what sent me up
               the river, in a manner of speaking.

                         LADY
               The ones whose burden you took upon your
               own shoulders.

                         WILSON
               Yeah.

     And he turns away, to the window.  Looks at the blue sky.
     Sips his drink.  Then, hard:

                         WILSON
               Them next.

                                                     CUT TO BLACK.

     THE END.