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The Mechanic Movie Script

Writer(s) : Karl Gajdusek, Lewis John Carlino

Genres : Action, Crime, Thriller

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                              THE MECHANIC

                         
                               Written by

                   Karl Gajdusek & Lewis John Carlino




                                             DRAFT: 07/17/2009

                         

                         
          "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name
          But what's puzzling you, is the nature of my game."
          The Rolling Stones, 1968

                         

          1.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - NIGHT

          CLOSE on the needle of a precision-weighted 33rpm turntable.
          It comes down, touches vinyl. The Rolling Stones "Sympathy
          for the Devil" purrs out...
          ARTHUR BISHOP (40's) Sitting in a comfortable wooden chair,
          stares right through us. Lean, hard, in perfect physical
          shape. In this moment, carrying the stillness of someone
          utterly in balance. For all we know, he's been sitting this
          way for hours.

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          Every man has a death that's right
          for him. Every one.
          REVERSE to find a wall of photographs, charts, official
          documents. In the center A PHOTOGRAPH of a man, mid-40's,
          East-Indian, dressed like the billionaire he is. Dodi Fayed
          meets Bill Gates. THE MARK.

          BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
          For every man, there's a way to
          leave this earth which is so right
          for them, it's almost as if they
          carry it with them.
          MOVING over the wall. MORE PHOTOGRAPHS. The Mark escorted
          from a bullet-proof sedan by ear-wired men. Entertaining at
          a palatial estate. Magazine covers: "The billion-dollar
          lifestyle." "The new Playboy." ...passing over smaller
          articles: "What does this man do with your money?"

          BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
          When the right death overtakes a
          man, there will be grief in those
          who knew him, but there will also
          be a sense of inevitability.
          Because they will know, that of
          course...
          CLOSE ON BISHOP. Statue-like, except his eyes which dart
          across the wall in front of him, making connections...

          EXT. RURAL RACETRACK - DAY

          VINTAGE RACE CARS speed by, a blur of color. But all we hear
          is the Rolling Stones' song. And...

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          ...Of course, this was always going
          to happen this way.
          WHOMP! The SOUND OF THE RACE floods in as the cars blow by,
          revealing Bishop amidst onlookers, watching, calculating.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          2.
          BISHOP'S P.O.V.: Two cars TANGLE in a corner, SPIN to a
          stop, crushing a half-million in beautiful restored antique.
          The Mark climbs from his wreck, tosses his helmet, pissed.
          Bishop raises a camera, takes a picture.

          EXT. BISHOP'S STUDY - DAY

          Bishop at his wall again, this time actively engaged, working
          it. A picture of the Mark in his vintage car goes up,
          underneath, Bishop tacks a stats page: "Fatality in auto
          accidents by type of impact. Head on, Side rear,..."
          Off to the side, bank statements, cash transfers. Saudi
          Arabia. Chechnya. United Arab Emirates.
          Bishop tacks more photos up. The Mark, getting off a private
          plane, the Mark, playing Polo...

          EXT. POLO GROUNDS - DAY

          WHACK! A Rider SLAMS a ball forward, spurs his horse
          onwards, bearing down on the ball... and SLAM! Another Rider
          comes in from the side, sends the man crashing off his horse.
          The second man, the Mark, takes a second to gloat over his
          fallen opponent before CHARGING onwards.
          IN THE STANDS. Bishop watches, takes a note on a pad.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - DAY

          Bishop keeps working, the wall completely covered now. Lists
          of possible deaths have been ordered, drawbacks circled.
          Bishop scans over various magazine covers featuring the Mark.
          One with a vintage hunting rifle slung low in his arms,
          unbroken. "American Dream or American Nightmare?"
          Bishop stares at this. Eyes moving over the wall, accident
          stats, a copy of a hunting-club reprimand... he's arrived.

          INT. RIVERWAY - NIGHT

          Bishop stands in front of a moving riverway, his body
          sheathed in a black slicksuit, backpack on. He slips into
          the water and starts to SWIM.
          We STAY with Bishop as he SWIMS HARD, powerfully, not tiring.
          Finally, we PULL AWAY, across miles of water, realizing this
          is what Bishop will swim without stopping.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          3.

          EXT. ISLAND SHORE - NIGHT

          A pair of ARMED SECURITY patrol a wooded shore. One lifts a
          pair of binoculars, scans the shore as BEHIND THEM, a form
          moves from behind a tree, blends into the woods.
          ON BISHOP. Moving fast, silent, towards a LIT STRUCTURE in
          the distance...

          INT. HIDEAWAY - NIGHT

          BLACK. The SENSE that someone is in here with us...
          A LOW GREEN GLOW illuminates Bishop in a TINY, CRAMPED,
          COMPARTMENT. No way to know what or where. The glow, coming
          from his watch, illuminates his face, crammed and
          claustrophobic. An eye checks the time, the light goes out.
          Just the sound of his breathing...

          EXT. SPORTS CLUB WOODS - MORNING

          CRACK! CRACK! PLUMES OF SMOKE rise from the end of vintage
          hunting rifles. Game birds scatter into the air. Dogs BARK,
          tear through underbrush. MEN dressed in traditional hunting
          livery move through foggy woods, followed by STEWARDS.
          This is old school hunting, old school weapons. Camera finds
          The Mark, raising his weapon, sights... BLAM! A PHEASANT
          falls, dogs race after it. The Mark starts forward but is
          interrupted by his Steward reminding him to break his weapon
          as the other hunters have.
          The Mark pushes the man back, ignoring him, hurrying on. At
          a small distance, two unhappy private security guards follow.

          INT. HIDEAWAY - NO TIME

          BLACKNESS. A soft BEEPING, almost inaudible. A low rustle
          of cloth, then the green glow illuminates Bishop's face as he
          checks the time again. Hasn't moved in HOURS.

          EXT. SPORTS CLUB WOODS - MORNING

          The Mark stumbles forward, over-eager to get to his prize.
          He's worked his way ahead of the field. The MIST has grown
          thicker. Human forms move on all sides, hard to distinguish.
          CRACK! CRACK! Guns go off around them. Dogs rush by. The
          Mark brings the weapon to his face... BLAM!! The shot echoes
          through the foggy woods.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          4.

          INT. SPORTING CLUB - DAY

          The Mark, pleased with himself as always, bursts into the
          lodge, gun over his shoulder. A round of APPLAUSE as his
          Steward holds up the morning's catch.
          He pushes on into the locker rooms as one security takes
          station at the door. The second emerges from the lockers,
          having just done his sweep.

          INT. LOCKER ROOM, SPORTING CLUB - DAY

          The Mark leans his vintage hunting rifle against the wall,
          opens his locker. He kicks off his boots, pulls off his
          shirt. Takes a second to rub his face with his hands. It
          can be exhausting being him.
          Behind the Mark, a locker door opens and closes. Like a
          ghost did it. He doesn't sense a thing, reaches for his
          weapon, accidentally knocks it to the side. It LANDS, HARD.
          The Mark WINCES, half expecting it to fire. But no.
          He starts to lean down for it when another man's gloved hands
          reach it first. The Mark smiles down at the well-dressed man
          crouched by the gun, a little confused.
          Bishop looks up, smiles back. He puts out a gloved hand.
          Before the Mark can consider, he's taken Bishop's hand.
          Bishop holds tight. The Mark's smile... fades.
          Even though we know it's coming, Bishop's actions are so fast
          and final we're taken by surprise. He PULLS the Mark in as
          at the same time he cocks the rifle's hammer, slams the gun
          into position, barrel pointed up and BOOM!
          The shot hits the Mark in the face, obliterates him, sends a
          plume of gore up against the ceiling.
          One, two seconds before the Mark's SECURITY rush into the
          room, guns lined. First sees the mess, puts a hand to his
          mouth. Second starts on the radio.
          The room is empty.

          EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - AFTERNOON

          A vintage 1972 Shelby Cobra parked by the edge of the river.
          Bishop emerges from the water, pops the trunk of the car.
          Towel and large rock inside. He towels off, tosses the suit
          and the rock into his pack, pack goes into the river. He
          grabs a sweater from inside the trunk.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          5.

          INT. BISHOP'S CAR - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop gets behind the wheel, dressed. He checks himself in
          the rearview, finds a bead of sweat traveling from his brow.
          Wipes it away, irritated, and starts the car.

          EXT. LOCAL GROCERY - EVENING

          Establishing. A quaint local convenience store off a two-
          lane road, nestled amidst trees. Bishop's vintage car pulls
          up and he gets out.

          INT. LOCAL GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          Door jingles as Bishop steps in, smiles to the GROCER, a
          friendly beefy guy in his 60's who checks the clock. 7:00 on
          the nose.

                         GROCER
          'Evening, Arthur. Got your weekly
          right here.
          The man hoists two bags of groceries onto the counter.
          Bishop comes forward, sees the Owner's DAUGHTER behind the
          counter. 12, precocious, reading a dog-eared kid's book.

                         BISHOP
          Hey, Sophie. I got something for
          you, wanna see?
          The girl smiles, puts down the book and comes over. Bishop
          crouches in front of her. He puts out two empty hands, shows
          them back and front, then tickles one ear with a hand while
          the other "appears" a small daisy.
          The girl sees it, smiles... a little disappointed.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          I'm just kidding.
          Bishop reaches into his jacket, pulls out the next
          installment in the kid's book she's reading: A series
          featuring a young female Harry-Potter like character on the
          cover: LUNA CROMWELL.
          Sophie BEAMS, takes it. A quick hug and she's back to her
          seat, opening the new book.

                         GROCER
          What do you say, honey?

                         SOPHIE
          Thank you, Bishop.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          6.

                         BISHOP
          You're very welcome.
          And she's back into the book. Bishop smiles, a little sad.
          It was nice... but the moment's over. He stands and collects
          his groceries.

                         GROCER
          See you next week, Arthur.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          A ranch-style compound, nestled in the hills. Warm, rustic,
          and inviting.
          Bishop's Cobra drives past the MAIN HOUSE, a large craftsman,
          into a BARN where he parks next to a collection of other
          beautiful vintage cars. He gets out, crosses the dirt drive
          towards his home. A STUDIO separate from the main house.
          Two horses graze in an attached paddock.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          Bishop's enters, flicking on lights. The home is beautiful,
          ordered. Everything a model of design and elegance. The
          walls are home to a collection of original and slightly
          sociopathic art. Lucian Freud, de Chirico, Zak Smith,
          Francis Bacon. Isolation, beauty, unrest...

          INT. BISHOP'S KITCHEN - EVENING

          Bishop unpacks his groceries. Organic. Raw. Supplements.
          Vitamins. Nothing looks delicious. His fridge is ordered.
          Glass containers in rows, lightly hued liquids in each.
          He opens a can of Friskies, sets it down for a mutt-like
          tabby-cat who lopes over and eats. Bishop scratches her
          behind the ears.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - EVENING

          Bishop flicks on lights illuminating the WALL covered with
          charts, documents, photographs of the Mark.
          He goes to a gas fireplace built into the side of the room,
          fires up the flames. A sideboard holds a collection of Vinyl
          Albums. Mint condition, collector. Fingers play over
          titles... Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Bob Dylan...
          The turntable needle hits Young's "Needle and the Damage
          Done." Music croons sweet into the room as pages, photos,
          everything goes into the fire.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          7.
          One photo in particular: The Mark, busy on the phone as a
          young girl pulls at his suit jacket. He was a criminal
          bastard, but also a father.
          Bishop stares down at the picture, consumed by fire,
          reflected in his eyes.

          INT. BISHOP'S GYM - NIGHT

          Bishop, running on a treadmill, full-tilt. A controlled
          sprint without end. The gym has all manner of customized
          exercise equipment. Weights, machines, a climbing wall, an
          infinite lap-pool.
          Bishop jumps off the treadmill, immediately takes his pulse,
          checks it against a clock on the wall, jots a note.
          Bishop, pressing weights. 300+ pounds. Reps over and over,
          Muscles HARD, STRAINING. In his eyes, almost a relaxed
          intensity. The rest of the world, turned off.
          Bishop RACKS the weights, LOUD. Immediately taking his
          pulse, checking the clock...

          INT. BISHOP'S GYM - LATER

          Bishop sits at a small desk, plotting the evening's work-out
          in a book. He traces columns, enters points on a graph.
          THE BOOK. Doesn't matter how impressive the numbers are,
          they've peaked and are now starting their inevitable slide...
          ON BISHOP. Staring at the book.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - NIGHT

          Bishops stands in front of his phone. He scrolls through the
          last ten calls that have come through. They all read
          "McKenna, Harry." Over and over. Three days' worth.

          INT. BISHOP'S DINING ROOM - NIGHT

          Bishop eats dinner, alone at the end of a beautiful antique
          table. Hanging on the wall across from him, a vivid
          disturbing painting of three women.
          ON HIS PLATE. His food is a meal we might expect an
          astronaut to eat. Raw Spinach, a collection of supplements.
          He crunches through something that looks like cardboard,
          chews, stares at the painting. In his study, the phone
          rings. He eyeballs it, lets it ring.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          8.

          INT. DEN, BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop sits on the couch in front of the television, his cat
          curls under his arm, purring. Bishop flips channels through
          an endless display of over-amped human behavior. People HAW
          and WINK in the sitcoms, people YELL on the talk-shows,
          people CRY and LUST on the dramas. Flip. Flip.
          A news channel shows a PICTURE of The Mark. "Billionaire tech
          mogul dead in tragic accident." Two ANCHORS discuss...

          MALE NEWS ANCHOR
          ...here's a guy at the top of his
          game. And yes there were questions
          about the money: Where did it all
          go. Were some of his friends less
          than friendly to the US? But in
          the end, it's not the feds who
          catch up with him --

          FEMALE NEWS ANCHOR
          It's that age old adage that boys
          will be boys. These dangerous
          hobbies come with the risk of
          accidents like this --
          Bishops punches off the tv, heads for the door.

          EXT. HIGH-END APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

          Bishop pulls up in his car, looks up. Hundred of lit windows
          above him, lives going on behind each. He heads forward, the
          doorman holding the door for him.

          EXT. CORRIDOR, HIGH-RISE - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop gets out of the elevator, stops in front of a door.
          Beat. He rings the bell.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE

                         (FROM INSIDE)
          It's open!
          Bishop pushes the door open, steps into...

          INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT

          Beautifully, warmly furnished. Sofas surround a living area,
          a gas fire flickering. Throws and rugs. Art on the walls,
          tasteful and human. An open bottle of wine on a granite
          counter top.
          THE VIEW. Over all the city, thousands of lights twinkle.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          9.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          I'll just be a minute.
          We catch a GLIMPSE of the WOMAN. A towel over her hair,
          wearing a skirt and a bra, crossing from the bathroom into
          her bedroom. Even in the small glimpse, she's beautiful.
          Bishop looks down at a coffee table. Magazines, newspaper.
          A picture of the first Mark's elaborate funeral.

                         BISHOP
          I'm sorry I was away so long this
          time. I had some complications...
          He turns. She's emerged from the bedroom. 30's. Long dark
          hair, damp from the shower. Buttoning a shirt, the curve of
          her breasts caught as she does. A comfortable, sophisticated
          air about her. Effortlessly attractive.

                         WOMAN
          You don't have to apologize. I'm
          just glad you're here now.

                         (BEAT)
          Are you hungry?
          She starts to move by him, his hand catches her arm and she
          is in his arms, holding him TIGHT, kissing him.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          I'm sorry. I just... miss you. I
          never thought I was going to be a
          "woman who waits." But I do. I
          wait for you.
          He nods. She breaks off, pours red wine in a glass.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          Were you in Europe? Africa?

                         (BEAT)
          Was there another woman?

                         BISHOP
          No.

                         WOMAN
          Liar. It's alright. I don't mind.
          (Suddenly shifting gears)
          I... I made something for you.
          She picks up a remote, fire up a large flatscreen TV. Hits a
          button. A moment, then an IMAGE flickers to life.
          ON THE TV: The WOMAN, sitting in this same living room. She
          wears a long sleeve shirt over panties. Sips a glass of
          wine. Smiles warm at the camera. The silence of late night.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          10.

          WOMAN ON CAMERA
          Hey, you. Just got back from the
          weekend at the lake with Julianne
          and Barry and their kids. Their
          oldest is five. You'd like him.

                         (BEAT)
          Everybody spoke about you, of
          course. We should go up there
          sometime, just the two of us...
          ON THE TV: She reaches towards the camera and the image
          JUMPS AHEAD. Another night, late. The WOMAN enters the
          frame, now wearing a stunning black party dress.

          WOMAN ON CAMERA (CONT'D)
          (announcing, giggling)
          I, just got back from seeing the
          most boring opening at the Pierre
          Grochet gallery. And of course
          everyone's asking where you are and
          of course I made your apologies,
          but what I was thinking...
          ON THE TV: She winks at the camera, happily drunk. Raises
          her dress a little, suggestive...

          WOMAN ON CAMERA (CONT'D)

                         (WHISPER)
          Why weren't you here to take me
          home and make love to me...?
          She blows a kiss. Closes her eyes...
          ON BISHOP: Watching. Emotion breaks the surface.
          The WOMAN raises the remote. Turns off the image. Looks at
          Bishop. Plain, not demanding. But caring.

                         BISHOP
          I'm not a man who... It wouldn't
          be good for you, if I was around
          all the time.

                         WOMAN
          I know. I know.
          She moves to him and they are kissing fierce.

          INT. BEDROOM, HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT

          Bishop and the woman make love. She's the aggressor at
          first, pulling away Bishop's clothing, climbing on top of
          him, pulling her own clothes away...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          11.
          Bishop grabs the woman who LAUGHS in ecstacy. He reverses
          her, throwing her down on the bed, climbing on top. The two
          of them, eye to eye as they fuck...

          INT. BEDROOM, HIGH RISE APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

          Early morning light filters into the room. Bishop, awake,
          staring at the sleeping woman. His eyes click over to the
          clock which reaches 6:00 am. As if he's been waiting, Bishop
          rises and dresses, silently.

          INT. HIGH-RISE APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

          Bishop stands in front of the plate glass windows. He turns
          and moves to a music box on a shelf, opens it. A melancholy
          tune plays. He admires the machinery as he removes twenty
          $100 bills from his wallet, tucks them under the box...

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          Stay for breakfast?
          He turns. She's standing in the doorway, tying a robe around
          herself. A cool professionalism inhabits her demeanor. Not
          crass or mean-spirited, but the romance is gone.

                         BISHOP
          Do I ever?

                         WOMAN
          No. But there's a first time for
          everything.
          Bishop goes to the DVD player, slots out the DVD they watched
          the night before and pockets it.

                         BISHOP
          Thank you. This was a good one.
          See you next time.

                         WOMAN
          Bishop... You all right?
          He turns, studies her. This is new ground. He nods and
          leaves. She stares a moment at the door after he's gone.

          EXT. WOODS - MORNING

          Bishop, running. Full-tilt again, a maintained sprint. He
          maneuvers through trees, over rocks. Below him, through the
          woods, his home comes into view...
          ... a BLACK BENTLEY sits parked in front of the house. A MAN
          on a cell phone stands by it.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          12.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - CONTINUOUS

          The man wears a mid-level suit, a hired professional.

                         MAN
          (into a phone)
          Yes, I just got here. No, not yet.
          He turns, REACTS as Bishop is there, CLOSE, barely sweating.

          MAN (CONT'D)

                         (INTO PHONE)
          Hold on, I got him.
          The man holds his cell phone out for Bishop. A beat, Bishop
          studying the angles... he takes the phone.

          MCKENNA (O.S.)
          Arthur? Jesus Christ, Arthur, is
          that you?

                         BISHOP
          ...How are you, Harry?

          MCKENNA (O.S.)
          Oh you know, I'm God Damn perfect.
          I'm redecorating my fucking office
          and I wanted your advice on the god
          forsaken curtains is how I am.
          (beat, serious)
          This is... this is something,
          Arthur. I need to see you, for old
          time's sake.

          INT. BENTLEY - DAY

          Bishop sits in the back, looks out at the city moving around
          them as the man drives. They approach the armored gates of a
          business tower: MCKENNA HOLDING CORP. The driver nods at
          SECURITY who recognize the car, open the gate. The car drops
          down into the garage under the building.

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - DAY

          Bishop and the man exit the Bentley. Four more ARMED
          SECURITY down here, seated around a table, eating delivery
          from a local Deli. Two stand, one steps forward.

                         SECURITY
          Sorry, gotta do this...
          Patient, Bishop puts his arms out as the man searches him.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          13.

          INT. MCKENNA HOLDING CORP. - DAY

          Bishop steps out of the elevator into a top-level wonderland
          of money manipulation. Desks, crushed with monitors, manned
          by casually brilliant MIT-grads. Flat screens track the
          markets. All of this overseen by a witch's tit of a MANAGER
          who eyeballs Bishop coolly.
          A tapping gets Bishop's attention. The corner office is
          glass-walled. HARRY MCKENNA is tapping on it, gesturing
          Bishop inside.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - MOMENTS LATER

          The office is high-tech. Harry less so. 60's. Overweight
          and doesn't give a shit. Cigars in a ashtray, ash-burns on
          the Persian rugs. A man to be reckoned with, in his time.
          The time has perhaps passed.
          Harry comes out from behind his desk, points Bishop to a big
          leather sofa. Bishop perches on the arm.

                         BISHOP
          I like the new digs.
          McKenna LAUGHS, like a grunt. Fiddles with his hearing aid,
          turning it up. Bishop's eyes track.

                         MCKENNA
          Has it really been that long?
          Jesus.

                         (BEAT)
          You know how they say youth is lost
          on the young? They're right. If I
          had my nineteen year old body back,
          I wouldn't be here, I'll tell you
          that. I'd be out there, making it
          my personal life mission to bang
          every stewardess who ever dared put
          on one of those whatchamacallit
          skirts.

                         BISHOP
          Times have changed, Harry. They
          don't wear skirts anymore.
          McKenna eyeballs Bishop, shakes his head. He goes to the
          glass wall, points out at the screens, financial markets.

                         MCKENNA
          You know what all that is?
          (off Bishop's nod)
          That's their money, getting moved,
          exchanged. Made clean and neat and
          proper for Uncle Sam. And I have
          always been extremely careful.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          14.
          McKenna goes to his desk, tosses legal papers on the table
          between them.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          You know what that is? That's a
          God damn subpoena from the Justice
          Department. We get a new face in
          the white house, all of a sudden
          they want to look at my records.
          They got accountants want to go
          through MY BOOKS. Are you kidding
          me? I got the left hand coming
          after me for what I did for the
          right hand.
          Bishop looks over the papers, nods.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          So I call them up. I say "hey, you
          guys gotta get your own house in
          order..."

                         BISHOP
          And...

                         MCKENNA
          And? And that's the point!
          Nothing. I tell them they have a
          problem here and instead of dealing
          with it I get silence, zippo, fuck-
          all. What are they, twelve?

                         BISHOP
          ...I don't see how I can --

                         MCKENNA
          That's bullshit, Arthur. Your
          father -- they still talk about the
          guy like he walked on water. You,
          they'll listen to. You --

                         BISHOP
          I'm not a part of that.
          McKenna stares out the window at the street below, nervous.
          Shakes a pill out of as small vial, pops it. He chuckles,
          shakes his head.

                         MCKENNA
          You remember that fishing trip we
          all took, back in the day. You
          were, what? About eight, right?
          (Off Bishop's nod)
          You fell out of the boat...
          couldn't swim a stroke. City kid.
          (Animated, laughing)
          You're in the water, splashing
          around.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          15.

                         MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          You got these big eyes like
          saucers, like you're sure you're
          gonna drown. Splashing...
          swallowing water... just STARING at
          your father and he's not making a
          move. Remember? Just looking down
          at you like...
          Suddenly it's gotten less funny.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          I finally had to grab you by the
          hair, pull you back into the boat.
          You're shivering like hell and he --
          your dad -- gives one of those
          laughs. Those big laughs everyone
          loved him for.

                         (BEAT)
          Anyway, the whole time you're in
          the water, you didn't cry out. Not
          once. You were a tough
          sonofabitch, even then.

                         BISHOP
          That was a long time ago, Harry.
          McKenna turns from the window, takes in all his monitors,
          charts. Stock lines tick up and down, graphs flow, pulse...

                         MCKENNA
          Well, I'm in the water this time,
          Arthur. You think it's easy for me
          to ask? It cuts like hell. But
          that's what I'm doing.
          Bishop eyes the barely open doorway into a small room off the
          office. Pillows and blankets on a sofa. Some clothes strewn
          about. McKenna's been sleeping here.
          A long beat. Bishop... nods. The tension seems to DRAIN
          from McKenna. He claps Bishop on the back, nods back.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          ...Thank you. Thank you.
          THROUGH THE GLASS WALL OF THE OFFICE. Bishop's eyes track as
          elevator doors open and STEVE MCKENNA steps out, a beautiful
          young woman with him, LOUISE. She's a trophy, the woman you
          get for being top dog and the one you regret getting.
          Gorgeous, self-obsessed, entitled. She flops onto a leather
          sofa as Steve moves towards the office.
          Steve's young, mid-20's, strikingly handsome, wearing the
          casual uniform of wealth not earned. But there's something
          else that arrests Bishop immediately. Unwasted motion,
          detachment, observing the world around him... from above.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          16.
          Even as Steve nods to one of his father's security and pushes
          into the room, he picks up Bishop. The two men lock eyes, a
          strange reflection not of appearance, but of nature.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          And here's the prodigal son,
          arrived to bilk me for ransom.

                         (TO STEVE)
          Steve, this is Arthur Bishop.
          Steve shakes Bishop's hand. Strong. Observant.

                         STEVE
          Hey. Nice to meet you. You work
          for my father?

                         MCKENNA
          No, quite the opposite. Arthur's
          doing me a little favor.

                         STEVE
          So you're a criminal?

                         MCKENNA
          That's enough.

                         STEVE
          Relax, relax. I'm kidding.
          A last beat between Steve and Bishop, then Steve lets it go,
          turns his attention to his father.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          I need you to make a donation to
          Louise's charity. She's mounting
          some kind of fundraiser and she
          wants to make sure we do our part.

                         MCKENNA
          What's it for?

                         STEVE
          I have no idea. And don't pretend
          you care, either. Write the check,
          go to the party, smile when the

                         ORPHANS-SLASH-HOMELESS-WIDOWS THANK
          you and call you a great and
          generous man.

                         MCKENNA

                         (TO BISHOP)
          You ever think of having kids,
          Arthur?

                         BISHOP
          Nope.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          17.
          Wearily, McKenna brings out his checkbook.

                         MCKENNA
          Wise man. How much?

                         STEVE
          Thirty thousand.
          (Suddenly, to Bishop)
          You know, I can't tell what you're
          thinking, Mr. Bishop. Usually, I'm
          very good with that, with people.
          Sort of like a bullshit detector I
          developed. But you're very... hard
          to read.

                         BISHOP
          Sorry.

                         STEVE
          Don't be. So what are you
          thinking?

                         BISHOP
          I was thinking that a son, should
          be more grateful to his father.

                         STEVE

                         (NODDING)
          I agree. I agree. I often wonder
          why I'm not.
          McKenna tears the check out, hands it to Steve.

                         MCKENNA
          There. Now go away.

                         STEVE
          Thank you, dad. Are we going to
          see you at the house any time soon?

                         MCKENNA
          Yeah, this is just a few more days.
          We got this... situation.
          Steve hears the dark in his father's tone, tracks it.

                         STEVE
          Anything I can do?

                         MCKENNA
          You? Yeah, you can earn some
          money. Get married.

                         (BEAT)
          No, it's going to be okay now.
          Arthur's helping me out.
          Steve glances between the two men. Ego slightly bruised.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          18.

                         STEVE
          Well it's good to meet you Mr.
          Bishop. My father seems to trust
          you, which is... unusual.
          Bishop and McKenna watch as he hits the atrium, hands Louise
          the check who goes out of her mind, jumping up and down,
          giving him a kiss that speaks of more to come, trotting off.
          Steve glances back one more time, then follows her.

                         MCKENNA
          We will take from our children for
          a lifetime what we would not suffer
          from another man for an instant.
          Explain that to me.
          (off Bishop's silence)
          Okay. Okay, call me when you hear
          something.

                         BISHOP
          You take care of yourself, Harry.

                         MCKENNA
          Well, that's your job now, isn't
          it?

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop exits the elevator. Security holds the door to the
          Bentley open for him. Bishop shakes his head, walks out.

          INT. ARTIST'S STUDIO - AFTERNOON

          Bishop exits an old freight elevator, enters this HUGE loft
          space. Old architecture divided by free-standing walls hung
          with PAINTINGS from the same artist who's work hangs in
          Bishop's home. Intense, slightly surreal, deeply haunting.
          Nudes, raw. Men's faces, distraught, alone.
          A matronly ART DEALER comes forward familiar, takes his hand.

                         ART DEALER
          Arthur. Glad you're here. Right
          this way.
          As they move across the space Bishop catches sight of a
          MODEL, lying nude in a pool of blue paint. Across from her,
          The ARTIST is full-focused on her. He's roughly Bishop's
          age. Cigarette dangles off a lip, tattoos on his arms.
          Fully comfortable and committed to the alternative life.
          The model senses Bishop's gaze, looks over, unashamed.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          19.

          ART DEALER (CONT'D)
          This way.
          Bishop follows the Dealer into another area where they
          approach a canvas. It's a portrait of a young boy, alone.
          The effect is of rage-filled isolation.

          ART DEALER (CONT'D)
          Zak is almost finished. It will
          make a wonderful addition to your
          collection.
          Bishop looks at the canvas. Nods. Glances back to where the
          artist is carefully adjusting his model's position.

          ART DEALER (CONT'D)
          Do you want to meet him?

                         BISHOP
          ...No.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop enters his home, sets his things down. Stares at his
          phone a beat, then on impulse picks it up and dials. The
          voice that answers is female, official.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          Good evening, Mr. Bishop. How can
          I help you?

                         BISHOP
          Yes. I'd like to speak to Dean.
          There's a brief pause on the phone, then.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          ...Mr. Dean is not available right
          now. Can I take a message?

                         BISHOP
          No. Just tell him I called.
          Bishop hangs up, stares at the phone.
          The doorbell rings. Bishop opens it to find a DHL COURIER on
          his doorstep. Bishop is suddenly casual, friendly. The
          public face of Bishop.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Hello, Don. They make you drive
          all the way out here this evening?

                         DON
          That's the job.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          20.
          The man gestures to the open barn door, the classic cars.

          DON (CONT'D)
          You find tires for that old
          FleetMaster?

                         BISHOP

                         (SIGNING)
          No, not yet. Maybe when I do,
          we'll take it out for a spin. Say
          hello to the wife for me.

                         DON
          Will do. Good night, Arthur.
          The man heads back towards his truck. Bishop tears away the
          strip that seals the envelope, a small USB jump-drive slides
          into his hands. The friendly grin on Bishop's face...
          evaporates.

          INT. STUDY - NIGHT

          Bishop fires up a computer hooked to a printer. He slots the
          USB drive into the computer. Nothing seems to happen, just a
          low pulsing red light on the drive.
          Almost instantly, his phone rings and he answers. Silence.

                         BISHOP

                         (INTO PHONE)
          We should all be so lucky.
          Click. The phone goes dead. Almost at the same time, the
          glowing red light on the jump-drive turns GREEN.
          Bishop's PRINTER fires up. It starts printing out pages. A
          few medical charts... and then a photograph: Harry McKenna.
          The new mark.

          INT. DINING ROOM - NIGHT

          Bishop eats. Lost in thought. Eyes play over his art...

          INT. STUDY - NIGHT

          Bishop hits the study, work-mode. All hesitation gone.
          Pages are tacked up, other ripped down and tossed. He takes
          out a thick pen, circles words: "Syncope cardiac spasms..."
          "Prognosis..." "Poor eustachian tube function..."

                         

                         

                         

                         

          21.

          INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY

          Bishop sits at a desk under a reading lamp, making notes out
          of a stack of books. Medical textbooks. Charts. A diagram
          of the central nervous system. Stress tests. The technical
          specs for an electronic device.

          INT. PUBLIC RECORDS OFFICE - DAY

          Bishop receives a SET OF PLANS from an attendant. Spreads
          them out over a counter. In the corner, a large photocopier.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - EVENING

          Bishop sits at his desk, a Jeweler's Loup over one eye,
          working with soldering iron and electronic tools, meticulous.
          Behind him, tacked to the wall, are copies of the building
          plans. Heavily inked. Routes in and out penned in.
          Locations of security. Photographs. He's done his recon.
          Sitting in the sun on a window ledge: an open jar of
          Mayonnaise, turning rancid. A fly buzzes around it.
          THROUGH THE JEWELER'S LOUP: Bishop is working on a hearing
          aide. Tweezers adjust a tiny chip, slot it into place...
          Phone rings. Bishop eyes it for a beat. Snaps it up. The
          voice on the other end is world weary, professional. DEAN.

          DEAN (O.S.)
          Bishop. I heard you called. Hey,
          you get the stuff I sent you?

                         BISHOP
          That's what I called about. I know
          him. I think there might be a

                         MISUNDERSTANDING --

          DEAN (O.S.)
          Hold on a second.
          A long pause. Just air on the line. Bishop stares at his
          work in front of him, his research on McKenna tacked to the
          wall. Dean's voice comes back as suddenly as it departed.

          DEAN (O.S.) (CONT'D)
          No, it's been decided. This one's
          a go. You take care of yourself,
          Bishop.
          The line goes dead. Bishop stares at the phone for a second,
          sets it down. He looks up at Harry's picture on the wall.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          22.

          EXT. CITYSCAPE - MORNING

          The sun rises over the city, shafts of light illuminating the
          top floor plate glass of McKenna Holding Corp. The SOUND OF
          A PHONE RINGING, being picked up.

                         MCKENNA'S VOICE
          Hello?

                         BISHOP'S VOICE
          They want to talk. I'm picking you
          up in an hour.

                         MCKENNA'S VOICE

                         ARTHUR --

                         BISHOP'S VOICE
          Send your people home. I don't
          want anyone I don't know near you
          today. I'm serious.

                         MCKENNA'S VOICE
          ...Thank you, Arthur.

          INT. DELI - MORNING

          Bishop hangs up his phone, watches as three bags of food are
          put up on the TO GO counter. "McKenna Garage" scrawled.
          Bishop approaches the counter, reaches over the bags for his
          own food, pushing his drink onto the floor.

                         BISHOP
          I'm sorry. My bad.
          The guy at the counter shrugs, turns for a mop. Bishop
          quickly reaches into the McKenna bag, switches a wrapped
          sandwich for one he brought.

          EXT. MCKENNA HOLDING CORP. - DAY

          A white van passes the entrance to the underground garage,
          pulls into the Alley behind the building and stops.

          INT. WHITE VAN - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop kills the engine, pushes aside a curtain and heads
          into the back of the van which is empty aside for a heavy
          acetylene torch. The bottom of the van is covered by a thick
          black matt which Bishop kicks with his foot.
          The matt falls aside revealing a large HOLE in the bottom of
          the van, right down to the pavement and the welded steel
          cover Bishop has parked on top of.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          23.
          Bishop picks up the torch, SPARKS IT.

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - MORNING

          The four SECURITY are eating their delivered lunch. Security
          #1 puts a hand to his gut. Security #2 looks over.

                         SECURITY #2
          Hey, you okay?

                         SECURITY #1
          Actually, call central. I'm not --
          And with that, he's suddenly up and MOVING towards the
          bathroom. Security #2 raises his radio.

          INT. ELEVATOR LOBBY, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP. - DAY

          Elevator doors open. Another SECURITY GUARD steps out,
          checks in by radio and heads down a corridor.
          IN THE ELEVATOR behind him, Bishop drops through the ceiling
          hatch, dressed casual. He hits a button, doors close.

          INT. MCKENNA'S OFFICE - MORNING

          Elevator doors open and Bishop steps out into the office.
          Deserted. Monitors glow, tracking markets and trades. But
          the human element is gone.
          Except for Harry, alone, silhouetted at one of his large
          plate windows, watching the sun rise over the city.

                         MCKENNA
          You ever wonder what the last day
          of your life will feel like,
          Arthur?

                         BISHOP
          You keep standing next to that
          window, maybe you'll be able to
          tell me.
          McKenna looks over, smiles weary. He looks exhausted. He
          goes to his desk, picks up a tie, looks to Bishop.

                         MCKENNA
          This turns out alright, I'm going
          to send you a dozen Thai hookers
          and a case of Cuban Esplandidos.
          You can return the hookers if you
          want, but the cigars...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          24.

                         BISHOP

                         (SMILING)
          I don't smoke.

                         MCKENNA
          You will, my friend. For these,
          you will.

          INT. ELEVATOR - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop and McKenna heading down. McKenna watches the
          numbers. Bishop studies McKenna... then, casually:

                         BISHOP
          Why the change of security?

                         MCKENNA
          ...What?
          Beat. Bishop SLAPS the STOP button. Elevator jerks to a
          halt. Bishop gets a finger into the doors, PRIES them open.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          Arthur...?
          McKenna looks at the effort, sighs. Lets Bishop help him
          down. Halfway through, BALANCE SHIFTS, McKenna starts to
          fall. Bishop STEADIES him. McKenna STARES at Bishop,
          concerned. Bishop nods, heading towards the STAIRS,
          pocketing a small hearing aide as he goes.
          ON MCKENNA, touching the hearing aide in his ear...

                         BISHOP
          Come on...

          INT. STAIRWELL - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop and McKenna reach the bottom of the stairwell.
          McKenna's winded, steadying himself against a wall. Bishop
          cracks the door, peers out.

                         BISHOP
          What the hell...?
          McKenna moves in, pushes Bishop aside.
          MCKENNA'S P.O.V.: His SECURITY. Only there are two new
          faces in the garage. Replacements packing weaponry.

                         MCKENNA
          This isn't good, Arthur...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          25.

                         BISHOP
          Listen to me. Stay here. I'm
          going to check it out.

                         MCKENNA
          Bishop, those men are armed...

                         BISHOP
          Harry, relax. I know what I'm
          doing.
          And Bishop slips out the door, shutting it behind him.

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS

          The moment he's out, he turns and sinks down in front of it,
          blocking it with his back. He opens his jacket, brings out a
          small TRANSMITTER. Waits a beat, then flicks a switch.

          INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS

          McKenna there, STARING at the door. Nothing. He approaches
          the steel door, tries the handle. Can't open it. Nervous,
          he carefully puts his head against the door to listen...
          BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The SOUND OF GUNFIRE, VOICES fill
          McKenna's ears. He staggers back, crouched, terrified...
          CLOSE ON HIS HEARING AIDE: The sounds of gunfire is coming
          from it. BLAM! BLAM! More shots, then the sound of
          POUNDING on the door.

                         BISHOP'S VOICE
          Harry! It's a trap! RUN!!!
          The door flies opens and Bishop LURCHES IN, gun raised.
          McKenna starts up the stairs, breathing hard. Behind him, he
          can see Bishop, gun lined back at the door. BLAM! BLAM!
          Gunshots assault his eardrums.

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS

          On the other side of the door, Security hears the door slam,
          looks over for a moment, but there's nothing else.

          INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS

          McKenna picks up the pace, hauling himself upwards. Sweat
          POURING off him, eyes wild. He stops, tries to catch his
          breath. Shooting PAIN through his right arm, he grabs it
          just as MORE GUNFIRE SOUNDS from below.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          26.
          Bishop comes rushing up the stairs. His shirt stained with
          blood. Gun in his hand.

                         BISHOP
          Come on! If we can get to the roof
          I can hold them off! Come on!
          McKenna GULPS AIR, staggers on...

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - MOMENTS LATER

          Door BLOWS open, McKenna staggers onto the rooftop. The
          manic victory of having made it clashing with the tragic
          knowledge that his heart is rebelling.
          He falls to his knees, clutching his right arm. PAIN
          coursing through his body. Unaware for the moment that
          everything has gone silent.
          FEET come into his view. He looks up, sees Bishop standing
          over him. Bishop's face is a death mask. Emotion removed.
          Harry stares into his eyes... and understands.

                         MCKENNA
          ...You.
          Bishop nods. McKenna CACKLES which turns into a scream as
          PAIN sends him reeling. He falls, hitting his head. Blood
          rolls down his face.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          You bastard. You... Sonofabitch.
          You didn't have the balls... The
          balls to AARRRGHHHH!
          He CONVULSES. Tears stream down his face. His body HEAVING,
          not giving up the ghost.
          ON BISHOP. We know it's in there. But it doesn't show.
          Instead he checks his watch, calculates time...

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          Oh God. Oh, Jesus Christ help me.

          ARRGHHHH!!! ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!
          Please... Please... Please...
          McKenna stops struggling, stares up at Bishop. Tears
          streaming down his face.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          Please, Arthur, put me out of my
          misery. Your father...
          Bishop checks his watch again, doesn't meet McKenna's eyes.
          Checks the stair door, looks over the building edge...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          27.

          MCKENNA (CONT'D)
          Please. I'm scared. I'm really
          god damn scared...
          Suddenly Bishop MOVES. Lightening fast, wrapping up
          McKenna's head, fingers PRESSING expertly along arteries.
          McKenna STARES UP one horrible second, then goes limp in his
          arms, dead.
          Bishop releases, stands, stares down. For the first time,
          uncertainty in his face. Why did he do that? He looks at
          the body, at his hands, out at the city. Wipes his forehead
          with the back of a hand, furious at himself.
          He reaches down, removes the hearing aide from McKenna's ear,
          replaces it with the original, turns away.
          SEEN FROM FAR ABOVE. McKenna's body, alone on the rooftop.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - NIGHT

          WITH STEVE as he pushes through doors into a MASS of Police,
          detectives, private security, lawyers, all milling about on
          phones, gathered around a figure on the ground...

          INT. ARTIST'S STUDIO - NIGHT

          The Art Dealer hands Bishop the finished painting, wrapped.
          At the far end of the studio the Artist and his friends smoke
          and drink and laugh. Bishop nods thanks, turns and leaves.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - NIGHT

          Steve stares down at his dead father. A COP draws a line
          around the body. Steve is expressionless.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop backs off from the wall where he has just hung the new
          painting of the boy. It stares back at him.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - EARLY MORNING

          Blue-gray morning. Cold wind blows across the rooftop.
          Steve watches the last police leave. He's alone. He stares
          down at the outline where his father lay.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          28.

          EXT. CEMTERY - DAY

          A funeral in progress, hundreds of flower arrangements,
          decorations, fit for a head of state. A few dozen attendees.
          At the front, Steve McKenna sits in front of his father's
          coffin, cold. His girlfriend Louise next to him, weeping.
          She cries at funerals.
          Bishop stands at the back. His eyes scan over the
          proceedings. Sixth-sense, Steve suddenly turns his head,
          makes eye contact with Bishop.

                         PRIEST
          His good works comfort all of us,
          even in his going. We commit his
          remains to your earth, oh Father,
          and we pray you vouchsafe him
          eternal life and that you bring
          comfort to those who have been left
          behind. His only son, Steve, who
          is himself devoted to --
          The Priest falters as Steve rises, moves away from the event.
          Bishop tracks him as he wanders through gravestones.

          PRIEST (CONT'D)
          ...Glory be to the Father, and to
          the Son, and to the Holy Ghost...

          EXT. CEMTERY - DAY (LATER)

          At the gravesite, men fill in the hole with dirt. Nearby,
          six limousines are lined up. But only the one directly after
          the hearse has its door open for Louise who stands, waiting,
          looking for Steve.
          Bishop watches the dirt hit the coffin. Then looks over as
          Steve approaches through mausoleums.

                         BISHOP
          My condolences.

                         STEVE

                         (NODS)
          Yeah, Harry was a popular guy.
          Good to see so many of his friends
          here. Touching.
          Bishop considers, tracks the attendees who pass by a suited
          man as they leave... Each of them receiving and pocketing an
          envelope as they do. Bishop looks back to Steve.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Best grief money can buy. Give me
          a ride home?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          29.
          Bishop nods to the head limo where Louise is waving
          impatiently at Steve to come.

                         BISHOP
          Looks like you have one.

                         STEVE
          Yeah, all of that. Empty limos.
          Fake guests. All so that the
          papers print what an important and
          respected man Harry was.
          Steve takes in the one or two guests, already counting their
          money a few yards away. Shakes his head.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Well, I hope it's what Harry would
          have wanted. But it's not for me.
          Beat. Bishop nods.

          INT. BISHOP'S CAR - DAY

          Bishop steers the car into the hills, past high-end estates.

                         STEVE
          You know, what I don't get is you.
          Harry didn't have any friends.

                         BISHOP
          Your dad worked with my father a
          long time ago.

                         STEVE
          So?

                         BISHOP
          So, just paying my respects.

                         STEVE
          So your old man was into all that?

                         BISHOP

                         (SMALL NOD)
          Yeah, he was into all that.

                         STEVE
          Well, that is refreshingly honest,
          Mr. Bishop. What about you?
          Bishop doesn't answer, steers the car up a manicured drive.
          P.O.V. - THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD: An ESTATE. A main house,
          lawns, pools, guest houses.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          30.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - AFTERNOON

          Steve and Bishop get out of the car. The McKenna estate was
          modeled neoclassical for a wanna-be emperor. Now a week of
          youth with limitless credit has left its mark. A SOUND
          SYSTEM has been set up poolside. A DJ spins a trance-like
          deep groove. YOUNG WOMEN lounge around the pool in bikinis,
          less. Beautiful and bored. YOUNG MEN, most dressed modern
          hip-hop, mostly white, eyeball the women, fist-bump each
          other, drink beers.
          Steve takes the whole thing in, nods, somehow pleased.

                         STEVE
          Why is it so comforting, when
          people surpass even our lowest
          expectations?

                         (BEAT)
          Come on in, meet the crowd.

                         BISHOP
          No, thanks. I've got to --

                         STEVE
          Please. A favor to me. None of
          these people even remembered what
          today was.
          Bishop nods. They move into the scene. People recognize
          Steve, hug or bump-fists. Steve's friendly, but stays locked
          on Bishop. Bishop observes it all, not uncomfortable.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Do you believe in fate, Mr. Bishop?

                         BISHOP
          Why?
          A basketball hoop has been set up near the pool. Young men
          take turns dunking and then landing in the water.

                         STEVE
          I think maybe we're all doomed to
          become our fathers. I'll probably
          die spoiled, corrupt, lonely and
          alone. Runs in the blood. What
          would that make you?

                         BISHOP
          You're still young. You can do
          pretty much whatever you please.
          AT THE HOT TUB, two girls kiss each other, filmed in DV by an
          young entrepreneur.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          31.

                         STEVE
          You think so? Just chuck all this
          and go help the children in South
          America, something like that?

                         BISHOP
          Maybe.

                         STEVE
          Well look at you, Mr. Bishop.
          You're a dreamer.
          Steve heads inside. A beat, Bishop follows.

          INT. MCKENNA ESTATE - AFTERNOON

          As soon as they enter, Steve finds himself locked up by two
          BEAUTIES who whisper excitedly in his ear.

                         BEAUTY #1
          Well? Do you want to...?

                         STEVE
          No, in fact I'm pretty sure that's
          illegal in this state.

                         (TO BISHOP)
          Come on, this way.
          Steve leaves the Beauties disappointed, moves up some stairs.
          Bishop follows.

          INT. MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          Steve and Bishop move into another room where two HUGE
          flatscreens have converted the room into a Wii court. Young
          muscle-bound posers play a first person head-to-head shoot-em
          game. Others drink, CHEER.
          Two bump fists with Steve. One fronts cool at Bishop, fakes
          a punch at him. Bishop just watches, doesn't do a thing.
          The kid smiles, nods...
          On the floor, paintings of Harry McKenna, discarded.

          INT. MASTER SUITE, MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          This used to be Harry's realm. Now Steve's taken it over.
          Giant ornate king bed. Huge balcony overlooking the estate.
          Steve goes to the railing of the balcony, looks down at the
          grounds, the people. Bishop hangs back, glances into a
          private study, untouched from when Harry ruled there.
          Papers, books, a portrait of Harry over the desk.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          32.

                         STEVE
          You know, I went up there. To
          where my father died.

                         BISHOP
          Oh?

                         STEVE
          Hell of a place to die. Lonely...
          Bishop comes abreast of Steve, also looks down. Removed from
          the party and the pool area, a separate area of the estate
          contains an outdoor gym. Weights, exercise equipment, a
          fighting matt and martial arts equipment all present.

                         BISHOP
          (off the gym area)
          That all yours?

                         STEVE
          If the body is weak, the mind can't
          be strong.
          Bishop nods, impressed. Something about this young man.
          Engaged, observing Bishop, but not needy.

          MALE VOICE (O.S.)
          Steve! Steve, man. It's Louise.
          At the door, a FRIEND of Steve's is held back by security.

                         FRIEND
          She's up in the bungalow. I think
          she might really do it this time.

                         STEVE

                         (TO BISHOP)
          My girlfriend thinks that my
          father's death is a good time to
          kill herself. She thinks I'm not
          showing the appropriate human
          reaction.

                         BISHOP
          I'll let myself out.

                         STEVE
          No, please. You've seen this much.
          Aren't you interested? I am.
          Off Bishop...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          33.

          EXT. BUNGALOW, MCKENNA ESTATE - EARLY EVENING

          Steve and Bishop push through a guarded gate, up a small path
          arriving at a beautiful bungalow, set back in the gardens.
          Candle light glows inside.

          INT. BUNGALOW, MCKENNA ESTATE - EARLY EVENING

          Louise is nude, immersed in the water of a jacuzzi located in
          the center of the room. On the side, she has a bottle of
          scotch, some pills, and two razor blades.
          She looks up at Steve, streaked eyes dart to Bishop.

                         LOUISE
          Who's he?

                         STEVE
          A friend. Would have thought you'd
          have started by now.

                         LOUISE
          This isn't about me. It's about
          you. You need to watch.
          Steve crouches down, pours himself a shot from her whiskey
          bottle. Something angry and cold in his eyes.

                         STEVE
          Okay. I'm here. I'm watching.

                         LOUISE
          You don't believe I'll do it.

                         STEVE
          No, I know you, Louise. You'll do
          just about anything if it'll get
          you enough attention.

                         LOUISE
          You think you can hide behind that
          cool attitude. Like nothing
          matters to you. But I know you.
          You care. You feel.

                         STEVE
          Do I?
          Louise blinks, scared a little. But she pushes the fear
          away, picks up one of the razor blades. A beat, then with a
          quick gesture, she slices across one wrist. Blood rises to
          the surface, runs down her arms into the water.
          Steve doesn't move. Neither does Bishop. Louise picks up
          the second blade with the cut hand. Fingers fumble, but she
          gets it. Slices across her other wrist.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          34.
          Blood runs... stains the water rose.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          ...Wow.

                         LOUISE
          How long will it take?

                         STEVE

                         (HE SHRUGS)
          Mr. Bishop?
          Bishop rises, looks down at her in the tub.

                         BISHOP
          How much do you weigh?

                         LOUISE
          A hundred and ten.
          His eyes take in her body, the flow from her wrists...

                         BISHOP
          You're a hundred and twenty-five.
          It'll take an hour and a half,
          maybe two. When you get cold...
          then you'll know you're close.
          Steve takes in Bishop in this moment, nods. Glances at the
          clock: 9:30. Then he refills his drink, heads out to the
          patio outside. Sits facing away from them.

                         LOUISE
          He'll stop it. He thinks he's
          above it all. But he's not. No
          one is.
          Bishop nods. Not clear if he's agreeing or observing.

          EXT. BUNGALOW, MCKENNA ESTATE - EVENING

          Bishop sits with Steve on the patio. From inside, Louise's
          soft crying can be heard. Seen through the trees in front of
          them, young people dance, splash, party.

                         LOUISE

                         (FROM INSIDE)
          Steve! Steve! I know you feel
          this. I know you'll stop me.

                         STEVE

                         (CALLING BACK)
          If you don't care anything about
          your life, why should I?
          Steve looks to Bishop. He checks his watch. 10:30.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          35.

                         LOUISE
          I'm getting cold. Please. I'm
          frightened. I'm scared, Steve.
          Bishop looks at Steve who just keeps staring outwards.

                         STEVE
          You can help her if you want.
          The sounds of water, splashing. Louise arrives on the patio,
          a blood-stained robe loosely pulled on around her. Mascara
          eyes ran. She stares down at Steve.

                         LOUISE
          You're a bastard.

                         STEVE
          You know what the kick of it is,
          Louise? If you actually had the
          stones, then there's be something
          for us. But in 30 seconds when you
          run down that path and all of those
          people go crazy saving your life...
          Well, then we'll be done.

                         (BEAT)
          I know. Catch-22. Life's not
          fair.

                         LOUISE

                         (REALIZING)
          What happened to you?

                         STEVE
          Maybe nothing. Maybe you never
          really knew me.
          A beat. Louise, looking between the two men. She SWAYS on
          her feet and Bishop puts a hand out, steadies her.

                         LOUISE
          You're a bastard, too. Both of
          you. Like looking in some dark
          mirror.

                         STEVE
          Go on, Louise. You'll do fine.
          The world's gonna love you.
          Louise steps away, turns, stumbling down the path into the
          dark. A beat, the men just watching after her and then a
          SCREAM from below. COMMOTION, ACTION. People rush to
          Louise, help her to the ground. Others pulling out cell
          phones, call for help. Louise's LOUD cries drift back.

                         BISHOP
          Would you have let her do it?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          36.

                         STEVE
          We'll never know, will we?
          Steve rises, heads up a small path.

          EXT. ESTATE GROUNDS - NIGHT

          Steve and Bishop, walking high above the estate. Far below
          them, the lights of an ambulance in the driveway.

                         BISHOP
          You didn't answer my question.

                         STEVE
          Everybody dies.

                         BISHOP
          Sure. But it's a whole other world
          when you're personally involved.
          There's a very big tab that has to
          be picked up.

                         STEVE
          Such as?
          Bishop stops, looks down at the action far below them.

                         BISHOP
          Governments, cops, the military...
          we give young men a licence and
          send them into it blind, thinking
          it'll all be okay. Because someone
          told them they had permission.

                         (BEAT)
          But when you cross over that line,
          you do it alone. Most people, they
          stay that way from then on. Alone.

                         STEVE
          Everybody can kill. You take a
          mother, protecting her child...

                         BISHOP
          Sure. But that's instinct. What
          I'm talking about is up here...
          (tapping his head)
          Knowledge of foresight. Intention.
          A person who knows that the only
          way to truly be free of man's laws,
          is to break his highest one.
          Beat. It sits there, between them.

                         STEVE
          Why are you telling me all this?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          37.

                         BISHOP
          Why did you want me to see that
          little stunt with your girlfriend?
          Bishop stares down the hill at the commotion. Ants swarming.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          These aren't your people, are they?
          You don't have "people." Your life
          is crowded, but you're alone.
          Steve unconsciously nods, then:

                         STEVE
          You know, you're right. You grow
          up spoiled, rich, like me... Only
          thing you really learn to recognize
          in people is when someone wants
          something from you.

                         (BEAT)
          What do you want, Mr. Bishop? What
          are you doing here?
          Bishop considers Steve, thrown. Then...

                         BISHOP
          Thanks for the tour. It's been
          interesting.

                         STEVE
          Yes, it has.
          Bishop turns, heads back down towards the estate. Steve
          watches him go.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop stares down at the line of supplements and pills set
          out in front of him, something gnawing at him. His cat
          nuzzles around his legs, purring. He scoops up the lot,
          washes them down with water.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - NIGHT (LATER)

          Bishop sits on his sofa, antsy. On the TV, the day's news
          plays out in silence. Anti-American PROTESTS in a Middle-
          Eastern country. Words scroll: "...Official resistance to US
          eavesdropping policy..." "...Break down of high-level..."
          Bishop rises, goes to a stack of DVD's. Grabs one, slots it.
          ON THE TV: The WOMAN, speaking to him from her beautiful
          apartment. Similar to the one we saw. She leans against a
          large plate glass windows, shirt and panties, sipping wine.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          38.

          WOMAN ON TV
          Hey, you. Jesus, what a night. We
          went to opening of Fernando's new
          restaurant and Betty was there
          wearing -- well, whatever we call
          those things she wears...
          ON THE STACK OF DVDs. There must be twenty of them.

          WOMAN ON TV (CONT'D)
          I miss you. Everybody says hi, of
          course. But with me... it's like I
          feel you there with me, even when
          you're not.
          ON THE TV: She pulls her shirt off over her head, faces the
          camera again, topless.

          WOMAN ON TV (CONT'D)
          I feel the way you touch me...
          Bishop rises, blows out of the room.

          INT. BISHOP'S GYM - NIGHT

          SLAM! Dropping in on Bishop, SPRINTING on the treadmill.
          FASTER than we've seen him go before. ON and ON.
          He hits the weights, slots extra 45's onto the press bar.
          The weights CLANG into place.
          ON BISHOP, PRESSING the enormous weight. One, two, three...
          He RACKS the weights, disgusted. Gets up, throws on more
          weight. He PRESSES it again. Five... six... RACKS it
          again, angry. Adds MORE WEIGHT. Back under the bar.
          Pressing. Muscles distending, STRAINING. Seven... Eight...
          He CRIES OUT as something GIVES in his shoulder. The Weight
          SETTLES down on him, crushing him. A moment in his eyes, the
          weight pressing the air out of his lunges. He LAUGHS MANIC,
          SURGES up against the weight, tossing it off, the weights
          slamming into the floor, BOOM!

          EXT. SUSHI RESTAURANT - EVENING

          Bishop's car pulls up fast. He gets out, tosses the valet
          his keys, heads in, weirdly focused.

          INT. SUSHI RESTAURANT - EVENING

          Bishop sits alone at a reserved table at the back, a plate of
          sashimi in front of him. He looks out at the restaurant.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          39.
          BISHOP'S P.O.V.: Laughter, smiles, hands touching, hands
          waving mid-story, lips parting. Woman's hands touching their
          necks, eyes sparkling, men laughing, wallets flashing...
          Bishop rises suddenly, his hand going to his wallet, trying
          to get out of there. ROOM SWAYS. He steadies himself, moves
          towards the exit. People look over, alarmed as he grabs
          backs of chairs to steady himself. VERTIGO LOOMING, sounds
          DISTORTING and suddenly he's FALLING into blackness...

          INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - MORNING

          Bishop, shirtless. A FEMALE DOCTOR is examining the injury.
          Professional, but attractive. And attracted to him. Her
          hands on his shoulder, gentle. Her other hand on his back.
          Her eyes play over his form: SCARS, WOUNDS, healed. A
          battlefield for a body.

                         FEMALE DOCTOR
          Quite a collection you have here.
          Military?

                         BISHOP
          Something like that.

                         FEMALE DOCTOR
          Does this hurt?
          Bishop smiles, recognizing the nature of the touch.

                         BISHOP
          Yes, a little.
          The doctor lets her hands rest just a fraction too long, then
          moves across the room, writes in a chart.

                         FEMALE DOCTOR
          Any next of kin, anybody we can
          notify?
          (off his shake no)
          How about an acquaintance?

                         BISHOP
          Am I going to die?

                         FEMALE DOCTOR

                         (SMILE)
          No, not today.
          Bishop reaches for his shirt, slips it on.

          FEMALE DOCTOR (CONT'D)
          You damaged your deltoid muscle.
          But that doesn't explain the
          anxiety attack.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          40.

          FEMALE DOCTOR (CONT'D)
          Any unusual stress recently?
          Something at work?
          (off his shake no)
          I'm prescribing Cataflam for the
          pain and Paxil for the stress and
          I'm going to give you my card. If
          you have any other episodes... or
          if you need anything else, don't
          hesitate to give me a call.
          She holds out her card. He looks at her, lets her stay that
          way for a moment, then takes the card. She looks away.

          FEMALE DOCTOR (CONT'D)
          You can pay at the desk.

          INT. FRONT DESK, EMERGENCY ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop pays cash. He crumples the prescriptions, tosses it
          in the trash, starts to toss the doctor's card.
          Beat. He can see her down the hall, speaking with another
          doctor. Pretty, real. A moment, he pockets the card.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP. - DAY

          Steve sits in his father's office chair, staring back at us,
          occasionally nodding. We REVERSE to find a collection of
          Investigators, a Forensic Doc, and a hardened SECURITY
          SPECIALIST. The Doc is in the middle of a presentation.
          BOARDS hold diagrams, conclusions, crime scene photos, all
          about Harry McKenna.
          The Doc demonstrates the precise hold, the pressure points
          that killed Harry McKenna. Steve watches, impassive.

          EXT. WOODS - AFTERNOON

          Bishop runs through the woods, full-tilt. Finally stops in
          front of his house. He feels his injured shoulder, winces...

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          Bishop sits on his sofa in front of the TV: A bureaucrat at
          a press conference. A female diplomat pushes through photogs
          with her hand up, shielding her face. Words scroll: "US
          Intelligence under scrutiny... High level meeting..."
          Bishop hits the remote and the TV goes to static, white noise
          again. His eyes... relax, almost asleep. We stay on his
          face, a glimpse into his only moments of peace...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          41.
          BANG! BANG! BANG! POUNDING on his front door. Bishop's
          eyes POP open. He's on his feet, instantly alert, moving
          past a sideboard. He touches a hidden catch, a "click" and
          he reaches underneath, comes out with a handgun.

          EXT. FRONT DOOR, BISHOP'S HOME - MOMENTS LATER

          Steve is there, pounding on the door.

                         STEVE
          Mr. Bishop! Arthur! Please, I
          need to speak with you.
          The front door opens. Bishop, fronting sleepy. Steve is
          ENERGIZED, LIT, eyes blazing.

                         BISHOP
          What time is it?

                         STEVE
          I wanna show you something.
          Please. It'll be... It'll be
          interesting.

          INT. BENTLEY - EVENING

          Steve drives, too fast. Bishop is shotgun. The rear area
          usually reserved for passengers is empty.

                         BISHOP
          Gonna tell me what the big surprise
          is?

                         STEVE
          I'd rather show you. I know,
          melodramatic. But I think it'll be
          worth it to you.
          Bishop TENSES, almost imperceptible as Steve pilots the car
          into the underground structure beneath McKenna Holding Corp.

          INT. PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS

          Car screeches to a stop. Steve grabs a case, is out.
          Bishops takes in the area. Two of Steve's SECURITY there,
          looking stern. Bishop checks the gun he has concealed in his
          waistband, reaches for his door.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA ENTERPRISES - EVENING

          Elevator opens at the very top. Steve pushes out onto the
          roof. Bishop follows. Security lighting floods on,
          illuminating the desolate surface in eerie even light.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          42.
          Steve opens his case, starts tossing down PHOTOGRAPHS:
          CLOSE ON THE PICTURES: Harry McKenna. Dead on the roof.
          Other details. The doors, the elevator shaft, everything.
          PAPERS, coroner's documents. Medical photographs.

                         BISHOP

                         (CAREFUL)
          Maybe it's time you start talking.

                         STEVE
          (off the papers)
          You know what that says? My dad
          didn't die of a heart attack. I
          mean, he was dying of a heart
          attack, but that's not what killed
          him. The blood flow to his brain
          was cut off, his brain died before
          his body. Somebody killed him.
          On Bishop, considering Steve.

                         BISHOP
          What do the police think?

                         STEVE

                         (LAUGHING)
          The police? They don't want to
          hear about this. I mean, they'll
          look into it. But they don't very
          much like the idea that they
          totally missed this one and it'd be
          just easier for everyone if I would
          shut the hell up.

                         BISHOP
          ...What do you want?

                         STEVE
          They killed him. Here, on the roof
          of his own building. His own
          security all around. Why here?
          Why even kill him, if he was
          already dying?

                         BISHOP
          You tell me.

                         STEVE
          To make a point. That no one's
          safe. That they can get to anyone,
          whenever they want to.

                         BISHOP
          So what am I doing here?
          Bishop, supremely alert, listening. Tracking shadows...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          43.

                         STEVE
          I got my black belt in Karate when
          I was nineteen. I've studied Judo
          since I was six.

                         BISHOP
          I'm impressed.

                         STEVE
          No, you're not. Most people are,
          but you're not. If I came at you
          right now, I'd wind up dead as my
          father, wouldn't I?
          Bishop doesn't answer. Steve breaks away, looks down at the
          place where his father died.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Same as if I tried to exact justice
          for my father. These men, what
          this is... It's something you know
          about, isn't it?

                         (BEAT)
          Something you could teach me.

                         BISHOP
          I didn't get the impression you
          even liked Harry very much.
          Steve SURGES forward. Real anger, intensity boiling over.

                         STEVE
          You really going to stand there and
          judge how much I loved my father?
          What the hell do you know about it?
          Bishop, hearing this. A nerve touched.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Besides, this isn't just about
          Harry. Harry's dead, may he rest
          in peace. But this is about me.
          They came here and they killed my
          father. They did that to me.

                         BISHOP
          You want revenge.
          Steve doesn't answer. A long moment between them. Steve
          turns, looks out over the city.

                         STEVE
          You know the word "Nemesis"? It's
          not actually a word. It's a name.
          She was one of the Greek goddesses.
          Of anger. Retribution against any
          mortal who became too proud.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          44.

                         STEVE (CONT'D)
          The executor of divine justice.
          It's a beautiful idea, don't you
          think? Justice.

                         BISHOP
          Justice?
          A beat. Bishop shakes his head, turns, starts to walk back
          towards the elevators. Steve collects his papers, angry.

                         STEVE

                         (CALLING AFTER)
          Fine. Fine. In case you haven't
          noticed, I now have a couple of
          million dollars to spend on this,
          so I will find them myself and I'll
          deal with them myself and if I wind
          up dead trying, you can bury me
          right next to dear old dad --

                         BISHOP
          Jesus, stop your whining.
          SLAP! No one's ever spoken to Steve that way. He STARES. A
          stillness between them, even the wind slows, waiting...

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Corner of sixth and Grand.
          Tomorrow morning. 7:00 am. Don't
          be late.

                         STEVE
          I won't.
          Beat. Bishop nods, starts to leave, turns back...

                         BISHOP
          And Steve... no more surprises like
          this, okay?
          Steve nods. Bishop goes. On Steve, watching as the elevator
          doors erase the older man.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop stands in the middle of his home, still. Thinking.
          Then he moves to his office, grabs a newspaper.
          He moves to his Study, turns to a page, slaps it down on the
          glass on his scanner. Hits a button, the white light of the
          scanner passes.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          45.

          INT. BISHOP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

          Big King bed, never used. A huge painting by the Artist on
          the wall across from the bed. Landscape. Empty. Ruined.
          Bishop hoists the painting down off the wall. He has a print-
          out from his computer, tacks it in the center of the blank
          space left by the painting: The picture of Steve, scanned
          from the McKenna Obituary, enlarged. Tacked alone on the
          wall. A start.

          EXT. CORNER OF SIXTH AND GRAND - MORNING

          Bishop stands on the corner, waiting. He checks his watch:
          6:58. Steve's Bentley pulls up to the corner, parks in a
          handicapped space. Steve gets out, nods to Bishop.
          Bishop takes in Steve, the Bentley, a metermaid ten yards
          away, already moving towards them.

          INT. STERILE HALLWAY - MORNING

          Bishop enters this linoleum-lined hallway, slips the bored
          ATTENDANT $100. The man hits a button, a door CLICKS open.

          INT. MORGUE - MORNING

          As they enter, fluorescent lights flicker on. Cheap,
          overused. Some burnt out, others shorting.
          ROWS OF GURNEYS line the room. Bodies, covered in green
          morgue drapes. Steve's eyes play over it. He swallows.
          Bishop is cold, business-like.

                         BISHOP
          Stay focused. This is a test.
          Bishop moves down the rows, pulling drapes away as he does.
          Nude BODIES are revealed. Men, women, teens. In some, the
          reason for their death is obvious. Others aren't telling.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          You want to know about killing,
          look around.
          Steve does, a little creeped out, but keeping it cool.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          The act of killing, is an end in
          itself. Any other motive keeps it
          from being pure.

                         STEVE
          The psychopath has no motive.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          46.

                         BISHOP
          No, he's driven, compelled, by his
          sickness. He's as much the victim
          as those he kills.
          More drapes fall. Dead eyes stare up at them.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          But when you make your own law,
          you're responsible to no one else
          but yourself. Maybe you're free...

                         STEVE
          I understand.

                         BISHOP
          Do you? This isn't some idea
          anymore. This is the real thing.
          You still with me?

                         STEVE
          I am.
          Another drape falls. A beautiful woman. No signs of injury.

                         BISHOP
          Ever heard the term "Mechanic" used
          outside of its normal meaning?

                         STEVE
          My father used it. A dealer... a
          guy who works the tables.
          Bishops smiles, shakes his head.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Or a... killer. A hit man.
          Bishop just stares. Steve shakes his head, looks away from
          Bishop, winds up staring at a dead man. Laughs to himself.

                         BISHOP
          What are you thinking?

                         STEVE
          I had you pegged as... a security
          consultant. Maybe ex-military.
          Someone who... protects people.

                         BISHOP
          Maybe I do.

                         STEVE
          Or maybe you just get paid to kill
          people.
          Bishop nods his head yes.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          47.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          So why let me in? I mean, I know
          what I want. What do you get out
          of it?

                         BISHOP
          ...Times are changing. Security is
          better trained, more lethal.
          Sometimes I could use a partner.

                         STEVE
          Bullshit.
          Bishop nods, smiles. He moves away from the tables, leaves
          Steve standing in the middle of it all.

                         BISHOP
          In this... there isn't room for
          those who are outside of it.
          There's too much isolation.
          Friendships can't work. Eventually
          everyone expects you to account.
          The isolation... becomes a
          liability. You stand out.
          Standing out... isn't good.
          Steve smiles, shakes his head.

                         STEVE
          You need a... friend?

                         BISHOP
          An associate.

                         (BEAT)
          I'm offering to teach you something
          that most people can't be taught.

                         STEVE
          Because you think I'm a natural.

                         BISHOP
          That remains to be seen.
          (taps his head)
          But you're alone in there, aren't
          you? That's... the prerequisite.
          Steve continues to stare at the bodies. Bishops starts
          towards the exit.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Think it over.

                         STEVE
          Bishop...

                         (BEAT)
          When I find the men who murdered my
          father. You help me to kill them.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          48.

                         BISHOP
          You may never find them.

                         STEVE
          You didn't answer my question.
          A beat. Bishop nods.

          INT. BISHOP'S GYM - DAY

          Dropping into the middle of a FIGHT. Steve and Bishop,
          attacking each other, mixed martial arts.
          Steve is the aggressor, moves in knocking Bishop's defenses
          away. HITTING Bishop who takes the punch, steps back...
          Steve's still on him. Kicking, two, three times. Bishop
          catches a kick, tosses Steve back. He lands cat-like on his
          feet, comes back at Bishop, strong. Hitting, pushing Bishop
          back against a wall, seeming to dominate the fight.
          BUZZ! A buzzer goes off. Bishop drops his guard, would be
          flattened if Steve didn't pull his punch, walks out.

          EXT. BISHOP'S RANGE - CONTINUOUS

          Behind Bishop's gym is a rifle range. An assortment of
          weapons lie on a table. In front of them, some trees, some
          old cars... some bottles sitting on the limbs of the trees.
          Bishop picks up a handgun, checks his pulse. Steve has
          obviously learned from him, does the same.
          Bishop raises the gun. BLAM! BLAM! Two bottles shatter at
          30 yards. He tosses Steve the gun. Steve keeps two fingers
          on his pulse.

                         STEVE
          I'm still at 130.

                         BISHOP
          Too fast.

                         STEVE
          I know. I'm working on it.
          Bishop nods, picks up the rifle, sights. BLAM! 1,000 yards
          away, the bullet IMPACTS the head-rest of an abandoned car.
          Bishop looks to Steve who gives up, raises the handgun.
          BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three shots. Three misses. Steve
          tosses down the gun, frustrated.

                         BISHOP
          You were still over 100.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          49.

                         STEVE
          What am I supposed to do?

                         BISHOP
          There are no perfect situations.
          You fought me at 100%, so you were
          winning. But in doing so, you gave
          up your shooting option.

                         (BEAT)
          It's all about choices. Always.
          Bishop starts to leave.

                         STEVE
          Bishop... What's your 100% look
          like?
          Bishop smiles.

          EXT. DESERT HIGHWAY - DAY

          Two cars BLISTERING down the highway. Bishop's Cobra and
          Steve in a classic Maserati. They JOCKEY for position, WEAVE
          in and out of the other cars on the road.
          WITH BISHOP. Portrait of control. Expertly working the
          tuned car, coaxing power and speed out of it.
          WITH STEVE. Careless, going for broke, not caring if he has
          the space to make his moves. He SWERVES his car, right at
          Bishop...
          ... who has to PEEL away, off the highway, onto the smooth
          dirt-pack. He DOWNSHIFTS, blasts back onto the road,
          catching air. Steve LAUGHS out load as they CREST the top of
          a rise...
          LOOMING AHEAD: An existing accident. A beer truck jack-
          knifed across the freeway. Bishop BRAKES, fighting for
          control.
          Steve SWERVES his car, too fast, it goes into a SPIN... CLIPS
          another car, gains air and PLOWS ass-backwards into the side
          of the beer truck.
          BISHOP'S CAR slides to a stop. Bishop gets out, tracks:
          STEVE, climbing out of the Maserati onto the hood protruding
          from the side of the truck. LAUGHING, WHOOOPING at the sky.
          Bishop approaches, sees that hundreds of bottles of BEER have
          cascaded out of the punctured truck.
          Steve wipes blood from a cut on his forehead, grabs a beer
          and cracks it, swigs as he sits on the Maserati hood. He
          grabs another, tosses it to Bishop.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          50.

                         STEVE
          Come on up, man. The view is
          beautiful.
          Bishop takes in the situation, the small crowd gathering...
          he jumps up, sits on the hood of the car with Steve, both
          leaning back against the cracked windshield.

                         BISHOP
          You lost control.

                         STEVE
          You think?
          Steve puts out his beer. A hesitation, then Bishop clinks
          beers with him. They both drink. Stretched out in front of
          them, the highway seems to go on forever.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          You ever think about just... going?
          Leaving. Never turning back?

                         BISHOP
          ...Sometimes.

                         STEVE
          Why don't you?

                         BISHOP
          I have... responsibilities. I have
          a cat.
          A beat. Steve LAUGHS loud. Bishop laughs. Maybe the first
          time in ages. They drink, watch the sun move lower in the
          sky as emergency vehicles approach.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          Steve comes in from the guest-house, showered. Sees Bishop
          at the dining room table, takes in the place for the first
          time. The art on the walls.

                         STEVE
          You know, looking at these, a
          person might think maybe there's a
          screw or two loose up there...
          Steve catches sight of a manila envelope in front of his
          empty place.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Is this what I think it is?

                         BISHOP

                         (SHAKING NO)
          Don't be so eager. Open it.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          51.
          PLANS, diagrams. Pictures. They're of an outdoor area.
          Steve's eyes scan over them, interested.

                         STEVE
          Who's the Mark?

                         BISHOP
          ...I am.

          INT. OUTDOOR MARKET - DAY

          A huge square filled with VENDORS selling all manner of food
          and good out of CARTS and STALLS. Music, voices, crowds of
          people. Bishop moves through. Dressed average, just a guy
          in the crowd. He watches a couple argue. Moves on...

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          It's not good enough to simply
          follow your Mark and attack him.
          Most of these people know they're
          targets. They'll be watching for
          you.
          ... A moment, then Steve enters the frame, tracking Bishop.

          BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
          You need to understand the
          location, control the situation.
          You're looking for escapes,
          security, police presence...
          Bishop passes two COPS, squeezes between two parked produce
          trucks towards the row of shops that border the square.

          INT. WATCH REPAIR SHOP - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop stands in front of a case, watches the precision
          instruments tick. From behind a counter, the Chinese OWNER
          notices him, puts down the watch he's repairing, approaches.
          60's, authoritative, a LOUP on his forehead.

                         OWNER
          Interest you in anything?
          Bishop takes in the man, eyes check polished reflective
          surfaces, back to the man. Bishop points to a watch.

                         BISHOP
          That's a beauty.

                         OWNER

                         (BEAMING)
          You know your instruments...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          52.

          EXT. OUTDOOR MARKET - CONTINUOUS

          Concealed amidst exotic Guatemalan wraps, Steve tracks the
          Watch Shop. The attractive older woman running the stall
          eyes him. He looks right through her.
          STEVE'S P.O.V.: Bishop exits, heading back into the market.

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          Most of all, you need to answer
          this question: "How does this man
          die here today?"
          Bishop passes a butcher cutting into a slab of meat. Steve
          follows behind Bishop, lost in the sea of people.

          BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
          Everybody, everyday, has a way to
          die. You have to find it.

          EXT. CURIOS STALL, OUTDOOR MARKET - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop stands in front of stall filled with classic toys,
          rocking horses, vintage dolls. His gaze finds a large, still-
          boxed doll of the "Luna Cromwell" character that the Grocery
          Owner's Daughter is obsessed with. Almost life-sized.

                         SALESMAN
          They don't make that anymore.
          That's a classic. I can let you
          have it for three hundred...

          INT. OUTDOOR MARKET - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop turns away from the stand carrying the doll. A GROUP
          of teens RUNS by Bishop, buffeting him for a moment.
          Slightly off kilter, he checks his surroundings. Nothing.
          Bishop starts again, aware for the first time that a MAN is
          headed his direction, passing a knife-sharpening stand,
          blades gleaming, his face hidden by a low hat...
          Bishop tracks the figure out of the corner of his eye, turns
          and pushes through the tight space between two stalls, out
          the back where trucks are parked. Bishops glances back for
          the man, squeezes between two large trucks...
          ...coming out the other side when POP! A loud SOUND makes
          Bishop glance over. A HISSING coming from one of the trucks
          which starts to ROLL backwards and
          Suddenly HANDS are on Bishop from behind, PUSHING HIM
          backwards, into the space between the two trucks! A FLASH, A
          SPLIT SECOND to stare into Steve's face, holding him there to
          be crushed and...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          53.
          CRASH! The one truck SLAMS into the second, the vice closed,
          metal crumpling.
          Bishop, at the last minute pulled back by Steve who's holding
          him there, smiling. A beat. Bishop checks the surroundings,
          nods. Steve release him.

                         BISHOP
          ...Good. Very good.

                         STEVE
          Good? That's all you got? How
          about God damn perfect, man?

                         BISHOP
          Don't get cocky.

                         STEVE
          Broad daylight. A thousand
          witnesses. Man takes a wrong step.
          Excuse me if I take a moment to
          appreciate myself. Because that
          was poetry.
          (laughing, smiling)
          You just can't bring yourself to be
          impressed, can you?
          Bishops considers, notices that the Luna Cromwell doll has
          fallen in the gutter. Picks it up, tries to dry it.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          (hand to his ear)
          What's that? You're what? Oh, you
          are impressed? No, come on, you
          don't have to say that. Really,
          I'm fine with -- You what? You've
          never seen someone better? Wow.

                         BISHOP
          All right. You did very well.

                         STEVE
          Damn straight I did. And now, in
          celebration of me, I'm taking you
          to a restaurant where the
          waitresses... what?
          Something about Bishop's serious gaze has stopped Steve.
          Bishop reaches into his jacket, places a gun in Steve's
          hands. A confused beat, Steve conceals the weapon.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          ...Bishop?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          54.

                         BISHOP
          There's a man behind me. Look up
          once, then look away. Don't look
          back.
          Steve glances up. We realize we're right in front of the
          watch store. The OWNER is pulling the steel grate down over
          his store, closing for the day.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          You got him?

                         STEVE
          Yeah. Look...

                         BISHOP
          You did good here. Really good.
          But this was just a game. That
          man... is your graduation.

                         STEVE
          Who is he?

                         BISHOP
          He owns the watch store.

                         STEVE
          I know. I meant... what did he do?
          Bishop comes close, FOCUSED.

                         BISHOP
          I've taught you how to kill without
          anyone knowing there was a murder.
          I've taught you to be invisible.
          But that's strategy, not killing.
          The real test... it's the actual
          killing, isn't it?

                         STEVE
          Bishop...

                         BISHOP
          Do you want this? Be very sure.
          Because you can walk away.

                         STEVE
          No. I'm ready.
          Bishop studies him... nods. Turns to go.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Bishop... We're right here, where
          you wanted us to wind up. You knew
          where I'd hit you, didn't you?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          55.

                         BISHOP
          ...School's out.
          Bishop leaves. Steve watches him go. Stuck. Helpless. He
          turns back. The Owner is headed home for the day.

          INT. SUSHI RESTAURANT - NIGHT

          Bishop sits back at his reserved table in the rear of the
          place. In a chair next to him, the doll is awkwardly
          perched. Around him, people LAUGH. Lovers NUZZLE..
          He reaches into his breast pocket, slides out a new DHL
          envelope, tears it open. A new jump-drive slides onto the
          table. He eats, takes pills, his eyes locked on the drive.

                         BISHOP
          (to Luna doll)
          Who do you think that is, Luna?
          He takes a card out of his wallet, studies it. It's from the
          flirtatious doctor. He pulls out his phone, dials.

          EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT

          Steve sits in a nondescript car, lights out, parked.
          STEVE'S P.O.V.: Two stories up, a lit apartment. The WATCH
          STORE OWNER crosses by one of the lit windows.

          INT. WATCH STORE OWNER'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

          The Owner has a delicate vintage Brietlang in his hands. He
          places it on a patch of velvet, watch-repair tools laid next
          to it. He moves to an old stereo, puts the needle of a turn-
          table down on spinning vinyl. The lonely sounds of Brahms
          Piano Concerto No. 2 fill the room.
          He returns to his desk, sits. A tiny noise from the hall. A
          "click." He looks up, sees nothing, settles in to work...

          TRACKING ACROSS THE ROOM
          To the front HALLWAY. Steve stands in the hallway,
          motionless. He's just closed the front door behind him. In
          his hands, a lock-pick set which he now pockets and pulls out
          the gun Bishop gave him.

          INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

          CLOSE ON BISHOP. No way to tell where he is. He's holding
          the Luna doll. He reaches forward, knocks on a door.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          56.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE

                         (FROM INSIDE)
          It's open!

          INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT

          The WOMAN's apartment. Not the doctor's, the same we've been
          to before. Everything eerily identical to the last time.
          Sofas, gas fire, throws and rugs, open bottle of wine.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          I'll just be a minute.
          A GLIMPSE of the woman in her bedroom, topless in front of a
          vanity. She glances back, smiles warm. Laughs a little when
          she sees the doll.

                         BISHOP
          It's for a friend.
          Bishop awkwardly sets the doll down near the front door,
          moves on, into the apartment. Restless.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          I'm sorry I was away so long this
          time. I had some complications --

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
          Don't be.
          He turns. She's emerged from the bedroom, adjusting the
          dress she's just pulled on. Beautiful. She comes up to him,
          kisses him. He doesn't respond. She backs off, moves to the
          kitchen to pour two wines,

                         WOMAN
          You know who I saw yesterday?

                         (BEAT)
          Bradley Fliescher. He and Ginny
          have this little cottage up the
          coast they hardly use. I was
          thinking, maybe next week you and I
          should go.
          Approaching, handing him a wine.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          You and me, the whole weekend.
          What would we... do?
          She approaches him, sexy. Touches him, intimate. He stares
          at her, blank. She recovers fast, moves off.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          Of course why do we need that? We
          have each other right here.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          57.

          INT. WATCH STORE OWNER'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

          Carefully, slowly, Steve makes his way down the hall towards
          the lit living room.

          IN THE LIVING ROOM
          The owner pauses, enjoying the crescendo of the music. Eyes
          closed for a moment. Then they open...
          ... Steve is standing in the doorway to the living room, the
          gun pointed at the owner. The owner sees him, becomes
          motionless. The two men staring across the space between
          them... and then everything happens very fast.
          The Owner LURCHES to the side with surprising speed and
          agility just as Steve FIRES! The bullet catches the Owner in
          the side, SPINNING him around. He CRASHES to the floor...
          ... but only for an INSTANT. THEN he's BACK ON HIS FEET,
          MOVING across the room! Steve tracks, pulls the trigger
          again but the gun only "clicks" empty.
          The man reaches a coat rack, grabs it in one fluid motion and
          is MOVING back at Steve who barely has time to drop the gun
          and BLOCK the rack as it SLICES through the air at him.
          The Owner HITS and HITS again. Skilled, professional,
          martial-arts trained. Steve blocking one, two, the third hit
          connects, sends Steve REELING back, crashing through the
          watch-repair table.
          The Owner leaps at him with the rack. Steve is BARELY able
          to catch the end before it impales him. The two men,
          BREATHING, STRUGGLING, the Owner FORCING the point lower
          towards Steve's face...
          ... Blood pools on Steve's shirt. Steve and the Owner both
          track it. The man is bleeding badly from the bullet wound.
          A split-second calculation and the man abandons the coat-
          rack, races across the room as Steve clambers to his feet.
          The man reaches the far wall, hits a RELEASE. The wood
          paneling slides open, revealing a CAR-15 fully automatic
          assault rifle with a silencer. The man grabs it, opens up!
          Bullets CHEW through furniture, drywall, glass searching for
          Steve who DIVES into the hallway, retreating as the man comes
          forward, firing in deadly precise BURSTS.
          Steve hides behind a wall which ERUPTS, blown to bits. He
          stumbles through a doorway into a KITCHEN.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          58.

          INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT

          Stillness. The woman and Bishop, staring forward, watching
          another of her videos. Another late-night diary. She's in a
          long shirt and panties, leaning close to the camera.

          WOMAN ON CAMERA

                         (QUIET)
          Do you know what I dreamed? I
          dreamed you and I had a child...
          Bishops turns from the screen, walks away. Beat, she
          silences the TV, moves to join him.

                         WOMAN
          I know, it's crazy. I don't want
          to pin you down. I know you need
          your freedom. I just... sometimes
          I miss you so much...
          He's staring at her, oddly.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          What?
          A beat. His eyes move down to her sofa where another man's
          tie has been discarded. A moment, then she shakes her head,
          angry with herself. The pretense dropping. The real woman
          scooping up the tie, tossing in a drawer.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          I'm sorry. Really, I am. I
          just... You didn't give me any
          warning this time.

                         (BEAT)
          I'm sorry, Bishop. It won't happen
          again.

                         BISHOP

                         (NODDING)
          It's okay. Really. It's okay.

          INT. WATCH STORE OWNER'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

          WITH THE OWNER. Holding the CAR-15. Listening for his
          target. His hand moves to the wound in his side, comes away
          covered in blood. Another decision, the man slides the
          weapon over his shoulder, retreats...
          ...MOVING with the man, through his apartment. He reaches
          his BATHROOM, blows inside. Tosses the toilet tank to the
          side, reaches in and comes out with a military-grade STIM
          needle which he JAMS into his own thigh.
          A MOMENT with the Owner, feeling the drug course through his
          system, giving him strength...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          59.
          Steve comes out of nowhere, HITS the man in the head with a
          heavy copper pot, sending him reeling back into the tub.
          Steve starts forward, DIVES to the side as the man opens back
          up, full auto, bullets CHEWING everything... CAR-15 finally
          clicks empty.
          Steve rises... and the Man is on him, kicking him. Steve,
          rolling away. The man PULLING him back. WHAM! WHAM! Steve
          takes brutal punches to the head and face. Blocks one and
          they GRAPPLE, rolling in the tight space of the hallway, the
          man coming up on top, pinning Steve's arm, SLAMMING him in
          the ribs. Something SNAPS.
          Steve SCREAMS, surges up with the man... smashing him THROUGH
          a small table, winding up on top of him, his hand around the
          owners throat...
          The two men... eye to eye. Fierce, deadly. Steve SQUEEZING
          the life out of him. The man's free arm HITTING Steve, OVER
          and OVER. Brutal body blows. Steve takes the punishment...
          continues to Squeeze...
          ...Finally, the man weakening. In his face... a dull
          resignation.

                         OWNER

                         (WEAKLY)
          Who... are... you?
          Steve doesn't answer, just keeps PRESSING. And finally...
          the man's eyes film over. He dies.
          Steve just KEEPS PRESSING. Locked. Horrified. Staring into
          the dead man's face. Finally, he rolls off. Flops back
          against the wall, broken, bleeding, weeping...
          He SCREAMS. From the heart, the guts, releasing EVERYTHING.

          INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT

          Bishop sitting at the woman's dining room table. Carefully,
          she comes and takes the seat opposite him. No pretense. The
          professional, not the actor.

                         WOMAN
          Hey, Bishop. You okay?
          He stares into his wine. Raises the glass to drink. His
          hand shakes.

                         BISHOP
          Do you remember, what you wanted to
          be, when you were a little girl?
          She hears it, it wounds her. Looks down.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          60.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I was
          thinking of me.
          She looks up, clear eyes. She's tough.

                         WOMAN
          No, it's okay. I wanted to be a
          Marine Biologist. I used to watch
          those Jaques Cousteau movies and
          just... dream.

                         BISHOP
          What happened?

                         WOMAN

                         (BEAT)
          I was beautiful.
          He hears the simple truth of it, nods, respectful. He rises
          and goes to the music box on the mantle, takes out his wallet
          and removes the twenty $100 bills.

          WOMAN (CONT'D)
          Don't worry about it this time. On
          the house.
          A beat. Then he slides the money under the box as before.

                         BISHOP
          We all gotta make a living.
          He leaves, grabbing the doll as he goes. She watches him go,
          strangely. Sadness breaking through her cool.

          INT. LOCAL GROCERY - NIGHT

          Bell jingles as Bishop pushes in, holding the large Luna
          Cromwell doll. The Grocer looks up, smiling as he sees
          Bishop, then confused as he takes in the doll.
          A SQUEAL of delight as Sophie appears, running, grabbing the
          doll out of Bishop's hands.

                         SOPHIE
          Thank you, thank you! Bishop! Mom!

          MOM!
          She takes off back into the living quarters of the house.
          The two men exchange looks, uncomfortable.

                         BISHOP
          I saw that in a... I'm sorry, I
          probably should have asked.
          A small beat that says "Yes, you should have."

                         

                         

                         

                         

          61.

                         GROCER
          Don't worry about it, Bishop. You
          have a good night.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop pulls up in his vintage Cobra. Shuts down the
          powerful engine, emerges into the night and moves to his
          porch. The front door has been BLOWN OPEN by gunfire.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop moves in silent, alert. He reaches down under his
          sideboard for his gun. REACTS as his hand finds nothing.

          STEVE (O.S.)
          ...Can I ask you a question?
          STEVE sits on his sofa in the dark, head lowered.

                         BISHOP
          Go ahead.

                         STEVE
          Are you surprised to see me?
          Beat. Steve reaches over, turns on a table lamp as he looks
          up. His face is BRUISED, bloody. His clothing, stained and
          ripped. In his hand, Bishop's gun from the sideboard.
          Bishop TENSES, doesn't react. Steve spits blood, smiles.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Guy owns a watch-store, yet keeps a
          million dollar apartment.
          Supposedly sits on his ass all day,
          yet takes stairs double-time.

                         (BEAT)
          It was sitting there, right in
          front of my face, wasn't it?
          Bishop doesn't respond.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Was that the man who killed my
          father?

                         BISHOP
          There's a code, to what we do. It
          may not be rational, but it
          matters. The man's name was Harry
          Xiao. He was a Mechanic. Last
          year a US Representative died in a
          fire... along with his wife and two
          children.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          62.

                         BISHOP (CONT'D)
          A few months ago, a CEO vacationing
          in Costa Rica was found dead with
          his wife. Because the woman was
          tortured, the authorities believed
          it was drug related.

                         STEVE
          Bishop! --

                         BISHOP
          Civilian casualties are very
          effective at hiding intent, but
          there's a line ---

                         STEVE
          I don't give a damn about that!
          You haven't answer my question:
          Did he kill my father?
          Bishop doesn't react, then...

                         BISHOP
          You should put that behind you now.
          Steve nods, swallowing emotion. Bishop starts to move and
          Steve is suddenly there, still angry, pointing the gun right
          in Bishop's face.

                         STEVE
          I could have died today!

                         BISHOP
          You didn't.

                         STEVE
          Blind fucking luck! Look at me!
          You tried to kill me! That man
          was... he was unstoppable.

                         BISHOP
          But you stopped him.

                         STEVE
          Fuck you! You sonofabitch! Give
          me one good reason I don't blow you
          away right now! ONE GOD DAMN

          REASON!
          FAST, Bishop SLAPS the gun away, PINS Steve up against the
          wall. Cold.

                         BISHOP
          Now I'm sorry if you got a little
          scared. But this isn't coaching
          girl's softball, is it? This is
          life or death. Every time you go
          into this, somebody dies.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          63.

                         BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Every time, it's you or the other
          man. So stop your crying.
          He releases Steve who falls to the floor, sucking air.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          You got what you came for,
          congratulations. You're done Go
          back to your friends, your women,
          your whole beautiful life.

                         (POINTING)
          That used to be my front door. Try
          to close it on the way out.
          Bishop starts to go. Steve's words stop him.

                         STEVE
          Bishop. Those things... they don't
          mean anything to me. This, makes
          sense. I don't know why. But I
          think I was meant to do this.

                         (BEAT)
          And like you said, you could use
          someone.
          Bishop studies Steve a long beat. Shakes his head, goes into
          his study. Steve follows.

          INT. STUDY - NIGHT

          Bishop fires up the computer hooked to the printer. He
          glances over. Steve is standing in the doorway. Bishop
          tosses Steve the jump-drive. Steve studies it, slots it into
          the computer.
          Almost instantly, the phone rings. Bishop punches on
          SPEAKER. The same silence.

                         BISHOP
          We should all be so lucky.
          The phone goes dead. The light on the drive turns GREEN.
          Bishop's PRINTER fires up. It starts printing out pages...
          ON BISHOP and STEVE. Watching the pages feed out.
          PHOTOS: A new Mark at an elegant gathering of powerful men
          and women. Tall, powerful, entitled. His arm around a
          Turkish beauty in an elegant black one-piece. Emerging from
          a limousine at a large public event. Security EVERYWHERE.
          The same beauty on his arm. Charts. Height, weight, medical
          history. Bank accounts, figures. Leases, deeds of property.
          A LAST PHOTO: Peeling out of the printer... THE WOMAN, the
          beauty, in a diplomatic power-suit.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          64.
          A second to realize: She's the mark. More pictures, we've
          seen this woman on television recently.
          ON BISHOP AND STEVE, reacting. Then Bishop gestures towards
          the large empty wall, waiting.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          You get started. I'll make coffee.

                         STEVE
          Bishop... Nemesis. Devine
          Retribution. ...What did she do?
          Beat. Unsaid questions asked, unanswered.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Okay. Okay. Forget I asked.

          EXT. EMBASSY - DAY

          Seen through 30x telescope. The images MAGNIFIED, FLAT. The
          view unstable, moving. Just the low SOUND OF WIND.
          Panning over upper-floor windows, hesitating on a pair of
          armed security, making their rounds. Camera "clicks" then
          move on. Finds the ENTRANCE. A line of people moving
          through a metal detector. One young man in particular...

          EXT. ENTRANCE, EMBASSY - DAY

          Steve collects his cell phone from the other side of a metal
          detector, slots a bluetooth and heads in. Bishop's voice
          fills his ears.

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          Slow down as soon as you get
          inside. Security station will be
          to your left...
          Steve passes through a door, pauses as two guards talk in the
          open doorway to a security control room. Monitors visible.

          BISHOP (O.S.) (CONT'D)
          How many views?

                         STEVE
          (eyes moving fast)
          Sixteen, no, eighteen. Four second
          intervals.
          One of the men notices Steve who starts forward to ask a
          question. The man points him down the hallway towards the
          consulat's reception. Steve's eyes track monitors.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          65.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Make that four and a half seconds.

          INT. BUILDING UNDER CONSTRUCTION - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop is sighting through a camera affixed to the telescope,
          headphones on. He's on the 14th floor of a skyscraper under
          construction. Cement pillars and steel-work.

          STEVE (O.S.)
          These guys are packing Israeli-made
          Uzis. Couple are actual military.
          Bishop takes in the other buildings across the street, then
          moves his sight up the embassy, adjusts a control
          P.O.V. - THROUGH THE SCOPE: Large tinted glass windows
          suddenly turn transparent. Bishop scans, find The Mark's
          HUSBAND on the bed watching TV, bored. He scans again...
          finds The Mark in the adjoining room, on the phone and ANGRY.
          Bishop touches a switch on the telescope and a small LASER
          projects. The woman's voice fills Bishop's headset:

          TURKISH ENVOY'S VOICE
          No, we're literally locked in here.
          I'm supposed to be presenting at
          the UN but I can't do that if
          everyone is going to panic about
          security...

          INT. BUILDING UNDER CONSTRUCTION - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop's scope zoomed in TIGHT on the Mark, staring at
          herself in the bathroom mirror. She's brave.

          TURKISH ENVOY'S VOICE
          ...This is America. People don't
          just kill people here.
          Then she shuts the door. Bishop moves his focus upwards to a
          glassed-in terreriam-like structure on the rooftop. An
          indoor swimming pool. "Click." "Click." More pictures.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - EVENING

          The SAME pictures, now tacked up. MOVING over the wall.
          Meticulous study, days of work: BLUEPRINTS of the building.
          Service corridors highlighted, surveillance cameras marked,
          pictures tacked to locations.
          Magazine and newspaper clippings about the Mark, showcasing
          her beauty.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          66.
          Headlines: "The new (and beautiful) face of Turkey." "The
          face that said "no" to America." Other materials: Doctor's
          reports. Time-tables, intervals circled, holes noted.
          Steve and Bishop studying everything. Bishop, almost trance-
          like. Steve pacing.

                         BISHOP
          Work it again.

                         STEVE
          She never leaves. It's like they
          know we're coming.

                         BISHOP
          Maybe they do.
          Steve nods, continues pacing, scoops up Bishop's cat and
          strokes her. Bishop watches him.

                         STEVE
          Falls off the rooftop.

                         BISHOP
          Falls or jumps?
          Steve moves to the wall of pictures, his gaze lingering on
          shots of her on vacation is a swimsuit.

                         STEVE

                         (SMILING)
          I tell you one thing, killing her
          is not the first thing that jumps
          to mind... what?
          Bishop HEARS this, frowns, moves forward. His eyes scan:
          The Mark at the pool, getting ready to swim. The security...

                         BISHOP
          Nothing. I'm going for a run. You
          wanna come?

                         STEVE
          Let me ask you something. You ever
          not feel like running 5 miles?

          EXT. WOODS - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishops sprints/runs through the woods around his house.
          Body pushed to limit. In his eyes, his mind somewhere far-
          off, working...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          67.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          Steve, alone in Bishop's home. He moves from room to room.
          He hits the kitchen, looks in the fridge, makes a face at the
          empty shelves, the bottles of supplements.
          He moves on, pauses to stare at the gas fireplace in the
          study... moves on towards Bishop's bedroom, takes in the king
          bed. Runs a finger across the headboard, dusty. He STARES
          at the large painting across from the bed...

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          You like it?
          Steve REACTS. Didn't hear Bishop come in.

                         STEVE
          I don't know. Feels disturbed.

                         BISHOP
          Always made me feel... understood.

                         (BEAT)
          Come on.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - CONTINUOUS

          Steve follows Bishop to the wall of research on the female
          mark. Bishop points to some OLD RESEARCH on the Mark,
          glamorous. She was a model.

                         BISHOP
          The Mark is a beautiful woman.
          Before arriving at her current
          position, she enjoyed the way men
          looked at her. That's gone now.
          She needs to be taken seriously.
          She hates that men only see the
          beauty. Magazines, heads of state,
          all focusing how what a piece of
          tail she was. Like you did.
          Steve SQUINTS... Bishop slaps a picture of the pool, the
          Mark swimming. Two SECURITY AGENTS positioned.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Why is he standing here? Wouldn't
          he get better coverage... here?

                         STEVE
          ...He can't see her.

                         BISHOP
          He can't see her. Neither of them
          can.
          Beat. PHONE RINGS. Bishop snaps it up.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          68.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Bishop.

          DEAN (O.S.)
          Hey, Bishop. Catch you at a bad
          time?
          Bishop doesn't respond. Waits...

          DEAN (O.S.) (CONT'D)
          Always the conversationalist.
          Anyway, just calling to say we'd
          like you to go ahead with this one.
          As soon as you can.
          Click. Phone goes dead. Bishop hangs it up. Steve looks at
          him, anticipating... Bishop nods.

          INT. RESTAURANT - DUSK

          Nice downtown joint. Businesspeople dine. Second-story
          tinted glass looking out over downtown. TRACKING over faces,
          laughing, drinking, relieved to be done for the week...
          Finding Bishop, sitting alone, watching the people. The
          flirtations, the animosities... He looks down at the street
          below where a UPS driver has exited the building.
          Steve breaks the frame, sits down across from Bishop.

                         BISHOP
          Run it again.

                         STEVE
          Patrol number three moves down the
          service corridor at 18:50. Five
          minute window after to make it up
          top. Three minute climb to
          position. That's 18:54. Three
          minute window to engage. Shake,
          stir, add lime and enjoy.
          Bishop smiles, looks away.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          How'd you get into it?
          Bishop looks back, surprised. Checks his watch.

                         BISHOP
          ...This business, it's not like
          there's a degree you can go get.
          It's like most trades, it gets
          passed down.

                         (BEAT)

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          69.

                         BISHOP (CONT'D)
          My father was very good, better
          than I'll ever be. But no one
          controls 100%. The nature of the
          work is that some people know who
          you are and what you do.

                         (BEAT)
          A man told his girlfriend, to
          impress her. The girlfriend told
          some people she owned money to...
          Bishop finishes his glass of water.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          I was young. It took me four
          months to find the people, another
          to find the girl, and she gave me
          the Man. That's how I... "got into
          it."

                         STEVE
          You ever wish you just... walked
          away? Let it go?

                         BISHOP
          Sure. Every day. But I wasn't
          wired that way.

                         (BEAT)
          What about you?
          Beat. Steve and Bishop, oddly locked... BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
          Three SMALL EXPLOSIONS in the kitchen. FLAMES shoot out of
          the galley. A cook stumbles out, on fire. A waiter douses
          him with water. People SCREAM! Alarms BLARE!
          Steve and Bishop. They haven't moved a muscle.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Here we go...
          And they're MOVING.

          INT. SECURITY STATION, EMBASSY - EVENING

          SECURITY takes a call as another man studies his monitor:
          People fleeing the building across the street, smoke.

                         SECURITY
          Fire in the restaurant.
          (into radio, Turkish)
          Patrols two and five, we're closing
          down the front entrance.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          70.

          INT. SUITE, EMBASSY - EVENING

          The MARK stands at her closet, starting to unbutton her shirt
          to change for her swim. She pulls it closed as one of her
          security knocks and pushes into the room from a balcony.

                         SECURITY PRO
          Excuse me, 'mam. There's a fire
          next door, nothing to worry about.
          The Mark nods. The man locks the door behind him, crosses
          the room, leaves through the main door, professional.

          INT. STAIRWELL - EVENING

          Steve and Bishop push UPWARDS through a stream of people
          flooding DOWN the emergency stairs. They reach a heavy door,
          locked and alarmed. Beat. Three people burst out from the
          inside. Steve catches the door and they're through...

          INT. LAW OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

          A few LAWYERS and a SECRETARY still collecting their things
          look up as Bishop and Steve push in, holding up badges.

                         STEVE
          Hey! You need to get out! Whole
          building is going up!
          Bishop and Steve move on as the startled employees leave.
          They move down five doors, push into...

          INT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

          A private office. Desk, computer, a handwritten note reads
          "Leave mail here, will be back Wednesday." A box from UPS
          which Bishop TEARS open. Inside, what looks like a large
          WEAPON. Steve goes to the windows, pushes them open.
          P.O.V. - THE EMBASSY ACROSS: Changing its security pattern.
          Men are leaving posts on exterior patios, locking doors.
          Below, the excess manpower is channeled to the front.
          Bishop turns, FIRES OUT THE WINDOW. A Cable streaks across,
          SINKS into the wall of the embassy 30 feet away. Bishop
          HOOKS the cable on this side, tosses the gun in the box.
          Steve seals it with tape, slaps a return label on it.
          He crosses the hall, tosses it in the MAIL ROOM. When he
          returns, Bishop's already secured the cable outside.

                         BISHOP
          Ready?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          71.
          Steve hooks on as well, they're both wearing harnesses under
          their clothing. He steps out onto the ledge with Bishop,
          closes the window behind him.
          Bishop lets himself fall backwards.

          EXT. STREETS - NIGHT

          Flashing light of the fire trucks. No one sees the two
          figures sliding silently from building to building above,
          disappearing over a 4th story railing.

          EXT. BALCONY, EMBASSY - NIGHT

          Steve lands next to Bishop who unfastens the cord they used
          to cross, spools it back to them. A look. No way back now,
          and no trace left behind.
          Jackets strip, reverse to the pattern of the embassy
          Security. A quick lock pick, and they slip inside.

          INT. ROOF LEVEL, EMBASSY - NIGHT

          Elevator doors open and the Mark gets out. She nods to the
          guard on duty, heads into a changing room.

          INT. SECURITY CONTROL ROOM, EMBASSY - NIGHT

          Two guards monitor screens: Corridors, rooms, entrances and
          exits. Pairs of guards make their rounds.
          CLOSING IN ON ONE PAIR. Something about them... The guard
          squints just as the image CHANGES, showing another part of
          the embassy. The guard hits a toggle, returns the previous
          image... But Bishop and Steve are gone.

          INT. CHANGING ROOM, EMBASSY - NIGHT

          The Mark pulls the straps of her swimsuit up over her
          shoulders. Stares in a mirror as she tucks strands of hair
          under a swim cap.

          INT. INDOOR POOL - NIGHT

          Quiet, lit from overhead by large halogen lights hanging from
          the hanger-like beam structure. Dark shadows in the corners.
          The low sound of water lapping, light reflecting off the
          water, moving over walls.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          72.
          The Mark enters, and hangs up her robe. She goes to the edge
          of the pool, looks down into the water, then glances up at
          the GUARD who's stationed across the space. He nods back to
          her, moves to the lower space, giving her a little privacy.

          EXT. POOL STRUCTURE - NIGHT

          A second guard looks in, rudely checks out the Mark as she
          DIVES into the water and out of sight. He shrugs, looks back
          out at the roof, lifting a cigarette to light... pauses.
          ACROSS THE ROOF, an access door is open.

          INT. INDOOR POOL - NIGHT

          The Mark swims, hard. Cutting through the water. She
          reaches the far wall and kick-turns against it.
          UNDERWATER. Her body passing above us. Silhouetted by the
          strong halogen lights above her. ONLY THE THROBBING SILENCE

          OF UNDERWATER.
          ACROSS THE SPACE. The indoor guard checks in on his radio.
          Looks up as the DOOR nearest him swings open. He rises,
          approaches the door, curious. Looks out.
          HIS P.O.V.: The rooftop, lit by security lights, the
          strobing of the firetrucks below. Dark shadows. He hears a
          RUSTLING, a BANGING. Torn, he glances backwards. Can't see
          the Mark in the pool from here, but can hear her strokes.

          WITH THE MARK
          She kicks hard, dives under... And we're in her P.O.V. The
          far wall approaching, then we REVOLVE as she turns, now
          looking UP at the surface as she backstrokes to the surface,
          BREAKING THE SURFACE, now swimming face up to the bright
          lights hanging from the girdered ceiling.

          EXT. POOL STRUCTURE - NIGHT

          The second Guard tests the door. Seems fine. Takes out his
          flashlight and plays it over the roof. Sees nothing. We
          REVERSE to find Steve there, tucked away, just out of sight.

          ACROSS THE ROOF
          The first guard reaches the source of the noise: A plastic
          bag, caught in a revolving air vent. He pulls it free.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          73.

          INT. INDOOR POOL - CONTINUOUS

          With the Mark, coming out of another turn, still backstroke,
          looking up. She makes it half way across the pool... pauses.
          She slows... floating, staring upwards into the light.
          HER P.O.V. The lights. But it's like she senses something
          beyond them, puts a hand up to shield her eyes...

          AND BISHOP DROPS FROM THE CEILING, FREE-FALL, COMING STRAIGHT

          DOWN AT HER!!!!
          She opens her mouth to scream...
          WHUUMPH! He goes in, taking her with him underwater, his
          momentum carrying them both several feet under. She TWISTS
          in his arms, fighting. Screaming, bubbles FLOWING from her
          mouth!
          ABOVE THE SURFACE. It's silent. No sign of the violent
          struggle going on below the surface.
          ACROSS THE ROOM. Guard number one returns, glances up
          towards the pool. Doesn't hear anything. He sits back in
          his chair.
          UNDERWATER. The struggle is violent, silent, terrible in
          it's inevitable conclusion. The Mark writhes and jerks but
          Bishop holds her tight, always pulling her away from the
          surface. Finally, the fight goes out of her. She goes limp
          in his arms.
          He turns her, stares into her unseeing eyes. Then lets her
          go, rising slowly to the surface.
          AT THE SURFACE. Bishop just breaks, breathing in, silent.
          He raises himself slightly, sees the guard at his post.
          ACROSS THE ROOM. The guard glances back towards the pool,
          hasn't heard anything for a little bit...
          BAM! BAM! BAM! A new noise from outside gets his attention
          again. He heads out, hand on his sidearm...

          EXT. POOL STRUCTURE, ROOFTOP - NIGHT

          The guard approaches the same door Guard #2 already checked,
          banging in the wind. Open again. He starts to move towards
          it when a FIGURE looms, he almost draws his weapon, breathes
          relief when he makes Guard #2.

                         GUARD #2 (TURKISH)
          It's the second time it's come
          open. She still swimming?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          74.

          INT. POOL STRUCTURE - NIGHT

          The two Guards come into the pool area. On the far wall, the
          shower is running, a towel has fallen over the drain and the
          water is flowing down and into the pool.
          One of the men steps forward, concerned...

                         GUARD #2 (TURKISH)
          Oh hell...
          The Mark floats face-up in the pool, just under the surface.

          INT. CHANGING ROOM, EMBASSY - NIGHT

          Bishop has already shed his wet clothing, pulls on dry
          clothes as Steve comes into the room. They barely
          acknowledge each other, business. Bishop stuffs the wet
          clothes in a bag, dumps it into a LAUNDRY chute.

                         STEVE
          How did it go --

                         BISHOP
          Not yet.
          As if on cue, an ALARM BLARES. Excited voices come on over
          an embassy wide PA System. VOICES from the next room.
          Bishop opens the chute again as Steve cracks a glowstick,
          puts it between his teeth, swings his legs in, and DROPS.
          ACROSS THE ROOM. The door to the dressing room opens, armed
          guards flood in, along with Embassy officials speaking on
          radios. The room is empty.

          INT. LAUNDRY CHUTE - CONTINUOUS

          Tight, PITCH BLACK except for the eerie glow coming from the
          glowsticks Bishop and Steve have in their teeth. They slide
          FAST, the sides of the tube RUSHING up at them. And then
          suddenly a dim LIGHT at the bottom, rising fast...

          INT. SERVICE ROOM, EMABASSY - CONTINUOUS

          Steve lands hard in a cart of towels. Rises and pushes
          himself out of the way just in time for Bishop who grabs the
          pack he tossed down, shoulders it, and they're MOVING again,
          now through sub-corridors.

                         STEVE
          Alright, you gotta admire that.
          You gotta admit, we are a spooky
          good team...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          75.
          They PUSH through a set of old doors, move fifteen feet to a
          metal roll-down door.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          It's like one moment we're there...
          the next moment...
          He ROLLS UP the door. STARES at a NEW WALL OF CEMENT BRICKS.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          ...we're fucked.
          Bishop takes in the problem, starts to solve it. He tracks
          left right, considering options...

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          There wasn't any sign of this on
          the plans. I went over them fifty
          times!! This isn't supposed to be
          here! This can't be here!
          Bishop holds up a finger. "Shhhhhh" They LISTEN. A soft
          "beeping." Both men PEER around the edge of the metal door
          to where a small box with a red light BLINKS.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Bishop... what do we do!?

                         BISHOP
          Duck...
          Steve looks at Bishop and BOOM! Doors BLOW OPEN, THREE
          GUARDS burst through, machine guns raised and SPITTING...
          Steve hits the deck. Watching Bishop, it's like everything
          we've seen so far was in slow motion. This is the real
          thing, unleashed.
          Bishop WRAPS the first man up, uses his Kevlar vest as a
          shield to catch the fire from the other two. The man SCREAMS
          as his arm breaks. Bishop gets control of his weapon,
          focuses it on the other two. One is BLOWN back. The other
          DIVES for cover.
          Fluid, Bishop REVERSES the man, pushes him AWAY from him,
          coming up with TWO of the man's Flash-bangs in each hand.
          Each hand DIALS the grenade's timers to two different
          settings, simultaneously POPPING the levers.
          Second attacker FIRES a burst which Bishop DUCKS, the bullets
          stitching across the first attacker, SLAMMING him back, his
          rounds TEARING into the ceiling, showering Steve in debris.
          Bishop THROWS the first grenade which reaches the attacker
          just as he rises for another shot. BOOM!

                         

                         

                         

                         

          76.
          Another down as ANOTHER ATTACKER dives through the door at
          Bishop who wraps the man up, his fingers finding pressure
          points on the man who goes limp in his arms, dead.
          ON STEVE. On the floor, witnessing everything. Even in the
          chaos, recognizing the move.
          Bishop SHOVES the last grenade down the front of the dead
          attacker's clothes, wheels him around, PRESSING him against
          the concrete brick wall...
          ... TWO more Security kick open a door, guns fire! Bishop
          goes horizontal, his legs CRUSHING the one man against the
          metal Grate even as he returns fire at the other two who fall
          back and BOOM! The grenade goes off! Bishop is HURLED
          against the far wall. SMOKE AND DEBRIS fill the space.
          Bishop MOVES, hauling Steve to his feet and shoving him into
          the ragged hole blown in the brick wall even as bullets trace
          after them. A bullet catches Bishop in the side, he sprawls,
          then LEAPS towards the hole...

          INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT

          Cover in the floor is tossed aside. Bishop and Steve emerge,
          move 6 feet to a non-descript Buick. Climb in. The keys are
          waiting, Bishop starts it up, drives up the ramp.
          Next to him, Steve is catatonic, lost. As he drives, Bishop
          RIPS a strip from his shirt, pads the wound in his side.

                         BISHOP
          Hey! Hey! You still here?

                         STEVE
          ...It was my fault. I was in
          charge of the exit. I looked at
          every work order, every entry in
          the building logs...

                         BISHOP
          No one controls 100% That's the
          nature of the beast.
          Steve swallows, nods as Bishop brings the Buick around a last
          corner, ACCELERATING at the closed gate in front of them, a
          Turkish guard waving his arms frantically...

          EXT. STREETS - NIGHT

          Firetrucks and ambulances already crowd the streets. There's
          just no time or extra manpower left to react to the Buick
          which plows through the gate of the locked garage.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          77.

          INT. BUICK- CONTINUOUS

          Two blocks behind, a single police car follows. Bishop takes
          a hard turn, moving FAST.

                         BISHOP
          Hey! You did good in there. You
          hear me?. It was asking a lot.
          You came through.
          Steve nods, processing, accepting. Another TURN. Bishop
          slides the car to a stop in a covered lot. Across from them,
          Bishop's own Cobra waits.
          Behind them, the police car tears by, lost.

          INT. BISHOP'S CAR - NIGHT

          Bishop drives down the small lane leading to his home. Steve
          is staring out his window, deep in thought. Finally, looks
          over. For the first time takes in Bishop's injuries.

                         STEVE
          You're bleeding.

                         BISHOP
          ...Yup.

                         STEVE
          So back there. That was one
          hundred percent?
          Bishop looks over, gives nothing. Tiny smile.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Door opens and Bishop and Steve come in. Steve plops in a
          chair, head in his hands. A beat, and then MUSIC filters in.
          Neil Young's "Needle and the Damage Done." He raises his
          head, sees light glowing from the study.

          INT. STUDY - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop sits in a chair, eyes closed. Steve comes in, stares
          at Bishop. Looks over and admires the surface of the
          spinning record...

                         STEVE
          Do you think you know it, when
          you've made the mistake you won't
          survive? Or will it be like the
          Marks? Wake up on top of the
          world, never know...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          78.
          Steve glances into the open cabinet where Bishop keeps his
          vinyl, FREEZES. Comes out with an signed album.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          ...Oh my God. This is a signed
          Hendrix Axis, 1967 release. This
          has gotta be worth... we have to
          play this. You have to play this.

                         BISHOP
          (shaking head no)
          That one... is for a special
          moment. Haven't found it yet.

                         STEVE
          You haven't found the... Are you
          kidding? You have to -- what?
          Bishop's eyes SHOOT open. He looks out the window where a
          series of SEDANS are pulling up. Men get out, approach.

                         BISHOP
          This could get... interesting.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop steps out of his home. One of the several men there
          steps forward.

                         MAN
          Mr. Bishop? Mr. Dean would like a
          moment of your time.
          Off Bishop who... nods.

          EXT. AIRSTRIP - NIGHT

          Sedan pulls up, Bishop is escorted onto a private jet.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Steve stands in the middle of Bishop's home. Home alone.
          -- Steve stares at the classic vinyl on Bishop's turntable.
          -- Steve, wiring his IPod to Bishop's stereo. Nine Inch
          Nails' "Piggy" comes blasting out, insults the speakers.
          -- Steve moves to the bedroom, STARES at the haunting
          painting. He reaches forward, takes it down. Nothing.
          Blank wall behind.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          79.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - NIGHT

          Steve blasts in, lights glow on, illuminate the wall of
          research on the Female Mark. He goes to the gas fireplace,
          flames flicker up. Steve RIPS down the pictures of the
          woman. Moves to the fire and feeds the first one in.
          ON STEVE, watching. His eyes... Tracking to the side.
          STEVE'S P.O.V.: Down, below the fire, stuck to the side of
          the interior cavity... a scrap of paper...
          Steve kills the fire, reaches in, carefully removes the scrap
          of paper. A corner of a photograph. A few buildings,
          distant, out of focus. Almost nothing.

          INT. BATHROOM, PRIVATE JET - EARLY MORNING

          Bishop, shirtless, stares in the mirror. He checks the wound
          in his side, splashes Vodka from a handful of mini bottles,
          painfully re-wraps the wound.

          INT. PRIVATE JET - EARLY MORNING

          Bishop emerges from the bathroom, peers out at the grey
          monoliths of Washington D.C., below.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, MCKENNA HOLDING CORP - MORNING

          Gray morning. Wind blows. Steve stands alone, holding the
          scrap of photograph, now in a plastic envelope. He stares at
          where the chalk line has almost completely faded, then looks
          up, taking in the views, vantage points. A half mile away a
          building under construction rises high.

          EXT. AIRFIELD - MORNING

          Bishop steps off the plane. Another sedan and driver waits.

          EXT. OPEN CONSTRUCTION FLOOR - MORNING

          P.O.V. THROUGH A CAMERA: The McKenna Holding Corp building.
          Image focuses on the rooftop, shutter clicks.
          Steve lowers the camera, looks at the display. He removes
          the scrap from Bishop's fireplace, compares it... the same
          buildings in the corner of the frame. Perfect match.
          ON STEVE. No remaining doubt. Bishop killed his father.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          80.
          WIDER. The SECURITY PROFESSIONAL is up here with Steve,
          hanging back. Steve nods to him.

                         STEVE
          Do it. I don't care what it costs.

          I/E. SEDAN - MORNING
          Driver pulls the sedan to a stop in front of a large
          nondescript building. Bishop steps out, alone on the street,
          passes through the morning commuters, and goes in.

          INT. NATIONAL SECURITY BUILDING - MORNING

          Bishop passes through a SECURITY CHECKPOINT. Post 9/11,
          hyper-conscious. Metal detector. Smart guards backed up by
          battle-ready US Marines. Bishop collects his ID, waits for a
          door to "click" open.

          INT. WAITING ROOM, NSA BUILDING - MORNING

          Bishop sits in a fluorescent lit room, now with a bar-code
          badge on his coat. A few other people also wait. Bishop
          checks his wound, pulls his coat closed to mask where blood
          has stained his shirt.
          A door opens and a plain woman nods to Bishop.

          INT. DEAN'S OFFICE - MORNING

          Bishop sits in a chair. Through blinds, views of gray DC.
          WIDER. We realize that the plain woman is sitting across
          from Bishop, watching him. Finally, the door opens and DEAN
          enters. Pasty white, slightly balding. It's hard to locate
          where the sense of power come from, but it's there, innate.
          He motions to the woman who leaves. Dean sits at his desk,
          taps his fingers on it.

                         DEAN
          You look like shit.

                         (BEAT)
          How does Harry McKenna's son figure
          in?

                         BISHOP
          He's going to be working with me
          from now on.

                         DEAN
          You sure that's wise?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          81.

                         BISHOP
          Do I need your permission?

                         DEAN
          No... And for the record, I don't
          believe you'd ask for it.
          Dean grabs a remote control on his desk, points it at the set
          of flatscreens on the wall which hum to life, muted.
          News reports featuring the killing of the Turkish Embassador.
          Shots of the woman, smiling. Helicopter shots of the pool
          structure. Words scroll: "Terror on our soil."
          "Assassination!" "US Envoy ejected from Turkey..."

          DEAN (CONT'D)

                         (POINTING)
          That was my baby. But my baby has
          turned into an epic shit-storm and
          so when the man who caused said
          epic shit storm suddenly decides to
          do some soul-searching...

                         (PLAINLY)
          What are you doing, Bishop?

                         BISHOP
          The mistake was mine, not the
          kid's.

                         DEAN

          I DON'T CARE.
          Dean leans in, intense. Bishop watches the screens. A
          screen changes to a commercial for a Bahamas resort.

          DEAN (CONT'D)
          I am on some very fucking thin ice
          right now which means you are on
          some very fucking this ice as well.

                         BISHOP
          Someone I trained. That could be
          worth a lot to you.
          Dean laughs, rises with nervous energy and goes to the
          interior blinds, raises one. From here they can see out over
          the office. Glimpses of a dozen conversations. Other men
          and women at work. More than a couple glance over towards
          Dean's office. A predatory vibe.

                         DEAN
          And here I thought we were both
          going to live forever.
          Bishop smiles. Dean stares at him. Bishop stares back.
          Suddenly, this becomes the moment, the decision...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          82.

          DEAN (CONT'D)
          You know, in this business, you
          only get one mistake.
          (off the flatscreens)
          So nothing more like that. You
          take full responsibility.

                         BISHOP
          Yes.
          The two men, face to face. Then Dean's phone rings. He
          turns to it, snaps it up.

                         DEAN

                         (ON PHONE)
          Hey, Stanley. Yes, we're all
          sorted out. I just need you to --

                         BISHOP
          The hit, on the woman. What was
          the reason?
          Dean looks back, surprised, angered.

                         DEAN

                         (ON PHONE)
          I'm calling you back.
          Dean clicks off, takes in this change of rules. A dead
          seriousness infects his voice. Fear.

          DEAN (CONT'D)
          You know, this foul-up, McKenna's
          son, it's all got some people's
          panties in a real twirl.

                         (BEAT)
          This isn't the time for questions.
          This is the time for survival.
          Everyone... is expendable.
          Beat. Dean turns away, picks up the phone again.

          DEAN (CONT'D)

                         (INTO PHONE)
          Yeah, get me Stan again...

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - AFTERNOON

          Steve lays out by his pool, sunglasses, baking under the sun
          as his group of hangers-on swarm around him. Play, dance,
          splash. He's immune to all of it. Louise climbs from the
          pool, water drips off her perfect form. She nestles in
          behind Steve, her hands running over his body.
          He stares straight ahead, as if she didn't exist.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          83.

                         LOUISE
          Come on, baby. What's the matter?
          Finally, something does catch his attention: At the gate, a
          DHL Van pulling up, the driver heading toward him. Steve
          lowers his glasses.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - EVENING

          Seen from far away, the sedan pulls up. Bishop gets out.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop enters, looks around. No sign of Steve, or any
          disturbance. He moves through the house.

                         BISHOP
          Steve! Steve...!?

                         LATER
          Bishop tense, in his study, holding the phone which rings...
          rings... Steve's voice comes on the voicemail: "Hi, this is
          Steve. You know what to do."

                         LATER
          Bishop, sitting on his couch. On the TV in front of him,
          images from a protest in Turkey, an American flag burning.
          Bishop's eyes flick to the stack of DVDs from the woman. No.
          He keeps watching the news images.
          His phone rings. He snatches it up.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Bishop.

          STEVE (O.S.)
          You're still alive.

                         BISHOP
          Seems that way.

          STEVE (O.S.)
          Hey, can you meet me? Something I
          want to talk with you about.
          Bishop, silent.

          STEVE (O.S.) (CONT'D)
          It's important. Come up to the
          house. Please, okay?

                         BISHOP
          Okay.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          84.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          Bishop's sportscar pulls up in front of the large estate.
          Bishop gets out, surveys the grounds. Weirdly quiet. The
          windows of the house, dark. The grounds, empty.
          He moves to the gates to the back yard, finds them open. He
          pushes through, cautious.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          Bishop moves towards the darkened pool area. As he
          approaches, Steve comes into view, standing by himself on the
          edge of the diving board in the center of the dark space.

                         STEVE
          There you are. Thanks for coming.

                         BISHOP
          What's on your mind?
          Steve just smiles, shakes his head. Bishop stares at him,
          tense, confused. Each trying to read the other.
          Then Steve raises a bottle of whiskey to his mouth, drinks.
          Bishop takes a step forward and...
          ... LIGHTS WASH THE SPACE! Explosions! SOUND FILLS THE AIR!

                         VOICES

          SURPRISE!
          Bishop ducks, rolls, his hand moving under his jacket...
          ... but not coming out with his gun. He takes in a surprise
          party, opening in front of him. Beautiful woman, LAUGHING,
          blowing horns. Men, pouring champagne. STREAMERS falling to
          the ground where seconds before they blew into the air, a
          large BANNER, illuminated behind Steve: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY
          ARTHUR!" And Steve, standing on the board, master of
          ceremonies, staring back at Bishop... oddly cool,
          dispassionate. Then he smiles.
          Bishop rises. Women come to him, touch him, put a party hat
          on him and give him small kisses with wishes of "Happy
          Birthday" as he moves to the pool edge across from Steve.

                         BISHOP
          It's not my birthday.

                         STEVE
          When was the last time you
          celebrated your real birthday?
          No response from Bishop. Steve nods, swigs the bottle again.
          He's lit, something fierce and fiery in his eyes.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          85.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          See? You're overdue, buddy.

                         BISHOP
          Who are these people?

                         STEVE
          They think you're a friend of mine,
          a producer, from Canada.

                         (BEAT)
          In other words, they're all your
          best friends.

          EXT. POOL AREA, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT (LATER)

          Bishop sits on an outdoor sofa, surrounded by several
          gorgeous aspiring MODELS. Steve sits across from him, Louise
          under his arm. Bishop watches as one of the models ties a
          cherry-stem into a knot with her tongue, presents it to the
          group to a round of applause.

                         MODEL

                         (TO BISHOP)
          So what movies have you made?

                         STEVE

                         (JUMPING IN)
          Oh, he makes the really violent,
          disturbing stuff. You wouldn't
          know it to look at him, I know, but
          what's locked up away in there...
          (tapping his head)
          Frightening, man.

                         MODEL
          God, I love those. Which ones --

                         BISHOP
          Mr. KcKenna has a creative
          relationship with the truth. I
          don't actually...
          The model glances around, unsure...

                         MODEL
          Oh, okay. That's funny. So what
          do you do?

                         STEVE
          Yes, Mr. Bishop. What do you do?
          Bishop doesn't respond. He's just staring down.
          BISHOP'S P.O.V.: Discarded, lying beneath the sofa the
          models are perched on: The tear-strip from a DHL Envelope.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          86.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Come on, Mr. Bishop. We're all
          waiting.
          Bishop looks up at Steve who SMILES back. A beat, and then
          Bishop is up and moving through the crowd, pushing by people
          LAUGHING, DANCING. He almost runs into a bright blue-haired
          woman on the arm of a jockish RAPPER.

                         BISHOP
          Excuse me...
          He comes up short, realizes he's staring into the face of the
          Woman. She's utterly different than we've seen her.
          Tonight, she's the clubbing party-girl. Dark lipstick,
          bright blue wig, heavy eye-liner.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Hi.

                         WOMAN
          Hi... This is strange.
          The Rapper she's with has found a group of his buddies. High-
          fives all around. He glances around for his date...

                         BISHOP
          Is he your...?

                         WOMAN
          No, just a job.
          (off his nod)
          I have to...

                         BISHOP
          I know. Go on.
          She nods, turns away. He also turns, starts moving through
          the crowd, pushing through DANCING BODIES...
          ... and suddenly she's back with him. No words. Lights and
          sound and dance around them. She leans forward, kisses
          Bishop once. Backs off, smiles, turns away and makes her way
          back to the guy she came in with who tucks her under his arm
          without missing a beat, mid-story with his posse.
          Bishop... staring. Turns away as the MUSIC STOPS. Steve's
          voice fills the outdoor space, amplified.

                         STEVE
          Ladies and gentlemen! The man of
          the hour!
          A SPOTLIGHT hits Bishop. He squints up as the crowd makes
          space for him. Steve's near the DJ, speaking on a mic.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          87.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          I know that not many of you know my
          friend. My good, dear... friend.
          I mean, he's a man of few words...
          And he's an art lover! Did you
          know that? His home is covered
          with work. It's amazing, what you
          can find in there. Amazing.
          A weird beat. Steve, smiling fierce.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Happy birthday, Arthur.
          Behind Steve, a covered object. Steve now turns to it, pulls
          the cover off a PORTRAIT of Bishop, clearly done by the
          Artist he collects. The image is twisted, vivid, disturbing.
          As the crowd erupts in APPLAUSE the ARTIST himself now comes
          forward, Steve's arm around his shoulder and bumping fists
          before the Artist heads on towards Bishop, shaking Bishop's
          hand. Faces BEAM. People CLAP. On Bishop, just looking at
          Steve who stares back... unreadable.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          Bishop bangs out a door into the front drive, makes it to his
          car, fumbles for his keys. Sweating, off-kilter.

          STEVE (O.S.)
          Hey, you forgot something.
          Steve's there, holding the portrait. Bishop nods, takes it.

                         BISHOP
          Sorry... Sorry for leaving. I'm
          just not used to --

                         STEVE
          No worries, man. It's your party.
          You can leave it.

                         (BEAT)
          It's true, isn't it? What you said
          to me the first time we met.

                         BISHOP
          What's that?

                         STEVE
          This thing we do. Finally, you
          always do it alone.
          Bishop nods unconsciously, starts towards his car, forces
          himself to stop.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          88.

                         BISHOP
          Steve... thank you.

                         STEVE
          Uh-oh. I can feel some male
          bonding coming. We gonna hug it
          out, Bishop?

                         BISHOP
          No, I'm serious. Thank you.
          People don't... Anyway, it's been
          a long time, since someone did
          something for me.
          Steve looks back, nods. Strangely dark.

                         STEVE
          Happy Birthday, Arthur.
          Steve raises a hand, shoots Bishop with a finger. A wink,
          and he turns and is gone, back to the party.
          Bishop climbs into his car, pulls away.

          INT. BISHOP'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER

          Bishop drives the car out of McKenna's estate, pulls out onto
          the street. He starts to accelerate away... then STOPS the
          car in the middle of the street.
          ON BISHOP. Fighting what his guts are screaming at him.
          Losing it, POUNDING on the steering wheel. Suddenly still...

          EXT. POOL AREA, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          Party rages on, oblivious to the absence of its recipient.
          Suddenly faces turn UPWARDS... to where Steve is looking down
          on everyone from a third story balcony over the pool.

                         STEVE

                         (CALLING OUT)
          Are you all having fun!
          SHOUTS and NODS. LAUGHTER.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          I despise each and every one of
          you!
          MORE SHOUTS, LAUGHTER. Steve LEAPS out into space. Perfect
          huge swam dive... falling... HITTING the water. A moment of
          silence... did he? Was that deep enough...?
          Steve ERUPTS out of the water. Party ROARS back into life.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          89.

          EXT. GROUNDS, MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          High above the festivities. Bishop slips over the wall,
          makes his way down towards the estate.

          INT. MCKENNA ESTATE - MOMENTS LATER

          Dark and empty in here, party raging outside. Bishop enters
          Steve's bedroom. Messy, the bed unmade. A woman's
          underthings lying on the floor.
          Bishop surveys the room, checks drawers, peers down into the
          party below. He can see Steve in the middle of it all,
          Louise on his arm, his hand on her ass.
          Bishop moves to the office door, locked. He slides a pick-
          set out of his pocket, gets to work.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          The door lock "clicks" and Bishop enters, closes the door
          after himself and locks it, turns around...
          The room has been STRIPPED of everything that was in here
          last time. GONE are the paintings, the portraits, the
          mementos. All traces of Harry McKenna, removed.
          Instead, a SINGLE desk inhabits the center of the room, a
          small computer monitor and keyboard centered on it. Bishop
          comes around, touches a key on the keyboard. The monitor
          glows to life with a single "PASSWORD" prompt.
          Bishop stares at it. He sits, staring, concentrating...

          EXT. POOL AREA, MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          Steve has moved to the edge of the raised patio, looking down
          into the valley. His eyes still, deep, impossible to read.

                         LOUISE
          Hey! Hey baby! Karen's got some
          amazing E. You need to come try...
          Steve turns those cool eyes on her. She shrinks. We think
          he might slap her, then:

                         STEVE
          Give me a moment. I'll be right
          there. We'll do that amazing E.
          And he looks away, back down over the view. A resigned
          loneliness settling into his features.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          90.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT (LATER)

          Bishop, just staring at the password prompt which throbs in
          front of him. Beat. His eyes flick across to the few books
          lying on the desk. Weaponry, physiology... Greek Mythology.
          Bishop reaches forward, types "Nemesis." Hits ENTER. A
          moment... and then our minds are blown.
          The entire wall of the room in front of Bishop glows to life.
          It's a one large high-resolution monitor. On it, glows an
          infinitely detailed work-up on Bishop. A photograph on him
          glows at the center of the screen, changing every three or
          four seconds to another.
          This is Bishop's method, brought into the 21st century.
          Accounts, Medical charts, psych profile, associates,
          residence...
          Bishop approaches... takes it in. Touches "Accounts" and the
          window SPREADS OUT across the whole wall. Multiple windows,
          all of Bishop's money, displayed in real time, the numbers
          subtly changing with the flow of foreign markets.
          Another window above is labeled "Associates." Bishop touches
          this one and the financial windows are replaced with a
          collage of FACES. Not too many. We recognize the Store
          Owner and his Daughter. Steve himself. An older man "Gerald
          Bishop," Bishop's father. And a photo of the Woman.
          Bishop touches the woman and multiple images propagate out
          from the single. Many stills, but several are in motion,
          looping: Childhood movies. A commercial done as a teen. A
          blue movie when she was 20. Bishop's eyes settle on a video
          image: He and the woman, caught just an hour ago in the
          middle of the dancing party. The woman leaning to him,
          kissing him.
          Bishop stares at the image, then touches another image
          labeled "Residence." INSTANTLY, the images are replaced with
          images of the interior and exterior of Bishop's home.
          Bishop stares at them, confused. SQUINTS... realizing that
          in one of the images, the trees lightly sway in the breeze.

                         BISHOP
          Huh.
          His eyes dart to an image of his DINING ROOM. It looks like
          a still, until suddenly Bishops' cat passes through the
          frame. Bishops' eyes dart, moving from frame to frame. The
          whole interior of his life. His living room, bedroom, study,
          gym. All live feeds.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          Son of a bitch...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          91.

          INT. BEDROOM, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT (LATER)

          Door BURSTS open, Steve pushing in, his arms wrapped around
          Louise and another gorgeous woman from the party. As the two
          women hit the bed, start undressing each other, Steve takes a
          moment -- sensing. Something not right. He pulls keys from
          his pocket, unlocks the study door, peers in.

          STEVE'S P.O.V.: THE STUDY - EMPTY

          LOUISE (O.S.)
          Come on, Steve. We need you.

          INT. DIVE BAR - NIGHT

          Low end. Mean men and loose women. Metal on the juke. Duct-
          taped naugahyde. Bartender on parole. Eyes raise as Bishop
          pushes in, scattered focus, hits the bar.

                         BISHOP
          Whiskey. Neat. Lots of it.
          Bishop fumbles in his pocket, brings out a thick wad of cash.
          $100s and $20s. Eyes track. At a booth, two EX CONS lock
          onto Bishop, one sporting a middle-finger raised FU tattoo on
          his bare shoulder. Bishop pushes $100 forward.

                         BARTENDER
          That's too much.
          Bishop grabs the shot, down it. Pushes the empty shot and
          the cash back at the bartender.

                         BISHOP
          I'm not going anywhere.

          AN HOUR LATER
          Another shot is put down on the bar, empty. Bishop wipes
          watery eyes, nods to the bartender to hit it again.
          Bishop stares at the drink, then his attention is drawn to
          the bar TV. Footage from the protests in Turkey is narrated
          by a news anchor, speaking.

          FEMALE NEWS ANCHOR
          ...Intelligence services can listen
          to our calls. But what about the
          rest of the world?

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          92.

          FEMALE NEWS ANCHOR (CONT'D)
          Well, today the answer seems to be
          'No" as outrage over the
          assassination of the Turkish envoy
          Bahar Miryem has forced the US to
          reverse its position, now saying
          that it will not make it support of
          Turkey's EU bid contingent on its
          cooperation in the security
          agreement. Miryem had always
          advocated for Turkish autonomy from

                         --
          Bartender hits a remote, annoyed. Channel changes to a 70's
          Charles Bronson flick. Bishop blinks, shakes his head...
          He collects himself, weaves out of the bar. The Ex-Cons
          watch him go.

          EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT

          Bishop weaves his way into an alley to piss. Relieves
          himself on a wall. Done, he zips up, turns...
          WHAM! One of the Ex-Cons catches him across the face with a
          punch. Bishop reels back against the wall.

                         BISHOP
          ...More.
          WHAM! WHAM! Bishop takes the punches, no defense. Face
          punished. The guy backs off, slightly winded.

                         EX CON
          Dude, you don't want any more, give
          us that money.
          Bishop shakes his head. WHAM! WHAM! Two more hits to the
          body. Bishop just keeps taking the punishment. Seems to
          relish it. Spits blood.

                         BISHOP
          Look, I'll give you my money, but
          you have to promise me you won't
          spend it all on lipstick and
          tampons.
          Ex Con #2 pulls a gun, puts it to Bishop's head.

                         EX CON #2
          You wanna die right here,
          motherfucker?
          Bishop raises his eyes to the man. Not so drunk after all.

                         BISHOP
          ...Thank you.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          93.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop sits at his dining room table, staring straight ahead.
          His face is cut, his flesh swollen. He STARES. If paranoia
          and loneliness had a face, this is it.
          REVERSE to find the Artist's portrait of him, hung on the
          wall across, a surreal and distorted mirror. He chews his
          food steady, even, acutely aware he's being watched.
          We LINGER on the small camera eye tucked in the high corner
          of the room, staring down...

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          Steve sits half-naked in the office chair, the high-tech wall
          illuminated in front of him. In the bed in the other room,
          the two women are asleep, nude, draped over each other.
          Steve watches Bishop leave his table. He hits a control and
          the image SHIFTS, picks up Bishop checking his mail, grabbing
          a baseball cap from a rack as Bishop moves to his den,
          settles into a chair facing the television. Can't see his
          face, just the back of the cap on his head, the tv screen,
          set to white static. He touches a key and the IMAGE ZOOMS IN
          on Bishop, moving slightly...

          LOUISE (O.S.)

                         (SLEEPY)
          Steve...? Where are you, baby?

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          The TV purrs static, white flickering light fills the room.
          We SLOWLY TURN, reversing, to find: The baseball cap, held
          up at the top of the chair by a pillow. No sign of Bishop.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Bishop moves through shadows. He knows the positions of the
          cameras, avoids them, heads towards his BARN.

          INT. BARN - NIGHT

          Bishop enters, turns on lights. He threads his way through
          his collection of beautiful automobiles until he reaches the
          far wall. He ROLLS up a large steel door...
          ... revealing a wall, COVERED with his research on Steve.
          Lots of it, weeks of work. He moves forward to a paper that
          lists stats about Steve that includes a blank space for
          "Occupation:" Bishop fills it in: "Mechanic."

                         

                         

                         

                         

          94.
          Suddenly LIGHTS wash across the space. Bishop glances out:
          A VAN is making it's way up the drive.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          The wall-sized monitor glows Steve's face as he watches the
          DHL driver get out, makes his way to the door, knock...
          Steve's eyes flick to what he can see of Bishop, asleep in
          the chair. No movement... Steve LEANS FORWARD, interested.
          The DHL Driver knocks again, rings the bell. Still no
          motion... and then Bishop RISES from the chair, makes his way
          to the door.
          Steve watches Bishop signing, closing the door and moving
          into his living room where he opens the package, considers
          the small jump-drive that slides into his hands.
          ON STEVE. Watching.

          INT. BISHOP'S STUDY - MORNING

          CLOSE on Bishop's weighted RP turntable. The needle coming
          down... touching spinning vinyl. Stones' "Sympathy for the
          Devil" croons out.
          ON BISHOP, tacking up pages, photographs, financials. We
          don't get a clear look, but some pages are redacted, there's
          government letterhead. Personnel files, budgets,
          itineraries. Many stamped "CLASSIFIED."
          Bishop draws lines, connections. Tosses some pages down,
          pins others higher. Working it. He backs off, stares
          through us.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - MORNING

          Steve pushes in, looks around, tracks towards the study.

                         STEVE
          Hello? Bishop?
          He enters the study, sees the WALL, the night's work. In the
          center, a photograph of Dean, Bishop's boss.

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          There you are.
          Bishop is leaning in from outside. Nods to Steve.

                         STEVE
          So who is he?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          95.

                         BISHOP
          ...US Government. NSA. Very well
          protected.

                         STEVE
          What happened to you?

                         BISHOP
          You should see the other guy.
          Bishop TOSSES Steve an object, goes back outside. Steve
          looks at it. A WELDER'S helmet with visor.

          EXT. BISHOP'S BACK PATIO - MORNING

          Steve comes out to find Bishop working intently on a chemical
          project. He's pouring a black plastic-like substance into a
          shallow mold creating a Quarter-sized object. EXTREME CARE.

                         STEVE
          What's that?

                         BISHOP
          This... is liquid Semtex with a
          built in combustible. Very
          volatile. Nice and shiny once it
          dries. But don't... scratch it.
          Bishop takes a knife, scratches the surface of the coin-sized
          disc, then backs off, by Steve, back into

          INT. STUDY - CONTINUOUS


                         STEVE
          So that's how we take him out?

                         BISHOP
          (shaking his head)
          No. That's just to focus the mind.

                         STEVE
          You makes bombs to focus your mind.

                         BISHOP
          What do you do?
          (beat, off the Wall)
          This one's different. They want it
          fast, and they don't want it to
          look like an accident. Someone
          wants to send a message.

                         STEVE
          Like with my father.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          96.

                         BISHOP
          Yes. Like that.

                         STEVE
          Didn't think that was your style.

                         BISHOP

                         (BEAT)
          First time for everything.
          Steve looks at Bishop. BOOM! Outside the explosion
          CONCUSSES against the house. A window CRACKS. Steve
          crouches, hands covering his head.

                         STEVE
          Jesus...
          Bishop puts a hand out.

                         BISHOP
          There's something I haven't told
          you.

                         STEVE
          What?

                         BISHOP
          ...I broke a rule. I brought you
          in without asking. So this hit, is
          a test. Of us, of our arrangement.
          (beat, off Dean's picture)
          If that man is breathing three days
          from now... then they'll need to
          make an example of us. Do you
          understand?
          Steve ... nods. Takes Bishop's hand who pulls him up.

                         STEVE
          So what you're saying is you and I
          are stuck with each other.

                         BISHOP
          I'm sorry.

                         STEVE
          ...For what?

                         BISHOP
          For getting you into this --

                         STEVE
          I knew what I was doing.
          Bishop considers, nods.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          97.

                         BISHOP
          Get packed.

          INT. TENEMENT - DAY

          Steve and Bishop push in, backpacks on. Trash, bad lighting,
          sad people in dirty hallways. They start up a long flight
          of stairs.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, TENEMENT - DAY

          Steve and Bishop push out onto this dilapidated rooftop,
          Washington DC spread out around them. They unpack gear from
          the backpacks. Tripod, camera and telescope are quickly
          assembled.
          Bishop steps back, lets Steve take the first look. Bishop
          takes notes.

                         STEVE
          ...I count six... no seven at the
          main door.
          P.O.V. THROUGH THE TELESCOPE: The front entrance of the NSA
          building. The security check Bishop went through.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Jesus they've got US Marines in
          there. Two at the door, one...
          maybe another two out of sight.
          Bishop considers Steve, locked to the telescope, the sharp
          point of the pen in his hand...

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          Fifth floor, corner office.
          P.O.V. THROUGH THE TELESCOPE: Steve finds Dean, at his desk,
          talking on the phone. Animated.

                         STEVE
          ... Alright, got him. He's at his
          desk. We could take the shot right
          from here.

                         BISHOP
          Glass is three inches thick...
          Steve moves his hand to turn on the laser Bishop used before
          to listen with...

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          And has laser sensors.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          98.
          Steve laughs, suddenly walks away from the telescope. Bishop
          goes to it, takes up the watch.

                         STEVE
          Alright, fine. What are we doing
          here? Who is this guy?
          P.O.V. THROUGH THE TELESCOPE: Dean shouts into the phone,
          slams it down. Leaves his office. Bishop pulls away from
          the telescope, hunkers down to wait.

                         BISHOP
          Starting to get it?

                         STEVE
          Yeah, I'm getting that this isn't a
          job. It's just a really
          complicated... suicide.
          Bishop smiles. Steve moves off, restless.

          EXT. ROOFTOP, TENEMENT - NIGHT

          Whole day has passed. Bishop hasn't moved, stares across at
          the NSA building, the corner office. Steve sits nearby.

                         STEVE
          You know, you can front sonofabitch
          all you want, Bishop. You're
          scared, too. You don't really know
          how we're going to pull it off, do
          you? You ever think there's some
          things that just can't be done?

                         BISHOP
          Everyone has a death --

                         STEVE
          Really? Because, this guy? I look
          at this guy, I don't see his death.
          I see my death. And I don't
          particularly like the view.
          Bishop notes the lights going back on in Dean's office,
          returns to the telescope and starts jotting notes in a book.
          P.O.V. THROUGH THE TELESCOPE: Dean back at his desk. He
          looks exhausted.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          And you know, as much as I like the
          quality time, unless you can read
          lips, I don't exactly see what
          we're doing here...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          99.
          Steve glances at Bishop's pad where he's transcribing words:
          "No, no, tomorrow. I'm sick of this, this is my life we're
          taking about. You're bringing me in. Give me a time and a
          place..."

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          You read lips.
          Bishop glances at Steve, puts his eye back to the camera.
          P.O.V. THROUGH THE LENS: EXTREME CLOSE on Dean's desk. A
          piece of paper on the blotter. "Click." "Click."
          Bishop pulls the memory-card from the camera.

                         BISHOP

                         (INNOCENTLY)
          You any good with computers?

          INT. BISHOP'S BARN - DAY

          Bishop is working on his classic Mustang. He's got the
          steering column apart, working the mechanism. Focused.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - NIGHT

          Steve is in front of the electronic wall of info on Bishop.
          His hospital report open. In a separate window, video feed
          of the real Bishop in his barn working on his car.
          Steve marks the injury on Bishop, then opens a new window.
          Multiple images of the scrap of paper on Dean's desk. Steve
          gets to work enlarging, rotating, skewing the images...
          Music and LAUGHTER filter in from outside. Steve becomes
          aware of the noise from outside, frowns.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - MOMENTS LATER

          Steve emerges onto the high balcony overlooking the never-
          ending party. He raises a GUN and fires into the air.
          Faces, startled look up at him.

                         STEVE
          Everybody out. I'm serious. Get
          the fuck off my property.
          A moment, then people start to flee. Only Louise, drink in
          hand, moves towards Steve, confused.

                         LOUISE
          Steve, baby...?

                         

                         

                         

                         

          100.
          Steve levels the gun at her.

                         STEVE
          You, too.

          INT. OFFICE, MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          Steve comes back into his office, facing the wall. He tosses
          the gun on the table, gets back to work. Glances at one of
          the other open windows that shows Bishop at his fridge,
          pouring himself filtered water.
          Steve's hands fly. The images are pieced together, enlarged,
          skewed until nonsensical markings resolve into an address.
          Steve punches it into a search window, waits a beat, then
          eyes scan over the list of returns, lock onto something.
          He picks up the phone, punches a number. Watches as Bishop's
          phone rings, watches Bishop answer it.

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          Did you get it?

                         STEVE
          It's the US Attorney's office in
          New York. He's running. He's
          trying to get out.
          Steve, trying to read Bishop's face, ZOOMING in.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Do you think we're hitting him
          because of what he's done, or
          because he's trying to get away
          with what he's done?

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          Does it make a difference?

                         STEVE
          ...No, I don't suppose it does.
          A beat. The two men, far separated.

          BISHOP (O.S.)
          Do the angles. Find us a shot.

          EXT. DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - MORNING

          Steve and Bishop step out of the airport with bags, hail a
          taxi and climb in, headed into DC.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          101.

          STEVE (V.O.)
          Security's going to have the actual
          street locked down. But there's a
          residential street, perpendicular.

          EXT. DC STREETS - MORNING

          Upscale streets lined with brownstone walk-ups. Steve and
          Bishop walk with roller bags and a shoulder tube past mothers
          and Nanny's ushering their children to school.

          STEVE (V.O.)
          High-end people. They'll put up
          with a sweep, but they're not going
          to allow an agent to spend the day.
          They reach an address. Bishop puts on a hat, some
          sunglasses, slaps a badge onto his jacket that reads "DC
          Municipal Utilities." He trots up the the half-flight, rings
          the bell of an elegant brownstone.

          INT. DC FLAT - MORNING

          Nice. Lace curtains. Classic living room. Magazine racks,
          grand piano, original art.

                         STEVE
          Besides, the angle isn't right, too
          flat. Except when they hit the
          stairs. It'll spread the group
          vertically. It's... the shot.
          Steve and Bishop work in quiet efficient silence. Each opens
          their bag, removes a series of innocuous objects, begins to
          dismantle them for the more important parts they conceal.
          From a clock, a firing mechanism. From the tube, an aluminum
          barrel holds a fishing rod. The rod is discarded, the barrel
          is attached to a hard plastic stock. AA Batteries are opened
          and slender shells are removed from each.
          As this strange choreography continues in silence, we PAN
          ACROSS to the dining room where a WOMAN and a MAN are bound
          and tied, pillowcases cinched over their heads. Their
          bindings allow them to hold each other's hands which they
          do, tight. They're terrified, but okay.
          Back in the living room, Bishop adds the last piece to the
          home-made rifle, a telescope, lifted from a child's gift box,
          snaps it on top of the rifle.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          102.

          INT. GOVERNMENT LIMO - DAY

          Dean squints in the back of his limo as it pulls into
          daylight. He's on the phone, eyes darting, nervous.

          DEAN (O.S.)
          Look, I don't care. Find her, I
          need to talk to her right now...

          INT. DC FLAT - DAY

          Bishop puts the rifle to his shoulder, sights. Behind him,
          Steve slips a blade from the crease of his suitcase,
          considers it, looks back to Bishop.

                         STEVE
          You ever worry about the right and
          wrong of it all? I'm not talking
          about God, just...
          (tapping his chest)
          Whatever you feel here.
          BISHOP'S P.O.V. THROUGH THE SCOPE: The US Attorney building.
          The security detail. The steps leading to the street.

                         BISHOP
          It's a little late for --

                         STEVE
          Come on. You're telling me you've
          never done anything just because it
          was the right thing to do, even if
          it didn't make any sense? You
          never took a chance like that?
          Bishop pulls his eye away from the scope a touch.

                         BISHOP
          Once I did...

                         STEVE
          How'd that work out for you?
          Beat. Then suddenly Bishop's view is obscured by a large
          truck, which has stopped trying to make the turn.

                         BISHOP
          We have a problem...
          Bishop moves the scope, precisely looking for alternatives.
          Nothing. He sets the rifle down, thinking as Steve takes in
          the new situation.

                         STEVE
          There's no shot. What do we do?
          There's no shot.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          103.
          A moment more, and then Bishop MOVES. We travel with him, to
          the entryway. Keys, hats, jackets, sunglasses. Bishop grabs
          a hat, tosses one to Steve.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Bishop...?
          And Bishop's out.

          EXT. US ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY

          The TRUCK, wedged in. The security detail, suspicious of the
          truck. COPS get involved. Men speak into radios.

          EXT. DC BROWNSTONE - AFTERNOON

          MOVING with Bishop, Steve following. Hats and sunglasses.
          They descend the steps onto the sidewalk, closing on the US
          Attorney building ahead. Steve comes abreast of him as they
          move down the street.

                         BISHOP
          On your four. You see him?
          Coming up, a MAN in a jogging suit stretches, touches his ear
          where's he's wired.
          Steve and Bishop come abreast of him. WHAM! Steve pushes
          him down into the garbage alley between two homes. WHAM!
          WHAM! The man drops. Steve comes back, the man's gun
          palmed. Offers it to Bishop.

          BISHOP (CONT'D)
          No. You're the shooter.

                         STEVE
          When?

                         BISHOP
          You'll know when.
          WITH THEM, MOVING, taking the corner onto the main street in
          front of the large building.

          INT. GOVERNMENT LIMO - CONTINUOUS

          Dean's eyes track the outside, the limo making the final turn
          onto the street. Security visible ahead.

                         DEAN

                         (ON PHONE)
          Hey... Listen, I need you to go out
          of town for a few days. No, I
          know, but you have to trust me.

                         (MORE)

                         

                         

                         

                         

          104.

                         DEAN (CONT'D)
          Just go -- no, don't tell me where.
          Just go, okay. Okay? Yes, I'll
          call you soon, I gotta go...

          EXT. DC STREETS - CONTINUOUS

          Steve and Bishop, MOVING. They pass directly behind a
          COMMAND VEHICLE. Security on headsets, watching monitors.
          LOCAL POLICE are also working, one COP in particular guarding
          the corner of the perimeter.
          Bishop nods to Steve who heads up the stairs towards the
          building. Bishop checks his watch, looks down the street
          where DEAN'S LIMO and escort have turned the corner.
          Bishop moves to the cop, stands in front of him. The guy
          patiently puts a hand on him, moving him on.
          Bishop doesn't move. The cop FROWNS.
          A needle hits a record's surface. "Pleased to meet you, hope
          you guess my name..."

          I/E. GOVERNMENT LIMO - CONTINUOUS
          Suddenly dropping into Dean's POV as his limo pulls up to the
          steps. Chaotic motion, LIGHT STREAMING IN as the car door
          opens, security handlers reach in. We MOVE, fast up steps
          lined by City POLICE. One of the police turning his head,
          staring at Dean. Bishop.
          ON DEAN. Suddenly frozen. His handlers unsure what's going
          on, alert that something's not right.

                         DEAN
          ...Bishop?
          Bishop does NOTHING. Security reads Dean's fear, closes on
          Bishop even as Dean himself starts to BACK AWAY, separating
          himself from his own security, now turning to RUN...
          ... Straight into Steve, gun raised. A small moment frozen
          in time as Dean understands his end...
          BANG BANG! - BANG! Steve double-taps Dean in the chest, then
          one to head. And CHAOS begins its rule.
          Security which were closing on Bishop now REVERSE, draw
          weapons and FIRE at Steve who drops down in the small cement
          crease between stairs and statues.
          ON STEVE. Ducked low, bullet shattering granite and marble
          around him, LAUGHING. The first glimpse of something WRONG
          inside this young man.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          105.

          ACROSS THE STEPS
          Bishop, for the moment forgotten by the security who have
          reversed to deal with Steve, suddenly ANIMATES.
          Perfect timing, the security REVERSING again as Bishop draws
          his gun and FIRES, over and over, clipping officers and
          security in the legs as he SPRINTS down the steps towards...

          INT. GOVERNMENT LIMO - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop lands inside the limo, pulls the door shut as bullets
          "thunk" into armored sides and spider bullet-proof glass.
          The DRIVER looks back through the opening, surprised, just in
          time for Bishop to grab him by the collar and HAUL him into
          the back at the same time slipping through the opening and
          sliding into the driver's position.
          As he slams the shifter into REVERSE men line up in front,
          OPEN UP with weapons.

          EXT. DC STREET - CONTINUOUS

          WHEELS SMOKE, Limo ACCELERATES backwards, angling UP THE
          STEPS. Security DIVE ASIDE as the Limo clears the rail,
          comes down HARD just across from the small alcove Steve's
          pressed into. The passenger door opens.

                         BISHOP
          Get in.
          Security are standing up, opening up, as Steve DIVES forward.

          INT. GOVERNMENT LIMO - CONTINUOUS

          Steve lands awkward in the front seat as Bishop throws the
          limo into drive, floors it DOWN the steps of the building,
          men diving aside, swerving onto the street.

                         STEVE
          Thanks.

                         BISHOP
          Behind you.
          Steve has half a second to puzzle this one as the Driver
          grabs him from behind, HAULS him backwards.
          Bishop eyes his mirrors, counting the number of vehicles
          pursuing. Eyes makes calculations, gets distracted for a
          moment from the RAGING FISTFIGHT between Steve and the Driver
          occurring in the rear compartment.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          106.
          Bishop raises the divider, steps on the gas.

          EXT. DC STREETS - CONTINUOUS

          Engine WHINES, Limo surges forward, pursuit cars dropping
          off. There are no turns, no spins. This is straight-line
          acceleration circa FRENCH CONNECTION. Bishop guides the limo
          faster and faster, blasting across intersections, timing his
          spacing to inches, no margin for error.
          Around him, pursuit cars aren't as good, they VEER off into
          crashes, clip traffic, SPIN out of control.

          INT. GOVERNMENT LIMO - CONTINUOUS

          In front of Bishop, intersection after intersection of cross-
          cutting traffic. Bishop speeds up or slows just a fraction,
          making space for the limo, BARELY.
          He notices a hand-held automatic weapon secured to the dash,
          grabs it, checks his mirrors.
          IN THE REARVIEW: Bishop watches a pursuit car T-BONED by a
          truck, then his view is blocked by STEVE and the DRIVER as
          they wrestle and fight.
          Over his initial surprise, the Driver's trained, and good.
          He locks Steve up, SLAMS him against the window, choking him.
          UP AHEAD. Bishop sees a traffic jam LOOMING ahead, the limo
          closing at 100 mph, no alternatives. He lowers the divider.

                         BISHOP
          Get in front.

                         STEVE
          Working on that...

                         BISHOP
          Now!
          Bishop HAULS UP the E-Brake, putting the Limo into a SPIN.
          The shift in force tosses Steve and Guard across the rear
          space. Steve dives forward towards the front as...

          EXT. DC STREETS - CONTINUOUS

          The Limo goes into a 4-wheel ROTATION, angling towards the
          hard corner of a building and WHAM! Limo clips the building
          halfway, SHEERS the limo in half. The rear section crumples
          against the building as the front section SKIDS down the
          building face, comes to rest against a GROCERY.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          107.
          Bishop and Steve recover, roll out of the now exposed rear of
          the driver's compartment and into

          INT. GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop and Steve slide in as POLICE CARS slide to a stop
          outside. Small glimpses of COPS and SWAT taking positions.
          Steve peeks over a counter. A few cops fire. A glass window
          SHEERS, fruit catches rounds.

                         STEVE
          We have got to go!
          Steve's pointing at the rear exit. It looks far away.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          You go for it, I'll cover you.
          Bishop takes in the exit, the gun in Steve's hand...

          EXT. GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          More COPS arrive, take positions. There must be thirty guns
          pointed in their direction.

          INT. GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop cranes around, tracks cop and SWAT...

                         BISHOP
          I'm sorry I brought you into this.

                         STEVE
          Not now, Bishop, we have to --

                         BISHOP
          It was... It was the only thing I
          knew how to teach you.
          Steve looks at him oddly, moved. Then...

                         STEVE
          Don't worry about it, Bishop. I
          brought myself into this.
          Bishop considers this, nods. And he's UP AND FIRING towards
          the SWAT.

                         BISHOP
          Go!

                         

                         

                         

                         

          108.
          ON STEVE. Clear shot at Bishop. A micro-second hesitation,
          and then he's RUNNING for the rear exit.

          EXT. GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          Cops and FBI REACT to the shots, ALL open up.

          INT. GROCERY - CONTINUOUS

          The WINDOW'S ERUPT in a hail of gunfire from the outside.
          Bishop hits the ground, rolls towards the rear exit. Bottles
          and produce EXPLODING under the assault. Steve reaches the
          exit, glances back to see Bishop on his tail, room being
          chewed-up behind him.

          INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

          Steve BLOWS down a corridor. A SWAT member suddenly comes
          out of as side-door, raising his weapon...
          Steve FLATTENS him, comes up with the man's weapon, reverses,
          lining it straight at Bishop... who hits the ground, as Steve
          FIRES rounds pushing back pursuing SWAT behind Bishop.
          More SWAT push in, shields raised, guns lined. Bishop SLAMS
          into them from the side. Pushes one through a door, breaks
          anothers knee as he disarms him, moves after Steve.

          EXT. ALLEY ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS

          Steve and Bishop emerge almost simultaneously, race up the
          alley as SWAT emerges behind them, rounds tracing after them.
          They clear the alley, onto...

          EXT. DC STREETS - CONTINUOUS

          Pedestrians and shoppers crowd the small streets. Bishop and
          Steve tear through people on opposite sides of the street as
          overhead a helicopter clatters.
          Behind them, SWAT and COPS give chase.
          UP AHEAD, a van skids to a halt, SWAT pouring out. Bishop
          and Steve duck into...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          109.

          INT. RETAIL BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

          Travel agency. Displays fly as they muscle through to the
          back, then through service corridors, back into a RESTAURANT,
          headed for the front door...
          TWO COP cars close from outside. Bishop raises his weapon,
          OPENS UP into the metal of the cars. The COPS panic,
          REVERSE, SLAMMING into parked cars. The cops piling out and
          taking position as RESTAURANT PATRONS scream and flee.
          Bishops checks his fire. PURE INSTINCT, swings his weapon to
          lock onto Steve who's also raised his weapon at Bishop. The
          two of them, suddenly lining weapons into each other's faces.
          Breathing had... eyes locked as beyond them another police
          reinforcement arrive, takes position...
          The SOUND of a cop, distant outside, CHAMBERING a round into
          a shotgun...
          Both men DIVE to the ground, roll even as they switch to
          single-shot mode to preserve ammo. BANG BANG BANG, they fire
          back at their attackers, precise, as the cops open up.

          WITH THE COPS
          Firing. Bullets find exposed legs and arms, men stumble back
          or fall to the ground, screaming.

          STEVE AND BISHOP
          Almost at the same exact moment, the men switch their aim
          back to each other. Both men, controlling emotion and body.
          Gasping for breath, bleeding.

                         BISHOP
          ...Why?

                         STEVE
          You don't know?
          Tense beat. Glimpsed through shattered windows, SWAT
          arrives, takes the perimeter. They're being surrounded.
          Suddenly an SUV pulls into view between the restaurant and
          the SWAT and Police position, a confused and frightened WOMAN
          at the wheel. Police SHOUT at her, confusing her more.
          Steve makes a decision. Lowers his weapon, grabs a napkin,
          ties it to hide his features.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          Cover me.
          And with that Steve is RUNNING towards the outside...

                         

                         

                         

                         

          110.
          ... BEHIND STEVE, Bishop steps out, gun in each hand. Clean
          shot of Steve's back. He opens up. Bullets tracing around
          Steve, pushing the men back just long enough for Steve to
          reach the SUV, haul open the door.

          INT. SUV - CONTINUOUS

          The WOMAN screams as Steve pushes her aside, takes the wheel.
          She scratches back, one hand ripping the bandana away from
          Steve's face. He STARES at her for one deadly second.

          INT. RESTAURANT - CONTINUOUS

          Bishop FLINCHES as the sound of the SHOT come from the SUV.
          The passenger door opens and the woman climbs out as the SUV
          ACCELERATES away, cops and SWAT firing after it.
          BISHOP'S P.O.V.: The woman watches her car go, then turns
          and sits on the pavement. Her hand moves to her chest, comes
          away bloody.
          ON BISHOP. Angry like we've never seen him. Cold. Furious.
          The stupid waste of it all. He meets the woman's gaze. She
          dies looking at him.
          Helicopters clatter above, bullets plink into dishware and
          hardwood. Bishop just stares at the woman for a long beat,
          then he turns away, back into the building.
          It is... over.

          EXT. DC STREETS - DAY (LATER)

          SWAT approaches the SUV, slammed against another car.
          Shielded men throw the door open. It's empty.

          INT. RESTAURANT - DAY (LATER)

          SWAT move into the restaurant Bishop was last seen in. Guns
          lined, checking corners. But there's no sign of Bishop.

          INT. DC FLAT - AFTERNOON

          Bishop enters the flat. Cool afternoon breeze blows through
          curtains. He stops, stares at the couple who owned the flat
          who now lie motionless. Small holes in the red-stained
          pillowcases over their heads. Steve has been here.
          Bishop swallows, angry. He forces himself back to the task
          at hand. Breaking down the never-fired weapon. He works
          efficiently, silently.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          111.

          INT. AIRPORT - EVENING

          Bishop sits at the gate, waiting to board his plane. He
          watches families get ready, college kids laughing.
          On the silent TVs, CNN shows footage of the aftermath of the
          gunfight in the street. "Eight dead." A US Attorney
          speaking at a press conference.

                         US ATTORNEY
          ...Something is wrong in this
          country. But today because of the
          actions of a few cowardly men, we
          may never know the true face of --
          A voice announces boarding, drowning out the TV. Bishop
          collects his things.

          INT. LOCAL GROCERY - NIGHT

          Grocer glances at Bishop's two grocery bags, then to the
          clock: 7:10. Sophie reads her book with her doll. A CAR
          speeds by outside. Sophie tracks it, looks at her father.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Key in the lock, Bishop enters, stands in his living room.
          TENSE. WAITING. Nothing.

          INT. BISHOP'S GYM - NIGHT

          Bishop stands in front of his machines, still. Reaches out,
          touches one. Waiting.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME- NIGHT

          Bishop sits across from the portrait of himself, finishes the
          last bite of his dinner. He takes the plate, walks into the
          kitchen and to the sink, washes the plate...
          His cat curls around his legs, purrs. Bishop takes a scrap
          off the plate, bends down and feeds it to her.
          She starts to eat, then her EYES NARROW... WHAM! Steve hits
          him from out of nowhere. Bishop sprawls as Steve LOOMS, gun
          lined!
          WHAM! Bishop hits Steve with the fridge door, knocks the gun
          out of his hands, it skitters along the floor. Bishop moves
          towards it, Steve swings a knife. Bishop catches the blow,
          but Steve HAULS down on the bad shoulder. Bishop SCREAMS as
          something gives, stumbles back as Steve swings again, Bishop
          turning, catching the blade in his shoulder.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          112.
          Bishop reels back against the wall as Steve picks up the gun
          and BANG! BANG! BANG! Fires as Bishop flees the room.
          Steve follows, keeping his shots controlled. Slugs chew into
          walls, furniture as Bishop dives out the front door.
          Steve advances, re-loading.

                         STEVE
          You know, when they came to me... I
          said "Are you sure?" Bishop?" But
          They're right, aren't they?

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - CONTINUOUS

          Steve steps out onto the porch.

                         STEVE
          ...You don't really like the work
          anymore.
          Bishop's voice comes from the darkness near the barn.

                         BISHOP
          Maybe not.
          BLAM! BLAM! Steve SHOOTS as Bishop MOVES, finds cover.

                         STEVE
          Yeah. That's... what did you call
          it? That's a prerequisite.

                         (BEAT)
          Besides, I guess I had other
          reasons.

                         BISHOP
          If it matters, today we killed the
          man who ordered the hit on your
          father.

                         STEVE
          Yeah, but not the man who actually
          killed him.
          Steve advances, clearing the side of the barn, LINES his
          weapon on Bishop, who's standing next to the barn.

                         BISHOP
          Why'd you kill those other people?

                         STEVE
          (shakes his head)
          You really going moral high ground
          on me? Seriously? You might want
          to check your soapbox there,
          partner.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          113.
          BLAM! Steve fires just as Bishop SLIDES back, into the barn
          through a side door. Steve LAUGHS, slides towards the front.

          STEVE (CONT'D)

                         (CALLING OUT)
          But that's the difference between
          us, isn't it? You're all alone,
          but you still... like people. You
          wish they liked you. Whereas I
          have people everywhere... and all I
          ever want, is to be alone.
          Steve hears BANGING coming from the barn.

          STEVE (CONT'D)
          There's no weapons in there,
          Bishop! I've... what did you teach
          me? I've controlled the situation.
          One hundred percent.
          BOOM! The barn door blast outwards as Bishop's vintage
          Mustang come careening out of the barn at Steve...
          Who STANDS HIS GROUND. He aims, fires five times through the
          windscreen. The rounds IMPACTING Bishop as the car LOOMS at
          Steve who steps aside at the last moment, the car barely
          missing him, continuing on and IMPACTING against the side of
          the house... the propane tank.
          Steve squints and BOOOOOM! The propane tank ERUPTS in flame.
          Steve is knocked back.
          When he rises, the interior of the car is an inferno. The
          body is slumped against the wheel, the fire consuming him,
          cleansing him.
          Steve. Bleeding, bruised, victorious.

          INT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Steve enters the study, looking down at Bishop's record
          player, looks back at the wall of work on Dean. Smoke seeps
          through the walls, pushes through cracks in sills.
          Steve opens Bishop's record collection, takes the pristine
          collector's Hendrix. The one never played.
          He moves into the living room. FLAMES lick across the walls.
          Through the smoke, he sees the portrait of Bishop staring
          back at him. He raises the album in thanks.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - NIGHT

          Steve now stands outside Bishop's home, watching. The whole
          place is an inferno.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          114.
          INSIDE. Pictures bubble and peel before turning black in the
          heat. The stack of DVDs melts, dripping down...
          IN THE BARN. Flaming beams crash down, crumple classic cars.
          Steve watches it all. The fire reflected in his eyes.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - DAY

          A hot gorgeous day. Slight breeze blows through trees,
          ripples the water on the pool which is suddenly CUT THROUGH
          by the figure of Steve, swimming laps, hard.
          He gets out at the far end, looks over his grounds. There's
          no one here anymore. The place is deserted except for ear-
          wired SECURITY who patrol the grounds.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - DAY

          POLICE and FIRE pick through the smouldering rubble. A
          DETECTIVE watches as the door to Bishop's fire-ravaged car is
          pried off.

          INT. MCKENNA ESTATE - DAY

          Steve trots in from outside, pulling on a loose shirt. The
          house is spotless, transformed. No sign of a frivolous young
          man's pursuits. Art and culture and wealth.

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - DAY

          The door to the car gives suddenly, falls to the ground. The
          Detective pulls a handkerchief, puts it over his nose and
          mouth as he peers in at the body...

          INT. MCKENNA'S OFFICE - DAY

          Steve busts in, dragging his father's 80's turntable with
          him. The portrait of Bishop has been hung here in his
          office. He glances at it, then breaks the seal on the
          Hendrix album, stares at the grooves before seating it on the
          turntable and hitting a switch. Player starts up, needle
          swings over...
          Steve moves to his computer and punches in the password.
          On the wall-sized screen, the Bishop research glows to life.
          All the connections, people, history that made Bishop.
          Bishop's cat jumps into his lap, purring, and Steve strokes
          her. Finally, a decision. He hits a button and the prompt
          "DELETE FILE?" Appears on the screen.

                         

                         

                         

                         

          115.
          Needle comes down, touches the record, the sweet sound of
          Hendrix's "Little Wing" fill the world.
          Steve's finger still hovers over "ENTER." Bishop's cat jumps
          down, trots away. He watches the cat go, hits the button.
          The wall-sized screen goes blank. Just a cool white nothing.
          Steve SMILES, nods, leaning back... when a voice comes from
          the record player, overlayed above the song.

                         BISHOP'S VOICE
          ...Steve, if you hear this, then it
          means you found the right moment to
          play the record. Good for you. It
          also means you had to scratch the
          needle across the surface of the
          record.
          Steve's eyes LOCK on the record player, the needle scratching
          across its surface, from the surface of the record, the
          smallest trace of smoke...

          BISHOP'S VOICE (CONT'D)
          Sorry it has to end this way.
          Steve's eyes dart to the portrait of Bishop. Its cold eyes
          stare back.

          EXT. MCKENNA ESTATE - CONTINUOUS

          KABOOOM! The windows of Steve's office blow out of the
          estate's 2nd story.

                         FADE TO:

          EXT. BISHOP'S HOME - DAY

          The Detective, handkerchief over his face, leans over the
          body. Burnt beyond recognition. CAMERA moves away, down to
          the body's shoulder...

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          Every man has a death that's right
          for them. Every one.
          ... where a form, a heat shadow, has burnt into the charred
          remains of a shirt. A fist, middle-finger raised. We know
          this tattoo. It was on the ex-con who tried to mug Bishop
          outside the bar. This is not Bishop.

          BISHOP (V.O.) (CONT'D)
          A death so right that when it
          arrives, those who knew him will
          say "Yes, this is right..."

                         

                         

                         

                         

          116.
          The detective leans the body forward, and the shadow
          disintegrates into ash.

          EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY

          A brand new Maserati crests the hill, moving FAST. Brakes
          lock up, it slides to a stop in a patch of dirt.

          BISHOP (V.O.)
          "...This was always going to happen
          this way."
          Bishop gets out. Shaved, healthy, clean. He climbs onto the
          roof of the car, stares at the highway which winds away into
          the distance.
          Freedom, laid out before him. He stares at it, wanting,
          needing. He blinks.

          FADE TO BLACK.

          THE END