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(dir), John Frankenheimer
(story), J.D. Zeik
(screenplay), J.D. Zeik
RONIN (1997)
Director John Frankenheimer helmed this action thriller at full throttle. A briefcase with undisclosed contents -- sought by Irish terrorists and the Russian mob -- makes its way into criminals' hands. An Irish liaison (Natascha McElhone) assembles a squad of mercenaries, or ronin, charged with the thorny task of recovering the case. But the team, led by an ex-CIA agent (Robert De Niro), mistrusts one another. Can they accomplish their mission?
Release Date: September 25 1998 (USA)
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(dir), John Frankenheimer. RONIN
Ronin Script
A BLOOD RED SCREEN - A JAPANESE DRUM starts to play, softly,
but tinged with a desperate edge, growing louder, joined by
other DRUMS as a BLACK LEGEND scrolls up: In feudal Japan,
the warrior class of Samurai were sworn to protect their
liege lords with their lives. Those Samurai whose liege was
killed suffered a great shame, and they were forced to wander
the land, looking for work as hired swords or bandits. These
masterless warriors were no longer referred to as Samurai,
they were known by another name: Such men were called Ronin.
The words hang on the screen and we hold for a BEAT, and then
the DRUMS are cut off by - A SILENCED GUN SHOT: Thwpfft...
FADE IN ON:
INT. A MEDIEVAL CATHEDRAL - NIGHT
It’s dark, and so it takes us a minute to realize we’re
MOVING UP STONE SPIRALING STAIRS, up up up in what we now see
is a medieval cathedral. And as we continue MOVING UP
something TRICKLES DOWN INTO FRAME - BLOOD. Running thin,
then thicker, as we CONTINUE TO MOVE UP the stairs and find -
A BODY, sprawled awkwardly across the stones, arms and legs
akimbo, not so much Christ-like as victim-like. In one hand
the Body holds a GUN he never had a chance to use. In the
other - A DARK SHAPE, we can’t quite tell what it is.
FOOTSTEPS sound from above and - THE KILLER walks into frame,
silenced pistol dangling at his side. We don’t know him, and
it’s going to be a while before we see him again, but mark
his face because we’ll see him again. The Killer now picks
up the dark shape in the Body’s hand, and we see it’s - A
BRIEFCASE. The Killer cuffs the Briefcase to his wrist and
turns to - TWO MEN standing behind him: subordinates. The
Killer shows them the Briefcase.
KILLER
God loves me.
THE BODY suddenly twitches -- this guy is not quite dead.
The Killer raises his silenced pistol.
KILLER
(to his victim)
But I don’t think he’s too fond of you...
SLAM CUT TO:
EXT. A BACK STREET - PARIS - NIGHT
A PHONE RINGS, replacing the sound of the silenced gun shot
we expected to hear.
Rain-slicked cobblestones gleam in a twinkling of
streetlight.
EXT. A PHONE BOOTH AT THE END OF THE STREET
The source of the ringing. We start to PUSH SLOWLY IN one the
phone booth, and as we do we hear the VOICE of an UGLY
AMERICAN.
UGLY AMERICAN (V.O.)
What is this?
CUT TO:
INT. A DRIVE BAR IN PARIS - NIGHT
A SOCCER MATCH is in progress on a TV which sits above the
bar in this smokey, dim dive.
UGLY AMERICAN (O.S.)
This is not football...
And now we’re PULLING BACK DOWN THE LENGTH OF THE BAR. We
see THREE MEN sitting seperately at the bar, paying no
attention to each other. One of these men watches the game
with real interest. The Ugly American talks on from off
screen.
UGLY AMERICAN (O.S.)
(continuing)
...Football is three hundred pound guys,
they run way too fucking fast, they got
helmets made of kevlar they use to spear
the quarterback into the next life.
SLAM CUT TO:
EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE
The phone is still ringing, louder now, and we’re MOVING
TOWARDS it while looking THROUGH AN UNSEEN PAIR OF EYES, and
even as we drink this in we’re back in -
INT. THE BAR
AT THE END OF THE BAR - LARRY, the Ugly American. He’s got
an obvious attitude, all of it bad. But there’s something
about the guy -- he’s not all bluster, and he has the look of
a seasoned tough guy who knows how to get rough and tumble.
He’s big, and yeah he’s got a gut, but the rest of him looks
solid.
LARRY
(talking to the air)
You wanna know what football is? It’s
hitting the other guy dirty and then
spitting in his face when he’s down.
Football is all things American, and
American is A-Number-One the absolute
fucking best there is. That’s what
football is...
(he points to the TV)
...And that’s not football.
The one man at the bar who’s been watching the gam turns
slowly and gives Larry a long look. This is VINCENT: French,
hard boiled and solid. Charming when he wants to be, which
isn’t all that often. He gives Larry a long look and then
speaks -
VINCENT
(to Larry in perfect English)
Football -- American football -- is a
game for faggots.
A BEAT. The other two men at the bar, who seem like tough
customers themselves, pretend not to watch too closely, but
they’re interested: what’s Larry going to say? For a moment
it seems as if he’s pissed, but then suddenly a smile breaks
out on his face and he laughs heartily at Vincent’s remark.
Vincent joins in, as do the others. In particular - THE
BARTENDER looks relieved -- he’s tough enough to toss a bar
drunk, but these guys are in a different league. The
Bartender laughs with the others, happy to have avoided a
confrontation as we go back to -
EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE
We’re almost ON TOP OF the phone booth, the phone is still
ringing as a HAND reaches INTO FRAME and snatches the phone
from its cradle.
A WOMAN’S VOICE (V.O.)
(a touch Irish accent)
Yes?
ANOTHER ANGLE - And we see a woman named DEIRDRE on the
phone: striking, dark-haired, Irish. She carries herself
with the same professional edge as the men inside the bar.
Deirdre listens for a moment to the voice on the other end,
and before she speaks she sense something - A SILHOUETTE
stands in the shadows of the bar, watching Deirdre. She
gives this silhouette a measure glance before speaking, her
hand creeping ever so slightly towards her coat.
DEIRDRE
Can I help you?
The silhouette steps into a POOL OF LIGHT. This is SAM.
Tough, lean, enigmatic. Somebody you might trust, but whom
you’d never cross. Sam returns her look before he speaks.
SAM
No...
Sam moves towards the bar, and Deirdre returns to her phone
conversation.
DEIRDRE
I’m here...
(a beat, responding to a
question)
No, it was nothing.
INT. THE BAR - A MINUTE LATER
Sam enters and by now the men inside have all come together
at the bar, talking casually, recognizing they’re somehow all
here for a reason. With Larry and Vincent we see - GREGOR, a
man from Eastern Europe. His accent is hard to pin down,
but he most definitely has one. Gregor has the air of an ex-
spook, and that’s exactly what he is. Lastly we see SWEDE --
blonde, muscular, and somehow blank in the face. No, he’s
not stupid -- he’s a sociopath. Now - Sam looks at the
group, which grows quiet as he enters. Finally, Sam speaks.
SAM
Sorry I’m late...
VINCENT
(a challenge)
What makes you think we’re here to meet
you?
SAM
(meeting Vincent’s gaze)
Who else would you be?
Vincent turns towards the others, including them in an
expansive gesture.
VINCENT
Perhaps the police?
SAM
I know cops -- and you’re no cop.
Vincent smiles at Sam’s answer, satisfied, and makes room for
Sam to join them. Vincent takes a pack of cigarettes, shakes
them so that one sticks out, and offers it to Sam.
VINCENT
Cigarette?
SAM
No thanks.
Vincent looks a little disappointed at this as we go -
EXT. BACK OUTSIDE - SAME TIME
THE PAY PHONE makes a sharp noise as it’s cracked back into
the cradle. Deirdre stands at the phone booth, lost in
thought. Then, without warning - Deirdre spins around,
pulling TWO GUNS from inside her coat. The move is fast,
performed with the grace of a professional killer, as Deridre
scans the horizon, but nobody seems to be watching. Deirdre
pockets her guns and steps into the shadows of the street,
the better to watch -
THE BAR - And as Deirdre watches the bar we watch her.
PULLING BACK from Deirdre, UP INTO THE AIR and then MOVING
THROUGH TO -
INT. A CHEAP APARTMENT - SAME TIME
LOOKING THROUGH A WINDOW, donw onto the street below. Barely
visible we can see Deirdre. And staring at Deirdre - THE
WATCHER. Somebody we’re going to see periodically through
the movie. Right now he’s only a SILHOUETTE with a well-
defined PAIR OF HANDS. And in those hands - A KNIFE. As the
Watcher watches he slowly cleans his nail with the knife,
methodically, perfectly. And he watches. First Deirdre, and
then turning his attention to THE BAR. He’s especially
interested in the bar.
A TIME CUT TO:
INT. THE BAR - LATER
The BARTENDER is wiping out a last glass. When this is
finished he looks up at -
A TABLE IN THE BACK -
Where our five guys have relocated. Now the Bartender and
Vincent exchange a look, and then the Bartender takes out a
set of keys and tosses them - THROUGH THE AIR and they SMWACK
into Vincent’s hand. The Bartender and Vincent speak in
rapid-fire French, and then the Bartender is gone. Sam turns
to Vincent.
SAM
He trusts you to lock up?
VINCENT
Let’s just say he knows who I am.
Vincent takes out his pack of cigarettes and offer them
around the table -- again, nobody takes on. Vincent seems
really disappointed by this.
LARRY
Anybody wanna tell me what we’re waiting
for?
VINCENT
(lighting his cigarette)
The question isn’t what we’re waiting
for... it’s who.
LARRY
And who the fuck is that?
GREGOR
Whoever hired us.
SAM
I got this gig through a contractor.
And he most definitely didn’t know who
was doing the hiring, only that they
were paying a lot of money...
There’s a kind of general look around the table -- a nod or
grunt of acknowledgement, indicating that all of these men
were hired the same way.
SAM
(continuing his thought)
So none of us knows who’s paying the
freight, this is just some anonymous job.
For all we know, we’re working for
different people.
GREGOR
Now that is an interesting proposition.
SWEDE
How so?
GREGOR
Because if there’s more than one party
involved, if we really are working for
different people, then perhaps some of us
are on different sides.
(with great meaning)
Your orders might be different from mine.
LARRY
What’re you talking about, man? I don’t
understand.
SWEDE
(quietly, but loud enough to be
heard)
What a surprise...
LARRY
I got a surprise for you, blondie...
GREGOR
(sharply, as if he’s used to
giving orders)
Why don’t both of you shut up?
LARRY & SWEDE
(to Gregor at the same time)
Fuck you!
SAM
Knock it off!
There is a BEAT. Gregor, Swede and Larry look at Sam, who
glares them all down. Lastly, Sam turns and looks at
Vincent. The two men nod at one another, acknowledging a
kind of mutual respect.
SAM
The point remains: we could be working
for different people. There’s a chance
for one of us...
(looks around the table)
Maybe more than one of us -- has been
paid to cross the others. I don’t know
about you guys, but I like to know who
I’m working for. It can help prevent a
great deal of...
(finding the right word)
...unpleasantness.
LARRY
(patting the gun inside his
cheap suit)
Anybody tries to unpleasant me I’ll put
two between his eyes -- one to do the job
and the other to make sure it takes.
From OFF SCREEN we hear a new sound: LAUGHTER. ANOTHER ANGLE -
Deirdre has entered the bar, and she’s amused by this last
exchange.
DEIRDRE
It’s good to see you’ve all got such
faith in our little undertaking.
LARRY
Who the fuck are you?
DEIRDRE
(staring at Larry)
The name is Deirdre, and I’m running this
show.
GREGOR
Who are you? IRA?
DEIRDRE
(with a brittle laugh)
Not likely. Once, yeah, I was -- but
there wasn’t an inch of profit in it, and
I’m a cash oriented girl, if you take my
meaning. I’m a hired gun, same as the
rest of you, and that’s all any of us
needs to know about the other.
Deirdre hands out several thick envelopes. Larry and Swede
open theirs and stare at the wads of Franc Notes stuffed
inside. Even Gregor cracks his envelope and peaks at his
money. But neither Vincent nor Sam takes a look.
DEIRDRE
From here on in you want something you
pay cash for it: no credit cards, no bank
accounts are in place: ten percent up
front, the rest when the job is done.
(a quick beat, then she looks
at Gregor)
You. What do you do and what should we
call you?
GREGOR
These days they they call me Gregor -- and
I’m a tech. I do electronic work,
surveillance, computer runs.
Deirdre turns to Sam.
SAM
Sam. I’m a weapons guy.
DEIRDRE
You were a soldier, were you?
SAM
Once.
Deirdre gives Sam a look -- and he returns it. Finally,
Deirdre turns to Larry.
LARRY
I drive -- and my name is Larry. Larry
from the States.
DEIRDRE
(she turns to Vincent)
And who are you?
VINCENT
I’m Vincent. And I coordinate.
SAM
(sharply)
Coordinate what?
VINCENT
Things. This is my country, you know.
The two men exchange another look. A pecking order is
developing among the group: Vincent and Sam are both natural
leaders, and now they’re feeling one another out.
DEIRDRE
(to Vincent)
Coordinate all you want, but make sure
whatever you do gets cleared through me.
(Vincent doesn’t respond for a
moment)
Are we in sync on this, Vincent?
VINCENT
Of course.
Deirdre waits a BEAT, letting Vincent know what she isn’t any
more intimidated by him than he is by her. Finally, she
turns to Swede.
SWEDE
They call me Swede.
LARRY
Who’s they?
SWEDE
Everybody.
VINCENT
And what is it you do?
SWEDE
Me?
(with a smile)
I kill.
CUT TO:
INT. A WAREHOUSE - DAY
A PAPER TARGET, in the shape of a human being, dances in
place as it is riddles with GUNSHOTS, each shot hitting the
target in the belly, each shot fired by - Larry, whose been
shooting a sleek automatic pistol from which he’s just
discharged an entire clip. The gun is empty, Larry turns to
Sam, who stands next in line.
SAM
(looking at the target)
You shoot alright.
LARRY
Gets the job done.
SAM
All in the stomach, though. Your man
might live.
LARRY
Not for long.
SAM
Long enough to shoot back.
LARRY
Is that right?
SAM
It’s been known to happen.
LARRY
(a challenge)
Why don’t you go do better, then...
Without a word, Sam pops a new clip into the gun and SHOOTS
THE LIGHTS out of several other human targets, hitting each
target in a different place. One he clips between the eyes,
the next in the heart, one in the groin, and then the last
target - He SPLITS DOWN THE MIDDLE, firing shot after shot
from the head to the groin until the target is sheared in
half. Larry is impressed in spite of himself.
LARRY
Yeah, well... My way works too.
SAM
My way is better.
IN A CORNER OF THE WAREHOUSE -
Gregor has set up a table loaded with computers and
electronic whizmos. Right now Gregor is holding a
particularly high-tech type CELL PHONE in his hands, looking
at it almost lovingly.
DEIRDRE (O.S.)
Is it alright?
ANOTHER ANGLE - Deirdre sits nearby, looking at the cell
phone.
GREGOR
It’s quite satifactory.
DEIRDRE
Good, because it cost enough. There’s
cheaper phones by far than that one, man:
you better fucking use it.
GREGOR
(almost caressing the phone)
I intend to. This phone is wired like no
other: it’s got an encryption chip and
instant sat-a-link recognition, it can
talk to any computer in any language and
make it understand. With my custom
hardware and this phone I can trace the
target’s cell phone signature and follow
him anywhere he goes...
DEIRDRE
You sure about this?
GREGOR
I’d stake my reputation.
DEIRDRE
But would you stake your life, that’s the
question...
GREGOR
In this business, your life and your
reputation are more often than not one
and the same.
From off screen we hear MUNCHING. It’s - Larry inhaling a
sandwich. A malicious look comes over Swede’s face, who’s
cleaning a pistol and sitting near Larry.
SWEDE
You should watch what you eat.
LARRY
Who the fuck died and appointed you food
czar?
SWEDE
I’m just worried about your health,
Larry. You could stand to shed a few
pounds.
LARRY
(sensitive about his weight)
And you could stand to get a little
smarter, ain’t that right you dumb blonde
fuck?
SWEDE
(sensitive about the dumb
blonde thing)
Who you calling dumb, dickless?
Both men eyeball one another, and then suddenly Larry reaches
for his piece, and as soon as he does this Swede does the
same thing, but before they can do anything - DEIRDRE’S GUN
swings INTO FRAME, smashing Swede in the face and dropping
him to the floor. Larry’s mouth drops open in surprise, but
it’s too late: Deirdre kicks him in the stomach and then
rabbit punches him in the back of the neck, driving him to
the ground.
DEIRDRE
(standing above them)
Next one of you fuckers plays this game
I’m going to do for you myself. I won’t
say it again: we don’t have time for this
shit! There’s a clock running on this
job, gentlemen, and I mean to be on
schedule.
A TENSE MOMENT as Deirdre stares down at these tough guys --
letting them know who’s in charge. A SOUND from OFF SCREEN
interrupts this moment: a DOOR opening, as we see - Vincent,
who stands in the door, wearing his coat and hat.
He’s been out somewhere, and he looks first at the squabbling
men, and then at - Deirdre. She gives Vincent a little nod --
a silent command that makes Vincent turn to Sam.
VINCENT
Let’s go for a ride.
Vincent and Sam start off, moving towards the door, while Swede
and larry slowly pick themselves up off the ground.
SAM
Where to?
VINCENT
To see a man about a thing.
SAM
I can do that.
EXT. THE WAREHOUSE - SUNSET
A DESOLATE URBAN LANDSCAPE - Sam and Vincent walking away
from the warehouse, which is housed in what looks to be the
toughest neighborhood in the city, filled with CHEAP CONCRETE
PUBLIC HOUSING and INDUSTRIAL BUILDINGS.
THE SETTING SUN throws a red glow on the street, giving the
raw concrete buildings a blood-colored tint, as Sam and
Vincent approach a FIAT, a car neither too old nor too new.
Before they can reach the car, the two men are intercepted by
FOUR TOUGHS, young guys in their early twenties. The LEADER
of the Toughs apporaches Vincent.
LEADER
(subtitled French)
Who gave you permission to park here?
SAM
(to Vincent)
What’s he saying?
VINCENT
Pretty much what you’d expect.
SAM
(with a sigh)
That’s what I thought.
LEADER
(in French)
There’s a charge for parking on our
block.
The other Toughs add lib a few tough guy remarks (in French,
of course).
VINCENT
(to Sam)
He says this is their block.
SAM
As in, they own it?
VINCENT
Something like that...
SAM
And I suppose he’s saying that we oughta
give them something for using it, huh?
VINCENT
I didn’t know that you spoke French.
SAM
I don’t. But the language he’s speaking
is universal.
ANGLE ON THE LEADER - Who’s smirking at Vincent and Sam.
Sam’s words make a great deal of sense: the Leader is
speaking the universal language of "give me some money or
I’ll kick your ass."
SAM (O.S.)
I guess we oughta give them something...
CUT BACK TO: Vincent and Sam.
VINCENT
If you think we should.
Vincent backfists the Leader in the nose -- hitting him so
hard that the Leader skitters back on unsteady feet and then
sits down on his ass. This blow hurt, but the real damage is
to the Leader’s pride. Now - One of the Toughs rushes at
Sam, only to have Sam perform what looks like a jujitsu throw
which savagely jerks the Tough off his feet and flattens him.
SAM
(as if it were an accident)
Oh man, I am sorry about that...
(he sticks his hand out)
Let me give you a hand.
Sam reaches down as if to help the Tough, who ignores the
hand and totters to his feet. As soon as he’s up he turns
and runs away, followed by the other Toughs. Now only the
leader is left behind. He looks for a second at Vincent and
Sam, and then turns and runs after his friends. Vincent
calls after him in French, but whatever he says isn’t
translated. Vincent turns to unlock the car.
SAM
What’d you say to him?
VINCENT
I asked if we could give him anything
else.
By now the two men are in the car, which starts up and drives
off, as it does we -
CUT TO:
INT. THE FIAT - SAME TIME
VINCENT
That was a nice move you did on our young
friend. Judo?
SAM
Jujitsu.
VINCENT
Same thing, isn’t it?
SAM
Not at all. Similar, but not the same.
VINCENT
What’s the difference?
SAM
One’s a lot more painful than the other.
Vincent laughs, and Sam looks out the window at the city of
Paris as we MOVE THROUGH to the outside world of -
EXT. PARIS DRIVING MONTAGE - TWILIGHT
A SERIES OF QUICK CUTS of the car driving through Paris at
night. We don’t see familiar sights like the Eiffel Tower or
the Arc de Triomph, but instead - We travel through the LEFT
BANK, down a series of Mazy Alleys which twist and turn,
filled with bistros, bars and falafel joints. NEON SIGNS
line the streets for as far as the eye can see. Near the end
of this trip we hear the SOUND OF A MATCH FLARING, followed
by -
SAM (V.O.)
Could I get one of those?
INT. THE CAR - STILL DRIVING - SAME TIME
Vincent is driving and smoking a cigarette. He tosses his
pack to Sam, but he seems a little surprised at Sam’s
request.
VINCENT
Help yourself.
(quick beat)
Since when do you smoke?
SAM
(lighting up)
I have, I don’t know, maybe a cigarette a
week.
VINCENT
A cigarette? As in one?
(exasperated, almost to
himself)
One cigarette a week, who smokes like
that?
SAM
I do.
VINCENT
Christ, I smoke a pack-and-a-half a day,
and I tell myself I could be worse.
(takes a satisfying drag)
It’s just so damned pleasurable.
SAM
(blowing a smoke ring with
great skill)
It has it’s moments.
(stubs out cigarette)
Course, you get cancer and die, that’s
the down side.
VINCENT
(with a sigh)
There is that.
Vincent stamps his cigarette out, looking vaguely unhappy
that Sam has spoiled his smoke.
SAM
So, Vincent: why bring me along for the
ride? Job like this calls for a warm
body, somebody who can stand around and
look threatening. A tough guy.
VINCENT
Like Larry or Swede.
SAM
Exactly. Why not bring them?
VINCENT
Let’s just say I thought the
conversational possibilities were
limited. Of course, I might have brought
Gregor, but he didn’t seem like the right
candidate -- for this.
SAM
Watch that one, he’s an ex-spook for
sure, maybe Stasi, maybe KGB. He’s
smart, Gregor is.
VINCENT
So is the woman.
SAM
Deirdre? Smart, yeah, and seriously
goddamned dangerous.
VINCENT
I wonder if she truly left the IRA.
SAM
I’ve wondered that myself. None of this
answers my question, though...
(suddenly direct)
Why bring me?
VINCENT
I wanted to see who you were.
SAM
Who am I?
Vincent, driving all the while, gives Sam a sideways glance
before speaking.
VINCENT
You were once some kind of special
forces. Airborne Ranger, maybe a Navy
SEAL. After that you rode shotgun for
the CIA in some place like El Salvador or
Afghanistan, a real mercenary.
(beat)
Only now -- now you’re like the rest of
us, it’s a very competitive market since
the end of the cold war. There’s a lot
of hired guns out here, and not nearly
enough work to go around.
SAM
That’s right: there’s not hardly enough
work these days, nothing that pays the
big money, anyhow. Then along comes this
job, paying so much goddamned money I
couldn’t afford not to take it. Somebody’s
paying through the nose for this.
VINCENT
They certainly are. Whatever it is we’re
going to steal, it must be quite
something.
SAM
Whatever it is it must be goddamned
priceless.
And on that thought we -
CUT TO:
EXT. A SIDE STREET - NIGHT
The Fiat pulls up to the curb and Vincent and Sam get out.
Vincent leads Sam around a corner and they come to -
AN EXQUISITE PARK, a small, perfectly manicured place -- a
kind of mini-Luxembourg Gardens in the middle of nowhere.
When Sam sees the park, he draws an involuntary breath.
VINCENT
Lovely, isn’t it?
SAM
They’d have to keep something like this
under lock and key in New York, and it
would still get fucked up.
The two men enter the park, which is, indeed, open to the
public. Inside, sitting on a bench in the back, almost
invisible from the street, we see - FRANCOIS, a stubble-faced
tough with a stained shirt and bad teeth. Vincent and Sam
draw near. This next conversation between Francois and
Vincent is in FRENCH WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES.
FRANCOIS
That’s good right where you are, Vincent.
Vincent signals for Sam to stop. Both Vincent and Sam are
still several feet away from Francois.
VINCENT
Do you have it?
FRANCOIS
Not so fast.
(nods slightly to Sam)
Who’s that?
VINCENT
He’s company.
FRANCOIS
(as if he recognizes Sam)
Bad company...
VINCENT
What do you mean?
FRANCOIS
He’s a cop, Vincent, he’s French and he’s
a cop and you better shoot him in the
fucking head right now!
Sam hasn’t said a word -- he doesn’t seem to understand
what’s been said, but he has noted the urgency with which
Francois spoke. Now - We HOLD FOR A BEAT. Neither Vincent
nor Francois pulls out a piece to shoot Sam. Instead they
wait to see if Sam will respond in any way to what Francois
said. The conversation now switches to ENGLISH, which (it
turns out) Francois speaks fairly well.
SAM
(to Vincent)
What’s going on?
VINCENT
I just wanted to see something.
SAM
(that edge creeping into his
voice)
See what?
Vincent isn’t going to answer, but the overbearing Francois
chimes in.
FRANCOIS
He wanted to see how you reacted when I
said that you were a cop.
SAM
(he can’t believe this)
You told him I was a cop?
FRANCOIS
He asked me to say it.
SAM
(looking at Vincent, truly
pissed)
He asked you to?
VINCENT
I needed to know.
SAM
You need to know a lot of shit, Vincent.
FRANCOIS
(to Vincent, in subtitled
French)
Are you ready?
Francois’s French words give Sam pause -- he’s wondering
what’s being said, as - Vincent moves towards Francois,
leaving Sam several steps away. The conversation is again in
SUBTITLED FRENCH.
VINCENT
(taking out an envelope)
Here’s yours.
FRANCOIS
There’s been a slight problem.
VINCENT
(immediately tensing)
What’s that?
Francois gives the slightest of nods, indicating that Vincent
should look towards a place perhaps thirty yards away -
A COPSE OF TREES, where we see a SNIPER pointed a telescopic
rifle at Vincent.
FRANCOIS
(still in subtitled French)
If you say a word in English, Vincent, my
friend with the high powered sporting
rifle will shoot you in the throat.
Sorry to screw you over like this, but
the information you want might get me
killed if I give it to you, and that’s a
price I’m not willing to pay.
VINCENT
(in French)
I take it you still want the money...
FRANCOIS
(in English, with a grin)
Of course.
SAM’S POV: Looking at Vincent and Francois.
The men are talking, and from here we can’t really hear them
speak. All Sam can see is an earnest Vincent listening to
Francois talk, almost as if Francois is giving Vincent
instructions. Now - Vincent reaches into his pocket,
reaching for the envelope of cash he’s carrying. As he hands
the money to Francois, Vincent uses his free hand to pull out
his gun while - Sam already has his gun out -- somehow he
figured out what was going on -- and now Francois looks on in
stunned disbelief as -
Sam fires a single shot, hitting Francois in the shoulder,
driving him away from - Vincent, who now squeezes off several
rapid fire shots at the sniper, while - Francois, bleeding
but still very much alive, now has his piece free just as -
The Sniper, his gun firing wildly into the air, falls to the
ground, shot dead by Vincent, and now - Francois is drawing a
bead on Vincent when - Sam hits Francois with a fusillade of
bullets in the chest and now - A SINGLE SPENT BULLED CASING
flies through the air in SLOW MOTION and lands on the ground,
spinning around until it comes to a halt and - A HEAVY
SILENCE FALLS, as the last echo of the last gunshot finally
dies. Vincent and Sam look at one another, see that they’re
still alive, and then look back at - The two men they’ve
shot. Francois isn’t quite dead. Blood bubbles from his
lips as Vincent leans over him. Again, they speak in
SUBTITLED FRENCH
VINCENT
Where’s my information?
FRANCOIS
(with a grim smile, pointing to
his head)
In here...
VINCENT
Then you better find it in your heart to
tell me, Francois, because while your
death is inevitable, it still isn’t
decided how painful it’s going to be.
A LONG ANGLE - Vincent whispers in Francois’s ear, whose grin
blanches as he realizes Vincent means to hurt him. Francois
whispers something back and then - BANG. Vincent shoots
Francois in the head, killing him instantly. Then Vincent
bends down and retrieves the envelope of money which Francois
had tucked inside his shirt. As Vincent does this, Sam comes
up from behind.
SAM
Now would be a good time to get the fuck
out of here.
INT. THE FIAT - LATER/NIGHT
The two men drive in silence for a moment. Vincent lights a
cigarette and offers one to Sam, who refuses. Finally, Sam
speaks.
SAM
You know, what you pulled back there,
that was bullshit.
VINCENT
I needed to see if you were a cop.
(defensively)
I’m a popular man with the police, Sam,
and whenever they try to catch me they
always do it with an inside guy -- some
man on some job who seems more
trustworthy than all the others put
together. And that’s the guy you have to
watch out for.
(beat)
I hate cops...
SAM
(insulted that Vincent would
even consider it)
Well I ain’t a cop.
A BEAT, the two men driving in silence.
VINCENT
How did you know?
SAM
Know what?
VINCENT
That there was a gun pointed at me.
SAM
I saw you look off when Francois nodded
his head. I figured he wasn’t pointing
out a particularly rare shrub, and the
rest was easy.
VINCENT
But how did you know I would have the
presence of mind to pull my weapon
when I did?
SAM
(as if it’s obvious)
Because that’s what I would have done...
CUT TO:
EXT. AN APARTMENT HOUSE - A LITTLE LATER/NIGHT
Vincent’s Fiat is parked at the curb in front of this
apartment house. Vincent and Sam exit the car and move
towards the house -- a silence hanging between them. Right
before they go into the house, Vincent takes out the envelope
full of cash that was supposed to have been for Francois. He
thinks for a moment and then hands the whole envelope to Sam.
VINCENT
You saved my life back there in the park.
I know this doesn’t begin to make it
right between us...
Vincent’s voice trails off -- he doesn’t know what to say.
Sam takes the money out of the envelope -- half he keeps for
himself, the other he gives to Vincent.
SAM
What I did back in the park I did because
we’re working together -- we’re on the
same team.
(holding up the money)
This is business -- this is work. We did
it together, we share the spoils, even
split.
Sam opens the door to the house, but Vincent has one last
thing to say to him.
VINCENT
I owe you a heavy debt.
Sam almost smiles cynically at this: debts of honor don’t
seem to be something he believes in.
SAM
Whatever you say.
They enter the house and the door closes behind them. A
second later we hear -
DEIRDRE (V.O.)
What’d you do with the money?
INT. THE HOUSE - A LITTLE LATER
Vincent and Sam sit with Deirdre in a room, alone. They’ve
told her about the park, and she seems a little pissed about
all of this.
VINCENT
We kept it...
DEIRDRE
(a little annoyed)
Is that right?
SAM
Hazard pay...
DEIRDRE
(with an exhalation of disgust)
The two of you were supposed to go to a
simple meet and come back with a simple
piece of information, and instead you
went to fucking war...
SAM
We weren’t real thrilled about it
either...
Deirdre shakes her head in disgust and rises. We FOLLOW HER
INTO -
AN ADJOINING ROOM -
Where Larry, Swede and Gregor are waiting. They look up
expectantly at Deirdre, who crosses through the room without
stopping -- she’s really pissed about this turn of events.
LARRY
So what’s the deal?
DEIRDRE
(barely stopping, very
snappish)
The deal? The deal is we leave for Nice
at first light.
And she exits, leaving these three men behind along with Sam
and Vincent, who have entered from the other room. larry
looks at the two of them.
LARRY
What’d you guys do?
EXT. OUTSIDE THE HOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT
A CAR sits, cloaked in shadows. Inside sits our friend, the
WATCHER. Once again we see the Watcher’s knife -- once again
he manicures his nails with it, almost delicately, as he
watches the House. It’s dark -- a single light glows behind
a window on the third floor. Sam’s room.
INT. SAM’S ROOM - SAME TIME
Sam has pushed all the furniture aside to make enough room to
do a martial arts form. Right now he’s frozen, one leg
extended in a kick, balancing on the other leg. Now - A
KNOCK at his door -- seconds later, it opens. Deirdre stands
there, watching as Sam holds his position for a BEAT more,
and then retracts his leg.
DEIRDRE
I feel as if I’ve wandered onto the set
of Enter The Dragon. Could you teach me
to do that?
SAM
I didn’t think to see you again tonight.
You were pretty pissed.
DEIRDRE
I still am.
SAM
Is that right?
DEIRDRE
That’s right.
Deirdre spings at Sam, throwing martial arts combinations at
him: punch followed by kick, elbow strike followed by palm
thrust. Sam parries her blows as she drives him across the
floor until he’s got his back to the wall. Their movements
are controlled, but powerful, and there’s something almost
flirtatious about the whole thing. Now -
Deirdre throws one last punch which Sam ducks. He slips
behind her and suddenly they square off in earnest. The
previous martial arts stuff was a kind of choreographed
exercise, but now - They spar for real -- they never hit one
another, but they come awfully close, hands and feet whizzing
through the air, throwing rapid-fire combinations and
techniques. They’re not angry, but they’re not kidding,
either. Finally - Deirdre feints a punch that distracts
Sam’s attention from - The KICK she throws right behind her
punch, and she smiles as - WHUMP! Sam wasn’t distracted at
all -- he drops to the ground beneath her kick and catches
her standing |
