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First Draft: Tom Jankiewicz

Revised Draft: D.V. deVincentis & S.K. Boatman & John Cusack

NEW CRIME PRODUCTIONS Registered WGA

--address deleted

--for privacy

--phone deleted

May 4, 1994

FADE IN:

ROLL CREDITS OVER:

EXT. GOLF COURSE - DAWN

VARIOUS EXTRA CLOSE-UPS of this luxurious patchwork of brilliant greens:

A POLISHED BRASS SPRINKLER HEAD

pops up from the ground and begins to water the already dew-soaked lawn.

A FLEET OF DUCKLINGS

No mother in sight, cruise through the thrushes.

GRAVEYARD OF GOLF BALLS, UNDERWATER

At the bottom of a water hazard.

PALM FRONDS

After a neat they sway, revealing the barren desert that surrounds the artificial oasis. The sun already bakes the air. We hear the opening guitar strains of the Kim Deal-Kurt Cobain suet of "WHAT I DID FOR LOVE," as we CRANE DOWN the palms to

A BRAND-NEW TITLEIST 3 BALL.

Just on the edge of the rough. A pair of yellow trousers moves in. An iron confidently addresses the ball, and chips it out. The trousers walk out after it.

HANDS

Digging dirt out of the grooves of the iron's face with a golf tee, while on the way to the green. Both hands are gloved, instead of one, and the gloves are black.

YELLOW TROUSERS

In a squat over the ball, sizing up the curvy, fifty-foot journey to the hole. The figure positions himself and the putter above the ball, then pops the ball lightly. The ball rolls and bobs with purpose toward the hole, dodging hazards and finding lanes, until it finally falls off of the green and into the hole.

THE GLOVED HAND

Sets the ball on the next tee. The figure moves to a leather golf bag. The hands pull the wipe rag off of the top of the bag and drop it on the ground, reach into the bag, drawing out a compact SNIPER RIFLE, affixed with a long silencer. The figure drops one knee down onto the rag, the other foot firmly setting its spikes. We move the figure to see the face of the sniper, concentrating down the scope in his half-squat. He is MARTIN BLANK.

We SWING AROUND behind his head to look down the barrel with him. Four-hundred yards away, on another part of the course, another green is barely visible through groves of trees and rough. Three miniscule, SILVER-HAIRED FIGURES come into view. One of them, in a RED SWEATER sets up for first putt. He could be an investment banker, or an arms trader.

MARTIN'S ARM

Flinches, and a low THUNK reports from the rifle. A second later in the distance, the

RED SWEATER'S HEAD

Seems to vanish from his shoulders into a crimson mist. His body crumples to the green.

MARTIN

Returns the rifle to the bag, pulls out a driver, moves to the tee and whacks the ball. He watches its path and whispers absently…

INT. CLUB HOUSE PATIO - LATER

The outdoor post-golf luncheon area of an elite Texas golf club. Martin sits in on the fringes of a conversation between a group of executive types. CLUB MEMBER #1 has a Buddha-like peace in his eyes through the philosophical talk.

Club Member #1 turns to Martin.

Club Member #1 pulls a laminated card from his wallet and hands it over to Martin. In the distance, sirens begin to wail.

INSERT - WALLET-SIZE P.P.P. CARD

A pizza-shaped diagram showing six "sections".

Sirens are getting louder, closer to the club.

EXT. COUNTRY CLUB - DAY

The source of the sirens are almost upon us. Martin walks toward his rented Town Car as the VALET pulls it up. He meets the Valet by the trunk, where he trades tip for keys.

MARTIN AT CAR

He fishes out the laminated "Personal Pan Power" card, looks at it, and tosses it onto the ground. Police cars, now visible in the distance, wind into the long club driveway. Martin gets into his car and pulls away.

LAMINATED CARD

As it lays on the asphalt. The wheel of a police car rolls to a stop on it.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in a first class seat, the tray table flipped down. On the left side of the tray is a stack of magazines of all kinds - Sports Illustrated, Mademoiselle, Wired, Rolling Stone, National Review, Spin, National Geographic, and on. He draws one off the top, and flips through it, impassively taking in images and reading nothing. When he is done with one, he discards it into the empty seat next to him and draws another-- Martin's way of instantly and massively uploading the world around him:

Toothless hockey player in triumph, Sony product parade, crouched starving child with vulture in the background, supermodel in suede, Tic Tacs, living former Presidents, arm in arm, smiling, etc.

INT. HIRED CAR, NEW YORK - DAY

The livery weaves out of the arrival lanes at Kennedy airport. Martin reclines in the back seat, a conversation having already begun.

INT. CAR - MANHATTAN STREETS - LATER

The car cuts through the upper east side. Martin and the Driver exchange looks through the rear-view mirror.

The Driver pauses for dramatic emphasis

No reaction from Martin.

INT. HOTEL ROOM, NEW YORK CITY - DAY

A sedate and well-appointed four-star suite on the Upper East Side. Martin stands in front of one of the open windows watching the canopied entrance of an elegant high-rise across the street. He lifts an eye rinse cup to his eye and tilts it back. A cellular phone RINGS, interrupting him. He moves to the desk and draws one of three phones from his briefcase, depresses a scrambler module, flips it open, and listens for a moment.

Martin hangs up. Picks up another phone and dials. As he waits for an answer, he goes to a Fed Ex blueprint tube lying on the bed.

He breaks the shipping seal and pulls out a series of finished metal parts including a long thin barrel, a scope, and a silencer.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - SAME

Martin stands in front of the window, phone in one hand, the scope in the other. Next to him, the assembled rifle rests across the arm of a chair.

He glances over to a second window to his left, which offers a view further down the street. He goes to it. He raises the scope and sees

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE- WINDOW #2

A few blocks down, small even through the high-powered scope, is your average BICYCLE MESSENGER dressed in lycra racing gear, weaving through traffic toward us. Slung low across his right hip is a black canvas bag. The Messenger's hand is hidden in it. The other phone begins to RING.

MARTIN

He sets down the phone and answers the other, still watching the messenger.

Martin drops the phone and moves away from Window #2 to the rifle. He mounts the scope and he looks out Window #1 at the high-rise.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE - WINDOW #1

Of a DOORMAN opening the door for a group of five men in suits. Four BODYGUARDS form a perimeter around the fifth man, a mall, avuncular figure in his forties dressed in Saville Row finery.

MARTIN

Takes a step back into the shadows of the room, and raises the rifle toward Window #2.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE - WINDOW #2

of an empty street. The bicycle messenger flashes past.

MARTIN

concentrating, tracks the path of the Messenger, leading him left to right across the blind spot of the hotel room wall between Window #2 and Window #1.

STREET

the bicycle Messenger bears down on the group of men, drawing a Mac-10 submachine gun from his bag. The group see him-- just as Martin's sniper FIRE explodes the Messenger's chest. Two of the Bodyguards collapse onto their boss. The other two open fire on the Messenger as he wipes out horribly into a parked car in front of them.

MARTIN

withdraws from the window, and picks up the phone again and begins to break down the rifle.

Martin listens patiently as he works.

EXT. STREET - SAME - INTERCUT

DOORMAN'S HANDS

unbuttoning his double-breasted long coat.

MARTIN

just finishes packing.

STREET

The two bodyguards kick at the Messenger's body. The other two begin to move off of their boss, who rises cowering. The Doorman stands behind it all, unbuttoning his coat.

DOORMAN

a tall, dark, sharp-featured man in his forties, wearing a handlebar moustache. He moves toward the group of men as he flips open his coat back over two huge chrome .44 Magnum Charthouse Bulldog revolvers and OPENS FIRE on them.

MARTIN

is closing his bag when he hears the gun-thunder.

Martin drops the phone, grabs his scope, and spins to the window.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE

of the Doorman kicking through the pile of dead bodyguards. He gets to the man at the bottom-- their boss. The Doorman FIRES both guns.

MARTIN

reacts, surprised to see a second shooter. He pulls himself from the window, puts away his scope, and accelerates his exit.

HIGH-RISE FOYER

Outside, we see the doorman drop both guns on the pile of bodies. He walks back toward us through the glass doors and makes his way through the building toward the service exit. He sheds his uniform and stuffs it into a plastic bag.

MARTIN

his two parcels in hand, exits out the side door of the hotel and walks down the street.

DOORMAN

now wearing rich man's sweats, hops off the loading dock, walks to a Lincoln Town Car, and drives off.

INT. MARTIN'S AND GROCERS CARS - DAY

Martin rolls down FDR Drive in a Lincoln Town Car once again on the cellular.

Martin notices another Town Car appears in the next lane. We recognize the Doorman behind the wheel, phone in hand. He is GROCER.

Grocer ignores this.

Martin hangs up and pulls away.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in first class, wiping his face and hands with an airline hot towel. He folds the wet cloth and once again speeds through the images from a thick stack of magazines. He looks up as he hears

INT. APARTMENT, CHICAGO - NIGHT

Martin walks into a sparsely furnished apartment. He wearily drops his carry-on bag and briefcase in the hall.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin sits on a futon couch watching MTV with no sound. On the coffee table in front of him is a phalanx of vitamin bottles. Martin takes some capsules from each and washes them down with a reddish-orange beverage.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin lies on his back on the hardwood floor. His eyes are closed and he wears a set of headphones as he absently taps his chest.

After a moment, his eyes open, alerted. His head turns to the side, and his hands lightly cup the headphones.

CLOSE-UP: WIRE

from the headphones as it winds to a small metal box, with one unmarked switch and one amber light- definitely not a walkman. The wire continues out of the other side of the box, across the floor, connecting to a suction cup stuck to the floor.

MARTIN - A MINUTE LATER

draws a pre-cut section of the floor, the width of a pencil and twice as long, by a string.

VIDEO MONITOR - A MIUNTE LATER

The greenish Starlight (night vision) image of a young, HUSKY MAN sleeping on his back, as seen from above. A fine thread snakes from behind CAMERA to just above the man's slack mouth. We PULL BACK to reveal a Sony Watchman that holds the IMAGE. KEEP PULLING to reveal Martin watching it as he maneuvers the thread down past the fiber-optic cable through the hole in the floor.

MARTIN - A MINUTE LATER

concentrates as he applies three drops of blue liquid on the thread. As the drops run down along the thread through the floor, his attention shifts to the

VIDEO MONITOR

The drops, huge in the foreground, become smaller as they make their way down the line toward the sleeping man.

MARTIN

adjusts the thread minutely with one hand, and lowers the fiber-optic cable with the other.

VIDEO MONITOR

The face begins to fill the screen as the fiber-optic follows the drops toward it. Suddenly, the man snorts and turns his face...

A DROP FALLS

It misses the man's mouth and hit's his cheek.

VIDEO MONITOR

The man's eyes snap open in terror as he looks directly into CAMERA. His image falls away as the fiber-optic is jerked back up through the hole in the floor.

MARTIN

stuffs the apparati into an open duffel bag, and flies out of frame.

INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER

A BODYGUARD sits outside an apartment door. A muffled but dire scream is heard from within and he is on his feet, gun in hand. An exit door in the hallway slams open revealing Martin, his gun already pointed at the Bodyguard. The Bodyguard levels his at Martin.

The Bodyguard hesitates just long enough to get double-tapped through the head.

Martin moves to the dead Bodyguard, and locates a retractable key chain on his belt. He unreels the ring of keys and opens the door. He lets the keys retract back to the belt and drags him into the apartment.

INT. HUSKY MAN'S APARTMENT - SECONDS LATER

Martin moves silently down the hall in a crouch. He comes to the bedroom and slips across the threshold.

INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Martin crouches down outside the bedroom door. He points the gun at the door, and reaching up turns the knob. As the door opens, the Husky Man FIRES wildly over Martin's head. Martin returns with one shot to the hut which sits the man down on the floor.

Martin kicks the gun away from the fallen man, and raises his barrel to the man's forehead.

Martin cocks the gun....

EXT. EAST-WEST HOLDING COMPANY, LOS ANGELES - DAY

The perpetual sun shines down on a small lot of pre-fab office bungalows.

INT. BLANK HOLDING COMPANY

A small suite of dry-walled offices.

EAST-WEST HOLDING COMPANY

is stenciled on glass doors behind Martin who stands in front of a young woman reading from some kind of invitation. She is MARCELLA MAYES.

Marcella holds up the mauve envelope and smiles slyly. For the first time, Martin looks scared.

Martin begins to walk past her into his office, but Marcella stops him.

Marcella looks concerned.

She hands him a piece of paper. He scans it.

Martin looks at her wearily. He puts it into the paper shredder at the side of her desk.

She raises a thick brown dossier from the top of her desk and puts it down again. Martin moves through a door to his private office.

MARTIN'S OFFICE

Martin goes into his office and sits at his desk. On the walls are a couple of boring prints of tallships. A bookshelf holds trappings of a loose attempt at a cover-- a few shipping manifests, sealane tables, and other specialized reference books on import/export. He sits and stares.

NEW ANGLE

Time has passed, and Martin still sits at his desk massaging his gums with a rubber-tipped dental pointer.

C.U. MARTIN'S TEETH

The dental tool jumps across the gaps between his teeth like a hummingbird.

MARTIN

pulls back his jacket lapel and fits the utensil into a pocket protector that is also home to a toothbrush, emery board, tweezers, and comb. He stands and walks out of his office.

FOYER

Martin moves toward the door. As he passes Marcella she hands him the mauve envelope and a travel portfolio.

Martin stops short as he reaches the threshold. He holds up the envelope, and stares a dagger through it. On his way out, over his shoulder...