8mm Page #12

WELLES:

Snuff films.

MAX:

I heard you asking. That guy wasn't

yanking you around. There's no such

thing.

WELLES:

What other ways are there to get

illegal films? Who do you see?

MAX:

First of all, basement sales like

tonight aren't gonna last much

longer. It's too risky, one, and

two, everything's going on the

internet. Anyone with a computer

and enough patience can find

anything he wants. It's heaven for

those degenerate chicken-hawks.

They're swapping pictures back and

forth as fast as their modems can

zap 'em. But, there's still some

weird sh*t under the counter where

I work sometimes. No one knows where

it comes from. That's local

underground, where information

spreads by word of mouth. Those are

zombies, hardcore junkies. Their

hands are permanently pruned. They

go out in the sun they don't burn,

they blister. Other than that, all

I know about is the mail.

Classified ads in the paper with

hidden codes. Secret couriers.

Credit card orders to dummy

corporations. Interstate wire

transfers. Revolving P.O. boxes.

But, if you're asking me who do you

go to to get illegal sh*t... who

knows? That's the whole point --

the seller stays as far away from

the buyer as possible, and vice

versa, and cops can't trace the

deal. There's ways to do it so

nobody knows who anybody is.

Welles watches Max eat.

WELLES:

How old are you?

MAX:

Twenty-five.

WELLES:

Where are your parents?

MAX:

I don't know, where are yours?

WELLES:

I don't mean any offense... but what

are you doing mixed up in all this?

MAX:

I'm not mixed up in anything,

hayseed. What are you talking about?

WELLES:

You just strike me as smart enough

to be doing something else.

MAX:

Yeah, I'm a real genius. What

choices have I got? F***, just

because I know about stuff like

tonight doesn't mean I deal it. I

work a job. It beats pumping gas,

beats making hamburgers.

WELLES:

You're telling me it doesn't get to

you?

MAX:

You can't sit there all day watching

the parade of losers that comes into

that place without going numb. So

what?

Am I gonna go off and be a race car

driver? Go to Harvard? Run for

President? What about you, pops?

WELLES:

What about me?

MAX:

I see a ring on your finger. You

have any kids?

WELLES:

A daughter.

MAX:

So, you have a wife and kid waiting

for you in Pennsylvania... what are

you doing mixed up in all this?

WELLES:

Good question.

EXT. ALL NIGHT COFFEE SHOP -- NIGHT

Max and Welles comes out to the sidewalk, talking.

ACROSS THE STREET

INSIDE A PARKED CAR, through the windshield, SOMEONE watches

Max and Welles say goodnight. Max walks to a waiting taxi.

It's the sinister lawyer watching, LONGDALE, the late Mr.

Christian's attorney, watching Welles go to his rental car.

INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE

Welles is seated, PROJECTOR RUNNING, watching the 8MM film.

The last of the film makes its way through, threading out.

The take-up reel spins, the film's tail flapping...

Welles stares at the blank white square of light projected

onto the wall. CELLULAR PHONE is HEARD RINGING...

Welles finally looks to the projector, turns it off. The

PHONE'S RINGING. Welles goes to sit on the bed, looking at

the cellular phone on the bedside table. RINGING...

Welles lets it RING. RINGING... RINGING... till it finally

stops. Welles lays back on the bed and shuts his eyes.

INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- DAY

Mrs. Christian is behind the desk, surrounded by BOXES of

BANK RECORDS and FINANCIAL STATEMENTS, on the PHONE.

MRS CHRISTIAN:

(into phone)

My husband had five cash accounts he

used to temporarily hold stock

profits. Between November of 1991

and March of 1992, he wrote one

check out to cash from each account.

He wrote these himself...

INT. PHONE BOOTH, HOLLYWOOD -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS

Welles is in the booth, listening...

WELLES:

(into phone)

Okay...

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

(from phone)

My husband never dealt with money

personally, certainly not cash.

WELLES:

I'm not positive this means anything.

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

The checks were for odd amounts...

INT. MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS

Mrs. Christian has the amounts written out on paper.

MRS CHRISTIAN:

(into phone)

One was for two hundred thousand,

one dollar and thirteen cents.

Another was for three hundred

thousand, six hundred fifty four

dollars and seventy six cents...

WELLES (V.O.)

(from phone)

Okay, I follow you so far...

MRS CHRISTIAN:

Totalled together, these five checks

from five different accounts, they

equal one million dollars.

INT. PHONE BOOTH -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS

WELLES:

(into phone)

You're joking.

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

(from phone)

To the penny. Exactly one million

dollars in cash.

Welles considers this, lost in thought.

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

Hello... ?

WELLES:

I'm here.

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

Do you think the film could have

cost that much?

WELLES:

For a human life... murder on film,

no statute of limitations. Who

knows? It sure could have. I'd

like you to overnight me a copy of

those checks, then put them in a

safe deposit box.

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

Okay.

WELLES:

Send it to me through the post

office like we arranged. No return

address. You dug this up all by

yourself?

MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.)

You told me to look, so I looked.

WELLES:

You're one hell of a detective, Mrs.

Christian.

EXT. MISSION YOUTH HOSTEL -- DAY

TEENAGERS work cleaning this large DORMITORY, sweeping and

mopping the floor, making the bunk beds, washing windows.

Welles stands with an elderly, black NUN in plain clothing.

WELLES:

Her name was Mary Anne Mathews.

Welles hands the woman the PICTURE of MARY. The woman puts

on her glasses, looks at the picture... looks at Welles.

NUN:

Yes... I remember Mary

WELLES:

You... you do? You're sure?

Please, Sister, will you take

another look, make sure...

NUN:

(examines picture)

Yes. I remember her.

INT. MISSION YOUTH HOSTEL, STORAGE AREA -- DAY

In a basement corner, Welles watches as the nun uses keys to

open the door of a chain-link STORAGE CAGE. The cage is

full of junk, BOXES, LAMPS, stacks of CHAIRS.

NUN:

She lived here for only about a

month, if I recall correctly. She

didn't return one night. She never

came back. I didn't know what to

think...

The nun enters the cage, pushes old BOXES out of her way,

looks up a cob-web covered METAL SHELVES.

NUN:

Do you know what happened to her?

WELLES:

I'm trying to find out. She was a

runaway. I'm looking into it for

her parents.

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