Air Force One Page #13

He tak9s a moment to think. Considers his situation. His

eyes find the dead agent who risked his life so he could

make it to the pod. He trots down the gangway toward the

lower galley.

EXT. SKY - NIGHT

Air Force One hovers atop billowy peaks. The smaller F-15s

cluster around her in a loose formation.

FIGHTER PILOT #1 (0.5. RADIO)

Sir, isn't there something we can do besides escort?

COL. CARLTON (O.S. RADIO)

Like what, son... shoot our own plane down?

FIGHTER PILOT #1

No sir. I just wish...

COL. CARLTON

Roger. We all wish... Now shut the

f*** up and escort.

INT. LOWER GALLEY - NIGHT

Marshall looks around for a weapon... half-full coffee pot,

stove, walk-in freezer, plates and silverware. Marshall picks

up a butcher knife.

INT. CORRIDOR, AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT

Nevsky and Bazylev guard the conference room door as Korshunov

and Vlad enter. Nevsky hands Korshunov a copy of the plane's

manifest.

NEVSKY:

Every weapon and every person is

accounted for.

Korshunov nods and enters the room.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT

Korshunov surveys the hostages. Viad covers them at gunpoint.

Rose holds Alice, comforting her. shepherd, Doherty, Aides,

Advisors, Crew... Fifty of them huddle like sardines.

The plane's doctor administers to the wounded.

Korshunov stares down his captives.

KORSHUNOV:

Fear will keep you alive. Any one

who is not afraid is bound to do

something foolish, and bound to die.

ROSE:

What do you want with us?

KORSHUNOV:

Cooperation. If you try to escape,

you will be met with automatic gunfire

and a barricade of your comrade's

bodies will prevent you from exiting.

Good day.

Korshunov exits, with Viad backing out behind him. Leaving

the hostages alone. The sound of the door locking.

A mournful beat. Everyone looks at each other and the dead

and wounded victims of this heinous act...

Hushed conversation breaks out all over the room.

DOHERTY:

This can't be happening. You just

don't pull this sh*t with the United

States. You just don't.

MAJOR CALDWELL:

Keep your heads.

Caldwell paces, looks around the room.

SHEPHERD:

Mrs. Marshall, are you okay?

ROSE:

We're alive.

SHEPHERD:

That's all that matters. Thank god

the President got of f the plane.

ROSE:

Yes... thank God.

(to caldwell)

You there... Caidwell, right? What's

on your mind? caldwell takes a beat,

then crosses to Rose and Shepherd.

MAJOR CALDWELL:

(hushed)

I don't want to get anybody here

excited, but if we can get out of

this room, I can get us to safety.

SHEPHERD:

We're thirty five thousand feet up.

MAJOR CALDWELL:

Yes, sir, that's a problem, but if

we can somehow get to a lower

altitude, the rear loading ramp on

the baggage deck is equipped with

parachutes in case of an engine

failure. Now we can either wait for

a political resolution, or try to

resolve this thing ourselves.

DOHERTY:

You're goddamn right we can resolve

this ourselves. We'll negotiate.

SHEPHERD:

You know the President's policy.

DOHERTY:

The President isn't here.

ROSE:

Right now we are an enormous liability

to the United States. We can't just

sit and do nothing.

INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT

The terrorists move toward the nose of the plane leaving

Nevsky to guard the conference room.

INT. BAGGAGE HOLD - NIGHT

President Marshall reaches the front stairway. Cautiously

climbs to the main cabin. As he reaches the top stairs, he

hears Russian conversation approaching. He ducks back into

the stairwell.

He can't see them, but he can hear them.

The terrorists pass within a few feet as they ascend to the

Mission Communications Center on the upper deck.

Marshall waits a few beats, listens to the silence. Then re-

mounts the stairs and almost runs into the back of...

VIAD:

Standing guard, facing the opposite

direction.

Marshall FREEZES... looks past Viad down the corridor where

Nevsky guards the main conference room floor.

Unaware of Marshall, Viad reaches into his pocket and pulls

out a cigarette. Lights it. On the first puff he feels a

presence behind him.

VLAD slowly turns around...

Nothing there.

He smiles at his jittery nerves, turns back round.

REVERSE ANGLE -

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