Athletes Who Rock the World Page #3

---

of their families.

Uh, tell 'em somethin'.

Make up a story, and we've got

to keep this undercover.

If this comes out, the city

of San Francisco will be

in chaos. I am talking anarchy.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

What is the potential casualty rate...

for a single rocket armed with

V.X. Poison gas, General Peterson?

- Sixty or seventy.

- Well, that's, that's not so bad.

- Thousand. Seventy thousand dead!

- Oh.

One teaspoon of this hits the floor,

it's lethal up to a hundred feet.

One teaspoon of this sh*t

detonated in the atmosphere...

will kill every living organism

in an eight-block radius.

Get the point?

Uh, what did Hummel mean

by your countermeasure, General?

Standard poison is countered

by napalm. It burns it up,

consumes it upon detonation.

Now, the problem

with V.X. Poison gas is...

that it's designed specifically

to withstand napalm.

That's where, uh, thermite plasma

comes in. General Peterson?

Thermite plasma incendiary systems

can burn hot enough to consume V.X.,

but they're still in the test

phase; it's not operational.

Hummel knows this. We are dealing

with one smart son of a b*tch.

What's it gonna take to equip a flight

of F-18s with thermite plasma...

within the next 36 hours?

- An act of God.

- Excuse me?

All right, we can try.

But I strongly urge you to consider the

use of this as a secondary initiative.

Then we have to go to

our primary initiative. Uh, Admiral?

Sir, I'd like to bring in

our SEAL ground commander,

Commander Anderson.

Mr Womack, who is your best

chemical/biological man?

- Oh, that's interesting.

- Oh, yeah.

- That's very compelling.

- You like my pigtails?

- Oh, yeah, the pigtails

are very naughty.

Naughty. Naughty.

Just the Amaretto cream

with peach sorbet persuasion.

- This isn't happening.

- No, Stan, don't answer it.

- This isn't happening!

- No, just don't answer it. It's okay.

- I have to. It's the office, baby.

They know I'm home.

- No.

How could they possibly know

that you're home?

It's the FBI.

Stanley!

Goodspeed.

Uh, yeah. O-Okay, yeah.

I'll be, I'll be down, yeah,

downstairs in ten minutes.

No, you won't.

- I have to go to San Francisco.

- No, you don't.

Stanley, no, you do not have

to go to San Francisco.

Are you kidding me right now?

You need to stay here

and talk to me about things.

- I've got to go, baby.

- Oh! I am Catholic! Do you realize that?

I am pregnant and I am unmarried. And

this causes a serious problem for me.

I cannot believe you.

No, no.

I love you.

I will marry you.

I just didn't plan on this,

that's all.

- Come to San Francisco.

- Really?

Yeah, I'm sure it's just

a training exercise.

Check into the hotel.

Order up some champagne.

- And we'll finish what we started?

- Exactly.

- Baby, you're gonna marry me?

- You know it.

You're gonna marry me!

- Oh, honey, come on.

Just a really quick one.

- Oh, oh, I gotta go now.

A night-time airdrop incursion

is out due to the full moon.

Likewise a frontal

seaside attack.

If we're compromised and shots

are fired, Hummel might launch.

Our only alternative is an

attack from within the prison.

We penetrate the island

through the tunnels under the

prison buildings undetected...

and emerge in its centre; that way

we can jump the Marines from behind.

And if we're lucky, take their

rocket positions without a shot fired.

I don't understand. You-you've studied

the architectural plans?

They're useless. Alcatraz has been

ripped up and rebuilt for years.

- Under there is a maze of sh*t.

- Well, there's no question, gentlemen.

We need firsthand intelligence

of the tunnel systems.

- So what about the former warden?

- Died in 1979.

All the guards we contacted

were useless.

Um, there is someone

who I think can help us.

- This is for the sake

of national security.

- No!

It's the sake of national

security that got us here

in the first place 33 years ago.

I knew! I knew someday

this would come back to bite us.

Forget it!

He does not exist.

He does exist! We just chose

to forget him for 30 years.

- We locked him up

and threw away the key.

- Oh, and a lot of goddam good it did us.

He broke out of two maximum security

prisons. And if he hits the streets...

He's not gonna hit the streets, Jim.

Thirty years ago he was

a highly trained SAS operative.

He is my age now,

for Christ's sake!

I have to get up three times

a night to take a piss.

We can't risk

letting him out.

He's a professional

escape artist.

- Gosh. Neat, uh...

- Yeah.

- Neat, neat plane.

Dr. Goodspeed.

James Womack.

- A pleasure to meet you, sir.

- Welcome.

- Thank you.

You come

very highly recommended.

B.A. Columbia;

M.A., PhD, Johns Hopkins.

Biochemistry, toxicology.

Well, I'm one of those fortunate

people who like my job, sir.

Got my first chemistry set

when I was seven. Blew my eyebrows off.

We never saw the cat again.

Been into it ever since.

What do you know

about V.X. Gas?

Liquid. Failed pesticide

discovered by a mistake in 1952.

Uh, actually, it's kind of like

champagne that way.

The Franciscan monks thought

they were making white wine.

Somehow the bottle carbonated.

Voil! Champagne.

- And then the whole thing just...

- The gas, Dr. Goodspeed.

It's very, very horrible, sir.

It's one of those things

we wish we could disinvent.

This isn't a "train" exercise,

is it?

No, Dr. Goodspeed,

it's not a training exercise.

- Hello, sir.

- Good morning, Director.

This is Ernest Paxton, agent in charge

of the West Coast operation.

- Dr. Goodspeed.

- Pleasure to meet you.

- How do you do, sir?

It's been a fairly interesting day

so far. The prisoner's here. Shall we?

Now, my boys, they haven't been

able to find a file on this guy.

Who is he anyway, sir?

His name is John Mason,

a British national...

incarcerated on Alcatraz

in 1962, escaped in '63.

I was under the impression that no one

ever escaped Alcatraz, sir.

Paxton, don't argue!

This man has no identity, not

in the United States or Great Britain.

He does not exist.

Understand?

I want one thing:

How he escaped the Rock.

Specifically the route he took

through the island's bowels.

- The papers are in order, sir.

- We're prepared to offer him

a full pardon.

And Paxton, no strong-arming

Mason. I know him too well.

Well, if you know him,

then why don't you question him?

No, he'll remember me. I don't want

his anger clouding the issue.

All right,

I'll take care of him.

Mr Mason, I'm Special Agent

in Charge, Ernest Paxton.

In charge of what? F***ing me

over for another three decades?

I don't know anything about your

previous matters. I'm here because...

a special situation exists that we

feel you might be able to help us with.

Well, what might that be?

I've been in jail longer than

Nelson Mandela, so maybe you

want me to run for president.

- Not exactly.

- Mmm, a pity.

I feel rather like Alcamedes.

- Who?

- Alcamedes. He was imprisoned

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes