Batman Page #3

JACK NAPIER:

Decent people shouldn't live here.

They'd be much happier someplace

else.

JACK NAPIER, 32, is right-hand man and chief enforcer to

Boss Carl Grissom. His features are delicate, almost

feminine, and he takes a vain, gangsterish pride in his

appearance. He is also absolutely merciless.

He trains a cold eye on DENT's televised image as ALICIA

HUNT -- 26, beautiful, Carl Grissom's kept woman -- glides

over in her negligee and snuggles up.

ALICIA:

Anything new?

JACK:

The usual gas. If this clown could

lay a hand on Grissom... I would've

had to kill him by now.

ALICIA finds JACK's necktie draped over a nearby chair. She

begins knotting it playfully about his neck.

ALICIA:

If Grissom knew about us... he

might kill you.

JACK seems uninterested in her affections. His eye darts

back and forth between the TV and his own reflection in a

nearby vanity.

JACK:

Don't think so, angel. I'm too

valuable. That's the way I've

planned it.

(pause)

And besides, he doesn't know.

JACK checks his watch, reaches for his topcoat, and stands

in front of the vanity. He runs a hand through sculpted

hair, checks out his Albert Nipon ensemble.

ALICIA:

You look just fine, Jack.

He smiles at himself before turning to the door.

JACK:

... I didn't ask.

CUT TO:

EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

The scene of the earlier mugging, a half-block off Gotham

Square. Only now, the deserted alleyway is a beehive of

activity:
police cars, an ambulance, a forensics van.

EDDIE THE PUNK goes past on a stretcher, catatonic.

Watching him are a porcine cop, LT. ECKHARDT, and a POLICE

MEDIC.

MEDIC:

That one there won't say a word. The

other one's raving his head off.

ECKHARDT:

Variety, huh? The spice of life.

At the mouth of the alley, we find ALEXANDER KNOX --

thirty, hyperactive, a crime reporter for the Gotham

Gazette. At the moment, he's chatting with a uniformed

PATROLMAN.

PATROLMAN:

They found him hugging a drainpipe.

He was scared to come off the roof.

KNOX:

Great, but tell me: is this another

you-know-what? 'Cause if so, it's

the third one this week.

PATROLMAN:

(testily)

I dunno. What's "what"?

KNOX:

Good answer. I'm gonna put you in

for a commendation.

KNOX spots ECKHARDT and the MEDIC, waves cheerily, and

saunters down the alley. ECKHARDT curses under his breath.

ECKHARDT:

Oh Christ, it's Knox.

KNOX:

Hiya, gents. This anything I should

know about?

ECKHARDT:

Nothing out of the routine.

At this exact moment two uniformed PATROLMEN drag a brain-

fried NICK past the mouth of the alley.

NICK:

A bat, I tell you, a giant bat!

He wanted me to do him a favor...!

KNOX tilts one eyebrow. ECKHARDT and the MEDIC trade

disgusted looks.

KNOX:

No offense, boys, but these guys are

seeing something up there.

ECKHARDT:

No comment. Print what you like.

KNOX:

Come on. One question. Is there a

six-foot bat in Gotham City?

KNOX's tone is jokey, but only half-jokey. ECKHARDT snorts

in disgust and turns away. KNOX shouts after him:

KNOX (cont.)

If so, is he on the police payroll?

If so, what's he pulling down after

taxes?

EXT. STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

We pick up LT. ECKHARDT as he emerges onto the side street.

He's headed for his car when he spies a STRETCH LIMO idling

across the street. Leaning on the hood, waving hi, is the

dandyish JACK NAPIER -- flanked by two impressive GOONS.

ECKHARDT throws a nervous glance back in KNOX's direction.

He turns left, gestures to JACK to meet him farther up the

block. By the time he reaches the corner JACK has swaggered

up alongside him.

ECKHARDT takes a fat brown envelope from JACK and stuffs it

quickly in his coat.

JACK:

You didn't show up.

ECKHARDT:

We had another bat sighting.

JACK:

I'm sure that was vitally important.

Listen:
things are heating up.

Someone is leaking information to

Harvey Dent.

ECKHARDT bristles. There's no love lost between these two.

ECKHARDT:

I'm doing the best I can. If it's a

problem --

JACK:

Eckhardt... our problems are your

problems.

ECKHARDT:

I'll work on it.

JACK reaches out and grabs ECKHARDT by the lapels of his

topcoat -- an Italian job, obviously expensive. He rubs the

material between his fingers.

JACK:

Very nice, Lieutenant. But a little

ostentatious on a cop's salary,

don't you think?

ECKHARDT:

(knocking his hands away)

I answer to Grissom, punk. Not to

you.

JACK:

You're a smart boy, Eckhardt. You

should be thinking about the future.

ECKHARDT laughs in his face.

ECKHARDT:

Ambition.

(nodding his head)

Forget it, Jack. You'll never run

that organization.

JACK:

And why's that?

ECKHARDT:

You're a psycho, friend. You're an

A-one crazy boy and Grissom knows

it.

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