Breakdown Page #10

A faint smile plays on Billy’s lips. He slams the trunk.

INT. CAR TRUNK -DAY

It’s nearly pitch black. A beam of sunlight shines

through a rusted hole. It illuminates Jeff’s eyes.

(CONTINUED)

57.

CONTINUED:

The car shifts into gear and sets off across the desert.

Jeff grunts as the car bounces on the uneven terrain.

He braces against the confines of the trunk. The ENGINE

NOISE is deafening. The car hits a depression and

jounces wildly. Jeff is thrown about violently.

CUT TO:

EXT. MESA OVERLOOK -DAY

There is a CREAK and the TRUNK opens. Jeff squints into

the sun. Earl and Billy stand over the trunk.

EARL:

Get out. Don’t try anything

stupid.

Jeff gets out, grimacing. His clothes are stained with

grease and tire grime. He sets his feet unsteadily on

the ground, looks around. We see that he has been

confined in the trunk of a Pontiac Firebird.

The Firebird and Dodge Ram are parked on a bluff. Red

stands on the highest point, peering through binoculars

at the desert below. He glances at Jeff.

RED:

You’re a tough man to get a hold

of, Jeffrey.

Jeff stares, a mix of emotions --anger, fear, confusion.

JEFF:

(barely able to

control himself)

What do you want?

RED:

It’s not me we’re talking about.

Question is what you want.

Jeff looks at him with loathing.

RED:

See, I’ve got something you might

want to buy. Can’t show you the

merchandise right now, but I can

describe it for you. About five-

five, hundred and fifteen pounds.

I’d say three, maybe four of that

is tits. Black curly hair

upstairs and down. Interested?

(CONTINUED)

58.

CONTINUED:

Jeff’s anger bubbles over...

JEFF:

You sonofabitch -

He advances toward Red. Billy and Earl grab him from

behind and tackle him to the ground. Billy drives a fist

into his kidney. Jeff gasps in pain.

Red nods impassively.

RED:

Bring him up here.

Earl and Billy hoist Jeff to his feet and propel him up

the mound closer to Red.

From here, Jeff can see a small desert town spread out

below, as well as the highway leading through it. Red

gestures.

RED:

Welcome to Brackett, Jeff. If

ever there was a two-bit shithole

in the middle of nowhere, this is

it. One gas station, a half-dozen

stores and a V.F.W. hall.

(pointing)

See that building?

Jeff follows his gaze.

RED:

That’s the bank. Brackett

Commerce Bank. You with me?

Jeff nods tightly.

RED:

Then here’s the drill. You’re

gonna walk in there and tell the

manager you want an express wire

in the amount of $90,000 from your

account in Boston. Got your

wallet?

Jeff nods.

RED:

You ask for the money in cash.

Small bills.

(MORE)

(CONTINUED)

59.

CONTINUED:

RED (CONT’D)

Today’s payday at the copper mine,

so don’t take any horsecock about

how they haven’t got it. If the

manager gives you a hard time,

that’s your problem. It’s your

wife who’s counting on you.

JEFF:

How do I know she’s still alive?

Billy slugs him in the gut again. Jeff doubles over.

BILLY:

Shut up.

RED:

She’s tucked away someplace safe.

You get her back as soon as we get

the money. Simple as that.

Jeff compresses his lips.

RED:

Now a smart guy like you, you’re

already thinking about calling the

cops, right?

Jeff says nothing. Red raises a hand-held CB to his

mouth. He keys the transmitter.

RED:

(into mike)

Iron Man to Blacktop, let’s open

the gate.

AL (V.O.)

(filtered)

Copy that, Iron Man.

Red turns back to Jeff.

RED:

Like I said, Jeff, if you want to

call the cops, there’s nothing I

can do. Hell, with the fire

you’ve got in your eyes right now,

I figure you’re fixing on calling

the F.B.I., C.I.A. --even the

82nd Airborne.

Jeff stares back.

(CONTINUED)

60.

CONTINUED:

RED:

Problem is, you can see this town

for miles around. So ask

yourself:
How’s the law gonna get

here? They gonna fly in? Drive

in? Either way, we’ll see ’em.

So let me be very clear: if we see

one unmarked car, one plane, one

human being who even smells like a

cop --this deal is dead.

He tosses Jeff the binoculars.

RED:

Now take a look at the building

with the flagpole.

Jeff hesitates, then raises the binoculars.

THROUGH BINOCULARS

The IMAGE SHIFTS, then STEADIES and FOCUSES ON a small

building with a police cruiser out front and a barely

legible sign:
"BRACKETT SHERIFF." It’s the police

station where Jeff filed the missing persons’ form

earlier.

RED (O.S.)

There’s exactly two cops in this

town. One of them’s inside

pulling ass duty; the other’son

patrol in the foothills. Now a

minute ago one of my men called in

a non-injury accident on the I-40

connector.

Deputy Carver comes out of the building gulping down a

sandwich.

flashing.

He gets in the cruiser and pulls away, lights

RED (O.S.)

It’ll take that good ol’ boy 20

minutes to get to the connector,

another 10 to see there’sno

accident, and another 20 or so to

tool his way back. 50 minutes all

in.

The cruiser pulls away down the highway.

61.

JEFF:

lowers the binoculars and looks at Red.

RED:

That’s your deadline. If for any

reason one of those cops pulls

into town before I’m looking at a

bag of money, your wife is dead,

you’re sh*t out of luck and we’re

gone for good.

He smiles at Jeff.

RED:

See, that’s why there’s no risk to

us in this thing. You do the

legwork. We sit back, we watch,

we listen to our scanners, we

monitor you every step of the way.

If at any moment we don’t like

something, we split. Period.

(beat)

Helluva lot safer than sticking up

7-11s, wouldn’t you say?

They lock eyes. Red tosses Jeff a Windbreaker.

RED:

Put this on. You can’t go into

the bank like that.

Jeff puts on the jacket. It covers his filthy shirt.

Red checks his watch.

RED:

How about it, Jeff? Time to get

the show on the road?

ON Jeff’s expression...

CUT TO:

EXT. BOTTOM OF MESA -DAY

Jeff stumbles and nearly falls as he descends the loose

rock at the foot of the mesa. He looks up at the ridge,

but Red and his crew have pulled back out of view. Jeff

starts across an open field toward the town, first

jogging, then running.

62.

EXT. STREET -DAY

Jeff hurries toward the bank. He looks back at the mesa

again. The gang has disappeared.

Up ahead, a mud-streaked pickup cruises the main street.

Jeff eyes it warily. Is it one of theirs? The truck

pulls around a corner.

INT. BANK -DAY

Jeff pushes through the main doors. It’s a typical small

town operation. A guard stands near the entrance.

Several customers wait in line for the woman teller.

Jeff looks at the slow-moving line and swears softly. He

doesn’t have time to wait. He glances around, sees an

older man sitting at a desk in the rear of the bank, the

nameplate on the desk identifying him as Roger Calhoun.

Jeff approaches.

JEFF:

I need to see the manager. I need

a wire transfer from my bank in

Boston.

CALHOUN looks up from his paperwork, hesitates at Jeff’s

appearance.

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