Circle of Treason Page #2

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6.

GERBER:

Okay, what have we got?

Sandy flips open a file. An ID SHOT of Poleshchuk -

cryptonym GT/WEIGH.

SANDY:

GT/WEIGH. An apartment’s come up.

He needs twenty grand for a

deposit. We want to drop it to him

in Moscow.

BEARDEN:

Where’d he walk-in?

SANDY:

Nigeria, but he’s scheduled for

transfer. He wants proof we can

communicate with him in the Soviet

Union.

GERBER:

Where are they moving him?

SANDY:

First Directorate, KR Line.

The room reacts. This is a major new source. Sandy works

hard to disguise her pride, but isn’t entirely successful.

RICK:

I don’t know, Sandy. Moscow’s

always a risk.

BEARDEN:

So pay him in Nigeria, what’s wrong

with that?

SANDY:

(right back)

Nothing, so long as you give me a

story he can tell the KGB when they

stop him at the airport with twenty

grand taped to his legs.

Bearden gives Rick a ‘we’ve-got-a-live-one’ look.

RICK:

Look, Sandy, this is a big deal for

you. I can appreciate that. Your

first big catch on Ex/Ops. You

want to make an impression. But

you have to put your asset ahead of

your career.

7.

That landed. Sandy works to contain her irritation.

SANDY:

The risk is, he walks. He’ll have

access to information on any

operations against or penetrations

of this agency, or foreign

intelligence services. We don’t

want to lose him.

Gerber, whose decision it is, considers for a moment.

GERBER:

Okay, do it. Sandy, you want to

touch base with Moscow Station?

Rick, stay back a minute. I want

to get you read-in on Stombaugh.

Sandy, dismissed, gathers her file and walks out. Bearden

admires the back of her legs as she goes.

Outside in the hall, Sandy allows herself a private moment of

satisfaction - she nailed it.

INT. CIA - COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - DAY

Tight on a typewriter as it clatters out a restricted-

handling cable. Glimpsed phrases: ‘PRIORITY COS MOSCOW /

OPERATIONAL RUN FOR GTWEIGH APPROVED. CONTACT WEIGH VIA

SIGNAL SITE PYLON TO ADVISE HIM OF SAME...’

CIA TECH:

Anything else?

Sandy, dictating to the Technical Officer at a desk in the

comms room, thinks a moment.

SANDY:

Tell him, ‘Happy apartment

hunting.’

EXT. MOSCOW - DAY

A Stalinist apartment block in central Moscow.

INT. UNFURNISHED APARTMENT - MOSCOW - DAY

A realtor shows into the apartment a Russian couple in their

late-40s, LEONID AND LYUDMILA POLESHCHUK. We recognize

Leonid as the agency asset from the ID shot - cryptonym

GT/WEIGH.

8.

As they move through the apartment, which is cramped and

functional but has natural light and an impressive view,

Lydumila’s delight shows on her face. They speak Russian and

we see subtitles...

POLESHCHUK:

Do you like it?

LYUDMILA:

Can we afford it?

POLESHCHUK:

We can afford it.

LYUDMILA:

How can we afford it?

He looks at her with affection...

POLESHCHUK:

You ask a lot of questions, you

know that?

He kisses her and follows her to the windows to admire the

view of the city.

INT. CIA - COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - DAY

Sandy finds the same tech guy who earlier encrypted her

cable, pouring coffee in a KITCHENETTE off the comms room.

CIA TECH:

(anticipating her question)

When I hear anything, I’ll let you

know.

Sandy smiles gratefully; she has a bewitching smile.

EXT. IZMAYLOVSKY PARK - MOSCOW - NIGHT

HEADLIGHTS SWEEP A TREE-LINED PARKING AREA in Moscow’s

largest urban park. Poleshchuk pulls up in a Volga sedan.

Poleshchuk cuts the engine and sits, listening to it ticking

as it cools. He takes a few sips from a bottle of vodka, as

if steeling himself for the task ahead.

Eventually, he climbs out, heading for a path that leads

through the woods.

9.

INT. CIA - COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - EVENING

Tech guys and analysts are grabbing their coats, chatting,

leaving for the day, others arriving to take over the shift.

Sandy’s guy is packing a briefcase. Sandy approaches him.

CIA TECH:

(not looking up)

Don’t you have a home to go to?

EXT. IZMAYLOVKSY PARK - FOOTPATH - NIGHT

Poleshchuk walks along the footpath. The night amplifies

every sound - the crunch of gravel, his breath in his ears,

the hum of power cables overhead.

As he approaches a footbridge, he scans the surrounding

darkness for possible surveillance: a jogger running in the

opposite direction... a drunk sleeping on a bench... lovers

sharing a blanket under a tree.

He walks beneath the bridge... and is swallowed in darkness.

EXT. IZMAYLOVSKY PARK - FOOTPATH / BRIDGE - NIGHT

Poleshchuk slows as he comes to the deepest part of the

bridge, the only light from the sodium lamps either end of

the tunnel.

Kneeling just long enough to locate by feel a particular

brick, he fumbles with it and gets it open. It’s an artfully

constructed fake. Inside, he finds a plastic-wrapped deck of

Russian currency.

Poleshchuk pockets the cash, replaces the brick, and then

continues on, out of the tunnel, toward the light at the end.

It has taken seconds.

INT. CIA - COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - NIGHT

It’s late. A few analysts around. Sandy sits, sipping

coffee, near to the telex machines, waiting for word from

Moscow.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

Poleshchuk gets in, takes a moment to look at the money in

his lap. Then, stowing it under his seat, he tries to start

the car. Nothing.

10.

POLESHCHUK:

(Russian)

Come on...

He tries again. Still nothing.

POLESHCHUK (CONT’D)

(Russian)

Goddamnit...!

He freezes... as, through the windshield, he sees shadows

moving in the treeline at the edge of the parking area.

Poleshchuk tries the engine a third time. Then, with a bad

feeling now, he reaches suddenly for the money under the seat

and climbs out of the car.

EXT. IZMAYLOVSKY PARK - NIGHT

As Poleshchuk moves away from the car, trying to keep calm,

trying not to run, he hears a squealing of brakes to his

right - a VAN pulling up in a spray of gravel.

Poleshchuk keeps walking, still fighting the impulse to run,

as behind him, the van door bangs open and a KGB SECURITY

TEAM explode from inside, weapons drawn.

More shouting in Russian from in front of him, a second

SECURITY TEAM, these with dogs snarling on leashes, cutting

off his egress...

INT. CIA - COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - NIGHT

Later. Sandy is alone in the communications room. The telex

machines silent. It’s too soon to know anything, but still -

she is concerned.

CUT TO BLACK.

INT. DULLES AIRPORT - DAY

The din of voices. A blur of color and motion as passengers

off the 1600 flight from Libreville, Gabon make their way

through the arrivals hall.

Passing unnoticed, a gray-haired woman with a single carry-on

bag approaches immigration. In her early fifties,

deliberately nondescript in a roll-neck sweater and thick-

lensed glasses, she might be a librarian or visiting

grandmother.

11.

But this is JEANNE VERTEFEUILLE (Ver-Teh-Fay).

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