Dave Page #10

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CUT TO:

EXT. WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

All the reporters have gone home and the only remnants are

scattered pieces of trash that blow across the lawn.

INT. WRITE HOUSE HALLWAY - NIGHT

Duane sits poised in his chair, just outside Dave's door. He

sleeps soundly, when the door opens a crack behind him.

DAVE:

(softly)

Duane?

His eyes bolt open as he turns around slowly.

DAVE:

... Can I get a bite? I'm kinda hungry.

INT. WHITE HOUSE KITCHEN - WALK-IN REFRIGERATOR - NIGHT

It is cavernous and huge -- the size of small garage. Dave

moves delighted down the long row of food stuffs while Duane

shivers slightly behind him.

DAVE:

(grinning)

You gotta try this. It's my special

sandwich.

Dave loads up with food and smiles at Duane.

DAVE:

Everybody loves this sandwich.

INT. KITCHEN

counter and begins to go to work when Duane appears Dave

emerges with a pile of food. He lays it on the behind him.

(BEAT) DUANE

What's in it?

DAVE:

(turning)

Oh, that's a secret.

Duane nods and averts his eyes as Dave begins to apply the

meat.

DAVE:

So, how long have they been like that - -

you know, him and the First Lady?

DUANE:

I can't say.

DAVE:

You mean you don't know or like -- you

can't say.

DUANE:

(same inflection)

I can't say.

DAVE:

Oh.

Dave pauses, then starts adding the lettuce.

DAVE:

So you just protect the President the

whole time? That's your whole job?

DUANE:

Yeah.

DAVE:

(turning)

You got a gun?

DUANE:

Of course.

Dave glances around the kitchen and lowers his voice.

AVE:

Can I See it?

DUANE:

Well, it's really not policy to...

DAVE:

(quickly)

I understand.

Dave turns back to the sandwich while Duane looks at him for

a moment. Duane rolls his eyes and unbuttons the front of

his coat revealing a fifteen round Beretta.

DAVE:

(looking at the gun)

You ever use it?

DUANE:

No.

DAVE:

Huh.

(right back to the

sandwich)

You know what I always wondered the

way they say you guys'd take a bullet

for the President.

DUANE:

What about it?

DAVE:

Well, is that really true? I mean,

would you really get killed just to

save his life.

DUANE:

Certainly.

Dave cuts the sandwich in half turning back to Duane.

DAVE:

So that means, now you'd get killed

for me too?

Duane looks at him, stunned by the realization. Dave smiles

and moves forward, extending the sandwich.

DAVE:

Here. Try this.

DAVE - Rev. 8/7/92 46.

Duane stares at it for a moment, then lifts the sandwich in a

daze.

EXT. DOWNTOWN WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY

The CAMERA begins to PUSH IN ON a small elegant restaurant.

REED:

Clean.

BOB:

What do you mean, he's clean?

INT. DUKE1S RESTAURANT - DAY

It's a Washington mecca for the power lunch. Bob and Reed

Sit in a corner booth with a manilla folder between them.

REED:

(agitated)

I mean I've checked everything.

Women. Liquor... Finances. I went

all the way back to his high school

race for student body president.

BOB:

No one gets to be Vice President by

being that clean.

REED:

The guy's a Boy Scout, Bob. He declared

frequent flyer miles on his income tax

return.

Reed twists in his chair while Bob checks out the dossier.

BOB:

What about the wife?

REED:

Clean.

BOB:

Check his kids.

REED:

Clean.

BOB:

Nobody's got clean kids.

REED:

We've got nothing, Bob. This won't

work.

BOB:

If we find nothing, we get creative.

Just make something up. Instead of a

couple weeks it'll be a couple of

months. The whole thing is under

control.

REED:

(leaning forward; tense

whisper)

You think we can keep this thing going

for a couple of months!

At that moment, a DISTINGUISHED MAN moves up the table,

clapping a hand on Reed's shoulder.

DISTINGUISHED MAN

(strong Southern accent)

Bob... Alan... Your boy sure looks

great.

(leaning closer)

I think he sounds even better'n he did

before this stroke.

He lets out a rich, throaty laugh, full of booze and

cigarettes. Bob smiles at him.

BOB:

Well, thanks very much, Judge. We'll

tell him you sent your best.

DISTINGUISHED MAN

You take care, now.

BOB:

Yeah, you, too.

The Man moves on as they look at one another...

CUT TO:

AIR FORCE ONE (STOCK FOOTAGE)

The President's private 747 soars into the wild blue yonder.

EXT. GENERAL MOTORS ASSEMBLY PLANT (DEERBORNE MICHIGAN')

- DAY The huge "GM" sign stands prominently in the f.g. Below

it their motto reads: "Mark of Excellence."

INT. ASSEMBLY LINE - DAY

Dave is escorted through the plant by the GM PRESIDENT and a

large entourage. Bob and Reed hover a couple of steps behind

as Dave listens to the tour.

GM PRESIDENT:

Now this man is using a robotic

mechanism for picking up the engine.

The large arms that you

see duplicate all of his arm movements

exactly, so it's as if he's lifting

two thousand pounds.

They pause in front of a large assembly area.' One of the

workers stands at a machine with his arms stuck in two long

rubber sleeves. Above him, a pair of mechanical arms hoists

an engine high into the air.

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