Entrapment Page #11

Mac checks off the tools. They look very cool.

MAC:

...decibel meter...comm kits...lasers

with magic arms...got the IR/Thermo

camera?

THIBADEAUX:

Had to get a liquid plasma screen.

MAC:

How'm I supposed to do this without the

right tools?

THIBADEAUX:

You're not the one trying to get all this

sh*t. You think they've got a Crooks R Us

on every corner?

MAC:

You are a miracle worker.

THIBADEAUX:

Where's the girl?

MAC:

In the loch. Training.

THIBADEAUX:

So when do we do the dirty?

MAC:

We might not want to cash in our chips

just yet. She has another job after this

one.

THIBADEAUX:

That's what they all say, right before

they disappear with the swag.

MAC:

A really big job.

THIBADEAUX:

This is big enough.

MAC:

It's never big enough.

EXT. SAFEHOUSE - LOCH - HIS VIEW

Gin gets out of the loch onto a rock. Caught unaware, she

looks incredibly beautiful.

INT. SAFEHOUSE - KITCHEN - SAME

Thibadeaux is watching her through the telescope. An idea,

call it a suspicion, comes to him.

THIBADEAUX:

You are keeping this business, right?

Mac gives nothing away.

MAC:

I need you to get one more thing for me.

A dress, elegant but sexy. I'd say she's

a size six who wears a size four. Maybe a

Chanel.

THIBADEAUX:

Chanel?

He gets a good laugh out of this.

THIBADEAUX:

(continuing)

I buy my mama Chanel.

MAC:

It's been a while since I bought a woman

a dress.

That lies there for a moment. Beneath their toughness there's

some real connection between the two of them.

THIBADEAUX:

I know what you mean.

But it's not a place they like going.

THIBADEAUX:

(continuing)

My Tina, she used to say, the dress makes

the woman. And I'd tell her, no, baby,

the woman makes the dress.

MAC:

Tina, she was something else.

The "was" is the sad and operative word here.

THIBADEAUX:

Don't go getting sentimental. You're no

damn good at it.

MAC:

Tina was worth it.

Meaning worth all the trouble women can be.

THIBADEAUX:

This better be worth it.

Mac looks out to Gin.

MAC:

Oh, it is.

The job? The girl?

THIBADEAUX:

It better be worth it to me.

And that is the nitty gritty, dead serious end to it.

EXT. SAFEHOUSE - DAY

Thibadeaux's delivery van drives away. Getting out of the

loch, Gin walks toward the house and catches just a glimpse

of the van and its driver.

INT. SAFEHOUSE - DAY - FEW MINUTES LATER

Her hair still wet from swimming, Gin stares at the

furnishings and casually arranged mementos, the way a woman

considers how a place is decorated to be a window into the

owner's soul. Mac enters, carrying a box of gear.

MAC:

Our gear has arrived.

GIN:

Who delivered it?

MAC:

Delivery man.

GIN:

You were in there a long time.

MAC:

Suspicious are we?

GIN:

Comes with the territory.

He heads across the living room with the box. Her eyes go

around the room, curious, taking in every detail.

MAC:

You coming, or are you casing the joint?

She comes to a realization.

GIN:

A woman did this.

MAC:

Nonsense. I did it all myself.

GIN:

Women can tell these things.

MAC:

Which is why I live alone.

GIN:

Who was she?

MAC:

I should get this place redone.

It's his way of telling her to buzz off.

GIN:

A partner with secrets isn't much of a

partner.

She throws his line back at him.

MAC:

Bullshit I'm afraid. Secrets are what

make us human.

GIN:

I like your face when you do that. It's

like this house. You think it hides who

you are, but it does exactly the

opposite.

MAC:

Can we please get to work?

That box is getting heavy.

GIN:

Oh, did I get too personal?

MAC:

Yes you did.

There are vast Greenlands of buried emotion here.

MAC:

(continuing)

Unless physical labor is beneath you,

there are more boxes in the kitchen.

EXT. SAFE HOUSE/INT. SAFE HOUSE - DAY/NIGHT - INTERCUT

Measuring precisely, Gin and Mac string red yarn into a maze

in the living room.

Mac runs blade det cord along a piece of concrete.

Boom! The det cord explodes. Mac checks a decibel meter.

Mac checks the depth of the cut in the concrete with a ruler,

makes some notes in his Notebook.

Mac and Gin squat underneath some planks set on scaffolding

five feet off the floor. Mac begins to chant, rhythmically,

as he tapes strips of blade det cord over a square 18" on a

side outlined on the wood with magic marker.

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