Excess Baggage Page #3

Thomas frowns -- less sure of himself.

PERKINS:

An accomplice? That doesn't sound like Emily.

A peremptory KNOCK and Dan Sims pushes into the study. Thomasturns, giving Sims a view of the back of his head and not much else.

SIMS:

Mr. Hope, I'd love to answer phones in your foyerall day, but this man --

Sims glowers at Thomas's back.

SIMS (CONT'D)

-- is not on my roster of household staff -- orguests.

AMADEUS:

Mr. Perkins is a private associate, Detective Sims.He'll be taking over.

SIMS:

Excuse me?

AMADEUS:

Your services are no longer necessary, DetectiveSims. If you WILL excuse us?

Amadeus drops another nothing into the waste basket -- amove not lost on Sims.

SIMS:

We are not a cleaning service, Mr. Hope. We arethe police.

Amadeus stares blankly, like "what's the difference?"

PERKINS:

I think what Detective Sims is trying to say, Amadeus,is you can't fire the police.

SIMS:

Exactly.

AMADEUS:

(to Perkins)

Are you sure about this?

Perkins nods solemnly.

AMADEUS (CONT'D)

Very well, Detective Sims may maintain surveillance.

Sims chokes.

SIMS:

I. May.

AMADEUS:

(to Sims)

That will be all, Detective Sims.

Sims stands his ground, mutely refusing dismissal.

AMADEUS (CONT'D)

Unless you'd like to discuss the money.

SIMS:

I'll be in the foyer.

Sims spins for the door -- the door handle fights him.

AMADEUS:

Turn to the right, Detective Sims.

Sims, crimson, turns to the right.

AMADEUS (CONT'D)

And Detective Sims? If you're going to remain afixture in this household, speak to my assistant -- he'll cut youa wardrobe check.

The door slams behind Sims.

AMADEUS (CONT'D)

Nobody holds me hostage.

Perkins stares into a glass case -- one of those pedestaljobs you find museum displays in, but this holds photographs:

Emily at three; Emily at the military academy; Emily atgraduation; Emily at a high powered reception beside her father -- ThomasPerkins loves that little girl.

PERKINS:

We'll make that clear.

INT. AMADEUS'S ANTEROOM/OFF THE STUDY - EVENING

Wires run from phones to phones to black boxes -- presumablythe latest in police tech surveillance -- monitored by bleary eyed COPS.

Amadeus's ASSISTANT attempts to work around the squad roomsqualor.

Barnaby, being a calm soul, doesn't jump when Sims slamsin.

SIMS:

Mr. Hope just fired us.

Shocked silence from the cops -- sounds perfectly reasonableto Hope's assistant, though.

HOPE'S ASSISTANT

You'll be leaving, then.

Dan stares at the assistant, incredulous.

SIMS:

No we won't be leaving!

COP:

Can he do that?

SIMS:

No he can't do that!

BARNABY:

(aside to the cop)

We're the police, Corey.

COP:

Oh, right.

SIMS:

Let's get this straight. We are the police. Andwe are in control here.

ASSISTANT:

Not on this planet.

INT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE - EVENING

The Porsche is gone. The Mercedes sits in the gloom.

INT. MERCEDES/TRUNK - EVENING

Emily is in a minor fix -- and judging from the sweat anddiscontent factor, has been for some time. It's not easy to pass arms, handcuffedbehind you, under your legs to in front of you -- especially when you'relying on your side in a trunk -- and Emily's stuck mid-way.

She struggles again to get her hands past her feet. Strugglessome more. They come free.

Next job is to wrench the gag away -- she tied a good gag,so it's tough going, but she gets it off. She yanks stuffing from her mouth,takes a big breath -- spits, tries to wet her mouth.

EMILY:

Thank God.

Smiling grimly at success, she extracts the handcuff keyfrom her front jeans pocket and releases the cuffs.

EMILY (CONT'D)

Can you breathe. What an a**hole.

EXT. WAREHOUSE DISTRICT - NIGHT

Will's old Porsche glides down a dimly illuminated street.

INT. WILL'S PORSCHE (WAREHOUSE DISTRICT) - NIGHT

Will's checking the neighborhood for signs of stress, andwhat he sees isn't good. On the corner, a cruiser.

WILL:

Cop.

Across the street, another cruiser.

WILL (CONT'D)

Cop.

Overhead, a helicopter.

WILL (CONT'D)

Cop.

On the sidewalk, a German Shepherd --

WILL (CONT'D)

Cop -- dog?

He shakes his head.

WILL (CONT'D)

Don't be paranoid. That is not a cop dog.

He cranes his neck to stare up through the windshield.

WILL (CONT'D)

But that is definitely a cop helicopter.

He eyes the passing cruiser.

WILL (CONT'D)

And that is definitely a cop car.

Another cruiser sits quietly on the corner, lights out,but there's a guy in uniform in the car all right.

WILL (CONT'D)

Cop cop cop.

Will jerks the steering wheel hard, swerving down a darkstreet and away --

INT. MERCEDES/TRUNK - EVENING

Emily searches around the trunk lid's key slot -- frustrated,not finding what she wants, then finding it -- a small hole in the metal--

There's a piece of metal blocking the mechanism that wouldusually allow someone to open the trunk from the inside.

EMILY:

Why does it always have to be the hard way?

She squirms around to face the back of the trunk --

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. MILITARY SCHOOL - DAY (FLASHBACK)

Impeccable grounds, impeccable buildings -- except for one,the corner of which has been reduced to rubble by an explosion, if the burnmarks are any indication.

Thomas Perkins, hands clasped behind his back, rolls forwardand backward on the balls of his feet, studying the rubble.

Emily (young) stands beside him, dressed "academy," suitcaseby her feet, and grins, proud.

PERKINS:

You're lucky no one was in there.

Emily's offended.

YOUNG EMILY:

That wasn't luck. I called.

PERKINS:

Voice I.D.

Emily grimaces chagrin.

YOUNG EMILY:

That won't happen again.

Thomas lifts her suitcase and strides across impeccablelawn, towards a faraway and expensive automobile with tinted windows.

PERKINS:

You won't call? Awful messy, when bodies blow.

She stumps along at his side.

YOUNG EMILY:

I won't use a cold phone.

PERKINS:

Emily, if we could keep you in school long enoughto get an education, you'd have a real future in Secret Service.

They're at the car. He opens the passenger door for her.She pulls out a cigarette and lights up.

YOUNG EMILY:

I don't need a future. I'm rich.

Thomas plucks the cigarette from her mouth, grinds it underhis heel, and extends his open palm, waiting.

She glares, sighs, and hands over the pack.

INT. PERKINS' DISCREET AUTOMOBILE - DAY (FLASHBACK CONT'D)

Thomas drives. Young Emily broods in injured silence.

YOUNG EMILY:

He could have come. Probably playing with thosedamn trees.

PERKINS:

Maybe he doesn't appreciate paying for a new wing.

Injured silence.

PERKINS (CONT'D)

You know what this means.

YOUNG EMILY:

Uh oh.

PERKINS:

Back to Catholic school.

YOUNG EMILY:

Nuns? Again?

PERKINS:

It's going to take a while for me to get you inanywhere else.

YOUNG EMILY:

Nuns are the worst.

PERKINS:

Look in the glove box.

Emily brightens and digs, coming up with a gift wrappedbox.

PERKINS (CONT'D)

Happy Birthday, Emily.

Emily shoots him a grateful smile, reads the card, grimaces.

YOUNG EMILY:

Thank you, Uncle Thomas.

PERKINS:

It's from your father.

YOUNG EMILY:

It's a nice lie. Thanks for remembering.

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