Face\Off

FADE IN:

EXT. SKYLINE -- NIGHT

Drizzling ... cold ... foggy ... gray sky vanishes into gray

sea without a seam ... fog so dense we move through it

blindly until ... looming huge: the GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE.

SUPERIMPOSE:
SAN FRANCISCO -- THE NEAR FUTURE

Impossibly close, we soar through repair scaffolding and

over suspension wires ... glimpsing earthquake damage:

broken concrete, dangling cables, cracked support beams.

Turning south ... the familiar jewel-like cityscape ...

Fisherman's Wharf ... Russian Hill ... yet there are now two

Transamerica Towers and we CLIMB UP the new one.

Reaching the fogless PINNACLE ... peace reigns ... as we float

right through an ACCESS PANEL -- strangely wedged open -- and

INTO THE TRANSAMERICA-TWO SPIRE

A maze of wiring, ducts and maintenance-controls ... but behind

one DUCT -- something HIDES ... something GLOWING RED ...

TELESCOPE IN and find THE DEVICE. Unlike any other explosive

charge, it is complex in form and compact in size, with a

sectioned, multi-colored cube panel and a glass GLOBE core ...

MAGNIFY ... now we're INSIDE the globe ... in a gaseous soup ...

with a zillion microscopic parasites ... they crowd the

screen ... throbbing ... BUZZING like a swarm of angry wasps.

INT. TRANSAMERICA-TWO -- PARKING LEVEL LOBBY -- NIGHT

Late. The last few workoholics head for their cars. The

only sound is the sloshing of the Chinese JANITOR mopping.

Slosh. Slosh ... the FREIGHT ELEVATOR opens and out comes

GEOFFREY BARNES (30). Rumpled and out-of-breath -- the slim

Englishman bumbles into the Janitor -- knocking him down.

GEOFFREY:

Thank goodness, a human being.

Fumbling with his briefcase, he kicks over the pail. Water

sloshes everywhere. The janitor starts yelling in CHINESE.

Barnes replies -- in perfect Mandarin.

GEOFFREY (cont'd)

[I'm terribly sorry, but

I feel like Icarus in the

labyrinth. Where the devil

is Parking Level Red-14B?]

The Janitor stares, then smiles and gives directions in

Chinese. BARNES graciously bows. The Janitor bows back.

INT./EXT. STREETS -- SQUAD CAR -- NIGHT

Cops MORRIS and HODGES wait for a green light at the

intersection of Van Ness and Lombard. The RADIO crackles on.

DISPATCHER:

Attention all units -- 211 at

Pier 39. Suspect is a white male,

30's, 6 feet with specs, armed

and very dangerous. Heading

south on Van Ness in a blue Ford

sedan. Watch for this one,

fellas -- he's looney toons.

The exchange glances as ... a blue FORD SEDAN motors by.

INT. CAR -- MOVING -- NIGHT

Geoffrey Barnes innocently drives his rental car -- a blue

Ford Sedan. Tired, he stretches his long legs.

GEOFFREY:

Another day, another - cop?

POLICE SIRENS blaze behind him. Concerned and annoyed --

Barnes finally pulls over.

Adjusting his specs -- Barnes fumbles to find the car

registration. He turns -- and sees a POLICE AUTOMATIC

pointing at his head. Morris waves him out of the car.

EXT. FILLMORE PRECINCT -- NIGHT

A modern multi-use high-rise. A window-washing "DRONE"

works its way up a grid-track. As the RAIN increases, the

drone stops cleaning and retracts into a maintenance shaft.

INT. PLEXIGLASS ELEVATOR -- MOVING -- NIGHT

The elevator ascends quickly -- glimpsing floors dedicated

to Evidence, Parking Authority, Civil Code, Small Claims,

Identification etc. A manacled Barnes trembles.

GEOFFREY:

You're making a ghastly

mistake! I haven't been

to Fisherman's Wharf, I

don't even like fish.

Yeah, yeah, yeah -- like Hodges and Morris really care.

INT. BOOKING LEVEL -- NIGHT

A busy night processing hookers, homeless and alcoholics.

In the thick of it -- the BOOKING CLERK tries to lock Barnes's

hand onto a PRINT-SCANNER -- but he resists mightily.

GEOFFREY:

Check my papers -- I'm with

the English consulate -- I've

got diplomatic immunity -- and

you've - got - no - right!

Barnes pulls away, eyes flashing angrily ... until a HUGE

COP grabs his hand and gently eases it down on the scanner.

INT. HOLDING TANK -- NIGHT

Barnes's thrown into a cell with a nasty group of drunken

GANG-BANGERS. He smiles nervously, goes to the payphone.

One WIRY HOOD trips him. They laugh as Barnes struggles up,

then inserts a "smart" card in the payphone slot.

GEOFFREY:

Hello! Sorry I'm late, but

there's been a bit of a

muddle. I'm on the ninth floor

of the bloody Fillmore police

station. Could you come and

"bail me out" or whatever they

call it? There's a good chap.

He hangs up and glances at the threatening men. The WIRY

HOOD takes Barnes's glasses and snaps them in two.

INT. BAY VIEW HOTEL -- LOBBY -- NIGHT

Rain-soaked, POLLUX TROY (30's) anxiously checks in. He's a

human hummingbird -- skittish, edgy, a bit paranoid.

CLERK:

-- I do have something on

the 26th floor facing west

-- but there's no view.

POLLUX:

Yes -- there is.

POLLUX grabs the key and heads for the ELEVATOR. He holds

the elevator door open, waiting on a pair of muscular,

crystal-eyed twins -- LARS and LUNT MUELLER.

A helpful Bellhop reaches for Lars's large DUFFLE bag --

Lars yanks it back and disappears into the elevator.

INT. IDENTIFICATION FLOOR -- ANALYSIS ROOM -- SAME TIME

Chief analyst BRYCE shows a new TRAINEE the ropes. He grabs

a booking PRINT-OUT from a vacuum feeder tube: Barnes's.

BRYCE:

If this guy took a sh*t off

the London Bridge -- we'll

know about it in two seconds.

Bryce feeds the computer which WHIRS into action -- scanning

the handprint. The Trainee considers Barnes's innocently

GOOFY MUGSHOT.

TRAINEE:

This guy? I bet he never

even said the word sh*t.

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