Face\Off Page #2

FULL SCREEN -- MONITOR

BARNES'S prints match the record of one CASTOR TROY:

WANTED -- PACIFIC STOCK EXCHANGE BOMBINGS, 12 DEAD

WANTED -- ASSASSINATION OF CROATIAN AMBASSADOR

WANTED -- KIDNAPPING OF BRUNEI CROWN PRINCE

BRYCE and the TRAINEE look at each other -- stunned.

But the FELONY LIST goes on ... MURDER ... ARSON ...

KIDNAPPING ... TERRORISM ... with CD-ROM IMAGES of the

crimes. Finally ... at the bottom:

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON THE WHEREABOUTS OF THIS

PERSON CALL CMD. JON ARCHER, NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY,

WEST COAST DIVISION, IMMEDIATELY.

INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

Some office. There's a stunning 180-view of TOWERING

REDWOODS, a creek, even some ambling deer. DR. RACHEL

GARDNER (55) considers her fidgeting patient -- JON ARCHER.

Archer's around 30, decent-looking, maybe even handsome if

he ever smiled. His eyes reveal a broken soul, a soul

driven into the grip of obsession.

DR. GARDNER

How is the "date night" idea

going over with Eve?

ARCHER:

Like gangbusters, doc.

(off her look)

Okay, I missed the last one.

DR. GARDNER

You missed the last three,

including her birthday.

(holds up a list)

Your wife's gripe sheet.

ARCHER:

I've been working night and

day. I haven't had time.

DR. GARDNER

You're supposed to make time.

When was the last time you

told her you love her?

(Archer shrugs)

When was the last time

you two had sex?

Archer tightens up, says nothing. He goes to the bookshelf,

pushing IN a copy of "John Muir's Woods" -- and pulling OUT

Dashiell Hammett's "Maltese Falcon".

The redwood forest disappears from the "window". A B&W

action-view of the streets of old San Francisco replaces it.

ARCHER:

One of my informants spotted

him -- right here in the city.

DR. GARDNER

I just asked you about making

love to your wife, and you

started talking about your job.

ARCHER:

I'm not hiding in my work,

if that's what you're saying.

DR. GARDNER

You said it, Jon, not me.

Archer listens ... letting it sink in ... CONSIDERING.

DR. GARDNER (cont'd)

You put yourself in constant

jeopardy so you don't have to

face yourself. But what will you

do when the job is over -- and

there's no place left to hide?

The phone RINGS. Gardner picks it up, listens, then sighs.

DR. GARDNER (cont'd)

I am not your secretary.

When you're in here --

ARCHER:

(grabs phone)

Jon Archer.

As he listens, his face becomes more energized, more alive.

ARCHER (cont'd)

I'll be right there,

Sergeant. Don't talk to

him, don't listen to him,

and for God's sake --

don't go near him ...

INT. HOLDING TANK -- NIGHT

Barnes signals Officer Morris, who is petting "Dinah," the

precinct's mascot CAT.

GEOFFREY:

Excuse me, Officer. May I

have a private word with you?

(Morris puts Dinah

down and approaches)

I just wanted to say ...

(drops English accent

and speaks in his

natural American idiom)

Thanks for being one dumb f***.

Barnes reaches through the bars, and SNAPS MORRIS'S NECK!

Morris sags lifeless as "Barnes" -- aka CASTOR TROY --

quickly and calmly grabs the unarmed cop's keys.

Transformed, this man is coordinated, aggressive, sexy.

INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT

Pollux and the twins hurry inside. The door cracks open

again as a hand hangs a DO NOT DISTURB card over the knob.

EXT. HOTEL ROOM -- SAME TIME

This room does indeed have a view -- of the precinct's SQUAD

ROOM -- through its steel-reinforced plexiglass windows.

The trio scan with INFRA-RED GOGGLES: HEAT SIGNATURES of

computers, coffee makers, the cat -- finally a bald COP.

LUNT:

Number 6 -- the cue-ball.

LARS sights through his laser-sighted RIFLE. A harmless

SPOT of light momentarily tags the cop's bald pate, then

vanishes. An LED on the rifle's scope clicks from 5 to 6.

LARS:

6 is tagged.

POLLUX:

Hurry ...

INT. PRECINCT -- NIGHT

CASTOR picks his way through the back rooms of the precinct

when a DOOR opens in front of him.

A COP emerges from the head, zipping up his pants. CASTOR

silences the cop with a quick punch to the throat and drags

him back into the head just before --

BRYCE and cops charge by -- toward the holding tank.

CASTOR slips out after they've passed. Keeps moving.

INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT

POLLUX aims, fires a SILENCED five-barrelled weapon --

EXT. PRECINCT WINDOWS -- NIGHT

Five CHARGES sink into the reinforced plexiglass.

INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT

POLLUX turns to the twins -- they nod. Ready.

INT. PRECINCT -- NIGHT

HOLDING ROOM:
BRYCE finds Morris dead, Castor gone. He

hits a button.

SQUAD ROOM:
Busy Cops look up as the ALARM suddenly

screams. Then -- BOOM! The plexiglass windows EXPLODE

inward, leaving an enormous gash open to the whipping rain.

INTERCUT:

CASTOR emerges -- races for the gap -- as the COPS swiftly

recover from the blast. They grab their weapons and home in

on Castor. They move in fast -- and he's exposed as ...

LARS raises the laser-sighted rifle and FIRES.

A SWARM OF TRACER BULLETS roars toward the cops. Spiralling

and twisting, the armada of smart bullets SPLITS UP AND SEARCHES

OUT their marked targets. Just as Castor's surrounded ...

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