G.I. Jane Page #2

ROYCE:

All right, stand by, we're going to

switch over to COMSAT...

A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense

satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant

Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a

conference table. They're pouring over weather charts,

navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video.

TACTICAL OFFICER

Voice-system now secure...

ROYCE:

(into speaker)

Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO

plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB

signals leads us to believe the

pilot is alive and has made his way

to the North Korean shore, near a

fishing village, "Tamyung."

JORDAN (V.O.)

Do we know it's him using the

beacon? Not a decoy?

ROYCE:

Signals received only sparingly, in

such a pattern that leads us to

conclude it is a downed aviator

trying to conserve his batteries.

JORDAN (V.O.)

Chances of recovery?

ROYCE:

You're the analyst for East China,

O'Neil. Analyze.

EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY

Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she

accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the

Jefferson Memorial:

JORDAN:

North Korean beaches are the best

protected, most heavily monitored in

the world. The civilian population

is so propagandized that it acts as

an Early Warning system. Extraction

team has to be small and silent --

I'd go with Seals over Delta Force.

Problem is, don't want to hold a

conventional sub off-shore for

target practice. Where's The Polk?

INTERCUTTING:

ROYCE:

Halfway 'round the world. So that's

the problem -- we can get the team

in, just not out.

JORDAN:

(an inspired beat)

Unless you Whiskey Run.

ROYCE:

Blank faces here, O'Neil.

JORDAN:

Quick-hit technique used by Capone.

Rigged a getaway car with running

boards and handles. All his guys

had to do was jump on and take a

ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 --

I doped it out as a contingency

plan:
Seal Team infiltrates, picks

up the package, links up with

recovery sub. But don't waste time

opening and closing hatches. They

just grab the periscope and hang on

for neutral waters.

A dubious beat.

ROYCE:

You expect the extraction team to

ride the sub bare-back? Is that

correct, O'Neil?

JORDAN:

Only four minutes to neutral waters,

sir. Why not?

Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario

privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of

the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank

lies...

Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication

antennae.

Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response.

ROYCE:

All right, sending the

recommendation across the river.

Royce out.

The phone goes dead.

JORDAN:

No, thank you, sir.

EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY

Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian

employees transit a security station on their way inside.

Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and

balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a

photo-badge and double-times inside.

INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY

Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki

uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock

doors. Falling in step:

ROYCE:

That was good headwork, lieutenant.

JORDAN:

Thank you, sir. We hear back from

the Pentagon?

ROYCE:

(scoffing)

Probably hear back from CNN first.

JORDAN:

Hate this part. Just sweating it

out on the sidelines.

ROYCE:

Intel has its own glory, lieutenant

-- no matter how subtle.

Now they reach...

INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY

A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the

bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the

second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen.

ROYCE:

By the way, I'll need that option

paper by 11-hundred today so I can

review it with Admiral Hanover. And

do we have any of that breakfast tea

around here?

JORDAN:

(with a look)

Is this my glory, sir?

On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY

appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below.

N.I.C. SECRETARY

Excuse me, but I have Senator

DeHaven on the line for you.

ROYCE:

Jesus God, what now?

He bounds up the stairs toward his office.

N.I.C. SECRETARY

I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to

speak with Lieutenant O'Neil.

Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look.

"Oh, really?"

INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY

DEHAVEN:

(into phone)

So everyone I talk to says you're

top drawer with silk stockings

inside.

JORDAN (V.O.)

Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask

what this is regarding?

DEHAVEN:

(reading file)

High-school pentathlete... ROTC

scholarship, graduated with

honors... top marks in Basic

Training... and, as it just so

happens, a constituent of my home

state of Virginia. Oh, the things

I'll do for one extra vote.

INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY

On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull

within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on

Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full

report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for."

DEHAVEN:

Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to

nominate you for the Navy's Special

Reconnaissance program. Should you

accept, you'll ship out to Coronado

next week and join in the big

testosterone festival. Complete the

course, and you'll have a fast

ticket to any assignment you want.

That's my personal promise to you.

A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now

INTERRCUTTING the two:

JORDAN:

"Coronado."

DEHAVEN:

California.

JORDAN:

I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just

that... Beggin' your pardon,

Senator, but... do you understand

that this involves combat training?

DEHAVEN:

This is just a test case, O'Neil.

But if it works out -- if you work

out -- it could well change the

Navy's official policy on women in

combat. Or, actually, its official

non-policy. Now who's your

immediate superior there?

JORDAN:

Captain Dwyer. Technically.

DEHAVEN:

My office will fill him in and help

expedite. Look forward to meeting

you at the proper time. Jumping off

now...

JORDAN:

Uh, question, ma'am.

DEHAVEN:

Yes, dear.

JORDAN:

Would I be the only one? The only

woman?

DEHAVEN:

There'll be more to follow -- but

yes, dear, right now you're the pick

of a very large litter. And your

success would mean a lot. Jumping,

now...

The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically.

JORDAN:

Well, sh*t-a-doodle-do...

EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT

A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick

and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter.

Beyond stands a clapboard rental house.

INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT

It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and

wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a

training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room.

In the kitchen we find...

A naked man. He's steeping tea.

JORDAN (O.S.)

... well, I survived Basic Training

and three brothers -- so I know how

to fight. What scares me are the

sexual politics. I don't want to be

turned into some poster girl for

women's rights.

CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug

through the house...

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