Gold Page #24

JENNINGS (CONT’D)

Were you aware that Mike Acosta was

salting the Washoe core samples?

WELLS:

No!

JENNINGS:

You had no knowledge Mike Acosta was

perpetrating a fraud?

126.

WELLS:

No. I thought I’d won the lottery.

JENNINGS:

You were not in collusion with Mike

Acosta on the Kensana gold strike?

WELLS:

No.

JENNINGS:

Did you profit from the Kensana fraud?

WELLS:

You know I didn’t. I can’t pay the

hotel bill. Hell, I can’t even get the

minibar.

JENNINGS:

Did anyone close to you profit?

WELLS:

No.

JENNINGS:

You have gained nothing?

WELLS:

My friends lost money, my neighbors

lost money, but I lost everything.

Because, the real truth is... I never

cared much about money. I cared about

gold. It’s different, Jennings. It’s

different.

Jennings, Banks, and Levine walk away and confer. It’s clear

they’re having a difficult time reaching a quorum.

Wells turns and looks at the mountains. And then Jennings

crosses back.

JENNINGS:

(into tape recorder)

End of deposition, 6:45 AM, Seventeen,

October, 1988, conducted by Paul K.

Jennings - Special Agent In Charge,

Federal Bureau of Investigation,

District of Nevada, Reno.

He presses stop on the recorder. Closes his notes. He and

Wells look at each other a long moment.

JENNINGS (CONT’D)

You’re free to go, Mr. Wells.

127.

Wells seems like he wasn’t expecting this and maybe almost

like he was past caring about it.

WELLS:

Look at that, somebody believes me.

JENNINGS:

I wouldn’t go overboard. In fact, I

wouldn’t leave the state. Wouldn’t

start buying new stuff or chartering

any more jets.

WELLS:

I gotta sneak out of here without the

front desk guy seeing me. You picking

up that tab?

JENNINGS:

It’s been quite a whirlwind, hasn’t

it, Mr. Wells?

Wells has no f***ing idea how to even begin to answer that

one. As the coworkers leave -

BANKS:

Good luck, Mr. Wells

LEVINE:

We’ll be keeping an eye out for you.

Jennings starts to leave, then pauses -

JENNINGS:

What are you going to do now, Wells?

And as we push in on Wells, we can see deep in his eyes the

beginnings of a plan...

EXT. PARKING LOT - HARRAH’S HOTEL AND CASINO - MORNING

Wells looks back at the hotel. He sees two red-tailed hawks

perched on a balcony rail. They drop in unison and then rise

on a warm draft. Wells watches them rise and rise.

DISSOLVE TO:

ONE WHITE ROSES...

INT. SEDAN DE VILLE - DAY

Is placed on the passenger seat of his car. Wells smoking.

Driving. Flicks ashes at the ashtray, misses by a mile.

128.

Through the glass, a familiar, neater house appears.

EXT. KAY’S HOUSE - DAY

He pulls into the driveway of Kay’s house. The car shuts off.

He gathers himself. Picks up the rose. Gets out of the car.

Hart Hubbard, pruning a bush, stops snipping.

NEIGHBOR:

Kenny, I’m still worried about that

mulberry over the back fence.

An old Mulberry tree grows over the shared fence. Wells

doesn’t need to look.

WELLS:

I know. Good to see you, Hart.

HART HUBBARD:

Good to see you too, Kenny.

He’s at the door. He takes a breath and knocks. After a while

he hears footsteps. Then the door opens. Revealing KAY. She

looks at the single flower. At Wells.

WELLS:

Can I come in?

Kay considers a beat longer than is comfortable, then steps

aside to let him in.

INT. KAY’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Wells sees the pool has been fixed and filled. It sparkles.

Wells sitting at the dinette looking at Kay. She looks at him.

A golden light shines through new curtains above the sink.

KAY:

I made curtains.

WELLS:

The house looks great. And so do you.

Kay puts the flower in a small vase. She puts two coffee cups

on the dinette. She looks at him a moment then shakes her

head. Wells takes a cup of coffee.

WELLS (CONT’D)

I called up Carl.

129.

KAY:

You called Carl?

(beat)

What’d he say?

WELLS:

I think he was surprised to hear from

me. He’ll see me next week. No

promises.

KAY:

Wait, you really called him?

WELLS:

(beat)

No... Not yet. But I’m going to.

She starts to laugh. He starts to laugh. He reaches out his

hand to hold hers across the table. They look at each other.

WELLS (CONT’D)

Goddamn.

And then they laugh at the absurdity of it all, of life, of

trying to make sense of any of it.

KAY:

Oh, some stuff came for you. Some

mail.

She goes and finds a grocery bag of stuff that’s come for him.

He dumps it on the table, searching past catalogues and timeshare

opportunities, until he finds what he’s looking for:

A FOREIGN ENVELOPE

Thin and light blue with PAR AVION stamped on it.

Wells looks at it. He looks at Kay. Then he takes out a small

pocket knife, uses the short blade to slice it open.

He extracts... an old napkin.

THE NAPKIN.

The one he and Acosta signed in the jungle. He unfolds it.

He reads:

Prove ‘em all wrong.

“50-50”

Whatever it takes...

130.

Followed by two faded signatures: Kenny Wells & Mike Acosta.

He stares at Mike’s signature a long moment, remembering.

KAY (CONT’D)

What? What is it?

ALSO IN THE ENVELOPE -- A DEPOSIT SLIP

$82,000,000

In his name, at THE FIRST BANK OF GIBRALTAR, exactly half what

Acosta sold, fifty percent.

He looks up at Kay mysteriously.

And he smiles.

SMASH TO BLACK:

THE END:

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