Grosse Pointe Blank Page #4

STREET:

The two bodyguards kick at the Messenger's body. The other

two begin to move off of their boss, who rises cowering. The

Doorman stands behind it all, unbuttoning his coat.

DOORMAN:

a tall, dark, sharp-featured man in his forties, wearing a

handlebar moustache. He moves toward the group of men as he

flips open his coat back over two huge chrome .44 Magnum

Charthouse Bulldog revolvers and OPENS FIRE on them.

MARTIN:

is closing his bag when he hears the gun-thunder.

MARTIN:

Never mind. I gotta go.

Martin drops the phone, grabs his scope, and spins to the

window.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE

of the Doorman kicking through the pile of dead bodyguards.

He gets to the man at the bottom-- their boss. The Doorman

FIRES both guns.

MARTIN:

reacts, surprised to see a second shooter. He pulls himself

from the window, puts away his scope, and accelerates his

exit.

HIGH-RISE FOYER

Outside, we see the doorman drop both guns on the pile of

bodies. He walks back toward us through the glass doors and

makes his way through the building toward the service exit.

He sheds his uniform and stuffs it into a plastic bag.

MARTIN:

his two parcels in hand, exits out the side door of the hotel

and walks down the street.

DOORMAN:

now wearing rich man's sweats, hops off the loading dock,

walks to a Lincoln Town Car, and drives off.

INT. MARTIN'S AND GROCERS CARS - DAY

Martin rolls down FDR Drive in a Lincoln Town Car once again

on the cellular.

MARTIN:

...Tell them that's not my problem.

I was paid for one job-- the cyclist--

not two. See you tomorrow, Marcella.

MARCELLA:

Wait. I have Mr. Grocer for you.

MARTIN:

Patch him through....

Martin notices another Town Car appears in the next lane. We

recognize the Doorman behind the wheel, phone in hand. He is

GROCER.

MARTIN:

What do you want?

GROCER:

I'm setting up a concern that would

enable those of us in our rarefied

profession to consolidate our efforts.

MARTIN:

Like a union?

GROCER:

Like a club. Work less, make more.

MARTIN:

Thank you, no.

GROCER:

We could be working together, making

big money, killing important people...

I'm willing to let you in on the

ground floor.

MARTIN:

And you could be... sort of like...

a father figure to me....

Grocer ignores this.

GROCER:

It's a free-market evolution. You'll

wake up to it... c'mon Kid. We used

to run together when you were a

rookie. I don't want to run against

you. This thing's real. Everybody's

in.

MARTIN:

Not me. So don't paw at me with your

dirty little guild.

GROCER:

I'm gonna get you, kid.

Martin hangs up and pulls away.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in first class, wiping his face and hands with

an airline hot towel. He folds the wet cloth and once again

speeds through the images from a thick stack of magazines.

He looks up as he hears PILOT V.O. It's seventy-six degrees

and partly cloudy in Chicago this afternoon...

INT. APARTMENT, CHICAGO - NIGHT

Martin walks into a sparsely furnished apartment. He wearily

drops his carry-on bag and briefcase in the hall.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin sits on a futon couch watching MTV with no sound. On

the coffee table in front of him is a phalanx of vitamin

bottles. Martin takes some capsules from each and washes

them down with a reddish-orange beverage.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin lies on his back on the hardwood floor. His eyes are

closed and he wears a set of headphones as he absently taps

his chest.

WOMAN (V.O.)

"Dear Alumni: Can you believe it's

been ten years? Where are you now...?

After a moment, his eyes open, alerted. His head turns to

the side, and his hands lightly cup the headphones.

CLOSE-UP:
WIRE

from the headphones as it winds to a small metal box, with

one unmarked switch and one amber light- definitely not a

walkman. The wire continues out of the other side of the

box, across the floor, connecting to a suction cup stuck to

the floor.

WOMAN (V.O.)

...Are you guiding an Outward Bound

canoe trip like Brook Stinson? Or

perhaps in charge of appearances for

the NFL like Leslie Gunther....?

MARTIN - A MINUTE LATER

draws a pre-cut section of the floor, the width of a pencil

and twice as long, by a string.

VIDEO MONITOR - A MINUTE LATER

The greenish Starlight (night vision) image of a young, HUSKY

MAN sleeping on his back, as seen from above. A fine thread

snakes from behind CAMERA to just above the man's slack mouth.

We PULL BACK to reveal a Sony Watchman that holds the IMAGE.

KEEP PULLING to reveal Martin watching it as he maneuvers

the thread down past the fiber-optic cable through the hole

in the floor.

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