Jennifer 8 Page #26

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FLESHY VOICE:

Happy Christmas, Max ...

MAX:

I normally get socks ...

Every humiliation there is. However HELENA gets out of this is

however she achieves it. But by the time she does she's crying.

99:
INT. HALLWAY/STAIRS. HOUSE. NIGHT.

A calm spot between kitchen & stairs. In the background Guests

raid the kitchen for food. BERLIN looks like he should be smok-

ing a cigarette. At last MARGIE comes downstairs with the news.

MARGIE:

She wants to go back

to the institute ..

ROSS already arrived. BERLIN looks desolate. She can't go back.

You better go talk to her ..

ROSS watches him walk upstairs. His eyes an assessment of this

absurd relationship. "All sorts of people fall in love, Darlin."

ROSS:

I know .. ain't it a shame ..

100:
INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.

A wedge of light as BERLIN walks in. Then moonlight again. HEL-

ENA sits at the edge of a single bed. Hair a wreck and mascara

streaks down her face. He sits identifying himself with an emb-

race. Clears the hair from her eyes and kisses where the tears

were. "It was an accident .. everyone has accidents." Whatever

he said would be the wrong thing to say. Because he doesn't un-

derstand. And her only explanation of this misery is new tears.

HELENA:

I can't walk in these shoes ..

Gently he reaches down and takes off her shoos "You don't have

to dress like this for me." And suddenly the mood is different.

He is amongst her tears. Kissing her mouth. Already undressing

her. Her dress glides up. Silk stockings. He unclips them. She

feels his hands drift down her legs. Hears the zip opening her

dress. She returns his desire and helps him with her brassiere.

He kisses her breasts and by now the Camera's too close to see.

101:
INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.

HELENA asleep in BERLIN's arms. Just the worry of the wind. He

kisses her and slips out of bed and everything slams into MASS-

IVE CLOSE-UP. PLUS A MASSIVE AMPLIFICATION OF SOUND. THE SLIDE

SNAPS BACK ON A 9 MILL BERETTA. THE MAGAZINE SHUNTS OUT. SLUGS

LOADED AND MAG BACK IN. THE SLIDE TRAVELS FORWARD BIG AS A CAR.

BERLIN is fully dressed. Geared up for work. Black leather glo-

ves and black leather jacket. Shoves the Beretta into his belt.

From somewhere a very soft sound of Christmas carols drifts in.

102:
INT. STAIRS/LIVING ROOM/DEN. HOUSE. NIGHT.

This is deep past midnight, The house is quiet and gone to bed.

Fallout from the party everywhere. Still that distant sound of

carols. BERLIN dumps his bag and walks into the den. Just dark-

ness and the forgotten tape machine. Flips on a lamp and tries

to open the gun cabinet. Still trying when startled by a voice.

ROSS (O.S.)

You can't get in there ..

That's "Comanche Proof."

BERLIN swings round in surprise. ROSS is half asleep on a sofa.

BERLIN:

Jesus. What are you doin?

ROSS:

I spose I'm drinking myself to

sleep. It's Helena's Christmas

songs .. they're really pretty ..

"Silent Night. Holy Night" and about two inches of Chivas left.

BERLIN:

Have you got any Glasers?

(Ross does)

Twenty fives?

BERLIN sticks a foot on a table. Pulls a .25 Walther automatic

from an ankle holster. Ejects the mag and clicks out the slugs.

ROSS:

What exactly you doing, John?

BERLIN:

I'm going up to the institute.

ROSS:

Now?

BERLIN:

This "cop" that's calling, thinks

she gonna be there over Christmas.

ROSS unlocks a cabinet and BERLIN is about to load the Glasers.

I checked with the locals and our

station, no one's called. Whoever

it is, isn't the police. I think

this bastard's getting worried ab-

out something? .. and I think the-

re's just a chance he'll turn up.

ROSS:

Well, let's hope he does ..

ROSS selects a 12 gauge Winchester and rams the mechanism open.

And if he does, I'm gonna

drop a bomb on the fukker.

BERLIN:

Listen, you don't havta come?

ROSS:

Hey ..

ROSS is stuffing solid lead "car killers" into the pump action.

Watch my lips. I'm your partner.

103:
EXT. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. NIGHT.

This is probably a crane shot. A gale works up the valley. The

institute is in total darkness. Not a vehicle out front. Not a

sound except the marauding wind. Ross's Chevrolet is concealed

amongst trees. Been here long enough to allow slow flurries to

accumulate. It stares towards the building maybe 75 yards away.

104:
INT. CHEVROLET SEDAN. NIGHT.

BERLIN wears a black wool hat. ROSS a big black overcoat. Both

got sh*t frozen out of them. A bottle available and anyone who

wants a slug better help himself. Plus sleet on the windshield

and a lot of stale time. BERLIN asks what time it is? And ROSS

takes a heave on the booze and waits for about a week to go by.

ROSS:

Where's your watch?

BERLIN:

I guess by the bed.

ROSS:

It's twenty of three.

Yawns do a circuit. ROSS flops in his seat and the angle chang-

es. The view from the rear covers windscreen and back of heads.

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