Lethal Weapon Page #6

Joshua steps up to the General and extends his arm.

GENERAL:

Do you smoke, Mr. Mendez?

MENDEZ:

Yeah.

GENERAL:

Give me your lighter.

Mendez frowns, cautiously hands a silver cigarette

lighter to the General.

Who promptly pulls an old G. Gordon Liddy maneuver:

He holds the flame right under Joshua's hand. Searing

it. Mendez looks on, a trifle pale.

As for Joshua, he makes no sound at all. Simply stands,

trance-like.

GENERAL:

You wish to do business with us,

yes?

MENDEZ:

Jesus ...

GENERAL:

Mr. Joshua is in a great deal of

pain. You wish to make a purchase,

yes?

MENDEZ:

I ... yes. Sure. Jesus.

The General nods, hands the lighter back to Mendez.

GENERAL:

Filthy habit, smoking.

(beat)

The bulk of the heroin will

arrive Friday night. We will

make delivery at that time.

Please have the money ready,

and no tricks. If you try to

cross us, I'll have Joshua cut

out your eyes.

(beat)

Merry Christmas.

38 OMITTED 38

39 39

40 EXT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR -DAY 40

Riggs and Murtaugh cruise through downtown Los Angeles.

Riggs drives, while Murtaugh scowls. There is an awkward

pause.

MURTAIJGH:

Turn right.

(beat)

So. They tell me you're a good

cop.

RIGGS:

I try.

MURTAUGH:

Heard about your little stunt

yesterday. Pretty heroic stuff.

(as Riggs does

not reply)

File says you worked for the

Phoenix Project in Vietnam, that

right?

RIGGS:

Yes.

MURTAUGH:

Assassin stuff?

RIGGS:

Maybe.

MURTAUGH:

And they gave you the

Congressional Medal of Honor.

RIGGS:

It was a lean year.

MURTAUGH:

It's over, you know.

RIGGS:

What is?

MURTAUGH:

The war.

RIGGS:

Yes. I know.

MURTAUGH:

Just thought I'd remind you.

(beat)

Check out your piece?

He reaches across the get Riggs' gun. At which point

Riggs' hand shoots out -- and stops him cold.

RIGGS:

Bad manners, man.

Riggs removes the gun himself. Steers with his knees.

Drops the chambered bullet. Slips out the magazine,

Hands the gun to -----------

RIGGS:

Don't hurt yourself.

Murtaugh hefts the weapon, turning it over in his hand:

Beretta .9 millimeter. Smooth, well-oiled.

Accurized. Murtaugh frowns.

MURTAUGH:

.9 millimeter Beretta. That's

some serious sh*t.

RIGGS:

Military switched from Colt to

Beretta in 1985. It's a better

piece. Wide ejection port, no

feed jams, no stovepipes.

MURTAUGH:

What's it take?

RIGGS:

Fifteen in the mag, one up the

pipe. You carry a wheelgun?

MURTAUGH:

.38 Special.

RIGGS:

Lot of old-timers carry that.

Murtaugh shoots him a look. Replaces the gun.

MURTAUGH:

File says you're registered with

Newark P.D. as a lethal weapon.

RIGGS:

File don't lie. Look, friend,

let's cut the sh*t. We both

know why I was transferred.

Everyone thinks I'm suicidal, in

which case I'm f***ed and no one

wants to work with me. Or they

think I'm faking to draw a psycho

pension, in which case I'm f***ed

and no one wants to work with me.

Basically, I'm f***ed.

MURTAUGH:

Guess what?

RIGGS:

What?

MURTAUGH:

I don't want to work with you.

RIGGS:

Then don't.

MURTAUGH:

Ain't got no choice. Damn.

We're both f***ed.

RIGGS:

Terrific.

As they speak, Riggs has pulled to a stop in front of a

large downtown bank building.

MURTAUGH:

(rubs his eyes)

I'm very old ...

(sighs)

... God hates me, that's what

it is.

RIGGS:

Hate him back. Works for me.

He lights a cigarette.

CUT TO:

41 INT. BANK BUILDING -DAY 41

Dick Lloyd's office: everything about it looks starched

and perfect. In the b.g., bank employees shuttle between

desks, building and toppling empires. DICK LLOYD paces

back and forth. He is the man we saw earlier in Amanda's

pliotograph, standing next to Murtaugh. Now he looks like

sh*t. He addresses Riggs and Murtaugh, who are seated in

the office.

LLOYD:

Murder ... But I thought ...

MURTAUGH:

Poisoned. Even if she hadn't

jumped ... she'd still be dead.

LLOYD:

Jesus.

(beat)

Jesus, I can't take -------.

He sits, staring out the window. A broken man.

MURTAUGH:

Dick, why did you call me

yesterday?

LLOYD:

(very far away)

Called you...? Yeah. That's

right ... I heard you were working

out here ... I wanted you to find

her for me, Roger. Take her

MURTAUGH:

Out of what?

LLOYD:

She did movies, Roger ... Naked

movies ... Saw one of them...... saw

my little baby ... smiling...... She

did it ... with a woman. She was

on top of a woman, Roger-...!

MURTAUGH:

Easy, Dick.

Lloyd turns, facing them. Intense:

LLOYD:

I want a promise.

(beat)

You owe me. You know you do.

MURTAUGH:

Yes. I know that.

LLOYD:

When you find who did it, I want

you to kill them. If it's more

than one, I want you to kill all of

them. Make them squirm first, take

your time ... and f***ing kill them.

MURTAUGH:

I'm a police officer, Dick.

LLOYD:

Forget the law. It's easy to do.

You owe me.

MURTAUGH:

(pause; then)

We have to go now.

Lloyd does not look up. Riggs and Murtaugh head for the

door.

LLOYD:

I know you can, Roger. You kill

them. You do that.

The cops exit. The door shuts.

42 EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY 42

Riggs and Murtaugh head ior the car. Riggs takes out a

pack of cigarettes.

MURTAUGH:

You gonna smoke in the car?

RIGGS:

Thinking about it.

MURTAUGH:

Terrific.

He puts the top down.

Riggs takes out a cigarette, starts to put it in his

mouth. Stops.

RIGGS:

Whoops. Sh*t.

He replaces it in the pack, takes another. Murtaugh

looks at him.

MURTAUGH:

What was wrong with that one?

Riggs points to the tip of the replaced cigarette. We

notice two things: a) It looks like it's about fifty

years old; and b) there is a tiny red mark, circling the

filter.

RIGGS:

This one is the last cigarette

I'll ever smoke.

Trick I learned from my dad. I

smoke all I want, but when I smoke

this one ... I'm through.

MURTAUGH:

Brilliant. Get in the car.

RIGGS:

Want me to drive?

MURTAUGH:

You're suicidal, remember?

RIGGS:

Anyone who drives in Los Angeles

is suicidal.

They get in. Murtaugh heaves a sigh, stares bleakly out

the window. A moment, then Riggs says:

RIGGS:

He said you owed him. What did

he mean?

MURTAUGH:

We served together in '65. He

saved my life in the La Drang

Valley. Took a bayonet in the

lung.

RIGGS:

That was nice of him.

MURTAUGH:

I thought so.

The RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh TURNS it UP.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

All units and seven eight

twenty-one, possible jumper at

the corner of Santa Monica and

La Cienega, seven eight twentyone

handle code two.

Murtaugh keys the hand mike.

MURTAUGH:

Four King Sixty en route.

RIGGS:

This is great. I love this job.

MURTAUGH:

Stow it.

43 EXT. CITY INTERSECTION - DAY 43

A building, ten stories high. On the ledge, a lone man

poised high above the street. Beneath him, a crowd has

gathered. A police car. A searchlight. A crowd of

office workers, rubber-necking to beat the band. One or

two kids yell, "Jump, jump."

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