Miami Vice Page #2

TUBBS:

Damn, girl...

INT. SURVEILLANCE APARTMENT (ONE FLOOR BELOW THE TARGET)

PENTHOUSE - CROCKETT + TUBBS - NIGHT

enter. Two surveillance technicians, RICK and FRANK, are

glued to a monitor showing a bedroom in which nothing

happens. LT. CASTILLO is there, out of a past somewhere

between CIA and the Jesuits...

Referring to the monitor on which there are NO PEOPLE in an

EMPTY BEDROOM.

They are watching air move.

TUBBS:

This is exciting...

RICK:

That's 'cause nothing is happening.

CROCKETT:

No sh*t...?

FRANK:

(it goes past him)

Yeah. This is their

surveillance...how they video their

marks? See, we jacked their fiber

optics, like we piggybacked their

signal. Get it?

TUBBS:

Cooool...

They exit to...

INT. PENTHOUSE CONDO - CROCKETT + TUBBS

are met at the door by security, who recognizes them, and are

welcomed by their host, UGO. This is the Baccardi Cup After-

Party. The same players from the marina...

OVER CROCKETT + TUBBS

enter an 8,000-square-foot penthouse...offshore racer types,

players, So Bee models...

UGO:

Runnin' the Biscayne 200?

Crockett wanders off...

TUBBS:

If a coupla new exhaust manifolds

show up...

CROCKETT:

approaches a bar and female bartender...

CROCKETT:

Gin and Tonic. Plymouth or

Boodles.

BARTENDER:

(Scandinavian accent)

Lemon or lime?

CROCKETT:

Lemon doesn't go in Gin and Tonics,

darlin'. Where ya' from?

BARTENDER:

(leaning in)

Gottingen. That's in Sweden.

CROCKETT:

You in Miami workin' on your

complexion...?

She's beautifully bronzed.

BARTENDER:

(laughs)

No. I was in Namibia...

CROCKETT:

Doing...?

BARTENDER:

With the United Nations High

Commission on Refugees. Famine

relief.

Gina's listening on her personal comms.

CROCKETT:

Really? I did refugee relocation

in Somalia. But they transferred

me out after I was wounded...

Gina rolls her eyes as she crosses by Tubbs.

GINA:

Only African he ever "relocated"

was a $2,000-an-hour Nigerian model

for Gucci, and he got wounded when

she took an NBA draft choice to the

Super Bowl instead of him...

TUBBS:

He did volunteer one time...

TRUDY:

(entering)

For a massage parlor bust?

(beat)

Why am I here...?

TRUDY JOPLIN is a tall African-American. She whispers into a

small mic. If you looked closely, she's ripped...as if steel

cables moved under her smooth skin. She slides past Tubbs

and Gina...

TUBBS:

(low)

...to backup Switek. But only if

it gets lethal.

TRUDY:

That's impossible.

TUBBS:

Why?

TRUDY:

Because you cannot kill him.

SWITEK:

all white bling, is arguing with his blade-thin, glassy-eyed,

adrenaline junkie partner, ZITO. Approaching is "Miss

Ukraine." High cheekbones suggest one of Genghis Khan's

horsemen found her maternal ancestor as attractive as Switek

finds her...

Tubbs clocks three beefy Russians in a corner, one is

unusually fit.

TUBBS:

And there's Dmitri...

CROCKETT:

The honey trap. And there's the

honey.

TUBBS:

Hello, Miss Ukraine...

MISS UKRAINE brings Switek his glass of champagne... She

whispers something in his ear...and is led towards a back

bedroom. Gina ambles over.

TRUDY:

(to Crockett)

Eleven to seven he blows it.

CROCKETT:

(whispers)

Twenty on my man...

TRUDY:

You're giving away your money,

fool...

Tubbs opens his Moto as if he's about to make a call...Trudy

looks over his shoulder. What we see is the feed from the

monitor in the surveillance room downstairs.

CLOSER:
TUBBS'S MOTO

Two blonde people starting to get naked. Switek and Miss

Ukraine. A second call comes in. Tubbs ignores it.

TUBBS:

(to Zito)

You bet your partner?

ZITO:

Sure. Switek versus primal impulse

from the amygdala. Higher thinking

versus the lizard brain. Tectonic

plates of libido confront the

cognitive.

GINA:

Oh, bullshit. She cops his joint.

He pushes the button.

TRUDY:

What's so f***ing difficult?

THEIR FACES. They watch. And...Crockett's cell phone rings.

He separates from the group...

CROCKETT:

Yeah...?

STEVENS (O.S.)

Sonny...?

CROCKETT:

Yeah.

STEVENS (O.S.)

Where's Riccardo?

CROCKETT:

On the phone.

STEVENS (O.S.)

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sonny...

EXT. BALCONY - CROCKETT - NIGHT

enters. He's come outside to hear better.

In the background Gina shakes her head about Switek. He blew

it. Trudy looks at Crockett and sees Crockett's focused,

hearing...

CROCKETT:

Who is this?

INTERCUT:

WITH:

INT. BENTLEY - ALONZO STEVENS - NIGHT

He's cruising at 85. He's floating in a magnolia leather

interior. But it's bloodstained from his nose and mouth.

He's been beaten. His white shirt is torn. He doesn't

care...

STEVENS:

(voice cracks)

It's f***ed up. I'm sorry...

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