Michael Clayton Page #2

BARRY:

(kneeling, whispering)

I’ve got that c*nt from the Wall Street

Journal on line eight. I told her youwere in Bermuda, but I’d try to patchyou in...

MARTY BACH looks up from his papers. He’s seventy. It’s

his name on the door. Big power. Sweet eyes. A thousand

neckties. A velvet switchblade.

MARTY:

(punching up line eight)

Marty Bach. How can I help you?

REPORTER (PHONE/OVER)

“Marty, hi, it’s Bridget Klein. Look,

we’re going with a story tomorrow abouta settlement in the U/North defoliant

case. You want to comment?”

MARTY:

The case you’re referring to, is now,

as it has been for the past six years,

pending and unresolved. Until our

client has their day in court or theplaintiffs come to their senses anddrop the suit, I’ll have nothing ofvalue to tell you.

BARRY kneeling there, hanging on every word --

REPORTER (PHONE/OVER)

“Come on, Marty, Barry’s telling meyou’re off at some conference. I know

for a fact you’re in the office rightnow with like six hundred people tryingto push this thing through.”

MARTY:

Here’s what I know: your deadline wastwenty minutes ago, so either you’refishing for a story or trying to getout of writing a retraction. In either

case, I wish you well...best of luck...

(as he hangs up--)

...sweet dreams.

BARRY:

So?

MARTY:

(scanning the room)

Where the f*** is Karen Crowder?

INT. LAW FIRM LADIES ROOM -- NIGHT

A CORPORATE LOGO -- embossed on a high-quality, Kevlar,

travel tote:

u/north

“we grow your world together”

THE U/NORTH BAG on a shelf above a row of sinks. Water

running. But no one there. Stalls in the mirror and --

INT. LADIES ROOM STALL -- NIGHT

KAREN CROWDER sitting fully dressed on the john. She is

Senior In-House Counsel for the largest agricultural/chemicalsupply manufacturer on the planet. She is hiding here. She

is trying to fight off a panic attack using a breathingexercise she read about in an airline magazine. As we hear:

ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)

...even this, Michael -- even now --

that you’re here -- there’s a reason,

a reason it’s you -- every reason --

surely you can sense that -- how itpulls together -- how it gathers --

Nurse Michael -- Secret Hero -- Keeperof the Hidden Sins -- tell me you cansee that, Michael, for God’s sake...

INT. CHINATOWN CARD ROOM -- NIGHT

MICHAEL CLAYTON’S FACE -- A PHOTOGRAPH laminated onto a

Kenner, Bach & Ledeen ID card -- FILLS OUR FRAME. It’s a

man’s face. Son of a second-generation cop’s face. Father

of a ten-year-old boy’s face. A face women like more than

they know why. The good soldier’s face. THE ID CARD justone of several objects sitting at the bottom of a shittyplastic basket. Also here: one roll of breath mints, two

mobile phones, business cards, too many keys on a Mercedessecurity pendant keychain, and one heavy-duty steel Rolex.

PULL BACK TO REVEAL

THREE OTHER BASKETS ON THE TABLE. Three other sets of

personal objects. A SMALL HOLSTERED GUN in one of the

collections. A stack of empty baskets to the side.

WE’RE IN

A CHINATOWN CASINO. A basement hideaway on a dead night.

TWO BORED CHINESE BOUNCERS sitting with the plastic basketsbeside a walk-through metal detector. Only one of the room’sten tables is lit tonight. In the background, a CantoneseAnnouncer calling the first race at Happy Valley and --

MICHAEL CLAYTON glancing at his four hole cards. Four upcards in the middle of the table. The game is Pot LimitOmaha and the eyes are weary tonight.

MICHAEL:

Check.

THE DEALER is Chinese and all business -- looking to -

PLAYER #2

(Dominican dude)

I go like that. Check.

PLAYER #3 has a bad toupee and a plumber’s flashroll -

PLAYER #3/PLUMBER

(peeling off twenties)

Half the pot. Two hundred.

PLAYER #4, a Chinese landlord -- already pushing his cardsaway -- he’s folding -

DEALER:

(back to Michael)

Two hundred to you.

MICHAEL shakes his head. He’s out. PLAYER #2 right behindhim. THE DEALER starts gathering cards for the next hand.

PLUMBER:

You don’t remember me, huh?

(to Michael as he rakes

in the pot--)

We played a couple times that lampplace. On Bowery. That guy’sshowroom. All the lamps and sh*t?

MICHAEL:

Galaxy.

PLUMBER:

That’s it. You had a restaurant youopened, right? On Franklin? Cause

my old partner bid that job, theplumbing. You don’t remember me?

MICHAEL:

I remember.

PLUMBER:

I lost a lot of weight since then.

MICHAEL:

You bought some hair.

PLUMBER:

Yeah, with your money.

MICHAEL just posts his blind. Tune him out.

PLUMBER:

So your bar, what happened? Just had

to be in show biz, right?

PLAYER #2

Sh*t, man...

(getting cranky)

I want to listen to Larry King, I’ll gohome and put the f***ing TV on.

PLUMBER:

(just ignoring him)

Cause that was a good location.

MICHAEL:

Yeah, that’s what my partner kepttelling me.

Cards coming out as we --

ANGLE ON:

THE BASKET WITH MICHAEL’S STUFF. THE PAGER starts vibrating.

A moment later, THE CELL PHONE starts ringing and --

INT. CHINATOWN FREIGHT ELEVATOR -- NIGHT

Ascending. MICHAEL leaving in a hurry. Strapping on hisRolex, trying to read the pager and -

EXT. DOYERS ST. -- NIGHT

Late. Cold. Quiet. MICHAEL coming up the street, jugglinga remote security pendant and A CELL PHONE -

MICHAEL (OS)

-- is he drunk?

MALE VOICE (PHONE)

(nervous, hyper)

“-- no, that’s the first thing I askedhim -- no, he’s sober --”

MICHAEL:

-- tell him to stay off the phone --

MALE VOICE (PHONE)

“-- so, Michael, I mean, you’re on it

now, right? Because this guy, he’s ahuge client -- this is half my book,

this guy, okay?”

MICHAEL:

I’m walking to my car.

MALE VOICE (PHONE)

“Let me give you my number in Bermuda,

I gotta call him right back and let him

know you’re on the way.”

A BLACK MERCEDES comes alive -- lights flaring as the alarm

disables and -

EXT. WEST SIDE HIGHWAY -- NIGHT

THE MERCEDES speeding North.

INT. THE MERCEDES -- NIGHT (CONT)

MICHAEL trying to drive and mess with the GPS UNIT on his

dashboard. Something’s wrong with it. He’s tapping on itand THE SCREEN is flickering on and off -- finally, f*** it-- he slaps the GPS away -- steps on the gas and -

EXT. WEST SIDE HIGHWAY -- NIGHT (CONT)

THE MERCEDES racing toward the George Washington bridge.

EXT. WESTCHESTER MANSION -- NIGHT

THE MERCEDES pulling up the long dark driveway.

INT. MANSION GARAGE -- NIGHT

THE DAMAGED FRONT BODY PANEL OF A MERCEDES. Dented in.

MICHAEL’S HAND -- his pen -- examining the freshly-chipped

paint, until -

MICHAEL stands. We see him now. The Mercedes just one ofhalf-a-dozen luxury vehicles lined up here in this brightoversized garage.

INT. MANSION KITCHEN -- NIGHT

Mega kitchen. The scale and taste of real wealth.

MR. GREER

(pacing)

What they did, you see, they changedthe grade there. They widened thestreet, I’m sure someone told them

they were making an improvement...

MICHAEL on a stool at the island. MRS. GREER standing byherself. Nightgown pulled tight. Her second tumbler of

Scotch.

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