Mission: Impossible

INT. KIEV APARTMENT - NIGHT

We're in a large closet. JACK KIEFER, an athletic American

in his late thirties wearing a headset, is wedged into a

corner, staring at a television screen.

The television shows a surveillance view of the living room

that lies outside the confines of the closet. The TV image

is in black and white. JACK shifts, trying like hell to get

comfortable but he's been there a while

ON THE SCREEN:

A bare bulb shines down on the contents of a shabby hotel

room. Directly under the blub a man, GENNADY KASIMOV, sits

in a straight backed wooden chair in his blood-stained T-

shirt. There are a couple of THUGS and a stray HOOKER in the

room behind him. A legend:

KIEV:

KASIMOV is sobbing. Uncontrollably. A MAN enters the room,

ANATOLY, an imperious Russian in his forties, a Russian

godfather. The THUGS and HOOKERS are ushered out. ANATOLY

looks down at KASIMOV pitiously and urges him to go and sit

by him in a chair he picks up for him. KASIMOV does as he is

bid, looking gratefully up at ANATOLY. They speak in Russian

which is subtitled.

ANATOLY:

Kasimov, Kasimov, good that you called

us.

KASIMOV:

(sobbing)

I don't remember what happened! We were

at the bar, drinking, laughing -- having

fun.

ANATOLY gets up out of the chair and goes to a bed across the

room. A WOMAN lies half under the sheets. She's lying in an

unnatural position on the bed, and the sheets are smeared

with blood. She's dead. ANATOLY lifts her eyelid.

KASIMOV:

I don't even know how I got here.

I swear, Anatoly, I never touched her! I

didn't lay a finger on her.

ANATOLY moves away from the WOMAN.

ANATOLY:

Kasimov. Don't flounder.

IN THE CLOSET:

JACK, impatient, checks his watch.

JACK:

Jesus, she's been under too long. Come

on, come on!

ON THE SCREEN:

KASIMOV:

You're the only one who can help me.

Desperately he tugs at ANATOLY'S jacket. But ANATOLY hits

his hand away and smacks him around the head.

IN THE CLOSET:

JACK reacts.

ON THE SCREEN:

ANATOLY bends close to KASIMOV.

ANATOLY:

C'mon, c'mon, tell the truth...c'mon.

KASIMOV:

They'll kill me.

ANATOLY paces up the room, away from KASIMOV.

ANATOLY:

You asked for my help. You asked for my

help...come on...

KASIMOV:

You're right, of course.

IN THE CLOSET:

JACK leans forward.

JACK:

The name pal...give us the name.

ON THE SCREEN:

KASIMOV:

The contact in Minsk..the contact in

Minsk..works in a travel agency.

IN THE CLOSET:

JACK:

Come on!

ON THE SCREEN:

ANATOLY:

Come on!

KASIMOV:

His name is.....Dimitri Miediev.

ANATOLY:

Dimitri Miediev...Dimitri Miediev...

IN THE CLOSET:

JACK:

Got him.

ON THE SCREEN:

Back on screen, ANATOLY places a hand on KASIMOV'S shoulder

as if he had just anointed him.

IN THE CLOSET:

In the closet, JACK types the name into a computer and cross

checks -- "MIEDIEV" comes up, then "posting/American

consulate/Kiev."

JACK turns and nods to a WHOREHOUSE WAITRESS in costume in

the closet next to him, dressed in traditional Russian tunic

and virtually no bottom. She quickly leaves.

INT. SHABBY ROOM - NIGHT

We enter the room for the first time as the WAITRESS does.

She's carrying a tray with a bottle of vodka and two shot

glasses.

ANATOLY:

Now, we drink.

He pours them out and hands one to KASIMOV.

ANATOLY (CONT'D)

To friends.

KASIMOV:

Yes, Anatoly, yes.

JACK:

Cheers.

He drinks. He blinks. Something felt funny about that.

Dizzied, KASIMOV swoons and passes out on the floor. ANATOLY

moves to the closet door and opens it.

IN THE CLOSET:

ANATOLY reaches up to his face --

--and tears away a mask of flesh. He's no middle aged

Russian mobster, he's ETHAN HUNT, an American in his early

thirties. He gestures to KASIMOV contemptuously. JACK hands

ETHAN a hypodermic kit and he goes quickly back into the

room.

ETHAN:

(in English now)

Get rid of this scum.

Immediately, there is activity, and PEOPLE everywhere. TWO

OTHERS come into the room and carry KASIMOV out.

ETHAN goes quickly to the body of the dead woman. He cheeks

the pulse in her neck, shines a penlight in her eye. He

strips the adrenalin kit and jabs the long needle into the

dead woman's thigh. He checks her pulse again, checking a

stopwatch. In about ten seconds, the woman's eyes open.

CLAIRE is her name, a French woman of thirty or so. She half

rolls over, GROANS, and wipes some of the blood from her

mouth.

CLAIRE:

Did we get it?

ETHAN:

We got it. On your feet.

CLAIRE:

I want to sleep. Can I sleep here.

ETHAN:

Walk, just walk. Start walking.

CLAIRE:

I'm walking.

ETHAN:

Talking's good, walking's better.

CLAIRE:

Sleeping's better.

Meanwhile, MEN in overalls take apart the room. The ceiling

lifts right off the walls, and the walls themselves start to

come down, revealing the "hotel room" to be an elaborate set

in the middle of an empty warehouse.

JACK comes into the room from the closet. He hands CLAIRE

her jewelry, including a watch and a wedding ring. ETHAN

stops what he's doing, noticing. She looks up at him

questioningly.

CLAIRE:

Are you all right Ethan. What's wrong

with you?

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