Mission: Impossible Page #8

After a moment, a FLAT VOICE comes on the other side.

FLAT VOICE (O.S.)

Satcom seven.

ETHAN:

Central Europe. Unsecured.

FLAT VOICE (O.S.)

Designator?

ETHAN:

Bravo Echo one one.

FLAT VOICE (O.S.)

Switching.

There is a long pause and then familiar voice comes on the

line.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

This is Kittridge.

ETHAN:

Go secure.

Pause. A funny series of CLICKS comes over the line.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Go ahead.

ETHAN:

Theyíre dead.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Whoís dead?

ETHAN:

My team. Claire, Jack, even Jim -

- Hannah, maybe, I -- donít know

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Are you damaged?

ETHAN:

They knew we were coming. Golitsynís

dead too. The disk is gone.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Are you intact?

ETHAN:

Do you read me? The list is in the open!

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Let's just bring you in safely, and then

we'll worry about that, okay? Were you

followed?

ETHAN closes his eyes. KITTRIDGEíS voice is strong and

reassuring and he needs that right now.

ETHAN:

I donít think so.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Donít think, be sure. Are you clean?

ETHAN:

Yes.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Location green. One hour. Iíll be there

myself.

ETHAN:

Youíre in Prague?

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

Heard a lot about you, Hunt. Donít

disappoint me.

ETHAN:

No sir.

KITTRIDGE (O.S.)

One hour.

He hangs up. ETHAN does the same. He stares at the phone

for a moment, thinking. He checks his watch.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

ETHAN steps out of the phone booth and starts down the

street. Every face seems to be starring at him now, every

sound is menacing. He pulls his coat in tight, shoves his

hands in his pockets and walks among the crowd.

EXT. OLD TOWN SQUARE - NIGHT

ETHAN makes his way past the old town clock, a towering,

gothic structure and into a plaza, surrounded mostly by

residential buildings.

ETHANíS POV

Straight across from him is a glass enclosed restaurant built

on the portico of an old palace.

Brilliantly lit up from inside, the restaurant positively

shimmers, every table visible from everywhere in the plaza.

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

ETHAN'S POV

ETHAN walks in the glass front doors, right next to an

enormous fish tank, part of the restaurant's exterior wall.

He scans the clientele carefully -- maybe a dozen PATRONS are

scattered around.

EUGENE KITTRIDGE is seated at a table in the middle. He and

ETHAN make eye contact. ETHAN walks to the table, a couple

of quick, seemingly cursory glances around the room as he

goes. KITTRIDGE has been working on a pretty good-sized

lobster. He rises to greet ETHAN and they sit.

KITTRIDGE:

I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know

how much Jim in particular meant to you,

Ethan. Personally as well as professionally.

ETHAN:

Yeah.

He spots a stack of documents on the table.

ETHAN picks them up. There's a Canadian picture bearing

ETHAN photo and the name Phillipe Doucette, credit cards,

driver's license, etc.

KITTRIDGE:

Passport, visas - you know the drill.

We'll work the exfiltration thru Canada,

debrief you at Langley. Throw the Prague

police a bone, you know toss them a few

suspects. Follow me?

ETHAN:

Yeah. I follow you.

KITTRIDGE:

We've lost enough agents for one night.

ETHAN:

You mean I've lost enough agents for one

night.

KITTRIDGE seems to be at the point of saying one thing, then,

carefully:

KITTRIDGE:

You seem hell bent on blaming yourself,

Ethan.

ETHAN:

Who else is left?

KITTRIDGE:

Yes. I see your point.

ETHAN:

Why was there another team?

KITTRIDGE:

What?

ETHAN:

Of IMF agents. At the Embassy. Tonight.

KITTRIDGE:

I don't quite follow you.

ETHAN:

Let's see if you can follow me around

this room.

(eyes moving around the room)

The drunk Russians on the embankment at 7

and 8 o'clock...The couple waltzing

around me at the Embassy at 9 and 11.

The waiter behind Hannah at the top of

the staircase - Bowtie, 12 o'clock. The

other IMF team. You're worried about me.

Why?

KITTRIDGE:

(a tight little smile)

You're right. Maybe this'll save some

time.

The figures around the room have grown restless. KITTRIDGE

tries to indicate that it's okay. He pulls some papers out

of his jacket.

KITTRIDGE (CONT'D)

For a little over two years now we've

been spotting serious blowback in IMF

operations. We have a penetration. The

other day we decoded a message on the

Internet from a Czech we know as "Max."

ETHAN:

The arms dealer.

KITTRIDGE:

That's right. Max, it seems, has two

unique gifts -- a capacity for anonymity

and for corrupting susceptible agents.

This time he's gotten to someone on the

inside - he's put himself in a position

to buy our NOC list. An operation he

referred to as "Job 314". The job he

thought Golitsyn was doing tonight.

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