Mission: Impossible II Page #12

LUTHER:

Right. I guess there aren't many flu

epidemics in the middle of summer.

Luther resumes working on his computer and sees Ethan is locked

on Ambrose's compound on his computer screen, thinking of Nyah.

LUTHER (cont'd)

She did it, Ethan. Nyah's in the

compound.

ETHAN:

Yeah? I've just rolled up a snowball and

tosses it into hell.

Ethan stands.

OUTSIDE THE SHEEP FARM SAFEHOUSE

A brooding Ethan exits the sheep farm safehouse under a setting

sun.

ETHAN'S VOICE

Now we'll see what chance it has.

Ethan stops, looking out over the broken plain. His voice is

heard overlapping into the next scene.

ETHAN'S VOICE (cont'd)

(softly)

Damn, You're beautiful.

CLOSE - NYAH (NIGHT)

lying in bed, obviously hearing Ethan's voice again, and feeling

very much alone. She stares out into the night, a gaze that in

its bemused intensity is an exact match to Ethan's.

FADE:

CLOSE - PHOTO - HONG KONG TIMES (INT. AMBROSE STUDY - EARLY DAWN)

its front page, except for the headlines and date, covered with

stacks of paper money, banded bundled dollars piled high as a

cord of wood. The amount $24 millions is written in ink over the

money.

AMBROSE:

Twenty-four mil..

Ambrose's hands shift to another photo of another newspaper, the

LONDON TIMES, this one piled high with English pounds and the

written amount:
37 million pounds.

AMBROSE'S VOICE

Thirty-seven million pounds. That's a

promising bid.

The third photo is of the AFTERNOON ARUBAN, with $14 million

packaged on it.

Ambrose, wearing a robe and seated at a glass-topped table, sets

this last photo on the table on top the others. He picks up

Nekhorvich's digital camera, removes the film disk, and snaps it

into its plastic case. He places the case into an envelope

(NOTE:
The same envelope seen at the track) and hands it to

Stamp.

AMBROSE:

We'll need this at the track. Well then.

Sorted.

Stamp is seated near him. Glances toward Ambrose's bedroom and

Nyah asleep in Ambrose's bed.

STAMP:

(pointedly)

Not everything. Why do you think she's

really here?

AMBROSE:

From her point of view or mine?

STAMP:

Wasn't exactly gagging for it when she

left you six months ago..The question is,

do you trust her?

As he speaks, Ambrose pulls a cigar case and a cutter out of his

robe. Takes a cigar out of the case and clips the end of the

cigar; the razor-sharp cutter decapitates the tip of the cigar

like a guillotine.

AMBROSE:

One considers her timing, of course -

getting nicked within a week of the plane

going down. Suggestive, even borderline

suspicious, but hardly conclusive.

STAMP:

Well, you've thorough about it, at any

rate.

Ambrose opens the cutter again to clean off the fragments of

tobacco trapped by the cut.

AMBROSE:

Tell me, Hugh. You don't exactly hang on

Nyah's every word and gesture, do you?

Fairly ratty nail, that.

Sean touches the nail of Stamp's left pinkie finger. Stamp

reacts by slightly withdrawing his hand.

STAMP:

Sean..

With his left hand Ambrose grabs Stamp's left wrist.

AMBROSE:

You're not scrutinizing any casual shrug

for some hair-splitting nuance, are you?

STAMP:

Sean, please..

Sean pulls Stamp's hand closer.

AMBROSE:

Suppose she is some sort of Trojan horse

sent in by IMF to spy in us, why should I

deny myself the pleasure of a ride or two?

Or don't you think I can learn more from

her than she can from me?

Ambrose twists Stamp's wrist so that Stamp drops to one knee

trying to alleviate the pain.

STAMP:

(in pain)

I do!..

Ambrose leans in close to Stamp's face as he places the cutter

around Stamp's pinkie.

AMBROSE:

Now Hugh, you must realize that some of us

have the burden of sex to deal with..and

my dear chap. I may or may not know why

she thinks she's here, but I'm willing to

take the risk, because Hugh, I am gaging

for it..

Ambrose closes the cutter on Stamp's finger and cuts the nail,

just nicking the top of the finger and drawing blood. Stamp

cries out. Ambrose tosses Stamp a napkin, light his cigar and

exhale.

AMBROSE (cont'd)

Don't ever question my judgment again.

DISSOLVE:

EMPTY FRAME (EXT. RANDWICK RACE TRACK - DAY)

with no sound, the back stretch an unrecognizable blur until

horses at high speed burst into the frame bringing with them the

sight and sound of their great nostrils snorting and gasping for

jostling and going to the whip, the sound of the crowd

overwhelming all but the announcer's voice carrying everyone

around the far turn and into the home stretch with a ringing,

controlled frenzy.

EXT - PRIVATE BLEACHER (DAY)

Nyah and Ambrose rising as the horses cross the finish.

AMBROSE:

(surprised)

You won.

NYAH:

(looking at her ticket)

I suppose I did.

AMBROSE:

What made you pick that nag? She'd never

won a bloody thing.

NYAH:

'Thief in the Night?'

AMBROSE:

Say no more. I'm off to grab a drink.

Still favor Bellinis?

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