Morning Star Page #9

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Webber places the body bag in the trunk of a RENAULT.

INT. ANDERS’S SHOP - BACK ROOM -- NIGHT

The FLASHLIGHTS of the searching agents play over “Anders’s”

gorily discarded human form on the floor. A moment later,

they discover the tub of amber liquid - the human skin thathad been floating in it is gone now.

INT. CAR -- NIGHT

Webber answers his phone as he drives.

FELTON (O.S.)

He jumped. There’s signs he hadanother skin prepared.

WEBBER (INTO PHONE)

Lock down the building and bring ina full scan team.

42.

He hangs up, checks his calmness in the rear view.

EXT. STREET BESIDE THE SEINE -- NIGHT

Webber dims his lights as he cruises down a dark street thatis obviously some kind of surveillance state dead zone,

judging by the little playlets of illicit activity he passes.

People shooting up, coupling with prostitutes.

He pulls over and waits as the SEARCHLIGHT of a PoliceHovercraft passes overhead. It misses him.

MOMENTS LATER:

Webber drops the alien body in the Seine.

EXT. ANDERS’S BUILDING -- NIGHT

FRENCH POLICE have set up barricades. Webber flashes his ID.

INT. ANDERS’S BUILDING -- NIGHT

Webber enters the room where Anders’s blood is still on the

floor. Bewley greets Webber with the HOTEL CARD KEY, now in aplastic bag. As Webber inspects it, Gast joins them.

BEWLEY:

It’s a standard hotel card key.

It’ll take some time to track the

one it came from.

Webber walks on, looks in the area with the tub as if seeingit for the first time. He’s irked that Gast follows.

GAST:

You took your time.

WEBBER:

I was following up on a lead. A

K.A. of Anders’, in Montmartre.

GAST:

Really? You took a rathercircuitous route to get here. Viathe Rue Montaigne bridge?

Webber feels a thrill of fear at Gast’s knowing smile, as theother agent produces his phone and shows him a GPS readout.

43.

WEBBER:

You’re tracking my car’s toll pass?

GAST:

All personnel’s movements are beingtracked. Including my own. I don’tmean to be confrontational.

WEBBER:

Of course, you do. Eberlinobviously put me in charge of thistask force over your objections.

You don’t trust anyone outside yourlittle, fascist clique. Iunderstand the resentment.

Gast smiles. You got me.

GAST:

Was your friend “placated?”

Webber looks taken aback a moment, then smiles.

WEBBER:

Yes, we f***ed. I wasn’t aware I

was required to issue a staff memo.

Gast shrugs and turns to walk away.

WEBBER (CONT’D)

In the interest of full disclosure,

she’s a known Sympa, the girl.

GAST:

Of course.

Gast says this with clear malevolence. Webber doesn’t let hispoker face betray any concern until he’s alone.

INT. WEBBER’S APARTMENT BUILDING -- NIGHT

Webber waits in the shadows at the end of a corridor. He

sights his quarry: Mia, getting off the elevator, strugglingwith heavy grocery bags. He pretends to be happening uponher. He gestures in the direction of her bags. She goes “oh.”

He interprets that as “yes, I need help” and takes her bags.

MIA:

Thanks. I see you’re also roamingthe halls at two-thirty.

(digging for keys)

I never had trouble sleeping beforeI came to Paris.

(MORE)

44.

MIA (CONT'D)

I spent a lot of my childhood beingshuttled around camps in the north.

I’ve never gotten used to the quiethere.

WEBBER:

You’re Dutch?

MIA:

Amsterdam.

WEBBER:

(registering the meaning)

I’m sorry.

MIA:

Yeah.

She finally finds her keys, opens the door.

INT. MIA’S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

She turns on lights as Webber puts the bags down on thenearest clear space- which takes some searching. Her place isthe opposite of his, borderline hoarder-cluttered.

MIA:

You can move the macrame ape...

and, yes, I know I have a macrame

ape.

WEBBER:

I’m not judging.

Webber puts the bag down, furtively scoping out the place.

MIA:

I’m torn- I kind of feel like I

should ask “You want some coffee?”

This is kind of a classic “you wantsome coffee” situation... right?

WEBBER:

You should probably heed your firstinstinct and tell me to go away.

MIA:

Where’d you get that from?

WEBBER:

Your words.

45.

MIA:

Fair enough. I just meant Icouldn’t think why you’d want tohave coffee at 3AM. But now youhave to have coffee. Take off your

coat.

As she sets about making coffee, Webber looks out the window,

scanning for signs of surveillance. Turning from the window,

he examines a flyer tacked to the wall. It advertises a playwith an illustration of a donkey-headed man.

WEBBER:

You’re an actress?

MIA:

One of my gigs. It’s an amateurproduction we’re putting on at theVeteran’s Center - courtesy of a UNarts grant because everybody knowsshell-shocked vets are way intoexperimental theater.

WEBBER:

Who are you in it?

MIA:

I guess ultimately I’m a drugaddict in a hospital where they’reputting on a production ofMidsummer’s Night’s Dream. In that,

I’m Hyppolyte playing Thisby... I

think. It’s very Post-Postmodern.

You lose track.

(gives up on coffee

machine)

This thing’s buggered... There’s aplace across the street. It’s anokay place. They’ve got live musicsometimes.

WEBBER:

Hopefully this won’t be one of

those times.

MIA:

(a big smile)

Right?!

INT. A BAR/CAFE -- NIGHT

He sips plain milk. She repeatedly stabs a strawberry tart,

not looking up. Webber notes her peace sign button.

46.

WEBBER:

That’s an interesting button forsomeone from Amsterdam to wear.

MIA:

It’s not about peace. When a warstarts, there are always only twosides, the people doing thefighting and the ones caught in themiddle. So this is my little “fuckyou” for them.

Webber is struck by those words but is careful just to smile.

MIA (CONT’D)

You’re not going to try some?

(re:
the tart. He shakes

his head)

Do you only eat soft-boiled eggs?

That’s all you ever order.

WEBBER:

It gets the job done.

She picks one of the berries out of her tart with the end ofher fork, offers it to him. He looks slightly threatened.

MIA:

These are Mandarin Strawberries.

People have spent decades sittingcross-legged on mountaintops- theycould’ve just eaten one of these.

WEBBER:

I’m alright.

MIA:

(shrugs- suit yourself)

There are good things in thisworld. You just have to keep youreyes open... but maybe not tooopen. Squint, I guess, is what I’msaying.

Mia squints her eyes at him. Webber smiles. He watches hereat. Impulsively, he plucks a strawberry off her plate. Hehesitates, pops it in his mouth. His face screws up.

MIA (CONT’D)

You’re hopeless.

WEBBER:

No... It’s incredibly good

actually.

47.

He looks somehow deeply moved by the berry experience.

MIA:

Well, don’t cry about it.

He laughs. She chuckles too.

EXT. STREET --- NIGHT

Webber and Mia stroll a rain-slicked avenue, past a vast,

MURAL depicting events of the First Xeno War. One panel is a

tribute to an AMERICAN GENERAL, depicted wearing a BaltimoreOrioles cap and sternly pointing.

MIA:

I thought General Blake was myfather when I was a kid. I was in

the American camp at Avignon till Iwas seven. They made us all“Blake’s Rangers.” We sang songs,

did drills. We all wore patcheswith that bird on it- the Baltimore

Oriole. For a long time, I thoughtI was American... It’s so

ridiculous to feel homesick for a

place I’ve never even been.

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