Passenger 57 Page #2

---

CUT TO:

14 thru 16 OMITTED

17 INT. MAXIMUM SECURITY LOCKDOWN - NIGHT 17

RAIN streaks a window re-enforced with steel mesh. THUNDER CRASHES!

Bars slide open with a LOUD CLANG. CAMERA FOLLOWS a distinguished, silver-haired ATTORNEY as he enters the bowels of a prison designed in hell. He travels down a long corridor lined with cells containing the evil and the insane. They jeer, laugh, taunt and spit at the Attorney as he runs their gauntlet of abuse.

At the end of the corridor, a stem-faced guard stands in front of an iron door. The Attorney, wiping spit off his expensive suit with a handkerchief, shows the indifferent guard some papers. The guard wheels open the heavy iron door.

CAMERA FOLLOWS the Attorney into a small dark room. The iron DOOR CLANGS shut behind him. On the other side of a mesh screen sits Wolfgang, stripped naked, wearing handcuffs. His body is hard and muscular, a map of ugly scars. He greets his Attorney with a wolfish smile.

WOLFGANG:

what's wrong, Martin? Haven't you ever seen a naked man before?

ATTORNEY:

How can you be so calm? They know who you are.

WOLFGANG:

Knowing it and proving it are two different things.

ATTORNEY:

Will you listen to me? They can prove it. They've got the Welshman.

Wolfgang's eyes cloud. They do that when something displeases him.

WOLFGANG:

Go on.

ATTORNEY:

The N.S.A. has him in protective custody. He's connected you to Islamic Jihad, the American Embassy bombing in Beirut and God knows what else. They're flying you to Los Angeles to stand trial.

WOLFGANG:

Then the solution's simple. I must not reach Los Angeles.

ON Wolfgang's confident look...

CUT TO:

18 EXT. TRANS PACIFIC AIRLINES BUILDING (ORLANDO) - DAY 18

The logo of Trans Pacific atop a tower of glass and steel. ANGLE DOWN TO street level as a taxi pulls up to the entrance and stops. John Cutter climbs out. We see him full figure in a dark suit -- ramrod straight --lean, hard and muscular. Cutter pays the driver, hefts his bag and enters the building.

CUT TO:

18A INT. SLY DELVECCHIO'S OFFICE 18A

An efficient young SECRETARY looks up from her computer as Cutter steps into the outer office. He tosses his bag on the couch.

SECRETARY:

You must be Mister Cutter. Mister Delvecchio's expecting you.

CUTTER:

Don't buzz him. I want this to be a surprise.

Cutter crosses the room and pushes open the big door to...

18B SLY'S INNER OFFICE 18B

Cutter is barely through the door when SLY DELVECCHIO jumps him from behind.

In a blinding flash of martial arts skill. Cutter flips Sly over his shoulder. Sly hits the carpet with a thud. Swift as a cobra, Cutter is upon him -- knee planted in the center of Sly's chest, hand tight around Sly's throat -- thumb pressed to his jugular.

CUTTER:

(with a smile)

You're dead. Sly. Get yourself buried.

Through his surprise and pain, Sly smiles back. He's in his early 30s, a friendly, likable guy -- Cutter's buddy from way back.

SLY:

(his voice is a rough whisper)

Okay, I'm dead. Now would you mind getting your big knee off my chest?

(gasping)

I can't breathe...

Cutter just smiles as Sly continues to gasp. Sly is very convincing but Cutter's not buying. He knows his friend too well.

SLY:

Cutter... please... I can't breathe...

CUTTER:

Sly, do the words 'acting lessons' mean anything to you?

SLY:

(really gasping)

Cutter, no sh*t... you know I've got this asthma thing...

Cutter frowns and steps back. As he does, sneaky Sly tries to hook him with his foot. But Cutter has anticipated this. He catches the foot with one hand and hoists Sly into the air so that he's hanging upside down -- face buried in the rug.

CUTTER:

(amused)

How's that carpet taste?

SLY:

All right! Okay! Uncle!

Sly's Secretary appears in the doorway, alarmed to see her boss in this most undignified position.

SECRETARY:

(frightened)

Mister Delvecchio? Should I call Security?

SLY:

(upside down)

Ellen, I am Security.

(then; chuckling)

Don't worry. It's just a couple of Navy buddies catching up on old times.

CUTTER:

We're bonding.

SLY:

(to Cutter)

You want something? Coffee? Tea?

CUTTER:

I'm fine.

(to the Secretary)

But you'd better bring Mister Delvecchio some Therapeutic Mineral Ice. He's not as young as he thinks he is.

The Secretary nods and backs away. Cutter releases Sly and lets him crumple to the floor. With a groan. Sly gets to his feet. He straightens his suit and tie in a dignified manner.

SLY:

Okay. So I'm a little rusty. But you... you sonovabitch...

Sly and Cutter regard each other soberly, then break out laughing. They embrace.

CUTTER:

I think you put on some weight.

SLY:

Corporate life. I think you lost some.

CUTTER:

You ever tried the food at Forrestal?

SLY:

(scoffing)

Forrestal. Jesus, Cutter. Teaching counter-terrorism and evasion techniques to a bunch of rich guys' bodyguards and chauffeurs -- it's beneath you. What's next? Church Groups? Cub Scouts?

CUTTER:

Maybe. How much do they pay?

SLY:

It's not you. Cutter.

CUTTER:

It's me, Sly -- the new me. And the new me happens to like teaching. It's got some great perks.

SLY:

Name one.

CUTTER:

You want to know what I like best? It's make-believe. The danger is pretend. Strictly hypothetical. Nobody gets hurt -- especially me.

SLY:

You ever hear that old expression? 'Those who can -- do. Those who can't -- teach.'

CUTTER:

What about it?

SLY:

I know you. Cutter, and you're no teacher.

CUTTER:

Then I'm in big trouble because the idea of being a 'do-er' again makes me break out in a cold sweat.

SLY:

'You fall off a horse, you get back on.'

CUTTER:

Sly, don't you know any new expressions?

The Secretary returns.

SECRETARY:

Mister Delvecchio -- your meeting with Mister Ramsay.

SLY:

(looks at his watch)

Better hustle.

CUTTER:

Look, Sly, I'm not even sure I want this job. The idea of getting back in the sh*t doesn't exactly thrill me.

SLY:

I need you, Cutter -- and you need this job.

It's the truth. ON Sly's imploring look...

CUT TO:

18C INT. ATRIUM - DAY 18C

Sly and Cutter wind their way through an in-door botanical garden that doubles as a dining area for the employees of Trans Pacific.

SLY:

Ramsay is Stuart Ramsay, the guy above me -- President of Operations. To get the airlines anti-terrorism unit off the ground, we're gonna need Ramsay's support. He's a slick prick but he can be handled. You've done these dog and pony shows before so you know the drill. Nod. Smile. Jump through a few hoops.

STUART RAMSAY rises from a table to greet them. He's in his thirties, handsome, immaculately groomed and styled. Stuart Ramsay's only real interest in life is his own survival in the corporate jungle. In this respect he is ruthless. He can also be quite charming.

RAMSAY:

Welcome to the jungle.

SLY:

Stuart, meet John Cutter.

They shake hands.

RAMSAY:

(friendly)

John -- I'm a big fan.

Cutter smiles. He knows a shark when he sees one.

CUT TO:

18D SAME SCENE - SOME MINUTES LATER 18D

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes