RONIN Page #3

LARRY:

Who the f*** are you?

DEIRDRE:

(staring at Larry)

The name is Deirdre, and I'm running this

show.

GREGOR:

Who are you? IRA?

DEIRDRE:

(with a brittle laugh)

Not likely. Once, yeah, I was -- but

there wasn't an inch of profit in it, and

I'm a cash oriented girl, if you take my

meaning. I'm a hired gun, same as the

rest of you, and that's all any of us

needs to know about the other.

Deirdre hands out several thick envelopes. Larry and Swede

open theirs and stare at the wads of Franc Notes stuffed

inside. Even Gregor cracks his envelope and peaks at his

money. But neither Vincent nor Sam takes a look.

DEIRDRE:

From here on in you want something you

pay cash for it:
no credit cards, no bank

accounts are in place: ten percent up

front, the rest when the job is done.

(a quick beat, then she looks

at Gregor)

You. What do you do and what should we

call you?

GREGOR:

These days they they call me Gregor -- and

I'm a tech. I do electronic work,

surveillance, computer runs.

Deirdre turns to Sam.

SAM:

Sam. I'm a weapons guy.

DEIRDRE:

You were a soldier, were you?

SAM:

Once.

Deirdre gives Sam a look -- and he returns it. Finally,

Deirdre turns to Larry.

LARRY:

I drive -- and my name is Larry. Larry

from the States.

DEIRDRE:

(she turns to Vincent)

And who are you?

VINCENT:

I'm Vincent. And I coordinate.

SAM:

(sharply)

Coordinate what?

VINCENT:

Things. This is my country, you know.

The two men exchange another look. A pecking order is

developing among the group: Vincent and Sam are both natural

leaders, and now they're feeling one another out.

DEIRDRE:

(to Vincent)

Coordinate all you want, but make sure

whatever you do gets cleared through me.

(Vincent doesn't respond for a

moment)

Are we in sync on this, Vincent?

VINCENT:

Of course.

Deirdre waits a BEAT, letting Vincent know what she isn't any

more intimidated by him than he is by her. Finally, she

turns to Swede.

SWEDE:

They call me Swede.

LARRY:

Who's they?

SWEDE:

Everybody.

VINCENT:

And what is it you do?

SWEDE:

Me?

(with a smile)

I kill.

CUT TO:

INT. A WAREHOUSE - DAY

A PAPER TARGET, in the shape of a human being, dances in

place as it is riddles with GUNSHOTS, each shot hitting the

target in the belly, each shot fired by - Larry, whose been

shooting a sleek automatic pistol from which he's just

discharged an entire clip. The gun is empty, Larry turns to

Sam, who stands next in line.

SAM:

(looking at the target)

You shoot alright.

LARRY:

Gets the job done.

SAM:

All in the stomach, though. Your man

might live.

LARRY:

Not for long.

SAM:

Long enough to shoot back.

LARRY:

Is that right?

SAM:

It's been known to happen.

LARRY:

(a challenge)

Why don't you go do better, then...

Without a word, Sam pops a new clip into the gun and SHOOTS

THE LIGHTS out of several other human targets, hitting each

target in a different place. One he clips between the eyes,

the next in the heart, one in the groin, and then the last

target - He SPLITS DOWN THE MIDDLE, firing shot after shot

from the head to the groin until the target is sheared in

half. Larry is impressed in spite of himself.

LARRY:

Yeah, well... My way works too.

SAM:

My way is better.

IN A CORNER OF THE WAREHOUSE -

Gregor has set up a table loaded with computers and

electronic whizmos. Right now Gregor is holding a

particularly high-tech type CELL PHONE in his hands, looking

at it almost lovingly.

DEIRDRE (O.S.)

Is it alright?

ANOTHER ANGLE - Deirdre sits nearby, looking at the cell

phone.

GREGOR:

It's quite satifactory.

DEIRDRE:

Good, because it cost enough. There's

cheaper phones by far than that one, man:

you better f***ing use it.

GREGOR:

(almost caressing the phone)

I intend to. This phone is wired like no

other:
it's got an encryption chip and

instant sat-a-link recognition, it can

talk to any computer in any language and

make it understand. With my custom

hardware and this phone I can trace the

target's cell phone signature and follow

him anywhere he goes...

DEIRDRE:

You sure about this?

GREGOR:

I'd stake my reputation.

DEIRDRE:

But would you stake your life, that's the

question...

GREGOR:

In this business, your life and your

reputation are more often than not one

and the same.

From off screen we hear MUNCHING. It's - Larry inhaling a

sandwich. A malicious look comes over Swede's face, who's

cleaning a pistol and sitting near Larry.

SWEDE:

You should watch what you eat.

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