Rush Hour Page #5

End of conversation. Russ returns to the house. Carter sizzles.

CUT TO:

EXT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- DAY

Carter's unmarked car pulls into one of the POLICE ZONES.

INT. CARTERS UNMARKED CAR - PARKED -- CONTINUOUS

Carter looks at his watch. His mobile phone rings.

CARTER:

Yeah.

INTERCUT WITH JOHNSON

She's at her desk.

JOHNSON:

So how'd it go?

Carter perks up when he hears Johnson's voice.

CARTER:

How'd what go?

JOHNSON:

With the FBI. What do you think I'm

talking about?

Carter puts on some exuberance.

CARTER:

Oh, you're not gonna believe what they

put me in charge of. They sent for

the Ambassador's personal Chinese

Investigator type. He is like the

baddest Asian shield they got. And I,

let me repeat that, I am the man who

is on the case with him. Just the two

of us, alone, workin' the whole deal

as a team.

JOHNSON:

They put you in charge?

CARTER:

In Charge. Just me'n him. No

interference. They don't even want to

hear from us until we're done. I love

the F.B.I. I love the F.B.I.

JOHNSON:

Well...listen, if you need any help,

you know, back up, call me, OK?

CARTER:

Oh baby, don't worry, I'll call you.

You can count on it.

JOHNSON:

OK. Well...make us proud. And be

careful.

That takes a little of the wind out of Carter's sails. We can see it in

his face, but he tries his best not to let her hear it over the phone.

CARTER:

Yeah, thanks.

He hangs up and mutters to himself.

CARTER (cont'd)

Yeah, gotta be careful. Might get run

over by a Sky Cap.

CUT TO:

EXT. LAX -- AFTERNOON

The CHINESE AIRLINES JET lands.

INT. LAX TERMINAL -- AFTERNOON

Carter is waiting at the GATE, the only one who could bypass Customs.

He's watching a parade of ASIAN PASSENGERS deplane, heading for

Customs.

CARTER:

Mr. Lee. Is there a Mr. Lee on the

plane?

(no response)

Does anybody know Mr. Lee?

(no response)

Mr. Lee from China.

Carter is losing his patience. Passengers continue to deplane. But

their ranks are thinning.

CARTER:

Mr. Lee.

Finally the last of the last. An ELDERLY ASIAN MAN AND WOMAN.

CARTER:

Mr. and Mrs. Lee?

They look at him, smile, but continue past.

CARTER:

I don't believe this! First I get

stuck with this --

LEE moves down the ramp and stops as he HEARS CARTER'S VOICE --

CARTER'S VOICE

-- lame ass assignment, now the

sonuvabitch doesn't even show up.

This is bullshit! Ain't my fault if

this limpdick can't make his plane.

Carter is about to leave when Lee exits the ramp. Looking at Carter.

And Carter looks at him.

CARTER:

Mr. Lee?

Lee smiles and bows politely.

CARTER:

You got bags?

No response from Lee. Carter assumes he can't speak English.

CARTER (cont'd)

Oh sh*t, you gotta be kiddin'.

Carter holds out his FBI IDENTIFICATION.

CARTER:

You speaky Eng-lish?

Lee looks at Carter for a moment, then smiles and nods.

CARTER:

Yeah, right, sure, uh-huh.

CUT TO:

INT. CAR -- AFTERNOON

Unmarked FBI sedan. Carter drives. Lee is looking out the window.

This is his first time to America. And despite the reason, he can't

help but look.

CARTER:

First thing I gotta do is check you

in. So we have to go to L.A.P.D. H.Q.

(checking Lee )

You understand what I'm saying?

A beat, then Lee says:

LEE:

(slowly)

You talk very fast.

CARTER:

Okay, I'll slow down.

(just as fast)

So we go downtown and we ask you a few

questions... you know, like what's

your name? How old are you? You ever

expose yourself in public...sh*t like

that.

Carter waits to see if he's getting through. Lee just nods. Carter is

convinced he's just talking to himself.

CARTER:

Yeah, good, we also will ask if you

have ever worn pink frilly

underwear...and what the hell is the

attraction of Karaoke to Asian

Peoples?

Lee nods as if he understands everything. Carter sighs. It's gonna be

a long assignment. Lee points to the RADIO.

CARTER:

You want the radio? RAY-DEE-OHHH.

Lee nods.

CARTER:

Why not? Beats talking sh*t to myself.

Lee smiles, nods. Carter turns on the radio. A BEACH BOYS SONG comes

on.

CARTER:

Oh no...

Carter reaches for the radio, but Lee holds out his hand.

LEE:

Beach Boy.

CARTER:

You're shittin' me. You know the

Beach Boys?!

LEE:

Beach Boy America.

(starts singing)

Help me Rhonda, help me get her out of

my --

Carter listens to Lee sing along for a moment, then --

CARTER:

Beach Boy America my ass. You don't

look like a Beach Boy, you don't sound

like a Beach Boy. And your singin'

ability is only gonna make me do

something that I could get the death

penalty for. You want America, here's

America.

Carter changes the station. RAP MUSIC. Carter drums along with the

bass line. Moving his body to the beat, to make sure he shows the

effect of the rhythm.

CARTER:

Tell me you can do this to the Beach

Boys.

Lee listens, trying hard to get it. He doesn't. He pushes the other

button back to HELP ME RHONDA.

LEE:

(smiles)

Help me Rhonda.

CARTER:

(incensed)

Let me give you a piece of advice:

never touch another man's radio. You

do it again, nobody, not Rhonda, not

Yolanda, gonna save your ass.

Carter pushes the button back to Rap.

CARTER:

That is America, got it? That is

America.

CUT TO:

INT. CHINESE CONSULATE - HAN'S OFFICE -- DAY

Han is reviewing PHOTOGRAPHS with Whitney and Russ.

RUSS:

-- operating out of San Francisco, has

been associated with one of the

Triads. This group was identified as

having entered the United States two

months ago --

The PHONE RINGS. Attention turns to the desk. Russ stands.

RUSS:

This could be it.

(to Han)

Remember:
try and keep him on the

phone as long as you can. Ask to

speak with your daughter. Ask how she

is... anything.

They cross to the desk. Han hesitates. Nervous. FOURTH RING. He

picks up the phone.

HAN:

Hello.

MAN'S VOICE

Han?

HAN:

Yes.

MAN'S VOICE

It's Griffin.

HAN:

Griffin? Where are you.

Han turns to Russ. Russ mouths ³Do you know him?² Han nods.

GRIFFIN:

Still in Hong Kong. But I'm afraid

this is not a social call. I have

just learned some disturbing

information. There is going to be an

attempt to kidnap you or a member of

your family. I don't know when. And

I'm not sure by whom. But I trust my

sources. You should contact the

F.B.I. immediately. They'll know what

to do.

HAN:

I am afraid your source was very good.

They have Soon-Young.

GRIFFIN:

Oh God, no. I'm so sorry, my friend.

Russ picks up the phone.

RUSS:

This is Special Agent Russ, Federal

Bureau of Investigation. Would you

please identify yourself?

INT. HONG KONG APARTMENT - BEDROOM -- NIGHT

Overlooking downtown Hong Kong. Griffin is next to the window, phone

in hand, looking out at the lights of the city.

GRIFFIN:

Yes, of course. My name is Thomas Ian

Griffin, former commander of British

Hong Kong police. The Ambassador and

I are old and close friends. He will

confirm this. But the information I

have just relayed to you is sensitive.

I'm sure you understand that I cannot

provide details over a telephone. But

in lieu of Soon Young's...situation,

I'll be on the next flight to Los

Angeles.

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