Scorpio Page #2

(LAUGHING)

You bastard!

You're one hell of a letter writer.

One postcard from Damascus in six months.

He brought you some flowers.

The red ones are for you.

Oh, hell! The coffee!

I know a place that does a good breakfast.

Hello. May I speak to Mitch, please?

There's no Mitch here.

What number are you calling?

393-4098.

I'm sorry. You have the wrong number.

Three...

And how long are you here for this time?

Well, I...

No, don't tell me. It's too pretty

a day. I don't want it to rain.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

SARAH:
Hello. Hello, Cross.

No time, Sarah. McLeod wants me dead.

H! have to go deep,

so you won't hear from me for a while.

Stay close. Contact no one.

When the time comes,

Pick'll get in touch. I love you, Sarah.

Keep that mountain in mind.

I love you, Cross.

First of all' I'm gonna take you

to the Washington Monument and...

Excuse me, sir.

Of course.

Wait for me outside.

McLeod wants to see you, sir.

Don't give me any trouble, please.

No trouble. Just let me get my bag.

I'll get it for you, sir. Which one?

There.

Where the hell are you going

with that bag? Give me that bag!

(CLAMORING CONTINUES)

Good morning, sir.

McLEOD:
Ail you had to do

was keep your heads dawn.

And Cross would have walked

right into this office to file his report.

And what d'you do?

You crawl halfway up his ass!

Who did you think you were following,

some second-hand car dealer

from Oshkosh, Wisconsin?

Cross is the best.

Now he's running free

and all I've got

is one operative with a cut head,

another being held by the local police

as a drug-addict homosexual,

and one beat-up car.

Mr. McLeod, you said to check him

in and keep an eye on him and...

Oh, get out.

How is Harris?

Still in a state of shock.

Cross forced a harmless hay fever pill

into his mouth' told him it was cyanide

from an SD kit.

Beautiful!

- Shall I bail the dummy out?

McLEOD:
No, let him sweat.

I can't let this get upstairs, Fil.

If we throw this one,

the chief'll come down hard.

We have to get Cross.

I've got every man on it,

but without FBI or locals,

we're carrying a handicap.

The Bureau would love

to get their hands on this. Mmm-mmm.

No, no one outside the Agency.

Blanket everything.

Every exit. Operate every contact.

I'll put it nationwide. We'll box him in.

(ORGAN MUSIC PLAYING)

PICK:
Flight for Toronto

is 7:
15, due in 8:10.

Then the big one, Toronto-Vienna.

It leaves at 8:
25 and it's

a fast-track ab' the way.

You'll be there at 5:30 in the morning,

1:
30 in the afternoon their time.

(DOOR OPENING)

Put it in your shoe, Jack!

Can't you read the sign? Maintenance!

Too much!

I made the connections

as fast as I could, like you said.

There are no through bookings,

nothing traceable.

In Pittsburgh your tickets will be

waiting for you at the National desk,

under the name Father Henderson.

At Chicago go to the United desk.

There you're Father Kitts.

At Toronto it's Air Canada,

under the name Father Wieland.

(IN GERMAN ACCENT)

And your English is not so good!

Let's get moving.

Tell me, how do you like my place?

Very much.

I've 75 students of English Literature,

I teach nine classes a week,

and our new term starts next week.

And I love you.

How do you like Paris?

Better watch out, Jean.

You make one promise

and I'll hold you to it.

(C HATTER ON PA)

Okay, Father.

Goodbye, my son. Bless you.

ALL:
Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!

(CHUCKLES)

JEAN'S GIRLFRIEND: Hello.

JEAN:
What are we buying for each other?

GIRLFRIEND:
I'll pay my dues.

JEAN:
How much did my sister tell you?

GIRLFRIEND:
She said there'd be pain.

Did she talk about Algeria?

She said that you were

a lieutenant in the paratroopers.

When I think of it, I'm afraid. Aren't you?

I picked you up, remember?

I only talked Anne into

sharing an apartment with me

so I'd have an excuse to be around.

(SHATTERING)

(SCREAMING)

We can't all miss, mister. Okay?

Let's give it a search.

Make a move, jockey,

and I'll splash you across the sheets.

It's heroin.

You son of a b*tch. Get out of bed.

Pull it in.

Jean!

You've two ways to walk, Scorpio.

Down that corridor that's 30 years long...

Or with me.

This is Washington National Airport.

The picture shows passengers

boarding this afternoons 5:15 flight,

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Would you say that was Cross?

Without an element of doubt.

Some airports have a television eye service.

They keep a video tape running,

which they erase the next day.

I had a hunch.

And it paid.

It should have been fairly easy

to trace the destination of a priest.

Normally Washington airport

wouldn't have too many priests

departing around 5:00 or so,

but today was the last day

of a conference of teaching brothers.

More than 300 priests departed,

in all directions,

between 3:
00 and 6:00 p. m.,

Cross amongst them.

Brilliant.

Oh, I agree.

He had to have help.

No. Messenger boys.

The plan was Cross's.

Would you agree to that, Scorpio?

Mm-hmm.

Well, our first piece of common ground.

You boys can pack it in for the night.

You were supposed

to kill Cross at the Paris job.

No contract.

You took the money.

You left the money.

Why?

Cross had his contract in first.

I don't play games when the rules are bent.

No one bends them faster than Cross.

Never with me.

I want Cross. And I want him burned.

You know him best.

Find him.

You make too many mistakes.

Like?

You confuse what you want

with what I want.

Mister, you don't have

too much ground to dance on.

I could drop you for the heroin

or tag you for the Paris killing.

Now, your government

would like more names.

Your second mistake, McLeod.

Cross gave me enough information

on each operation we did together.

Not conclusive, but enough

to make a strange reading.

You can't let me go into a public court.

What do you want?

I want inside.

Where?

Beirut.

You want Cross's job?

If you get Cross, you get his posting.

More.

More?

$25,000.

Where's Cross?

More.

You run it right to the edge, don't you?

What?

I want to know the reason.

Executive order.

You don't question a directive

in the Agency, Scorpio.

I'm not in the Agency until I get Cross.

The reason?

He's a face, a double agent.

He sold to the opposition

and he has a lot more to sell.

Do you know where Cross is or don't you?

I don't. But a man named Zharkov will.

Serge Zharkov.

He's Soviet intelligence

in Cairo, Cross's opposite.

You think he'll go to Zharkov?

Zharkov will go to him.

But not in the Middle East, in Europe.

Europe is a big place.

I want internal replay on Serge Zharkov.

Who else have you got to send

against him but me'?

Where do I send you?

Where Zharkov and Cross have met before.

A place they both know.

A place where Zharkov

could have a safe house.

Ready on Zharkov.

DEBRIEFER:
Sergei Zharkov.

Born Kiev, 1914. Educated in Leningrad.

Doctor of philosophy

and political history, and economics.

Fought in Spain with the Thalmann Brigade.

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