Smokin' Aces Page #18

Acosta waits for the door to close, leaving only himself and

the supervisor in the room.

ACOSTA:

It's gotta be tough keeping an eye

on everything.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

And everybody, all the time. Yeah,

it's a chore.

Acosta laughs, keeps it loose.

ACOSTA:

So, Bill, if I understand this right,

you currently have your penthouse

floor under construction?

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

That's correct.

ACOSTA:

(points to monitors)

But with these down, doesn't that

pose a major security concern if, as

you say, you have to keep an eye on

everything at all times?

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

Well, we were worried about dust and

debris from the work being done

ruining the cameras, so--

ACOSTA:

-- so you shut them off?

The Supervisor, quick to amend.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

Yes, but no -- we have personnel

stationed at both ends of that hall,

twenty-four hours a day.

ACOSTA:

What kind of personnel?

CUT TO:

The Nomad's crack unit, security staffers cum bodyguards:

The casino's version of a SWAT Team: Six ex-cop/military

types -- bowling buddies, brushcuts and potguts -- they carry

Colt .380 autos, religiously kept, strictly range-fired.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR (V.O.)

Right now? A six man security force,

plus a member of our Butler staff.

So seven men total.

CUT BACK TO SCENE:

ACOSTA:

You have a butler working that floor?

CUT TO:

Vitoli, aka Lazlo Soot, stepping onto a lower-floor elevator,

pushing a service cart tucking the 9mm into his waistband.

CUT BACK TO SCENE:

The Supervisor sputters -- stammers, realizes he just slipped.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

Uh -- well, yes, uh just in terms of

the men up there now, my team, he's

serving lunch and dinner and just

doing general upkeep so --

ACOSTA:

So there are no guests staying on

that floor?

The Supervisor makes a big show of the headshake "no..."

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

No. None at present.

Acosta grins, takes a step closer.

ACOSTA:

C'mon Bill... you've got some Sultan

up there, one of your whales, big-

spender, likes a lot of space, you

cook up this "construction" thing...?

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

No, no, no. We've been looking to

renovate that area of our hotel for

some time now. The security team is

only present to preserve floor

integrity, due to the roof access.

ACOSTA:

Is your security team armed?

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

Of course. Yes.

ACOSTA:

And who has access to that floor?

The Supervisor... something like suspicion in his eyes. The

secure "hotline" begins to ring. The Supervisor looks over

at the phone, then back at Acosta... the unflappable pro.

ACOSTA:

Bill, listen, I can ask you now and

you can answer me, or I can drag you

up to San Francisco and depose you

in front of a federal judge. Because

that's where we're headed here.

Bullshit, but it sounds good. The Supervisor starts for the

ringing hotline.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

I'm sorry, but I'm going to need to

see your identification again. We're

covering some sensitive material

here and I need to safeguard myself,

I'm sure you can understand.

Acosta, reaching into his coat.

ACOSTA:

Of course, but if you could just

tell me who has access to that floor --

The Supervisor touches a pass key that he wears on a chain

around his neck as he moves to answer the phone.

SECURITY SUPERVISOR

-- I hold the sole pass key and

personally relieve the shifts myself.

Now if I could get your ID we can --

-- Acosta, coming out of his coat, fake ID in hand, the

supervisor reaching for it and the ringing phone

simultaneously -- suddenly a six-inch, spring-loaded stiletto

blade explodes from Acosta's sleeve, piercing the ID --

pinning it to the Supervisor's chest.

Surprised grunt from the man as blood begins to pour from

his punctured sternum. The blade retracts. The phone sits

trembling in the Supervisor's hand, -- a voice -- Carruther's,

tinny and barely audible, warbles from the other end --

VOICE:

(over phone)

Hello? This is Special Agent Donald

Carruthers of the FBI, I need an --

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes