Smokin' Aces Page #32

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

He said he was from San Francisco.

MESSNER:

Did he give you his name?

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

Yeah, uh -- it was Spanish-somethin'

Garcia, or Diego, uh --

MESSNER:

(to other agents)

-- run both those names through the

D.C. database. Call San Francisco,

see if they've got anybody in the

field doing collateral inquiries for --

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

-- he was wearing one of our jackets.

Messner stops cold.

MESSNER:

Who?

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

The other agent. He said he was here

to do an inspection and later, when

he got on the elevator with the other

guy, Carruthers, I saw him wearing

one of our security jackets...

Messner turns, bores in on the kid, no more bullshit now.

MESSNER:

This man wearing the jacket identified

himself as an Federal agent?

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

Uh, yeah.

MESSNER:

You're sure?

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

Yeah, he had the badge and everything.

It said "FBI" on it.

MESSNER:

And when you saw him later, he was

wearing one of your security jackets --

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

Yeah.

MESSNER:

And that didn't seem odd to you?

The kid glances around, oops -- my mistake -- tries to amend.

CASINO EMPLOYEE:

I -- I mean, I thought they gave it

to him so he cou--

Messner turns on his heels, the other agents tag along.

MESSNER:

(addressing others)

We may have a man posing as one of

us. Get a tactical team assembled.

We need to get to the penthouse level

immediately.

FBI AGENT:

We'll have to power the elevators

back up.

MESSNER:

Do it.

As they move past the group of call girls, still arguing

with security as we...

CUT TO:

INT. PENTHOUSE SUITE -- SAME

Israel, sickly, face bloodless, sitting down on a couch,

setting the small handgun down on the table next to him. He

digs at his chest now, in considerable pain, rotating his

arm around, trying to rouse it.

ISRAEL:

F***ing things falling asleep...

Israel gazes at Beanie's body, trying to figure out an

appropriate course of action.

ISRAEL:

(over his shoulder)

Vitoli, just sit tight for a second,

I gotta make a phone call, figure

this out...

He takes out his cellphone, dialing Morris Mecklen. Soot

appears behind him, easing the 9mm out of his waistband and

resuming his stalk... ever... so... slowly.

CUT TO:

INT. PENTHOUSE HALLWAY -- SAME

Israel's security crew, surrounding a still-stunned Sir Ivy,

waiting on the lift. One of the elevators approaches. The

rest appear to be down.

BODYGUARD #1

One of 'em on it's way up. This

doesn't make any sense, what's wrong

with the rest of 'em?

Suddenly, the stairwell doors are flung open, revealing Hugo

and Gill. All guns whip simultaneously to that spot.

HUGO:

(hands up)

Whoa, hey -- hey -- hold-up, hold-

up, I got the Doc, easy...

(beat, seeing Ivy)

What's going on?

MUSTACHE:

Ivy tried to kill Mr. Israel and

shot Mr. Alphonse in the process.

He's dead.

Hugo, thunderstruck.

HUGO:

-- Beanie!? What? How did that happe--

(beat, angry now)

Ivy!?

Ivy, ashamed, not looking up.

IVY:

Buddy was goin' jam us Hugo. He was

gonna f*** us up with the Feds...

SYKES:

...Wait a minute... This one's a

Fed.

CUT TO:

INT. ELEVATOR CAR -- FOURTEENTH FLOOR -- SAME

Sykes, holding Carruthers' FBI credentials after patting him

down. She doesn't notice that power has been restored to the

elevator.

WATTERS (O.S.)

What?

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. HORIZON HOTEL -- TOP FLOOR -- SAME

Watters, trying to listen to Sykes, but concerned by the

sudden surge of activity from the police scanners.

SYKES (O.S.)

Girl one of these fools has an FBI

badge on him! Is this the one that

was doing the inspection?

WATTERS:

Hold up, hold up, I'm getting shots

over the scanners, tons of traffic --

jus' chill for a sec, lemme listen...

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