Taking Sides Page #3

STEVE:

Says here because of your father.

What's that mean?

EMMI:

My father was one of the officers

in the plot against Hitler. They

arrested the plotters and their

families.

STEVE:

Your mother, too.

EMMI:

Yes. She suffered longer. She was

in Ravensbruck.

STEVE:

And your father was executed.

She nods, keeps her eyes averted. He smiles sympathetically.

STEVE:

I'm gonna call you Emmi, you're

gonna call me Steve. Okay?

No response.

STEVE:

I got a list of stuff here I'd

like you to get for me.

He searches his pockets.

ADAMS:

If you need anything, let me know.

EMMI:

Major...

STEVE:

Steve.

EMMI:

There have been messages for you.

(She consults the

pad.)

A Lieutenant David Wills called

from the Allied Kommandatura

Cultural Affairs office in

Wiesbaden. I don't know who he is.

Steve starts to unpack his attache case.

EMMI:

Then there have been three calls

from Dr. Furtwängler wanting to

know when you wish to see him. I

did not speak to him personally...

She hands Steve a typewritten sheet. He ignores it, finds

a list which he hands to her. He waits for her to read,

then:

STEVE:

Think you can get me any of that?

EMMI:

(pleased)

Oh yes, Major, I have recordings

of all his symphonies. I kept them

safe during the bombing. My

favourite is the Seventh Symphony.

STEVE:

Mine's the Eleventh.

EMMI:

(puzzled)

But... he only wrote nine, Major.

STEVE:

I'm kidding, Emmi. What about a

record player? You have that, too?

EMMI:

No. Ours was damaged.

STEVE:

(surveys the room)

What's in those files?

EMMI:

The names of the members of the

Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra since

1934 together with their

questionnaires. Major, what am I

to tell Dr. Furtwängler?

STEVE:

You tell him nothing, Emmi. If he

calls again, you say you know

nothing. We're gonna keep him

waiting while I get acquainted

with his case and with the

witnesses. And, God help me, with

Beethoven.

He smiles. She tries to smile back.

EXT. FLEA MARKET, BERLIN - DAY

Freezing weather. A narrow street, crowded, busy, noisy.

Some makeshift stalls set out, trestle tables, open

suitcases, people buying and selling every imaginable

commodity.

Emmi wanders through the crowd, passing a violinist, Helmuth

Rode, wrapped up against the cold, playing Handel's Air on

a G String, a bowl for money at his feet. A passer-by drops

a cigarette butt in it. Immediately, Rode retrieves the

butt.

Emmi comes to a stall selling piles of gramophone records.

She asks the stallholder a question. He points to another

stall across the way.

INT. STEVE'S OFFICE - DAY

Steve at his desk, paging through files. A knock on the

door.

STEVE:

Yeah.

Lieutenant DAVID WILLS, aged twenty-four, enters, comes to

Steve's desk, stands to attention, salutes.

DAVID:

Lieutenant Wills reporting to Major

Arnold. Sir.

STEVE:

For Chrissakes I hate that sh*t,

cut it out.

DAVID:

I'm very sorry.

STEVE:

I'm Steve. What's your name?

DAVID:

David. David Wills. I'm your liaison

officer with the Allied Kommandatura

Cultural Affairs Committee. Sir.

STEVE:

Sounds a lot of run.

(studies David.)

So they sent the big guns to check

up on me. We recruiting children

now?

DAVID:

(smiles')

I guess so, sir.

STEVE:

You call me sir again and I'll

make you listen to Beethoven.

David half-smiles.

STEVE:

Where you from, David?

DAVID:

was born here, in Leipzig. I escaped

in '36. My parents, they sent me

to my uncle in Philadelphia. They

were to follow. But they delayed

and...

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