The American Page #8

Little more than a halt: one platform, one track, one station

building - locked and shuttered.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 39. page 39.

Apart from the STATION MASTER, no one’s around.

JACK checks his watch: it’s exactly noon.

A TRAIN approaches. On the platform, there is also a MAN WITH

A BRIEFCASE. Jack is on high alert.

The train is a Four-carriage local. It rattles round the bend

in the track up the valley, diesel fumes pluming. There are

no more than a dozen passengers on board.

MATHILDE is the only one to alight while the man with the

briefcase boards.

Mathilde’s once brown hair is now BLONDE. She’s wearing a

skirt and carrying a navy blue canvas sports bag.

They shake hands as the train pulls away, belching and

honking as it rattles over the girders of an iron bridge and

crosses some alpine rapids.

MATHILDE:

Edward. How good to see you again.

Something quaint, old fashioned in her diction. English with

the hint of a Belgian accent.

JACK opens the boot of his car and she places her sports bag

beside a WICKER PICNIC HAMPER.

MATHILDE:

Refreshments?

JACK:

The Carabinieri around here like

checkpoints. It’s cover.

She nods.

They get into the car.

As JACK’s door slams we smash cut to:

69 INT. CAR- DAY 69

MATHILDE’s sunglasses reflect the alpine landscape.

MATHILDE:

You picked a beautiful spot.

She takes off her shades.

Her once hazel eyes are now GREY-BLUE.

She glances round the car’s plastic interior.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 40. page 40.

MATHILDE:

You would be hard pressed to make a

fast get away in this.

Perhaps she’s nervous. Her attempt at humour isn’t working

and she stumbles slightly on her grammar:

MATHILDE:

I would have thought you to have

had at least an Maserati.

JACK:

This attracts less attention.

MATHILDE:

Is it far?

JACK:

Fifty minutes.

She looks at the high mountains in the distance.

MATHILDE:

Up there?

JACK nods.

She eases herself back, resigned to a long climb.

MATHILDE:

The train was tiring. One has to

keep alert so much in cities.

Her eyelids are drooping.

JACK:

I’ll wake you before the turn-off.

She smiles gratefully. But does not shut her tired eyes.

The CLOCK on the dash reads 12:17

70 INT. CAR- DAY 70

They drive in silence.

JACK negotiates the alpine road, leaning into the steering

wheel, shifting up or down a gear and glancing from the

mirror to the road and back again.

JACK secretly scans her, taking in every detail: her low-

heeled shoes are expensive but she wears no jewelry except a

Seiko wrist-watch on a metal strap and a thin gold chain at

her throat. Her tan is light, her slightly exposed breasts

and her legs shapely and recently waxed.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 41. page 41.

But JACK doesn’t look at her like an object of desire. He

looks at her cautiously, with an expression that says: “this

young woman is ruthless. If she were not, she wouldn’t be

alive.”

That’s when he notices the CAR in his rear view mirror.

It’s too far behind to decipher the make or model and it

weaves in and out of frame as JACK negotiates the alpine

road.

MATHILDE:

Are we nearly there?

JACK:

The turn-off’s up ahead.

His eyes flick to the rear view mirror. Hers to the wing.

She spots the CAR behind. JACK catches her eye questioningly.

MATHILDE:

I told you I work alone.

JACK slows just before the turn off and pulls over.

Then stops.

Now its MATHILDE’s turn to look questioning.

JACK:

Just a precaution.

He gets out of the car and pretends to urinate.

The CAR behind passes at speed.

A gray Fiat Punto. The driver neither slows down nor looks in

their direction.

JACK gets back in the car.

And turns off up a dirt track that disappears into the

meadows.

71 EXT. WOODS- DAY 71

JACK parks his FIAT in the shade of a TREE, near the river.

This is the exact spot where he came to test the weapon.

MATHILDE gets out of the car and stretches.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 42. page 42.

MATHILDE:

Does this place get many visitors?

JACK:

This is the only way to get here.

MATHILDE:

Did you check it for footprints and

tire tracks?

JACK:

Three days ago. I walked along the

river in both directions.

MATHILDE:

Let’s check again.

72 OMITTED 72

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 43. page 43.

73 EXT. RIVER - DAY 73

MATHILDE:

You have tested the gun here

before?

JACK:

Yes.

MATHILDE surveys the shimmering water.

Takes a deep breath of mountain air.

MATHILDE:

It’s beautiful here.

She sits on a tree trunk not far from the water’s edge. Her

dress dips between her legs as she leans forward and rests

her forearms on her knees, tired from the journey and the

long, sultry walk.

MATHILDE:

I wish everywhere could be this

tranquil.

JACK looks at her, sensing a kindred spirit.

JACK:

You’d be out of a job.

MATHILDE:

You don’t like the peace?

JACK:

It’s hard to like something you

know nothing about.

74 EXT. RIVER- LATER 74

The WICKER PICNIC HAMPER is sitting on a rug by between the

parked car and the lake. From the hamper, JACK removes:

-a polystyrene cool box packed with ice and containing a

chilled bottle of Aspirinio

-a loaf of coarse bread

-two clods of mozzarella

-150 gms of prosciutto

-100 gms of salame

-a large jar of pitted green olives

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 44. page 44.

-a Thermos of sweet black coffee

-and, wrapped in cloth squares, the disassembled parts of the

improved M14 semiautomatic rifle.

As MATHILDE starts to assemble the weapon with easy skill,

JACK checks the stopwatch on his Omega.

It takes her approximately twenty-six seconds to assemble the

bastardised gun- including TELESCOPIC SIGHTS and SOUND

SUPPRESSOR- and a further three seconds to slot the empty

magazine into the base of the hand grip, snuggle the butt to

her shoulder and place her eye beside the rubber cup on the

sight.

She’s almost ten seconds faster than JACK.

He stares at her: not an alluring young woman with good legs

and nice tits but an extension of the weapon itself and

everything it means.

MATHILDE:

Rounds?

JACK:

I’ve made up two sorts.

He reaches into the PICNIC HAMPER.

JACK:

Ten expanding and ten jacketed.

MATHILDE:

I should like twenty of each.

It’s an order:
her voice is emotionless.

MATHILDE:

And ten explosive.

JACK:

Not a problem.

He hands her the practise ammunition in two small cartridge

boxes:
the shells snug in little plastic trays.

JACK:

Will mercury do?

She smiles almost imperceptibly.

MATHILDE:

Mercury will do very nicely.

She puts the gun down butt-first on the blanket.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 45. page 45.

MATHILDE:

I’ve brought my own target.

She reaches into her BLUE CANVAS SPORTS BAG and removes a

life size SUNFLOWER made of metal and plastic. She slots the

three sections together and fixes them into a plastic base.

The plant is approximately six foot tall and the sunflower

itself is roughly the size of a human head.

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