The Bourne Identity Page #11

BOURNE:

I fought my way out of an embassy.

I climbed down a fifty-foot wall --

I went out the window and I was

doing it -- I just did it. I knew

how to do it.

MARIE:

People do amazing things when

they're scared.

BOURNE:

Why do I? -- I come in here --

instinctively -- first thing I

do -- I'm looking for the exit --

I'm catching the sightlines -- I

know I can't sit with my back to

the door --

MARIE:

You're paranoid. You were shot.

It's natural.

She's not listening. He leans in. Flat out now.

BOURNE:

I can tell you the license plate

numbers of all three cars out front.

I can tell you that the waitress is

left-handed and the guy at the

counter weighs two-hundred and

fifteen pounds and knows how to

handle himself. I know that the

best, first place to look for a gun

is the cab of that grey truck

outside. I know that at this

altitude I can run flat out for

half a mile before I lose my edge.

I knew that you were my first, best

option out of Zurich? How do I

know all that? How can I know all

that and not know who I am? How is

that possible?

Long dead pause.

MARIE:

God, you're not kidding, are you?

INT. TREADSTONE RESEARCH DESK -- DAY

BOURNE'S FACE -- a video image frozen on A COMPUTER

SCREEN -- it's Bourne looking at the camera -- Bourne

looking up at the camera in the consulate passport office

and --

PULL BACK TO REVEAL

HALF A DOZEN COMPUTER MONITORS -- and lots of shots of

Bourne -- twenty angles -- twenty different locations --

twenty candid perspectives of Bourne and his mad scramble

through the consulate --

CONKLIN and RESEARCH TECH #1 poring over these surveillance

tapes downloaded from Zurich --

CONKLIN:

And that's the best angle of the

courtyard?

RESEARCH TECH #1

That's the only angle.

CONKLIN:

What do they have on the streets?

The area. They must have something.

RESEARCH TECH #1

Hang on...

(typing away--)

CONKLIN rubbing at the tension in his temples as ZORN enters --

CONKLIN:

What?

ZORN:

Abbott. He knows about the embassy.

He's coming down for a show and tell.

CONKLIN:

That'll solve all our problems.

RESEARCH TECH #1

(he's hit paydirt)

Sir...

CONKLIN:

(turning back--)

What's that?

RESEARCH TECH #1

It's an angle of the street -- some

sort of alleyway -- you can just...

CONKLIN:

Enhance it.

INSERT -- THE MONITOR -- as the image enlarges to fill the

screen. And there's Bourne. And the little red car. And

Marie.

CONKLIN (OS)

Who the hell is that?

EXT. ZURICH AIRPORT HOTEL -- NIGHT

A drone barn. Practically on the runway.

INT. ZURICH AIRPORT HOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT

One of those rooms. Just a plain functional box. MANHEIM

laying on the bed. Fully dressed. Suit and tie. Just

laying there, staring at the ceiling. Who knows how long

he's been like this.

Just waiting.

ON THE NIGHTSTAND -- A gun. A knife. His e-phone pager.

His fresh credentials. And a photo of Jason Bourne.

INT. WOMBOSI'S PARIS COMPOUND -- NIGHT

Quick orientation: Picture a heavily-walled palace just

off the Bois Du Boulogne. But once inside you could be back

in Brazzaville. It's just a buffet of oddness. Home to

fifty children and nine wives. The decor blends money and

nouveau riche materialism with a hard, back-home tribal

esthetic. It's a visual treat. Not condescending or stupid,

but flat-out strange and menacing.

It's late. And the palace is dark and sleepy now, but carry

all that through this next series of quick shots --

WOMBOSI HOUSE SECURITY STATION

Just inside the door. BODYGUARD #1 slouched before a bank

of SECURITY MONITORS.

WOMBOSI MAIN HALLWAY

Littered with toys. Children's crap everywhere. BODYGUARD

#3. Snoozing on a Louis Quatorze chair draped with African

cloth.

WOMBOSI THRONE ROOM DOORS

DEAUVAGE -- head bodyguard -- posted outside this imposing

set of doors. He's trying to stay awake. Reading a spy

thriller.

FINALLY TO:

WOMBOSI'S THRONE ROOM

And there he is -- the emperor himself -- WOMBOSI on his

throne. Except the room is dark and empty. And he's

sitting there by himself. A king without a country.

Sitting there. With a gun in his lap. Drinking hard from a

bottle of Jack Daniels.

Stewing.

EXT. FRENCH ROADSIDE -- DAWN

Beautiful morning. The red car parked along the road.

BOURNE alone in the passenger seat. Deep asleep. Nestled

there.

And then, he wakes suddenly. Starts. Freaked for a moment.

Instantly feeling for the red bag. There it is in his lap.

He looks around and --

MARIE sitting away from the car. She's got a loaf of bread.

A soda. Smoking a butt. Same clothes, but her make-up's

been washed away. Clean. Simple. Gorgeous.

BOURNE steps out. Morning legs.

MARIE:

I needed a break.

BOURNE:

Where are we?

MARIE:

We're about an hour away.

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