The Bourne Supremacy Page #7

PAMELA:

What the hell is a "Treadstone?"

CRONIN shaking his head. Nobody knows.

CUT TO:

EXT. INDIA COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY

BOURNE bouncing around on an old Punjab BUS. Alone in a crush

of humanity. Going only God knows where...

CUT TO:

DELETED:

EXT. CIA HEADQUARTERS -- LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

PAMELA'S POV as she drives toward the entrance.

C.I.A. HEADQUARTERS VIRGINIA

INT. C.I.A. HEADQUARTERS -- DAY

A long, bright, sterile hallway. PAMELA and CRONIN walking

briskly alongside A UNIFORMED S.P.S. OFFICER.

INT. C.I.A. ELEVATOR -- DAY

PAMELA and CRONIN watching THE S.P.S. OFFICER unlock the

operation panel. Coding in. They begin to descend and --

INT. DIFFERENT C.I.A. CORRIDOR -- DAY

Drab and desolate. PAMELA and CRONIN come around a corner,

walking with A NEW ESCORT OFFICER. Passing a sign that reads:

Operations Library Center.

DELETED:

INT. SECURED READING ROOM #63171 -- DAY

Sealed, triple-locked NUMBERED DOOR. It swings open. Lights

flicker on. Tons of sh*t packed away in here. Shelves bulging.

Boxes. Tapes. Binders. Hard drives.

PAMELA steps in. A HUGE FILING CABINET labeled --

TREADSTONE:

PAMELA/PHONE (V.O.)

Ward?

ABBOTT (O.S.)

Yes?

PAMELA/PHONE

Pamela Landy.

DELETED:

INT. ABBOTT'S OFFICE/C.I.A. HEADQUARTERS -- DAY

WARD ABBOTT at his desk. The cluttered clubhouse HQ of a man

who's spent the last thirty-five years in the spy game. A

PICTURE WINDOW offers a commander's view of the BULLPEN.

ABBOTT/PHONE

What can I do for you, Pam?

PAMELA/PHONE

I was hoping you had some time for

me.

ABBOTT/PHONE

Time for what?

PAMELA/PHONE

I'm free right now actually.

ABBOTT/PHONE

That sounds ominous. Let me check my

schedule.

ABBOTT holds the phone. Eyes drifting out the window and --

ABBOTT'S POV

THE BULLPEN. CRONIN is standing with DANIEL ZORN, one of

Abbott's trusted #2s. Clearly ZORN is getting the less polite

version of Pamela's invitation. ZORN managing to shoot a

quick, questioning glance to Abbott as --

INT. C.I.A. INTERVIEW ROOM -- DAY

A cold room. Desk. Two chairs. ABBOTT and PAMELA alone.

PAMELA:

Treadstone.

ABBOTT:

Never heard of it.

PAMELA:

That's not gonna fly.

ABBOTT:

With all due respect, Pam, I think

you might've wandered a little past

your pay-grade.

She has a piece of paper. She slides it forward.

PAMELA:

That's a warrant from Director

Marshall granting me unrestricted

access to all personnel and materials

associated with Treadstone.

ABBOTT rocked and trying to hide it.

ABBOTT:

And what are we looking for?

PAMELA:

I want to know about Treadstone.

ABBOTT:

To know about it?

(almost amused)

It was a kill squad. Black on black.

Closed down two years ago. Nobody

wants to know about Treadstone. Not

around here.

(the warrant)

You better take this back to Marty

and make sure he knows what you're

doing.

PAMELA:

(trump card)

He does. I've been down to the

archives. I have the files, Ward.

DELETED:

EXT. BAY OF NAPLES -- LATE AFTERNOON

A hard working port. A big MEDITERRANEAN FERRY coming in.

NAPLES:

FERRY -- BOURNE at the rail. Unchanged from India. Staring

ahead as Europe looms.

EXT. FERRY DOCK -- LATE AFTERNOON

BOURNE disembarking to an immigration queue. Looking

unremarkable. Just one of many passing through.

INT. C.I.A. INTERVIEW ROOM -- DAY

As they were. ABBOTT watching PAMELA pull a photo from her

file. Sliding it over. CONKLIN'S FACE peering back.

PAMELA:

Let's talk about Conklin.

ABBOTT:

What are you after, Pam? You want to

fry me? You want my desk? Is that

it?

PAMELA:

I want to know what happened.

ABBOTT:

What happened? Jason Bourne happened.

(fury focusing)

You've got the files? Then let's cut

the crap. It went wrong. Conklin had

these guys wound so tight they were

bound to snap. Bourne was his number

one -- guy went out to work, screwed

the op and never came back. Conklin

couldn't fix it, couldn't find Bourne,

couldn't adjust. It all went sideways.

Finally there were no options left.

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