The Game Page #15

INT. C.R.S. BUILDING, OFFICES -- DAY

Nicholas enters, followed by the others. He stops short...

REVEAL:
this huge room, once filled with cubicles far as the

eye could see, is now entirely EMPTY. Trash. Dust.

Fixtures jutting from the floor.

CUT TO:

INT. NICHOLAS' OFFICE -- DAY

Nicholas stands with hands in pockets, staring at the floor.

Sutherland's here. Female and Male Detective stand

together. She's checking notes.

FEMALE DETECTIVE

Management for the building says that

space hasn't been officially rented

yet. The county recorder has no

listing for "Consumer Recreation

Services" or any derivation thereof.

No sign of the boat or the girl.

We're checking escort services, but

it's unlikely. Divers are looking

for the taxi, and soon as they find

it they'll pull the plates and V.I.N.

MALE DETECTIVE:

Have you gotten in touch with your

brother?

NICHOLAS:

He hasn't called back.

SUTHERLAND:

What about the house?

MALE DETECTIVE:

The graffiti was painted in an

oil-based marine marking solution.

Illegal in the states. Not impossible

to trace, but it'll take time.

FEMALE DETECTIVE

The photos, gun, the clown, the

ambulance, cable box, everything

else... it's all pending.

(shuts notebook)

Breaking and entering we have, solid.

Malicious mischief, vandalism,

harassment. But, that's about all.

SUTHERLAND:

Illegal surveillance, reckless

endangerment...

NICHOLAS:

Attempted murder.

MALE DETECTIVE:

Except... you said you hired these

people.

SUTHERLAND:

That's irrelevant.

MALE DETECTIVE:

It's our job to let you know what we

have. We haven't got motive.

FEMALE DETECTIVE

(to Nicholas)

You are who you are, so we know

you're not making it up. But, we've

never dealt with anything quite like

this. Be appropriately cautious.

(pause)

Unless you think they're done with

you.

CUT TO:

INT. VAN ORTON MANSION, KITCHEN -� NIGHT

Ilsa sets down a plate: sandwich with crust cut off, potato

chips and carrot sticks. Nicholas eats, pondering.

NICHOLAS:

What was my father like?

Ilsa's at the fridge, near where drop-cloths, paint cans and

other repair preparations are piled.

ILSA:

What makes you ask?

NICHOLAS:

I'm not sure.

Ilsa comes to set down a glass, fills it with milk.

ILSA:

All the time I've known you, you've

never once asked about him.

NICHOLAS:

He came to my mind recently, that's all.

Ilsa moves to put food back into the refrigerator.

ILSA:

Your mother thought he was a good

man. He worked very hard. What I

remember most was his manner was

so... slight. It was easy to spend

time in a room, and not realize he'd

been there the whole time.

NICHOLAS:

Was he morose, or...? I mean...

ILSA:

No. What happened... no one expected

it.

NICHOLAS:

Sometimes I wonder how much of him

there is in me.

ILSA:

Not much, I think.

NICHOLAS:

I'm just like him.

ILSA:

You're not like him at all. I don't

know exactly what's going on around

here lately, but don't make me start

worrying about you.

NICHOLAS:

Did you worry about him?

ILSA:

Nobody worried about your father.

Nicholas stares at his milk. PHONE RINGS. He answers...

NICHOLAS:

(into phone)

Hello.

MARIA (v.o.)

(from phone)

It's Maria. I found the address you

wanted from Elite Taxi.

NICHOLAS:

(picks up pen and paper)

Go ahead...

CUT TO:

EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD -- NIGHT

Rows of lower-middle-class homes. Nicholas parks. A WHITE

VAN sits near, a wrench-wielding WORKMAN painted on the

side. "Cable Repair Specialists."

Nicholas crosses the lawn of a WHITE HOUSE, to the porch.

He rings the doorbell and waits. Finally, an older man in a

bathrobe answers, CHRISTINE'S DAD, puffy-eyed.

CHRISTINE'S DAD

Yeah?

NICHOLAS:

Hello. Is Christine in?

CHRISTINE'S DAD

She's sleeping.

CHRISTINE (o.s.)

Who is it, dad?

INT. CHRISTINE'S LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

Christine looks down from the top of the stairs. Below,

Nicholas looks up past Christine's dad.

CHRISTINE:

What are you doing here?

NICHOLAS:

Can we talk?

CHRISTINE:

It's okay, dad.

Christine's dad opens the door and heads away. Christine

comes down, in a pajama top and shorts, pleased.

CHRISTINE:

Didn't think I'd ever see you again.

NICHOLAS:

Come here...

He watches to make sure dad's gone, leads Christine to the

middle of the room, takes out a PHOTOCOPY, unfolds it.

NICHOLAS:

What can you tell me about this?

The SEX PHOTO of the woman in the RED BRA.

CHRISTINE:

What is it?

NICHOLAS:

Is this you?

CHRISTINE:

Where'd you get this?

NICHOLAS:

It was left in my hotel room, well,

not really mine. You're saying it's

not you?

CHRISTINE:

I think I would remember.

(hands it back)

What makes you think it's me?

NICHOLAS:

Well... the red bra.

CHRISTINE:

(like he's crazy)

Okay.

NICHOLAS:

I thought...

He's at a loss, drained.

NICHOLAS:

Do you mind if I sit?

CHRISTINE:

Sure. You alright? Is this still

that contest you're in...

NICHOLAS:

(sits)

I'm tired. I'm sorry, I should go.

I've been enough of a nuisance.

CHRISTINE:

Let me go get some clothes on.

We'll talk, okay? Be right back.

Christine hurries upstairs. Nicholas stands, calls after.

NICHOLAS:

Do you have any aspirin?

Nicholas takes in the room, unhappy. He squints at a VIRGIN

MARY figurine, picks it up... unscrews the head. It's a

decanter. He sniffs it and puts it back. He sniffs the

air, noticing...

A WISP OF SMOKE rises from a bright LAMP.

INSIDE THE LAMPSHADE: Nicholas peers inside. A PRICE TAG

dangles against the bulb, turning brown, smoking.

Nicholas reaches to remove the tag -- burns his finger on

the bulb, jerking his hands away. He blows on his finger,

sighs, walks to poke his head thru a swinging door...

INT. CHRISTINE'S KITCHEN -- NIGHT

Modest, cluttered. Nicholas goes to the sink, holds his

finger under the faucet. NO WATER. He jerks the faucet

handle, but gets nothing. He looks around...

Opens a drawer -- EMPTY. He opens another drawer -- EMPTY.

He opens more EMPTY DRAWERS, a disturbing thought forming.

Opens a cabinet -- EMPTY.

INT. CHRISTINE'S LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

Nicholas returns, scanning the room. He picks up a FRAMED

PHOTO of a LITTLE GIRL in a dress, takes the frame apart...

The picture is an ADVERTISEMENT from a glassy magazine, with

TEXT folded behind and print on the back.

Nicholas takes a breath, quickly replaces the clipping just

as Christine returns from upstairs. She's in a pull-over

dress, putting her hair up.

CHRISTINE:

Want anything to drink?

NICHOLAS:

(holds up frame)

You?

CHRISTINE:

Yeah. First Communion. Aren't I a

little angel?

Nicholas offers the frame to Christine, fury showing...

NICHOLAS:

Take the picture out.

CHRISTINE:

What's wrong?

NICHOLAS:

Take the picture out of the frame and

show it to me.

CHRISTINE:

I don't...

Christine tries to assess the situation... realizes he's

onto her. She swallows, making a quick decision, drops her

facade, her voice a desperate WHISPER.

CHRISTINE:

They're watching.

NICHOLAS:

Wha... ?

CHRISTINE:

(under her breath)

Not here! They can see.

Christine motions with her eyes. Nicholas looks...

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