The Game Page #17

Nicholas listens, scarcely breathing. Christine seems

regretful. Nicholas lowers the phone, shuts it off.

CHRISTINE:

They got everything.

Lights flash across Nicholas' sweaty features.

CUT TO:

EXT. GAS STATION/CONVENIENCE HUT -� NIGHT

Nicholas pumps gas, pale, on his cellular. Christine stands

across the lot, out of earshot, watching the dark freeway.

NICHOLAS:

(into cellular)

Call soon as you get this message,

Sam. I checked them all, I don't

know how, but they drained my

accounts. Now they're trying to kill

me. You tell the cops, I've got one

with me. We'll make her testify. I

know how it must sound. Call on my

mobile. Be careful

INT. CONVENIENCE HUT -- TIME CUT

A FEMALE CLERK taps a gold credit card, listens on a PHONE.

She hangs up, goes to the BULLETPROOF WINDOW. Nicholas and

Christine wait on the other side with armloads of food.

CLERK:

(into intercom)

They say I have to take the card.

Nicholas seems numb. Christine checks her pockets.

CHRISTINE:

(via intercom)

I think I've got some cash.

CUT TO:

EXT. DIRT ROADWAY -- NIGHT

The Bentley overtakes a logging TRUCK on this dirt road.

IN THE BENTLEY:

QUIET NEWS RADIO. Nicholas drains coffee from a styrofoam

cup, rolls his window and tosses the cup out, trying to stay

awake. He looks beside him.

Christine's asleep against her door, placid and

innocent-looking. Nicholas stares at her.

CUT TO:

EXT. LAKE, VAN ORTON CABIN -- NIGHT

Beautiful lake. Dense forest. The Bentley's parked near a

relatively humble CABIN. LIGHTNING FLASHES across the sky.

INT. CABIN -- NIGHT

FIRE in the fireplace. Christine tends a metal pot over the

flames. Nicholas sleeps slumped in a low chair. Christine

passes with the pot. Nicholas awakens, disoriented,

searching for familiarity. He sits forward...

Christine's in the candle-lit kitchenette. He watches her,

grim. She makes coffee. He sits back.

CHRISTINE:

What?

Christine comes over and gives him a mug of coffee.

CHRISTINE:

What did you say?

NICHOLAS:

I didn't say anything.

He gets up, walks, sipping coffee. Christine watches him.

Nicholas stares at FAMILY PHOTOS on the mantle.

CHRISTINE:

(sad, unsure)

My name's not Christine. It's not my

real...

NICHOLAS:

Who the f*** cares?

He doesn't even look at her, picks up a PHOTO: FATHER and

YOUNG NICHOLAS, holding up fish. Nicholas rubs the dust off

his father's face.

CHRISTINE:

It's just money. You should be glad

you're alive.

NICHOLAS:

It might be best if we didn't talk.

CHRISTINE:

All I mean is... someone like you...

NICHOLAS:

How many times have you done this?

I'm interested.

CHRISTINE:

What?

NICHOLAS:

Scams, con games. How many?

CHRISTINE:

I don't know. A lot.

NICHOLAS:

Whatever kind of nickel-and-dime sh*t

you did before, this is more than

just me. Your friends raided pension

plans, and payrolls... they took just

over six-hundred million. You ruined

people's lives.

Christine looks sick and truly scared. The CELLULAR CHIRPS.

Nicholas goes to pick it up off a table.

NICHOLAS:

(into cellular)

Yes.

SUTHERLAND (v.o.)

(from cellular)

I got your message. I was disturbed,

to say the least...

Christine stands.

CHRISTINE:

Who is it?

NICHOLAS:

(into cellular)

What do we do?

SUTHERLAND (v.o.)

(from cellular)

I've been on the phone for an hour

already. Nicholas, your funds are

intact. Nothing's been touched.

CHRISTINE:

(worried, insistent)

Who is it?

NICHOLAS:

(still into cellular)

What do you mean? I checked them

myself. I made the calls...

SUTHERLAND (v.o.)

Nothing's changed. I'm telling you,

not a cent is unaccounted for...

NICHOLAS:

(cups phone, to Christine)

My lawyer... says nothing's missing.

She shakes her head ominously.

CHRISTINE:

(fear, whisper)

He's in on it...

Nicholas stares at Christine, trying to comprehend...

SUTHERLAND (v.o.)

I don't know what's happening, but

stay where you are till I get to you.

Give me your precise location...

CHRISTINE:

Sutherland's in on it.

SUTHERLAND (v.o.)

I'll come there. Hold on, Nicholas,

I have another call. Tell me where

you are.

Nicholas lowers the phone, pushes DISCONNECT, afraid.

NICHOLAS:

We have to get out of here.

The PHONE CHIRPS again. Nicholas looks at it, flicks a

switch on the side, silencing it. He sits, sickened.

NICHOLAS:

How did they get to him? Why didn't

you tell me?

She lights a cigarette, backing toward the kitchenette.

CHRISTINE:

Mm... I wouldn't worry about it.

NICHOLAS:

What... what do you mean?

CHRISTINE:

It's out of your hands.

He looks up, trying to figure. His head lulls...

He takes a breath, looks at his trembling hands. Drugged.

He looks around, confused... spots the COFFEE CUP, realizes.

With a CRY of RAGE, he LUNGES toward Christine, but comes up

short, toppling a shelf, contents CRASHING DOWN...

Nicholas rolls, pained, clutching his throat, taking air in

RASPING GULPS. He crawls, swings his fist, slams a table...

CHRISTINE:

Cellular calls can be intercepted,

you know.

Christine backs to avoid, hefts a heavy cooking POT in case.

She maneuvers, steps over him. He grabs, blindly...

She scoops up the dropped PHONE and crosses away.

CHRISTINE:

(cigarette 'tween lips)

All those calls you made, to B of A,

France, Switzerland... you were

talking to my people.

(hits REDIAL on cellular)

You filled the blanks. Access codes,

passwords, stuff even your lawyer

didn't have -- but we have it now.

Nicholas tries to stand, falls, clutching his gut, CRYING

OUT in great pain, frothing at the mouth.

CHRISTINE:

It's over, Nicholas. Goodbye.

THE ROOM SPINS round and round, spinning OUT OF CONTROL.

FADE TO BLACK:

BREATHING... then a STRUGGLE... POUNDING, KICKING...

INT. CRYPT -- MORNING

A PARTICLE-BOARD LID SPLINTERS as Nicholas pounds his way

out of a COFFIN, looking wildly around, eyes blood-shot...

A moldering MAUSOLEUM. Light seeps thru cracked walls.

Piles of rotten flowers. Coffins. Hundreds of flies.

Nicholas gags on the air, climbing free and falling to the

floor, legs weak. He's in a WHITE SUIT, dazed and afraid.

There's a RED ROSE taped to his chest.

EXT. MEXICO CEMETERY -- MORNING

Pushing the plywood door of the MAUSOLEUM outward, Nicholas

tumbles into dawn light. He's in a ramshackle GRAVEYARD.

Tombs for miles. Misty, tropical vegetation. Third World.

Nicholas walks, trying to figure this. He notices the red

rose, pulls it off and throws it. An OLD WOMAN sits at a

grave with her rosary. She watches Nicholas, emotionless.

NICHOLAS:

Where am I? What is this place?

The OLD WOMAN speaks SPANISH. Nicholas stares blankly. She

seems to be asking questions. Nicholas finally realizes

it's a foreign language, turns, walks away.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICO STREET -- MORNING

A busy downtown street. A sea of MEXICAN PEOPLE, many poor.

Nicholas walks, caught in the flow of the crowd, JOSTLED,

aimless. The world's a NOISY BLUR around him.

Nicholas pushes to the TRAFFIC JAMMED street, spotting a

POLICEMAN directing traffic, heads for him...

NICHOLAS:

Officer... officer...

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