The Interpreter Page #3

Miss Broome?

I found out something from our domestic Intel.

All this may have begun with a tragic accident.

- What do you mean?

- Her parents farmed in the mountains.

This area became infested

with rebels in the '80s

and Dr Zuwanie was forced to mine the roads.

Her parents were bringing her younger sister

back from school and hit a mine.

- And they were killed?

- All of them.

- How old was she?

- 12, 13.

Something like that, even years later,

could incite all kinds of ideas.

She has every reason

to want Dr Zuwanie tried at the ICC.

I'll be right back.

- Oh, no. Come on.

- OK, the control questions show stress,

and the key questions show stress

as well as the baseline questions.

We should just read her palm.

- How did I do?

- Je ne sais pas.

Nils Lud. Dr Zuwanie's head of security.

I thought since you were in a

question-answering mood, I might ask a few.

Might I ask where you stand now

politically, Miss Broome?

I'm for peace and quiet, Mr. Lud.

It's why I came to the UN. Quiet diplomacy.

With respect, you only interpret.

Countries have gone to war

after misinterpreting one another.

I would say she's clearly under stress,

but not necessarily lying.

Congratulations.

- I'm told what you heard was a whisper.

- Yes.

Is it possible you could identify it

if you ever heard it again?

It might be.

Tell me, do you have a brother?

I hope it's all right. I took this opportunity

to ask Miss Broome a few questions.

You're free to go.

Agent Scott will drive you back to the UN.

Would you drive Ms Broome

back to the UN, please? Thank you.

- Does this mean the test was...?

- The test was inconclusive.

But I'd rather make the mistake

of believing her than the bigger one of not.

Next time you want to question an

American citizen here, you ask permission.

- Silvia.

- Don't worry, I'm not leaving any...

Did you do something naughty?

A couple of FBIs were asking me about you.

If you often work later than everybody,

or bring things in after hours. Like that.

- What'd you tell them?

- I said, from a sound engineer's point of view,

you're perfect.

I need somebody on the guy with two names.

- Mo.

- It's one name twice. Kuman-Kuman.

You volunteering, or just correcting me?

- I'm from Brooklyn.

- You got him. You and...?

- I was on him when he first came here.

- OK, you got him again.

I thought she had perfect pitch.

She says whispers

don't have a recognizable pitch.

NSA agrees. They say it's very difficult.

- They don't know that.

- They say they do.

No, not NSA. Whoever she heard.

Why not let them keep thinking she can ID it?

- What are you asking me to do, Jay?

- I don't want her to be harmed.

In fact, get a place, keep an eye on her.

We got three days. She's your only link.

Are we using her as bait?

Just make the calls.

I'm sending you an attachment.

Can you print front and back?

I've asked INS for a list of arrivals

in the last six months.

Zimbabwe, Botswana, Matobo.

I'll do voice samples on everyone.

So when she hears the voice again,

she can identify it.

- She said it was a whisper.

- Well, now she thinks she can do it.

- Photo there yet?

- It's printing. Let me put you on speaker.

That's an anti-Zuwanie rally.

The man speaking is Ajene Xola.

Look at the crowd.

Look closely.

Any leads?

Maybe one.

Come on down to Mexico.

Is that you?

Tell me what someone like you

who uses the word "diplomacy"

like she's chastising me

is doing at a rebel rally?

- A peace rally.

- I don't want to do this again.

That's exactly what it is.

What I'm doing is listening.

After that. After you listen.

- You're asking the wrong question.

- It's one you don't want to answer.

Why would somebody type the names

of everyone in this on the back?

This is a death list.

The question you should be asking is,

"Who gave me this and why?"

- What are you not saying?

- What are you accusing me of?

How do you feel about Zuwanie,

never mind "I don't care for him"?

I feel disappointment.

That's a lover's word.

What about rage?

Of all the people I've looked into

since this thing started,

the one with the darkest

Zuwanie history is you.

- It was his land-mines that killed your...

- Sh!

We don't name the dead.

Everyone who loses somebody

wants revenge,

on God if they can't find anyone else.

But in Africa,

in Matobo, the Ku believe that

the only way to end grief is to save a life.

If someone is murdered,

a year of mourning ends with a ritual

that we call the Drowning Man Trial.

There's an all-night party beside a river.

At dawn, the killer is put in a boat.

He's taken out on the water and he's

dropped. He's bound so that he can't swim.

The family of the dead then has to choose.

They can let him drown,

or they can save him.

The Ku believe that if the family

lets the killer drown,

they'll have justice

but spend the rest of their lives in mourning.

But if they save him,

if they admit that life isn't always just...

...that very act can take away their sorrow.

Vengeance is a lazy form of grief.

Why do you look away?

There are things I don't like to talk about

and you call it lying.

But not when you do it.

I'm not the one under investigation.

That was a long time ago.

- FBI.

- Intel.

- TTF.

- Sniper team.

Secret Service.

This is Nils Lud,

head of Dr Zuwanie's security.

Shall we take a walk?

[She plays haunting melodic tune]

- How close can a vehicle get over here?

- Not close enough.

- No garage under the GA.

- Dogs sweep every night. It's not a bomb.

- It has to be a rifle.

- From where?

How does he get a rifle in?

- Could be from up close.

- Who gets that close?

One of Zuwanie's bodyguards?

That's a good thought, but we'd much prefer

to kill him at home without you watching.

It's already here.

If these guys know their stuff,

the weapon is here.

[Phone rings]

Hello?

- [line crackles - no voice]

- Hello, Philippe? Hello?

[She screams]

No prints on the door

and negative for latex dust.

- Nothing on the door?

- No.

- No forced entry.

- Did Doug not see him?

No, he missed it.

Some lady called 911, saw the guy.

Go easy on him, OK? He feels terrible.

On the roof. He must have gone over the roof

to get to the next building.

- I couldn't see the fire escape.

- Give me that.

You mean you screwed up.

- I mean I screwed up.

- So did I.

I need Polaroids of that, inside and out.

- You OK?

- Great.

- Who else has a key to this apartment?

- No one.

- You don't keep a spare outside somewhere?

- No.

- No one else has a key...

- Nobody.

- The door wasn't forced.

- They can't pick locks?

They can, we can tell. They didn't.

- Where do you keep your key?

- My purse.

- It hasn't been out of your sight all day?

- No.

Yes.

In my locker.

Dot. Wake up Rory, have him dust her locker

and those beside it before morning.

So you were just having a quiet evening,

some gentleman in a mask waves to you.

That's about it, yeah.

[Something falls]

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes