The Ninth Gate Page #5

CORSO (yells half-heartedly): Hey, you!

He gives up and climbs back inside.

22. CORSO'S APARTMENT INT/NIGHT

CORSO scans the living room. The only immediate sign of the

intruder's presence is that the chair has been pulled away from

the desk and one of the drawers is open.

CORSO pushes the chair back into place and shuts the drawer.

23. BERNIE'S BOOKSTORE INT/DAY

ON 'The Nine Gates' lying open on BERNIE's desk. He's reverently

turning the pages with CORSO at his elbow.

BERNIE:
Son of a b*tch... Where did you get this?

CORSO:
Balkan. He wants me to research it.

BERNIE:
Balkan owns a 'Nine Gates'?

CORSO:
Recently acquired from the late lamented Andrew Telfer.

BERNIE:
Trust Balkan. What does he need you for? I don't suppose

he plans to sell it.

CORSO:
He wants me to compare it with the other two surviving

copies in Portugal and France. I'm off to Europe.

BERNIE:
Compare it?

CORSO:
Yeah. Only one of the three is authentic, he says.

BERNIE:
Well, this one looks genuine enough. Must be worth a

million. Jesus! Take good care of it.

CORSO:
That's why I'm here. I need you to stash it for me. I'm

starting to see things.

BERNIE stares at him.

BERNIE:
Like what?

CORSO:
Uninvited visitors, unfamiliar faces. I don't trust

anyone, not even Balkan. (reflects for a moment) Come to think of

it, I don't even trust you.

BERNIE registers a mixture of affection and cynicism.

BERNIE:
That's mean, buddy. You know I'd never screw you without

a damn good reason: money, women, business. Anything else, you

can relax.

CORSO taps the book with his forefinger.

CORSO:
You'll answer for this with your balls, Bernie.

BERNIE (still engrossed): Sure, man, sure. You can castrate me

personally.

CORSO:
I'll pick it up on my way to the airport.

BERNIE:
No problem.

He continues to pore over the book, turns another page, reads

aloud:

BERNIE (cont.):
'Virtue lies vanquished', huh? These engravings

are terrific.

CORSO (leans over his shoulder): Or horrific, whichever.

BERNIE nods absently. He smiles to himself with an air of

enchantment.

BERNIE (cont.):
Beautiful, just beautiful...

Visible through the bookstore's semi-basement windows, the legs

of PASSERSBY accelerate as they scurry past: it has started to

rain. A pair of MAN'S LEGS in dark slacks come to a halt. The

butt of a small cigar falls to the sidewalk, the LEGS walk on.

Two WHITE SNEAKERS come into view. They step on the butt and

extinguish it.

24. CORSO'S APARTMENT INT/NIGHT

CORSO is in the bedroom, packing some articles of clothing and

toiletries in a small Samsonlte suitcase lying open on the bed.

The doorbell rings. Fractionally startled, CORSO straightens up,

dumps a handful of socks on the bed and goes out into the lobby.

He peers through the spyhole: LIANA TELFER is standing outside.

CORSO pauses for a moment, thinking hard, then opens the door.

LIANA:
May I come in?

CORSO, rather bemused, steps aside and ushers her in.

CORSO:
This way.

He shows her Into the living room. LIANA starts to unbutton her

coat.

CORSO (cont.):
Allow me.

He helps her off with her coat and drapes it neatly over a chair.

She's dressed to kill In a black, lowcut cocktail gown.

LIANA:
Thank you.

CORSO:
Sit down, won't you?

LIANA sinks gracefully onto the sofa, taking in the decor of his

bachelor apartment as she does so.

LIANA:
I've come to talk business.

CORSO:
Great. Everyone's talking business to me lately.

LIANA takes a slim gold cigarette case from her purse, extracts a

black Russian, and lights it with a gold Dupont. Meantime:

LIANA:
Yesterday, when you came to see me about that book, I was

too surprised to react as I should have done. I mean, it really

was one of Andrew's favorites.

CORSO:
So you said.

LIANA:
I'd like to get it back.

CORSO:
That could be a problem.

LIANA:
Not necessarily. it all depends.

CORSO:
On what?

LIANA:
On you.

CORSO stares at her, absorbing the lines of her figure, the slim

legs sheathed in sheer, black silk stockings.

CORSO:
I don't understand, Mrs. Telfer. The book isn't mine to

dispose of.

She sits back, showing off her superb legs to even better

advantage.

LIANA:
You work for money, I take it?

CORSO:
What else?

LIANA:
I have a great deal of money.

CORSO:
I'm happy for you.

LIANA:
You could stage a theft. I'm sure your client is well

insured.

CORSO:
I'm a professional, ma'am.

LIANA:
You're a professional mercenary. Mercenaries work for the

highest bidder.

CORSO:
I make a living.

LIANA (huskily):
I could throw in a bonus.

CORSO:
This has happened before someplace.

LIANA:
I know. In the movies.

CORSO:
And she had an automatic in her stocking top.

CORSO watches, mesmerized, as she slowly, very slowly, slides her

skirt up her thighs to reveal the creamy flesh between her

stocking tops and black lace garter belt.

LIANA:
No automatic.

Just as slowly, she smooths her skirt down over her thighs.

CORSO swallows hard. He rises and goes to his drinks corner, a

shelf with an array of bottles and glasses on it. Over his

shoulder:

CORSO:
Want one?

LIANA:
Why not?

CORSO splashes some Scotch into two tumblers and carries them

over to her.

LIANA sits motionless for an instant, looking up at him. Then,

very slowly, she stubs out her cigarette, extends the same hand,

and fondles his crotch.

CORSO, with the tumblers encumbering both his hands, can only

stand there like a bird hypnotized by a snake. His Adam's apple

bobs some more.

Holding his gaze, LIANA withdraws her hand and rises. They're

only inches apart now. She takes one of the tumblers and clinks

it against CORSO'S, then drains it. CORSO, in a kind of trance,

does likewise.

Very deliberately, LIANA relieves him of his glass and puts it

down on the table with hers. Then, cupping his face between her

hands, she proceeds to eat him alive.

CORSO responds. Re pulls up her skirt, she reaches for his zipper

and yanks at it. He bears her backward and downward onto the

sofa. Their bodies coalesce into a heaving mass. The gown slips

down over

LIANA's left shoulder, revealing a small tattoo in the shape of a

snake devouring its own tail.

25. CORSO'S APARTMENT INT/NIGHT

ON LIANA's hand reaching across the floor for Corso's canvas bag.

it gropes in the bag, then inverts it, spilling the contents: a

couple of packs of Luckies, a notebook, an envelope full of

bills, a Swiss Army knife, an expert's magnifying glass, some

pencils, etc.

We discover CORSO and LIANA on the floor, their clothing

dishevelled. CORSO is lying back, still panting and sweating from

his exertions, LIANA is sitting up.

LIANA:
Well, where is it?

CORSO Where's what?

LIANA Don't f*** with me, Corso.

CORSO:
I thought that's what we were doing.

LIANA's eyes narrow. Then, with an animal cry, she goes for his

face with her nails and teeth.

CORSO turns his head away just in time and scrambles to his feet,

pulling up his trousers. LIANA, beside herself with fury, flies

at him with both hands extended like claws.

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