The Ninth Gate Page #6

He manages to grab her wrists and immobilize them, so she sinks

her teeth in his chest.

With an agonized yell, CORSO releases her wrists, clasps his

chest and staggers back - hardly a dignified proceeding, because

he's hobbled by the trousers that have slumped around his ankles.

LIANA looks around wildly for a weapon of some kind, catches

sight of the Scotch bottle and seizes it by the neck.

CORSO, one hand holding his trousers at half mast, the other

raised in supplication, comes shuffling toward her.

CORSO:
Hey, look, be reasonable...

Unmoved, LIANA raises the bottle and smashes it over his head.

26. CORSO'S APARTMENT INT/NIGHT

CORSO recovers consciousness, gingerly feels his aching head.

Some blood has trickled down his face. He surveys the room, which

is in chaos and has obviously been ransacked.

He goes into the bathroom and inspects himself in the mirror,

takes a hand towel and gingerly dabs his scalp.

Holding the towel to his head, he returns to the living room,

where he picks up the phone and punches out a number. We hear a

recorded announcement:

BERNIE (V.O.):
Hi, this is Bernie's Rare Books. I'm not available

right now. If you want to leave a message, please speak after the

beep...

CORSO (into phone): Bernie, you there? Bernie? Pick up!

No response. He replaces the receiver.

27. BERNIE'S BOOKSTORE EXT/NIGHT

CORSO, bag on shoulder, is lurking in a doorway across the street

from the bookstore. The place looks silent and deserted, but a

dim glow indicates that a light must be on somewhere inside.

CORSO quits the doorway and hurries across the street. He walks

down the steps to the door and tries the handle. The door opens.

28. BERNIE'S BOOKSTORE INT/NIGHT .

Only Bernie's desk light is on. No sign of Bernle himself. CORSO

listens intently, looks up at the top of the spiral staircase,

which is in shadow, calls in a low voice:

CORSO:
Bernie?

No response. He listens some more: nothing but the sound of a

passing car.

He makes his way cautiously along the bookcases and rounds a

corner, then stops short with a look of horror on his face.

BERNIE has been lashed upside down to the handrail of the spiral

staircase. His mouth and eyes are open, and his battered face is

streaked with blood.

CORSO (cont.):
Jesus Christ!

He puts out a hand toward BERNIE, but the man is so obviously

dead that he withdraws it. He looks around in an involuntary,

apprehensive way. Then, satisfied that he's alone, he starts to

climb the staircase. Once past BERNIE's corpse, which he

studiously avoids touching, he climbs faster. The staircase

creaks and sways.

Reaching the third tier of bookshelves, he presses a hidden

button. With a faint click, a panel springs open to disclose a

recess filled with books.

CORSO expels a deep breath. There it is, safe and sound: 'The

Nine Gates'. He looks down at BERNIE.

CORSO:
Thanks, man... I'm sorry...

29. AIRLINER INT/DAY

CORSO, ensconced in a window seat, is moodily gazing out at some

passing cloud-castles. The sun is setting.

30. SPANISH AIRPORT INT/NIGHT

The brightly illuminated arrivals hall is thronged with

PASSENGERS in transit.

COP.SO, wearing his overcoat and carrying his suitcase, threads

his way through them with the canvas bag on his shoulder. Weary

and unshaven, he stares straight ahead with an abstracted

expression, adjusts his glasses.

31. TOLEDO STREET, ALLEYWAY EXT/DAY

CORSO's footsteps echo as he walks, bag on shoulder, along one of

Toledo's narrow medieval streets. Very few people to be seen. The

sun is shining brightly, but there's a strong wind blowing.

Rounding a corner, CORSO heads down an alleyway flanked by

scaffolding swathed in protective netting and blue tarpaulins.

it's completely deserted. No sound but that of canvas billowing

in the wind like a ship's sails. He consults a street sign, turns

another corner.

He reaches a doorway leading to an inner courtyard, bumps into a

BOY who comes running out. We hear the strident cries of a woman.

BOY:
S!, si, mama!!!

A flight of steps in one corner of the courtyard leads down to

the basement. CORSO descends them and stops outside a door. A

grimy window beside it serves to display some old books and

religious prints. The sign on the door reads HERMANOS CENIZA

RESTAURACION DE LIBROS. Below it: 'On parle Fran‡ais' and

'English spoken'. CORSO opens the door, which creaks.

32. CENIZA BROS. WORKSHOP INT/DAY

CORSO enters. A gaunt, bent-backed old man (PEDRO CENIZA) with a

pair of glasses perched on the end of his big nose looks up from

an old hand press. Everything about him is as gray as the

cigarette ash that rains down on his clothes and the books he's

working on. He's a chain-smoker.

PEDRO:
Senor.

CORSO:
Buenas tardes.

PEDRO:
Buenes tardes.

PABLO (O.S.) Buenas tardes.

CORSO turns to see another old man (PABLO CENIZA) surface from

behind some stacks of paper. His resemblance to PEDRO - bent

back, big nose, spectacles - is such that they can only be twins.

PABLO wipes his inky hand on a rag before shaking CORSO'S. PEDRO

follows suit.

CORSO hesitates briefly, taken aback by this dual apparition.

PEDRO and PABLO look him up and down with their keen, twinkling

little eyes. Their movements are slow and serene, their

expression carries a hint of mockery, and they often exchange

knowing smiles. They're so in sync that they communicate by means

of glances and finish off each other's sentences.

CORSO:
You speak English?

They nod simultaneously. He produces 'The Nine Gates' from his

shoulder bag.

CORSO (cont.):
I'd appreciate your opinion on this.

PEDRO takes the book with tremulous hands. PABLO quickly clears

away some parchments on the workbench to make room for it.

Some ash from PEDRO's cigarette falls on the cover.

PABLO clicks his tongue and blows it off.

PABLO (reprovingly): What a habit for a bookbinder! (smiles at

CORSO) 'The Nine Gates...' A superb edition. Very rare.

PEDRO (opens it): The Telfer copy.

CORSO:
You used to own it, right?

PEDRO:
We used to, yes.

PABLO:
We sold it.

PEDRO:
We sold it when the opportunity presented itself. it was

too...

PABLO:
... too good to miss. An excellent sale.

PEDRO:
An excellent buy - impeccable condition.

PABLO:
Impeccable. You are the present owner?

CORSO:
A client of mine.

PABLO (over his glasses): I would never have believed she would

part with it.

CORSO:
She?

PABLO (without looking up): Senora Telfer.

CORSO reaches into his overcoat pocket and extracts a crumpled

cigarette. He's raising it to his lips when he stops short,

produces the equally crumpled pack and offers it to PEDRO, who

has just discarded his butt.

PEDRO helps himself to a Lucky, breaks off the filter and jams it

in his mouth. CORSO lights both of them.

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