The Rum Diary Page #6

(CAR RATTLING)

What's that?

SALA:
There's too much

weight on the axle.

Try and move forward a bit.

Ugh, gonna be late.

I'm gonna be a week late.

What are you doing, Sala?

I suddenly realize

how much I like you.

What do you mean,

what am I doing?

There's something wrong

with the axle.

Oh, my God,

it's the cop

we set on fire.

Try and look normal.

(SIREN WAILING)

Make a right!

Make a right!

What right?

There is no right.

Any right!

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(BOTH SCREAMING)

(SCREAMING)

(CAR CRASHING)

SANDERSON:

Oh, there he is.

Paul, come in.

Sorry. There were

unexpected developments.

I had to go home

and start the day again.

Tell me about it.

Some days are

two sizes too small.

Well, I'm afraid

some of us

had to leave.

But, Mr. Zimburger

you know.

And this is Mr. Green

of First National

Maritime Bank.

You want some coffee?

I think we should

move right along, Hal.

I gotta go.

Sure.

Sit down, Paul.

As you may know,

Mr. Kemp,

the island is owned

by the U.S. government.

Part of it presently

used as a target range

by the Navy.

We know from

internal sources...

ls that what you're calling me?

(MEN CHUCKLING)

that the government

is preparing

to relinquish the lease,

and this place wakes up

as 32 square miles

of magnificent

and untouched

real estate.

Knock your eyes out.

No prettier beaches

in the Caribbean.

Orientated around

one hell of a

beautiful marina.

Thought it was one hotel.

We start with one hotel.

It's a foot in the door.

Once we're up and running,

we're servants of a market.

Like here?

Like here.

You look worried,

Mr. Kemp.

He's not worried.

Paul and I shared

a tricky little night.

Right, Paul?

Oh.

Neither of us got much sleep.

(CHUCKLES)

I gotta go, guys.

Well, we'll leave

you gentlemen to it.

Has Mr. Kemp

signed the papers?

Doing that right now.

What... What am I

actually signing?

Just a confidentiality

agreement,

affirmation of trust.

Just so we're all sitting

in the same Jacuzzi.

In case a turd floats up,

if you know what I mean.

Come on, Paul,

let's go over here.

Here you go.

(SIGHS)

It's just a technicality, Paul.

Means you promise

not to talk to anybody

about the project.

How's the head?

Unpleasant.

Gotta thank you again

for putting up the bail.

It's held on my cognizance.

And I think it

more than likely

to slip various minds.

This place is a sea

of money, Paul.

Unbelievable money.

Practically every

major corporation

hides its cash offshore.

No, thanks.

And that is good news for us,

because we are the shore.

Not one dollar

that wings its way

into Puerto Rico

pays a cent in tax.

Nothing?

Not penny one.

That includes

chemical companies,

oil companies,

mining companies.

There's $1 2 billion

worth of copper

in mountains less than

A dozen billion dollars.

And there's people like me

who know how to get it out.

So, putting it into context,

I don't envisage

the breaking of bones

to get at a thousand bucks.

Because you weren't here,

I agreed to an itinerary

with Zimburger

on your behalf.

You'll be traveling down

in the morning.

Hope that's okay.

What do you need, Paul?

Well, just in the context

of this Zimburger thing,

do you think

there's a possibility

of an advance?

I don't like to ask,

but Lotterman's

pretty erratic

with the paycheck, you know.

Need to get a hold of a car.

You don't have a car?

Nothing too reliable.

Plus, sooner or later,

I'm gonna have to find

a decent place to live.

Well, we can

help you with that.

When you get back,

we'll sort you out

something with a view.

Carol, what do we

have in the garage?

No, no, no, no,

no, no, not that.

Yeah, that's fine.

Okay, thank you.

Got you a car.

She'll give you the keys

on the way out.

Feels like 500?

Yeah. Thanks.

Oh, Paul...

How's your afternoon?

A half-written horoscope.

Do me a favor, will you?

Drive out to the beach

and pick up Chenault.

I need her

downstairs by 6:
00.

All right.

(ENGINE REVVING)

So, this one?

Or...

This one?

What are these for, a party?

It's for carnival.

Didn't he say anything

to you about it?

No.

Oh, you've got to come.

We're all going down

on the boat.

He didn't invite me.

Well, it isn't his carnival.

Oh, this one.

Um...

I like the other one.

Yes.

Love this car.

Did he give it to you?

(CHUCKLES) I wish.

Fast.

You want a little bet?

A bet about what?

That you scream before I do.

That I scream before you do,

in relation to what?

Well, how fast does it go?

I don't know.

That's the bet.

I already crashed

one car today.

It's okay.

I'll just go sit

in the foyer and wait for him.

What do I get if I win?

I'll let you know if you do.

(ENGINE REVVING)

(TIRES SCREECH)

(ENGINE REVVING)

(BOTH SCREAMING)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

Come on, I'll take you back.

KEMP:
Christ,

where'd they get this?

I don't remember.

I've been slightly

avoiding Lotterman.

You have me to thank

for your freedom.

Thanks.

I got a feeling

of total anxiety

trying to put

my anxieties together

in a single, coherent lump.

I'm f***ed without a car.

I got us a car.

It's the Chevy downstairs.

Lt belongs to Mr. Sanderson.

So what?

I gotta go type this up.

(LOTTERMAN SHOUTING)

I don't know what's going on.

He's freaking out

and we're down 1 2 pages.

(SHOUTING CONTINUES)

You better frigging do it!

I see your filthy

animal face

in here again,

I'll have you locked up!

What part of the building

are you creeping

towards, Sala?

Darkroom.

Cops are

looking for you.

Looking for me?

Looking for you.

And it ain't

just your mug

in the paper!

What a day.

What a week.

I tell you, I'm out of here.

One way to friggin' Mexico.

Listen, I got

a trip tomorrow.

Sanderson's island.

No, no, no.

Oh, dear.

It's green money,

and I'm thinking of cutting

across for the carnival.

You know they

got that carnival

in Saint Thomas.

I know.

Why don't you come with me?

Give the cops

a few days to forget.

Yeah. Fun.

(LAUGHING)

(DISTANT EXPLOSION)

Our guys.

Nobody lives here?

No one who's staying.

(DISTANT EXPLOSIONS CONTINUE)

Lazar!

Mr. Zimburger.

(LAUGHS)

This is Mr. Lazar,

our much put-upon

site architect.

How do you do.

Hello.

Mr. Monk,

I think you know.

I assist Mr. Green,

First Maritime Bank.

This is Mr. Kemp

from The New York Times.

What did you say your name was?

Bob Sala.

Yeah, Sala.

From American

Travel Writers

Association.

(CHUCKLES)

Mr. Kemp is

preparing

our brochure.

"Wish you were here."

Beer in the cooler, gentlemen.

I have everything next door.

This and this are

the main hotels.

Guardians of the bay,

so to speak.

Why the different colors?

Blue is for

public dissemination,

red is for the investors.

Yeah.

Hill villas,

ocean condos.

Marina.

(CHUCKLES)

Parking for 2,000 cars.

There's no roads.

Damn it, Lazar,

you forgot the roads!

(LAUGHING)

We're building them.

We're building them.

Let's have some lunch.

(DISTANT EXPLOSIONS CONTINUE)

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