The Saint Page #20

TRETIAK'S MEN, firing from sedans entering the square. The Lear jet accelerates straight for the oncoming sedans, lifting off, almost scraping the landing gear against their windshields. It wings into the air, clearing the top of the Ivan Memorial by a foot. And heads west. To freedom.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - NIGHT - REESTABLISHING

A shot of the city as we SUPER: St. Petersburg - two days later

EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - TRETIAK'S HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT

The gates open. A BLACK SEDAN pulls into the drive and stops. Zubov gets out, then Dr. Singh, dressed in a conservative Indian suit, carrying a briefcase. Tretiak emerges from the mansion, greeting Doctor Singh.

INT. TRETIAK'S HEADQUARTERS - ZUBOV'S LAB - NIGHT

Dr. Singh enters behind Tretiak and Zubov. They move to Zubov's lab table. Dr. Singh dons reading glasses. Zubov places Jillian's research before him. Singh flips a page, then another. He is awed. It's like Salieri looking at Mozart's sheet music. He's searched all his life for something and... another person has found it.

DR. SINGH

Yes.

(beat)

Yes.

(beat)

Yes, yes. . . . .

(looks up)

I will give you a list of the things I will need. I request solitude. Remove those men.

(turns back to Jillian's document)

Leave me now. Please.

Tretiak and Zubov exchange a look. They exit. Dr. Singh rubs his brow, bearing down on the material, flipping through the pages which DISSOLVE INTO:

PAGES being flipped, but these contain photographs...

JILLIAN:

No.

(beat)

No.

(beat)

No.

WIDEN TO --

INT. F. B. I. - MANHATTAN BUREAU - DAY

JILLIAN sits with F.B.I. agents RABINEAU and LONNER.

AGENT RABINEAU:

One more.

Rabineau flips the page. SIMON TEMPLAR'S PHOTO stares at Jillian. She studies it a moment. Shakes her head.

AGENT LONNER:

Be certain, Ms. St. Thomas. Look again.

She looks again. Studies Templar's photograph.

JILLIAN:

I'm certain. It's not him.

Agents Rabineau and Lonner exchange a look.

EXT. MANHATTAN - CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Jillian walks down the tree-lined mall. Templar is standing there. She walks up to him. A moment.

JILLIAN:

They showed me photographs of criminals.

(beat)

And a photograph of you.

TEMPLAR:

And...?

JILLIAN:

I said that the man in the photograph doesn't have the eyes of a criminal.

(pause; they stare at each other)

The Washington symposium is tomorrow afternoon. I'm going. I'm presenting my research to the scientific community.

TEMPLAR:

What about your data...

JILLIAN:

It's in my head. I'll wing it.

TEMPLAR:

(draws closer to her)

You need to conduct further research anyway. I'll help you.

JILLIAN:

What are we researching. ..?

Jillian draws closer. Their lips are almost touching...

TEMPLAR:

The benefits of warm fusion.

Templar pulls her lips to his and CUT TO...

INT. JILLIAN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

There follows a love scene. Afterward, in each other's arms:

JILLIAN:

It is in the eyes. You're not bad.

TEMPLAR:

Being bad is the only thing I've ever been good at.

JILLIAN:

You can be good at being good.

(she strokes his hair)

If you're afraid of the dark, remember the night rainbow. If tomorrow morning the sky falls, have clouds for breakfast. If the birds forget their songs, listen to the wind. And if between right and wrong, do what is right.

TEMPLAR:

Who said that?

JILLIAN:

(smiles privately)

My grandmother.

Templar gently takes her face in his hands. Whispers to her.

TEMPLAR:

How did I meet you. This saint.

(smiles)

Saint Thomas.

They kiss.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. TRETIAK'S HEADQUARTERS - ZUBOV'S LAB - NIGHT

Late at night. Dr. Singh is working feverishly. The desk is stacked with papers and books. He is surrounded by three chalk boards with chemical isotope diagrams. He is adding chemicals to a bath of hydrogen in a COMPRESSION CHAMBER.

DR. SINGH

Zinc oxide. Iridium mercurate. Sodium bicarbon nitrate. A cobalt magnesium isotope. Liquify the cobalt at 665 degrees fahrenheit, add the magnesium. ...

The chemicals begin to mix. He picks up an ELECTRODE NEEDLE attached to a LIGHTBULB. Dr. Singh takes a deep breath. He introduces the electrode needle into the compression chamber through a rubber valve. And like a miracle, the LIGHTBULB ILLUMINATES. Dr. Singh looks up as if he's just seen Shiva.

DR. SINGH

My god. It actually works.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. - ESTABLISHING SHOTS - DAY

The Capital on a cold, drizzly autumn day. A ROW OF FLASHBULBS EXPLODE POP POP POP...

EXT. CAPITAL MALL - THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE - DAY

PHOTOGRAPHERS are taking Jillian's picture as she moves through a crowd outside the Smithsonian. She is formally dressed. TWO F.B.I. AGENTS walk with her. It is raining. The place is a sea of umbrellas. Several REPORTERS trail after her.

REPORTER 1

Doctor St. Thomas! Ben Rothstein, Omni Magazine. Is it true? Have you done it?

JILLIAN:

That question will be answered in ten minutes, Mr. Rothstein.

REPORTER 2

Marilyn Jones, Doctor St. Thomas. Dr. Vijay Singh has said that your theories are insupportable...

JILLIAN:

(smiles)

Sorry, but I'm not interested in Doctor Singh's opinions on this or anything else.

JILLIAN moves up the steps, radiant and beautiful; it is the pinnacle of her life. She looks across the Mall. TEMPLAR stands there. Alone, smiling at her. Jillian winks at him, mouthing the words: "open it." TEMPLAR understands. He pulls a GIFTWRAPPED BOX from his pocket and opens it. Inside is a TIE-PIN; a stick figure man with a halo over his head. Templar sticks it through his tie. Picks up the accompanying card.

INSERT - THE CARD reads: Anyone can be a saint, Simon Templar. Templar looks back at Jillian. He sees something. Behind Jillian, moving toward her through the crowd, is a BLONDE MAN UNDER AN UMBRELLA. It looks like... Ilya. Templar squints for clearer vision. He begins walking toward the Smithsonian. He quickens to a jog, now he's running...

ON THE SMITHSONIAN STEPS - THE REPORTERS crush into Jillian.

REPORTERS:

Ms. St. Thomas, Ms. St. Thomas...

JILLIAN:

Please, no more questions. ...

Across the sea of people, TEMPLAR reaches the Blonde Man. Templar grabs his arm; whips him around.

BLONDE REPORTER:

Hey! What's the idea?

It's not Ilya, just a reporter with blonde hair. Meanwhile JILLIAN, backing up the stairs from the reporters, draws closer to - -

A DARK-HAIRED MAN, seen from behind, who lowers an umbrella, pushing a button on the handle, revealing a GLISTENING NEEDLE POINT. CAMERA moves over his shoulder, revealing...ILYA. With dyed black hair. JILLIAN keeps backing up the stairs...

...Behind her, Ilya's needled umbrella strikes her. JILLIAN feels something. Like a bee sting. Her hand moves to her hip...

.. .as ILYA moves off through the crowd...

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