The Saint Page #4

He holds up Templar's black bodysuit.

TEMPLAR:

For jogging. My doctor's recommended five miles a...

MACDUFF:

Sit down and shut it.

Templar sits down.

Baker has Templar's papers. He holds up a certificate.

BAKER:

He's licensed to carry, Inspector.

MACDUFF:

Let's see the passport.

(Baker hands MacDuff

Templar's passport) What's your nationality this week, Templar?

TEMPLAR:

I forget.

MACDUFF:

(looks at passport)

Issued by the Principality of.. . Yemen? You're bloody joking.

TEMPLAR:

(shrugs)

Call the embassy

MacDuff whips the passport at Templar. Templar calmly moves his head; the passport flies by. Hits the wall.

MACDUFF:

Shut it.

MacDuff leans down, coming in close. Templar doesn't blink. His expression never changes.

MACDUFF:

You pass through Russia for a day with that gear and, what a surprise, a prototype computer chip worth quarter of a billion quid is nicked from the Myaki Corporation the night you arrive. We know you didn't fence it in Russia. Where is it?

The door opens. Teal enters, tossing several X-RAY PHOTOGRAPHS on the table before MacDuff. Two are of Templar's bags, two are of his body.

TEAL:

(Cockney)

All negative. He didn't swallow it.

An embarrassing pause.

TEMPLAR:

You've got three options: charge me, or release me.

MACDUFF:

What's the third.

TEMPLAR:

You can kiss my ass.

A dreadful pause. MacDuff smiles. He turns away, then turns back and viciously backhands Templar across the face; Templar's head jerks. The blow would knock most men out. Now Templar smiles. Like a serpant. And says calmly:

TEMPLAR:

I'm a busy man. Make up your mind.

MacDuff stares at Templar, gritting his teeth. Templar rises. Begins collecting his things.

CUT TO:

INT. LONDON RESTAURANT - EVENING

A quaint place off Piccadilly. The STEWARDESS (from Templar's flight) gulps a martini. She is tipsy. She shows it.

STEWARDESS:

.. . then me mum says, call uncle Charlie, he's in the airline business, there's jobs there, good benefits too, and.. ..where was I?

TEMPLAR, enduring this, sits opposite with a scotch.

TEMPLAR:

How you got your job.

STEWARDESS:

Right!

(hiccups, giggles)

'Scuze me.

Templar motions to a passing WAITRESS.

TEMPLAR:

Another round please.

STEWARDESS:

Ye're tryin' ta get me drunk, aren't you? Are you cute or what? I gotta freshen up.

(she rises)

Where's the loo in 'ere?

TEMPLAR:

Back there. Leave your locket. I'll polish it for you.

She smiles crookedly; hands over the locket.

STEWARDESS:

Are you a dearheart or what...

She blows Templar a kiss and lurches off to the bathroom. Templar watches her a moment. When she's gone he puts the locket on the table. He pries open the back of it with a pen-knife.

INSERT - THE LOCKET - there is a compartment in which sits THE STOLEN MICRO-CHIP. Templar plucks out the chip and drops it into an envelope.

BACK TO SCENE - FOLLOWING THE STEWARDESS as she returns to the table. She sits down. Looks around. Templar's gone. The locket's gone. The waitress appears.

STEWARDESS:

Maam, where's the gent who was sitting 'ere?

WAITRESS:

He left, luv. Said you'd take care of the bill.

She hands the Stewardess the bill. She stares at it.

STEWARDESS:

What?

She sinks down, confused, blinking, near tears. CUT TO:

INT. LONDON - MUSGRAVE HOTEL

A small, plush, discrete residential hotel in the heart of Mayfair (Regent Street, Grovesnor Sq. or equivalent). TEMPLAR approaches the front desk with his carry-on bags. CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON and the HOTEL MANAGER are behind the desk.

CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON

Mr. Templar! Good to see you sir. Your room key - south penthouse as usual. Your suits are up from storage, pressed of course, and there's a bottle of Oban on the dresser.

TEMPLAR:

Thanks Harry. Oh, and Harry...

(pulls out the envelope with the computer chip)

.. . ship this by overnight courier to that address.

CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON

Very good sir.

JIMMY, a young Bellman, takes Ternplar's bags. Templar doesn't let go. An uncomfortable pause.

CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON

Jimmy, Mr. Templar carries his own bags.

Templar steps past Jimmy into the elevator.

JIMMY THE BELLMAN

What's with the bags, gov'nuh?

HOTEL MANAGER:

They're all he ever brings. The man's bills are paid by a bank in Switzerland and his mailing address is a corporation in Lisbon. Bloody strange...

CONCIERGE HARRY WINSTON

Mr. Templar, strange? No sir, he's just shy.

CUT TO:

INT . MUSGRAVE HOTEL - SOUTH PENTHOUSE

Ternplar sits at a desk with a bottle of Oban scotch and glass, staring at the screen of a modemed MINI-COMPUTER.

-- Templar types: LION CONTACTING ZEBRA: IS ZEBRA HOME?

-- And this comes back: AFFIRMATIVE, LION.

-- Templar types: PIGEON IS FLYING; WILL ARRIVE A.M.

-- And this back: EXCELLENT. LION GETS LION'S SHARE. -- Templar types a new command. A new screen appears:

******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******

PRIVATE UNMARKED ACCOUNTS

PLEASE ENTER SECURITY PASSWORD

Templar types in: 77N8LS473Z. This appears:

******* NATIONAL BANK OF GENEVA *******

ACCOUNT OF:
TEMPLAR, SIMON

BALANCE (AS OF 8/1S/95): U.S. $47,895,12S.12 (Not a typo, reader. It's forty-seven million bucks.)

Templar picks up his scotch and drinks, staring at the screen. He's waiting for something... The first digit, "4," vanishes. A "5" appears in it's place. Now fifty-seven million.

Templar permits a slight smile, having just made 10 million dollars, and drinks his scotch.

The phone RINGS. Templar eyes it skeptically. He picks it up.

TEMPLAR:

Yes.

A voice with an Eastern European accent:

VOICE:

Is this Simon Templar?

TEMPLAR:

It depends.

VOICE:

A meeting. Midnight, Blackfriars Bridge.

TEMPLAR:

Involving what?

VOICE:

A lot of money. If you want it.

Click. Templar recradles the receiver; He stares at it a moment and CUT TO:

INT. MUSGRAVE HOTEL LOBBY - LATER - NIGHT

Templar enters the lobby wearing a fresh suit under a black leather trench coat. He goes to the desk, where concierge Harry Winston looks up.

TEMPLAR:

Harry, I'm going for a walk over Blackfriars Bridge. Midnight.

Pause. And Harry, just perceptibly, nods. And returns to his obsequious self.

HARRY WINSTON:

Very good, sir.

Templar walks off through the lobby.

HARRY WINSTON:

Jimmy

(Jimmy walks over)

It's about time I taught you how to run the front desk.

CUT TO:

EXT. LONDON - BLACKFRIAR' S BRIDGE - MIDNIGHT

Fog. The bridge lights cast everything in a sickly yellow glow. Below, A TUGBOAT plows the river, horn BELLOWING. The lights of Southwark twinkle beyond.

Templar enters from Victoria Embankment. TWO FIGURES emerge from the fog. Templar approaches. One is a huge dim-wit with greasy hair, as tall and wide as a bookcase. His name, aptly, is ZERO. The other is middle-aged and strongly built. A high forehead; clipped, irongrey hair; square jaw and aquiline nose; deep-set, ruthless, unblinking eyes.

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