The Saint Page #9

This is a former nobleman's residence; a 20 foot diameter CRYSTAL CHANDELIER hangs from the domed roof fifty feet above. A spectacular staircase ascends to a mezzanine, with offices (formerly bed chambers) off it.

Tretiak approaches a man in a lab coat, ZUBOV, wearing a grim, anxious expression. Zubov chainsmokes constantly.

ZUBOV:

There's a problem.

Tretiak follows Zubov down stairs into --

INT. TRETIAK' S HEADQUARTERS - BASEMENT LABORATORY

-- a large room with TECHNICIANS hunched over computers. Tretiak follows Zubov to a large bank of computers.

ZUBOV:

(indicates computer)

This is the data your thief sent us.

Tretiak looks at Zubov's COMPUTER SCREEN.

INSERT - THE COMPUTER SCREEN. Again we see:

THE GENERATION OF ENERGY FROM COLD NUCLEAR FUSION

Submitted by:

DR. JILLIAN ST. THOMAS

BACK TO SCENE:

TRETIAK:

(confused)

Cold fusion?

ZUBOV:

Yes. Fusion at room temperature. Regarded as an impossibility by the scientific community. A myth.

(smiles)

Then I read this.

Zubov begins scrolling through the document; again we see the displav of graphs. tables. plans. Specs.. etc.

ZUBOV:

She first proves why hot fusion - the tokamak - is impractical. You must heat the hydrogen gases so high, more energy is wasted than created. Here she goes into the benefits of cold fusion.

(scrolls more pages)

The hydrogen isotopes needed.

(scrolls more pages)

The physical plant. She even estimates its cost. Extraordinary.

(scrolls more pages)

The next pages are the critical part, what no one in fifty years has discovered.

(looks up at Tretiak)

The combination of chemicals in which atoms will fuse at room temperature.

Tretiak leans toward the screen, waiting.

TRETIAK:

Well? Let's see.

ZUBOV:

Tretiak - I think from reading this that the woman's done it. She may have found a source of unlimited energy.

TRETIAK:

What do you mean may have. Show me.

ZUBOV:

I said there was a problem. Zubov hits the "scroll" key. The next page appears; we see the heading at the top of the page: THE CHEMICAL ENVIRONMENT FOR COLD FUSION

But there's something wrong with the rest of the page. Terribly wrong. We know this because of –

TRETIAK'S EXPRESSION, and it's not too happy.

TRETIAK:

Where's the rest of it?

ZUBOV:

It's in her head.

and CUT TO:

INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING

JILLIAN, humming the Cole Porter song from the previous evening, fills a basket with breakfast for two: eggs, bagels, etc. Sunlight streams in. Birds chirping.

She wears jeans and her jacket with the atomic diagram embroidered on the back. She grabs flowers from a vase; tosses them in the basket. Smiles.

INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

She enters with the basket. Looks at the disheveled couch and the bottle of Oban. She hums the Cole Porter song, stabs her feet in THE SHOES TEMPLAR GAVE HER and goes to the front door.

EXT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - FRONT

Jillian comes out, running into --

YURI, her lab assistant, who comes up the front stoop. Mid-20's, heavy Russian accent, white lab coat.

YURI:

Good morning, boss. Where are you going?

JILLIAN:

To see a friend. Be back in a couple hours.

She gets in her car. Yuri gives her a look, goes inside.

INT. JILL IAN'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

Yuri enters. The foyer phone RINGS. Yuri answers.

YURI:

Doctor St. Thomas' residence.

ILYA (o.s., in Russian)

There's been a change of plans. Yuri stares at the phone and --

CUT TO:

EXT. WESTCHESTER - TEMPLAR' S MANSION - MORNING

The huge estate, as before. Jillian's station wagon pulls into the circular driveway. Jillian gets out with the breakfast basket. Moves up the flagstoned walk. Suddenly the front door opens. A WOMAN, mid-30's, pretty and well-dressed, comes out and locks the door.

JILLIAN watches her. The woman comes down the walk.

WOMAN:

May I help you?

(beat)

Do you have an appointment?

JILLIAN:

A what?

WOMAN:

To see the house.

JILLIAN:

The man who lives here... who owns the house...

WOMAN:

What man. The estate is rented for weddings and corporate events. Are you. ..interested...?

JILLIAN:

No. No.

The rental agent gives Jillian a funny look and gets in her car. Drives off. Jillian stares at the house, thunderstruck. Then she sharply inhales:

JILLIAN:

Oh my god. ...

Jillian gets in her car.

CUT TO:

TEMPLAR'S COMPUTER screen, which reads:

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

PRIVATE UNMARKED ACCOUNTS

PLEASE ENTER SECURITY PASSWORD

INT. J.F.K. INT. - FIRST CLASS LOUNGE - CONTINUOUS

TEMPLAR sits in the British Air lounge. He has shaved and his eyeglasses are gone; he looks like himself again. In the b.g., businessmen are relaxing, reading newspapers, drinking coffee. Over the intercom:

INTERCOM VOICE:

Varig Air flight 157 to Rio de Janeiro, departing at 8 a.m, boarding now from gate seventeen.

Templar checks his wristwatch: It's 7:40 a.m. Templar types in his password and waits. On the screen, this:

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

ACCOUNT OF:
TEMPLAR, SIMON

BALANCE (AS OF 8/15/95): U.S. $57,895,125.12 (the same balance since London).

Templar frowns. Something's not right. He hasn't been paid.

CUT TO:

INT. JILLIAN' SHOUSE - BACK HALLWAY - MORNING

Jillian runs down the hall, breath escaping her lungs.

JILLIAN:

The supermarket, the flat tire, all a set-up. You fool. You fool.

(calls down the hall)

Yuri!

She unpockets her keyring, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

INT. JILLIAN'S HOUSE - LABORATORY - MORNING

Jillian races down the stairs and across the lab to her computer. She moves in a panic, as if in a living nightmare. She turns the computer on. She types in the code word, "kamakot," and her research paper appears on the screen. In the lower right corner it reads: LAST ENTERED: 10:23 p.m.

JILLIAN:

No.. . ..

She sees something on the desk. The NOTEPAD on which Templar wrote his notes. The page is indented with Templar's pen marks; the words "tokamak" and "kamakot" are clearly visible.

JILLIAN:

No, this can't be happening. Yuri!

(turns, calling)

YURI!

She jumps, startled, because YURI is right behind her. He moves toward her and --

CUT TO:

INT. J.F.K. INT. - FIRST CLASS LOUNGE - CONTINUOUS

WOMAN (o.s.)

Is that a good system?

A WOMAN, 40's, dowdy and serious in an accountant-like way, has sat down across from Templar. Points at Templar's computer.

TEMPLAR:

Yes.

WOMAN ACCOUNTANT (o.s.)

Going to Europe?

(Templar ignores her)

Uhmm, I'm going for coffee. Like some? It's really no trouble. ...

Okay lady, anything to get rid of you:

TEMPLAR:

Sure. Black please.

She smiles and walks off to the coffee counter, passing A BUSINESSMAN, who sits down with a steaming cup of coffee and starts reading the WALL STREET JOURNAL.

Templar eyes the man, then looks back at his computer. He begins typing. The phone modem engages. –

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