The Sting Page #2

STRANGER:

(a little uneasy)

You wanted by the law or somethin'?

BLACK MAN:

Naw, it's okay.

STRANGER:

You're crazy carryin' that kinda

money in this neighborhood. No

wonder you got hit.

BLACK MAN:

(trying to get to his feet)

Thanks. I'm obliged to ya, but I

gotta get goin'.

(his leg gives way

under him)

STRANGER:

You ain't goin' nowhere on that leg.

BLACK MAN:

I gotta! Look, I run some slots

down in West Bend for a mob here.

I got a little behind on my payoffs

so they figure I been holdin' out

on 'em. They gave me to 4:00 to

come up with the cash. I don't get

it there I'm dead.

STRANGER:

It don't look good, gramps, it's

ten of now.

BLACK MAN:

I got a hundred bucks for you and

your friend if you deliver the

money for me.

STRANGER:

(hesitates)

I dunno. That little mug that got

ya is mad enough at me already --

what if he's out there waitin'

around a corner with some friends.

BLACK MAN:

He won't know you're carryin' it.

C'mon, you gotta help me out.

STRANGER:

(makes up his mind)

Sorry, pal. I'll fix you up, call

you a doc, but I ain't gonna walk

into a bunch of knives for ya.

BLACK MAN:

(desperate to Mottola)

How bout you? I'll give you the

whole hundred!

STRANGER:

What makes you think you can trust

him? He didn't do sh*t.

MOTTOLA:

Hey, butt out, chicken liver. I

gave him back his wallet, didn't I?

(to black man)

How far is this place?

BLACK MAN:

1811 Mason. Put it in Box 3C. You

won't have no trouble. There's

five thousand dollars there and

here's a hundred for you.

MOTTOLA:

(taking the bundle of

bills from the black

man, plus the $100 bill)

All right. I'll make your drop for

you, old man. And don't worry, you

can trust me.

Mottola puts the bills in his inside coat pocket, right next

to the numbers money. The stranger, who has now finished

bandaging, watches him do it.

STRANGER:

If that punk and his pals decide to

search ya, you'll never fool 'em

carryin' it there.

BLACK MAN:

(suddenly afraid again)

What do we do?

STRANGER:

You got a bag or somethin?

BLACK MAN:

No.

STRANGER:

How 'bout a handkerchief?

BLACK MAN:

Here.

The stranger goes into the right coat pocket and pulls out a

wrinkled handkerchief.

STRANGER:

Let me have the money.

Mottola takes out the Black Man's five grand and hands it to

the Stranger. He puts it in the handkerchief.

STRANGER:

You better stick that other in here

too, if you wanta keep it.

BLACK MAN:

(pleading)

Just hurry, will ya.

Mottola pulls out the numbers money and puts it in the

handkerchief too. The stranger ties it all up.

STRANGER:

(demonstrating by

slipping the bundle

down into crotch)

All right. Carry it down in your

pants here.

(pulling it back out

and tucking it in

Mottola's pants)

Ain't no hard guy in the world

gonna frisk ya there.

MOTTOLA:

Thanks.

(to the black man)

So long, partner. Don't worry,

everything's gonna be all right.

The Black Man nods gratefully, but there's still a trace of

worry on his face. Mottola trots off down the alley and out

onto the street, glancing around cautiously for signs of

trouble. He walks hurriedly down the sidewalk toward the

cab stand in the distance. Suddenly the little man with the

knife appears out of a doorway about 15 yards behind him.

Mottola notices him and quickens his pace, finally breaking

into a dead run.

We follow him as he dashes headlong down the street, opening

a big lead on the guy with the knife. He reaches the taxi

zone. He hops in a cab and slams the door.

INT. TAXI - DAY

He jumps in, closes the door, and breathes a sigh of relief.

CABBIE:

Where to?

MOTTOLA:

Which way is Mason?

CABBIE:

About 20 blocks south.

MOTTOLA:

Okay, go north. The Joliet

Station -- Fast.

Mottola settles back in his seat and starts to laugh.

CABBIE:

What's so funny?

MOTTOLA:

I just made the world's easiest

five grand.

He takes the bundle out from inside his pants in order to

gaze upon his new-found fortune. He unties the handkerchief.

It's full of toilet paper. Mottola looks like he's just

been shot.

CUT TO:

EXT. ALLEY - DAY - THE STRANGER AND BLACK MAN

hightailing it down the street, two newly solvent con

artists on the lam. It's hard to run they're laughing so

hard. The stranger chucks his suitcase in a trash can and

pulls the real handkerchief out of his pants.

BLACK MAN:

Jesus, what a bundle. Did you know

he was that loaded?

STRANGER:

Hell no, I just cut into him. I

woulda settled for pawning one of

them shoes.

As they split off, music begins, and we go into a

TITLES SEQUENCE:

Done to a driving Chicago blues, the sequence is designed to

establish somewhat the milieu of the stranger, known to

friends and enemies alike as Hooker. We see the following:

EXT. PAWNSHOP - LOOKING INSIDE - DAY

Hooker is getting a radio and well-worn suit out of hook.

It's like seeing old friends again. All pantomime.

INT. HOOKER'S ROOM - DAY

A shabby little place he rents above a cigar store. We pick

him up in a jerry-built outdoor shower, which he's rigged up

on the fire escape. The rinse water drips down through the

landing into the grimy alley below.

HOOKER:

(singing)

'With plenty of money and you-oo-

oo,

Oh baby, what I wouldn't do-oo-

oo...'

ON THE STREET AGAIN

jauntily carrying a magnum of champagne and some flowers,

obviously on his way to see someone special.

IN A BURLESQUE HOUSE

Hooker stands in the wings holding the flowers and champagne,

watching his date for the evening, a 6'3" stripper named

Crystal, do her routine.

Crystal finishes up and comes off the stage.

CRYSTAL:

(tired)

Hi, Hooker, you gettin' married or

somethin'?

HOOKER:

Come into a little dough. You

wanna get outa here tonight?

CRYSTAL:

Can't. I got a 10 o'clock show. I

need the five bucks.

HOOKER:

I'll spend fifty on ya.

Crystal looks at him a second and starts to giggle. We're

pretty sure she's gonna get outa here tonight.

COMING INTO A POOR MAN'S GAMBLING JOINT

Little more than a reconverted brick basement, the place

contains three shoddy, homemade roulette tables. Hooker,

accompanied now by Crystal, nods a greeting to the doorman

and proceeds to a table where there are already several

other people laying their bets for the next spin. Hooker

knows the wheel man, an old-timer named Jimmy.

JIMMY:

(glad to see him)

Hooker!

HOOKER:

How ya doin', Jimmy.

JIMMY:

(collecting bets and

paying off the winners)

Ain't seen you in months, boy.

Thought maybe you took a fall.

HOOKER:

Naw, just a little hard times,

that's all. It's all over now.

JIMMY:

You gonna have a go here?

(pointing to the

betting board)

How 'bout a ten spot on the line

here. The 4-9 been lookin' good

today. Lotsa action on 28th Street

down there, too. Pay ya 10-1.

As Jimmy finishes his spiel, he starts the wheel spinning

and drops in the ball. Betting is allowed to continue until

the ball drops from the outer ring into the center.

HOOKER:

(taking out his wallet)

Three grand on the black.

Jimmy is stunned. The others at the table, used to dollar

bets, look at Hooker like he's some kind of foreign dignitary.

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