Thirteen Days Page #21

BOBBY:

By the way, Scali, your activities now

fall under the secrecy codicils of the

National Security Act. Sorry, no

Pulitzer.

The gathered men chuckle, only Scali a bit dour but being a

good sport about it. Scali checks his watch.

SCALI:

Mr. President, we don't have much time.

I'm supposed to meet with him again in

three and a half hours.

THE PRESIDENT:

Well, it seems the question of the day

is -- is the offer legitimate?

He moves away from his desk. The men watch him.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

If it is... if it is, then we can't

afford to ignore it.

(beat, to Scali)

John, we'll have instructions for you in

a couple of hours.

Scali nods. Rusk escorts him out. They wait until the door

closes. Taylor looks over at McCone who nods.

GENERAL TAYLOR:

Mr. President, I'm afraid we have some

bad news. We're getting GMAIC estimates

from our latest low-level overflights.

It appears the missiles are two to three

days away from operational status.

MCCONE:

So we don't have much time to play out

back-channel communiques.

Kenny gives Bobby a hard look. The President appears

unfazed.

GENERAL TAYLOR:

The quarantine, sir, is not producing

results. The Chiefs feel it's time you

take another look at our options.

The President considers Taylor, then looks over to Kenny.

THE PRESIDENT:

Kenny, get over to your old stomping

grounds. Go through everything the FBI

has on Fomin. I need your best call: is

this guy legit and is he speaking for

Khruschev? And I need you to tell me by

the time I call you, because right after

I call you, I'm calling Scali with his

instructions.

INT. FBI, COUNTER-INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT FILES - NIGHT

BANG! A STACK OF FILES slams down beside Kenny on a large

paper-covered conference table. WALTER SHERIDAN, Kenny's

investigator-buddy, wears a visitor's pass just like Kenny.

Kenny and Walter RIFLE through the folders, super fast, super

proficient. A half-dozen FBI AGENTS work around the table.

SHERIDAN:

Okay. So, what we've got is this guy

Alexander Feklisov, aka Alexander Fomin,

declared Consul to the Soviet Embassy,

but in reality the KGB Papa Spy. An

illustrious tour of duty during the

Great Patriotic War gets him on the

Party fast track, various tours of duty

in KGB, American postings. He's an

expert on us, and... that's all we've

got on Papa Spy.

KENNY:

Who's he talking for? Is it Khruschev,

or is this more bullshit?

Kenny stands, runs his hands through his hair, aggravated.

KENNY (CONT'D)

How do you become the KGB top spy in the

United States?

SHERIDAN:

Gotta know someone.

Kenny whirls on Sheridan. A frozen beat.

KENNY:

Politics is politics. Walter.

(whirling on Agents)

Khruschev is the Moscow Party Boss under

Stalin. Give me their career

chronologies!

Walter pushes a typed dateline of Khruschev's major career

moves, and one of the Agents hands Kenny a list of Fomin's

postings. He lays them side by side. And for every step of

Khruschev's, there's a step for Fomin. Not only that, but

the DATES ARE IDENTICAL or nearly so.

KENNY (CONT'D)

Every time Khruschev moves up, Fomin

does within a year...

(tracing up the list)

Khruschev was the administrator in

charge of preparing Moscow's defenses

during the war. And Fomin... was here

in the U.S.

Kenny's face falls. But a YOUNG FBI AGENT cuts in.

YOUNG FBI AGENT:

Not at first.

The Young FBI Agent proffers him a file. Kenny snatches it.

YOUNG FBI AGENT (CONT'D)

He was an engineer stationed outside

Moscow in '42. Specialized in tank

traps.

Kenny looks up at Walter. Walter nods sagely, lights a pipe.

KENNY:

They know each other. They're war

buddies.

SHERIDAN:

It's thin. But real life usually is.

A PHONE on the table SHRILLS, shattering the silent triumph.

KENNY:

Hello?

THE PRESIDENT (O.S.)

I've got to move. What do you have,

Kenny?

KENNY:

They know each other! Khruschev and

Feklisov aka Fomin were war buddies!

THE PRESIDENT (O.S.)

You're sure...

KENNY:

Don't take it to court, but we've got

good circumstantial evidence...

(off Walter's nod)

Walter agrees. My gut's telling me

Khruschev's turning to a trusted old

friend to carry his message.

THE PRESIDENT (O.S.)

Okay, Ken. We're going.

INT. STATLER HOTEL COFFEE SHOP - NIGHT

A few lonely BUSINESS TRAVELERS hang out in the dim coffee

shop. Faint music plays. Scali and ALEXANDER FOMIN sit with

steaming cups of coffee. Scali, nervous, unfolds a note.

Fomin, an expressionless gray spectre of a man, eyes him. He

is, in his boredom, a spy's spy.

SCALI:

I am instructed to tell you that the

American Government would respond

favorably to an offer along the lines

you have discussed. If this solution

were raised at the U.N. by Ambassador

Zorin, he would find a favorable reply

from Ambassador Stevenson.

FOMIN:

So I understand you correctly. If the

missiles in Cuba were dismantled,

returned to the Soviet Union, and a

guarantee was made not to reintroduce

them, the United States would be

prepared to guarantee that it would

never invade Cuba?

SCALI:

That is correct.

FOMIN:

This is from the Highest Authority?

SCALI:

Yes. From the Highest Authority. There

are two conditions. The U.N.

must be allowed to inspect the removal

of the missiles.

FOMIN:

And, of course, the U.N. must be allowed

to observe the redeployment of forces

from the American Southeast.

Scali demurs. He has no instructions on this count.

FOMIN (CONT'D)

And the second condition?

SCALI:

Time is of the essence.

Scali takes a sip of coffee. Fomin stares at him, intense.

FOMIN:

John. How much time?

SCALI:

48 hours. In 48 hours there can be no

deals.

INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

Scali finishes debriefing the President, Bobby, Kenny,

McCone, Taylor and Bundy.

SCALI:

He left right away. Got the feeling he

meant business.

Kenny and Bobby share a hopeful glance. Rusk enters from

Kenny's office. And he's unable to contain his excitement.

RUSK:

Mr. President, we're receiving a letter

from Khruschev over at State.

INT. COMMUNICATIONS OFFICE - STATE DEPARTMENT - NIGHT

From a cluster of folding metal chairs, Kenny, Bobby, Rusk

and Sorensen watch a TELETYPE hammer out the message as it

comes off the wire. It's painfully slow, like watching a bad

typist type a manuscript. Ten pages of this is an eternity.

To top it off, it's in Russian. A TRANSLATOR reads it off,

word by word to a TRANSCRIBER.

TRANSLATOR:

...two...of...us...pull...on...the...

knot...of...war...

INT. CABINET ROOM - NIGHT

Kenny slams a page of Khruschev's letter on the table. He

jabs his finger at it. EXCOM listens, intent.

KENNY:

It's ten pages of sentimental fluff, but

he's saying right here. He'll remove

the missiles in return for a no-invasion

pledge. It looks like Fomin's overture

was genuine.

The President turns to McCone.

MCCONE:

Our early analysis says this was

probably written by Khruschev himself.

It's a first draft, and shows no signs

of being polished by the foreign

ministry. In fact, it probably hasn't

been approved by the Politburo. They

wouldn't have let the emotionalism go

by. The analysts say it was written by

someone under considerable stress.

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