Thirteen Days Page #27

So this is the enemy.

THE WOMAN:

Who are you?

Kenny glances to the door. He considers for a long moment.

KENNY:

The friend.

Kenny breaks the gaze. He begins to whistle again. The

CAMERA drifts away, finding the far DOOR to the inner office,

Kenny's tune stronger, carrying with it hope...

INT. BOBBY'S OFFICE - NIGHT

... to the other side of that DOOR. Dobrynin sits in a chair

opposite Bobby behind his desk. The room is equally dim.

And far more tense.

Silence. And then the FAINTEST STRAIN of O'Donnell Aboo.

Dobrynin glances briefly over his shoulder at the door.

But Bobby, unseen by Dobrynin, can't help the flicker of a

private smile. It's Kenny's presence, and Bobby is the

stronger for it. And then the tune is gone.

Bobby leans forward, cool, controlled, masterful.

BOBBY:

Ambassador Dobrynin, we are aware that

at this moment your missiles in Cuba are

at the brink of operational readiness...

SMASH CUT TO:

EXT. MISSILE SITE - CUBA - CONTINUOUS

Floodlights illuminate MISSILES, vertical on their erectors,

support VEHICLES, clustered across the man-made clearing.

Mask-wearing Technicians wave a FUEL TRUCK back to the

nearest missile. Clouds of toxic VAPOR rise from the others.

They've already been fueled.

BOBBY (V.O.)

They are a vital threat to my country.

If launched, they would kill 80 million

Americans.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. BOBBY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

Dobrynin listens impassively, as is his professional duty.

BOBBY:

My brother, my friends, my countrymen

and I cannot and will not permit those

missiles to become operational.

(beat)

I promise you that.

Dobrynin looks out the window. And then, pained, looks back

at Bobby.

DOBRYNIN:

Then I fear our two nations will go to

war. And I fear where war will lead us.

Bobby acknowledges him with a nod.

BOBBY:

If the missiles do not become

operational, if you remove the missiles,

then there will be no war.

(beat)

At this moment, the President is

accepting the terms of Secretary

Khruschev's letter of Friday night. If

the Soviet Union halts construction

immediately, removes the missiles, and

submits to U.N. inspection, the United

States will pledge to never invade Cuba

or aid others in that enterprise.

Dobrynin stares at Bobby. Stares hard.

DOBRYNIN:

If your Jupiter missiles in Turkey were

removed also, such an accommodation

could be reached.

The two men move their argument forward with the deliberation

and formality of chess masters.

BOBBY:

(tired sounding)

The United States cannot agree to such

terms under threat. Any belief to the

contrary --

(beat)

-- was in error.

Dobrynin reels internally. The only sign on his face is a

slight tremor. Bobby looks up, registers the calculated

effect. And to Dobrynin's horror, the Russian believes:

DOBRYNIN:

You want war...

But not so fast. Bobby folds his hands. And he smoothly

goes from hard-ass brinksman to sensitive deal-maker.

BOBBY:

However, while there can be no quid pro

quo on this issue, the United States can

offer a private assurance.

Dobrynin holds his breath.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

Our Jupiter missiles in Turkey are

obsolete, and have been scheduled for

withdrawal for some time. This

withdrawal should be completed within,

say, six months.

Dobrynin lets out his breath.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

Of course, any public disclosure of this

assurance would negate the deal and

produce the most stringent denials from

our government.

Dobrynin grasps the move immediately, understanding the

ramifications. Still he hesitates a moment.

DOBRYNIN:

This private assurance represents the

word of the Highest Authority?

BOBBY:

Yes.

DOBRYNIN:

And it can be relayed beyond Comrade

Khruschev's ears to the top circles of

my government

BOBBY:

Of course. Our pledge can be relayed to

any government official Secretary

Khruschev sees fit to satisfy.

Meaning this is the bone he can show the hard line. Dobrynin

struggles internally, knowing what Bobby has done, wanting to

hug him. It comes across as agitation.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

With the caveat that it is not made

public in any way, shape or form.

(beat)

And we must have an answer tomorrow at

the latest. I cannot stress this point

enough.

DOBRYNIN:

Tomorrow...

BOBBY:

Tomorrow...

Dobrynin rises from his chair. Bobby rises with him.

DOBRYNIN:

Then you must excuse me and permit me to

relay the substance of our discussion to

my superiors.

Dobrynin heads for the door. Half way there he turns back to

Bobby, deeply moved. Deeply grateful.

DOBRYNIN (CONT'D)

We have heard stories that some among

your military men wish for war.

(beat)

You are a good man. Your brother is a

good man. I assure you there are other

good men. Let us hope the will of good

men is enough to counter the terrible

strength of this thing which has been

put in motion.

INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

Kenny enters the Oval Office through his side door. The

office is dark, only the desk lamp on. Kenny's gaze moves

over the trappings of power: the carpet with the Presidential

Seal, the rocking chair by the fireplace, the desk.

And on the desk, tucked almost out of sight, sits a small,

humble wooden plaque. It's turned to face the occupant of

the chair behind the desk. Kenny reaches out, turns it

around. It is the Breton's Fisherman's Prayer.

It reads:
OH LORD, THY SEA IS GREAT, MY BOAT SO SMALL.

BOBBY (O.S.)

We're out here.

Kenny holds on the plaque a beat, and looks up at the open

French door to the Rose Garden. The curtains swirl around

him in the wind as he goes through the door and out --

EXT. PORTICO - CONTINUOUS

-- onto the portico. Standing there in the dark, by the

white neoclassical pillars of the cloister, are Bobby and the

President. They're holding drinks. Kenny joins them.

The President gestures out across the South Lawn to the

gleaming Washington Monument.

THE PRESIDENT:

We were just debating who had it worse,

us or George Washington and his guys.

BOBBY:

He didn't have to worry about nuclear

weapons.

THE PRESIDENT:

Yeah, but the country didn't even exist

as a country yet. It was a mess, and he

didn't have a leg to stand on.

KENNY:

All he had was his character.

The President and Bobby nod at the justice of that remark.

BOBBY:

How does a guy get a rep like that?

THE PRESIDENT:

Doesn't matter to me. If I went down in

history like Adams, I'd die happy. All

they say about him today is --

KENNY:

-- he kept the peace.

Kenny looks at the President. The President feels it, and

gazes back to him.

The three of them stare out at the glittering city. The

grandness of the world lies before them, and they are

deciding its fate, and are humbled by the awfulness of it.

The silence is beyond power.

And for a long moment, they know not to disturb it. There is

nothing left to say. The President, at last, finishes his

drink.

THE PRESIDENT:

You know, we never did control it. Not

really. Not like we think.

He looks at Kenny. Kenny nods. He knows that now too.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

But we did our best. Now it's up to

them.

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