Thirteen Days Page #6

Kenny stares at the old man. Acheson's gaze finds his

through the cigarette smoke. Acheson's eyes travel to the

President.

ACHESON (CONT'D)

I concur with General Taylor. I

recommend, sir, air strikes followed by

invasion, perhaps preceded by an

ultimatum to dismantle the missiles if

military necessity permits.

Taylor nods, vindicated. The others murmur their approval.

Bobby, at the table in front of Kenny and to his left, trades

a dire look with Kenny. This is happening too fast. Bobby

holds his head, looks about at the others, deeply distressed.

The President sinks back in his chair, staring at Acheson.

THE PRESIDENT:

Then it appears we have three options.

Number one. A surgical air strike

against the missiles themselves. Two, a

larger air strike against their air

defenses along with the missiles.

Kenny eyes Bobby. Bobby is writing something.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

And three, invasion.

Bobby looks over his shoulder at Kenny, and REACHES BACK to

him with a folded NOTE. Kenny takes it, opens it.

It reads NOW I KNOW WHO TOJO FELT PLANNING PEARL HARBOR.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

We're certainly going to do number one;

we're going to take out these missiles,

so it seems to me we don't have to wait

very long. We ought to at least be

making those preparations.

Kenny gives Bobby a curt nod. Bobby tilts his head at the

President:
pass the note on to him. Kenny rises, slips the

note in front of the President.

The President unfolds the note, and we HOLD ON IT and his

reaction as in the b.g., out of focus, Taylor speaks:

GENERAL TAYLOR:

Yes, sir, we're preparing to implement

all three options, though I must stress

again, sir, there are risks to the

strikes without the follow-on invasion.

Bundy clears his throat. Speaks from somewhere down the

table.

BUNDY:

You want to be clear, Mr. President,

that we have definitely decided against

a political track.

The President folds the note away, glances at Bobby. A beat,

the President looks from Bobby to Acheson.

THE PRESIDENT:

Dean, how does this play out?

ACHESON:

Your first step, sir, will be to demand

that the Soviet withdraw the missiles

within 12 to 24 hours. They will

refuse. When they do, you will order

the strikes, followed by the invasion.

They will resist, but will be overrun.

They will retaliate against a target

somewhere else in the world, most likely

Berlin. We will honor our treaty

commitments and resist them there,

defeating them per our plans.

THE PRESIDENT:

Those plans call for the use of nuclear

weapons.

(beat)

And what is the next step?

Acheson sits back in his chair, smooths his moustache. A

dramatic beat, and then his ominous pronouncement rings out:

ACHESON:

Hopefully cooler heads will prevail

before we reach the next step.

A chill runs down Kenny's spine. He looks in shock to the

President. The President remains calm. But in place of the

fated look the President has had, there's a hesitation.

INT. WEST WING HALLS - NIGHT

Acheson strides down the hall, Taylor, Sweeney, Carter and

Bundy swept along behind him. Bundy is on the defensive, the

others grim.

GENERAL TAYLOR:

If McNamara'd get off the fence...

BUNDY:

We have time.

GENERAL CARTER:

Goddamn it, it's obvious. It's the only

option. That a**hole, Stevenson. We

can't let this drag out or we lose our

shot.

BUNDY:

Bombing them...

ACHESON:

Remember that the Kennedys' father was

one of the architects of Munich. The

General is right. There is only one

responsible choice here.

Bundy just nods. Taylor grabs a door ahead for Acheson.

ACHESON (CONT'D)

Let's pray appeasement doesn't run in

families. I fear weakness does.

And the men head into a stairwell going down.

INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

Grimacing in pain. He opens a pill bottle, takes two pills

out. He takes a whiskey in a shot glass from Kenny.

RESUME:

Kenny finishes pouring him and Bobby a couple of more shots,

discreetly turning a blind eye to the President's pain.

The President returns from his desk, shirt untucked,

disheveled, back stiff. He eases into his rocking chair.

Bobby lies sprawled on the couch. Kenny sits down. They all

look at each other. A beat, something like shock.

KENNY:

Jesus Christ Almighty...

They burst out laughing. An absurd, tension draining moment.

They shoot their drinks, Kenny refills.

KENNY (CONT'D)

Call me Irish, but I don't believe in

cooler heads prevailing.

THE PRESIDENT:

Acheson's scenario is unacceptable. And

he has more experience than anyone.

KENNY:

There is no expert on this subject, no

wise old man.

The President stares Kenny in the face, understanding.

THE PRESIDENT:

The thing is, Acheson's right. Talk

alone won't accomplish anything.

Kenny considers the President, his face straight as he says:

KENNY:

Then let's bomb the sh*t out of them.

Everyone wants to, even you, even me.

(there's a point)

It sure would feel good.

The President sees what Kenny's saying: it'd be an emotional

response, not necessarily the intelligent one.

BOBBY:

Jack, I'm as conniving as they come, but

a sneak attack is just wrong.

KENNY:

He's right. And things are happening

too fast. It smells like the Bay of

Pigs all over again.

Bobby picks up some reconnaissance photos on the coffee

table.

BOBBY:

As if dealing with the Russians wasn't

hard enough, we gotta worry about our

own house.

THE PRESIDENT:

Tonight, listening to Taylor and

Acheson, I kept seeing Burke and Dulles

telling me all I had to do was sign on

the dotted line. The invasion would

succeed. Castro would be gone. Just

like that. Easy.

The President is rendered mute by a wave of pain. Kenny and

Bobby aver their eyes. When it passes, the President is

hushed, grave.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

There's something...immoral about

abandoning your own judgement.

Kenny nods, moved. The President reaches out for the

reconnaissance photos Bobby's flipping through. Bobby hands

them to him. The President looks them over. And when he

speaks, there's humility. And resolve.

THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)

We can't let things get ahead of

themselves. We've got to control what

happens.

We're going to do what we have to make

this come out right. EXCOM is our first

weapon.

(beat)

We'll resort to others as we need 'em.

EXT. AIRPORT - BRIDGEPOINT, CONNECTICUT - DAY

SUPER:
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17TH. DAY 2

A LONG SHOT of an ENORMOUS CROWD thronging a bunting-trimmed

platform. The President, barely recognizable at the

distance, and a cluster of political VIPS wave from it,

smiling.

Kenny steps INTO FRAME, back here at the fringes of the

crowd.

THE PRESIDENT (O.S.)

Doesn't anybody in Connecticut have to

work today?

The crowd goes nuts. Kenny paces, checks his watch,

impatient to be done with the necessary diversion. Kenny

gazes off to his right and spots Scotty Reston, along with

half the White House press corps suckered along. Scotty

catches Kenny's look.

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