Ticker Page #10

---

POOCH:

Oh sh*t...

T.J.

F*** factor ten.

GLASS:

Okay, I'm going in, nobody breathe.

Synchronizing his chronometer to the counter, Glass begins

disengaging sensor switches.

GLASS (cont.)

Altimeter... choking coil... mercury switch...

He clips off circuits and booby traps with bloodcurdling

care, peeling away layer after layer of death... shakes his

head with awe, respect, fear.

GLASS (cont.)

Triple V.O.M... brilliant... this guy's a

master...

Finally he comes to the heart of the bomb, a pair of tiny

wires leading to the blasting cap, one yellow, one red.

Precious seconds tick away.

GLASS (cont.)

It's one of these wires.

REILLY:

So cut both.

GLASS:

One shuts it down, one turns arms it.

REILLY:

Which one's which?

GLASS:

I don't know. There's an old saying, when in

doubt, cut the yellow wire.

Reilly gulps. The device teeters, slightly, alarming T.J.

and Pooch. Glass nods. T.J. and Pooch each grab a corner of

the device to steady it. Reilly follows their lead and

kneels, goes to reach for a corner as well, one hand starts

to tremble.

GLASS (cont.)

You can go back to the van if you like.

REILLY:

No, I'm with you.

Reilly focuses and wills his hands to steady. He grabs a

corner and closes his eyes, mind over matter. Sweat streams

as he concentrates like never before.

Pooch and T.J. stare at the wires with intensity.

f 15 seconds, 14, 13,... Glass pulls out a clipper.

f 12, 11, 10... He eases the clipper into position.

f 9, 8, 7... He draws in a breath.

Closing his eyes, he clips the yellow wire. Reilly's eyes

snap open.

The counter stops on 4 - no explosion.

Pooch and T.J. whoop and hug like drunk madmen. Glass steps

away, stone-faced. Reilly follows him, wobbly.

REILLY (cont.)

You okay?

GLASS:

(smiles)

Is this a great job or what?

EXT. STREET - MOMENTS LATER

Two squad cars have appeared, Officers cordon off the crime

scene.

Glass watches Reilly kneeling over Earring's body digging

through Earring's pockets, finding nothing but cash,

cigarettes and matches.

REILLY:

(at Glass)

Nothing. Nothing traceable.

INT BAR:

Pooch and T.J. have the device on the ground a few feet away

from the Earring's body. They delicately continue to take it

apart so it can be transported safely. Schnoz sits nearby,

watching. Pooch is on the phone with his wife...

POOCH:

I don't know, honey. I'll see. No,

everything's fine, it was nothing.

As he says this, he lifts a chunk of C4 and sets it aside.

Pooch hangs up his phone.

EXT STREET:

Pooch and TJ exit the bar, moving to Glass and Reilly.

POOCH (cont.)

You guys hungry? The wife's got a heap of

lasagna leftover.

T.J.

(at Reilly)

What do ay say?

GLASS:

Meg's lasagna. Good eats, Reilly. C'mon.

Glass notes Reilly's hands.

GLASS (cont.)

Good meal would go a long way to steady your

system.

REILLY:

Got work to do, don't we?

Pooch scribbles down an address on a scrap of paper from the

device's shopping bag, hands it to Reilly, offering a smile.

POOCH:

In case you change your mind.

Reilly looks at it awkwardly, then walks away as a News van

arrives on the scene...

EXT./INT. DOWNTOWN - STUDEBAKER - EARLY EVENING

Reilly cruises into the bowels of downtown. Makes a few

turns and parks.

In the shadows of a burned out building, Reilly observes

several JUNKIES getting a fix from their CONNECTION.

Reilly watches with scared, tempted eyes.

He looks at his hands... they're trembling... catches his

reflection in the rear view mirror. Checks Rice's watches on

his wrist, taps it. Still not ticking. Ashamed, he

screeches away.

INT. POLICE STATION - OFFICE - NIGHT

A quiet Squad Room. Reilly bangs out something on a computer

terminal. He blazes away, typing as fast as he can. He

holds out his hands. Almost steady. He takes a drink from a

Protein Shake, returns to typing.

INT. WINTERS' OFFICE - NIGHT

A weary Winters looks up from coffee and paperwork as Reilly

knocks, walks in. Reilly drops a sheaf of papers on his

desk.

WINTERS:

What's this?

REILLY:

Report on the case so far.

WINTERS:

You know after a shooting I would normally

take your badge and weapon, but Glass called

in already and confirmed it was clean.

REILLY:

Yes, sir.

WINTERS:

But from now on, any leads on this case go to

Pluchinsky. He's primary investigator and you

are unofficially assigned to the Bomb Squad...

you and your new friends are not to be playing

detective any more. Got it?

Reilly nods, accepting.

WINTERS (cont.)

I imagine as soon as they find out one of

their's is dead, we'll be getting another

call. So get some sleep, alright.

Reilly nods, turns and exits.

INT. SUNCREST MOTEL - ROOM - NIGHT

TIGHT on a TV - a pretty Reporter reports live from the

scene...

REPORTER:

To recap, a gunman carrying what police

described as a phony bomb was shot and killed

less than an hour ago.

THE ROOM:

Swan watches the TV report with Beard, eyes narrowing as he

sees Reilly in the crowd behind the Reporter.

REPORTER (cont.)

While the man's motives and identity remain a

mystery, police are denying the incident is

related to the explosion that ripped through a

bar earlier today, killing 15 and wounding

more than 30...

Swan kicks in the TV, destroying it.

BEARD:

She talked.

Swan flips open a suitcase full of bomb-making materials and

begins to sort through...

EXT. POOCH'S HOUSE - NIGHT

Quiet, cozy, middle class. The Harley and the Bomb Squad van

are parked out front. Also the Studebaker.

INT. POOCH'S HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes