Ticker Page #12

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WINTERS:

I read your report. Impressive. I'd say it's

got detective written all over it. But... you

cross the line one more time... you're gone.

Are we clear?

Reilly, nods, shifts uncomfortably.

WINTERS (cont.)

Now, that out of the way. The girl wants to

talk to you, alone.

Reilly is shocked.

WINTERS (cont.)

So get going, let's close this thing.

REILLY:

Yes, sir.

Reilly bolts off.

INT. POLICE STATION - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY

Reilly enters to find Harry and the Girl waiting for him.

Harry looks the Girl over, nods at Reilly.

HARRY:

I'll be outside.

Reilly nods, Harry exits. Reilly sits down at the table

opposite her.

THE GIRL:

Hello.

REILLY:

Hello.

THE GIRL (MARY)

My name is Mary Jordan. We were hired to take

out some industrial sites. Insurance.

REILLY:

But they weren't all insured.

MARY:

Cover.

(slowly, ashamed)

It was suppose to be abandoned buildings,

y'know. No one was suppose to get hurt. The

night you busted us...We were checking to make

sure there weren't any vagrants around. Scare

them away.

REILLY:

Who is he?

MARY:

Alex Swan. My brother.

The other two are called Taylor and

Leveau.

REILLY:

Taylor's dead.

She seems relieved.

REILLY (cont.)

Where are they, Mary?

Mary takes a deep breath, eyes welling.

MARY:

There is a motel downtown, near the Machine

Shop... the Suncrest. Room 138.

REILLY:

Thank you.

MARY:

He's my brother...

Reilly rises and moves to her. Their eyes linger a moment, a

bond between them.

REILLY:

Then why tell me?

MARY:

People are dying.

Reilly nods and touches her shoulder, a light squeeze. He

turns and exits.

EXT. SUNCREST MOTEL - ROOM - DAY

An army of cops and squad cars out front, Pluchinsky silently

directs a SWAT team to the door. Reilly and the Bomb Squad

watch from a distance as they break down the door.

SHOUTING, mayhem as the team floods into the room.

Pluchinsky brings up the rear. After a beat, Pluchinsky re-

emerges, shaking his head.

AT THE FAR END OF THE MOTEL

Swan and Beard watch from behind a car. Beard gives Swan a

dirty look and they quietly move off around the corner.

AT THE BOMB SQUAD VAN

Reilly and Glass are visibly disappointed.

As the others grumble about it, Reilly notices someone across

the street - the Bag Lady with the pie-tin crown, holding her

hand out to a MAN getting into his car. The Man ignores her,

screeches off. The Bag Lady scribbles down his license

number in her pad. Glass follows Reilly's stare.

GLASS:

Ex-girlfriend?

REILLY:

Be right back.

Reilly crosses the street, intercepts the Bag Lady as she's

pushing her cart away.

REILLY (cont.)

Excuse me... I'm looking for two men who were

staying at the hotel over there - one has a

beard, the other's tall, thin. You wouldn't

happen to have seen them, would you?

BAG LADY:

No.

REILLY:

No, of course not... well, thanks

anyway. Here you go, Your Highness.

He fishes some change out of his pocket, hands it over,

starts away.

BAG LADY:

On second thought, maybe I did.

He turns back. The Bag Lady flips through her pad, stabs an

entry with her finger.

BAG LADY:

Lemme see... yeah, here it is, 11:18 this

morning. Very disrespectful. He used to

drive a van, but he got a new car. You want

the license number?

She tears off the page, holds it out.

REILLY:

You're beautiful!

Reilly gives her a big kiss, races back to the Bomb Squad

who've been watching.

REILLY:

We're back in business!

They all look at him like he's nuts.

INT. POLICE SQUAD ROOM - DAY

Buzzing with action. Harry and Pluchinsky attack Winters

with printouts.

HARRY:

Ran the license plate - car was rented early

this morning from a Hertz office downtown.

PLUCHINSKY:

Alex Swan - demolitions expert, trained at

Redstone, dropped out, freelanced in the

middle East for awhile, then disappeared, no

criminal record. The other one, Leveau, is

French Canadian, he's a mercenary, record in

half a dozen countries.

WINTERS:

Get out an APB, now!

Harry moves off to the DISPATCHER as a fax machine comes to

life on the desk next to PLUCHINSKY. A fax spews out...

"WINTERS. LET HER GO NOW... OR A BOMB'S COMING CLOSE TO

HOME."

WINTERS (cont.)

Jesus. Pluchinsky, get four squad cars out to

my house, get my family out of there, tell my

wife I'm on my way.

PLUCHINSKY:

Yes, sir.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Cops race to their cars. An armada of black-and-whites

scream out of the parking lot. Winters appears and jumps

into his Ford Sedan and tears out.

DISPATCHER (V.0)

... suspects driving a dark green

Ford Grenada, license number one

Two Eight Michael Vincent Edward ...

EXT. SUBURBS - DAY

Squad cars roar up and down the streets.

Two cars are parked out in front of one house in particular.

INT. POLICE STATION - SQUAD ROOM - DAY

In the squad room, Pluchinsky and some men wait anxiously by

phones, computer-consoles, radio switchboard.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Reilly idles in his Studebaker. T.J. and Pooch come out of

the parking lot in the Bomb Squad Van, Glass motors along

side Reilly. He guns the bike and takes the lead, followed

by Reilly, then the van.

They pull out into traffic and head towards the suburbs.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Beard drives, Swan rides shotgun. A briefcase lies on the

seat between them.

As he makes a left, Beard notices the Bomb Squad Van coming

the other direction.

BEARD:

We've got company.

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