Ticker Page #3

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POOCH:

Smell anything, Schnoz? Me, neither.

T.J., 20s, a country boy inspects the open trunk.

GLASS, 40s, clean-cut, straight-laced, easy-going smile,

brilliant leader of the team, steps lightly around the open

driver's door.

POOCH (contíd) (cont.)

Schnoz, come here, boy.

T.J.

Shhh, I hear something....

Reilly stands off 25 feet. Glass notices him.

GLASS:

Who the heck're you?

REILLY:

You the Bomb Squad?

T.J.

No, we're terrorists, stay back or we'll blow.

GLASS:

We're a bit busy at the moment, I'll give you

a statement in a few minutes if we're still

alive.

REILLY:

(flashes badge)

Reilly, Vice. I-

T.J.

Quiet!

Glass and Pooch step lightly to the rear of the limo where

T.J. has discovered a shoebox wedged next to the spare tire.

T.J. leans down, puts his ear to it, nods.

T.J. (cont.)

Ticker.

Pooch lifts up Schnoz and holds him over the trunk. Schnoz

sniffs the shoebox, whines.

POOCH:

Schnoz says it's loaded. Good boy,

Schnozzie.

Pooch lowers Schnoz back to the ground throws him the red

ball, and trots back to the van, climbs up inside and sits,

watching.

GLASS:

Alright boys, look close. Let's assess.

Glass, Pooch and T.J. take a beat just to look at the

shoebox. Then, Glass nods for Reilly to move away.

Reilly takes a few steps back, watching as the team works

together - Glass in charge - a psychic connection between

them as they pass tools back and forth like surgeons.

POOCH:

Whadaya think, "boy" or "girl"?

Glass puts on magnifying spectacles -- precise, organized, a

detail freak as he uses a wooden probe to test the box for

wires, sensors.

As the others watch, Glass rubs his fingertips

ritualistically and carefully eases the top off the box.

He reaches in... Grabs something... Slowly pulls it out ...

It's a Mickey Mouse alarm clock doll, a clump of unlit

firecrackers taped between Mickey's legs.

The Bomb Squaders whoop and howl - all except Pooch who pulls

out a pack of Tums, shoves half of it in his mouth.

GLASS:

It's a "girl" !

They all crack up, hysterical. Reilly stares in disbelief --

these guys are nuts!

MOMENTS LATER - AT THE BOMB SQUAD VAN

In the b.g., the Officers finish getting a statement from the

Businessman as the still-worried Chauffeur inspects the limo.

T.J. and Pooch load their equipment into the van as Glass

fills out paperwork.

T.J.

That guy's wife must be pretty pissed off to

play a trick like that.

POOCH:

No sh*t. I better send Meg flowers just in

case.

T.J. and Pooch share a laugh as Reilly approaches...

REILLY:

Who's in charge here?

Pooch points to Schnoz.

POOCH:

He is!

REILLY:

Look, it's important.

T.J.

Make an appointment.

REILLY:

It's about this.

Reilly holds up the bracelet. Glass takes it, frowns.

GLASS:

Where did you get this?

REILLY:

Off a girl's wrist. A suspect...

T.J.

P.E.T.N ...

REILLY:

What?

GLASS:

High-grade det cord. This girl, either she's

got strange taste in jewelry or she's into

serious demolition.

REILLY:

What do you mean?

Glass whips out a blasting cap from his utility belt, cuts

off a piece of the bracelet, plugs it in.

POOCH:

Fire in the hole!

Glass tosses it into a sewer drain. A beat, then a small

EXPLOSION, smoke billows out of the gutter drain. The nearby

Officers jump, alarmed. The Bomb Squad guys laugh. Glass

waves to the Officers.

GLASS:

Sorry about that.

(to Reilly)

That's an inch of the stuff, imagine

what the whole thing'd do.

REILLY:

Thanks.

He grabs back the bracelet, turns to leave.

GLASS:

Hey wait a minute-

Reilly jogs back to his Studebaker, climbs in and roars off

in a cloud of dirty smoke.

T.J.

Vice... Jesus.

POOCH:

That'd be some explosive p*ssy he's got his

hands on.

Pooch and T.J. share a laugh as Glass shakes his head, climbs

on his Harley. The others pile into the van.

Glass kicks-starts his hog and rumbles away, van following.

INT. BAR - DAY

Thin crowd of day-time drinkers. Earring walks in, moves to

a booth where Swan and Beard are eating. Earring pulls out a

Gallois (French) cigarette, lights up from a book of matches.

EARRING:

They're holding her downtown.

SWAN:

What about the cop?

Earring shrugs.

BEARD:

If you'd let me waste him.

EARRING:

What if she talks?

SWAN:

She won't.

BEARD:

I say we split town. Come back to this job

when things cool. We've got other contracts -

Denver, Seattle...

Swan slams his fist down, spilling food. No one in bar even

looks up from their drink.

SWAN:

I want her back and we do the job.

BEARD:

I thought we agreed, the personal can't

interfere with the professional.

EARRING:

Besides, we're on a schedule and the cops

won't let her go.

SWAN:

Unless we make them.

EARRING:

Hey...

Earring stares uneasily. Swan and Beard look up, freeze. A

pair of PATROL COPS are heading directly towards them.

Earring reaches under his jacket... Swan grabs Earring's

arm, calming him.

The Cops keep coming, then at the last moment, they veer left

and slide into a booth.

Swan nods, they get up and casually slip outside.

INT. POLICE STATION - SQUAD ROOM - DAY

Reilly hurries in, interrupts Winters and Pluchinsky talking

over Pluchinsky's desk.

REILLY:

Captain-

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