Ticker Page #6

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T.J.

Scorch marks... looks like they used

silly putty.

Reilly looks to Glass for an explanation.

GLASS:

C4, plastic explosive.

T.J.

Helluva f*** factor.

Reilly again looks for an explanation.

T.J. (cont.)

Don't worry, you'll pick it

up.

POOCH:

Hey, check this out?

Something glitters in the ashes. Pooch picks it up with

tweezers. A tiny chip. The guys stare at it, puzzled.

GLASS:

Lemme see that.

Glass takes it, puts on his magnifying spectacles, holds it

up to the light, frowns.

GLASS (cont.)

Hardware.

T.J.

Computer device?

GLASS:

Unlikely. Probably, cash register or

something.

Pooch and T.J. go back to searching.

GLASS (cont.)

What can you tell us about the girl with the

exploding jewelry?

Glass turns to see Reilly on his way out.

REILLY:

I'll get back to you.

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY

Phones are ringing off the hook. Reilly bursts in, notices

Winters directing an army of cops setting up sophisticated

tracing equipment.

WINTERS:

Let's go, we gotta jump on him the second he

calls again.

Reilly discreetly crosses the room but is intercepted by

Pluchinsky.

PLUCHINSKY:

You were lucky today, vice boy. Captain said

to leave it alone, but just remember, I'm

watching you.

REILLY:

I'm sorry, detective, but you're just not my

type.

Pluchinsky's face turns red with rage as...

An OFFICER holds up a phone urgently.

OFFICER:

Captain, it's him!

The room scrambles into action as Winters grabs the phone.

Swan's voice crackles over the squawk box.

WINTERS:

Winters here.

SWAN'S VOICE

Don't make me send another.

WINTERS:

Look, we're prepared to talk, what

do you want--?

Click, dial tone.

WINTERS (cont.)

Hello? Hello?

Winters slams down the receiver. Cops pull off their tracing

headphones, glance at each other uneasily.

WINTERS (cont.)

Section commanders, in my office, now.

As the room erupts, Reilly turns to the BOOKING OFFICER.

REILLY:

Where's the girl? The one I brought in.

BOOKING OFFICER:

Upstairs, interrogation.

Reilly takes off.

INT. POLICE STATION - INTERROGATION VIEWING BOOTH - DAY

Wearing headphones connected to a tape recorder, a BORED COP

flips wearily through a comic book in front of a one-way

mirror. Through it can be seen a bare interrogation room

where The Girl sits stubbornly at a table across from Harry.

Stubbing a butt into an overflowing ashtray, Harry rubs the

back of his neck, gets up and goes through a door, into the

viewing booth. The Bored Cop looks up, shuts off the tape

recorder.

BORED COP:

Three hours. She's tough.

HARRY:

Tough? Tough is "F*** you, where's

my lawyer?". This chick doesn't

say boo.

The outer door opens, Reilly walks in.

REILLY:

Any luck?

HARRY:

Bupkiss. Sorry about Rice.

Reilly nods, accepts the condolence.

REILLY:

Captain said I could give it a crack.

HARRY:

She ain't no hooker. This is a murder

investigation.

REILLY:

She was my collar. Maybe I'll get lucky.

But, if you got a problem with that, talk to

the Captain.

HARRY:

I'll be in the can.

Harry exits. The Bored Cop eyes Reilly suspiciously as

Reilly crosses to the other door, yanks it open.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM

As Reilly enters, The Girl stiffens at the sight of him.

REILLY:

You remember me.

Reilly shuts the door, she doesn't respond. The Girl catches

a glimpse of his 9mm under his trenchcoat, she's unfazed. He

paces, circling her.

REILLY (cont.)

You know, your boyfriend just killed a ten

year old at a bus stop, blew her head clean

off.

The Girl puts up a good front but we can see she's listening.

REILLY (cont.)

You're scared. You're just caught in the

middle. But, we've got a guy out there

wasting people just to get you back. Why? It

can't be because of your looks. So, I'll be

honest with you -

Reilly goes to the table, flicks off the mic.

INT. VIEWING BOOTH

The Bored Cop doesn't notice, he's engrossed in his comic.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM

Reilly sits, the Girl eyes him like a trapped prey. They're

enemies, yet there's a strange chemistry between them.

REILLY:

Let me be very clear about this. The police

won't let you go. When your boyfriend

realizes this, I have a feeling a lot of

innocent people are going to die. Kids,

families. I know you don't want that to

happen.

She stares, eyes dark, barely registering any emotion at all.

A flicker of fear, indecision. Her lips part, fighting it,

then she looks away, letting the fear win. Reilly flushes

with anger, frustration.

INT. THE CAVE - DAY

Glass squints through a microscope. Pooch sniffs and fumbles

dirt samples. T.J. rocks to a Walkman as he inspects the

charred briefcase handle fragment. Bev is at her computer

searching luggage websites on the Net.

Reilly comes in, still frustrated.

POOCH:

We missed you, where'd you go?

Before Reilly can answer, T.J. rips off his headphones.

T.J.

F***in A, I think I got two partial

prints here!

POOCH:

Awright! How bout you, Glass, how's that chip

shaking?

They all look over. Glass stares back darkly.

T.J.

Glass, what is it?

GLASS:

I was wrong... this didn't come from

any cash register.

POOCH:

Whadaya mean?

GLASS:

It's from an IRA.

POOCH:

Oh sh*t...

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