Ticker Page #9

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GLASS:

Not bad for Bomb squad, eh?

REILLY:

What not bad. You've got a series of bombs,

devices, that may or may not be connected, set

by one or many nutjobs, who may or may not be

linked.

GLASS:

Right.

REILLY:

Well... it's more than we had ten minutes ago.

POOCH:

I got a friend over at Scotland Yard who's

gonna try and reach out to a undercover guy

who would know if any of the rightwingers are

circulating over here. Bev's following up on

the briefcase manufacturers, too.

T.J. comes over.

T.J.

Pooch, you're up. Rack `em.

They look over to the pool table to see only the cue ball

left.

T.J. (cont.)

Boss, you're buying the next round.

T.J. sets his empty Root Beer bottle on the bar.

POOCH:

How're you guys doing?

REILLY:

Still waiting for a miracle. Go ahead.

Pooch and T.J. head back to the pool table where two comely

Gals have begun putting the balls back onto the table. T.J.

turns on his smile and chats them up.

REILLY (cont.)

Quite a team you've got, where'd you find

them?

GLASS:

It's a small fraternity, everyone knows

everyone. I'm always recruiting. Pooch is ex-

D.O.D., military expert... claymores,

grenades. He played linebacker at Boston

College, worked a K-9 unit - that led him to

the Bomb Squad... great nose, lousy fingers,

we try to keep him away from the tickers.

T.J. is a heck of chemist, Texas A&M

engineering degree. Found him in a Militia

chat room - turns out we were both monitoring

the same groups. Bev is the natural born

hacker, we stole her from dispatch. She had

the Cave reorganized and ultra-high-tech in

two months. Captain has no idea how much

hardware she's "found" for us.

REILLY:

You guys seem pretty tight.

GLASS:

We've gotta be. In this business, you don't

exactly make alot of outside commitments.

REILLY:

Why do you do it?

GLASS:

I don't know, it's strange... it's not the

best career path, but when you get the bug,

there's nothing you can do about it. See,

when you beat one of these things...

(MORE)

GLASS (cont.)

there's that one second when you realize you

saw something you weren't supposed to see...

this beautiful naked woman... Death... and

then the rush comes, the high, cuz you realize

you got away with it.

T.J. returns, shrugs.

T.J.

Lesbians.

Pooch is still with the girls, showing one of them how to

line up a shot.

REILLY:

Looks like Pooch's doing okay.

T.J.

He's married, he don't even know what a

lesbian is.

T.J. waves over the Bartender. He and Glass orders fresh

drinks as Reilly eyes pretty Blonde across the bar. She

picks up two beers and grabs a pack of matches off the bar.

She turns and moves to the booth in the corner. The bodies

part and Reilly catches a glimpse of Earring.

Reilly nearly chokes on his coke as Earring takes the matches

from the Blonde. Earring checks his watches, rises. He

looks up and catches Reilly's eye - he smiles--then bolts.

Reilly coughs up his drink and tries to get a word out,

pointing as Earring slips out the exit door next to the

booth.

Glass pats Reilly's back as he gags, eyes blazing.

Finally...

REILLY:

There he goes. He was here the whole time.

Reilly pushes his way through the crowd with Glass on his

heels. T.J. rushes over and grabs Pooch away from the Girls

at the pool table.

Reilly runs into a pair of enormous Rednecks, spilling their

beer on them.

The Rednecks grab him by the collar and prepare to fight as

Pooch arrives and body-blocks the Rednecks away from Reilly.

Reilly is released and he continues after Earring as Pooch

and the Rednecks mix it up.

A brawl breaks out with Pooch and T.J. in the middle as

Reilly and Glass make it to the exit door. Reilly flies out-

but Glass FREEZES dead in his tracks. He spins back to look

at the corner booth.

THE SHOPPING BAG sits on the floor under the table.

Glass tenses.

The fight escalates quickly, but Pooch employs his linebacker

skills and cuts down his assailant... and T.J. a natural

streetfighting-rabbit-puncher. They quickly dispatch the

Rednecks, leaving them bruised and bloodied... they rush for

Glass and the doorway--then lock on Glass' reaction and stop.

EXT. STREET - LATE AFTERNOON

Reilly runs out into the middle of the street.

At the end of the block, Earring is rushing for the corner.

Reilly draws his 9mm, aims thru the pedestrian--and fires.

Earring is blown off his feet...

He hits the pavement hard...

INT. BAR

Reilly enters and sees Glass, TJ and Pooch gathered around

the booth in back.

REILLY:

Say, thanks for the back up--

The bomb squad ignores Reilly, who now realizes something is

wrong. He pushes his way through the bar patrons to the

booth.

Glass glances up at Reilly.

GLASS:

He set one, the son-of-a...

TJ and Pooch exchange looks--they've never heard Glass so

close to swearing before.

T.J. notices a small crowd starting to gather around the

booth.

T.J.

(calmly)

Clear the area, please.

Nobody moves.

REILLY:

(loudly)

You heard him, get the f*** away,

it's a bomb!

That does it, the crowds shriek and scatter.

Rolling eyes at each other, the Bomb Squaders turn their

attention to the shopping bag sitting on the floor.

GLASS:

Alright. Let's assess.

The team eyes the package for a moment...

Glass makes a determination, whips out a knife, slashes the

bag open, revealing a computerized nightmare of a bomb

inside. T.J. rubs his temples with dread.

TJ:

IRA.

Glass puts on his magnifying spectacles, starts to probe.

Reilly returns.

Pooch tests hinges with his tweezers. T.J. hands Glass a

crimp. Pooch pries off a back panel, fingers shaking, lifts

it every so slightly, sees complex circuitry inside, the red

glow of a digital readout counting down.

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