Traffic Page #2

Finally, the SUV doors open and FEDERAL POLICE OFFICERS

surround them like a SWAT team.

The passenger door of the lead SUV opens and GENERAL ARTURO

SALAZAR, 50's, a squat, powerful presence in a perfectly

pressed uniform gets out and approaches Javi.

SALAZAR:

(to Javier)

What's your name?

JAVIER:

Javier Rodriguez.

SALAZAR:

Well, Javier Rodriguez, you've done

a very good job, but we'll take care

of it from here.

Javier stares into the implacable reflection of his

sunglasses. In the distance, the DC-3 takes off and ROARS

over their heads.

SALAZAR:

We've been following these Narco-

trafficantes for some time but had

not been able to bring them to

justice.

(to his men)

Put the prisoners in the car.

Impound the truck.

The men follow Salazar's orders.

SALAZAR:

(to Javi)

One question. How did you find about

this?

JAVIER:

An informant.

SALAZAR:

What is the name of your informant?

JAVIER:

(beat)

It was an anonymous tip.

Salazar looks at Javi a beat.

SALAZAR:

(to his men)

For a State Police officer, you're

very well informed. Let's go.

MOMENTS LATER:

Javi and Manolo watch the convoy of

vehicles drive away.

Javier lights a cigarette.

MANOLO:

Wasn't that General Salazar?

JAVIER:

Yeah.

MANOLO:

What's he doing up here?

JAVIER:

I don't know. Something.

They start for their car.

OMITTED:

OMITTED:

OMITTED:

EXT. DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE - DAY

SUPERTITLE:
SAN DIEGO

Two men, RAY CASTRO, 30's, proud, ambitious, and MONTEL

GORDON, 40's, suspicious of everyone including himself and

always, always the smartest guy in the room, walk from a

Lincoln Towncar toward a dumpy office. Castro is talking

under his breath --

CASTRO:

No telltales. Nothing to read.

Not touching my face. Not even

blinking. No giveaways.

(beat)

How're you feeling?

GORDON:

(keyed up)

I feel good.

CASTRO:

No more pissant basin league bullshit

for us, hunh?

GORDON:

Nope.

Castro stretches his arms, swings them around.

CASTRO:

Limbering up, gonna stay loose, keep

it all together. Take this

motherf***er down.

They reach the door to the office. Gordon looks at Castro,

then turns the handle.

CASTRO:

Showtime.

INT. OFFICE, DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE - DAY

It's a cluttered, rundown working office unusual only in the

extent of its ordinariness. A SECRETARY goes about her

business like a somnambulist. CLERKS shuffle and file.

Castro switches into Spanish --

CASTRO:

(in Spanish)

Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen.

We're looking for Eduardo Ruiz. We

have a two o'clock appointment.

INT. OFFICE, DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE - LATER

In a back alcove, Castro and Gordon sit across a cheap table

from EDUARDO RUIZ, 40's, an entrepreneur in an expensive

suit and bad hairpiece. They are waiting.

RUIZ:

You ever buy a quarter ton? Not

many people have.

Another "businessman" enters from another door and whispers

in Ruiz's ear, then leaves again.

RUIZ:

So, it's worth the wait, right?

What can I do? Rent a Huey? Have

an airlift? It's not like you can

put it in a condom up some mule's

a**hole, right? How many peasants

would that take? A line stretching

from here to Mexico City --

GORDON:

Nobody said sh*t, Eduardo --

One of Ruiz's hands dips under the desk where we see a handgun

is holstered on the underside.

RUIZ:

Relax. We're waiting, that's it.

CASTRO:

Hey, you want to hear a joke? I got

a joke. Why do women wear makeup

and perfume?

GORDON:

Chill out --

CASTRO:

It's a funny f***in' joke and it's

quick. Why do women wear makeup and

perfume?

RUIZ:

I don't know.

CASTRO:

'Cause they're ugly and they stink.

Castro laughs uproariously.

INT. DEA SURVEILLANCE SPACE - DAY

ON FUZZY SURVEILLANCE VIDEO: Castro laughing. Ruiz politely

smiling, one of his hands hidden by the table.

GORDON:

Man, you never been close enough to

a woman to know how she smells.

DEA AGENT (V.O.)

What's his hand doing? Watch his

hand. Anybody? I don't like the

hand.

IN THE OFFICE:

The room is filled with crappy surveillance equipment. DEA

AGENTS, in DEA logo'd outerwear, jiggle a monitor fuzzily

displaying the view from another hidden camera: Gordon and

Ruiz around the cheap table.

DEA AGENT:

This is ridiculous this f***ing thing.

(taps monitor)

Look at this sh*t -- the first

television transmission. I had better

sh*t when I was the AV guy at junior

high, swear-to-God.

ANOTHER DEA AGENT

Come on, Castro, pay attention.

Watch his damn hands.

ON THE MONITOR:

Another "businessman" enters the office and whispers in Ruiz's

ear.

RUIZ (ON MONITOR)

Soon.

Another AGENT peers out a window through binoculars.

HIS POV:
THE EXTERIOR OF THE OFFICE WHERE CASTRO, GORDON,

AND RUIZ TALK.

EXT. DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE, SAN DIEGO - DAY

A BLUE VAN makes a slow turn into the parking lot.

EXT. ROOF - DAY

TWO FBI AGENTS, in jackets reading "FBI," hide on an opposing

roof. They look through high-powered binoculars. Binocular

POV:
THE BLUE VAN TURNING INTO THE PLAZA.

FBI AGENT #2

All right, here we go. The blue

van.

HIS BINOCULAR POV DETECTS THREE UNMARKED CARS DISCREETLY

FOLLOWING THE VAN.

FBI AGENT #2

Three unmarked vehicles.

(picks up walkie)

Three unmarked vehicles accompanying.

The unmarked cars split up and one turns into the parking

lot of a fast-food restaurant. The other circles around the

back of a building.

FBI AGENT #2

It's local. Local or Customs. Oh,

man, I don't know. Looks like the

cavalry.

FBI AGENT:

This is our show. Ah, man. I don't

want to share this one.

INT. OFFICE, DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE - CONTINUOUS

Through the window Ruiz, Gordon and Castro watch the van

disappear into the bay of a storage unit. A man is pulling

down the door behind it when three unmarked squad cars ROAR

into the lot, surrounding the unit, officers exit the cars

with their guns drawn -- Gordon and Castro stare in disbelief.

Ruiz FIRES the gun under the desk which hits Gordon full in

the chest, knocking him backwards.

Ruiz's men run into the room pulling guns.

Castro dives and pulls his weapon, firing at Ruiz's men,

hitting both of them. Ruiz bolts through another door.

Castro pursues, talking into his shirt collar --

CASTRO:

Agent down. Repeat, agent down.

Gordon gets slowly to his feet, shaking off the blast to his

Kevlar, and runs after them.

EXT. DEL MAR SELF-STORAGE - DAY

The DEA are shooting at the men inside the storage unit who

are shooting back.

From all over the stake-out location, DEA AGENTS emerge firing

their weapons. An equal number of FBI AGENTS emerge firing

in return. Nobody was aware of the other's presence.

It's CHAOS, a clusterfuck of law-enforcement zeal with three

competing sets of good guys shouting through BULL-HORNS,

GUNSHOTS and SCREAMING.

Ruiz breaks through the corner of the lot, cutting between

two buildings. Castro emerges and chases him.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes