True Lies Page #10

But a horse is not a motorcycle. It is slightly smarter. It

slams its front hoofs down together, stopping suddenly. Harry

goes right over its head. He flies forward, almost going right

off the roof. He slams to the edge, with his legs dangling

over, holding onto a piece of pipe with one hand. His Glock

tumbles down into darkness.

Harry sees Malik far below, climb out of the pool, running to

the roof door of the other building. Getting away. Harry

clambers up onto his own roof, breathing hard. He walks over

to the horse.

HARRY:

What the hell were you thinking?

We had the guy and you let him

get away.

He looks into the horse's innocent brown eyes. Pats its neck

fondly.

HARRY:

What kind of cop are you?

100 INT. TASKER HOUSE - NIGHT

Helen is asleep at the dining room table next to a half-eaten

cake and some melted ice cream. His unopened presents are

piled at one end of the table. She raises her head as Harry

enters sheepishly.

HARRY:

Look, I know you're upset. I'm

really sorry, honey. I raced

home as quick--

HELEN:

It's okay, don't bother, Harry.

He goes to her and puts his arms around her. He is tender with

her. He wishes he can tell her the truth.

HARRY:

I'm sorry. Thank you for the

party.

HELEN:

Yeah. It was great.

Helen finds a smile for him somewhere. She really does love

him, though more and more often lately she finds her heart in

pain.

HELEN:

Let's go to bed, Harry. There's

only one present you have to open

tonight.

She grins and arches one eyebrow meaningfully.

101 INT. BEDROOM / BATHROOM - NIGHT

Helen walks Harry to the edge of the bed and sits him down.

She puts her hand on his chest and pushes, causing him to lie

back.

HELEN:

Don't move. I'll be right back.

She turns on the stereo. A Kenny G disc she put in there

earlier. Soft tenor sax flows around the room. Helen enters

the BATHROOM and shuts the door partway. She opens a cupboard

and quickly pulls out some things she hid there earlier. A

bottle of champagne on ice. Two glasses. Some trashy

lingerie.

HARRY:

Come on to bed, you don't have to

brush your teeth.

HELEN:

I'll just be a second. So what

happened tonight at the office?

HARRY:

I couldn't believe it. I go back

to get this report I need, right,

and the phone is ringing, so like

a bonehead I answer it--

Helen is hurrying to put on the unfamiliar lingerie. G-string

panties and low-cut bra. She holds up the garter belt, turning

it backward and forward, trying to figure out which way it

goes.

ON HARRY, yawning. Lying with the ease of years of practice.

HARRY:

It's the big client in Japan,

and it's the middle of the

morning there and their whole

system is crashed... this guy's

having a meltdown--

HELEN:

(keeping him talking)

What'd you do, honey?

HARRY:

Well I pull out the manual on

their setup, which is the new 680

server...

Helen is pulling up the black stockings. She fastens the

garters to the tops. Her features are a scowl of

concentration. She is very earnest in her preparations.

HARRY (CONT'D)

...and I'm troubleshooting it

with them over the phone...

talking to a translator, right,

who's getting half of it wrong...

it was unbelievable... really

wild.

HELEN:

(putting on black

pumps)

It sounds wild. So now you're a

big hero, right? For fixing

their system.

HARRY:

(faintly)

Uh huh.

HELEN:

My husband the hero.

Red lipstick. Then she puts a little perfume on her wrists.

HELEN:

I'll be right there, honey. Just

a minute.

Harry doesn't answer. Helen puts a little perfume down the

front of her panties.

HELEN:

Just a second.

Helen quickly pours two glasses of champagne. Then she slinks

around the doorframe, making her entrance. She looks like a

living 900 number. Helen stands before the bed, looking down,

holding the champagne glasses.

ON HARRY:
sprawled on the bed, fully clothed, snoring softly.

A little bit of drool is coming out the side of his mouth.

HOLD ON HELEN, all dressed up with no place to go. She gazes

down at him, her shoulders slumping.

HELEN:

Happy Birthday, Harry.

She sighs deeply and downs her champagne in one long gulp.

CUT TO:

102 EXT. STREET/ NEAR HIGH-SCHOOL - DAY

It is the following morning. Harry and Gib are staked out

watching the front of Dana's school. Actually, Harry is staked

out, scanning the crowds of kids with binoculars.

Gib just keeps looking at his watch. He picks up a cellular

phone and pretends to call the office.

GIB:

Hey, did that guy Harry chased

last night call in to give

himself up yet? Cause apparently

that's the only way we're going

to catch the son of a b*tch --

HARRY:

(not listening)

Okay. Here she comes.

103 EXT. STREET - DAY

HARRY'S POV THROUGH BINOCULARS - We see Dana come out to the

curb and meet Trent, who pulls up on his bike. She gets on

behind him, adjusts her walkman headphones over her ears and he

launches out into traffic.

104 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY

Harry, who is behind the wheel, pulls out after her. Trent

weaves radically through the light traffic, going in between

the cars.

HARRY:

Look at the way the little punk

is driving. He's all over the

place. Look-- he hasn't

signalled once.

GIB:

Goddammit! That's outrageous.

Harry speeds up. Somebody honks as he cuts them off to stay

with Trent.

105 EXT. MOTORCYCLE - DAY

ON DANA AND TRENT as she looks back and sees Harry following

her. She is mortified that her father is actually tailing her

DANA:

Oh my God! I think that's my

dad!

TRENT:

Hang on!

Trent downshifts and punches it. The nimble little bike

screams as it zips between cars.

106 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY

HARRY:

(clenching his jaw)

So, you wanna play huh? You

little--

GIB:

(rolling his eyes)

That's it. Get 'im Harry

(he draws a pistol)

We'll teach that little puke not

to signal.

107 EXT. MOTORCYCLE

BACK ON TRENT, who's actually a really good rider. He zig-zags

through the cars, cutting between them at the next light where

Gib and Harry get blocked. He cuts a sharp right turn and

disappears.

108 INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY

Harry is stuck in stopped traffic. He pounds the wheel in

frustration.

GIB:

(exploding with

laughter)

Ha! The little prick ditched

you! That is so goddamn funny.

HARRY:

Son of a b*tch!

GIB:

Can we go to the office now, Mr.

Superspy?

CUT TO:

109 INT. OMEGA SECTOR / I.D. ANALYSIS ROOM - DAY

Harry is sitting at a computer workstation, lit by the monitor

screen. Gib and Faisil look on as he clicks through HEADSHOTS

of known terrorists. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Harry is very

focussed. He stops. He goes back one. Studies the face.

110 INT. ANALYSIS ROOM - TIGHT ON THE SCREEN - DAY

A defiant looking Syrian with a full beard.

HARRY holds up his hand, blocking out the beard, concentrating

on the eyes.

HARRY:

That's him.

111 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

Harry slaps photos down in front of Trilby.

HARRY:

Abu Kaleem Malik.

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