Untraceable Page #16

EXT. CYBER DIVISION HEADQUARTERS -- LATER -- DAY.

Marsh walks alone across the parking lot.

INT. CYBER DIVISION LOBBY -- MOMENT LATER -- DAY.

Ray, the guard, watches as Marsh slides her card in the slot.

INT. DIAL-UP ROOM -- LATER -- DAY.

.

All eyes are subtly on Marsh, as she walks down the aisle,

still a bit shaky, but ready to work. She sees Griffin’s

desk empty. The wall clock says 12:26.

MARSH:

Where’s Griffin?

WILKS:

I haven’t seen him.

MARSH:

But he came in at 9:30.

Wilks shrugs. Confused, Marsh locks away her gun.

EXT. GETTYSBURG HOTEL -- DAY.

Stella and Annie get out of the back of the Bureau car,

helped with their bags by their TWO-MAN SECURITY DETAIL.

INT. TASK FORCE MEETING ROOM -- CONTINUOUS -- DAY.

Marsh enters the busy room, looking around. Brooks stands

over a computer with CORPORAL HUGH MICHAELS, 40, smart,

genial. Brooks sees her-

82.

BROOKS:

Quite a show you put on this

morning. We might just have to

assign you a security detail.

MARSH:

Please don’t. I’ll be fine. I’ve

already relocated.

BROOKS:

To where?

MARSH:

Sorry, that’s top secret.

BROOKS:

(with a smile)

Jennifer Marsh -- Corporal Hugh

Michaels, from the RCMP out of

Vancouver.

HUGH:

Pleasure.

BROOKS:

Hugh’s a geographical profiler. He

uses the RIGEL program. Have you

ever heard of it?

MARSH:

Sure.

BROOKS:

(to Hugh)

She knows everything.

MARSH:

What can I say? I’m a walking

Wikipedia.

Hugh chuckles. Marsh takes a look at his screen-

MARSH (cont’d)

You’ve inputted the GPS data on

both killings?

HUGH:

Where the victims were last seen and

where their remains were found. I

even threw in the house where the cat

was stolen. Here’s a 3-D image of

what we call the “jeopardy surface.”

83.

He hits a computer key. The screen fills with the 3-D image

of a high mountain. The top is wide, flat, and red. The

slope descends into different colors.

HUGH (cont’d)

It’s the best we can do for now.

I’d concentrate my resources there.

.

MARSH:

Pretty big area.

HUGH:

Unavoidable, I’m afraid. I’ve

worked with as twenty or thirty

crime sites. Here we have two.

Three, if you count the cat.

BOX (O.S.)

Make it four.

They turn. Box stands in the doorway, staring at the large

plasma screen. They look, too. Every agent in the room

slowly converges on the screen.

It’s not a film -- yet. Just a series of FLASHING STILLS,

disjointed images of a man, naked but for boxers, bound and

gagged, wrapped in Ethernet cable. He is tied to a folded

ironing board and fastened to pipes running along the

ceiling.

BOX (cont’d)

Why’s it doing that?

MARSH:

It just started streaming. There

aren’t enough viewers yet to make a

continuous image. The mosaic’s still

forming.

They watch as the flashing stills begin to integrate and form

a continuous moving image, and when it does, everyone reacts

with horror.

The victim is Griffin, surrounded by a three-sided aluminum

pen. His FBI BADGE is pinned right through the skin of his

bare chest.

The Viewer counter is only at 12,400 and the ETOD is at just

under 24 hours, but both counters spin with blinding speed.

A text crawl appears: The more that watch, the faster he’s

stripped...The more that watch, the faster he’s stripped...

The more that watch, the faster he’s stripped...

.

84.

BOX:

Stripped? What does that mean?

Marsh lunges at the keyboard. She screen-captures a detail

and magnifies it. It’s Griffin’s leg and there are three

tiny specks crawling up his calf. Her face unhinges. She

can hardly breathe.

INT. TASK FORCE COMMAND CENTER -- MINUTES LATER -- DAY.

Brooks, Box, Wilks, Peterson, and the other agents sit,

watching helplessly as Griffin writhes and screams into his

gag. Marsh works her computer like a madwoman.

Finally, she hits a button and a clinical specimen of a RED

FIRE ANT fills a screen. She spins her chair and talks to

the group-

MARSH:

It’s a Brazilian fire ant....found

in the south...Florida...Georgia.

Very aggressive. A few research

labs sell them, but only to buyers

with academic credentials....

INT. OWEN’S BASEMENT -- AFTERNOON.

FOLLOW THE TRAIL OF ANTS across the cement floor and up

Griffin’s leg, stomach, chest, as they bite and chew their

way.

Finally, as the trail grows more sparse, we reach Griffin’s

face. His eyes and veins bulge as he writhes in pain,

screaming and moaning.

Right in front of him, the VIDEO CAMERA sits on a metal box

(the contraption we saw Owen tinkering with earlier),

attached by cables to his computers.

Owen stands behind the box, speaking matter-of-factly,

ignoring the screams. Behind him, we see the Viewer counter

spinning wildly, past 3,000,000....

.

OWEN:

If no one was watching right now,

there wouldn’t be any ants. We’d

just be talking. But people enjoy

the suffering of others. They

really do. In the old days, they

watched gladiators kill each other.

And later people were hanged in

public. Or had their heads cut

off. All of it was enormously

popular.

(MORE)

85.

OWEN(cont'd)

Then for some reason people started

to think that we’d evolved. Become

civilized. But it’s not true. I

know.

As the Viewer counter flies past 4,000,000, a door on the box

starts to lift.

OWEN (cont’d)

See? See how excited they are to

see you die?

FIRE ANTS come crawling out, joining the exodus leading to

Griffin. He screams louder, bucking and writhing. After a

few long seconds, the door lowers, cutting off the ants.

.

OWEN (cont’d)

I like you, Griffin. Jennifer, too.

You’re both really intelligent.

Especially Jennifer...no offense. So

it’s not personal. I’m only doing to

you what your friends will do to me

when they catch me. Only they’ll use

Potassium Chloride, and they won’t

let very many people watch. Even

though almost everybody will want to.

(beat)

Oh, wow.

As the Viewer counter flies past 4,500,000, the door starts

to lift. Griffin screams into his ghead.

ag. Owen shakes his

OWEN (cont’d)

So much faster this time. Word of

mouth, I guess.

(beat)

Or maybe it’s because you’your badge.

re wearing

INT. TASK FORCE COMMAND CENTER -- LATER -- DAY.

The Task Force sits and stands, paralyzed before the

monitors. The counters spin so quickly that action is

impossible.

.

Among the group, Marsh sits, watching in agony, helpless, as

Griffin screams and writhes, his limbs and torso thick with

ants. She can’t take it an instant longer. She jumps up and

races out of the room.

INT. CYBER DIVISION HALLWAY -- LATER -- DAY.

Marsh runs down the hall, as though being pursued.

86.

INT. CYBER DIVISION BATHROOM -- LATER -- DAY.

The door bangs open. Marsh enters, sucking wind. She leans

down on the sink, breathing hard, looking as though she might

puke.

Gradually her breathing slows. She starts to cry. But stops

herself. She turns on the tap. Splashes her face with

water. She looks up into the mirror, directly into her own

anguished eyes.

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