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TRANSCRIPT:
NB - The curly parentheses {} represent Michael's voiceovers.
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[Opening Montage.]

[Michael stands on the pavement in Warri, Nigeria, in the hot sun.]

        {My name is Michael Westen.}

[He cocks a gun in the restroom.]

[He runs.]

[He's on a bike, pursued by guys firing at him from a sedan.]

        {I used to be a spy until...}

[He listens in barely-concealed shock to the man on the phone.]

MAN: [from phone] We got a burn notice on you. You're blacklisted.

[Dressed as a messenger, he whistles.]

[As he walks down a street, he grimaces in pain (due to a couple of broken ribs).]

        {When you're burned, you've got nothing.}

[Shot of his accounts statement on the computer ("Accounts Frozen"). He checks his cell phone as e gets off a bus.]

        {No cash, no credit, no job history.}

[He manages to pull himself onto a plane. The plane takes off.]

[In a Miami motel room, he sits up groggily in bed, shirtless, while Fiona Glenanne sits nearby.]

        {You're stuck in whatever city they decide to dump you in.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: Where am I?

FIONA GLENANNE: Miami.

[Shot of Miami Beaches.]

[At night, in his loft, he assembles a fake bomb.]

[He leans back and nearly falls off a small chair.]

[A car blows up in the night.]

[He and Sam Axe stand in front of a car.]

[He takes pictures from inside his car.]

[He laughs.]

        {You do whatever work comes your way. You rely on anyone who's still talking to you...}

[Fiona cocks a SPAS-12 shotgun inside Sam's car.]

[She kisses Michael outside his loft.]

        {A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend.}

[He and Fiona have dinner in a Chinese Restaurant.]    

FIONA GLENANNE: Should we shoot them?

[Sam smiles at Michael as he suns himself.]

[Sam walks, wearing sunglasses.]

[He holds a tape recorder to the phone.]

        {A friend who's informing on you to the Feds.}

[He and Axe Sam talk in a café.]

SAM AXE: You know spies. Bunch of bitchy little girls.

        {And family, too.}

[Michael looks at his ringing cell phone, as Sam sits behind.]

SAM AXE: Hey, is that your mom again?

[Michael hangs up.]

[His mom, Madeline, smiles.]

        {... if you're desperate.}

[At home, Madeline speaks to Michael.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Someone needs your help, Michael.

[Michael exits a mansion.]

        {Bottom line - until you figure out who burned you...

[He looks through a cracked glass.]

[He moves out-of-sight behind a wall.]

        {... you're not going anywhere.}

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami Beach. Day. It's a beautiful, sunny day in Miami.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Beach. Day. Shots of pretty, bikini-clad girls. Michael and Fiona stroll along the beach, holding hands.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You must be getting used to this. Isn't there a part of you that's beginning to like Miami?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [distant] It's fine.

FIONA GLENANNE: "Fine"? There are people who come here from all over the world. They don't have waterfront like this in Afghanistan.

[Michael seems to be more interested elsewhere.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: It doesn't rain as much, either, there. There are pleasant parts of Afghanistan. The mountains are nice.

FIONA GLENANNE: Maybe we can vacation there someday. Oh, when you can travel again, of course. Some special occasion. Speaking of which, it's my birthday in a few days. Did you get me anything yet?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, I got you something.

[They stop near the Charger. Fiona comes round and hugs Michael. He looks over her head towards the street.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You know, for someone who's worked as professional liar for most of his career, you're not terribly good at it when it counts.

[We finally see what Michael is so interested in. A harried-looking, balding middle-aged man stands on the sidewalk next to a Chevy, his handkerchief in one hand and a briefcase in the other, looking around impatiently.]

FIONA GLENANNE: What's he doing? Your mystery man?

[The "mystery man" dabs his kerchief to his face, wiping off sweat.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Getting heatstroke, it looks like.

[The "mystery man" looks at his watch.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [sighs] Michael, I'm pretending that I'm here for more than just tactical backup. [whispers] We're supposed to be playing boyfriend and girlfriend.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [finally looks at her] Do you want me to get you a shaved ice, Fi? I mean, I need someone, okay?

[They stand apart, holding hands, watching the "mystery man". Fiona leans back against Michael's chest, while he puts his arms around her waist.]

FIONA GLENANNE: What's this guy's name again?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Perry Clark. That's the name he gave me on the phone.

[Clark wipes more sweat off his brow, apparently not used to the heat and humidity.]

FIONA GLENANNE: And he said he was here to review your status? That's desk-jockey jargon for, what now?

MICHAEL WESTEN: He may be able to get me off the blacklist, revoke my burn notice.

[Suddenly, police cruisers swerve up near Clark, sirens blaring.]

FIONA GLENANNE: And now you're about to piss him off on purpose.

[Clark looks at the cruisers, puzzled.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Just a precaution, Fi. I have learned to be careful.

[The officers inside the cruisers get out and point at Clark. Clark points uncertainly at himself.]

            {Work around spies for a while, and you learn to be careful when it looks like you're getting what you want.}

[They walk up to him, hands on their guns.]

            {That's when you tend to let your guard down, get careless.}

OFFICER #1: Put the case down. Put the case down.

[Clark complies and puts his hands up.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Look at him, Michael. He's a cubicle monkey.

[They cops grab him and turn him round, making him spread his arms on his Chevy sedan. He tries to protest, but the cops search him anyway.]

            {Calling the cops on someone can teach you a lot. A foreign agent would run. So might an armed assassin. A bureaucrat's going to... act like a bureaucrat.}

[An officer puts Clark's briefcase on top of the Chevy and opens it. Clark notices him and points at him.]

PERRY CLARK: You can't look in that, sir!

FIONA GLENANNE: I think he just passed your little test.

MICHAEL WESTEN: All right.

[He moves away, almost causing Fiona, who was leaning back against him, to fall over. She manages to steady herself. She looks at Michael and round at Clark in confusion. Michael goes to the Charger.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, aren't you gonna talk to him?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [enters the Charger] Now might not be the best time.

[He starts the muscle car and waits for Fiona to sit next to him. As they drive past, Clark tries to explain himself to the unconvinced officers.]

OFFICER #1: Put your hands in the air.

PERRY CLARK: I work with the CSS.

CUT TO:

[Opening Title.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Fiona lies prone in Michael's bed, eating yogurt. Michael comes down the stairs, putting on his vest, cradling his cell phone on his shoulder, as he speaks to Perry Clark.]

PERRY CLARK: [from phone, not happy] I have been more than patient, Mr. Westen. I was going to meet you in a public park, as you requested, rather than my office. I came down in the middle of my workday.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I'm sorry. I must have missed you.

SPLIT-SCREEN: [Michael on the left, Clark (on a park bench) on the right.]

PERRY CLARK: [into phone] Yeah, I had a conversation with the police about "a suspicious man matching my description". You're not the first field op I've dealt with, Mr. Westen. Believe me, I've been vetted every which way.

[Fiona motions to Michael that she wants to hear the conversation.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Maybe we can set up a new time.

[Michael puts the phone on speakerphone and holds it out. Fiona puts on a mock-sheepish face, as Clark continues his tirade.]

PERRY CLARK: [into phone] Yeah, I have had enough of new times and places and... tests! I hope I don't have to remind you that my recommendation carries weight when it comes to removing you from this blacklist.

            {Bureaucrats live for respect.}

[As Clark continues to rant over the phone, Michael picks up a curved barbell and places it in front of a workout bench.]

            {East of the Balkans, that means a bribe. In the West, it's more about showing you know they're in charge.}

PERRY CLARK: [into phone] And I expect a little more consideration for my time!

[Michael, now picking up a pair of dumbbells, speaks loudly into the phone, which lies on the bench.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, I apologize. It won't happen again.

[Dropping the dumbbells, he sits and picks up the phone and holds it near his mouth.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] It's just I-I talked with the man on the phone... who burned me recently. He seemed... unhappy.

PERRY CLARK: [from phone, explaining] This is not about one NSA officer who acted on information in a file. This is a departmental review in which I...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, interrupts] Let's set up a new time, a new place to meet. We'll review the file.

[Clark drops his shoulders and sighs. Fiona circles her yogurt spoon in the air, waiting for his reply.]

PERRY CLARK: [into phone] I'll check my schedule.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, exults] Thank you.

[He hangs up.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [smiling] You keep pissing him off, Michael, you'll be in Miami forever.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [picking up the dumbbells] At least I'll get an answer. The government sent him down here, and he's not gonna go back to DC without getting a verdict on me. [chuckling] Not at his pay grade, anyway.

[He lies back on the bench and is about to start a dumbbell press, lifting the weights above his head.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You think you could convince him that you were set up? I read the dossier. It's pretty convincing.

[Michael's cell phone rings. He drops the dumbbells awkwardly and heavily to the floor. He lugs himself up and answers his phone, with a weary sigh.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, Sam?

SAM AXE: [from phone] Mike, I'm on my way over. There's that thing I need you to help me look into right away.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Sam, I'm in the middle of...

[Sam hangs up. Michael looks at his phone in surprise.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Streets/Sam's car. Day. Sam drives cheerfully, while Michael puts on his seat belt. He looks at the car.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: New car.

SAM AXE: Yeah. [chuckles] It's a gift from the lady friend. I got it yesterday. It's like drivin' on a cloud.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What exactly do you do for these women, Sam?

SAM AXE: [smiling, starts explaining] Well...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [interrupts] Never mind.

[Sam and Michael smile at each other.]

SAM AXE: Anyway, thanks for coming.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I didn't have much choice.

SAM AXE: Yeah, well, you owe me 'cause I've been checking into this guy who came down from DC.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What did you find out?

SAM AXE: Well, I'm still working on it, but he's a... he's a paper pusher. He's a name and a cubicle.

[Michael looks at Sam, expecting more. He ain't getting it anytime soon.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's all you got?

SAM AXE: Well, hey, you know, with the crap you've been doing, I'm not getting much love in DC.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Keep digging, Sam. Keep digging.

SAM AXE: I will, brother. Anyway, so this guy we're gonna go see, my lady friend hooked me up with him. He's got some kind of problem, and he heard that she had a boyfriend who could help.

MICHAEL WESTEN: "He heard that she had a boyfriend that could help"?

SAM AXE: I was vague. I said I was a freelance superhero-Robin-Hood kinda guy.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling] That's vague.

[They share a laugh.]

CUT TO:

[Mansion. Day. Sam stops his Cadillac out on the expansive driveway. He and Michael get out of the car and start walking to the front door of the mansion.]

SAM AXE: [excited] Mike, a house like this, I mean, it's probably some expensive kitten up a tree. A cakewalk.

[As they reach the door, the lone occupant opens the door. He's a flustered-looking Korean-American surfer-dude.]

CLIENT: You're Sam?

SAM AXE: Yeah, I'm Sam.

[They shake hands.]

CLIENT: Thanks for meeting me, man.

SAM AXE: Yeah, no problem. [pointing at Michael] Uh, this is Michael, the guy I told you about over the phone.

CLIENT: [nods impatiently] Yeah, your assistant. What's up, bro?

[Michael looks at Sam.]

SAM AXE: [quickly] Uh, oh, no, no. It's actually more like a... partner sorta thing. So, Veronica said you want to talk?

CLIENT: Yeah, dude. I've got a serious problem.

[And just so we know, the client is...]

                                          NICK LAM

                                     DUDE WITH A PROBLEM

NICK LAM: Come inside.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to Sam, always the courteous "assistant"] After you.

[Sam enters, sheepishly. Michael follows him in. The place obviously has had the luxury of being looked over by an expensive interior designer. Sam whistles in admiration.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Place like this, you could have called Halliburton to help you out.

[Sam laughs.]

NICK LAM: Halliburton? [turns and walks] I don't know him.

[Michael and Sam look at each other. Nick picks up a framed picture.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm saying you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself, Nick.

NICK LAM: Oh, no. I-I don't own this. I'm a house sitter. I work three or four estates on the island.

SAM AXE: That's a job? House sitter?

NICK LAM: Yeah, these people are only here a few weeks out of the year.

SAM AXE: [interested] Okay, so, do you need an application for that?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [cuts him off] Sam. Tell me your problem, Nick.

[Nick hands Michael the picture frame. The picture is of a pretty young blonde, smiling widely at the camera.]

NICK LAM: That's Dawn. She's my fiancee. She was kidnapped the day before yesterday, and the people that took her want, like, five million dollars.

MICHAEL WESTEN: And they think you have that kind of money?

NICK LAM: [beat] Well, the thing about this job is that you drive these cars and you stay in these houses, and people kinda think that you own them, you know? And it gets harder to tell them that you don't.

[Sam, no longer all that interested in this case, hands the picture back to Nick.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [walking around] And your fiancee thinks that you own these things.

NICK LAM: Kind of... I guess, yeah.

[Sam rolls his head.]

NICK LAM: Look, I didn't want to tell her that I was lying to everyone. I was afraid I'd lose her, man. I don't know what to do, bro.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What you need to do is call the police.

NICK LAM: [freaking] No, I can't! They said that they would kill her if I did. They said they'd know. Here, they sent me this.

[He hands Michael a newspaper cutout, with a picture of a pretty brunette, with the headline "Missing Heiress Found Dead".]

NICK LAM: They kidnapped that girl last year, and her family called the cops, and now she's dead. I got, like, an hour before they're gonna call. I told them that I was trying to get the money together, but...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to Sam, quietly] An hour?

NICK LAM: [pleading] Man, I got nowhere else to turn.

[Michael looks at his watch, mindful of his appointment with Perry Clark.]

NICK LAM: Look, you can have anything you want. I got about fifteen grand. I got a surfboard collection. Anything, you got it! Are you guys gonna help me or not? They're gonna kill her.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay, okay. [to Sam] Sam, why don't you go get Fi? I think we're gonna need a little help on this cakewalk.

SAM AXE: I'm on it, Mike.

[Sam leaves. With a sigh, Michael looks at Nick.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay, Nick. Let's get you ready.

[Nick nods.]

FADE TO:

[Mansion, Patio. Day. Michael and Nick sit at a table, two cordless phones placed on it. Nick reads off a notepad, getting agitated by the moment.]

            {About forty percent of kidnapping victims are released safely. These statistics are affected by a number of factors, including the nationality of the kidnappers, the age of the victim, and whether a hostage negotiator is employed.}

[Nick throws the notepad on the table, in frustration.]

NICK LAM: I can't do this, man. What's the point? They want, like, five million bucks.

            {The odds go down sharply if no one has any money to pay the ransom.}

[Michael calmly picks up the notepad and puts it back in front of Nick.]         

MICHAEL WESTEN: Keep it together, Nick. You're doing fine. Just stick to the script. Do it like we practiced.

NICK LAM: [needing some assurance] Really? It's gonna be okay?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [nods] Let's just get through this.

NICK LAM: Okay.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [checks his watch] Now, do they usually call on time or...

[The phone rings.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, that answers that question.

[Nick freezes at the ominous sound of the phone ringing.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [patiently] Just like we rehearsed. Pick it up.

[Nick doesn't move.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nick, pick up the phone.

[Still no movement from Nick.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [sternly] Nick!

[Nick finally looks at Michael, his face a picture of fear, and picks up a cordless phone. Michael picks up the other.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Three, two, one.

[They both switch on their phones together. Michael holds the phone to his ear, while Nick speaks.]

NICK LAM: [into phone] Hello?

[The voice of the kidnapper comes through the receiver. He sounds Hispanic and tough.]

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] You have the money?

[Nick looks wide-eyed at Michael for a response. Michael coolly nods.]

NICK LAM: [into phone] I-I'm getting it. I just, I need to know if she's alive first.

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] You talking to the police?

[Again, he looks at Michael, who slowly shakes his head. Michael points to the notepad.]

NICK LAM: [into phone] No, man. I. . .

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] She's fine.

NICK LAM: [into phone] I just need to know that Dawn's okay.

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] But if you don't pay, she won't be.

[Michael points at a certain section of the notepad with his pen.]

NICK LAM: [into phone, trying to sound resolute] Well, I'm not gonna pay... until I get to see her. I need to know you didn't hurt her. You want five million bucks, I want to see a video!

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] You're pushing it, carajo. You're really pushing it. Now, hang on.

[Nick looks scared, but Michael holds up a comforting hand and gives him a thumbs-up. Nick cools down a bit.]

            {A kidnapping is a business deal. The bad guys have negotiating power since they're selling the life of a loved one. But, then again, they have a market of one, so they have to work with you.}

KIDNAPPER: [from phone] Go to the Coconut Grove Mall. Two hours. We'll call you.

[The kidnapper hangs up. Michael turns off his phone.]

NICK LAM: Jesus! Oh, Jesus. I thought I was gonna puke, bro.

[Nick rests his head in between his arms on the table.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [writing in the notepad] You did fine, Nick. You did fine.

FLASH TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Coconut Grove Mall. Day. Sam pulls up in his Caddy. Fiona sits in the passenger seat, while Michael and Nick sit behind, going over the plan.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: So you understand. You pick up the package, and you walk away. You got it?

NICK LAM: [nervous as hell] Ohh, yeah.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You don't look at us, you don't talk to us. You just walk out with the video. Fiona and I will be watching to see if the kidnappers have someone there, and Sam will follow in the car if he sees anyone leave.

NICK LAM: Okay. So I walk to the car? [quietly] Okay.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [shaking his head] No, Nick. Focus. You just walk away.

[Nick mouths "walk away" to himself, trying to consign it to memory.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Pick up the package, and you leave, like we're not even there.

NICK LAM: [getting worked up] But wait, you will be there, right?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yes, we will be there.

[Nick calms down, but only just.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay, go ahead.

[Nick scrambles to get out of the Caddy. The door doesn't open.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Unlock it first.

[Nick pulls up the door bolt and gets out, as Fiona looks on in wonder.]

CUT TO:

[Coconut Grove Mall. Day. Nick sits on a plant enclosure, nervously shaking his legs and looking around. Nearby, Fiona checks out a shoe rack, picking up a pair of bright pink sandals, while keeping a watchful eye on Nick.]

            {Working with untrained amateurs introduces an element of risk. It's a risk you have to live with in a lot of operations, although you often find yourself wishing everyone went through Green Beret training in high school.}

[On the level above them, Michael stands at a greeting card rack. His cell phone rings. He answers it. It's Fiona.]      

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone, teasing] You buying me a birthday card?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Just window-shopping, Fi. You got eyes on Nick?

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Yes, all the way from the escalators to that charming little lingerie store. They have a fabulous little teddy in there. It would make a great gift.

[Michael moves on to a rack carrying sunglasses.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, trying on a pair of sunglasses] I've never seen you wear anything but men's shirts to bed.

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Fair enough. There's a men's store on the third floor. Nice selection. The ones with the big buttons are easier to undo.

[Michael uses the mirror, attached to the rack to look over his shoulder at the people around and below him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Focus, Fi. Can you see people on my side of the mall? 'Cause I can't look at everybody.

[Fiona stands right behind and below him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Yeah.

[At that moment, Nick's cell phone rings. Quickly, he answers it. He listens for a while and looks around.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Oh, Nick just got a call. He's looking around.

[Nick hangs up. Looking around, he gets up and starts to walk.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] There he goes.

[Nick goes up the staircase, leading to Michael's level.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Anyone looking curious?

[Michael turns the mirror slowly, looking for possible suspects. He sees one. A long-faced, bald Hispanic guy, in a gray shirt, sitting at a table, watching Nick.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] There's a decent candidate at the cafe. Gray shirt, on your two.

[Fiona looks.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Ah, I see. How's our ace operative performing?

[Putting his own "Victory" sunglasses on, he turns to look directly at Nick.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Looking good. He's going to get the package now.

[Nick walks up to a newspaper dispenser and looks around. Pulling down the plastic door, he reaches inside and pulls out a manila envelope. He starts to walk away.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to himself] Okay, Nick, walk away.

[For some unknown reason, Nick stops.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to himself] Just walk away, Nick.

[Nick starts to turn.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to himself] No, don't, don't.

[What a moron! Nick looks directly at Michael and smiles as he victoriously holds up the envelope. Consequently, the suspect looks where Nick is looking and spots Michael with his cell phone to his ear. Busted. The suspect is...]

                                        LUCIO WELASQUEZ

                                            KIDNAPPER

[Lucio gets up and starts walking away... fast.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, urgently] He made me, Fi.

[Hanging up, Michael breaks into a run. Fiona hangs up as well and, donning her sunglasses, walks purposefully to intercept Lucio. Lucio notices her putting her hand into her bag. She pulls out a Taser. Seeing the weapon, Lucio takes to his heels. Michael races down the stairs, pushing past shoppers. Lucio shoves a couple of shoppers out of his way and runs towards the road. Michael races after him.]

[Outside Coconut Grove Mall. Day. Lucio sprints across the road, past a cycle rickshaw, which honks its air horn at the two runners. Lucio manages to avoid an incoming red sportscar, but Michael runs right into it. Luckily, the car had stopped, so Michael only bounces off the hood (grunting a polite "Oww") as he continues his foot pursuit of Lucio. In slow motion, they continue running. Finally, Lucio runs into an alley, pulling out his cell phone.]

            {Once a kidnapper knows you're on to him, he'll try to contact his partners to have the hostage killed.]

[He speed dials and puts the phone to his ear.]

            {At that point, you have a choice.}

[Michael launches himself at Lucio and takes him down hard. Lucio elbows Michael in the face and gets up. Pulling out a gun, he aims it at Michael, cocking it, all ready to fire.]

            {You can start choosing wreaths for the hostage's funeral...}

[A pop followed by electricity flowing. Lucio spasms outwards and falls.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: Aaah!

[Fiona stands behind him, holding out the Taser, its leads embedded in Lucio's back. Keeping the trigger pressed, she continues to non-lethally electrocute Lucio and smiles at Michael.]

            {... or take a hostage of your own.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thanks.

[Fiona smiles at him. She releases the trigger, so Michael can pick up Lucio, still conscious, and usher him towards Sam's Caddy. Michael shoves him inside, and gets inside next to him. Fiona gets in the front. They burn rubber from the place.]

CUT TO:

[Mansion. Day. The kidnap video plays. On it, Dawn tearfully pleads Nick as he and Michael watch.]

DAWN: [on video] Nick! Just pay them what they want, please! I wanna go home. They're gonna call you tonight.

[The tape ends. Nick starts to freak out bigtime.]

NICK LAM: Jesus. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay, stop saying that.

NICK LAM: [still freaking] Ohh, God. I screwed everything up, bro.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Seriously, stop... talking.

[His head buried in his hands, Nick continues to moan piteously.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Stop moaning now. The moaning. It's the moa... [sternly] Nick, stop moaning!

[Nick shuts up and looks up at Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Listen, Nick. [sits in front of Nick] I'm not saying I'm happy with how things went down today, either, but this can still work out. Some ways, we're better off.

NICK LAM: [confused] How? How are we better off, dude? You got some kidnapper tied up someplace. You got Dawn... [thinks he understands, smiles] Oh, wait. Oh, I get it. [excited] You're gonna trade Dawn for the dude.

[Michael looks at him, smiling.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [but...] No.

[Nick's confusion returns.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's just a hired hand. If they find out we've got their guy, they'll kill her immediately, probably leave town.

NICK LAM: [alarmed] So, how are we better off?!

MICHAEL WESTEN: They want five million dollars or they kill Dawn, yes?

NICK LAM: [nods] Right.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Last time I checked, we don't have five million dollars, right?

NICK LAM: [shakes his head] No.

MICHAEL WESTEN: So our only hope is to find Dawn before they find out we don't have five million dollars. We will convince this guy to help us find Dawn.

[Finally, Nick seems to understand.]

NICK LAM: Yeah, okay.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay.

[Nick continues to ponder over Michael's plan.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Lucio Velasquez sits, tied to a chair, getting painfully introduced to the business end of Fiona's Taser. He yelps out in pain. Michael enters the place.]

            {The art of turning someone into a double agent is delicate. The target has to be put into a fragile psychological state.}

[Fiona hovers the Taser over Lucio's head, teasing him, while he jerks his head away from the leads.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [yelling] Get this crazy bitch away from me!

            {Fortunately, fragile psychological states are a specialty of Fiona's.}

[Michael walks up to them.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I was just helping our friend Lucio into a more cooperative mood.

[She holds the Taser right over Lucio's head, while he leans his head as far as he can away from it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Where's Sam?

[Sam enters the room, from the balcony, a beer in his hand.]

SAM AXE: I had to get some air. It was getting a little, uh, loud in here.

MICHAEL WESTEN: So, what do we know about our new friend?

[Sam comes up to Michael and holds out a driving licence.]

SAM AXE: Well, his name is Lucio Velasquez, Columbian national. He's got a rap sheet here and at home. He and his brother ran an extortion racket in Columbia. Brother got caught, Lucio ran.

[Michael picks up a Polaroid camera and comes in front of Lucio.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Good to meet you, Lucio.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [trying to keep his head away from Fiona's taser] Y'know what, go ahead and taser me all you want. I'm not gonna tell you nothing.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Taser? Oh, no. We have something much better than a taser. We've got an instant camera.

[As Michael speaks, Fiona moves aside, allowing Sam to come up behind Lucio. Crouching, he tickles Lucio in his side, causing him to laugh involuntarily. Sam holds up the beer and laughs out, while Michael captures what appears to be a rather enjoyable moment between Lucio and Sam. Fiona smiles.]

            {It's always easier to turn someone who works for a criminal gang into a double agent.}

[Confused by what just happened, Lucio looks at them. Michael and Sam go to the workbench.]

            {The more secretive and ruthless their side is, the better.}

[Lucio seems to understand, as he sees Sam shake the Polaroid picture.]

            {You work on their fear that any hint of disloyalty will get them killed by their own people.}

[Michael sits in front of Lucio.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Lucio, you need to think about your situation very carefully.

[Lucio's attention is more on Fiona's Taser hand, which she shakes tauntingly.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You have been caught in the middle of a delicate assignment. Say we let you go and give this photo to your boss...

[Sam holds the developed photo in front of Lucio. Lucio sees it and knows he's screwed.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: ... along with a cooperating witness statement you're about to give to the FBI.

[Sam hands Michael a sheet of paper.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: No, no, no, no, no. I never made no statement.

[Michael holds up Sam's paper, which has the FBI letterhead printed on it (with the seal). Below the letterhead is printed:

"                     Cooperating Witness Statement

                    

I, Lucio Velasquez, hereby declare".]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Here's the form. Looks real, huh? We'll fill it out, sign it on your behalf. Sam's pretty good with a computer.

SAM AXE: Thanks, Mike. It's just Photoshop.

[Things just seem to be getting worse for Lucio.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [looking at another paper] Oh, look here. You have a summons. It means you're going to testify in court... against your boss.

[Michael and Sam whistle, ominously.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: So, anyway, we take the photo, we put it in the file. Sam here has ties to the FBI and other government agencies, just in case your boss... does his homework.

[Michael holds up an FBI file, which has the Polaroid of Sam and Lucio's happy moment, paper-clipped to the front.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I have to say, you guys look pretty tight here. My guess is he won't feel right until you're dead.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [defeated] What do you want, man?

[Fiona sits on the bed, while Sam goes to the workbench.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You now work for us, Lucio. You tell us what we want to know, you do what we say, and that is how you will stay alive. Where's Dawn?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [shrugs, hesitantly] I don't know.

[Fiona, smiling diabolically, gets up.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You don't know, Lucio?

[Fiona strides right up to Lucio, putting her Taser in his face, while Sam prepares to take another Polaroid.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [quickly] No, no, no, no, no! I swear. I swear. I don't know. Reyes keeps everything separate.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Reyes? Your boss?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: I find people in clubs, in rich neighborhoods, and Reyes, he does the job with two other guys. Someone else guards the hostages. Everything is separate. Nobody knows each other. He does that for security.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Let me be clear here. The girl dies, you die. If you're lying...

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: I'm not lying, all right? Now, I need to check in with Reyes. Right now. I'm already late. He's gonna know that something is wrong.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fine. Call him. You broke your foot walking down the stairs at the mall. You forgot to call.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [huh] Broke my foot? I didn't break my foot.

[Fiona takes care of that technicality, with a hard stomp on Lucio's foot. Sam looks away as Lucio screams out in agony.]]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: Aaargh!

MICHAEL WESTEN: [untying Lucio] There you go. There are a lot of little bones in your foot, so you'll be able to walk.

[Michael hands Lucio his phone back. Lucio takes it and takes a moment to snarl at Fiona, who smiles sweetly at him.]

CUT TO:

[Mansion, Game Room. Day. Sam stands behind the bar, serving Fiona a drink, while Michael speaks to Nick, who hunches over a pool table.]

NICK LAM: You wanna borrow the Mercedes, man? [beat] Yeah. Just please try not to scratch that car. It's an S550 AMG worth like a hundred twenty grand.

MICHAEL WESTEN: And we need a house.

NICK LAM: [thinks] There's a penthouse downtown that I watch. What do you need it for?

MICHAEL WESTEN: We need to find where Dawn is being kept. Lucio doesn't know. His job is just finding targets for Reyes, so we're gonna have Lucio bring him a new target - a rich society wife...

[Sitting at the counter, Fiona turns round to Nick and holds her hand out.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [sounding rich and bored] Enchante.

MICHAEL WESTEN: ... and a disgruntled bodyguard.

SAM AXE: Ya bitch! [to Nick] Talk to Reyes, tell him I'm willing to help him pull the job, but he's got to show me where he keeps the hostages.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Hopefully they'll bring Sam to where Dawn is, and we can grab her, but we got to move fast. And we need a target that will make him drool.

[Nick grins at Michael.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Le Meridien, Sunny Isles Beach. Day. Sam (in a chauffeur uniform) opens the door of the borrowed Mercedes, as Fiona sashays up from the hotel, dressed like high society, carrying a Yorkshire Terrier and her purse. She gets inside the car and Sam closes the door, sulkily.]

            {From Karachi to Bogota, every kidnapper's favorite resource is a corrupt employee.}

[Getting in the driver's seat, he starts the Merc and drives away, past another car, in which Lucio and another guy (the boss) sit.]

THE BOSS: Her husband's worth two hundred million? Good work, Lucio.

[The boss is...]

                                         REYES

                                      HEAD KIDNAPPER

[They follow the Mercedes.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Boutique. Day. Sam stands outside the store, grumpily holding the Terrier. Fiona comes outside, holding a bunch of shopping bags, which she dumps on Sam and lovingly takes her dog back. She stands at the back door of the car, waiting for Sam to hold it open for her. Sam looks pissed, but obliges anyway.]

            {An employee can handle alarms, police. You can get financial information, bank accounts. You've even got a fall guy if anything goes wrong.}

[Sam slams the door and heads to the trunk, where he dumps the bags, while Reyes and Lucio watch.]

            {To a professional kidnapper, a good man on the inside is worth a lot.}

[With the trunk door still open, Sam turns to the kidnappers' car. Lucio nods at him. Sam nods back, slams the trunk door shut and heads to the driver's side.]

            {And a bad man on the inside is worth even more.}

CUT TO:

[Deserted Miami Street. Night. A thick fog engulfs the road as Lucio limps nervously down the road, frequently looking behind. Michael comes up to Lucio's right.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Lucio.

[Lucio gets a start, but calms down seeing it's his "handler".]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [pleading] Okay, okay. I can't do this. Okay, man, I can't. Reyes is gonna kill me if he finds out.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, that's the point, Lucio. You do your job well, he won't find out, and you'll stay alive.

[Lucio snorts in frustration.]

MICHAEL WESTEN:  Did Reyes like our little business opportunity?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: The rich lady and the bodyguard? Yeah. He loved it. Okay, we've been following 'em around all day. He wants to meet with your guy, talk terms.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What about Dawn?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: He's impatient. Look, the guy wants his money. I held him off a little bit, but-but I-I don't know if I can do it much longer.

[Lucio checks his watch and laughs ironically.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: I'm supposed to be calling you right now and telling you that you only got twelve hours or the girl's dead.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [checks his watch] Tell him twelve hours isn't long enough. Tell him... [on the fly] Nick's family has hired a hostage negotiator... and that the guy wants to talk to him in person.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [in disbelief] With Reyes? [shakes his head] No, no, come on. You can't be serious.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You convince him it's the best way for him to get his money. We just need to buy enough time to find Dawn, and then you're done, Lucio. You'll do it?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: Do I got a choice?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling] No, you don't. You've got my number. Tell me where and when.

[Michael turns and leaves. Lucio lights his cigarette shakily and takes a long drag. Expelling the smoke, he watches Michael walk away.]

            {The thing about doubling anyone is that the more they do for you, the deeper they get. The deeper they get, the more you can make them do. Great if you're running them, but hard on the source. The suicide rate is above average.}

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

CUT TO:

[Bar. Night. Michael and Perry Clark sit at the counter in the crowded bar, discussing Michael's case.]

PERRY CLARK: I understand your concerns, Mr. Westen. I have worked with field operatives before. I may find your priorities somewhat baroque and unnecessary, but I suppose that's why I work in an office and you run around the world with guns.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I suppose so, yes.

PERRY CLARK: So, you've now had your opportunity to screen me in public. Are you satisfied that I'm not some shadow figure sent to "liquidate" you? Can we do our business now?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yes.

PERRY CLARK: Now, I have security concerns of my own. As I'm sure you're aware, your case has certain issues pertaining to... national security. Issues that require a private venue. Now, my office in Fort Lauderdale is...

[Michael clasps Clark's hand, interrupting him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I would not be able to make it up there for at least a few days.

PERRY CLARK: [annoyed] That's unfortunate. Maybe this isn't important enough to you, Mr. Westen. I have to get back to DC.

[Clark gets up to leave.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You could come by my place the night after tomorrow.

PERRY CLARK: [amused] You hope to gain some sort of home-court advantage?

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, it's just that I need to be around here for the next few days for my... day job.

[Clark seems unsure.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: If there were any other way, believe me...

[Clark thinks it over.]

PERRY CLARK: Fine. Call me with a time.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thank you.

[Knocking on the wooden counter, Clark leaves.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Street. Day. Michael stands, wearing his usual suit and sunglasses, on the sidewalk. His cell phone rings. He answers it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah?

REYES: [from phone] You wanted to talk to me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Andrew Chambers, hostage negotiator for the family.

REYES: [from phone] Okay, you got a sniper trained on you, Mr. Chambers. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you.

[Michael looks around for the sniper. He notices a bald guy aiming a sniper rifle on him, from the balcony of a high-rise apartment building.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Nick's family's not gonna pay if you shoot the negotiator. You'd end up with nothing for your trouble.

REYES: [from phone] How do I know you're not a cop?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Cops don't make themselves available as potential hostages. They don't get paid enough for that. I don't know what the magnification is on your sniper's scope, but the label...

[He opens the right side of his suit outward, so the sniper can see it. The label says "Armani Collection".]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] ... the label's Armani. Cops don't fit Armani. [addressing the sniper] How do I look? I look good, right?

[On his balcony perch, the sniper raises his head away from the sniper-scope.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] You gonna keep playing games? 'Cause I got all day.

[A yellow Lamborghini Murciélago pulls up in front of Michael. Michael hangs up. The passenger side window lowers and Reyes looks at Michael.]

REYES: Nice suit. Get in.

[Michael gets inside.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Massage Parlor. Day. The bald sniper/goon leads Michael into a private room. Michael is undressed, wearing only a towel to cover his waist. Reyes and a masseuse are already inside.]

REYES: I like doing my meetings this way. I hope you don't mind.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [walking to the massage table] No-o. Fine by me. You know I'm not wearing a wire.

[He gets on the table, as the masseuse comes over to his side and starts undoing his towel.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's smart. Plus, the massage music, it's really nice... [reacts as the masseuse pulls the towel from under him] and calming!

[She drapes the towel over his butt.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Okay, all right. Look, let me get straight to the point. I'm gonna have a hard time getting Nick's family to pay five million dollars for Dawn.

REYES: Oh, is that so?

[The masseuse starts to work on Michael's shoulders.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Dawn's not part of the family. The engagement really isn't that official yet. I don't want to talk out of school, but I don't think the family likes her very much.

REYES: Well, I wonder how much they would pay for a... smart-ass hostage negotiator?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Trust me. At my hourly rate, you'd be doing them a favor. [to the masseuse] Sweetie, can you go a little lower and to the left? I have a trouble spot right about... [she hits it] Yeah! Right there.

REYES: Okay, so give me a number, a counter offer.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I think I can close at a million.

REYES: One million dollars? That's twenty percent of my price.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mm, you are good with numbers.

REYES: I take twenty percent of my price, I'll give you twenty percent of the girl.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [unamused] Hostage negotiators hear that one a lot. It's funny the first few times.

REYES: Oh, you think I was joking?

MICHAEL WESTEN: It comes down to how much we're willing to move on the price. I gave you a number. Now it's your turn.

REYES: [dismissively holds up three fingers] Three million. That's as low as I go.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Three million's gonna be a tough sell. I'll bring it to the family, but they'll need at least seventy two hours to think it over.

REYES: Forty eight hours! After that, [shrugs] the girl dies.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [gives him a thumbs up, rests his head on the table] Forty eight hours I can do. Now, could you have one of your boys turn the heat up? 'Cause it's a little chilly...

[He lifts his head and notices the kidnappers have left, leaving him and the masseuse alone. He turns to the masseuse.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: They paid you for the whole hour, right?

[She smiles and nods.]

CUT TO:

[MAnsion. Day. Nick sits on the couch, holding Dawn's photo, getting antsier by the moment. He sighs. Fiona looks at some firearms placed in the showcase, near the big-screen TV, on which a baseball game is on.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [excitedly] Is that a Makarov?

NICK LAM: [distracted] I don't know. The-the-the guy who owns this place is, uh, into guns and stuff.

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, that's a Soviet-issue sidearm from 1951, I think. It's a beautiful piece.

NICK LAM: I guess, yeah.

[He squeezes his temples in exasperation. Fiona tries to get his mind on other things.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [points at the TV] How big is that?

NICK LAM: It's sixty inches, I think.

[She sits next to him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Quality's nice. Is that... satellite?

NICK LAM: It's, uh,  DirecTV HD. That's why the picture's bigger. [has enough, gets up] What the hell are we talking about? Look, I know that you asked me to stop talking about it and just stay here and watch TV, but I can't watch any more! Are you gonna be able to save her? [sits down, looks at her pleadingly] Please say yes.

[Fiona looks at him, wide-eyed, uncertain of what to say. The door opens and shuts.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [stammers] We're working on it.

[Michael ambles inside, feeling refreshed and loose. He sees Nick burying his head in his hands, while Fiona awkwardly tries to pat his back. Michael tries to beat a hasty retreat, but Fiona notices him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: How did we do?

[Caught, Michael turns to them. Nick looks up at Michael, hopefully.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Uh, I bought us forty eight hours.

[Fiona smiles in relief and looks at Nick, hoping that's cheered him up a bit.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Ah.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, uh, I'm setting up a meeting with, uh, Lucio tonight. Lucio's gonna set up a meeting with Sam, and Sam will get them to tell us where they keep the hostages. And we're gonna finish this.

[That cheers Nick up greatly. He pumps his fist in elation.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Night. While Sam tries to extract a GPS device from its plastic case, Michael speaks to Lucio on his cell phone.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [from phone] Reyes wants to meet your guy tomorrow to set up this job. He wants to move on it quick.

[Michael opens up his toolbox as he speaks.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Did you get a time?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [from phone] Yeah, noon. I think he's getting sick of waiting. He wants to get rid of the girl.

[Sam is getting nowhere fast, trying to open the hard plastic case around the instrument. He tries biting it with his teeth.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Hold him off, Lucio. Remember, if she dies. . .

[Michael frowns at Sam's painstaking efforts.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [from phone] Yeah, I die, too. We keep this up, though, man, I'm dead anyway.

[Michael hangs up.]

SAM AXE: We on ?

[Michael grabs the plastic case from Sam and easily opens the case, by just pulling the plastic covers apart.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: We're on.

[Michael takes the GPS device and starts dismantling it.]

            {GPS devices are becoming more and more common these days. Mostly they're for nervous parents tracking children. But they're perfectly good for other uses.}

[He removes the tracking chip. He makes a small hole in Sam's shoe (near the heel) and places the tracker inside. Mixing together some epoxy putty, he seals the tracker inside Sam's shoe with it. Finally, he holds the blowtorch near it for it to harden. Sam sits at the computer upstairs, looking at a blinking dot on a Miami map.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Is it working?

SAM AXE: [smiling] Yeah, like a charm, Mike. You can follow me all over Miami with that thing.

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Park. Day. "Disgruntled employee" Sam meets up with Reyes, while Lucio stands next to the car.]

SAM AXE: Now look, wouldn't it be easier to grab her when she takes her morning jog along the beach, 6:00 AM every single day, nice and early?

REYES: I'll consider it.

SAM AXE: You're the big boss man here, right?

REYES: That's what they tell me.

SAM AXE: Okay, well, the you should know I'm taking a pretty big risk here, so I expect to be rewarded. I mean, this is my employer we're talking about kidnapping here. So as soon as this goes down, I'm out of a job.

REYES: Well, if what you tell me about her husband is true, you'll be very wealthy when you finish.

SAM AXE: [chuckling] I like the sound of that. All right, now look, if this is gonna happen, I got to know the vehicle you're taking her in, and I want to see where you're gonna keep her, 'cause I hear stories of people being shoved in dungeons and crap like that, and that ain't gonna fly, okay? She can't get hurt. She gets hurt, we get a lot of extra heat here.

REYES: [interrupts] Hey, we take care of the operation, okay?

SAM AXE: [holds up his finger] No, you hold it right there, my Columbian friend. This is twenty million bucks we're talking about, and you've been onto my ass about every little detail about how I deliver her. As of right now, I'm on the hook for life without parole for kidnapping, same as you, buddy. So, you like it or not, we're a team.

[Reyes looks at Lucio. Lucio has no objection.]

REYES: [sighs] Fine, I'll show you. [beckoning] C'mon.

[Reyes gets into the front seat of his car, while Sam gets in the back. Lucio stays outside, as they drive off.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael watches the red dot move along the map of Miami on the computer screen. He speaks to Lucio on the phone.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: [from phone] They're on the move.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Got 'em.

CUT TO:

[Miami Harbor. Day. Reyes drives his kidnap sedan to the stash-house. Sam sits at the back, which is completely enclosed in black.]

SAM AXE: This is the type of car you use to grab 'em?

[Reyes answers him, through small holes in the tarp separating the front from the back.]

REYES: Yeah. We prepare them like this. We use 'em once, and then we discard them.

SAM AXE: Shame to discard it. When this job is over, might get me one of these. Might get two. [smiling] Still has that new-car smell.

[Reyes stops near a warehouse. He and Sam get out.]

SAM AXE: So, this is where you keep them, huh? And you have security?

REYES: Twenty-four hours. They're well taken care of here. [proudly] Five years we do this, only one unintentional death.

SAM AXE: [shrugs] Not bad. All righty, then. Let's do this.

[Reyes nods.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael goes over his burn notice dossier. There's an urgent knocking on his door. He unbolts it and levels it at the visitor, Lucio. Lucio's hands go up, almost reflexively. Michael looks outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Lucio, you should have called.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: I wanted to talk to you face-to-face. I've done all I can.

[With his gun, Michael beckons Lucio to enter. Lucio enters, his hands still up, keeping a safe distance from Michael. Michael locks his door.]

            {Running a double agent is a relationship. There's a give-and-take - mostly take - but sometimes you have to give.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: Lucio, you're doing a great job. You're almost out. You stay with it, and you'll be rewarded. We'll set up a bank account for you.

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: Reyes wants to do the other job, the one with your friend. He wants to do it now.

[This is not good news to Michael.]

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: He said it's better to kill the girl so they can start the other job. He told me to call you to finish this.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Finish it how?

LUCIO VELASQUEZ: You have two hours to get him the money, or the girl dies.

[Camera holds on Michael.]

CUT TO:

[Mansion. Day. Nick's pacing and whining intensifies, while Michael stands, arms folded.]

NICK LAM: You said we had two days. Now they want the money in two hours! They're gonna kill her, bro.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Not if we get to her first. We know where they're keeping her.

NICK LAM: Maybe we should just call the cops!

MICHAEL WESTEN: You think the cops can put together a rescue plan in two hours? The bad guys will be monitoring the police scanners. One whisper of this on the radio, and she's dead.

NICK LAM: [at the end of his rope] So, what? I'm supposed to just sit here?

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, you're going to get me the Yellow Pages and tell me where the nearest pharmacy and gardening store is. [smiling] I need to pick up a few things.

NICK LAM: Yellow Pages? Bro, I have a computer.

[Soon, having made his online purchases, Michael works on some makeshift weapons.]

            {Rescuing a hostage isn't about battering rams and guns.}

[He snips off a piece of magnesium foil. Removing a small envelope from a 100-pack, he tapes it shut with tape. He cuts a small piece off and keeps the piece aside.]

            {Charge through a door with a gun, and chances are the person you're trying to save will be the first person lying on the floor dying of acute lead poisoning.}

[He removes some aluminum foil and folds it together straight.]

            {So you come up with alternatives.}

[He removes something from a paper bag. Then, he passes the aluminum foil through a coffee grinder, making it into a fine powder. He spoons the aluminum powder into the piece of the envelope he kept aside earlier. A magnesium strip is taped to the paper container. He tapes the top of the paper container shut and smiles at his handiwork.]

            {Ingredients from the local pharmacy mixed with aluminum foil powdered in a coffee grinder will make a serviceable flash grenade that will stun anyone for a good twenty feet.}

[He opens a Ziploc bag filled with a brick-red powder.]

            {Thermite is another handy tool.}

[He pours the powder into the coffee grinder container (still holding the aluminum powder) and then transfers the whole mixture into another Ziploc bag and shakes the mixture vigorously.]

            {With a surface temperature of one thousand degrees, it's used to weld together railroad ties. It will make pretty short work of most locks, too.}

[He pours some of the mixture into a soda can, covering it with aluminum foil and taping a magnesium strip to it. Admiring his work, he smiles. Carefully, he places the newly-fashioned weapons into a black bag and zips it shut.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Mansion. Day. Michael, holding the little black bag, comes outside the mansion and shuts the front door. Sam and Fiona are outside waiting for him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [gives Fiona the bag] Go. You don't have much time.

FIONA GLENANNE: I'm not excited about you seeing Reyes by yourself.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Someone needs to stall him in case you guys need more time.

SAM AXE: Mike, nobody's got your back. This goes bad, Reyes could get tipped off.

MICHAEL WESTEN: The only other option for backup is Nick. You guys like that idea?

[Obviously not.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [rests his case] Call me when you got Dawn.

[He gets into his Charger.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Hotel Room. Day. In a top-floor hotel room, Reyes' sniper/goon gives Michael (as "Andrew Chambers", hostage negotiator to the rich and famous) a patdown, while Reyes stands at the balcony.]

REYES' GOON: [in Spanish] He's clean.

[Chewing gum, Michael walks towards the balcony, joining Reyes.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [whistles] Nice view.

REYES: Where's my money?

CUT TO:

[Miami Harbor. Day. A gun in his hand, Sam sneaks around the stash-house, that Reyes showed him earlier. He looks through a window and sees Dawn, lying on her side on a bed, bound, gagged and blindfolded. A Latino lady passes by the window. Sam takes a closer look and sees another Latino male, watching TV. Sam notices a shotgun, lying on a table near the door.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Hotel Room. Day. Michael continues the negotiation.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Would you consider being paid in bonds?

REYES: Bonds? I said cash.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I know. But a bearer bond is as good as cash. It's issued without a name holder.

[Reyes shakes his head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Listen, I'm not saying it's right, but the family has liquidity issues, there are tax implications...

REYES: [interrupts] I don't care about the tax problems! I want my money!

MICHAEL WESTEN: I understand, and I am trying to get you that money.

REYES: No, no, no. You're trying my patience. I said cash. I expect cash. Your time is up.

[With a flourish, he pulls out his cell phone. He starts to dial slowly. Michael thinks fast and grabs his cell phone, throwing it over the balcony to the ground below. Reyes looks at Michael, wide-eyed, in a mixture of surprise and rage. He yanks out his gun, racks the slide and levels it at Michael's head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [unfazed] Go ahead, shoot. Good luck hiding the body. My guess is the cops show up first, because that is a very loud gun you're holding. I am just trying to make this deal. Look at it from the family's perspective. They shell out three million in cash, and then what? It raises flags at the bank with their investment advisors, their employees. People piece it together that they paid you off.

REYES: That is not my concern!

MICHAEL WESTEN: But it concerns me because if word gets out that this family paid a ransom, other guys like you will come out of the woodwork. I just need to make sure that this never happens to this family again. They're gonna call me any second. Would you mind taking that gun out of my face?

[Reyes would give anything to put a bullet in Michael's face right now...]

CUT TO:

[Miami Harbor. Day. At the stash-house, Fiona duct-tapes Michael's thermite-filled soda can to the lock of the door. Sam comes around, having checked the perimeter.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Hotel Room. Day. With great restraint, Reyes lowers the gun from Michael's face. Michael seems a bit relieved, though he doesn't show it.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Harbor. Day. Fiona lights the magnesium strip on the soda can and throws the lighter to Sam. The spark moves along the strip towards the can. Fiona steps behind Sam, brandishing his favorite pump-action shotgun.]

            {If you can't get through a door without attracting attention, the next best thing is to attract a lot of attention.}

[The can explodes. Sam averts his eyes, while Fiona pumps her shotgun. Sam quickly goes towards the newly-introduced hole in the door and lights Michael's "flash-bang grenade". Pushing it through the hole, he steps back. A flash is seen inside.]

            {Once everyone's looking at the door, wondering what's going on, you can pop in a flash grenade, and they won't see anything for a while.}

[Sam kicks open the door and levels his gun at the guy inside.]

SAM AXE: Drop the gun!

[The blinded kidnapper puts his hands up immediately. The lady kidnapper doesn't seem to want to give up that easily.]

SAM AXE: Get down! Get down!

[Behind Sam, Fiona enters, holding her shotgun at the hip. The male kidnapper places his gun on the floor. The female kidnapper runs for the shotgun on the table. Fiona's on her immediately, kicking the shotgun away and hammering her in the face with her own. With a scream, the female kidnapper crumples to the floor. Sam flinches at the blow. Keeping his gun trained on the guy, he picks up his discarded gun. The guy raises his hands higher.]

SAM AXE: Attaboy. You're not as dumb as you look.

[Sam keeps both guns on him, turning them ninety degrees, holding them gangsta-sytle. Putting her shotgun on the bed, Fiona goes to help out Dawn.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You're safe.

[As she touches her, Dawn starts to struggle.]

FIONA GLENANNE: We're going to untie you. You're safe.

[Fiona removes the gag and the blindfold.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Look at me. You're safe now.

[Still gasping, Dawn calms down. Fiona looks at Sam.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Hotel Room. Day. Michael continues to stall Reyes.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Unlike stocks, bonds are financial instruments.

[His cell phone rings.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now, that is the family. May I take this?

REYES: Tell 'em it's cash or she dies.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Got it.

[Turning away from Reyes, he answers the phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah?

SAM AXE: [from phone] Hey, Mike. It's finished.

[Sam hangs up, but Michael keeps the phone to his ear, pretending to speak to the family.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] No, they won't do stocks... nor bonds. [beat] Yeah, I explained the difference. [beat] I understand.

[Michael lowers the phone grimly. He turns to Reyes.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's it. They won't pay the ransom in cash.

[Exasperated, Reyes rolls his head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now, I hope you can reconsider. Killing a hostage...

REYES: Get out. [yells] Get out!

[Michael walks away, smiling widely.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Harbor. Day. Reyes and his goon pull up in their car. Reyes gets out and cocks his gun, all set to execute his hostage. Suddenly, he notices the blown lock on the stash-house door.

REYES: [in Spanish] What the hell is this?!

[The goon pulls out his gun.]

REYES' GOON: [in Spanish] Leticia wasn't answering her phone.

[Warily, they go over to the door. Reyes kicks it open and they burst in. To their shock, they see the other kidnappers tied to opposite sides of the bed, their mouths gagged, struggling to get free. Police sirens blare in the background. Reyes and his goon take to their heels. They see police cruisers entering the warehouse area. Reyes turns to run, but finds other cruisers blocking his escape. Knowing it's over, he puts his hands up. The officers get out, their guns trained on the kidnappers.]

OFFICER #1: Drop the weapon now! On the ground!

[Reyes doesn't comply immediately.]

OFFICER #2: [forcefully] Now!

OFFICER #3: Hands on your heads! Drop your weapon!

[Finally, Reyes puts his gun on the ground.]

OFFICER #1: Move away from the gun! Move away! Hands in the air! Move away from the gun!

[Reyes keeps his hands up, his face a picture of defeat.]

CUT TO:

[Mansion. Day. Nick thanks Michael.]

NICK LAM: Seriously, bro. I don't even know how to thank you.

[He points to some surfboards propped against the wall outside.]

NICK LAM: Uh, those surfboards right there...

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, I don't surf.

NICK LAM: Okay. [gratefully] You're awesome, bro.

[A car horn sounds outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, sounds like they're here.

CUT TO:

[Outside Mansion. Day. Sam and Fiona help Dawn out of the Caddy. Sam joins Michael.]

SAM AXE: All set, Mike. Hospital checked her out. She's fine.

DAWN: Is Nick here?

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's inside.

FIONA GLENANNE: You guys should talk.

[Dawn nods and walks towards the mansion.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to Sam] Cakewalk, huh?

SAM AXE: Aww. Look, Mike, y'know, if you ever want to borrow my Caddy, uh, it's yours.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thanks.

[Dawn and Nick approach each other, about to have a happy reunion.]

DAWN: Nick!

NICK LAM: Hey, babe.

[Wham! She smacks him hand across his face. Michael and Sam are surprised.]

DAWN: You lied to me!

NICK LAM: Baby, I love you.

DAWN: You lied to me!

[She punches him in the face again and walks away. Fiona looks at Nick, a bit sympathetically.]

SAM AXE: [smirks] Another happy ending.

FADE TO:

[Michael's Loft. Night. Michael opens the door. Perry Clark stands outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mr. Clark.

PERRY CLARK: [harried] I've never done a meeting in a private home like this before, Mr. Westen. I'm not even sure it's allowed.

[He enters and follows Michael inside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thanks for bending the rules.

PERRY CLARK: Yeah. Again, no guarantees, Mr. Westen. We're gonna have to cut this short. You tell me your side of the story, I'll get back to you.

MICHAEL WESTEN: It shouldn't take long.

[They stand on opposite sides of the kitchen counter. Clark places his briefcase on the counter.]

PERRY CLARK: [opening his briefcase] Oh, good. My wife's expecting me to actually make my flight tonight.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Great.

PERRY CLARK: [sighs loudly] Have any coffee?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Coffee?

PERRY CLARK: Yeah.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I think I have some instant.

PERRY CLARK: [shrugs] That's fine.

[Michael turns to the cupboards to get the coffee, Clark looks at him.]

            {The longer you've been in the game, the more you have to be careful about underestimating an opponent.}

[Clark reaches into his briefcase, under a classified file. Michael spoons instant coffee into a mug.]

            {Say you don't think much of bureaucrats, don't feel they're worth your time or attention.}

[Clark sneaks up behind Michael and, using a wire, tries to get it round Michael's throat. Michael manages to get his right fist between his throat and the wire.]

            {Then a bureaucrat is the perfect person to send to kill you.}

[Clark doesn't let go. He pulls the wire harder, trying to choke Michael with his own fist. Michael tries to elbow Clark in the face with his left arm, but Clark deftly parries it and locks it behind Michael's back. Both hands out of commission, Michael tries to stomp down on Clark's foot, but Clark's prepared for this as well. He avoids the foot and wraps his leg around Michael's. Michael tries to headbutt him backwards, but Clark just moves his head aside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [choked voice] Wow, you're pretty good.

PERRY CLARK: [calming voice] Let go. It'll be less painful for you. It'll look like you hanged yourself. No surprise, really. No work, no money...

[With all his strength, Michael bends down and propels himself off the ground, taking him and Clark to the floor. Still, Clark doesn't let go.]

PERRY CLARK: [taunting] This would have been easier if you'd kept our appointment in Fort Lauderdale. I had some things arranged. Oh, well.

[Michael's fading.]

            {There's no way to anticipate every danger. You need a backup plan for when things go wrong.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: [gasping] Sorry to inconvenience you.

[Suddenly, he lets go of the garrote, allowing the wire to dig into the soft flesh of his throat. Using his now-free hand, he starts to punch the cupboard near him, with all his might, as he chokes.]

            {That's why home-court advantage is so important.}

[He manages to bust up the door and pulls out a hidden gun from inside. Swinging all the way to his left, he brings the gun towards Clark's waist. BAM! He gets off a shot. Immediately, Clark lets go of the garrote. Michael writhes on the floor, still gasping and coughing loudly. Clark stands up and looks down at the bullet-hole and large bloodstain on his stomach. He touches the wound and sees the blood on his hand. He staggers out the door, while Michael coughs on the ground, trying to aim the gun towards Clark. Seeing that the danger's over for now, he relaxes.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael and Fiona sit on the kitchen floor, replacing the cupboard door that Michael broke. Michael has a red mark around his throat. He grimaces as he turns his head.]

SAM AXE: [from phone] Mike, the cops found your assassin in an alley this morning. He bled to death. No ID on him, and his fingerprints didn't show up in any government database, so, officially, I guess the guy never existed. He must have been impersonating the real Perry Clark. Do you think that the guy who burned you sent him?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Not a bad guess. Thanks, Sam.

[Michael hangs up.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You were right about him, y'know? You must feel a little proud of yourself.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I wanted my burn notice resolved. I talked myself into denying my instincts. That's nothing to be proud of.

[Fiona touches Michael's neck, looking at the scar.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm fine, Fi.

FIONA GLENANNE: You almost died.

[Michael fixes the new door to the cupboard.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's happened before.

FIONA GLENANNE: So I'm not allowed to be concerned, to worry?

MICHAEL WESTEN: You can worry about me.

FIONA GLENANNE: [teasing] Like Nick worried about Dawn?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Hopefully not exactly like that.

FIONA GLENANNE: Oh, he was head over heels in love.

[He looks at her. She raises her eyebrows at him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I talked to him about you, about what I should get you for your birthday.

[He turns and removes a gun from a drawer. The gun has a red gift-ribbon tied to it.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [restrained excitement] A Makarov.

MICHAEL WESTEN: He said you would like it.

[She takes it eagerly.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Oh.

[She looks at it and holds it out past Michael's head.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Is it the same?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nick convinced his boss to sell it to me at a discount.

[Touched, she smiles at him. He smiles back.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Thank you, Michael.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [nods] Happy birthday, Fi.

[They sit on the floor, looking at each other.]

CUT TO:

[End credits.] FADE TO BLACK.

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