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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 he 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.]

            {You do whatever work comes your way.}

[He fires at a propane tank on his Charger, blowing up the front portion of his car, to keep Evelyn (the assassin) at bay.]

[He detonates a C-4 explosive to impress Ari Zamar.]

        {You rely on anyone who's still talking to you...}

[He and Sam Axe walk and talk.]

[He creeps along a dirty terrace, video camera in hand, in the process of framing Alvaro Desantos.]

[He laughs at Walter's (the art dealer) suggestion about collecting nude Greco-Roman statues.]

        {A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend.}

[Fiona fires a machine gun, loving every moment of it.]

[He kisses her in bed, after their lovers' fistfight.]

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

FIONA GLENANNE: Should we shoot them?

        {An old friend who used to inform on you to the FBI.}

[Sam smiles at Michael as he suns himself.]

[Sam ducks just in time to avoid being shot by Jamaican gangsters. The rear-view mirror isn't as lucky, though.]

[He looks through binoculars.]

[He and Axe Sam talk in a cafe.]

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

        {Family, too.}

[Michael's mother, Madeline, smiles at him.]

[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 holds a gun out as he looks around his loft.]

        {Bottom line...}

[He and Sam make a hasty getaway from the exploding gangplank of drug-smugglers' boat.]

[He drives quickly away in his Charger.]       

            {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.}

RECAP.

[From last season finale.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [vo] Previously on "Burn Notice".

[Michael's Loft. Day. Fiona speaks to Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Why go back to work for the people who've put you through all this?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I wanna clear my name. I wanna know who did this to me.

[Hollywood Bread Building. Day. Michael confronts Philip Cowan.]

PHILIP COWAN: You think I burned you?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I know you did.

PHILIP COWAN: You're on the edge of something much, much bigger than us, my friend. People I work for, they have plans for you.

[BANG! Cowan gets shot. Cops are on their way. Michael calls Nate.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nate, I need you to pick me up. Fi and Sam were on a job dealing with some heroin dealers.

[Docks. Day. An RPG is fired at Kent and Melissa Fontenot's car, blowing it (and them) sky-high. Sam, who was watching them, recoils in surprise in his Caddy. A mercenary accosts him.]

MERC: Out of the car!

FIONA GLENANNE: [vo] They took Sam.

[Harrick's Boat. Day. As Glenn Harrick watches, his henchman, Nydam, punches Sam in the face.]

SAM AXE: Yeah, that was pretty painful. How was that for you?

[Harrick whips his fist across Sam's face.]

[Marina. Night. On a pier, Barry (the launderer) gives his cell phone to Michael.]

BARRY: Uh, Mike, it's for you.

[Michael takes the phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Y'ello?

[A smoky female voice answers.]

WOMAN: [from phone] Come out, come out, wherever you are.

[Miami Streets. Day. Michael drives his brother, Nate, and Madeline in the Charger. The suits are tailing him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nate, I'm gonna pull over and get out.

NATE WESTEN: You said they were following us.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, they want me. When I get out, you go. You don't stop for anything, you got it?

[Michael stops the car on the street. Once Nate and Madeline are gone, he holds his gun under his throat and speaks into a bugged phone, as the suits hold their guns trained on him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I have a job to do. I need twelve hours. If you even come near me before that, I will put a bullet in my head.

WOMAN: [from phone] I believe we have a deal.

[Outside Nate's foreclosed mansion. Day. On their way to save Sam, Fiona and Michael speak for probably the last time.]

FIONA GLENANNE: At least this time we get to say goodbye.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thank you, Fi.

[They kiss.]

[Docks. Day. Sam and Michael run from the boat, just as the gangplank explodes.]

[Miami Streets. Day. Michael and Sam drive in Sam's Cadillac.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Time to get some questions answered.

SAM AXE: Burn notice, huh?

[Sam gets out and Michael drives off.]

[Miami Causeway. Day. Michael drives along the causeway.]

WOMAN: [vo] We need to talk, Michael. We've been trying to bring you in.

[He reaches a semi-truck, with the trailer open and a ramp out.]

WOMAN: [from phone] We're so looking forward to meeting you.

[Sighing deeply, he drives inside the trailer. The door shuts, plunging him into darkness.]

CUT TO:

[Inside trailer, location unknown. Day. Inside the dark trailer, Michael puts on the Cadillac's headlights.]

            {As a spy, you get to spend a lot of time alone.}

[Inside the Caddy, Michael, bored and restless, adjusts his seat.]

            {Whether you're in an Indonesian prison, a cave in the Afghan mountains, or the back of a cargo truck, it comes with the job.}

[Crouching in front of the illuminated headlights, he cleans his Sig Sauer.]

            {You're trained to make the most of it, plan your next move, go over your intel, review your training.}

[He reassembles the gun.]

            {But when you've cleaned your gun thirty times and reviewed the past tense of every verb in five languages, you start itching to make a move.}

[Climbing over the car's hood, he peers into the top of the trailer. Suddenly, he hears sounds outside the trailer. He hears what sounds like a little girl cry out, followed by more explosion-like sounds. The trailer is rocked by an explosion, almost knocking him off the car hood. A man's scream is heard outside. Michael gets off the hood and walks around the car, towards the door, his gun at the ready. Shouts are audible outside. A loud explosion outside makes Michael instinctively drop to the floor. His cell phone rings. Cocking his gun, he answers the phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, politely] Hello?

[The same voice speaks on the other end.]

WOMAN: [from phone] Hello, Michael.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Sounds like you're having quite a party out there.

WOMAN: [from phone] Indeed we are. And you're the guest of honor.

MUSIC IN: ["Big Bang" - Renee van Verseveld & Kurt Farquhar]

[As fast-paced music plays in the background, the trailer door opens ominously. We seem to be in the middle of nowhere. The semi-truck is gone. Fire and smoke billow from the wreckage of a small aircraft. His ear still to the cell phone, Michael walks to the edge of the trailer. He holds out his gun.]

WOMAN: [from phone] No need for that, Michael. The shooting's all over. I hope you're not too disappointed.

[Michael looks at the burning plane. The smoke impedes his vision.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] You can see me? Oh, I wish I could see you. I thought we were gonna meet.

[He jumps off the trailer onto the ground and starts walking around, keeping a safe distance from the burning plane.]

WOMAN: [from phone] We will. First some business.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, sweetie. I thought we were gonna discuss why you burned me.

[He looks around to the top of the trailer. Nothing there.]

WOMAN: [from phone] We've had our eye on you for a while, Michael.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name.

WOMAN: [from phone] No, you didn't.

[A part of the plane explodes. Michael ducks immediately.]

WOMAN: [from phone] Why don't you call me "Carla"? Go over to the car. We have something we want you to take care of for us.

[Michael walks carefully, gun held out, towards a red bullet-riddled car.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] A job?

CARLA: [from phone] Don't call it a job. Call it a favor.

[Michael goes around the car. Two men lie dead on the ground. He sees another guy sitting on the ground, near the passenger door. His hands are cable-tied, legs and mouth duct-taped. At the sight of Michael and the gun, he lets out a muffled scream and starts to wriggle away, wormlike, from Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I assume it has to do with the guy you've got gift-wrapped and duct-taped.

[The bound-and-gagged man struggles along the rough ground.

CARLA: [from phone] His name is Jimmy. He's someone else we asked for a favor. See, he decided to skip town instead.

[Michael, seeing Jimmy go nowhere fast, checks on the corpse near him. Grimly expecting the same from the other one, he goes over and checks for a pulse nevertheless. Nothing...]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Oh, so this is your employee-retention program.

CARLA: [from phone] You... could call it that.

[Michael checks the car, finding nothing inside. Jimmy, meanwhile, keeps wriggling away slowly.]

CARLA: [from phone] He needs to go back to Miami and do as he's told. You need to help him.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I do? And why's that?

CARLA: [from phone] We have his wife and daughter. If you don't help, what happens to them?

[Michael crouches and picks up a small bow-shaped hairpin off the ground. Police sirens blare in the background.]

CARLA: [from phone] Oh, and one more thing. Jimmy called 9-1-1 when he saw our team.

[Michael looks and sees police vans racing along the road, towards them.]

CARLA: [from phone] You probably wanna move along.

[His gun held out, he does a 360, looking around.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I do this and then we meet.

CARLA: [from phone] I keep my promises.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I'll see what I can do.

[He runs over to Jimmy, who's managed to cover a good ten feet from his original spot, and kicks him gently onto his back. Michael holds his gun on him, as Jimmy looks at him terrified, holding his hands out, his pleas muffled.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Don't move.

[Just to recap, this is...]

                                                           JIMMY
                                                    THE CLIENT

[Michael hangs up and runs towards the trailer. Soon, he has Jimmy (still bound, gagged and terrified) in the trunk of the Cadillac. He shuts the door, despite Jimmy's pleading gestures. He drives away from the burning wreckage. He starts to drive through the dense foliage, leading towards the road, when he notices the police vans approaching, sirens blaring, signals flashing. The foliage prevents them from seeing him. He drives along the dirt road.]

            {Air bags are great for surviving crashes, but they make some evasive maneuvers tough.}

[Keeping an eye on the cops, he drives towards the road.]

            {Gone are the days when you could run through a stand of trees without a face full of nylon.}

 [He stops abruptly on the dirt road. The police vans turn onto the dirt road, leading to the crime scene. The police vans have "Walton County Sheriff" written on them. Michael puts the Caddy in reverse.]

            {Of course, anything you used to do head-on, you can still do.}

[He drives into a small clearing the greenery. The cops are getting closer. Still in reverse, he drives through the foliage. Poor Jimmy in the trunk gets bounced around like a rag doll.]

            {But it's a little hard on anyone who's stuffed in the trunk.}

[The cops move along the dirt road. Michael backs the car all the way to the road. Once on the road, he switches to first gear and burns rubber along the road. Except for a new paint job, the Caddy seems fine.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Opening Title.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Walton County Municipal Pier. Night. Michael stops the car, near the gate.]

            {Security measures can sometimes seem a little cruel.}

[He gets out of the car.]

            {Just like parents sometimes twist their kid's arm, yanking them out of a busy street.}

[He goes to the trunk and opens it.]

            {Sometimes the safest thing isn't the most comfortable.}

[Jimmy looks at him, scared and a bit miffed.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sorry about the trunk, but I had to keep you out of sight for a few counties until we got clear of the police.

[Michael reaches inside to pull Jimmy out. His hands still tied, Jimmy pulls out a tire iron and starts to hit Michael lightly with it. Michael, a bit annoyed, grabs Jimmy's hand.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Jimmy, what are you doin'? [yanks the tire iron away from Jimmy] We don't have time for this! I'm here to help you!

[Still afraid, Jimmy shakes his head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now, the people who did this are putting the screws to me, too. I don't wanna be here any more than you do. Now, do you want your family back?

[Jimmy nods.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm gonna work on that. Can you be good?

[He nods again.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: We have a long drive back to Miami. If you can be good, you get to ride up front.

[Jimmy looks at Michael.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Miami Streets. Day. Driving the badly-scratched Cadillac behind a sleek yellow Saab 9-3 convertible, Jimmy (whose good behavior has merited him a ride up front) tells Michael his tale of woe. Still shaky, he speaks faster than he thinks, causing him to stammer a lot.]

JIMMY: A couple months ago, I got a call from this lady.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Smoky voice, lots of attitude?

JIMMY: Wait a minute. You know her?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Not as well as I'd like.

JIMMY: Anyway, she wanted me to break into this place where I did a job.

MICHAEL WESTEN: A job? What is it you do, Jimmy?

JIMMY: [nervously] Hey, look, I-I'm... I'm in computer systems, okay? I-I did a-a gig about a year ago for this company called Security Associates.

MICHAEL WESTEN: "Security Associates"? Is that private military?

JIMMY: Yeah, sure, something like that. I don't know, okay? They were... they were corporate guys, [stammers] but really scary. And the lady on the phone, she told me to break into there, okay? And get a memory dump off their hard drive and-and get it back to her.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What did you say?

JIMMY: I said she was freakin' insane! I-mI'm a computer tech, man! I'm not-I'm not a break-in guy. So I was like, "no way!"

MICHAEL WESTEN: And this led to you being hog-tied on an airstrip.

JIMMY: The lady on the phone threatened my family, so we decided to bail. We hired this guy with a private plane, and then we went upstate. And we were about to leave, and these guys with guns, they came out of this helicopter. And then they just... [trails off]

[Grief-stricken, he starts to sob.]

JIMMY: They took my wife and my kid. Please, I don't even... know who you are, but... you gotta help me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We'll figure something out.

[Michael drives.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael opens the front door, his gun held out. He enters cautiously. There's Wonderbread and jelly on the kitchen bench. The toaster pops out two slices of toast, grabbing his attention. He aims his gun towards the noise, instinctively. Sam enters the loft, from the balcony, carrying a coffee mug and wearing a shirt at least two sizes too small for him. He still has the bruises and cuts on his face - souvenirs of his time as a hostage of drug-smugglers.]

SAM AXE: Whoa! Mike, easy. Just me and a couple of slices of Wonderbread.

[Placated, Michael lowers his gun.]

SAM AXE: Hey, you okay? I gotta say, I didn't expect you back.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, I didn't expect to be back, either. Making yourself comfortable, I see.

[Sam looks down at the shirt he's wearing.]

SAM AXE: Uh, comfortable? I wouldn't go that far. Mike, how do you fit into these little shirts? They're like doll clothes.

[Michael cautiously checks out the balcony.]

SAM AXE: Anyway, after you got me out of the boat, I didn't want to scare Veronica, y'know, [gesturing towards his bruised face] with all this, so I thought I'd... lay low at your place for a while. Wait a minute. What happened with the big meeting?

MICHAEL WESTEN: It didn't go as well as I'd hoped. Seems the people that burned me want me for a job. For now, that's all I got.

SAM AXE: A job? Does it pay?

MICHAEL WESTEN: More of a "we'll-kill-you-if-you-don't-do-it" type of thing.

SAM AXE: Ahh, never liked those. So, what is it?

[Applying jelly over a slice of bread, Sam takes a bite.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Help some computer tech steal some data. I figure if I find out what they want stolen, I might get an idea of who they are. The guy's outside in the, uh, in the Caddy.

[Sam, happy hearing about the Cadillac, doesn't notice Michael's apologetic tone.]

SAM AXE: The Caddy. You brought back the Caddy.

[He moves towards the window to look down at the Caddy.]

SAM AXE: Oh, Mike, that's great. I was afraid to ask, y'know, 'cause Veronica, she was getting on my case, and I...

[Looking outside the window, he almost chokes.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, about that. It's gonna need a little work.

[Sam looks wide-eyed at Michael.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Michael's Loft. Day. The Caddy's left brake-light is broken, it's covered with mud and there aren't many places that haven't got scratches. Michael comes downstairs and opens the door for Jimmy to come out.]

JIMMY: So we're safe here?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Uhh, safe would be a stretch, but let's just say we could do worse.

JIMMY: Okay, well, I need my phone, 'cause I have to call...

[Michael grabs Jimmy's shoulder, pulling him out of the way, to close the car door.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, Jimmy, you don't need your phone. You called 9-1-1 on a double homicide. The police are now tracking it. You just need to go on in and clean yourself up.

[Jimmy balks, but Michael gently shoves him towards the stairs.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Go ahead.

DISSOLVE TO:

[Outside Michael's Loft. Day. Michael hoses the mud off the Cadillac. An SUV pulls up outside the gate, near the nightclub. Michael looks up. A really pissed Fiona gets out and slams the SUV door shut, staring daggers and buckshot towards Michael, through her large-frame Burberry sunglasses.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [deadpan] Hey, Fi.

[She strides towards him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [shaking her head] I can't believe you, Michael.

[Michael guiltily puts down the hose.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Forty-eight hours ago, we said goodbye... possibly forever. [sarcastically pleasant] And then I get a message from you on my cell that I should come right over because you got a job.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi, there's a lot going on, so...

[She pulls off her sunglasses.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You couldn't start with "I'm alive"?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I thought the fact that I was calling covered that.

FIONA GLENANNE: [shrugs] That's not the point.

[She rears back a bit and swings for his face. Michael, expecting something like this the moment he saw her, sidesteps it and wraps his arms around her.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi, I called you because I need your help.

[A short moment passes as they look at each other, but it's ruined by his ringing cell phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sorry. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.

[He answers the phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Hello. [peeved] Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. I told you not to make calls on that phone.

INTERCUT WITH: [Fort Lauderdale Motel. Day. Sitting in the small motel room, a chair wedged underneath the front doorknob, Madeline speaks to Michael on her cell phone, a bit distressed. She holds a cigarette (big shocker there!).]

MADELINE WESTEN: [into phone] Well, I know that, but I'm stuck in a motel in Fort Lauderdale. And I've been worried sick. And if the phone's being bugged by those spy people, I guess now they know it, too. [declares] I'm worried about my son. [beat] Besides, calls from a motel phone cost a dollar.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Oh, that's terrible.

[Fiona picks up some of the foliage the Caddy had picked up during the getaway and holds it up questioningly to Michael. Michael holds up his finger to her.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [into phone] So, when can I start making calls again?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Just come on home. You can make all the calls you want.

MADELINE WESTEN: [into phone] What about those men with the guns? Are you okay?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, more or less.

MADELINE WESTEN: [into phone, relieved] I'm so glad.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I'm... glad too, Mom.

MADELINE WESTEN: [into phone] Bye, Michael.

[Michael hangs up and looks at Fiona. She leans against the staircase railing, smiling at Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [teasing] You hadn't called your Mom yet?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I was going to... wait a bit.

[Happy in the knowledge that he's going to get an earful from his mother, she goes upstairs.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [softly, gratefully] Thanks for coming, Fi.

[He goes back to work on the Caddy.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Restaurante Carlito. Day.  Michael, Sam and Jimmy sit at an outdoor table, discussing the case.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: So, this woman on the phone, did you ever see her in person? Did she give you a name, anythin'?

JIMMY: No, I told you, I never met her. I mean, she said her name was Carla, that was it. Besides that, it was just, y'know, "Go steal the stuff for us or else."

SAM AXE: Okay, so what is this data? What's on these computers that they want so badly?

JIMMY: I don't know. I mean, they don't pay me to look at the files. They pay me to keep people from stealing them. Why do they even need us? I mean, if they're blowing up a plane, they've got guys.

MICHAEL WESTEN: The people behind this, they don't want to get their hands dirty, so they get others to do their work for them like making us break into Security Associates.

SAM AXE: I checked that place out. Guy who runs it is Ryder Stahl.

[Sam hands Michael a folder. Michael opens it and sees a picture of Stahl in a suit. The guy looks tough and dangerous, even in a suit. There are some other pictures of him and his "associates", wearing combat gear.]

SAM AXE: Guy's been in all the hot spots, usually has corporate clients who want some heavy firepower. Basically, any place where more guns equal more money, Mikey.

[Michael shows Jimmy the picture.]

JIMMY: Yeah, that's the guy. Yeah.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm gonna need you to make an introduction.

JIMMY: [incredulously] Talk to Ryder? Face-to-face? [quickly] No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Private security companies don't have a lot of walk-in business, Jimmy. So we're gonna need an introduction, and you're the best we've got.

[He hands the folder back to Sam.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: If I'm gonna do this, I need to look at their security setup.

[Jimmy doesn't look happy at all.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling encouragingly] It'll be fine. Sam and Fi will back us up if anything goes wrong, right?

[Sam, still a bit upset about his Caddy's condition and the lack of reimbursement for this job, doesn't sound all that enthusiastic.]

SAM AXE: Uh yeah, right. Right, we got you covered. Absolutely no problem.

JIMMY: Yeah?

SAM AXE: [frowning] Yeah.

[Jimmy looks at Michael, who still has a smile plastered to his face.]

JIMMY: Okay.

[Michael, still smiling, looks at Sam, who doesn't look happy.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Security Associates. Day. Michael and Jimmy walk towards the Thyssen Building, where the main office of Security Associates is. Jimmy is still edgy.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Calm down. You'll be fine.

JIMMY: Right. Can we just go over it one more time?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sure. We go in, you introduce me, you leave.

[They approach the building. On the parking garage of the building opposite them ("Deja Vu Love Boutique"), Fiona and Sam sit in Sam's Caddy (which is a bit cleaner now). Sam drinks coffee while Fiona looks through binoculars, watching Michael and Jimmy enter the Thyssen Building.]

[Inside Thyssen Building. Day. Michael and Jimmy walk inside. They wait near the front desk.]

            {Private military companies are best known for their bodyguard work. It's a big part of their business, but it's not the only part. For a big enough check, they'll rain hot lead down wherever you want.}

[The elevator door opens and Ryder Stahl walks outside, towards Jimmy and Michael.]

            {It's not work that attracts "service-with-a-smile" types.}

RYDER STAHL: Jimmy.

JIMMY: Hi. Thanks for, um... [points to Michael] This is the guy that I told you about.

RYDER STAHL: You wanted to talk to me?

[Taking off his sunglasses, Michael shakes Stahl's hand. He speaks with a thick British accent.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Terry Miller. Heard a lot of great things about your operation.

RYDER STAHL: Ryder Stahl. Jimmy here tells me you're in mining.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Muh boy Jimmy here, he says that you're the folks to look for when we need a mercenary.

RYDER STAHL: We're security consultants, [shooting Jimmy a glare] not mercenaries.

[Actually, he is...]

                                                           RYDER STAHL
                                                            MERCENARY

JIMMY: Right. I-I think what he meant was...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [interrupts brusquely] Oi! I can speak for myself, myte. Piss off, then. We've got business.

JIMMY: [small voice] Okay.

[Jimmy beats a hasty retreat, as Michael and Stahl continue to size each other up.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You call yourself what you like. I got serious business to be 'andled. Now can we go upstairs and talk in private?

[Interested, Stahl gives him a short nod.]

CUT TO:

[Security Associates office, Conference Room. Day. Michael and Stahl walk into the room. Stahl motions for Michael to sit at the table.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I've got mining interests up around the northern border of Kenya. Locals are my problem.

[They sit down.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I need 'em dealt with.

RYDER STAHL: "Dealt with". What does that mean?

MICHAEL WESTEN: You know what it means. Enough with the word games.

[One of Stahl's suit-clad associates comes up and hands Stahl a piece of paper.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm willing to pay good money for a permanent solution to my problem.

[Stahl reads the paper and looks at Michael.]

RYDER STAHL: Mr. Millar, you just solicited an illegal act, and my security tells me you've got a backup team sitting on the roof of the parking garage across the street.

[Michael remains calm.]

RYDER STAHL: [menacingly polite] Are-you-a-cop?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [sounding bored] Is this a joke?

RYDER STAHL: No joke. Two-person team watching. We do regular security sweeps.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't know who these blokes are, but they're not backup. Look, I've got an operation that looks to prove out in the low nine figures. I got enemies, mate.

RYDER STAHL: So they're not yours.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Not mine.

RYDER STAHL: I guess we'll just have to find out. [to his associates] Take him out the back.

[One of the associates starts to turn Michael's swivel chair around.]

CUT TO:

[Deja Vu Love Boutique, Parking Garage. Day. Sam and Fiona sit in the Caddy. Fiona looks through the binoculars, watching the Thyssen Building.]

SAM AXE: You're being too hard on Mike. Y'know, he damn near got himself killed saving me.

FIONA GLENANNE: Yeah, and I damn near got myself killed saving the both of you. And then he comes back and acts like nothing happened.

SAM AXE: I'm just sayin', [holds out his hand] I can count on one hand the number of buddies I got who would stage an armed assault to save my butt, okay?

[Clenching his fist, he extends his thumb.]

SAM AXE: You got Mike. [extending his forefinger] You got...

[He can't think of anyone else. Fiona looks at him mock-expectantly.]

[Behind them, Michael and the two mercenaries walk up the ramp, leading to where the Caddy is parked.]

            {When you're claiming to be someone you're not, the key is commitment. You've got to sell it like your life depends on it. Because sometimes it does.}

[Michael seems a bit tense as they approach the Cadillac.]

[Inside the Cadillac, Sam continues to extol Michael's virtues, as he holds a sandwich, wrapped in aluminum foil.]

SAM AXE: The point is, Mike is the kind of guy who's got your back.

[As he talks, he holds the sandwich and foil outside the window.]

[Michael, noticing the shiny foil, sees his opportunity.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [yells out] Gun!

[He shoves one of the mercs out of the way, bouncing him off a nearby parked car.]

[Fiona and Sam, hearing the yell, turn to see.]

[The other merc, near Michael, aims his gun at the Caddy. Michael grabs the confused merc's gun.]

            {One reason to work with the same people is you know each other's moves.}

[He wrenches the gun away from the merc and aims towards the Caddy's rear-view mirror.]

            {So if you shoot at your team in the middle of an operation, they know to go with it.}

[He fires, knocking off the Caddy's mirror. Sam looks in surprise at the further damage being done to his car.]

SAM AXE: What the hell is he doing?

[Michael fires again, smashing the rear window.]

[Fiona pulls out her gun, as Sam starts the car, putting it in reverse.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I think we just got recruited into Michael's cover ID.

[One of the mercs prepares to fire at the car. Michael fires twice and shouts at him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Get down! Get down!

[Fiona sticks her upper body out of the window, aiming her gun towards Michael and the mercs. She fires, smashing a nearby parked car's window.]

            {It takes a good marksman to shoot you at fifty feet from a moving car.}

[Fiona keeps firing, pinning the two mercs down behind the car. She takes aim at something.]

            {But it takes a great marksman to miss...}

[She fires. THWIP! The bullet strikes the ground right between Michael's feet. He looks up at her, astonished.]

            {... while making it look like they're trying to hit you.}

[Smiling mischievously, she goes back inside the car.]

            {Or "markswoman," as the case may be.}

[Michael, still incredulous that she nearly hit him, fires off a round in her direction, miffed.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Michael's Loft. Day. The poor Caddy's had a bad couple of days. Now, it has some new bullet-holes and a smashed rear window. Michael peels off some duct tape as Jimmy whines.]

JIMMY: So, you're saying that that went well?

MICHAEL WESTEN: He doesn't think I'm a cop anymore.

[Jimmy walks away from Michael, massaging his head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: It's true.

[Sam mixes up something as he speaks.]

SAM AXE: Got him backstopped with a job history, bank accounts, even got a British mining company to hire him as a contractor retroactively. Point is, Ryder's boys've been calling around, checking him out.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now we just go back to him, sell him on the deal, and check out his security layout.

[Using the duct tape, Michael holds the driver's-side rear-view mirror (which he shot off) into place.]

JIMMY: Listen, even if we pull this thing off, I'm the only guy that can get that data, and they know that, okay? If we do this, I'm a dead man.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Never let that happen, Jimmy. One problem at a time.

JIMMY: That's easy for you to say.

[Michael looks at Sam, losing his patience with the whiner. Sam calls to Jimmy.]

SAM AXE: Yo, Jimbo.

JIMMY: What?

SAM AXE: C'mon. Let's go upstairs, set you up with a beer, maybe a yogurt.

[Weakly, Jimmy goes up to Sam.]

SAM AXE: Got this great card game we used to play back in the SEAL teams when we were feeling crappy.

[Michael's cell phone rings.]

SAM AXE: I'll teach ya. You're gonna love it.

[Michael, smiling gratefully at Sam, answers his phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, Ma ,you're back in town.

MADELINE WESTEN: [from phone, upset] Michael, you have to come over here now. It's a disaster.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, sighs] On my way.

[As Sam and Jimmy go upstairs to the loft, Michael walks off.]

CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Michael enters the house.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ma...

[SH-CLICK! Madeline cocks a shotgun at him, a cigarette in her mouth.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: What are you doin'? Put the shotgun down.

[She lowers it.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Well, what am I supposed to do? There were men in suits with guns out there after me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [closing the front door] They were after me.

MADELINE WESTEN: Well, you're here, so maybe I should have a shotgun.

[She puts the shotgun aside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: What's the disaster?

MADELINE WESTEN: [points to the kitchen] It's the coffee maker.

[She walks to the kitchen.]

MADELINE WESTEN: You had me rush out of here on such short notice, the damn thing burned out!

[Picking up the coffee maker, she thumps it on the counter. It's got a large black spot, near the wire.]

MADELINE WESTEN: It blew a fuse in the kitchen, and then it spoiled a fridge full of food.

MICHAEL WESTEN: This is the disaster? A coffee maker built in 1967?!

MADELINE WESTEN: And the food! I've been cleaning for hours.

[Michael throws his head up, exasperated,]

MADELINE WESTEN: Oh, I found your phone in the glove compartment of the Charger.

[She puts a cell phone on the counter.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: My phone in the Charger?

MADELINE WESTEN: I assumed it was one of yours. You go through those things like toothpicks.

[Michael picks up the Nokia phone. Pressing a button to light up the screen, he notices there's one missed call.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Car's in the garage.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Excuse me a sec, Mom.

[He walks away from his mother and dials the number. The phone rings. Carla answers.]

CARLA: [from phone] Hello there, Michael. Good to hear from you.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, smiling] Glad I could brighten your day. Looks like you owe my Mom a new coffee maker. Care to tell me why you're breaking into her house?

CARLA: [from phone] Just letting you know we can. I'd like to remind you that there's a clock on this operation of ours. I want you to speak to someone.

[A little girl's voice is hear on the phone.]

JIMMY'S DAUGHTER: [from phone] Daddy?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, beat] No, it's not your Daddy. I'm a friend of your Dad's.

INTERCUT WITH: [Unknown Location. Day. The little girl speak to Michael.]

JIMMY'S DAUGHTER: [from phone] Can I talk to him?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] He's not here right now, but he wants me to tell you that he misses you.

JIMMY'S DAUGHTER: [from phone] I don't like it here. When is he coming?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, softly, urgently] Can you tell me where you are?

[A lady's hand takes the phone away from the girl.]

CARLA: [from phone] No, she can't.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Leave her alone. You're not really gonna hurt a little girl.

[Carla repeats Michael's line from last season.]

CARLA: [from phone] Maybe. Maybe not. If I get what I want, you don't need to find out.

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Thyssen Building. Day. Michael (AKA Terry Miller) leans up against a pillar, arms folded, near the front desk. He speaks up (with the accent) as Ryder Stahl passes by.]]

MICHAEL WESTEN: They said you weren't in, so I waited.

[Stahl looks at him.]

RYDER STAHL: You got a lot of balls coming here.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [pissed] It seems to me if anyone should be upset, mate, it's me. I'm the one who got shot at. I'm the one who needs a job done. If you're not interested, I'll leave Miami. [picks up a briefcase] If you are interested, we talk now.

[Convinced, Stahl smiles at Michael.]

RYDER STAHL: C'mon. Let's try it again.

[They walk off.]

CUT TO:

[Security Associates office, Conference Room. Day. While Stahl sits at the conference table, Michael opens his briefcase and removes a map. Unfolding it, he places it on the table, in front of Stahl.]

            {Every thief knows that the best way to scout a place you want to rob is as a customer. Who gets to see the vault at the local bank? The rich guy with something to protect. Who gets to see the security at a private military company? A guy who wants to start his own little war.}

[He takes out a small pouch from the 'case. He points to an area on the map, circled in red.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: There's unoxidized kimberlite in this region here. It's called "blue ground".

[He removes a small piece of kimberlite from the pouch.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling] It means diamonds.

[He tosses the small rock to Stahl to check out.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: My problem is the village.

RYDER STAHL: [looking at the rock] We can handle the problem area. We eliminate the civilians and burn it. You'll never know it was there. Let's get to the details and the deal.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [holds his hand up] Not so fast, mate. [points to the map] There's a hundred mil US. People'd kill for this deal,

not just those people from the other day. I need to know my information is secure.

[Stahl ponders for a second, then smiles and tosses the kimberlite rock back to Michael.]

[They walk outside into the hallway.]

RYDER STAHL: Building security is 24/7. We have biometric security in all the key areas. Key-card access throughout the building.

[They walk down the corridor.]

            {A great way to get people talking about their security is to put them on the defensive.

[Michael notices a high-end security camera aimed at a door marked "NO ENTRY". The door has an electronic keypad next to it.]

            {Accuse a guy of having bad locks, and before you know it, he's telling you where his motion detectors are.}

[Michael stops near the door, looking contemptuously at the keypad.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Right, that's a nice toy. But what about this door?

[He raps on the door with his knuckle.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: 'Ollow-core veneer. You c'n cut through that with a handsaw.

RYDER STAHL: That may be, but what do you do then? The door's alarmed. Building security is here in under a minute, police under five.

[He presses his thumb to the biometric sensor on the keypad. The sensor scans his thumbprint and authorizes him.]

RYDER STAHL: And here...

[He opens the server room door. Michael, looking around carefully, walks inside. Computer techs work inside.]

RYDER STAHL: The computer is kept in a sealed room with a burn vault. Someone breaks in, it melts the drives to slag.

[Michael starts to walk around, measuring his steps.]

            {It takes some practice, but counting your steps can be extremely useful if you need to reproduce a floor plan from memory.}

[He walks up to the middle of the room and looks up at a motion detector.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Not bad. Could be be'er [better]. I'll come back Tues'ee. We'll talk terms.

[He walks out.]

WIPE TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael draws the detailed floor plan of the server room from memory, along with camera placements and motion detector locations.]

            {Once you've memorized the floor plan, you wanna get it down on paper as quickly as you can. Combine that with the technical specs of the security devices in the room, and you'll know where the holes in the security are. Then it's just a matter of slipping through one of those holes.}

[As he works, Sam and Jimmy play Sam's card game (for SEALs and computer techs who feel crappy).]

SAM AXE: That is a terrible two. So let's do the math. How many twos in a deck?

JIMMY: Four.

SAM AXE: Right. So those are your cards you can play - twos or fours. Or, two plus four is what?

[Michael, trying to concentrate on the schematics, finds himself answering Sam's math problem under his breath.]

SAM AXE: Six. You can play an eight. Two times four is what?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [again under his breath, reflexively] Eight...

SAM AXE: Eight. You can play a four, an eight, a two...

[Michael has enough of the number overload. Smiling tightly, he interrupts Sam.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sam! Uh, I appreciate you trying to distract him, but could you take it outside?

SAM AXE: Sure. C'mon, Jimbo. Let's go out on the balcony, get some fresh air so you can concentrate.

[They walk out. Michael puffs out his cheeks and exhales, as he racks his brain for more information. He gets a good two seconds of alone time, when the door opens and Fiona enters. A little annoyed at her presence not being acknowledged, she closes the door. Michael looks up towards her. She walks up to him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Figuring out a time when we can have our conversation?

[She comes up close to him, looking at what he's doing.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi, I'm planning a heist. Um, c-can you just... I mean, I-I gotta do the job...

FIONA GLENANNE: [finishes for him] ... first. [softly] Right.

[Knowing they won't be talking about "them" anytime now, she resigns herself to the "job".]

FIONA GLENANNE: So, what can I do for the job?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I need you to get us into Isogene Labs. It's a DNA-testing facility one floor above Security Associates. I need to get in there for an hour at night alone, and... we're gonna be making a lot of noise.

FIONA GLENANNE: You have a high estimation of my skills, Michael.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [earnestly] You've earned every bit of it, Fi.

[She looks flattered.]

CUT TO:

[Restaurante Carlito. Day. Michael and Jimmy sit at a table, eating lunch and discussing the heist.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: So, once I'm in, how do I get the data?

JIMMY: It's complicated. You have to, um...

[He thinks for a while unsurely, stammering. Seeing no other alternative, he looks at Michael.]

JIMMY: I have to come with you.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Jimmy... [puts down his fork] uh, I don't think this is your kind of operation.

JIMMY: [smiles wryly] I know. None of this is. But those computers and hard drives are completely secure, okay? I made them that way.

[As Jimmy speaks, Michael notices a guy at another table, looking shiftily at them and taking notes.]

JIMMY: So to steal the data, we have to tap into the hardwiring in the wall. And we'll only have one chance to do that.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, it's gonna be dangerous.

JIMMY: Doesn't matter. [trying to sound fiercely resolute] This is for my wife and my daughter. Get me in and I'll get the data.

[Michael notices the guy again. The guy looks nervous as he writes onto a pad.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Hold on a sec.

[Michael stands up, letting out a groan.]

JIMMY: What's the matter?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, bum knee. I got to, y'know, stretch it once in...

[The surveillance guy gets up and starts running away. Despite the "bum knee", Michael takes off after him. The guy runs through pedestrians. Michael sprints after him.]

            {Badly done surveillance, that is surveillance you notice, can mean a lot of things. Some organizations need intelligence but can't afford to pay for training.}

[The surveillance guy turns to look at Michael. When he looks back in front, he runs directly into a hand cart. He falls over the cart, knocking the cart and its contents over, and crashes to the ground. Michael reaches him. The guy tries to get up, but a light kick to the face thwarts him. Michael places his foot on the guy's chest.]

SURVEILLANCE GUY: Okay! Okay!

[Michael looks around.]

            {Some organizations just want you to know they're watching.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: Who are you? Who sent you?

SURVEILLANCE GUY: I don't know. I answered an ad. Hundred bucks to watch and take notes. Some woman!

MICHAEL WESTEN: She give you anything?

SURVEILLANCE GUY: [grimacing] Yeah.

[He pulls out an envelope from his pocket and hands it to Michael.]

SURVEILLANCE GUY: She told me not to open this.

[Michael opens the envelope and takes out a picture of Jimmy's wife and daughter looking at the camera, distraught, holding a copy of the day's newspaper. He turns the photo over and sees "HURRY UP WE'RE WAITING" written on the other side. He looks around.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Michael's Loft. Day. Jimmy sits on the trunk of the Charger, looking miserably at the hostage picture of his family. Michael walks downstairs from his loft, carrying a large red duffel bag.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I was wondering when you'd call. Oh, that was some operative you sent.

CARLA: [from phone] A freelancer. [amused] I don't think he'll be answering newspaper ads for a while.

[Michael drops the heavy duffel bag near a van, parked near the Charger. He opens the back doors of the van.]

CARLA: [from phone] Jimmy got our message? We thought you could use a little reminder of what's at stake here.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, we head in tonight. Is that soon enough?

[He dumps the bag inside the van.]

CARLA: [from phone] That will be fine, thank you.

[Michael puts some other bags inside the van.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Now, I need something from you.

CARLA: [from phone] What is that?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] The guns your guys used to kill those men at the airstrip. You have 'em?

CARLA: [from phone] They could probably be located. Whatever for?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I want 'em. If I'm gonna work for you, I want tactical support.

CARLA: [from phone] I confess, I'm curious. Fine, you'll have your guns.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] And Jimmy's family. I will give you a date and location. You will deliver them when and where I say.

CARLA: [from phone] Of course, Michael. We want this to be a good experience for everyone.

[Hanging up the phone, he picks up a big sticker that says,

                                               "COOK BROS. CONSTRUCTION"
                                               305-555-0163
                                               serving South Florida since 1989".

He sticks it on the side of the van.]

CUT TO:

[Isogene Labs. Day. The very-much interested and charmed manager listens to a sexily-dressed Fiona talk.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I am so sorry. We called as soon as we realized the problem. Apparently the engineer missed the defect in the architectural plans.

[The manager shakes his head, smiling at her.]

FIONA GLENANNE: We're dealing with all the floors. We'd start with Security Associates below you, but you're up first 'cause you've got all the heavy equipment.

ISOGENE MANAGER: Well, lucky us. I'm just glad you guys caught it before [pointing to himself] someone fell through the floor.

[Fiona laughs loudly, humoring him. He laughs as well. Smiling coyly at him, she opens her folder and puts some papers in front of him.]

            {Getting into a secure facility is as simple as giving yourself a good reason to be there.}

FIONA GLENANNE: Here we are.

ISOGENE MANAGER: Uh, yeah.

[She struggles with the pen, strapped to the folder. He helps her.]

FIONA GLENANNE: It's so stiff.

ISOGENE MANAGER: I'll pull it out.

[Suddenly, he looks up, realizing he's sounding like a male pornstar. He removes the pen from the strap.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [points fro him to sign] Right here.

[He signs quickly.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Right here.

[He signs the next paper as well.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Our guys'll need a few hours. The defect's in the beam, so they'll be cutting. We just need you to notify the building and let the workers in. The next morning, it will be like we were never here, and I'll be outta your hair.

ISOGENE MANAGER: [charmingly] Hey, you come back anytime you like.

FIONA GLENANNE: [smiles brightly] They'll be by tonight. Please don't forget to call building security, or I will get into so much trouble.

[She shakes his hand.]

ISOGENE MANAGER: [holding her hand] We can't have that. I'll call now.

[She sashays towards the elevators. The manager feels like a million bucks as she looks coyly at him, before entering the elevator.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Isogene Labs. Night. A tired-looking Michael and Jimmy walk towards the door from the elevators, carrying their heavy equipment. The manager holds the door open for them to enter.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Talk to our rep?

ISOGENE MANAGER: She told me you were coming, yes.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [salaciously] How 'bout her, huh?

[The manager gives him a polite snigger.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: We're gonna be in the back lab over here. We're gonna be making some noise. Should only take a couple of hours.

[They start to walk towards the back lab, followed by the manager.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: There's some BS about the chemicals we use. Now, you can come back, but it's gotta be on your insurance.

[The manager stops the moment he hears "chemicals" and "insurance".]

ISOGENE MANAGER: I'm, uh... I'm fine here, thanks.

[Michael kicks the door shut.]

[Inside the back lab, Michael and Jimmy go to work. Looking at his hand-drawn map, he takes a few measured steps towards the center of the room.]

            {The typical floor is concrete slab over twenty-gauge steel pan with steel trusses spaced thirty inches for support.}

[Using a wire detector, he picks safe spots on the floor and chalks them out.]

            {When you cut through a floor, the thing you have to worry about is wiring. Cut into the wrong wire, and you'll set off the building alarms, electrocute yourself, or both.}

[He takes a large powerdrill from Jimmy and drills a hole in the middle of the spots marked.]

            {If you don't want a chunk of concrete crashing through to the floor below, you need to drill a hole and anchor the slab.}

[Jimmy watches nervously as Michael drills. Finished, Michael takes a hammer and a threaded insert. He hammers the insert into the hole. He screws a metal fastener into the insert. He puts on a protective mask and takes a concrete saw from Jimmy.]

            {A concrete saw cuts it like butter.}

[With the fastener tethered to a rope, which is attached to a tripod anchor, Michael cuts the floor around the four chalked-out spots. Done, he helps Jimmy pull the square portion of concrete off the floor, using a winch attached to the anchor. Then, removing his jacket, he connects the rope to a belt around him. He throws a couple of duffel bag into the hole in the floor (leading to Security Associates' server room). Jimmy slowly lowers him through the hole. ]

            {If you've done your planning right, you'll be dropping into a blind spot for the security system...}

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Michael lowers Jimmy inside the dark room.]

            {... usually behind an interior wall.}

[He opens the bags and removes a thermal blanket and a woollen comforter.]

            {Motion detectors bounce sound off objects and analyze the reflection.}

[He assembles three metal poles, to hold up the blanket and comforter.]

            {If something changes, the alarm goes off.}

[Wrapping the blanket and comforter around the poles, he and Jimmy start to creep behind it (out of view of the camera) towards the main server.]

            {Move slow enough, and a wool comforter absorbs enough sound to keep it from triggering. A thermal blanket, meanwhile, shields your body from heat sensors.}

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Fiona and Sam sit in the Caddy, watching the building.]

SAM AXE: How do you think he's doing in there?

FIONA GLENANNE: [not worried, bored though] It's Michael.

[They sit quiet for a while. Then, Sam talks.]

SAM AXE: So, look, uh, Fi... I gotta go back to Veronica... explain where I've been, why I'm all beat to hell, and what happened to the Caddy.

FIONA GLENANNE: [smiling] I'd pay to watch that.

SAM AXE: Oh, c'mon. Fi, you're a girl. What do I say?

FIONA GLENANNE: I'm your girl consultant now? When did I sign up for that job?

SAM AXE: Okay, fine. Forget it. Y'know, I got lots of other friends with ovaries. [starts to count on his fingers] I got you...

[He stops, racking his brain for other female friends. He gives up.]

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Crouching behind the thermal blanket and comforter, Michael drills into the server cabinet.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Fiona, taking pity on Sam, decides to help him out.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Tell her you got beaten up defending a helpless man from a gang of ex-lowlife-soldiers. It's true enough.

SAM AXE: Okay. So I'm the hero.

FIONA GLENANNE: And the helpless man.

[Sam doesn't much care for that part. He notices a Hummer H1 sports utility truck pulling up outside, in front of the building. Ryder Stahl and his mercs get out.]

SAM AXE: Aha! Somebody's working late. Better let Mike know.

[Fiona text-message Michael.]

CUT TO:

[Thyssen Building. Night. Stahl walks to the front desk, followed by his suit-clad cronies. The front desk clerk (Stevie) greets him.]

STEVIE: Evening, Mr. Stahl.

RYDER STAHL: Hey, Stevie. Thanks for the call. What's going on?

STEVIE: It's, uh, probably nothing, but you said you wanted us to call you any time if something unusual was going on in the building.

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Michael receives Fiona's text. It reads, "Ryder is back".]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [urgently] How long?

[Jimmy looks down at his palmtop computer, hooked up to the server.]

JIMMY: I-I dunno. It's supposed to be backing up now. The data runs along the cable of the backup drives.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, what's the problem? 'Cause we don't have time.

JIMMY: I know, I-I set the backup for 11:30. I-I'm not sure...

[Just then, the palmtop shows a progress bar showing "LOADING". Rapid beeping accompanies the event.]

JIMMY: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Okay, it's comin', it's comin', it's comin', it's comin', it's comin'!

[The data transfer is almost done. Jimmy gets more excited.]

JIMMY: Yes! Yes!!

[Really excited, he pumps his fists in the air... right over the safety of Michael's cover. The alarm goes off immediately. The lights come on and fluctuate, with a siren blaring.]

JIMMY: Oh, God. Oh, God.

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Sam and Fiona notice the alarm.]

SAM AXE: Okay, that's not good.

[He prepares to start the car. Fiona stops him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Give 'em a minute.

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. As Jimmy freaks out, Michael shuts his eyes in frustration.]

JIMMY: Oh, God, I'm so sorry. W-w-what do we do?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Plan "B"!

MUSIC IN: ["Pain" -  Matter]

[Their cover blown, Michael gets up, knocking over the now-useless cover. As the fast-paced music plays in the background, Michael goes over to the red duffel bag, while Jimmy packs up his palmtop. Michael pulls out a Striker shotgun from the bag and walks quickly towards the server.]

            {Quadrangle buckshot is a specialized round designed to destroy the inside of anything delicate. A computer, for example.}

[He fires four times at the server, blowing it apart. He turns.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Get back!

[Jimmy jumps out of his way. Michael walks over to a security window and looks outside. Reaching into the red bag, he pulls out a rack of shotgun shells and removes a black-coated round.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Take the rope and tie it off.

JIMMY: [afraid] We're going out the window?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Unless you want to wait around.

[Loading the shell into the Striker, he aims for the window.]

            {For hardened security glass, I prefer Frag-12, a military round with an explosive projectile.}

[BAM! The window shatters.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Fiona and Sam react at the sound of the gunshot.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Go.

[Sam starts the Caddy and they drive towards the shattered window.]

[Michael and Jimmy rappel down the side of the building.]

[Sam swerves round the curve.]

[Michael lands smoothly. Jimmy, amateur that he is, isn't as lucky. He lands jerkily and bounces off the wall, before Michael can help him out.]

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Stahl kicks the room door in and enters, gun held out.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Michael helps Jimmy undo the straps around his waist, as he squirms in pain.]

JIMMY: Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Stahl, noticing the shattered window, runs towards it.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Thyssen Building. Night. Michael hoists Jimmy up.]

CUT TO:

[Security Associates' server room. Night. Stahl sees the ropes leading outside the window. Looking out the window, he sees Michael and Jimmy running towards the Caddy. He fires at them. The unfortunate Caddy takes another three bullets, before they manage to drive off to safety.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Jimmy applies an ice-pack to his knee, as he moans and groans. Michael and Sam stand in the kitchen.]

JIMMY: [groaning] Ohh, I think I sprained my body.

SAM AXE: [holds up a beer] Hey, you want another beer? I'm tellin' ya, did wonders for my ribs.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You're fine.

JIMMY: I just want my family back.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We're workin' on it.

JIMMY: [heatedly] Yeah, how? Those guys at Security Associates, they're gonna kill me as soon as they get a chance.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [points at Jimmy] Exactly, and that makes them predictable, and that's how we're gonna solve your problem. Sam, can you get me a boat, something disposable?

[Sam, reaching into a jar for pickles, looks up at Michael.]

SAM AXE: Disposable? Oh, I see where you're goin'. I know a guy. Yeah. It's a decent boat, once upon a time. It's got mold, but doesn't sound like it's gonna be around long enough to bother us.

[He takes a bite of a pickle.]

JIMMY: How is this gonna solve my problem?

MICHAEL WESTEN: These guys from Security Associates want to kill you. We need to give them the opportunity to do just that. Trust me. The heat that's on you, everyone thinking that you're dead is gonna be the best thing that ever happened to you.

[Michael's cell phone rings. He answers it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, Fi?

INTERCUT WITH: [South Beach. Day. Fiona, fresh from the beach, stands near her SUV, the backdoor open. She speaks to Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Michael, I got a delivery today. Someone was kind enough to break into the trunk of my car.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, what was it?

[Fiona removes a beach blanket on the floor of the SUV, exposing a couple of Heckler & Koch UMPs.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] A present from your friends.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Be careful with those, Fi. They're very hot.

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone, smiling] Oh, I'll take good care of them.

[She covers the guns.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Michael, your mother keeps calling me. These last few days have been a lot for her to handle.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] I know the feeling.

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Go see her, Michael.

[Michael hangs up, closing his eyes.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I gotta go visit my Mom. Sam, get on that boat.

SAM AXE: Aye, aye, skipper.

[Michael leaves.]

CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Madeline lights a cigarette with an old one, still feeling edgy. The back door opens. Michael stands there awhile.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You might wanna slow down, Mom.

MADELINE WESTEN: How, Michael? You tell me.

[Her hand shaking, she stubs out the older cigarette.]

MADELINE WESTEN: I'm not sleeping. This business with the... coffee maker.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling] This is about a coffee maker?

MADELINE WESTEN: It isn't just that. Your brother's still up in Fort Lauderdale, you know. I mean, he believes it's not safe here.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Uh, Nate has disappeared for years before, Mom. He's been in Fort Lauderdale for a few days.

MADELINE WESTEN: What about me, Michael? All these years, and finally I see what you do.  You tell me I have to leave town at a minute's notice. I can't talk on the phone. [heatedly] We're being chased by men with guns! How am I supposed to deal with this?

MICHAEL WESTEN: All these years, you wondered why I didn't come home, why I didn't call. This is why, Mom. [beat, sincerely] I never wanted this for you. [beat] I'm sorry.

[MAdeline jerks a nod and takes a drag. Michael looks at her comfortingly.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Well, it still doesn't explain why you didn't write.

[Michael's smile evaporates as he gives up in exasperation.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day. South Beach.]

DISSOLVE TO:

[Boatyard. Day. Michael and Jimmy stand on the deck of the "disposable" boat, docked to the pier. Inside the boat, Fiona places a couple of remote-detonatable C-4 explosives around. She walks outside. Michael holds Jimmy's cell phone. Fiona juts her head out of the cabin door to speak to Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [sounding hopeful] You want this big, right?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Just enough for the boat, Fi. Try not to break all the windows in South Beach.

[Fiona drops her head in disappointment and goes back inside to remove one of the explosives.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Jimmy.

[Jimmy turns around, jumpily. Michael tosses him the cell phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Call Ryder.

JIMMY: Are you sure? I mean, y-y-you said the cops will be listening on this phone, so...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [reminding] And that's.... that's the point. We talked about this, and we practiced it, so if you could do that now.

JIMMY: [dialing] Okay.

[He puts the phone to his ear as he waits for an answer.]

WOMAN: [from phone] Security Associates.

JIMMY: [into phone] Uh, I need- I need to speak to Ryder. Tell-tell him that it's Jimmy.

WOMAN: [from phone] Hold, please.

[Jimmy looks at Michael. Michael smiles at him, encouragingly. Stahl answers, pissed.]

RYDER STAHL: [from phone] Did a hell of a job in my office, kid. You really think you're gonna get away with this, huh? You have any idea who you just took on?

[Jimmy restrains himself from soiling his pants.]

JIMMY: [into phone] Please, just listen, okay? It was... it was the guy, the one... the one that I introduced you to?

[Michael waves at Jimmy.]

JIMMY: [into phone] Look, I want to make this right, okay? If we- If we can just meet, then I-I can explain everything.

RYDER STAHL: [from phone] I don't need explanations, Jimmy. I need my data back.

JIMMY: [into phone] II-I wanna give it back to you.

RYDER STAHL: [from phone] That's good. Just tell me where you are.

[Jimmy looks unsurely at Michael. Michael gestures to him, reassuringly, nodding.]

CUT TO:

[Outside Boatyard. Day. Stahl's Hummer H1 pulls up outside.]

            {Once the cops pick up a call on a flagged cell, they triangulate its location.}

[Stahl gets out, looking as dangerous as he can be.]

            {From there, they organize and deploy units, a process that can take ten minutes, give or take.}

[His gun-toting mercenary subordinates get out as well.]

            {Bad guys don't have that chain of command. They can be anywhere as fast as their wheels can take them.}

[Stahl instructs his men.]

RYDER STAHL: Get in position. Stay out of sight. Going down to the boat.

[An Australian-accented mercenary, carrying a large sniper rifle, speaks.]

AUSSIE MERC: What do we do if he comes out? Do you want us to pop 'im?

RYDER STAHL: Nah, I need to figure out what the hell's going on first. Then you pop him. Get going.

[The mercs go to take their positions, leaving the truck. Behind the truck, Fiona pops out from her behind some cargo containers, carrying a large duffel bag. Opening the duffel bag, she removes the H&K UMPs and dumps them in the bed of the truck. Finished, she runs back to her position.]

[In the boatyard, near the piers, Stahl calls Jimmy.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] Jimmy! You wanna talk, we do it face-to-face.

[Michael and Jimmy sit in a rundown boat, with a good view of the "disposable" boat and Stahl on the piers. Stahl walks towards the doomed boat.]

RYDER STAHL: [from phone] So you coming out, or do I come down to the boat?

JIMMY: [into phone] How do I know you're not armed?

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] Oh, I don't want to shoot you, Jimmy. Just want to get my data back.

[Michael checks his wristwatch and looks towards the road, wondering when the cops will show up. Cupping the phone's mouthpiece, Jimmy looks anxiously at Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [whispering] Hold him off. Tell him to prove he's unarmed.

[Jimmy puts the phone to his ear.]

JIMMY: [into phone] I don't believe you. Okay? Show me. Show me that you don't have a gun.

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] What do you want me to do? Here. Here. See?

[He holds open his jacket towards the disposable boat.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] Unarmed.

JIMMY: [into phone] I-I don't believe you.

[Michael looks impatiently towards the road again. Still nothing.]

RYDER STAHL: [from phone] Jimmy, I'm not messing around. I'm coming down.

JIMMY: [into phone] No, wait! Okay, just wait a second.

[He turns to Michael, fearfully.]

JIMMY: [whispering] He's gonna figure this out. How much longer do I have to do this? I-I...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [politely but firmly] If he finds out you're not on that boat before the ATF gets here, he will track you down. He will go after you and your family for the rest of your life. Now, you will do this now. Do it.

[The "tough love" works on Jimmy. He looks resolute. Seeing Stahl walking towards the boat, he puts the phone to his ear.]]

JIMMY: [into phone] Stay back. You don't want your data all over the Internet, do you? Now don't take another step.

[Stahl holds up his hand, signaling his understanding.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] All right. All right.

JIMMY: [into phone] Take off your clothes, the jacket and the pants, and then you can come.

[Michael smiles appreciatively. Stahl, on the hand, sighs in annoyance. He removes his jacket.]

[Just then, Michael notices a bunch of vans racing down the road towards the boatyard.]

[Stahl drops his jacket to the ground.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] I'm not taking my pants off.

JIMMY: [into phone, fiercely] I'm not messing around.

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] Neither am I.

[Putting his left foot up on a post, he pulls out an automatic that was stuffed into his sock.]

[The ATF vans (with heavily-armed ATF SWAT agents hanging on them) pull up to the boatyard. The ATF SWAT team deploys towards the boatyard, guns at the ready.]

[The Aussie mercenary looks through the scope on his sniper rifle, trained at the boat.]

[Stahl holds his gun and speaks to Jimmy.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] I lied, Jimmy. Wanna see my gun?

[Jimmy looks nervous.]

[He aims the gun towards the disposable boat and starts walking towards it.]

RYDER STAHL: [into phone] Here it is. Now, what I'm gonna do to you if you don't come out right now...?

[The SWAT team moves towards carefully through the trees, towards the piers.]

[As Michael lengthens the antenna on the remote detonator, Jimmy speaks in a confrontational tone.]

JIMMY: [into phone] Yeah. Tell me. Tell me what you're gonna do.

[Michael hits the button.]

[KA-BLAM!! The boat explodes in a huge fireball, knocking Stahl off his feet onto the pier.]

[The ATF SWAT team notices the blast and start moving towards it.]

[The Aussie merc reacts at the explosion. As he looks at it in confusion, the SWAT team comes up behind him, their guns on him. He closes his eyes as he realizes it's over.]

SWAT TEAM-LEADER: Drop it and show me your hands!

[The merc drops the rifle, defeated.]

[The burning debris of the boat fall.]

[Jimmy looks at it in amazement and joy. Michael watches expressionlessly.]

[An ATF SWAT team-member runs over to Stahl, his gun on him, barking out orders, as Stahl surrenders docilely.]

ATF SWAT TEAM-MEMBER: On your stomach... now! Hands behind your back!

[Handcuffing Stahl behind his back, the SWAT guy drags him up and shoves him off the pier.]

ATF SWAT TEAM-MEMBER: Get your butt off this deck! Let's go! Move!

[Jimmy looks at Michael, unable to believe they've pulled it off.]

[Outside the boatyard, the rest of the mercs are handcuffed and kneeling, as the ATF agents and SWAT teams clear out the area. Stahl is led towards the Hummer truck. One of the agents holds up a H&K UMP.]

ATF AGENT: Nice hardware.

RYDER STAHL: [indignantly] 'S not mine. 'S a setup.

ATF AGENT: Put him in the truck.

[The SWAT guy shoves Stahl towards the truck.]

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

CUT TO:

[Boatyard. Night. Michael and Jimmy walk along a pier, lined with luxurious yachts.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: It's going to be hard for them to explain why they have guns linked to a double homicide. Still, probably best to make sure no one ever knows you're alive.

JIMMY: And my family?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sam has a friend who's gonna take you on a boat to Haiti tonight. Should be fine. Coastguard doesn't pay much attention to boats going _to_ Haiti. From there, you'll fly to Argentina and meet your family at the airport.

JIMMY: [hopeful] You really think they'll be there?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, Carla needs me for other things. If she doesn't keep her promises to you, she loses me as an asset.

[Jimmy smiles at Michael.]

JIMMY: [gratefully] Man, I-I don't know how to thank you. [beat] Do you want my car? I mean, it's at my work. I don't really need it anymore. It's a Saab. Convertible.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [beat] Yeah. Love convertibles.

JIMMY: Wow. Okay. [pulls out the keys] There you go.

[He hands the keys to Michael.]

JIMMY: I gotta leave the country, and you're stuck working for them. I don't know who has it better.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You do, Jimmy. Believe me. You do.

[They walk away.]

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael and Fiona hunch over Jimmy's palmtop, looking at the stolen data.]

            {In intelligence gathering, too little information is obviously a problem. But too much information is just as bad in some ways.}

[They look at some of the files of different operations carried out by the mercs (sorry, security consultants).]

FIONA GLENANNE: Five hundred files. And every op looks pretty nasty. Question is, why does she want this stuff?

MICHAEL WESTEN: No clue, but it's a start.

[Fiona sighs. She stretches her neck a bit. Then, looking at Michael, she sighs again. Michael knows he can't sidestep it anymore, so...]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Time to talk.

[Taking a sip of his coffee, he waits for her to speak.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I... lost you the other day.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I came back, Fi.

FIONA GLENANNE: But you left, Michael. You had a choice to make, and you made it. I always thought... maybe, when it came down to it that... but you didn't.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What're you saying, Fi?

FIONA GLENANNE: That I'll always care about you, Michael. [looks at him sadly] And I'll still help you with your thing, and you'll still help me with mine. [softly] But we can't be together.

[He looks at her a beat.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I know. I said that for a long time.

FIONA GLENANNE: Yes, you have.

[After a short beat, she gets up and walks towards the door.]

            {When you work as a spy, it's easy to think of people as assets, resources to accomplish a goal.}

[She opens the door. They look at each other for a moment.]

            {Because you don't have a personal relationship with an asset. You don't care about an asset.}

[She walks out.]

            {You don't miss the scent of an asset when she leaves the room.}

CUT TO:

[Restaurante Carlito. Day. A beautiful lady sits at the bar, doing a crossword puzzle. Sam comes up, to collect his order. He looks at her puzzle.]

SAM AXE: I think 4-Across is "beets".

[She smiles at him.]

SAM AXE: [chuckles] That looks like a tough one.

LADY: A little. But I'm getting through it.

SAM AXE: Hmm. Well, if you need any help, I'm right over there.

[He points to a table, where Michael sits. She looks.]

LADY: [sounding disappointed] I was just leaving, actually. Next time?

[Sam, sighing, returns to his table with the drinks. The lady smiles and returns to her crossword. Sam sits down in front of Michael.]

SAM AXE: Wow! [chuckles] It's a good thing I'm patching things up with Veronica, 'cause if I wasn't, that's a real firecracker there.

[The lady gets up and walks out, passing by Sam and Michael's table. Michael glances at her as she walks out.]

SAM AXE: Hey, what about you? You're a free man now that you and Fi are, well, y'know.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We weren't together, Sam.

SAM AXE: Okay.

[Sam takes a swig of his beer.]

SAM AXE: How'd it go with Jimmy?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Great. He gave a call. He's with his family. He's safe.

[Michael holds up his cell phone to Sam, displaying a picture of Jimmy with his family, smiling at the camera.]

SAM AXE: Looks happy enough.

[Sam looks out, seeing the hot lady entering a cab. She waves cheerfully at him. He waves back at her. Michael turns and looks at her. She smiles at him. The cab leaves. Michael's cell phone rings.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Hold on a sec.

[He answers it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Hello?

CARLA: [from phone] Hello, Michael. Just wanted to call now that you're done with our little project. See how that worked out? He's happy. We're happy. You're happy. We want to make this arrangement work.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Or you'll kill me.

CARLA: [from phone] See? Now you're catching on.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, just one thing. You said we'd meet. You promised, I believe.

CARLA: [from phone] But we did meet, Michael. Tell Sam thanks for the help with the crossword.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, sh...!

[Michael hangs up and jumps up from his seat.]

SAM AXE: Mike, what's up?

[Michael runs out into the street. The cab's long gone. He reenters the restaurant and strides over to the bar counter, where Carla's discarded crossword puzzle lies. Picking it up, he looks at it. The crossword is finished. On top of the puzzle is written, "ENJOY THE PUZZLE. I'LL SEE YOU SOON." Michael lowers the puzzle and looks at the camera, as we...]

FADE OUT.

[Closing credits.]

FADE TO BLACK.

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