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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 cocks a shotgun, while aiming it offscreen.]

[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.}

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.] 

 

CUT TO:

[Ocean Terrace. Day. While beach-goers walk around in their swimsuits, Michael sits on a bench, near the parking lot, reading the file he got on Carla from Waseem Ali Khan. The page he's looking at has many words and sentences censored.]

            {Get your hands on any classified document worth having, chances are, it's going to be redacted, which makes reading it a lot like watching a movie on an airplane. All the juicy parts are missing, but you still get the basic idea.}

[Fiona joins him, handing him a bowl of ice-cream. He places it on the bench and resumes reading. She sits next to him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Anything good?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Hard to tell when you only get every third word.

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, are you surprised? There are the people who burned you, Michael. You're lucky if you get any information about their operatives.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Looks like Carla's cover in Kurdistan was an irrigation consultant.

FIONA GLENANNE: Hmm, maybe she could set something up to water the ferns in my apartment - when she's not threatening your family or forcing you to run black ops.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [hardly amused] I'll be sure to ask her.

FIONA GLENANNE: Cheer up. It's a start, isn't it?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah. There's a decent chance she's using a similar cover here in Miami.

[Michael looks at the pictures in the file. Pictures of land and vegetation... and a black-and-white one of Carla sitting halfway inside a jeep, which has "BDY IRRIGATION" written on it.]

            {Jobs in agriculture are a convenient cover. Makes it easy to explain your presence in the field and the boardroom. The only downside is you might have to become an expert on chickpeas.}

FIONA GLENANNE: Why don't you put that away?

[She reaches across him and closes the folder.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Give it a couple hours. You, uh... you might see something that you missed.

[She puts on her sunglasses and looks at Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Like a tail.

[Michael starts to look around, but she gets in his way and looks directly at him.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Lincoln town car up the street. I saw them before we left my place.

[Michael peers at the reflection in Fiona's sunglasses. Sure enough, he sees the Lincoln.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Do you think it's them?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Could be.

FIONA GLENANNE: It's gonna be a very interesting conversation if they catch you with that file. Can I watch?

[Michael sees a hand-pulled rickshaw go by.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You drive.

[Thrusting the folder in her arms, he jumps up. She sits there a second longer, a bit disappointed.]

[Michael's Charger pulls out from its parking spot. Fiona floors it, as they race down the street.]

            {You can tell a lot about who's following you by the maneuvers they use.}

           

[The Lincoln town car follows. Fiona hangs a hard left.]

           

            {Quick, evasive driving...}

           

[Just as they turn the corner, Michael opens the door and leaps out of the moving car. Without stopping, he runs over to a rickshaw stand and waits behind a parked rickshaw.]

           

            {...Casual bailout, feigning car trouble...}

           

[The Lincoln drives up.]

            {...these are signs you're dealing with a professional.}

[Michael pushes the rickshaw right in front of the Lincoln. The Lincoln doesn't even swerve to avoid the rickshaw. It just hits it head-on, wrecking the rickshaw.]

           

            {Smashing into a rickshaw like a crash-test dummy - that's a sign you're dealing with an aMateur, someone who doesn't know what he's doing.}

[The Lincoln pulls to a stop. Michael jumps over the car's hood, his hand on his gun, quickly approaching the driver's side door, when the door opens and...]

NATE WESTEN: Easy, easy, bro! Come on, it's a rental, man!

[Yep, it's...]

                                                           NATE

                                                   THE BROTHER

[Michael looks at Nate, a bit let down.]

            {That's when you've really got a problem.}

 

CUT TO:

[Opening Title.]

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Night. Michael and Nate walk towards the kitchen area.]

NATE WESTEN: You sure it's safe here?

MICHAEL WESTEN: As safe as it can be. You wanna tell me what you were doin', Nate?

NATE WESTEN: Well, I was followin' you, just making sure you weren't followed.

[Michael gives him a look.]

NATE WESTEN: Don't look at me like I'm crazy, all right? The last time I saw you, you were being chased by guys with guns. And, by the way, I never got so much as a phone call from you to let me know that things were cool. And I-I guess you called Mom.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mom called me.

NATE WESTEN: I just figured you wouldn't leave me twisting in the wind in Fort Lauderdale after I risked my ass for you.

MICHAEL WESTEN: It was just a little unclear at the time whether I should... call you.

NATE WESTEN: I'm not here to talk about that. I got a friend at work who's in trouble.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [mock-incredulous] Work?

NATE WESTEN: Yeah, I got a job driving for a limo company.

MICHAEL WESTEN: A real job, an actual job?

NATE WESTEN: I'm friends with the receptionist, and she's in trouble with some Russian Mafia guys. They're holding her sister. I was hoping you could help out.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What's the angle?

[Nate looks cut to the quick.]

NATE WESTEN: There's got to be an angle?

MICHAEL WESTEN: There's always an angle, Nate. What, are you tryin' to get money from her? What, are you tryin' to sleep with her?

NATE WESTEN: Maybe  I'm just changin' my life, did you think of that? You blew up my truck, right? You got me shot at. You had me hide Mom. That's the kind of thing that gets a guy to step back and make a few changes. And, by the way, I'm still paying off that truck. It's like six hundred a month.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Two hundred.

NATE WESTEN: Well, three hundred, but you see what I'm saying. Look, would you just talk to her?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fine. Where is she?

NATE WESTEN: Mom's house.

[Michael closes his eyes, annoyed that he'll have to go to his mother's house.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Madeline, the ubiquitous cigarette between her lips, brings out a couple of cups of tea. She hands one to the lady (Katya) sitting next to Nate (who already has a cup) on the sofa. She goes to hand the other cup to Michael, who sits across them on an armchair.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't need tea, Ma.

MADELINE WESTEN: It's good. it's herbal. So, you're gonna help, right, Michael?

 

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's what I'm here to find out.

[She goes to sit next to Katya, who removes her purse from the sofa.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [softly] 'Scuse me.

NATE WESTEN: Uh, Ma, could you...?

[He jerks his head towards the bedroom, asking her for privacy. She looks at Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ma.

MADELINE WESTEN: Oh. Yeah. I'll leave the three of you to talk... alone... without me.

[She walks off. Nate speaks to his distraught girlfriend. She has bruised left eye.]

NATE WESTEN: It's all right. Tell him. Just like you told me.

[Katya hands Michael a picture of a blonde girl. She speaks in an Eastern-European accent.]

KATYA: My sister, Elena. I've tried to bring her to America for years. One day, she writes  to me, says she found someone to take her here. I knew something is wrong - is too good to be true. She doesn't think. she gives me a name, and I go. It's this "batsan" (?) Ivan - a gangster. He brings people here for money. First, he wants twenty-five thousand dollars - all I have. [choking] I go to pick her up this week, and now he wants fifty thousand dollars more.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Or you'll never see your sister again. And if you go to the police, he'll kill her. That's usually how this kind of thing works.

[She nods, while struggling not to cry. Michael sees her bruises and points to his own eye.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: How'd you get this? He hit you?

KATYA: Yes. After I attack him with the-the bar. Y'know, the metal bar for taking out the nails?

MICHAEL WESTEN: You hit him with a crowbar.

KATYA: Yes. [fiercely] He's lucky. His "akhraniki" (?) take me away from him, hauled me away. If they were not there, I bite his finger off.

[Michael raises his eyebrows in appreciation.]

NATE WESTEN: Katya asked me to help her get a gun. After I heard what her problem was, I figured the best thing for her and her sister would be talking to you.

KATYA: Nate says you could help. He says you do these things every day.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't do them... every day, but I'll see what I can do.

[Nate looks at Michael gratefully. Michael smiles at...]

                                                           KATYA

                                                    THE CLIENT

[She lets out a sigh.]

 

FLASH TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Cafe Esme. Day. Sam gets two beers from the bar.]

SAM AXE: [to the bartender] Thanks. Just put that on my friend's tab.

[The bartender nods. Sam walks over to Michael and hands him one of the beers that are going on his tab.]

SAM AXE: A crowbar? That sounds like a handful. [chuckles] Come to think of it, I dated a few Ukrainians in my day. Feisty.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi's doing the surveillance. Hopefully, we'll track the guy back to where the girls are before Katya gets her hands on a blowtorch.

[They sit at a table.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: How's it going with the file on Carla?

 

SAM AXE: Pretty good. Talked to a guy named Harvey Gunderson.

[Sam hands Michael a copy of a Miami Water Resources Board newsletter. It has a picture of a bald guy smiling at the camera.]

SAM AXE: He's the secretary/treasurer  of the Agricultural Association of South Florida, among other things. So, if Carla is still using "agricultural specialist" as a cover, chances are pretty good that he's heard of her.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nice work, Sam. Just keep it quiet, all right? Can't have this getting back to Carla.

SAM AXE: Quiet's my specialty, Mike. Hey, what's your budget on this? Um, y'know, I'm thinkin' it should be face-to-face with Harvey, y'know, so I can thoroughly debrief him.

[Michael smiles at good ol' Sam.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'll cover it, Sam.

SAM AXE: [reassuringly] I'll try and keep it reasonable.

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Miami Street. Day. Fiona drives up in her Saab 9-3 convertible and parks behind Michael's Charger, where Michael, Nate and Katya sit. Katya looks behind and sees Fiona.]

KATYA: Who is she?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Someone I work with. She's gonna tail Ivan. Hopefully, he'll lead us to where your sister is.

KATYA: Uh, he's there. That is his van.

[Katya points towards a van, parked in front of a store. Michael takes a picture of the tough-as-nails guy, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. He is...]

                                                           IVAN

                                                HUMAN TRAFFICKER

[Nate looks at Ivan through binoculars. Ivan speaks to a guy, loading stuff into the van.]

NATE WESTEN: Guy's got interesting tattoos.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Russian prison ink. Each one means something.

NATE WESTEN: Really?

[Nate focuses on the spade tattoo (card suit) on Ivan's neck.]

NATE WESTEN: What's the spade for?

[As Michael speaks, Nate focuses on a tattoo of an attacking tiger on Ivan's left arm.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: It means he's a thief. Tiger means "enforcer".

NATE WESTEN: Yeah?

[Ivan goes to close the van doors, exposing his other arm, which has a tattoo of a burning skull.]

NATE WESTEN: What about the skulls? What are those for?

[Michael doesn't want to answer right away.]

NATE WESTEN: Mike, what do the skulls mean?

MICHAEL WESTEN: It means "murderer", Nate.

KATYA: [shocked] Murderer?! He has my sister! Why we just sit here?!

MICHAEL WESTEN: I-I won't let anything happen. I promise.

[Katya, though not satisfied, sits back. Michael shoots a "you-had-to-ask" look at Nate. Chastised, Nate looks at Ivan through the binoculars. Ivan gets into his van and drives off. Fiona follows him.]

 

CUT TO:

[The Chart House. Day. Sam and the bald guy (from the picture) sit at a table, wearing casual suits, talking and laughing.]

           

            {Cultivating intelligence assets usually requires some wining and dining.}

           

[The bald guy is...]

                                                           HARVEY GUNDERSON

                                                     SECRETARY/TREASURER,

                                               AGRICULTURAL ASSN OF SOUTH FLORIDA

[Harvey laughs as he takes the olive out of the Martini he's holding. He is also...]

                                                           HARVEY GUNDERSON

                                                              PRESIDENT,

                                                  MIAMI WATER RESOURCES BOARD

                                  

            {The more connected someone is, the more they know...}

[Wait, wait, wait, not done. He is also...]

                                                           HARVEY GUNDERSON

                                                            VICE PRESIDENT,

                                                   BOARD OF SOIL SCIENTISTS

[Phew!]

[Harvey seems more interested in eating the expensive food, than talk to Sam.]

            {... the more they feel entitled to a little special treatment.}

[The waiter approaches.]

WAITER: Another cocktail?

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [to Sam] I think we're ready for a bottle of something, don't you?

SAM AXE: [to the waiter] Uh, I'm still working on the scotch, thank you.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Okay, a bottle of scotch. [chuckles] I'm kidding.

[Sam smiles in relief, considering he's paying for this meal... with Michael's money.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: '96, uh, Chateau Le Fife.

WAITER: Excellent choice.

[The waiter walks away.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: I know it's an excellent choice. I made it.

[He looks at Sam, who laughs politely at the joke.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [loudly, to the waiter] I'll pick 'em, you bring 'em.

[He takes a sip of his Martini.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Mmm, it's a hell of a wine. you're gonna love it. So, anyway, you're thinking of growing hops in...Turkey, is it?

SAM AXE: Yeah, outside Ankara. Hey, um, so, Harvey, were you able to put together that list of irrigation specialists? Y'know, I need to make a few calls and work some things out.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [mouth full] I was thinking about it. You don't wanna waste time going through a bunch of names. I can point you to some topflight people. But you know what? Maybe you and I can take them to dinner together, so you can get to know them, that's all.

SAM AXE: [hamming it up] Oh, oh, great idea. Yeah, yeah, but, uh, y'know, I really need that list, Harvey, just to make sure I got all the bases covered.

[Harvey nods and continues eating. Sam takes a small sip of his scotch.]

            {Smart operatives know how to steer the conversation towards the information they need.}

           

HARVEY GUNDERSON: You know what you really need, Sam?

[Harvey looks around conspiratorially.]

            {Clever assets, on the other hand, know how to make the wine-and-dine phase last as long as possible.}

[With a jerk of his head, he beckons Sam to come closer. Sam complies.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: The lobster.

[Sam sniggers, hoping Harvey's joking. No such luck...]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: No, I'm serious. you ever had the lobster here?

SAM AXE: [wryly chuckling] No, no.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Swimming off the coast of Maine four hours ago.

SAM AXE: No kidding.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Which reminds me, we should get a bottle of white if we're gonna have the seafood. Montrachet Grand Cru - unbelievable. It's liquid gold.

[Harvey resumes stuffing food into his mouth, as Sam looks on in disbelief.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. On the bed, Fiona lies prone and Michael sits. Sam wearily hands Michael the lunch bill.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [nonplussed] Six hundred dollars?

[Sam walks into the kitchen area to the fridge.]

SAM AXE: What can I say, Mike? The guy ate like it was his last meal. And the liquor, I mean, I've had gunshot wounds hurt less than this hangover.

[He opens the fridge and looks in the freezer.]

SAM AXE: You got, like, a bag of frozen peas or somethin' cold for my head?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Did you get the list?

[Sam turns his head slowly and looks sheepishly at Michael. Michael drops his head.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Six hundred bucks and no names?

[Sam takes a tub of yogurt and closes the fridge. Pressing it to his forehead, he walks over towards the bed.]

SAM AXE: Look, he's just trying to drag it out, okay? Don't worry about it. I'm getting close.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, do you think he knows Carla?

[Sam lies down on the bed, behind Michael and next to Fiona.]

SAM AXE: As far as I can tell, he knows everyone who's ever set foot on a farm in the northern hemisphere. How'd that thing with Ivan go?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [low voice] Not as well as I was hoping.

[Fiona gets off the bed and walks towards the fridge.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I followed him all day. It's pretty clear he just collects the money, stays away from the girls till it's over. It's smart security. If he has no contact with his guys, no calls, no conversations. Then the cops can't make a decent case, and we can't find the girls.

[She takes a tub of yogurt from the fridge.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: We're gonna find the girls by Friday, we'll need to extract the  information. How 'bout it, Sam?

[Sam sits up, happily.]

SAM AXE: Interrogation? Well, it's... boy, it's been a while, Mikey, but, y'know, it's just like riding a bike.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We can snatch him by this afternoon, we'll have three days to work on him.

SAM AXE: Well, that's cuttin' it close. I mean, Maybe if we hit the ground runnin', make him think he's up against the big boys, y'know, the government types.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We don't have a deep bench here.

[Sam looks at Fiona.]

SAM AXE: I dunno. I think we can do it. Fi grabs the guy. she's the extraction team.

[Fiona looks at Michael and nods, eyes wide with an "Oh, hell yeah!" look.]

SAM AXE: You and me tag-team the guy on the questions. We do the sunglasses, the suit, the whole bit, make him think he's up against every agency with initials.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You think you can bag him alone, Fi?

[Fiona throws Michael a glare. He backs off. Sam laughs, but his headache returns and he presses the tub of yogurt on his forehead again.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Parking Lot. Day. Ivan walks towards his van. Behind him, Fiona walks towards her Saab, carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Standing near his van doors, Ivan turns to look at her. She smiles flirtatiously at him. Ivan watches her, intrigued. She stops near the Saab's trunk. Deliberately, she drops a pair of panties and remote-unlocks the car. Ivan notices the panties on the ground and walks over, as she "obliviously" loads her bags into the trunk.]

[Sam, sitting in his car, parked a good distance away, watches.]

[Picking up the panties, Ivan speaks.]

IVAN PETROV: I like your taste.

[She looks and sees him holding her panties with one finger.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Oh! [giggles coyly] Thank you.

[With a sweet smile, she turns back around and puts the panties in a bag, giving Ivan a good view of her butt. Ivan doesn't pass up the opportunity and enjoys the view.]

IVAN PETROV: [holding out his hand] I am Ivan.

[She turns slightly to smile at him, but stays bent over long enough to grab a stun gun from inside a shopping bag. She whirls around with it towards Ivan. However, Ivan notices it and deftly slaps it away from her hand. The stun gun clatters to the ground. Fiona tries to jump for the stun gun, but Ivan grabs her.]

[Sam notices the scuffle and struggles to open the door. Getting out of the car, he sprints towards the fight.]

[Meanwhile, Ivan tries putting Fiona in a chokehold, but she bites his arm, forcing him to release her. Free of his grasp, she lands a hard kick on his knee, causing him to buckle to the ground. Fiona lunges for the stun gun, but Ivan grabs her leg. She falls, but manages to pick up the stun gun.]

            {Stun guns are a great way to bring down a larger opponent.}{

           

[Though he's running as fast as possible, Sam is still too far away.]

           

[Fiona whirls around towards Ivan, ready to zap him to la-la land. Problem is, he's holding her leg tightly.]

           

            {The only problem is, if you use one on someone who's touching you, You'll zap yourself, too.}

           

[Holding the stun gun trigger pressed, she aims it at Ivan. He looks at her cockily, still grasping her leg.]

           

IVAN PETROV: You brought a toy. You want to play.

FIONA GLENANNE: [breathily] Oh, I love to play.

[And, ZAP! She thrusts the stun gun into his shoulder, sending enough electricity through him and, consequently, through herself to make them both convulse a bit and then drop unconscious. Sam runs up and halts, seeing the two passed-out combatants.]

SAM AXE: [breathing heavily] Fi, you are one crazy chick.

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Outside, Michael stands near Ivan's truck, looking through Ivan's wallet. Dude's got a Platinum card! Michael looks at Ivan's driving license. Behind him, wearing sunglasses, Fiona walks in through the metal doors and walks towards Michael. She's not showing any external signs of just having been zapped.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: How's our friend Ivan behaving?

FIONA GLENANNE: Like an altar boy. He even asked me to use the stun gun on him again.

[She leans against Ivan's truck.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: He asked you with a gag in his mouth?

FIONA GLENANNE: [removing her sunglasses] Oh, he has expressive eyes.

[Sam walks downstairs.]

SAM AXE: Feeling better, Fi?

FIONA GLENANNE: Everyone could use a few thousand volts from time to time. It clears the mind.

[Michael and Sam stay silent a beat.]

SAM AXE: Alrighty. [to Michael] I got a pal in organized crime. Ran down everything he had on this Ivan character. Whoo, he's a hard rock from the motherland.

FIONA GLENANNE: And what brings him to these fair shores?

SAM AXE: Well, they got him linked up to what they think is a Russian syndicate active on the East Coast, pretty much from here to New York. Now, the guy who handles the day-to-day operations in Miami - guy named Takarov.

[He holds out a photocopy of Takarov's rap sheet. The photo shows him sneering at the camera.]

SAM AXE: But this guy, Ivan, I mean, he's seen the inside of every prison from Moscow to Minsk, so I think the best approach here is, "We know everything, we're rolling up his whole gang, and he's just a little fish."

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, you're the expert, Sam. what else?

SAM AXE: Oh! Good news. I found the perfect place for our secret facility. It's an old concrete plant in the middle of nowhere. They condemned it after the last hurricane. [smiling excitedly] This is gonna be fun, Mike.

 

CUT TO:

[Concrete Plant. Day. Michael opens the Charger's trunk and removes a duffel bag and a cardboard box. Sam walks past the Charger, lugging a blowtorch.]

            {A lot of people's first instinct when they need information out of a captive is to grab a baseball bat or a gun.}

           

[They walk into the deserted place. It's mostly open - no shutters, very high ceiling and empty, except for a couple of large storage containers.]

           

MICHAEL WESTEN: This works.

SAM AXE: Yeah, I've been in plenty of secret facilities a lot less impressive than this. You get a cooler, a drink, some snacks.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi's driving Ivan to the Everglades and back. Is that enough time?

SAM AXE: Plenty.

[They get to work. Wearing safety goggles, Michael uses the blowtorch to make a hole in a storage container (the "Holding Cell"), large enough for a fist to fit through.]

            {The fact is, torture is for sadists and thugs.}

           

[Just above the hole and another similar one near it, Sam drills in a pair of shackles.]

           

            {It's like getting groceries with a flamethrower. It doesn't work, and it makes a mess.}

           

[Carrying a box, a mattress and a bucket (guess its purpose!), Michael walks past the storage container. A couple of spot lights are propped up and are aimed towards two other holes made in the top of the container. He drops the box ("MEAL, READY-TO-EAT, INDIVIDUAL") on top of another one and walks towards the container.]

           

            {Getting useful information is about creating a new reality for the interrogation subject with no hope of escape or freedom.}

           

[With a four-way spilt-screen, we see Michael place the mattress and bucket inside. Sam sets up the spot lights. Inside the container, Michael holds his hand up to block the bright, intense light coming through the hole. Michael, holding a tool box, and Sam, holding a chair, walk.]

           

            {You control every aspect of their world - how they eat, where they sleep, even whether it's day or night.}

           

[They walk outside the facility. They walk into a dirty, dingy room, with a table and a spot light set up (let's call this the "Interrogation Room"). Michael puts the tool box on the table and Sam places the chair, directly in front of the spot light.]

           

            {When it's time to ask questions, you want them disoriented, anxious, wondering who you are and what you can do to them.}

           

[Michael power-saws small pieces of the chair's legs off, making them flat and level. Having fastened the chair legs to metal strips, using a Ramset Autofast, he nails the chair to the floor. He sits down and tests the chair (which has been fitted with shackled on the armrests). He removes his safety goggles. Sam turns on the spot light, focusing the bright light on Michael's face.]

           

            {You have to make them understand that their entire future, their hopes, their dreams, every  breath they will ever take from then on...}

           

CUT TO:

[Concrete Plant, "Interrogation Room". Day. The same spot light now shines its light on the black-bagged head of Ivan, who sits shackled in the chair.]

            {It all depends on one thing...}

           

[Sam removes the bag off Ivan's head. Ivan squints as he tries to shield his eyes from the intense light.]

           

            {Talking.}

SAM AXE: Hello, Ivan.

IVAN PETROV: I want a lawyer now. I know my rights! You have to get me a lawyer now!

[Sam stands behind the spot light, so his face is in shadow.]

SAM AXE: That would be true... if I was a cop.

[Ivan seems a bit confused, but can't look up.]

IVAN PETROV: Who are you? CIA?

SAM AXE: [chuckles] CI-what? No, no, see, they're only allowed to operate on foreign soil, So just think of me as "Uncle".

[Sam walks past the light and looks down at Ivan.]

SAM AXE: "Uncle Sam".

IVAN PETROV: Do I get a phone call, "Uncle"?

SAM AXE: You get whatever you want... after I get what I want.

IVAN PETROV: What do you want?

SAM AXE: I wanna get to know you better. I wanna know all about a day in the life of Ivan. Where do you go? What do you do? Just think of me as your personal diary.

IVAN PETROV: I deliver cheese, caviar, and sausage to Russian markets and restaurants. [smiling] Can I go now, "Uncle"?

[As he speaks, Sam walks around Ivan.]

SAM AXE: Don't waste my time, Ivan. We know what you do. We know who you are. And you, sir... are just a little fish. You know the difference between big fish and little fish? When big fish get caught, they get cooked and eaten. When little fish are caught, they get thrown back in the lake to swim away, unless they piss off Mr. FisherMan.

[He leans in close to Ivan.]

SAM AXE: I'm offering you a chance to swim away, Ivan. It's better for both of us, really, 'cause if you don't accept it, hoo-boy, it's a lot of paperwork for me and a dark, little room for you.

[Ivan is unfazed.]

IVAN PETROV: Not so bad. I've been in nightclubs darker than this. [sniggers] Maybe I like it here .

 

[Sam looks at Ivan.]

 

CUT TO:

[Outside Concrete Plant. Day. Michael and Sam walk and talk.]

 

SAM AXE: Now, look, Mike, we could send you back in there as good cop, bad cop, whatever. I don't know what good it's gonna do. I mean, this guy is gulag-tough. I've seen the type. Now, after a month, when he's been in isolation so long, he's howling at the moon, you know, maybe...

MICHAEL WESTEN: We got three days, Sam.

[Sam stops walking.]

SAM AXE: Well, [sighs] that's why I think our best bet might be to have a friend inside. They speak the same language, someone to talk to, confide in.

[Michael stops and looks back at Sam, reluctantly.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Prison buddy?

SAM AXE: Yeah. Now, look, I'd do it, Mikey, but he knows me already. C'mon, it's not gonna be that bad. We'll set up a cell for the two of you, Bring your brother in. He can play guard.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [mockingly] Nate?

SAM AXE: Mike, give the kid a break. I mean, we need a fresh face here. I can't sell Ivan on a secret CIA compound run by one guy. Plus, I gotta get back to Harvey Gunderson and see if he knows Carla. I'm tap-dancing as fast as I can.

[Knowing Sam's right, Michael nods.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'll call him.

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Night. Armed with a two-by-four, Fiona hammers away on a jacket, hung over a punching bag. Michael dusts some powder on his pants and puts them on. Nate speaks.]

NATE WESTEN: So, wait a minute. You go in the cell with Ivan, and you make friends with the guy? That's your plan?

MICHAEL WESTEN: If he knows what we want, he can lie, hold out until the girls are gone. We need him to think that I'm on his side, that I'm safe to talk to.

[He picks up a large package and hands them to Nate. Meanwhile, Fiona is taping up her right wrist.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nate, these are for you. Do what Sam tells you to do, all right?

NATE WESTEN: Hey, I can handle it. You just take care of you, all right, bro?

[Michael takes the jacket off the punching bag and puts it on. He looks like he's been tuned up but good, with the beaten-up jacket and dusty shirt and pants. There's... one small problem though...]

            {It's unfortunate but true that no makeup can simulate blood and bruises well enough to stand up to close observation.}

           

[He stands in front of Fiona, who looks all business as she stretches her taped-up fingers. He takes a couple of quick breaths, steeling himself, and nods at her.]

           

            {So if your cover requires looking like you've been beaten...}

[WHAM! Fiona lets him have it hard in the face.]

           

            {...you have to get beaten.}

[His left cheek is cut. He takes a moment to recover. Then...]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [softly] Yeah, yup.

[WHOP! The second one is on the mouth. Nate looks on in amazement and amusement. Michael's lip is busted and blood and saliva drip down. Before he can recover, WHACK! Nate gets in on the action, with a right to Michael's nose. Michael's nose now drips blood. Michael cups his hand under his nose, looking bewildered at the last blow.] 

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nate!

NATE WESTEN: What? [chuckles] Just trying to be a team player.

[Michael's face looks like he went a round with Kimbo Slice.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Concrete Plant, "Holding Cell". Night. Standing outside the storage container/holding cell, Nate uncuffs Ivan, who stands inside, through the hole.]

NATE WESTEN: Today is your lucky day, Ivan. Got one of your boys in there to keep you company.

[Free from the shackles, Ivan looks at his new cellmate, Michael, who stands cuffed at the other side of the cell.]

            {It can take a lifetime to convince someone to trust you.}

[Nate circles round to Michael's side and begins to uncuff him.]

NATE WESTEN: You two play nice, now.

            {It's much quicker to make them feel like they need _you_ to trust _them_.}

[Michael, though pretending to be Russian, keeps his American accent, though he speaks with a low, menacing voice.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You have the face of a traitor.

[Ivan turns around, surprised.]

IVAN PETROV: What?

[Nate finishes uncuffing Michael. Michael pulls his wrists inside and rubs them. Ivan looks at his "battered and bruised" accuser.]

IVAN PETROV: Who are you?

MICHAEL WESTEN: You talked.

[Ivan turns around and walks away.]

IVAN PETROV: You don't know me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I kept quiet. You, not a scratch.

[Ivan turns around to look at Michael and holds up his index finger.]

IVAN PETROV: [warning] Be careful what you say.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled] How much did they pay?

[Michael starts to advance towards Ivan.]

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled, indignant] I am no traitor.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled] What did you tell them? You piece of crap! What did you tell them?

[Michael removes his jacket and throws it on the mattress on the ground. Ivan holds his hands out, ready for a fight.]

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled] Nothing.

            {A fight is one of the quickest ways to tell if someone isn't who they say they are.}

           

MICHAEL WESTEN: Padlo! [Swine!]

           

[Michael grabs Ivan's hands and they grapple a bit, staring each other down. Michael twists Ivan's arm over his head and behind Ivan's back.]

           

            {If you say you're Russian but fight like an American, consider your cover blown.}

           

[Still holding Ivan's arm behind his back, he slams Ivan's head into the wall of the storage container.]

           

            {Which means you better know Sambo, the mixed martial art of Russia.}

           

[Ivan, not going down that easy, swings his free arm over Michael's arm and locks them, exposing Michael's ribs to a fierce punch. He slams Michael's head into the wall and flips him over. Michael rolls quickly and jumps to his feet quickly.]

           

            {Of course, you also have to win the fight.}

           

[Michael prepares for round two, holding his hands out. Ivan gets up.]

           

            {A great cover ID doesn't help much if you're dead.}

[Ivan swings several times at Michael, but Michael manages to parry the blows. Backed up against a wall, he manages to lock Ivan's left arm behind his back and twists him painfully to the right. Ivan yells out in pain. With his right arm, he tries to elbow Michael in the face, but Michael grabs it. Using Ivan's own momentum against him, he swings him a full-360. As Ivan falls to the floor, Michael locks Ivan's left arm behind his bent leg and grasps his right arm tightly. His left arm is wrapped around Ivan's throat in a dangerous-looking chokehold. Ivan is completely helpless at this point. He gags and gasps as Michael tightens the chokehold.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [through clenched teeth] What did you tell them?

IVAN PETROV: [barely audible, gasping] I told them...nothing!

MICHAEL WESTEN: [louder] What did you tell them?!

IVAN PETROV: [gasping] Nothing! I swear it.

[Suddenly, Michael lets go of Ivan. Ivan jumps away and crouches, looking at Michael. Michael sits casually against the wall.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Good.

[Ivan falls back against the opposite wall, breathing heavily.]

IVAN PETROV: Who are you?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sergei Yablonovich. I work up in Tampa.

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled] You're Russian?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled]  Born in Volgograd. [in English, smiling] Raised in America. You're Ivan Petrov. Yeah, you run the girls, right?

[Ivan gets up and looks suspiciously at Michael. Michael spits some blood out.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Who do you think gets your shipments through customs? They shut down the operation in Tampa. It's done. They're moving down here. They're closing in. How did they find you?

IVAN PETROV: I was ambushed by a little "suka".

MICHAEL WESTEN: They said they know about Takarov's headquarters. Did you tell them?

IVAN PETROV: [defensively] I said I told them nothing.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [yelling] Then how do they know these things?! They know when your deliveries are! They know what kind of vodka Takarov drinks!

IVAN PETROV: [shouting] Maybe they are watching! Maybe they have someone in the deli or the cafe. I don't know! [in Russian, subtitled] I kept quiet.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [quietly] Make sure you stay that way.

[Ivan doesn't say anything. He leans against the wall and looks at Michael.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Outside Romanov's Restaurant. Day. Sam and Fiona sit in the Caddy, looking at the restaurant, near Cafe Nizhynvroa.]

SAM AXE: So, if Mike's information was right, that's probably the place. I mean, there's not too many Russian restaurants next to a cafe across from a deli.

[They look at Romanov's. Sam's phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, he answers it reluctantly.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] Hi, Harvey. how's it going, bud?

[Fiona drops her head to the side, amused.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] Yeah. oh, yeah, I got the list. Uh, I've gotta tell you, I was hopin' for more than two names on it, though, but... Oh, well, I'm sure they're the best, yeah. Uh... okay. Yeah, sure. I'll-I'll see you then.

FIONA GLENANNE: Another meeting? _He_ is working _you_.

SAM AXE: I've gotten nuclear secrets out of KGB agents for less time and money. Good thing my liver is flexible because a lesser man would be dead.

[Fiona picks up a thermal camera. Putting it to her eyes, she focuses towards Romanov's.]

SAM AXE: Okay, where did we get a thermal camera?

FIONA GLENANNE: I borrowed it from my neighbor's boat.

[She looks upstairs at the infrared images of people inside.]

FIONA GLENANNE: He's been using it to peek at me through the walls in my apartment, so I figure we're even.

[When she looks at the third floor, all she sees is a big light-blue image.]

            {A thermal camera is a great tool for scouting. It'll tell you where the warm bodies are in a building or which rooms are designed to make those bodies invisible.}

           

FIONA GLENANNE: Top floor is heat-shielded.

SAM AXE: [intrigued] Oh?

FIONA GLENANNE: Mm-hm.

 

CUT TO:

[Romanov's Restaurant. Day. Inside the restaurant, Sam and Fiona sit at a table, eating.]

SAM AXE: See the guy in the corner? That's him.

[Fiona looks towards the corner of the restaurant. The Russian from the picture (which Sam showed Michael) sits at a table, with a lady and another man, clinking glasses.]

SAM AXE: Takarov.

[And he is...]

                                                           TAKAROV

                                                           THE BOSS

[He downs his glass in one gulp.]

SAM AXE: He runs half the Russian Mafia in South Florida.

[Fiona looks past the corner table to an elevator, which is guarded by a burly Russian. A bald-headed guy walks out of the elevator.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Looks like there's a little business upstairs, too.

SAM AXE: You ready?

[Fiona wipes her mouth with the napkin and walks away quickly. Sam starts to shovel food into his mouth. Fiona walks past the corner table and burly Russian (with a gun, barely hidden in his jacket) and goes towards the ladies' room. Sam, seeing that she's ready, prepares for the diversion. His mouth stuffed with food, he chews quickly and then...]

SAM AXE: [yells with his mouth full] Oh, my...!

[As he shouts, he coughs out some of the food in his mouth.]

SAM AXE: Oh! Oh, man, that's horrible!

[At Takarov's table, they watch with disgust.]

SAM AXE: Whoa! Get the manager! Somebody get the manager!

[An eager Russian waiter walks up.]

ROMANOV'S WAITER: What is problem, sir?

 

[Sam stands.]

SAM AXE: Are you a manager?

[The waiter unsurely shakes his head.]

SAM AXE: I didn't think so! Go get a manager!

[Takarov's wife doesn't appreciate their lunch being spoiled like this, by some uncouth American, and she makes it known to her able-to-make-it-happen Russian Mafia husband.]

TAKAROV'S WIFE: [in Russian, subtitled] Make him go away.

[Takarov obliges by snapping his fingers at the burly Russian and pointing at Sam.]

SAM AXE: You call that food? Get the chef! He's an imposter, the freak!

[The manager walks up to Sam.]

SAM AXE: Oh, there he is.

[With a jerk of his head, the manager beckons a couple of heavies.]

SAM AXE: Mr. Manager, I got a big...

[The burly Russian grabs Sam by his arm.]

SAM AXE: What?! Hello!

[As the ruckus at Sam's table continues, Fiona surreptitiously hits a button at the elevator and goes inside.]

SAM AXE: Ho! Hey, ho, I need that. I write letters with that arm. Get your hands off me. I'm an American citizen.

[Yeah! That's gonna help him...]

[Upstairs, Fiona steps out of the elevator and walks into a narrow hallway. She notices a door and walks towards it.]

            {One issue in dealing with modern criminal gangs is that their operations are diversified. The heat shielding you hope is hiding a human-smuggling operation...}

[She opens the door and looks inside. A guy, sitting at a computer, turns around and looks at her in confusion.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Oh. sorry, I was looking for the ladies' room.

[Smiling sheepishly at him, she closes the door.]

            {... could be hiding radio emissions from software-pirating computers.}

[As she closes the door, she notices several CPUs mounted on a large rack and many CD spindles.]

[Downstairs, she walks back into the restaurant. By the look of it, things haven't really cooled down much between the "American citizen" and the Russian restaurateurs. The burly Russian and the bald Russian have Sam pinned painfully against the bar.]

SAM AXE: We call it "customer service"! Ah! Aah-ah-ah! You break my arm, you're gonna be hearing from my lawyer!

[Fiona takes a moment to enjoy this amusing moment. Then, she strides towards them, looking angry.]

SAM AXE: Hey, keep it up, I'll own this place! Aah-ah-ah!

[Fiona strides up.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [raised voice] Take your hands off my father! He has...dementia. Do you understand? Can't you see his mind is gone?

[Sam obliges her, with a wide-eyed stare. She puts her hands on his cheeks sympathetically.]

FIONA GLENANNE: He doesn't even know what he's saying.

[Annoyed, Takarov gestures to his heavies to let them go. The heavies back off.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Come on, daddy.

[She pushes him, past the heavies. Holding his arm, she leads him out.]

SAM AXE: "Daddy"?

FIONA GLENANNE: [smiling] Bet you never thought you'd hear me call you that.

[They walk out.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Michael and Nate stand in the garage as Katya paces around, her voice choking with frustration.]

KATYA: It has been days now, and all you do is talk!

NATE WESTEN: [gently] Katya, we're working on it, okay?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I know it's hard, but you have to be patient.

[Katya grabs a wrench off of a motorboat engine.]

KATYA: And my sister? How long does she have to be patient?! Take me to Ivan.

[Michael gently holds her wrench-brandishing hand.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: What do you want, Katya? You wanna hit Ivan with a wrench, or do you want your sister back? 'Cause it's got to be one or the other.

KATYA: [still not placated] And this place Romanov's. Nate says that Ivan's boss is there. Why don't we go there?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [throwing Nate a look] I don't know what Nate told you, but we have to stick to the plan.

KATYA: My sister doesn't have time for your plans. I'm going to them now and trade myself for Elena.

[She stalks out the door. Nate tries to follow her, but Michael speaks.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nate, you told her about Romanov's? It's called "need to know" for a reason.

NATE WESTEN: [nods] I'll take care of it.

[He walks out. Michael sighs heavily.]

[In Madeline's living room, Katya strides towards the door. Nate runs up behind her.]

NATE WESTEN: Katya? Katya, hold up.

[She turns to him.]

KATYA: She's my sister.

NATE WESTEN: I know, and Michael's my brother. And I can't stand that guy sometimes, but he's good at what he does. If he says that this is the right thing to do, then this is the right thing to do. It's gonna be all right.

[She nods tearfully.]

NATE WESTEN: All right? Just... go and talk to him.

[With a sigh, Katya walks slowly towards the garage. Nate hangs back awhile and moves to follow. His mother comes out from the hallway.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Nate, I was just in the hall, and I heard what you said about your brother. That is so sweet.

NATE WESTEN: [low monotone] Yeah, it was, wasn't it? Not that he'd do the same for me.

[He walks away. Madeline sadly takes a drag of her cigarette, flinching as he slams the door behind him. She shakes her head.]

 

CUT TO:

[Concrete Plant, "Interrogation Room". Day. Sitting in front of Ivan, Sam holds up a stick of chewing gum to his prisoner, who sits shackled to the chair. He unwraps it.]

 

            {A good interrogator paints a picture of the world outside for a detainee. Whatever he's holding onto, you take it away. His organization - crumbling, his friends - traitors, his precious information - useless.}

[He holds it out to Ivan's mouth. Ivan, still dazzled by the bright spotlight, doesn't open his eyes.]

           

SAM AXE: Gum?

[Ivan opens his eyes, but Sam puts the gum in his mouth and chews happily.]

SAM AXE: Mmm, cinnamony. Mmm, Ivan, good news. We're about to wrap this up. [smirks] Looks like we won't need you much longer.

IVAN PETROV: That's why you have me in this hole? Because you don't need me?

SAM AXE: Hey, I'm doing you a favor. I'm giving you a chance to come clean. Y'know, we're moving on Romanov's next week.

IVAN PETROV: [leans forward, defiantly] Great restaurant. Try the borscht.

[Sam sighs and sits back in his chair.]

SAM AXE: Look, the point is, if you wanna see daylight again, you'll give me something useful. And, hey, [looking at his watch] now would be the time.

[Ivan spits on the ground in front of Sam.]

SAM AXE: Well, I can see you're on the fence.

[He stands up and goes around the spotlight to the table.]

SAM AXE: So, I'm gonna give you some time to consider your options.

[He picks up the black bag.]

SAM AXE: You can wear the thinking bag.

[He puts the bag over Ivan's head. Going over to the table again, he puts on the stereo and turns the volume all the way up. Loud heavy metal music blares from the speaker.]

SAM AXE: [shouting over the music] And here's some thinking music!

[He does a small jig and walks away.]

[Outside the room, Sam locks the door and joins Michael and Nate. Michael and Sam walk and talk, while Nate follows them.]

 

MICHAEL WESTEN: Is he tenderized yet?

SAM AXE: Uhh, he's getting there. Said he likes, uh, nightclubs, so I thought I would oblige him. So, I figure we let him stew in there for another couple hours then put him back into the cell with you. He'll be nice and loopy and happy to see his old friend Sergei.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Are you off to see Harvey Gunderson... again?

SAM AXE: Mike, I underestimated him, that's all. He's going down.

[Behind them, Nate checks out the CDs that Sam brought along to "tenderize" Ivan.]

NATE WESTEN: [chuckling] "The Best of Bulgarian Disco"?

SAM AXE: [chuckling] Yeah. we'll save that for bedtime. It'll peel the paint off the walls. Wish me luck, fellas.

[Sam gets into the Caddy.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

CUT TO:

[The Chart House. Day. Sam and Harvey are back at the same restaurant, same table, and the same situation as before - Harvey continues to stuff his round face.]

            {Working an information source is a delicate art. Ideally, you can get all the information you need with kind words and free drinks.}

[Sam watches as Harvey downs a snifter of wine.]

           

SAM AXE: [holding the bottle] More wine?

HARVEY GUNDERSON: You betcha.

[Sam pours some wine into the glass. They continue eating.]

            {When drinks and good company aren't enough, however, a good operative has to apply pressure, and that means knowing just what a source loves.}

           

SAM AXE: So, um, Harvey, just wondering about that, uh, that list. How's that goin'?

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [mouth full] Great. I'm workin' on it. There're a lot of agricultural experts in Miami, believe me. I'm makin' that list, checkin' it twice. Just want to make sure I don't leave any names off. [shouts out to a waiter] Could we get some more crab cakes here, please?!

SAM AXE: Sure, sure, in just a minute, but first I want to ask you something.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Sure.

SAM AXE: Do you like being secretary/treasurer of the Agricultural Association of South Florida?

HARVEY GUNDERSON: Nah, I'm trying to get back to teaching high school.

[Sam has a confused look on his face.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [sniggers] Do I like it? What, are you kidding? What are you talking about? I love it. It's the largest agroeconomic trade association east of the Mississippi, And I'm two heartbeats away from the presidency. Why?

[He continues to eat.]

SAM AXE: [tone changes] 'Cause I think you're jerking me around, Harvey.

[Harvey looks up in surprise, his mouth still full.]

SAM AXE: I came to you asking for a very simple list of Miami agricultural specialists, and you drank my wine and you ate my food and you gave me nothin'! You have no idea who you're dealing with here, Harvey. Do you know why I'm interested in agriculture in Central Turkey? Lemme tell you, I don't give a rat's ass about growing hops, okay? I care about opium poppies.

[He shoves his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fake badge and flashes it to Harvey, moving it around fast enough so Harvey doesn't get a good look.]

SAM AXE: I'm with the DEA!

HARVEY GUNDERSON: D-DE...

[His mouth full, Harvey chokes and wheezes out a cough. He coughs some more.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: DEA?!!

SAM AXE: One call to my buddies at the department of agriculture and let's just say they have a little bit of influence over who can be the president of the Board of Soil Scientists. I mean, one day you're the Chairman of the Miami Water Resources Board, And the next day they won't even let you in the front door. Now, I've seen the bad boys of the USDA destroy people, Harvey, and, believe me, it's not pretty.

[Sam starts to get up angrily.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [panicking] No, wait. Please, please! [stands] Don't go. Sit down.

[Sam sits, frowning at Harvey. Harvey also sits.]

HARVEY GUNDERSON: You'll have the list tomorrow. I swear.

SAM AXE: Make sure I do.

[Sam takes a sip of his Montrachet Grand Cru.]

SAM AXE: [impressed] Mmm. Liquid gold.

HARVEY GUNDERSON: [smiling weakly] Oh, yeah, it's the best.

[Having lost his appetite and almost having lost his expensive lunch, Harvey dumps his napkin on the table.]

 

CUT TO:

[Concrete Plant, "Holding Cell". Night. Ivan paces about, as Michael waits to be uncuffed from outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: They have you for hours and still they don't touch you?

IVAN PETROV: They asked me questions, then left me in a room with a bag on my head.

[Michael, free of his handcuffs, walks away from the hole.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I guess you're just lucky.

IVAN PETROV: You want to say something, say it.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [incensed] Every day they have new information!

IVAN PETROV: I know. The American, he says they're moving on Romanov's.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Someone in your organization is talking. They gave us up. If they know where the girls are...

IVAN PETROV: Impossible. No one knows where is the safe house but me.

[Ivan turns away.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ivan, if the Americans link Takarov to the girls...!

[Ivan turns around and faces Michael.]

IVAN PETROV: D'you think I'm stupid? My men have orders. If anyone but me comes to the safehouse, they kill the girls and leave. If they don't hear from me by Friday, same thing. Takarov has nothing to worry about from me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled] I am sorry. I should not have doubted you.

IVAN PETROV: [pats Michael's arm] The American can ask whatever he wants. By the time they do anything, the girls are dead.

 

CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Nate hears about the situation from Michael.]

 

NATE WESTEN: Great. So I gotta tell Katya that we did all this for nothing, that her sister's gonna be killed?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm not gonna let that happen.

NATE WESTEN: How? Huh? What are you gonna do, use your spy magic? Come on, Ivan's gotta be at the safe house by tomorrow, or Elena's dead. And he can't be there because we've got him in a box in a concrete plant.

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's going to have to escape.

NATE WESTEN: [amused] Escape? Are you serious?

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's got to go to the girls himself. He's not gonna buy it if we just let him go.

NATE WESTEN: That's crazy, Man. You...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [looks at Nate, irritably] Have you got a better idea, Nate? Because we don't have a lot of time here. You asked for my help. You want it or not? If you want my help, we gotta go to the concrete plant and do this. If you don't, tell Katya to get ready for her sister's funeral.

[Nate stays silent a beat, then sighs.]

NATE WESTEN: Okay. I'll get my suit.

[He walks out. Michael remains pensive.]

 

[Outside, Michael walks out from his mother's house. Madeline follows him out.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Michael, your brother is trying...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [not wanting to hear this] Ma.

MADELINE WESTEN: Please, you sent him off to Fort Lauderdale and left him there for weeks. I mean, what is that, some sort of covert-operations thing, or is it just a lousy way to treat your brother?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ma, I've been living in a storage container for two days. Maybe we can call it even.

MADELINE WESTEN: Michael, it isn't just about what you do. It's about what you say, too. He cares what you think, more than you know. Do you know what his first word was? [smiling proudly] It was "Michael".

MICHAEL WESTEN: It was "juice". I was there. his first word was "juice".

MADELINE WESTEN: [busted] Well, he was looking right at you when he said it. You know what he meant. You were his hero.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ma, I just don't wanna get into this right now.

MADELINE WESTEN: Michael, please, look, I know that Nate has had his problems. But y'know when it all first started and when he first got into really serious trouble? It was right after you left. Give him a chance.

[Michael looks at his mother. She walks inside.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Concrete plant, "Holding Cell". Day. While Ivan sits, leaning against a wall, Michael paces around, testily.]

IVAN PETROV: What? What is wrong with you? You can't stand still.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You heard them. This is almost over. And when they're done with us, they're gonna throw us in some CIA hellhole for the rest of our lives. If, by some miracle, they let us go, we're gonna be dead anyway.

IVAN PETROV: Dead? What are you talking about?

MICHAEL WESTEN: What will Takarov think? He will hold us responsible!

IVAN PETROV: We will speak for each other! I will tell him you were strong. You kept your mouth shut.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Before he cuts your throat or after?

[He crouches in front of Ivan.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, no, no, no, we need to get out of here. Listen, if we can get to the girls, maybe grab 'em, move 'em, show Takarov that we fought.

IVAN PETROV: Escape? You are dreaming.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Can I trust you? [in Russian, subtitled] Can I trust you with my life?

IVAN PETROV: Yes.

[Michael looks around, then turns to Ivan and explains with a crazed, wide-eyed look.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [whispers] They showed me a file with surveillance photos. Takarov. I swore I didn't know him. They beat me, but I got this. [holds up a paper-clip] I can open the handcuffs. we can overpower the guard. Maybe we get out, maybe we die. But if we don't get out, we die anyway. Are you with me?

IVAN PETROV: Then what? We don't even know what's on the outside of that door.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling diabolically, whispering] I heard 'em talking. It's not a real jail.

[Ivan gives a half-smile.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [whispering] It's temporary. They're gonna move us to a real prison.

[They hear a sound outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [urgently] You have to decide now. Now!

[Ivan nods.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: He'll handcuff you to the wall. You keep him busy. You distract him. I'll take care of the lock. You understand?

[Nate's voice is heard from outside.]

NATE WESTEN: Sergei!

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled, urgently] Understand?

IVAN PETROV: Da, I understand.

[Michael stands.]

[After some time, Michael stands handcuffed behind his back inside the container, his head covered with a black bag. He uses the clip on his cuffs. Ivan is cuffed to the wall. Nate walks inside and aims his gun at Michael's head.]

NATE WESTEN: All right, let's go. Feeling a little more talkative now?

IVAN PETROV: You really think you can do this to us?!

NATE WESTEN: [turns towards Ivan] Shut up.

IVAN PETROV: We have people everywhere! Doesn't matter who you are - CIA, FBI! We can find you and kill you just the same.

NATE WESTEN: Hey, you ever wanna see the light of day again, shut your face.

[Michael gets free of his cuffs. Nate turns to him.]

NATE WESTEN: Let's go.

[Suddenly, Michael strikes, slapping the gun out of Nate's hand. He pulls the bag off his head.]

            {One of the hardest things to do in a fight is to make it look like you're trying to kill someone without doing permanent damage.}

           

[Nate swings with his right fist at Michael, but Michael dodges the blow. When he tries with the left, Michael grabs the arm and sends Nate into the wall. Nate slides along the wall to the floor.]

           

            {They don't teach any half moves in combat training. There are moves designed to kill and maim as efficiently as possible.}

           

[Michael turns and looks at Ivan and nods, expecting the fight to be over and Nate to stay down. Suddenly, Nate lunges at Michael, grabbing him from behind. Michael, a bit surprised and confused as to whether Nate is really acting, grabs Nate's right thumb. Wrenching it back painfully, he twists it over his head and reverses, grabbing Nate in a chokehold. Nate stamps his foot down on Michael's foot, causing Michael to release him. Now free, Nate swings at Michael's face, but Michael absorbs the blow.]

           

            {If those are off limits, one option is opening your fist right before a punch lands.}

           

[Nate tries for another punch, but Michael grabs the hand and slaps Nate hard across the face.]

           

            {Painful, but the force is distributed.}

           

[He chops across Nate's torso, causing Nate to arch forward.]

           

            {Another showy option is a kick to the shoulder.}

           

[Spinning around, he kicks Nate in the shoulder. Nate recoils backwards outside the storage container, bouncing off the door.]

           

            {You might break a rib or two, but if you aim right, nobody's going to the morgue.}

           

[Michael picks up Nate's gun and walks outside. Ivan, still handcuffed to the wall, hears a couple of gunshots and Nate's cry. He then hears Sam's voice.]

           

SAM AXE: [off-screen] Put it down! I said drop it!

[There's another gunshot.]

SAM AXE: [off-screen, terrified] Don't! Don't kill me! No, please!

[Gunshot, followed by Sam's scream, followed by another gunshot. Then there's silence. Ivan tries to listen. Then, his hands are freed from outside. When he pulls his hands inside, Michael comes in from outside.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Let's go.

[They walk outside the container into the plant. As they walk, Ivan sees Nate lying "dead" in a pool of what looks like blood.]

IVAN PETROV: Where is the other one?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [jerks his head forward] Back there.

IVAN PETROV: I heard him begging.

MICHAEL WESTEN: After the beatings he gave me, he deserved to die more slowly.

IVAN PETROV: We have to go to Romanov's.

[They walk outside, towards Sam's Caddy.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Show up at Takarov's empty-handed? No. We gotta show him we thought of the organization first. Where are the girls?

[Ivan doesn't say anything, as they reach the car.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ivan, we don't have time for this! Where are the girls?!

IVAN PETROV: They're in Hialeah. I will show you.

[They get into the Caddy. Michael drives. Putting the car in reverse and then swerving around, Michael floors it and they leave the concrete plant. They pass by a large pile of concrete on the way out. Behind the pile are Sam and Fiona in the Charger. Sam follows the Caddy.]

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

CUT TO:

[Ivan's Safehouse. Day. Michael and Ivan get out of the Caddy, outside the safehouse.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: This is it?

IVAN PETROV: [closing the gate] Yes.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You think they've been here? Does anything look different?

IVAN PETROV: It's fine. [points at a parked van nearby] See the van? It means the girls are still here.

[As they approach the door, it opens and one of Ivan's thugs (holding an Uzi) stands there.]

IVAN'S THUG: Where've you been?

IVAN PETROV: I'll tell you later. We need to move the girls now.

IVAN'S THUG: What? [looking at Michael] Who is he?

IVAN PETROV: This is Sergei. He's all right. Now move! Go!

[The thug does as he's told and lets them enter. Michael and Ivan walk into the sparsely-furnished safehouse. Ivan walks hurriedly towards another room. A thug, guarding the door, stands. Ivan says something to him in Russian and opens the door, as Michael follows. He barges inside the room, yelling at the top of his lungs to the frightened girls inside. One of them is Elena.]

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled] Everyone to the van! Let's go, girls! Let's go!

[The distressed girls get up and start to file out, past Ivan and Michael.]

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled] Quickly, quickly! Move!

[Outside, the girls are squeezed in the back of the van. Ivan and Michael shut the doors. Ivan's four thugs are assembled outside, armed.]

IVAN PETROV: We have to get them out of here.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Do you have a place?

IVAN PETROV: Yes. there is another safehouse that Takarov uses for guns.

MICHAEL WESTEN: How do you know the CIA isn't already there? We can't use any place they might know about.

IVAN PETROV: Then where? Where can we take them?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I got a place down by the docks. No one knows about it but me.

IVAN PETROV: You are sure it's safe?

MICHAEL WESTEN: You're right. I should bring some of your guys, take some guns along, just in case. You go to Takarov's. You tell him they might be moving on Romanov's. [smirks] Who knows? We might come out heroes.

[Ivan nods agreeably and smiles at Michael.]

IVAN PETROV: [in Russian, subtitled] You two. Go with Sergei. Do as he says. He knows how to handle himself.

IVAN PETROV: [holds out his hand] Sergei, I don't forget this.

[Michael clasps Ivan's hand and they share a quick, friendly embrace.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling] I'm sure you won't, Ivan.

[Ivan runs off towards the parked car. Michael watches as he gets inside. Behind him, Ivan's thug speaks up.]

IVAN'S THUG: [in Russian, subtitled] Where do we take the girls?

[Ivan drives off. Michael smiles.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: There's been a change of plans.

[Turning to the thugs, he grabs the hands of the two closest to him and twists them around, locking them. He kicks down on the back of one thug's knee, making him buckle to the ground. As the non-combatant thugs get over their surprise, they are accosted by shotgun-wielding Fiona and Sam.]

SAM AXE: It's all over. drop the gun.

[Michael elbows the other thug in the face, sending him to the floor. Picking up their guns, he aims it at the thugs. Then, he goes over to the van and opens the door. The girls inside gasp out in terror as the door is opened. Fiona looks at the girls inside, including Elena who sits near the door.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [in Russian, subtitled] It's all right. You're safe now.

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Takarov's Restaurant. Day. Takarov sits at a table with two elderly Russian suits, discussing business, while the burly Russian stands behind.]

            {In the spy game, you spend a lot of time getting people to betray their own. Most do it for money. some do it for spite. But the greatest achievement is to get a guy to turn on his own people because he thinks he's being loyal.}

           

[Ivan runs inside the empty restaurant, past a couple of Takarov's bodyguards, and stops in front of the table, breathlessly.]

           

IVAN PETROV: You have to get out.

TAKAROV: What? What are you talking about?

IVAN PETROV: They busted the operation in Tampa. They're coming here next. They had me and Sergei, but we escape.

TAKAROV: What operation in Tampa? We never had an operation in Tampa.

IVAN PETROV: [thoroughly confused] But-but Sergei...

TAKAROV: Who's Sergei?

IVAN PETROV: He took the girls! He said he worked for you in Tampa! [explaining] It was the CIA. They had us.

[The mention of the word "CIA" makes the two bodyguards behind Ivan to walk towards him, menacingly.]

TAKAROV: [furious] You talked to the CIA? You gave the girls to this Sergei, and then you come here?

[Seeing the danger he's in, Ivan breathes faster. Takarov yanks a bearclaw knife out from his jacket and holds it up.]

TAKAROV: Take him upstairs...

[Ivan turns and tries to run, but runs directly into the clutches of the two bodyguards.]

TAKAROV: Now!

[They drag him away, as he struggles futilely.]

 

CUT TO:

[Restaurante Carlito. Day. Michael, Nate, Katya and Elena sit at an outdoor table.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sam talked to the police buddy of his. Sounds like Takarov was worried enough to skip town with most of his crew. Apparently, he headed north because they found Ivan's body in a dumpster in Fort Lauderdale.

KATYA: Dumpster is too good for him.

ELENA: [to Michael] What my sister means say is "thank you".

[Michael lets out a small chuckle. Nate has his hands pressed on his torso. He groans slightly.]

KATYA: How is your pain?

NATE WESTEN: Breathing's a little difficult. Mike cracked three of my ribs.

[Katya looks at Michael. Michael rolls his eyes.]

NATE WESTEN: But, y'know, it was a small price to pay.

KATYA: [to Michael] I'm sorry I was angry. Nate said you know what to do, always you were right.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [points at Nate] This Nate? Nate said that?

NATE WESTEN: You wanted me to keep her at Mom's. I just said what I had to say.

[Michael looks at Nate for a moment.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thank Nate, Katya. I couldn't have done it without him. And I'm not always right.

[Nate looks surprised at his brother's praise and admission. He chuckles. Katya gives him an appreciative kiss on the cheek and smiles at her sister. Michael stands, shares a smile with Nate and leaves.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Collin's and 74th, outside Mail 'N' More. Day. Michael and Fiona sit in the Charger, parked across from the Mail'N' More, in front of a Walgreen. Fiona looks bored out of her mind.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [exhales loudly] Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, and all Sam got on Carla was a PO box.

[She looks at the card she's holding. On it is written -

                                               CARLA BAXTER

                                     PO Box 0044 Coral Key, FL

                                                      Aquifer Specialist

]                                                  

                                                     

MICHAEL WESTEN: More than I had, Fi. Besides, I don't think he could have survived any more intelligence gathering.

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, Sam's liver can take a vacation while we... [trails off] What do we do now?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now we watch. Someone's got to pick up the mail sometime.

[They watch the place.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [monotone] I hate surveillance.

[She puts on the car stereo. "Superstar" by Celebutante blares from the speakers. They sit in the parked car, as cars drive by them.]

            {Intelligence-gathering isn't all running around with a gun and a spy camera. When the operation demands it, you get to sit in a hot car with no air-conditioning in downtown Miami.}

 

CUT TO:

[Ending credits.]

FADE TO BLACK

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