The Content Company&Talks a good game about freedom when out of power, but once he’s in – bam! Everyone's enslaved in the human-flourishing mines.&
Embalmed Ones
Fabulous Ones
Innumerable Ones
Stray Dogs
Suckling Pigs
Those Drawn With A Very Fine Camel Hair Brush
Those That Are Included In This Classification
Those That Are Trained
Those That At A Distance Resemble Flies
Those That Belong To The Emperor
Those That Have Just Broken The Flower Vase
Those That Tremble As Though They Are Mad
Various Others
From the Department of Omens: ?
, mostly good for ruining your enjoyment of things: “Spears were the medieval and ancient weapon. Swords are always a secondary or tertiary weapon for warriors, meaning that you would only use your sword if your main weapon was lost/broken/inappropriate. If you are not wearing armour or have no shield, once they commence sword fights end in about 1 second.”
The time . The time a dispute over hairstyles .
If Avatar: The Last Airbender had .
Most of the Japanese Parliament, including Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, are members of , a nationalist organization dedicated to reviving the Japanese Empire, “breaking away from the post-war regime”, and restoring the status of the Emperor as a living god. (h/t Noah Smith)
Chomsky would have a field day with this headline: . I think this is one case where the passive voice would actually be less weaselly.
To make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe. Creating a sandwich from scratch, on the other hand, only takes .
Emmanuel Nwude was a Union Bank of Nigeria director who made $242 million by pulling .
large-scale 3D printer that can create ten houses a day for $5000 each. Just what China needs – more housing! Also,
Carly Fiorina demands to know what Hillary has done during her 20 years in politics. Democrats step up to the challenge and list .
, in case you need to prove whatever philosophical point might be proven by somebody making a site with 200 proofs that the Earth is flat.
A few weeks ago I mentioned some problems with Chomsky’s Cambodian genocide scholarship. Jim has .
Popehat scoops me on something I’ve always thought was a good idea: given that some people want “safe” colleges with trigger warnings on everything, and other people want “free speech” colleges where they are confronted with disquieting new ideas, why aren’t different colleges drifting to one side or the other and ?
Otto von Bismarck’s grandson
also made history books – by dying with “the highest [blood] level of cocaine that [his doctors] had ever seen.”
in Antarctica.
Did US news deregulation
Last links post I linked to . I neglected to mention that the author is trying to rap-ify the whole thing (!!) and has
set up to fund the project.
Latest campus free speech problem: , courtesy of Dianne Feinstein.
Mark Zuckerberg donated $100 million to fix the Newark school system. It mostly failed. . One example where donations without systemic change didn’t do any good.
Gwern asks any modafinil users reading this to
about their response to the medication for his research. Participants will be entered into a drawing to win extremely predictable prize. Related: is President Obama ?
Shaven chimps look kind of like .
, asks Milo Yiannopoulos.
The full chemical name of the protein titin is the longest word in the English language at 189,819 letters. If you want, learn it at home with
Why is China, which has a billion people and lots of money,
One interesting theory – the government bans all small gatherings that aren’t pre-approved, putting a big regulatory hassle in the way of people who might otherwise start random back-alley soccer games, and maybe this sort of grassroots-level introduction to the sport is important enough that even throwing money at big gleaming stadiums can’t make up for it. Somebody should study countries that over/under-perform their fundamentals in sports versus countries that over/under-perform their fundamentals in academia/science and see what the correlations are.
1960s: “You can’t fight here, this is the war room!”. 2010s:
“Good morning, Mr. Machiavelli. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prevent Cesare Borgia from conquering Florence. You will serve as our official ambassador to his court. You will shadow the Duke-Cardinal as closely as possible, report to us about his character and tactics, and develop a strategy to keep him from adding Tuscany to his expanding kingdom. While at his court, you will need to maintain yourself and your team with grandeur sufficient to make him take us seriously as a political force, but we can’t send you any funds to pay for this, since Borgia has so completely destroyed peace and order in the region that bandits are rampaging through the countryside robbing and murdering all our couriers. This message will self-destruct in a few weeks when your office is inevitably looted and burned, but if you throw it in the fire that will speed things up.” Somebody linked me to Ex Urbe a few weeks back, and now I am passing on the favor. Read
first, but
is superb.
Also, “a similar pattern has been found with schizophrenia, and the possible link between these two phenomena is discussed.”
explain 24% genetic differences in height and 8% of genetic differences in BMI across Europe. Now that the only two massively polygenic traits that might vary among national populations have been successfully studied, I look forward to never having to read any further research of this sort ever again.
“Contrary to popular perceptions, today both property and violent crimes (with the exception of homicides) are more widespread in Europe than in the United States”.
There are probably lots of Barack Obama lookalikes making some money as impersonators, but only one who is . Also, holy @#$%, that Chinese guy looks exactly like Barack Obama.
: where king – man + woman = queen
was so bizarre that the police said it was a hoax until the kidnapper wrote in to complain that this was unfair to the victim. Also: gangs of gentlemen-thieves flying crime-drones.
of the most recent Republican primary debate? Apparently “Jeb” sounds like “penis” in Chinese.
People were pretty nasty to Vox when they rejected that article on negative utilitarianism for political/PR reasons. But they have redeemed themselves by publishing
and it’s pretty good. I broadly agree with it although I think it requires a much broader rejection of philosophical paradigms and reorganization about how we think of things than could be included even in an article of this length. Also: Vox
without noticing. Also also: don’t miss .
Dutch study shows rampant sexism in scientific community. Dutch establishment promises reforms, says they will push “gender awareness” on everyone involved. Outside observers , actual results show no gender bias at all. Original authors say it doesn’t matter and the Dutch scientific community is still sexist because grant review forms use “gendered language” like the word “excellent” which is apparently “male-coded”. Dutch establishment says reform and gender awareness programs are “still a good idea, regardless of the paper’s quality”, and vow to push ahead. Why are we even bothering to do science anymore? Why don’t we just write the only acceptable conclusion on a piece of paper beforehand and save however much it cost to do the study?
Florida Man has finally found a worthy opponent: . In case that article is too depressing, .
Maybe : “Khorgos, on the border with Kazakhstan, serves as a cautionary example: two years after the go-ahead China has built a city consisting of a number of multi-story shopping centers in the desert. In one of those buildings, for example, there are roughly one hundred shops, each one of them selling exactly the same product: fur coats. By way of contrast, on the Kazak side stands only a yurt and a couple of plastic camels”
If there were some kind of EA bingo card, I think I could win the game just with this sentence: .
Corporate prediction markets tested at Ford and Google found to be .
Tumblr user kontextmachine on .
Noahpinion on . Whig history is “We’re doing better because progress is the natural state of the world”. Malthusian history is “We’re doing better because we’re in the boom part of an endless inescapable boom-bust cycle.” Haan history is “We’re doing better but who cares, everything is fundamentally flawed in a way no material progress can fix.
Robin Hanson’s book
is available for pre-order, by which I mean “available for gaping at the neat spherical city picture on the cover”.
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provides monthly updates on the highest-impact ways to do good and help others.advance all troops 3y swiping tow mingers to the right什么意思_百度知道
色情、暴力
我们会通过消息、邮箱等方式尽快将举报结果通知您。
advance all troops 3y swiping tow mingers to the right什么意思
我有更好的答案
所有的军队,机长提前两个手指向右拐
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回答问题，赢新手礼包Entrapment
ENTRAPMENT
Ronald Bass
First Draft Screenplay
December 2, 1996
Ronald Bass
and Michael Herzberg
EXT. HANCOCK TOWER, CHICAGO - LATE NIGHT
Lake Shore Drive.
Four o'clock in the morning.
Minimal traffic,
minimal life.
As MAIN TITLES BEGIN, we PAN UP the face of...
...Hancock Tower.
Up, up, forty floors, sixty, eighty, very dark
up here, street sounds fading fast, and as CREDITS CONTINUE we can
just make out...
...a dark FIGURE.
Like a spider.
Inching its way up the steel
surface of the 98th floor, and we CLOSE to see...
The THIEF.
All in black, nearly invisible, with a sleek visored
helmet that conceals the face.
Two long, oblong backpacks, climb-
ing ropes and harness across back and shoulders, tools at the belt.
Moving STRAIGHT UP the face of the skyscraper.
How is it possible?
CLOSER still to see...
...the piton-like BOLTS are electromagnetic, CLANKING to the steel
to support weight.
A button releases the magnetic charge when the
bolt is pulled up by cords to a higher position.
The Thief is
remarkably strong and agile, scaling the wall with fluid precision,
...our summit.
A softly-lit, glass-walled PENTHOUSE on the
100th floor.
Subtle spots which bathe paintings, sculptures,
in a cavernous coldly-decorated space.
Swiftly, deftly, the Thief rigs a suction-mounted HARNESS to the
steel casing above a massive window.
Pulleys, metal caribiner
clips, yellow Kevlar ropes.
So superbly practiced, the rigging is
placed in seconds, huge SUCTION CUPS pressed to the surface of the
The Thief reaches to a metal rectangle at the top of the
rigging, touches a button, a motor WHINES, the ropes TIGHTEN and
the window...
...POPS FREE, hangs SUSPENDED by the Kevlar ropes which amazingly
sustain its awesome weight.
The huge pane shudders in the wind,
and the Thief slips...
...INTO the Penthouse.
Nearby, an ALARM BOX softly BEEPS its
60-second warning to the pulsing of a green light, and the Thief
attaches a small computerized DEVICE which runs a series of
possible CODES at dazzling speed on its display panel, until...
...the right one STOPS.
Illuminated in red.
The beeping, the
green light, go OFF.
The device is removed.
Back to the window, air rushing in, attach a similar suction-
mounted harness from the inside, all exquisitely engineered to rig
in seconds, press new suction cups to the inside of the dangling
window pane.
A small remote control clicker...
...RELEASES the outside suction cups.
The window's weight now
supported by the interior rigging.
The outside equipment pulled
INTO the apartment in a single tug.
The WHINE of a motor, and the
pane pulls UP, the Thief expertly POPPING it into place.
No trace of entry.
Rapidly folding the rigging into an astonishingly compact bundle,
the Thief SCANS...
...the profusion of priceless art.
The paintings run to Otto Dix,
Franz Marc, Marcel Duchamp.
One statue an obvious Rodin.
lighting makes walls seem invisible, everything with an infinity
perspective in mind.
An obsidian slab dining table that seems to
end at the horizon.
The Thief has packed the rigging away, taken out a large cylin-
drical TUBE bearing a label we can't read.
Knows the way, quickly
through the spectacular apartment, past oils by early German
expressionists, Russian futurists, a Rothko, a Kandinsky, a Francis
The Thief has no interest in these, and as CREDITS CONTINUE,
we enter...
...a powder room.
A lime-green poured concrete sink, a copper-
plated commode, and across from these...
...a single PAINTING.
Unlike the others, clearly an Old Master.
A 17th century city on the water, churches, spires, an ancient
The Thief wastes no time, unceremoniously...
...CUTS the painting from its frame with sure, perfect strokes.
Rolls it quickly in acid-free paper.
Opens the cylindrical tube,
pulling out...
...another CANVAS which we cannot see.
Deftly unrolls this,
fitting it carefully into the stolen painting's now-empty frame.
Re-hangs it.
Stares for a beat through the opaque helmet visor.
Slips the rolled-up stolen canvas into the empty tube.
Before we follow, we shift angle to see the replacement
A cheerful acrylic portrait.
Bozo the Clown.
WITH the Thief now, moving fast, into a panelled library.
a CHUTE built into the wall, a brass lid with the words U.S. MAIL.
The Thief pops the labeled tube DOWN the chute.
...onto a bookshelf, reaches up to punch out an overhead grating,
Disappears into the vent.
Reaching back to refit the grating
seamlessly into place.
Halogen flashlight leading the way, our Thief shimmies down the
narrow space, arriving at...
...an open vertical AIR SHAFT, BLASTING air straight up the 100
floor height of the skyscraper, with frightening FORCE.
the Thief clips on a different harness, unzips a nylon cover from
the backpack, and simply...
LEAPS DOWN the air shaft, startling the shit out of us, as, for an
instant...
...the force of the updraft seems to HOLD the Thief in place,
suspended above 100 stories of nothingness.
Then suddenly, the
...DROPS SHARPLY, an exhilarating moment of absolute FREE FALL,
until a cord is tugged and...
...a nylon PARACHUTE OPENS with a pop.
We watch the Thief drifting
lazily down.
A ride any kid would pay big money for...
EXT. HANCOCK TOWER - LATE NIGHT
Our original exterior VIEW of the skyscraper's penthouse.
ANGLE now to see in far distance...
...the dense forest of silhouetted OFFICE TOWERS of downtown
Chicago against the night sky, and we ZOOM TOWARD them, covering
miles in three seconds, to CLOSE on...
...the highest floor of the SEARS TOWER, and THROUGH an unlit
window to see...
...a TELESCOPE.
A silhouetted FIGURE looking through it.
VIEW through the scope's lens.
An amazingly CLOSE detail of the
Hancock Tower Penthouse.
The scope now PANS DOWN the length of the
Tower, to...
The street.
The Thief climbing onto a battered old Lambretta.
Calm as you please.
And as the scooter glides off...
We HEAR our unseen voyeur WALK AWAY from our telescope.
OPENS somewhere, and as CREDITS CONCLUDE, it...
INT. WEBBER ASSURANCE - DAY
A basement corridor.
Long, bare, dimly lit.
We're in the
bowels of somewhere.
A startling CLANK, like a prison cell
unlocking.
A FIGURE enters the corridor, coming this way, on the
hurried side of brisk.
HECTOR CRUZ is 42, tanned, fit, graying hair swept back in a Pat
He wears Riley's Armani, too.
Maybe this guy coaches.
Heels ECHO until he reaches a plain door with discreet lettering...
NO ADMITTANCE FOR ANY REASON.
There is a dull silver rectangle
below the words.
He holds his hand up to it...
Nothing happens.
Dries his palm on his perfectly-creased
One more time.
INT. SITUATION ROOM - DAY
An unexpectedly VAST semi-circular room, the entire inner circum-
ference made up of a single continuous WALL SCREEN, separated into
a seamless array of IMAGES...
Three-dimensional rotating GRAPHICS of every room in the Hancock
Tower Penthouse, SCHEMATICS of electrical, plumbing, and ventila-
tion systems.
See-through rotating multicolored models of every
piece of security EQUIPMENT imaginable, components FLASHING as
performance simulations are run.
Rapid-fire sequences of indiv-
idual human PROFILES, complete with photos and bio blurbs.
flickering with blizzards of DATA, hurtling past at warp speed.
The Pentagon and CNN would kill for this room.
The largest segment of screen, twenty feet square, runs a LIVE FEED
from the crime scene.
The living room of the Penthouse, crawling
with slow-moving cops and technicians, doing their slow-moving
Surrounding this image are a dozen smaller screens, showing
this and other rooms from a variety of camera angles.
We see the library, the mail chute.
The powder room.
Cruz skips down three steps to floor level, nine separate CONTROL
STATIONS, each outfitted with super-tech panels to process the
avalanche of information.
But today, all stations are empty.
Except one.
You got it solved?
And now we see her.
From the rear.
Slouched at her station.
Looks like a skinny teenager in tousled tawny hair, rumpled
oversized workshirt, vintage jeans.
GIN (O.S., from the rear)
Not a kid's voice.
Music and whiskey and sex and
effortless confidence.
Even the voice turns us on.
CRUZ (glances at his watch)
What took you so long, Gin?
called 4:30 this morn...
And stops.
Because she turns with a look that would freeze anyone
I was with someone, all right?
Now we really see her.
Delicate bones and features, slender body,
radiating the power of a natural heart-stopping beauty.
BAKER is 32, ethereal and feral at once.
Electric green eyes
crackle with an intellect and a will that are not to be fucked
This is work.
He is not kidding.
Stainless steel beneath the dapper.
They are a
matched team.
Hector, I hardly know the guy.
Why be impolite to strangers?
And he smiles.
Maybe she's lying.
He likes her.
Look at those assholes...
He means the cops on live feed.
If the Vermeer were lying on that
table, they'd toss their doughnuts
Yeh, well, they didn't insure it,
so they don't have to solve this.
To them it's a crime.
To us it's 24
mil, less re-insurance, which is...
CRUZ (grim)
Only thirty percent, Gin.
Which is why you're on this.
Soft and straight.
You're the best.
I need you.
He came in through the window.
That's not possib...
What's not possible is entry through
the doors or the vents.
That would
have triggered instant alarm.
The windows are wired, too.
Only for trauma.
They used smart
glass, where the sensors respond to
violation of the panel's integrity.
He's listening.
He always does with her.
I think he scaled the wall, popped
the frame.
In one piece.
She sounds awfully positive.
Then again, she always does.
Then, he only had to deal with
heat and motion sensors.
were on 60-second delay, so the
owner wouldn't trigger the alarm
just be walking arou...
The pane weighs 200 pounds, the
building's 1100 feet high.
This particular guy is the best.
The best there ever was.
Almost as if she knows who.
Cruz shakes his head...
Popping the frame would trigger
the alarm.
She smiles.
First time.
Even at one-tenth power, it is dazzling
She touches the panel before her...
GIN (gently)
I wrote a program and ran it, Dumbo.
The live feed is replaced by a red-outlined rotating three-
dimensional DIAGRAM of the living room.
The alarm box glows green.
One window pane glows lavender.
She touches the panel, and the
window SHATTERS, the alarm instantly emits a PIERCING SCREECH.
As he watches.
This time the window SLIDES AWAY into
A stick figure appears, crawls through the
opening, and the alarm begins the slow BEEP we heard last night.
Cruz just stares.
Here's how I figured it out...
Live feed replaces the diagram.
Our camera ZOOMS toward a VASE of
lilies by the window.
All the flowers are tilted in one direction.
Over the lip of the vase, away from the window.
No one arranges flowers like that.
It was the draft from the window.
He turns to her.
This particular guy.
Now she is beaming.
And just above a whisper...
Andrew MacDougal.
Delighted at his stupefied reaction.
Why not Houdini?
Or Pretty Boy
Maybe Jesus Christ.
Because they couldn't do it.
His slow smile.
This fucking kid.
He's been out of the business.
For ten years.
Maybe not.
No one ever proved,
hell, even arrested him, for
stealing anything.
But we all
know he was numero ichiban for
thirty years.
Why not forty?
She's serious.
Because of the Bozo switch?
Guys have been copying his pack-
rat signature for decades.
the thief wanted it to look like
MacDougal.
She doesn't even answer.
Just touches her panel, and one of the
data screens BLOWS UP to huge size.
A list of his private collection.
Complete to three acquisitions
last Thursday.
Names SCROLLING up endlessly, next to titles, descriptions,
estimated retail and black market values.
Turner, Corot, Thomas
Coles, DeKooning, Klimt, Cezannes, Odilon Redon, Braques, Mary
Cassatt...
No Vermeer.
Nothing close.
Don't be a putz.
This is his
legitimate collection, which he
Presentable for any search
warrant surprise party.
Names keep rolling, Degas, Paul Klee.
What he rips off, he fences.
the money feeds his portfolio of
investments, which are daring, savvy,
and obscenely succesf...
Oh, I get it.
He has no interest
in Vermeers, so that proves he stole
By that logic, he oughta be a
suspect most of the time.
She shakes her head, sadly.
You love to embarrass yourself.
Touches her panel.
The big screen now shows a grainy VIDEOTAPE
The auction.
Where our client
bought the painting...
We see the Great Room of an English Country estate.
hundred attend.
Genteel to the max.
GIN (O.S.)
Ashcroft Hall, Buckinghamshire,
four weeks ago.
The tape PANS five PAINTINGS on the block.
We recognize our
VERMEER, the city of Delft, the canal, the bridge.
The view PULLS
BACK to include the crowd, and...
One tiny section is circled.
And BLOWS UP twenty feet.
high, so blurry as to be unrecognizable.
Then, SNAPS to amazing
resolution.
The image of...
GIN (O.S., murmur)
Anyone we know?
...ANDREW MacDOUGAL, perhaps 60, as charismatic and shamelessly
virile a face as one can recall.
Etched with character and worldly
experience, lit by a twinkle behind the razor-keen gaze.
wide shoulders, massive hands.
This guy would be more fun to fuck
than fight.
So he was there.
Staking it out.
Why bid, when
you can mark the buyer, and jack
it within the month?
She leans WAY back in the molded chair.
Lifts her long legs
up onto the console.
They end in slender bare feet.
At this moment, he is winging on
JAL flight 307 to Narita, ostensibly
to attend a prestigious auction at
the Hotel Akura, which will include
a mixed media collage/oil by Georges
Braques, on which he supposedly has
But you know better.
Bet your ass.
At Vegas odds.
Touches the panel.
The big screen now holds three faces, three
GIN (O.S.)
Research reveals three known fences,
still at large, who are believed
to have brokered Vermeers to black
market buyers.
Sandrine Palmer is
hospitalized in Malta with ovarian
One face and name disappears.
Two remain.
KOICHI NARUHITO.
HIROYUKI YAMAJI.
The other two.
Live in Tokyo.
A tiny, dry, adorable, shrug.
Which says, bingo.
And you did all this since 4:30
this morning.
Grinning small at each other.
She can't help that hers is hot.
She never can.
CRUZ (murmur)
You were polite to a
One of those moments when his attraction to her is too obvious to
Best to defuse by pretending it's a joke...
GIN (soft and playful)
Sounds like you're sorry you're
already a friend.
Said as banter between pals.
Which doesn't make her wrong.
INT. HOTEL OKURA, TOKYO - NIGHT
Auction in progress in the huge traditional LOBBY, where bonsai
trees, paper lanterns and elaborate painted screens counterpoint
the sleek, international, big-money crowd.
Everyone milling,
drinking, schmoozing, networking in a babble of languages, as up
on the raised platform...
...the AUCTIONEER has a new piece on the block, a 6th Century
temple scroll, from the Asuka period.
It is exquisite, and bidding
seems to be big time, from the rapidly escalating numbers on the
overhead DIGITAL DISPLAY, which reveals bidding status in thirty
currencies simultaneously. As we PAN the hall, we see...
...all non-Asians either wearing headphones, or acompanied by
personal translators at their elbow, to follow the rapid-fire
auctioneer.
Except one.
ANDREW MacDOUGAL stands alone in black tie.
Tall and rugged and
polished and focused, and, well, pretty gorgeous.
He is bidding on
the scroll, indicated only by subtle gestures with his program and
the repeated finger-stabs of the auctioneer in our direction.
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S., subtitled Japanese)
Don't do it.
PULL BACK slightly to reveal Gin, who has stepped to his shoulder.
She is barely recognizable to us in her satiny slip of a pale
golden gown that drapes her frame perfectly.
Breathtaking would
be an insult.
MacDougal doesn't turn, doesn't seem to even hear her.
Just raises
his program to up the bid.
GIN (softly, subtitled Japanese)
You're already over value.
15 percent.
And now he turns.
Straight to her eyes.
This is NOT an admiring
glance at seeing the loveliest woman in the Northern Hemisphere.
It is a look that says, in the most understated terms, shut up or
I'll kill you.
She shuts up.
His glance goes to his obvious bidding RIVAL, a rather butch
middle-aged Chinese woman in an embroidered version of a Mao suit.
She indicates her bid by gesturing with a tiny Yorkshire Terrier,
whom she holds in her stubby hands.
MacDougal raises back.
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
Will you stop being stubborn
for one sec...
And stops.
Because he has turned.
With the eyes of a lion.
pulled from an antelope carcass.
MAC (quietly, subtitled Japanese)
I have a question.
Rich Scottish voice.
Impeccable Japanese intonation.
GIN (brightly, subtitled Japanese)
Who the fuck am I?
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
That is of no interest.
In spite of herself, she looks a little hurt.
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
What, then?
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
Are we speaking.
Her eyes move across his formidable face.
I'm showing off.
His eyes scan the length of her gown.
Something of a habit?
She is minus a comeback.
You know the alleged value of this
piece from some fucking computer,
which has no clue of the price I
can turn the scroll around for in
30 minutes.
No, you can't.
He blinks.
GIN (really sorry)
It's sold.
His great head WHIPS around to see Madame Mao KISSING her pooch,
flushed with victory.
He stares for a long moment, a veneer of
philosophical almost masking his rage.
When he turns back...
Are you a confederate of my
adversaries?
Or are you just
And walks.
HOLD on her.
Feeling like both.
EXT. HOTEL OKURA - NIGHT
Mac among the guests awaiting their cars, standing slightly apart.
From behind him...
...a feminine throat clears.
Nervously.
He closes his eyes for a
Then, turns.
GIN (softly)
How about.
If I try humility.
And presents a business card to him with both hands, Japanese-
Mac looks in her eyes.
Takes the card with both hands.
Virginia Romay...
Gin, actually, Gin Romay.
was named after a card game.
Or a cheap cocktail.
She blinks.
His brows raise...
MAC (softly)
I'll have a Gin Romay,
With a twist.
That laser, unsmiling stare.
Beyond sexy.
She gets lost in it for
You're supposed to be charming.
I'm supposed to be selective.
Glances back to her card.
Art and Antiquities Acquisition
Advisor, how alliterative...
Still no smile.
And am I the antiquity?
In mint condition.
She sighs.
Achingly lovely.
Look, I've studied you, I know...
pretty much...everything.
Made your first millions selling
scrap metal.
Then, gold mining
concessions, gems, art, and lately
strategic metals for new technologies
- platinum, zirconium, titanium...
Everything.
The cat burglar stories?
would anyone...with so much to
lose...take those kinds of risks?
Guileless smile.
You'd have to be.
A held beat.
His glance lifts beyond her shoulder.
Excuse me.
And walks off toward a sleek custom TOURING CAR just pulling up.
She goes after him.
I didn't know Porsche made
things like this.
Well, they don't...
Tipping the valet.
Sliding in...
...as a rule.
Shutting the door.
Through the open window, she hands something
from her bag.
A plastic rectangle which OPENS into a slide viewer.
She presses the light ON.
He looks at the slide.
Recognize that?
No reaction.
My seller is in Shinjuku, we can
go there tonight.
She leans closer.
He wants 4.6 million.
get it for three.
He hands it back.
Looks in her eyes.
No, you can't.
And TAKES OFF.
Her jaw drops slightly, but in one fluid motion...
She's hailed a cab.
INT. IMPERIAL HOTEL BAR - LATER
Graceful, timeless room, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in the
Burnished.
A place to drink, to deal,
PAN down the polished surface of the bartop, til we
come to...
...a tropical DRINK.
Cute little umbrella, tilted back toward the
ROTATE ANGLE to see...
...INSIDE the umbrella, something small, something mechanical.
woman's HAND ADJUSTS the point of the umbrella ever so slightly,
and we PAN UP her arm to see...
Still in her gown.
She is reading, with half-glasses, and
one of the bows curls around her ear, which we CLOSE on to hear...
...static.
Gin adjusts the drink umbrella, which is a directional
mike, and hears...
MAC (O.S.)
...only it's not bloody football!
SNAP to Mac's table, well across the room.
Drinking giant beers
with a large, really fat Japa if wrinkled,
The hulk listens with stone attention to Mac's rant, as if
he actually gave a shit.
MAC (O.S.)
...it's just that crap Americans
call 'football', like you could
call your ass a butterscotch scone
and have it be one!
The guy nods seriously.
Maybe he's a Sumo dude.
Why you'd want to bring that
foolishness to Japan, you're
just pissing your investment
down a bungee hole.
SUMO GUY (major accent)
You got Cubano this trip?
That he does.
Mac pulls out a leather cigar holder, and passes it
Flat against one side is an ENVELOPE, which Sumo Guy PALMS
skillfully, slipping it seamlessly INTO his pocket as he withdraws
a small MATCH BOX.
Takes out one long cigar, lights up...
Seriously, put the money into
pharmaceuticals or prostitution,
something stable.
The big guy pushes the cigar holder and match box back toward Mac.
Opening the box, Mac sees one match and a small MICROCHIP fastened
to the cardboard.
Lights up.
Slides the match box in his pocket.
Garbage, perhaps.
Or industrial
ANGLE...Gin still engrossed in her reading.
A figure leans down
next to her.
She startles, slightly.
So surprised to see...
My favorite thing in life.
Coincidence.
She gives him the great smile.
I'm staying here, what's your
And now he smiles.
First time ever.
A little chilling, the way he
Staying here, as well.
are in room...?
GIN (half a beat)
One thirty-eight.
In one motion, he flags the bartender...
Will you send a half-bottle of
Chateau d'Yquem '67 to Room 138,
And some berries and
chocolates for the lady to enjoy
He presses some currency into the barkeep's hand.
Turning back...
Actually, I was just across the
room, dickering with a gentleman
over the purchase of an interesting
Until I determined the
painting was apparently stolen...
She's shocked.
He agrees...
Goes against my grain.
DeKooning in your slide, the 4.6
million you can get for 3.
you get it for 2 and a half?
She looks in his eyes.
And as if he believed her...
My checkbook is in my safe.
wait here.
His smile evaporates.
He is gone before she can say...
I'll wait here.
INT. CAR, SHINJUKU DISTRICT - NIGHT
Mac driving in silence.
Gin stealing glances at him.
Suddenly and
smoothly, he reaches down, and picks up...
That's my purse.
He opens it.
One eye on the road, he begins to rummage...
Just want to see if I'm with the
person you say you are.
too caref...
She SNATCHES the bag away from him, he GRABS it back, the car
SWERVES LEFT, and...
...CRASHES VIOLENTLY into a parked pure white Bentley.
BUCKLES and TEARS, both ALARMS go OFF, a cacophony of horrific
MAC (quietly)
People come RUNNING, but our focus is drawn to the refined elderly
COUPLE who were just returning to their precious Bentley.
WAILS and ANGUISH would be suitable if all their grandchildren had
been crushed beneath Mac's wheels.
Mac and Gin are OUT of the car.
As he exits, Mac has palmed a
small BLADE, and in a quick unseen motion, RIPPED a jagged tear
in his left trouser leg.
The old couple RUSH to Mac, SHRIEKING
their rage and grief in Japanese, Gin is trying to calm them as
bystanders gather, but Mac cuts through...
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
We'll go in there, and call
the police.
And HOBBLES off toward the nearest building, a block-square
30-story skyscraper bearing the name FUJITSU.
The couple, the
crowd, all race after the limping Mac...
Are you all right?
No answer, he looks dark enough to rain.
INTO the public lobby of
the huge industrial complex.
Two night GUARDS come hurrying from
their desk, as the small mob POURS in.
Mac in the lead, a
commanding presence, tells the guards in a loud, clear voice...
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
I have damaged the car of these
kind people.
Please help them
call the police...
One guard leads the hysterical couple toward a phone.
Mac pulls up
his trouser leg, and Gin GASPS to see a bloody GASH.
Mac drops the
trouser back over the wound.
Asks the remaining guard...
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
May I use a washroom, please.
The guard nods absently, disoriented by the chaos.
Mac hands his
billfold to Gin...
These are my papers, passport, car
registration.
If the police arri...
You're going to need stitches,
let me get you to a hospital.
Soft words, genuine concern.
And his eyes flicker.
As if somehow
seeing her for the first time.
A small spark, but she feels it.
Softer still...
Really, this can all wait.
I'll handle it.
The look holds.
That's actually.
Very sweet.
His first real smile.
It was worth waiting for.
MAC (to a guard, subtitled Japanese)
Might you have a First Aid kit,
of some kind?
INT. TOILET STALL
We are inside an empty, closed, Japanese-style toilet stall.
Porcelain foot rests.
The door BURSTS OPEN, and...
...Mac enters FAST with the First Aid kit, locking the door,
hitting the STOPWATCH on his wrist, which begins counting at
He pulls UP his trouser leg, revealing the bloody gash,
and simply...
...RIPS the entire wound OFF, the rubbery prosthetic wound DANGLES,
dripping its phony blood.
Mac pulls gauze strips from the kit,
SOAKS them in bogus gore, expertly WRAPS his leg, then FLUSHES the
prosthetic DOWN the hole.
He pulls off the FUJITSU VISITOR badge clipped to his lapel, and
from a Ziploc bag slides a small sheet of plastic, which he PRESSES
to the face of the badge, fitting perfectly, turning the badge
...an EMPLOYEE I.D., the name KAWAKUBO, M., the PHOTO of a surly
Japanese male.
Quickly, Mac takes out the MATCH BOX from the hotel
bar, and with a fine tweezers gently removes the MICROCHIP, placing
it INSIDE the badge, activating it with a soft BEEP-BEEP.
reaches now...
...behind his back, up UNDER his tux jacket, and RIPS FREE a
tightly-compressed PACK of what seems white paper or cloth.
SNAPS it loose, revealing it to be...
...a baggy CLEAN SUIT, not unlike hospital scrubs and falling to
the floor...
...a white HOOD.
With opaque tinted VISOR.
INT. SECURITY CORRIDOR
Mac in his clean suit and opaque-visored hood at an elevator marked
CLEARED PERSONNEL ONLY in English and Kanji (Japanese characters).
He holds his badge to the SCANNER, the door PINGS and slides OPEN..
INT. PREP ROOM ENTRANCE, 29TH FLOOR
Mac emerging from his elevator at the entrance to an AIR-LOCK with
sign CLEAN ROOM - CLASS 10.
Holds his badge to the SCANNER, the
air-lock door lights FLASH froin red to yellow to green.
...the PREP ROOM.
Recorded VOICES purr safety instructions in
Japanese, while Mac stands, being bombarded by air shower, chemical
sprayer, blinding UV light.
The next air-lock OPENS.
He enters...
INT. CLEAN ROOM
...a long ASSEMBLY LINE, where ROBOT ARMS work on a stream of black
SILICON WAFERS, which pass along a clear Lexan CONVEYOR BELT.
wafers move through various airtight CHAMBERS, exposing them to
multi-colored gasses, cyan, sodium yellow, magenta, etc., as part
of the microchip manufacturing process.
More than a dozen TECHNICIANS in their hooded clean suits watch
over every phase of the work, attached to the walls by grounding
wires and air hoses, which create a deafening NOISE.
Mac simply
hooks himself up, and saunters straight THROUGH the area, toward
the place where the conveyor belt with its newly-processed
MICROCHIPS...
...DISAPPEARS through the wall.
Nearby, a HATCH is built into the
same wall, and Mac calmly CLANKS it OPEN, squeezing through into...
...a dimly-lit MAINTENANCE BAY.
Panels of switches, wires, fuses,
fans, air cleaners.
Maximum claustrophobia, as Mac CLANGS the
hatch SHUT behind him, looking instantly to...
...an OVERHEAD HATCH with letters in Kanji and English, DANGER
ARGON GAS.
Mac THROWS back his hood, YANKS out his mini oxygen
pouch, fits the slender forked breathing tube into his nostrils,
and slips on thick round infrared GOGGLES that make him look like a
refugee from 12 MONKEYS.
No time to lose...
...up THROUGH the overhead hatch, closing it behind him as he
...the conveyer TUBE, a horizontal Lexan cylinder three feet in
diameter, filled with billowing red gas.
Mac stretches out on his
belly, glancing up to where the clear conveyor belt, with its
precious cargo of microchips, runs along just above his head in
eerie red light.
He begins to...
...shimmy, crawl, squirm along the length of the tube.
thick to see the end.
He is agile as a commando, hauling ass, when
suddenly...
...the floor beneath his tube FALLS AWAY, and he is crawling in
space 29 stories above Tokyo, as his tube spans the distance
between manufacturing and shipping structures.
He goes faster,
INT. MICROCHIP VAULT
A black chamber.
We can scarcely make out the endless rows of
shelving, the air purifying equipment, the conveyor belt entering
through its air lock, as machinery folds each priceless microchip
in foil wrappers, stacks them on shelves.
Through the gasket...
...Mac TUMBLES into view, swinging himself neatly DOWN to the
floor, and in a single motion, he is already FLASHING a neon-green
pen light along the shelves of microchips.
We see now the wrappers
are different colors, with different Kanji characters, and Mac is
definitely looking for something special, until...
...he's found it.
A single row, 35 chips, nothing special from
here, but Mac...
...WHIPS out something coiled, SNAPS it to full length, revealing a
strip of shiny black SATIN CLOTH.
Three feet long, little more
than an inch wide.
Carefully, Mac lays the strip down directly
OVER the row of microchips.
And when he lifts it UP again...
...the chips have ADHERED to the underside of the cloth.
deft SNAP of his wrist, he COILS the cloth again, like a yo-yo.
Turns to leave, and...
Tosses a small SACK of something where the chips used to be.
CASCADE BRAND POTATO CHIPS.
SEA SALT AND VINEGAR FLAVOR.
INT. CLEAN ROOM
Mac exiting from the maintenance hatch back into the Clean Room.
No one sees, no one cares.
Hooking up once again, he ambles toward
a door clearly marked EXIT ONLY TO EMPLOYEE LOUNGE - RETURN ONLY
THROUGH SECURITY AREA.
By the door is an employee notice tacked to the wall.
He pretends
to scan it.
A stack of flyers.
He takes one.
Exiting into...
INT. EMPLOYEE LOUNGE
Past a changing area, vending machines, guys bullshitting.
just strolling along, reading his flyer, as...
Touches his shoulder
VOICE (subtitled Japanese)
Excuse me.
Mac turns, stares through his opaque VISOR at a well-built SECURITY
Dead straight eyes.
OFFICER (subtitled Japanese)
The company picnic.
Saturday or
His eyes cut to the flyer Mac is 'reading'.
Mac hands it to him,
and without a trace of Scottish accent...
MAC (subtitled Japanese)
Better eat first.
INT. GUEST LOBBY
Gin is up to her ears in grief.
There are no less than five COPS
grilling her, taking notes, while the old couple has their second
wind and are SHRIEKING in top form.
The bystander gallery has
grown to maybe three dozen, and they're all getting their word in.
As Gin struggles to cope...
...she keeps looking at the clock.
Darting glances toward the
She is freaking out.
She can't stand it.
Hands Mac's billfold to one of the
cops, pushes her way through the mob, and...
...TAKES OFF down the corridor, a security guard in belated
pursuit, we go...
...WITH her DOWN the hallway, WHEEL around a corner, flat-out
SPRINTING, SKIDS to a stop at the right doorway and BURSTS INTO...
INT. MEN'S ROOM
An empty washroom.
She listens.
Mr. MacDougal?
MAC (O.S., from the stall)
Just 'Mac'.
And whatever became
of a gentleman's privacy?
The security guard BARGES IN.
MAC (O.S.)
My God, more females?
The guard starts railing at Gin a mile a minute.
She calmly takes
a WAD of bills from her purse.
Hands them to the guy...
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
Stand outside.
That door.
minutes...
Alone again.
I was worried, it's been twenty...
MAC (O.S.)
Eighteen, actually.
The leg is
fine, but I got sort of...woozy.
MAC (O.S.)
Lost my stomach once or twice.
CUT INSIDE the stall.
He is just re-taping the folded clean suit
and hood to the small of his back.
I'm an old man.
You probably
Awkward silence.
He smiles at that, much amused.
Slips on his
You should see me without
UNLOCKS the door.
Remembers...
Mustn't forget to zip up.
That's not what he forgot.
He pulls OUT the coiled black satin
cloth strip, SNAPS it free, microchips snug to the underside.
fits it neatly...
...DOWN his trouser leg.
The perfect tuxedo stripe.
OUT the door.
To meet her gaze.
Odd place, this.
He goes to her.
Offers his arm.
What do you suppose they make
Video recorders?
She takes it, wrapping both hers through.
Microchips, I think, for computers.
He opens the door.
Ushers her through...
Bad investment.
The best ones
are here today...
Follows her out...
MAC (O.S.)
Gone tomor...
Closed door.
INT. CAB, NIHONBASHI DISTRICT - NIGHT
They sit together in the rear of the taxi, as it makes its way
through late night traffic.
She is looking around.
This isn't the way to my sel...
MAC (quietly)
I've changed my mind.
Looking straight ahead.
Contemplative.
She stares at his
profile...
Mind telling me why?
You can't get it for me at 2.5,
Well, we can tr...
You were setting me up.
The correct
price is 2.8.
You conspire with the
seller to start at 4.6, so I'll be
grateful when you 'bargain' him down
Close enough to fool some
unfortunately...
Never looks at her.
I know what everything
She keeps staring.
So where are we g...
I am going to the airport.
are going on to the rest of your
He thinks.
...should be interesting.
Her turn to think.
You forgot your lugg...
The hotels deal with that.
things I need are always waiting
at the next one.
(afterthought)
I don't carry.
Little twist on that.
And you're off to...?
Oh, that's highly personal.
He still stares straight ahead.
The taxi pulls onto a freeway.
Toward Narita Airport.
Time running out.
And in her dearest, most
vulnerable, voice...
I did so hope to impress you.
She puts the fingertips of her left hand.
On his chest.
No reaction.
GIN (hopeful)
I'm still hoping...
And he smiles.
Turns to her eyes.
Young lady.
I am old enough to
be your grandfather.
She shakes her head.
GIN (soft)
My father.
Leans her mouth in for the kill.
GIN (whisper)
That's part of the rush.
And softly.
Fits her mouth to his.
The green eyes close, as
she tastes him.
Nothing predatory in this kiss.
It is tender,
exquisite.
A kiss of deep longing.
Of true love.
His arms slip around her.
And in less than five seconds...
TAXI DRIVER (O.S., racist accent)
Still on fo' airport?
INT. MAC'S SUITE - LATE NIGHT
A small bottle.
An ornate label.
Chateau d'Yquem '67.
it from the table, studies the label.
She wears only a man's
oversized t-shirt.
Our rotating ANGLE reveals the empty bed,
tangled sheets.
Gin looks pretty rumpled herself.
She lifts the bottle, two glasses, a plateful of chocolates and
strawberries, and goes to the sliding glass door overlooking...
...the TERRACE.
Mac sits on a futon at the balcony railing,
overlooking downtown Tokyo.
He wears a thin Japanese robe called
a yukata, and is wrapped in half of a huge down COVERLET from the
The other half obviously waiting for...
She curls down into the billowing coverlet, just against his body.
Sets her things beside him.
A reward for what?
For not being old.
After all.
It is a lovely smile.
He studies it for a beat.
Not as old as I look.
She traces her finger along his cheek.
GIN (a whisper)
And kisses him.
It takes awhile.
She seems to enjoy it.
him, it's harder to tell.
When she pulls back...
...he picks up a chocolate.
Tears it in half.
Offers her the
larger piece.
Do I deserve a reward?
No answer.
He puts the chocolate into her mouth.
With great
tenderness, he traces the line of her lower lip.
As she swallows.
It's so hard to find good casual
sex, anymore.
I'm probably out
of practice.
But he just looks at her.
What's hard to find.
Is someone
you truly want to be with.
And leans closer.
Just above a whisper...
Even for awhile.
He kisses her.
Beautiful and deep, the way he does it.
when he pulls back, she is staring at him.
As if at a loss for
something to say.
It's lucky we stopped by my room,
for the wine.
She swallows.
Because his gaze is unrelenting. As if not
forgetting that she's changed the subject.
Otherwise, we'd never have found
my bag was stolen.
Until tomorrow.
Would that make it more stolen?
She smiles.
His face looks kind now, not formidable at all.
she's wondering if she actually likes him.
They even got my prescriptions.
Something you need? There are
all-night chemists...
He does look concerned.
And therefore sweet.
She kisses his nose.
I take Prilosec.
For stomach
And an inhaler.
For asthma.
She gets her old smile.
The soft, wicked tease.
But since I didn't have to work
all that hard tonight...
He stares at her.
Cocks a finger, like a gun, right between her
Pantomimes pulling the trigger.
GIN (softly)
I had that coming.
She pivots, and snuggles her back comfortably into his chest.
wraps strong arms around her.
Pulling her close.
Why would someone steal my luggage?
Every guest in this place must
have more than a wannabe art dealer.
Maybe the thief thought you
had something valuable in there.
Something in the tone.
Such as...
Wannabe dealers make
excellent fences.
A flicker.
In her eyes.
And she cuddles back.
As if enjoying the
He thought I had a stolen
In my bag.
I'm joking, of course.
Kisses the top of her head.
The Vermeer wouldn't fit.
Her eyes widen.
Just a little.
Excuse me?
Why, did you do something wrong?
She turns all the way around.
Their faces are inches apart.
reading the other's eyes.
The most famous painting stolen
this week.
To kiss her nose.
If you don't keep up on your
You'll miss all the jokes.
And lowers her gently onto her back.
Still staring in her eyes, he
winds her legs around him.
Her mouth parts, but...
...he fills it with his own.
This conversation.
INT. MAC'S SUITE - MORNING
VIEW of the empty terrace, the rumpled, twisted coverlet.
they spent all night.
HEAR the shower running full blast in a
distant bathroom.
PULL BACK to see...
Gin, hair wet, wrapped in a plush hotel robe, rapidly and expertly
going through dresser, night stand, closet, sofa cushions, every
goddam thing in the room.
She comes to...
...Mac's tux.
The jacket, rifles the pockets, pats the lining.
The pants now...
...something peculiar. The right leg has no stripe. Touches the
Slightly sticky where the stripe should be.
ANGLE...the bathroom.
Shower running full BLAST.
But there's no
one in it.
ANGLE...a storage closet.
Mac crouching in the smallspace.
see the travel bag.
The luggage tag, VIRGINIA ROMAY, a Darien,
Connecticut address.
The embossed initials VR.
But there is
something else in Mac's hand...
...a prescription bottle.
And a name, GINGER BAKER.
Chicago address.
Mac puts the pills in the pocket of his robe...
...exits the closet.
Locks the door.
ANGLE...Mac ambling into the bedroom, toweling his hair with one
Holding his billfold in the other.
Gin is starting a room
service breakfast.
Eggs, sausage, Belgian waffles.
The girl can
I'm so glad I didn't leave Tokyo.
She looks up.
Trademark dry grin...
I love a guy who knows how to
sweet talk.
He stands over her.
What he meant was...
There was a call.
were sleeping.
An art dealer I know.
Minor, but it is Giverny.
He'll let me have it for 5.3 million.
She stares at him.
GIN (cautiously)
We can maybe beat that.
MAC (pulling plastic from his billfold)
This is a bank debit card.
It gives the bearer access to an
account containing 4.6 and change.
I dislike round numbers.
And hand. the card to her.
As her eyes move over it...
I'd like you to go down there,
and pick up the painting.
that's all right.
Without looking up...
If I'm there, he'll haggle.
just hand him the debit card, with
that...luminous smile.
take it or leave it.
Now her eyes come up.
She says nothing.
I thought you so
wanted to make a good impression.
Thought I already did th...
And along with making an excellent
impression.
You will also make 2
percent of the purchase price.
She blinks.
That's $92,000.
And change..
For two hours work.
The look holds.
He goes to the desk.
Lifts a cellular phone.
TOSSES it to her.
Any problems.
Just give me
Stolen painting is it?
Of course not.
And on his way out the door...
If it was.
I wouldn't pay more
than three.
EXT. WHARF, YOKOHAMA - DAY
Gin climbing out of a taxi at a scruffy section of Yokohama's Bund.
Sleazy shops, pachinko parlors, hostess bars, sidewalk noodle
counters, all built along a tall rickety PIER nearly thirty feet
above the pounding surf.
The harbor is gigantic.
Every type and
size of vessel imaginable.
Gin carries a long neoprene-covered tube with watertight seals and
a lightweight bright orange foam cover.
She looks at her slip of
Then across at the place...KENDO SOUVENIRS, a schlock
kickback parlor, with a tourist bus parked out front.
This can't be right.
Pulls out the cellular phone.
MAC'S RECORDED VOICE (O.S.)
You have reached the voice-mail
of AMD Investments.
you are at the right place.
Fucking great.
GIN (into phone, pissed)
I like men with a sense of humor.
This does not qualify.
SNAPS the phone shut.
Checks the slip again.
Walks firmly across
the street, through the mobs of tourists, and into...
INT. KENDO SOUVENIRS - DAY
The place is huge, ramshackle, loaded with every piece of tourist
crap imaginable.
The only paintings on display are renderings of
big cats on black velvet.
She winds her way through, to a counter
at the back.
One guy there...
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
May I please speak with Mr. Okati.
You doin' it.
The best we can say for the pudgy, balding fellow in the Hawaiian
shirt and spectacularly baggy trousers, is that he does not seem to
be the guy who is selling you a Monet.
Even a minor one.
I think there's some mista...
You from Mac?
She stops.
The guy COUGHS horribly.
I'm from Mac.
Lemme see card.
She hesitates.
Four million, six hundred
thirteen thousand, five hundred?
He slaps his hand on the table.
Lay it down, toots.
You first.
He shrugs.
Lifts straight up, from beneath the counter...
...a brown paper-wrapped rectangle.
Not much larger than two feet
She can't even believe she's here, doing this.
Open it up!
He obliges, COUGHING grossly all the while.
Unwrapped, the
painting does look like a Monet.
From here.
She stares at it.
Now bring me the real one.
He doesn't blink.
This as real as it gets, lady.
And from within her pocket.
The cellular RINGS.
She takes it
Puts it to her ear.
MAC (O.S.)
You got it?
GIN (into phone)
Is this an audition, a joke, or
a rip-off?
I'm staring at an
obvious forgery, here.
MAC (O.S.)
Turn it over.
This gives her pause.
Then, cradling the phone against her
shoulder, she does as she's told.
MAC (O.S.)
Is there an envelope?
In a Ziploc bag?
GIN (into phone)
MAC (O.S.)
Detach the bag.
Read what's
Carefully unfolding several sheets of paper, maps...
GIN (reading into phone)
Shikoku Naru, a freighter, it
says, Yokohama to Jakarta...dates,
statistics...specs on some kind of
machine, diag...
MAC (O.S.)
Papers back in the envelope,
envelope back in the Ziploc, very
quickly, without seeming to hurry...
Her eyes are flickering questions, but she does as she's told,
cradling the phone with her shoulder.
MAC (O.S.)
Now take the debit card from your
purse, slipping the Ziploc into the
purse as you do it, shielding the move
from everyone in the room but Okati.
And she does.
More deftly than we could ever have imagined.
MAC (O.S., quietly)
Give him the card.
GIN (into phone)
Mac, the painting's a forg...
MAC (O.S., even quieter)
This is a test.
Of whether you'll
still be alive four minutes from
Do you hear me?
Her face freezes.
In a pleasant smile.
GIN (into phone)
Yes, Mac, I do.
MAC (0.5.)
Hand him the card, and tell
him in Japanese to pretend he is
checking it by phone.
Tell him to
take awhile, as if he's on hold.
She turns the sweet plastic smile to Okati.
Hands him the card...
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
Mac says, pretend you're checking
this by phone, and take your ti...
OKATI (subtitled Japanese)
...like I'm on hold, sure.
And suddenly, his eyes are keen and quick, and he is no longer some
schmuck in baggy pants.
He takes the card, stares at it comically,
picks up the phone.
MAC (O.S.)
While he's checking, look around
the room casually, as if searching
for the cheesy handbags...
She begins to.
MAC (O.S.)
All the while laughing, as if you
are chatting with someone you
actually like.
GIN (into phone)
I'm not that good.
But she is.
And she laughs, as she strolls over to the cheesy
MAC (O.S.)
As you're looking around, do you
notice any m...
GIN (into phone)
Three guys, two together, one
Cheap suits, not looking
at me in a cop-casual way.
MAC (O.S.)
Call out cheerily to Okati, in
English, 'Where's the toilet?'
GIN (into phone)
Can I say, 'little girl's room'?
MAC (O.S.)
GIN (calls out, cheerily)
WHERE'S THE CRAPPER?
Okati, absorbed by his make-believe phone call, points around the
MAC (O.S.)
Get going.
GIN (into phone, as she saunters)
Mac, the painting isn't...
MAC (O.S.)
You've got what we bought, are
you out of their sight?
She turns the corner.
Filthy corridor.
Restrooms at opposite
MAC (O.S.)
Run into the men's toilet.
I know you know how.
A beat of uncertainty.
She looks both ways.
MAC (O.S., ominous)
Are you running?
And she DOES.
SPRINTING down the garbage-strewn hallway, throws
OPEN the men's room door, BURSTING IN on...
...a wispy OLD GUY taking a leak through a HOLE in the floor.
GIN (subtitled Japanese)
GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!
The panicked little man STARTLES.
Bolts OUT the door.
MAC (O.S.)
HEAR now, from the corridor, footfalls POUNDING.
down through the piss hole.
The surf ROILS thirty feet below.
GIN (into phone)
It's too small.
MAC (O.S.)
The window, twit!
She hops OVER the disgusting hole, boosts herself UP to the
small window, footfalls racing CLOSER, HOISTS herself HALFWAY
through, DROPPING the phone a scary 30 feet to the surf below, as
behind her, the door...
...SLAMS OPEN and she FLIES OUT the window...
SHIIIIIIIIIIT...
WITH her in SLO-MO, kicking and flailing and grasping her shoulder
bag, and she...
HITS the ocean like a ton of bricks.
Disappears.
sputtering in the swirling water, as from out of the shadows of
the pilings...
...an engine ROARS to life, the BLUR of a custom JETSKI, Mac
reaching to scoop the startled girl OUT of the water, and they...
...BLAST OFF, as bullets RAIN helplessly after them.
The AGENTS
shouting into their cellulars, racing in frustration down the pier,
which rapidly vanishes behind us, as...
...Gin hangs onto Mac for dear life.
This baby is REALLY hauling.
He wears an orange waterproof slicker with matching trousers.
Shouts back, against the noise...
ARE YOU PISSED OFF?
She thinks.
Admits, shouting in his ear...
IT'S INCREDIBLY COOL!
He is heading into deep water, a major shipping channel, points to
one side, and she sees...
...a huge HARBOR PATROL vessel FIRE UP in near distance.
They speed toward the WAKE of a luxury liner, and as she
realizes...
OH NOOOOOO...
They SLAM INTO the wake HEAD ON, and are AIRBORNE for an amazing
distance, JOLTING back to the surface, RACING toward...
...two gigantic FREIGHTERS which approach each other from opposite
directions.
The Harbor Patrol in hot pursuit, BLASTING its HORN...
WE'RE GONNA DIE, AREN'T WE?
JUST AS SOON AS I'M READY!
As we near the outbound freighter, Mac CUTS his speed.
Harbor Patrol is really gaining.
FASTER, NOT SLOWER, YOU TWIT!!
HAVE TO GIVE THEM A SPORTING
Cruising STRAIGHT TOWARD the part side of the outbound freighter,
as the inbound freighter begins to pass it on the far side...
...SOMETHING WE SCOTS LEARNED
FROM THE BRITS!
As the Harbor Patrol is nearly ON them, Mac VEERS suddenly AROUND
the stern of the outbound freighter, the Harbor patrol WHEELING
madly to pursue, only to find we are both CAREENING straight AT...
...the starboard side of the inbound freighter, Mac CUTS his wheel
in an adroit nearly right-angle SWERVE, and hears the SCREAMS as
the Harbor patrol...
PLOWS INTO the freighter!
Wasting no time, he ACCELERATES into
maximum BURN, STREAKING toward the immensely crowded harbor and its
thousand vessels.
Gin can't help but look back at the impressive
crash site, mouthing a silent WOW.
Nearing the harbor, Mac CUTS speed completely, drifting between two
huge ships and...
...vanishing from sight.
EXT. SMALL CHANNEL - DAY
The tiny Jetski cruises in a quiet channel, crowded with vessels of
all sizes, tugs, fishing boats, pleasure craft, junks, sampans, all
larger than we are.
Gin clings close to Mac, although it is no
necessary.
More like romantic.
She is still flushed with
I guess you're gonna explain
all this, huh?
But he says nothing.
Pulls out a water-tight duffle.
back to her, without looking.
Dry clothes, you'll need them.
In five minutes.
She takes the bag, confused.
I'm supposed to change?
I won't look.
Gentleman's word
There are a million sailors!
I've seen you naked.
boys a thrill.
He means it.
You probably won't be dating
any of them, so what the hell.
Gin looks around as they float through the maze of watercraft.
one seems to be paying much attention.
What the hell.
She unzips
the bag, pulling out...
GIN (astonished)
These...these are mine!
He never looks around.
Found 'em in your room.
the thief wasn't your size.
She stares at the back of his head.
wondering.
He is stripping
off his slickers.
A neatly-tailored SUIT beneath.
We have a business appointment.
In four minutes.
She pulls her dress off OVER her head.
Business, huh?
She ignores some nearby WHISTLES and SHOUTS.
Begins drying herself
with a fluffy towel from the bag.
MAC (never turns)
Time has come to tell you.
I'm actually in.
Am I gonna like th...
MAC (quietly)
I'm a thief.
She can scarcely believe he's admitting this.
And now that I've told you.
I'll have to kill you.
He chuckles a Scottish chuckle.
Cold and warm, at once.
She slips the dry dress OVER her head.
...you can spend the most
interesting three weeks of
your life.
Training for wha...
...followed by the most exciting
night of your life.
After which,
you can walk away with 20 million
untraceable dollars...
She blinks.
He means this.
...which will come in handy.
Things being what they are.
He shrugs.
From now on.
You can valet park.
She begins taking off her wet underwear, underneath the dress.
suspect unseen hordes crestfallen at her modesty.
And if I refuse?
MAC (very quietly)
I mean, you won't really kill
me, I'm far too adorable.
He looks around at her.
As if deciding on that.
Last night, at Fujitsu, I did
some business.
While you thought
I was in the toilet.
What could you possibly steal
in 18 min...
Thirty-five super-microchips.
Each worth one million dollars.
And change.
Staring dead at her eyes.
You hate round num...
I stole your suitcase when I
left you at the bar.
since sent it on to the States,
with three chips, well hidden.
Are you following?
Since you aren't there to claim
it, the bag will sit at Customs.
No smile at all.
They receive.
An anonymous.
That's entrapment.
No, entrapment is what cops do
to robbers.
We can feel her heart pounding from here.
Blackmail.
Is what robbers
do to schmucks.
And leans.
To kiss her mouth.
MAC (softly)
Even adorable ones.
They have glided up beside the gangway of a gigantic FREIGHTER.
is at water level, the steps they use for their tender.
up to the name...
SHIKOKU MARU.
She nods, slowly.
Pulls the Ziploc bag from her
Hands it over.
He removes the sheets of paper.
peruse them...
Admit it's a rush.
The best day
of your heretofore drab life.
He glances up.
...accompanied by related foreplay.
And gives him the smile. What a gal.
He offers his hand.
She rises, hops lightly to the steps of the
gangway in her bare feet.
He pulls dry shoes from the duffle.
as she slips them on...
...he FLIPS a switch, and the Jetski begins to FILL with water, Mac
stepping to the gangway beside her.
They watch...
...the Jetski rapidly SINK out of sight.
No evidence.
A thorough guy.
INT. FREIGHTER HOLD - DAY
Mac and Gin stand inside a gigantic CARGO BAY, watching massive
CONTAINERS being loaded by crane from a dock, through the gaping
The chamber is a vaulted cathedral of steel, painted
hospital green, and Mac's eye moves over all of it, seeming to
inspect every plate, every pan head rivet.
VOICE (O.S., British cheer)
Hullo, there!
They turn to see a round little man with watering eyes and a very
wide necktie, skipping-down the iron steps.
Bursting with a
salesman's bonhomie, he extends a plump hand...
Nickerson Carlsby, Mr...
MacDuff, yes?
Banquo MacDuff.
This is my
associate-fiancee, Ms. Duncan.
The little man pauses.
A tic in the well-oiled smile...
That is...fiancee and assoc...
GIN (cheery herself)
I'm a hyphenate.
Like that makes complete sense.
Fingers the gardenia in his
Well, it's a pleasure, in this
alien place, to do business with
a countryman.
I'm a Scot.
It's a different
Culturally and historically.
CARLSBY (looking around)
They've brought you to
quite the wrong place, I see.
MAC (looking around)
Thank God.
ANGLE...Carlsby leads the way along a narrow catwalk, which ends at
a steel door.
He presses his thumb to the I.D. panel, and speaks
into the voice box...
CARLSBY (confidential code-voice)
In Penny Lane, the barber shaves
another customer...
The door CLANGS open.
They go through it, as a gangway leads
toward an open five-foot-thick VAULT DOOR, where two ARMED GUARDS
rise from their seats.
Carlsby ignores them as if they were
furniture.
THUMPS the door...
Five feet thick with hidden rein-
forcements, no way to drill through!
GIN (authoritative)
Impressive.
Only the tip of our security
See these two Brinks
The Captain keeps one key.
other is continually forwarded:
to the Chief of Security at next
There is no way to enter
during voyage.
I like this.
Carisby glances to Mac.
He is stone.
The best armed guard, rotated every
six hours.
A redundancy, of course,
but we would r