16 / 16 Blocks

: 16 / 16 blocks.

16 Blocks by Richard Wenk

Too inky and deep to see much. A room of some kind. And the faint glow of an alarm clock's LED reading 6;16
From another room a PHONE RINGS. Muffled TALKING then.,.
BOOM! A door EXPLODES OPEN, LIGHT pouring into the small room revealing a WIRY RUSSIAN MAN asleep on a cot. His WILD HAIRED BROTHER shakes him awake.

The Russian Brothers exit their shit-hole walk-up dressed in paint splattered work clothes and clutching mugs of instant coffee. They get into a Black Econoline Van and drive off...

The Black Van idling next to a loading dock, RADIO BLARING.

The Russians wait, eyes on the Delivery Door. Cold and bored, Wiry shakes out a line of crystal meth on the console and SNORTS it.
A STOCKY, well-dressed MAN emerges from the side entrance, walks to the Van and drops a large paper bag onto the drivers lap. Speaks to them in Russian then disappears back inside.
Wild Hair opens the bag and removes TWO TECH-9 HANDGUNS and FOUR CLIPS of ammunition. Hands them to his brother who begins loading them.
Wild Hair JERKS THE VAN onto a Brooklyn Street. The Van swallowed up by morning traffic...

Looking at the front door. Chained, dead bolted and police locked. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Except the CAT in the FOYER that stares at the door, mesmerized at something we can't see. It just stares. And stares.
Then suddenly the fur on it's back stands on end and it BOLTS just as...
BOOM! The door EXPLODES inward, BATTERING RAM DISINTEGRATING the door jam. HINGES FLYING every which way as Police BURST inside, WEAPONS DRAWN. Lead team FREEZING, guns dropping to their side. CAMERA drifts to the ground to REVEAL,,.
THREE shirtless DRUG COURIERS sprawled around a card table covered with scales, baking soda and baggies. Elaborate jailhouse tattoos interrupted with well placed bullet holes.

Peeling wallpaper and gated windows covered in tin foil.
Narcotics Officers CANNOVA, PEDERSON and BRIGGS, all mid 30's and vital, survey the carnage as SECOND TEAM sweeps the rest of the place.
Cannova kneels down next to the BODY propped up like a tailor's dummy against the wall and checks the body temperature.
CANNOVA Couple hours, (strands)
He's cleaning house fellas. Gotta move now*
(turns to Pederson) Who's downstairs we don't need?
PEDERSON unclips a radio from his belt.
PEDERSON That's easy.

Both TEAMS huddle outside the apartment, some have handkerchiefs under their noses.
From up the stairs limps JACK MOSLEY. Mid-40's, out of shape, face flushed from climbing the two flights. A slight herniated limp to his gate,
Cannova pulls him inside the apartment.
I need you to baby sit this until Uniforms get here. Don't leave until itr s sealed.
The hard-bodied cop then turns and herds the others towards the stairs.
Jack stands inside the apartment as the SOUND of both TEAMS dissipate down the stairs.
He takes out a handkerchief, covers his nose and steps over one of the bodies. Goes around the room checking the cabinets. Finally finds a bottle of Cutty Sark under the sink. Plops down with it on a decomposing couch, pulls a DAILY NEWS from his back pocket and begins his wart.

Aging pre-war walk up on the boarder of Chinatown and Little Italy.

UNIFORMS, PAA's and a few CIVILIANS looking for justice.
Jack walks in past the TS (Telephone and Sign-Out) Desk heading for the stairs, slightly buzzed. Passing the waist high Sergeants Desk manned by a Uniformed SERGEANT.
Big Jack's in the house... Hey the Loo's looking for you.

Fluorescent-lit room with poor ventilation and rows of government-issue metal desks. All of which are filled with COPS typing 5's {case reports), taking statements or interviewing witnesses and perps. LOUD and CHAOTIC.
GRACE, a large Hispanic woman and the Units PAA (Police Administrative Assistant), fields calls at a reception desk.
Jack saunters over and leans in close.
When are you going to run away with me Gracie?
Grace reaches into her top drawer and slides a box of Tic Tacs towards Jack, never looking up.
How's Thursday looking for ya. JACK
you to write up a wire request.
(hands him a paper) Them's the particulars. Said to make sure you put the right dates on this one.
Jack ignores the remark and pops a breath mint.
He say when they needed it?
Bad. Got a colonoscopy scheduled. Anytime after that.

Said you can get it signed on your way in tomorrow.
Jack's relieved. Stretches.
Where does the time go... GRACE
And the Lieutenant's looking for you. Been up twice already. Said to find him right away.
Jack eyes the clock above her. 7:54

LIEUTENANT KINCAID, young, freshly laundered and all attitude pops up the stairs and down the hall in his crisp blue UNIFORM. Strides into Anti-Crime.
Jack slips out of the COFFEE ROOM and down the stairs like a kid without a hall pass.

Jack stands behind SEVERAL other COPS waiting to sign out, wishing the line to move faster. Looking into the bullpen with its OVERWORKED COPS and the incessant RINGING of phones. Jack's eyes drifting to an ELDERLY CHINESE WOMAN, sitting alone on a scarred mahogany bench. Clutching some personal belongings, face numb. A sudden widow.
She's escorted by some DETECTIVES to an interview room, no one seeing PAGES of her dog eared photo album slip behind the bench.
Jack looks away, walks up to the sign-out desk, grabs the pen... then drops it.

Jack digs the album pages out from behind the bench and calls a UNIFORM over. Hands them to him, pointing to the interview room. Steps back into the lobby and walks back to the TS desk, reaches for the pen... when another hand snatches it away.
LIEUTENANT KINCAID stands there holding the pen.
KINCAID Grace tell you to find me?
Don't remember. Been dealing with a ton of shit.
Kincaid barely hides his disdain. Holds out a folder.
Get this guy from lock-up and take him to Centre Street. DA needs him ASAP. He's got to be in front of a Grand Jury before ten.
I'm off the clock. Loo.
KINCAID You sign that sheet?
Jack wants to kick himself.
Don't you have some regular mutt doin' this?
KINCAID Can't find him.
C'mon Loo, I've been on all night. Give it to Cibelli or Meadows. They're on light duty.
Cibelli and Meadows are busy doing police work. This is a nothing assignment Jack. One guess why the Captain picked you.
You were too busy?
Fuck you. Were up to me I'd have you driving blood samples to state lab or reorganizing the filing cabinets for the gambling squad.
Kincaid slaps the folder into Jack's hand, checks his watch.
KINCAID (cont'd) A hundred and eighteen minutes to take this hemorrhoid sixteen blocks. Even you can handle this one.

Massive steel bars set in turn of the century cinder block sit at the end of a long concrete hallway.
A caged-in Watch Room is to the left. Behind it sits 8 jail cells and a holding tank.
Jack walks to the window but there's no one behind it. Bangs on the cage.
A CORRECTIONS OFFICER, bloated and bored looking, shuffles out of a back toilet buckling his pants.
CORRECTIONS OFFICER Excuse me for taking a shit.
Jack shoves the pick up slip through a slot in the cage without a word. The Officer grabs it and waddles back towards the cells.
Waiting Jack flips open the folder. Edward Bunker. Underneath a long list of arrests and dates. and E's mostly. All petty shit. Just a lot of it. CLANGING of the steel door opening makes Jack turn. The Corrections Officer slides his paper back through the slot.
CORRECTIONS OFFICER (cont'd) Come back in an hour.
Hour? What for?

The thick steel door of cell number 6 rolls open and reveals EDDIE BUNKER, fringe player and all around fuck up sitting in his underwear. Mia 20's, he appears quite comfortable like this.
CORRECTIONS OFFICER (OS) Supposed to wear a suit when he leaves.
Jack looks to Eddie.
Grey one. Two buttons, cuffs on the pants.
Jack walks over to Eddie.
JACK Get dressed,
Eddie hesitates.
I'm supposed to have a suit. It was part of the arrangement.
Jerks Eddie to his feet.
New arrangement. Cause I'm not waiting an hour for a fucking grey suit.

Eddie steps out of the cell in his street clothes. Clown sized jeans, Hilfiger polo shirt and Korean sneakers. He clutches a ratty School Composition notebook in one hand and has a look of grave disappointment.
That suit's kinda important to me.
Jack ignores Eddie and CUFFS him. A WIZENED FACE pushes his head against the bars of the opposite cell and looks pleadingly at Eddie.
You take the old lady right? Is that it, kid? The old lady?
Eddie shrugs as Jack pulls him down the tomb-like hallway.
FACE (cont'd) What's the ANSWER!

Jack signs out a vehicle then pushes Eddie towards the double doors. Mixing in with UNIFORMS filing out in pairs to start their shifts.
A FRESH-FACED UNIFORM going against the flow, presses his way inside, suit bag over his shoulder. Eddie pulls up, about to say something but Jack yanks him out the door, Eddie looking back as his suit disappears into a sea of blue...

The curb jammed with Black and Whites and unmarked Police cars. Jack pulls Eddie down the sidewalk, checking key tag against license plates.
Eddie noticing the hitch in Jack's walk.
Got a little limp there.
Jack keeps walking in stony silence, the shrunken blood vessels m his head starting to throb. Unlocks the back door of a crap-brown Impala and shoves Eddie's head down and through the door,

Standard issue with a sliding fiberglass partition separating front from back, which is open. Eddie settles in.
These cars never change. Same drive shaft hump in the middle. Same smell. Pinesol and wet dog.
Jack pops the car in gear throwing Eddie back against the seat before he can finish.

Jack hangs a right and lurches into the morning rush hour traffic.

Jack flips down the visor and weaves the car towards West Broadway. Sneaks a look at Eddie in the rearview. Kid scribbling something in his book.
Cutting cars off trying to make the light.
Which he doesn't. Gridlock at Baxter and West Broadway puts the Impala at a dead stop. The LED clock on the dash reading
They sit in silence for a minute. Eddie's mind whirring away. Leans forward.
You're driving along in a hurricane. You pass a bus stop with three people waiting there. An old lady who's about to die, your best friend who saved your life once and the woman of your dreams. You only have room to take one. What do you do?
Jack TURNS UP THE RADIO pretending he didn't hear it.
EDDIE (cont'd) It's an ancient question that's supposed to tell you what kind of person you are inside.
(beat) Who do you take?
Jack HITS THE ACCELERATOR and hangs a sharp left down a small alley- Weaving around delivery trucks and Sanitation bins, tossing Eddie back and forth across the seat. Cuts across a. . .

In and around COMMUTERS pulling in. Getting familiar waves from the ATTENDANTS as Jack maneuvers the car onto...

Awnings being unfurled, pushcarts line the curb. HEAVYSET MEN in Bermudas's and gold chains set up folding chairs outside mobbed-up restaurants.
The Impala slipping into traffic.

Jack looks back at Eddie through the mirror, the kid still waiting for an answer.
The old lady, right? I mean she won't make it if you leave her. But that sounds obvious.
Kid's not going give up*
I wouldn't drive in a hurricane so it doesn't apply to me.
It's hypothetical. Pretend. JACK
I don't have to. So shut up. EDDIE
They say your soul's not intact until you know the answer.
Eddie sits back and looks out the window, pondering the question^ Oblivious to his circumstances. Which bugs Jack for some reason.
What'd they give you? EDDIE
Give me?
Must/ve cut yourself a sweet deal Sittin' there all comfy like.
Oh. Dropped the charges. And a suit* Which I didn't get thanks to you.
That's cheap to rat to a grand jury.
It's all I wanted. And I'm not a rat. I'm a conduit of information. That's what they said.
Yeah? Well if it looks like a rat and squeals like a rat...
Eddie thinks for a minute.
Could be a Vole. They look like rats from far away. Then you get closer and you realize it isn't one.
Jack stares at the kid then pushes through a yellow light taking a right onto Lafayette. Never noticing the Black Econoline Van staying close behind them.

PEDESTRIANS in rush mode fill the sidewalk. Bodegas roll out carts of fruit and greens. Grill work is rolled up as businesses OPEN.

Jack looking impatient. Eyes searching the sidewalks for something. Eddie SEES the top of a MASSIVE GRANITE BUILDING 12 blocks away.
That it?
Jack ignores him. Spots what he's looking for.
EDDIE (cont'd) If you knew all the crazy stuff that happened to me in the past couple months... See I just never watched for the signs. Never knew to look for 'em.
EDDIE (cont'd) Then when I started, everything fell into place. Even when it made no sense. Like yesterday. All bad.
But I'm right where I'm supposed to be. You believe that?
Jack double parks the Impala on the west side of the street and shuts off the engine.
I believe life's too fucking long and guys like you make it even longer.
Starts to get out.
Where ya going?
Eddie looks across the street at the Liquor Store then to the dashboard clock.
EDDIE (cont'd) I got an appointment after court. Gotta be there by noon.
You'll get there,
Eddie watches Jack fumble around in his pockets for some cash,
You're not the regular guy who does this, are you?
First time. How am I doing? EDDIE
I don't think you're supposed to stop.
No? Gee, I better check my witness escort handbook. Oops, I forgot it. Oh well...
Jack gets out. Leans back in.
JACK (cont'd) When you get to the courthouse you can fill out one of those cards and rate your travel experience with the NYPD.
SLAMS the door.
Jack LOCKS the Impala and crosses the busy street into a Liquor store. The Black Econoline Van drifting past and disappearing around the corner.

Small and cramped with too many aisles and too many stacked boxes. Jack limping towards the back and grabbing a bottle of Puerto Rican Rum and a bag of nuts.

Eddie stares out his window then checks the dashboard clock. Edgy all of a sudden*
He's not the right guy.
Not sensing the Black Econoline Van pulling up directly behind the Impala, throwing a shadow through the back window.

Jack moving to the register. A middle-aged CHINESE MAN and his WIFE behind it.
Jack exchanging pleasantries with them in broken Chinese. The WIFE laughing and correcting him. Showing Jack a picture of her daughter*

The Van's doors open and the two Russians step out into the street. Both holding canvas bags. The Wiry one hanging by the Van, eyeing the foot traffic. Wild Hair moving to the street side of the Impala.

The Chinese man bagging Jack's breakfast while the Wife makes change. Jack about to leave when the Chinese Man beckons him towards the back...

Eddie Bunker looks around trying to see where the hell Jack is. Checks the clock again. Slides to the passenger door and tries to open it. NO DOOR HANDLE. Starts over the partition when then HEARS a TAPPING on the street-side window.
Falls back to see some WILD HAIRED Russian Man peering inside. Smiling as he motions Eddie to roll down the window. Eddie sliding over and looking for the button.

Jack being shown the jimmied lock on the back delivery door to the store. Empty liquor cartons lay nearby. Jack explaining something in Chinese and motioning to the security monitor over the register.

Eddie gestures to the Russian to try the door. HEARING SHOUTS, turning to see the Wiry Russian SCREAMING at his brother.
Looking back in time to see the TECH-9 PRESSED TO THE GLASS. BLAM!
Only the glass doesn't shatter.
Instead it's SPATTERED WITH BLOOD, HAIR AND BRAIN MATTER. What's left of the Russian's face slides away revealing Jack, his gun barrel still smoking half-way across the street.

Jack stands in the middle of the street, gun hand shaking. Tunnel vision and audio collapse washing over him. Not hearing the PEDESTRIAN SCREAMS or BRAKES SQUEAL around him...
Nor seeing the Wiry Russian coming from around the Van raising his Tech-9 until it's too late...
Turning just in time to HEAR the CHAMBER EXPLODE... the exact moment a skidding TAXI SIDESWIPES the Russian knocking the shot a millimeter off line.
PEDESTRIANS and SHOPKEEPERS scatter as the bullet SHATTERS a plate glass window.
Jack charging toward the Impala. Knees pumping like out of sync pistons as the Wiry Russian gets to his feet, too high and too crazed to register pain. Leveling the machine pistol and BLASTING AWAY...

Jack bellying through the door as bullets thud sickeningly close to his ear. A cacophony of metal chunks being disgorged echo around him. Not noticing his 9mm bouncing to the pavement...
Eddie hugging the back floorboards.
Jack beneath the steering wheel, fumbling for the RADIO. Dropping it as SLIVERS OF GLASS RAIN DOWN ON HIM. Reaching up and turning the key. Heart hammering through his ribs.
Gets the key in the ignition and throws the Impala in reverse, pressing his hand on the accelerator... The Impala SLAMMING INTO THE Russian, knocking him six feet...
Jack up into the drivers seat, throws it into drive and accelerates towards Spring Street.

Russian FIRING FROM THE GROUND, bullets PELTING THE REAR TIRES. The car leaking fuel and spewing smoke. Sputtering onto Spring Street.

Rolling to a stop half-way up the block...
Jack trying to locate the Russian through cracked windows and smoke. PEOPLE obscuring his vision. Grabbing for his gun and realizing it's gone.
KICKS OPEN THE PASSENGER DOOR, stays low and RIPS OPEN THE BACK DOOR. Eddie Bunker balled up on the floor, clutching his book. Pulls the kid onto the sidewalk as the street swims with PEOPLE and movement.

Across the sidewalk and down a service alley as fast as Jack's bad leg can take them... Coming out into another alley... Eyes trying to focus, operating on pure instinct. Spotting the Van on Lafayette, doors open and no one inside... The crazy Russian out here somewhere...
Over a small cinder block wall and into a,..

Dozens of cars packed like sardines in between two buildings. Jack and Eddie stumbling over hoods and bumpers. Jack pulling Eddie into the...

Just off the sidewalk. Cramped makeshift office with a gated window and door-less entrance. Jack grabbing the rotary phone.
FREEZING when he spots HIM coming fast across the street. Backlit by the rising sun. Hand already reaching behind his back, the skinny MAN zeroed in on Jack-
Pushing Eddie to the floor as the Man pulls his hand from behind his back and aims... a parking ticket in Jack's face.
I'm the tan Caddy.

Jack pulls Eddie across the street, adrenaline surging. Hitting the sidewalk and heading south.
Jack suddenly realizing that Eddie is gone. Turning to see Eddie running back towards the commotion.
Cars swerving around the kid. Jack heading after him, screaming.
Eddie stopping to avoid a taxi, Jack just about there when Eddie bends down and retrieves the notebook he dropped.
Are you fucking nuts!
Jack yanks Eddie to the side walk. Trying to get his bearings. A BIKE MESSENGER whizzing by makes Jack flinch, the BUSINESS MAN reaching into his briefcase,.. Suddenly EVERYONE looks like a potential killer.

Moving in and around the DELIVERY TRUCKS delivering produce, meats and liquor. Jack trying shake the fuzziness. Trying to remember what to do. . .
BOOM! A door bursts open I Jack SPINNING... THREE CHINESE BUSBOYS dumping steaming water into the alley. Every movement, every sound is heightened.
Jack still searching...Eddie humming to himself now. Jack watching the signs above gated back entrances... Then finding it. Jerking Eddie through the back door of Number 133 and into-
Jammed with liquor boxes piled too high to be safe. The ALARM wailing... Jack pushing Eddie towards a curtained doorway when suddenly a baseball bat flies through it, missing Jack's head by millimetersr smashing into a crate of Merlot.
Jack grabbing the bat and pulling DOMINIC FORLINI, the white-haired 77 year old bar owner through it. Surprised and shocked by the sight of Jack.
Jesus Jackie I thought it was kids. JACK
Lock it.

A tiny drinker's hideaway on the edge of Little Italy. Red nauganyde booths, kidney shaped bar with two Espresso machines.
Jack to the wall phone, knowing right where it is. Shaky fingers dialing...
This is officer Jack Mosley, badge 227. I am 10-13, one^three-three Mulberry. Officer is plainclothes, green shirt, black slacks. I have male prisoner, 24, white polo shirt, sneakers. We are under fire. Perp is in white overalls with automatic weapon...
DISPATCHER (OS) Roger 10-13, 1-3-3 Mulberry.
Jack hangs up as Dominic shuffles in, seeing the blood caking above Jack's left eye,
Jackie what's going on? You
But Jack is moving again. Pointing to the illegal BUSBOYS as he crosses the room.
Get *em out of here! You too.
Forlini herds them out the front door. Jack dragging Eddie hard into a booth along the far wall.
JACK (cont'd) They said you were a nobody]
I am! I swear! I don't under
Jack roughly hauls Eddie out of the booth and across the room...
Rats like you turn my stomach. You people don't give a shit who gets covered with your garbage.
This is a mis
Jack throws him into a booth left of the door and underneath a large window.
Bottom feeders like you would rat your own mother it meant saving your own ass.
Jack reaches up and pulls the curtains closed, PLUNGING THE BAR INTO EVEN GREATER DARKNESS. Operating on sheer instinct. Rust and cobwebs showing...

Jack drops in hard and angry.
Shoulda let them kill you...
Eddie's body still trembling, hands wrapped tightly around his notebook.
I'm just supposed to-JACK
Not another syllable.
The SOUND of brakes SCREECHING TO A HALT outside. Jack parts the curtain a sliver. UNIFORMED PATROLMEN JUMPING from their blue and whites...
Relief spreads through Jack, Pulse dropping. Crosses to the bar and pours a Johnny Walker as Eddie peers through the curtain.

As two Unmarked Cars pull up. Patrolmen turning as MEN in SUITS exit their vehicles flashing gold shields...
Eddie stares unblinkingly at the largest suit in particular, face going pale.
Jack looks up from the bar to see Eddie sliding under the table... BOOM! The front door explodes open.

Homicide Detective FRANK NUGENT is inside before Jack can move.
Detectives JIMMY MULVEY AND ROBERT TORRES right behind, spreading out across the room, movements routine and precise.
The back ALARM SOUNDING then shutting off. Detective JERRY SHUE, steps through the back curtain, EXIT light above bouncing off his blue-black toupee. Gives Nugent the all clear sign, and everybody holsters their weapons.
Mulvey's thin, a hawk-like nose and hooded eyes. Torres short and compact. A fire hydrant with feet. Hard-ass guys.
Nugent looks at Jack with a shit-eating grin. A large man who doesn't inhabit the room, he consumes It. Older than Jack, but vital. The eyes and arrogance of Ted Williams.
Shit hits the fan and he's standing there with a drink in his hand. Like it was nothing, (beat)
God I miss this bastard.
The others snicker. Jack looking around confused.
NUGENT (cont'd) We were two blocks over when the call went out. Heard it was you, we made like the friggin' cavalry.
Reaches across the bar and slaps his meaty hand on Jack's shoulder.
NUGENT (cont'd) Long time Jack.

Eddie taking small, silent breaths. His view obscured by tables and chairs. He eyes the door to his left when Torres's stumpy legs step in front of him. Eddie freezes any movement, notebook clutched to his chest. Trying to find a sign in this...
All eyes on Nugent as he bellies up to the bar. Relaxed and confident.
Big mess out there Jack. You didn't lose the wit, did ya?
No. He's safe.
NUGENT Good man. Where is he?
Jack hesitates. Something's not right about this. But he's unable to keep his eyes off the booth near the door. All eyes shift across the room. Eddie Bunker slowly rising from beneath the table. Eyes locking into Nugent's. A flicker of recognition and fear. Jack looking from Eddie to Nugent.
Eddie BOLTS for the door but Mulvey and Torres grab him. Nugent casually sits on a bar stool as his guys drag Eddie across the room.
NUGENT (cont'd) How you been, Jack? Heard you've been to the farm.
Jack looking down at his drink.
Twice. Working a strong program now.
Nugent smiles as Jack knocks it back.
You believe that mutt Gruber made Captain? Told me you hooked up with Cannova's unit. Supposed to be a good bunch of guys.
Jack's half listening. Watching Mulvey throw the kid in the corner and pat him down.
JACK He's clean.
Mulvey looks back at Jack, grins, and keeps patting.
Still with what's her name? The newspaper lady?
Not for a while now.
Jack seeing Mulvey now uncuff Eddie and hold him while Torres pulls a Saturday night special from his ankle and presses it into Eddie's shaking handf then lets it drop to the floor.
Nugent looks back to his guys then to Jack.
Cocksucker was gonna testify against Ryan, You remember him from Narcotics. Part of my team now.
Dick'11 roll over they indict him. And I can't have that. His shit's gonna open some closets I can't have opened. Some go way back.
Suddenly Jack's whole demeanor changes. Like he's been slapped out of a deepr medicated sleep.
NUGENT (cont'd) The whole thing caught us unaware. You were a last minute thing on this. Supposed to be Teaches nephew driving him. That's his thing. Who knows where the fuck he went. So Gruber pegged you. (laughs)
Never figured you'd cap one of *em. Fuckin' Russians. That's what you get when you hire drug addicts.
Across the room, Torres holds the throw down gun with his handkerchief and fires a single shot into the far wall. Mulvey with his foot on Eddie's chest.
NUGENT (cont'd) I figure it this way. You pop the guys trying to spring the rat bastard but the little shit gets your gun. Takes you hostage. We come m and save the day. He dies you live.
Like ordering a sandwich. Waits for Jack to process It. Eyeing him like a father would the wayward son.
NUGENT (cont'd) Shit, maybe you get a medal. Get your life straightened out. Get you back where you belong. This could be a good thing Jack.
Torres nods to Nugent. They're ready.
NUGENT (cont'd) You want to stay for it?
Jack doesn't move. Looks around the room. Mulvey to his left. Torres on the right. Shue dead center. Now looks at Eddie. Body trembling, eyes pleading with Jack.
Eyes falling to his drink. Staring into it like there might be an answer there, self loathing washing over his face. Nugent's run out of patience and stands.
NUGENT (cont'd) Make yourself useful. Pour us a couple of drinks.
Nugent crosses the room and nods to Shue. Jack turns his back, unable to watch. Reaching for the Chivas when he catches Jerry Shue in the mirror, eye-fucking Jack with a shit-eating grin as he takes out his .38
Torres and Mulvey move away from Eddie. Shue aiming the gun..,
The SOUND is DEAFENING. Jack pulling the trigger on the sawed-off Shotgun that was under the bar, BLOWING Jerry Shue's left kneecap into tiny fragments. Swinging and racking at the same time, both barrels leveled at Frank Nugent's heart, arms a little shaky.
Torres and Mulvey, weapons still holstered, freeze. Dead silence. Every BREATH, every CREAK magnified. The writhing, unnatural MOANS of Jerry Shue the only SOUND,
Frank Nugent doesn't blink. Stares right down the barrel of Dominic Forlini's taped up shotgun. You'd swear his heart never skipped a beat.
NUGENT (cont'd) That changes everything Jack.
Jack moves around in front of the bar, shotgun rising to Nugent's head.
NUGENT (cont'd) Jury's tenure ends at ten. That kid gets there a minute past and all this doesn't matter. Ryan walks. All you have to do is look the other way.
Eddie hustles across the room and behind Jack. Jack backing the both of them towards the rear door,
I can't help you once you walk out that door*
Jack stepping over Jerry Shue, eyeballs rolling back in his head like an Atlantic City slot. Eddie disappearing through the curtain. Jack holding Nugent's stare, trying to hold it together.
Then he's gone.
Torres and Mulvey grabbing their weapons. Mulvey moving to Jerry. Torres out the back door. Nugent looking down at Jerry Shue with no emotion, pulling his cell. Eyeing the neon clock over the bar
NUGENT (cont'd) Get him to a hospital. Make sure he knows to keep his mouth shut for now. Nobody outside this room knows anything.
(dialing his cell) And stay off your radios. We know where he's going so this shouldn't be hard.


Moving with Jack and Eddie underneath scaffolding, past an empty loading dock to a set of cement steps leading to a sub-basement door. Jack shaken...
What the fuck did you see? TELL ME!
That big guy in there and his friend, the one whose picture the DA showed me. I saw them telling some Puerto Rican dude to get lost or they were gonna carve up his kids. Threatening him. That's all.
Jack's mind beginning to clear.

Dripping steam pipes feed a dozen industrial washers and dryers. Sweltering, oppressive heat. CHINESE WORKERS sort and fold on both sides of a long cafeteria tables.
Down a dark cinder block passageway. Jack finding a drainage grate, dropping the shotgun into it.
EDDIE Don't we need that?
Had one shell in it for twenty years. Lucky it went off.
Eddie staring at the drainage grate like it means something.

Torres, thick and massive, moves with the methodical concentration of a panther stalking its prey.

Street level. Jack pulling Eddie out of the service elevator and towards the door, badge in the air for the surprised OWNER to see. Calming him in halting Chinese.
Stepping next to a SEAMSTRESS working in the window, peering out. No black van. No Russian. No Police...
Jack unlocks Eddie's cuffs. Whips off his shirt, tossing it away. Just a T-shirt now. Hands Eddie a shirt from a cleaning bin.
JACK Put this on.
Then hands him a hanger of dry cleaning*
JACK (cont'd) Walk slow. Like you know where you're going. I'll be right behind you.

Eddie steps into the street and starts South, Jack three steps behind, the two weaving through the crowds. Eddie, dry cleaning bag slung over his shoulder, hugging the shadows of the building facades. Jack's eyes darting everywhere*
PATROL CARS from Mid-Town South, 1st and the 5th cruise by from side streets. None of it seems to bother Eddie, walking down West Broadway with a coolness in his step.
They didn't tell you Ryan was a cop, did they?
I just saw his picture on the table. They never said he was police.
Well you're about to rat out the top Homicide detective in the New York City police department. Bet that's worth more than a suit.
Crossing Grand Street now, blending in with the foot traffic. Getting lost in a sea of faces... The Courthouse eleven blocks away. The clock on the MONY BUILDING steeple flashing

Frank Nugent stands in the doorway of a boarded up Restaurant, hands in his pockets. One by one UNMARKED CARS pull up and stocky MEN exit the vehicles. Some in SUITS, others in WINDBREAKERS and JEANS. WEAPONS jammed in the back of pants and in shoulder holsters. These are hard, unflinching COPS.
We're too far away to HEAR but it's obvious Nugent is briefing them. No small talk either. The facts, the deal and that's it. They break as quickly as they got there.
Just as an OFFICIAL CAR pulls to the curb. Out of it steps DANIEL GRUBER, Captain of the 5th and very pissed. Again we're too far away to hear what's being said. But Nugent seems to be a calming influence.
They walk toward us and slowly we begin to hear...
... put out descriptions over precinct channels. No names. Or that one's a cop. It'll help to have some eyes, (beat)
How long can you sit on this? GRUBER
He shot a cop for Christsakes. NUGENT
You're the Precinct Captain, Dan. How long?
Hour. Maybe a little more. Who's on this with you?
My guys. Ortiz and Maldonado from the six-six. Touhey and Kaller from the one-eleven. A couple of others you don't want to know about. I've called in all favors.
Gruber stares into the busy streets.
Guy can't tie his shoe without falling down suddenly he's a cowboy. What's that about?
I woke him up. That was my mistake,
NUGENT (cont'd) He'll probably do what he always does and we can all go back to work,
GRUBER And if he doesn't?
These are his streets, Dan. I want to quash this thing before he gets his legs back, (beat)
It'll get ugly for the six of us if that kid talks.

Jack and Eddie approaching Broome, foot traffic thinning. Eddie walking more relaxed. Jack just off his left shoulder.
Eddie slowing to look in store windows as they go.
JACK Pick it up.
EDDIE You said go easy.
I'm saying go faster now. Jack searching for a cab now.
Slow, fast. You have no idea what you're doing, do you? (beat)
I'm sure you have your good qualities. But ever since I met you, nothing's gone right. So I nave to consider the possibility that I'm with the wrong guy. I mean look at you. Out of breath, hungover, and a leg that's gonna give out any second. You were a horse, they'd shoot ya. No offense.
None taken. Coming from a guy who's spent half his adult life in the joint.
I cease and desisted being that guy a while ago,
JACK Sure you did.
Passing a DUANE REED and a window of CLOCKS. Eddie staring at the time:
Look. This is a big day for me. I need to be at a certain place by noon or I can't get what I'm destined to have. And in order to get there by noon I have to be finished in court by ten. I can't be late.
Jack's not hearing a thing. Eyes now searching the streets. Start of the day FOOT TRAFFIC making it hard to spot trouble.
Suddenly realizing Eddie's not talking and looks back.
Head SPINNING in every direction. Nothing* Then a TAPPING SOUND on glass. Sees Eddie waving from inside..*

Ricotta cheesecakes, cannoli shells, sheets of Prato cookies fill display cases. White cake boxes with customer names stacked against the back wall. FAT ITALIAN WOMEN with their stockings rolled down picking up orders from MAMA CAMMERANO.
BELLS above the door RINGING as Jack slides into the crowded store and hovering near the front window watching the street scene unfold. COPS in BLUE fanning out across West Broadway.
When you go in for your leg, get your eyes checked too.
Jack watches their movements over the top of Wedding Cakes. Eddie sliding to the cake display near the back, captivated by the elaborate cakes. GRANDMA CAMMERANO eyes him suspiciously.
EDDIE (cont'd) You make all these here?
Insulted, Grandma spits something in Italian and gestures towards the back.

Steel tables and racks of delicacies. LARGE MEN hand stir large vats of batter and pull freshly baked bread from brick ovens. Against the far wall a beautiful 19 year old ITALIAN GIRL meticulously decorates a sheet cake. At least attempts to.
Mama Caramerano's son, ALFONSE (40'sj leans against her, pressing his sweaty body against hers, pretending to be interested in her artwork, furry hands smoothing out her apron in inappropriate places.
Suddenly Eddie's face appears over his shoulder.
Never seen a border like that. Very inventive. You do all the cakes here?
Alphonse has to step away. The Girl looks at Eddie, a shy, but dazzling smile of thanks.
She speak no English. Who you be? You inspector?
That's right. FDA approved. This here is a spot check.
(holds up notebook) Don't make me put you down in my book.
Eddie looks around the place then starts around the table, picking up an icing tube as he goes. Slowly strolls behind Alphonse, making the man nervous, appearing on the other side.
EDDIE (cont'd) When's the last time you disinfected your utensils? Or those guys had showers? Huh? Better get your act together my man.
Alfonse is flustered and strides towards the front. Only now do we see the back of his jacket. The word ASS scripted out in powder blue icing. The Italian girl stifling her GIGGLE.
EDDIE (cont'd) Well he is. (beat)
You don't need have to put up with that crap. Sue him for harassment. Besides, you got talent. You could work anyplace. And I should know.

Jack seeing Torres appear on the block. Walking towards several of the UNIFORMS. Talking with them. Suddenly ALL EYES looking right into the Bakery.

Eddie showing the girl a page in his book.
... this one's kinda elaborate. So I seal it first with a glaze. Gives you a stronger canvas. Then I use butter cream instead of shortening.
She's not looking at the page. Just at Eddie. Not understanding a thing but enjoying his enthusiasm.
EDDIE (cont'd)
(flipping the page)
On this one I took
Eddie jerked away towards service door by Jack. Looking back for one last look at the smiling girl.

Narrow and crammed. Jack pulling Eddie close.
This isn't a game asshole. Keep it together or we're both dead.
Eddie turns and holds out the business card.
EDDIE Know what that is?
Jack says nothing.
EDDIE (cont'd) It's a sign, (beat)
You know how long I've been looking for a place that sells this particular buttercream? Well the qirl in there uses the same buttercream. Gives me their card. That bakery, that girl, this moment. What are the odds?
JACK You are nuts.
I'm just following the signs Jack. I just can't figure how you fit in all this.

Alfonse scrubs the icing from his sport coat as Torres and TWO UNIFORMS enter. They walk over to the Italian Girl who slides her cake into the display. Torres asking her the question. The Italian Girl not understanding.
ALFONSE (eyeing the girl with contempt) They go out the back.

Torres stepping out into the narrow delivery way. Looks right then left. No Jack or Eddie.

Jack limps up a back set of stairs as fast as his broken body can take him. Eddie staying a few steps in front, taking it slow on purpose.
What's interesting in all this is cops always stick together, (beat")
So I'm wondering why you're not? Jack hurrying to the next floor, too winded to say anything.

Torres a block away from the bakery, eyes searching. Rows of walk-ups. Eyes falling on basement door. All the glass panels glistening in the morning sun, EXCEPT ONE. Torres moves closer and sees the pane is missing. Unclips his cell phone...

Jack's breathing is heavy as he searches for a hidden key outside Apartment D. Not there.
Eddie pushes Jack aside.
Step aside and let a pro handle this.

WE HOLD on the door as the SOUNDS of a LOCK BEING PICKED is heard. Then HEARD again. And AGAIN. The door not opening. Finally the Medeco dead bolt clicks open, then the cylinder lock. The door swings open to reveal Jack holding a piece of the dry cleaning hanger.
No wonder you're twelve-time loser. Can't pick a simple lock.
Yeah, well if I had more time...
Jack pushes past him as Eddie takes in the surroundings. Neat, functional and clean.
EDDIE (cont'd) Woman. About your age. Works, (touches a half-dead plant)
A lot. Nothing of any real value.
Jack not listening. Rummaging through the living room closet. Comes out empty handed.
Where'd she put it.., EDDIE
Guess you haven't been here in a while. You and the lady on the outs?
Eddie moving to the hallway now. Spots pictures lining one of the walls.

Family shots. A SMILING WOMAN in most of them. And two of a younger, more vibrant Jack. In his rookie uniform with gleaming, idealistic eyes and a few years later with his arm around the woman.
So that's what you look like when you smile, (beat)
Your lady's pretty. Jack.
Eddie eyes drift into the bathroom. Toilet seat up* Man's razor on the sink. Uh oh, Eddie quietly lowers the seat and hides the razor so Jack doesn't see. Walks into the bedroom and slides open the closet. Men's clothing. Shuts it just as Jack walks in.
EDDIE (cont'd) Nothing here. Maybe
Jack flinging it open. Stares at the clothes, a flash of hurt and sadness appears on his face then it quickly disappears.
Leans down into the back of the closet and finally reemerges with a dust covered .38 and a box of shells. Eddie watches Jack stare uncomfortably at the clothes for a beat.
EDDIE (cont'd)

Jack moving full tilt out of the bedroom loading the .38 and moving towards the door...
FREEZING when he sees the door handle turn. Motions Eddie away from the door. Pulling him down the hall just as..

EXPLODES inward. Torres stepping inside, WEAPON DRAWN.

Torres eyes the living room. Not moving a step. Listening. Starting his way through the place. Living room, hallway, bathroom, bedroom, finally the spare room. All empty.
Returns to the living room, holstering his gun.
Almost out the door when Torres spots the empty shell box on the coffee table.
Torres quickly bolting the door, turning, senses heightened. Takes out his Glock and moves to the living room closet.
Empty. Now down the hall... Into the bathroom, checking the shower.
To the bedroom... Windows gated and locked from the inside. Closet of clothes and nothing else. Back to the hall and into...

No windows in here. Just a desk, wobbly Ikea dresser... and a large closet. Torres levels the gun as he kicks open the hinged doors...
Not prepared for THE MURPHY BED FALLING FROM THE WALL. Slamming into Torres and driving him into the ground. Pinning him underneath, Jack and Eddie on top.
Torres reaching his Glock... fires a round through the mattress. The shell searing past Eddie's ear.
Jack rolling off the bed. Torres feeling the cold steel of Jack's .38 against his temple. Freezing as Jack COCKS THE HAMMER.
Eddie lifts the bed as Jack rolls Torres on his belly, using his handcuffs to secure his hands. Jerks Torres to his feet. Eddie against the wall, touching his ear. Still feeling the heat there.
Shoulda done what you always do. Jack.
Jack roughly drops Torres onto the bed. Stops when Torres' cell phone vibrates.
TORRES (cont'd) They know I'm here* I don't answer it. . .
Jack grabs Torres' cell phone from his belt and shoves the bed up into the closet.

Jack racing to the front door, stopping when he sees Eddie's not following. Kid standing in the hall, strange look on his face.
Not moving. Touching his ear.
JACK (cont'd)
I gotta pee. Should I go now or hold it?
JACK Go already!
Eddie slips into the bathroom as Jack looks around the apartment. An end-of-the-road sadness about him as he takes in what used to be familiar surroundings and is no longer.
JACK (cont'd)
Let's go!
Water still running. Jack bolting to bathroom and kicking open the door.

Empty. Window to the fire escape open. Jack looks out the window and sees Eddie almost to the street.

Jack huffing and puffing down the stairs. Wincing every time his left leg hits the marble step. Heart driving a body that can no longer keep pace.
Torres' cell phone RINGS. Jack flips it open.
JACK He's napping.
A pause.
NUGENT (OS) Hell Jack. I'm impressed.
(beat) You shoot him too?
Jack doesn't answer.
NUGENT (OS) (cont'd) Feels good, doesn't it Jack* Back on your feet. Doing the thing, (beat)
You remind me of Teddy Apple from the academy. Same kind of cop. (beat)
Course we know what happened to him.
That was a bad thing.
NUGENT (OS) That's not the point Jack. Shouldn't have happened. He couldn't do what was necessary. Either can you.
Long silence. Just the SOUND of Jack's labored breathing.
NUGENT (OS) (cont'd) You lost him, didn't you. He bailed on you.
(laughter) You blame him?
Well I got things to do. Go home Jack.
By the way. I forgot all about Drane. How's she been?
Jack slapping the phone shut.
Service doors to the street BANG OPEN and Jack hits the sidewalk. No sign of Eddie. MOVING with Jack as he crosses Delancey, down a cross-town alley and out onto Bowery.
Looking into the SEA OF PEOPLE on their way to work. No way to spot him in this* Trying to think now...

Nugent shotgun. Mulvey driving. RADIO open as a COMMUNICATIONS TECHNICIAN triangulates the cell phone signal over the radio from One Police Plaza.
COM TECH (0*3.) Subject's moving east on Delancey. Approaching Bowery*
Mulvey looks at Nugent who smiles.

Moving QUICKLY down Bowery. Swallowed up by the CROWDS, eyes straight ahead, notebook under his arm.
But the distant SOUNDS of police SIRENS and the inability to see past the PEOPLE in front of him puts him on edge.

Eddie races down the steps and JUMPS IN LINE to buy a token, EYES TAKING EVERYTHING IN. Behind him a weary WOMAN COMMUTER, with a defeated, world-won't stop-kicking my-ass face, grumbles at the line's slowness.
Eddie wishing the line to MOVE faster, a tuning fork of nerves. Steps to the window, a TRANSIT COP RIGHT NEXT TO HIM...
EDDIE One please.
And realizes... he has no money. Looks back at the faces of impatient COMMUTERS. TRANSIT COP EYES Eddie. Steps out of line looking for a place to go.
Thinks about jumping a turnstile but ANOTHER TRANSIT COP hovers just on the other side. PEOPLE pushing past him to make the next train. SEEING the UNIFORMS begin to scan the COMMUTERS... The SUBWAY CLOCK announcing it's...
HEART POUNDING... Then NOTICES the Woman Commuter scooping 30 tokens into her hands and heading for the turnstile. She FUMBLES and DROPS ALL THIRTY TOKENS on the ground. One rolls across the cement floor right to Eddie...
Who steps on it.
Looks at the harried Woman as PEOPLE push past her without even a glance. The Woman gathers up the tokens and starts for the turnstiles. Eddie not moving a muscle, foot covering the valuable token. Watching the Woman inch closer to the gate. Struggling with something and mumbling to himself...
EDDIE (cont'd) Always do what you've always done...
Lifts his foot, grabs the token, walks up and hands it to her
EDDIE (cont'd) Ma'am? You missed this one*
You want a friggin' reward?
The Woman pushes through the turnstile. Eddie watches her go, eyes falling to the ground.. and to the glint inside his right pants cuff... where a single token rests.

Eddie anxiously makes his way to the front of the platform. HEARS the BLARE of the approaching D train.
Suddenly A HAND GRABS HIS SHOULDER and SPINS him around. Jack.
Let's go.
Jack pressing his .38 to Eddie's kidney. Which doesn't seem to bother Eddie.
EDDIE (cont'd) You gonna shoot me? (beat)
That bullet back there missed my head by less than an inch. It was a sign.
And in case you didn't notice, I didn't start being target practice until I hooked up with you.
If I can find you Eddie, they can't be far behind.
You're a nice man, Jack. But I have to follow my signs. And you, are a big, fat DETOUR sign, (beat)
You're the wrong guy, Jack. It's not your fault.
The D train SQUEALS into the station. Eddie and Jack JOSTLED as COMMUTERS surge forward. Jack SHOUTING over the SCREECHING BREAKS.
Eddie. I can get you there, (beat)
I need to get you there*
PEOPLE pour out as the doors open. Eddie pushing his way inside, leaving Jack on the platform.
Don't worry, Jack. Everything's going to be okay.
The doors to the car closing. Eddie puts up his hand to wave good-bye... AND JACK GRABS IT. Pulling Eddie onto the platform as the doors seal shut.

EDDIE (cont'd)
What the
Stopping when he sees Jack staring back into the subway car. Turning to back to see TWO of NUGENT'S GUYS (Touhey and Kaller) inside the car, FLYING TOWARDS THE CLOSED DOOR.
Jack already pulling Eddie up the stairs as the SOUNDS of train's EMERGENCY BREAKS SHRIEKS from the tunnel.

Jack and Eddie BURST from the subway entrance and into the street, Jack trying to flag down a cab. Eddie shaken, nothing making sense.
EDDIE I don't get this...
That's because you got the I.Q. of a sprinkler head.
Pulling Eddie down the middle of Bowery looking back at the SUBWAY EXIT...
Back in the apartment. What did that guy mean when he said you should do what you always do?
Jack watching for a cab. Knowing they're seconds away from being trapped.
EDDIE (cont'd) You knew him.
We worked narcotics together back a ways. They went their way I went mine.
Eddie processing this* Stops in his tracks as Jack BOLTS into the street to flag down a gypsy cab.
EDDIE (to himself) Cause they were bad. And you're not.
(putting it together) I could have gotten the other guy. The cop who woulda looked the other way. One of them* But I didn't...
Eddie races up to Jack and hugs him. Tight.
EDDIE (cont'd) I got you! I was meant to get you. It's all happening. Just in a different order.

Jack and Eddie pile into the back seat. Cab smelling like stale air freshener, open partition separating front from back.
100 Centre Street. The cab pulls away.
I was wrong the whole time. You believe that?
Hard to fathom. Eddie looking at Jack. Differently now.
Funny what the signs look like sometimes.
EDDIE (cont'd) You think it might be a voice from heaven or a glow that lights your way. Or a piece of paper that floats into your hand with the answer on it. (beat)
But sometimes it can be a miserable, crumpled, bum-legged cop with a drinking problem. And I almost didn't see it.
(beat) You're the guy, Jack.
(exasperated, to himself) I'm the guy.

Mulvey on the phone, navigating traffic onto Bowery. Nugent's eyes the streets, smelling blood.
MULVEY (shutting phone) Kaller. They just missed them at the Houston Street Station.
NUGENT (into radio) Go Com Tech.
COM TECH (OS) Subject's moving south on Bowery. Speed indicates vehicle.
Let's go. Mulvey kicks it into third gear.

Jack's right arm under his jacket, finger on the .38 Stomach in a knot* Eyes peeled. Traffic crawling crosstown. Torres' phone on the seat next to him.
Make a left at Broome. I want to come in the back.
The fat, unshaven TURKISH CABBIE grunts. Jack looks over at Eddie, scribbling in that notebook.
JACK (cont'd) What's with the book?
Ideas and stuff.

Like how to break into a Walgreens? EDDIE
Birthday cakes. I'm opening a bakery in Seattle. Only birthday cakes though. A specialty store. There's big money in cakes.
Dead serious.
Perfect- I can see the headlines now. Cupcake Criminal brings down NYPD Big Wigs.
Funny. When's your birthday? I'll send you one.
Jack shaking his head, chuckling to himself.
EDDIE (cont'd)
No, what?
I had a buck for every one of you that had a plan to do something else I'd be living on a houseboat in Florida, (beat)
Trust me. One thing doesn't go your way and you'11 be crawling out someone's window with a set of cutlery and a mink coat.
I only robbed Beauty Salons. JACK
I'm not even going to ask. EDDIE
They're all the same. Sinks in the back. Chairs in the front. Register in the corner. No surprises.

That's what I mean. You're a thief Eddie. That's what you do. That's what you'll always do.
And you know everything, right? JACK
I know if you drop a slice of bread with jelly on it, it always lands jelly side down, (beat)
No beating the odds, kid.
Jack feeling the cab slow. Looking ahead at traffic being diverted onto Grand. Six lanes funneling into three. Jack checking his watch again the looking out the windows.
CAB DRIVER Past this we go better.
Jack nodding. Racking his brain. Willing himself to figure their next move. Slowly approaching Grand, seeing the REPAIR CREWS in the middle of Bowery. Jack picks up Torres' phone and opens it.
What's the ADA'S name who cut your deal?
EDDIE MacDonald I think.
Starts to dial... and suddenly freezes. Staring at the phone.
Driver looking confused. Jack tossing money over the seat, opening the door with the cab still moving and pulling Eddie out onto

Through jammed VEHICLES, quickly onto the sidewalk and into the SEA OF PEOPLE moving towards the corner. Dropping the phone into the back of a CHINESE DELIVERY cart heading uptown.

Mulvey moving in and out of traffic and closing in.
COM TECH (OS Subject now heading north. I repeat north on Bowery.

Mulvey looking to Nugent who smiles and shakes his head.
The mutt figured it out.
(into radio) Thanks Com Tech. We'll take it from here.
You're hungover with a bad leg. What's your next move, Jimmy?
Change cabs. Cause I ain't walking.

Jack walking along side Eddie. Tense and ready as they approach Grand. Suddenly pulling Eddie into

The usual "Going Out of Business" sign that's been up for a year. Place jammed with all kinds of gadgets. TOURISTS crowding the windows outside.
Jack moving to the Grand Street window and peering over the digital camera display.

Grand Street traffic jam crawling by... And a cluster of Nugent's PLAINCLOTHES COPS walking the street eyeballing ea car and cab, hands on their weapons.
Jack stepping back, just now noticing the vast array of clocks all flashing the same time:
Moving back to the door and stopping, face draining. Two more COPS appear just outside. A third, ORTIZ, already coming through the door...

The security access door kicked open by Jack, he and Eddie starting across the roof.
A few more seconds I woulda had that one.
Moving to the edge and looking down. Five stories below Nugent's COPS grid searching the area. Jack and Eddie moving parallel above them.
Up a four rung ladder and onto the adjoining roof. Jack struggles to keep pace, his limp more pronounced.
EDDIE (cont'd) You should get that looked at.
Jack gritting his teeth and walking.
EDDIE (cont'd) Had a friend who limped just like that. Never had it looked at. Just limped around. Finally got too much and went to the doctor. Fracture. Only now it's infected. They cut it off. Right above the knee.
Jack glares at Eddie.
EDDIE (cont'd) No, it was a good thing. No more pain. Even better no more second story work. Lives in Jersey now. Motorman on a PATH train. His whole life changed for the better, (beat)
Everything happens for a reason. JACK
You're a sunny little shit, I'll give you that.
No getting around what's supposed to be. It's gonna happen anyway so you might as well enjoy the journey. Destiny, Jack, (beat)
Ever hear that Samarra story? Jack's too slow to stop him.
EDDIE (cont'd) Guy sends his servant to the market for some fruit. The servant comes back white as a ghost. Tells the guy that Death bumped into him and gave him a strange look. I gotta go to Samarra and hide, he says. So he takes off to Samarra. Later the guy goes to the market and sees Death. He asks Death why he bumped into his servant and gave him a strange look. Death says, "I didn't mean to.
EDDIE /cant'd) I was just surprised to see him here when I knew I had an appointment with him tonight... in rra."
Eddie waits the required length for a dramatic pause.
EDDIE (cont'd) See? You can't cheat destiny.
The bullet blows through Jack's right hand before the SHOT is HEARD.
Jack falling to his knees, catching sight of MALDONADO on the far roof in front of them, already on his cell.
Eddie helping Jack to his feet and dragging him back. Over the facade to the next roof. Stopping as KALLER climbs onto the roof 60 yards in front of them.
Now moving for rear of their roof, blood seeping out of Jack's palm.

Eddie looking over. And extremely wide service alley. On the other side a giant WAREHOUSE with the words CHINA FARM painted across its football field sized wall.
One story below the fire escape landing starts. Saturated with pigeons.
Jack hesitates.
EDDIE (cont'd)
I hate those flying rats.
Kaller's bullet sprays concrete inches from them. Jack jumps landing squarely on the steel flooring, pigeons flapping into the air. Waving his arms like a girl to get them away. Looking up just as Eddie jumps.
Eddie misjudging the depth and hitting the railing, momentum and body weight TAKING HIM OVER IT. Sailing downward until Jack's bad hand clasps Eddie's forearm. Eddie hanging there, his free hand clutching that notebook.
JACK (cont'd) Drop the stupid book!
Eddie won't. Jack's grip lessening. At the last second Eddie shoves the notebook in his teeth, grabs the railing and pulls himself up and over.
Jack on his feet, glaring at Eddie. About to start down when a second floor window is blasted out. ORTIZ scrambling out onto the second floor fire escape, 9mm poised to end it right here.
Jack shoving Eddie back against the wall. Looking up at the roof. The pigeons lining the facade^ staring at their perch. Pinned down and seconds away from being shredded.
Jack following Eddie's eyes down four stories to a large dumpster. Too far, too small and too dark inside to know what's in there.
JACK (cont'd) You live it'll be as a vegetable.
Eddie stuffs his notebook in his pants. Stares closely at the dumpster.
JACK (cont'd) Don't even think about it.
It's right below us. What are the odds of that? It's a sign.
It's an ALLEY3 That's where they put dumpsters 3
We can make it.
There's no we in this. Just EDDIE
I can't be late, Jack.
And he JUMPS. Sailing four stories, outstretched arms flapping through space. Thudding hard into the dumpster. A WHOOSHING SOUND followed by a time delayed eruption of...
Feathers. Thousands of white and red chicken feathers pluming into the air, Jack staring in disbelief.
You gotta be kidding me...
Suddenly the pigeons above set sail. Kaller's BULLET RICOCHETING OFF THE RAILING.

Eddie pushing away the floating feathers and looking up as Jack's body hurdles down, slamming onto another sack of chicken feathers that explode around them.
Jack looking at the fluttering life savers in disbelief. The first trace of a bewildered smile. Eddie scrambling to the edge and jumps to the ground as Jack pulls himself out.
Don't be so negative next time.

Security doors blasting open revealing a long corridor. Jack
and Eddie moving quickly down it, blood still dripping from
Jack's hand. Stepping through the first door and into...

A thousand chickens crammed into wire cages stacked one on top of another to the ceiling. In the middle a steel table awash in sticky blood attached to a conveyor belt. The SCREECHES bouncing off the sheet metal walls is DEAFENING.
Eddie covering his ears, just now noticing the large plastic bin overflowing with chicken heads.
EDDIE McNuggets...

Two dozen LABORERS in bloodied aprons pluck, gut and clean the mounds of chickens and ducks. Large plastic barrels overflowing with feathers and entrails. Jack and Eddie moving right through. Laborers never looking up.

Ortiz, Kaller and Maldonado coolly and quickly dispensing; directions to THREE MORE COPS. Sealing off the exits and fanning out in pairs, heading inside.

Restaurant MERCHANTS and CHEFS pick out ducks, chickens and cuts of beef for today's menus. Over a HUNDRED PEOPLE jam the tiny area. Shouting for prize sections like it was the stock exchange. LOUD and CHAOTIC.
Jack and Eddie appearing through a curtain of plastic translucent slats into the main area.
Jack realizing he's trapped in the middle of the place and no idea where they might be coming from. Too many PEOPLE moving in too many directions. CAMERA craning up above the THRONGS of PEOPLE and showing us what Jack can't see.
The three teams of Cops surrounding him, moving in perfect unison right at him.

Kaller and Maldonado coming from the Mott Street exit. Following Jack's blood trail. Seconds away.
The SOUND gets to them first. A mixture of high pitched screeches and human SCREAMS. The Cops stopping in their tracks.
Then they see it.
A thousand wild chickens coming right at them. Shrieking, pecking, flapping chickens. Fluttering four and five feet in the air..* In PEOPLE'S faces, and at their feet. A tidal wave of white- . .
A sea of people running over them. Kaller trying to get his cell phone to his mouth only to be swarmed over by hysterical, freedom fighting chickens.

Pandemonium. PEOPLE STREAMING out of the warehouse, chickens pecking at their legs and arms. The chickens flooding the sidewalk and darting into the street.
Kaller and Maldonado unable to stem the flow. Not enough eyes to see it all.
WAREHOUSE WORKERS in long white coats desperately trying to gather the chickens, getting pecked for their troubles.
Only now noticing two of the white coats ignore the chickens and just walk off. We lose them in all the confusion...
... just as Nugent's car pulls to the curb, Nugent out before it stops. Eyeing the surroundings with interest. Kaller stepping to the car.
The block's sealed. He can't get far.

Jack and Eddie emerging from the crowd, dropping their white coats and slipping into the heart of Chinatown.
Past noodle shops and acupuncture stores. The narrow street and lack of pedestrians making it easy to be seen. Jack's body out of sync as it pushes itself beyond its limits.
Ortiz's car screeches into view from behind- TWO MORE cars appear up ahead. Jack's pulling Eddie down a flight of stairs and into...

Fortunes told and sold in this flamboyant railroad flat. Jack and Eddie FLYING through beaded curtains, across the black velvet room lit in deep red and adorned with too many ornate mirrors. SEVERAL of the SOLKA clan lounge on deep couches that surround the standard round table with a crystal ball and tarot cards.
Down a narrow hall, through a tiny kitchen where the little Solka's are being fed and into a...

Boxes stacked in every corner. A BEEFY GYPSY sits in a decomposing arm chair guarding the contraband. Already rising as Jack approaches, .38 aimed at the man's heart
Hoe mien!
(cocking the hammer) Where is it?

Broken by a shaft of light as a access panel cut into the floor is lifted illuminating a set of stairs. Jack and Eddie climb down towards us...

Nugent's car SCREECHING UP behind Madam Solka's just as Kaller and Ortiz exit the rear of the building.
No Jack. Momentary confusion. Sense memory washes through Nugent.
He's in the basements. Headed for the electrical tunnel. He gets in there we're fucked.
Kaller and Ortiz take off with Torres and Mulvey into Madam Solka's as Nugent races his car for the end of the block.
Jack pulling Eddie across a CHINESE GAMBLING DEN crowded with Fan Tan and craps tables towards the door size hole in the opposite wall.

Jack and Eddie emerging from the other side of a wall and into a SWEATSHOP of CHINESE FAMILIES shrink wrapping bootleg CD's and videos.
How far do these go? JACK
End of the block. But we're not going that far.

Nugent vaulting out of his car at the far end of Kling. Blowing the lock off a security grate and heading down a set of stairs without hesitation.

Nugent pushes aside a shelving unit and kicks the plywood door behind it off it's hinges...

MIGRANT WORKERS silk screening T-shirts and stamping out knockoff Prada handbags. Jack and Eddie crossing through, rolling open a steel door and entering the next room.
This one is empty. An abandoned cock fighting den with open wire cages and a blood stained ring surrounded by sheetrock walls.
How'd you know about this place?
Years ago we'd try to bust this place every six months or so. Never could catch the big shits. Until we discovered a feed tunnel down here.
Jack moving towards an open doorway cut out of the sheetrock. Suddenly SOUNDS of COMMOTION behind them. Turning to see Torres and company crossing the room behind them.
Jack racing back. Rolling the steel door over the opening just as Mulvey gets to it. Mulvey's gun arm snaking between it. Barrel armed at Jack's face. Index finger trying to squeeze.
Pressure of the door on Mulvey's shoulder making it difficult.
Jack shoving the door one last time. Mulvey SCREAMING and pulling his arm back.
The door slams shut and Jack bolts it. Turns towards the next room. Nugent standing in the doorway. Jack pushing Eddie to the side and FIRING.
Nugent and Jack diving to behind opposite sides of the flimsy wall.
Jack landing next to Eddie. LAM! The 9mm bullet blows a three inch hole through the wall and zips just under Jack's chin. Three more shots blast through the wall. ECHOING through the room until it's silent.
NUGENT (OS) You alright Jack?
Jack's ears still ringing. Motions for Eddie to stay silent.
NUGENT (OS) (cont'd) I was aiming for the kid if that makes you feel better.
EDDIE You missed.
BLAM[ Another slug blisters through the wall just above Eddie's head. Jack glaring at Eddie.

On the other side of the wall. Half inch sheetrock the only thing separating him from Jack and Eddie.
Kid's gonna get you killed. He worth that?
No response. Nugent moving down the wall listening for any sign.
NUGENT (cont'd) Only way out's in here. Guess we gotta work something out. I got all day. You got all day Jack?
BASEMENT ROOMS - JACK AND NUGENT Jack glances at his watch: 8:51
Looks around the tiny room. He can HEAR The SOUNDS of the others working on that metal door. Watches as Eddie slips across the room looking around.
Nugent pops a piece of Juicy Fruit in his mouth then slides the pack rnto the open doorway.
Have a piece of gum. We're gonna be here a while.
I'm a sugarless kinda guy. NUGENT
Then slide *em back, will ya?
Even Jack has to grin at that one.
NUGENT (cont'd) Guess we're even. You^ve got my gum, I've got your way out.
Eddie pushing aside a rusted shelving unit to reveal a BROKEN DOWN SERVICE ELEVATOR, accordion door chained shut. Eddie turning to Jack wide-eyed. Jack slipping over, whispering...
Can you get it open? EDDIE
Got to find something to work with. It's rusted pretty good.
On the other side of the wall Nugent sits up, sensing something.
NUGENT (O.S.) You there Jack?
(hushed, to Eddie) Try something.
Jack moving back to the wall.
JACK (cont'd) Right here Frank.
NUGENT Thought you left me.
And not say goodbye?

Nugent removes the throw down gun from his ankle and checks the cylinder.
What are we doing here Jack? We're both too old for this shit.
Jack says nothing. Watches Eddie find a sliver of metal and begin to fumble with the lock.
NUGENT (cont'd) Don't tell me this is all about that thing.
No answer.
NUGENT (cont'd) Cause if it is, I don't understand. That was fucking forever ago. (beat)
Shit like that happens sometimes. JACK
Shit like that? Like you roughed up some fucking pimp. He was a citizen.
Guy shoulda never held out like that.
Eddie hovers over the rusted lock and chain, ears taking it all in.
NUGENT (cont'd) Think I wouldn't take back what happened? Do it in a heartbeat. Far as I know no one's figured how to do that, (beat)
I taught you anything I taught you when you signed up for this job you put away your heart. Hide it and don't take it out until you retire. You do this job you have to get past things like that.
It crossed the line, Frank. You crossed the line.
There are no fucking lines. When are you going to understand that? There's getting it done or not getting it done. Period. Ask the mother of some dead kid if she wants me to stay in the lines. She doesn't care. She wants justice. That's what I do.
NUGENT (cont'd) Clear cases and put bad guys away no matter what it takes. I give them justice.
Jack looking at Eddie working frantically. Both men stalling for time...
NUGENT (cont'd) Course Teddy A never understood that.
He was a good cop. Everybody knew NUGENT
He was a stubborn Pollock.
Nugent reloads his 9mm as he buys himself some time.
NUGENT (cont'd) He finally busts this big time dealer he'd been chasin' for years. Nailed him dead to right. Guy's got priors as long as my arm so this animal's looking at forty to forever. Only his partner never reads the guy his rights. Said he thought Teddy did it. (beat)
Like I said, shit happens. All my Teddy had to say was he did it. But he couldn't. By the book or it didn't count. The scumbag walks. Think the cocksucker would thank his lucky stars, pack his shit and never look back. But that's not how these beasts think, (beat)
Forty-six hours later he hunts down Teddy and puts four in the back of his head while he sat in his car eating a sandwich.
A long silence. Mulvey entering Nugent's room and nodding silently.
NUGENT (cont'd) The bad guys have no lines, Jack. Why should we?
Because we're supposed to be the good guys.
I am a good guy. I put my life on the line every day to put these scumbags away. Day after day. Year after year. One guy dies but we save six others? I'll take that. And so would you.
Eddie wiping sweat off his brow.
Nugent picks up the .32 and stands.
NUGENT (cont'd) There are three types of people in this world. Jack. Those who make it happen, those who watch it happen, and those who say... what happened? (beat)
Guess which one you are.
Jack drops his head as Nugent and Mulvey RAISE THEIR WEAPONS... Eddie still fumbling over the lock. Making one last try... Turns the metal sliver once more... POP!
I got it!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The EXPLOSIONS OF GUN FIRE strafe the room. The flimsy walls shredded from both sides.
Jack crawling through the dust and debris, flopping into the elevator cage next to Eddie. Kicking the handle to send the rickety cage up as bullets ricochet from all directions.
Nugent and Mulvey step through the shredded sheet rock as Torres and Ortiz barge in from the other side. Seeing the service elevator rising. FIRING futilely at the cast iron base disappearing into the ceiling. Mulvey already on his radio...
MULVEY He's in the building I





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