88. HOTEL CRILLON: OUTER LOBBY, MAIN LOBBY INT/DAY
Visible beyond the outer lobby, which has elevators on one side
and stairs on the other., is the palatial main lobby, with its
floor and walls of honey-colored marble. That, too, is buzzing
with activity.
CORSO and THE GIRL stand aside as an elevator door opens and some
camera-toting JAPANESE TOURISTS emerge. Meantime:
THE GIRL: What’ll you do when you see them?
CORSO (dryly): Hide behind you, probably.
They enter the elevator. The doors glide shut.
89. HOTEL CRILLON: CORRIDOR INT/DAY
CORSO and THE GIRL walk down the corridor, checking numbers as
they go. They’ve almost reached the door of Suite 236-238 when it
opens abruptly. They jump back in alarm.
A BELLHOP emerges backside first, towing a baggage cart laden
with smart Vuitton suitcases.
CORSO and THE GIRL take refuge in a lateral passage a few feet to
their rear as the BELLHOP sets off down the corridor in the
opposite direction, leaving the door open.
CORSO pads silently up to the door and enters with THE GIRL at
his heels.
90. HOTEL CRILLON: SUITE INT/DAY
A deserted sitting room with an old ‘Herald Tribune’ lying
abandoned on the floor and two dirty coffee cups on the table. No
sound, no signs of recent occupation aside from a thin wisp of
smoke rising from the inefficiently stubbed-out remains of a
small cigar.
The bedroom door is ajar. THE GIRL stands watching as CORSO
tiptoes over pushes it open. The room is empty, the bed unmade.
CORSO: Downstairs, quick!
91. HOTEL CRILLON: LOBBY INT/DAY
CORSO and THE GIRL have used the stairs for speed’s sake.
Panting, they halt at the foot of the last flight and scan the
spacious but crowded lobby. it’s a moment before they catch sight
of their quarry.
The MUSTACHE is standing at the cashier’s desk with LIANA beside
him.
CORSO: C’mon. Better grab a cab or we’ll lose them.
Heads averted, they thread their way across the lobby and make
for the exit unobserved.
92. HOTEL CRILLON: CAB RANK EXT/DAY
CORSO and THE GIRL have stationed themselves at the cab rank on
the island. CORSO sees a cab approaching amid the stream of
traffic and tries to flag it down, but it’s taken.
CORSO: Damn!
93. HOTEL CRILLON: FORECOURT EXT/DAY
Meantime, in the forecourt, the DOORMAN hands LIANA into the
passenger seat of the Mercedes sedan while the MUSTACHE
supervises the BELLHOP as he stows their baggage in the trunk.
A Rolls pulls up behind the Mercedes, closely followed by a
yellow Lamborghini driven by a smartly dressed, mustachioed ARAB
with a BLOND BIMBO beside him.
The ARAB gets out, leaving his keys in the ignition. Nonchalantly
signaling to the DOORMAN to park his car, he disappears into the
hotel with the BIMBO in tow.
The DOORMAN acknowledges his gesture before smilingly accepting a
tip from the MUSTACHE, who gets in behind the wheel.
THE GIRL (O.S.): They’re going!
94. HOTEL CRILLON: CAB RANK, FORECOURT EXT/DAY
CORSO sights another cab approaching and cavorts into the
roadway, waving his arms like a madman.
The cab honks and swerves to avoid him, obstructing some other
vehicles, which honk in their turn. it’s empty.
CORSO: Bastard!
Frustrated yet again, he. retreats to the island.
Beyond his agitated figure in the forecourt, we see the Mercedes
drive off.
95. HOTEL CRILLON: FORECOURT, CAB RANK EXT/DAY
With a screech of tires, the yellow Lamborghini takes off fast in
reverse. Skirting the island, it backs out into the oncoming
traffic. Then, slammed into first, it skids to a halt beside the
curb at CORSO’s elbow. The passenger door opens, THE GIRL cranes
over and looks up at him from behind the wheel.
THE GIRL: Coming?
CORSO stares at her for an instant, then jumps in.
The Lamborghini sets off after the Mercedes, which is not far
ahead. it threads its way into the stream of traffic, pursued for
a few yards along the sidewalk by the wildly gesticulating
DOORMAN.
96. LAMBORGHINI/PARIS STREETS INT/EXT DAY
THE GIRL is expertly piloting the Lamborghini through heavy
traffic. The Mercedes can be seen a few cars ahead.
CORSO: Couldn’t you have pinched something a bit less
conspicuous?
THE GIRL: Don’t be so picky. Most people would give their
eyeteeth for a ride in this.
CORSO surveys the car’s luxurious interior, opens the glove
compartment, removes the contents and inspects them: some CDs,
the car papers, a pair of expensive wrap-around sunglasses, an
Arab keffiyeh.
97. LAMBORGHINI/FREEWAY INT/EXT/LATE AFTERNOON
Visible through the windshield, the Mercedes is cruising along
several hundred yards ahead of the Lamborghini.
CORSO: We can’t sit on their tall forever. They’re bound to smell
a rat.
98. FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
LONG SHOT of the Lamborghini accelerating to draw level with the
Mercedes.
99. MERCEDES/FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
The MUSTACHE, with LIANA at his elbow, glances sideways.
100. LAMBORGHINI/FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
The MUSTACHE’s POV: the Lamborghini overtaking with a figure in
shades and a kefflyeh at the wheel.
It’s THE GIRL. She looks straight ahead as she passes. No sign of
CORSO.
101. LAMBORGHINI/ FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
CORSO, who has been hiding below door level, sits up. After a
cursory glance over his shoulder, he settles back in his seat and
lights a Lucky, covertly eyeing THE GIRL.
THE GIRL: How do I look?
CORSO: You look a million. A million barrels of oil.
102. LAMBORGHINI/FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
The Lamborghini passes an exit. THE GIRL, who has discarded the
keffiyeh and shades, is driving with one eye on the rearview
mirror.
103. FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
The Mercedes indicates right, slows, and turns off at the exit.
THE GIRL (O.S.): Sit tight!
104. LAMBORGHINI/FREEWAY EXT/DUSK
THE GIRL pulls over onto the shoulder and stands on the brakes.
Throwing the car into reverse almost before it’s stationary, she
hurtles backward along the shoulder.
A couple of cars flash their headlights and blare as the
Lamborghini reaches the exit and skids to a halt, narrowly
missing a large truck that has beaten it to the exit.
105. LAMBORGHINI/EXIT ROAD EXT/DUSK
The Lamborghini crawls along behind the truck as it grinds up the
single-lane exit road.
CORSO (impatiently): C’mon, c’mon!
THE GIRL blasts the truck with her horn and flashes her
headlights. The truck’s only response is to slow still further
before pulling up at a T junction.
CORSO (cont.): What in hell’s the matter with him?
Clearly visible in the glare of the Lamborghini’s headlights, an
arm emerges from the truck’s cab window and gives a prolonged,
one-fingered salute. The arm disappears, the truck moves off at
last and turns left across the bridge spanning the freeway. The
Mercedes is nowhere in sight.
The Lamborghini moves up to the T junction and stands there,
engine purring.
THE GIRL: Take your pick.
CORSO: No, you. You know everything.
THE GIRL: If you say so.
She turns off right.
106. LAMBORGHINI/COUNTRY ROAR) EXT/NIGHT
It’s dark now, and the Lamborghini is speeding along an avenue of
poplars. No sign of the Mercedes.
THE GIRL: We lost them.
CORSO: Not at this speed. They must have gone the other way.
THE GIRL: You mean I don’t know everything after all?
CORSO: Turn around.
They pass a small intersection on the right. THE GIRL backs into
it but doesn’t complete the manoeuvre: something catches her eye.
THE GIRL: Thirtyish, blond, dishy – what was her name again?
CORSO: Telfer. Liana Telfer.
THE GIRL: No, her maiden name.
CORSO: Saint-Damien.
THE GIRL: Look.
CORSO’s POV: the Lamborghini’s headlights have illuminated a
signpost. One of the signs reads: ‘ST.-DAMIEN 2 Km.’ It points
the way they were going.
THE GIRL turns out into the road and drives on in the original
direction.
107. LAMBORGHINI/VILLAGE EXT/NIGHT
THE GIRL slows as they pass the ‘ST.-DAMIEN’ sign at the entrance
to the village itself.
THE GIRL: Should we drive straight in?
CORSO: In this thing? We might as well hang a bell around our
necks. Park here.
108. ST.-DAMIEN VILLAGE EXT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL walk gingerly down the old village street. A
faint glow emanates from a few windows in the time-worn houses,
but the street itself is utterly deserted.
109. VILLAGE SQUARE EXT/NIGHT
They pause at the mouth of a small, equally deserted square:
church at one end, mairie across the way, village stores
shuttered and in darkness, two or three parked cars, none of them
the Mercedes.
THE GIRL: So?
CORSO looks around irresolutely, sees light coming from the
basement window of a baker’s shop.
110. VILLAGE BAKERY EXT/INT/NIGHT
Side by side, CORSO and THE GIRL look down through the open
transom of the basement window. inside, a flour-smeared BAKER is
deftly preparing a tray of croissants for the oven.
CORSO: Monsieur?
The BAKER looks up, wipes his hands on his smock, and walks over
to the window.
BAKER M’sieur?
CORSO: Nous cherchons la maison de Madame de Saint-Damien.
BAKER: Le chateau, vous voulez dire.
CORSO: (to THE GIRL): Chateau! That’s it – got to be. (to the
BAKER): Ou il est, le chateau?
BAKER (gestures): La route apres ”egllse, m’sieur.
111. LAMBORGHINI/MINOR ROAD EXT/NIGHT
THE GIRL is driving slowly along a country road flanked on one
side by woods. A pair of ornate wrought-iron gates and a
gatehouse loom up on the left.
CORSO: Keep going.
There’s a light on in the gatehouse. They glimpse the gatekeeper
leaning against his door, smoking, as they cruise past.
112. LAMBORGHINI/MINOR ROAD EXT/NIGHT
The Lamborghini backs into the mouth of a farm track. THE GIRL
and CORSO get out, cross the road, and strike off into the woods.
113. CHATEAU DRIVEWAY EXT/NIGHT
Hugging the trees that border it on one side, CORSO and THE GIRL
are making their way up a long, straight, graveled driveway. The
lighted gatehouse is to their rear, the lights of the ch&teau can
be seen ahead.
Hearing the sound of a car behind them, they turn to see its
headlights swing in through the gates. They quickly take cover in
the trees and watch the car – a big limo – glide past, then
emerge and walk on.
114. CHATEAU ST.-DAMIEN EXT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL observe the chateau, a substantial 17th
century mansion, from the edge of the trees.
The forecourt, in which come 20 expensive-looking cars are
parked, one of them the Mercedes, is illuminated by the flambeaux
on either side of the portico and the lights inside the building.
The limo has pulled up at the foot of the steps, and the
occupants, a smartly dressed ELDERLY COUPLE, are being greeted by
a tuxedoed BUTLER while their suitcases are removed from the
trunk and carried in after them by a MANSERVANT.
115. CHATEAU/GREAT HALL EXT/INT/NIGH’r
CORSO and THE GIRL have worked their way around to the side of
the chateau. One of the lighted windows gives them a view of the
upper reaches of the chateau’s great hall, with its balustraded
minstrel gallery and lofty, vaulted ceiling. They climb on a
stone bench for a better look.
Inside, overlooked by an array of ancestral portraits, some 50
GUESTS are inaudibly conversing in groups. Men and women alike
are attired in long black robes resembling monks’ habits, and all
have silver pentacles suspended from their necks on silver
chains. Their cowls are thrown back to reveal the heads and faces
beneath. A motley assortment of people, most of them middle- or
late middle-aged, one or two of oriental origin. No sign of Liana
or the Mustache.
THE GIRL: See them anywhere?
CORSO: No.
THE GIRL: They aren’t there.
116. CHATEAU/KITCHEN EXT/INTINIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL continue to make their cautious way around the
house. Peering through a semi-basement window, they see TWO CHEFS
chopping vegetables at a big kitchen table.
They pause, at a loss, and look up at the house. Several of the
second-floor windows are illuminated, and one of them has some
creeper-covered trelliswork running up to its balcony.
117. CHATEAU: BALCONY/LIANA’S BOUDOIR EXT/INT/NIGHT
THE GIRL, with CORSO close behind her, has just reached the top
of the trelliswork. She clambers over onto the balcony. CORSO
scales the last few fact, reaches for the balustrade, straddles
it and joins her. Together, they peer through the French windows.
With them, we see a bedroom decorated in a very feminine style
all frills, flounces, and elegant Louis Quinze furniture. Two of
Liana’s Vuitton suitcases are on the floor near the dainty
fourposter. A third, with her discarded clothes beside it, is
lying open on the bed itself.
LIANA has stripped to her panties. CORSO and THE GIRL watch as
she slips them off, goes to a wardrobe, and takes out a black
robe and silver pentacle like the ones we saw downstairs .
Pulling the robe over her head, she smooths it down, dons the
pentacle, and inspects herself in a cheval mirror in the corner
of the room.
COP.SO takes advantage of her preoccupation to try the French
windows. They won’t budge. He turns to THE GIRL and shrugs, then
raises his foot and kicks the glass in.
LIANA spins around with a terrified cry and stands there
transfixed. CORSO reaches inside, turns the knob, opens the
French windows and steps into the room. THE GIRL follows.
LIANA: You!
CORSO: Where is it?
LIANA: How dare you!
CORSO: That book isn’t yours, Madame. 1 need it.
LIANA: Get out of here, both of you!
CORSO goes over to the bed and empties the suitcase onto the
floor. Among . its contents is ‘The Nine Gates’. LIANA
instinctively lunges for it, but THE GIRL blocks her.
CORSO (to THE GIRL): Careful, she bites!
He’s stooping to retrieve the book when the door opens and the
MUSTACHE, robed and barefooted, stands framed in the doorway.
CORSO turns quickly with the book in his hand, THE GIRL stiffens.
LIANA makes a dive for the bedside table and produces a chrome-
plated automatic from the drawer, flips the safety catch.
LIANA (to CORSO and THE GIRL): Don’t move, either of you. (to the
MUSTACHE): Get the book, Bruno.
CORSO takes a tentative step backward as the MUSTACHE approaches
him with his left hand extended. He reluctantly surrenders the
book.
The MUSTACHE rewards him for his co-operation with a vicious
right hook to the jaw. CORSO goes down, losing his glasses yet
again. Groggily, he crawls around in search of them.
The MUSTACHE joins LIANA, steering well clear of THE GIRL. He
hands her ‘The Nine Gates’ and carefully transfers the automatic
from her hand to his.
LIANA (cont.): Take them downstairs and lock them up. We’ll deal
with them later, there’s no time now.
MUSTACHE (to CORSO, Italian accent): Turn around.
CORSO, who has scrambled to his feet, complies. The MUSTACHE
applies the muzzle of the automatic to the nape of his neck.
MUSTACHE (cont.): (to THE GIRL): You. Go first. Any trouble, I
blow his brains.
THE GIRL makes for the door. The MUSTACHE prods CORSO into
motion. They exit.
LIANA stares after them for a moment, clasping ‘The Nine Gates’
to her bosom.
118. CHATEAU: PASSAGE INT/NIGHT
A long passage lined with more ancestral portraits. The ancient
floorboards creek as THE GIRL obediently walks ahead of CORSO and
the MUSTACHE, whose automatic is levelled at CORSO’s back. They
reach the end of the passage.
MUSTACHE: Go left. Down the stairs.
119. CHATEAU: STAIRCASE, PASSAGE INT/NIGHT
They descend a staircase to ground level. Another long passage
confronts them, much like the first but floored with marble.
MUSTACHE Avanti, avanti!
A door at the end leads into a stone-flagged passage with
whitewashed walls. They make their way along it until they reach
a heavy oak door.
MUSTACHE (cont.): (to THE GIRL): Open it!
THE GIRL does so to reveal a small landing and a flight of stone
steps leading downward. She stops short: the steps have no guard
rail and the cellar beneath is shrouded in darkness.
120. CHATEAU: WINE CELLAR INT/NIGHT
The MUSTACHE prods CORSO through the doorway until ALL THREE are
on the landing, then throws a light switch.
Bare bulbs shed little light on the steps but illuminate a large
vaulted chamber below. it’s the chateau’s wine cellar: oak
barrels and racks of bottles thick with dust and cobwebs are
housed behind an iron grille with a door in it. The door is ajar,
the key in the lock.
MUSTACHE (to THE GIRL): Move!
THE GIRL sets off down the steps. CORSO follows with the MUSTACHE
at his heels.
Halfway down, CORSO pretends to stumble: he crouches and turns in
a single movement. The MUSTACHE, following close behind, trips
over him. CORSO seizes his robe and yanks at it, helping him on
his way. Simultaneously:
CORSO (to THE GIRL): Watch out!
THE GIRL plasters herself against the wall to avoid the
MUSTACHE’s somersaulting body. The automatic escapes from his
hand and slithers across the flagstones as he comes to rest, with
a sickening thud, at the foot of the steps. THE GIRL follows him
down and picks it up.
CORSO reaches the foot of the steps and rolls the MUSTACHE over
on his back. He’s out cold, with blood oozing from a broken nose.
THE GIRL (faintly admiring): I didn’t know you had it in you.
CORSO: Another thing you didn’t know?
He takes hold of the MUSTACHE’s ankles and, with THE GIRL’s
assistance, hauls him through the grille into the inner cellar.
He stares down at the man for a moment.
CORSO (cont.): Hey, give me a hand. I want his gear.
He starts to peel of fthe MUSTACHE’s robe from the feet up,
revealing a pair of exceptionally hairy legs.
121. CHATEAU: WINE CELLAR INT/NIGHT
CORSO shuts the grille door, locks it, and tosses the key into a
corner. The MUSTACHE’s naked, motionless body can be vaguely
discerned through the bars.
122. CHATEAU: PASSAGE INT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL cautiously retrace their steps along the
marble-floored passage. CORSO is wearing the Mustache’s robe and
pentacle over his clothes with his shoes and trouser bottoms
incongruously visible below the ham. They pass the stairs they
descended and continue on their way.
They turn a corner. As they do so, they hear a faint,
intermittent hum. They pause to listen, then walk on. The sound
grows louder and more distinct: somewhere in the chateau, voices
are chanting in unison.
Turning another corner, they find themselves in an anteroom that
terminates in two massive double doors. The chanting is coming
from beyond them.
CORSO walks over to the doors with THE GIRL at his heels. He
grasps the handle.
THE GIRL (hisses): No! Up to the gallery.
123. CHATEAU: BACK STAIRS, GALLERY INT/NIGHT
The chanting is even louder now. CORSO and THE GIRL reach the top
of some uncarpeted stairs and cautiously open a small door. A
wave of sound hits them.
124. CHATEAU: GALLERY, GREAT HALL INT/NIGHT .
They steal through the doorway into the shadowy gallery, which
runs around three sides of the Great Hall, and peer over the
balustrade. They’ve emerged near the top of a spiral staircase
leading down from the gallery to a point near the double doors at
the rear of the hall.
At the far end of the huge room in a dais draped in black with
some shallow steps leading up to it. On the wall above the dais
hangs an inverted silver crucifix; on the dais itself, which is
flanked by a pair of outsize black candles in three-foot silver
candlesticks, LIANA stands facing the hall from behind a silver
lectern on which reposes ‘The Nine Gates’. Arrayed in the body of
the hall are the 50 GUESTS, now cowled, each holding a lighted
black candle. The flickering candle flames bathe the whole scene
in tremulous chiaroscuro.
LIANA and the GUESTS are taking it in turns, like priest and
congregation, to intone passages from the Latin text of ‘The Nine
Gates’.
CORSO (quietly, to THE GIRL): You stay here and cover me. I’m
going down.
Pulling the cowl over his head, he sneaks down the spiral
staircase, secretes himself in the rear rank of GUESTS, and
concentrates on LIANA and the book as the litany continues.
All at once, unseen by us, the doors swing open with a crash and
BALKAN’s deep bass voice punctures the air on a derisive note.
BALKAN (O.S.): Mumbo-jumbo-mumbo-jumbo-mumbo-jumbo –
The GUESTS stop chanting, and fifty cowled heads turn to look for
the source of this unseemly interruption. Up on the dais, LIANA
freezes.
BALKAN: Mumbo-jumbo-mumbo-jumbo-mumbo-jumbo-
Looking over-life-size in his dark and elegant double-breasted
suit, he strides toward the dais. Any GUESTS who fail to get out
of his way in time are brusquely elbowed aside. LIANA watches
him, transfixed, as he climbs the steps and turns to face the
bemused GUESTS.
BALKAN (cont.): Look around you – yes, all of you. What do you
see?
The GUESTS involuntarily turn to look at each other.
BALKAN (cont.): I’ll tell you: a bunch of buffoons in fancy
dress. What are you expecting, an apparition? I’m the only
apparition you’ll see tonight. You really think the Prince of
Darkness would deign to manifest himself to the likes of you? He
never has and he never will – never!
He closes ‘The Nine Gates’ with a snap and holds it up.
BALKAN (cont.): You read from his book, yes, but you have no
conception of its true power. I alone have grasped its secret. I
alone have fathomed the Master’s grand design. I alone am worthy
to enjoy the fruits of that discovery: absolute power to
determine my own destiny.
LIANA finds her voice at last.
LIANA: You’re insane, Boris. (puts out her hand): Give it back at
once.
BALKAN rounds on her.
BALKAN: As for you, Liana de Saint-Damien, you’re even guiltier
than the rest of this pathetic rabble. You have at least some
idea of what this book can do in the right hands, yet you lend
yourself to these farcical proceedings, these orgies of ageing
flesh conducted in the Master’s name. You’re a charlatan!
LIANA tries to grab the book, but BALKAN holds it above his head.
LIANA claws his cheeks in desperation. BALKAN clasps his face,
dropping the book.
LIANA makes a dive for it, but BALKAN pounces on her. They roll
over in a clinch, struggling fiercely.
BALKAN grabs LIANA by the throat. She tries to break his grip,
but he redoubles it. Halfway down the dais steps with BALKAN on
top of her, she fights for breath. Her suffocated, agonized face
is turned toward the hall.
The GUESTS shrink back in horror, some of them dropping their
candles. Hysterical screams rend the air.
CORSO comes to life. Hampered by his robe, he makes for dais as
fast as he can, scattering frightened GUESTS in the process. He
takes hold of BALKAN’s shoulders and tries to haul him off LIANA.
BALKAN, still throttling her, turns to look. He glares at CORSO
through his heavy hornrims, his features contorted with rage and
stupefaction. Then, removing one hand from LIANA’s throat, he
deals CORSO a backhanded blow that sends him reeling.
LIANA seizes the chance to break free. She crawls away and almost
regains her fact, but BALKAN is too quick for her: grabbing her
pentacle chain from behind, he proceeds to garrotte her with it.
LIANA, now on her knees, scrabbles unavailingly at the chain that
is biting into her neck. Her face turns purple, her tongue begins
to protrude.
CORSO looks around wildly for a weapon. He seizes one of the
three-foot candlesticks and raises it over his head. Suddenly:
THE GIRL (O.S.): Don’t, Corso!
Startled, he lowers the candlestick and looks up: THE GIRL is
perched on the gallery balustrade just above him.
Too preoccupied with Balkan and Liana to wonder what her game is,
CORSO raises the candlestick once more.
THE GIRL lands on top of CORSO, bearing him to the ground, and
immobilizes him with a hammerlock.
CORSO: Get off me! He’ll kill her!
THE GIRL: Leave them.
BALKAN completes his grisly work: LIANA’s purple face is all too
reminiscent of Baroness Kessler’s. With a final tug at the chain,
he plants one foot in the small of LIANA’s back and sends her
limp body sprawling across the floor of the hall.
Screams and cries of horror go up from the GUESTS, who have
recoiled still further.
BALKAN straightens up, a somewhat dishevelled but still imposing
figure despite the scratches on his cheeks. Even his hornrims are
still in place. He leans fonward, eyes narrowed in a mock
menacing way, and stamps his foot.
BALKAN (in a voice like thunder): Boooh!
With more hysterical screams and cries of dismay, the GUESTS turn
tall and flee the hall like a herd of panic-stricken cattle,
jostling each other in their eagerness to get out the door.
Calmly, without so much as a glance at THE GIRL, CORSO, or
LIANA’s corpse, BALKAN smooths his hair down, picks up ‘The Nine
Gates’, and strides majestically after them.
Silence falls. THE GIRL releases her grip on CORSO’s arm, gets
off him and rises to her knees. He sits up, nursing his elbow and
staring at her with blank incomprehension.
CORSO: Why did you do it?
THE GIRL: Some things are meant to happen. That was one of them.
CORSO: Don’t give me that crap again! You were working for him
all along!
THE GIRL: Funny, I thought you were.
CORSO: You played me for a sucker, the two of you. I don’t intend
to take the rap for that maniac.
THE GIRL: He just murdered someone with a roomful of witnesses.
That lets you off the hook for the other killings. You should be
grateful.
CORSO: I’m ecstatic.
He gets to his feet. We hear the sound of cars starting up and
driving off in a hurry.
THE GIRL rises too, starts to pat the dust of fhis robe. CORSO
impatiently evades her hand.
CORSO (cont.): Where’s he off to?
THE GIRL: What do you care? Your job is done. This is as far as
you need to go.
CORSO: The hell it is! The sonofabitch owes me the other half of
my fee.
THE GIRL (ironically): Of course, it’s just business. I thought
your curiosity had gotten the better of you.
CORSO: Okay, so what’s meant to happen next?
THE GIRL: You really want to know?
125. MERCEDES/MINOR ROAD EXT/DAWN
THE GIRL, with CORSO red-eyed and unshaven beside her, is driving
along a country road bordered by rolling fields wreathed in gray
mist. They’ve appropriated Liana’s Mercedes sedan.
126. MERCEDES/FREEWAY EXT/DAY
CORSO has taken over the wheel. THE GIRL is fast asleep with her
heed on his shoulder. The deserted freeway runs across a viaduct
that spans a valley hundreds of feet below. The hazy blue shapes
of mountains can be glimpsed in the distance.
127. MERCEDES/MOUNTAIN ROAD EXT/SUNSET
THE GIRL is back behind the wheel, CORSO smoking. Dazzled by the
setting sun, THE GIRL lowers the visor. The landscape has become
bleaker and more mountainous. Switchbacks are visible ahead.
128. MERCEDES/MOUNTAIN ROAD EXT/DUSK
The Mercedes rounds a bend.
Visible in the distance, crisply silhouetted against the
afterglow, is a castle.
It’s the one of which we saw a backlighted photograph on Balkan’s
wall.
129. CASTLE EXT/DUSK
THE GIRL pulls up some distance from the archway that was once
the castle gate. A dark green Range Rover is already parked
beside it. CORSO and THE GIRL get out and briefly survey the
derelict building. A glimmer of light is issuing from the arrow
slits in one of the turrets.
130. CASTLE COURTYARD EXT/DUSK
CORSO and THE GIRL cross the deserted courtyard, which is
littered with fallen masonry.
131. CASTLE STEPS, BATTLEMENTS EXT/DUSK
CORSO and THE GIRL climb a dilapidated flight of stone steps to
the battlements and walk along them to the tower.
They pause outside the moldering old door and listen. A man’s
voice is faintly audible.
CORSO puts his hand on the handle. THE GIRL gropes in the pocket
of her duffel coat and produces the chromium-plated automatic,
holds it out.
CORSO hesitates briefly, then stuffs it in his jacket pocket. He
op ~ the door and enters, followed by THE GIRL.
132. TURRET CHAMBER INT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL are looking down into the interior of the
turret, which forms a cylindrical chamber. They’re on a small
landing from which a steep flight of unprotected stone steps
curves down and around the inner wall to the floor of the
chamber. The floor, littered with debris including worm-eaten
beams that have fallen from the ceiling far above, consists of
massive, age-old planks.
9 1
A large circle has been chalked in the middle of the floor, and
within it a square divided into nine boxes numbered 1-9. Each box
contains some unrelated object: a rusty knife, a piece of cord, a
stone, a gold ring, a serpentine bracelet, a glass vial, a small
pile of earth, a quill pen, an hourglass.
The chamber is illuminated by half a dozen kerosene lamps located
around the circle but outside it. Also near the circle is a
camper’s collapsible table with various objects on it: a black
briefcase, ‘The Nine Gates’, a magnifying glass, a vacuum flask
and mug. On the floor beside the table are a large jerrican and
an open suitcase with more books spilling out of it.
The voice we heard from outside is that of BALKAN, but a BALKAN
unlike any we have seen before: no jacket or necktie, shirt
sleeves rolled ‘ up, vest half unbuttoned, strands of gray hair
falling over his scratched and sweating face, cheeks flushed,
eyes ablaze with excitement.
He’s kneeling in front of the numbered boxes and gabbling to
himself in an expressionless monotone:
BALKAN: … eight doors come before the Serpent that guards the
word, Teth, Enea, Novem, Oded, the number nine, which holds the
final secret, the mystery of mysteries. The Serpent is the beast
that always sleeps with one eye open and is reflected in the
Mirror of Knowledge. (giggles triumphantly) Eight engravings plus
one, or one plus eight, which coincides with the number that St.
John of Patmos attributed to the Beast: 666-
CORSO (to THE GIRL): He needs therapy-
Feverishly, BALKAN proceeds to scrawl some numerals on the floor
with a piece of chalk, muttering as he does so.
BALKAN: Six plus six plus six equals eighteen. One and eight.
(even more triumphantly): One plus eight equals nine!
CORSO starts to descend the steps. THE GIRL stays behind, sits
down on the top step, props her chin on her hand, and watches the
proceedings.
BALKAN rises with chalk dust all over the knees of his pants. He
goes to his briefcase and takes out a sheaf of torn engravings.
CORSO has reached the foot of the steps. BALKAN, turning to
resume his place in the circle, catches sight of him. He freezes
in disbelief, and a long moment passes before he speaks.
BALKAN (cont.): What are you doing here?!
CORSO: I thought I’d drop in before they put you behind bars.
BALKAN: Go away!
CORSO: We had a deal, remember?
BALKAN: A deal?! What impertinence! You bungled it, damn you! You
failed me all along the line! Thanks to your lack of
initiative,Ii was compelled to do my own dirty work. And I did
it! I got these myself! See, here they are! (brandishes the
engravings, speaks with mounting vehemence) Nine engravings or
nine doors, and only an initiate can open them. Each door has two
keys, each engraving discloses a number, a secret element and
keyword to be interpreted in the light of reason and the Cabbala,
the one true philosophy!
CORSO: I want my money.
BALKAN: Don’t you understand what’s going on here?
He returns to the circle, kneels down again, and deals out the
engravings like playing cards, one to a box, leaving three boxes
empty. Meantime:
BALKAN (cont.): You have before you the mystery of which men have
dreamed throughout the centuries. Thousands have died an
agonizing death in hopes of just a glimpse of what you’re about
to see!
CORSO: Yeah? What’s that, Old Nick in person?
BALKAN: Don’t be ridiculous! He has never appeared to anyone,
never! He’s a spirit – the spirit of pure evil. He manifests
himself through his servants, of whom I’m proud to be one!
He rises, walks quickly over to the little table, and opens ‘The
Nine Gates’ . Turning over several pages, he tears out an
engraving. His voice betrays rising excitement, his face assumes
a look of insane fervour.
BALKAN (cont.): Three copies, but only nine of their twenty-seven
engravings hold the key, and I have them all! (tears out two more
engravings in quick succession) 1 have only to complete the
sequence. Then the Serpent will enter the seal of Saturn, and I –
I shall enter the Ninth Gate!
CORSO: Cut the crap and write me a cheque.
BALKAN returns to the circle, kneels down once more and neatly
positions the three engravings in the empty boxes. Then he rises,
goes’ to the table, and pours himself a drink from the vacuum
flask. He gargles with it, swallows, and shakes himself like a
wet dog. Whatever the flask contained, it seems to have
invigorated him.
Seizing the jerrican, he removes the cap and dribbles gasoline
around the circle, then picks up one of the kerosene lamps and
hurls it at the floor. The lamp smashes and ignites the gasoline.
instantly, he’s ringed with fire.
He draws himself up and stands erect in the canter of the circle
with flames dancing all around him.
BALKAN: I give you my allegiance, Master. I surrender myself unto
you body and soul. Let me fear neither noose, nor sword, nor
poison. Let me walk unscathed among lepers and the plague-ridden.
Erase me from the Book of Life and inscribe me in the black Book
of Death. Let it be no! Let it be so now!
His fervent voice and the wild-eyed, demented look on his face
are such that not even CORSO is tempted to break the momentary
silence that ensues.
BALKAN (cont.): (ecstatically): Yes, master, yes! Oh, thank you,
thank you! I can feel the power flowing through me like an
electric current, rendering me capable of any achievement, mental
or physical! I could float on air, walk on water.
He stoops and dabbles his hands in the ring of fire.
BALKAN (cont.): See? 1 plunge my hands in fire and feel no heat:
He picks up the jerrican and inverts it over his head, dousing
himself in the contents, then hurls it aside.
CORSO: Hey, don’t be stupid!
But BALKAN is deaf to reason.
BALKAN (in a mounting frenzy): Admay, Eloy, Agla, Zatel, Gebal,
Elimi, Ashtoreth, Moloch, Shamash, Dagon-
With a whoosh, he himself catches fire. Flames play over his
ecstatic figure.
BALKAN (cont.): It’s miraculous! I feel nothing, nothing at all!
He emits another triumphant laugh that soars up the scale until
it becomes a high-pitched scream of agony. He starts to caper
around, slapping at his clothes, his face, his hair.
CORSO has regained his feet. He takes the automatic from his
pocket and sends it slithering across the floor and through the
ring of flames.
CORSO: Here, you idiot!
He retreats up the steps with horror written on his face. THE
GIRL has risen to her feet. He takes her hand and, with a last
backward glance, hustles her outside.
133. CASTLE COURTYARD EXT/NIGHT
Balkan’s wild screams reverberate around the walls as CORSO and
THE GIRL hurry across the courtyard.
134. CASTLE EXT/NIGHT
CORSO and THE GIRL are standing beside the Mercedes. Smoke and
tongues of flame are issuing from the arrow slits of Balkan’s
tower. His screams rise in a crescendo. Then a gunshot cuts them
off like a knife.
CORSO: He really thought it would work.
THE GIRL: He wasn’t to know it wouldn’t.
CORSO stares at her, momentarily puzzled, then at the blazing
castle, then back at her.
CORSO: You didn’t do anything to help him, Greeneyes, not this
time.
THE GIRL: I’m your guardian angel, remember?
She lays her palm against his cheek, then crooks her hand around
the nape of his neck and draws his face toward hers, kisses him
tenderly on the lips. CORSO returns her kiss. He folds her in his
arms and holds her close. The fiery glow dances over their
entwined figures.
135. CASTLE EXT/NIGHT
LONG SHOT of the castle ablaze. The flames have spread from
Balkan’s tower to the rest of the building. Smoke and flames are
now belching from it. The sky overhead is tinged with crimson.
136. PARIS HOTEL: BATHROOM, BEDROOM, CORRIDOR INT/EARLY MORNING
CORSO, his hair damp from the shower and a towel around his
waist, is halfway through shaving when there’s a knock on the
bathroom door.
One cheek daubed with foam, he opens it to find himself
confronted by the FLOOR WAITER, check pad and ballpoint in hand
FLOOR WAITER: Bonjour, m’sieur. Votre petit dejeuner.
CORSO: Oh. Sure.
Taking the pad, he emerges into the bedroom and scribbles his
signature, then stops short: there’s a breakfast cart in the
middle of the room, but the bed is empty. No sign of The Girl or
her clothes.
CORSO (cont.): Where is she?
WAITER: Pardon?
CORSO: Madame, ou elle est?
FLOOR WAITER : Je ne ”ai pas vue, m’sieur.
He makes for the door and exits.
CORSO catches hold of the door just as it’s closing, puts his
head out into the corridor, looks right and left. No one in sight
but the FLOOR WAITER, who casts a puzzled glance over his
shoulder as he walks off.
137. PARIS HOTEL: LOBBY, RECEPTION DESK INT/DAY
CORSO, now dressed but unshaven, hurries over to the reception
desk, where GRUBER is on duty.
GRUBER greets him with an almost imperceptible inclination of the
head.
GRUBER: Good morning, Mr. Corso.
CORSO: Morning, Gruber. The young lady I came with, have you seen
her?
GRUBER: Yea, sir. She went out not long ago.
He reaches behind him and produces a folded message slip from one
of the pigeonholes.
GRUBER (cont.): She asked me to give you this.
He hands the slip to CORSO, who opens it. With him, we read:
‘See you around, maybe.’
And below:
‘PS. The 9th Engraving was a forgery.’
138. TOLEDO STREET, ALLEY EXT/DAY
CORSO’s footsteps echo as he walks along one of Toledo’s narrow
medieval streets. The steel-framed glasses with the cracked lens
have been replaced by a new pair with gold frames. He’s wearing a
smart new overcoat and has a new leather bag slung from his
shoulder.
He rounds a corner and heads down the deserted alleyway we saw in
Scene 27. No scaffolding, just sandblasted walls and freshly
painted window frames and grilles.
He reaches the doorway leading to the inner courtyard, hears a
woman’s strident cries, bumps into THE BOY, who comes running out
as before.
139. TOLEDO: COURTYARD, CENIZA BROS. WORKSHOP EXT/DAY
CORSO crosses the courtyard to the steps that led down to the
Cenizas’ workshop. He stops short and stares.
The old door – ‘HERMANOS CENIZA – RESTAURACION DE LIBROS’ – has
been taken of its hinges and propped on its side against the
basement wall. The display window is just a gaping hole: the
window frame has been ripped out, exposing the masonry
surrounding it. The whirr of a power tool can be heard.
CORSO, looking puzzled, descends the steps.
140. TOLEDO: CENIZA BROS. WORKSHOP INT/DAY
CORSO pauses in the doorway and surveys the interior. The hand
press has disappeared and the floor is littered with debris. Pale
rectangular patches on the grey walls indicate where counters and
cabinets have been ripped out.
TWO SPANISH WORKMEN are busy detaching an old cabinet from the
wall with an electric screwdriver.
CORSO: Oiga!
He has to repeat himself before they interrupt their activities.
1ST WORKMAN: Seftor?
CORSO: Los Hermanos Ceniza?
1ST WORKMAN: Los Ceniza? (glances at the 2ND WORKMAN): Est&n
muertos.
CORSO: Como muertos? Quando?
1ST WORKMAN: Oh, hace anos, anos.
CORSO: ANOS?!
The 2ND WORKMAN comes over, wiping his hands on his apron.
2ND WORKMAN: Ingles?
CORSO: Americana.
2ND WORKMAN (as if that explained everything): Ah- They dead,
many years.
CORSO (more and more puzzled): But they were here not long ago –
I spoke with them.
The 2ND WORKMAN looks at his colleague, shrugs and chuckles as if
to convey that Corso is crazy, like most foreigners.
1ST WORKMAN: Disculpe.
He indicates that CORSO is in the way.
Utterly disconcerted, CORSO backs up as they manhandle the
cabinet away from the wall and tilt it forward prior to laying it
face down on the floor.
As they do so, a dusty piece of paper slides off the top of the
cabinet and seesaws to the floor like a falling leaf.
Instinctively, CORSO stoops and picks it up. He looks at it idly,
then more closely. His eyes widen.
It’s the Ninth Engraving: THE WOMAN RIDING A SEVEN-HEADED DRAGON
WITH A CASTLE ABLAZE IN THE BACKGROUND.
The woman’s face bears a strong resemblance to that of The Girl.
141. TOLEDO: ALLEY EXT/DAY
CORSO walks back along the alleyway with the engraving in his
hand. His receding figure dwindles to a speck.
T H E E N D
