The Tourist
script used with courtesy of IMSDb
Written by
Julian Fellows
Based on “Anthony Zimmer”
by
Jerome Salle
June 9 2008
EXT. PARIS – DAY
CRANE DOWN from a view of Paris on a misty day. Cool, gray and beautiful.
A taxi stops by the curb of a wide, cobbled street. All around there is bustle and activity, with cars and people hurrying about their business.
The door opens and a pair of exquisitely shaped female legs in Christian Louboutin high heels swing out.
INT. GARE DE L’EST, PARIS – DAY
WE FOLLOW the legs up the steps, across the concourse, through the station. Men turn and stare.
CARA MASON (30, stunning) shows no sign of noticing. She wears dark glasses and carries a traveling bag in one hand, a copy of the International Herald Tribune in the other.
INT. BRASSERIE, GARE DE L’EST – DAY
A YOUNG WAITER wiping down the bar stops to watch Cara enter and take a seat at a table slightly set apart.
An OLDER WAITER approaches her. They exchange a few words and he walks toward the bar.
WAITER She’s waiting for someone.
YOUNGER WAITER Probably waiting for me.
WAITER The door’s waiting for you if you don’t get back to work.
A MESSENGER clad in leather, wearing a motorcycle helmet, enters the cafe and looks around. He consults a photograph.
His eyes land on Cara. He walks over and holds out a document-sized envelope.
MESSENGER C’est vous, Mademoiselle?
CARA Oui.
As the messenger walks away she opens the folder and shakes out the contents. There is a ticket for the Orient Express and a handwritten letter…
She spreads it out on the table like a precious treasure map. Her beautiful forehead creases with concentration as she reads…
ALEXANDER’S VOICE (V.O.) (English accent) They are following you Cara.
She looks up. Takes out a small makeup mirror and holds it in front of her face to glance around behind her…
ALEXANDER’S VOICE (V.O.) (CONT’D) They think you’ll lead them to me. But if you follow my instructions closely, there is a way for us to get away…
Cara scans the rest of the letter.
CAMERA glides down to see the signature at the bottom: “Love, Alexander.”
We barely have time to read this before Cara’s perfectly manicured hand crumples the letter, places it in a saucer and sets fire to it.
The YOUNG WAITER hurries over, alarmed.
YOUNGER WAITER Mademoiselle! Je vous en prie–
Cara is already gathering her things and walking away.
INT. GARE DE L’EST STATION – MOMENTS LATER
As Cara walks toward the platform…
ALEXANDER’S VOICE (V.O.) Take the 4:25 Orient Express to Venice. En route select a man my approximate height and weight…
Her eyes scan the platform.
ALEXANDER’S VOICE (V.O.) (CONT’D) Have faith Cara. I’ll be with you soon.
CARA’S POV
Men of various shapes and sizes are boarding “The Orient Express.” She pauses only long enough to assess and discard: too old, too young, too thin, too overweight…
Her gaze comes to rest on a WELL-DRESSED FRENCH MAN. Medium height, medium build. Standing alone. Examining his ticket.
Cara glances at her reflection critically in the polished glass window of the train. Adjusts her hair and dress.
Satisfied with what she sees, she turns and starts toward the WELL-DRESSED FRENCH MAN like a cat stalking prey.
The CAMERA admiringly FOLLOWS her silky approach.
The FRENCH MAN hears the click of her heels and looks up. His mouth falls open…
HIS WIFE arrives and shuts it for him.
WIFE What are you doing Vincent? Our train car is over here!
With a regretful backward glance at Cara, he allows himself to be dragged away.
Frustrated, Cara turns and casts about for another possibility.
She spots a TOUSLE HAIRED MAN seated on a bench.
CONDUCTER (V.O.) All aboard! All aboard the 4:25 is departing!
Tousle Hair gathers his bags to get on the train. Encouraged, Cara moves to cut him off.
As Tousle Hair stands up REVEAL… he’s six foot seven.
Cara stops short, irritated. The MAN behind her boarding the train is fumbling with his suitcase and doesn’t notice. BAM he walks straight into her.
CARA Ow!
FRANK Sorry! Excuse me. Pardone moi.
FRANK TAYLOR (30’s, amiable) is a cheerful American tourist. Open face, completely lacking in guile.
Frank continues to mutter apologies as he walks gingerly around Cara and boards the train.
Cara watches him with thinly veiled contempt. Frank is a man of average size, average build… she peers over her glasses at him. And her expression slowly changes. She follows him onto the train.
ANGLE ON
A GOOD-LOOKING ENGLISHMAN loitering further down the platform, reading the Herald Tribune. Or rather, not reading it. He’s been watching Cara. He lowers the paper and climbs onto the train through a different door.
EXT. PARIS – DAY
The gleaming Orient Express pulls out of the station and gets underway.
INT. ORIENT EXPRESS – AFTERNOON
The train is moving.
The thick carpet, the mellow wood of the inlaid panels, the subtlety of the Lalique mirrors and the softly lit lamps all inspire a feeling of great luxury.
Frank looks vaguely out of place, sitting by the window in his casual jeans and pullover sweater. He’s wrapped up in a dog-eared paperback spy novel. So wrapped up that he barely notices Cara sit down opposite him.
She crosses her legs. He glances up.
Slowly, nonchalantly, she takes her coat off. Then the headscarf tied around her neck.
FOLLOW her sensual movements in TIGHT CLOSE UP. The effect is as if she’s performing a tantalizing strip tease.
Frank is captivated to the point of being unsettled.
She takes off her glasses to reveal stunning eyes.
She goes to remove her mock-turtleneck sweater. The zipper seems to give her trouble.
Without bothering to struggle she sits up in her seat and leans toward Frank.
CARA I think I’m going to need your help.
Frank is barely able to respond.
FRANK Hmm?
CARA My zipper… (off his blank look) It’s stuck.
Frank finally moves into action. He sets his book down and leans closer.
Awkwardly he reaches towards Cara’s beautiful neck. He attempts to unwind the trapped thread of fabric. But the zipper resists.
FRANK I’m afraid of hurting you.
She slides forward on her seat, to get even closer.
CARA Don’t be afraid.
The train car sways slightly and throws Frank off balance. He tugs sharply and the zipper suddenly gives– with a tearing sound.
Frank freezes, looking down at the zipper still in his fingers.
FRANK I’m… sorry.
Cara’s eyes flash fury for a brief moment.
CARA It doesn’t matter.
FRANK Maybe I should let you do this–
CARA Don’t give up so quickly.
Reluctantly, Frank continues with the zipper. The tearing sound continues as he lowers the zipper, inch by inch.
First her neck, then her throat, then her cleavage are gradually uncovered. The zipper keeps going downward. No sign of anything underneath.
Frank is practically sweating.
Finally he uncovers fabric. He finishes unzipping the sweater and sits back into his seat.
Cara slides it off her shoulders, sensuous as ever.
CARA (CONT’D) Thanks.
And settles back into her seat, cat-like. He stares at her for several moments, at a loss for words.
FRANK My name is Frank.
CARA Cara.
A white-jacketed STEWARD arrives.
STEWARD (to Frank) Will you and your wife take dinner here or in the dining car this evening, monsieur?
FRANK Pardon me? Oh, no. We’re not actually–
CARA The dining car would be lovely, thank you.
The steward nods and disappears. Frank just stares.
EXT. MOUNTAINOUS COUNTRYSIDE – SUNSET
The Orient Express plows through the Alps. PUSH IN ON a window where we see Frank and Cara sitting at a romantic, candlelit table eating dinner.
INT. DINING CAR – EVENING
Linen tablecloths. Fine china. Frank is one of the only men in the dining car not in a dinner jacket.
Frank takes out a bottle of pills from his pocket, then another and another…
He takes one or two pills from each and swallows them methodically. She watches him.
CARA Are you ill?
FRANK What? No.
She looks at all the pills spread out beside his plate.
FRANK (CONT’D) Just nervous. I don’t like travelling.
CARA (gently mocking) So you decided to take a holiday on the Orient Express?
He hesitates.
FRANK I’m on my honeymoon.
CARA Your honeymoon?
Cara is annoyed at this revelation.
CARA (CONT’D) Should we ask the waiter to set another place?
FRANK She’s in Pennsylvania.
Off her questioning look…
FRANK (CONT’D) You’re sure you want to hear this?
CARA If you’d like to tell me.
FRANK Two weeks ago she left me. For the owner of a pizza parlor.
CARA That’s awful.
Frank nods, matter-of-fact.
FRANK No travel insurance. No refund on the tickets. So… here I am. On my honeymoon.
CARA I’m sorry, Frank.
FRANK I really loved that pizza too. “Bala Pizza” if you’re ever in Rosemont.
CARA I wouldn’t touch it. I’m loyal to you.
A waiter delivers their drinks.
WAITER A Cointreau for Mademoiselle. And for Monsieur… a “Miller Light.”
FRANK Thanks.
The waiter rolls his eyes and leaves them. Cara seems amused by Frank’s obliviousness.
FRANK (CONT’D) What takes you to Venice?
She nods toward his well-thumbed paperback.
CARA You read spy novels. (playful)
CARA (CONT’D) I’m a mysterious woman on a train. You tell me what my story is.
FRANK Okay… you’d be a diplomatic attach or… let’s see… a girl from East Germany whose father’s been kidnapped by Soviet agents. They’re blackmailing you into stealing… probably a microchip. There’s usually a microchip involved.
CARA What awaits me?
FRANK Trouble, certainly.
CARA Danger?
FRANK No doubt. You’ll probably be shot at in less than two chapters.
CARA Is there a man in my life?
Beat.
CARA (CONT’D) Or a candidate for the job?
He gazes at her with a glimmer of hope. She’s insanely out of his league. But she’s the one flirting with him.
FRANK Maybe.
EXT. PARIS, ILE DE LA CIT – EVENING
The magnificent Prefecture de Police on the Ile de la Cit. A convoy of black Mercedes arrives.
INT. INTERPOL OFFICES, PARIS – EVENING
Footsteps echo in the grand marble hallways.
JOHN ACKERMAN moves down the hall with purpose. British, Interpol chief inspector. He’s the kind of man who commands respect (think Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive.)
MELISSA JONES, his American counterpart matches him step for step.
JONES We’re putting a lot resources into this investigation, John. Tell me you’re going to get him this time.
ACKERMAN (dry) We’re going to get him this time, Ms. Jones.
GOYAL, (Ackerman’s Deputy) closes his cell phone.
GOYAL She’s on the train. They’ll be in Venice in the morning.
INT. INTERPOL CENTRAL BRIEFING ROOM, PARIS – EVENING
Behind the ornate, 17th century doors is a high-tech amphitheater style briefing room. All glass and steel.
Suited bureaucrats and officers from all over Europe listen to Ackerman as he leads the meeting from the podium.
ACKERMAN Our target’s name is Alexander Pearce. British citizen, born in London into an ordinary middle class family. The only thing remarkable about his childhood was a preternatural gift for numbers.
Ackerman clicks a slide projected on a large screen behind him: a fuzzy photo of a British schoolboy with a shy grin.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) Which he used to hack into a computer and fix the test results his final year at school.
JEAN LUC (French Interpol liaison) looks up skeptically.
JEAN LUC Your mastermind couldn’t pass his exams on his own?
ACKERMAN He didn’t fix his test scores; he fixed the scores for all the girls in the class. It made him very popular.
A ripple of laughter through the group.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) (severely) What started as school pranks eventually became something much more serious. After a year in the training program at Goldman Sachs, he decided that gambling suited him better than working for a living. That, in turn, involved him with some rather unsavory people and ultimately led him to put his financial genius to work in his true calling: money laundering.
QUINN is the Swiss Interpol liaison. He speaks with the crisp accent of a man who is fluent in several languages.
QUINN You’ve assembled quite a task force to catch a common money launderer, Mr. Ackerman.
ACKERMAN There is nothing common about Alexander Pearce. Quiet simply, he has turned money laundering into an art form. His greatest innovation: The False Lawsuit.
He clicks through a series of flashy Powerpoint slides illustrating Pearce’s financial dealings.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) Pearce sets up two companies: one is a Casino in Arizona for example and the other is a shell company in the Cayman Islands.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) The Cayman Islands company files a lawsuit against the casino, claiming copyright infringement or some other complaint. They “succeed” in winning the case and the casino pays the shell company an enormous settlement.
QUINN (understanding) The money travels from America to the Cayman Islands…
ACKERMAN Yes, but now the money is legal.
JONES Not quite legal. The I.R.S. has been cheated out of the revenue. (beat) We calculate that Mr. Pearce’s tax bill currently stands at $743.7 million dollars.
Jean Luc leans toward his colleague.
JEAN LUC (whispers in French) That explains what the American harridan is doing here.
Ms. Jones gives him a glacial stare.
JONES Exactement, monsieur.
Jean Luc reddens. Oops. Apparently not every American fits the stereotype.
ACKERMAN Mr. Pearce has some other debts as well. Most of you will recognize Ivan Demidov…
Click: A PHOTO of a balding RUSSIAN OLIGARCH emerging from a limo.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) …Pearce laundered over a billion dollars for Demidov. At some point Pearce decided he’d rather steal from Demidov than help him steal.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) (beat) Given Demidov’s ties to organized crime, I’d say that was a mistake.
JONES (clears her throat) The U.S. Government is not participating in an investigation of a member of the Russian parliament; our target is Alexander Pearce.
Ackerman smiles coolly at her.
ACKERMAN Of course.
An INTERPOL OFFICER from Germany raises his hand.
GERMAN INTERPOL Has Mr. Pearce ever been in custody?
Ackerman looks down for a moment, as if it pains him to answer.
ACKERMAN Almost.
EXT. ALEXANDER’S SEA SIDE VILLA, VENICE – NIGHT
SUPER: ONE YEAR AGO
Fog covers the skyline, exposing only the slate rooftops of buildings that haven’t changed in centuries. We hear the sound of water gently lapping the shore.
From out of the mist emerges…
A GUARDACOSTE — a patrol boat, lights dimmed. It gently touches the beach. A CARABINIERI officer lowers a ramp.
An INTERPOL TACTICS TEAM in Kevlar and headgear pours out of the patrol boat.
Ackerman steps off, pulling on a vest. He nods to Goyal.
ACKERMAN Finally. Let’s go.
They follow the team.
EXT. MAIN GATE OF THE VILLA – MOMENTS LATER
ANGLE ON A SPECIALIST who kneels to open an electric panel. REVEAL a glass plate with a fingertip shape in the center. The SPECIALIST places his hand against the glass: a red light beeps on — it’s a bio-metric lock.
He turns to Ackerman.
SPECIALIST This is gonna take a few minutes.
Ackerman betrays no impatience. He knows better than to rush the professionals. He simply nods.
The Specialist opens a tool box filled with sophisticated gear and gets to work…
INT. ALEXANDER’S VILLA, PENTHOUSE – NIGHT
Wrapping a towel around herself, CARA MASON, the girl from the train, stares at herself in the bathroom mirror for a beat. So do we.
She steps out into the lofty master bedroom suite.
In the dressing room, Cara calls out to someone in the next room.
CARA I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.
Cara sits on the bed, drying her hair. On a night table beside her are keys, a wallet and an expensive MAN’S
WATCH.
Cara pauses; she’s heard something.
She walks across the tiled floor to the balcony overlooking the elevator entrance.
She freezes; six tactics OFFICERS face her with guns drawn.
ACKERMAN steps up the stairs, pistol in hand. He gestures at Cara to be quiet and come towards him…
Cara stands stock still for a long instant. Then…
SLAMS the oaken door of the master bedroom suite in Ackerman’s face, locking it.
She calls out…
CARA (CONT’D) Alexander!
ON THE STAIRS
Ackerman shakes the doorknob, cursing; a Tall Commander calls for the BATTERING RAM which is rushed up the stairs…
The tactics team CRACKS the door.
Ackerman charges into…
THE BEDROOM
Cara stands frozen beside the man’s effects on the night table. The wallet. The keys. The watch.
ACKERMAN Where is he?
On the other side of the room, Ackerman sees an OPEN WINDOW, which the ocean breeze swings.
Rushing forward he sticks his head out the window.
Hanging outside the window is the rigging for a WINDOW WASHER’S PLATFORM – a platform that seconds before was lowered to the sand below.
In the distance, a recently boarded water taxi pulls away from the dock and sails out into the lagoon.
IN THE BEDROOM
Ackerman turns to face the study.
On the desk is a cup of coffee with steam gently rising from its surface. A cigarette sits lit in an ashtray, the smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Ackerman stares at the empty, slowly revolving, chair.
He walks toward CARA, now in custody. He holds her defiant gaze for a moment.
ACKERMAN You have nothing to say?
Cara looks at him for a moment, then lowers her eyes.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) Get her out of my sight.
The Tall Commander shepherds the handcuffed Cara down the stairs and into the elevator.
She wears Alexander’s WATCH….
QUINN (V.O.) What does this Alexander Pearce look like?
INT. INTERPOL CENTRAL BRIEFING ROOM – RESUME
Ackerman closes the file in front of him on the podium.
ACKERMAN Nobody knows. He disappeared after his escape. He’s had extensive plastic surgery to alter his appearance since then. Drug lord Amado Carillo did the same thing in the 90s to successfully elude authorities.
QUINN How do you know about it?
ACKERMAN Pearce worked with no more than a few accomplices at one time. He treated them so well that they’re virtually all completely loyal. None of them would cooperate. We’ve questioned the ones we could find, and the only thing we learned is that Pearce apparently arranged it so even his own people have never seen him after the surgery.
JEAN LUC So nobody knows what he looks like?
ACKERMAN Correct.
JEAN LUC Forgive me for saying so Mr. Ackerman, but he slipped away from you when you knew his whereabouts and his appearance… What makes you think you can catch him now?
Ackerman regards him with aplomb.
ACKERMAN His girlfriend was recently released from custody. He’ll come for her. We’ll be waiting.
QUINN What makes you so certain?
Ackerman clicks on a slide.
Cara’s face fills the screen behind him. A murmur runs through the room. Every man stares.
ACKERMAN He’ll come for her.
Ackerman himself glances up at her face with a look of longing.
HOLD ON CARA’S IMAGE for a moment before we…
EXT. VENICE TRAIN STATION – MORNING
CARA stands alone on the platform amid the bustle of the station. The gleaming train stretches out behind her.
INT. TRAIN CAR – SAME
Frank’s eyes drift open. He glances out the window and as his vision comes into focus he sees that the train is stopped. He sits bolt upright.
A CONDUCTOR’S VOICE over the loudspeaker is saying something in Italian.
Frank stumbles over himself to collect his things: book, sweater, pills, etc.
INT. TRAIN AISLE – MOMENTS LATER
Frank struggles down the aisle, bumping into fellow passengers and apologizing as he goes. All the while looking around for a sign of Cara…
EXT. VENICE TRAIN STATION – MORNING
Frank steps off the train and glances about at the hive of activity.
Frank brushes past the GOOD-LOOKING ENGLISHMAN from the Paris station. Finally he spots her…
FRANK’S POV – Cara with her back turned.
Frank hurries over.
FRANK I was afraid I’d missed you. I wanted to ask where you’re staying in Venice… I’m supposed to catch a shuttle to my hotel but I thought maybe–
CARA (without turning) I’ve got a better idea.
She holds out her valise for him.
He takes it hesitantly. She peers at him over the rims of her sunglasses with a very slight smile…
EXT. VENICE, GRAND CANAL – DAY
A beauty shot of the Grand Canal: magnificent palaces and churches soar upwards on either side in all their glory.
PUSH IN ON A launch labelled Danieli, travelling fast over the water. Cara shakes her head to let the wind ruffle her hair.
CAMERA CONTINUES PAST HER TO REVEAL Frank, clutching the railing beside her, afraid to wake up.
INT. DANIELI HOTEL, ENTRANCE HALL – DAY
Frank leads us through the distinctive, revolving glass door into the low-ceilinged entrance lobby.
DISCOVER Cara at the desk talking to the receptionist.
CARA You have a booking in the name of Mason.
RECEPTIONIST Si, Signorina.
CARA Signora. That’s my husband.
She nods at Frank. For a second, the receptionist cannot keep the surprise out of his eyes. This glamorous, superbly dressed creature is married to a dull, American tourist in a T-shirt?
He recovers his composure and alters his manner at once.
RECEPTIONIST Very good, Senora Mason. Welcome to the Danieli. You are in the Doge’s– our premiere suite. (pause) Is there anything special you require?
CARA Have a copy of today’s Herald Tribune sent up to the room please.
RECEPTIONIST My pleasure, Signora.
He gives her a large gold key and nods to a porter to take the luggage. Frank hurries to catch up with her.
THE RECEPTIONIST he watches them go.
RECEPTIONIST (CONT’D) (in Italian) Mother of God, what a waste.
INT. STAIRCASE HALL, DANIELI – DAY
Together, they follow the porter into the ravishing, open central hall of the hotel, with the great, ornate staircase soaring up and up, past Gothic galleries and finely carved balustrades, beckoning.
Frank and Cara trail the porter across the marble floor.
Frank glances about, dazed with delight and amazement.
INT. DOGE’S SUITE – DAY
Under a gilded and coffered ceiling, portraits of the Doges flank a vast, hooded fireplace. The porter is showing them round the huge apartment, opening and closing doors.
PORTER The bedroom is through here. You have two bathrooms, here and here. There is a small kitchen which…
He glances at Cara; she doesn’t look like a woman who spends a lot of time in the kitchen.
PORTER (CONT’D) …you may not need. There are two televisions, video, DVD, radio, hi fi sound system. And…
The porter throws open a pair of French windows. He lets the view speak for itself.
They step forward. The whole of St. Mark’s Basin and the Venetian lagoon are laid out below them.
PORTER (CONT’D) Is everything satisfactory?
CARA Yes. Thank you.
PORTER Then I will leave you.
The Porter looks expectantly to the “husband” for a tip. Frank doesn’t get it.
An awkward beat. Cara takes a few Euros from her purse and tips him. The Porter exits.
EXT. BALCONY, DANIELI HOTEL – DAY
Frank stands on the balcony in a daze. He stares down at the Molo and across St. Mark’s Basin to San Georgio Maggiore. Cara joins him.
CARA You like it?
Frank opens his mouth to answer. Then laughs.
FRANK What’s not to like?
CARA I’d have been bored here on my own. There’s more than enough room for two.
FRANK I can see that.
CARA I didn’t ask for an extra bed…
Frank looks at her for a beat, barely able to breathe.
CARA (CONT’D) Are you all right with the sofa? If you like, I can have them bring one up?
His face falls. He tries to cover up his reaction.
FRANK No, no, no. The sofa’s fine. Perfect in fact.
Before he can say more, the buzzer sounds.
CARA The luggage.
FRANK I’ll get it.
He goes back inside to answer the door.
Cara remains alone on the balcony, immobile, as if holding her breath. She’s waiting… listening.
INT. DOGE’S SUITE – DAY
Frank walks across to the door. There is a small spyhole and he looks through it. The porter stands there with a trolley. Frank opens the door.
The porter wheels the trolley in and starts to carry the bags into the bedroom.
EXT. BALCONY – MOMENTS LATER
Cara relaxes again as she hears Frank approach. He steps outside on the balcony.
FRANK I’ve put my things in the other bathroom.
She turns to face him.
CARA Have you ever been to Venice before?
He shakes his head.
CARA (CONT’D) Then we need to go out.
INT. INTERPOL FIELD HQ, VENICE – DAY
CAMERA TRACKS WITH GOYAL as he weaves through a sprawling mess of personnel and equipment, cell phones, computers and cables from various national agencies. The United Nations-aspect of the Task Force gives it impressive scope but also results in a Tower-of-Babel effect.
The calm eye of the storm is Ackerman.
GOYAL She’s checked into the Danieli… she’s not alone.
ACKERMAN Good. (to the room) Maintain surveillance but keep your distance.
ACKERMAN (CONT’D) Don’t try to get clever: remember that Pearce is smarter than most of you put together.
ANGLE ON QUINN who quietly slips out of the room.
EXT. PRIVATE LANDING STRIP, VENICE – DAY
A Gulfstream G550 executive jet banks over the Venetian coast and comes in for a landing…
Wheels down. Stairway unfolds. The man who steps off the plane is dressed in a hand-tailored Italian suit and shoes that cost more than some cars. He’s flanked by two bodyguards.
IVAN DEMIDOV. In the flesh.
EXT. VENICE – DAY
CAMERA floats over the rooftops toward the penthouse of a ultra-high end business hotel.
INT. DEMIDOV’S HOTEL ROOM – DAY
Demidov sips a glass of red wine. The view from his room rivals the one at the Danieli but Demidov pays no attention. He’s busy scanning his emails on his Blackberry.
Knock, knock. A thick-necked BODYGUARD in the background goes to answer the door. A moment later…
He ushers in Quinn, the Swiss Interpol agent.
DEMIDOV Take a seat, Mr. Quinn. Can I offer you a glass of Brunello? It’s a ’97…
QUINN No thank you, Mr. Demidov.
Demidov swirls his glass.
DEMIDOV You know I’d never admit this at home, but Vodka is for peasants. There’s much we could learn from the Italians.
He smiles pleasantly at Quinn, then, on a dime, he turns
DEMIDOV (CONT’D) Tell me I’m not going to be disappointed.
Quinn takes out an envelope and passes it over.
QUINN I don’t think so.
He flips it open and examines the contents. WE GLIMPSE a photo of CARA and some text.
DEMIDOV (to himself) He always had good taste…
Demidov makes a gesture and a second BODYGUARD with a SCAR on his face gives Quinn an envelope filled with cash.
Quinn tucks it away discreetly, as if embarrassed by the directness of the pay off.
QUINN Mr. Demidov… if I may ask you a question… Why do you care so much about Alexander Pearce? I mean, you’ve come here yourself… as if it were personal.
Demidov looks at Quinn thoughtfully.
DEMIDOV It may be difficult for you to understand, Mr. Quinn; you Swiss are mercenary by nature. But for some of us, there are things more important than money. I put my trust in Alexander Pearce. He betrayed that trust.
Quinn smiles tightly. He’s ready to get out of there.
DEMIDOV (CONT’D) And it’s bad business to let somebody make a fool of you. If Pearce gets away with it, what does that say about me?
EXT. THE LIDO, VENICE – DAY
A clear, bright winter day at the beach. Devoid of tourists, the famous stretch is a completely different Venice from the one we’re used to seeing.
Sandbanks stretch out into the dark green sea.
Cara and Frank walk on a deserted patch of sand. The wind wraps her light sun dress around her body, intermittently hugging her perfect curves.
CARA So… when you’re not on a Grand European Tour, what do you do in Rosemont, Pennsylvania?
FRANK I’m a teacher. High school math. And you? What do you do?
She glances at him slyly over her movie star shades.
CARA This is what I do, Frank.
FRANK You’re good at it.
A sound of voices and laughter drift toward them. Up ahead on the beach they see a group of Italians in formal clothes. A woman wears a white bridal dress.
CARA Oh look… a wedding. How lovely.
FRANK I’m not really into weddings at this particular moment in my life…
CARA Oh yes. I forgot.
She takes his arm and steers him toward a bistro with sidewalk tables.
EXT. BISTRO – AFTERNOON
Cara and Frank are seated. A bottle of Orvieto rests on the table.
CARA Do you think it’s really over?
FRANK Hmm?
CARA Maybe she’ll change her mind. Women do. She might give you a second chance.
FRANK I suppose that’s a possibility. (hesitates) That’s what I tell my statistics class anyway; life is a game of chance. Endless possibilities and permutations. You just have to calculate the odds.
CARA You haven’t answered the question.
FRANK Well… (quietly) I’d like to think that love is a question of destiny, not chance…
Cara looks at him curiously.
CARA For a moment there you just reminded me of somebody.
She shakes her head and takes a sip of wine.
CARA (CONT’D) He had a way of dancing around a question so eloquently that you never noticed until later that he’d completely avoided the truth. His entire life was wrapped up in deception. (lost in thought) He told so many lies, I wouldn’t believe him even if he finally did tell the truth.
FRANK He doesn’t sound like much of a friend.
CARA He wasn’t.
Frank glances at her wrist.
FRANK So why are you wearing his watch?
She looks up at him.
CARA You’re smarter than you look, Frank.
She runs her fingertip over the face of the watch. Then, impulsively unclasps it and reaches for Frank’s hand.
CARA (CONT’D) And you’re right. Here, take it.
She puts it on Frank’s wrist, over his protests.
FRANK What? No, I can’t. This thing must be worth a fortune–
CARA I insist. You’re doing me a favor. (firm) Take it or I’ll toss it in the ocean.
He hesitates. She means it. He closes the clasp.
FRANK I’ll wear it until you regain your senses.
He feels the heft of it on his wrist. Admires it for a moment. It really is a beautiful watch. She settles back in her chair, pleased with herself.
He looks up and sees her smiling at him.
FRANK (CONT’D) What?
CARA It suits you.
LONG SHOT of Frank and Cara framed by the sunset. A romantic dinner for two. They could easily be lovers or honeymooners…
In the foreground REVEAL somebody watching them. The good-looking Englishman is there, hovering…
