FIRST WE DANCE

FADE IN ON: CHICAGO. Lake Michigan shimmering below. Snow falling as though dumped from a giant shaker. The camera soars then dips, winding its way slowly down. And down. Heading toward a very wealthy subdivision near the lake. Everything about the place says money. EXT. LAGO MONROE CONDO - NIGHT Soft, feathery snow continues drifting down. Christmas lights adorn the structure. NEAR A STREETLIGHT A FIGURE in black. Closer, we can distinguish that it’s a woman. She wears a full-length, hooded ermine coat. Waiting. Watching. Features impossible to make out. Dark glasses hide the eyes. Hood hides the rest. Nice figure from what we can make out. The dark figure passes out of the light, into darkness. A cab pulls up to the curb. Two WOMEN get out. They struggle with about a gazillion packages, walk unsteadily to the door. The doorman, RANDALL - square-shouldered, early 30s - smiles at them. RANDALL Had a good evening? The women look at each other, laugh. WOMAN #1 Oh, yeah. If we spent any more, we’d have to go to work. WOMAN #2 (high squeaky voice) Shop till you drop. That’s the woman I am. RANDALL Yes ma’am. WOMAN #1 We damned near dropped! But boy did we have fun. More laughter. WOMAN #2 Course with about fifty lattes you can do anything, huh? More laughter as they enter. Randall follows, collecting as many of the packages as he can. The LADY IN BLACK slides in unnoticed. Heads around the corner to the stairs. INT. CONDO LOBBY - NIGHT The threesome heads to the elevator. Randall waits patiently as the two women ricochet inside and the door closes. INT. CONDO APARTMENT - NIGHT This place is right out of “InStyle.” On the leather sofa sits a man, PEARSON ROCK - 30s, quite attractive and rugged. Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. He hears someone at the door. Rock gets up unsteadily, leans toward the door - but doesn’t open it. ROCK I’m not here. A soft knock. ROCK (CONT’D) I told you. Not at home. Another knock. ROCK (CONT’D) Jesus. Not tonight. He opens the door. The Lady in Black. Beautiful, but with the hood up - still no way to tell who the hell she is. But Pearson Rock knows her. ROCK (CONT’D) Well, this a surprise. You’re the last person I expected to see tonight. She stands there, watching him. ROCK (CONT'D) Come on in. Have a drink with me. Good old-fashioned alcohol. Join me and the bottle for a good time. You know about good times. We had a few. More than a few...am I right? Smiles at his own little joke. ROCK (CONT’D) Not talking, huh? Come in. (motions her to follow) Come on... (stumbles toward liquor cabinet) House rules: no talkee, no drinkee. The lady goes over, swaying to a beat only she can hear. Holds out her gloved arms to him. He pours another Scotch, downs it. ROCK (CONT’D) I don’t dance. Remember? She stands a moment then, ever so slowly, opens the ermine coat. Not a stitch on underneath - only black leather boots. Rock drops his glass. She reaches for him. He stumbles to her, his eyes burning. ROCK (CONT’D) Oh yeah... As he unbuttons his shirt, she flips off the light. Moonlight moves across the floor. Her eyes lock into his. Rock’s shirt drops to the floor. He takes her in his arms, hands go right for her ass. Pulling her against him. Kneading the flesh, pulling harder... WOMAN IN BLACK (very softly) First, we dance. ROCK Sure. Whatever you say. The two of them sway in the glow. Back and forth. Back and forth. Rock can’t wait any longer, pulls her down to the floor. She sensuously wraps her legs around his waist. He takes her, thrusting deep inside. Faster. Harder. More intensely. His eyes lost in the desire of the moment. She takes him full on, with a fevered rhythm of love. Her hand leaves his back. Slowly, surely, it reaches toward the ermine coat on the floor. She retrieves something from inside the coat. Rock is getting close now. A six-inch, chrome blade flashes in the moonlight! In a heartbeat, the knife finds Rock’s chest. In one terrifying blood-sliced movement, it’s over. His eyes go wide with amazement. He looks down at her, then to the knife in his heart. Every last ounce of life flows out of his body as he slumps across her. The clock chimes six. Gloved hands carefully pull Rock’s pants up, buckle the belt. His eyes stare lifelessly as the spiked leather boots softly walk away from the body. A crimson stain spreads, creeping its way outward. INT. CONDO LOBBY - NIGHT Randall is wearing headphones, cheating at solitaire. He never sees the dark figure in the ermine coat slip by. EXT. CONDO - NIGHT IDA FLEMING - mid-70s, hair that matches the snow - walks her bite-sized POODLE up the steps. Looks up just in time to see the black figure as it slams into her. The tiny dog barks. Randall looks up from his game, sees Ida sprawled on the steps. He runs to the old lady, starts to help her. The Lady in Black’s already become part of the night. INT. CONDO LOBBY - NIGHT Randall helps Ida in. RANDALL You sure you’re okay? IDA I’m a tough old broad. (cuddles the dog) Aren’t I baby? Ummmm? She’s careful as she goes. Randall opens the elevator door for her. IDA (CONT’D) Randall, honey, who was that who ran into me? RANDALL I don’t know. I didn’t see you come in, Mrs. Fleming. IDA Someone in dark clothes. That’s all we saw. (kisses dog) Isn’t it, baby cakes? Goes into the elevator. RANDALL Call me if you need help. IDA (with the door closing) We’ll be fine. Won’t we...? Randall shakes his head, looks out the door again. INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT Mrs. Fleming’s on her way toward her apartment. Notices the door to Rock’s apartment ajar. Looks in. Rock is lying in the blood. The scream cuts through the night. EXT. LAGO MONROE CONDO - NIGHT The HOODED FIGURE, eyes filled with hate, retreats into the white curtain. EXT. RED BRICK BUILDING - NIGHT Old place. Ivy walls. Lights from inside glow through the falling snow. INT. BUILDING - NIGHT Wood everything. Sign above the door reads: “Madison School For The Deaf.” In the main lobby area, a group of children sit. All moving their hands quickly, signing. The leader of the group is not a teacher, though. Meet Detective JAKE SAMUELS. Mid 30s, strong jaw, well-built. Very good-looking. Signs as expertly as the deaf kids. SUBTITLES OVER THE FOLLOWING: One of the kids, catches his attention. A girl, KATIE, about 8. KATIE What is it like being a policeman? SAMUELS Like any job, I guess. Boring most of the time. But I love it. Boring can be good. The kids laugh at this. A boy, PHILLIP, 10. PHILLIP Have you killed anybody? Samuels pauses a moment. SAMUELS Yes. But I didn’t want to. PHILLIP Did you feel bad? SAMUELS Yes. I still do. Another boy, TIM. TIM Do you have a gun? SAMUELS Not tonight. TIM Why? SAMUELS I don’t need it with you guys, do I? Are you guys dangerous criminals? Kids laugh again. A woman walks in, mid-50s, hair in a bun, kind eyes. It’s MISS MARDEN, head of the school. She signs as well: MISS MARDEN Discussion group is over. Sorry. Your parents are here. SUBTITLES END: The kids moan softly, get up to leave. Marden approaches Samuels. MISS MARDEN Thank you so much for coming in again. You’re good with the children. SAMUELS Great kids. MISS MARDEN You’re the only police officer we’ve found who can sign. The children have so many questions. SAMUELS My mom and dad were deaf. (grabs his jacket) I grew up thinking people talked with their hands. Using my mouth never occurred to me until I was six. Miss Marden chuckles. MISS MARDEN We’re having our Christmas party tomorrow afternoon. We’d love you to come. Bring a guest if you like. He smiles. SAMUELS Thanks. I’ll try. He leaves. Miss Marden smiles. EXT. SCHOOL - NIGHT Snow is still falling as Samuels gets in the car. He opens the glove box, retrieves his duty weapon - a black Beretta 9MM. Clips on the holster. Starts the car. Turns on the radio. EXT. FLANNERY’S BAR & GRILL - NIGHT Snow falling harder. The sign reading “Flannery’s” marks the bar nestled between buildings. INT. FLANNERY’S - NIGHT A few patrons. Pretty evident this is a cop shop. Uniforms and plainclothes. At one table, near the back, three DETECTIVES sit around the table. Samuels walks in, spots them. Sits next to his partner, Detective FRANK VALENTINE. Valentine’s a seasoned vet, late 50s, built like a brick outhouse. Couple of younger DETECTIVES round out the group. A BRUNETTE sidles up to the table just as Samuels sits. She leans over him. BRUNETTE It’s my favorite song... SAMUELS I’m glad. BRUNETTE Wanna enjoy it with me? SAMUELS What did you have in mind? VALENTINE Go ahead, Jakey. We’ll watch. It was getting boring. The others laugh. She shoves her ample bosom into Samuel’s chest. SAMUELS Are you sure you want to dance? BRUNETTE Yeah. First we dance. Then later, who knows? SAMUELS Are you the leader? BRUNETTE If you let me. SAMUELS Your wish is my command. Samuels takes a drag on Valentine’s cigar stub burning in the ashtray. He stands, puts it out in a half-full beer bottle. Samuels and the brunette head to the dance floor. She slaps her hand right on his tight Levis, strokes his butt. SAMUELS (CONT’D) Something back there? BRUNETTE Oh yeah. SAMUELS We can talk about it later. He whirls her onto the floor, carries her away in the dance. Valentine shakes his head at the other two cops, who are drooling with envy. VALENTINE He’s quite a babe magnet. DETECTIVE #1 How does he do it? VALENTINE It’s a gift. More beer arrives. Valentine chugs his, looks up. A REDHEAD has entered the place. She’s a knockout. If her skirt were any higher, it’d be a necklace. Valentine elbows the other detectives. VALENTINE (CONT'D) Watch this. The redhead glides across the floor, taps the brunette on the shoulder. REDHEAD Time’s up, honey. The brunette stops. She’s angry. BRUNETTE I didn’t know there was a time limit. REDHEAD Now you do. She moves in smoothly, doesn’t miss a beat. Dances Samuels away. SAMUELS Do I know you? REDHEAD (slow smile) You will. Couple of more turns. REDHEAD (CONT’D) I’m your going-away present. (nods to Valentine) From the guys. Before you take your vacation. SAMUELS You don’t say... REDHEAD I do say. You are Jake Samuels, aren’t you? SAMUELS Never been anything else. Samuels shakes his head as the redhead presses against him. He looks at Valentine, who grabs his crotch, nods and laughs. Rest of the group watches, laughs. A cell phone rings annoyingly. Valentine pulls it out. His face changes drastically, looks up at Samuels. Samuels, lost in the redhead’s eyes for the moment, doesn’t notice. Valentine taps Jake’s shoulder. VALENTINE There’s a problem. Jake kisses the redhead. SAMUELS Next time. But then it’s on me. EXT. BAR PARKING LOT - NIGHT Samuels gets behind the wheel. Valentine slides his square-set body on the other side. SAMUELS What’s this about? Valentine watches the snow dust the windshield. VALENTINE You’re on vacation. (checks his watch) Fifteen minutes ago. SAMUELS So? Where are we going? VALENTINE We’re not on our way to just a another stiff call. SAMUELS Plane doesn’t leave for eleven hours. VALENTINE I know. I’ll get you there. Unspoken understanding. EXT. LAGO MONROE CONDOMINIUMS - NIGHT Red and blues blink. There’s an audience of neighbors, a medical examiner’s van. Samuel’s car skids into the curb. He and Valentine get out, head inside. SAMUELS Why didn’t you say where we were going? VALENTINE Didn’t want to talk about it. INT. LAGO MONROE LOBBY - NIGHT Ida’s there with her dog. Randall is giving her tea as Samuels and Valentine enter. A uniformed OFFICER nearby takes her statement. SAMUELS (pulls the officer aside) What have you got? OFFICER (points to Ida) Neighbor found him. Pretty bloody. Jake smiles at Ida. SAMUELS Finish taking her statement. Don’t leave out anything. No matter how small. Understand? OFFICER Got it. Valentine pushes his way to the elevator. Samuels follows. EXT. ROCK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT The medical examiner’s ASSISTANT is wheeling out the black bag. Valentine stops the cart, unzips the bag. Pearson’s eyes are still wide open. He reaches over, closes them. VALENTINE That’s better. Assistant continues out. Detective, MIKE SLOAN - skinny, pale - sees Samuels. SLOAN Thought you were on vacation. SAMUELS I will be. As if it matters to you. They follow Valentine inside. INT. ROCK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT Another group of Chicago’s finest going through the place in orderly chaos. SLOAN Sorry Frank. VALENTINE You get the call? SLOAN Yeah. But I’ve got a lot of help. VALENTINE Who else? Sloan nods. Just about everybody. When money dies, interest picks up. On cue, LT. WES MORGAN - cigar stub chomped between his teeth - steps out of the bedroom. MORGAN Who told you two to come? VALENTINE I was in the neighborhood. Morgan comes over, looks him in the eye. MORGAN Find another neighborhood. SLOAN Cut him some slack, Lieutenant. It’s his brother. MORGAN (to Valentine) Stepbrother. Right? Valentine nods slightly and looks at Samuels, who shrugs. Morgan chews the cigar as he goes into the bedroom again. Valentine follows. INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Morgan peers over the shoulder of a uniformed officer working on prints. Valentine comes over. VALENTINE I want this one. MORGAN No. VALENTINE Why? MORGAN You know why. Cops don’t investigate their own family. Take Samuels and get the hell out. He’s supposed to be on vacation anyway. VALENTINE I’m not leaving until I get it. Come on, Wes. MORGAN Don’t push me, Frank. I said no. You two are on those liquor store homicides. Stick with that. Okay? Obviously, Morgan isn’t changing his mind. VALENTINE This is bullshit. He leaves. Morgan chews what’s left of his cigar. Sees the uniformed officer looking at him. MORGAN What? Get back to work. INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Valentine jerks his head at Samuels. VALENTINE C’mon. SAMUELS We’re leaving? VALENTINE For now. SAMUELS What’s that smell? Valentine looks at him, sniffs. VALENTINE What smell? SAMUELS Perfume. The expensive kind. Samuels sniffs one more time. Follows Valentine out. EXT. LAGO MONROE CONDO - NIGHT A limo pulls up. Driver gets out, hustles around, opens the door. Out steps ANGUS “GUS” ROCK - 50s, salt-and-pepper hair. News vans everywhere. Reporters and camera geeks. Rock brushes past them. INT. LOBBY - NIGHT Gus meets Valentine and Samuels on the way out. Without a word, hugs Valentine. VALENTINE Sorry, Gus. GUS I know. (to Samuels) Jake. How are you? SAMUELS Been better. Sorry about your brother. GUS What happened? Jealous husband? VALENTINE Don’t know. Wasn’t robbery. SAMUELS We’ll have an autopsy report in the morning. GUS I thought you were on vacation. SAMUELS I am. GUS I want to go up. SAMUELS The body’s been taken to the morgue already. GUS I know. I just want to see...for myself. (a thought) Hit? Maybe? SAMUELS Doesn’t look like it. Who knows? GUS Suzanne’s plane from Paris gets in at two. Have to pick her up in an hour. Might like to see you... SAMUELS I really doubt it. GUS Just because the engagement’s off doesn’t mean you two can’t be friends. SAMUELS Sure. That’s why she went to Europe. So we could be friends... GUS (to Valentine) May I? Valentine turns to a new detective in the lobby, FLORINTINO. Young guy, about 26. Frightened deer look on his face. VALENTINE Mr. Rock would like to see the crime scene. Take him up. FLORINTINO But he’s a civilian. VALENTINE And I’m a sergeant. Take him up. Florintino gulps, smiles, motions to Rock. GUS Keep me informed? VALENTINE I will. He heads to the elevator with the rookie. Samuels takes a deep breath. SAMUELS I need to make a call. VALENTINE I don’t want to screw up your plans. Go. Don’t worry about me. SAMUELS I don’t think so. I can’t leave you alone. Not now. VALENTINE I have an entire police force to work with. SAMUELS Exactly. That’s why I need to stay. Valentine slaps his partner on the back. VALENTINE You’re a good boy. EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT A few miserable Christmas lights adorn the window. Place is a pathetic little shithole. Bad part of town, worse clientele. Samuels wheels his car into the vacant lot, starts to get out. Stops. He can see three PEOPLE. Strange angles to their bodies. Reaches in the glove box, retrieves a pair of binoculars. BINOCULAR POV: The people’s MOUTHS. Talking furtively. We see and hear every word thanks to Samuel’s lip-reading ability. A HOMELESS GUY says: SAMUELS (O.S.) He’s gonna’ kill us... Over to a WOMAN: SAMUELS (O.S.) (CONT'D) Shut up! He said not talk. Back to homeless guy’s mouth: SAMUELS (O.S.) (CONT'D) I’m not talkin’. I’m whisperin’. Samuels lowers the binoculars slowly, checks the Beretta. Heads inside. INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT Three people: two BUMS and a WAITRESS, stand staring at Samuels. Not a word. SAMUELS Where’s the manager? Still nothing. They just turn, look at... A big, ugly GUY with a shotgun. One hand on a tiny Asian man, maybe 70, with terror in his eyes. MR. SHOTGUN Who the hell are you! SAMUELS Nobody. MR. SHOTGUN Get over there! Samuels doesn’t move. SAMUELS You’re the ugly bastard who hit the liquor store on East Wacker night before last? Mr. Shotgun stares at him. Rage in his eyes. MR. SHOTGUN What! Mr. Shotgun stares, then does a kind of bizarre little dance. MR. SHOTGUN (CONT'D) You sonofabitch. I’m the taker! You got it? (goes rap mode...) I do what I do - and take what I want! Don’t fuck with me - you ain’t that smart! End of the impromptu show. MR. SHOTGUN (CONT’D) Now get over there, asshole! Shoves the barrel farther into the Asian man’s mouth. SAMUELS How many you hit this month? MR. SHOTGUN What? SAMUELS Liquor stores? How many? Five? Six? MR. SHOTGUN You writin’ a damn book? SAMUELS You’re not allowed questions. (very slow smile) You won’t be able to answer later... Samuels just stands there, his eyes doing quick calculations. Finally dawns on Mr. Shotgun - Cop! He pulls the sawed-off out, pushing the Asian man away, turning it toward Samuels. In a blinding motion. Samuels has pulled the Beretta - POW! POW! Two tiny holes in Mr. Shotgun’s forehead. He dies on his feet. The others scream. The Asian man crumples. Samuels lifts him up. Off the old man’s look... EXT. LIQUOR STORE - MINUTES LATER Police flashers spinning. Slamming to a halt. Uniformed OFFICERS everywhere. The store is rapidly overrun as Samuels coolly walks out with his Coors. MORGAN What the hell was that about? SAMUELS Armed robbery. MORGAN And you don’t call for backup? SAMUELS I just wanted a six-pack. I’m on vacation. Remember? Morgan’s destroying his cigar. INT. O’HARE AIRPORT - NIGHT Huge terminal building. People everywhere. Through the crowd, Gus hurries along with his DRIVER. Sitting there, surrounded by suitcases, is SUZANNE ROCK, mid-20s. Beautiful. Staring. GUS Baby...? She comes out of her daydreaming, brightens. Runs over, hugs him mightily. SUZANNE Hi, Daddy. GUS Sorry I’m so late. There was a problem. SUZANNE What is it? GUS I’ll tell you later. How was the flight? Long? SUZANNE No, we got here in twenty minutes. It just took thirteen hours to unload the luggage. GUS Yeah. SUZANNE You know it’s a long flight when you wake up face-down in your yogurt. GUS Let’s go home. They head out. EXT. DOWNTOWN HIGH-RISE - DAY Big place. Michigan Avenue address. Christmas decorations brighten downtown. INT. APARTMENT BEDROOM - DAY Light coming through the curtains. On the huge bed, a cloud of red hair attached to a young woman, asleep. PENNY VALENTINE. Radiant face. Perfect in repose. Eyes flutter under the lids, dreaming. The bedroom door opens a crack, then more. Someone is there. Penny doesn’t move. A man’s shoes, nice ones, silently move in. Over to the bed. Penny’s face turns in her sleep, as the unseen MAN’S body moves over her. Slowly, her eyes open, register. Slow smile. PENNY You lost? Nothing from the unseen man. She pulls the sheet down a little. She’s nude. The breasts full, nipples erect. We hear a satisfied groan from the man. He’s SENATOR BENJAMIN CRAWFORD - 40s, rugged face, wavy head of hair. Three-piece premium suit, expensive shoes. CRAWFORD Not anymore... In a second, he’s in bed with her. In a couple more, he’s pulling off his clothes. In a few more, he’s on top of her. The phone just sits there. Quiet. We hear the heightening grunts and groans of love making. Louder. Louder. Now the ring. Crawford stops, looks over. CRAWFORD (CONT'D) You want me to get it? PENNY Could be work. CRAWFORD (smiles) I doubt it. The senator’s out of town. PENNY And into his administrative assistant. (another ring) Go ahead. He reaches over, picks it up. CRAWFORD Yes? PHONE VOICE (very softly) First, you have to dance. CRAWFORD What? Click. Dial tone. PENNY Who was it? CRAWFORD Wrong number. She looks at him strangely. INT. 76TH PRECINCT - DAY Plain brown government wrapper of an office. Detectives’ desks in wobbly rows. Glass-partitioned office in the rear. The squad room is busy, but everyone has one ear on the conversation they can all hear from the back: MORGAN (OS) ...and who told you to play a goddamned hero in the first place! (beat) You follow procedures! That’s what we do. Like it or not. We follow the rules. INT. MORGAN’S OFFICE - DAY Cigar makes Morgan look vaguely reminiscent of an old steam locomotive. Smoke clouds billow behind him. MORGAN And, by the way, that rat’s ass you blew away wasn’t the same one. Different M.O. Different nationality. Different everything. SAMUELS Well, it’s all in a day’s work. MORGAN You are still that same wiseass sonofabitch who strolled in here years ago expecting to be a superhero. You could have gotten four hostages killed. That’d look real good - wouldn’t it? Samuels bites his tongue. MORGAN (CONT’D) Now, you either get on that goddamned plane and fly your sorry ass outta here - or you get on the street and find these guys. You got that, hotshot? Samuels stands, goes to the door, stops. SAMUELS I’m guessing right now wouldn’t be a good time to check your blood pressure. MORGAN (shouts out) Get out! He’s gone. Morgan bites off half the cigar, spits it out. MORGAN (CONT’D) Asshole. INT. SQUAD ROOM - DAY Samuels takes a deep breath, heads for his desk. Valentine comes over. VALENTINE Good bust. SAMUELS Thanks. Heard from the M.E.? VALENTINE Not yet. Wanna come check things out? SAMUELS When the going gets tough... (grabs his jacket) Everyone leaves. VALENTINE Very true. One DETECTIVE holds a phone to his chest. DETECTIVE Hey, Frank. You got a call. Valentine shrugs, grabs the phone. VALENTINE Detective Sergeant Valentine... VOICE (softly) First, we dance. VALENTINE What? Dial tone. Valentine hangs up slowly. SAMUELS Who was it? VALENTINE Some bimbo. Invited me to a dance. SAMUELS Something you wanna tell me? VALENTINE Not that I know of, pal. Not that I know of. INT. ROCK HOME - GREAT ROOM - DAY This place is a magazine cover. Beautiful. Exquisite appointments. We see a figure, holding the phone. A woman. Slender, graceful features. SIMONE ROCK. French, mid-40s, effortlessly beautiful. She looks at the phone in her hand for a moment, trying to decide something. Finally, she hangs up. Gus strides in. GUS What? When she speaks, it’s with a soft accent. SIMONE I’m frightened. GUS Of what? SIMONE What if this is a vendetta? GUS That’s ridiculous. SIMONE Against our family? GUS I’m touched. Didn’t think you cared that much. SIMONE I don’t. GUS That’s what I thought. Gus goes to the liquor cabinet, fixes himself a drink. GUS (CONT’D) Pearson slept with someone else’s wife once too often. Have to make arrangements. I’ll take care of it. All you have to do is be the perfect grieving sister-in-law. Or is that too tough? SIMONE You can be so cruel sometimes. GUS And so can you. She turns away from him, but his next words stop her like a shot. GUS (CONT’D) How was it? Not a syllable from the beautiful woman. She leaves. He watches her go. A faint smile of satisfaction on his lips. EXT. STREET - DAY Valentine and Samuels in the cruiser. Samuels drives. Valentine juggles hot coffee and a bagel. SAMUELS What was Pearson into? VALENTINE You name it. SAMUELS Drugs? VALENTINE All of them. SAMUELS Women? VALENTINE Mostly married ones. SAMUELS The mob? VALENTINE Probably. SAMUELS What wasn’t he into? VALENTINE I don’t think he spent much time at the Salvation Army. SAMUELS So the suspect list is the phone book. VALENTINE Pretty much. EXT. STREET - DAY The cruiser swings downtown, heading toward the municipal buildings. Holiday shoppers out in the street. SAMUELS (OS) Why are you doing this to yourself? VALENTINE Doing what? SAMUELS Pretending everything is okay? VALENTINE What should I do? SAMUELS Let yourself go. You’re with me. VALENTINE You know, Angus raised me. He adopted me when my parents died. (beat) He’s family. INTERCUT - THE CAR On the seat, a cell phone. Valentine answers. VALENTINE (CONT’D) Yeah? Hi. (beat) Tonight? Sure. (beat) Downtown. (another beat) White okay? I’ll stop at Dunston’s on the way back. (laugh) You too. SAMUELS Who was that? VALENTINE One of my many female admirers. SAMUELS Oh, right. I keep forgetting how popular you are at the nursing home. INT. MORGUE - DAY Only two colors - the white of the walls and the gray of stainless steel. Fifteen tables with the recently departed. Samuels and Valentine head for the farthest table. The heavyset county coroner, ARTHUR LONGSTREET, glances up. Mask covers most of his face. LONGSTREET Frank. Just finishing. Sorry about your loss... VALENTINE Appreciate it. Verdict? LONGSTREET Chinese menu. Take your choice. VALENTINE Drugs? LONGSTREET Coke. Not much. Little Prozac too. Enough Scotch to float the Queen Mary. VALENTINE What else? LONGSTREET He got laid. Valentine glances at Samuels. SAMUELS Recently? LONGSTREET Very recently. SAMUELS So, he was having sex when he died? LONGSTREET That’d be my guess. Dried vaginal secretions. Entry wound was through the left ventricle. Severed the artery and pretty much destroyed the vena cava. Longstreet pulls down the mask. He isn’t much in the way of looks, but he’s the best medical examiner in the state. Pops the plastic gloves, tosses them at a nearby waste receptacle. Misses. LONGSTREET (CONT’D) Killer was right-handed. Murder weapon a long sharp object -probably a double-edged stiletto of some sort. SAMUELS How quick did he die? LONGSTREET Sixty seconds. Give or take. SAMUELS Thanks, Ace. Owe you one. LONGSTREET You owe me fifty. Five card stud. Remember? SAMUELS Later. I’m on vacation. Longstreet tosses the face mask, shakes his head. Off his look... INT. BEDROOM - DAY Bedroom isn’t the right word. More like a palace with a bed. Huge four-poster. On it lies a thin, drawn woman, VICTORIA CRAWFORD. She’s not alone. An empty gin bottle keeps her company. Enter Senator Crawford. He looks around, takes a deep breath. CRAWFORD Long night? VICTORIA Well, well, well. Look what the wind blew in. The gracious and charming Senator Crawford. CRAWFORD I thought we had a deal? He drops his briefcase on the nightstand, goes to the closet. VICTORIA Deal? Me make a deal? With you? I doubt it. CRAWFORD The election is three months away Victoria. Remember? VICTORIA And I should care because? CRAWFORD Because you can crawl back in your bottle after I’m re-elected. He starts changing. She tries to negotiate getting out of bed and staying on her feet at the same time. It’s a losing proposition as she nosedives. He goes over to help her up. She bats his hand away, hissing. VICTORIA Don’t touch me! Not with the same hands that feel up your little office whore... He gives up. Goes back to changing. CRAWFORD You pathetic piece of shit. VICTORIA You think that up all by yourself? CRAWFORD I don’t give a damn if you drown in booze, Victoria. In fact, your dying would be worth another hundred thousand sympathy votes. Don’t mess with my re-election. She tries to face him straight on. Can’t quite. VICTORIA A marriage made in heaven... CRAWFORD And marinated in gin. VICTORIA Son-of-a-bitch. I gave you everything. My family’s money got you elected. My family got you influence. My family made you, you prick! CRAWFORD Your family is as sick of you as I am. Her breath could float a hot-air balloon. He pushes her away, revulsed. CRAWFORD (CONT’D) Oh, by the way, did you hear? Pearson Rock is dead. Victoria looks like she’s been slugged in the stomach. CRAWFORD (CONT’D) My sources say it was a knife through the heart. Fitting, huh? (heads for the door) Rumor has it he was getting a knob job at the time. Ring any bells? She can only watch him leave. Sways back and forth a few times and then collapses. Pretty much a daily ritual for her. EXT. STREET - DAY Valentine pulls the cruiser up in front of Dunston’s, an upscale liquor store. The place where the Michigan Avenue crowd shops. Eases into a “No Parking” zone. INT. CAR - DAY Samuels looks at his partner. VALENTINE We need a good white wine. SAMUELS Just get something that doesn’t have a screw cap. VALENTINE Watch out for the meter maid. SAMUELS We’re cops. VALENTINE Parking enforcement doesn’t give a shit. They ticket the mayor’s car. (gets out) They live to write you up. You know that. SAMUELS No problem. Got you covered. Valentine strides to the entrance. Samuels flips on the radio, drums his fingers to a perky Latin number. EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY A man with a neatly trimmed goatee - we’ll call him SNIPER “A” - sits bowlegged on the edge of six-story building. Looks through a spotting scope. On his ear, a star-set microphone. Taps it. SNIPER “A” Rock and roll, melon head. EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP - CONTINUOUS SNIPER “B” has the same setup as “A”. Rail thin. Wears a Cubs cap and cradles a Remington semi-automatic .308. Huge scope, silencer. Full package. He peers through the eyepiece. SNIPER “B” Just like the arcade back home. Pop - pop - pop! POV: Valentine disappearing into the liquor store. The view moves over to Samuels in the car. Sniper “B” adjusts the scope for windage. EXT. FIRST ROOFTOP Now, Sniper “A” pulls out a Winchester Model 70 30.06. SNIPER “A” Got here just in time. (aiming now) Where is he? SNIPER “B” (O.S.) He went inside, dipshit. SNIPER “A” Contract’s for him. No freebies. SNIPER “B” (O.S.) So? We wait. Sniper “A” lowers the rifle, goes back to the spotting scope. POV: Samuels still there. Hanging out. Sniper “A” settles back to wait. EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP Sniper “B” still watches through the rifle scope. Absently reaches into a Cracker Jack box, munches away. SNIPER “B” Don’t like doin’ cops. SNIPER “A” (O.S.) They bleed same as anybody else. SNIPER “B” Not good for business. SNIPER “A” (O.S.) One shot. One kill. One hundred grand. What’s not good? Sniper “B” grabs more Cracker Jack. Nervous energy. Eats without chewing. EXT. CAR - DAY Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away” is playing on the oldies station now. Samuels is getting into it... SAMUELS (singing) “...give me the beat boys...” Off-key. Doesn’t care. SAMUELS (CONT’D) “...and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock and roll...and drift away...” Looks up. POV: A parking enforcement three-wheeler. The WOMAN driving is built like a dump truck, and roughly the same size. She looks at the car. Samuels gets out, pulls his badge, holds it up. SAMUELS Police business. MS. PARKING ENFORCEMENT Say what? And just what business would that be, sweet cheeks? (pulls out her pad) A six-pack for lunch? SAMUELS Jake Samuels - 76th Precinct. Call it in if you don’t believe me. MS. PARKING ENFORCEMENT Oh, I believe you, honey. And I’m Aretha Franklin. (starts writing) Who should I make this out to? EXT. FIRST ROOFTOP Sniper “A” looks back into his spotting scope. POV: Valentine appears from the front of the liquor store. SNIPER “A” Bogey! Light it up! EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP Sniper “B” pulls his cap around backwards, squints down the sight of his rifle. POV: Cross-hairs on Valentine. Sniper’s finger squeezing the trigger. The muzzle bucks, little bit of smoke and fire - Poof! SIMULTANEOUSLY - ON THE SIDEWALK Ms. Parking Enforcement turns directly into the line of fire. Her chest erupts in a shower of blood. Falls fast. Valentine stares at her. Then at Samuels. VALENTINE Jesus! I was kidding! Then he realizes Samuels is crouched down. SAMUELS Get down Frank! On the wall: Pop - pop - pop! Bullets sing their way in. Chips of bricks and mortar shower the sidewalk. SAMUELS (CONT'D) Down! Valentine doesn’t need any more encouragement. Dives in front of the car. EXT. FIRST ROOFTOP Sniper “A” is firing away. The silenced rifle sounds like a small popcorn popper. SNIPER “A” He’s behind the car. Can you get a clear shot? EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP Sniper “B” licks his lips. SNIPER “B” No problema. Poof - poof - poof! Three shots in rapid succession. Then three more. ON THE STREET The combat zone is in tatters. The car windshield’s gone. Safety glass spews out. Samuels haunches down. Bullets raking everything. Valentine tries to move. Next shot takes Valentine high in the chest, spins him around. Samuels dives over the car, Beretta up. The fusillade is coming from above. He can see someone now. EXT. FIRST ROOFTOP Sniper “A” looks back. For an instant, the two men’s eyes lock. ON THE STREET Samuels sees the eyes, then fires back. EXT. FIRST ROOFTOP One of the nine-millimeters pings on the escarpment. Pigeons scatter. Sniper “A” looks where it hit. SNIPER “A” I’m taking fire. SNIPER “B” (O.S.) You’re shittin’ me! EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP Sniper “B” settles back to his work. Through the scope. INTERCUT AS NEEDED: Valentine on the ground. Bleeding. But still moving. Sniper “B” taking his time. Aims and...Poof-poof-poof! Valentine gets them all. Dead where he lies. Samuels fires again, then scurries to the body. Has his two- way radio out. SAMUELS Officer down! Code red! Need immediate assistance! (screaming now) Taking fire from above! OVERHEAD: Samuels covering his partner’s body, his voice fading away in the din. Sirens in the distance. Blood everywhere. Portrait in red. VALENTINE (faint) Keep fighting. Don’t stop. SAMUELS I love you man. I love you. A Bell-Ranger helicopter screams over the second rooftop. Two airborne cops look down. The PILOT nods to the other COP on the mic. COP IN CHOPPER Got anything? EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP - DAY Samuels is moving through the prop blast. Waves the chopper back up higher. SAMUELS (in two-way) How? You’re blowing the shit out of everything. Ranger pulls up higher, hovers. COP IN CHOPPER Anything? SAMUELS I don’t know. Too many questions here. Samuels goes to the very corner where Sniper “B” was positioned. Looks around. Clean. Except - a spent shell casing tucked under the escarpment. Samuels takes out his pen, lifts it up. Examines it. Something else catches his eye: Wedged in the railing is a Cracker Jack box. EXT. STREET - DAY Morgan stands on the street. M.E. van just pulling out. Place is swarming with blue uniforms. Morgan peers up at the rooftop, grabs his two-way. MORGAN Samuels, whaddaya got? SAMUELS (OS) Pros. Morgan pauses, looks at the blood stain on the sidewalk. MORGAN Why would pros be after two cops? SAMUELS (OS) I don’t know. EXT. SECOND ROOFTOP - DAY Samuels takes the shell casing carefully, drops it into a small evidence bag. Looks over the edge. Perfect angle of fire. EXT. STREET - DAY Vehicles pulling out. Morgan is talking to the SWAT COMMANDER. Samuels avoids him, goes to his now-riddled cruiser, pulls out the last of the broken glass. Gets in. Morgan spots him. MORGAN Hey! Samuels looks up from putting the key in the ignition. MORGAN (CONT’D) File the report. Then go home. SAMUELS I wanna check something first. MORGAN That wasn’t a request. SAMUELS Good. (turns the ignition) I’m on vacation. Morgan watches the car fishtail into traffic. Scowls. INT. SAMUELS’ APARTMENT - NIGHT Not much. Living room with a decent couch and end table. A few knick-knacks. TV in the corner. Kitchen’s not much different except it has the sink. He drops his keys on the table. Flips on the TV. Sets down a package. Extracts a six-pack. Tears fall from his eyes as he drinks. ON THE TV Some perfectly coiffured female REPORTER is talking in hushed tones in front of the crime scene. Blood looks black on television. Samuels turns away. Phone rings. SAMUELS Yeah? WOMAN’S VOICE You okay? SAMUELS Not really. WOMAN’S VOICE I’m sorry about Frank. I can’t believe it. Neither can Daddy. He wants to talk to you. Samuels lets out a deep breath. GUS (OS) We just heard the news report. SAMUELS Yeah. GUS (OS) What the hell happened? SAMUELS It was a hit, Gus. Pros. He didn’t have a chance. GUS (OS) Anything I can do? SAMUELS Not unless you’ve got psychic powers I don’t know about. GUS (OS) You think it’s connected with Pearson’s death? SAMUELS I don’t see how. GUS (OS) Why don’t you have dinner with us tomorrow? SAMUELS I don’t think so. GUS (OS) We need to talk. SAMUELS Another time. GUS (OS) You know me. I won’t take no for an answer. Suzanne’s voice. SUZANNE (OS) Please come. I haven’t seen you in six months. It’s Christmas Eve... SAMUELS That makes a difference? SUZANNE (OS) It’d be good for both of us. Don’t you think? Long pause. SAMUELS I’ll see what I can do. Another pull from his beer. Slumps farther into the couch. SUZANNE (OS) Eight o’clock. SAMUELS I’ll see. SUZANNE (OS) I’ll expect you. SAMUELS I said, if I can. SUZANNE (OS) You can. She hangs up. Another drink, then Samuels pulls the Beretta clip holster, drops it on the table. Off his thousand-yard stare... INT. A BEDROOM - NIGHT No idea where this place is. On the bed, a dress flutters into place. Smooth, sheer, black number. Sexy. The finest. Feminine hands delicately smooth the wrinkles. VARIOUS CUTS, DETAILS, IMPRESSIONS: Hands carefully applying nail polish. The color of clotted blood. Each stroke a masterwork. Eyeliner, dark against pale skin. Not too thick. Not too thin. Lipstick, same shade as the nail polish. Lips full. Sensuous. Parted. We catch a glimpse of the perfect, alabaster teeth. Black lace panties, purest silk, slide effortlessly over satin thighs. Hose now. Creamy silk. Black as Satan’s heart. Ever so carefully rolled into place. Each hooked very precisely on the black garter belt. The bra, black silk. Cut low. Last touch, four-inch spiked heels. Black Italian leather. Finally, the dress. Pulled over the top with a flourish. Completely covers our view as everything melts into that same black, silky nothingness. FROM BLACK TO: RED AND GREEN BLURS: Resolving themselves into Christmas lights. EXT. CRAWFORD ESTATE - NIGHT The senator lives well. Festive lights adorn the house, with just the right touch for the season. Cars arriving. One after the other. Well-dressed people get out, enter. INT. CRAWFORD HOME - NIGHT Huge banner over the main foyer: “Senator Ben Crawford - Six More Years” It’s a re-election/Christmas party. Crawford is doing the flesh pounding while Victoria handles the bar. Drinks as much as she pours. People mingle, laugh, talk, feel each other up. Typical Christmas celebration. Crawford is joking with a huge MAN and his DAUGHTER, who’s about 15 with five-alarm acne. INTERCUT - A ROOM Pitch dark. A female hand pulls out a cell phone, dials. BACK TO THE PARTY A BUTLER enters, whispers something in Crawford’s ear. Crawford excuses himself from the man and his daughter, goes out. Victoria’s eyes narrow as he leaves. Suspicion written on her face in capital letters. INT. STUDY - NIGHT Only a small table lamp illuminated. Crawford walks in, goes to the phone receiver laid on the desk. CRAWFORD Hello? Nothing. CRAWFORD (CONT’D) Hello? Hangs up. Looks around. He’s alone - until a perfect female silhouette in black moves in from the shadows. We can’t see her face. CRAWFORD (CONT'D) What are you doing in here? Come on in. (smiles) What? Nothing. Instead, she reaches out to him. LADY IN BLACK (soft whisper) First, we dance. CRAWFORD You know how I dance. I have to get back... He doesn’t move. Ever so slowly, she reaches back, unzips the dress. It flutters to the floor around her ankles. She steps out of it. Flawless female form - a black contour in the shadows - enticing beyond human endurance. Crawford shakes his head. CRAWFORD (CONT’D) I can’t. Not now. He’s hesitant. But hesitant or not, he moves toward her. INTERCUT AS NEEDED: Her hands reaching, taking his hands to her breasts. Crawford’s face, surprise giving way to the urge. His hands move to the black silk panties, reach inside, massaging. Her eyes softly close. Euphoric. His eyes wide open. Lustful. She wraps one leg up around his waist. Unbuckles his belt. His face is pure rhapsody. The two silhouettes coupled together. A groan of satisfaction escapes his lips. Undulating to the soft music. He’s getting more intense now. His eyes flutter, he’s about to come. Then her hand pulls the stiletto from the garter belt. A quick, brilliant flash of cold steel in the half-light. A streaking upward motion - Right through the senator’s lower jaw. And tongue. And the roof of his mouth. Lodging in the frontal lobe of his brain. His eyes fly open, blood burbling out of his mouth. Crawford is dead on his feet as he sags out of sight. His eyes the last to leave. Still shocked, uncomprehending. The Lady in Black rearranges her underwear, pulls the dress back on slowly. Smooths each wrinkle very carefully. Just so. Wipes the blade of the knife on Crawford’s frozen chest. High heels walk slowly to the door. Stop. Her eyes are illuminated by the single lamp. She opens the door. A slash of light illuminates the study in scarlet for an instant as she leaves. INT. MAIN LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Victoria smiles ingratiatingly as she passes through the guests. Grabs the butler. Whispers something. He shrugs, nods toward the hall. She shoots out at flank speed. EXT. CRAWFORD ESTATE - NIGHT Camera pulls away from the beautiful Christmas lights. Away. Victoria’s scream echoes over the estate before fading. INT. SQUAD ROOM - DAY All hell is breaking loose. Punctuated by occasional blasts from Morgan’s office. Samuels walks in. He grabs the first person who rushes by - Florintino. SAMUELS What’s going on? FLORINTINO Another murder. SAMUELS Who? FLORINTINO Senator Crawford. Stunner. Florintino runs out. Sloan appears at the door. He comes over: SAMUELS Up to your ass in alligators? SLOAN Yeah. Sorry about Frank. Good man. Deserved better. SAMUELS Thanks. SLOAN You still get insomnia? SAMUELS No. It’s not insomnia if you never sleep. You got anything? SLOAN Not much. Morgan’s holding a sledgehammer. Samuels picks up the report on the senator. SAMUELS Any leads? SLOAN Zero leads. Same M.O. as Pearson Rock. SAMUELS Exactly? SLOAN Pretty much. Pants on the floor - knife through the brain. Different vital organ, same result. SAMUELS A woman serial killer. SLOAN Screw. Slice. Dice. In that order. SAMUELS Any background stuff? SLOAN We pulled his bank statements. He was getting an awful lot of money from anonymous sources. SAMUELS Really. SLOAN Over five hundred thousand in the past eight months. All cashier’s checks. All anonymous. SAMUELS Blackmail? SLOAN Maybe. He was into something, that’s for sure. I gotta go. A nod, and he’s gone. Samuels pulls out a small evidence bag. Inside, the spent shell casing. The brass glints in the light. INT. POLICE LAB - DAY ROB KENNER, 40, lab coat. Nice guy. He’s bent over a microscope as Samuels walks in. KENNER Hey. Real sorry about Frank. SAMUELS Thanks Rob. I got something else I need you to look at. Hands over the evidence pouch. Kenner extracts the casing. Knits his brow. KENNER Where’d you get it? SAMUELS Roof. KENNER (realizes) Oh, right. From yesterday. SAMUELS Tell me about it. Kenner goes to his workbench, puts the shell casing into a tubular cylinder - ballistics diagnostic evaluator. Little viewing screen on top. ON THE SCREEN Like an X-ray. Shows the casing, and CLOSE-UP the lettering. The letters “M. F. N.” Kenner makes an odd face. SAMUELS What? KENNER Whoever was using these didn’t get them from the local sporting goods store. SAMUELS What are the letters? KENNER They stand for Muniçãoes Fabrique Nacional. Made in Portugal. High-level Black Ops stuff. (turns an adjustment) CIA uses these - or did - in Desert Storm. (pulls out casing) .308, right twist, sub-sonic detonation. (hands it to him) Used with silencers generally. SAMUELS Government heat? KENNER Or somebody who got their hands on some very hush-hush ordinance. SAMUELS Freelancers. KENNER Or the mob. SAMUELS What about the box I sent over earlier? KENNER Clean. Samuels tosses the cartridge in his hand. INT. LAGO MONROE CONDO - DAY This is a big condominium. Two million dollars big. Huge foyer and entryway. At the door, two GOONS. Voices. Someone is pissed. RIZZOTTI Then find out! Feet walking, heavy breathing. Now the body. Enormous. Somewhere in the neighborhood of Lake Michigan. SOL “THE WHALE” RIZZOTTI. Name fits. Four hundred pounds. Behind him, a squirrely little man with thinning hair. ARNIE DAMOTA, mob accountant. Rizzotti drags his bulk into the living room. DAMOTA How? RIZZOTTI How the hell do I know, Arnie? Follow the money. DAMOTA But how do I access his books? RIZZOTTI Somebody’s gotta have a line on it. Go to the bank. Use our sources. I want my money. Arnie is sweating bullets. DAMOTA I’ll try... RIZZOTTI Don’t try. Do it - or you’ll be wearin’ your head backwards. Enough for Arnie. He’s out of the room like an F-16. Rizzotti glares. Mops his brow. GOON #1 walks in. GOON #1 Company. RIZZOTTI Who? GOON #1 Cop. RIZZOTTI Shit. One of ours? GOON #1 (shakes his head) Jake Samuels. RIZZOTTI Shit. GOON #1 You wanna see him? RIZZOTTI Yeah, okay. On the terrace. He flounders for a moment, finally gets off the sofa, heads through the door. EXT. TERRACE - DAY The lake spreads out before us like a rippling blue carpet. Snow falling. Samuels walks out, accompanied by both goons. Rizzotti waves his hand, they leave. Motions for Samuels to sit. SAMUELS Didn’t anybody tell you Chicago gets cold in December? RIZZOTTI Clears my head. SAMUELS Too bad it won’t do the same for your arteries. RIZZOTTI What do you want, Samuels? SAMUELS Need some information. (pulls out casing; tosses it over) Ever seen one of those? Rizzotti checks it over. Tosses it back. RIZZOTTI Nope. SAMUELS Very hard to get. Word is guys in your line of work have access to ’em. RIZZOTTI I’m a businessman. SAMUELS So I’ve heard. Anybody in town right now? RIZZOTTI I could check. SAMUELS Do that. RIZZOTTI What’s in it for me? SAMUELS I won’t blow a hole in that lard pile you call a stomach. How’s that? RIZZOTTI You got no Christmas spirit. You know that? SAMUELS I just want to know who killed Frank. And why. You do that for me and I might forget I know you. RIZZOTTI That would work for me. SAMUELS And as far as Christmas spirit, I would venture to say I will probably never have fucking Christmas spirit again. UNDER THE CHAIR unseen, Rizzotti pushes a button on the bottom of the armrest. Silent as smoke, the goons appear, hands in their jackets. Samuels sees. Stands. Smiles. SAMUELS Where does the time go? Can’t stay. Thanks for asking, though. He starts out. When he gets between them, he stomps Goon #1’s instep. Guy goes hopping. Falls over. Can’t walk. Samuels spins around, interlaces his arm with Goon #2’s arm as it appears with a flat black automatic. Twists upward. He drops the gun. The guy stumbles back, holding his arm. Samuels turns to Rizzotti. SAMUELS (CONT’D) I’ll be in touch. He leaves. Rizzotti looks at his two damaged bodyguards, shakes his head, belches. Sound echoes out over the lake. EXT. CEMETERY - DAY Mourners. Lots of them. Snow falling softly. Gus and Suzanne never get out of their limo. Jake sits by Penny under the tarp. Holds her hand. Morgan’s in dress blues with the rest of the department. Gus rolls down his window. Listens. Minister’s finished. Six officers raise rifles, fire in the air. Last rites for a Chicago cop. The folded American flag is handed to Penny. Her face is puffy and swollen. Everyone starts to leave. Samuels tosses dirt in the grave. Turns to Penny. SAMUELS You gonna’ be alright? PENNY Guess I’m out of a job too. She laughs to camouflage the tears that are next. SAMUELS Anything I can do? She dabs her eyes, then looks at him strangely. Grief replaced, just for an instant, by ferocity. PENNY Find the motherfuckers... (almost a growl) And cut their hearts out! Holds up the wet handkerchief. Does her eyes again. SAMUELS Was Frank into anything I should know about? PENNY His job. That’s all. It was his life. SAMUELS Any lady friends? PENNY I think he was seeing someone. You know, now and then. I don’t know who it was. He never said. SAMUELS None of my business. PENNY It’s alright. Your job. SAMUELS He ever go dancing? Odd question. PENNY I don’t know. Maybe. Why? SAMUELS Nothing. PENNY Something. SAMUELS The day he was killed, he got a strange phone call. He made a joke about it later. PENNY What? SAMUELS He said some woman wanted to “dance first” or something. Something clicks. PENNY The senator had the same kind of call. SAMUELS When? PENNY The day before he was... (voice trails off) God. Is there a connection? SAMUELS Maybe. Could be just a coincidence. (kisses her cheek) Don’t go postal on me. PENNY Find out. He stands. SAMUELS I will. Promise. She believes him. Rises unsteadily. Holds his arm. PENNY How come you never made a pass at me? SAMUELS I did. But my aim sucks. She smiles at him as they walk to the waiting mortuary limos. Snow falling again. INT. CAR - DAY “Oh, the weather outside is frightful...” The song drifts up from the radio. Samuels looks through the windshield. Lot of snow. Blizzard conditions. AT AN INTERSECTION He stops. Shoppers at 45-degree angles against the snow and wind. They cross in front of him. “And since we’ve nowhere to go...” He looks around. Car next to him. Dark Chevy Suburban. Two guys. Both looking straight ahead. “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...” He hums along. Off-key. Looks at the car again. EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY Light changes. They both go. Down the street. Now the driver looks over - pitted face. Cubs cap. MEMORY FLASH: Same eyes. Same cap. From the rooftop. Samuels and the sniper in that instant when their eyes locked. BACK TO SAMUELS It registers. SAMUELS Shit! Hits the lights in the grill. The driver of the suburban sees the red and blues winking at him. Foot stamps the accelerator. A shriek of tortured rubber and the chase is on. INT. SUBURBAN - DAY Sniper “A” hits a button. Passenger window in the back slides down. SNIPER “A” He made us! Cranks the wheel. SNIPER “A” (CONT’D) Get it! Sniper “B” dives in the back of the Suburban, pulls out an M-16. INT. SAMUELS’ CAR - DAY One hand on the wheel, one on the mic. Shouting over the Christmas songs on the radio: SAMUELS Officer involved in high-speed pursuit! River bridge! Possible homicide suspects. Two men, white males. Driving a maroon, late-model Chevy Suburban... His voice trails off. Stunned look on his face. POV: The M-16’s muzzle. One big, ugly black hole pointing straight at him. Samuels’ eyes grow to twice their size. SAMUELS Armed with automatic weapons! That’s all he gets out. The M-16 vomits fire. Bullets the size of lawn mowers tear into the metal on his car. Windshield's history. Samuels ducks down, trying to drive and survive at the same time. Pulls the Beretta, raises up. Snaps off three quick shots. Discovers the Suburban is bulletproof. Drops the mic. Wind and snow blast him in the face. It’s all he can do to drive this beast now. INT. SUBURBAN - DAY Sniper “A” turns onto Michigan Avenue. Fifty thousand shoppers. Entire street is constipated with traffic. EXT. STREET - DAY Chevy shoots across the lanes of the slow-moving traffic. Crown Vic right on his ass. M-16 fires again. Bullets go to all points of the compass. Geysers of asphalt erupt from the street. Cavernous holes appear in cars. Windows shatter. BACK TO SAMUELS’ CAR He’s swerving to keep up. ON THE SIDEWALK Bloomingdales shoppers dive out of the path of the oncoming car. Samuels is roaring down the sidewalk. The snipers’ car on the street parallel. INSIDE THE SUBURBAN Sniper “A” shouts at Sniper “B”. Motions him over to the other window. BACK ON THE SIDEWALK Holiday shoppers scattering. Samuels barreling through. INT. SAMUELS’ CAR He shoots out his own passenger window. Side by side with the bad guys. Then Samuel’s sees what’s ahead. A WOMAN with a BABY coming out a store. Looks up. Terror in her eyes! Samuels tears at the steering wheel. SAMUELS Get out of the way! She and the baby take their only escape route - through the display window. Glass everywhere. Samuels is moving up again. Off the sidewalk onto the street. Sniper “B” is in position. Down comes the window. Swings the M-16 around. Samuels was counting on this. Doesn’t hesitate. The Beretta blasts three shots through the open window. Sniper “B” catches two in the throat, topples backward. Sniper “A” claws at the wheel, turning madly down an alley. Dumpsters full of holiday garbage block it completely. He slams on the brakes. EXT. ALLEY - DAY Sniper “A” brandishes a .45 automatic. He’s out of the Suburban and running full tilt down the alley. Samuels is out of his car, running. Two men sprint the alley. Sniper “A” turns back, fires two quick ones. Samuels hits the deck. Bullets spray brick chips where his head was a split second ago. He’s back up, fires once - just as Sniper “A” turns the corner. Samuels’ bullet can’t do the same maneuver. The slug slams harmlessly into the corner of a building. EXT. STREET - DAY Samuels sprints around the corner. Shoppers everywhere. No sign of Sniper “A”. A solo CAROLER in front of a restaurant, a big Irish Tenor in a Santa Suit. “Adeste Fidelis” is the song. But this guy’s singing everything but the melody. Samuels scans the crowd. Then something strange happens. Everybody stops. Santa continues his interesting Christmas song. Samuels moves towards him. Snow falling. Now we see the barrel of the .45 shoved in the ear of the sidewalk Pavorotti. Samuels moves over, covering the bad guy. Everyone else on the street bolts. Samuels sights down the muzzle. Sniper “A” is nervous. Eyes flit around. Irish Santa is still singing. Sniper “A” shoves the gun harder. SNIPER “A” Shut up! Santa cuts off mid-note. Gulps. Sniper “A” focuses on Samuels. SNIPER “A” (CONT’D) Okay. Two choices asshole. I’m gone. Or the Jolly Elf here gets his ears cleaned with a bullet. (crazy eyes) Which is it? SAMUELS You’re gone. Sniper “A” smiles. Starts to pull Santa back. Samuels doesn’t even blink. Double taps the Beretta: Kapow! Kapow! Sniper “A’s” head flies backward. Body follows. The large Irish tenor nearly faints. He looks at Samuels, then to the stiff on the sidewalk. Samuels smiles. SAMUELS (CONT’D) Merry Christmas. EXT. ALLEY - LATER Cop cars bookend the alley. A body bag is being hoisted from the Suburban into the waiting coroner’s van. Morgan steps around. Samuels carries out a suitcase of ordinance. Plops it down. MORGAN Whaddaya got? SAMUELS Boy Scouts. They came prepared. (rifles through the stuff) Couple dozen concussion grenades. M203 grenade launcher. Three Glocks. Five hundred rounds of ammunition. MORGAN World War Three... SAMUELS Or pros who do house calls. Pulls out another smaller black suitcase. Opens it to find money. A lot of money. SAMUELS (CONT’D) Frank cost somebody a lot of money. MORGAN Jesus! SAMUELS I don’t think it was him. MORGAN Where are you going? SAMUELS I’m not sure. I’m on vacation. He rounds the corner. Morgan shoves a new cigar in his mouth, chews it. INT. BANK - DOWNTOWN - DAY A beehive. People getting money. People giving money. Bank tellers doing both. Through a window-wall is the manager’s office. The MANAGER is a man in his 60s with a kind, fatherly face. Christmas wreath on his door. He’s with Arnie DaMota. DAMOTA There are favors owed. I’m collecting. MANAGER I’m aware of that. But it’s Christmas Eve. I can’t get that kind of information today of all days. It takes time. DAMOTA Time? You’re talking to me about time? How about you get all the time in the world? Capice? MANAGER I’ll see what I can do. (nods to the door) You’ll have to wait. DAMOTA Fine. Arnie doesn’t move. Manager looks at him. MANAGER In the lobby. DAMOTA Here. Useless to argue. Picks up the phone... INT. SQUAD ROOM - DAY Samuels has been here long enough to become a part of the computer. The screen is spitting out head shots one per second. No matches. Sloan walks in, drops a bag of laundry on his desk. SLOAN You’ve been a busy boy. SAMUELS (eyes never leave the screen) You heard. Said they aren’t gonna give me another car until I promise to bring it back without bullet holes. SLOAN Never happen. (looking at the screen) Find them yet? SAMUELS No. These guys must have been so far under, they sank. SLOAN Prints? SAMUELS Nothing from the Bureau. SLOAN The F.B.I. couldn’t find Canada. SAMUELS I need to get lucky here. SLOAN Don’t we all? Sloan goes back to his desk, grabs his dirty laundry. SLOAN (CONT’D) Whaddaya doin’ for Christmas Eve? Samuels shrugs. SAMUELS Probably going over to Suzanne’s. I’ve been invited. Sloan does a “tsk tsk” motion with his head. SLOAN Gonna start that up again? SAMUELS No. (a look) Maybe. (another look) I don’t know. (frowns) What are you doing? SLOAN Got an anonymous tip. Checkin’ out a source. Wash the dirty undies. Then over to Flannery’s for some Christmas cheer. You decide you don’t wanna do the rich girl dance, come over. Something about that remark rings a distant bell in Samuel’s head. SAMUELS Mike... SLOAN Yeah. SAMUELS Why’d you say that? SLOAN Say what? SAMUELS Dance. SLOAN Huh? SAMUELS Why’d you say ”rich girl dance?” SLOAN I dunno. The informant’s meetin’ me at a dance club. Maybe that’s it. Why? SAMUELS Nothing. See you. Take some backup. SLOAN Right. Who? It’s Christmas Eve. SAMUELS Somebody who can shoot. The new guy. SLOAN Florintino? He couldn’t hit Lake Michigan if he was standing on the bottom. SAMUELS Neither can you. SLOAN It’s nothin’. You worried about me? SAMUELS No. But you still owe me twenty bucks from that Bears game. SLOAN Glad to see you got your priorities straight. He leaves. Samuels goes back to the screen. Blizzard of faces shooting through. INT. BANK MANAGER’S OFFICE - AFTERNOON Manager hangs up the phone. Looks at the mountain of files on his desk. DaMota waits. MANAGER The senator’s accounts are frozen until the police investigation is complete. DAMOTA Everything? MANAGER Yes. Uh, well no. Not everything. There is a sizable... discretionary fund. The senator had it under another name. A corporate name. DAMOTA What name? MANAGER I could get in a great deal of trouble doing this. DAMOTA You’re in a shitpile already. What name? MANAGER Black Rock Enterprises. DAMOTA Who can sign on the account? MANAGER Well, the late senator of course and an... (looks at the file) ...S. Renaud. DAMOTA Who’s that? MANAGER I’ve no idea. DAMOTA I want the cash. MANAGER I can’t do that! DAMOTA Sure you can. Is there any identification for this Renaud? MANAGER Well, no. Just a signature. DAMOTA Then forge it. MANAGER Even if I could, I haven’t that much cash on hand. DAMOTA How much is it? MANAGER Two and a half million dollars. That raises Arnie’s eyebrows and expectations. DAMOTA How much can you get? MANAGER Maybe fifty thousand. It’s Christmas Eve! DAMOTA Consider it a down payment. Mr. Rizzotti will be very appreciative. Really. Manager looks like he’s just booked passage on the Titanic. INT. CAR - AFTERNOON Parked on the street. Right across from the bank. Ideal view of the front entrance. Woman at the wheel. She wears a black trench coat, black silk scarf over her head and dark glasses. INT. SQUAD ROOM - DAY Nobody around. Samuels is still at it. On the screen, more faces. And more faces. Then a face we know - Sniper “A.” Samuels stops cold, reads all about: ANDREW LAPIN. Nationality: USA. French ancestry. Naval intelligence. Duty Situation - Great Lakes Naval Station. Assigned - Chicago - Consulate, Covert Ops. Left service 1982. File goes on. Samuels is stumped. Last line catches his eye: “Born - December 24, 1972.” SAMUELS Happy birthday... EXT. BANK - DAY The snow is back. Arnie hefts his briefcase, smiles to himself. Heads to the curb. Tries hailing a cab. No luck. Shivers in the cold. Looks around. A Black Lexus with heavily tinted windows. A juggernaut moving straight at him! Arnie realizes it too late. Takes to the air as the Lexus slams into him. Squashes him against the windshield. FROM INSIDE - WE SEE Arnie’s screaming visage about an inch away. Coughs blood on the window. Smears like taffy... Body goes sailing. Angles grotesquely. He’s dead when he hits the sidewalk. Red blood mingling with the green cash from his now-broken briefcase. INT. MADISON SCHOOL - DAY Christmas tree. Cake and ice cream. Party hats. One on Samuels’ head, about five sizes too small. Someone peeks around the door. It’s Penny. She sees him, stifles a laugh. PENNY Thought you might be here. (laughs again) Got a minute? He loses the hat with a quick flip. SAMUELS Yeah. Ice cream’s gone anyway. PENNY You want to get a cup of coffee or something? SAMUELS Sure. INT. SAMUELS’ APARTMENT - DAY He walks over to the kitchen table with the pot, pours her a cup, and one for himself. SAMUELS I make the best coffee. She takes a sip. Savors it. He’s right. PENNY It’s good. (pause) There are some things... I didn’t tell you. SAMUELS Okay. What? PENNY When Ben got that call about dancing, you know, I told you about it? I was with him. SAMUELS So? PENNY In bed. Surprise. PENNY (CONT’D) We were having an affair, Jake. For the last three years. We loved each other. He was going to leave Victoria as soon as the campaign was over. He’d had enough. Samuels is at a loss for words. Can’t look at her eyes, so he settles for his shoes. SAMUELS Uh, well... It, uh, doesn’t matter. She turns his face to her. PENNY Yes it does. Daddy got me a job on his campaign. That’s how we met. Ben Crawford started his career as my grandfather’s corporate attorney. Long before he ever ran for office. SAMUELS Your grandfather? PENNY My step-grandfather, Thomas McPherson Rock. Founder of the family fortune. My father was two years old when Grandpa adopted him. Years later, Ben did all the legal work to make Daddy one of the family’s legal heirs. There was no problem. Everyone got along. Daddy, Angus and Pearson were what Grandpa wanted them to be. Brothers. SAMUELS Was Frank still in the will? PENNY I’m sure of it. Ben said so. He used to say I would be richer than Victoria’s family ever was. Money was always important to Ben. But I know he loved me. SAMUELS Sure. How rich? PENNY Daddy’s share would have been about thirty million. SAMUELS That’s rich. PENNY But he never talked about that. I don’t think he cared. Gus offered him a partnership dozens of times. Wanted him to quit the force and work in the family business. But you know Daddy. SAMUELS Yeah. Both consider what’s been said. PENNY The murders are connected Jake. I know it. SAMUELS But how? PENNY I don’t know that. But Pearson Rock’s murder was the beginning. SAMUELS What’s the end? PENNY I’m afraid to think about it. (losing it) Everyone I ever cared about... Suddenly, the emotions well up inside her. It’s too much. Samuels is touched. Can’t help it. She looks so vulnerable. He puts his arms around her. She grasps him. Needs his strength. As he holds her, the feelings well up, overflow. She looks up at him. Kisses him. Deep, probing, hard. INT. BEDROOM - LATER Penny pulls off her blouse, then the bra. Takes off his shirt. She strokes. Explores. Kissing him over and over. Needing his warmth. His closeness. Clothes on the floor. Two bodies intertwined. Each filling a void in the other. Her legs around him. He enters her slowly. INTERCUT AS NECESSARY: Penny, as she grimaces in divine agony. Now Samuels, his face rapt. She kisses his neck and chest, tracing the contour of his face with her lips. Moving with him. Now, his fingertips tracing the contour of her nose, chin, cheeks. Down to her breasts, thighs. Her hand is clutching the bed cover as if to control and caress it at the same time. It is explosive, torrential. A confluence of fate and will. EXT. NEAR NORTH SIDE OF TOWN - LATE IN THE DAY A neon wasteland. The cast reads like a twisted Dr. Suess rhyme: Hookers, pimps, junkies and bums. Creeps and peeps, all slithering over one another. A flashing sign: “Danceland.” Mike Sloan gets out of his car, looks up at the winking neon. Goes in. INT. DANCELAND - CONTINUOUS A real hit parade of losers. Sloan looks over the crowd. The bar. The dance floor. The tables. Not many patrons. Walks to the bar. The BARTENDER is broad of shoulder and broader of gut. One frosty eye. An empty socket where the other one used to be. He’s wiping dirty shot glasses. Not washing them. Just wiping each one and putting it back. SLOAN I’m lookin’ for someone. BARTENDER (doesn’t look up) Be still my fucking heart. Sloan snarls. Pulls his .357, shoves it right up the guy’s nose. That gets his attention. SLOAN A woman. Young. She wouldn’t be a regular. (pushes harder) Seen her? Bartender can’t really talk all that well with an entire Smith and Wesson stuffed up his nostril. BARTENDER (very nasal) I ain’t seen nobody like that. Back room maybe. Sloan holsters the gun. Looks to the back entrance. SLOAN Give me a beer. BARTENDER Draft? SLOAN Bottle. BARTENDER (shoves over a longneck) It’s on the house. SLOAN Happy holidays. He takes a pull, heads to the back. INT. BACK ROOM - DAY Dark and dank. Booths, eight of them. A few couples doing everything but dancing. Sloan waits for his eyes to adjust to the light then moves by each booth in succession: Couple all over each other in first booth. Hard to tell where one starts and the other ends. Same in the second, except they’re not wearing as much. Booths 3, 4, 5, 6. Empty. Booth 7, two men making out. Booth #: Something different. A lone WOMAN in the shadows. Can’t see her face. SLOAN You the dancer? WOMAN IN BLACK (very softly) That’s what we do first. Dance. SLOAN I can’t dance. So let’s get to it. Whaddaya got for me? Woman says nothing. Instead, ever so slowly, slides a few inches into a sliver of light. She’s only visible from the neck down as she opens her coat. No bra, but perfect breasts. Glistening like flesh-colored snow cones in the faint light. SLOAN (CONT’D) I’m a cop, sweetie. I bust whores. LADY IN BLACK I know who you’re looking for. Her hand comes into the light, pats the seat beside her. Sloan considers. Starts to slide in next to her. SLOAN Let’s have it... He never sees the glinting blade as it slices upward. EXT. ROCK HOME - NIGHT Samuels stops the car, checks around. Garage door’s open. Room for four cars inside. Three in the stalls: Mercedes, Land Rover and the limo. Samuels takes a deep breath, goes in. INT. ROCK HOME - DAY Samuels hands his overcoat to the butler. Suzanne comes down the stairs, wearing very little makeup. A fresh, natural beauty. She walks over, kisses him right on the mouth. SUZANNE Merry Christmas. SAMUELS You too. She leads him to the dining room. INT. DINING ROOM - DAY This place gets bigger with each room. Huge table but only set for four. Christmas tree stands decorated in the corner. Gus strides in, smiling, hand extended. GUS Jake. Glad you could make it. SAMUELS Thanks for inviting me. GUS Drink? SAMUELS Beer. Gus smiles, pulls a cold one, hands it to Samuels. GUS How’s it going? SAMUELS Slow. GUS I was worried about you. I saw the news reports. What the hell happened? A chase? Really? SAMUELS Hitmen. The ones who killed Frank. GUS Really? You’re sure? SAMUELS Yeah. GUS Any leads? SAMUELS Not exactly. Suzanne takes Samuel’s arm, pulls him to the table. SUZANNE No work. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s talk about something else. GUS Right. Simone should be joining us in a minute. You hungry? SAMUELS Actually, I am. Haven’t eaten today. GUS Good. Simone enters the room. She’s dressed in a black cocktail dress. Beautiful woman. Crosses to Samuels. SIMONE Jacob. I’m so glad you came. Sorry I’m late. Had to go to the bank. Traffic was a mess. Afraid I’m running behind schedule. She kisses him lightly on the cheek. Samuels sniffs the air. SAMUELS That’s nice. What’s the fragrance? SIMONE Why thank you. It’s called “Desire.” It’s my favorite. SUZANNE I don’t like it. SIMONE But I do. SUZANNE We really are so very different. SIMONE Truer words were never spoken. They take seats. On cue, the maid and butler begin serving. SUZANNE I heard you were going on vacation. SAMUELS I was. Then everything happened. SUZANNE I’ll take you on a vacation. Bermuda. Daddy has a condo in St. Thomas. What do you say? Samuels is embarrassed. Simone smiles thinly. Gus just eats his soup. SUZANNE (CONT’D) Well? SAMUELS Not right now. Maybe after all this is over. SUZANNE It’ll never be over. It’s never over for cops. GUS (between mouthfuls) Part of the job, huh Jake? SAMUELS I suppose. SUZANNE I think it’s crazy. Jobs are just jobs. Why don’t you quit? SIMONE Your soup’s getting cold, Suzanne. SUZANNE Really. Why don’t you? There’s a million things you could do besides that. SIMONE Perhaps Jacob doesn’t want to. SUZANNE Why Jake? SAMUELS It’s what I do. SUZANNE It’s dangerous. And stupid. SAMUELS So is driving on the Stevenson. SUZANNE That’s not the same thing and you know it. GUS She has a point, Jake. I could use a good security chief. SUZANNE Daddy pays better too. SAMUELS I don’t doubt that. You know, it’s not about the money. At least for me it’s not. Uncomfortable silence as the butler walks in, motions to Gus. GUS Yes? BUTLER A call for Detective Samuels. Samuels looks at him. INT. STUDY - DAY On the phone, Samuels is listening. Suzanne comes in. SUZANNE What is it? Samuels doesn’t answer. The look says it all. SAMUELS (in phone) I’ll be there in twenty minutes. (hangs up) I have to go. SUZANNE What? Now? You just got here... SAMUELS Sorry. He glances at the wall. Photos. Old ones of Simone dancing with the ballet in the ’60s. Simone in leotard with Suzanne, about four, doing a routine. In fact, most of the pictures are of Simone dancing. Samuels stares for a moment. SAMUELS (CONT’D) I’ll call you. SUZANNE Don’t bother. SAMUELS Okay. Anger clouds her eyes. She stops him at the door. SUZANNE I know it’s your job. But why does it always come before anything else? SAMUELS Same argument we’ve always had. SUZANNE I just need an answer Jake. SAMUELS It’s what I do. You never understood that. You know why? Because you never had to. We don’t live in the same world. SUZANNE I was willing to try. SAMUELS So was I. But it just can’t be. We’re only kidding ourselves. It wouldn’t be good. We both know it. That stops her. Deep breath. She takes his hand. SUZANNE Look, let’s not be angry with each other. Okay? SAMUELS Okay. She reaches up, kisses him. He touches the beautiful face. SAMUELS (CONT’D) You’re perfect. SUZANNE No, I’m not. I’m just used to getting what I want. Except for you. SAMUELS I’ll call you. He squeezes her hand, leaves. She watches him go. EXT. DANCELAND - NIGHT Samuels stands with Florintino. The place looks like cop central. SAMUELS Why the hell weren’t you with him? FLORINTINO He said it was routine. Told me to go home. SAMUELS I wanna see what you got. All the case files. FLORINTINO It’s not much. SAMUELS Show me. INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT Single light at the desk. Samuels, Florintino, files, half a dozen empty paper cups. Samuels is poring over the papers. SAMUELS Pearson Rock was making big bucks from anonymous sources. Blackmail. But who? FLORINTINO We didn’t get a chance to see all the bank records. Detective Sloan was going to get ’em after the holidays. SAMUELS According to this, Pearson was into Rizzotti for a big chunk. FLORINTINO Ponies, women, drugs. A lot of stuff. SAMUELS More than a lot. Two hundred and fifty thousand in the last six months. FLORINTINO But he paid it off. SAMUELS Without touching his trust fund. FLORINTINO Because he couldn’t. SAMUELS Why? FLORINTINO All his trust fund money had to come through his brother. Angus Rock had to sign for every draw. SAMUELS So Pearson had to find another way to finance his lifestyle. FLORINTINO That’s what Sloan figured too. SAMUELS All the accounts were at Chase Manhattan. FLORINTINO Right. Been there twice today. SAMUELS Twice? FLORINTINO After we’d pulled the accounts, I got a call to go back for a hit and run. Nobody else was available. SAMUELS At the bank? FLORINTINO Yeah. Today. Some low-level mobster. (rustles through papers) It’s right here somewhere... Here. Guy named DaMota. Arnie DaMota. SAMUELS Sol Rizzotti’s accountant. FLORINTINO He is? SAMUELS He was. Goes to the phone. Dials. Waits. SAMUELS (CONT’D) I wanna talk to Sol. Jake Samuels. (listens) I know what day it is. Police business. Get him. (waits) Sol? Jake. What’s goin’ on? You got a war with the west side again? (listens) I’m coming over. Florintino scratches his head as Samuels hurries out. INT. RIZZOTTI’S CONDO - NIGHT Sol stands in the study with Samuels. His two goons at the door like always - only now they sport a cast and a cane respectively. RIZZOTTI You read your reports? SAMUELS Black Lexus. No plates. Nobody saw the driver. You tell me. RIZZOTTI He was doin’ some business for me. SAMUELS What business? RIZZOTTI Business. It’s Christmas Eve for chrissakes. SAMUELS What did he have, Sol? RIZZOTTI I did some business with the late senator. DaMota found an account Crawford had. Corporate account. He called me from the bank. Crawford owed me some dough, I was gonna collect. That’s it. SAMUELS What account? RIZZOTTI An account. I told you. Black Rock Enterprises. SAMUELS How much? RIZZOTTI Over two million. SAMUELS Your money? RIZZOTTI I just made a campaign contribution. That’s it. Wanted it back. He didn’t need it. SAMUELS What else? RIZZOTTI Nothing. Arnie did the withdrawal and was coming back here. SAMUELS But he never made it. Kind of coincidental, don’t you think? RIZZOTTI So? SAMUELS So, there’s more. RIZZOTTI He found a name of somebody else on the account. SAMUELS What name? RIZZOTTI Somebody. I don’t know who. He said it was “S. Renaud.” Something like that. SAMUELS S. Renaud? Like a French name? RIZZOTTI I guess. Depends on how you say it. Samuels looks at the big man. Nods to Florintino. They start to leave. SAMUELS You might wanna take some precautions Sol. RIZZOTTI For what? SAMUELS Crushing your accountant’s guts out with a Lexus doesn’t bother you? RIZZOTTI Accident. That’s all. SAMUELS If you say so. The cops leave. Sol flips the one-finger salute at the door as it closes. INT. SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT Samuels is doing a search on the computer. Names coming up on NCIC. “Renaud, S” is typed in. The search. Names whirring through. No matches. Types in “Maiden Name” Again the blur of names, searching. A match! Reads: Renaud, Simone. Married Angus Rock. Nationality, French. Naturalized: 1975 The Winnetka address. Samuels is stunned. Looks at the screen stupidly for a moment. SAMUELS Shit. INT. RIZZOTTI’S BEDROOM - NIGHT Dark. Faint sliver of light falls on the floor. Rizzotti asleep in bed. His eyes suddenly open. That’s all. No other movement. They blink, trying to adjust to the darkness. VOICE (very softly) That was your carotid artery. Only Rizzotti’s eyes shift to follow the voice. He can’t seem to move. VOICE (CONT’D) When I cut it, it woke you up. His eyes wide now, look down at his body. Blood seeping out onto the white linen and the mound that’s his chest and stomach. Like a spreading crimson river. He blinks rapidly. Gurgles blood. Can’t talk. Can’t move. VOICE (CONT'D) Too late to dance. The dark figure moves quickly through the sliver of light. INT. HALLWAY - SAME Shoes step over a body, Goon #1. Eyes have a strange, faraway look as blood trickles down from a wound in the neck as the figure moves out the door. EXT. LAGO MONROE CONDO - CHRISTMAS MORNING Police cars. Flashing lights. Gurney being wheeled out. Passes Samuels and Morgan. MORGAN Where was the other bodyguard? SAMUELS Got a call from security. Said someone was loitering around Sol’s car. He went to check it out. MORGAN What is this! A goddamned phantom who whacks seven people in 24 hours? (look from Samuels) What? SAMUELS I want a warrant. MORGAN What! Whaddaya got? Who, for chrissake! SAMUELS Simone Rock. Off Morgan’s perfectly blank stare... INT. PRECINCT - DAY Samuels comes in, heads to the front desk. He’s immediately flanked by Gus and Suzanne. GUS What the hell are you doing! Samuels drops a file in front of the desk sergeant, turns. SAMUELS My job. SUZANNE Arresting my mother! That’s insane! What are you trying to prove? SAMUELS Murder. SUZANNE Why her? SAMUELS Two things - motive and opportunity. Your mother had both. He starts for the hallway. Gus stops him again. GUS You can’t be serious. SAMUELS You got her a lawyer, right? GUS Bennett Avery. SAMUELS Best in the city. GUS The country. SAMUELS Fine. She’s well-represented. GUS Jake, listen to me. You’re making a very big mistake. You’ve locked up the wrong one. She’s not capable of murder. SAMUELS Not true. Everyone has the capability to commit the act. And I mean everyone. Even you. Don’t threaten me Gus. I don’t give a shit what you think you can do. She’s responsible for six homicides. And I’m going to prove it. GUS Then say goodbye to your career. Samuels glares at him for a beat, leaves. Gus watches him go. Cold rage. INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - LATER Simone sits at the table. Stares straight ahead. Her lawyer, BENNETT AVERY, 40s, slick, sits beside her. Samuels comes in, glances at the two-way glass. SAMUELS Anything to say before we start? AVERY This complaint is a fairy tale. SAMUELS Is it? (pulls file; reads) Simone Rock, formerly Simone Renaud of Paris, France. A principal dancer with the Paris ballet, later moved to Chicago and the Joffrey. Met and married multi-millionaire Angus Rock. They had one child, Suzanne. AVERY Is this going somewhere? SAMUELS In 1989 Mrs. Rock had an extramarital affair. Nothing from Simone. Still staring. SAMUELS (CONT’D) With her husband’s brother, Pearson Rock. The affair ended, but the consequences didn’t. Pearson Rock had a challenged lifestyle. His trust fund was administered by Angus. Pearson had to have another way to finance his errant ways. Blackmail. His income source? His sister-in-law. Pay or he’d reveal the affair. Still nothing. She’s ice. AVERY This is a fishing expedition. You have nothing to corroborate that. SAMUELS He received almost five hundred thousand dollars in the last eight months. All from anonymous sources. AVERY My client didn’t have access to that kind of money. SAMUELS She wasn’t the only donor. He was also blackmailing another lover, Victoria Crawford. But even that wasn’t enough. Pearson realized that Simone had found another bedmate. AVERY You just alleged that Pearson was her lover. SAMUELS That ended. Simone wanted more. She began having an affair with Senator Benjamin Crawford. She was the only other signer on his substantial bank account under the name Black Rock Enterprises. But that wasn’t enough. Ben Crawford had to go. AVERY We don’t have to sit through this fabrication anymore. This is all pure conjecture. Not enough to hold my client. This interview is finished. (to Simone) Let’s go. SAMUELS You haven’t heard the rest of the story. INTERCUT - OBSERVATION ROOM Morgan and the district attorney, ELLA KITTNER - late 30s, a mildly attractive woman - watch the interrogation through the two-way glass. MORGAN His ass is hanging out a hundred miles. KITTNER She’s not reacting at all. MORGAN That’s what worries me. BACK TO - INTERROGATION ROOM SAMUELS It was easy for her to seduce these men. Murder was just as easy. Frank Valentine was an heir to the Rock family fortune and he was also one of her lovers. That gets the first look from Simone, but nothing more. Avery is aghast. AVERY That’s ridiculous! Was there anyone you don’t think she was sleeping with! SAMUELS I don’t think she was sleeping with her husband. She knew Frank would never reveal their affair because the poor bastard loved her. She also knew that he had secretly put her in his will. Surprise again. Simone now looks genuinely astonished. SAMUELS (CONT’D) (pulls report) I got this from records an hour ago. Frank changed his will to include Simone three months ago, along with his daughter. But you couldn’t just put a knife into Frank. He was a street-wise cop. (drops file on table) So you went to an old friend. A former government agent, Andrew Lapin. You met him at a consulate party you hosted two years ago. You became his friend. Maybe his lover? You called Frank on his cell phone that morning so you could know where to tell Lapin to set up for the hit. INTERCUT - OBSERVATION ROOM Morgan and Kittner are astounded too. Samuels is weaving a damn good case. Samuels drops the rest of the folders on the table in front of Simone. She doesn’t even look at them. AVERY I want discovery on all of this alleged evidence. SAMUELS You’ll get it. Sol Rizzotti knew about Pearson’s money flow because he was Pearson’s supplier. When you learned that Sol’s accountant was at your bank, you couldn’t take a chance that he’d figure it out. When I came to dinner Christmas Eve, you were late. And I noticed that one of the cars was gone. It was the Lexus. (another report; drops it) We impounded it three hours ago. Arnie DaMota’s type-A blood and tissue samples are on the bumper. (last file) And last night you neatly “cut” Sol Rizzotti out of the picture. AVERY You’ll never make this stick in court. Half this evidence is circumstantial. The rest is pure speculation. Samuels stands, goes to the window. SAMUELS Detective Sloan was getting too close. He was probably the easiest. A sleazy dive where no one ever watches who comes and goes. AVERY I was right in the first place. A fairy tale. SAMUELS (leans over) You know what the key was? Your perfume. I smelled it in Pearson Rock’s apartment the night he was murdered. I noticed it again at dinner last night. When I saw the photographs, it clicked. Just not right then. He looks to the two-way window again. In a moment, the door opens, Kittner walks in. KITTNER Simone Rock, you are under arrest for murder. Avery stands, pats Simone. AVERY I’ll have you out on bail in twenty four hours, Simone. KITTNER I’m asking the court to set bail at ten million. AVERY You’ll never get it. KITTNER I think I will, Mr. Avery. He packs up his briefcase, pats Simone’s hand, heads to the door. AVERY See you at the hearing. Kittner motions to a uniformed female OFFICER, who comes in. SIMONE You’re wrong. I loved Frank. SAMUELS Funny way of showing it. She’s gone. Samuels breathes a heavy sigh. Morgan comes over to him. MORGAN That was pretty good for a guy on vacation. SAMUELS Yeah. And that’s where I’m going. Morgan smiles, lights up a cigar. Puffs up a cloud. MORGAN And to all a good night. INT. SAMUELS’ APARTMENT - NIGHT A suitcase drops on the sofa. Packed. Inside the flap, a couple of airline tickets. He picks up the phone. Dials, waits. PENNY (V.O.) Hi, this is Penny. Leave a message. I’ll get back to you. SAMUELS Penny. You there? (nothing) You probably heard, we booked Simone Rock for the murders. You were right. Look, I know this is short notice, but I’m taking my vacation. Finally. And I thought, you know, maybe you’d like some time away. I decided to go to Paris instead of Hawaii. Always wanted to see it. I have an extra ticket, if you’re interested. (waits) Call me when you get this. Flight’s tonight at 2 a.m. Hangs up. Looks at the phone. INT. O’HARE AIRPORT - NIGHT Clock in the airport reads 1 a.m. Samuels alone at the United gate. Waits. Looks at his watch. No Penny. He walks to the airline CHECK-IN LADY at the desk, hands her the ticket. She smiles, pulls out all the pertinent pages. CHECK-IN LADY First time to Paris? SAMUELS Huh? Oh, yeah. Can I have a window seat? CHECK-IN LADY I’m sorry, they’re all taken. How about an exit seat? More leg room. It’s a long flight. SAMUELS No window seat? CHECK-IN LADY Sorry. She hands him his boarding pass. SAMUELS When does the plane get here? CHECK-IN LADY Already has. The Paris flight arrives at 8 p.m. It takes a few hours for turn-around. Samuels nods. Smiles, starts for the gate. Then something clicks. He stops, goes back to her. SAMUELS Excuse me. Did you say the flight from Paris gets in at 8 p.m.? CHECK-IN LADY That’s right. We have a turn-around on the Paris flight. Leaves Orly early, arrives here, gets a new crew, re-stocked and re-fueled, then the return flight to Orly. Samuels just stares at her. Wheels turning behind the eyes. Trying to remember. INTERCUT - (FLASHBACK) Gus, Valentine and Samuels standing in the lobby of the Lago Monroe. GUS (ECHO) Suzanne called. Her plane from Paris gets in at two... (looks at his watch) Have to pick her up in an hour. Might like to see you... BACK TO - SAMUELS CHECK-IN LADY Sir? Is there a problem? Samuels snaps out of it. SAMUELS Was that the same procedure for the 23rd of December? CHECK-IN LADY Yes. It’s always a turn-around on the late flight. Samuels’ mind is really churning now. The light finally dawns in his eyes. SAMUELS Penny! He streaks out of the boarding area. Leaves his suitcase, tickets, everything. Check-in Lady stares at him as he disappears. CHECK-IN LADY Sir? (trailing off) Maybe someone will trade you for a window seat. EXT. MICHIGAN AVENUE - NIGHT Samuels’ car tears up the Avenue. No traffic. His red and blues spinning in the grill. It’s an odd, winking light show when combined with the Christmas lights on the deserted street. INT. DOWNTOWN HIGHRISE - NIGHT He pulls up onto the curb. Screeches to a halt. Out and running to the front doors. Locked. Pounds on the glass. Nobody. Finally, a DOORMAN, about 70, comes to the lobby, shakes his head. Samuels flashes the badge. INT. HIGHRISE - NIGHT Samuels shoots past the guy. Over his shoulder: SAMUELS Call the 76th Precinct! Give ’em this address. Tell ’em Detective Samuels needs backup. Heads to the elevator banks, pushes the button. Checks his watch. Maddening. Looks back at the Doorman. SAMUELS (CONT’D) Call! DOORMAN Now? SAMUELS Yes! Now! Old guy hobbles to the front desk phone, starts dialing as the elevator opens. Samuels sprints in. Doors shut. INT. HIGHRISE HALLWAY 20TH FLOOR - NIGHT Samuels is out and down the hall, checking the door numbers. 2006, 2008, 2010. 2012. Looks. Door’s open! Just a crack. He pulls the Beretta, slams the action. Enters slowly. INT. PENNY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT Samuels walks through the living room. No light. Except for the streetlight glow coming in the window. A movement! He stops, automatic up, aimed. In the corner, a figure in black. Woman. Black overcoat and scarf. Standing there. Not moving. Samuels clicks off the safety. Aims the weapon. No movement from the lady. SAMUELS Step out here. Slowly. Lady doesn’t move. Then, ever so slowly, nods her covered head toward - the sofa and Penny! She’s in her bathrobe, spread-eagled, handcuffs on her hands, attached to the arm rest. Samuels doesn’t move. Now he sees it - a stiletto pushing against her throat. His eyes follow the wire that will trip the mechanism. Down the sofa, across the floor, up to the woman’s coat! WOMAN IN BLACK (voice rattling in her throat) First, we dance. Samuels aims the gun right at her head. Rock steady. SAMUELS I’ll shoot you where you stand. Penny struggles on the couch. PENNY Do it Jake! Kill the bitch! Standoff. Lady doesn’t move. Not a millimeter. Samuels sighting down the barrel. Dead still. Made of glass. SAMUELS Penny! Don’t move a muscle. Suddenly, a “poof” - no more. Just that sound as a bullet takes Samuels high in the chest, spins him around! He topples backward, Beretta flies out of his hand. On the floor, blood seeps out over his shirt. The lights flick on! He looks up. The Lady in Black still there. Hasn’t moved. It’s Suzanne! He looks over at the sofa. Penny is standing! In her hand is a silenced 9mm Glock pistol! Still dribbling smoke from the barrel. Penny smiles. PENNY (to Suzanne) You did that real good. (to Jake) You should have pulled the trigger. Samuels shakes his head, trying to clear it. What the hell is going on? Penny walks over, almost casually. Handcuffs dangling on one wrist. They weren’t locked! Gun held loosely at her side. Goes to Suzanne. Lightning move - gun barrel against her head. Thud! Suzanne’s out like a light. Sags, but still standing! How? Her entire body is wrapped in black electrician’s tape to the pillar holding up the ceiling. Penny turns back to Samuels, shaking her head. PENNY (CONT’D) Why couldn’t you just take your vacation, Jake? Paris was a good idea. But when I checked my phone messages, I just knew you’d come back, you dumb shit. Had to rig this up and see if I couldn’t avoid shooting your ass. But no. You always have to follow through, don’t you? Why? Samuels, Herculean effort, tries to stand. Wobbles erect. He’s lost a lot of blood already. SAMUELS The plane. From Paris. It gets in at 8 p.m. Suzanne was here before Pearson was murdered. I thought you were next. PENNY I’m touched. You came to save me. Dammit. I knew sleeping with you was a mistake. Samuels tries to clear his head. Then he sees the body of Gus Rock lying in the corner on a sheet of visqueen. Throat cut from ear to ear. Blood in a pool but not on the carpet. Penny casually raises the gun, looks at it. Like it’s some strange appendage she just happened to notice at the end of her arm. SAMUELS Why? PENNY Thirty million reasons. SAMUELS You murdered your own father for money. PENNY Can’t fool you. SAMUELS And you hired Lapin. PENNY I met him at the Great Lakes Naval station during a Senate Finance Committee tour. (holds up the Glock) He gave me this. In case I needed protection. Men are stupid. SAMUELS Yeah. It was you who called Frank on the cell phone. PENNY Invited him to dinner. Had to know where to tell Lapin. SAMUELS Crawford told you about the account. PENNY Funny what men will tell you in bed. SAMUELS Simone? PENNY (screws silencer tighter) She was Daddy’s lover. He didn’t care about the money. But I did. SAMUELS Pearson’s murder was to frame Simone. PENNY He was a sleaze. One less dirtbag in the world. SAMUELS Crawford because he could figure it out. PENNY Lousy in bed, but handy to have around. SAMUELS So the story about him getting a call while you were together was a lie for me. PENNY No. Actually, that was the truth. He did get the call. From me. Samuels struggles to understand. PENNY (CONT’D) Genius is in the details, Jake. Lapin showed me how to do it. Rigged my answer machine to call back my own number with the message - then hang up. Perfect alibi. SAMUELS You wore the perfume. PENNY Took you long enough to figure that out. SAMUELS Rizzotti and DaMota to complete the frame for Simone. PENNY You are so quick. SAMUELS And Mike Sloan was getting too close. PENNY Time to go. She walks to Suzanne, pulls off the black scarf on her head. Goes over to the stiletto, removes it. Wasn’t a working trap anyway. Flicks it casually. Samuels’ eyes snap back and forth. Looking. His gun is on the floor, near the coffee table. SAMUELS How does it go down? Penny smiles. PENNY Let’s see? Good cop that you are, the calvary should be in about ten minutes. Give or take. It is Christmas... (looks around) When they come in, they’ll find me crying and wailing in terror. You and Suzanne will be dead... (thinks a moment) I manage to burble out a story between sobs about how you came in to save me from the real killer, she fired first but you managed to get off a lucky shot... Pleased with herself. PENNY (CONT’D) What do you think? SAMUELS And Gus over there? PENNY Oh, he came here earlier to warn me and she capped him with the knife. Hadn’t planned on you showing up, so I’m kind of improvising here... She raises the gun. PENNY (CONT’D) But they’ll buy it and I’ll be rich. He starts to move toward her. Actually not walking, more like falling in a straight line. She aims the gun at his heart. PENNY (CONT’D) Uh, uh. Far enough. SAMUELS Why all the dancing shit? PENNY I saw the photos at Gus’ house. That gave me the idea. Pretty brilliant, huh? Had to wear that damned wig most of the time. (flounces her hair) Red hair stands out so much. Samuels stares. She’s absolutely insane. PENNY (CONT’D) Time to go. She aims the gun at Samuels. His eyes. Despite the blood loss, despite the pain, he calls on something deep inside. Staggers erect. Coils. Springs. Going on sheer guts. The Glock fires! Bullet misses! Shatters a lamp. Porcelain chips rain on the coffee table. Samuels hits Penny broadside. She’s down, the gun flung away. It took virtually every ounce of strength he had. She’s up like a cat. Has the stiletto. The wicked blade gleams as she pounces. Samuels somehow catches fire for about five seconds. Launches himself. Avoids the stab at his throat. She spits venom. PENNY (CONT’D) Just die, you sonofabitch! A roundhouse swing takes her full on the jaw. Bones break. She hisses in pain. Her face isn’t going to be as pretty now. She goes down, stiletto still clutched in her hand. Samuels reels. Losing consciousness. Trying desperately to keep his feet. Penny pulls herself up, blade in front of her. Moving in for the kill. Springs at him. He manages to half-spin away, takes the knife blade high in the back of his shoulder. Severe trauma and blood loss. He kicks with his very last ounce. Catches Penny’s knee. Crack. Down again. She screams in pain. Scrambles, crawls over to the Beretta on the floor. Has it. SLOW-MOTION: Penny raising the gun to fire. Samuels rips the stiletto from his own shoulder. Blood everywhere. He’s only two feet away from her. He hurls the knife, which hits her precisely in the chest. Bites deep. Penetrates the breast bone. REGULAR MOTION: She looks down at the handle protruding from her chest, an expression of stupid disbelief on her face. Looks at Samuels. PENNY Goddamn you... Crumples. Samuels does the same. Only more slowly. Unconscious. The entire scene starts swirling away until darkness takes its place. EXT. O’HARE AIRPORT - DAY TITLE CARD: Four weeks later Black limo. Stopped at the curb. Suzanne gets out. Radiant. Lovely. Turns back, helps Samuels out of the car. His arm in a sling. Mummy wrap around his chest. He has a cane, but is walking on his own. Simone follows as the DRIVER gets the bags. SIMONE (to Suzanne) You have the tickets? Suzanne holds them up, smiles that 1000-kilowatt smile of hers. Simone turns to Samuels, takes his free hand. SIMONE (CONT’D) You okay? SAMUELS I don’t think so. Got any painkillers? She smiles. Suzanne takes his arm. Kisses him. Plants a good one. Nearly drops him. SUZANNE You’re sure about this? SAMUELS Yeah. (catches his breath) You bring the oxygen? She laughs. Wonderful laugh. Touches his face. Her finger now sports a small but not inexpensive diamond. SIMONE Have a wonderful time. SAMUELS No problem. She’s going to have to do all the work. SUZANNE I can handle that. SAMUELS Handle anything that isn’t bandaged. Morgan bustles through the sliding doors, the omnipresent cigar stub clenched firmly between his teeth. MORGAN Hurry up for chrissake! Plane leaves in fifteen minutes. SAMUELS I gotta go to the bathroom. MORGAN You got fifteen minutes, not fifteen hours. He pulls out a wheelchair, Samuels sinks into it. Morgan pushes him, Suzanne next to them. MORGAN (CONT’D) I want you back at your desk in four weeks. SAMUELS Maybe... They wheel through the door and head down the corridor. MORGAN (O.S.) Hell, you haven’t even done the reports yet. SAMUELS (O.S.) I’m on vacation. As they disappear in the crowd, the scene slowly... GOES BLACK: