"Song Of Orpheus"
26 June, 1986
A WOMAN'S BOSOM
pressed close against an unseen gentle man's sharkskin suit. swaying to Glen Miller's "Moonlight Serenade: " CAMERA SLOWLY PANS:
INT HOTEL GEORGE WASHINGTON - 23 ROOM - (DREAM SEQUENCE) NIGHT
It's 1949, and we're on the dance floor, as if watching through a soft, floating veil...and we STAY ON a couple. The woman is in her late fifties, and has that Quality of beauty that radiates. The MAN with whom she dances wears a tuxedo, although his face remains hidden from us, for a few blissful moments, we turn and dance with them. AS CAMERA SLOWLY MOVES IN ON HER FACE which reflects not only beauty, but love -- and suddenly horror, as we:
WIDEN TO REVEAL
that she is alone. Her partner has vanished. She scans the place.
HER POV - VARIOUS SHOTS
The Man in the Tuxedo is nowhere.
now approaching panic, as the MUSIC diminishes and slurs, giving way to the more jarring, intrusive, and almost mocking SOUNDS of the club: glasses clinking, laughter, coughing, she plows through the crowd, passes through a billow of smoke, and spots:
A MAN IN A TUXEDO
seated at the bar. She moves quickly to him, touches his shoulder. He wheels around -- it's the wrong man - and he looks at her like she's crazy. She takes off in the other direction, pushing through the crowd, and we are:
OUTSIDE THE CLUB - NIGHT
The Woman comes through the entrance of the club, continuing her frantic search. The streets are slick with rain, reflecting color and light and the cars make an adhesive sound. The sidewalk courses with pedestrians, from Park Avenue swells to Bowery drunks -- who seemingly conspire to block her progress. But the Man in the tuxedo is nowhere.
AT AN INTERSECTION
she stops and looks around, breathing heavily. Then something O.S. catches her attention.
a crumpled black mass by a concrete drainage grate in the curb across the street.
as she crosses the street, oblivious to a passing CHECKER CAB that blares its horn at her. She kneels before the drainage grate, and reaches out tentatively to the crumpled black mass, half of it sucked down between the grate. She picks up the tuxedo by the shoulders. It is strangely intact -- pants too -- but no one is inside. And as she looks in horror at the bedraggled tuxedo...
INT. PRIVATE HOSPITAL ROOM - I.C. UNIT - ON MARGARET SINCLAIR - DAY
as she wakes ups up from her dream in this still sterile place, hooked up to an I.V.
She has difficulty speaking, her words slurred by gravity, medication, and pain.
ANOTHER ANGLE - TO INCLUDE ALAN LODGE
who sits beside her, a lawyer in his late sixties, with an easy, comforting smile. Over their conversation, a heartline monitor BLIPS...
I feel as though I've been asleep for half a century.
Tell me... how do I look?
Beat. Lodge smiles.
You look beautiful as ever.
I look like hell.
But that's what I get for asking an attorney.
I'm also a friend, Margaret. An old friend.
Margaret regards Lodge affectionately.
A new concern spreads over Lodge's face. He's tentative about bringing it up.
Margaret, I'm worried about this business with Starr --
Please… Alan. Not now.
Beat. Lodge nods, acquiescing to her weakening state, Margaret studies his face.
Will you come closer?
CLOSER ANGLE - MARGARET AND LODGE
Lodge cranes closer. Margaret's race reveals only part of the pain that has seized her. She takes Lodge's hand - clutches it
You must do something for me.
My dreams. I've been dreaming a lot
lately,... vivid dreams... Alan?
(without waiting for his response)
I know he's still alive. I can feel him.
Don't do this to yourself...
A classified advertisement In The Times. I want you to place one for me.
Alan: promise me you'll do this.
After a beat, Lodge nods. He means it. Then:
I want it to say: "The wreck of my memories."
Repeat it to me.
The wreck of my memories.
Time's up, Alan.
Lodge wheels around quickly.
LODGE'S POV - HENRY STARR
stands in the doorway. About ten years younger than Lodge, he is handsome and charming and expensively dressed. He stands, holding the door open-presumably for Lodge.
who doesn't try to conceal his disdain for the man,
Lodge nods and brushes past Starr, who steps into the room and moves to Margaret. He regards her tenderly, sweeps some stray hair from her forehead. Gently. Smiles,
How are you feeling?
Margaret manages a weak smile.
Good. Because we 're taking you home,
first thing tomorrow morning.
INT. NEIGHBORHOOD BARBER SHOP - DAY
LOU, the bald barber, is finishing up with a CUSTOMER. Ceremonially, he whisks the tiny hairs off the customer's neck, undoes the collar band, and, like a matador, lifts off the apron. The man's a master haircutter.
You do nice work, Lou.
The customer stands, reaches for his wallet, and pays Lou. Lou rings up the sale on his antique cash register. Over this:
Do something forty years, you get good at it.
That's the problem with people today:
always changing occupations... no perseverance.
See you next week.
Lou gives a small wave and then settles into a waiting chair with the morning Times. He expertly cracks and folds the paper down to manageable size. As if by ritual, he turns to the Classifieds. His eyes scan the Personals. Something there hooks his attention. Suddenly, his movements become urgent and invested. He crosses the shop and lays the paper down on the counter beneath a mirrored wall. Using a pen, he circles an entry, writes three letters above it.
INSERT - NEWSPAPER
An ad in the Personals circled, whjch reads: "The wreck of my memories -- 500 East 77th Street." Over this, in Lou's handwriting, the letters FTR.
BACK TO SCENE
Lou, with his able scissors, clips the ad. He opens a bottom drawer filled with empty hair-tonic bottles and chooses one. Folding the ad, he inserts it into the bottle.
EXT. BARBER SHOP - DAY
Turning the sign in the door so that it reads "CLOSED," Lou hurries off down the street.
EXT. HOTEL - DAY
Lou approaches a row of waiting cabs. He peers into a couple of windows before finding MAXIE, a woman cabbie. He passes her the message in the bottle.
(leaning toward her)
It's a special.
The cab jumps away from the curb, and Lou watches it disappear into traffic.
EXT. STREETS - VARIOUS SHOTS - DAY
Maxie's a pinball wizard behind the wheel, working her way through mid-town congestion... Finally, she pulls the cab over beside an immigrant PRETZEL VENDOR, hands him the bottle, and jockeys back into traffic. The vendor bends down behind his shiny metal cart and opens a small sewer grate in the sidewalk. The bottle drops into the darkness...
INT. TUNNELS - MAIL ROOM
A large, cluttered chamber. Notes pinned all over cork board on the walls, paper everywhere --like the floor of the Stock Exchange after the close. A WORKER is stationed at a desk in the corner. Beside him, a large plastic laundry hamper is filled with bottles of every variety. Five or six chutes reach down from the ceiling and merge into a single guideway, like miniature toboggan run, which levels out and ends in a receptacle on the desktop. A gentle CLANKING can be heard way above. It grows nearer. NEARER. And then, the bottle slides into the guideway and presents itself at the worker's fingertips. He opens it and retrieves the message. With practiced efficiency, he deposits the bottle in the laundry hamper and then attends to the message. He places the ad in a worn envelope, writes the letters FTR on the front, and turns to find MICHAEL, one of the young runners, at his side. He hands the envelope to the boy… who's off to the races.
INT. TUNNELS - VARIOUS SHOTS - MICHAEL
running down the long narrow passageways, bursting through clouds of steam, ducking into short-cuts, etc.
INT. FATHER'S CHAMBER - NIGHT
Vincent sits playing chess with Father. His chessmen are in superior position. Vincent's bishop takes Father's castle without reprisal. Father marvels at the move. Then it dawns on him:
Fisher-Spassky. Fourth game.
I don't know what masochistic
impulse ever prompted me to teach you chess.
Vincent smiles -- tentatively about the mouth, but fully in the eyes. Father sees this and regards Vincent tenderly. A staccato knock at the door interrupts the moment.
Michael enters. Hands Father the envelope containing the clipping.
Are those herbs helping your mother?
Are you hoping for a brother or a sister?
Definitely not a sister.
Father smiles as Michael exits. Father returns to the game. studies the chessboard for a long moment...
Let's see… if I recall the seventh game correctly...
Fisher vas saved by a pawn...
Father pushes one his pawns forward a square... then absently opens the envelope... slides out the clipping... reads it... as some deep and distant anguish spreads over his face. Vincent is immersed in the game, until he notices Father, still staring at the clipping...
Father raises his eyes to Vincent. He replaces the clipping into the envelope -- carefully -- and tucks it into an inner pocket of his garment
What is it?
I wondered when the day would come... now it has.
I've never lied to you, Vincent.
The things I've taught you about the world above...
so much of it was to protect you.
I've seen that world...
... And I have lived in it.
Vincent is reminded of his own necessary exile. Father is sensitive to this.
Vincent... you see things as they are.
Whatever I might have kept from you ...
you're discovering for yourself.
Why are you telling me this?
Beat. This is difficult for Father.
Because I must return.
I must go above.
Father says nothing.
Vincent, please don't ask me anything more.
Pause… then Vincent nods.
When will you go?
As soon as I prepare myself.
The Common Meeting is tomorrow.
Your counsel is needed…
I'll be back by then. And when I return, we'll talk.
On Vincent's face, trying to hide his concern:
EXT. LODGE'S OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING - DAY
People enjoy having their beliefs reinforced.
INT. LODGE'S OFFICE - DAY
Alan Lodge is seated behind his desk, distrustfully listening to Henry Starr.
They like hearing what they already know.
That's my only secret.
There's nothing devious or illegal in the way
I raise money.
I never said there was.
Yet here I am defending myself.
You made the appointment...
... and you agreed to see me.
What was it? Curiosity? .
Something like that.
Starr needs to know if Lodge has anything on him and so now tries another tack..
You're a hard man to draw out, Alan.
But let me help you...
You're worried. Six months ago, Margaret is diagnosed
with malignant pancreatic cancer...
She has an enormous estate
and not one living relation.
Simply put, you question
the coincidence of my arrival on the scene.
Lodge isn't denying that one.
Well. I won't lie to you.
It was Margaret's wealth
and unfortunate situation that attracted us.
We're a charity, Alan.
We need money to survive.
And as callous as it may sound,
dying rich people like
to be remembered for their good works.
I'm sure Margaret was approached by others.
She happens to have chosen us.
She chose you Starr,
and that's what I'm worried about.
So you can be direct.
Well so can I.
(then, with menace) .
You ever slander my name in public,
and I'll hit you with a libel suit
that'll land you right in the street.
By the time you even think of filing,
I'll have enough evidence --
Lodge stops himself, realizes he's said too much.
MEDIUM CLOSE - STARR
a trace of a smile.
I won't let you take advantage of her.
You're an old man, Alan.
You don't want to lock horns with me.
ON Lodge's face -- the concern. Has he played his hand too soon?
INT FATHER'S CHAMBER - DAY
CAMERA PANS the vast oil lamp lit room... the wall of books... one of Giacometti's attenuated figures... until it FINDS Father, sitting before an antique dresser. Looking small in the vast room. During this, he is pensive, almost meditative.
as he opens the double doors of the dresser, and stares into it. The contents are barely discernible because of thick shadow. But we glimpse with Father: clothing on hangers, shoes. Father reaches in and pulls out an old tweed suit, circa 1950, immaculately preserved. He holds it suspended for a long moment... before rehanging it on a caddy. Then, from the dresser he removes a pair of wing-tipped shoes... places them carefully at the foot of the caddy... and a fedora, which he holds up to examine. Hold on his face, betraying a faint, elegiac smile... a trace of nostalgia.
INT TUNNELS - DAY
In the tweed suit and the fedora, Father turns a corner and takes a moment before this final leg: a short tunnel with a bright light glowing at its end. Father takes a breath and walks the length of the tunnel, his silhouetted back to us, receding, as...
INT. TUNNELS - SPIRAL STAIRS - DAY
A column of sunlight... the light we have just seen. It's remarkably quiet here. Only the echoing sound of FOOTSTEPS, as:
climbs into frame. He ascends slowly, step by step, following the light, until he exits frame... and only the footsteps remain.
EXT. MANHATTAN STREETS - DAY
The sidewalk teems with people from every color and class, skimming shoulders, walking fast. Over this, the WHITE NOISE of traffic sounds and people and rap music blasting. Frenetic urban pulse. CAMERA FINDS Father as he emerges from the mass of people and MOVES WITH HIM, an anachronism, awkward in this changed world. He tries to stop and get his bearings, but the human stream jostles him forward, so forward he goes.
INT. FEDERAL BUILDING LOBBY - WASHINGTON D.C. (1953) DAY
(NOTE: Flashbacks should be shot in black-and-white or sepia-toned.)
Flashbulbs pop as the heavy oaken chamber doors open and a younger Father emerges, dressed in the same suit., holding the same hat, flanked by plain-clothes Federal Marshals. A crowd of Reporters pushes in toward him -- their voices become an amplified slur in his ears: "Can we have a question?"…What do you make of the Committee's findings?" -- and remain unheeded by him, as he pushes through them.
EXT. BROWNSTONE - EVENING
Father pauses before the black wrought-iron gate and checks the address on the clipping. It's the same. Tucking the clipping into his coat pocket, he enters the gate and climbs the three stone steps. He presses the buzzer. No answer, so he reaches for the brass knocker… strangely, the door pushes open.
INT. BROWNSTONE - DAY
Father crosses the threshold. Immediately to his right, though he doesn't see it, a tiny red bulb FLASHES on a SECURITY PANEL.
CLOSE ON - SECURITY PANEL.
A light pulses. The letters read: ''Silent Alarm."
BACK TO SCENE
In the entrance halt Father calls out:
His words are greeted with silence. Father looks into the living room before starting upstairs. MOVING WITH HIM, as the steps sag and creak under his weight. He reaches the second floor landing and starts toward the study...
The room is wrecked -- books torn from the shelves and spilled on the rug, an overturned filing cabinet, a ransacked desk. Father's eyes scan the damage and come to rest on the prostrate figure of a dark-suited man, legs sticking out from behind the desk. Father moves quickly toward him, bends down. He turns the man over and sees it's Alan Lodge.
But the lawyers neck is broken, twisted oddly to one side. Father feels for the non-existant pulse, then sags at the death of his old friend. A moment later he HEARS POUNDING FOOTSTEPS approaching. He pivots around.
FOUR uniformed POLICEMEN pour into the room, guns drawn and leveled. These are real cops -- big-wristed men wearing diver's watches, maybe one with glasses -- and the adrenalin is charging through their veins.
REVERSE ANGLE - FATHER
slowly rising to his feet, caught in this Kafkaesque nightmare.
COP # 1
Move away from the desk, please.
Father is frozen.
COP # 1
Father shakily comes out into the open. COP #2 is on him in a second, pushing him against the bookcase, kicking Father', legs apart.
COP # 1
(noticing the body)
Larry, we got a man down. Radio an ambulance.
(over his shoulder)
I'm a doctor. He' s already --
COP # 1
( to Cop#3)
Do it Larry.
Cop #3 exits. Father is shaken down, cuffed, and turned around to face Cop #1.
You're under arrest. You have the right to. remain silent...
CAMERA MOVES IN ON Father's face. The Cop's practiced words grow unintelligible, swirling in the confusion and auditory terror that's gripping Father's mind.
INT. TUNNELS - NEXT DAY
Vincent is walking alone, his head bowed, pensive and troubled. He turns into:
INT. LARGE CHAMBER .
The Common Meeting is coming to order. Thirty or forty tunnels dwellers take their places on theater seats arranged in concentric circles around a small speaking platform. Vincent makes his way to the inner circle of benches and sits down beside an elderly white-haired black man named NICHOLAS.
Is he back yet?
Vincent looks into the man's eyes.
I'm afraid not, Nicholas.
Where could have gone?
He's never missed a Common Meeting. Not from the beginning.
Vincent has no answer for Nicholas and now stands to address the gathering. Voices hush all around.
My friends... I have difficult news to tell you...
Many of you saw Father leaving yesterday, and were worried ...
and came to ask me where he vas going.
I could only say that something important was calling him from above,
and that he would return to preside, as he always does,
over this Common Meeting... But he has not returned.
This elicits some REACTION from the assembly. A VOICE calls out.
Why did he leave, Vincent?
I don't know, Jonathan.
But if Father's taught us one thing,
he's taught us to depend on ourselves.
To think our own thoughts, to have strong opinions...
and not be afraid to express them.
I know that he would want us to follow that teaching in his absence.
Now Nicholas stands.
I agree. I think we should hold the Meeting
even though Father isn't here.
There is audible dissent from several members of the assembly.
No: Nicholas is right.
The tone of Vincent's voice quiets the people.
All we can do now is go on with our lives...
The crowd seems to accepts the suggestion. Then:
A pregnant woman, MARY, stands. She keeps one hand on her son, Michael, the runner, who is seated beside her.
Father was going to help us --
My family needs larger quarters...
EXT. CATHY'S APARTMENT - TERRACE - NIGHT
Cathy, in her windblown nightgown stares out over the city lights. A bona fide vision. She senses something, glances over her shoulder.
HER POV - VINCENT
steps from the shadows and stands there. And Cathy is almost unsurprised. as:
She moves to him, embraces him. He does the same.
I could feel you were close.
But Vincent doesn't savor the moment, instead breaking away.
Something's wrong, Vincent. What is it?
Vincent moves to the railing and scans the jeweled night. Cathy joins him.
Father is here… in the city...
I don't know... somewhere...
I should never have let him go.
I need your help, Catherine... to find him.
Of course I'll help
Vincent turns to face her.
I know Father has not always been fair to you...
It was for my sake...
A moment of shared regret. Then:
We need a place to start. What else can you tell me?
It must have had to do with his life... before...
What do you know about it?
Very little... almost nothing.
He was a doctor.
Okay. How about a name. He has a name. doesn't he?
I've always called him Father.
Cathy regards Vincent: this is gonna be a tough one. but she's determined.
He may not have a name in your world,
Vincent, but he's got one in mine.
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BOOKING AREA - ON FATHER - NIGHT
Getting his mug shot taken, holding a placard before his chest that reads: "John Doe - GL2S-43." As the FLASH pops:
INSERT - BLACK AND WHITE MUG SHOT
The frozen image of Father's haggard face.
END OF ACT ONE
FADE IN: .
INT. FATHER'S CHAMBER
Vincent enters the vault-like room. Without Father's presence, it's more like a shrine, and Vincent has trouble overcoming the feeling that he's somehow trespassing. He pauses in the center of the chamber, his eyes scanning for a place to begin his search for Father's past. His gaze lingers on the:
VINCENT'S POV - ANTIQUE DRESSER
This is the logical place to begin, and Vincent knows it. But if the room is a shrine, this dresser is the altar.
BACK TO SCENE - VINCENT
can't bring himself to approach it, and instead moves to a rolltop desk. Hesitates,
and then pulls open the first drawer...
TIME LAPSE DISSOLVE:
Hasn't turned anything up. Boxes are scattered on the floor, a filing cabinet stands open, etc. Father has clearly destroyed anything that might remind him of his former life. Frustration and sadness are part of what Vincent's feeling. He now moves reluctantly to the only place he hasn't searched: the antique dresser...
Vincent turns the big key in the lock, and pulls open both doors at once. It's not what he expected - only a couple of old suits, a shoe rack, some hats on an upper shelf. Vincent reaches inside and lifts out a faded blue letterman's sweater with a golden "C' sewn on the pocket. He hangs it back up, and in the process disturbs one of the suits, so that something plastic drops to the floor. Vincent picks it up and examines it.
INSERT -SECURITY CLEARANCE BADGE
The laminated letters read "Rockefeller Research Insititute -- Starr."
puts the badge into his pocket. Next, he runs his hand along the upper shelf behind the hats. He pulls out an old shoebox and opens it. Beneath a stack of folded handkerchiefs, he removes a framed, black and white wedding photograph of a younger Father and a Woman (Margaret), radiant, in her wedding gown. He holds it up to the light and studies it. The image of Father in love has a powerful effect on him...
Turning the photograph over he finds... an envelope, threadbare and shiny with age, tucked into the frame. He starts to open it but again, his sense of betrayal prevents him from doing so. He slides the envelope into the folds of his cloak.
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - OUTSIDE INTERROGATION ROOM – DAY
CAMERA SHOOTS THROUGH a window: Father, now dressed in jail garb, his arms crossed on the long table.
Guy still won't give his name, huh?
Nada. But check out the stuff we got from his pockets.
WIDEN TO REVEAL
LIEUTENANT KYLE STRACHER, recently promoted from the field, and DETECTIVE RINALDO MARTINEZ, early thirtie, physically slight, top-of-the-Academy bright, but street-shrewd. Father is visible in b.g., framed by the large sound-proof window. Stracher removes a bagged and tagged article from an evidence bin.
Silver Certificates. They been outta circulation now
for what... twenty, thirty years... ?
Martinez accepts the baggy from Stracher. It contains what looks like several dollar bills. He .inspects the baggy closely, while Stracher lifts out something else.
Pair of ticket stubs from a Dodgers Braves game...
He hands the bagged tickets to Martinez, who places the first baggy down to examine this one. Stracher waits for a reaction.
Brooklyn and Milwaukee... Emmet's Field... 1952.
Twilight Zone, huh?
So whatta you think?
What I always think: why me?
Martinez lays the tickets on the table and picks up a manila folder. He moves into the:
where he sits in the chair directly across from Father. Stracher follows him, closes the door. Martinez is silent as he opens the file on the table. Studies it for a long moment... before shifting his attention to Father, who does not lower his eyes to Martinez' laser-like scrutiny. Finally:
Why'd you kill Alan Lodge?
I didn't kill Alan Lodge. When I found him, he was already dead.
So you know him.
I knew him.
What were you doing in his house?
Silence. Martinez takes the top sheet from the open folder. It's a Xerox of the classified ad. He pushes it over the table to Father.
Maybe this'll help you remember.
It's got Lodge's address. We found it in your pocket.
Father looks down at the paper, says nothing.
'The wreck of my memories." What's it mean?
Martinez waits for a reaction. There is none.
Maybe you wanna start by telling us your name? Whatta you say?
But Father remains impassive. Now Stracher leans forward, knuckles on the table. He doesn't have Martinez' patience. as:
Hey. mister: who the hell are you?
CLOSE UP - FATHER'S EYES
as they look into the past
INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - WASHINGTON D.C. - HEARI.NG HALL - (1953) DAY
A grim-faced INVESTIGATOR speaks into the microphone in a piercing monotone.
On either side of him, a half dozen down-to-the-bone bureaucrats, all members of the inquisitional Un-American Activities Committee.
Will you answer the question. please:
Are you now or have you ever been
a member of the Communist Party?
ANGLE - FATHER
seated at a long table. A microphone before him. He answers evenly, with dignity -- although he is obviously keeping his patience tethered.
No I am not -- nor have I ever been
a member or the Communist Party.
Let me remind you, sir, that you are under oath.
I don't need reminding.
What is your occupation?
I'm a research physician.
Self -employed. or...
I was employed at the Rockefeller Research Institute
until several months ago.
Would you please tell the Committee
under what circumstances your tenure there ended?
That's a very good question.
It is this Committee's understanding
that your security clearance was denied
for subversive activities --
Which to this date remain a complete mystery to me.
Please confine your answers to the questions asked.
Perhaps if I knew the source of these allegations -
They were included in sworn testimony
given before this Committee.
Sworn lies is what they were.
We are not interested in extraneous matters.
This Committee –
-- is interested only in any subversive .knowledge you have.
Oh. I have knowledge of subversive activities... .
Father takes a moment. And as he scans the faces of the Committee, he speaks with crescendoing passion and intensity:
I know a group of fanatics who are trying to destroy
the Constitution of the United States by depriving
good people -- citizens -- of their very livelihood
without due process of law. I can cite instances.
I can name names. They are anti-semitic,
anti-Negro, antiminority, all marching
under the same crooked American Flag,
hating everyone -- most likely themselves...
ANGLE - INVESTIGATOR
as he flicks a switch beneath the long table, shutting off Father's microphone, imposing silence, as:
You will limit your testimony, sir,
to the Committee 's agenda.
And speechmaking is not on that agenda.
INT. POLICE INTERROGATION ROOM - (PRESENT) DAY
Detective Martinez inhales, then exhales his frustration, as:
Waste of time, Renny. I'm telling you.
Martinez looks Father squarely in the eye, trying to size him up, wondering what kind of nut case he's got on his hands. as:
maintains his serene silence... as though he has learned a lesson from history.
EXT. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY - ESTABLISHING - LATE NIGHT
INT. LIBRARY - SERIES OF SHOTS - LATE NIGHT
A) An immense and darkened reading room, empty, silent, the moonlight streaming in through huge, paned windows.
B) THOUGH A METAL GRATING into an ornate room which houses a private collection.
C) DOWN a long, shadowy corridor, stacks and stacks of books stretching to infinity.
D) TURNING INTO an aisle and coming suddenly upon the imposing and solemn figure of
in the half -light. He is taking a book down from the shelf. when:
Vincent stiffens, listening intently.
ANOTHER ANGLE - CATHY
Sitting before a microfilm machine, looking through some back issues of the New York Times
The Rockefeller Research Institute
was given a grant by the Defense Department
in June of 1951 to conduct studies on the effects of nuclear fallout...
She refers to some notes she's jotted on a yellow legal pad.
Hold on, there's something else... in November of that year.
Cathy begins cranking the machine.
moves a couple of rows closer to Cathy. He can see her through the stacks of books, as she slows her cranking and arrives at the correct page. He leans against the metal shelving and waits...
This might be it...
There was a doctor, Vincent... a research doctor...
Vincent's eyes close.
... who claimed that the Rockefeller Institute
was misrepresenting his findings...
He can hear Cathy rolling the microfilm to another page.
He was forced to resign when he called
for the abolition of atomic weapons... the halt of research...
His name was Jacob Wells... Dr. Jacob Wells.
(sotto; to himself)
You there, Vincent?
I'm here, Catherine.
Well, there's more...
About a week later, I think... Give me a second.
runs her finger along her notes, then reaches for the microfilm handle.
ON ILLUMINATED SCREEN
As the images fast-forward -- a blur of history. They slow, then stop, jarring into focus. CAMERA ISOLATES a two-columned article with a photograph of Father and a headline that cries: "ANTI - ATOMIC RESEARCHER NAMED A COMMUNIST: The sub-head: "Stripped Of Medical License."
CUT - CATHY
blown away by what she's reading. She turns to call Vincent.
But Vincent's already at her side. He's seen the headline too. Long beat as their eyes hold each other's light.
He was blacklisted...
The Un-American Activities Committee.
I've read about that time...
I'm sorry, Vincent.
I know... And it's happening again...
I can feel it happening again, Catherine.
He's in danger. The helplessness, the outrage...
Vincent reaches into his cloak and removes the envelope.
(handing it to her)
I should have given you this sooner...
Cathy turns it over in her hands.
Who's it from?
He had a wife...
(opening the letter)
What does it say?
I don't know.
Cathy unfolds the letter and after a look at Vincent, begins reading:
Dear Jacob, I am writing you from Paris,
where my father has sent me.
Spring has arrived early here, the time for lovers,
and it's as if the season mocks my sadness...
INT. HOLDING CELL - ON FATHER - NIGHT .
lying awake on his cot, eyes open and unblinking. It's now Margaret's voice reading the letter:
But I am beginning to understand that loss is sometimes necessary.
I know of no gentle way to tell you that my father has annulled our marriage.
And I would be lying to you if I said that I fought him.
I can't even blame him. Forgive me, Jacob, because I know you're innocent
and still don't have the strength to stand by you.
But you are strong and will rebound. Of that, I'm positive.
Please don't hate me... We knew each other so short a time.
All I can say seems useless... yet still I cling
to the wreck of my memories, before they sink forever.
Goodbye, Jacob. I'll love you always.
EXT. MARGARET SINCLAIR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - ESTABLISHING - DAY
Classic robber baron.
Helped finance both sides in the Spanish-American War,
went through the depression untouched -
INT. SINCLAIR APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The place is decorated right out of Sotheby's. Cathy is sitting in an elegant love seat she sips from a cup of coffee. Starr stands, indicating a huge oil portrait above the mantle of grim-faced older man. He speaks with a strange kind of fascination…
In fact, he tripled his fortune.
Biologically, yes. Emotionally,
the man did more to damage her...
Starr shakes his head. He seems genuinely disturbed by this. Then, as he turns his attention back to Cathy, shrugging it off...
Anyway, it's past history, right?
Cathy shrugs, lets that one hang. This stops Starr, but only for a moment.
Well, I'm sorry Margaret wasn't up to it.
Tomorrow's fine. Just tell me when.
I wish I could, but Margaret's condition
doesn't allow me to be that specific.
Maybe I can help you with whatever it is... ? .
Cathy sips her coffee, and:
I'm sorry. It's private.
I thought you said you were with the District Attorney's office...
It's still private.
Cathy puts down her coffee cup and fishes a card out or her purse. She places it beside the saucer.
My service number's on the card. So you can reach me tomorrow...
.whenever Ms. Sinclair is well enough to see me.
(nods) or course.
As Cathy crosses, the room to leave:
At the door, she turns to face him.
Are you always this mysterious?
Occupational hazard. I guess.
Thanks for the coffee.
She lets herself out. Starr stand, for a moment in apprehensive silence. From another door, CONNOR enters and approaches Starr. He's clean cut, late-twenties, a muscular six feet, and dressed like an investment banker. But he's no investment banker.
Miss Sinclair's awake. She's asking for you again.
I'll see her in a moment.
Connor. The woman who was just here...
Satisfy my curiosity. Find out what she wants.
INT. MARGARET'S BEDROOM - DAY
Margaret is sitting up in her bed, gazing out the window and hugging herself, when Starr enters.
(full of concern)
She turns to him.
Henry, I'd like to take a walk.
I don't think that's such a good idea. You should be resting.
Starr goes to the window and closes the blinds, shutting out daylight.
What time is it?
He sits in the chair beside the bed, and takes several pills from an adjacent medication tray. As he proffers them to Margaret:
Time for your medication.
Damn those things.
You should be grateful for 'those things'
I hate the pain killers. A little pain is good for the soul...
Now come on. I have a meeting
with the Planning Commission that started five minutes ago.
She looks at Starr before taking the pills. Starr hands her the glass of water on the night table. She leans back heavily against the pillows.
I wonder why Alan hasn't called.
You know Alan...
Margaret smiles wearily. Then:
That's just it: I do know Alan.
Margaret's face reflects confusion and chemical fatigue. Long beat, as she inhales, then exhales. Then:
Starr pulls the covers up higher over Margaret. His expression is neutral. We can't tell what he's thinking.
END OF ACT TWO
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY
CAMERA PANS the bustling squad room. Over the cacophony, we hear:
If Starr's a player, he's playin' by the rules.
As we pick up Cathy and EDIE moving through the crowded squad room. Cathy is glancing down at a computer printout, as:
How far back did you go?
All the way. From his cushy childhood in Shaker Heights,
to four years in Cambodia with the Peace Corps,
to his latest project...
A ten million dollar shelter for the homeless.
Edie looks at Cathy: senses her disappointment.
But you're not impressed.
I don't know...
I just didn't think he'd come out so damn... spotless.
I'm telling you: the man's Nobel prize material.
As in, look out Mother Theresa.
And if you have any doubt… just ask his publicist. .
Just then, a couple of good-looking Police Officers pass. Smile at the women. Edie returns the smile, and as soon as they pass, she stops and turns. Cathy watches her watch them, amused. Edie turns back with a longing, seductive look on her face.
Remind me to modem a thank you note
down to recruiting.
Anyway, it's all there. The guy may be a creep,
but he's a clean creep.
Cathy shakes her head and closes the printout, and as she looks up, something o.s. catches her attention:
CATHY'S POV - FATHER
moving toward her, in handcuffs, escorted by a pair of uniforms. He is looking right at her, as:
BACK ON CATHY
who is watching this, trying hard to contain her surprise, and:
What is it?
As Father passes, he averts his gaze. Cathy does the same.
You wanna go grab some lunch?
There's a new Cajun place on Hudson. Supposed to be great.
I don't think so. But thanks.
And I appreciate this.
Cathy moves off, leaving Edie a little confused...
INT. POLICE JAIL - VISITOR'S ROOM - DAY
A BALIFF ushers Cathy into the long, antiseptic room. The walls looked scrubbed. There are two rows of chairs -- a visitor's side and a prisoner's side -- separated by a wire-mesh partition. Both sides are now empty, and Cathy takes a seat against the far wall. She places her briefcase on the counter, snaps the latch. She looks at the bailiff. He exits. Cathy waits...
Finally, on the prisoner's side, a heavy metal door pushes open, and Father, in grey prison garb, steps into the room. He approaches Cathy. She now stands to greet him.
Are you okay?
Father, stares at her guardedly, with sleepless eyes, and then sits down.
I'm here to help.
No response. Cathy leans close to the wire, whispering:
If they ask why I came...
tell them you read my name in the newspaper
and wanted me as your lawyer.
This doesn't earn Father's trust either.
Dammit! You've got to help me, help you.
Don't you know? your secret is safe with me.
I'd never betray your world...
The impact of the name -- uttered for the first time in thirty years -- hits Father like a fist in the gut.
Yes, I know who you were... what happened...
Father regards her with immeasurable sadness.
He knows too.
I never meant to keep it hidden...
I only wanted to forget... Does he understand that?
I think so.
You have nothing to be ashamed of.
I'm not ashamed.
Long silence as Father tries to reconcile past and present.
This morning, I tried to see Margaret.
Margaret? How is she? Is she all right?
(shaking her head)
They wouldn't let me see her.
She's very sick.
What, she's in the hospital?
No. She's at home. Too weak to have visitors.
Who wouldn't let you see her?
Does the name Henry Starr ring a bell?
Father shakes his head.
But you came for her, didn't you?
She sent me a message. There was a line we shared.
From Byron: "the wreck of my memories -- "
Cathy recognizes the quotation.
You saw the letter?
Then, you know everything.
There was a time
I couldn't even think those lines without weeping.
Only now does Cathy truly comprehend the tragic finality of their separation:
You never saw her again.
Father shakes his head.
Tell me a little about her.
... I can't really. It's the oddest thing.
Distill everything I remember...
and it comes down to... a couple of sentences –
sometimes a face, vanishing as quickly as it appears...
And yet. I can still love her...
Did her message to you mean she was in trouble?
I didn't know. I took it to mean she wanted to see me again.
And who was Alan Lodge?
A friend. He defended me during the witch hunts,
put his own reputation on the line.
Was he Margaret's lawyer, too?
Yes. He was the family lawyer.
But Margaret's father never realized he was helping me.
(doing the arithmetic)
So, if Margaret were sick... and wanted to make,
or to change her will, she would've gone to him.
I suppose so.
Cathy clicks her briefcase shut, and stands up quickly.
What is it?
I'm not sure... but if I'm ever going to get you out of here,
I have to know why Alan Lodge was killed.
Be careful. Contact Vincent.
You sit tight... Jacob
A faint smile from Father.
I'm not going anywhere.
INT. TUNNELS - DAY
PANNING a file of men and women in loose, practical work clothes, as they hammer the frame of this structure in a syncopated symphony of effort. WIDER and we have a better picture of its eclectic design. (NOTE: our notion is that this might be like the adobe structures of the Grand Canyon Indians, built into the rock wall -- say, with a geodesic dome for a roof -- but its only limitations should be production constraints and the imagination of the Production Designer and/or Art Director.) The general feeling is like that of an old-fashioned barn raising. And many of the same people from the Common Meeting are assembled, including:
who's stirring a batch of lemonade, and:
perched high on the frame. He lifts and at the same time coordinates two other MEN as they help him raise the last of four heavy wooden beams.
A little higher... good.
The men strain along with Vincent, lifting the beam until it's horizontal to a post hole that has been dug into the rock wall... into which the beam fits perfectly.
The Men smile and give Vincent the thumbs-up sign.
TIME LAPSE DISSOLVE - SERIES OF SHOTS
tracing the progress of construction over time, as the THEME plays over:
A) The older people sew burlap triangles onto the geodesic dome that will become the roof...
B) Mary dispatches a Young girl with a trayful of glasses filled with lemonade…,
C) Vincent shoulders a huge bag of dry cement, and empties the contents into a mixing urn, where a couple of Young Boys are stirring…
D) A Surveyer takes a glass from the Young Girl and guzzles it thirstily...
E) The music SWELLS as Vincent coordinates the dome being hoisted by a system of pulleys onto the finished structure, and:
is completed. It's magnificent. The tunnel denizens congratulate one another (AD LIB.) -- although Vincent' is the most notable object of their appreciation -- as they begin collecting their tools and equipment and leaving. Now Mary approaches Vincent, and…
Thank you, Vincent.
It wouldn't have happened without you.
Vincent accepts the compliment in humble silence. Mary turns to her new home,
INT. TUNNELS - LATER
MOVING WITH Vincent as he walks back to his chamber, his tools slung over his shoulder. The TAPPING SOUNDS continue, but one particular rhythm stops Vincent... and as he moves closer to the pipes to listen...
INT. CATHY'S APARTMENT BUILDING - BASEMENT - SIMULTANEOUS
Cathy, hunkered in the bowels of the basement, is tapping out the code on the boiler pipe with the head of a screwdriver, and:
INT. TUNNELS - VINCENT
apprised of the situation above, leans thoughtfully against the tunnel wall, and:
INT. BASEMENT - CATHY
as she straightens with a look of satisfaction... and determination, as we:
EXT. LODGE'S OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT
Cathy climbs out of a cab that has pulled up to the curb. And as she enters the building:
REVERSE ANGLE - CONNOR
watching her from the passenger window of a black Thunderbird parked across the street.
INT. HALLWAY - OUTSIDE LODGE'S OFFICE - NIGHT
A yellow police line has been established before a door on which a bronze plaque reads: "Alan P. Lodge -- Civil Attorney." Cathy approaches and flashes her identification for the OFFICER on guard duty. Gives the impression that she doesn't have time to break stride…
I'm with the D.A.'s Office...
... which she doesn't. As the Officer allows her to pass, she lifts an eyebrow -- lucky to get by with the half-lie.
INT. LODGE'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Cathy flips through the files of an open cabinet... lifting a few for closer checks... and finally yanks one.
INSERT COVER PAGE --
"STARR FOUNDATION AUDIT - CONFIDENTIAL - REVISED SEPTEMBER 12"
BACK TO SCENE
as Cathy quickly peruses its contents. She closes the file and the cabinet with a satisfied assurance. She's got 'em.
You don't belong here.
Cathy looks up, surprised at:
standing squarely in the doorway.
Who are you?
Gim me that.
As Connor inches forward, Cathy backs away, and:
angled past Connor, she can see through the lobby, into the hallway: the tip of the Officer's cap on the floor.
BACK TO CATHY
The red light in her head goes off as she looks around desperately for something to use as a weapon. Nothing but a Xerox machine. And Connor is getting closer... when Cathy flips a light switch, throwing the room into sudden darkness... when a FLASH from the xerox machine illuminates the room and blinds Connor as Cathy darts past him into:
she runs past the fallen cop to the:
Cathy presses the buttons on both panels, hears FOOTSTEPS, and deposits the audit report in the mail chut -- but she doesn't wait around for:
who's rounding the corner. Cathy dashes for the door to the stairway, and pushes through into:
Twelve stories above ground level. Cathy takes the concrete steps three at a time, using the hand rail to vault the last four of each landing. She doesn't look back but hears Connor's reverberating footsteps behind her...
EXT. BUILDING - ALLEY - CLOSE ON STEEL DOOR
as it crashes open, and Cathy is out of there. She sprints ten yards to the front of the building, but is stopped by a blinding light:
has its brights on her, looming like a waiting predator. The engine kicks alive and Cathy doubles back down the alley past the heavy steel door, moments before:
emerges, and pursues:
as she topples several garbage cans in her wake, but Connor has had backfield experience and plows through them, scattering trash. The alley is blocked by a twelve-foot chain link fence... and Cathy doesn't lose a step as she leaps for it but Connor grabs hold of her ankle. She glances over her shoulder, and kicks at Connor, misses... and again, missing... but the third swipe connects, and Connor drops to the ground. Cathy scrambles up and over, and is scarcely ten yards down the adjoining alley, when she is pinned by light and:
HER POV - THE THUNDERBIRD
has sharked silently down this wider alley, cutting off her escape. The driver door opens, and an ominous silhouette (SPANO) emerges.
as she starts back for the fence, but:
is pointing a .38 Colt Python at her through the fence. And he doesn't look too happy.
EXT. MARGARET'S BUILDING - NIGHT
The Thunderbird parks at the curb. Connor gets out first, checks both ways for any activity. Except for a stooped Transient sitting on a low brick wall obscured by shadow, no one is around. Connor reaches in and pulls Cathy out while Spano circles around to them. They enter the building.
CLOSER ANGLE - THE TRANSIENT
as he lifts his face and brushes the hood back: it's Vincent. And on his face -- illuminated by shadow and pale yellow lamplight…
END OF ACT THREE
INT. MARGARET'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Starr is sipping a scotch. Behind him, the nightlights of the city appear as constellations in the picture window. Cathy is flanked by Connor and Spano.
Well, you don't look any the worse for wear, Miss Chandler, I must say... now where's that audit report?...
Cathy remains impassive.
Don't worry. I'll get it.
I've spent a lifetime getting things out of people.
Turn off the charm, Starr, before you blow a fuse.
You have a smart mouth --
And my smart mouth tells me you're keeping
Margaret Sinclair against her will, embezzling her estate.
Starr fortifies himself with a swallow of scotch.
Close, but not quite accurate.
Margaret's in the very next room.
No rope is binding her hands or feet.
She's free to leave anytime she pleases.
As for her estate, you can read the newspaper.
She's willed everything to New York's homeless.
Minus the forty percent that goes into your pocket.
Even though you had to kill for it.
Especially because I had to kill for it.
Cathy stares at him, incredulous.
(with bitter knowledge)
You see, Ms. Chandler,
I've learned that under the right circumstances,
a man is capable of anything.
And now, I'm going to offer you
the same choice I did Mr. Lodge. I need that audit...
Cathy's face reflects the hopeless situation she's in, as we:
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING CORRIDOR - ON CATHY - NIGHT
as elevator doors whoosh close, locking Cathy inside with Connor and Spano.
INT. ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS
Typical elevator atmosphere -- going down. Tense, Cathy searches for a way out, a weakness she can exploit. But she has no chance in these close quarters.
INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT - HIGH SHOT
looking straight down at Vincent on top of the elevator, as it descends rapidly.
ANOTHER ANGLE - VINCENT
among the various moving cables and machinery. Big, white, floor-numerals "10", "9", "8", pass by on the shaft walls beside him, he's searching for a way to disable the elevator, and finally, in a stupendous display of strength, grabs two of the moving cables and forces them together, bending one around the other. The elevator shudder and then jolts to a halt between floors.
Confusion -- and Cathy takes advantage of it. Bringing the point of her heel down on Spano's foot and following through with a vicious elbow to the man's solar plexus. Groaning, Spano sinks to his knees. Connor is moving toward her, when:
INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT - VINCENT
yanks open the emergency egress on the roof.
Connor's head cranes at the noise. In that instant, Cathy brings her knee up sharply between his legs. Connor opens his mouth to scream, but no syllable emerges, as he folds in two and drops to the floor.
INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT- VINCENT'S POV - DOWN INTO ELEVATOR
Cathy looking up at him, both thugs temporarily subdued...
a' la Errol Flynn, thrusts his hand into the elevator compartment and pulls her to safety, slams the emergency egress shut and bolts it. From inside, they hear commotion and then a gun firing. A bullet whizzes up through the roof inches away from Cathy. More shots blast through all around them.
Hold on, Catherine.
Cathy wraps her arms around Vincent's neck, and with her on his back, he begins to climb up the cable.
Vincent and Cathy -- way up on the cable -- climbing as one into the gloom or the elevator shaft…
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CLOSE ON STARR - NIGHT
Scowling -- the cool and charming veneer stripped away. He's a rat in a trap.
REVERSE ANGLE - CATHY
Staring straight back, not giving anything away.
BACK TO STARR
as a big hand ENTERS FRAME and clamps down on the top of his head. WIDEN TO SHOW Starr being stuffed into one of the three police cruisers on the scene. The door is slammed shut, and Cathy watches the cruiser -- klaxon flashing -- pun away from the curb. She hears the SQUAWK of a POLICE RADIO, turns to see:
LT. STRACHER .
leaning into the car for the hand held microphone.
(into hand held)
Starr's on his way in, yeah. But we got a problem.
The lady's gone. Margaret Sinclair. Possible kidnap.
smiles knowingly, as we:
INT. TUNNELS - NIGHT
Vincent carries the blanketed figure of Margaret down the spiral stairway, as we:
EXT MANHATTAN SKYLINE - ESTABLISHING
A beautiful day...
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - COMPUTER DATA CENTER - DAY
Cathy approaches Edie's terminal with an excited smile on her face…
It worked. No questions asked.
Why shouldn't it work?
As far as the IRS, DMV, and AT&T are concerned. ..
(as she punches something up on the keyboard)
... Benjamin Darrow is a tax-paying,
phone-using, motor vehicle operator.
She punctuates this by hitting the ''Enter" key with a flourish. and:
INSERT - COMPUTER SCREEN - MUG SHOT OF FATHER
with the name: Benjamin Darrow
He even has a social security number.
Unbelievable... it's like playing God.
Yeah. Or Dr. Frankenstein.
I could make a fortune doing this.
I appreciate it, Edie.
Edie regards Cathy now, a bit more serious. Then:
Maybe you wanna tell me what this is all about.
I mean, I did put my butt on the line...
I'd like to tell you...
But you can't.
Beat Cathy shakes her head and shrugs, apologetic.
Edie nods knowingly: it's what she expected. Then she reacts to something on her terminal:
I don't believe it.
INSERT - COMPUTER SCREEN
as the cursor types out the message: "MET YOU THIS MORNING IN A1A. HOW ABOUT SOME LUNCH?" The question mark pulses inquiringly, as:
The guy from Records
who helped me out with your John Doe.
As she types something in:
INSERT - COMPUTER SCREEN
On the line below, Edie is typing: "I'M STARVED. WHERE AND WHEN?" Beat. Then, the cursor jumps to the line below, and dances across the screen: "HAVE YOU TRIED THAT CAJUN RESTAURANT ON HUDSON?"
This is what we computer jocks call interface...
I'll see you later.
She walks off, leaving Edie eagerly typing her response, and we:
A SHEET OF NEWSPAPER
scraping down the sidewalk like urban tumbleweed. We follow it until:
EXT. SUBWAY ENTRANCE - DAY
where we find Father, once again in his tweed suit, and Cathy.
You've been better than a good friend to me, Catherine.
I know what you've risked. For that, I'm grateful…
He turns slowly and starts down the steps.
Father is three steps below ground when he turns to face her.
I don't know what to call you.
Father does not reply, but regards her expectantly, squinting against the sun. Cathy tries to find what she wants to say, how to say it... Finally:
I... just wanted you to know: I would never hurt him.
I love him.
But all you can bring him is unhappiness.
Why do you say that?
Father stares at her with the sad knowledge:
Because part of him... is a man.
As he descends into his world, leaving Cathy in hers
INT. VINCENT'S CHAMBER
Vincent is reading Shakespeare by the light of a six-branched candelabrum, when Father enters. Vincent greets him with a strong masculine embrace. They separate, holding each other by the arms.
I'm glad you're safe...
It's good to be home.
Father doesn't take long to get to the heart of the matter:
Where is she, Vincent?
Over here, Jacob...
Father looks around to see:
HIS POV - MARGARET
in the doorway -- the soft candlelight drawn to her, enveloping her in its healing glow. She's an angel in the doorway, a presence, a worshipful image for Father of both wild regret and ever-enduring beauty...
BACK TO SCENE
Father is nearly paralyzed with the vision of her. Slowly, he turns away from Vincent to face her... She doesn't wait for him but instead crosses to him and reaches out her hands.
Father takes her hands, looks deeply into her eyes, drinking in her radiance and life. He wants to include Vincent in his joy, but when he glances over, Vincent's... already gone. His gaze returns to Margaret.
You're too beautiful...
No words... just hold me.
... just hold me...
... and keep embracing; as we:
INT. TUNNELS - MONTAGE
Of Father showing Margaret his world.
A) Holding her hand, he leads her into the large chamber where the Common Meetings are held...
B) They stand, admiring the adobe dwelling that Vincent built...
C) He guides her along a high, narrow ledge. Behind them, a multi-level dwelling has been carved out of the bedrock.
D) LONG FOCAL LENGTH. Father and Margaret steer down a tunnel towards a distant light, and:
They emerge into an enormous cavern and stand on the shore of a magnificent underground lake. As they make their way along the edge, she winces in pain and falters... leaning heavily against the wall.
Father quickly goes to her... supports her, until her weight rests on a seat-like ledge.
I'm all right. Jacob. Really...
And she smiles quickly to prove it.
We've done too much.
No, no... I just need to rest.
This relapse reminds them both of her mortality. Father nods, and sits beside her. She puts her head on his shoulder.
INT. FATHER'S CHAMBER - NIGHT
Margaret is sitting on Father's quilt-covered bed. Father is stoking a small fire in an ash can, which casts its dancing light across the walls and over their faces.
You've built a remarkable world, Jacob.
I've never felt more alive, or been more at peace.
Father comes to sit beside her.
All these years, this place has only wanted for one thing...
If I weren't such a fool...
Please, Margaret. Don't...
No, I have to say this... I've been wanting to all along...
She's silent for a moment.. Laughs.
... and now I don't know where to begin.
I'm dying, Jacob, and sometimes
I think it's so damned unfair...
That there's something in my own body
turned against me... And then I think
of what happened to you, and what I did,
and I get that same feeling all over again.
Like I'm somehow being punished.
I know it's absurd. But I just can't stop thinking it.
Then we're a couple of fools,
because I've long since forgotten it.
They stare into the fire...
I want to say something, too.
Margaret regards him.
Now Father looks at her, his eyes swimming with emotion. They share a lingering look of deep love. Then, with quiet intensity, his voice low and nearly choked:
I will miss you, Margaret.
Margaret's eyes are swimming too, as she falls into his arms in a long, clinging embrace. They hold one another as if onto life itself. After a long pause:
Come on, Jacob. Let's dance.
Father breaks away, looks at her quizzically.
You know: dance.
You and I are past out dancing days.
Nonsense. As I recall,
you were a wonderful dancer.
Two left feet next to those Park Avenue swells
you called your friends.
Do you remember that night we had?
We were at one of my father's ridiculous
stuffed shirt affairs at the Waldorf,
and we snuck out during cocktails...
Yes... we walked down to University Place,
and had oysters and beer at the Cedar Tavern.
And when we were good and loaded,
we went to the 23 Club and danced until three in the morning.
You know, I think I have
some of those seventy-eights somewhere...
He rises and moves to a Victrola across the room. Beneath it is a cabinet with a scattering of records. Father pulls one out, puts it on the turntable. He winds the spring, then releases it, and places the needle at the edge of the disk. From the scratchy noise emerges the soothing strains of Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade". Now he moves to Margaret, and extends his hand to her. She accepts it. Rises. And they come together, dancing cheek-to-cheek to the romantic strains, and we:
SLOWLY DISSOLVE TO:
A FULL MOON
shining through the trees of Central Park, and as we PAN DOWN to:
The last seven days, she said,
were the happiest days of her life.
EXT. TUNNEL ENTRANCE - NIGHT
where Vincent and Cathy stand, illuminated by moonlight, at the gaping mouth of the huge concrete tunnel. A wind engenders there, like a hot breath, blowing from depths of the earth. It moves Cathy's hair and flattens her dress against her body.
I think they were Father's happiest too.
How is he?
Healing. Alone. Grateful.
They really loved each other.
It's so sad. To have had a beginning, and an end...
and all the time in the middle, empty...
Beat as Vincent lowers his eyes. Then, wistfully:
They had seven days, Catherine.
She regards him now, with all the poignancy of their impossible love. Vincent takes a step back before he raises his eyes to her again.
It's getting cold. You should go.
But Vincent has already disappeared into the darkness -- as another earth-breath from the tunnel blows across Cathy, leaving her alone and thoughtful, we: