DISSOLVE TO: INT. PLUSH HOTEL - NIGHT: A glittering Italianate chandelier. As we look down we SEE: Men in black tie and women in high fashion chic form a mosaic of money and power beneath the chandelier's blazing lights. A lavish publisher's party is underway in the hotel's ballroom. In one corner, a CROWD hovers around Peter and Claire, the quintessential perfect couple.
She's in a dramatic skintight dress. He looks great in the latest tux. Adrenaline BUZZ of admiration has soothed Peter, but he's still distracted. Claire, however, is her outgoing self. William in a rented tux and Susan, in a modest gown, hang on the edge of the golden crowd. A JADED YOUNG MAN is leading the conversation.
YOUNG MAN: Did you hear how the TIMES zinged Paul Guenette's new book? They said "He writes for the ages - between five and twelve."
Everyone enjoys that remark. A gorgeous woman named LAUREN moves closer to Peter, flirting.
LAUREN: I saw you on the news. But I think you're even better live.
CLAIRE: (interrupting) He is. By the way, Lauren, did you ever finish your book on tattoo art? I hear your publisher wants his advance back.
LAUREN: (cold) That's not true.
SECOND YOUNG WOMAN: I think Rhonda Huston's assistant was just made an editor at S&S.
SECOND YOUNG MAN: The guy with the weird fingernails? Imagine looking over galleys with him.
YOUNG MAN: So, Peter, how crowded is the field now? There are, what, seven books in the offing about the Viznick case?
PETER: Yeah, but no one has the access I've got.
LAUREN: Is it true the cops used a psychic?
SECOND YOUNG WOMAN: I saw a psychic once. Some of these guys are definitely for real.
SECOND YOUNG MAN: Oh, really? I dropped $250 on a session once and they guy didn't get a thing right.
YOUNG MAN: And you, Peter? Where do you stand?
PETER: Wherever there's room. Peter feels a tap on his shoulder. A WAITER serving hors d'oeuvres is standing there.
PETER: (CONT'D) None for me, thanks.
The waiter wipes the frame and as he does, John Townsend is revealed, beads of sweat glistening on his brow and a gun in his hand.
TOWNSEND: (whispering) God will forgive me, the time of transformation is so near.
He points it at Peter's face. Peter is in shock. Everything around him seems to blur, except the gun floating a few feet away. But Townsend hesitates, obviously conflicted. And suddenly, the woman to Peter's left SCREAMS. The waiter's tray goes flying. With astonishing speed, William flings himself onto Townsend. They both go down. A SHOT RINGS OUT. Pandemonium. Screams & shouting. Peter sees that William has Townsend in a brutal headlock. Townsend looks panicked, helpless. Peter is pulled back, as the two men disappear beneath a swarm of other bodies.
INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT The enormous room is empty. All the guests are gone. The uneaten food and overturned chairs testimony to their hasty departure. Peter, Claire, Susan and William are sitting in a semi-circle. Smythe walks over.
PETER: Thanks for handling this.
SMYTHE: Sure thing. Look, I've got enough, between your preliminary statements and all the witness accounts. You can go home. (to Peter) Gimme til morning. Find out who he is. Until then, don't sweat it, huh? Just your random bad cheese trying to hole you.
CLAIRE: Well said.
SMYTHE: Colloquialisms 101. My only "A" in the Academy.
Peter stands and pats Smythe on the back.
PETER: Thanks again for everything.
SMYTHE: Hey, don't thank me. Somebody up there likes you.
Peter looks at William, then hugs him in a powerful embrace.
PETER: (moved) Will, this is...
WILLIAM: It's okay.
They smile, exhausted.
SUSAN: Can we please leave now?
EXT. LOBBY - PETER:'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT Peter and Claire exit a limo. The scaffolding is still in place but the workers are gone. Josef pushes open the door for Peter and Claire.
JOSEF: Good evening, Mr. Kelson. Miss Claire.
INT. LOBBY: Peter and Claire enter the lobby.
JOSEF: (urgent) I want to tell you...your neighbor, Mrs. Levotsky, she's dead.
Peter and Claire are both caught off guard.
CLAIRE: What? That's horrible!
PETER: What happened?
JOSEF (enjoyably ghoulish) Apparently she killed herself sometime last night. (confidentially) The paramedics told me she hung herself. Climbed up on her dresser, stocking around her neck, but I don't know. She was completely rheumatoid... (realizes he's speaking with too much relish) It's a shame. Anyway, though you should know.
Peter's stunned and now completely unnerved.
PETER: Yeah, I appreciate it. Thanks, Josef.
CLAIRE: (frightened) When did they find her?
JOSEF: A few hours ago.
Claire's blown away by the night's events.
INT. PETER:'S HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS Peter has slowed to look at the yellow police cordon, as Claire moves on into their apartment.
INT. PETER:'S KITCHEN A bit later, Peter and Claire, both still shaken, sit across from a relieved Father James, drinking coffee.
FATHER JAMES: It's moments like this that make it clear. All that matters is those we love are with us.
Peter's touched. He pats James on the shoulder.
CLAIRE: I'm still shaking.
PETER: I can't believe Will killed him.
CLAIRE: Thank God he did.
Claire stands, exhausted. She bends down, kissing Peter on the cheek, only because James is there, and then she gives Peter a sweet hug.
CLAIRE: (CONT'D) (deeply felt) I don't know what I'd do without you.
Peter hugs her tightly. An emotional moment.
CLAIRE: (CONT'D) I'm going to bed. Don't be long.
Claire exits. James looks at Peter, sees the night's events have taken their toll.
FATHER JAMES: What is it?
PETER: Something he said, just before...
FATHER JAMES: He spoke to you?
PETER: Yeah. It didn't make any sense.
FATHER JAMES: Listen to me, Peter. You can't let the ravings of a madman disturb you, okay?
PETER: You're right, but it's funny. All my life I thought I was simply a man who didn't believe in any of it.
FATHER JAMES: No matter, my son, he believes in you.
PETER: But it's true. I have no faith. It's strange. When that gun was pointed at my face tonight, I was surprised, but never frightened. It was as if I knew nothing could possibly happen to me and...in that one moment I didn't care about anything. Not even my own life.
FATHER JAMES: Peter. Your life must matter to you because it matters to all of us who love you.
PETER: You know, I respect that you have such faith, James. I don't understand it, but I want you to know that despite our differences, I admire you and I always will.
Father James stands and claps his hand on Peter's shoulders.
FATHER JEREMY: I appreciate your saying that. I'm gonna go now. I believe you're wanted elsewhere.
INT. MAYA'S ROOM - EARLY MORNING: Maya is making coffee in a drip pot on a hot plate. There is a soft knock on the door.
MAYA: Come in. Father Jeremy enters and shuts the door behind him.
FATHER JEREMY: His faith wavered. He tried to shoot Kelson last night. I don't know all the details.
MAYA: Was anyone else hurt?
FATHER JEREMY: I don't know. I don't think so.
A curious conflict of emotions passes across Maya's face - sadness coupled with relief. She sits heavily on the bed.
FATHER JEREMY: (CONT'D) Be careful, Maya.
EXT. MANHATTAN - MORNING The hustle and bustle of a typical weekday morning. As Peter crosses the street, nearing his office, suddenly a MESSENGER on a bicycle skids and falls. The Messenger's on the ground, crashed, his mail everywhere. Immediately Peter moves to help him up, grabbing an arm, trying to collect the spilled envelopes. All the morning PEDESTRIANS step over or around the mess, in typical New York fashion. The embarrassed Messenger thanks Peter, AD-LIB, and we...
INT. PETER:'S OFFICE Peter's typing at his computer. He is surrounded by newspaper clippings, interview transcripts and other research relevant to the Viznick trial. His printer JAMS. As he moves to fix it, the intercom blinks.
PETER: Yeah.
MRS. QUINTANA: It's Detective Smythe.
Peter picks up.
PETER: What's up?
SMYTHE: (O.S.) How're you doin' today?
PETER: (tough) It's another day. I think I'm alright.
SMYTHE: (O.S.) You got the right attitude, anyway, look, we gotta talk.
EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY Smythe exits the building just as Peter approaches.
SMYTHE: I'm fed up inside, let's walk.
Peter and Smythe take a walk down the street. Smythe stops a moment at an outdoor vendor. Buys a hotdog.
SMYTHE: (CONT'D) We traced this guy to a seminary in Newark. If you can believe it, he was a deacon. (shifting a file under his arm) Talked to the man in charge there, a Father Frank Page. He said the gunman, John Townsend, was caught up in some nonsense about the Devil, along with a priest named Lareaux and a woman named Maya Larkin - the same woman whose prints were on that coffee cup. Now can I please get the fill?
Smythe licks a mouthful of mustard just ready to drip, then takes a huge bite off his dog.
PETER: She came to me with a wild story about demonic possession.
SMYTHE: (hands Peter Maya's file) She's got a juvenile record from New Orleans. Parents died when she was 13.
PETER: Parents died?
SMYTHE: Yeah, murder-suicide.
PETER: What happened?
SMYTHE: Mother killed the father, then killed herself. Crime of passion.
PETER: She told me she killed them.
SMYTHE: Not what the records show. Anyway, she was a runaway, arrests for vandalism, petty theft, drugs, the whole bit. Parole records show she graduated from community college, moved into a retreat house, teaches some classes at the seminary school, hasn't been in any trouble since.
Smythe finishes his hot dog and chucks the wrapper into a nearby can.
SMYTHE (CONT'D) We hauled her in earlier but didn't have anything hard to tie her to Townsend. Far as the priest goes, he won't be bothering you. Suffered a complete mental breakdown, during - get this - during an exorcism.
PETER: Where is she now?
SMYTHE Had to let her go. (beat) I see you thinkin' there, superstar. Don't.
EXT. RANGE ROVER - DAY Peter drives into the Lincoln Tunnel. Two men stand outside the entrance, arguing. As Peter passes, they begin fighting.
SMYTHE: (V.O.) I'm sure I don't have to remind you she's still a possible accessory to attempted murder...
INT. CLASSROOM - DAY Maya stands before a roomful of children. She holds an over sized picture of a hat. THE CLASS Le Chapeau.
MAYA: Tres bien.
SMYTHE: (V.O.) ...and the obvious, you could get another gun in your face. Next is a picture of a dog. THE CLASS Le Chien.
PETER: (V.O.) Don't worry, I won't go anywhere near her.
The door to the hall is abruptly flung open. Peter strides in. Maya sees his anger.
PETER: (CONT'D) (harsh) We need to talk.
MAYA: Peter, please... Peter's overt belligerence scares the children.
PETER: Now!
He motions towards the door. Maya turns to the class.
MAYA: Children, I'll be right back. Just stay in...
Peter grabs her and escorts her to the door.
MAYA: (CONT'D) (unconvincing smile) ...your seats. Be right back. Don't worry. And as she's pulled into the hall, we SEE:
INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS Maya, still holding the brightly colored vocabulary pictures, stands with Peter in the hallway. Opposite her in the hall, is a window, and to the left, an old radiator with chipped enamel paint. Next to the wall is a plain wooden bench. Maya stands with her back to her classroom door. She continually checks on her kids through a window in the door.
PETER: (really pissed off) Last night a guy named John Townsend tried to shoot me and now I find out you knew him. What the fuck is going on?
MAYA: Please, the children.
Peter moves in close, crowding her against the wall.
PETER: (lowering his voice) Why did he try to kill me?
MAYA: (looking at classroom) Townsend believed, just as God became man in Christ. (Maya turns back to Peter) So Satan will assume human form. I believe it too.
Peter grabs the pictures out of her hand and pitches them into the hall.
PETER: And the point is?
MAYA: At the exorcism, Birdson boasted that Satan is about to take over the body of a man. (long pause) You are that man, Peter.
PETER: What?!?!
MAYA: It's true. Birdson knew your name, he was writing it in numerical code. It wasn't easy but I figured it out. It spelled your name.
PETER: (sarcastic) Why didn't Birdson just say so?
MAYA: If you're possessed, you can't reveal anything Satan wants hidden. Unless you trick him.
PETER: (now completely unimpressed) Trick him.
MAYA: The good outwitting the bad. It's like Birdson had a split personality.
PETER: (he's had it; laughs) You should think about getting professional help.
MAYA: You're already contaminated. It's why you couldn't hear the tape. There's probably a pentacle near your bed. To sanctify you.
PETER: I'm not going to be drawn into this.
MAYA: I know this sounds crazy. I understand. Check your parents' blood types. Are you sure your parents are your birth parents?
PETER: My parents are dead. Don't even think of bringing them into this.
The school bell rings. Within seconds, the hallway is flooded with kids and teachers. A smiling Father Frank stops out of a classroom. As he sees Maya and Peter down the hall, his face darkens. He starts towards them.
MAYA: (moving to Peter; whisper) You're about to become the anti-Christ who is born unholy and becomes the door to eternal suffering in this world.
PETER: (pissed off at himself now) If you or any of your lunatic friends ever come near me again...
Peter notices Father Frank moving up on Maya and takes off.
EXT. STREET - OUTSIDE SEMINARY - DAY An angry Peter walks to his Range Rover. The wind is up and it has started to rain. Peter's under-dressed, hunching his shoulders against the elements. He's parked a distance from the Seminary. As he begins a slow jog to his car, the rain begins to come down a bit harder. Suddenly, Peter slips on the wet pavement and falls, scraping his hand. A moment, while he gets his bearings and then he picks himself up, the rain now shooting down the side of his face.
INT. MAYA:'S ROOM IN THE SEMINARY - CONTINUOUS An anxious Maya sits at her desk. Suddenly, there's a hard knock on the door and Father Frank enters. Maya looks up, unprepared.
FATHER FRANK: I've had it. Townsend's dead. The police are calling and now I see you having a scene in front of the children. I'm sorry, Maya, you've been with us for many years, but effective immediately, I'm rescinding your right to live at the church.
MAYA: Father, I have nowhere else to stay.
FATHER FRANK: You have a sister in New Orleans.
Maya looks up at him, but Father Frank's out the door.
INT. FATHER LAREAUX'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS Father Lareaux sleeps quietly, quasi fetal. Maya moves to the room soundlessly. A renewed sadness stabs her at the sight of Lareaux. She studies him a moment, then cups his face in her hands. Slight disturbance in Lareaux's body, like a child's startle reaction. Maya lets go and leaves as quietly as she came.
INT. ITALIAN RESTAURANT - DAY Upscale. Claire and Peter at lunch. Peter is clearly agitated. His clothes are still wet and pretty wrinkled. Claire looks at him with tenderness.
PETER: I'm gonna have to get a restraining order. What a nightmare.
CLAIRE: I don't know. In a way, I'm glad it all happened. Peter looks at her skeptically, a little pissed off.
PETER: You're glad somebody tried to kill me? CLAIRE (nervous about confronting him) No, of course not, but I think now that this has happened, a lot of things can start to come out...
PETER: (still pissed) Yeah, like...
CLAIRE: (coming on a little stronger) Like you need to admit that losing your parents when you were twelve was traumatic.
PETER: (unafraid) It's with me all the time, Claire, I just don't like to talk about it.
CLAIRE: Well, it shattered your faith in everything.
PETER: (trying to lighten it) I'm just temporarily off my game.
CLAIRE: (boring in) You need to believe in something besides yourself.
PETER: I believe in you.
A moment where Claire hesitates, then she decides to let herself be flattered.
CLAIRE: (leaning in, close to Peter) I love you. You look a mess. Why don't you go home and clean up before you go back to work. Claire kisses Peter, brief but deep, as she gulps in a short gust of air. Outside the rain has stopped as Claire gets up, taking off for work without him.
EXT. STREET - OUTSIDE SEMINARY - DAY Maya is sitting on an iron bench outside the playground. A shoulder bag with some of her belongings lays beside her. She stands, picks up her sack and walks across the street to a small diner.
INT. DINER - DAY It's warm, crowded and NOISY. WAITRESSES banter with longtime customers about the ups and downs of everyday life. Maya enters in a state of complete distress. She sits at the counter next to a MOTHER and her LITTLE GIRL. Their drinks and sandwiches are spread out everywhere. The little girl cusp her hand around a tall glass of milk. She wears black patent shoes, a red jacket, hood attached. Maya bows her head and covers her eyes. She's losing it...
MAYA: (whisper) I can't do this anymore.
The little girl, about 4 years old, tugs on Maya's sleeve.
LITTLE GIRL: You have to put your napkin in your lap.
MOTHER: (embarrassed) Gina!
Maya looks at the solemn little girl.
MAYA: (to her mother) It's okay. (she puts her napkin in her lap) Better?
MOTHER: I'm sorry, she's very into rules.
LITTLE GIRL: Doesn't your daughter put her napkin in her lap?
MAYA: (softly) I don't have a daughter. I'm not married.
LITTLE GIRL: Aren't you lonely?
MOTHER: Okay, Gina, that's enough.
Maya sees the little girl wants an answer. Moved, she bends close and whispers in her ear.
MAYA: I have someone who takes care of me.
She pulls back. The little girl looks up at Maya reprovingly.
LITTLE GIRL: (cruelly) But he's dead. Jesus is dead.
And then she smiles at Maya, a wicked smile. Maya looks at the little girl, and then at her mother. The mother's eyes are sparkling with malice. The room begins to warp and distort. And we hear a choked back breath. Horrified, Maya quickly turns in her chair and faces away from the vision, praying silently with eyes closed. After a moment, she opens her eyes. The room looks normal again.
In the reflection of the mirror across the counter she sees that the two seats next to her are empty, the utensils untouched. Sighing with relief, she turns back. But the little girl and her mother are still there. The mother's face suddenly looks elongated, her eyes move too close together and her nose disappears. A frightening distortion, but momentary. And the little girl's smile widens with spite.
LITTLE GIRL: (CONT'D) You're so weak. With a loud, frightened cry, Maya sweeps her arms out, knocking all the nearby glasses, utensils and dishes to the floor with a tremendous crash. Milk bleeds over the counter. All eyes turn to her. Distraught, Maya sees the little girl and the mother are gone. She grabs her bag and runs out the diner.
INT. PETER:'S APARTMENT - DAY It's quiet, shadowy. The aquarium has begun a slow leak and a small puddle of water has pooled beneath it. Peter enters. He notices the water on the floor. He goes into the bedroom.
INT. PETER:'S BEDROOM - DAY The ledge of the building across the way can be seen from Peter's window. A WOMAN is moving near the ledge, setting out a grouping of potted geraniums. From downstairs, a shaft of light is visible. Peter changes his clothes Then, he feels the scrape on his hand. Looks at it. As he moves to the bathroom. Washes his hand and as he does so, he checks his reflection in the mirror.
Stares at himself a moment, then sticks out his tongue. Checks it. And then dries his hand, moving back to the bedroom, carrying his towel with him. Peter glances at his bed a moment. Half-amused, he leans over and checks behind the picture hanging above the headboard. Nothing. Then, he bends down, checking under the bed. Again, nothing. Then, he moves to a bedroom closet, pulling down a black and gray speckled file box.
Inside, a series of newspaper clippings, graphic photos. Yellowed with age, on of which falls on the bed, titled, "Unsolved Brutal Murders." Peter riffles past the clippings to the coroner's report. He speed reads it, until he gets to his parents' blood types: "Andrea Kelson - A negative." Jack Kelson - O positive." Peter stares at the information. Confused by what it's supposed to mean. Then, he pulls on a turtleneck sweater, ready to go back out.
PETER: This is ridiculous.
Peter exits the bedroom and steps back towards the living room, carrying the towel.
INT. PETER:'S LIVING ROOM Peter passes through to his front door throwing his towel on the puddle of water.
INT. SECRETARY'S ANTE ROOM -
PETER'S OFFICE - DAY: Peter walks in, eyeballing Mrs. Quintana's desk.
MRS. QUINTANA: Good of you to stop by.
PETER: (breezy) We millionaires yet?
INT. PETER:'S OFFICE - DAY Peter enters to find Michael. Peter sizes up the man who's casually studying Peter's personal desk photos.
MICHAEL: Umm, Melvin Szabo, this is Peter Kelson. Peter, this is the psychic. The stranger looks up. He's young and cocky, with thick glasses. He's holding a picture of Peter with his parents.
PETER: (to Melvin) I'd appreciate it if you'd put that back.
MELVIN: You are the younger of two...
He puts down that photo and picks up one of Claire, as Peter walks over to his chair and a position of more control.
MELVIN: (CONT'D) (indicating Claire) You're afraid of committing to this girl.
Peter grabs one of his pens and begins rolling it between his fingers.
MELVIN: (CONT'D) But she worships you. Your mother's dead but your father's alive.
PETER: Nothing you couldn't find out from reading the papers. And you're already wrong on one count.
MELVIN: Viznick will get off and Michael's got a crush on you.
Michael looks alarmed. Peter notices his pen is leaking all over his hand.
PETER: You know what? You can go.
MELVIN: Suit yourself. But does this mean anything to you?
Melvin picks up a pen and writes "X-E-S" in florid script on a pad. He holds it out for Peter's inspection. Peter is rattled.
MELVIN: (CONT'D) You do know, don't you. That these are also numbers. Greek numbers, 600, 60 and 6 - or 666. The sign of the Devil.
PETER: Get out of here.
MELVIN: (pleasantly) Goodbye.
He sticks out his hand and grabs Peter's. His expression changes from one of amused disdain to fascinated curiosity.
MELVIN: (CONT'D) Wait a minute...
His arrogance melts away. Melvin's face tightens. A shudder of fear passes through him.
MELVIN: (CONT'D) (strangled gasp) God will forgive me...the time of transformation is so near.
But the voice is that of John Townsend.
PETER: (really shaken) Get the fuck out of here!
INT. NYC STREET - DAY HIGH ANGLE ON: Peter stands in the middle of the sidewalk as the wind violently whips at his jacket. He gazes upward to the mute, gray sky. Finally he lowers his eyes. He sees something that angers him.
EXT. CATHOLIC CHURCH - DAY A sprawling Catholic church stands before him. Peter regards it with wrath. He pushes open the door and tries to enter, but a group of LITHUANIAN parishioners pushes past him, blocking his way. A priest calls a farewell.
LITHUANIAN PRIEST: (O.S.) (in Lithuanian) See you all next week! The entry finally clear, Peter goes inside.
INT. CATHOLIC CHURCH - CONTINUOUS It's dark, forbidding. The priest exits around a corner. Peter looks at the vast and spacious altar. Above it is an enormous wooden crucifix. Peter moves down the aisle toward the altar. ECU The sorrowful face of the Christ figure looks down on Peter with pity. The body hangs, gaunt, wracked with pain. The wrists pierced by nails, the feet cruelly hammered together. Peter stops at the first pew. He looks up at the crucifix. Defiant.
PETER: Go ahead, do something. Show me.
|
