BLACK RAIN

BLACK RAIN 

by Craig Bolotin & Warren Lewis

A BLACK SCREEN:

Various voices: "Big six"... "That's six the hard way"...

"Seven or eleven"... "Play two"...

FADE IN:

EXT. UPPER EAST SIDE - NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT

One of the pristine blocks of brownstones where even the

garbage seems gift wrapped. The VOICES continue over as

we move in on a particular building where a DOORMAN is

holding open the door for a dowager and her poodle.

The voices continue: "Hit me"... "Double down"... "Let it

ride"... "Hit me"... "Anymore for the come out"...

"Card"...

In contrast to the outside of this sedate, quiet

brownstone, we go inside to find...

INT. BROWNSTONE APARTMENT

... a miniature Las Vegas, complete with music, drinks,

tuxedoed dealers and croupiers: roulette, craps, Black

Jack. Wall to wall people. The fact that casino gambling

happens to be illegal in New York doesn't stop these

Connecticut slummers, hollow-cheek nightlifers, and junior

wiseguys from having a good time.

AT THE CARD TABLE

NICK CONKLIN, holding a dollar cigar, is trying to pull a

winning hand. In his late thirties, Nick has the sort of

quiet good looks that takes an extra glance to appreciate.

His Moe Ginsburg rent-a-tux is too tight, his ruffled

shirt, out of date; Nick could care less.

Two other players are still in the game. One of them is a

lithe DEBUTANTE surrounded by an entourage of giggling

friends and tuxedoed men. The pot is huge.

Nick flips two one hundred dollar chips onto the pot.

NICK

One, and one on top.

DEALER

House sees.

PLAYER ONE

(hesitates)

I'm out.

Disgusted, he throws down his cards.

It's down to Nick and the debutante. The cocky deb gives

Nick a long look, confident she can win.

DEBUTANTE

(her eyes still on

Nick)

I see the deuce, and one to chase

them home.

She throws her chips on the pot. Nick hesitates, then

decides to match it.

NICK

Call.

DEBUTANTE

(showing her hand)

Ladies, aces wired. Sorry sport.

Nick turns over his cards, Jacks and tens, not good enough

to win. Elated, the deb gets up from the table and joins

her giggling friends. Nick walks over to her.

NICK

Very nice, Barbie.

(pointing toward her

boyfriend)

Now, I'd take Ken over there and go

home.

DEBUTANTE

Why's that?

NICK

It's time. That's all.

BOYFRIEND

The lady wants to play. Someone

should teach you to be a better

loser, loser.

NICK

Listen, Ken --

BOYFRIEND

My name is not Ken --

NICK

-- I'm offering you the benefit of

my experience.

DEBUTANTE

Looks like you have a lot of

experience in places like this. It

was nice of them to relax the dress

code for you.

That draws a laugh from her friends. The entourage heads

for the bar.

CHARLIE SKLOARIS, twenty-three, steps in front of the

debutante, blocking her path.

She steps to the side. Charlie steps with her. Charlie's

pushing it, he's always pushing it. She's not amused.

Finally, Charlie lets her pass. He comes up to Nick.

CHARLIE

Typical New York woman, big

attitude, small apartment, no tits.

Only two things count to Charlie: his job and his women,

but not necessarily in that order.

CHARLIE

I think she got to you, pappy.

NICK

(checking his watch)

You want a popsicle, go to Good

Humor. And don't call me 'pappy.'

CHARLIE

(glancing at the

door)

Still, you gotta wonder how she'd

look in handcuffs.

Nick, wary, eyes this kid. Charlie shrugs, spreads his

arms defensively. The SOUND of pounding on the front

door.

THE DOOR

splinters. The bouncer steps back as four helmeted

emergency service officers -- the first members of the

raiding party -- rush in.

Pandemonium. People rush for the exit -- any exit.

AT THE BAR

Nick and Charlie hold up their glasses.

NICK

(calmly)

Alley oop.

They down their drinks, then set them down.

Charlie pulls out the Binaca, offering Nick a spritz, but

Nick is already pulling out his POLICE BADGE and hanging

it around his neck. Charlie quickly follows suit.

A HALF DOZEN COPS

line the patrons up against the wall. The Asst. D.A.,

PATTY ZACHARA, climbs onto the crap table. A petite,

nervous woman, Patty has dressed in a Channel suit for the

occasion.

ZACHARA

Settle down. Hey, quiet... Please.

Not a prayer.

NICK

SHUT THE HELL UP, GODDAMNIT!

That quiets them.

NICK

My name is Conklin. Let's do this

fast so I can go home.

Zachara, annoyed, looks at Nick.

NICK

(softer)

It's all yours.

ZACHARA

(reads)

Under section 216 of the New York

State Penal code, I serve notice

that this premise and it's

occupants...

NICK

catches the Debutante's eye across the room. She smiles

at him, he was right. He shrugs, spreads his hands.

That's life.

A well groomed middle aged man, who we'll come to know as

CAVELLO, suddenly bolts from the crowd lined up against

the wall.

Charlie spins around to stop him --

CHARLIE

Whoa -- where do you think you're

going, hotdog.

Cavello butts him with his head, sending Charlie to the

floor. Then, crosses his arms in front of his face and

plunges through the WINDOW.

Nick, not missing a beat, gives a small sigh as he

follows.

NICK

(sighs)

Fabulous...

He takes off after him.

EXT. STREET UPPER EAST SIDE - NIGHT

Nick, short of breath, chases Cavello down the residential

street, past the dog-walkers, past the doormen, past the

fur-coated women climbing out of taxies... Unfortunately,

Cavello has a good half block on him.

From nowhere, Charlie blasts past leaving Nick a half

block behind, silently cursing his age.

AT THE CORNER

a limo jerks to a halt, and Cavello jumps in. The limo

streaks away.

CHARLIE

turns to see Nick, hands on knees, gasping for air.

CUT TO:

INT. LOCKER ROOM - TWO EIGHT PRECINCT - NIGHT

Now in their street clothes, Charlie and Nick stand in

front of the mirrors. Charlie is working his brush and

hair dryer as if his life depended on it. Nick, in

contrast, shoves his hair back with his fingers and

glowers at himself in the mirror.

CHARLIE

(over the dryer)

... It's not like you were slow or

anything... I think you did just

fine. I think you did great.

NICK

Thanks.

Nick turns to leave.

CHARLIE

Hey, hey, where you goin'?

NICK

Home.

EXT. POLICE PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Nick strides out the door. Charlie hurries after him.

CHARLIE

Wait up. You know the guy who did

the Weismuller through the window --

NICK

-- Cavello. Ronnie Cavello.

Charlie trails Nick to his motorcycle: a Harley hog

complete with wide gleaming fenders and twin tanks. The

bike is held together with tape and baling wire.

CHARLIE

You know him?

Nick tries to kick-start this behemoth, but it's not easy.

NICK

He works for Frank Abolofia.

Atlantic City. Casinos.

CHARLIE

So why dive through the glass for a

nickel and dime bust?

Charlie puts his foot up on Nick's fender to tie his shoe.

Nick, spotting an ankle holster peeking from Charlie's

sock, grabs Charlie's foot. Charlie teeters.

NICK

What's this?

CHARLIE

Let go...

Nick pulls out a Beretta 32.

CHARLIE

Back-up.

NICK

Get rid of it.

CHARLIE

Why?

NICK

It's not regulation. And the only

way you're gonna stop anybody with

it is to show it to him, and while

he's laughing, you can shove it down

his throat.

CHARLIE

(looking at Nick's

bike)

I'll get rid of it when you get rid

of the egg-beater.

The Harley comes to life spitting a cloud of blue smoke.

Nick puts on his paint-flecked helmet, slides down some

ski goggles.

CHARLIE

Nick, let's go hunting. Bag

Cavello.

NICK

Charlie...

Nick pops the bike into gear.

NICK

... You still got shaving cream on

your ear.

Nick rolls out and disappears in a haze of blue smoke.

EXT. BELT PARKWAY - VERRAZANO BRIDGE - NIGHT

WE FIND Nick, a lonely, solitary figure bobbing in and out

of the lights and shadows. The SOUND of wind whips

through his helmet; cold air stings his cheeks... The tail

lights of Nick's bike disappear into the night.

EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - STATEN ISLAND - NIGHT

Civil service heaven. Nick hits the cut switch and glides

past the manicured lawns and well kept houses of this

development. A basketball net in every driveway, a Buick

or Chrysler in every garage.

One house sticks out. The lawn is brown, paint is peeling

off the garage door and newspapers are scattered on the

driveway. Nick glides once around the cul de sac looking

at the house. His house. It's as inviting as an open

grave. He shoots away.

INT. EL GRECO DINER - STATEN ISLAND - NIGHT

A hanger sized roadhouse, wall to wall red velvet.

Nick's the sole figure at the counter, coffee and the

Daily News in front of him. A NURSE walks in and sits

down a half dozen seats away. Nick look up.

NICK

Short shift?

CONNIE

Yeah... I came to save you. If

you're hopeless, I'll pull the plug.

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Nick and Connie are in bed. They're both looking up at

the ceiling. They've just made love.

CONNIE

It's getting too cold even for me,

Nick.

NICK

Connie...

CONNIE

All right, how's the new partner?

NICK

High spirits, desire, commitment.

CONNIE

You'll take care of that.

NICK

Give me a break, would you?

CONNIE

If you give me one.

Nick kisses her. The first suggestion of real affection.

The SOUND of someone KNOCKING on the door. Reluctantly,

they stop. Connie gets up and puts on her robe.

NICK

Are you expecting anyone?

CONNIE

I wasn't expecting you.

She disappears down the hallway. We HEAR the door open,

then telling someone to wait.

CONNIE

(poking her head in

the room)

Imagine a small, greasy Boy Scout.

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE'S APARTMENT

Nick, wearing only his pants, is doing a slow burn.

Charlie is holding his hands up defensively.

CHARLIE

... I found the goombah... Cavello.

He's --

NICK

-- I should tear your head off.

CHARLIE

Whoa, I knew you were going to say

that. I absolutely anticipated

that, Nick. But I said to myself,

Charlie, Charlie, we can move up on

this, so go find Nicklaus... He'll

be pissed for a moment, but then

it'll dawn on him --

NICK

-- Hey, I got a better chance of

being hit by a bus then moving up.

Charlie looks away momentarily, letting it slide. He

knows he's on sensitive ground.

CHARLIE

... Look... they told me at the

Greek's you were here. I'm sorry, I

never imagined...

CHARLIE

(buddy buddy)

I like her. She's nice.

(lowering his voice)

For her age.

The bedroom door opens. Connie enters, dumps Nick's

clothes on the couch, tosses his gun on top of the pile.

Without a word, she goes back inside and slams the door

behind her.

Nick, pissed, slowly turns to face Charlie. Charlie

shrugs. Nick's got nothing better to do than go.

CUT TO:

INT. LIME HOUSE - CHINATOWN - NIGHT

The Lime House is a little piece of Italy in the heart of

Chinatown, and tonight, it's packed. Any selection on the

jukebox that isn't Frank Sinatra is Jerry Vale. Behind

the bar are two fat BROTHERS. One pours drinks, the other

dishes out Scungilli. It's three a.m. It's always three

a.m. at the Lime House.

AT THE BACK TABLE

Our man CAVELLO is unloading steaming Scungilli onto an

already heaping plate in front of an imperious looking

JAPANESE MAN. The Japanese Man, in his mid-fifties, wears

a gray suit, and not a strand of his jet black hair is out

of place.

A Japanese TRANSLATOR, doing his best to translate

Cavello's heavily accented English, sits between them.

AT THE BAR

Charlie is looking straight ahead, afraid Cavello might

peg him. Nick is at ease.

CHARLIE

What are they doing now?

NICK

Eating Scungilli, just like the last

time you asked.

CHARLIE

Who do you think the Jap is?

NICK

Maybe Cavello's buying a Subaru.

How would I know?

CHARLIE

I don't blame you for being sore.

It'll pass when we bag him.

Charlie, trying to relax, gestures toward his foot.

CHARLIE

Whatdaya think? 'Bostonians'.

Eighty-five bucks.

(lowering his voice)

Girls go for shoes. Second place

they look.

(off Nick's

reaction)

Hey, I read it in a magazine.

Nick's attention is drawn to a trio walking in the door.

NICK

(dead serious)

Charlie, don't do anything. Promise

me?

CHARLIE

What?

WHAT THEY SEE: TWO BODYGUARDS are making a quick sweep of

the bar. FRANK ABOLOFIA, s stocky man with silver grey

hair, sweeps in behind them. Abolofia has mitts like a

meat packer and a fifty dollar manicure. A heavyweight

Mafioso.

NICK

Frank Abolofia.

CHARLIE

The Wolf?

Abolofia walks to Cavello's table. All rise and shake

hands. The two hitters take seats at the bar. The two

brothers scramble to serve their distinguished guests.

NICK

(in a whisper)

Some party.

CHARLIE

Maybe we should do something?

NICK

Charlie, take your gum, stick it

under your ass and keep it warm.

Nick turns away, resumes his drink.

NICK'S POV IN THE MIRROR BEHIND THE BAR: two new Japanese

men step in the door. Early twenties, spiky hair, dark

Versace suits.

NUMBER ONE

wears tortoise shell shades. He coolly checks out the

room then nods to --

NUMBER TWO

who pulls a Spas 12, automatic shotgun from under his

coat, and spits out three rounds. A window shatters.

Everyone hits the floor.

NUMBER ONE

slowly walks toward Cavello's table.

NUMBER TWO

covers the floor. Abolofia's bodyguards show their empty

hands.

NICK AND CHARLIE

on the floor. They don't have the artillery for this guy

either.