THE INSIDER

                         LIANE
               I'm sorry, darling, have you seen my
               coffee mug...?

                         WIGAND
               Try the car.

     And Liane going outside...

     EXT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE - EVENING

     She opens Jeffrey's car looking in the front seat at the cup
     holders.  She turns to leave and sees the backseat filled
     with two boxes and the books we saw him take...

                         LIANE
               Uh, what are those boxes?

                         WIGAND
               I'm going to the store.  You need
               anything?

                         LIANE
               What do you need at the store?

                         WIGAND
               Soy sauce...

                         LIANE
               Right now?

                         WIGAND
                   (meaning in the car)
               That's my stuff from the office...

                         LIANE
               Why did you take your stuff from the
               office?

                         WIGAND
                   (simply)
               I didn't want to leave it there...

                         LIANE
                    (confused)
               I don't understand.

                         WIGAND
                   (matter of fact)
               I got fired this morning...  Where else
               am I gonna take it?

                         LIANE
               Why?  Who said?

                         WIGAND
                   (specifically)
               Thomas Sandefur...

                         LIANE
                   (stunned, fearful)
               What are we supposed to do...?  What
               about our medical coverage; what about
               our health?  What about our car payments?
               The payments on this house?

     He looks at her.  There's an unspoken moment when it seems
     he's desperate for her to ask how he's feeling...  But she
     doesn't and now there's a wall up and the moment passes...

                         WIGAND
                   (a beat, specific)
               There's a severance agreement...  It
               includes cash payouts over time and
               continuing medical coverage...
                   (beat)
               Sure you don't need anything?

                         LIANE
               No, thank you.

     She's stunned.  He leaves.  And as Liane's completely still,
     her accessories seeming literally to weigh her down, she
     wants to ask how he is, how he must be feeling, and she turns
     into CAMERA towards him to do that.  But he's driven off down
     the street.

                         LIANE (cont'd)
               Jeffrey...!

     INT. ANOTHER HOUSE IN BAALBEK - DAY

     The Sheikh, wearing a fresh white robe and skull cap, comes
     into the room...

                         THE SHEIKH
               I am very pleased to receive you as my
               guest, Mr. Wallace.

                         MIKE WALLACE
               Thank you for having us...

     REVERSE:  Norman's camera crew is setting up.  MIKE WALLACE
     is there.  A dangerous combination of intelligence,
     arrogance, and celebrity, there's a kinetic quality about
     him.

     Wallace sits across from the Sheikh on a dais of patterned
     linoleum in incongruous armchairs against a wallpaper mural
     of a French formal garden.  A Sound Technician wires the
     Sheikh and Mike with microphones.  Norman says something to
     Lowell and then goes out.

                         NORMAN
               I think I've got a problem with the
               gennie.  I have to go outside.

                         LOWELL
                   (going outside)
               Norman...?

     Mike turns his chair to face and slides it closer to the
     Sheikh's chair.  The Head Bodyguard barks something in
     Arabic.  The Interpreter says something back in Arabic.  The
     Sheikh, absorbed in his notes for the upcoming interview,
     ignores all of this.

                         INTERPRETER
               He says you must not sit so close.

                         MIKE WALLACE
               What?
                   (re:  Bodyguard)
               I can't conduct an interview from back
               there.

     The Bodyguard, bristling at Wallace's tone, barks more
     confrontational Arabic.

                         INTERPRETER
               You must move back your chair.

                         MIKE WALLACE
               Will you tell him that when I conduct an
               interview, I sit anywhere I damn please!

                         INTERPRETER
               There is no interview.

     As Mike leaps forward, moving inches from the Bodyguard's
     face with such sudden ferocity, even the Bodyguard flinches.

                         MIKE WALLACE
               You!  I'm talking to you!

     More armed men start to enter.

                         MIKE WALLACE (cont'd)
               What the hell do you think I am?  A 78-
               year-old assassin?  You think I'm gonna
               karate him to death with this notepad?
                   (to Interpreter)
               Are you interpreting what I'm saying?

                         INTERPRETER
               Yes.

                         LOWELL
               We're there.

                         MIKE WALLACE
               Good, well ask him if Arabic is his
               second language.

                         LOWELL
                   (to Interpreter)
               Don't interpret that!
                   (to both)
               Hold it.  Hold it.  Hold it!  Slow,
               slow!!
                   (to the Sheikh)
               Sheikh, do you mind...if you would just
               turn your chair a little bit to face Mr.
               Wallace?

     The Sheikh looks up from his notes, nods, fixes his chair,
     goes back to his notes...

                         LOWELL (cont'd)
               Is that okay?

                         INTERPRETER
               Okay.

                         LOWELL
                   (Bodyguard assents; to Mike)
               Are you ready?  Or you want to keep
               fucking around and warm up some more...?

                         MIKE WALLACE
               No.
                   (wry)
               ...that's got my heart started.

     They know each other well.  Lowell smiles.  Wallace sits
     down.

                         LOWELL
               Alright, Todd, give me the three-button
               on Mike, please.  Okay.  We are rolling.
               Okay, Mike.

     They roll camera...  "60 Minutes"...  "Hezbollah"...

                         MIKE WALLACE
                   (charming)
               Sheikh Fadlallah, thank you so much for
               seeing us.
                   (changes)
               Are you a terrorist?

     The Sheikh didn't expect the Mike Wallace opening shot
     between the eyes.  He recovers...

                         THE SHEIKH
               Mr. Wallace, I...am a servant of God.

     That expression of incredulity...

                         MIKE WALLACE
               A servant of God?  Really...

     Mike, tipping his glasses down while the hostile Gunmen,
     cradling weapons, watch him through the doorway...

                         MIKE WALLACE (CONT'D)
               Americans believe that you, as an Islamic
               fundamentalist, that you are a leader who
               contributed to the bombing of the U.S.
               Embassy.

     The ballsiness of Wallace, asking these questions in this
     place, is impressive...

     EXT. BERKELEY - LATE MORNING

     It's still.  A MAIL TRUCK is stopped at an odd angle in the
     street outside an older brick house with a bold redwood Big
     Sur-like fence on a hillside.  Beyond the truck is a forever
     view of the Bay.  A handle turns.  Mail truck door opens.
     Mailman, carrying a box, going through the gate.  Doorstep.
     Box is deposited there.  It's quiet again.  The BOX sitting
     nakedly by the front door...

     INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BEDROOM, BERKELEY - LATE MORNING

     Lowell, in sweat pants and an old tee shirt now, is on the
     telephone, still in bed...  Newspapers, The New York Times,
     The Wall Street Journal, San Francisco Chronicle, are spread
     all over...home as refuge.  A tray with large cups of coffee
     is on a side table.

                         LOWELL
               ...everyone thinks Canadian Mounties
               ride horses and rescue ladies from
               rapids, Mike.  They backed locals in Oka
               in a fight with Mohawks over building a
               golf course on their burial site.  They
               beat up protesters at Kanasake...
                   (pause)
               Where'd you hear that?

     The other phone on a nightstand rings...  A Woman in her
     forties, SHARON TILLER, enters, in a bathrobe, brushing her
     teeth.  She answers it...

                         LOWELL (cont'd)
                   (droll)
               Oh, someone took a poll?  "Are all things
               Canadian boring...?"

                         SHARON
                   (to Lowell)
               It's Stuart...he's in Mexico City...

                         LOWELL
               Let me call you back...

     He takes up the line...listening...

                         LOWELL (CONT'D)
               Yeah, Stuart...  What New York bank?

     A young Man in his early twenties wanders in...

                         JAKE
               Hey Dad...Sharon...

     Lowell waves at JAKE, his son.

                         SHARON
                   (to Jake)
               No classes this morning?

                         LOWELL
               Will he go on-camera and talk about the
               Mexico City branch?

                         JAKE
               I don't have to be there until ten-
               thirty.

     Lowell's son sits on the bed looking at part of a newspaper.
     And another young Man, in his early twenties, with long hair
     comes strolling in, Sharon's son, JOSIAH.

                         JOSIAH
               Hi Mom, Lowell...

     Lowell, still on the phone, waves to him.

                         SHARON
               Hi, sweetheart...

     Josiah sits on the bed too, reading the back of the sports
     section Jake is reading...  Another line rings, Sharon
     getting it.  The Boys, used to them, get up, and leave...

                         LOWELL
                   (into phone)
               Will independent sources corroborate
               that?

                         SHARON
               Hello?  Yeah...

     EXT. THE BERKELEY HOUSE - MORNING

     The Boys coming out of the house together...  And seeing the
     BOX by the door...

                         LOWELL'S SON
                   (shouts back inside)
               Dad, you got a box out here...

     And they go out the gate, talking, walking off along the
     Berkeley street.  The box left waiting by the door.

                         LOWELL
                   (looking at her itinerary)
               Let me see this...  No, 'cause I gotta
               know where you're going at all times.

     INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BEDROOM, BERKELEY - MORNING

                         SHARON
                   (into phone)
               I can't...  I've got to fly to Boston
               tomorrow.

     Lowell comes with the box back to bed.  He's already
     unwrapped it.  Inside are stacks of papers...  He looks at
     the box cover.  No return address.  An anonymous sender; not
     unusual for him.  He casually looks through the papers.