The Rock

MASON

One more thing: a shave and a haircut.

(sees Womack)

Hello Womack.

Mason and Womack stare at each other and...

CUT TO:

EXT. MOJAVE – DESERT FLATS – MORNING

A hot desert-vista. Miles of nowhere. A DODGE sits under a tripod. Suspended from the tripod, a BLINKING DEVICE.

The device DETONATES, showering the car with WHITE HOT BURNING LIQUID and amazingly, the car melts into a pool of molten steel, disintegrating to ash, which blows across the desert.

50 YARDS AWAY

USAF LT. JIMMY FISK and CPT. LARRY GILER (both late 20's) emerge from the heat waves in heat-reflective suits, walking toward A HEAT PROTECTIVE BUNKER (a wall coated with heat reflective metal.)

BEHIND THE BUNKER

USAF General Peterson watches with other Air Force OFFICERS and TECHNICIANS.

Fisk and Giler enter, pulling off their suit hoods. Their faces are beet red from the heat.

CPT. GILER

What it's all about, sir: Willy Peter burns steel, burns titanium; it'll sure burn up your poison and everything else in the atmosphere.

GENERAL PETERSON

I need four F-16's equipped with air-to-ground missiles within...

(consults wristwatch)

... twenty-six hours.

LT. FISK

Let me name some things that are more possible, General, with all due respect: winning the Lottery, climbing Mt. Everest barefoot, getting a parking space at Yankee Stadium, marrying Sharon Stone...

CPT. GILER

Can't do it, General.

GENERAL PETERSON

You can. And you will.

General Peterson walks off.

CPT. GILER

Get yer minds off Budweiser, baseball, and broads, fellahs – we're goin, round the clock!

CUT TO:

INT. FBI VAN – BACK COMPARTMENT – DRIVING – MORNING

A van with no windows. Mason is shackled to a steel loop at one end of the seating bench. Goodspeed sits across from him, a CELLULAR PHONE at his ear.

THREE FBI AGENTS (CORD, STAR and HUNT) sit down the bench, talking amongst themselves.
 

CARLA (V.O.)

(recorded voice message)

Hi! Bill and Carla ain't in! State your business! Make it interesting!

GOODSPEED

(into phone)

Listen Carla: I'll explain later, but don't come to San Francisco.

CLOSE ON MASON

Watching Goodspeed, picking up anything he can from the conversation.

INT. GOODSPEED'S APARTMENT – DAY

Carla stands in the threshold of the apartment, watching the answering machine –
 

GOODSPEED (V.O.)

(on the machine)

I repeat, don't come to San Francisco.

CARLA

Like hell I'm not...

She exits, slamming the door.

INT. FBI VAN – BACK COMPARTMENT – CONTINUOUS

Goodspeed clicks off the phone, thinking, nervous. Goodspeed notices that Mason is staring at him.

MASON

(sotto)

Who's Carla? And why don't you want her to come to San Francisco?

Goodspeed doesn't answer. He notices the FBI Agents staring at Mason and him. He straightens up.

GOODSPEED

You're on a need to know basis and you don't need to know.

MASON

You learn that line in Cub Scouts, Goodspeed?

The van STOPS: the rear doors open to the FAIRMONT HOTEL SERVICE ENTRANCE.

INT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – PENTHOUSE SUITE – DAY

Top floor suite with a private elevator. Grand, with French doors leading to a balcony. Director Womack, Goodspeed and FBI Agents Star and Hunt are in the room. Jackets off, shoulder holsters on.

FBI DIRECTOR WOMACK

I personally picked this suite.

(points at elevator)

Only one exit.

IN THE SUITE'S BATHROOM

Steamy, from the shower. FBI Agent Cord sits on the sink. Mason's VOICE emanates from the shower. He's singing some ditty off-key. But Mason isn't washing.

INSIDE THE SHOWER STALL

Mason's tampering with the BELL HOUSING of THE RETRACTABLE CLOTHESLINE on the shower wall.

Mason pops off the bell-housing. he pulls out the nylon clothesline cord (it's thick, about 10 ft.) and rips it from the bell housing. Tests its strength.

Satisfied, he knots A NOOSE on one end of the clothesline cord, then coils.

IN THE BATHROOM

Mason emerges from the shower wearing a huge hotel bathrobe.

Cord hands him a SUIT OF CLOTHES. Mason inspects them.

MARSHAL CORD

Put 'em on. You've got forty-five minutes.

MASON

You going to stand there and watch?

MARSHAL CORD

That's right.

MASON

Well if it excites-you...

MARSHAL CORD

Put the goddamn clothes on.

IN THE SUITE'S LIVING ROOM

Womack is dumping the contents of a BARBER'S BAG on the sideboard.

Hands THE HOTEL BARBER, a swishy guy, a COMB, ELECTRIC TRIMMER and BIB. The BARBER frowns.

BARBER

I can't do a decent job with these.

FBI DIRECTOR WOMACK

That's all you get.

BARBER

I'm an artist, not a barber.

FBI DIRECTOR WOMACK

(holds up scissors)

Without these he can't stab you in the throat.

Mason, dressed, emerges from the bathroom. Motions the barber toward the balcony.

MASON

Shall we do this outside? In the sunshine?

The barber gulps. Follows Mason onto the balcony.

ON THE SUITE'S BALCONY

Mason sits in the sun on a balcony chair. Bib on.

BARBER

How would you like it sir?

MASON

Whatever's in style.

BARBER

Oh fabulous. You look shabby. Shall I snip and cut the shabbiness away?

The barber begins trimming Mason's hair...

THE BALCONY – SOME MINUTES LATER

Mason's hair and beard are neatly trimmed. The barber holds a mirror up; Mason examines himself.

MASON

Good. Thank you.

The barber stands. Clears his throat. Rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

MASON

Yes of course. My secretary will take care of you.

(to Agent Star)

See to the good man will you?

Agent Star, glaring at Mason, leads the Barber out.

MASON

What say we bury the hatchet, Womack.

Mason extends his hand. Womack looks at it. As Womack reluctantly takes Mason's hand, Mason slides the noose over Womack's wrist. He yanks it tight and shoulders director Womack bodily over the balustrade.

MASON

In your head.

Womack plunges, HOWLING, 9 stories to his death. No, he only falls 10 feet. SPROOOOOING he stops, hanging by his wrist off the side of the building, held there by –

MASON

On the balcony, clutching the other end of the nylon clothesline, staring at Goodspeed.

GOODSPEED

Jesus... JESUS CHRIST....

Goodspeed fumbles for his gun. Finally unholsters it.

DIRECTOR WOMACK

Hanging below, is SCREAMING.

 
MASON
Drop the gun or I'll drop your boss.

EXT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – ACROSS THE STREET – DAY

Two FBI Agents, loitering by their vehicle, look up at Womack, dangling off the side of the building.

FBI AGENT

Holy shit, we got a jumper.

FBI Agent #2 raises binoculars to his eyes.

FBI AGENT #2

Looks like.... Womack... !

EXT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – PENTHOUSE SUITE – DAY

Mason and Goodspeed as before.

MASON

Whoops.... I'm feeling tired.... Whoops....

Mason lets Womack drop a foot. Womack SCREAMS! Goodspeed drops his gun and grabs the clothesline. Mason bolts from the balcony into the suite's library.

Agent Star sprints onto the balcony. Star and Goodspeed begin hauling Womack up as –

Mason steals through the suite, through the vestibule, and into the elevator.

ON THE BALCONY

Agent Star and Goodspeed hoist Directory Womack, red-faced and sputtering, over the railing. Goodspeed grabs Star's walkie-talkie.

GOODSPEED

All units, this is Caretaker. WE'VE GOT A SIGNAL SIX. Mason's in the elevator! Let me know where he stops!

INT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – BASEMENT – HOTEL KITCHEN – DAY

Mason exits the elevator. The kitchen is bustling with COOKS AND BUSBOYS. Mason moves toward the side exit. Two FBI Agents enter. Mason ducks into the dishwashing room. Waits for the Agents to run past.

Mason emerges, running right into... Goodspeed.

WHAMM. MASON'S FIST slams into Goodspeed's jaw. Goodspeed goes down on the huge dishwasher. Mason moves off quickly toward the side exit.

EXT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – SIDE EXIT – DAY

Mason exits the hotel. 20 feet away is the PARKING VALET. 10 incredibly fast expensive European cars are waiting to be parked. First in line, however, is a HUMVEE.

EXT. FAIRMONT HOTEL – SIDE EXIT – DAY

Goodspeed exits, looking at Mason getting into the HUMVEE. The Humvee explodes out of the hotel driveway.

Goodspeed shouts to the FBI Agents across the street:

GOODSPEED

That's him!

The FBI SEDANS ROAR off after Mason.

Goodspeed looks around. A Ferrari sitting there. Goodspeed gets behind the wheel.

The FERRARI blasts out of the driveway after the Humvee.

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO – STREETS – DAY

The HUMVEE lumbers up to a traffic light. Stops behind several vehicles ahead.

INT. MASON'S CAR – DRIVING – DAY

Mason looks-up in the rear view mirror. The FBI SEDANS are behind him, closing fast. Mason rams the stickshift into gear; throws the wheel.

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO STREET – DAY

MASON'S HUMVEE veers to the side and CLIMBS OVER a parked, day-glow painted VW BEETLE, squashing it's hood. The Humvee ROARS through the intersection, leaving –

The FBI SEDANS and GOODSPEED'S FERRARI trapped at the light behind the other cars.

EXT. THE STREET AHEAD – DAY

MASON'S HUMVEE plows through traffic, hitting the left and right bumpers of the cars in front of it, knocking them aside. It blows through ten cars like ten-pins.

GOODSPEED'S FERRARI slaloms through the Humvee's wake of dented cars and accelerates after the Humvee.