Rush Hour

INT. FBI GUARDHOUSE – NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE – DAY

Inside are two desks and four chairs, a console of communication equipment, a microwave and a Mr. Coffee.

Dave enters. Two FBI agents, finishing their shift, gather their belongings: ROBBINS (late 20's; male; thinning hair) and SABATINI, (early 30's; cute; dark, bobbed hair; female).

They wear blue FBI blazers and have standard-FBI-issue 10mm Heckler & Koch MP-5 machine pistols in oversized shoulder rigs. Dave is in civilian clothes, and is not armed.

ROBBINS

Yo, Dave the Computer Man! Actually escaped the office!

DAVE

I'm doin' field upgrades. Gives 'em a chance to hose out my cage.

He glances through the window at Colonel Lee.

DAVE

(continuing)

Who's the fuckin' gargoyle?

ROBBINS

Their Chief of Security, Colonel Lee.

Sabatini makes the jerk-off sign with her hand.

SABATINI

"Chuckles," as we're inclined to call him.

(yawns; flops in a chair)

Friggin' graveyard shift...

ROBBINS

Love to know what dope made it the Bureau's job to give full-time protection to foreign consulates.

(offers coffee to Dave)

Cup a mud?

DAVE

Not if you made it. Why don't you get Sabatini to brew the java? She's the alleged chick.

SABATINI

Blow me.

DAVE

Where's Carson?

SABATINI

On his way. Some creeps tried to rip off his Mustang last night.

(beat; solemnly)

They cut the ragtop.

DAVE

Motherfuckers...

Dave takes three PCMCIA computer cards from his attaché case.

DAVE

(continuing)

Latest and greatest. Wireless network link-ups.

SABATINI

Whoa, slow down, I'm gonna pee.

ROBBINS

Me, too.

DAVE

Ingrates.

EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD – DAY

The van drives in the lane alongside the Mercedes.

INT. JAVAL'S VAN – (MOVING SHOT) – DAY

HUMMING, Javal drives with one hand, while tapping with his other on the top of the radio-controlled remote box.

EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD – DAY

As they approach the light at Washington Blvd, just turning yellow, Javal's van gets in front of the Mercedes.

Their lanes stop for the red light. A FRUIT VENDOR holding a bag of oranges walks from car to car.

Javal slips the van into neutral and lets it roll back until his rear bumper taps gently against the Mercedes' front bumper.

INT. MERCEDES – INCLUDE POV THROUGH REAR VIEW MIRROR – DAY

The Driver hits the HORN. The van doesn't move. The Driver glances in the rear-view:

There's a Jeep Cherokee tight on his tail, and the BLACK LADY in it is busy dealing with a carpool full of 8-year-old KIDS.

The Driver looks at Mrs. Han, who's peering out the side window, fascinated by the African-American-themed storefronts. They're all festooned with Summit-related banners, and SHOP OWNERS are preparing for a community sidewalk bazaar.

Sam, bored, stuffs several pieces of GUM into his mouth.

INT. JAVAL'S VAN – SAME

Javal flips the switch on his radio-controlled remote.

INSERT

Under the Mercedes, the device Javal planted there begins to emit thick, white CS TEAR GAS.

INT. MERCEDES – DAY

The GAS pours in through the ventilation system. Everyone inside starts coughing and choking uncontrollably. The Driver grabs his AMD-74 machine gun and pops the door locks.

EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD – DAY

The Driver, Mrs. Han, Joy, Sam and Lisa pile out of the car.

Jittering with excitement, fear and speed, Javal hops out of his van, holding a Benelli M-1, a semi-automatic shotgun.

He SHOOTS the Driver in the chest. The BLAST from the shotgun muzzle, however, is unlike anything we've ever seen before: it is blindingly BRIGHT, even in broad daylight, belching a huge cluster of glowing, white-hot magnesium.

The Driver flies back against the Mercedes, EMPTYING his machine gun into the air. The wound in his chest is full of BURNING magnesium shrapnel.

WIDER

The other drivers in the intersection see this and go completely nuts. Some duck for cover under their dashboards. Others peel away. A few COLLIDE with oncoming traffic.

The Carpool Lady in the Cherokee pushes the kids down on the floor. The Fruit Vendor hides by rolling under a car.

Sam and Joy are incapacitated by tear-gas coughing fits. Mrs. Han stumbles toward them, trying to get them to run away. Javal PUNCHES her, knocking her down.

He turns to Lisa, surprised to see her. Sweating, he points the shotgun at her... almost pulls the trigger... then notices Mrs. Han's expression of horror and thinks the better of it.

He spots a MOTORIST in a Ford Escort, peering cautiously over his dashboard to get a look at the action.

Javal SHOOTS the Motorist through the windshield with another bright, searing blast of magnesium. The Motorist and the entire front of his car burst into FLAMES.

Mrs. Han is on her knees, sobbing. Javal grabs her by the arm and pulls her to the back of the van. He opens the doors.

JAVAL

You see that I'm serious in my intention, yes?

(she nods)

If you cooperate, you and your children will be home for dinner tonight.

He tightens his grip on her. She nods again, then looks at the kids. Javal shoves her, Sam, Joy and Lisa into the van.

INT. JAVAL'S VAN – DAY

He grabs three pairs of handcuffs off a C-shaped bar welded on both ends to the inside of the van. He handcuffs one of Mrs. Han's arms, passes the chain through the bar, then handcuffs the other. He does the same with Sam; then handcuffs one of Joy's arms, passes the chain through and attaches the other handcuff to Lisa.

Javal hops in his seat and drives away on Washington.

EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD – DAY

Several people, including the Carpool Lady, rush over to the Driver, who lies DEAD and SMOLDERING on the ground.

His hand is halfway inside his bloody pants pocket, holding a small plastic card with the Consulate's phone number on it.

EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE – DAY

Colonel Lee and a North Korean Army OFFICER come running out. ANOTHER OFFICER starts up a car in the back of the house.

INT. FBI GUARDHOUSE – NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE – DAY

Robbins and Sabatini see the commotion and go to investigate. Dave follows.

EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE – DAY

Ambassador Han runs out. He has a stricken look on his face.

COLONEL LEE

(Korean; to Ambassador Han)

You must stay here.

Ambassador Han nods. The FBI agents run up. To them:

AMBASSADOR HAN

Someone took my family!

The agents look at each other – holy shit! Colonel Lee's car SCREECHES to a stop. Sabatini stands in front of it.

SABATINI

You got no jurisdiction outside this property!

Colonel Lee shoves a big, ugly Tokorev 7.62x25mm-caliber pistol in her face as he's opening the car door.

SABATINI

(continuing)

Shit!

(to Ambassador Han)

Yank his fuckin' leash!

AMBASSADOR HAN

My men are going!

Colonel Lee jumps into the car and it screeches away, almost running Sabatini over.

AMBASSADOR HAN

(continuing; to Sabatini)

It's a white telephone van, driving west on Washington Boulevard.

The agents rush back to their guardhouse. Dave's government Dodge is blocking theirs.

ROBBINS

Keys!

Dave tosses them to Robbins. Sabatini shoves Dave into the back seat. He looks at her, dumbfounded.

SABATINI

You're ridin' shotgun.

INT. DAVE'S DODGE – (MOVING SHOT) – DAY

Dave is thrown against the back of the seat by the ACCELERATION.

ROBBINS

Cherry?

DAVE

Under the seat.

Sabatini grabs the red flashing light, puts it on the dashboard.

ROBBINS
Siren?

DAVE

I don't know! I'm never in a fuckin' hurry..!

EXT. FREMONT PLACE – DAY

Just as they race out of Fremont Place past the guard gate, Carson, in Miranda's Volvo, comes in on the other side.

INT. CARSON'S VOLVO – (MOVING SHOT) – DAY

Carson sees the agents in the Dodge and floors the Volvo. He fishtails, making a U-turn.

He straddles the lanes on Wilshire to pull up next to them. All the cars in front of them swerve to clear out of the way.

He rolls down his window. Sabatini shouts over to him:

SABATINI

Someone snatched Han's family! White phone van, westbound on Washington!

Carson looks like he's been punched in the stomach.

CARSON

Give me a secure radio!

Sabatini takes a small two-way MOTOROLA RADIO out of her pocket and throws it through her window to Carson. Dropping it in his lap, he punches the gas. Robbins floors Dave's piece-of-shit Dodge, trying to keep up.

EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING, WESTWOOD – ESTABLISHING – DAY

INT. FEDERAL BUILDING – STATE DEPARTMENT OFFICES – DAY

Diplomatic Liaison EARL WALTHER is using the reflection in his office window to adjust his necktie. Walther is 30, good-looking, black; a GS lifer working his way up the ranks by virtue of his quiet competence.

A CO-WORKER sticks his head into the office, then shields his eyes from the sight of Walther's sharp new suit.

CO-WORKER
Someone's been to Nordstroms, big time.

WALTHER

Clothes make the man.

CO-WORKER

But does the man make enough for the clothes?

WALTHER

(smiles)

The man makes payments on his Visa.