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THE SHOW OPENS. AT THE BIO LAB. ATTWOOD ENTERS AND WALKS TO EDíS OFFICE. ED IS SITTING AT HIS DESK, LOOKING AT THE COMPUTER SCREEN.Ed: Hey. Whatíre you doing here so late?
Attwood: Tying up loose ends. Iíve arranged for the transport of the bodies from the warehouse to a facility in New Mexico for more extensive testing.
Ed: I guess you canít exactly overnight three bodies, can you?
Attwood: (snickering) Howís your progress?
Ed: Slow. Trying to make some sense of the date we got off the pillar.
Attwood: But you canít predict the future, can you?
Ed: Nope. Second week of October. 1998. All we know is something badís gonna happen.
Attwood: Thatís not even our primary concern. Ed: What do you mean?
Attwood: This new species has given us no indication they're going to remain inactive till then, have they? So our real concern should be, whatíre they going to do now?
ED LOOKS AT ATTWOOD AS HE THINKS ABOUT THIS.
CUT TO THE EXTERIOR OF A BAR, NIGHTTIME. ITíS A BUSTLING PLACE INSIDE. A MAN IN WITH GLASSES IN HIS MID-THIRTIES APPROACHES THE BAR INTENT ON ORDERING A DRINK AS A BLONDE WOMAN WHO HAS JUST TURNED FROM THE BAR BUMPS INTO HIM.Woman: Sorry.
Man: No problem.
THE MAN GIVES HER THE ONCE-OVER, THEN FLASHES AN APPRECIATIVE SMILE AT HER.Woman: I donít know why I bother coming here. I can never get a drink.
Man: What do you want?
THE MAN MUSCLES THROUGH THE PATRONS TO THE BAR COUNTER.Man: Hey, Chris! Martini and Scotch rocks.
HE TURNS BACK TO THE BLONDE WOMAN.Man: Oh, my nameís Roger.
Woman: Iím Lisa.
Roger: Are you here with anyone?
Lisa: Iím meeting some friends here. They havenít shown up yet.
Roger: If youíd like, I could wait with you till your friends get here.
Lisa: Thatíd be great.
Bartender: Roger! Here you go.
Roger: (to Bartender as he accepts the drinks) Thanks.
ROGER GESTURES WITH HIS HEAD TO A TABLE.Roger: (to Lisa) Címon.
HE CARRIES THEIR DRINKS OVER TO A TABLE AND SITS DOWN. LISA BENDS OVER THE TABLE, SETTING HER PURSE ON A CHAIR AS SHE DOES.Lisa: Iíll be right back. Donít go anywhere, alright?
Roger: Donít worry, Iíll be here.
LISA TURNS AND STRUTS AWAY, GIVING ROGER A GOOD LOOK AT HER LEGS IN HER SHORT DRESS. ROGERíS CELL PHONE RINGS. HE ANSWERS IT.Roger: Hello? Yeah? I can hardly hear you. Hang on.
HE GETS UP FROM THE TABLE AND MOVES TO THE WINDOW NEAR THE FRONT OF THE BAR.Roger: (still on phone) Yeah. Yeah, thatís better. Yeah, Iím at Joffeís.
ROGER SEES LISA OUTSIDE, PUTTING HER COAT ON AND STRIDING ACROSS THE DAMP STREET. (WELL, IT WAS AN EL NINO YEAR.)Roger: Let me call you back in a minute.
HE HANGS UP.Roger: (to himself) What the--?
ROGER EXITS THE BAR AND STARTS TO CROSS THE STREET. HE SPOTS LISA OPENING A CAR DOOR.Roger: Hey!
LISA GIVES HIM A COLD LOOK AND GETS INTO THE CAR. ROGER SHAKES HIS HEAD IN CONFUSION AS LISA SPEEDS AWAY IN THE CAR.
SUDDENLY THE BAR EXPLODES BEHIND HIM. HE AND THE OTHER PEOPLE ON THE STREET ARE THROWN TO THE GROUND. THE CAR WITH LISA SPEEDS AWAY FROM THE SCENE AND ROUNDS A CORNER.
SLOANíS APARTMENT, MORNING. SLOAN IS IN HER SLIP, GETTING READY FOR WORK, EATING A QUICK BREAKFAST. THE TV IS PLAYING SOFTLY IN THE BACKGROUND. HER DOOR ALARM BUZZES. ON THE VIEWSCREEN SHE SEES TOM. SHE PUNCHES THE ACCESS CODE TO LET HIM IN, THEN RUNS TO HER BEDROOM AND GRABS A ROBE. A KNOCK SOUNDS ON HER DOOR.Sloan: Coming!
SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND SMILES AT TOM. HE ENTERS. HE GLANCES AT THE STATE OF HER UNDRESS.Sloan: Uh, Iím running late. Iím sorry about the way I look.
Tom: (with a shrug) You look great.
SLOAN ROLLS HER EYES AS SHE TURNS FROM HIM.Sloan: Do you want some coffee?
SLOAN TURNS BACK TO FACE TOM.Sloan: Do you even like coffee?
Tom: Iím alright. (HEH HEH, YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN, MISTER...)
SLOAN HOPS UP INTO HER BEDROOM AREA AS TOM WALKS OVER TO THE TV. A REPORTER IS COVERING THE STORY OF THE BAR BOMB.Reporter: ....hours ago....Joffeís bar. Fire investigators are still baffled by the explosion last night that killed fifteen people and wounded scores of others.
TOM IS INTRIGUED BY THE STORY, AND SITS ON A STOOL TO WATCH THE REPORT.Reporter: Investigators report they detected residue of an unknown compound used as the actual explosive. Additionally, they report there was a trace odor of benzene detected after the blast, and I can tell you that odor is still present.
SLOAN ENTERS THE ROOM, DRESSED FOR THE DAY. SHE LOOKS AT THE TV REPORT.Tom: It was them.
Sloan: How do you know?
Tom: The compound used to blow up the bar. It can never be traced. Doesnít even exist yet.
Sloan: A bar full of people? From what weíve seen so far, that actionís way too random.
Tom: Youíre right.
Sloan: We know that they want to kill me, and you, and everyone connected to the lab.
Tom: It has nothing to do with you or the lab.
Sloan: That means someone in that bar was a target. Weíve gotta find out who.
TOM FLASHES HIS FBI BADGE AT THE BAR CRIME SCENE.Tom: Tom Daniels, FBI.
THE COP AT THE SCENE WAVES HIM THROUGH. SLOAN FOLLOWS HIM IN. TOM, WEARING ONE OF HIS FBI SUITS, PUTS ON A PAIR OF LATEX GLOVES AS HE AND SLOAN ENTER THE REMAINS OF THE BAR. BROKEN GLASS AND PERSONAL EFFECTS LITTER THE CHARRED FLOOR. TOM CROUCHES AND WIPES HIS HAND OVER A PIECE OF DEBRIS, RAISING HIS FINGERS TO HIS NOSE AND SNIFFING. SLOAN APPROACHES HIM. TOM GIVES A SMALL SHAKE OF HIS HEAD.Tom: I was right.
HE STANDS.Tom: It was definitely them.
TOM WALKS OVER TO ONE OF THE INVESTIGATORS WHO IS WRITING ON A CLIPBOARD. HE FLASHES HIS FBI BADGE.Tom: Do you have a list of victims yet?
THE INVESTIGATOR LOOKS UP AND GIVES TOM A PAPER. SLOAN IS LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW OF THE BAR.
SHE SEES A LARGE HOMELESS MAN, OBVIOUSLY AGITATED, OUT ON THE SIDEWALK WATCHING THE INVESTIGATION PROGRESS. HE TURNS FROM THE SCENE. TOM WALKS OVER TO SLOAN.Tom: Hereís a victim list. You recognize anyone who might be a target?
Sloan: (distractedly) Weíll have to go over the names later. Iíll be right back.
SLOAN RUSHES OUT AND TOM WATCHES HER GO, A BIT CONFUSED.
(NICE SHOT OF THOSE BABY BLUES THERE.) SLOAN RACES AFTER THE HOMELESS MAN.Sloan: Excuse me! Sir? Can I talk to you? Iím not with the police. Please?
SLOAN CONTINUES TO CHASE AFTER THE MAN, DOWN A BACK STREET, PAST A LARGE DUMPSTER. THE MAN JUMPS OUT OF AN ALLEY AT HER. SLOAN SHRIEKS AT THE FRIGHT.Man: (belligerently) What do you want with me?
Sloan: I was hoping that you would answer a few questions.
Man: Not interested.
THE MAN TURNS DOWN THE ALLEY. SLOAN FOLLOWS.Sloan: Did you see what happened last night?
Man: Yeah--bar blew to hell. Great show!
Sloan: You were there. Maybe you saw something. Please. Tell me.
Man: After it blew I saw this guy get into a car and take off.
Sloan: What kind of car?
Man: I donít know what kind of car! Red. Small. I wrote out part of the number.
HE GESTURES TO A CARDBOARD BOX WITH A SERIES OF LETTERS AND NUMBERS ON IT.Man: All I got.
SLOAN STARES AT THE NUMBER, THEN QUICKLY SCAMPERS OFF.
AT THE POLICE STATION. TOM, SLOAN, AND RAY WALK THROUGH THE BUSY OFFICES.Ray: Iíd rather you came to my house. My Lieutenantís been all over me lately.
THEY ENTER RAYíS OFFICE.Sloan: Sorry if your helping us has gotten you into trouble.
TWO DETECTIVES WATCH THEM ENTER AND START WHISPERING TO EACH OTHER, LOOKING IN TOM AND SLOANíS DIRECTION.Ray: Look. I ran the partial plate. Comes back to Roger Young. He lives in the Hollywood Hills.
Sloan: That name wasnít on our victim list.
Tom: Itís a good chance this is our guy.
Ray: Iíll have somebody interview the guy who gave you the plate. Now, a unit has already cruised Roger Youngís house but apparently heís already taken off. No surprise.
Sloan: Maybe Ed could help us with that.
TOM NODS AT HER, THEN LOOKS OVER AT THE DETECTIVES WHO WERE WHISPERING BEFORE, AS IF SENSING SOMETHING.
BUSY DOWNTOWN STREET, BACK AT THE BAR CRIME SCENE. A MAN IN A CAR WATCHES LISA WALK ACROSS THE STREET. SHE GETS IN THE CAR.Lisa: (to Man) I got what we came for.
THE MAN DRIVES OFF AND THE CAMERA PANS DOWN THE ALLEY LISA HAS JUST EMERGED FROM. WE SEE THE LIFELESS BODY OF THE HOMELESS MAN.
AT THE BIO LAB. EDíS OFFICE. ED SITS AT THE COMPUTER. SLOAN STANDS BEHIND HIM, LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER. TOM PACES IN THE BACKGROUND.Ed: Four years undergrad, seven years of post-graduate work, three years in the lab have all led to this. Hacking into the records of the phone company.
Sloan: Think about how hard this would be if you hadnít gotten your M.D.
ED LAUGHS AND SLOAN SMILES.Ed: Right, okay. We're in the phone companyís main database. Uh, whatís the guyís name again?
Sloan: Roger Young. Two-one-three area code.
Ed: Boom. Got his home phone records.
Tom: Did he call any of the victims on the list?
Ed: Uh, no calls since yesterday.
Sloan: Day of the bombing.
Tom: What about incoming calls?
Ed: Five to his phone since last night.
Sloan: Can you trace where they came from?
Ed: I donít see why not. Three calls from the same number. Last one was...an hour ago. Itís a motel. On Olive. In Burbank.
Sloan: Letís go.
Tom: Right. Iíll drive.
Ed: Iíll go over that victim list.
Sloan: Thanks, Ed.
Ed: (to Tom) Hey.
TOM LOOKS AT ED.Ed: You watch her back.
TOM NODS, THEN LEAVES THE OFFICE.
STAIRWELL AT A MOTEL. TOM LOOKS BACK OVER HIS SHOULDER AT SLOAN AS THEY CLIMB THE STAIRS.Tom: Roger Youngís registered in room Two-oh-nine.
Sloan: Did they tell you if he was in there?
HE SHAKES HIS HEAD SLIGHTLY.Sloan: I guess youíll tell us that.
TOM LOOKS BACK AT SLOAN AND GIVES HER A LITTLE SMILE. THEY WALK DOWN A BALCONY TOWARDS THE ROOM, PASSING A MAID WHEELING A CART. THEY REACH THE DOOR AND TOM PAUSES. HE FLASHES ON THE INTERIOR OF THE ROOM. ITíS MESSY, BUT EMPTY.Tom: Roomís empty.
TOM TRIES THE DOOR.Tom: (turning back to Sloan) Itís locked.
TOM GRABS THE DOOR HANDLE AND BREAKS THE LOCK. SLOAN SHAKES HER HEAD IN DISBELIEF, AND FOLLOWS HIM INTO THE MOTEL ROOM. THEY ENTER THE ROOM AND SEE THE BED, STREWN WITH PHOTOS. SLOAN BENDS DOWN TO LOOK AT THEM. TOM PICKS UP A NEWSPAPER CLIPPING FROM A TABLE NEAR THE BED.
ITíS THE CLIPPING OF LYNCHíS ESCAPE. TOM SITS ON THE BED AND LOOKS OVER AT SLOAN IN PUZZLEMENT.Tom: What have you found?
SLOAN LOOKS UP AT HIM.Sloan: Pictures of the lab. And Attwood.
SHE SLIDES SOME PHOTOS AROUND AND PICKS ONE UP. SHE LOOKS AT IT, THEN TURNS IT FOR TOM TO SEE.Sloan: And of me.
TOM FLASHES ON AN IMAGE OF ROGER YOUNG NEARING THE MOTEL DOOR.Tom: Someoneís coming.
WE SEE ROGER YOUNG LOOK AT THE BROKEN DOOR HANDLE AND BACK AWAY FROM THE DOOR. TOM RUSHES OUT OF THE ROOM, GUN DRAWN. SLOAN POKES HER HEAD OUT BEHIND HIM. ROGER YOUNG IS RACING DOWN THE BALCONY. TOM FOLLOWS. WAITING FOR ROGER UP AHEAD IS LISA, WHO HAS DRAWN HER GUN AND AIMED AT THE ONCOMING MAN.Tom: Get down!
ROGER THROWS HIMSELF TO THE FLOOR AS LISA FIRES. TOM RETURNS FIRE AS SLOAN GASPS. TOM REACHES ROGER.Tom: Stay down.
TOM ADVANCES ON ON LISA, WHO HAS DUCKED INTO A ROOM TO AVOID TOMíS GUNFIRE. SLOAN RUSHES FROM ROGERíS ROOM AND OVER TO THE MAN, HUDDLED IN A THRESHOLD. SHE GRABS HIM AND PULLS HIM FROM HIS HIDING SPOT.Sloan: Come on.
SLOAN AND ROGER RACE BEHIND THE COVER TOM PROVIDES WITH HIS GUN AND DOWN THE STAIRWELL.Roger: Who the hell are you?
Sloan: People who arenít shooting at you.
TOM WATCHES THEIR DESCENT. SLOAN AND ROGER EXIT THE STAIRWELL, AND GET TO THE CAR. TOM FOLLOWS THEM DOWN THE STAIRS.Sloan: (to Roger) Get in!
LISA SEES ROGER GET IN THE CAR AND AGAIN STARTS FIRING AT HIM. SLOAN STARTS THE CAR AS PULLS AWAY AS TOM HOPS INTO THE PASSENGER SEAT, DODGING LISAíS BULLETS. LISA EMPTIES HER ROUNDS, SHOOTING OUT THE REAR WINDOW OF TOMíS LINCOLN, CALMLY PUTS THE GUN IN HER SHOULDER BAG, THEN WALKS OFF.