FADE IN:

 

INT. AMERICAN UNIVERSITY, ART STUDIO - NIGHT

 

In a candlelit room, a beautiful woman- MELANIE (20s) wears nothing but a risqué look where she lies on a plush rug.  Her infatuated lover, ROGER finishes the last brush strokes of her portrait and turns the easel to face her.

 

ROGER

What do you think?

 

She rises to approach him with a warm caress.

 

MELANIE

It’s beautiful.

 

ROGER

The subject is beautiful.

 

They kiss.  He uncovers a dozen red roses.  Her eyes light.

 

MELANIE

Roger.

 

ROGER

You inspire me.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

 

They kiss passionately -- their hands caress one another. She pulls back reluctantly.

 

MELANIE

Let’s go home to finish.

 

He nods toward the rug suggestively.  She considers until they hear a NOISE in the building.  She shakes her head.

 

MELANIE

Tempting -- we’re not alone.

 

He groans, disappointed, then nods in concession.

 

MELANIE

I’ll get dressed.

 

Melanie slips into a changing room after a final wistful look.  He straightens up his paints and brushes.

 

A SHADOWY FIGURE lurks in a dark recess of the room -- breathing, no -- GROWLING almost inaudibly --

 

The candles are blown out.  Roger strains to see in the dark room by glowing candle wicks and the wash of pale moonlight ebbing in through the windows --

 

ROGER

Change of heart?

 

Roger strains to hear -- barely perceptible -- growling -- 

 

A gloved hand props a chair against the door to the changing room -- traps Melanie inside.

 

ROGER

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

 

Movement stirs in the room -- the growling gets louder.

 

ROGER

Melanie? -- Mel?

 

The gloved hand seizes Roger by the neck and slams him into the wall.  Roger flails helplessly as his throat is slit from ear to ear. 

 

The shadowy figure sniffs the length of Roger’s face then laps the blood from his opened throat.

 

Roger’s limp body is released and slides to the floor in a heap where the shadowy figure stabs at the body further to the sounds of violent butchery --

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

EXT. PARIS SKYLINE - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT

 

The well lit Eiffel Tower stands out distinctively.

 

EXT. RIVERFRONT, SEINE RIVER - NIGHT

 

TOURISTS and LOCALS walk along the charming, historic riverfront.  Vendors hawk their wares.  Police armed with machine guns casually foot patrol in front of the Petite Palace.  All wear jackets or wraps --

 

It’s winter -- when dark falls early.

 

EXT. COMMERCIAL AIRPORT - AERIAL VIEW - NIGHT

 

Airplanes take flight and land. 

 

INT. PARIS COMMERCIAL AIRPORT, TERMINAL - NIGHT

 

PEOPLE bustle about everywhere.  BRIAN ELLSOWRTH (20s) disembarks from an incoming flight.  He is both the Yin and the Yang of sensitive, angst ridden artist while also rugged and streetwise.  He carries a back pack and artist’s portfolio.

 

INT. COMMERCIAL AIRPORT - IMMIGRATION - NIGHT

 

Brian enters the immigration area, pulls his bag from his shoulder and roots through it to pull out his passport for the French IMMIGRATION OFFICER.

 

FRENCH IMMIGRATION OFFICER

(in French)

You may proceed, Sir.

 

Brian shakes his head and holds up a finger- ‘wait a minute’, then pulls a “French to English” dictionary from his bag.

 

FRENCH IMMIGRATION OFFICER

(huffs; in ENGLISH)

Proceed, sil vous plait.

 

BRIAN

Thank you -- merci.

 

EXT. COMMERCIAL AIRPORT, ROADWAY - NIGHT

 

Brian stands at the skycap area where taxi cabs jockey for fares -- he hails one.

 

INT. TAXI - NIGHT

 

Brian lights a cigarette and produces a map -- he points to --

 

ON THE MAP -- the Place Du Tertre (Artist’s Square). 

 

The CABBIE glances at his portfolio and nods knowingly.

 

CABBIE

Oui, monsieur.

 

The Cabbie drives off toward ‘old Paris.’

 

EXT. TRAVELING SHOT

 

The cab drives past the Cathedral of Notre Dame as Brian gawks in awe from within his cab.

 

CUT TO:

 

EXT. AMERICAN UNIVERSITY - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

 

A new day dawns over the school crest carved in stone and creeping ivy.  A pair of POLICE CRUISERS and a CORONER’S SUV are parked nearby.  A COP stands outside the door to the arts building; the crime scene is TAPED OFF.

 

An unmarked car pulls up and parks.  Out of the car emerges the cocksure GIL WILLIS (40s) in standard, Secret Service business suit.  He takes a last drag from his cigarette and tosses it.  Gil looks sharp and menacing for a middle aged guy who’s far beyond well seasoned and more than slightly jaded. 

 

Gil flashes his badge & I.D. and the Cop at the door lets him pass without a word.               

 

INT. AMERICAN UNIVERSITY, FINE ARTS BUILDING - DAY

 

Two DETECTIVES and a POLICE PHOTOGRAPHER see Gil enter a room wherein easels, brushes and paints surround a toe tagged corpse covered by a sheet.  Gil acknowledges the detective who he knows - ‘LOU’.

 

GIL

Lieutenant.

 

LOU

Agent Willis.  I hope you don’t mind my direct call around the red tape.  I figured your boys would become involved with this one eventually anyway, considering the toe tag.

 

GIL

What’ve we got, Lou?

 

LOU

Have a look for yourself.

 

Gil snaps on latex gloves, stoops down and pulls back the sheet to view the corpse’s pallid face.  It’s Roger.

 

GIL

Shit, this kid’s...

 

LOU

Yeah, I mean I know who his pop is.

 

GIL

That too.

 

LOU

You knew the boy?

 

GIL

His father and I served in the same unit.

 

LOU

The Senator was a Ranger, right?

 

GIL

Eighty-second Airborne.

 

LOU

You haven’t seen the whole job, Gil.

 

Lou motions to Gil to pull the sheet down further.  He does and expresses subdued shock.  The genitalia have been severed from the body and lie on its abdomen.

 

GIL

You found him just like this?

 

Lou nods.  Gil pulls the sheet back over the body.

 

GIL

Have the body sent to our lab.  He’ll want an autopsy from his own people.

 

LOU

You’ve got it.

 

GIL

Can you keep the place secure for a few hours?  Give me time to scramble my team to work the scene.

 

LOU

Without your agency’s disposition of jurisdiction over my department?  No problem.  This’ll be a job for your guys anyway.

 

GIL

You’d make a lousy government man, Lou.  I’ve always liked that about you.

 

Lou smirks and Gil nods -- “thanks.”

 

CUT TO:

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

INT. PARISIAN UNIVERSITY, FINE ARTS STUDIO - DAY

 

Brian enters with his portfolio and observes.  The dark night sky is visible through room’s windows.  The large room is half studio and half classroom.

 

The studio half filled with STUDENTS who encircle a nude model- TERESA who they sketch in chalk.  She's a natural beauty. 

 

PROFESSOR DELEREAUX walks slowly around the room looks over his students' shoulders.  The Professor is 60ish, distinguished, academic, artsy.  He spots Brian, notices his large, characteristic artist's portfolio and approaches him.

 

DELEREAUX

(in French)

What can I do for you young man?

 

BRIAN

(in faltering French)

I am looking for Professor Deleraux.  I’m supposed to meet him here -- I’m Brian Ellsworth.

 

The Professor continues in English with a French accent.

 

DELEREAUX

Oui, here via the Primera scholarship.  We’ve been expecting you.  I am Professor Deleraux.

 

BRIAN

That’s a relief-- I mean that you speak English.  I’m struggling to just begin learning French.

 

DELEREAUX

It will come.  Meanwhile, let’s have a look at what you’ve brought us.

 

Brian unzips open his portfolio and the professor pulls over an easel. 

 

Brian sets his works on the easel one by as Delereaux appraises each- impressed. 

 

Delereaux looks over his shoulder and up through a window between the students' gallery and an observation/ viewing room above that overlooks the classroom.

 

INT. OBSERVATION ROOM

 

From the viewing room above ADAM PRIMIRA observes, smiles subtly and nods approval to Professor Delereaux.  Primira is sophisticated and older, but robust, and refined -- he exudes charisma.

 

BACK IN FINE ARTS STUDIO

 

Brian pulls his last work from his portfolio and places it on the easel. 

 

Delereaux looks it over as Adam Primira suddenly appears behind them undetected. 

 

They startle as Primira speaks in his rich, exotic accent.

 

ADAM

(to Deleraux)

They are marvelous, non?

 

DELEREAUX

Oui, monsieur.

(to Brian)

Brian, may I introduce you to one of our school’s most generous benefactors and the Patron of your scholarship?  Monsieur Adam Primera.

 

Primira carries a walking stick and shifts it from his dominant, right hand to his left to extend his right hand to Brian for a handshake. 

 

BRIAN

Pleased to meet you, sir.

 

ADAM

Likewise I’m certain, Brian.  And if you’d please-- Adam.  I’m not nearly so formal as to call for the use of Sir.  Aside from which I’m not knighted by Royalty-- hardly.

 

BRIAN

Well, you’re damn near-- sorry...

 

Adam smiles absently and waves off Brian’s faux pas.

 

BRIAN

You’re like a knight to me, sir--

Adam.  I can’t thank you enough for your assistance.  I’m not quite a starving artist, but I don’t do well enough to study here.

 

ADAM

Think nothing of it.  I have been rather impressed with your work, what little of it you’ve shown.  Perhaps your time here may only serve as a sort of polish for a diamond in the rough.

 

BRIAN

Merci.

 

ADAM

And are you getting settled into our fair city of lights with satisfaction?

 

BRIAN

I’ve found a place to stay near the Artists’ Square.

 

ADAM

Ahh, the Place De Tertre.  A lovely area indeed.  Brian, would you care for a tour of the city?  I would be very pleased to show off some of her finer points.

 

BRIAN

Oh, I couldn’t trouble you for that, sir.

 

Adam gives him a mischievously scolding look.

 

BRIAN

Adam-- excuse me.  But I’m sure you must have other important...

 

ADAM

I would not have extended the offer if I didn’t have every intention to honor my word.  It’s really somewhat self serving, you see.  I always see her beauty as new again through the wonder in the eyes of one seeing the grand dame, Paris for the first time.

 

DELEREAUX

Monsieur Primera has lived here all his life...

 

ADAM

Or very nearly it seems.

 

DELEREAUX

...and he has connections to avail you to places where few others go.

 

Brian’s posture shows readiness to yield to Adam’s dominance.

 

DELEREAUX

I’ll take care of your paintings, Master Ellsworth.

 

Brian shrugs in agreement and seems surprised at the salutation- ‘Master’.  Adam nods toward Deleraux in approval then at Brian fittingly.

 

BRIAN

(to Adam)

I couldn’t ask for a better guide.

 

Brian gestures for Adam to lead the way.

 

CUT TO:

 

EXT. PARIS CITY STREETS - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT

 

Sun sets over Paris as Adam and Brian travel in an antique, open, horse drawn carriage.

 

INT. HORSE DRAWN CARRIAGE - TRAVEL SHOT - NIGHT

 

The carriage traverses the Paris city streets with DRIVER in a separate compartment in front of Brian and Adam who ride in the rear of the carriage.

 

BRIAN

Do you always travel by carriage?

 

ADAM

On such a fine evening I thought it best to take in the city at a casual cadence with the air in our faces rather than enclosed in a stuffy coach of steel and glass. 

 

BRIAN

Newer isn’t always better I guess.

 

ADAM

That becomes poignantly clear in the old world, does it not?

 

Brian nods in agreement.

 

ADAM

Would that time allow, we could tour the Louvre.  But that alone could take days for the pleasure.

 

BRIAN

There’ll be time.

 

ADAM

Indeed.  Another day.

 

The carriage passes a docked ferry-boat full of locals and tourists who disembark and mill into the street. 

 

The carriage comes upon the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

 

BRIAN

Notre Dame.  Could we stop?  God, I’ve gotta sound like a kid.  It’s just, I’ve never been; I’d love to go inside just for a quick look.

 

ADAM

But of course; a few moments we have to spare.

 

Adam pulls a cord in the carriage that RINGS a BELL and the driver stops.

 

EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF NOTRE DAME - NIGHT

 

Brian and Adam climb out of the carriage.  Adam retrieves a cell phone from his belt and glances at it, then at Brian --

 

ADAM

Rather a matter of some importance that I should manage immediately.  You go on; I need to call from outside where the hardy, stone bulwarks of our Lady don’t mediate dourly upon modern technology.

 

Brian enters the cathedral as Adam punches in a number on his cell phone.  After Brian enters the cathedral as puts away his phone without ever using it. 

 

INT. CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME - NIGHT

 

Brian walks slowly down the center aisle of the cathedral and looks about in awe at the iconic masterwork.

 

BACK OUTSIDE

 

As Adam stands idly by the carriage as he waits for Brian --

 

An ELDERLY WOMAN walks by on the sidewalk with a trio of stout DOGS on leashes; the dogs initially strain toward Adam and GROWL as their owner manages to restrain them until --

 

Adam glares at the dogs and their owner when --

 

Inexplicably the stout dogs shrink back -- WHINE and WHIMPER -- their tails between their legs and their hair BRISTLING as the Elderly Woman urges them by with a wide berth.

 

Adam disregards the passing dogs and gazes into the sky nonchalantly as an airplane passes overhead.

 

MATCH CUT TO:

 

EXT. AMERICAN AIRPORT - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT

 

The shrieking sound of jet engines rev as a 747 takes off.

 

INT. AMERICAN AIRPORT - NIGHT

 

Gil Willis eyes a marquee of flight numbers and times.  ‘FLIGHT 111- on schedule’ for departure from Washington D.C. at 9:05 p.m. and scheduled for arrival at 11:55 a.m. in Paris.

 

Gil notices a T.V. mounted on the wall -- a NEWSCASTER reports on the murder Gil is investigating --

 

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

(filtered)

A Senator with close ties to the White House suffered a death in the family when his son was murdered at a local university--

 

On the T.V. a PHOTO of Roger appears adjacent a PHOTO of his father- the Senator who is Gil’s old army buddy--

 

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

(filtered)

The homicide was said to have been particularly brutal...

 

Gil walks away from the T.V. as he talks to himself--

 

GIL

Pass me over how many times and still send me after your kid’s killer?  I remain outranked but never outsmarted by you -- old friend.

 

Gil hangs up and pulls his ticket from his jacket to recheck it.  Then he makes for a rest room.

 

INT. AIRPORT, REST ROOM - NIGHT

 

Gil washes his hands, dries them and heads for the exit.  He is alone.  

 

A PICK POCKET passes Gil on the way in and bumps into him to do his job.

 

PICK POCKET

Sorry, pal.

 

Gil leaves and the pick pocket opens Gil’s billfold to look at what he’s got.  His expression is unpleasant surprise to see SECRET SERVICE BADGE & CREDENTIALS.

 

The Pickpocket is slammed up against the wall face first; Gil has the Pick Pocket’s arm pinned behind him painfully as he crushes him into the wall.  The Pick Pocket drops Gil's billfold.  Gil jams the barrel of his gun into the back of the Pickpocket's head and retrieves his I.D. from the floor.

 

GIL

Find what you’re looking for asshole?

 

PICK POCKET

Hey, I’m sorry man; it’s cool!

 

GIL

No-- what’s cool is, I know more way to kill you than you can imagine to die.

 

PICK POCKET

Wha-- listen man, I’m not resistin’!  Be cool, alright?! 

 

Gil pats the Pickpocket down, finds a butterfly knife in his pants pocket, and pulls it out.

 

GIL

Well, what’ve we got here?  A toy!

 

GIL

You know there’s a way to disarm a man of one of these and take a few fingers with it?  I’ll show you.

 

PICK POCKET

Jesus mister, please...

 

The NOISE of RUNNING CHILDREN precedes THREE young BOYS who burst into the rest room.   Gil adroitly spirits away the knife. 

The FATHER of the children enters minding after the boys and ignoring Gil and the other man glistening in cold sweat. 

Gil pats the man’s face roughly and says --

 

GIL

(to Pick Pocket)

Lucky day.  Next time.

 

The Pickpocket looks uncertain, then takes his cue and darts away.  Gil lets him go and then leaves after.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

                                                                                               

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

INT. FRENCH POLICE STATION - DAY

 

Brian sits at a table in an interrogation room.  Enter Gil; he sets a tape recorder on the table and begins --

 

GIL

So you’ve heard this much -- your old flame’s unharmed.

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I have.  But the French cops said this was a homicide investigation?

 

GIL

Of her new -- late boyfriend; she was unhurt.

 

BRIAN

You’re not a frog -- who are you?

 

GIL

Agent Willis.  Secret Service.

 

BRIAN

From America? 

 

GIL

The one and only...

 

BRIAN

And nothing happened to Melanie?

 

GIL

She was untouched.  But it seems her new boyfriend’s killer didn’t count on his connections.  This one’s gotten high level attention.

 

BRIAN

I guess -- but you’re not paying attention to the right guy if you’re looking at me.

 

GIL

You don’t say.  So it’s just coincidental you have motive and means and you leave the scene the day of the murder?

 

BRIAN

Yeah -- coincidence.  I didn’t even know she was seeing someone new.

 

GIL

You know Brian, it really goes easier on you in the long run if you just come clean.

 

BRIAN

I’ve already told you, I don’t know squat!

 

GIL

You see how it looks?  The new man of your estranged girlfriend is killed, in signature style, like an irate, ex-lover might do. 

 

BRIAN

And how’s that exactly?

 

GIL

Especially if he had explosive temper issues.  --  got yourself into a little fracas there in the Artist’s Square today...?

 

BRIAN

Hey, I didn’t start it -- I had three guys square off on me!

 

GIL

So you say.  But you do have anger management issues, Brian.

 

BRIAN

You know what?  I’m not gonna be anyone’s punching bag, but I’m not a murderer.

 

GIL

Maybe not, but a pattern suggests culpability.  Maybe to a jury -- it’s not much of a leap from fist fights to worse.

 

Brian sits silently, lets it sink in --

 

GIL

Let’s talk about anyone who could vouch for your whereabouts when the murder took place.

 

BRIAN

Listen, am I under arrest here?

 

Gil shakes a pair of cigarettes loose from his pack and gives one to Brian.  Gil lights Brian's first and then his.

 

GIL

You gotta love the French.  To hell with smoke free buildings.

 

Brian sees he’s going nowhere so he smokes his cigarette.

 

GIL

Detainment is more complicated here than stateside -- especially with high profile cases, kid.  You’re somewhat off the grid.

 

Gil glances toward the two way glass into an adjoining observation room.

 

GIL

Back to your pattern of violent behavior -- who was it that you hospitalized over a different girlfriend?

 

BRIAN

One damn time!

 

GIL

That you were busted for!  And now it happened again, didn’t it?  You got stinking drunk, lost your head and flew into a blind rage.

 

BRIAN

Go to hell!  You don’t know a damn thing!

 

GIL

No, huh? -- you still blaming your lousy temper on your abusive father?

 

Brian springs up and lunges at Gil.  They scuffle.  French POLICE enter and restrain Brian and force him to his seat where he composes himself as Gil calmly observes.

 

Jax enters the room accompanied by a refined ATTORNEY.

 

JAX

Agent Willis, pardon my intrusion.

 

The Attorney forces his way past Jax to impose himself also between Brian and Gil. 

 

ATTORNEY

Monsieur Willis, I am an attorney representing master Ellsworth.  If my client is not under arrest then I demand that he is released immediately.

 

Gil puts out his cigarette butt.

 

GIL

Inspector Jaxel, what’s going on here?

 

The Attorney picks up the tape recorder on the table and Gil grabs his arm in a vise like grip.  The attorney grimaces until--

 

Jax moves toward the pair and places a hand on the arm of each man.  They calm down. 

 

Jax takes the recorder and hands it to the Attorney.  Gil is stunned.

 

JAX

(to Gil)

Please understand, I’m only following orders.

 

GIL

Who the hell can give orders superseding those I've been sent here with?

 

ATTORNEY

(in French)

Presumptuous American.

 

Gil glares at the attorney.

 

GIL

(to Attorney; in French)

Do you know who I am, mister?

 

JAX

Sil vous plait.

 

Jax puts a hand on Gil’s shoulder and coaxes him aside.

 

GIL

(to Jax)

Help me out here, Inspector.  Who the hell commands precedence over executive order from the President of the United States?

 

JAX

(whispers)

The French President.

 

GIL

What?  Why?

 

JAX

I’ll try to explain.  Let me release the others first, oui?

 

GIL

Sure, what the hell choice do I have?

 

Jax nods and the others to leave.  The Attorney smiles smugly and helps Brian up who looks with suspicion at everyone there, but follows the Attorney out of the room.

 

Jax and Gil are alone in the room.

 

JAX

The young man is an artist who is connected with a patron of the Sorbonne, see?

 

Gil shrugs, not understanding the relevance.

 

JAX

A wealthy man who supports the arts generously and owns interest in many other arenas as well, including political.  It seems your suspect his powerful allies.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

EXT. PRIMIRA MANSION - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

 

The sprawling estate is lush and pampered.  The back of the property encroaches the bank of a river. 

 

Brian smokes as he stands at the gate.  He presses the intercom button and hears an electronic beep. 

 

VOICE (V.O.)

(from speaker; in French)

May I help you?

 

BRIAN

(into microphone)

I need to see Monsieur Primera.  I’m Brian Ellsworth.

 

VOICE (V.O.)

(from speaker; in English)

Wait please.

 

The gate swings open operated by a motor.  Brian enters and it closes behind him.  He proceeds up the walkway toward the house.  He tosses his cigarette butt away at the front door where a traditionally dressed BUTLER opens the door before he can knock.  The Butler speaks English with a French accent.

 

BUTLER

Welcome Master Ellsworth.  Please follow me.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, GROUND FLOOR - FOYER - DAY

 

Enter Brian -- he follows the Butler.  The interior is dark-- heavy curtains cover every window.

 

INT. PRIMERA MANSION, GROUND FLOOR - HALLWAY - SAME

 

Brian follows the Butler down a lavishly decorated hall past well appointed rooms.  All is old world-- Louis Seize and Louis Treize-- valuable -- ancient.

Rare PAINTINGS are tastefully hung everywhere.

 

At the end of the long hall they board an elevator.  The Butler pulls closed the accordion cage door behind them and they ascend to the third floor.

 

INT. PRIMERA MANSION, THIRD FLOOR - HALLWAY - SAME

 

Brian and Butler exit the elevator and the Butler escorts Brian down another luxuriant, long hall and past more dimly lit, opulently appointed rooms to a door at the hall's end.

 

The Butler knocks and enters -- Brian follows.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, ADAM'S STUDY - SAME

 

Adam stands near a huge, antique desk and he looks over the shoulder of a COMPUTER TECHNICIAN who stares into a computer terminal as he works at the keyboard. 

 

Heavy curtains cover the windows in this dimly lit room.  Rare paintings adorn the walls including Rembrandt, Vermeer, Monet--

 

Adam turns and greets Brian as the Butler leaves.

 

ADAM

(to Computer Tech; in French)

Let us finish later.

 

COMPUTER TECH

Oui, monsieur.

 

The Computer Tech leaves and closes the door behind him -- but not before he gives Brian an odd LOOK as he passes Brian on the way out -- a look that suggests WARNING or DISTRESS --

 

ADAM

My technology specialist.  A bit odd, but very competent at his work.

 

Adam gestures to a chair facing Adam opposite his on the other side of the desk.  Adam sits and Brian follows suit.

 

ADAM

I was distraught to hear of your detainment by the authorities today.  Of course, I dispatched legal council promptly, I hope before too much distress was caused you.

 

BRIAN

I’ve been through worse.  It seems I’m in your debt again.

 

ADAM

Brian -- you would do well to stay out of harm’s way with the local hooligans.

 

BRIAN

I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.

 

ADAM

Can you?

 

BRIAN

Listen, I don’t want to seem ungrateful here, but...

 

Brian looks away from Adam to think about what he wants to say and he notices the paintings in the room.

 

BRIAN

(distracted)

I don’t like being -- being taken care of, no disrespect.  I mean, I’m grateful for your scholarship and for your help...

 

ADAM

It makes you uncomfortable, does it?

 

Brian can't help but notice the works of art on the walls all about him -- to be distracted by them.

 

BRIAN

It does.  It’s just not my style-- no offense intended...

 

ADAM

You needn’t go out of your way to show strained politeness to an old man.  That’s not your style, Brian.

 

That gets Brian's full attention, pisses him off.  Before he can respond Adam stands and approaches a painting --

 

ADAM

You admire it -- the painting.

 

BRIAN

It’s amazing.  It looks a lot like Rembrandt, but I’m not familiar with this piece.

 

ADAM

You see, your instinctive refinement emerges naturally when the subject is art.  Your heart and soul is filled with it and little else matters when you’re immersed in it, no?

 

BRIAN

I guess.  But that’s not my point.

 

ADAM

Let us be forthright with each other.  As aficionados if not gentlemen.  I would just as soon kill to gain --

(gestures toward computer)

...in the market -- as to show strained politeness where it’s unwarranted and inappropriate.  It’s not my nature.  It’s the secret to my longevity.                         

 

Brian shows irritability and opens his mouth but --              

 

ADAM

Come look at the brush work on this opus.  It is so unmistakably Rembrandt, who could argue its authenticity?

 

Brian’s offended sensibility surrenders to his artistic --

 

BRIAN

Damned if I would.  Signature’s a dead ringer too.  Has it been appraised?

 

ADAM

Actually, it is indeed a Rembrandt.

 

Brian is awed.

 

ADAM

Not formally documented, but authentic just the same.  Not that it's at all significant.  What's important is that the work is genius, masterwork, regardless of the painter.

 

BRIAN

And that, also an unregistered Vermeer?

 

ADAM

Oui, among the favorites in my collection.

 

BRIAN

How long have you -- on the way in I noticed others, Monet, Picasso...

 

ADAM

Precious, all.  Echoes of masters capturing moments of beauty.     I’ve apprenticed in the schools of Claude Monet and Pablo Picasso.  My selfish interest in you is studying with you as well.

 

BRIAN

(stunned disbelief)

Your flattery is really -- what do I say to that?

 

ADAM

Let me show you something.

 

Adam moves to the door-- extends an arm for Brian to follow -- They leave the room.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, STUDIO - DAY

 

Brian and Adam enter an art studio with canvases, paintings in process and artist's apparatus all about the room. 

 

An ASSISTANT crushes flowers into linseed oil with a pestle--

 

ADAM

Flora, minerals, beeswax and Linseed oil from Verona -- even as Leonardo himself prepared as an apprentice in Florence.

 

BRIAN

Jesus -- you don’t screw around here, do you?

 

Brian examines several paintings, impressed --

 

BRIAN

This looks damn near like a Picasso too - except for the signature.  And that one, like Monet, but with the same mark.

 

ADAM

Both are from my own brush.

 

Brian gapes at Adam in astonishment.

 

BRIAN

Really?  Impressive.

 

ADAM

They’re only echoes of the voices of others.  I’ve studied the masters, toiled under truly gifted painters; still I've yet to find my own voice in the medium.  Brian, I genuinely believe that you may be able to help me find my own voice.

 

BRIAN

Why?  What inspires this damn, glowing confidence of yours in me?

 

Adam removes tarps from three of Brian's paintings -- others than those Brian brought to Paris in his portfolio. 

 

Brian is stunned.

 

BRIAN

My work?

 

ADAM

You simply don’t grasp it, do you?  Look at them closely. -- concentrate.  Don't you see it?  Find Alphonse Mucha here in this one!

 

BRIAN

I guess so, but not really; not altogether anyhow.

 

ADAM

Of course non, not entirely.  But it’s still there clearly if subtly.  Now find Roger Dean.

 

BRIAN

Again, yes but no.

 

ADAM

Naturally.  Now Leonardo, Michelangelo, clearly Buonarroti is present therein.

 

BRIAN

Alright already, I get it...

 

BRIAN

Yeah, okay, it’s true.  All of my idols are present in all of my work.  Am I a thief for my admiration?

 

ADAM

For stealing beauty?  Never.  Yours is only the sincerest form of flattery.  Moreover, your work is at least a unique voice nurtured in a choir of opera dons.  If only I could grasp how to harmonize my own voice in like fashion rather than simply parroting the voices of those I hear. -- Show me.

 

Adam pauses and Brian begins to believe Adam’s supplications for his assistance.

 

BRIAN

But I don’t know how.

 

Adam smiles.  He nods to his Assistant who disappears to --

 

re-enter the room in a moment with a NUDE MODEL --

 

She’s built like and made-up like a semi-classy stripper. 

 

BRIAN

So, do we paint her or are we paying her for something else?

 

ADAM

Either actually.  She's very cooperative.

 

BRIAN

Really?

 

She smiles absently at them as they converse and prepare to paint the woman on their canvases.

 

BRIAN

She doesn't understand a word we’re saying, does she?

 

ADAM

Does it matter.  Non; no English for her and you know all the French you’ll need to know for her.

(to woman)

Menange a trois?

 

She smiles and teases at them.

 

BRIAN

Where’s she from?

 

ADAM

Holland.  I grew up there you know.

 

BRIAN

I thought you were from here?

 

Adam smiles, paints, and ignores Brian’s question --

 

                                                                                                DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

SERIES OF SHOTS

 

A) Brian surveys the artist's supplies at his disposal.

 

B) Brian and Adam set up fresh canvases to work on.

 

C) Brian and Adam paint side-by-side.

 

D) Brian admires Adam's work and offers tutelage.

 

BACK TO SCENE

 

Multiple canvases are spent all about them. 

 

Adam reaches into his pocket and produces a wad of money to give to Brian.

 

BRIAN

What’s this?

 

ADAM

Fair compensation for time rendered by a fine arts tutor.

 

Brian hesitates.

 

ADAM

Take it Brian.  It's completely appropriate and you've earned it.

 

BRIAN

Well, I wouldn’t want to insult you.

 

ADAM

You know Brian, I have ample space-- I would gladly offer you lodging here rather than in the Place du Tertre if you would prefer to save your money...

 

Brian feels his watch in the same pocket, retrieves it, glances at it, and GASPS--

 

ADAM

Very well.  And I’d like to see you continue viewing yourself in that light, as a maturing master.

 

Brian wipes the paint off his hands, grabs his cell phone from his pocket -- still DEAD.  Brian is upset.

 

BRIAN

Shit! -- Pardon.

 

Adam waves off the apology absently.  Brian wipes the paint off his hands and looks about in panic.

 

BRIAN

I can't believe what time it is.  I’ve gotta blow-- get going.  Christ! 

 

ADAM

Whatever has you in such consternation?

 

BRIAN

I forgot about a date and I’m really, really late.  Is there a phone I can use?

 

ADAM

Certainly.  There’s one in my study you’re welcome to.

 

Brian exits the studio as Adam’s Assistant enters and begins to clean up.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, ADAM'S STUDY - DAY

 

Brian enters the room, picks up the phone and dials a number. 

 

He pulls the curtain back from the window to look outside and sees the window to be heavily shuttered on the outside. 

Brian notices Adam's reflection in a mirror next to the window as he enters the room -- Brian lets the curtain fall back into place.

 

BRIAN

(into phone)

Theresa, I haven’t forgotten you, I’m on my way -- please still be there...

 

ADAM

You know, Brian -- a true artist would choose his creative passion over his libido.

 

BRIAN

Sorry, but that’s none of your business really...

 

ADAM

It is actually, as your patron...

 

BRIAN

My patron, but, respectfully Monsieur Primera --

 

ADAM

Respect your talent; all else fades away -- even the beauty of the fairest mademoiselle.

 

BRIAN

I gotta go.

 

ADAM

Even Da Vinci was beholden to the Medicis or il Moro as his patrons...

 

Brian leaves Adam fussing after him --

 

ADAM

Abominable -- the lack of respect and commitment in this generation.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

EXT. ALLEY - DAY

 

The alley is cordoned off with crime scene tape.  Several uniformed FRENCH INSPECTORS are on the scene with Jax whose badge hangs from his suit jacket pocket.  Jax wears latex gloves as he examines the bloody bodies.

 

Gil appears on the scene with his escort Inspector --

 

JAX

Thank you for coming, Agent Willis.

 

GIL

Hey, I like to get out and see the sites when I’m abroad.  Hell of a mess you’ve got here, Inspector.

 

JAX

I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve entreated your company here, oui?

 

GIL

Thought crossed my mind.

 

JAX

I have begun to wonder if our cases may be related.

 

GIL

How do you figure?

 

JAX

Was your signature style homicide in the states reminiscent of this?

 

GIL

What’ve we got?

 

JAX

Come take a look.

 

Gil hesitates.  Jax gestures toward the bloody body.

 

JAX

Sil vous plait.

 

Gil approaches.  Jax points out the forearms of the bodies.  There are puncture wounds on each of them.

 

GIL

Looks like someone had a purpose and design here, huh?

 

JAX

Oui, it does.  These were intentional, precise incisions.

 

GIL

With the hurried efficiency of a butcher I’d say, by the ragged look of the wounds.

 

JAX

Each of the extensors and flexors digitorium appear to be cut, but curiously, none of the radialis, see?

 

GIL

So, you’re saying, if they survived being opened up like Christmas turkeys, they’d never play piano again.

 

JAX

Or hold paint brushes. 

 

JAX

Their faces are not familiar to you, but…

 

The Inspector next to Gil brightens with recognition –

 

INSPECTOR

Oui, these were the artists who assaulted Monsieur Ellsworth on the Place du Tertre!

 

Gil grasps the implications --

 

GIL

How about that?

 

Gil looks at all three bodies with closer scrutiny.  He notices something and approaches to examine the body he's nearest.  He looks carefully at the eyes of the corpse --

 

JAX

You notice something more?

 

GIL

Mind if I check something?

 

JAX

Sil vous plait.

 

Gil slips on a pair of his own latex gloves.

 

GIL

Some discoloration around the eyes --

 

Gil removes an eyeball from its socket and examines it.  The optical nerve is severed.

 

JAX

The optical nerve is cut.

 

GIL

My guess is they’ll all be the same.  Someone’s making a statement.

 

JAX

Maybe someone you know.

 

A French Inspector brings two evidence bats to Jax; one contains a cigarette. 

 

JAX

(to Inspector)

Sil vous plait.

 

Jax shows it to Gil.

 

JAX

American brand.  The same your Monsieur Ellsworth smokes I believe.

 

Gil examines the cigarette and nods.  Jax produces Brian’s switchblade knife in another evidence bags.

 

JAX

And a knife about the size of the puncture wounds here.  If the blood matches the bodies…

 

GIL

Lift some prints matching the boy’s and we’ve got something.

 

JAX

More than you found at your crime scene in the states I presume?

 

GIL

Yeah, a helluvalot more.

 

JAX

Does Monsieur Ellsworth possess the technical knowledge for this?

 

GIL

He’s a sometime medical technician, med school dropout.  Fits the M.O.

 

JAX

Agent Willis, how much blood would you suppose was spilled here?

 

GIL

More than enough.

 

JAX

Enough to have fully drained three adult bodies?

 

GIL

I don’t follow where you’re headed, Doc.

 

JAX

Just seeking a second opinion -- exploring a hunch.

 

GIL

I’m not sure I can offer one.

 

JAX

This is the second such crime scene here in a week, both signature style homicides.  Perhaps we should be working together -- for more than administrative propriety, non?

 

GIL

If we’re going to be partners for a while, Doc, it’s Gil.

 

Jax nods in acknowledgement.

 

JAX

Amongst my colleagues, I am Jax.

 

They remove their latex gloves and shake hands.

 

GIL

I really need to get this punk, Jax.  This case is personal.

 

Jax nods while not completely understanding.

 

CUT TO:

 

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

INT. PARISIAN UNIVERSITY, SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS - DAY

 

Professor Delereaux works, using a canvas cutter to cut canvas and stretch it over wooden frames.  He is alone. 

 

Enter Brian.  Delereaux looks up toward him, smiles graciously and returns to his work.  Brian approaches Delereaux --

 

BRIAN

You wanted to see me, Professor?

 

Delereaux works as he speaks with Brian -- he looks at his work rather than at Brian. 

 

DELEREAUX

Oui.  I have been informed by a certain Patron of the school that you may need to take a leave of absence from us.

 

BRIAN

I don’t know anything about...

 

DELEREAUX

Would you hand me the stapler, sil vous plait?

 

Brian places the stapler in the professor's hand and casually takes the cutter from him in exchange.  Delereaux staples the canvas to the frame.

 

DELEREAUX

Brian, the Patron is privy to certain information of delicate nature which suggests your imminent detainment by authorities for internment.

 

BRIAN

Are we talking about Monsieur Primera?

 

Delereaux finishes stapling and he hands Brian the stapler.

 

DELEREAUX

Cutter sil vous plait.

 

Brian hands the knife to the professor.  He cuts more canvas.

 

DELEREAUX

Discretion is the better part of valor, Monsieur Ellsworth.

 

BRIAN

If he knows something I should, why doesn’t he just tell me?

 

Deleraux exchanges cutter for stapler again with Brian’s aid this time without the need for words.

 

DELEREAUX

My source is presently indisposed on other matters of precedent.

 

BRIAN

What about my studies?

 

DELEREAUX

Talent may be developed equally well in other environs aside university, Brian.  We will still be here when the vicissitude resolves.

 

Delereaux exchanges the stapler for the cutter again.

 

BRIAN

This isn’t a request, is it professor?

 

Brian rolls the canvas cutting knife over in his hand and stares at the professor's back as he staples.

 

Brian eyes the cutting knife in his hand one last time, tosses it on the counter and walks away.

 

BRIAN

C’est la vie.

 

Delereaux speaks to him without looking up.

 

DELEREAUX

I’m confident you know where you shall need to go, Master Ellsworth.

 

Brian answers under his breath without looking back --

 

BRIAN

Damn straight I do.

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

INT. PARIS POLICE FORENSICS LAB - DAY

 

A UNIFORMED CONSTABLE enters with a file folder in hand.  Jax is alone in the lab where he peers into a microscope.  The Constable drops the file folder on the table next to Jax.  Jax looks up.

 

JAX

Merci.

 

The Constable nods and departs.  Jax opens the folder and pores over the contents within.  He picks up a phone and dials a number.

 

JAX

(into phone)

Gil?  Jax here.  The prints from the knife were a clear match to Brian Ellsworth’s --

If you’re at Interpol now, I can fax you the report directly.  Perhaps you can obtain an arrest warrant for Monsieur Ellsworth.

(glances at watch)

We should be able to find him at the Sorbonne if we move quickly.  Adieu.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

EXT. PRIMIRA MANSION - DAY

 

Brian stands at the outside gate and buzzes the intercom.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, MUSIC ROOM - SAME

 

The Butler escorts Brian through the mansion to Adam's music room -- musical instruments as well as hi-fi equipment.

 

Adam PLAYS PIANO magnificently.  The Butler leaves, quietly and closes the door behind him.              

 

Brian listens without interrupting.

 

Adam stops playing with eyes closed to enjoy the final resonance of the piano --

 

ADAM

(eyes still closed)

I find that one must indulge in the beauty of various mediums of art, don’t you agree, Brian?

 

BRIAN

Did you have me expelled?

 

Adam turns his attention fully to Brian.

 

ADAM

You were hardly expelled.

 

BRIAN

You’re gonna argue semantics with me?  I was just told in no uncertain terms by Professor Deleraux to leave.

 

ADAM

Deleraux would never be that indiscrete.

 

BRIAN

It‘d be cool if someone around here blunt.

 

ADAM

Even now the authorities have a warrant for your arrest.  They’ve already been by the Sorbonne for you; fortunately, you weren’t there.

 

BRIAN

Because the Godfather has taken care of me.  Well I’m getting sick of your interference in my life Adam!  The last damn thing I need is another father figure hell bent on manipulating me!

 

Adam gets up and approaches Brian.  Brian looks apprehensive.

 

Adam opens the door.

 

ADAM

Then I’ll see you out if you’ll not accept my hospitality.

 

Brian's expression is mixed emotion; indignant but fearful of having blown his meal ticket.  He follows Adam in stunned, numb silence. 

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, GROUND FLOOR - HALLWAY - SAME

 

Adam leads Brian toward the front door, past all the familiar rooms, but just short of the front door Brian stops with Adam a pair of closed doors –

 

The elder opens the doors into a well-appointed sitting room.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, SITTING ROOM - SAME

 

The Attorney sits in front of the fireplace reviewing documents; he stands at their arrival.  Adam enters and he beckons Brian to follow.

 

ADAM

Perhaps though, you should hear out our advisor before your departure.

 

Brian enters and, with Adam, meets the Attorney at the fireplace where they all sit in chairs around the fire. 

 

Adam produces a humidor full of Cuban cigars and offers them around.  Brian and Attorney decline.  Adam lights one.  Then he pours brandy for each of them from a crystal decanter.

 

ADAM

Brian, I’m sure you remember our attorney?

 

Brian nods blankly; he's still reeling and doesn’t like the look of this scene. 

 

The Attorney tosses photos of the crime scenes on the table between them --

 

MORTUARY PHOTOS of the Ambulance Driver and Young Artists.

 

ATTORNEY

Monsieur Ellsworth, can you tell me anything about these?

 

Brian eyes the photos distantly, grimaces slightly, then shakes his head slowly if assertively.

 

BRIAN

No, nothing.  I don’t know anything about...

 

Realization lights across his face and he reluctantly gives the pictures another careful look.  His face becomes dour.

 

ATTORNEY

Maybe something after all?

 

BRIAN

Aw, Jesus -- oh, no -- I mean, hey, the faces -- I recognize ‘em.  But I didn’t do this to these guys!

 

ATTORNEY

Can you tell me how you recognize them?

 

BRIAN

(points to photo of Ambulance Driver)

I met this guy a few days ago in a pub.  We shot the shit, had a few beers --

(points to the Young Artists)

These assholes squared off with me at the Artist’s Square and again last night near my place outa nowhere.  Last thing I remember is blacking out and waking up in my room.

 

The attorney shows Brian a photo of his switchblade knife.

 

ATTORNEY

Is this familiar?

 

BRIAN

Looks like the knife I lost fighting with those pricks.

 

ATTORNEY

Did you cut them with it?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I got in a few licks.

 

ATTORNEY

(taps photo)

This many?

 

BRIAN

NO damn it!  I didn’t do this!

 

ATTORNEY

You didn't or you can't remember?

 

BRIAN

No -- like I said, I blacked out, but I know I didn’t...

 

ATTORNEY

Please don’t take offense or feel threatened, Monsieur.  I am only asking questions that the prosecution will eventually ask.  I simply need to know what I am up against to prepare a defense.

(a beat)

Do I understand that you posses knowledge in medical arts?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, you could say so, why?

 

ATTORNEY

The wounds were inflicted in a manner indicating the attacker’s intimate familiarity with anatomy.

 

Brian squirms at the line of questions, lights a cigarette and throws back his brandy.  Adam pours him another and he nods in resigned appreciation.

 

ATTORNEY

Brian, would you say that you drank a fair amount of alcohol last night, prior to the melee?

 

BRIAN

NO! -- A couple of drinks; what the hell does that have to do with it?

 

ATTORNEY

It goes to your state of mind at the time of the incident for which you are allegedly responsible.

 

Brian stands bolt upright, tosses his cigarette into the fire and runs his fingers through his hair anxiously. 

 

He marches for the door.  The others calmly watch him.  He stops at the door, paces back and looks to them frantically.

 

BRIAN

God damn it!  I’m screwed!  What am I going to do?!  I’m really fucked!

 

Adam rises and places a hand on his shoulder.  He gazes serenely into Brian's eyes and it calms Brian down to an almost trance-like state.  Adam escorts him back to his chair where they both sit.

 

Brian is numb, glassy eyed, stunned.

 

ATTORNEY

And then there is the matter of the murder stateside for which the Secret Service finds you its key suspect.  No substantial proof there -- only motive and circumstantial evidence.

 

Brian comes back around with the mention of this case.

 

BRIAN

No!  We’ve been through this already with the cops!  There’s no way I can be tagged to that one.

 

ATTORNEY

Individually, perhaps not; but attached collectively with the other, similar cases, it could be trouble.  You see, Brian, it establishes a pattern...

 

BRIAN

So what are you saying here?

 

ADAM

Brian, give us time to make our case.  There’s no such thing as an indefensible case given adequate time and resources.  Remember your American Superstar, O.J. Simpson?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I’m with you.

 

ADAM

What I recommend is that you accept my offer of sanctuary here in my home until we can make our case.  I have enough clout to keep the authorities' prying eyes away until then.  You may continue to study here until this is made right.

 

BRIAN

(hysterical)

I don’t see another option.

 

ADAM

Then it’s settled.

 

ATTORNEY

(in French; to Adam)

I’ll get to work immediately.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

INT. PARIS POLICE FORENSICS LAB - DAY

 

Jax works intently at the knobs on a piece of electronic equipment and stares at a computer monitor as Gil enters.

 

GIL

Anything good on the tube, Doc?

 

JAX

Discovery channel. 

 

GIL

Any leads on the boy yet?

 

JAX

Non.

 

GIL

Your people have Primera’s place staked out?

 

JAX

Oui.

 

GIL

But no warrant to search it yet?

 

JAX

Non.

 

GIL

I've seen bills pass through Congress faster.

 

JAX

Of Congress and Parliament.  I told you Primara's fast with powerful allies in our government, no?  Though I'd hoped the push from your White House might have helped us there.

 

The computer beeps and the screen changes.

 

JAX

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  Will you look at this, monsieur?

 

Gil looks over his shoulder at the screen.

 

GIL

What’cha got, Jax?

 

JAX

Trace fragments of lacquer from the head wound of the threesome from the alleyway.  They’re queerly old.

 

GIL

It’s an old city, Jax.

 

JAX

Non, not this old.  These look to be maybe several hundred years old.  Even our oldest buildings get a coat of fresh paint now and again, no?

 

GIL

What are you saying?

 

JAX

A blunt instrument caused some of the trauma to our victims.  Maybe something older than anything left on the crime scene.  Some of the knife wounds concern me too.  A clear match with the knife we recovered to the victims' wounds is inconclusive, see?

 

GIL

(muses)

Sounds like you’re looking for the ghost of Jack the Ripper.

 

JAX

Or someone whose muse he may be.

 

GIL

What the hell are you saying?

 

Jax gets up and leads Gil to a cabinet.  He produces an antique key to unlock it and opens it. 

 

Inside looks like a shrine of sorts.  Old photos and journals line the shelves.  Inside, amongst old police and military properties are awards of commendation, medical certificates and uniform badges.  Amidst the police paraphernalia hang medallions and ribbons including a ribbon Cordon Bleu over an old photo of a constable bearing family resemblance to Jax.

 

GIL

Are you going to tell me what we’re looking at here?

 

JAX

A manner of Department archives; family history.  I'm in the family business, Gil.  The last four generations of my lineage have practiced medicine and served the constabulary.

 

GIL

Okay...

 

Jax finds old black and white photos of murder victims --

 

JAX

Now, here we have a series of murders not unlike those we've on our hands at present-- these from around the turn of the century.  Same signature style; throats slit and various organs removed as if to send messages.  All unsolved cases.

 

GIL

So we’ve got a copy cat who’s a history buff?

 

Jax pulls out a venerable log book, the cover reads --

 

‘CIRCA 1792’

 

JAX

This was my great grandfather's medical journal.  He logged entries of several other such cases from his time, you see?

 

Jax leafs through the pages to sketches of cadavers murdered in similar style to the signature murders at hand.

 

GIL

I see what I’m looking at, whatever it is.

 

JAX

He was also a fair artist.  You can see by his sketches, the victims bore the same signature wounds these others bear, oui?  This data was all strictly confidential.  No history buff would be privy to it.

 

Gil looks incredulously at Jax.

 

GIL

I know there’s a point coming.

 

JAX

Since at least the time of my great grandfather, my ancestry has passed on the notion that a killer, not unlike Whitecastle's Jack the Ripper, has stalked the streets of Paris occasionally resurfacing to commit these atrocious deeds every generation or so-- alluding to lore of the undead. 

 

Gil smiles and winks at Jax like- "Yeah, I'll play along” --             

 

JAX

You understand, superstition was not uncommon in their day.

 

Gil’s smile slowly dissolves.

 

GIL

(points at computer)

Jax, you've been watching old Night Stalker re-runs on that thing, haven't you?

 

Jax screws up his face to incomprehension then answers.

 

JAX

Understand, Gil, I'm a scientific man.  I've never taken stock in the tales, only kept the records for posterity.  I can't tell you how many times I wondered if a museum may care to take them off my hands.

 

GIL

So, what are you trying to tell me here?  Sounds like you've got a five hundred year old suspect...

 

JAX

Non -- I’m not saying -- what I am saying is there have been odd goings on around Paris lately.  Perhaps someone’s delusional or fabricating a scheme.  But it surely can not an ageless -- creature; not a probabilite.

 

Gil shows sober, utter disbelief to Jax’s speculation --

 

GIL

No, Jax.  Not even a possibility.  Let’s steer away from the Outer Limits and look for a warm blooded, cold blooded killer, okay?

 

JAX

Of course -- I’ve been looking into the background of a reclusive, local arts patron, what there is of it.  He has only cursory -- pristinely ordinary -- records.  Rather unusual, don't you think?

 

GIL

Now that I’ll agree with.  You work on that and I'll keep after our warrant for Ellsworth through Interpol.

 

JAX

Oui, bien!  I believe it may be most helpful for us to explore the Primara property.

 

GIL

You just keep combing the evidence.  My bet’s on the kid for these murders, Jax.  And I’m planning on taking him down.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, STUDIO - DAY

 

Brian and Adam paint each on their own canvas.  Brian is frustrated and distracted.

 

ADAM

Are you trying to tutor me on how to paint through angst?

 

Brian throws his brushes to the floor.

 

BRIAN

I'm trying to restrain myself from jumping out a window to my death!

(under his breath)

Or maybe throwing you out of one!

 

ADAM

(unruffled, paints on)

That is what is on your mind?

 

BRIAN

Oh, no, that's right; I couldn't do that even if I really wanted to -- through the god damned barricaded windows in this place!

 

ADAM

(still composed)

If it means that much to you, I'll have your shutters removed straight away.

 

BRIAN

That's not all, god damn it!

 

ADAM

Then what is it that concerns you so?

 

BRIAN

For one, withdrawing me from school without talking to me about it first.  And-- that I am entirely dependent on you for financial support!

 

ADAM

Ah yes, poor little, rich boy.  Resented your father paying for your medical school and now you resent me paying for your art school since he has cut you off.

 

BRIAN

I resent anyone who treats me like a fucking child, manipulating every turn of my life!  And it's starting to piss me off, god damn it!

 

ADAM

Only just beginning to?

 

BRIAN

You pompous, arrogant son of a bitch!

 

Brian springs from his stool and lunges at Adam.  Adam deftly parries his lunge with remarkable quickness.  Brian stalks him again.

 

BRIAN

I'm not a damn puppet to be toyed with for your pleasure!

 

ADAM

It has never been my intent to do so.

 

BRIAN

The hell it hasn’t!

 

Brian snatches a canvas cutter from a nearby table and slashes at Adam with it.  Adam parries again and counter strikes Brian on the face, he finally shows emotion more like disdain more than anger. 

 

Blood trickles from Brian's lip.  Brian wipes it away --

 

BRIAN

Alright, you wiry old fuck.

 

Brian circles for another jab at Adam.

 

ADAM

And you are impetuous, vulgar and ungrateful.  But your worst vice is that you've no grasp of your true potential.

 

Brian lunges again, furious.  Adam disarms him and immobilizes him with a firm arm lock.  Brian is vulnerable.

 

ADAM

I should break both of your arms you unappreciative, little shit.

 

BRIAN

Fuck you!

 

Adam sweeps Brian around, clutches him by the throat and effortlessly LIFTS him off the ground.  Fear finally rises in Brian's eyes as his feet dangle in the air.

 

ADAM

You want to be let out of the dark, you obnoxious little prick?  You're not ready for enlightenment, but if that's what you burn for, here it is.

 

He casts Brian away like an old rag.  Brian tumbles to a heap on some paints and brushes.  He cowers, intimidated.

 

ADAM

I am cursed with the gift of immortality, the original gift that keeps on giving.  I've been alive for over eight hundred years.

 

BRIAN

(sarcastic disbelief)

Yeah, that’s a bitch alright.

 

ADAM

Crazy old man, right?

 

Brian nervously nods in agreement as he eyes the door.

 

ADAM

Crazy maybe.  At least I’m not a damn fool.  I own managing interests in numerous conglomerates and enough prime real estate throughout the country to create a country unto itself.  I’ve amassed a fortune in investments under the identity I feign and have secured similar other, alternate alter egos in the event that they should necessary to me.  I've come a long way from robbing robber barons to make my wealth.  Do you know what kind of savvy it takes to survive unnoticed by the self-appointed witch hunters of each age?

 

BRIAN

I can’t imagine.

 

ADAM

Imagine this if you would, Brian.  What does a soul do for nearly a millennium?  Wouldn’t every little daily thing in life get rather old after awhile?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I’m sure.

 

ADAM

Every business conquest, every personal challenge.  Even sex, Brian.  That too loses its allure after a few centuries.  Every conceivable manner and fashion, been there done that.  Given that consideration, what can one savor and aspire to so to keep one’s mind from being lost?  What is evolved mankind’s greatest aspiration?  What has it always been?

 

Brian appears to give it vague consideration, but no reply.

 

ADAM

Think, you fool!  It's really quite obvious!  Look around you!!

 

Brian surveys the paintings surrounding him.

 

BRIAN

Art!

 

ADAM

Of course -- the arts!  Consider this vexation then.  You have forever to improve your talent and become quite accomplished, but may never be celebrated, for to be illumined in such a light would be to be exposed.  You can’t live forever and draw attention to yourself; remember the witch hunters?  Now that, as you say, is a bitch, is it not?

 

BRIAN

Sure.

(incredulously)

So you’re saying you didn’t just study the schools of Monet and Picasso, but actually...

 

Brian lets this sink in for a beat --

 

BRIAN

And I thought my old man was a crazy mother fucker.  You beat hell out of his head trip, hands down.

 

ADAM

You may think what you will, of course.  But be assured, I will see to it that matters are set straight here.  And if you will brave with me, I can assure your provision.

 

BRIAN

That’s one hell of a choice; paint in this lockdown or rot in another.

 

ADAM

We all make choices.

 

Adam picks up his brushes as Brian leaves.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

EXT. PLACE DU TERTRE - NIGHT

 

UNIFORMED COPS run through the crowd after Brian and Theresa.  Jax and Gil are included in the pursuit.

 

After a beat Brian and Theresa are LOST in the crowd. 

 

The Detective who blew the cover catches up with Gil and Jax--

 

GIL

(to the Detective with the high volume radio)

Way to go Detective.  Fucked up a free lunch here, Keystone!

 

JAX

(to another Detective)

Did you see which way they went?

 

The Detective points into the thick of the crowd. 

 

RAIN BURSTS from the sky and the crowd scatters and runs masking Brian and Theresa as they flee.

 

Recipe for a foot chase through the streets of Paris at night: a few close scrapes, several near misses, upset easels, flower carts, and news stands and a pinch of hiding out in recessed doorways and under romantic arches and shake.

 

Season with the occasional glimpse of the Shadowy, still unidentifiable figure of the killer interfering stealthily and effectively with the police pursuit to aid Brian's and Theresa's escape and bake for two minutes.

 

Throughout the chase Jax and Gil gain ground then lose it again. 

 

The chase wanes and surrenders to predictable disappointment by the police. 

 

Rain diminishes to a drizzle as --

 

Jax and Gil fall onto a park bench to rest.

 

GIL

We’re getting a bit too old for this, don’t you think?

 

JAX

Oui.

 

GIL

Shit!

 

JAX

Oui.

 

Gil gets up and walks away, disgusted and fuming.

 

GIL

Give me a call if anything turns up.

 

JAX

Very well.  Adieu.

 

                                                                                                DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

EXT. PLACE DU TERTRE - UNDER BRIDGE - NIGHT

 

Brian and Theresa are alone as they take shelter under an ancient bridge -- they embrace and then kiss passionately as rain falls.

 

BRIAN

After all that, I guess it would be a good idea to wait ‘til all this blows over before trying to hook up again.

 

THERESA

Oui, probably so.

 

BRIAN

You’ve gotta pay attention to your surroundings, you know?

 

THERESA

I beg your pardon?!

 

BRIAN

This is the big city, Theresa -- full of people on both sides of the law who can do you wrong you if you’re not...

 

THERESA

If I weren’t cavorting with you, I wouldn’t have the police following me!

 

BRIAN

Whoa, I’m -- hey, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean -- listen, I’m sorry I brought this on you, okay?

 

Theresa softens --

 

THERESA

Apology accepted.

 

BRIAN

And I shouldn’t be dragging you into my damn troubles.

 

THERESA

We will get through this, oui?

 

She pulls him to her again for another kiss.

 

BRIAN

Can you please watch yourself though?

 

THERESA

I was raised in the city, not on an austere chateaux.  I can take care of myself, monsieur. 

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I don’t doubt it.

 

THERESA

Where will you go?

 

BRIAN

I’ve got to go back to his mansion and -- check out...

 

THERESA

Brian, are you sure that’s a good idea?

 

BRIAN

No, I’m not sure, but I’ve got some unfinished business --

 

They part and Brian ventures out into the rain leaving Theresa behind under the bridge.  He turns back to glance at her one final time and he blows her a kiss.  She catches it and returns the gesture.

 

Brian walks off into the rain, then begins to jog away.

 

Theresa watches Brian disappear into the night.  She turns to leave, stops, and turns back once again with a wisp of a smile on her face to steal one final glimpse --

 

Instead, she finds herself face to face with the Shadowy Figure of Adam Primera.  Her smile vanishes.

 

Her gaze locks onto Adam's eyes and her expression changes to that of seduction. 

 

Adam pulls her head back forcefully by her hair and he passionately kisses her lovely, exposed neck; his free hand caresses the length of her body.  She swoons. 

 

In the next instant he pulls a razor sharp dagger from the bottom of his walking stick and in a continuing arc, slits her throat from ear to ear with a smooth, graceful sweep.

 

Then his shadowy figure looms over her and drinks her life's blood with a covetous thirst.

 

                                                                                                TIME DISSOLVE:

 

The silhouette of Adam lights a cigarette next to where --

 

Theresa's dead body lay on the ground. 

 

Adam drops the smoldering butt from his gloved hand to the ground by Theresa’s lifeless form where rain snuffs out the butt.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

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INT. PRIMERA MANSION, SITTING ROOM - DAY

 

Brian sits facing the doorway to the room -- he drinks brandy and smokes a cigar.  The ashtray beside him is full of spent cigar butts -- the brandy flask is nearly empty.  Brian is STINKING DRUNK. 

 

Adam enters without a sound --

 

ADAM

It would seem you’ve somehow found your way into my secure room.

 

BRIAN

You crazy, god damned son of a whoring bitch!

 

ADAM

(calmly)

Why, Brian, if anyone should have a right to be upset now, I might rather think it should be me than you.

 

BRIAN

What kind of sick bastard are you?!  You really believe you’re a fucking vampire, don’t you?!

 

ADAM

I’m as much rather only a very old man with a rare medical condition.

 

BRIAN

Who shouldn’t plan on getting much older.

 

ADAM

Oh?

 

Adam notices his heavy revolver in Brian’s lap --

 

BRIAN

Did you kill her?  Did you kill all of them and try to set me up for your own, twisted, manipulative purposes, you old freak?

 

ADAM

Whatever are you referring to, Brian?

 

BRIAN

You know god damn well what I’m talking about, mister manners.  I heard the news on the only radio you seem to have in this damn place -- down in your bomb shelter.  Did you kill Theresa?

 

Adam slowly approaches Brian.

 

ADAM

You continue to fail to comprehend the intricacies of our milieu.

 

Brian picks up the revolver and levels it at Adam.  Adam hesitates, then proceeds cautiously to a chair across from where Brian sits; Adam also sits.  Brian keeps the gun trained on him.

 

ADAM

It is as you have said.  I am a vampire.

 

BRIAN

And you killed them all?

 

ADAM

(ignores Brian’s question)

But nothing at all like the ridiculous images of my ilk portrayed in common lore.  We have wined and dined together.  I walk about in the day.  For goodness sake, you have seen my reflection.  I rather only require blood to sustain my condition.

 

BRIAN

So you kill for it.

 

ADAM

If I were to kill, it would be to protect my interests alone.  I have a ready supply of blood through a completely legitimate medical supply business. 

 

BRIAN

Are you planning on killing me also?

(sarcastic)

Turning me into a vampire like you?

 

ADAM

That’s not as simple a matter as lore would suggest either.  I am not as responsible for the conversion as the recipient in the process.  I haven’t tried it for centuries; it’s too heartbreaking.

 

BRIAN

I’m sure.

 

ADAM

It really is, Brian.  Understand the venomous virus doesn’t always take.  It’s not unlike those extremist Christian movements in your Southern states where people handle poisonous vipers to prove their faith.  Some only develop stronger immune systems while others -- well, most simply die slow, excruciating deaths.  Imagine my anguish over trying to bring someone, dearly beloved into immortality only to watch them perish in agony.

 

BRIAN

So tell me, is it going to take a wooden stake through the heart or will this do it?

 

Brian points the revolver directly at Adam.

 

ADAM

Enough about me.

 

BRIAN

Let’s find out.

 

Brian pulls back the gun’s hammer.  Adam moves quickly. 

 

BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM!

 

Brian shoots and wings him.  Adam bounds from the room as Brian unloads a few more rounds into Adam as he flees. 

 

BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! 

 

then -- click, click, click --

 

Brian stumbles after Adam blind with rage and raging drunk -- he reloads from a supply of bullets in his pocket as he runs.

 

INT. PRIMIRA MANSION, HALLWAY

 

Brian follows the trail of blood up the stairs.

 

PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED...  PAGES SKIPPED

 

 

INT. CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME - LATER SAME DAY

 

Brian limps into the vacant cathedral still damp, shivering and ragged.  His head wound has coagulated, but it’s ugly.  He stumbles into a pew and kneels feebly to pray. 

 

A hand falls on Brian's shoulder and startles him -- that of a PRIEST.  Brian turns his distraught face the Priest who is alarmed by the wild, desperate look in Brian's eyes, but alarm dissolves to calm as Brian breaks down in tears.

 

PRIEST

(in French)

Do you need an intermediary my son?

 

BRIAN

I’m sorry Father, I don’t understand.

 

PRIEST

Are you in need of counsel -- or medical attention?

 

BRIAN

God yes.  Pardon.  If ever I was, I am now.  No ambulance, but counsel.

 

Brian slides over and the Priest sits next to him in the pew.  The Priest puts his cape over Brian's shoulders, then he withdraws a stole from his vestment pocket to draw over his shoulder.  He makes the sign of the cross over Brian.

 

BRIAN

I’ve seen things these past days that I can hardly believe myself, much less expect you to.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

PRIEST

Go on my son, sil vous plait.

 

Brian tells his story to the Priest M.O.S. for a few beats --

 

                                                                                                TIME DISSOLVE:

 

Brian's head is bowed as is the Priest's; the Priest's hands are folded over Brian's. 

 

PRIEST

Kyrie elison, Cristi elison, Kyrie elison.  In nomine Patri, et Fili, et Spiritu Sancti.  Amen.

 

They look up at each other.  Brian looks somewhat better.  The Priest looks grave.

 

PRIEST

Could I offer you dry garments?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, I could use ‘em.

 

They rise together and the Priest leads Brian into a personal Clergy Area behind the altar.

 

INT. CLERGY AREA

 

Brian follows the Priest into a simply appointed room where priests prepare for mass.  The Priest retrieves from a wardrobe a shirt, trousers and a jacket for Brian.

 

Brian steps behind a partition to change -- as Brian changes, the Priest pulls a duffel bag from the wardrobe.

 

Brian appears from behind the partition -- he now wears the dry clothing and holds his wet clothes. 

 

PRIEST

I’ll take care of those for you.

 

The Priest takes the wet clothes and lays them aside.

 

BRIAN

Thanks Father.

 

PRIEST

It is not my place to contact the authorities, but if you should wish to do so...

 

BRIAN

I’m not sure how much I trust the cops here -- no offense.

 

PRIEST

Of course not.

 

BRIAN

There is an American agent here though --

 

PRIEST

If you wish to use our phone, you are welcome to.

 

Brian nods and picks up the phone and dials --

 

BRIAN

(into phone)

Hello, can you give me the police?

(a beat)

Merci.

(a beat)

Yes I am.  I’m trying to contact an American -- Agent Willis; can he be reached there?

 

He looks to the Priest who waits.

 

BRIAN

(to Priest)

They’re forwarding my call...

(into phone)

Agent Willis?  This is Brian Ellsworth.  I’d like to meet you alone if that’s possible.

(a beat)

Yeah, I know the place; I’ll see you there in an hour.

 

Brian hangs up.  The Priest hands him the duffle bag --

 

PRIEST

I believe you may need this.

 

BRIAN

What is it?

 

The Priest gestures for Brian to examine it.  Brian takes the bag, unzips it and looks inside for a moment -- he nods grimly but appreciatively, then zips it closed again.

 

BRIAN

Merci.

 

Brian shakes the Priest's hand and leaves.

 

                                                                                                CUT TO:

 

EXT. PLACE DU TERTRE - SAME

 

Brian slowly walks the now familiar Artists' Square and looks for Gil.  He pays no attention to the TOURISTS, LOVERS or ARTISTS about him paint, sketch, and enjoy the landscape which he can not.  No cops are visible as -- 

 

DAYLIGHT SURRENDERS TO THE ENCROACHING TWILIGHT

 

Gil approaches Brian.  They stop at arm's length and face off more than meet.  They don't shake hands.

 

GIL

Ellsworth.

 

BRIAN

Agent Willis.  Thanks for coming alone -- if you did.

 

GIL

I did.  What’s in the bag?

 

BRIAN

That’s not important.  Nothing dangerous.  I’m here to give up.  I need to tell you everything I know.  It might explain a lot -- I hope.

Brian is nervous, so he walks toward the river bank.  Gil detects no urgency or suspicious behavior, so he walks along with Brian rather than impede him.

 

GIL

Imagine I should read you your rights.

 

BRIAN

I already know ‘em.  I’m not planning on making a confession here.

 

GIL

What are you planning?

 

BRIAN

Hell, I’m out of ideas, Agent Willis.  I thought you might help me come up with something.

 

GIL

You know I’ll need to place you under arrest.

 

BRIAN

Arrest me, fucking shoot me for that matter.  It’d be a relief from my situation of the past week here, I can tell you that much for damn sure.  You’ll understand after you’ve heard what I have to say.

 

They are off from the crowded area and are off by themselves now, nearer the river as -- 

 

DUSK SEES THE LAST RAYS OF SUNLIGHT DISAPPEAR FROM THE HORIZON.

 

Suddenly, Adam Primira appears behind them and startles them.  Adam is dressed in a new suit without bullet holes.  He holds his walking stick casually. 

 

ADAM

Good evening, gentlemen. 

 

Gil keeps an eye on Brian while hearing Adam patiently if condescendingly.

 

GIL

Mister Primera, isn’t it?

 

Adam nods to Gil and then turns his full attention to Brian.

 

Brian is too stunned to speak.  He stands catatonic; he clutches his bag in trembling hands.  He can't look away from Adam’s awful gaze --

 

ADAM

Brian, I would urge you to take care what you tell the good Agent here, lest he conspire against you to implicate you for crimes which our attorney has learned, and now may prove, were committed by the American Agent himself.

 

GIL

With all due respect sir, what the hell are you talking about?

 

ADAM

Why, the serial murders, of course.  They are, I believe, the matter about which you’re trying to implicate my young protégé here, are they not?

 

GIL

Look, I don’t know how you figure...

 

ADAM

The young man killed in the states was a dear friend of yours, no?

 

GIL

(indignant)

The son of a friend; what’s your point?

 

ADAM

So it goes to motive that you’d have a vendetta against whomever you might perceive to be responsible, although I can assure you that it was not Master Brian. 

 

GIL

You’re nuts and you’re wrong.

 

ADAM

And my technology specialist who was gutted in his apartment yesterday -- he also coincidentally met with you as a witness possessing no incriminating evidence -- at least against Monsieur Ellsworth...

 

GIL

Listen old man, you may be a rich eccentric here in gay Paris, but to the rest of the world you’re just a raving lunatic.

 

ADAM

I believe a certain Parisian inspector is already in receipt of some compelling data drives found in his flat with your fingerprints on them.

 

GIL

Now I’ve heard more than enough...

 

ADAM

Pity you didn’t collect the damning evidence from his flat after you killed him...

 

Gil pulls his .45 caliber automatic and levels it at Adam.

 

GIL

Listen here Gramps, I’m sorry your meds are scrambling your brain, but I think today’s special just became a two for one; murder for him and harboring a felon for you.  And throw in obstruction of justice.

 

ADAM

You see Brian, the real murderer is right here in our midst.  You’re all but free and clear if everything works out properly.

 

Adam lifts his walking stick to the level of his waist and fondles it absently.  Brian remains entranced in numb shock.

 

GIL

Shut up and put your hands behind your head!

 

ADAM

As is often true, all it takes is a certain dexterity with information management to put a particular face on something.

 

Jax rises from a bench nearby with a compact video camera in hand equipped with a sensitive surveillance microphone and he briskly approaches them.

 

JAX

Very colorful construction -- pure artistry, monsieur Primira.  You have a wondrously creative imagination.  And you have so many patsies setup for this case that you might never take the fall for it yourself.

 

ADAM

Well, well, Doctor Jaxel, the superstitious old man of the constabulary.

 

With Adam's attention drawn to Jax, Brian recovers to focus his efforts on his duffle bag and its stubborn zipper.

 

JAX

Then again, you may just yet topple with adequate evidence, and with the testimony which our monsieur Ellsworth might provide if we can allow him the opportunity.

 

ADAM

(to Jax)

And you call my imagination wondrous.

 

Brian finally frees up the zipper on the bag; he opens it and pulls out a large crucifix and a wooden stake.  He hoists the cross up in front of him toward Adam.

 

BRIAN

Hey Adam, does this old standard still work?

 

GIL

What the hell?

 

ADAM

(laughs)

Half true.

(maliciously)

It works only if you believe.

 

Adam swiftly swings his walking stick up at the cross and knocks it loose from Brian's hands -- with the same deft, arcing sweep, he also knocks Gil's gun from his hand. 

 

Jax drops his camera and blindly charges Adam who sends Jax back in a heap with a powerful, whirling martial arts move.

 

Adam deals a fierce front kick to Brian to send him backward to the ground where the wooden stake tumbles from his other hand. 

 

Gil reaches to grapple with Primera.  Adam pulls his knife from the bottom of his walking stick and buries it in Gil's chest.  Gil falls to his knees. 

 

Jax pulls his police radio from his belt --

 

JAX

(into radio; in French)

Where’s my back up?!  Officer down at the Place Du Tertre!  NOW!

 

Brian scurries toward Gil's automatic pistol on the ground as Jax crawls toward the cross.

 

ADAM

(to Gil)

Whatever else is true, this much is certain, you’ve equivocated honor and loyalty.

 

Adam pulls his walking stick/sheath free from a short Ninja style (straight) sword hidden in the length of his walking stick.  He swings it in a ferocious arc at Gil's neck and BEHEADS him where he kneels, defenseless.

 

ADAM

A befitting end.

 

Adam sees Brian nearly at the pistol and he bounds on him before he can reach it. 

 

Adam's countenance is grotesquely vampirish again. 

 

Jax has acquired the crucifix and he steals upon Adam with it, unnoticed --

 

Adam jerks Brian's head back to expose his throat and rears back to put some inertia into his fanged attack when --

 

Jax presses the crucifix firmly against into Adam's face --

 

SIZZLE - FLASH - CRACK!

 

Adam's body is BLASTED backward as though it were shot through with a fierce electric surge.

 

Adam SHRIEKS hideously in pain, his face burned and smoking where the crucifix cut in its form.  Adam gapes in dismay at Jax.

 

JAX

Oui, Monsieur, I believe!

 

Adam pulls himself up with contempt and lumbers toward Jax. 

 

Brian acquires the gun --

 

BRIAN

(to himself)

And I believe I’ll have another try with this.

 

Brian, from the supine position on the ground, UNLOADS the whole clip into the vampire as Jax watches blankly -- Jax doesn’t even try to stop Brian. 

 

BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! - BLAM! 

 

Each SHOT impacts Adam's body and punches him backward in a series of spasmodic paces.

 

BLAM!

 

The final bullet sends Adam over the storm wall at the river's bank as the empty gun's slide slams open. 

 

A SPLASH is heard as Adam falls into the river.

 

Jax grimaces toward Gil’s decapitated form and hurriedly makes the sign of the cross, then he approaches Brian.

 

JAX

Are you alright?

 

Brian glances at Gil’s headless body and VOMITS!  Then he wipes his face with his sleeve and recovers --

 

BRIAN

I’m alive.

 

Jax stoops down to pick up a shell and examine it.

 

JAX

Forty-five caliber, two thirty grain, hollow point loads.  At least Gil chose his weapon well.

 

Brian laughs a slightly hysterical, emotional release.  Jax offers a trace of a sardonic smile and extends his free hand to Brian where he still lay on the ground; the smoldering crucifix still clutched in Jax’s other hand.

 

Brian hands the empty pistol to Jax who slips it into his pocket, then Jax helps Brian up.

 

They walk together toward the storm wall and take their last step cautiously to peer over and into the river. 

 

Adam is nowhere to be seen.

 

JAX

I’m not sure I expected to see him.

 

BRIAN

Somehow, neither did I.

 

JAX

Of course, we’ll sweep the river, order divers to search it -- protocol, you understand.

 

Brian nods.

 

BRIAN

They won’t find him either, will they?

 

Jax shrugs.

 

JAX

I don’t imagine.

 

BRIAN

Do you think the myth about running water killing them holds true?

 

JAX

I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.  Not in our lifetime.

 

JAX

I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.  Not in our lifetime.

(a beat)

We finally secured a warrant to search his Chateau to look for you -- for evidence of involvement.  How does one make a case of this?

 

BRIAN

Yeah, huh?

 

JAX

Oui, whether or not we find anything at Primera’s estate is likely moot.  I believe we’ve seen the last of Adam Primera.

 

BRIAN

I wish the same could be said about the creature using the name.

 

JAX

Indeed, as do I -- as do I as well.

 

Brian and Jax walk away from the riverside together toward a gathering of POLICEMEN and AMBULANCE AIDS near Gil's body.

 

BRIAN

So, am I under arrest Inspector?

 

JAX

As a matter of protocol, oui.

 

Brian extends his hands toward Jax.

 

BRIAN

Handcuffs?

 

JAX

Non, not necessary.

 

Brian drops his hands to his side as they walk away.

 

                                                                                                FADE OUT.

 

THE END