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21.      INT:    [DISTANT FLASHBACK: 1979]
NIGHT
AN INTERROGATION ROOM SOMEWHERE IN ITALY

CU — TAPE-RECORDER. [Similar to one in SAFEHOUSE, Scene 20.]
GIANNI, his face wretched and bloody, is strapped to CHAIR. Sinister ELECTRICAL DEVICES are connected to his body; he is being tortured with electricity. In otherwise DARK room, traditional ceiling LIGHT swings back and forth on hanging cord. INTERROGATORS are never seen. We only hear their VOICES and see vampirical SHADOWS.

INTERROGATOR (VO)
(in Italian)

Talk! Talk! [Various curses] Where are you bastards hiding Judge DiCullo? Talk!

SHADOW-HAND strikes GIANNI hard across the face. He doesn't talk. SHADOWS of TWO MEN, huddled in confabulation, are projected against far wall.

SECOND INTERROGATOR (VO)
(In English, Italian accent)

We are sorry, Commander Tate, Sir. Last week, when the other INTERPOL Officers came to Italy to watch interrogations of Red Brigades members, we were able to put on a much better show. We've got the latest equipment. All new for 1979! But this son of a bitch just won't break! We don't want to kill him — then he'll be of no use to us.

HECTOR TATE, ALDOUS' UNCLE, is apparently an "observer," here. GIANNI listens to VOICES (OFF); watches ominous SHADOWS of UNCLE and INTERROGATORS.

UNCLE (VO)

Oh, nonsense. Go ahead and push him to the end. — on my responsibility. You see, everybody cracks. And before a man dies, a Voice calls out from deep inside him. From down in his viscera. The Voice tells you everything you want to know. It's not the man himself talking — yet it is. I once heard a woman describe it. I personally presided over her interrogation. She was from San Federal and her nom de guerre was "Magdalena." She said: "I heard myself cry out his name..." It's fascinating.
(strange tone)
Almost worth going through it oneself...

SECOND INTERROGATOR (VO)

Uh, right. Fascinating. All right, Commander Tate. We'll, how do you say? Go all the way?

THREE GHASTLY SHADOWS LAUGH.

SECOND INTERROGATOR (VO)
(to First Interrogator, in Italian)

Go to it, Bruno. No more games. This time push him to the end.

FIRST INTERROGATOR connects more WIRES to GIANNI'S BODY. Lets loose jolt of electricity. GIANNI'S body quakes. His MOUTH opens, yet remains mute. Silent scream is all the more audible.
CU — TAPE-RECORDER.

DISSOLVE TO:

22.      INT:    MORNING — 106/5
COMBAT UNIT SAFEHOUSE
47 BLOCKS TO "POINT HOPE"

CU — TAPE-RECORDER.
AMILCAR points to TAPE RECORDER, on TABLE beside him, now recording all they say.

AMILCAR

Whatever happens to us, this way, they'll have a record of our decisions. And why we made them. We are already a military unit. Now I declare us a political body, as well, for our decisions must be political. The question is: How far do we go? Here and now!

Mortality weighs heavy on COMBAT UNIT; their words are suddenly immortal. THOMAS fidgets, then leaps up, takes it out on TAPE RECORDER. Irrational shitfit looks foolish, but no one's laughing.

THOMAS

Jeez, man. I can't even talk to a fuckin' answering machine! I'm the guy who always hangs up on the goddamn tape. I just can't think straight with that fuckin' thing listening in. It's fuckin' torture!

GIANNI interrupts. Stern and quiet.

GIANNI

No, Thomas. It's not.

THOMAS shrugs, tries to restore his own dignity.

THOMAS

I mean, I mean — forget the tape. It's just that — what I meant was, how can we possibly decide? Once we start killing Americans, we make every American think we did it only for the Third World. They'll think we don't give a fuck for the USA!

CLAIRE

He's right. To most Americans, imperialism is a foreign disease.

HERALDO
(grimly)

Then we'll show that it kills them here. In the USA.

AMANDA leans in to CANDLE; lights CIGARETTE. By flickering flame, she looks like noble African statue.

AMANDA

Death day by day... hour by hour...

DRONE of HELICOPTER (OFF)! Sudden, low RUMBLE makes SAFEHOUSE shudder. Alarm!

AMILCAR
(to Bob)

Bob! Check Outside Security!

BOB rushes to MONITOR CAIRN, operates ROUTING SWITCHER.
ON THREE MONITORS — Motorcade coverage is replaced by video of South Bronx BROWNSTONE's crumbling facade: SAFEHOUSE seen from outside. Security cameras are planted discretely around moonscape. HELICOPTER RUMBLE (OFF) crescendos.

AMILCAR

Yellow Alert!

JOHN, JASON, AMANDA grab SUB-MACHINE GUNS; set-up ROCKET LAUNCHER. THE PEREGRINE takes out .45 AUTOMATIC; CLAIRE picks up .22. All prepare for firefight. BOB operates JOY-STICKS; watches THREE MONITORS.
ON THREE MONITORS — SIGNS call SAFEHOUSE "CONDEMMED PROPERTY: TRESPASSING FORBIDDEN." Its windows are secured with ZINC SHEETS. Immediate neighborhood offers constricting desolation. Fragments of WALLS rise from rubble. Over lunary SKY-LINE: The HELICOPTER! It bears POLICE INSIGNIA, disappears into distance.

BOB (VO)

It's gone. It was local police. Probably looking for one of Dr. Schmuck's junkies. I'll check the block one more time, to be sure.

ON THREE MONITORS — JUNKIE, on the run, vanishes into RUBBLE across street. Then, BOB makes last pass over SAFEHOUSE, itself.

BOB (VO)

All clear.

ON THREE MONITORS — Sudden switch back to Motorcade coverage. Photographers-turned-AGENTS have fallen into synchronized step, are there to stay.
COMBATANTS, their WEAPONS ready, wait for AMILCAR to confirm BOB'S judgment.

AMILCAR

All clear.

JOHN, JASON, AMANDA hide HEAVY WEAPONRY. COMBATANTS stash PERSONAL WEAPONS.
ON THE MONITORS — POLICE CAVALRY trots down Avenue.
AMILCAR is intent on HORSES. Lone HORSE NEIGHS (OFF), OVER —

CUT TO:

23.      EXT:    [FLASHBACK: JULY 7]
NIGHT
A SMALL COUNTRY VILLAGE — SAN FEDERAL

LONG SHOT (POV AMILCAR: He and HORSE are behind COLUMN, across SQUARE.) — HORSE NEIGHS (OFF), as RED VAN cautiously enters portico'd VILLAGE SQUARE. THREE WOMEN, the only people in sight, make aggressive, "emergency" gestures, block VAN'S way. Two WOMEN are teenagers. Beautiful, thirty-five year-old red-head, MAGDALENA, is in charge. She resembles both UNA and BIANCA. Waylaid VAN comes to uncertain halt. THREE WOMEN surround it.
UNA, in the driver's seat, holds a hand-drawn MAP.

UNA
(gingerly)

Can I help you?

WOMEN smile engagingly, do not respond.

UNA

Santa Magdalena de la Epiphania?
(still no response)
I don't speak Spanish. Uh — Yo non hablo Español.
(and still no response)
Maybe you can help me. I've been driving all night. I was given this map, but I'm not sure if — Is this Santa Magdalena de la —

MAGDALENA
(confidently)

My name is Magdalena. Are you Una Horn?

UNA

How did you know?

MAGDALENA
(suddenly coy)

You're an American movie star, right? Can I have an autograph?

UNA is perplexed, but charmed by compass of her celebrity. She looks in glove compartment for pen, paper.

MAGDALENA

Can we come in? It's cold out here.
(beat)
We do know the way to Santa Magdalena de la Epiphania...

UNA hesitates. Looks at MAGDALENA'S open, smiling face. UNA lets her in. Then the other TWO WOMEN enter. One takes back seat.
LONG SHOT (POV AMILCAR) — WOMEN get into RED VAN. Doors slam shut. A STIFLED CRY (OFF)!
In the VAN, UNA is GAGGED and BLIND-FOLDED. MAGDALENA has a GUN in her ribs.

MAGDALENA

How do you say in your American movies? "No monkey business?"
(menacing)
Oh, and don't worry. We'll take you where you want to go. All the way...

Terrorized, UNA nods. MAGDALENA takes driver's seat. She starts engine; VAN jolts.
LONG SHOT (POV AMILCAR) — VAN lurches off into the night.
REVERSE — ON AMILCAR. He has been watching, and is in charge of UNA'S kidnap. AMILCAR mounts HORSE, gallops across SQUARE. He follows VAN into the night.

CUT TO:

24.      INT:    [FLASHBACK: JULY 7]
NIGHT
A STABLE — SAN FEDERAL

AMILCAR and MAGDALENA sit with UNA on the STRAW. SEVERAL HORSES are in the STABLE. On nod from AMILCAR, MAGDALENA unties UNA'S GAG. BLIND-FOLD stays ON. UNA gasps.

UNA

Can I have some water? Agua? Please?

MAGDALENA gets water, helps her drink.

AMILCAR
(calmly, un-ostentatiously)

You and your van have been captured by the Peoples' Revolutionary Army.

UNA
(frustrated)

But I was already on my way to distribute my — uh, supplies to the people! Take them if you can use them.

AMILCAR and MAGDALENA share sexy laugh. UNA understands.

UNA

Shit, man. Does everybody know about my goddamn — contraceptives?

UNA lowers her head. FREEZE FRAME. Then, FLASH of WHITE LIGHT seizes Image. HOLD.

HARD CUT TO:

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