A BLACK SCREEN:

Various voices: "Big six"... "That's six the hard way"...

"Seven or eleven"... "Play two"...

FADE IN:

EXT. UPPER EAST SIDE - NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT

One of the pristine blocks of brownstones where even the

garbage seems gift wrapped. The VOICES continue over as

we move in on a particular building where a DOORMAN is

holding open the door for a dowager and her poodle.

The voices continue: "Hit me"... "Double down"... "Let it

ride"... "Hit me"... "Anymore for the come out"...

"Card"...

In contrast to the outside of this sedate, quiet

brownstone, we go inside to find...

INT. BROWNSTONE APARTMENT

... a miniature Las Vegas, complete with music, drinks,

tuxedoed dealers and croupiers: roulette, craps, Black

Jack. Wall to wall people. The fact that casino gambling

happens to be illegal in New York doesn't stop these

Connecticut slummers, hollow-cheek nightlifers, and junior

wiseguys from having a good time.

AT THE CARD TABLE

NICK CONKLIN, holding a dollar cigar, is trying to pull a

winning hand. In his late thirties, Nick has the sort of

quiet good looks that takes an extra glance to appreciate.

His Moe Ginsburg rent-a-tux is too tight, his ruffled

shirt, out of date; Nick could care less.

Two other players are still in the game. One of them is a

lithe DEBUTANTE surrounded by an entourage of giggling

friends and tuxedoed men. The pot is huge.

Nick flips two one hundred dollar chips onto the pot.

NICK

One, and one on top.

DEALER

House sees.

PLAYER ONE

(hesitates)

I'm out.

Disgusted, he throws down his cards.

It's down to Nick and the debutante. The cocky deb gives

Nick a long look, confident she can win.

DEBUTANTE

(her eyes still on

Nick)

I see the deuce, and one to chase

them home.

She throws her chips on the pot. Nick hesitates, then

decides to match it.

NICK

Call.

DEBUTANTE

(showing her hand)

Ladies, aces wired. Sorry sport.

Nick turns over his cards, Jacks and tens, not good enough

to win. Elated, the deb gets up from the table and joins

her giggling friends. Nick walks over to her.

NICK

Very nice, Barbie.

(pointing toward her

boyfriend)

Now, I'd take Ken over there and go

home.

DEBUTANTE

Why's that?

NICK

It's time. That's all.

BOYFRIEND

The lady wants to play. Someone

should teach you to be a better

loser, loser.

NICK

Listen, Ken --

BOYFRIEND

My name is not Ken --

NICK

-- I'm offering you the benefit of

my experience.

DEBUTANTE

Looks like you have a lot of

experience in places like this. It

was nice of them to relax the dress

code for you.

That draws a laugh from her friends. The entourage heads

for the bar.

CHARLIE SKLOARIS, twenty-three, steps in front of the

debutante, blocking her path.

She steps to the side. Charlie steps with her. Charlie's

pushing it, he's always pushing it. She's not amused.

Finally, Charlie lets her pass. He comes up to Nick.

CHARLIE

Typical New York woman, big

attitude, small apartment, no tits.

Only two things count to Charlie: his job and his women,

but not necessarily in that order.

CHARLIE

I think she got to you, pappy.

NICK

(checking his watch)

You want a popsicle, go to Good

Humor. And don't call me 'pappy.'

CHARLIE

(glancing at the

door)

Still, you gotta wonder how she'd

look in handcuffs.

Nick, wary, eyes this kid. Charlie shrugs, spreads his

arms defensively. The SOUND of pounding on the front

door.

THE DOOR

splinters. The bouncer steps back as four helmeted

emergency service officers -- the first members of the

raiding party -- rush in.

Pandemonium. People rush for the exit -- any exit.

AT THE BAR

Nick and Charlie hold up their glasses.

NICK

(calmly)

Alley oop.

They down their drinks, then set them down.

Charlie pulls out the Binaca, offering Nick a spritz, but

Nick is already pulling out his POLICE BADGE and hanging

it around his neck. Charlie quickly follows suit.

A HALF DOZEN COPS

line the patrons up against the wall. The Asst. D.A.,

PATTY ZACHARA, climbs onto the crap table. A petite,

nervous woman, Patty has dressed in a Channel suit for the

occasion.

ZACHARA

Settle down. Hey, quiet... Please.

Not a prayer.

NICK

SHUT THE HELL UP, GODDAMNIT!

That quiets them.

NICK

My name is Conklin. Let's do this

fast so I can go home.

Zachara, annoyed, looks at Nick.

NICK

(softer)

It's all yours.

ZACHARA

(reads)

Under section 216 of the New York

State Penal code, I serve notice

that this premise and it's

occupants...

NICK

catches the Debutante's eye across the room. She smiles

at him, he was right. He shrugs, spreads his hands.

That's life.

A well groomed middle aged man, who we'll come to know as

CAVELLO, suddenly bolts from the crowd lined up against

the wall.

Charlie spins around to stop him --

CHARLIE

Whoa -- where do you think you're

going, hotdog.

Cavello butts him with his head, sending Charlie to the

floor. Then, crosses his arms in front of his face and

plunges through the WINDOW.

Nick, not missing a beat, gives a small sigh as he

follows.

NICK

(sighs)

Fabulous...

He takes off after him.

EXT. STREET UPPER EAST SIDE - NIGHT

Nick, short of breath, chases Cavello down the residential

street, past the dog-walkers, past the doormen, past the

fur-coated women climbing out of taxies... Unfortunately,

Cavello has a good half block on him.

From nowhere, Charlie blasts past leaving Nick a half

block behind, silently cursing his age.

AT THE CORNER

a limo jerks to a halt, and Cavello jumps in. The limo

streaks away.

CHARLIE

turns to see Nick, hands on knees, gasping for air.

CUT TO:

INT. LOCKER ROOM - TWO EIGHT PRECINCT - NIGHT

Now in their street clothes, Charlie and Nick stand in

front of the mirrors. Charlie is working his brush and

hair dryer as if his life depended on it. Nick, in

contrast, shoves his hair back with his fingers and

glowers at himself in the mirror.

CHARLIE

(over the dryer)

... It's not like you were slow or

anything... I think you did just

fine. I think you did great.

NICK

Thanks.

Nick turns to leave.

CHARLIE

Hey, hey, where you goin'?

NICK

Home.

EXT. POLICE PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Nick strides out the door. Charlie hurries after him.

CHARLIE

Wait up. You know the guy who did

the Weismuller through the window --

NICK

-- Cavello. Ronnie Cavello.

Charlie trails Nick to his motorcycle: a Harley hog

complete with wide gleaming fenders and twin tanks. The

bike is held together with tape and baling wire.

CHARLIE

You know him?

Nick tries to kick-start this behemoth, but it's not easy.

NICK

He works for Frank Abolofia.

Atlantic City. Casinos.

CHARLIE

So why dive through the glass for a

nickel and dime bust?

Charlie puts his foot up on Nick's fender to tie his shoe.

Nick, spotting an ankle holster peeking from Charlie's

sock, grabs Charlie's foot. Charlie teeters.

NICK

What's this?

CHARLIE

Let go...

Nick pulls out a Beretta 32.

CHARLIE

Back-up.

NICK

Get rid of it.

CHARLIE

Why?

NICK

It's not regulation. And the only

way you're gonna stop anybody with

it is to show it to him, and while

he's laughing, you can shove it down

his throat.

CHARLIE

(looking at Nick's

bike)

I'll get rid of it when you get rid

of the egg-beater.

The Harley comes to life spitting a cloud of blue smoke.

Nick puts on his paint-flecked helmet, slides down some

ski goggles.

CHARLIE

Nick, let's go hunting. Bag

Cavello.

NICK

Charlie...

Nick pops the bike into gear.

NICK

... You still got shaving cream on

your ear.

Nick rolls out and disappears in a haze of blue smoke.

EXT. BELT PARKWAY - VERRAZANO BRIDGE - NIGHT

WE FIND Nick, a lonely, solitary figure bobbing in and out

of the lights and shadows. The SOUND of wind whips

through his helmet; cold air stings his cheeks... The tail

lights of Nick's bike disappear into the night.

EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - STATEN ISLAND - NIGHT

Civil service heaven. Nick hits the cut switch and glides

past the manicured lawns and well kept houses of this

development. A basketball net in every driveway, a Buick

or Chrysler in every garage.

One house sticks out. The lawn is brown, paint is peeling

off the garage door and newspapers are scattered on the

driveway. Nick glides once around the cul de sac looking

at the house. His house. It's as inviting as an open

grave. He shoots away.

INT. EL GRECO DINER - STATEN ISLAND - NIGHT

A hanger sized roadhouse, wall to wall red velvet.

Nick's the sole figure at the counter, coffee and the

Daily News in front of him. A NURSE walks in and sits

down a half dozen seats away. Nick look up.

NICK

Short shift?

CONNIE

Yeah... I came to save you. If

you're hopeless, I'll pull the plug.

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Nick and Connie are in bed. They're both looking up at

the ceiling. They've just made love.

CONNIE

It's getting too cold even for me,

Nick.

NICK

Connie...

CONNIE

All right, how's the new partner?

NICK

High spirits, desire, commitment.

CONNIE

You'll take care of that.

NICK

Give me a break, would you?

CONNIE

If you give me one.

Nick kisses her. The first suggestion of real affection.

The SOUND of someone KNOCKING on the door. Reluctantly,

they stop. Connie gets up and puts on her robe.

NICK

Are you expecting anyone?

CONNIE

I wasn't expecting you.

She disappears down the hallway. We HEAR the door open,

then telling someone to wait.

CONNIE

(poking her head in

the room)

Imagine a small, greasy Boy Scout.

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE'S APARTMENT

Nick, wearing only his pants, is doing a slow burn.

Charlie is holding his hands up defensively.

CHARLIE

... I found the goombah... Cavello.

He's --

NICK

-- I should tear your head off.

CHARLIE

Whoa, I knew you were going to say

that. I absolutely anticipated

that, Nick. But I said to myself,

Charlie, Charlie, we can move up on

this, so go find Nicklaus... He'll

be pissed for a moment, but then

it'll dawn on him --

NICK

-- Hey, I got a better chance of

being hit by a bus then moving up.

Charlie looks away momentarily, letting it slide. He

knows he's on sensitive ground.

CHARLIE

... Look... they told me at the

Greek's you were here. I'm sorry, I

never imagined...

CHARLIE

(buddy buddy)

I like her. She's nice.

(lowering his voice)

For her age.

The bedroom door opens. Connie enters, dumps Nick's

clothes on the couch, tosses his gun on top of the pile.

Without a word, she goes back inside and slams the door

behind her.

Nick, pissed, slowly turns to face Charlie. Charlie

shrugs. Nick's got nothing better to do than go.

CUT TO:

INT. LIME HOUSE - CHINATOWN - NIGHT

The Lime House is a little piece of Italy in the heart of

Chinatown, and tonight, it's packed. Any selection on the

jukebox that isn't Frank Sinatra is Jerry Vale. Behind

the bar are two fat BROTHERS. One pours drinks, the other

dishes out Scungilli. It's three a.m. It's always three

a.m. at the Lime House.

AT THE BACK TABLE

Our man CAVELLO is unloading steaming Scungilli onto an

already heaping plate in front of an imperious looking

JAPANESE MAN. The Japanese Man, in his mid-fifties, wears

a gray suit, and not a strand of his jet black hair is out

of place.

A Japanese TRANSLATOR, doing his best to translate

Cavello's heavily accented English, sits between them.

AT THE BAR

Charlie is looking straight ahead, afraid Cavello might

peg him. Nick is at ease.

CHARLIE

What are they doing now?

NICK

Eating Scungilli, just like the last

time you asked.

CHARLIE

Who do you think the Jap is?

NICK

Maybe Cavello's buying a Subaru.

How would I know?

CHARLIE

I don't blame you for being sore.

It'll pass when we bag him.

Charlie, trying to relax, gestures toward his foot.

CHARLIE

Whatdaya think? 'Bostonians'.

Eighty-five bucks.

(lowering his voice)

Girls go for shoes. Second place

they look.

(off Nick's

reaction)

Hey, I read it in a magazine.

Nick's attention is drawn to a trio walking in the door.

NICK

(dead serious)

Charlie, don't do anything. Promise

me?

CHARLIE

What?

WHAT THEY SEE: TWO BODYGUARDS are making a quick sweep of

the bar. FRANK ABOLOFIA, s stocky man with silver grey

hair, sweeps in behind them. Abolofia has mitts like a

meat packer and a fifty dollar manicure. A heavyweight

Mafioso.

NICK

Frank Abolofia.

CHARLIE

The Wolf?

Abolofia walks to Cavello's table. All rise and shake

hands. The two hitters take seats at the bar. The two

brothers scramble to serve their distinguished guests.

NICK

(in a whisper)

Some party.

CHARLIE

Maybe we should do something?

NICK

Charlie, take your gum, stick it

under your ass and keep it warm.

Nick turns away, resumes his drink.

NICK'S POV IN THE MIRROR BEHIND THE BAR: two new Japanese

men step in the door. Early twenties, spiky hair, dark

Versace suits.

NUMBER ONE

wears tortoise shell shades. He coolly checks out the

room then nods to --

NUMBER TWO

who pulls a Spas 12, automatic shotgun from under his

coat, and spits out three rounds. A window shatters.

Everyone hits the floor.

NUMBER ONE

slowly walks toward Cavello's table.

NUMBER TWO

covers the floor. Abolofia's bodyguards show their empty

hands.

NICK AND CHARLIE

on the floor. They don't have the artillery for this guy

either.

AT THE TABLE

Our Japanese businessman knows these people. He eyes them

contemptuously.

Abolofia has put enough people in this situation to be

philosophical about it. He stops chewing. A tiny

hand motion to his bodyguards is enough to stop any

precipitous action.

NUMBER ONE

(in Japanese)

Give it to me.

The Japanese businessman looking straight ahead. A long,

silent pause... Then, still not facing him:

BUSINESSMAN

(in Japanese)

Go to hell.

Number One slips his fingers beneath his shades, massaging

his eyes. IN A FLASH, he pulls a shuto from under his

coat. The 18 inch blade gleams like a neon tube.

He presses the tip of the blade against the businessman's

throat.

CHARLIE

his hand close around the grip of the Beretta. He unsnaps

the ankle holster. The SNAP can be heard across the room.

Nick's hand closes around Charlie's and squeezes till the

knuckles turn white.

CHARLIE

(in a whisper)

What are you doing?

NICK

Saving your life.

NUMBER TWO

levels the scattergun at Nick and Charlie.

AT THE TABLE - NUMBER ONE

calmly holds the blade at the man's throat as he reaches

into the man's jacket and removes a small, rectangular,

plastic-wrapped parcel.

He feels its weight, then flips it to NUMBER TWO.

Abolofia, realizing that whatever is going on doesn't

affect him or his, resumes eating.

ABOLOFIA

You people are wild... Wild.

NUMBER ONE backs the blade off. The man raises his napkin

to the small wound. A droplet of blood has stained his

shirt collar. NUMBER ONE turns around as if to leave.

What happens next could be a whim, an after thought.

Number One spins around and THRUSTS the blade deep into

the man's chest. He withdraws it with a half twist, and

in the same motion fatally slashes the translator's throat

before the old man's body hits the floor.

Blood pours from the businessman's mouth onto his

Scungilli, spreading across the white cloth and onto the

floor.

CAVELLO

reaches for a gun under his coat. But NUMBER TWO pumps

two rounds into his face. At this range, there's not much

left.

The killers slowly back out the door, covering the room

with the scattergun. The minute the door shuts, Nick

leaps up, pulling his shield and revolver.

NICK

(shouting)

Police officers. Everybody stay

put.

(to Charlie)

Get back up.

Abolofia's eyebrows rise at this development.

Nick bolts out the door leaving Charlie in charge. He's

never been in charge before.

CHARLIE

(nervously showing

shield)

Police.

EXT. THE LIME HOUSE - NIGHT

A Lincoln tears around the corner to pick the killers up.

Nick flies out the Lime House door and hits the ground.

Number Two pumps out shells as fast as he can squeeze the

trigger. He's wild. The front windows of the Lime House

shatter.

The LIMO DRIVER jerks to a halt. Number Two tosses the

package to him.

Nick empties his revolver. Number Two goes down.

The driver floors the accelerator, leaving Number One to

take off on foot. Nick follows, reloading as he runs.

INT. THE LIME HOUSE

Everyone's frozen on the floor.

CHARLIE

Call 911. Tell them an officer

needs assistance. Say ten thirteen.

Nothing from the owner who looks at Abolofia. Charlie

grabs the owner by his collar and shoves him toward the

phone.

CHARLIE

Do it, you dumb bastard!

Suddenly Charlie feels something wet at his feet. He

looks down to see that he's standing in a pool of blood

from the massacre. So much for his new shoes.

He wheels around, then quickly backs out the door.

EXT. STREET - DOWN THE BLOCK FROM THE LIME HOUSE

Deserted. The wail of police sirens in the distance.

Charlie has his gun out. He's drenched in sweat. Where

is his partner?

CHARLIE

NICK...! Shit... SHIT!!

CUT TO:

ANOTHER STREET - ALLEY - NIGHT

Nick, gun drawn, slowly rounds the corner to the alley:

it's the ad hoc drugstore for the night. Drugs going up

and down in pails, two dozen junkies buying, shooting,

slumped on the ground. Everyone scatters -- the one's

that can.

AN ABANDONED PAIL

swings slowly back and forth from three stories up. Nick

cautiously moves down the alley, holding the gun in both

hands. A Junkie steps out of a doorway, Nick swings his

gun and nearly blows him away.

NUMBER ONE

We see his eyes first as he steps out of the darkness at

the back of the alley. From now on we'll call him KOBO.

His sunglasses are on his forehead; his hands dropped

casually at his side. A very cool character.

Kobo slowly raises his hand, and making a gun with his

finger, slowly points and "shoots" at Nick... He lowers

his hand.

NICK

On the ground, man. NOW!!

Kobo cups his hands around his ear. He doesn't understand

English. Nick, keeping his gun fixed, comes up to him and

kicks out his legs.

Kobo falls flat on his chest.

Nick pulls out his cuffs. But Kobo lunges for Nick's

ankle and yanks it toward him. Nick stumbles backward;

Kobo's on his feet. Before Nick can stand, Kobo lands a

brutal kick to the side of Nick's head.

Nick gets up, barrels into him. Kobo knees Nick in the

solar plexus, then lands two more well placed kicks in

Nick's back. It's not that Nick's a bad fighter, it's

that this kid is so damn fast.

Nick slowly gets to his feet. KOBO lands two more brutal

shots to the side of Nick's head. He's a bloody mess.

TWO POLICE CARS

stop at the end of the alley. FOUR OFFICERS climb out.

CHARLIE

joins the cops as they run down the alley to find Nick

getting pummeled.

Charlie shoots at Kobo. Misses. Kobo turns to see the

five cops, guns drawn.

Nick, on one knee, spits out blood and a few teeth.

Kobo calmly slips the shuto out of his coat pocket and

drops it next to Nick. The blade gleams in the light.

That was next. Nick got lucky.

Kobo towers imperiously above Nick. Their eyes lock. We

hold then...

FADE TO BLACK.

FADE IN:

NICK'S LIVING ROOM - STATEN ISLAND - MORNING

There isn't a stick of furniture, but that's not the half

of it. In the middle of the room is a motorcycle on a

centerstand. A drop cloth is spread around it, tools

neatly aligned. It's a Harley -- but this one is in

perfect condition.

A phone RINGS insistently from off screen, then stops.

NICK (O.S.)

Yeah... sure, sure I'll be down.

Nick walks in, naked. Every muscle aches. One side of

his face is completely swollen. He has a band-aid over

his right eye; some blood caked on his earlobe. He stops

to twist a spark plug in with a ratchet, but it snaps.

CUT TO:

INT. EIGHT - THREE PRECINCT - DAY

CAPT. OLIVER, early forties, walks between Charlie and

Nick as they head toward the Medical Examiner's room.

Oliver doesn't face Nick as he speaks; no love lost

between these two.

OLIVER

How big a package we talking about?

NICK

(holding up his

hands)

This by this...

OLIVER

Dope?

NICK

Not in that company.

OLIVER

The old man was a Japanese paper

manufacturer. Hotel room and rental

car were full of it.

CHARLIE

Full of what?

OLIVER

(annoyed)

Art and stationary paper. Cavello

had five hundred thousand in his

attache case.

Nick rubs the back of his neck in obvious pain.

OLIVER

One guy do all the damage?

NICK

Yeah.

OLIVER

Thought you knew your way around

dark alleys, detective.

Oliver goes through the swinging doors into the Examiner's

room. Charlie shoots Nick a look. Nick let's it slide.

INT. MEDICAL EXAMINATION ROOM

A TECHIE is showing the night's harvest to Charlie, Nick

and Oliver. They're standing over the body of the middle-

aged Japanese man.

TECHIE

... The old man's suit was Japanese.

The hitter's was Saville row. No

I.D. We're doing a peel now.

AT ANOTHER TABLE

Another techie is carefully removing the skin from Number

Two's fingertips.

Charlie shuts his eyes and turns away, trying not to throw

up.

TECHIE

There's something you got to see.

He whips back the sheet, the body is nude. A towel covers

the genitals. Except for the feet, hands, neck, and face,

the body is covered with elaborate tattoos: flowers and

blood, dragons and snakes.

TECHIE

What's wrong with this picture?

CHARLIE

(nervously)

I got a tattoo. Birdie on the ball.

We all got them when we finished

basic at Camp Lejune.

NICK

Charlie.

TECHIE

I thought you guys were trained

observers?

They look up surprised. The techie picks up a hand. The

third and forth fingers have been neatly amputated.

TECHIE

Eight fingers.

(ironically)

Hey, it was a trick question.

CUT TO:

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM

ABOLOFIA is seated in chair next to his LAWYER. Nick,

Oliver, and a third detective are grilling him.

ABOLOFIA

He was with a friend, sure. I shake

hands with the guy and a minute

later he's bleeding all over my

socks.

ATTORNEY

Will that do officers? My client

has had a terrible shock.

NICK

Yeah, he's not used to seeing other

people do the killing.

ATTORNEY

I won't tolerate harassment!

OLIVER

What about the package?

ATTORNEY

We know nothing about it.

Silence. Abolofia looks at Nick, then at Oliver.

ABOLOFIA

Hard to believe a trained police

officer could let this kind of thing

happen right in front of his face.

NICK

I did make a mistake. I let the

wrong guy get hit.

Abolofia doesn't blink an eye, goes for the jugular.

ABOLOFIA

Cheer up, Nick. I'm sure it's

easier to pick a dead man's pocket.

Nick springs from his feet. Oliver grabs Nick before he

can get close to Abolofia.

ATTORNEY

That's it, we're through!

CUT TO:

KOBO

the Japanese killer who smashed in Nick's face last night.

He's sitting in an interrogation room an hour later with a

DETECTIVE and a JAPANESE TRANSLATOR. He won't talk.

OBSERVATION ROOM

Nick and Oliver watching through the glass.

OLIVER

Doesn't speak a word of English.

And he won't speak Japanese either.

No papers. The Japanese embassy is

very interested.

NICK

Why?

OLIVER

He's wanted in Japan. They want him

first. Then we can have him.

NICK

What?

Oliver nods. That's the way it is.

ON KOBO

he turns and looks at Nick. He can't possibly see him

through the one way glass but he knows Nick's there.

ON NICK

looking at him.

ON KOBO

making a cutting mark across his forehead, right where

Nick's bandage is. It's uncanny.

CUT TO:

INT. OLIVER'S OFFICE - LATER

Nick is sitting in front of Oliver's desk. The sunlight

makes him wince; wincing makes his face hurt.

OLIVER

Japanese embassy talks to state

department. State talks to police

plaza. They to me and me to you.

Shit rolls down hill.

Oliver drops a file folder on the desk. Nick opens it:

petty cash, vouchers and plane tickets.

OLIVER

You and Charlie are taking the Jap

home, tonight.

NICK

What...? What if I say no?

OLIVER

Check your gun before you leave.

They're not allowed in Japan. It's

a nice, safe country.

NICK

Why me?

OLIVER

They said send a detective if I

could spare one.

(then)

I can always spare you.

Nick bridles at the insult. Oliver's had a hard-on for

Nick for years, and Nick's tired of it.

NICK

(soft)

You got something to say to me,

Captain?

Oliver doesn't want to get into it.

OLIVER

Yeah. Have a wonderful flight.

CUT TO:

THE ORANGE SUN

on the tail of a Japan Airlines 747. A driving rain

storm. The plane taxies down the runway and disappears

into the black rain.

INT. AIRLINER

Kobo, handcuffed and shackled, is in the center seat.

Nick and Charlie sit on either side. Charlie is holding

"Bachelors Japan" in one hand. Nick's in a sour mood.

CHARLIE

... Nick, you're the one that's

always saying you never go anywhere.

NICK

I was thinking the Poconos, Charlie.

Maybe Vegas.

CHARLIE

What are you missing? Riding your

motorcycle to the nurse's house.

That shit is sadder than Ethiopia.

NICK

Beats forty hours on a plane.

CHARLIE

They say we got to turn around and

come right back. That's what they

say. I got a plan.

The last thing Nick wants to hear -- too late.

CHARLIE

I call, right? I say I got the

dreaded thirty six-hour Asian shits

from some raw clam and we stretch it

into three days. You and I become a

driving force on the local Geisha

scene.

NICK

Not a prayer.

CHARLIE

(grinning)

Hey, come on, big guy like you, cop

from New York. You're gonna be the

biggest thing to hit town since

Godzilla.

Nick can't help but smile at this kid. Charlie looks down

at the guide book.

CHARLIE

Says here, it's very impolite to

touch someone while you're talking

to them...

(nudges Kobo)

Guess that means you can't talk and

screw at the same time, huh, hotdog?

What's the matter, no -- speaky-the-

language? Understand this: You

will never ever fuck with my partner

again.

Nothing from Kobo who is looking straight ahead. He

doesn't understand.

NICK

Shut-up, Charlie.

A beat, then Charlie reads a Japanese phrase from the

book. A slight facial response from Kobo. Charlie tries

it again. This time Kobo laughs openly.

NICK

What'd you say?

CHARLIE

Where is the subway station, please.

Kobo keeps laughing; it's obviously not what Charlie said.

NICK

Get a new book.

CUT TO:

INT. AIRLINER - LATER

The cabin is now darkened. Kobo and Nick are asleep. Not

Charlie, he's still at his book, and listening to U2 on

his Walkman. Nick rolls over and opens his eyes to see

Charlie watching him. He shuts them hoping to avoid talk.

Too late.

CHARLIE

Nick... You up?

NICK

No.

Charlie removes his headphones.

CHARLIE

Nick, have I been a good partner?

NICK

Number five with a bullet.

Nick shuts his eyes.

CHARLIE

I just want you to know... I mean

anybody who says you ever took has

got to deal with me.

NICK

Go to sleep, Charlie.

CHARLIE

You didn't take, did you...? You

hear things.

Nick opens his eyes.

NICK

I worked the three nine in Queens,

Charlie.

CHARLIE

(surprised)

I didn't know.

NICK

The lieutenant was on the pad along

with the rest of the squad. I was

new, didn't know shit. When the

feathers flew, I got called in front

of the special prosecutor. It's on

the top of my personnel file. They

think I'm dirty or I cut a deal.

Doesn't leave you with a lot of

friends either way.

Nick shuts his eyes.

NICK

I might as well have done something.

I've been paying for it every

goddamn day since I got

transferred...

HOLD on Nick then...

CUT TO:

INT. NARITA AIRPORT - JAPAN - DAY

Nick and Charlie, with Kobo between them, are a strange

sight in a sea of Japanese faces. Kobo's hands are cuffed

behind his back. Nick also has Kobo cuffed to his wrist.

The cops are rumpled, exhausted, showing two days of

stubble. Kobo looks sharp and wide awake.

A pair of attractive teenage girls walks past them.

CHARLIE

Whoa. Nick, we're in paradise.

A PAIR

of white gloved hands belonging to a Tokyo police officer

holds up a small, hand letter sign that says:

CONKLIN/SKLOARIS. The man holding the sign is NAGASHIMA.

Two other police officers in spotless tan uniforms stand

at his side.

Nick, holding Kobo by his arm, steps up to the police and

show his I.D. Nagashima bows.

NAGASHIMA

Officers Conklin and -- and...

(he can't say

Charlie's name)

... gentlemen, welcome. I am

assistant inspector Nagashima.

They show their I.D.

NICK

You going to take this crap off our

hands?

NAGASHIMA

(confused)

Crap...? Oh, the prisoner. Yes.

He barks some orders to the officers who immediately take

Kobo by the arms and put cuffs on him. Nick unfastens

his cuff when they're through.

In contrast to Nagashima's gentility, the cops are rough

with the prisoner.

CHARLIE

(extends his hand)

Charlie. Kon-ich-iwa.

Nagashima shakes his hand. Bows. Charlie bows back.

Nick wouldn't bow if his life depended on it. Nagashima

hands Nick an official looking document.

NAGASHIMA

If you will please give this to the

customs inspector he will expidate

-- expedite you. We have a car and

a driver outside.

NICK

Right.

CHARLIE

(bows)

Arigato.

Nick grabs Charlie by the arm and starts for the customs

line.

NICK

Givin' you a book is like givin' a

baby a gun.

CHARLIE

Hey, when in Rome --

NICK

In Rome, I'll bow.

CUT TO:

INT. CUSTOMS BOOTH - DAY

NICK and CHARLIE make their way through the crowd toward

the head of a long line. They dump their bags on the

counter. The INSPECTOR, furious that they have taken cuts

in line, barks at them in Japanese.

NICK

Inspector Nagashima told me to give

you this.

He hands the Inspector the official looking document. The

Inspector scans the paper. Hands it back to them.

INSPECTOR

(broken English)

You must get in line behind the

rest.

NICK

We're cops. Pol-ice-men.

The Inspector signals a nearby POLICEMAN. The Inspector

says something in Japanese. Hands the policeman the

document. The policeman shakes his head, amused, points

to the end of the line.

NICK

Fellas, get serious.

From off screen someone CALLS OUT:

MAN (O.S.)

Nick!

Nick and Charlie turn to see KOBO, their prisoner,

standing on the other side of the thick plastic divider.

The handcuffs are off. The three alleged 'policemen' are

heading out the door behind him. It was a set-up: Nick

and Charlie have been had.

KOBO

(perfect English)

Thanks for the ride, detective.

He slowly backs away from the glass as if he had all the

time in the world, finally disappearing in the crowd.

CUT TO:

NICK AND CHARLIE

trying to shove past the customs inspectors who are

wrestling them aside.

NICK

Cops! He's our prisoner!

Two more policemen arrive. Nick and Charlie are thrown up

against the wall. Out come the cuffs. SNAP!

NICK

What's going on? We're the good

guys!

CUT TO:

INT. TOKYO POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY

Fifty identical desks. Fifty identical phones. Fifty

identically dressed men in white shirts and ties working

under the fluorescent lights of this large open room.

We GLIDE PAST the rows of desk to find INSPECTOR OHASHI,

mid forties, sitting behind a perfectly arranged desk.

Ohashi prides himself on order.

Nick and Charlie are standing in front of him.

NICK

Get me something like an Identi-Kit

and I'll give you a description.

Ohashi remains poker faced. He continues to arrange

papers and apply his hanko (personal seal) to the bottom

of a stack of official papers.

CHARLIE

There must be some witnesses from

the airport?

Still nothing from the good inspector.

NICK

What is it, tea time?

Still nothing from Ohashi. Finally:

OHASHI

(quiet rage)

You lost a man we wanted for some

time. It was very incompetent on

your part, officer.

NICK

Incompetent is letting people waltz

through a secure area wearing your

uniforms, carrying official

documents.

Ohashi bows slightly, we're not sure why.

NICK

I want a gun.

OHASHI

It is not allowed.

NICK

We're police officers.

OHASHI

You're foreigners.

NICK

Work with me. I want your best

detective.

Pause. Ohashi returns to his papers. Nick can't believe

it.

NICK

Hey, inspector, I don't intend to

take the rap for this.

OHASHI

(not looking up)

Do you know what this is?

Ohashi holds up the document that was handed to Nick at

the airport.

OHASHI

It's a laundry list. Go home,

detective.

Nick studies him for a beat, then turns away. To Charlie:

NICK

Let's go.

CHARLIE

Nick, we can't just --

NICK

I said let's go, Charlie.

Reluctantly they head towards the door, passing long rows

of bureaucrats, telephones ringing off the hook. Nick

stops at the door, spots a fuse box nearby. He glances

back to make sure no one is looking.

Nick pulls out his handcuffs. Charlie can't figure out

what the hell he's doing. Nick attaches one cuff to the

main lever then yanks it down.

The lights go out. The fan's stop; so do the typewriters;

so does the air conditioning. Dead silence.

Nick attaches the other cuff to a pipe, snaps it shut.

Now it's impossible to left the main lever.

From the far end of the room:

OHASHI

What are you doing?!

Nick drops the key down the water fountain drain.

NICK

Your best detective, Ohashi.

CUT TO:

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Nick and Charlie cross the street. Charlie's trying to

read the name from the piece of paper Ohashi has given

them.

CHARLIE

... Detective Ich-iro Matsu-moto.

Hey, we're getting Mr. Moto on our

side.

NICK

Let's grab some food.

CHARLIE

First decent idea you've had.

Charlie pulls out his 'Footloose in Tokyo" book, flips

through the pages.

CHARLIE

Food... Food, here we go. Tokyo

offers a wide variety of food. It's

best to sample the local

specialties, including sashaimi,

soba, and world renown Kobe beef...

Nick goes into a restaurant. Charlie drops the book,

disgusted with Nick's choice. Charlie reluctantly follows

him in. REVEAL it's a Shakey's Pizza restaurant.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSING PROJECT - SHIN OKUBO - DAY

Rows of post-modern buildings of odd shaped windows and

brightly painted concrete walls. Nick and Charlie are

searching for the Japanese cop's building. They can't

speak the language; they can't read the signs; and half

the buildings don't have numbers. It's a nightmare.

CHARLIE

This should be it...

NICK

You said that in the last two

places.

Charlie holds out the paper to a passing man.

CHARLIE

Kore? Doku? Kore doku?

The man gestures toward the building Charlie was pointing

to.

NICK

Okay, you were right.

Charlie grins, satisfied.

INT. HOUSING DEVELOPMENT - CORRIDOR - DAY

The boys are knocking on a door. Nick turns the handle.

It's unlocked.

THE APARTMENT

A four tatami room. An unholy mess: Food packages, beer

bottles, stacks of papers and file folders. Framed

pictures of long dead relatives hang on the wall.

CHARLIE

This the right place?

NICK

I hope not.

A WOMAN now appears at the door. Middle aged, wizened

face, in a full traditional Kimono.

CHARLIE

Konichiwa. Ichiro Matsumoto?

The woman babbles bird-like in rapid Japanese. She bows.

They're in the right place.

CUT TO:

EXT. SIDE STREET - MINIMAI MURAMATSU - NIGHT

The jammed streets are barely wide enough to get a

motorcycle down. It's a bad neighborhood, one of the

poorest in Tokyo.

We spot the small kimono clad WOMAN, clip-clopping on

wooden geta, leading Nick and Charlie through this

labyrinth.

CHARLIE

(looking around)

Getting very weird.

NICK

I'd feel better if we had some heat.

CHARLIE

Maybe we should bail?

Seeing they've stopped, the woman gestures for them to

hurry up, then disappears around the corner.

NICK

(looking at the maze

of streets)

Think we could find our way back?

CUT TO:

A GARISH PINK SIGN - PINK SARON BAR

A poor man's idea of a bar. The woman points inside,

chirps away in Japanese, bows, then hurries off leaving

Nick and Charlie on their own.

INSIDE PINK SARON

Nick and Charlie disappear into darkness as the woven

flaps shut behind them. A vintage wurlitzer juke box

glows across the room. An Enka plays. (Haunting Japanese

blues.)

MAN'S VOICE (FROM THE DARKNESS)

Big shots from New York. I like

your style!

ICHIRO MATSUMOTO steps into a pool of light just inches

from them. He is a short overweight man looking every

minute of his fifty-five years. His white short sleeve

shirt is too tight; his narrow tie spotted in the middle;

his collar soaked in sweat. He's not drunk yet, but he's

been at it a while. Call him Ich.

ICH

(bowing)

Detective Ichiro Matsumoto. I'm the

man you're looking for.

This is Ohashi's best man? Well, at least he speaks

English.

ICH

The man you are looking for, Kobo,

was a member of the Samaguchi-gummi.

A Yakuza.

Ich nods, offers them what's left of his Sapphoro beer.

They shake their heads. Ich finishes it.

NICK

Where do we start looking for this

guy?

ICH

Where would you look for the mafia?

CHARLIE

The back room at Lombardi's after

the Columbus Day Parade. Under the

bed. In the mayor's office.

Everywhere.

Ich heads for the door without saying a word.

NICK

Where're you going, Ichiro?

ICH

(stops, faces them)

The mayor's office, under the bed,

the back room at Lombardi's.

(tucking in his

shirt tail)

And call me Ich.

CUT TO:

INT. ICHIBANKAN BAR BUILDING - KABUKI CHO - NIGHT

Imagine an ultra modern indoor shopping mall, except there

aren't any stores. The only product sold here is

pleasure: Bars, hostess clubs, Turkish baths. A post-

modern red light district with music piped in and

automated doormen.

INT. LAS VEGAS WELCOME CLUB

Hip, younger Japanese are wedged together at the long

chrome bar. The GUYS sport leather jackets and Raybans.

The GIRLS are decked out in fifties American party dresses

and short cropped hair. Jerry Lee Lewis wails in the

background.

Nick, Ich and Charlie are at one end of the long bar. Ich

is drinking them both under the table.

ICH

(singing)

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of

fire."

(raising glass for

toast)

To the killer. Jerry Lee Lewis.

NICK

(checking his watch)

Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, Dinky Doo

And The Don't's. Let's book,

Charlie. If he starts on Motown,

we'll be here all night.

ICH

No, this is the place for the young

Yakuza.

NICK

That's what you said in the last

three piss pots.

Ich sets down his drink, pours more sake for Nick and

Charlie then for himself. He's having a great time.

ICH

I love you people. The music, the

clothes, the movies... Japanese

respect only what is Japanese.

Nick glances at Charlie.

NICK

It's incredible. Hit him or

something.

CHARLIE

I don't think he'd feel it.

ICH

(beginning to slur

his words)

Americans change everything. When I

was young the city was wood and

paper... I was ten when the bombers

came. I lived underground for three

days. When I came up, the city was

gone... A ball of fire.

Nick gets to his feet. Ich grabs him by the arm, stopping

him.

ICH

It began to rain, Nick. You know

what color the rain was?

Ich doesn't give him a chance to answer.

ICH

Black... It was black from the ash.

Very impressive. You Americans, you

could make black rain.

Ich polishes off his drink. An awkward silence. Charlie,

wanting to lighten the mood --

CHARLIE

(leaning close)

Say Ich, between friends, where can

I grab some squish around here?

Nick sighs, digs in his pocket for some yen for the bill.

ICH

Squid?

CHARLIE

Pussy, ass, soft personnel.

Ich looks up to see a picturesque, blood-haired American

WOMEN in a tight silk blouse and skirt. She works here

and has obviously heard Charlie.

ICH

Ah, Joyce...

(in Japanese)

How are you tonight?

JOYCE

(in Japanese)

Hello, Ich. Johnny Walker?

Ich nods. Joyce's Japanese is impeccable. She's a part-

time bartender, translator, model. One of Japan's western

wanderers. She's sliding past thirty, but only her weary

eyes give it away. She is about to pour Ich another

drink.

NICK

Don't give him any more.

JOYCE

He gets as much as he wants.

Charlie extends his hand to Joyce. She ignores it.

CHARLIE

Hello hello, Charlie Skloaris. New

York City.

She refills Ich's glass.

CHARLIE

My partner and I are cops.

(lowering his voice)

We're on a very big assignment here.

(nothing from Joyce)

When do you get off?

JOYCE

Right when you're being tucked into

bed.

Cold.

ICH

You should be nicer to my American

friends, Joyce.

JOYCE

They wouldn't appreciate it, Ich.

Trust me.

She says something in Japanese to Ich as she eyes the

cops. Then, she walks off.

ICH

Joyce can be nice.

CHARLIE

(brightening)

What'd she say?

ICH

(big smile)

That I should let you pay for the

drinks.

(raising his glass)

Kampai.

CUT TO:

EXT. ICHIBANKAN BAR BUILDING - NIGHT

Charlie and Nick are trying to help a besotted Ich find a

taxi, but no one will take him. Ich is shouting half

English, half Japanese phrases.

ICH

... We got to keep looking. Track

him down! Great balls of fire!

NICK

(frustrated, to a

cabbie)

What's the problem here?

The cabbie ignores them.

WOMAN (O.S.)

You don't speak the language. I'll

drop him off.

They turn to see Joyce standing behind them.

ICH

Ah, Joyce...

The rest is slurred Japanese. Joyce speaks to a cabbie in

Japanese. The rear door swings open. She helps Ich in.

Joyce climbs in.

ICH

(out the window)

See you tomorrow!

The taxi pulls away. Nick and Charlie watch it go.

NICK

Not a prayer.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - FOUR A.M.

An early morning wind jostles the red paper lantern and

plucks at the tails of dragon-like banners hanging outside

the shops. Nick and Charlie are walking down this narrow

sidestreet on the way back to their hotel.

CHARLIE

... He's a sorry old guy, but I like

him.

NICK

He couldn't find his ass with both

hands.

A brand new Kawasaki 1000 motorcycle with windshield and

full farings gleams under a street light.

CHARLIE

Now that's the kind of motorcycle I

want to see you on.

NICK

(muttering)

Sure, a rice burning crotch

rocket...

CHARLIE

Nick, how we gonna bag this guy

without any help? Maybe I should

work on that girl Joyce, she speaks

the language.

Nick glances over at his partner, smiles. But before he

can respond --

The DULL ROAR of a half dozen motorcycles in the distance

breaks the pre-dawn stillness.

TWENTY BOSOZOKU (BIKERS)

on their multi-cylinder high tech street bombers, creep

around the corner and slowly ride toward Nick and Charlie.

We get a better look at them: turbo punk Elvis-samurai

hybrids -- some wearing a slipper under their headbands,

courtesy of their girlfriends; some in leopard skin pants.

And tattoos...

They head straight for Nick and Charlie, then, at the last

moment, split and float away IN SLOW MOTION, as if the

cops didn't exist.

Suddenly, the street is empty again. Silent except for

the SOUND of the wind beating against paper lanterns,

rustling the wind chimes...

Hold on Nick and Charlie standing in the middle of the

street, realizing just how far away from home they are.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. HOTEL - THE NEXT MORNING

A rocket shaped building: a mixture of Dutch Gable and

Japanese Minka roof. The mid-day sun beats down on a

particular room.

INT. HOTEL ROOM

Nick and Charlie are sacked out. They never bothered to

pull the curtains. THE SOUND OF KNOCKING at the door.

ICH (O.S.)

Nick!

NICK

Give us a break...

ICH (O.S.)

It's Ichiro. Ich.

NICK

Leave the rice cake outside and go

home!

But Ich persists.

AT THE DOOR

As Nick opens up. Ich bows. He's now clean shaven and

has put on a clean shirt.

ICH

There's been a murder. Yakuza. You

should come.

CUT TO:

INT. PRINTING PLANT - DAY

The murder scene. NO SOUND.

A SERIES OF SHOTS:

A BODY FROM THE WAIST DOWN in the claws of six foot

working robotic. The tattooed covered legs swing back and

forth like a pendulum.

THE TORSO is wedged in between two enormous printing

rollers.

THE HEAD is resting in the middle of a conveyer belt.

It's been drenched in black printer's ink which has begun

to congeal.

WE SLOWLY TRACK PAST Ich, Charlie, and Nick, watching.

Charlie has the dry heaves.

REAL SOUND as we reveal the full crime scene. Instead of

the usual cigar smoke, camera flashes and radio chatter,

there is order a