Prodigal Son by efw18411

VIEWS: 53 PAGES: 117

									PRODIGAL SON
FADE IN:


EXT. APARTMENT (YEMEN) - DAY

A squat apartment building on a bustling street in the
coastal city of Al-Mukallah, Yemen.

Overhead, what looks like a remote controlled airplane
floats in the sky. From the bottom, a small camera seeks
out its target.

ZOOM

Frame by frame - drapes open on an apartment window.

A face appears - dark and bearded.


INT. APARTMENT (YEMEN) - CONTINUOUS

ALI HASSAN AL-SALAMEH, a dark skinned, heavy eyed,
bearded fundamentalist, peers through the closed drapes
out onto the streets.

A small plume of smoke in the sky attracts his attention.
His eyes widen as he realizes the RCA is actually a
Hellfire drone - and the plume, the exhaust of a missile.

His lips open to scream “Allah Akbar” -

- but the missile beats him to the punch.

                                                  CUT TO:


INT. PENTAGON HALLWAY - EVENING

A young MAJOR strides down a white tiled hallway, a thin
file in one hand, and a very relieved look on his face.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

A PHOTOGRAPH

Of ALI HASSAN AL-SALAMEH, captured in a moment of candor
on some Arab street.

AL-SALAMEH sits at the top of a pyramid of similar
pictures that occupy the place of honor on one wall of an
otherwise airless space somewhere deep in the bowels of
the Pentagon. Dozens of the photos have been crossed out,
X’d with a thick red marker.

But AL-SALAMEH still lives.
                                                        2.


And GENERAL TOM KITTLES, a hard-eyed Texan with 53 years
on his body and one star on his collar, can’t take his
eyes off his target.

The rest of the office is not so much a personal space as
it is an organized war room of computers and satellite
imagery.

The only eccentricity is an ornate, frilly, well used
espresso machine on top of a small, bar refrigerator.

No personal effects are anywhere to be found - no flags,
no combat photographs, no pictures of men in uniform. No
happy warriors.

Just the dead, and those about to join them.

                        MAJOR
          General Kittles.

                        KITTLES
               (laconic drawl)
          Is he dead?

The MAJOR takes a photograph out of the file. ALI HASSAN,
amidst a pile of rubble, his body broken.

                        MAJOR
          Confirmed, Sir.

KITTLES takes a red Sharpie off his desk and crosses off
the face of Ali Hassan Al-Salameh.

                        KITTLES
               (to picture)
          May your 72 virgins all have
          syphilis, your murdering son of a
          bitch.

KITTLES takes a step back, takes a breath. Takes in the
rest of the pyramid.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
               (pointed)
          Anyone pick up an Echo?

                        MAJOR
          No, sir.

KITTLES lips tense in frustration.

                        KITTLES
          Keep listening.
                                                        3.



EXT. FARM, RURAL MICHIGAN - EVENING

The strong, wide back of Retired Colonel JOHN MARTIN (55)
SINCLAIR, “Sink” to his friends. Imposing and martial,
the kind of man you instinctively follow.

He stands at attention in full dress uniform, laden with
Unit patches, Special Forces Designations, medals and
ribbons, speaking to his hastily assembled squad.

                        SINK
               (lecturing)
          Gentleman.

Six TEN-YEAR OLD BOYS in camouflage uniforms stand at
attention.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Like the great warriors of decades
          past, when the call to war was
          sounded, the brave stood forth to
          answer. You are the brave,
          gentlemen. You have answered that
          call.

HAL LOWELL, mid-50’s, another ex-soldier in dress uniform
with Sergeant’s bars, balances himself on crutches to
keep a very heavily bandaged foot out off the mud.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          YOU, gentleman, are volunteers!
          You have CHOSEN to accept danger,
          CHOSEN to ignore risk...
               (points to HAL)
          ...CHOSEN to avenge this innocent,
          defenseless victim with the mighty
          hand of pre-pubescent terror.

HAL rolls his eyes and spits. The BOYS stifle laughter.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Now, this mission will not be
          without its perils, gentlemen.
          Your enemy is older than you. He
          is bigger than you. He is stronger
          than you. He has even been known
          to shave. And if you are captured,
          well...it is certain that his
          vengeance will be inflicted upon
          you before our vengeance can be
          returned upon him.
                                                      4.


                        HAL
          Jesus fucking Christ, Sink, tell
          `em to go egg the fucker’s car
          already!

The BOYS laugh. SINK jumps on them like a Drill Sergeant
at Boot Camp.

                        SINK
          Why are you laughing, Sergeant!

                         SERGEANT
          Sir, there’s no excuse for my
          laughing, sir!

                        SINK
          Did I say something funny?

                        SERGEANT
          Sir, the Colonel said nothing
          funny, sir!

                        SINK
          Is your squad prepared and ready
          for battle?

                        SERGEANT
          Sir, the squad is prepared and
          ready for battle, sir!

                        SINK
          Present arms, Sergeant.

                        SERGEANT
          Sir, yes, sir! Squad! Present
          Arms!

The BOYS immediately hold out their weapons. A carton of
eggs, a box of rotten tomatoes, sugar and a funnel. One
boy holds a box full of balloons. SINK catches a whiff.

                        SINK
          And just what are you armed with,
          soldier?

                        BOY
          Sir, these are bleach bombs, sir!
          My dad says they’ll wreak havoc on
          the primer coat. Sir!

                        SINK
          That they will, son. That they
          will.

SINK makes one last inspection of the line.
                                                      5.


                        SINK (CONT’D)
          It’s time, Gentleman. May God be
          with you. And May God Bless the
          United States of America.

SINK nods at HAL.

                        HAL
          Sergeant, you are GO for Operation
          Just Fury.

                        SERGEANT
          Sir, yes, sir! Squad - move out!

The boys go running toward a station wagon idling by the
road.

                        HAL
          Shit, sir, you’d talked like that
          in the jungle, we’d never have
          gotten around to the war.

SINK looks at HAL with a sly smile spreading across his
face.

                        SINK
          Flaming bag of shit on the porch?

                        HAL
               (glares)
          I got first degree burns here,
          sir. Little prick must have mixed
          in some Sterno.

                        SINK
          Country napalm. Inventive.

HAL turns, starts hobbling toward SINK’s SUV.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Did Lark actually ring your
          doorbell, or did you just smell
          the fumes and go running?

                        HAL
          Kiss my ass, sir.

HAL manages to light a cigarette with a match and tosses
it into the field. It hits a cow-chip and bursts into
flames. SINK lets loose a laugh.

                        HAL (CONT’D)
          I hate that fucking kid.
                                                         6.



I/E. KENT’S TRUCK, THE VETERAN’S BAR - NIGHT

A hole in the wall bar off a dirt country road. A huge
American flag flies overhead. The parking lot is full of
rural, working class vehicles, Jeeps, Trucks and Vans,
all boasting a motley collection of bumper stickers
extolling God, gun-owners and veterans.

CHARLES KENT (55), and his son TYLER (23), sit in the
front cab of a pick-up truck, staring at the door of the
bar, each preparing himself to go in. Both wear dress
uniforms with sergeant’s bars, but from two different
eras. A SILVER STAR is pinned to TYLER’s chest. A cane
lies on the floor next to his seat.

                        TYLER
          Not sure I belong in there.

CHARLES squeezes his shoulder.

                        CHARLES
          Second proudest moment of my life
          was the first time I walked you
          into that bar, son. This is the
          first.

Both men open their doors. TYLER slowly lowers his legs
to the ground, and uses the cane to help him walk on a
mangled right leg.


INT. VETERAN’S BAR - MOMENTS LATER

CHARLES holds open the door for his son. TYLER limps in,
sees all the men of the town waiting for him.

Every one wears a dress uniform from the different
services - Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines, all with
their medals and honors displayed.

SINK, the ranking officer, steps to the front. Nods at
HAL, the ranking enlisted man.

                        HAL
          Squad! Atten-hut!

As one, SINK and the men of the town salute TYLER KENT.

TYLER switches the cane to his left hand to return the
salute. SINK steps forward and shakes the younger man’s
hand.

                        SINK
          Well done, Sergeant Kent.
                                                         7.


One by one, each man shakes TYLER’s hand. SINK slides
over to CHARLES, beaming with pride at his son.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          He doing all right?

                           CHARLES
          Never better.

But SINK knows different, can see something in TYLER’s
eyes, something sad, something missing.

Last in line, HAL hobbles up to shake TYLER’s hand.

                        HAL
          Welcome home, son.

                        TYLER
          Thank you, sir. What happened to
          your foot?

HAL’s smile disappears.

                        MAN 1
          Fell for the flaming bag of shit
          on the porch trick again!

The MEN laugh. TYLER stifles a chuckle.

                        HAL
          I outrank you, Sergeant.

                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.
               (serious)
          How bad’s the burn?

                           HAL
          Second degree.

                        SINK
          Was first degree an hour ago.

                        HAL
          Hurts more now.

                        TYLER
          You know, they probably mixed in
          some Sterno. The campfire gel?

HAL throws SINK a look that says, “see?”

                        TYLER (CONT’D)
          Old trick Jordie came up with.
          Makes it burn hotter, burn twice
          as long.
                                                         8.


TYLER realizes he’s fallen into a black hole of silence -
it dawns on him what he just said, who he just mentioned -
and remembers how off limits the subject of SINK’s son
remains.

                        SINK
          Sergeant Kent. It’s time you do
          what you came here to do.

                          MAN 1
          Here, here!

TYLER hobbles over to a far wall, where three collages of
photographs depict men in uniform.

The first, and smallest, are the men of the town who are
IN the service.

The second, and middle sized group, is of the men who
DIED in the service.

And the third group are the men who made it OUT of the
service - alive.

TYLER finds his picture from the first collage, and pulls
it off the wall. He slides a few steps to his right,
stopping in front of the dead. Takes a step back, stands
and salutes.

And the men salute with him.

And finally, slides over to the final group, finds a
place on the wall, and places himself with the survivors.

                        SINK
          Raise your glasses, gentlemen. To
          all our boys serving our nation,
          praying at night to come home. To
          all our proud soldiers who gave
          the ultimate sacrifice and will
          never come home. But most of all,
          to Staff Sergeant Tyler Kent -
          Welcome Home!

                          CROWD
          Welcome home!

Everyone drinks.


INT. VETERAN’S BAR - NIGHT

The crowd has thinned some. TYLER sits at a table loaded
with empty glasses and bottles, absently rubbing at his
right leg, and telling his story.
                                                      9.


                        TYLER
          Platoon Sergeant was riding lead
          when the IED nailed the first
          Humvee. Doubt the poor bastards
          ever knew what hit him, you know?
          It was just BOOM! - and then they
          weren’t there anymore. Second
          Humvee caught part of the blast,
          spun off the road.

                        MAN 2
          Where were you?

                        TYLER
          Third Humvee, riding shotgun. So
          we stopped, formed our perimeter,
          tried to recover out wounded, pick
          up our dead and get the hell out
          of there, right? But then we start
          taking fire, and we realize, we’re
          stuck in a crossfire.

                        HAL
          Classic ambush.

TYLER stares into the faces of the older men - they know
what he means, know the story even as he’s telling it.

                        TYLER
          So we find cover best we can,
          return fire - then out of the blue
          our asshole Second Lieutenant
          starts yelling on the radio that
          we gotta pull back...
               (to himself)
          ...that dumb motherfucker.

                        MAN 3
          Officers.
               (to SINK)
          Present company excluded, sir.

                        TYLER
          So I get on the radio and tell
          him, we got wounded ten feet in
          front of us that we can’t quite
          get to and he needs to send up a
          squad to give us a hand, and he
          says...he says...he says, “pull
          your men back, Sergeant.
                                               10.
                        TYLER(CONT'D)
          We’ll regroup and come back for
          the wounded.” And I’m watching PFC
          Little try to plug his own chest
          wound, PFC Rodriquez’s got
          shrapnel in his back and can’t
          move, and this - OFFICER - is
          telling me to leave my own guys
          and run back to Momma.

                        MAN 4
          Jesus fucking Christ.

                        MAN 3
          No balls, man. No wonder we’re
          losing.

That’s a sore subject.

                        MAN 1
          We ain’t losing shit.

                        MAN 3
          I know, I’m just saying -

                        MAN 1
          - I’m just saying, we ain’t losing
          shit!

                         SINK
          Gentlemen.

His tone ends the argument.

                        CHARLES
          Tyler. Tell the men what you said.

TYLER smiles, shy with pride.

                        TYLER
          I got on that radio, and I said,
          “LT, you pull back and go fuck
          yourself, I’ll stay here with my
          men. You go find your balls, then
          you come back and get us.”

                         HAL
          Bet they didn’t put that down on
          your citation.

The men all laugh.

                        MAN 2
          He ever come back?

                        TYLER
          Four hours and six bullet wounds
          later.
                                                       11.


TYLER pulls up his pants leg to show a mangled, scar
laden, atrophied right calf.

                        TYLER (CONT’D)
          Leg was exposed. Sniper chopped me
          down like a Christmas tree.

TYLER shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

                        SINK
          Those other boys make it?

                        TYLER
          Little bled out. Rodriquez, he
          made it. Paralyzed for life, but
          he made it.

TYLER looks away, hiding tears, hiding guilt. SINK
stands, waits for TYLER to meet his eyes.

                        SINK
          Private Rodriquez has sixty more
          years cause of you. And you got
          that pretty little star on chest.
          I’d say that’s a pretty fair
          trade, wouldn’t you?

The men murmur their agreement.

                        TYLER
          He got a wheelchair, sir. I got a
          limp. You tell me, sir. How fair
          is that?


EXT. VETERAN’S BAR - NIGHT

TYLER leans against the brick wall of the bar, smoking a
cigarette, trying to keep to himself.

SINK walks outside, looking for him.

                        TYLER
               (holds up smoke)
          Still hiding this from the old
          man. Crazy, huh?

                        SINK
          You earned that smoke.

SINK leans against the wall, watching the younger man,
waiting him out.

                        TYLER
          You ever think about going back
          in?
                                                     12.


SINK smiles bitterly.

                        SINK
          Some things just aren’t worth
          thinking about.

                        TYLER
          Like being crippled?

                        SINK
          Like being alone. You know why we
          love the Army? We always HAVE the
          army. When Helen found out about
          the cancer, I realized we’d been
          married for thirty years, and
          she’d been alone for twenty five
          of them. And in all that time, I’d
          never once been alone, Tyler, not
          even one day. Cause I always had
          the Army. And I always knew that
          when I died, the Army would be
          there for me. But Helen didn’t
          have the Army, Ty. She only had
          me. And her dying alone? That
          wasn’t gonna happen. So I left the
          Army. And I was there for her when
          she died. And now I’m alone. And
          that’s just the way things are.
          And its just not worth thinking
          about.

TYLER pulls on his cigarette, thinking about that.

                        TYLER
          One more good shot, sir, they’d
          have taken my leg.

                        SINK
          You were lucky.

                        TYLER
          The Army’ll take you back with one
          leg, sir. They’ll take you back
          with a prosthetic. But a cripple?
               (beat)
          This is the only thing I’ve ever
          wanted to do. This is the only
          thing I’m ever gonna be any good
          at. This is all that I’m ever
          gonna be, sir. A cripple in a
          uniform he can’t even wear
          anymore.
               (beat)
          One more bullet, sir, I’d still
          have my life.
                                                     13.


                        SINK
               (angry)
          You want to feel sorry for
          yourself, you do it someplace
          else, cause in this town, you
          don’t have the right. You know how
          many of those men inside still
          carry metal around in their
          bodies? You ever take a good look
          at the faces of those boys on that
          middle wall?. You came with a
          limp. They came home in a box.

TYLER looks away, almost ashamed.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You are a soldier. Soldiers get
          hurt. Now you suck it up, and do
          them proud.

SINK walks away.

                         TYLER
          I’m not ready for this, Colonel. I
          won’t ever be.

                        SINK
          Tyler. You got no choice.

SINK walks back into the bar, leaving TYLER alone with
the night.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MORNING

Darkness outside the windows. An alarm clock rings. SINK
immediately rises, turning it off. It reads - 5:30.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

SINK brushes his teeth, surrounded by the remnants of his
wife - makeup and toiletries never discarded or moved,
neatly organized around Sink’s razor and toothpaste.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

The dress uniform is folded neatly, the jacket draped
over a chair. SINK pushes open a closet door - his one
suit, and a half dozen uniforms occupy maybe two feet of
space. The rest of the clothes belong to his wife.

At the foot of a large canopied bed, SINK opens an old
Army footlocker for a US ARMY T-shirt and shorts - the
rest of his clothes sit inside, Army folded.
                                                        14.


Its clear the rest of the furniture, closet space and
drawers, aren’t for him, and never were.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

SINK stands in the kitchen drinking a glass of orange
juice in continuous swallows. Refills the glass and downs
that as well. And refills the glass one last time, downs
that one, too.

His wallet in his pocket, shoes on his feet, and SINK’s
out the door, ready to run.


EXT. SINK’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

SINK stretches out and warms up.

His house is much larger than you’d expect, far larger
than any of his neighbors. His lawn is mown to perfection
and edged with exacting precision. The flower bed is
blooming and weed free.


EXT. TOWN - MOMENTS LATER

SINK runs past the homes and shops of his still sleeping
neighbors.

Except for TYLER KENT. He’s awake, smoking, sitting on
his father’s porch, rubbing the crippled leg stretched
out in front of him.


EXT. FARM ROAD, RURAL MICHIGAN - MORNING

SINK runs at an easy pace, long, even strides, almost on
cruise control, seeking distance, not speed.

FARMERS wave and salute as he passes.

The few commuters on the road that early honk in his
honor.

A rental car passes, slows, then keeps going.


EXT. TOWN - MORNING

SINK runs back into town, down Main Street, drawing
salutes from his fellow vets and respectful nods from
those who never served. Its clear that he’s a force in
town, at the very top of the chain.
                                                        15.


He passes a small house. BRIAN LARK, 16, sits on the
porch with elbows on knees, staring in despair at the
wreckage of the Mustang he’d spent the past six months
restoring, now a hulking mass of rotten tomatoes, egg
shells and stink bombs. The balloons did their work - the
primer coat is blotted with bleached out circles.

BRIAN’s eyes meet SINK’s. SINK offers a bitter, sarcastic
salute and keeps running.


INT. TOWN DINER - MOMENTS LATER

A small town grease pit. Men in baseball caps and
overalls sit down for their morning bacon and coffee,
served by a waitress named IDA.

SINK enters, bringing himself to a stop just inside the
door.

                        IDA
          Morning, Colonel.

Like a ritual, IDA places a large glass of water on the
counter. SINK drains it without stopping.

                        SINK
          Thank you.

                        IDA
          Usual?

                        SINK
          Always.

SINK walks the counter line, saying his “good mornings”,
drawing a few salutes here and there, somehow missing the
stranger in the Polo shirt sitting by the window.

Who taunts SINK in a loud, clear voice.

                        KITTLES
          Five miles in a buck 16? No wonder
          they kicked your sorry ass out of
          my Army.

Instantly, all faces turn toward the stranger, SINK’s
last, almost defiantly slow, knowing the voice and the
face that goes with it.

                        SINK
          Sorry to disappoint you - SIR -
          but its ten miles now. Five is for
          desk riding pussies.
                                                       16.


KITTLES stands. They don’t know whether to salute, shake
hands or embrace - so they do all three.

                        KITTLES
          You look pretty good for a has
          been.

SINK shares the old Army joke.

                        SINK
          Well, I has to be something. What
          the hell are you doing here, sir?

                        KITTLES
          I’m on official business.

SINK’s heart skips a beat.

                        SINK
          Meaning?

                        KITTLES
          Meaning...I’m officially in the
          business of eating my breakfast.
          So why don’t you sit down and join
          me.

SINK looks down - eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, hash
browns, the whole deal.

IDA brings over SINK’s breakfast - juice, sliced fruit
and wheat toast.

                        IDA
          You sitting here today, Colonel?

                        SINK
          Yes, Ma’am.

IDA pours more coffee for KITTLES. He adds cream and
sugar.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You ever meet an honest to God
          General before?

                        IDA
          Can’t say as I have.

                        SINK
          You ever wanted to?

                        IDA
          Hell, you’re a Colonel. What more
          can a girl want?
                                                        17.


IDA walks away. KITTLES watches her a moment, then takes
in SINK’s food.

                        KITTLES
          Whatever you have better not be
          contagious.

                        SINK
          When are you expecting that heart
          attack, sir? My defibrillator
          needs batteries.

HAL hobbles in, his face alight with joy.

                        HAL
          You see what the boys did to that
          little shit’s Mustang?

                        SINK
          Hal -

                        HAL
               (talking over SINK)
          - take the prick a year to get the
          shit off the sides, be another
          year before the stink goes away...

HAL finally sees KITTLES. And the look on SINK’s face
that’s telling him to go away.

                        HAL (CONT’D)
          ...I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean
          to intrude.

                        KITTLES
          No bother. Tom Kittles.

                        HAL
          Hal Lowell. I run the Colonel’s
          old business.

                        KITTLES
          I run the Colonel’s old unit. Care
          for some breakfast?

HAL throws a glance at SINK, sees the briefest shake of
the head.

                        HAL
          Thank you, sir, but I better be
          going. Nice meeting you. Sir.

HAL hobbles out of the diner. KITTLES sees Hal’s foot,
looks to SINK for explanation.
                                                     18.


                          SINK
          Shit bomb.

                        KITTLES
          Love you rural folks.

                        SINK
          You’re from the Ozarks.

                        KITTLES
          Yeah, but the high end.

TYLER KENT enters with CHARLES. SINK nods. KITTLES
follows his glance.

                        SINK
          He’s one of ours.

KITTLES gives him a look.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Not ours ours, but ours. Just got
          home.

                          KITTLES
          With a cane?

                        SINK
          Took six bullets in the leg
          covering two buddies on a highway
          in Baghdad. Earned a Silver Star,
          a Purple Heart and a broken heart,
          all in the span of four hours.

KITTLES leaves the booth. As SINK watches, KITTLES joins
TYLER and leans in for a hushed conversation.

At the end of it, TYLER pushes himself to his feet and
salutes the man. KITTLES returns it.

And SINK feels jealous.


I/E. RENTAL CAR, TOWN - MORNING

KITTLES and SINK drive back to Sink’s house.

                        SINK
          What did you say to him?

                        KITTLES
          Nothing you didn’t.
                                                     19.



EXT. SINK’S HOUSE - MORNING

KITTLES pulls in behind the SUV. They get out, KITTLES
grabbing a thick manila envelope.

KITTLES takes a look around.

                        KITTLES
               (teasing)
          God Damn, Sink, Helen dies, and
          you let the place go to shit.
          Don’t know if I should call Better
          Homes and Gardens or Soldier of
          Fortune.

                        SINK
          They’re perennials. Helen planted
          them. I just keep them going.

KITTLES lights a cigarette, giving his friend the once
over as they walk around to the back.

                        KITTLES
          You still miss it, don’t you?

SINK doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

                        SINK
          What’s your station now, sir?

                        KITTLES
          Pentagon. One of those desk riding
          pussies you love so much.

                        SINK
          Doing?

                        KITTLES
          Technically - I report to JSOC.

                        SINK
          Why aren’t you running JSOC?

KITTLES shrugs.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          They passed you over?

                        KITTLES
          We’re all on the same side, right?

SINK’s disapproval stands out.
                                                       20.


                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Shit, Sink, you had two years on
          me, but I had the star. Seniority
          ain’t everything.

SINK stares a moment, challenging him.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Let’s just say - I like what I’m
          doing.

KITTLES draws on his smoke. SINK let’s it go.

                        SINK
          I need a shower, sir. Make
          yourself comfortable.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MORNING

KITTLES wanders around. The place is well furnished,
impeccably clean.

And very feminine, in the wall-paper and color schemes,
designed for a woman who spends most of her time alone.

But its the pictures that grab KITTLES’ attention. Frame
after frame of Sink’s wife HELEN, dark haired and bright
eyed, truly magnetic woman. Pictures of her alone, with
SINK, through the years of their marriage, from bases all
over the world, placed in every corner of the house.

Almost like a shrine.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE, BATHROOM - MORNING

SINK wipes the steam off the mirror, stares at his own
face like he’s putting himself up for inspection.

Opens a small drawer under the sink. Pulls out a small
chain, rolls it around in his hand.

His dog tags.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MORNING

SINK pours two cups of coffee, pours milk and sugar into
one, leaves the other black, and carries them into the
living room. KITTLES sips, frowns.

                        KITTLES
          You need an espresso machine.
                                                       21.


                        SINK
               (teasing)
          I’m not gonna ask, sir, and you’re
          not gonna tell.

                        KITTLES
               (gestures at walls)
          I don’t see pictures of Jordie.

SINK’s eyes go hard, flicker to the walls.

They both stare. They both smile. They both strain.

                        SINK
          You think about retirement?

                        KITTLES
          I think about it. Think I’ll buy a
          twenty five footer, put her out on
          the Chesapeake and go fishing
          every day til I die.

                        SINK
          Soon as the war’s over, right?

                        KITTLES
               (serious)
          Sink, I think the last soldiers
          who’ll ever have known for sure
          they defeated their enemy will end
          up being our grandfathers. They
          had the Nazi’s, the Japs. Fucker’s
          surrendered, they got to go home.
          What’ve we had? Socialism.
          Communism. Now terrorism. I’m sick
          of fighting isms. How the hell do
          you know when you’ve beaten a
          suffix?

                        SINK
          Well, you need another grammarian,
          you count me right in, cause I’ll
          blow those isms straight to hell
          for you, sir.

KITTLES stares for a long, deflating minute.

                        KITTLES
          Is that why you think that I’m
          here?

Immediately, the excitement on SINK’s face deflates.

KITTLES stands, goes toward the mantle, picks up a
picture of HELEN and stares at it for a long minute.
                                                        22.


                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          I’m not here to ask you back in,
          Sink.

SINK’s whole body feels the blow. KITTLES puts down the
picture and turns.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          I’m here to tell you that Jordie
          is dead.

KITTLES watches his friend closely, curious about his
emotions, expecting, hoping, for sadness or grief.

But SINK only feels frustration as he gets up and walks
out of the house.


EXT. SINK’S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS

KITTLES follows him into the backyard.

                        KITTLES
          Sink -

                        SINK
          - We’re fighting wars in Iraq and
          Afghanistan, sir. We’ve got men in
          Korea, and Kosovo, and Colombia,
          the Philippines, God knows where
          else. And you came all this way
          just to talk about Jordan?

                        KITTLES
          I have to, Sink. It’s my duty.

                        SINK
          We’re fighting a Special Ops war,
          sir. I’m a Special Ops vet. The
          Army needs guys like me. You need
          guys like me.

                        KITTLES
          God damn it, Sink, listen to me.

                        SINK
          Jordan is dead. I heard you the
          first time. So what?

                        KITTLES
               (taken aback)
          You are one self centered son of a
          bitch, you know that?
                                                        23.


                        SINK
          Self-centered? I retired cause my
          wife was dying -

                        KITTLES
          - you want a fucking medal for
          that?

                        SINK
          I want my life back, sir! I
          want...I...

SINK’s voice fades off.

                        KITTLES
               (beat)
          I can’t give your life back, Sink.
          But I can give you the truth about
          Jordie.

                        SINK
          The truth? The truth is my son is
          a junkie. A useless, piece of shit
          junkie. Nothing you can say is
          more true than that. Sir.

KITTLES can only shake his head.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You came all this way to tell me
          he’s dead, you wasted your time.

SINK starts back for the house. KITTLES snaps to
attention.

                        KITTLES
          Colonel John Martin Sinclair -
          retired. Sir!

SINK turns around, slow, recognizing the formality as
KITTLES steps toward him in martial gait.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          On behalf of the Secretary of
          Defense, I regret to inform you
          that your son, Captain Jordan
          Ellis Sinclair, was killed in
          action while on active duty.
               (sarcastic)
          The thoughts and prayers of a
          grateful nation are with you in
          your time of grief, you worthless
          son of a bitch.

KITTLES turns and walks back into the house, leaving SINK
in his wake.
                                                     24.



INT. SINK’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

SINK finds KITTLES in the living room. KITTLES tosses him
the envelope.

                        KITTLES
          Jordan Ellis Sinclair, 367569544.
          Born 6/12/73 to Helen Lincoln and
          1st Lieutenant John Martin
          Sinclair, United States Army. GED,
          1995. Bachelor’s Degree,
          University of South Carolina -
          Columbia, summa cum laude,
          political science and philosophy,
          1999. Accepted ROTC, 1996.
          Commissioned 2nd Lieutenant,
          United States Army, May 1999.
          Advanced Infantry Training, 1999.
          Airborne Qualified, 2000. Ranger
          Qualified, 2001.

KITTLES offers the file.

SINK turns the pages - sees that many are blacked out.

                         KITTLES (CONT’D)
          And after that, we start getting
          into places you’re not cleared to
          enter anymore.

KITTLES lights up a cigarette, searches for something to
use as an ashtray.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          That worthless, piece of shit
          junkie you turned your back on
          turned himself into a college
          graduate, a soldier, a patriot, an
          Officer in the United States Army,
          a husband, a father, and a better
          man than you or I will ever be.

KITTLES finds a decorative vase on the mantle and ashes
into it while staring at the photos on the mantle and
wall.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          You think he’s worth a picture
          now?

SINK reads a page with recognition.

                        SINK
          We served two years together, and
          didn’t even know it.
                                               25.


                        KITTLES
          He knew it, Sink. Jordie knew. I
          knew, Helen knew. Helen knew all
          of it. It’s actually rather funny,
          Sink. You spent the better part of
          your life working intelligence in
          every third world shit hole on
          Earth, but couldn’t figure out
          your own son was serving a mile
          away from you on the other side of
          Fort Bragg.

KITTLES pours two drinks, hands one to SINK.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          You kicked him out, he was what,
          17?

                        SINK
          He was a junkie.

                        KITTLES
          He was a kid, Sink. He was your
          kid. And he was, even then, a very
          good soldier. You told him to
          leave your house and never come
          back. A superior officer issued a
          direct order and that junkie son
          of yours followed it to the
          letter. What does that tell you?

                        SINK
               (reeling)
          Helen should have told me.

                        KITTLES
          Bullshit. Helen was a good wife,
          Sink. A good soldier’s wife. And a
          very good mother. She found a way
          to respect both her husband and
          her son. The same way her son
          found a way to respect both his
          mother and his father. Shit, Sink,
          the only one didn’t show any
          respect in all this was you.

                        SINK
          Did he know about the cancer?

That gives KITTLES pause.

                        KITTLES
          Yes.

                        SINK
          Then why didn’t Jordan come home?
                                                       26.


                        KITTLES
          He couldn’t come home.

                        SINK
          I would have let him.

                        KITTLES
          The Army wouldn’t let him. We were
          six months past 9-11, Sink. What
          he was doing was far too
          important, and the places he was
          doing it in didn’t exactly feature
          nonstop air service back to the
          states. But he wanted to be here,
          Sink. I know he did.

SINK starts to pace, not knowing what else to do.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          I know this is hard, Sink. You
          want to know when, where and how.
          I understand that. But you know
          how this works, Sink. Better than
          anyone. The questions you have,
          you know I can’t answer. So please
          do not ask. We’ve known each other
          too long for that.

SINK nods, knows its true. KITTLES drains his drink and
gets to his feet.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          I have a flight to catch. You keep
          your head down.

KITTLES turns for the door.

                        SINK
          I’m proud of him, sir. For the
          first time in my life, I’m proud
          of my son.

KITTLES stops, turns back, trying to head off the next
question.

                        KITTLES
          You don’t have the right to be
          proud, Sink. Only sorry.

KITTLES walks out, gets into his car and drives off.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - DAY

SINK wanders, drinking Scotch. He looks at the pictures
of HELEN on the mantle, at the pictures of himself.
                                                        27.


And knows that KITTLES is right. There are none of his
son.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE, BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER

SINK walks into his bedroom, and starts opening closet
doors. Helen’s clothes still rest where they were,
occupying most all the space. SINK opens drawers, the
night stands, looking.

Finally looks under the bed, and he finds it. A large
cardboard box.

Full of pictures of his son, as a baby, as an adolescent,
as a teenager, stoned and Gothic.

And of JORDIE in cap and gown, graduating from college.

JORDIE in his dress uniform.

And finally, JORDIE with his WIFE and his BABY.

JORDIE with HELEN.

Confused, SINK rummages through the night stand on his
wife’s side of the bed, and finds her address book. He
flips through it, page after page...

...until he finds an address for his son, in
Fayetteville, North Carolina.


INT. HARDWARE STORE - DAY

SINK sits at a little stool behind the counter of a small
town hardware store and lumberyard. HAL watches him from
behind a large inventory book, stunned by the story he’s
just been told.

                        HAL
          Jesus. I mean, Christ, Sink.
          Jesus.

                        SINK
          If you’d asked me this morning
          where Jordan was, I’d have said
          some shithole in Topeka.

                        HAL
          If I had asked you this morning,
          you’d have said you don’t give a
          shit.
                                                       28.


                        SINK
          He had a wife, Hal. He had a wife,
          and a son, and this whole life I
          never knew about. What kind of son
          is that? You’d think he’d at least
          call to brag, to rub my nose in
          it.
               (beat)
          Was I wrong, Hal? To do what I
          did?

HAL doesn’t answer immediately.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You know what Jordan was like,
          Hal. You know how out of control
          he was. Hell, you convinced me how
          out of control he was.

HAL nods, acknowledging his role.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          What the hell would you have done
          different?

                        HAL
          If he was my son? I’d have pulled
          him into my arms, told him I loved
          him, and begged him to go into
          rehab.

                        SINK
          He would have refused.

                        HAL
          Then I’d have grabbed him by the
          balls, told him I loved him, and
          thrown his sorry ass into rehab.
          But the last thing I’d ever do is
          throw away my own son.

A little bell over the door rings. BRIAN LARK walks in
with his father, GEORGE, another vet with a hard look on
his face.

                          GEORGE
          Colonel. Hal.

SINK nods, watching the sullen teenager closely. HAL
walks around the counter.

                        HAL
          You got something to say to me,
          Brian?
                                                     29.


BRIAN stares at the tile floor. GEORGE smacks him hard on
the back of the head.

                        BRIAN
          I’m sorry I left the dog shit
          burning on your porch, Mr. Lowell.
          It was wrong. I was wrong. I’ll
          fix any damage.

                        HAL
          You saying all this cause you mean
          it, or cause you’re afraid you’re
          old man’s gonna take a belt to
          your ass?

                        BRIAN
          I’m not afraid of him.

GEORGE glares. SINK moves around the counter, stands
unbearably close to BRIAN, making the shorter teenager
look up.

                        SINK
          You afraid of me, Brian?

BRIAN doesn’t answer. SINK steps in even closer.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          I asked you a question, son.

BRIAN glances at his father.

                        GEORGE
          I were you, I’d answer the man.

                        BRIAN
               (defiant)
          I’m not afraid -

SINK’s hand grabs BRIAN by the throat.

                        SINK
          You afraid of me now, you little
          prick?

BRIAN tries to speak, tries to nod, can’t move his head.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          I asked you a question.

                            HAL
                  (harsh)
          Sink.

SINK glances back, lessens the grip just a tad.
                                                      30.


                        SINK
          Speak.

                        BRIAN
          It was just a dumb prank, okay?
          I’m sorry! I’m really, really
          sorry!

                        HAL
          Let him go, sir.

SINK lets him down. HAL hobbles around the counter and
offers BRIAN his hand.

                        HAL (CONT’D)
          All right, then. Apology accepted.

GEORGE nods at SINK as he and his son head for the door.

Then BRIAN stops on his own.

                        BRIAN
          Mr. Lowell. I really didn’t mean
          for you to get hurt.

                        HAL
          I know you didn’t.

GEORGE and BRIAN exit. HAL looks at SINK for a long
moment.

                        HAL (CONT’D)
          My sons call me every other day.
          We go fishing every spring,
          golfing every summer, hunting
          every fall and skiing every
          winter. Ten years from now, how
          often you think that boy’s gonna
          call his old man?

SINK takes a slow breath, getting the message.

                        HAL (CONT’D)
          You asked my opinion. No, sir. You
          weren’t wrong. You did what you
          thought was best at the time and
          hoped it worked out in the end.
          And my guess, sir? You go down to
          North Carolina and introduce
          yourself to that daughter in law
          and grandson of yours, you just
          might see that it did.
                                                        31.



INT. VETERAN’S BAR - DAY

SINK sits at a table, drinking a beer, staring at the
pictures of the soldier’s on the wall.

At where his son should be..


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - DAY

SINK packs for his trip, throwing clothes into a
suitcase.

Downstairs in the living room, the pictures on the mantle
catch his eyes. He walks over, stares them down, choosing
in his mind - first one of Helen alone, then another of
her and Sink together.

He adds them to the suitcase, locks the door behind him
and walks out of the house.


INT. BANK - DAY

SINK signs a receipt form at the desk of a BANK TELLER.

                        BANK TELLER
          Vacation, Colonel?

                           SINK
          No.

The BANK TELLER catches the tone and hands him a sealed
envelope.

                        BANK TELLER
          You have a safe trip, sir.


I/E. SINK’S SUV, RURAL MICHIGAN - DAY

SINK drives out of town, passing the farmland, eyes
wondering what route JORDIE might have taken out of town.

Passes a sign that says, “Airport - 62 miles” - and takes
the exit.


INT. AIRPORT BOOKSTORE - DAY

SINK passes the time browsing through the paperbacks and
magazines.
                                                       32.


                        PA ANNOUNCER
          All passengers, flight 162, non-
          stop service to Charlotte is now
          boarding at gate 62.

SINK heads for the gate. TWO YOUNG MEN in Uniform walk
towards him. Even in civvies, he’s too military not to be
recognized. The TWO MEN salute him as they pass.

SINK can’t help but smile. And feel sad at the same time.


INT. AIRPLANE - EVENING

SINK flies first class, next to a well dressed PASSENGER
reading the Wall Street Journal and shaking his head at
every paragraph.

                        PASSENGER
          What are you holding?

                          SINK
          Excuse me?

                        PASSENGER
          Your portfolio. What’ve you got?

                        SINK
          Um. Mostly defense stocks.

                        PASSENGER
          They working for you?

SINK knocks on wood. The PASSENGER begins scanning the
Dow Jones lists.

                        PASSENGER (CONT’D)
               (impressed)
          War’s a helluva business.

He glances around First-Class, realizes everyone seems
like the guy sitting next to him.

And that he fits in.


INT. CHARLOTTE AIRPORT - EVENING

SINK pays for his rental car, gets the keys from the
ATTENDANT.

                        ATTENDANT
          You’re all set, Mr. Sinclair.

                          SINK
          Thank you.
                                                      33.


                        ATTENDANT
          You know where you’re going?

                          SINK
          All too well.

SINK walks out of the airport.


I/E. RENTAL CAR, NORTH CAROLINA - EVENING

SINK makes the drive out to Fayetteville, home of Fort
Bragg. Patriotic billboards line the highways. Cars and
trucks fly flags from their windows.


EXT. MOTEL - NIGHT

SINK pulls the car into the parking lot of a motel.


INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

SINK lies back on the bed, eating a sandwich off a paper
plate and watching the news. The anchor announces the
deaths of three more American soldiers.

SINK turns off the TV, lies back, and thinks about what
he’ll do tomorrow.


I/E. RENTAL CAR, FORT BRAGG - MORNING

SINK, in his best suit, stops at the gate of the famous
Military base, home of so much of his training. Sees the
MP’s at their posts, the buildings in the background.

It feels like home. But not his anymore.

SINK puts the car in gear and drives on.


I/E. RENTAL CAR, NEIGHBORHOOD - MORNING

SINK drives slowly through a small, suburb of quiet, tidy
houses. It’s clear its a military neighborhood, full of
ribbons, lawn signs, flags of all types and designations.

SINK clutches a small piece of paper on his hand,
checking the address of his destination against those of
the houses he passes.

Until he finally finds what he’s looking for. He pulls
into a driveway behind a small sedan that’s clearly too
many years old. The lawn needs mowing, the paint on the
porch is chipped here and there.
                                                        34.


In short, the house is missing a man.

SINK gets out of the car, checks his reflection against
the window of the car, adjusts his tie. Gathers himself.
Grabs the envelope of pictures.

And walks to the front door. His hand trembles as he
knocks.

ROBIN SINCLAIR, 31, answers the door holding the hand of
JEMMY, her three year old son. Dark haired, dark eyed, a
near mirror for HELEN. Looking at him with eyes that are
neither surprised or displeased.

And JEMMY, a cherubic face that mirrors his own, that
once mirrored JORDIE’s.

Sink can’t but think that this is what his family would
have looked like if he’d been KIA.

                        ROBIN
          Jemmy. Why don’t you say hello to
          your grandpa?

JEMMY hides behind his mother’s leg.

                        SINK
          Jemmy?

                        ROBIN
          Short for John Martin.

SINK finds himself overcome, has to physically force
himself to speak.

                        SINK
          Hi, Jemmy. I’m Sink.

JEMMY just smiles, and curls around his mother.

                        ROBIN
          I’m Robin. And you’re thirsty, so
          why don’t you come inside?


INT. ROBIN’S HOME - MOMENTS LATER

JEMMY sits on a booster chair, eating a snack.

ROBIN watches as SINK downs a glass of orange juice. She
immediately refills it.

                        SINK
          Thank you, Ma’am.
                                                        35.


                        ROBIN
          Thank me after the next one.

SINK nearly chokes on the juice.

                         ROBIN (CONT’D)
          Three glasses at a time, right?
          The orange doesn’t fall so far
          from the tree.

SINK manages to finish the glass, waves off the refill.

ROBIN shrugs, puts the juice in the refrigerator, sits
down next to her son. SINK looks around.

                        SINK
          You have a lovely home, Ma’am.

                        ROBIN
          Thank you.

                        JEMMY
               (plaintive)
          Mommy.

ROBIN realizes he needs to use the bathroom.

                        ROBIN
          We’re gonna need a minute.

                        SINK
          Basic training.

                        ROBIN
          Something like that. Why don’t you
          go look around.

ROBIN carries JEMMY upstairs.

SINK floats into a living room cluttered with toys and
VCR tapes of cartoons. Family pictures line the walls,
including a few of HELEN.

SINK finds a small study - half office, half sewing room.

SINK steps into the sewing side, neatly organized with a
sewing tables, frames for cloth, design models. Framed
pictures of ROBIN and the baby cover her side of the
walls.

SINK stares at a dress pattern, and several completed
designs.

                        ROBIN (CONT’D)
          Jordie made all that himself.
                                                     36.


                        SINK
               (alarmed)
          Ma’am?

                        ROBIN
          Don’t worry, Colonel. Your son
          couldn’t sew his own buttons if
          his life depended on it.

She realizes what she said, sees SINK look away.

                        ROBIN (CONT’D)
          I meant, he made all the
          furniture. By hand. The benches
          and tables. All of it. He designed
          it, he carved it, he stained it.

                        SINK
          Impressive.

                        ROBIN
          Jordie loved working with wood. He
          built himself his own little shop
          out in the garage. We used to say
          that when his tour was over, we’d
          open our own little company
          together, you know? Dresses and
          Dressers. That was his name for
          it. He even carved out a little
          sign for the window.

SINK steps closer to the office side - a computer on a
hand-carved desk, shelves of manuals, geography books,
gun magazines.

                        SINK
          How did you meet?

                        ROBIN
          Ancient Civilizations, sophomore
          year.

                        SINK
          In South Carolina?

ROBIN nods.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          College sweethearts.

SINK stares at a series of photographs stuck on JORDIE’s
side of the wall. Most of JORDIE in uniform, in training,
in action, in all parts of the world.
                                                        37.


And in the center, a framed photograph of SINK. Right
above the desk, where it would it be right in front of
the eyes of his son.

SINK forces himself to turn away.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Ma’am. Could I please take a look
          at that wood-shop?


INT. ROBIN’S HOME (GARAGE) - MOMENTS LATER

A well organized workshop. Everything’s spotless, every
tool in its place.

Various pieces lie around the walls, pieces that will
never be furnished. A wooden sign, “Dresses and Dressers”
hangs on the wall.

                        ROBIN
          Jordie had talent.

A soft cry is heard in the house.

                        ROBIN (CONT’D)
          Excuse me...I need to...

SINK nods. ROBIN leaves SINK to stare at the detritus of
his only son’s life.

In the corner of the garage, he sees a series of metal
tools by a large metal shed, guarded by a combination
lock.

SINK turns the dials to 61273. The lock doesn’t open.

SINK thinks, tries 31102. It opens.

                        SINK
               (to himself)
          God damn you, Jordan.

SINK sees guns, custom made, hand tooled. SINK looks
back, sees ROBIN watching him.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          March 11th, 2002. Day his mom
          died.

SINK picks up one of the guns, examines it.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          This is really nice work. Better
          than the carpentry. In Special
          Forces, you -
                                                        38.


                        ROBIN
          - please put that back.

SINK catches the tone, part sad, part mad. Sees ROBIN
fighting off tears.

SINK puts the gun back.


INT. ROBIN’S HOME - DAY

ROBIN sips at her coffee. SINK twirls a cup in his hands.

                          ROBIN
          Sir -

                        SINK
          - Sink. Please. Call me Sink.

                        ROBIN
          Then you better stop calling me
          Ma’am. Robin’ll do fine.

                        SINK
          Jemmy was my nickname when I was a
          kid. Jordan ever tell you that?

                          ROBIN
          Of course.

                        SINK
          Hold old is he now?

                        ROBIN
          Three and a half.

                          SINK
          9/11 baby.

ROBIN blushes. SINK looks away.

                        ROBIN
          We saw the towers fall. And we
          knew that we didn’t have that much
          time left together.

                        SINK
          Did he get to see him at all?

                        ROBIN
          Jordie was home for the birth.

                        SINK
          That’s good. I was there for his.
                                                     39.


                        ROBIN
          I know, Sink. He told me.

                        SINK
          How long was he gone?

                        ROBIN
          The first time he left was
          September 13th. Eight months later
          he was home for a month, then he
          was gone for two more. And then he
          came home and said that he’d been
          assigned to a new unit, and he was
          here training for a while. And
          after that, he’d be gone for a
          month or two, or three, and then
          back for a week, and then gone,
          and then back, and that’s just how
          it was. He never knew when he was
          leaving and he never knew how long
          he’d be gone.

Mirroring SINK’s own career.

                        SINK
          When was the last time you saw
          him?

                        ROBIN
          Three months ago. He was home for
          five days.

                        SINK
          I hope they were nice.

                        ROBIN
          They were productive.
          Reproductive, actually.

SINK watches her, sees happiness and sadness competing
for space in her eyes.

                        SINK
          Congratulations, Robin.

                        ROBIN
               (slowly breaking
                down)
          You’d be surprised how much he
          talked about you. How much he
          loved you, how much he followed
          your career, tried to follow in
          your footsteps. Infantry,
          Airborne, Rangers, Special Forces.
          He thought of himself as your
          ghost, you know?
                                                        40.
                        ROBIN(CONT'D)
          Always there, lurking behind you.
          Waiting for you to turn around, so
          he could yell “boo”, and give you
          that shit eating grin you used to
          tell him to wipe off his face. He
          died waiting for you to turn
          around, Sink. And you never did.
          Except the one time when you knew
          that he wouldn’t be here.

ROBIN cries. SINK starts to reach out, stops himself.

                        SINK
          Couple of days ago an old friend
          told me the son I abandoned and
          the man he became were two
          completely different people. I
          knew the son all too well, Robin.
          I never got a chance to meet the
          man. And now I have to live with
          that.

                        ROBIN
          Then you’re the lucky one, Sink.
          Jordie won’t get that chance.

SINK hands her the envelope of pictures.

                         SINK
          I thought you might like these. I
          didn’t know if Jordan had pictures
          of his mother.

                        ROBIN
          We do. We met several times when
          you were stationed down here. She
          was an incredible lady. I wish
          she’d gotten a chance to meet
          Jemmy. I think she’d have loved
          being a grandmother.

It takes everything SINK has not crumble right then. He
forces himself to stay focused on his mission, reaches
into his pocket, takes out the bank envelope.

                        SINK
          Then you know she’d want you to
          have this.

Robin opens it, looks at the bank draft.

                        ROBIN
          That’s a lot of money.

                        SINK
          Just what I owe.
                                                     41.


                        ROBIN
          You don’t owe me anything.

                        SINK
          No. But I owe my son. And I owe my
          son’s mother. Please take the
          money, Robin. Please. It would
          make me feel a lot better.

ROBIN hands the envelope back.

                        ROBIN
          I’m not sure Jordie wants you to
          feel better, Sink. And his wishes
          come before yours.

                        SINK
          Jordan would want his mother to
          feel better, Robin. And if he was
          here right now, Jordan would tell
          you his mother’s wishes come
          before everything. Probably the
          only thing we both knew for sure
          we had in common.
               (beat)
          Please take the money, Robin. Not
          for me. For his mother.

ROBIN nods.

                        ROBIN
          Thank you.

SINK stands, gathers himself.

                        SINK
          I do wish that we had met sooner.
          I do wish my wife had the chance
          meet Jemmy. And I do hope that one
          day, I get a chance to meet
          Jemmy’s brother or sister.

                        ROBIN
          I hope so, too.

                        SINK
          When Jemmy wakes up -

                        ROBIN
          - I will.

SINK takes a moment to gather his courage for his last
task.
                                                        42.


                        SINK
          If it’s all right with you, I’d
          like to visit the grave of a brave
          fallen soldier. And pay my
          respects to my son.

ROBIN grows completely confused, realizing he doesn’t
know.

                        ROBIN
          Sink...they didn’t tell you?


INT. PENTAGON HALLWAY - MORNING

The MAJOR leads a well dressed SINK and better dressed
ROBIN and JEMMY down the hall.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - MORNING

KITTLES holds the phone to his ear, fuming as his eyes
move from ROBIN and JEMMY to SINK, all sitting in front
of him. The clock on the wall reads 9:15, DC time.

The MAJOR waits patiently inside the door.

                        KITTLES
               (into phone)
          Yes, sir. Right away.

KITTLES hangs up, stares at SINK for a long moment.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Major. Mind the store while I’m
          gone.

                        MAJOR
          Yes, sir.

                         KITTLES
                (to ROBIN)
          Ma’am.
                (hard)
          Sink.
                (softer)
          Follow me, please.


INT. LOBBY AND OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE -
MOMENTS LATER

SINK and KITTLES continue their stare down as the group
waits for the Secretary.

Finally, an AIDE emerges from the office.
                                                     43.


                        AIDE
          You can go in now.

KITTLES leads the way.

SECRETARY CONROY gets up from his desk to greet ROBIN.

                        CONROY
          Mrs. Sinclair. Paul Conroy. Sorry
          to keep you waiting. And this must
          be..?

                        ROBIN
          John Martin Sinclair.

KITTLES glances at SINK.

                        ROBIN (CONT’D)
          We call him Jemmy.

                        CONROY
          Jemmy. Please, have a seat.

CONROY shakes hands with SINK.

                        CONROY (CONT’D)
          Colonel Sinclair. I must say I’ve
          been hearing a great deal about
          you over the last half an hour.

                         SINK
          I appreciate you taking the time,
          Mr. Secretary.

                        CONROY
          Yes. Well. A former Special Ops
          Commander puts the words “national
          security” and “national enquirer”
          into the same sentence and a few
          minutes out of an already
          overbooked day suddenly doesn’t
          seem like too much to ask.

                        SINK
          Glad you agree.

CONROY sits. SINK and KITTLES remain standing.

                        CONROY
               (to ROBIN)
          Ma’am -

                        SINK
          - if you don’t have his body, how
          sure are you that he’s dead? Seems
          to me that he’s MIA, not KIA.
                                                44.


CONROY sits back, regret all over his face.

                        CONROY
          The circumstances surrounding his
          death -

                        SINK
          - in lieu of his body, sir, I’ll
          take those circumstances.

                        KITTLES
          You don’t have clearance, Sink.

                        SINK
          You don’t have Jordan, sir.

                         ROBIN
          Mr. Secretary.
               (to KITTLES)
          Sir. I don’t want to make any
          trouble for you or the Army. I
          just want to bury my husband.

                        KITTLES
          Ma’am, I am sorry. But your
          husband is dead.

                        SINK
          When, where and how?

SINK glares.

CONROY stares at SINK a moment, opens a file.

                        CONROY
          West Point, Class of 1970.
          Airborne, Rangers, Special Ops.
          Psych Ops. Intelligence. Unit,
          Staff and Field Command. Vietnam,
          Lebanon, Panama, Iraq, Bosnia,
          Kosovo...

                        SINK
          And a whole bunch of other places
          even you don’t get to read about,
          sir. You want me to drop and give
          you twenty? I can do `em one
          handed.

CONROY puts down the file.

                        CONROY
          You put in for retirement right
          before 9-11.
                                                     45.


                        SINK
          My wife had cancer. Ovarian.

                        CONROY
          I’m sorry. It’s awful.

With flourish, CONROY turns to stare at a picture of his
wife.

                        CONROY (CONT’D)
          I’ve been there myself.

                        SINK
          I know, sir. I read all about it
          during the campaign.

CONROY’s stare turns to ice.

                        ROBIN
          Mr. Secretary. I just want to know
          what happened to my husband.

CONROY throws KITTLES a look, thinks for a moment.

                        CONROY
               (to KITTLES)
          Two of you shared the same office?

KITTLES nods.

CONROY thinks for a moment, then makes his decision with
a nod to KITTLES.

                        CONROY (CONT’D)
               (to ROBIN)
          Mrs. Sinclair, I’m due at the
          White House twenty minutes from
          now. I’d be honored if you and
          Jemmy would join me. Give General
          Kittles and the Colonel a chance
          to catch up, give the President a
          chance to speak to you personally.

ROBIN looks to SINK.

                        ROBIN
          I’ve never met the President
          before.

                        SINK
          I’ve met four of them. You go
          ahead.

CONROY stands, shakes SINK’s hand.
                                                     46.


                           CONROY
          Colonel Sink.

                           SINK
          Mr. Secretary.

CONROY leads ROBIN and JEMMY out of the office.

KITTLES turns to SINK and grins.

                        KITTLES
          Shit, Sink, you just keep making
          friends wherever you go.

                        SINK
          Took a course at Carnegie Mellon,
          sir. Retirement sucks.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - MORNING

KITTLES brews espresso, one ounce at a time, pouring them
into a large coffee mug.

                        SINK
          And to think you made fun of my
          gardening.

KITTLES grins.

                        KITTLES
          You know, every time I want a
          smoke now, I’m supposed to haul my
          ass all the way outside?

                        SINK
          What can they do to you, sir? You
          don’t exist. How can you smoke?

KITTLES smiles and lights up. SINK goes to the wall, eyes
the pyramid of faces.

                        KITTLES
          Shame you quit when you did, Sink.
          9/11 changed all the rules. War’s
          kind of fun now.

                        SINK
          It’s always fun behind a desk. Not
          always fun in the field.

SINK’s mind begins to put together a story.
                                                       47.


                        SINK (CONT’D)
          I’m gonna go out on a limb and say
          that you don’t actually report to
          JSOC.

KITTLES smiles and shrugs.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Fact, I’ll go out even further and
          say you don’t report to anyone.
          Except, maybe the Secretary, and
          the guy in the big White House at
          the other end of the street.

KITTLES smiles, and lights up his cigarette.

                        KITTLES
          You really miss it that much,
          don’t you, Sink? You want back in
          so bad, it’s oozing out of your
          pores.

SINK doesn’t argue. KITTLES puts down his coffee and
joins SINK at the wall, staring at the faces.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Used to be, Sink, we shot the
          snake in the head and the rest of
          the snake just went off and died.
          Nowadays, he just grows a new
          head. We never stop shooting, he
          never stops growing.
               (beat)
          Official policy is that all terror
          suspects are to be delivered into
          the hands of American Justice.

KITTLES holds out his own hands.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Unofficially? Sometimes, those
          hands look just like these. And
          sometimes, those hands make
          mistakes.

                        SINK
          You’re saying Jordan screwed up?

                        KITTLES
          I’m saying, we made a mistake.

KITTLES slaps a picture on the wall.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
               (points)
          Ali Hassan Al-Salameh.
                                     48.

Palestinian by KITTLES(CONT'D) by
                birth, asshole
choice. One of six brothers, all
from Ramallah. Two in Israeli
prisons for murder, two occupying
key spots on Israel’s shit list
and one bizarrely moderate,
intellectual serving as Interior
Minister for the Hamas controlled
Palestinian Government.

              SINK
And Ali Hassan?

              KITTLES
Had designs to be the Ray Kroc of
Islamic terrorism. Traveled the
world trying to unite Hezbollah,
Hamas, Abu Sayyaf, Ansar Al-Islam,
the Uzbeks, the Indonesians and
every other anti-American, anti-
Israeli, anti-freedom jerk-off in
the world under one banner and
franchise cooperative terrorism
all over the world. And the shit
of it was, the little prick was
making progress.
     (beat)
Understand something, Sink. This
sonofabitch needed to be dead, and
any price we had to pay was worth
it ten times over.

              SINK
And that price was Jordan?

              KITTLES
Jordie was one of mine, Sink. I
gave him command of an 8 man squad
designated ECHO Team 3, and Ali-
Hassan was their baby. And as good
as he was - and Jordie was very,
very good - they never even got
within a day of the bastard. So
after a few months of chasing,
Jordie came up with a plan.
     (loving the memory)
God, what a plan, Sink. Simple.
Elegant. Riskier than hell. You’d
have been so proud of the kid.
     (smiles in
      appreciation)
                                                     49.
                        KITTLES(CONT'D)
          One day Ali Hassan’s old man bit
          into a bad piece of fruit and
          dropped dead in front of his
          family. Day and a half later, Ali
          Hassan was back in Ramallah.

                                                  CUT TO:


EXT. ARAB RAMALLAH - EVENING

A ghetto in the middle of a refugee state.

Street markets bustle with poverty stricken patrons,
shamed tourists, and aid workers. GUERILLAS openly roam
the streets, machine guns on shoulders.

                        KITTLES’ VOICE (V.O.)
          We could have just put a missile
          into his parent’s house and be
          done with it, but the Israeli’s
          would have been hung out to dry.
          So Jordie went old school, Sink.
          Just like you would have.

Alone, an AMERICAN (1) floats down the street, a wide
canvass vest draped over a thick barreled torso,
sunglasses covering his eyes. A RED CROSS badge hangs
from his neck. A small earpiece, like a hearing aid, is
almost invisible, as is the microphone pinned to his
shirt.

                        KITTLES’ VOICE (V.O.) (CONT’D)
          Danger was, Al-Salameh was
          protected by Hafez Al-Shiri,
          Hamas’ top guy in the sector and
          probably their number one bad-ass.

HAFEZ AL-SHIRI (35), fierce and devoted to Hamas, watches
the American walk down the street.

                        KITTLES’ VOICE (V.O.) (CONT’D)
          Al-Shiri’s so good at tagging
          Israeli’s they gave up trying to
          whack him. Jordie felt three days
          was the red line for the Op. I
          green lit the kill on day six.

Two pretty girls pass by - He can’t help flirting - in
this case, it’s literally part of his job description.

                        AMERICAN 1
               (teasing)
          Estana shoeya. Sho ismack?

The girls giggle, and keep walking. A passing LOCAL gives
the AMERICAN a pitying stare.
                                                       50.


                        AMERICAN 1 (CONT’D)
          Probably sounds better in English.

                        KITTLES’ VOICE (V.O.)
          Jordie split his team in half,
          took three guys and waited...

The AMERICAN stops across the street from a small cafe
where MEN smoke and drink coffee. BODYGUARDS stand
outside, watchful and protective. The AMERICAN stops,
lights a cigarette, watching.

A MERCEDES pulls up in front of the cafe, waiting.

ALI HASSAN AL-SALAMEH walks out of the cafe surrounded by
PRETTY YOUNG GIRLS he seems to be flirting with.

                        AMERICAN 1
               (quietly)
          Infidel, nine o’clock.

Amidst the shadows, a faint, red dot dances around
SALAMEH’s back, trying to keep him in focus amidst the
girls. For one heartbreaking moment, the dot falls across
the neck of the teens.

                        AMERICAN 1 (CONT’D)
               (to himself)
          Fuck, man, not the Cutie.

SALAMEH finally stands still. The DOT finds its mark.
Nobody hears the shot that drops SALAMEH to his knees.

                        KITTLES’ VOICE (V.O.)
          ...and when the time came, Jordie
          gave the order and they shot that
          sonofabitch in the head.

The second shot tears away the SALAMEH’s skull.

                        AMERICAN 1
          And one for good luck.

The BODYGUARDS drag the CORPSE toward the Mercedes.

The Street erupts in screams, gunfire, people running in
all directions.

The AMERICAN waits a beat, takes a final pull on the
cigarette, and fades in with the crowd.

                                                     CUT TO:
                                                        51.



INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

SINK continues to listen. KITTLES’ eyes glow with the
memory.

                        KITTLES
          Believe me, Sink. It was a
          beautiful kill. Textbook.
               (beat)
          Then Al-Shiri got involved. And it
          all went to hell.

                                                  CUT TO:


EXT. RAMALLAH - MOMENTS LATER

The AMERICAN takes a side street, fading in with the
LOCALS and TOURISTS all trying to figure out what the
commotion is.

Another AMERICAN (2), falls into lockstep beside him,
carrying a small canvass bag. They pass a small market
stand blasting music.

                        AMERICAN 2
          Hate fucking Techno.

The TWO AMERICANS take another side street. See a THIRD
AMERICAN, walking on the other side, carrying a long
case.

A BMW honks once. The doors open. The men get into the
car, which fades into the traffic.


I/E. BMW, RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

JORDAN SINCLAIR, 31, watches the passing foot traffic
from behind the wheel of the car.

                        JORDAN
          We good?

                        AMERICAN 2
          Golden.

                        AMERICAN 1
               (to AMERICAN 3)
          Dude, you came this close to
          hitting the cute one.

                        AMERICAN 2
          Which was the cute one?
                                                     52.


                          AMERICAN 1
          The brunette.

                        AMERICAN 2
          They’re all brunette.

                        AMERICAN 1
          Hell, they’re all cute.

                        AMERICAN 3
          Shit, man, I guess I’m lucky I
          remembered to shoot.

JORDAN sees the tail before anybody else.

                        JORDAN
          They’re on our ass, guys.

JORDAN slams on the gas. The men jerk against the sudden
change in speed, look out the windows, realize they’re
being followed.

One hand on the wheel, JORDAN hits the switch on a small
transmitter.

                        JORDAN (CONT’D)
          Echo 3 to Echo base, request
          immediate support for extraction
          from...

                        AMERICAN 3
               (screams)
          - JORDIE!

Too late - the BMW is broad-sided by a truck - spins off
the impact - slams into a building.

                                                  CUT TO:


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

KITTLES hits stop on the cassette recorder.

                        SINK
          Play that again.

                          KITTLES
          Sink -

                        SINK
          - Play that again.

KITTLES rewinds. SINK listens to the dying words of his
own son.
                                                        53.


                        KITTLES
          Support was too far away. They
          never had a chance.

                                                  CUT TO:


EXT. ARAB RAMALLAH - MOMENTS LATER

JORDAN comes to, forcing himself through his
unconsciousness. Sirens blare everywhere. The passenger
door lies open - AMERICAN 2’s on the ground a dozen feet
away, crawling.

AMERICANS 1 & 3 are still in the back, heads slumped
back, dead.

JORDIE manages to push open the door and falls to the
ground.

He starts to crawl, as the HAMAS GUYS from the tail car
catch up. JORDIE looks over in time to see a HAMAS GUY
shoot AMERICAN 2 point blank.

And hears the men arguing in Arabic as their footsteps
draw closer to him. JORDIE rolls over on his back, opens
his eyes to bearded faces and lethal eyes, two gun
barrels inches from his head..

JORDAN blacks out.

                                                  CUT TO:


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

KITTLES lines four pictures up on his desk. One of the
burned out BMW. One of each of three, blackened corpses.

                        KITTLES
          The Hamas Government announced the
          deaths of three tourists involved
          in a car accident who died when
          their gas tank exploded on impact.
          Their Foreign Minister even called
          the Secretary of State to offer
          his condolences. State arranged
          for the return of the bodies.
          Autopsy showed that two of them
          died from broken necks sustained
          in the crash, the third was shot
          in the head. All the burns were
          post-mortem. We ran DNA, Sink.
          Jordie wasn’t one of `em.
                                                        54.


                        SINK
          Who lit the fire?

                        KITTLES
          The Israeli’s were first on the
          scene. One look at the guys and
          the gear...we’re assuming they
          covered for us.
               (beat)
          Sink, witnesses saw a fourth man
          being dragged into a vehicle and
          driven away. We know that fourth
          man was Jordie. Al-Shiri would not
          keep him alive, Sink. Those
          fuckers are crazy. They are not
          suicidal.

                        SINK
          Except when their blowing up
          school buses.

                        KITTLES
          In the Middle East, crazy and
          suicidal are relative terms. Al-
          Shiri killed Jordie and buried him
          in the desert, Sink. I’m sorry.

KITTLES takes a breath, getting to the hard part.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          The real shit of it was, that same
          night, the top story on Al-Jazeera
          was the Israeli assassination of
          Palestinian Interior Minister
          Mukhtar Al-Salameh on the streets
          of Ramallah. The Israeli’s, of
          course, could neither confirm nor
          deny their involvement.

                        SINK
          You got the wrong guy?

                        KITTLES
          And the following day, Hamas
          suicide bombers killed twenty
          Israelis.

KITTLES takes a photograph from his desk, holds it up
next to ALI-HASSAN. They’re twins.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Mukhtar. Ali-Hassan. CIA said they
          were born two years apart.

SINK stares closely.
                                                        55.


                        SINK
          Mukhtar had a mole.

                        KITTLES
          Hard to see through a rifle scope
          from a half mile away when you
          don’t know the guy has a twin.

KITTLES points to the Crossed out Face of ALI-HASSAN.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Few days ago, Ali-Hassan was
          killed by a Hellfire missile fired
          into his safe-house in Al-
          Mukallah, Yemen. The United
          States, of course, could neither
          confirm nor deny their
          involvement. But the following
          day, Hamas formally petitioned the
          State Department to unfreeze some
          Palestinian assets. We politely
          agreed.

                        SINK
          You’re letting Hamas blackmail you
          with my son’s body? y?

                         KITTLES
          That surprise you? Jordie’s their
          chip in the game, Sink. As long as
          Hamas doesn’t ask for too much, we
          get to pretend we didn’t
          accidentally kill their Minister
          of the Interior, they get to
          pretend they didn’t accidentally
          kill four American soldiers, and
          all of us get to pretend we didn’t
          almost cause World War III in the
          Middle East. The only people
          getting screwed in this mess are
          the Israeli’s.

SINK realizes the futility of the situation. And KITTLES
can see it.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Conroy spent twenty years in the
          Navy, Sink. They have a saying.
          Sooner or later, the corpse always
          floats to the surface.

                        SINK
          Until he does, what do I tell his
          wife and son?
                                                        56.


                           KITTLES
             You tell them, we all knew what
             were doing. And none of us, more
             so than Jordie.


EXT. WASHINGTON DC - DAY

SINK, ROBIN and JEMMY walk to a restaurant for lunch.

                           SINK
             How was meeting the President?

                           ROBIN
             He’s smaller than I expected.

                           SINK
             They always are.


INT. RESTAURANT - DAY

SINK, ROBIN and JEMMY sit in a quiet corner. ROBIN’s face
doubts the story SINK has recounted.

                           ROBIN
             He died in a car wreck.

SINK nods.

                           ROBIN (CONT’D)
             The gas tank exploded, he got
             burned.

SINK nods.

                           ROBIN (CONT’D)
             And they can’t find his body and
             the whole thing is classified.
             Wow. If that don’t make all the
             sense in the world.

                           SINK
             That’s the official version of
             events.

                           ROBIN
             Then what’s the unofficial
             version?

SINK shrugs. ROBIN turns away.
                                                        57.


                        SINK
          We have a few hours before your
          flight, and I still have some
          friends in this town. Give me some
          time.

ROBIN nods her agreement, and reaches into her purse.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          I got this.

                        ROBIN
          Thank you.

ROBIN picks up JEMMY and carries him out of the
restaurant.

SINK watches her get into a cab. As soon as she’s out of
sight his face changes, determination replacing sympathy.
He takes out his cell phone and dials a number from
memory.

                        SINK
          You remember this voice?
               (beat)
          Good. Let’s take a walk.


EXT. VIETNAM WAR MEMORIAL - DAY

SINK stares at a panel of names. SHARPER, fifties, sidles
up next to him, dressed in a gray overcoat, eating an
apple.

                        SINK
          You either need to buy a tie with
          CIA printed down the front or
          start letting your wife pick out
          your clothes.

DARREN throws the core of the apple away.

                        SHARPER
          Since when did inter-agency
          cooperation includes retirees?

                        SINK
          It doesn’t.

SINK puts his hand against the wall, making his point.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          This does.

                        SHARPER
          Sink -
                                                  58.


                        SINK
          - You ever consider how close you
          came to having your name engraved
          on this wall, Sharper? You ever
          think about why it isn’t?

SHARPER smiles despite himself. And surrenders.

                        SHARPER
          I missed you, Sink.

                        SINK
          I missed you, too.

They start walking.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Mukhtar Al-Salameh.

                        SHARPER
          Jesus fucking Christ.

SINK waits.

                        SHARPER (CONT’D)
          He’s very, very dead.

                          SINK
          And?

                        SHARPER
          And, between you and me, I think
          the Israeli’s fucked up on that
          one.

                          SINK
          Shit happens.

                          SHARPER
          Yes, it does.

                        SINK
          But not to the Israeli’s.

SHARPER stops, leans in close, furious.

                        SHARPER
          Look at my face, Sink. You do not
          want to finish that thought in my
          presence.
                                                     59.


                        SINK
          Five older brothers, Sharper. Each
          one crazier than the next, each
          one preaching death and
          destruction, yet Mukhtar’s job’s
          to bring Hamas and the Israeli’s
          together. How’d that play during
          Thanksgiving dinner at the Al-
          Salameh household?

SHARPER starts walking again, putting it together.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You see what I’m saying here,
          Sharper? Maybe the calculus on who
          did what to who is all fucked up.
          And maybe its time someone with
          your influence and credentials,
          who owed his war buddy his very
          fucking life, went out of his way
          to try and correct the record.

SHARPER thinks for a long moment.

                        SHARPER
          Maybe it is. Who do you think
          might be interested?


INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

SINK sits at a table with GAMAL ASSAD, an Egyptian
bureaucrat in his forties, sipping dark Turkish coffee.

                        GAMAL
          Our intelligence service isn’t
          worth shit, Sink. They told me you
          were retired.

                           SINK
          I am.

                        GAMAL
          So why am I wasting my time with
          you?

                           SINK
          You miss me.

GAMAL smiles. And waits.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Mukhtar Al-Salameh.

GAMAL sits back.
                                                     60.


                        GAMAL
          The Egyptian Government thought
          very highly of Mukhtar.

                        SINK
          And his brother?

                        GAMAL
          We support all the Palestinian
          freedom fighters -

                         SINK
          - not those, brothers, Gamal. The
          nutty brother.

                        GAMAL
          Between you and me, they’re all
          fucking nuts.

                        SINK
          Ali Hassan.

                         GAMAL
          Egypt stands firm with the United
          States in combatting the evil of
          global terror.

                        SINK
          That is, when you’re not paying
          for it.

GAMAL smiles again.

                        GAMAL
          Ali Hassan was a shit.

                        SINK
          Since you know he’s a shit, Gamal,
          why does Egypt think its
          coincidence that Mukhtar is killed
          right Ali Hassan returns to
          Ramallah?

GAMAL thinks for a long moment. And smiles.

                        GAMAL
          I guess we don’t have the American
          imagination.

SINK stands, drops a bill on the table and shakes GAMAL’s
hand.

                        SINK
          This one’s on me.

SINK exits the coffee shop.
                                                     61.



I/E. CAB, WASHINGTON DC - DAY

SINK rides in the back of a cab down INTERNATIONAL DRIVE.

                        SINK
          Stop here.

The CAB stops in front of the LEBANESE EMBASSY. SINK
scribbles a note onto a piece of paper, folds a bill over
it and reaches over to the CABBIE.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Want to make an extra twenty?


INT. AIRPORT LOBBY - EVENING

SINK sits with ROBIN and JEMMY, waiting for their flight.

SINK stares at JEMMY for a long moment, memorizing the
face, trying to see his son in his grandson.

                        ROBIN
          No one knows anything?

                        SINK
          If they do, they’re not saying.

SINK stares out the window.

                        ROBIN
          You’re lying to me. Jordie had
          that same look. I’d ask him where
          he was going, he’d smile and tell
          me Hawaii. And he’d have that same
          look on his face.

The PA announces the flight to Charlotte.

                        SINK
          That’s your flight.

                        ROBIN
          Yeah.

SINK pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket.

                        SINK
          These are friends of mine, back in
          Michigan. My lawyer, the guy who
          runs my hardware store. Just in
          case one of them calls. It’d be
          easier if you knew who they were.

ROBIN knows what he means. And why he’s saying it.
                                                     62.


                        ROBIN
          I just want to bury my husband,
          Sink. Don’t make me bury his
          father.

ROBIN kisses his cheek. SINK watches them disappear into
the airport.

Then gets back to work.


EXT. MARGUERITA’S MEXICAN RESTAURANT - EVENING

A taxi pulls to the curb in front of a small dive of a
restaurant in an unpopular part of town.

RAFIQ AL-SAAD (44), a Lebanese Diplomat, gets out, as a
passing group of TEENS in Gang-Wear give him the once
over.


INT. MEXICAN RESTAURANT - MOMENTS LATER

SINK has a plate of food in front of him. RAFIQ walks
through the near empty restaurant and sits across from
SINK.

                        RAFIQ
          I was quite sure you were dead.

                        SINK
          And I’m quite sure that you might
          be.
               (beat)
          Hungry?

                          RAFIQ
          No.

                          SINK
          Drink?

                          RAFIQ
          No.

A WAITRESS starts over. SINK waves her away.

                        SINK
          How’s life at the Embassy? Must be
          a bitch having to suddenly answer
          to your own people instead of the
          Syrians. Like the world turned
          upside down.

                        RAFIQ
          I keep my head above water.
                                               63.


                        SINK
          Funny. I didn’t know you could
          swim.

                        RAFIQ
          Men learn as they age.

                        SINK
          Yes, Rafiq. We most certainly do.

RAFIQ picks the hint of a threat.

                        RAFIQ
          Do I owe you a favor, Sink?

                        SINK
          Nope.

                        RAFIQ
          And you are retired.

                        SINK
          Yep.

                        RAFIQ
          Then why am I sitting here?

                        SINK
          Because for twenty years, Israel
          occupied one half of your country
          and the Syrians occupied the
          other. Because the Lebanese memory
          is exceedingly long when it comes
          to collaborators, and their
          vengeance exceedingly bloody when
          those collaborators have to go
          home.

                        RAFIQ
          Sink, I never -

                        SINK
          - I can produce a file this thick
          says you did. Even stamp it Top
          Secret, I want. They let me keep
          one as a going away present.
               (beat)
          Not much point keeping your head
          above water if the rest of you
          isn’t attached to it, is there?

                        RAFIQ
          I thought we were friends.
                                                     64.


                        SINK
          We are, Rafiq. And friends help
          each other. For example, I can
          help keep the Israeli’s from
          killing you.

RAFIQ’s eyes close, and SINK knows he has him.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You know more Palestinian
          terrorists than anybody who isn’t
          one himself. Lucky for you, I only
          need one.

The WAITRESS brings SINK his bill. SINK writes a name on
the back, and slides it across to RAFIQ. He looks at the
name, closes his eyes again, completely defeated.

Then slides the name back across the table.

                        RAFIQ
          It’s always smart to keep your
          receipts, Colonel Sink. There are
          some things your government
          prefers to write off.

RAFIQ walks out of the restaurant.


INT. OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE - NIGHT

CONROY sips at a Scotch as KITTLES sits in front of him.

                        KITTLES
          All due respect, sir, it’s not a
          bad story.

                        CONROY
          Ali-Hassan whacking his brother?

                        KITTLES
          Gets the Israeli’s off the hook
          for Mukhtar. Splits the Jihadist
          and secular Palestinians. And it
          gives us deniability. We can tell
          Hamas an American Tourist was lost
          in their territory, and his family
          is desperate for answers.

                        CONROY
          Sure. And they respond by dragging
          his body through Gaza saying this
          tourist killed Mukhtar Al-Salameh?
          General, this is a scab we can not
          and will not pick.
                                                        65.
                        CONROY(CONT'D)
          We will not sacrifice American
          respect and prestige for the sake
          of a corpse.

                        KITTLES
          All due respect, those corpses are
          precisely what earns America its
          respect and prestige. Sir.

                        CONROY
          You will talk to Sinclair,
          General. And you will order him to
          cease and desist immediately.

                        KITTLES
          He’s a civilian now, sir. I can’t
          order Sink to do anything.

                        CONROY
          Then convince him.

                           KITTLES
               (beat)
          Yes, sir.


I/E. CAB, WASHINGTON DC - NIGHT

SINK takes out his cell phone and dials.

                        SINK
          Avi. Sink. Shabbat Shalom.


I/E. HOTEL - MOMENTS LATER

SINK pays the cabbie and walks into the hotel, cell phone
against his ear.

                        SINK
          No, that’s not a problem. Okay.
          I’ll see you then. Hey - Avi, I
          don’t want your old man all over
          my ass, you understand? Call your
          mother.

SINK hangs up to see KITTLES in the lobby, tapping an
unlit cigarette against his watch.

                           SINK (CONT’D)
          I miss curfew?

A DESK CLERK sees SINK and brings over a package.

                        DESK CLERK
          Mr. Sinclair, this just came in
          for you.
                                                        66.


                        SINK
          Thank you.

SINK looks at it. KITTLES looks at it. Then KITTLES looks
over to the bar.

                        KITTLES
          Let me buy you a drink.


INT. HOTEL BAR - MOMENTS LATER

The two men sit surrounded by politicians and Capitol
Hill staffers in a crowded, smoke-free bar, drinking
scotch and eating peanuts.

KITTLES phone rings. He answers, listens, hangs up
without speaking, shaking his head.

                        KITTLES
          So three hours after you leave, I
          got this call from a friend at the
          Libyan Embassy who says he just
          heard the most incredible rumor
          about Ali Hassan and Mukhtar Al-
          Salameh. You want to hear it?

                        SINK
          I don’t believe rumors.

                        KITTLES
          You think Hamas does?

SINK shrugs, playing nonchalant.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          You sent up a trial balloon. I’m
          here to pop it.

SINK throws KITTLES a look, daring him to say what he
knows.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          You left my office, you and Robin
          had lunch. You called Darren
          Sharper and took a walk around the
          Wall. You had coffee with Gamal
          Assad, called your lawyer in
          Michigan to rewrite your will,
          took Robin to the airport, had
          dinner with Rafiq Al-Saad who just
          sent you a package and ten minutes
          ago you got off the phone with Avi
          Migdal in Tel Aviv, who by the
          way, really ought to call his
          mother.
                                                     67.


SINK lets out a chile pepper belch. KITTLES pulls out an
antacid.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          And the tamales at Margueritas
          still give you heartburn. Want a
          pepcid?

                        SINK
          You tagging me, sir?

                        KITTLES
          It’s the Patriot Act, Sink. I’m
          just a patriot.

                        SINK
          Then act like one. Sir.

                        KITTLES
          Understand what’s at stake here,
          Sink. The Middle East’s a powder
          keg and Jordie is the fuse. The
          corpse of your son the price we
          pay for being who we are.

                        SINK
          He was your son, sir, what would
          you do?

                        KITTLES
          Is this really about Jordie, Sink?
          Are you really this devoted to the
          son you abandoned? Or this about
          you wasting your life in
          retirement and searching for
          something, anything, to get
          yourself back in the shit?

                        SINK
               (beat)
          I had him once, sir. I once had my
          son. But I lost him. And when I
          got him back, I never even knew
          it. I will not lose him again. Not
          for you. Not for this country. Not
          for anything.
               (beat)
          My son died a hero, sir. We owe
          him this.

That strikes a chord in KITTLES.

                        KITTLES
          I never should have told you.
                                                       68.


                        SINK
          Then why the hell did you?

                        KITTLES
          Because. We owe him this.

KITTLES pops the tablet himself, and drains his Scotch.
The cigarette starts tapping against the watch again.

KITTLES takes a long look around the bar, sees who’s
there and who’s watching.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          If he was my son - I’d make damn
          sure I understood that as far as
          the Government of the United
          States is concerned, Jordan Ellis
          Sinclair does not exist. Which
          means, no matter what, I could
          never find HIS body, because HIS
          body doesn’t exist. I could only
          hope to find A body. A body with
          papers, and identification. A body
          that had a relative willing to
          report him as missing and claim
          him if and when A body is found.
          That’s what I’d do.
               (beat)
          And I’d make sure I did it in the
          most public bar in DC, so
          everybody could see I was
          following orders and telling you
          to let this all go.

SINK gets the message.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Try not to get into any shoot-outs
          at dawn with the terrorists we’re
          not currently at war with.

                         SINK
          No promises.

                        KITTLES
          It comes to that, I know four very
          pissed off Americans who’ve spent
          the last two months in Tel Aviv
          hoping to pick up an Echo.

KITTLES stands, throws some money on the bar.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          You fuck this up, and I never knew
          you. You really fuck up, you never
          existed.
                                                       69.

               (beat)   KITTLES(CONT'D)
          And that said...

KITTLES finishes his drink.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Go and bring our boy home.

KITTLES walks out of the bar.


INT. AIRPLANE - MORNING

SINK sits alone in first class, craning his neck to make
sure nobody’s watching.

He rips open the package from Rafiq. And stares at a
picture of HAFEZ AL-SHIRI (35).

And a map of his last known location in Ramallah.


INT. NY AIRPORT - MORNING

SINK gets off his flight from DC and walks through the
terminal.

TYLER KENT, in an olive green T-shirt and fatigue pants,
sits in a chair, cane at his side, drinking a cup of
coffee. A gold cross dangles around his neck. He sees
SINK, pushes himself to his feet.

TYLER waits for his orders. SINK smiles his gratitude.

A handicapped cart zips down the terminal with bells
ringing.

                        SINK
          International Terminal’s quite a
          long hike. You want need a ride?

                        TYLER
          Jerusalem’s no puddle jumper, sir.
          You need Depends?

SINK grins.

                        SINK
          Liked you better when you were a
          cripple.

He hands TYLER his ticket. They begin their march.
                                                        70.



INT. AIRPLANE - DAY

SINK and TYLER fly in first class, Champagne glasses on
their trays next to bowls of fresh strawberries.

SINK reads a magazine. TYLER squirms around, trying to
get comfortable.

                        SINK
               (reading)
          Leg bothering you?

                        TYLER
          No, sir.

TYLER looks around, cranes his neck to see into the coach
cabin. Sits back, and continues his squirming.

                        SINK
               (annoyed)
          Stop it.

TYLER tries to hold still. And can’t. He takes in the
champagne and strawberries.

                        TYLER
          Officers always travel like this?

                        SINK
               (beat)
          Of course.


INT. BEN GURION AIRPORT - DAY

Jet lagged and weary, SINK and TYLER wait to go through
Israeli customs, SINK’s suitcase on a roller, TYLER’s
Army bag slung over his shoulder.

SINK steps forward, passport in hand. The ATTENDANT
checks the name, speaks into a radio.

                        SINK
          There a problem?

                        ATTENDANT
          Wait over there, please.

SINK steps aside. TYLER steps up to the counter.

ZVI MIGDAL (62), a hard eyed Israeli, steps out of a side
office, and SINK isn’t happy to see him.
                                                        71.


                         ZVI
          Colonel Sinclair. I quite thought
          you were dead.

                        SINK
          Join the club, Zvi.

                        ZVI
          Are you traveling alone?

                        SINK
               (points to TYLER)
          He’s with me.

ZVI takes in TYLER, in his fatigue pants and shirt, Army
bag slung over his shoulder.

                        ZVI
          And completely inconspicuous.
          What’s wrong with his leg?

                        SINK
          Shot by the Arabs.

                        ZVI
          Good. He’ll fit right in.

ZVI whistles to the ATTENDANT, and waves for TYLER to
follow.


EXT. BEN GURION AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER

SINK and TYLER follow ZVI out of the airport. Everywhere
TYLER looks, all he sees are guns, on Police, on
Soldiers, on civilians.

                        ZVI
          This your first time to Israel,
          Mr. Kent?

                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.

                        ZVI
          You like it so far?

                        TYLER
          I think so, sir. Looks like Iraq.
          Only nicer.

                        ZVI
          We print that on our brochures.

Two PRETTY GIRLS with UZI’s pass them. TYLER stops to
watch.
                                                        72.


                        SINK
          Tyler.

TYLER stares after the girls.

                        TYLER
          I think I’m in love.


I/E. ZVI’S CAR, TEL AVIV - DAY

ZVI and SINK ride up front, TYLER in back.

                        TYLER
          Does everybody here carry machine
          guns?

                        ZVI
          Of course not. Most us prefer
          automatics.

TYLER remembers something, starts digging through his
bag.

                        TYLER
          I almost forgot, sir. Mr. Lowell
          said to give you this.

TYLER hands sink a large, square, paper wrapped package.
ZVI glances at it, then at SINK.

                        ZVI
          Lot of cash for a tourist.

                        SINK
          Why the red carpet, Zvi?

                        ZVI
          Thirty years of friendship isn’t
          enough? Besides. His mother hasn’t
          heard from my son.

TRAFFIC SLOWS. Sirens wail, people rushing in all
directions.

                        ZVI (CONT’D)
          Something must have happened.

ZVI parks the car. The three men get out, wander half a
block. SOLDIERS, POLICE and MEDICS rush past them, dust
and blood covered SURVIVORS heading towards them.

Across the street, they can see the blown out remains of
a Cafe.
                                                     73.


                        TYLER
          Reminds me of 9-11.

                        ZVI
          Reminds me of Yesterday.


INT. AVI’S APARTMENT - EVENING

SINK knocks on the door. AVI MIGDAL (35), an urban
Israeli, answers

                           AVI
          You’re late.

AVI sees ZVI standing behind SINK and TYLER.
Unconsciously, he stands straighter.

                           AVI (CONT’D)
          And not alone.

                        SINK
          I told you to call your damn
          mother.

AVI steps aside. TYLER shakes hands.

                           TYLER
          Tyler Kent.

                           AVI
          Avi Migdal.

AVI finds himself eye to eye with his father.

                           AVI (CONT’D)
          Dad.

ZVI glares.

A small photography studio, connected to sophisticated
computer equipment, is set up in one corner.

All four men stand around, not knowing what to do with
ZVI there.

                        ZVI
          Please. Don’t let me interrupt.

SINK gives up and steps in front of the camera, waves to
AVI to get to work.

                           AVI
          No smiling.
                                                     74.


AVI takes several pictures with a digital camera,
watching as each feeds into the computer.

                           AVI (CONT’D)
                  (to SINK)
          Okay.

SINK hands an AVI a sealed envelope.

                        SINK
          This is the best I could do.

AVI nods, doesn’t say anything, glances at his father.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          How long do you need?

                          AVI
          Couple hours.

                        SINK
          Tyler. Avi’s gonna take a few
          pictures, then you’re gonna hang
          out here for a while. Don’t touch
          anything.

                          TYLER
          Yes, sir.

                          SINK
               (to ZVI)
          Shall we?

                        ZVI
               (to AVI)
          Call your mother.

                        AVI
          I will.
               (to SINK)
          Ah, Colonel. You have my money?

                          ZVI
          Avi!

                        AVI
          I’m not being rude, Dad. This is
          business. The same business you
          taught me.

                        ZVI
          I did not teach you to -

                        AVI
          - don’t start with me, Dad!
                                                       75.


                           SINK
          Guys.
               (points at TYLER)
          I have the money. He’s my
          collateral.
               (to ZVI)
          Let’s go.

SINK and ZVI walk out of the apartment.

                        TYLER
          So. That’s your dad, huh?

AVI lets out a sigh, opens the envelope, takes out a
picture of JORDIE. TYLER looks over his shoulder.

                        AVI
          This is his son?

TYLER nods.

AVI positions TYLER against the back drop. TYLER grins.

                           AVI (CONT’D)
          No smiling.


INT. CAFE - EVENING

ZVI and SINK sit in a quiet corner of the cafe. Neither
man wants to speak, but ZVI’s face is a perfect mask of
patience, and SINK knows he can’t wait him out..

                        SINK
          You ever fart in the middle of a
          Seder?

ZVI blinks, taken aback.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Stupid how people react to it,
          isn’t it? You sit there,
          pretending that you didn’t do
          fart. Everybody else sits there
          pretending that you didn’t fart.
          But everybody smells it, and no
          one forgets it, so what the hell’s
          so wrong about just standing up
          and saying, “whoops, that was me,
          and I’m sorry?”

                        ZVI
          There’s a Seder every year, Sink.
          And the next time, you won’t be
          invited.
                                                       76.


ZVI takes a tablet from his pocket and slides it across
the table - SINK looks down, sees “Gas-X”.

                           ZVI (CONT'D)
             Your last fart cost 20 Israelis
             their lives. How many more lives
             will the next one cost?

                           SINK
             It’s just a little fart, Zvi. I
             promise.

                           ZVI
             You have a duty to your country,
             Sink. But I have a duty to mine.

                           SINK
             I’m not here for my country, Zvi.
             And the only thing I need from
             yours is to stay out of my way.

ZVI lights a cigarette and thinks for a long moment.

                           ZVI
             The fourth American. The one Hamas
             captured...?

SINK nods.

                           ZVI (CONT’D)
             And plan on searching the desert
             for his body?

                           SINK
             I plan on asking Hamas for their
             help. Respectfully, of course.

ZVI puts it together and makes up his mind.

                           ZVI
             The man who can help you is Luttif
             Al-Saad. He’s the new Interior
             Minister. Just mention that you
             know his Uncle Rafiq.

SINK thinks a minute, recognizing the deal on the table.

                           SINK
             I hope Rafiq’s paid up on his life
             insurance.

                           ZVI
             In our world, Sink, there’s no
             such thing. Which hotel are you
             staying at?
                                                       77.


                        SINK
          Tonight, the Intercontinental.
          Tomorrow, the King David. Room
          204.

ZVI nods and gets up from the table.

                        ZVI
          I mourn your son, Sink. Now tell
          mine to go call his mother.

ZVI walks out of the cafe.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - MORNING

KITTLES works at his desk. The MAJOR walks in with a
memo.

                        MAJOR
          Sir, this just came over the wire.

KITTLES takes it, reads.

                        MAJOR (CONT’D)
          Colonel Sinclair just landed in
          Israel. The Secretary -

                        KITTLES
          - doesn’t need to know, Major.

KITTLES drops the memo in the shredder.

                           MAJOR
          Yes, sir.


EXT. TEL AVIV - NIGHT

SINK walks back to AVI’s, beginning to tire. All around
him are people going on with their lives amidst a
constant threat of terrorism.

Across the street, SINK watches a FATHER holding hands
with his YOUNG SON, walking down the street, surrounded
by guys with machine guns.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

SINK tips the BELLBOY, closes the door and locks it.
TYLER drops his bag on the floor and falls onto the bed.

                        TYLER
          What time is it, sir?
                                                     78.


                          SINK
          Midnight.

                        TYLER
          What’s that in American time?

                        SINK
          Yesterday. We’re off the
          reservation here, Tyler. Give me
          your wallet.

TYLER hands it over. SINK takes out his wallet and puts
them both in a large envelope, then hands TYLER two fake
ID’s, one with Tyler’s picture, and one with Jordie’s.

                          TYLER
          Paul Stewart.

                        SINK
          Brother of David. Make a Xerox of
          that. If your brother is missing,
          you can’t have his passport.

                        TYLER
          Right.
               (reads)
          Columbus, Ohio? Avi made us
          Buckeye Fans?

                        SINK
          His idea of a joke. Could be
          worse. I’m now Walter Faucet.

TYLER rubs his leg.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You take anything for that?

                        TYLER
          Don’t need to, sir. So what’s the
          plan, sir?

SINK holds up the envelope with the wallets, and writes
out a quick note.

                        SINK
          The plan is, you’re gonna go
          downstairs and put this in the
          mail...

He holds up the note...

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          ...fax this and copy that
          passport.
                                                     79.
                        SINK(CONT'D)
          Tomorrow, you’ll report your
          brother missing to the American
          Embassy and after that, you spend
          the next week on vacation in
          Israel.

                        TYLER
          You’re cutting me out, sir?

                        SINK
          Minimizing your exposure. My op,
          my rules.

                        TYLER
          Sir -

                        SINK
          - You have your orders.

TYLER swallows his anger, and gathers the envelope and
the note.

                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.

And walks out of the room.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - EVENING

KITTLES works at his desk, an unlit cigarette tapping
against the wood when he hears his fax machine starting
to receive.

KITTLES pulls out the note, reads it, smiles, shreds it.

                        KITTLES
          Major!

The MAJOR walks in.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Write up an intelligence
          assessment recommending that Rafiq
          Al-Saad’s request for asylum be
          denied.

                        MAJOR
          Has he asked for asylum?

                        KITTLES
          Not yet.
                                                     80.



EXT. TEL AVIV - MORNING

SINK and TYLER walk down Israeli streets packed with
students, soldiers and tourists, toward the DRESS MARINES
guarding the American Embassy.

                        SINK
          You know what to say?

                        TYLER
          I’m on top of it, sir.

                        SINK
          Don’t get too specific. We just
          want to get the name in the
          system.

                        TYLER
          Understood, sir.

SINK picks up on TYLER’s frustration.

                           SINK
          Tyler -

                        TYLER
          - don’t want to spend all day
          waiting in line, sir.

TYLER heads into the Embassy.


EXT. CAFE - MORNING

SINK sits outside at a tourist cafe, having orange juice
and fruit for breakfast.

JASON DONNELLY (33), sits at the next table reading the
New York Times. SINK looks at the discarded sections.

                        SINK
          Excuse me. Would you mind?

                           JASON
          Help yourself.

SINK takes the front page, starts to read, glancing at
his watch.


INT. EMBASSY - MORNING

TYLER sits in an uncomfortable chair, nervously tapping
his cane, while a STAFFER reviews the ID and documents.
                                                        81.


                        STAFFER
          Columbus, huh? Go Buckeyes.

                        TYLER
          Go to hell. My blood runs Maize
          and Blue.

                        STAFFER
          I went to Ohio State.

TYLER decides to shut up.

                        STAFFER (CONT’D)
          How long’s it been since you last
          heard from your brother?

                        TYLER
          Mom got a call a little over a
          month ago. David said he was
          leaving Amman and heading to
          Israel.

                        STAFFER
          We don’t have any record of him
          logging in with us.

                        TYLER
          That’s why I’m here.


EXT. CAFE - MORNING

SINK finishes the front page. JASON sits back in his
chair, smoking a cigarette. SINK hands him back the
paper.

                           SINK
          Thanks you.

                        JASON
          My pleasure, sir.

SINK perks up. Looking around, he notices another
AMERICAN at the other end of the block. And another
across the street. And another down the block, behind
him.

And realizes he’s boxed.

JASON puts the sports section down on the table. And puts
a sea shell on top of it.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Got that off a beach in Haifa. Put
          it to your ear, sir. You might
          just hear an Echo.
                                                      82.


JASON stands, fits his sunglasses over his eyes.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Score of the Lions game’s on page
          17.

JASON walks away. The other AMERICANS fade off as well.

SINK waits a beat, opens the paper and sees a small note
waiting inside.

SINK looks at it, briefly. Crumples it in his hand.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

SINK packs his things. TYLER stands by the window,
staring out.

                        TYLER
          You think I’m a cripple.

                        SINK
          I think your limp slows you down.

                        TYLER
          Couldn’t outrun a bullet before I
          got shot, sir. That hasn’t
          changed.

                        SINK
          I got four guys who do this for a
          living, Tyler. What the hell would
          I tell your Old Man if something
          happened to you?

                        TYLER
          You tell him I died doing what he
          would have done, you’d asked him
          instead of me, sir.

SINK thinks a moment, counts out some cash and hands it
to TYLER.

                        TYLER (CONT’D)
          You buying me off, sir?

                        SINK
          You’re going to need your own
          room, on a separate floor,
          registered in the name of Paul
          Steward. The first call you make
          is to the embassy to update your
          contact information.
                                                        83.


                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.

                        SINK
          God damn right, yes, sir. You
          follow my orders without fail or
          question. I tell you to stay in
          your room, you say yes, sir and
          nothing else. Are we clear?

                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.

                        SINK
          All right, then. Get your crippled
          ass packed. We got a long drive
          ahead of us.


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - EVENING

The MAJOR walks in with another memo, and hands it to
KITTLES.

Headlined, “American Reported Missing in Israel”.


I/E. CAR, KING DAVID HOTEL, JERUSALEM - NIGHT

SINK pulls to the curb, lets TYLER out.

                        SINK
          Wait half an hour, ask for Walter
          Faucet.

                        TYLER
          Yes, sir.

TYLER gets out. SINK pulls back into traffic, noticing
more and more ARAB faces.

And on a street corner, one of the four Americans from
TEL AVIV, smoking a cigarette.

SINK stops. The AMERICAN jumps in.

                        GREG
          First Sergeant Greg Paulus, sir.

                        SINK
          I’m Sink.

                        GREG
          I know who you are, sir. We all
          do.
                                                      84.


                        SINK
          Where’s the rest of the team?

                        GREG
          They’re around, sir.

GREG hands SINK a slip of paper.

                        GREG (CONT’D)
          Easy to find. Zero Two Hundred.

SINK nods, and stops the car. GREG jumps out and merges
in with the tourists.


INT. KING DAVID HOTEL - NIGHT

SINK checks in at the desk, growing impatient with the
DESK CLERK.

                        SINK
          Is there a problem?

                        DESK CLERK
          No, sir. We’ve moved you into room
          3-11. There’s more room under the
          beds.

SINK gets the message and takes his key.


INT. SINK’S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

SINK drops his bag and closes the door behind him. One
twin bed sits in front of a TV, opposite a small balcony.

SINK drops to his knees, reaches under the bed...

And pulls out a long metal case. And then a smaller one.

He flips open the first to find an M-16, an Uzi, a couple
of automatics, hand grenades, and loads of ammunition.

The second, smaller case is loaded with communications
equipment, tracking devices, sights and binoculars.

SINK answers the knock on the door to let TYLER in.

TYLER stares down at the array of weaponry.

                        TYLER
          Whoa.
               (wistfully)
          You don’t mind me saying, sir. I
          think your time in the Army was a
          helluva lot more fun than mine.
                                                        85.


SINK loads two automatics, hands one to TYLER, closes
both cases and pushes them under the bed.

                        SINK
          Grab your cane.


EXT. JERUSALEM - NIGHT

SINK leads TYLER down through winding streets full of
tourists and locals, to the door of a flower shop.

SINK opens the door, lets TYLER in first.


INT. FLOWER SHOP - CONTINUOUS

A faint light comes from a back room. SINK enters,
followed by TYLER. JASON DONNELLY waits, along with GREG
PAULUS, and the other two Americans, JACK WHITE and RYAN
STACK.

The FOUR AMERICANS come to attention.

                        SINK
          Knock that off. My name’s Sink.
          This is Tyler Kent. And I assume
          that you gentlemen are the
          surviving members of Echo Team 3.

                         JACK
          Jack White.

                         RYAN
          Ryan Stack.

                         GREG
          Greg Paulus.

                        JASON
          Jason Donnelly.

                        SINK
          You all speak Arabic?

                         JASON
          Yes, sir.

                        SINK
          Good. You hear from the General.

                        GREG
          Our orders are to follow yours,
          sir.
                                                       86.


                         SINK
          Even better.

SINK takes out a wad of cash and lays it on a table.

                         SINK (CONT’D)
          Logistics.

JACK raises his hand.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          We need three cars and a safe
          house deep in Ramallah.

                        JACK
          How big, for how long?

                        SINK
          Big enough to hold two guys for as
          long as we need to. Explosives?

RYAN raises his hand.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          We need bombs, Stack. Lots of
          bombs and we need `em everywhere.
          Not to kill, to distract. To cause
          chaos. You understand?

                         RYAN
          Yes, sir.

                        SINK
               (to JASON and GREG)
          What do you do?

                        GREG
          Communications. I’m short some
          gear -

                        SINK
          - I got you covered.

SINK looks at JASON.

                        JASON
          Intelligence, sir.

                        SINK
          Intelligence.
                (hard)
          You didn’t know Ali-Hassan had a
          twin?

                         JASON
          No, sir.
                                                       87.


In that instant, SINK can tell JASON is riddled with
guilt.

                        JACK
          What’s the plan, sir?

                        SINK
          We’re gonna make a trade with
          Hamas. Our live body for their
          dead one.

                        RYAN
          Any live body in particular?

                        SINK
          The man who murdered my son.

                        JASON
          Hafez Al-Shiri?

SINK nods. The TEAM all exchange looks.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Sir...Al-Shiri’s untouchable.

                          SINK
          Not anymore.


EXT. RAMALLAH - MORNING

JASON and SINK walk through the detritus ridden streets
of RAMALLAH, each wearing Red Cross badges. The signs of
war and poverty are everywhere, from litter and bullet
holes to Red Cross and Red Crescent stations.

                        JASON
          Al-Shiri runs a group of cells out
          of this area. Suicide bombers,
          truck drivers. Bastard strapped a
          bomb to a donkey one time. Got
          intel up the ass. Every shopkeeper
          and vendor’s a spy, every little
          kid’s another pair of eyes. Can’t
          take a shit in this part of the
          city without Al-Shiri knowing the
          size, shape and color. He’s the
          guy ambushed our team, sir. And
          you can be sure he’s watching us
          now.

SINK and JASON stop in front of a faded funeral sign of
MUKHTAR AL-SALAMEH.

                        SINK
          Mukhtar’s a popular guy.
                                                        88.


                        JASON
          They’re all popular once they’re
          dead.

SINK keeps walking.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Sir, with all due respect, my
          team’s concerned with the gimp.

                        SINK
          It’s my team, Sergeant. And that
          gimp spent four hours alone on a
          Baghdad road defending two of his
          men against fifty armed enemy.

                        JASON
          Yes, sir. But he’s not one of us.

                        SINK
          If we need a guy to fight off a
          city, makes sense to pick the guy
          who can’t run away. My op,
          Sergeant. My rules. The gimp
          stays.

JASON lets it go. SINK stops, looks around.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Show me how it happened.

JASON leads the way.


EXT. RAMALLAH - MORNING

JASON and SINK stand across the street from the Cafe
where MUKHTAR AL-SALAMEH had his final lunch.

                        JASON
          We tracked Ali Hassan - Mukhtar -
          from his father’s home to this
          cafe.

                        SINK
          Who made the ID?

                        JASON
          I made the initial at Al-Salameh’s
          house.

JASON turns around and points to a warehouse down the
block.
                                                       89.


                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Hadley confirmed from right over
          there. Cass took the shot from the
          roof of that warehouse, with
          Lincoln spotting for him from that
          second floor window.

                        SINK
          Jordan?

                        JASON
          Captain Sinclair coordinated radio
          traffic from the BMW three blocks
          away.

                        SINK
          Show me.

JASON and SINK retrace the steps of the AMERICANS,
ignoring the hard, hostile glares from the locals.

JASON stops at an intersection.

                        JASON
          This was the rally point, sir.
          Captain Sinclair followed the
          escape route as planned, but
          they’d already picked up a tail.
          Truth is, sir, Al-Shiri had tagged
          us two days before. Soon as Cass
          pulled the trigger...

JASON can’t finish the thought. So he keeps walking.

                         JASON (CONT’D)
          They called for backup and tried
          to evade...truck came down off
          that alley, smacked them right
          broadside. Pushed `em right into
          that building.

SINK walks over to explore, can still the burn marks from
the fire.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          Fire’d been started by the time we
          all got here. Three bodies dead in
          the car. The fourth...

The calamity hangs in the air between them.

                        JASON (CONT’D)
          I failed them, sir.
                                                      90.


                        SINK
          We have a man unaccounted for,
          Sergeant. Mission’s not over til
          everybody comes home.

SINK turns and starts walking back the way he came.

                        JASON
          Sir, I understand you wanting to
          see all of this, but it was only a
          couple of months ago. Couple of
          Americans retracing the steps of
          the hit right under Al-Shiri’s
          nose -

                        SINK
          - yeah. You think maybe he
          noticed?


INT. SHARPER’S OFFICE - MORNING

SHARPER checks his e-mail, and sees a message from Sink.

With the subject line, “Impending Hostilities.”


INT. PENTAGON, KITTLES’ OFFICE - MORNING

KITTLES brews espresso. The MAJOR walks in with another
memo.

                        MAJOR
          General Kittles, sir. Mr. Sharper
          just sent this over from Langley.

KITTLES takes the memo, reads it, smiling...

“Egyptian Intelligence suggests FATAH Activists planning
attack on HAMAS Leadership.”

                        MAJOR (CONT’D)
          Should I send a copy to Secretary
          Conroy?

                        KITTLES
          Send a copy to the Washington
          Post, Major. Quietly. And get Tel
          Aviv on the phone.

KITTLES picks up the phone and waits.

                        KITTLES (CONT’D)
          Zvi. Tom Kittles. I got something
          you need to read.
                                                     91.



INT. HOTEL ROOM - EVENING

SINK opens the door to find ZVI inside waiting for him,
smoking a cigarette.

                         ZVI
          Starting a war in Ramallah is not
          a little fart.

SINK closes the door.

                        SINK
          It’s just a little war.

                        ZVI
          Sometimes our worlds collide
          quietly. And sometimes, those
          worlds cause an Earthquake.

                        SINK
          I gave you Rafiq, Zvi.

ZVI shrugs that it doesn’t matter.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          What do you want?

                        ZVI
          The same thing you want, Sink.

ZVI walks across the floor and presses a small receiver
into SINK’s hand.

                        ZVI (CONT’D)
          I want Hafez Al-Shiri.

And with that, ZVI leaves.


INT. FLOWER SHOP - EVENING

The Team gathers around a small table in the back room,
huddled over a map. A large triangle outlines the area
JASON and SINK walked that day.

SINK takes out the file from Rafiq, holds up the picture
of HAFEZ Al-SHIRI.

                        SINK
          This is our target, gentleman. And
          he does not have a twin.

SINK takes the map from RAFIQ.
                                                     92.


                        SINK (CONT’D)
          This is his theater of operations.
          Hafez Al-Shiri is somewhere inside
          this circle - we just don’t know
          exactly where. So. If Mohammed
          won’t come to the mountain, the
          mountain must go to Mohammed.

SINK looks to RYAN. RYAN traces points around the map.

                        RYAN
               (points)
          I have explosives wired on three
          separate circuits in cars,
          buildings and backpacks all
          through this area. Low end, sir.
          Lots of smoke, lots of bang, but
          very little buck.

JACK points out a spot right inside the triangle.

                        JACK
          Safe house is here. House above is
          unoccupied, residents arrested in
          a crackdown a week ago. We go in
          through the front door, down into
          the cellar. Cars are parked at the
          hotel.

SINK nods his approval.

                        SINK
          In response to rumors of an
          impending attack on Hamas by
          Fatah, Israel will be deploying
          forces around Ramallah.

                        JACK
          Christ, who started that rumor?

                        RYAN
          Jenny in home room.

SINK shuts them up with a glare.

                        SINK
          Tomorrow, every gun in Hamas will
          be on the street. Now Jason and I
          made a point of making ourselves
          noticed today, specifically so I
          would get tagged. Al-Shiri might
          hide from Fatah, but he once he
          knows I’m on the street, he’ll
          come looking.

SINK points out roads on the map.
                                                     93.


                        SINK (CONT’D)
          When the shit starts tomorrow, the
          Israeli’s will move down these
          three roads, here - here - and
          here. Sealing off the city
          perimeter -

                        GREG
          - and providing us with our safe
          zone.

                        SINK
          Tonight, we put Tyler to bed in
          that basement. First light, Jack,
          Ryan and Greg start circling the
          city, looking for Al-Shiri. When
          they’re in position, I’ll hit the
          street and make myself noticed.
          Word will get back to Al-Shiri.
          When he shows his face, we set off
          the bombs and make it look like
          Fatah’s attacking. Under that
          backdrop, you three grab Al-Shiri,
          drop him with Tyler and exfiltrate
          back to the safe zone.

                        JASON
          What am I doing tomorrow?

                        SINK
          Making sure I don’t get killed.

                        RYAN
          Speaking of killed...lot of
          civilians walking these streets
          during the day. This turns to
          shit...what are the rules of
          engagement, sir?

They all wait for SINK’s answer.

                        SINK
               (beat)
          My son is coming home, gentlemen.


EXT. RAMALLAH - NIGHT

JACK and TYLER walk to the safe house, with darkened
faces and heavy peasant robes, lost amidst the local
population, taking in the abject poverty that surrounds
them.

                        TYLER
          I’m not sure which is worse, you
          know?
                                                     94.

          Being Israeli, TYLER(CONT'D) get
                          and afraid to
          on a bus or being Palestinian and
          having to come home to this shit
          every day. You ever think about
          that?

                        JACK
          No.


INT. BASEMENT - MOMENTS LATER

JACK and TYLER disappear down into a cellar. A small room
with a bare light, no windows. Food is stocked, along
with medical supplies.

TYLER throws off his robes, revealing weapons and ammo.

                        JACK
          You smoke?

                        TYLER
          Yeah.

                        JACK
          Don’t. Neighbors’ll pick up the
          smell and come looking. You can
          listen to the radio, but the
          volume low. Cellar locks from
          inside, so once you hear shooting,
          get your ass to the top of those
          steps and wait. Signal is two
          knocks, then two more. Anybody
          tries to get in without knocking,
          you frag the fuckers and go and
          haul ass. Once its over, you guard
          the package and wait for the call.
               (grins)
          Cheer up, man. You get to spend
          the night alone with the most
          dangerous man in Israel, right in
          Hamas’ backyard.

                        TYLER
          Wish we had beer.

JACK takes out the receiver SINK got from ZVI.

                        JACK
          You know what this is?

TYLER nods.

                        JACK (CONT’D)
          Do not turn this on until its time
          to go.
                                                        95.


JACK slaps him on the shoulder.

                        JACK (CONT’D)
          Lock up behind me. See you
          tomorrow.

JACK climbs the steps and disappears. TYLER locks the
cellar door, turns off the light and sits in the dark.


EXT. JERUSALEM - NIGHT

SINK and JASON walk down a Tourist street.

                        JASON
          Stack’s right, sir. This goes
          bad...we could end up starting a
          war.

                        SINK
          They’re already at war, Sergeant.
          Tomorrow’s just tomorrow.

                         JASON
               (beat)
          He talked about you. All the time.
          Got to the point, we all wanted to
          kick your ass.

SINK grins, and turns off toward a store.

                         JASON (CONT’D)
          Sir.
               (beat)
          I am sorry for your loss.

SINK takes a breath, and walks into a store.


INT. STORE - NIGHT

SINK walks up to the clerk.

                        SINK
          You make copies?

                         CLERK
          Yes.

                         SINK
          Good.

SINK takes out a blown up, black and white of JORDIE.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          I need two hundred.
                                                        96.



INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

SINK stands at the balcony, staring out at the Holy City,
glass of Scotch in his hand.

Going through tomorrow inside his head.

And thinking of Jordie.


INT. BASEMENT - DAWN

The calls to prayer pull TYLER out his sleep.


I/E. MONTAGE -- CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

GREG, JACK and RYAN loading their weapons, getting their
listening devices in place.

                           GREG
          Echo 1, ready.

                           JACK
          Echo 2, ready.

                           RYAN
          Echo 3, ready.

The cars pull into the streets and start circling the
city.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - MORNING

SINK loads an automatic, fills his pockets with
ammunition. Attaches the grenades to his belt. Gets his
radio device in his ear, the receiver stuck on his belt.

Looks at himself in the mirror. SINK nods, satisfied he
looks the part, then grabs the envelope of copies and
walks out of the room.


EXT. JERUSALEM - MORNING

SINK catches a bus, stands amidst the crowd, everybody
looking suspiciously at everyone else.

And in the back, sees JASON, sitting with a large
suitcase at his feet.
                                                        97.



I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

GREG, JACK and RYAN continue to drive around.

                        GREG
          Echo 1, negative.

                        JACK
          Echo 2, Crapola.

They wait for RYAN to respond.

                        GREG
          Echo 3, acknowledge.

RYAN’s car sits parked, as he watches a group of ARMED
MILITANTS check their weapons down the street.

                        RYAN
          Guess there’s gonna be a parade.


INT. BUS - MORNING

Listening, both SINK and JASON hear Ryan’s transmission,
and exchange glances.

Out the windows, both men see ISRAELI SECURITY FORCES
moving into position.


EXT. RAMALLAH - MOMENTS LATER

Both SINK and JASON hop off the bus. JASON slips a cell
phone into SINK’s hand.

                        JASON
          Star 1, star 2 and star 3 blow the
          bombs.

JASON crosses the street and disappears into the crowd.

All over the street, armed MILITANTS from the various
factions strut, posture, and threaten.

SINK can’t help but smile, the old juices flowing again.

                        SINK
          Dakota 1, causing diversion.

JASON watches through his rifle’s scope on top of a
building.

                        JASON
          Dakota 1, I got you covered.
                                                        98.


SINK rips open the envelope and takes out the copies of
JORDIE’s picture. He starts shoving his way through the
locals, grabbing each one, literally shoving the fliers
into hands.

                        SINK
          Hey - have you seen this man? You
          know this man? American? You speak
          English? You see this guy? You
          remember this man?

SINK grabs a passing teen.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You know where he is? You know
          this man?

The TEEN pulls away.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Hey, I’m talking to you, asshole.
               (stops, screams)
          ANYBODY HERE IN HAMAS!

An unarmed CIVILIAN strides over, yelling in ARABIC,
grabbing SINK’s arm.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Fuck you, Osama.

SINK decks him. He storms down the street, into the
MILITANTS, yelling, screaming, throwing his fliers into
ever face he can see.


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

GREG and JACK pass each other in opposite directions,
aware of the growing chaos filtering toward Sink.

                        JACK
          Whatever he’s doing, its working.

                        GREG
          Echo 3, what’s your status?

A large crowd of MILITANTS rush past RYAN’s car, forcing
him to a stop.

                        RYAN
          I’m in the middle ring of the
          circus, 1. Shut the fuck up for a
          minute.
                                                      99.


RYAN holds out his Red Cross badge and smiles at the
MILITANTS, waiting until he’s clear. He starts the car
and pulls slowly into traffic.

And stops as he sees another group filter out of a house
a half block away.

                           RYAN (CONT’D)
          Holy shit.

RYAN checks a face against the picture taped on his
dashboard.

And sees HAFEZ AL-SHIRI.

                        RYAN (CONT’D)
          Echo 1, Echo 2. I have the package
          in sight.

                           JACK
          No shit?

                        RYAN
          Twenty feet in front of me,
          surrounded by assholes.

HAFEZ Al-SHIRI gives orders to his men, and heads on down
the road. RYAN follows slowly behind him.


EXT. RAMALLAH - MORNING

Amidst growing chaos, SINK holds his hand over his ear,
listening to the transmission.

                        SINK
          Echo 3, say again?


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

RYAN follows HAFEZ Al-SHIRI down the road.

                        RYAN
          Dakota 1, the package is moving.

AL-SHIRI enters a small cafe, and sits down.

                        JACK
          Echo 3, what’s your location?

                        RYAN
          Market street. Two blocks from the
          safe house.

JACK and GREG turn around, and head back that way.
                                                       100.



EXT. RAMALLAH - MORNING

SINK slips the cell phone out of his pocket, presses the
star button, then 1...


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

RYAN grabs binoculars and scans the patrons, sees no
other threat, no other guns.

                        RYAN
          Target is visible and stable.


EXT. RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

SINK covers his mouth to speak.

                        SINK
          Echo Team 3. Take down the
          package.

SINK presses send.

And Ramallah explodes.


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

RYAN pulls a mask over his hair and readies his weapon.

                        RYAN
          Echo 1, seal the North, Echo 2 the
          West, I got the South. Package is
          boxed in and ready for wrapping.

GREG and JACK appear in position.

                           GREG
          Echo 1, go.

                           JACK
          Echo 2, go.

                           RYAN
          Echo 3. Going.


EXT. RAMALLAH - MORNING

SINK presses star, two and send - another set of
explosions, as gunfire and battle erupts on the streets.

And SINK runs for his life.
                                                    101.



I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - MORNING

RYAN pulls the mask over his face and slams on the gas.
Immediately, GREG and JACK exit their vehicles and run
toward the cafe, guns at the ready.

HAFEZ AL-SHIRI stands up just as RYAN races up, stops the
car, opens his door and takes aim over the top of the
car, firing into the roof of the cafe.

The PATRONS run, or duck for cover. HAFEZ AL-SHIRI starts
to run - GREG tackles him. JACK piles on. In seconds they
have him, taped and blindfolded, and thrown into the back
of RYAN’s car.

RYAN changes magazines.

                          RYAN
          Loading!

RYAN continues to spray bullets as GREG and JACK race
back to their cars. Seeing them pull away, RYAN gets back
behind the wheel and speeds off.

                        RYAN (CONT’D)
          Dakota 1, Echo 3! Package is
          acquired! Proceeding to mailbox!


EXT. RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

SINK picks up the transmission on the run.

                        SINK
          Dakota 1, acknowledged.

A MILITANT appears, gun trained on SINK, ready to shoot -

- and a bullet takes off most of his head, as JASON’s
VOICE sounds in Sink’s ear.

                        JASON’S VOICE   (FILTER)
          Dakota 2, moving.


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

RYAN pulls to a stop in front of the safehouse. GREG and
JACK pull into covering positions.

                        RYAN
          Echo 3, delivering package!

RYAN pulls AL-SHIRI out of the car and drags him into the
house.
                                                     102.



INT. SAFEHOUSE - CONTINUOUS

RYAN drags the man across the floor and bangs twice on
the cellar door, then twice again, pulling his mask away
from his face.

TYLER throws it open.

                        RYAN
          He’s all yours, Dude.

TYLER grabs AL-SHIRI and pulls him down into the cellar.
The door closes and locks as RYAN returns to his car.


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

RYAN pulls into traffic, pulling off his mask.

                        RYAN
          Package delivered. Echo 3
          extracting.


EXT. RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

SINK runs through frightened locals, hand at his
earpiece.

                        SINK
          Roger that.

SINK can see the Israeli’s in position, closing roads.
ARABS start throwing rocks at the SOLDIERS as Helicopters
float overhead.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Dakota 2, what’s your status?

JASON taps SINK on the shoulder as he runs by.


I/E. CARS, RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

RYAN pulls to the curb and gets out, leaving his machine
gun and pulling out an Automatic.

He hits the street running, sees JACK parking and
following suit. Both run, on opposite sides of the
streets.

GREG stands by a corner, waving them over. JACK and RYAN
run past.
                                                    103.


                        GREG
          Dakota 1, all Echoes are
          extracting.


EXT. RAMALLAH - CONTINUOUS

SINK keeps running, his hand on the cell phone, pressing
star, then 3, then send -

- and hits the ground as his own explosion blows back on
him.

JASON appears over him, pulls SINK to his feet...

...as ISRAELI SOLDIERS move past them, flowing into the
city, taking the battle to the MILITANTS.

SINK and JASON watch for a moment, amazed at what they
started, at what they accomplished.

Then fade away behind the Israeli’s.


INT. BASEMENT - MORNING

TYLER gets HAFEZ AL-SHIRI situated, tying him to a chair
with rope around his waist. He pulls the tape off the
man’s mouth.

                        TYLER
          Can you hear me?

AL-SHIRI nods.

                        TYLER (CONT’D)
          Do you speak English?

                          AL-SHIRI
          Yes.

                        TYLER
          Your name is Hafez Al-Shiri?

                          AL-SHIRI
          Yes.

                          TYLER
          Okay.

TYLER pulls out a piece of paper and reads his message
like an unpracticed commissar.
                                                     104.


                        TYLER (CONT’D)
          We are not Israeli’s. If all goes
          well, your detainment will be both
          brief and peaceful. We do not wish
          to hurt you. If you resist, we
          will be forced to hurt you. We
          have food if you’re hungry, water
          if you’re thirsty and medicines if
          you are hurt.
               (beat)
          Are you?

                         AL-SHIRI
          Am I what?

                        TYLER
          Hungry, thirsty or hurt?

                         AL-SHIRI
          No.

                         TYLER
          Good.

                         AL-SHIRI
          Is that all?

TYLER turns the paper over.

                        TYLER
          Ah. Yeah. That’s it.

TYLER sits, tapping his cane against the floor.

                        AL-SHIRI
          I could use a cigarette.

                        TYLER
          Dude, you and me both.
               (beat)
          So. Where are you from?


EXT. JERUSALEM - DAY

SINK and JASON get off the same bus and walk toward the
KING DAVID hotel.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

GREG, JACK and RYAN already wait as SINK and JASON walk
in. They unload their guns and equipment into an already
large pile.

SINK grabs the remote, turns on CNN INTERNATIONAL.
                                                    105.


                        CNN ANCHOR (ON TV)
          Israeli troops are struggling to
          restore order to the West Bank
          town of Ramallah after Fatah
          Activists attacked Hamas
          supporters in the organizations’s
          continuing quest to regain control
          of the Palestinian Authority.

SINK hits mute.

                        SINK
          Thank you, Sharper.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

SINK walks into his own room to find ZVI waiting for him,
smoking a cigarette.

                        ZVI
          Some little fart.

SINK grins.

                        SINK
          Chaos provides opportunity.


I/E. SUV, JERUSALEM - DAY

JASON drives, with SINK up front, Rafiq’s file in his
lap. The rest of the team is in back, checking their
weapons and ammo.

                        JASON
          What’s to stop them from killing
          us the minute we step out of the
          car?

SINK pulls his dog tags from his pocket and slips them
over his neck. The rest of the team follows suit.

                        SINK
          Politics.


I/E. SUV, EAST JERUSALEM - DAY

They drive through Arab Neighborhoods, out of place and
conspicuous, drawing openly hostile stares.

JASON pulls to a stop in front of a heavily guarded
government building flying the FLAG of HAMAS next to the
flag of the PALESTINIAN AUTHORITY.
                                                    106.


RYAN, JACK and GREG jump out of the car, guns drawn but
pointed up, showing force but threatening it.

SINK and JASON get out, keeping their hands at their
side, and are greeted almost immediately by a uniformed
Palestinian OFFICER.

                        SINK
          We’re here to see Minister Luttif
          Al-Saad.

The OFFICER sees the dog tags around SINK’s neck, the
envelope in his hands.

                        OFFICER
               (exaggerrated
                politeness)
          And do you have an appointment?


INT. GOVERNMENT BUILDING, OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

SINK and JASON both allow themselves to be frisked by
GUARDS. Clean, the guards leave, shutting the door to the
office.

LUTTIF AL-SAAD, early thirties, sits behind a wide desk
cluttered with papers. The OFFICER stands behind him.

                        SINK
          Mr. Al-Saad. Thank you for seeing
          us. I’m John Martin Sinclair.

If LUTTIF recognizes the name, he doesn’t show it. He
glances at the dog tags, and back.

OFFICER glances at JASON.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          You don’t need his name, and I
          don’t need yours.

                        LUTTIF
          What can Hamas do for the United
          States of America?

                        SINK
          Not as much as your Uncle Rafiq’s
          done for Israel.

SINK tosses file onto LUTTIF’s desk.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Beirut’s called him home. Rafiq’s
          already applied for asylum. Lucky
          for you, it’s being denied.
                                                    107.


LUTTIF opens the file, and takes out the picture of HAFEZ
AL-SHIRI.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Friend of yours? With the help of
          your Uncle, Mr. Al-Shiri is
          currently enjoying some American
          Hospitality. As I’m sure the
          events of today can attest to.

JASON takes out a cell phone, dials.

                        JASON
          Put him on.

JASON hands the phone to LUTTIF.


INT. BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS

TYLER looks over at HAFEZ.

                        TYLER
          The more convincing you make this,
          the quicker you’re out of here.


INT. GOVERNMENT BUILDING, OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

JASON hands the phone to LUTTIF. He listens a moment.

                         LUTTIF
          Hafez. Kaif Halak?
               (beat)
          Ana la a’arif.
               (beat)
          Assalamu Alaikum.

LUTTIF hands the phone back to JASON.

                        SINK
          You have something I want. Now I
          have something you want. I propose
          we make a trade.

The OFFICER says something in Arabic.

                        JASON
          He says you look like someone he
          knows.

SINK lets that go.

                        LUTTIF
          You assume I can trust you. Or
          that you can trust me.
                                                    108.


                         SINK
          My country has no fight with
          Hamas. Other than, you know,
          considering you terrorist,
          murdering scum. But we let you
          slide on that.

                        LUTTIF
          Mukhtar Al-Salameh did not slide.

                        SINK
          Least you got a promotion.

                         LUTTIF
          What makes you think I even have
          what you want?

                        SINK
          Your Uncle Rafiq told me you do.
               (beat)
          An American rotting in your desert
          serves far less of a purpose than
          your operations director roaming
          Ramallah.

LUTTIF takes a slow breath. The OFFICER says something in
Arabic. LUTTIF smiles.

                        LUTTIF
          He says I can trust you.

SINK looks at the OFFICER.

                        LUTTIF (CONT’D)
          My man will go with you.

                        SINK
          My man will stay here.

LUTTIF shakes his head.

                         LUTTIF
          When you have what you want, you
          release Hafez.

                        SINK
          You trust me that much, or you
          just don’t want anything more to
          do with Americans?

The OFFICER opens his jacket to reveal a wide, flat bomb
around his waist.

                          LUTTIF
          Both.
                                                    109.



EXT. GOVERNMENT BUILDING - MOMENTS LATER

SINK and JASON walk out with the OFFICER. JACK, RYAN and
GREG can’t help but notice the bomb.

                          SINK
          Shotgun.

LUTTIF walks out with two shovels.

                        LUTTIF
          Mr. Sinclair. You will need these.

SINK takes the shovels, a catch in his throat.


I/E. SUV, EAST JERUSALEM - EVENING

JASON drives, with SINK up front. RYAN sits next to the
OFFICER, with GREG and JACK way in the back.

                        RYAN
               (to OFFICER)
          That’s some good work. You do that
          yourself?

                        JASON
          He doesn’t speak English.

                          OFFICER
          Yes, I do.

                          RYAN
          May I?

RYAN leans down to expect even closer.

                        RYAN (CONT’D)
          Huh. Silicon insulation. Neoprene
          works so much better.


INT. BASEMENT - EVENING

TYLER paces back and forth on his cane, watching HAFEZ
with growing apprehension.

                        HAFEZ
          How much longer?

TYLER squeezes his hand around the receiver.

                        TYLER
          Hopefully, long enough.
                                                       110.



I/E. SUV, ISRAEL - EVENING

They drive through scattered developments and outposts in
Arab territory, dotted by groves and struggling farmland.

                        OFFICER
          You know why the olive branch is
          the sign of peace?

They all look at him.

                        OFFICER (CONT’D)
          The olive tree takes generations
          to grow.

JASON sees the Olive Grove and pulls in. He glances over
at SINK, sees his face tightening. Growing closer to his
son, to their commanding officer and comrade, everyone
grows somber.

                        OFFICER (CONT’D)
          Half a kilometer down this road,
          you’ll see an irrigation ditch.
          You will stop there.

JASON sees it, stops.

                        OFFICER (CONT’D)
          We walk from here.


EXT. OLIVE GROVE - EVENING

The OFFICER leads them through the grove of trees. GREG
and RYAN keep their weapons trained on him, while JASON
and JACK carry shovels.

                        OFFICER
          There. Three feet down.

JASON and JACK start to dig.

SINK turns away to watch the sun set in the sky. The
OFFICER joins him, lights a cigarette.

SINK realizes he’s standing next to a bomb, and takes a
step aside.

                        OFFICER (CONT’D)
          I, too, have lost my son to war.

                        SINK
          I’ve been a soldier all my life,
          sir. What you do cannot be called
          war.
                                                       111.


                         OFFICER
          Maybe not. But my son is still as
          dead as yours.


EXT. OLIVE GROVE - EVENING

RYAN and GREG have replaced JACK and JASON on the
shovels, digging into the hard ground.

                        RYAN
          Colonel.

SINK comes over. RYAN and GREG jump into the hole, use
their hands to clear away the dirt and brush.

And find a body bag.

JACK and JASON haul the bag out of the hole and lay it on
the ground.

SINK kneels, takes a breath, and slowly unzips the bag.

And stares into the calm, peaceful face of his son.

                        OFFICER
          He was a very brave man, sir. I
          felt he deserved to be remembered
          that way. Just in case someone
          came looking.

SINK zips the bag lower, sees the gunshot wound over
JORDIE’s heart.

SINK stares up at the OFFICER, not with hatred or
loathing, but with gratitude, almost respect.

SINK nods to JASON. JASON pulls out a cell phone and
makes a call.

SINK turns to the OFFICER.

                        SINK
          There’s an empty house two blocks
          away from a shot up cafe in
          Ramallah. The residents were
          arrested last week. You know the
          place I’m talking about?

OFFICER nods.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Al-Shiri’s in the cellar.

OFFICER takes out his phone and dials.
                                                       112.


GREG looks at SINK, then at OFFICER, and back, asking if
he should take the shot. SINK shakes his head.

SINK stands over his son, bends down to touch his face.

He takes the fake passport Avi made from his pocket,
rolls it in the dirt, and sticks it into his son’s
pocket.

He looks up to see RYAN, GREG, JACK and JASON saluting
his son. SINK stands up, and joins them.

JASON bends down to zip the bag. The four men carry their
commander’s body to the SUV.

SINK faces off with the OFFICER. The four men start to
move around in an awkward perimeter, trapping the Arab.
He sees it, knows what they’re doing, and smiles.

                        OFFICER
          My father lives just down this
          road, sir. As long I’m here...

The four men look to SINK. He nods, steps forward, shakes
hands with the OFFICER.

                        OFFICER (CONT’D)
          One day, Mr. Sinclair.

                           SINK
          One day.

SINK gets into the SUV and drives off.


EXT. RAMALLAH - EVENING

TYLER, dressed in his rags, hobbles out of the house,
leaning on his cane, another feeble old Arab man in the
camp.

Behind him, cars pull up to the house. HAMAS men rush in.

And an Israeli helicopter floats over the sky, waiting
ominously.


I/E. SUV, ISRAEL - NIGHT

The TEAM heads back to Jerusalem.

The moon begins to rise in the sky.

And a single star shines bright overhead, like the beacon
that brought light to Bethlehem.
                                                       113.



INT. EMBASSY - MORNING

TYLER sits in front of the STAFFER, completing his
paperwork as the STAFFER reads an Israeli police report.

                        STAFFER
          God, what a tragedy. Course,
          that’s why the State Department
          issues these travel warnings. The
          Mid East’s a dangerous place. If
          your brother had paid attention,
          he might not be dead.

TYLER looks up.

                        TYLER
          You are such a Buckeye.


INT. AIRPORT - MORNING

SINK, TYLER, JASON, GREG, RYAN and JACK stand at the
window, watching baggage being loaded onto an El Al
flight.

And see JORDIE’s CASKET being loaded onto the plane.

                        PA ANNOUNCER
          Ladies and Gentleman, we are now
          pre-boarding first class for
          flight 165 to New York. All first
          passengers, please proceed to the
          gate.


INT. AIRPLANE - DAY

SINK stares out the window, lost in his own thoughts, the
champagne and fruit on his tray an afterthought.

Motion catches his eye. He glances to his right. TYLER
squirms in his seat. All through first class, JACK,
JASON, RYAN and GREG, do as well, uncomfortable
surrounded by luxury.

                           SINK
          Grunts.

A STEWARDESS approaches.

                        STEWARDESS
          Mr. Sinclair...the pilot just
          received a message for you, from
          a...
                                                       114.
                        STEWARDESS(CONT'D)
               (looks down)
          G. Kittles?


EXT. FORT BRAGG - DAY

ROBIN and JEMMY, in their Sunday best, watch as a
procession of vehicles accompany a hearse, bearing Jordie
to the base mortuary.

KITTLES, SINK, TYLER, JASON, JACK, RYAN and GREG, all in
their dress uniforms, exit the vehicles. An honor guard
proceeds to a hearse, to remove the casket.


INT. MORTUARY - DAY

The casket lies open. SINK holds JEMMY on his lap as
ROBIN stares into the face of her husband.

                        ROBIN
          I never thought I’d see him again.

SINK is thinking the exact same thing.


EXT. CEMETERY - DAY

ROBIN, JEMMY and SINK follow the casket to the grave for
the funeral.

The flag is folded, presented to ROBIN.

The honor guard fires the 21 gun salute.

KITTLES is first in line to salute the casket.

Then KITTLES. Then TYLER.

Then JACK, RYAN, GREG, and so on down the line.

Until only JEMMY is left.


EXT. CEMETERY - DAY

SINK accompanies ROBIN and JEMMY back to their car.

                        SINK
          Maybe one day, you’ll come up to
          Michigan.

                         ROBIN
          I’d like that.
               (beat)
          You keep in touch, okay?
                                                       115.


SINK kisses her cheek and hugs JEMMY.

                          JEMMY
          Bye, Grandpa.

SINK snaps his grandson a salute. Watches as they drive
away.

                        TYLER
               (teasing)
          Grandpa?

                          SINK
          Gimp.

SINK turns back to see the FOUR standing by JORDIE’s
grave, goes to join them.

SINK reads the tombstones to the left and right. CASS.
LINCOLN. HADLEY.

And he realizes JORDIE is back with his team.

                        SINK (CONT’D)
          Job well done, Echo Team 3.

SINK turns and begins the long journey home.


I/E. SINK’S SUV, KENT HOUSE - EVENING

TYLER and SINK drive through the town, on their way home,
and pull into the KENT’s driveway.

CHARLES waits on the porch.

                        SINK
          Thank you, Tyler.

                        TYLER
          It was an honor to serve under
          your command.

TYLER gets out of the cab and hugs his father.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE, BEDROOM - EVENING

SINK opens the closet door for his dress uniform...

...and can’t help but notice how little space his own
life takes up.
                                                       116.



I/E. VETERAN’S BAR - EVENING

The MEN, all in dress uniforms, stand at attention.

SINK marches to the middle wall and salutes the town’s
war dead.

His fingernail slices open the envelope. SINK looks down
at a picture of JORDIE, in his uniform, grabs a thumbtack
and adds his son to the wall.

Steps back, and with the MEN of his town, salutes his own
son.


INT. SINK’S HOUSE - DAY

Fresh from his run, SINK stands in his kitchen, drinking
three glasses of orange juice, downing them one after the
other.

He goes upstairs, passing the empty spaces on the wall
from the pictures he gave Robin.

He opens his footlocker for fresh clothes.

Then opens the closets, pulls out the drawers. Sees how
much space Helen’s life needed, how little his own life
takes up.

And realizes, it’s time.

SINK empties the footlocker onto the bed, careful to keep
things in piles.

Then starts packing away Helen’s clothes, closet after
closet, drawer after drawer, until she’s all packed away.

SINK takes in the empty space, the empty closets, empty
drawers. Measures that space against his own clothes,
lying on the bed. Realizes just how much life he has to
fill.

And putting his clothes away in Helen’s drawer, SINK
begins to take those first steps.

                                                FADE OUT.

								
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