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"So Long Patrick Henry"
transcript

A dark room at the American consulate in Hong Kong...
The Olympics...we see the eternal flame, a film clip of athletes competing in a foot race...Kelly Robinson and Alexander Scott are sitting in a darkened room; behind them is a film projector, showing another clip, this one of a black American Olympic athlete, Elroy Brown, receiving a gold medal...Standing on the other side of the projector from Robinson and Scott is Laswell, an older man in shirtsleeves, smoking a cigarette, also watching the film...They see a black and white clip of Brown at the top of stairs leading up to an airplane, with a pack of journalists below him, shouting questions...
BROWN reading a prepared statement: Come on. Hold it, Quiet a minute, will ya, so I can read this thing? Huh? Shut up. Alright. It's my final decision, after much soul searching, and grateful...(stops short and laughs) Grateful? (He looks incredulously at a Chinese man standing at his side.) Who wrote this thing? Come on, I don't know anything about grateful. I'm here because I'm the best, see? And 'cause I worked like a slave, if you'll pardon the expression, to get that way.
In the darkened room, Scott watches the film, clearly unimpressed by Brown's performance.
BROWN: Grateful to who. I'm grateful to me! (laughs again) Anyway, after much soul-searching, I've decided I will not return to the United States, but I will make my new home, from this day forward, with my new friends, in the People's Republic of China.
Brown turns and enters the plane. A photographer comes up the steps and takes a picture of him as he disappears inside.
A fourth man in the darkened room switches off the projector. The lights come on. Kelly thumbs through some photos, one of Brown alone, another of Brown and a beautiful black woman (Amara), a third of the woman alone.
ROBINSON: Well, he's been living pretty high, Mr. Laswell. For a solid year now, ever since he defected. They treat him like a king over there. What makes you think he's all that disenchanted?
LASWELL: I want to show you Elroy Brown in Rome. Just about a month ago. Arthur, will you run that last piece of film, please?
The room darkens, the projector comes back to life...Another black and white clip, this one of a lavish room with rows of chairs quickly filling up, and Brown, with the beautiful woman in the picture, taking their places at a long table with several Chinese men. The man (Tsung) to Brown's left slams his fist on the table several times to quiet the crowd, points to a man in a checkered coat and sunglasses, who begins to speak in Italian...
BROWN: What?
REPORTER: Oh, I beg your pardon. Could you tell us, please, how did you like Africa?
BROWN: Yeah, it's a beautiful country, make a nice zoo.
There are murmurs in the crowd. Offended, two black reporters exchange glances.
BROWN, turning to the woman: Honey, what was the name of that town, you know, that capital, where we were?
The Chinese man to Brown's left leans over and whispers something to him.
BROWN, curtly: I asked her!
AMARA, into the microphone on the table in front of her: Uwagadugu.
BROWN, snickering: Yeah. Well now, I wouldn't say that even if I could.
TSUNG, whispering to Brown: Just be charming.
BROWN, angrily: Look, I've already been charming. What do you want from me?
Amara gently touches Brown's arm. Her touch seems to have a calming effect on him.
BROWN, with a sigh: I'm sorry, honey. Gentleman, this is my fiancee. Princess Amara, of Mali. That's right next door to where we went. Matter of fact, one of the reasons we went down there was so her folks could give me the once-over. I think I flunked.
AMARA: That is not true, gentlemen. My father was quite taken with Mr. Brown.
BROWN: Well, I was taken with them. He's a big man in the government down there. She's a real princess, did you know that? Yeah, her grandfather used to be king of everything in sight down there, a long time ago.
REPORTER: Mr. Brown, you and your fiancee met in Peking.
BROWN: Yeah, she goes to school there. She's an exchange student.
ANOTHER REPORTER: Is it true, Signor Brown, that the reason you went to Africa was to begin negotiations for the Afro-Asian Olympic games?
BROWN, lacking enthusiasm: Yeah, that's right.
FEMALE REPORTER: M'sieu Brown, will they be held? These games?
BROWN: Yeah, there's a...Everybody's agreed to meet. There's gonna be a big conference, all the countries try to work out the details.
ANOTHER REPORTER: Where will the conference be held?
BROWN: They've agreed to meet us halfway. Hong Kong, next month. Now gentlemen, uh, we're both real tired. This has been a real pleasure, but thank you very much.
Brown gets up, leads Amara away from the table...
The projector goes off, the lights go up again in the room where Kelly and Scotty are sitting.
LASWELL: I believe that to be a picture of disenchantment.
ROBINSON, sounding unconvinced: Maybe.
LASWELL: Scotty, when you talked to him in Tokyo at the time he defected, what did he say?
SCOTTY: Nothing. I was introduced to him as an American tourist. I spent an hour with him. He sat down, smiled, looked at his Japanese watch, then he yawned, got up, and he said, 'So long, Patrick Henry'.
LASWELL: You disliked him intensely.
SCOTTY: No, I enjoy being made to feel stupid when I'm pleading for my country. Gives me glow all over. Now, what's the assignment? You want his head on a platter? I think I can arrange that.
LASWELL: Scotty, if it makes you feel any better, speaking unofficially, we don't even want him. But officially speaking, we have to make the gesture. So find him, talk to him, offer him a chance to come home. A fair chance, that's all. When he says no, you tip your hat and walk away.
ROBINSON: And if he says yes?
LASWELL: They'll have to kill him. Unless you two can get him here to the consulate in one piece. (He goes to the window, pulls up the blinds.) They'll be at the Peninsula Hotel.

A room at the Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong...
Kelly and Scotty are at a mirror, the former checking his tie, the latter brushing his hair, when the phone rings. Kelly crosses the room, picks up the receiver.
ROBINSON: Hello?
MICKEY: Sir? Mr. Robinson?
ROBINSON: Yes? What is it?
MICKEY, a bellboy, at a lobby telephone: This 007.
ROBINSON: What?
MICKEY: 007. You know, like in the movies.
ROBINSON: Oh boy. Yeah, Mickey, what is it?
MICKEY: Party you asked about, just arriving now. Still outside. Getting out of cabs.
ROBINSON: Right, Mickey. Thank you very much.
MICKEY: You want dialogue?
ROBINSON: Huh?
MICKEY: I got tape recorder. Very small. Japanese. I go up with them in elevator. Turn down beds. Open windows. Put tape recorder under bed.
ROBINSON: No, Mickey, I don't think so.
MICKEY: Oh, I see. You already got the room bugged, eh?
ROBINSON: Now listen. Tell you what, Mickey. Let's forget the whole thing. Uh, now look, in a few minutes we're going to be downstairs and I want you to pretend that you don't know us. Okay?
MICKEY: Right. 007, over and out.
Kelly hangs up the phone and, shaking his head, straps on his shoulder holster.
SCOTT, putting on his suit coat: What's the matter?
ROBINSON: The kid you hired. What did you tell him?
SCOTT: Why?
ROBINSON: Well, he thinks we're spies!
SCOTT: I told him that...
ROBINSON: You did what?
SCOTT: ...we're an American tennis company. We want Elroy's signature on a tennis racket.
ROBINSON: Oh, man. When you gonna learn?
SCOTT, as they head out the door: Leave the kid alone. He's alright.
ROBINSON: He's wonderful. Saw Goldfinger twenty-seven times. Where do you find them, anyway?

The lobby of the Peninsula Hotel...
Kelly and Scotty are sitting in the well-appointed lobby, reading newspapers, when Elroy Brown enters with Princess Amara, surrounded by an entourage of Chinese men. Brown recognizes Scotty immediately...
BROWN: Hey! It's Patrick Henry, right? Sure it is! How are you, Champ? Hey, how's the patriotism business?
SCOTT: Well, well, as I live and breath, the late, great Elroy Brown. How's the world, Elroy?
BROWN: Small, Man, and getting smaller.
One of the Chinese bodyguards, a brawny specimen with a shaved head, cuts in front of Brown.
CHINESE BODYGUARD: Excuse me, but we have to...
BROWN, pushing the man out of the way: Hey, get out of here. What do you want, a rap in the mouth? Now step to the rear. Come on. Back, Charlie.
The Chinese bodyguard grimly steps back.
BROWN, to Scott: They're alright. You just got to step on them once in a while. Let 'em know which end of the bus they belong in, know what I mean? (laughs)
SCOTT: Looks like you've got the world by the tail, Elroy.
BROWN: Yeah, well, you know what happened to that fella grabbed the tiger by the tail. But in the meantime it's quite alright. (He turns to Amara) Honey, this is an old friend of mine...I'm sorry, what is it?...Scott.
SCOTT, shaking Amara's hand: Alexander Scott. How do you do?
BROWN: My fiancee, Princess Amara.
SCOTT: My friend, Mr. Robinson.
BROWN: Robinson. Yeah, I saw you play once, didn't I. Tennis, right? I never forget a man's game.
Another of the Chinese men steps up behind Brown.
TSUNG: Please forgive the intrusion. We must register.
BROWN, curtly: Well, do it then. What do you want me to do, carry your bags?
TSUNG, stiffly: As you wish, Mr. Brown. I'll sign for you then.
Tsung and the brawny bodyguard cross the lobby to the registration desk.
BROWN, muttering: Knuckleheads.
Another Chinese men is snapping pictures of Kelly and Scotty, who notice him.
SCOTT: You better not let go of that tail, Man.
BROWN: Yeah. (He laughs) Yeah, you're alright, Patrick. You know, it's a funny thing -- you won't believe it -- but I never forgot about you. Never forgot our little talk, either. Even though I didn't talk much, as I recall.
SCOTT: You made up for it -- you yawned a lot.
BROWN, subdued: Yeah. Yeah, I did, didn't I? But it's a little late to be raking over the ashes, I guess.
SCOTT: Maybe not.
BROWN, giving Scott a long look: Yeah, well, what are you guys doing here?
ROBINSON: On the tennis circuit.
Tsung returns from the registration desk.
TSUNG: Shall we go up, Mr. Brown?
BROWN: In a minute.
AMARA: Perhaps Mr. Scott and Mr. Robinson would care to join us later?
BROWN: Yeah, that's a great idea. How about that, gentlemen? If you're free a little later.
TSUNG: Mr. Brown, I'm afraid that's quite im...
BROWN: Will you shut up? (Turns back to Kelly and Scotty.) Look, I'll be tied up till about eleven o' clock with a cocktail party, but after that...
ROBINSON: Well, uh, I really don't know...
BROWN: Oh come on. Don't pay any attention to Charlie Chan here. Give him a fortune cookie, he goes away happy. Come on, how about it? Just us folks, huh?
ROBINSON: Well, I don't see any reason why not. Scotty?
SCOTT, with a sigh: Alright.
BROWN: Good, good. I'll meet you in the bar at eleven, alright? (He turns to the Chinese men.) Okay, girls, let's go.
Kelly and Scotty watch him lead Amara and the Chinese to the elevator.
ROBINSON: Whew. That's a pretty dangerous game he's playing, whatever it is.
SCOTT: It's not a game he's playing. He was rolling drunks on the streets of Chicago when he was twelve. A little luck, and less talent, he could've gone to the gas chamber.

The Peninsula Hotel bar...
Kelly and Scotty are sitting at the bar, waiting for Elroy Brown to show. Most of the tables behind them are occupied by other hotel guests. Somewhere someone is playing a piano. Mickey walks in, holding up a paging sign, spots Kelly and Scotty, and passes behind them.
MICKEY, whispering: He left the cocktail party an hour ago. He went to his room.
Mickey walks on.
ROBINSON: Will you please fire him.
SCOTT, standing up, reaching into his pocket for money: Let's go. Elroy's not coming.
ROBINSON: Wait a minute.
Tsung has appeared in the doorway. He sees Kelly and Scotty and approaches them.
TSUNG: Good evening, gentlemen.
ROBINSON: Good evening.
TSUNG: Allow me to offer apologies for Mr. Brown. Something urgent has arisen preventing him from joining you. Perhaps another time.
ROBINSON: Nothing serious, I hope.
TSUNG: No, no. Just business. Again, his apologies. Good night.
ROBINSON: Good night. (He waits until Tsung has departed, then turns to Scott) You notice the way he was looking around?
SCOTT, pounding the top of the bar to get the bartender's attention: He lost Elroy.
While Scott pays the tab, Kelly finishes his drink. They then move to the doorway of the bar. In the lobby, Tsung is conferring with five Chinese men. They split up, moving urgently, three going one way, two another, and Tsung out the front door.
MICKEY: Mr. Lee Weaver. Mr. Lee Weaver.
As Kelly and Scotty turn, Mickey passes between them, slipping a note into Scotty's hand. Scotty opens the note. It reads: GO OUT THE FRONT. TAKE A CAB ...007.

In front of the Peninsula Hotel. It's nighttime in Hong Kong...
Kelly and Scotty emerge, pause to survey Salisbury Street, then motion for the first cab in line. As it pulls up to the steps they see Elroy Brown and Amara in the back. Brown has the window down, a drink in hand...
BROWN, chuckling: Well, get in, gents. Let's paint the town.
Exchanging glances, Kelly and Scotty get into the cab.

On a sampan ride through "Little Hong Kong" the Tai Pak restaurant, ablaze with lights, in the background...
BROWN: ...so I put on this necklace of teeth, the way those Congo cats do down there. Well, you know, that was the first time I lost 'em. They were what you call beating the bushes for me, calling my name in Chinese, and going right out of their absolute gourds, Man, right out of their gourds. (Laughs) Hey. Hey, come on, I've had it with this -- let's see what they got on shore, huh?"

Inside a Hong Kong nightclub...
Kelly and Scotty are sitting at the bar with Brown and Amara. Kelly is politely listening to Brown; Scotty looks uninterested...
BROWN: I'm telling you, Man, you wouldn't believe what they put us through. Look, in Rome, see, some of the elevators are like cages. So they're going up in one elevator, looking for us, and we're going down in the other one, right next to 'em. (Laughs) But you can see right through. (Looks at Amara) So we waved at 'em, remember? Both of us. And I yelled: 'Tag fellas. You're it.' You should've seen those cats punching them buttons and yelling in Chinese. No, they never found us, though. Not for twenty four hours. For twenty four hours we did Rome. Just the two of us.
ROBINSON: They never let you out?
BROWN: I'm the champion show dog. I might catch fleas. See, I'm going to put some of these guys in strait jackets this trip.
ROBINSON: Doesn't sound like much of a life.

Exterior shot of the Kobe Bar, Hong Kong, late at night...
Kelly, Scotty, Brown and Amara are sitting at a table...
BROWN: Politics? You've got to be kidding.
SCOTT: He's not kidding, Man. He's asking you straight. You want to keep putting us on? Like Tokyo? Then we're going to let you have the bar to yourself.
BROWN: Listen. I ain't got any politics. You wanna know what I got? I got a quarter of a million dollars in a Swiss bank. That's what I got. A couple more years with these punks and I go and collect it. Tax free. You see, the Rams wanted me for fifty grand, and the Eagles offered forty, and from there on downhill. Now, this was the best offer. I'm the first bonus baby of the Cold War. That's my politics, sweetheart.
SCOTT, in disgust: You did it for money.
BROWN: Yeah, that's the general idea, so what's that tone coming out of your mouth? Who do you think you are?
ROBINSON: He knows who he is, Elroy. It's you we're not too sure about.
BROWN: Hey, come on. What's everybody getting so excited about, huh? Forget it. It's ancient history. Hey, let's talk about something friendly. (He raises his drink) Here, here's to friendly.

A taxi dispatch office in Hong Kong...
Tsung and the brawny bodyguard are standing behind the dispatcher, who has just finished thumbing through black-and-white photos of Brown, Kelly and Scotty. The dispatcher speaks into a microphone. Somewhere in Hong Kong, a driver in his cab responds. The dispatcher hands the photos to Tsung, who rushes out, followed by the bodyguard, who has paid the dispatcher. Tsung and the bodyguard jump into the back of a white cab, which roars away...

At the Kobe Bar...
The bartender is stacking chairs. He looks across the room at the only customers remaining -- Kelly and Scotty at a table, Brown and Amara slow-dancing to a romantic tune...
SCOTT: Hey, come on. Let's go, Man. We've spent the whole night with this...bum. He got the message hours ago, who we are and why we're here. Let's get it over with. He couldn't care less.
Kelly doesn't say anything, glances over at Brown and Amara, who are still dancing...
AMARA, softly, to Brown: I wish you could have known my grandfather. He was a great -- and a foolish -- man. He was a king. He built a nation where there was nothing. He made mistakes like all men, and like all men, the larger the mistake the more fierce he would become in trying to prove to himself that he was right. He would never beg. Never bend. And so, in the end, he was broken. And yet his people always loved him. They understood. A king is like that.
BROWN, fondly: How can a little country girl be so hip?
AMARA: Elroy. It means 'the king'.
The song comes to an end. Brown and Amara return to the table; Kelly and Scotty rise in deference to her...

On the streets of Hong Kong...
In the white taxi, Tsung speaks curtly into the driver's mike, communicating with three men in another car. One of these men takes a pistol from under his coat and attaches a silencer...

At the Kobe Bar...
Kelly, Scotty, Brown and Amara are sitting at the table. No one is saying anything. Scotty is looking particularly bored and disgusted with the whole scene...
BROWN: Well, you're awful glum there, Patrick. Such a great talker.
SCOTT: I said it all a year ago.
BROWN: Yeah. Talked my head off in Tokyo, now he clams up.
ROBINSON: You don't let a man off easy, do you?
BROWN: I'm talking to Patrick. Butt out, Ofay.
SCOTT, to Kelly: Let's go.
Kelly and Scotty get up.
BROWN: Hold it.
SCOTT, angrily: For what?
AMARA, to Kelly and Scotty: Please...
ROBINSON: He doesn't want to hear anything we have to say, Princess. Just wouldn't interest him.
AMARA: But you must say it. Or you, Mr. Scott?
BROWN: Well somebody say something. The sun's coming up. Come on, let's have it. Let's have the pitch.
SCOTT, disgusted: The pitch.
ROBINSON: No, we don't want to tempt you. You made the right decision, Elroy, stick to it. If you came home how could you make a quarter of a million tax free playing pro ball?
BROWN: Maybe I'll be a movie star. Alright, that's enough needles. What's the proposition?
SCOTT: You wouldn't like it. Go on to Switzerland. Collect your money. Ten, twenty years from now you'll be sitting in some villa on the side of a hill watching the sun set, drinking martinis. Got the whole thing licked. And back home a lot of poor dummies, not as smart as you are, will be eating their hearts out trying to make the law of the land stick. Holding the world together with one hand and trying to clean their own house with the other. Yeah, something no country's ever done before, ever in the history of the world. Go ahead, Elroy. Go on to Switzerland. You don't need that kind of grief.
ROBINSON: Holy wars are a pain in the neck, Man. They always have been. What can you do about it anyway? You're only one man. What can one man do? Well, they got a phrase for that, Elroy, so simple that it might sound a little childish to you. A journey of a thousand miles begins with but a single step. Remember the man who said that? Remember him? There are a dozen other men right now picking up where he left off. They'll be remembered. So will you. You're the fella who went away laughing at all of them.
SCOTT: The whole world's trying to keep bloody fools like you from selling themselves back into slavery. But you did it anyway. You gotta laugh at that. No deals, Elroy. Nothing. You get your citizenship back and a plane ticket home. After that, you're on your own.
BROWN: It's not very much of a deal.
SCOTT: It's a lousy deal. So what do you want? A medal?
A Chinese man steps into the bar, half-concealed behind a potted plant. Kelly and Scotty see him immediately.
BROWN: Nah, I don't want any medals. It doesn't make much sense to do it for nothing, either.
ROBINSON: Well, not exactly for nothing.
BROWN: For what, then?
ROBINSON: How about for your almighty soul, how about for that?
BROWN: I don't have much belief in my almighty soul, pal.
SCOTT: Then what have we been talking about?
BROWN: I dunno. Come on, I need some air. Let's get out of here. (He stands) Run a couple laps around the block or something...
SCOTT: Make up your mind, Elroy!
ROBINSON: Now or we can't help you.
BROWN: I don't need your help.
ROBINSON: You don't need any help, you need a seeing eye dog.
BROWN: Don't push me.
ROBINSON: Look over your shoulder, Elroy. Go ahead. Take a look. See the fella by the door? Recognize him?
Brown turns to look at the Chinese man, who slips out of the bar.
BROWN: No.
ROBINSON: No. But he recognized you the second he walked in. These people have got an army in this town. They're going to be outside waiting for us. Now we link arms and exit laughing. If we're lucky they'll buy it as just another harmless prank. If not...it's been pointless knowing you.
Kelly loosens collar and tie; he and Scotty, with Brown and Amara in hand, begin staggering like drunks towards the door.
ROBINSON, voice slurred, addressing the bartender, who is asleep on the bar: Good night, sir. Wonderful. Don't be sad about it. We'll be back. Before you know it...

On the street outside the bar...
It's raining. Mr. Tsung stands, umbrella in hand, beside a red taxi pulled up to the curb. A white taxi is double parked beside the red one.
ROBINSON: Elroy, your friend's here.
TSUNG: It's very late, Mr. Brown. Your address to the conference is in less than six hours.
SCOTTY: Aw, we'll get him there on time.
TSUNG: May I suggest that we return now to the hotel so that you may rest.
BROWN: No, we want to walk.
TSUNG: The streets of Hong Kong are dangerous at this hour.
BROWN: I said we'll walk.
The big Chinese bodyguard gets out of the white taxi and stands in the rain, glaring at Brown.
TSUNG, to Kelly and Scotty: Mr. Brown is unaware of the many unscrupulous persons in Hong Kong who prey upon vulnerable tourists at this hour.
ROBINSON: Well, there are people like that everywhere, I guess.
TSUNG: May we offer you transportation?
SCOTT: No. Thank you. Elroy, go ahead.
BROWN: Yeah. Thanks.
ROBINSON: Princess.
SCOTT: Good night.
Brown and Amara climb into the back of the red taxi. The big Chinese bodyguard gets back into the white one. The red taxi drives away, followed by the other cab.
ROBINSON: Let's take a little walk for our own selves.
SCOTT: In the rain? What for?
ROBINSON: There's another cab, down around the corner, with the lights turned off.
SCOTT: They're trying to nail us. Elroy's in trouble.
ROBINSON: True.
They step out into the street and start walking. The cab turns on its lights and makes the corner, following them. Kelly and Scotty move to the opposite sidewalk. The taxi pulls up alongside, slows...
CABBIE: Wanna cab?
ROBINSON: Well, uh...
SCOTT: Yeah, yeah. Come on, it's raining.
They climb into the back of the cab.
ROBINSON: What's the trouble, driver?
CABBIE: No trouble.
He turns, smiling -- and there's a gun with a silencer in his hand. Two shots explode in the confines of the taxi. The driver slumps forward. Kelly and Scotty are holding pistols, have shot the cabbie through the seat.
ROBINSON: Can't you ever remember to bring a silencer?
SCOTT: Ruins the line of my suit.
ROBINSON: Mine, too.
Kelly reaches into the front seatt, retrieving the dead man's gun. They get out of the cab, start back up the street. Two cars come around the corner and screech to a halt. Caught in the glare of the headlights, Kelly and Scotty stop, then turn and run the other way. Three Chinese men in dark suits leap out of the cars and pursue them...

Hong Kong, sunrise...
In the waterfront district, Kelly and Scotty clamber to the roof of a long warehouse and run to one end, closely pursued by the three Chinese, and with Hong Kong harbor awakening behind them. They reach the end of the warehouse, vault onto the roof of the next building, turn right, realize it's a dead end, and backtrack, scrambling up a steep roof and down the other side. Their pursuers are still hot on their heels...
Kelly and Scotty are running up a series of steps carved into the stone of a steep hillside covered with rocks, trees and squalid shanties. The Chinese men split up, two following Kelly and Scotty, the third veering off to take a shortcut to the top of the hill...
Kelly and Scotty stop for a breather behind one of the shanties. They look up to see a family, several adults and several children, standing out in the open, staring at them.
ROBINSON: Oh, beautiful. Why don't they just point us out?"
He looks up to see that some of the people are doing just that.
SCOTT: You had to open your big mouth. (He addresses the people in Chinese)
ROBINSON: What did you tell them?
SCOTT: I told 'em we're doing a gangster movie and if they look around they'll see the bad guys coming.
The people look uphill, into the maze of shanties where Kelly and Scotty can't see, and the duo realizes that they're looking at one of the bad guys.
ROBINSON: Let me do it. I've got the silencer.
The Chinese men who branched off from the others is coming down through the shanties, gun drawn. He whirls as Scott pops up on the other side of a shanty.
SCOTT: Hello sir! Now!
Kelly comes around the other side of the shanty and shoots the Chinese man. As he falls, Kelly ventures closer to make sure he's dead, while the bystanders applaud.
SCOTT, to the onlookers: Wasn't it wonderful? Welcome to motion pictures. Okay, gang. Watch this now. (He points his gun skyward and fires two shots.)
ROBINSON: What's that for?
SCOTT: I got an idea.
The bystanders start applauding again as Kelly and Scotty run away. An instant later the other two Chinese men arrive. The onlookers point in the direction taken by Kelly and Scotty. The two Chinese men turn a corner and see Scotty staggering up a narrow, cluttered alleyway. As they watch, Scotty falls. They move closer. Standing over him, they exchange glances. Then one thumbs back the hammer of his revolver. Kelly leaps out of his place of concealment, a pistol in either hand.
ROBINSON: Games over, fellas. You lose.
As they turn he fires twice, and both men go down. Scotty leaps to his feet.
SCOTT: We better find Elroy. Fast!
They return the way they came, and as they pass the applauding bystanders, both shake hands with one of the Chinese men.

In Elroy Brown's room, The Peninsula Hotel...
Brown comes to slowly, opening his eyes. He is laid out on a sofa. Tsung, standing over him, slowly comes into focus. Brown touches his forehead, groans.
BROWN: Oh, my head. Hey, somebody get me a couple of aspirin or something. I'm stiff as a board.
There are two other Chinese men standing nearby. Brown sits up, slowly.
BROWN: Hey, what did I do? Fall out on the sofa? Man, I didn't know I was that drunk. I had a couple cups of coffee when we got back...
One of the men offers him some aspirin and a glass of water.
BROWN: Put it right there. What time is it?
TSUNG, consulting his watch: Ten-thirty.
BROWN: I sure don't feel like making that speech.
TSUNG: That will not be necessary.
BROWN: What?
TSUNG: It will not be necessary...now.
BROWN: Where's Amara?
When he doesn't get an answer, Brown surges towards the door to the adjoining room, throws it open, stumbles into the room -- to find it empty. He turns, loses his balance, falls against the door, holds himself up...
BROWN: Where is she?
TSUNG: She was taken ill. Quite suddenly. She is on her way to the air terminal by ambulance. She will return to Peking where she may receive proper treatment.
BROWN: She wasn't sick.
TSUNG: On the contrary. She really is quite ill. With the same illness that is spreading itself through your body at the moment. First, headaches, stiffness. Then chills and fever. In one hour you will be completely delirious. Typhus. Injected while you were under the influence of the drugged coffee.
BROWN, sliding down the door onto his knees: You guys are really crazy. You play around with people like they're toys.
TSUNG, menacingly: We are not toying with you, Mr. Brown. (He goes to a table, turns on a reel-to-reel recording machine.)
AMARA, on tape, sounding distraught: Elroy? This is Amara. Please, do not be angry. And do not do anything foolish. I've agreed to go back to Peking with them. They say if I go quietly you will not be harmed. Elroy. It means...king. Be one now, as you were meant to be. My love to you. Goodbye.
Enraged, Brown charges at the Chinese men, but they step nimbly aside and he stumbles, falling onto the table and the recording machine.
TSUNG: I'm going downstairs now, Mr. Brown, to tell the assembly that you are bedding in your room with a sudden fever. I will then deliver your excellent speech. The Afro-Asian Olympics will be a reality by the end of the day. By the end of a year, China will be firmly entrenched in Africa, helped by means of these games. Listen carefully now, Mr. Brown, while you can still hear me. Until you are recovered and can return to Peking, we are quite sure you will not wish to endanger the life of your fiancee by revealing even the slightest detail of what has taken place here. (With disdain...) Goodbye, Mr. Brown.

Kelly and Scotty's room, Peninsula Hotel...
Kelly and Scotty are donning shoulder holsters and clean coats as Mickey reads from a small notebook...
MICKEY: Princess go downstairs early, with three men. They take her to taxi cab. Go away fast. She look funny.
SCOTT: How funny?
MICKEY: Eyes closed, like she not see. Maybe sick. Fifth floor room boy say that Mr. Tsung go downstairs to big meeting. Mr. Elroy Brown still in room.
ROBINSON: Tsung went down to the meeting and left Elroy in the room?
MICKEY: With two bodyguard person. Two big bodyguard person. (He takes a jacket still covered by dry cleaning wrap from the closet and heads for the door.) Come on, men. We got them outnumbered.
As he leaves the room, Kelly glowers at Scotty, who grins.
SCOTT: That's my man.
ROBINSON: Oughta punch you right in the mouth.

The hallway outside Elroy Brown's room, Peninsula Hotel...
Robinson goes to a window at the end of the hall, opens it, steps out onto a narrow ledge five stories above the street. Closing the window, he  starts out along the ledge...
Scotty and Mickey emerge from an elevator. Arriving at the door to Brown's room, Scotty moves to one side and Mickey raises the jacket as though to conceal him. He knocks on the door.

Inside Elroy Brown's room, Peninsula Hotel...
The two Chinese men are watching over Brown, who lies, semi-conscious, on his bed. One exits, entering the adjoining room, drawn by the persistent knocking on the door. He opens the door...
MICKEY: This your suit?
CHINESE MAN: Wrong room, kid.
Scotty reaches in, grabs the front of the man's shirt and slams him into the wall across the hallway.
SCOTT, to Mickey, as he drags the unconscious man into the room: You go on.
Mickey disappears. Scott drags the man across the room. The other Chinese bodyguard emerges from the bedroom and fires a shot at Scott, who seeks cover behind an armchair. The bodyguard fires again. Scott answers with two shots that hit their mark -- just as Kelly comes through the bedroom window and fires once, also hitting the mark. The bodyguard crumples. As Scott proceeds to tie up the unconscious man with a cord ripped from the recording machine, Robinson goes to the bed where Brown is laying.
BROWN: Get her back. They couldn't have took off yet. Stop 'em. Look, I'll make you a deal. Better than the one you made me. You get her back safe, I'll come home. I'll even go you one better. How'd you like to see me walk into that meeting and blow the whistle on 'em? The phony games, the whole bit. Blow it so loud they'll hear it around the world. How'd you like to see me do that?
ROBINSON: You can't even walk.
BROWN, laughs weakly: You wanna bet?
ROBINSON: I'll get her if I can.
BROWN: I don't pay off on ifs. You get her.
Kelly heads out, meets Scotty at the door.
ROBINSON: Watch him. I'll call you.
SCOTT: Okay.

In a conference room, Peninsula Hotel...
A Chinese man is at the podium, speaking to an assembly. Behind him sit a half-dozen dignitaries, including Tsung, who impatiently consults his watch. Meanwhile, in a booth at the back of the room, a translator speaks into a microphone...
TRANSLATOR: ...in order to cement the brotherly goodwill that we share with our Afro-Asian friends. (He proceeds to translate in Swahili.)

On the streets of Hong Kong...
In the back of a taxi, Kelly impatiently checks his watch. A moment later, the cab pulls to a stop in front of the air terminal. Kelly leaps out of the back and runs inside.

Air terminal, Hong Kong...
Kelly runs up to an information kiosk. A Chinese man reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette watches him, and when Kelly runs down the concourse, he follows. Kelly enters the office of the World Health Organization. A few minutes later, he and a uniformed British official climb the metal staircase to the air traffic control tower.
OFFICER, to ATC: Do you have a private jet bound for Peking?
ATC: Yes, they are at the head of the runway now, sir.
OFFICER: That plane has typhus aboard. Order it to come about.
ATC: Yes, sir. (He speaks Chinese into a microphone.)

In the private jet...
Sitting beside the pilot, the brawny Chinese bodyguard listens to the ATC's request via the radio. He turns and looks back at a nurse in white, who dabs at the perspiration gathered on the face of Princess Amara, who is unconscious. The bodyguard picks up the radio mike...
BODYGUARD: Hong Kong tower. This is Three-one three-one. Request permission to take off. Over.

In the ATC tower...
ATC, to British officer: He speak English, sir. You want to try them?
OFFICER, taking mike from the ATC: Three-one, three-one. You are carrying a case of typhus aboard. If you take off from this field you will be in contempt of international law. Return to your loading gate at once. (He clicks off the mike) Bloody fools.
Realizing that the private jet isn't going to comply, Kelly bolts out of the tower.

Air terminal, Hong Kong...
Kelly hops aboard a blue baggage tractor. He is trying to turn it on when the Chinese man who had tailed him through the concourse attacks him, knocking him off the tractor. Kelly bounces up off the tarmac, squares off with his assailant. The man blocks two of Kelly's kicks, then takes a swing. Kelly sidesteps, brings a knee up into the man's midsection and a hand down on the man's neck. The attacker falls. Kelly leaps back aboard the tractor and takes off, cutting across the airport onto the runway used by the private jet.

In the private jet...
Having switched off the radio, the big bodyguard grins at the pilot, who throttles up. Then they notice the tractor barreling down the runway towards them...

On the runway...
Kelly waits until the last possible second, making sure the tractor is on a true course, before leaping. The private jet veers off the runway.  Kelly comes up off the tarmac slowly, holding his left arm rigid, as the sound of sirens pierces the air...

Elroy Brown's room, Peninsula Hotel...
The phone rings. Laid out on the bed, Brown tries to sit up as Scotty answers the phone.
SCOTT: Hello....Just as long as she's alright....Broken arm?....Well listen, you, you always looked devil-may-care with a broken arm....Marvelous. (He hangs up, turns to Brown) He did it. She's safe.
BROWN, breathing a sigh of relief: Okay, let's go.
SCOTT: Go where? You can't even move.
BROWN: I give my word. Haven't given nobody my word in a long time. (He tries to get up, but is too weak, and falls back.) Hey, Patrick. Hey, you got to help me, Man. Don't let me cop out, huh?
SCOTT, removing his belt, twisting the buckle, and revealing a plastic-capped syringe: Elroy. Elroy! You see this? This is a painkiller and a stimulant. This is powerful stuff. It'll either put you on your feet or out cold. In your case, you can't tell which.
BROWN: Okay. Do it.

In the hallway, Peninsula Hotel...
Scotty is half-carrying Elroy Brown to an elevator, with a good grip on Brown's belt.
BROWN, mumbling: Better let go of my pants.
The elevator doors slide open; Scotty manhandles Brown inside, pushes a button. Brown sags against the wall of the lift.
BROWN: Oh no.
SCOTT: What's the matter?
BROWN: It's no good, Man. It's a bust.
SCOTT: No, you'll make it.
BROWN: No, no. We're sunk anyway. You see....interpreter....he's one of Tsung's men. It don't matter what I say. He....he just won't translate it to 'em. They'll never get the message.
SCOTT: Where's he located?
BROWN: He's in a booth in the back. But he's the only guy within a thousand miles of here who translates Swahili.
SCOTT: Probably never looked under my shirt to see this big red S, have you? Don't worry about a thing.

In the conference room...
The Chinese speaker introduces Tsung, who rises to the applause of the assemblage. At the podium, he takes a piece of paper from his jacket's inside pocket and begins to speak...only to be interrupted by the entrance of Scotty and Brown.
BROWN: Faster than a speeding bullet?
SCOTT: More powerful than a locomotive.
BROWN: Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, huh?
SCOTT: Right.
BROWN, sagging: Couldn't I sit down here for a second...
SCOTT, pulling him upright: Walk.
As Brown heads with uncertain step down the aisle towards the podium, the assemblage applauds. Scott watches him anxiously. Brown reaches the podium, leans heavily on it, and glares at Tsung.
BROWN: Hit the showers, punk. You're out of this ballgame.
He takes the speech from Tsung's hand, crumples it up and throws it down. Tsung departs hastily. The crowd is murmuring. Scott enters the interpreter's booth, gun drawn, and motions the two translaters away from their mikes.
BROWN: This is going to be short...and sweet. If I start to fade I want somebody to grab me and hold me up. First things first. I'm not here because I believe in the Afro-Asian games. I'm here 'cause I'm a traitor. 'Cause I defected from my country. Yeah, I sold out my country and myself to a bunch of fakes -- like that one going out the door...
Inside the booth, Scott sits with headphones held up to an ear, translating Brown's words into Swahili. Everyone turns to see Tsung slipping out of the room.
BROWN: ...So you see, I did it for money. A whole lot of money. That makes me smart. Makes me the smartest man in the room. 'Cause you...you're doing it for nothing. (He lowers his head.)

Outside the Peninsula Hotel...
Tsung emerges, leaps into the back of a taxi, which starts down the circular drive, only to be blocked by a jeep speeding up. Two uniformed police officers get out of the jeep and extract Tsung from the taxi. Tsung finds himself face-to-face with a disheveled Kelly, who has also gotten out of the jeep, his left arm in a sling beneath his coat. Kelly looks coldly at Tsung, then proceeds into the hotel.

In the conference room...
Kelly enters the room, pauses just inside the doors, watching Brown at the podium.
BROWN: ...Afro-Asian games can be great. They can be great, and should be. But you...all of you...you got to pull together. But them...they'll poison it for you. So have your games. But you do it. You do it yourselves. I'll help you, if I can. Right now...I just want to go home.
He begins to fall, but two men catch him. In the interpreters' booth, Scotty shakes hands with the two translaters -- while still holding them at gunpoint -- and goes out to join Kelly. The two men guide an exhausted Brown down the aisle as the assemblage applauds. Brown pauses, looks at Scotty, who smiles and nods. Brown smiles back.

The lobby, Hotel Penninsula...
Kelly and Scotty are watching Elroy Brown, surrounded by admiring press. Mickey slips in behind them, tugs on their coattails.
MICKEY: We be late to matinee.
ROBINSON: Matinee of what?
SCOTT: Uh, I promised to take him to a movie.
ROBINSON: What movie?
SCOTT: It's, uh, an English picture. Wonderful cast. Many of your favorite stars.
MICKEY: The adventures of 007!
ROBINSON: Oh, Man.
SCOTT: No, now listen. Don't knock the competition. Pays to watch him. You may learn something. (Kelly starts to walk away, but Scotty catches up with him.) Listen, this guy is really wonderful, now. I'm telling you. Not only does he get the women but he gets them painted all different colors of the rainbow. (Realizing they've left Mickey behind, Scotty rushes back to retrieve him, then hurries after Kelly.) It's called wide-screen integration. Look, you need a refresher course, 'cause I've been watching you. You've been slipping lately...

END
(transcribed by Jason M., June 2002)