CUT TO
JIMMY, immediately going into the booth, inserting a coin, starting to dial and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, waiting, waiting-- and the instant he hears the phone start to ring in the next room, he starts to raise the window and
CUT TO
THE PHONE as the THREE GUYS react, all reach at the same time. The HEAD KIDNAPPER slaps the others' hands away, all but rips the phone from its cradle.
HEAD KIDNAPPER
(pissed)
Where the fokk you been, man?
CUT TO
JIMMY, as he inserts a huge handkerchief into his mouth.
JIMMY
Traffic.
CUT TO
THE HEAD KIDNAPPER. What he can make out is this: nothing that sounds like a word.
HEAD KIDNAPPER
Never fokking mind, you got the money?
CUT TO
CLIMBER, kneeling by the girl now, expertly setting her free, first the ropes around her feet, then her hands, then the gag, finally the blindfold and as she turns to face him, he puts his fingers to his lips as we
CUT TO
ECHO SINCLAIR. (Real name Jennifer but known since a kid by the nickname. Used to spend hours when she was little walking up behind people and repeating whatever they said.)
She has had a terrible time these last days, ECHO. So she's sure not looking her best.
Still not exactly a dog. It's just one of those faces, folks. We are looking at Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, and he has to react to what he sees, but only briefly. Then he whispers, fast and low.
CLIMBER JONES
Hang tough, Miss Sinclair; you'll be home in no time. Stay right behind me. Can you do that?
(she manages a nod)
CUT TO
JIMMY IN THE PHONE BOOTH, mouth still full.
JIMMY
I've got ten million dollars in this satchel here.
CUT TO
THE KIDNAPPERS. THE HEAD GUY is holding the receiver out to the others. They shake their heads.
HEAD KIDNAPPER
What fokking country you calling from, asshole?
(we can't make out JIMMY'S reply)
How many million?
(we hear JIMMY making a sound that could be ten. He looks at the others)
Ten you think?
(they nod. He cannot help but smile)
Ten is fokking good.
(the others nod)
CUT TO
CLIMBER AND ECHO by the door that leads to the other room. ECHO is right behind him.
CLIMBER JONES
(his hand on the door now--very soft)
You're doing great. Now do me a favor and try not to scream, I hate screaming.
ECHO
(nods. Then whispers)
Why would I want to scream?
(and on that)
CUT TO
CLIMBER JONES, and here he comes, throwing the door wide, bolting through, opening fire and the HEAD KIDNAPPER cries out, hit in the shoulder and he falls over the table, but still reaching for his gun and now here comes the SECOND KIDNAPPER charging for them and ECHO is screaming like a banshee now because this is one big motherfucker and CLIMBER times it just right, backhands him in the mouth with his pistol barrel, and his teeth fly all over and the THIRD KIDNAPPER has his gun out and is about to fire, he looks like he knows how to use it and he's got the advantage and the HEAD KIDNAPPER is back on his feet and he has his gun too--
--which is when CLIMBER grabs ECHO, puts an arm around her, and as the bullets come closer and closer, they dive straight into the closed glass window, straight through the closed glass window and as we watch, they start to fall, their bodies turning in space, down the sixty feet to the alley pavement below.
CUT TO
ECHO IN SPACE, IN SLOW MOTION, holding on to him as they fall, and it sounds nuts, but this is probably when she falls in love with CLIMBER because men had always been after her, always for their own reasons, and she knows many who were kind and some who were brilliant and the occasional one who was beautiful--
--but no one had ever taken her on this kind of journey.
CUT TO
CLIMBER IN SPACE, IN SLOW MOTION. And he's been in love with her for, oh, at least three minutes, since he uncovered her eyes.
Now slow motion starts to end--
--they are going faster--
--faster still--
--rocketing now--
-- and then it's over--
--they have fallen into a fireman's trampoline, and half a dozen firemen hold it stretched taut.
JIMMY is right there with them while behind him, dozens of cops pour through the front door of the tenement building.
JIMMY looks pale and taut. CLIMBER helps ECHO out of the trampoline, looks at the other man.
CLIMBER JONES
What have you got to be nervous about?
JIMMY
I wasn't sure which window you said you were coming out of.
(and on that)
CUT TO
CLIMBER'S PLACE. The West Village, not the chic part.
Early morning.
Not much. Clean, but if you were asked the decorating style, you would have to answer "none."
A small bedroom with a big TV, a small living room with a big TV, a kitchenette with a small TV. Not much else.
CLIMBER lies there alone, slowly coming to life. He gets up, sits on the side of his bed, rubbing his sore arms. His body aches from last night's exercise. He stands, stretches, winces. He takes the TV clicker, turns the tube to ESPN. Now he moves gamely to the living room, clicks that TV on to ESPN. When he arrives at his kitchenette, he gets that tube going right off. It was already set to ESPN.
With all three sets on, he seems somehow more at peace. As he gets out some instant coffee--
CUT TO
A LONG ISLAND LANE.
Tres fucking fancy. And how do you know that? Because you cannot see the mansions. Only perfectly trimmed hedges rising ten feet.
Perfect summer day.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, driving along in his three-year-old Toyota, the radio to WFAN. When he was working, he was not well dressed. Slacks and a shirt, neither Armani.
Now here's the thing--he looks even crummier today. Slacks and a shirt, sure, but even more weathered. His loafers probably have holes in the bottom.
He squints at a number, turns into a driveway as we
CUT TO
A THICK GATE. Shut. CLIMBER stops, speaks into a microphone set up for such purposes.
CLIMBER
To see Mister Sinclair. Climber Jones.
(the gate starts to swing open immediately and as he drives through--)
CUT TO
The front yard. Remember when you couldn't see the mansions but you knew they were there? Well, that was accurate but also incomplete because there are mansions and there are mansions. Well, guess what, this is a MANSION.
When you look at it you realize this--you've seen it before. In any article about the great American homes, there is the Breakers up in Rhode Island, and Hearst's San Simeon in California...
And the Sinclair place. Old old man Sinclair, who founded the railroad fortune in the last century, was always a simple fellow. And when he came to Long Island and spent ten years assembling his home, he always liked it to be referred to as that--the Sinclair place. And so it has remained.
CUT TO
THE HOUSE as CLIMBER drives up. Overwhelming.
CLIMBER registers the grandeur. Not happily.
CUT TO
A BUTLER, in the open doorway. He points down an endless hall.
BUTLER
Mister Sinclair is in the east drawing room, sir.
(CLIMBER nods, starts off and)
CUT TO
CLIMBER, walking along, trying for calm. It's not just the size--the place is in perfect taste.
CLIMBER comes to a crossing of corridors, he
sitates.
A MAID is dusting, spots him, indicates which way to go.
CLIMBER
I don't suppose you send out St. Bernards.
(she pays no attention, is back to her dusting)
CUT TO
CLIMBER, walking along. Talk about your wrong pew.
CLIMBER (CONT'D)
(mimicking)
Mister Sinclair is in the east drawing room.
(beat)
The fucking east drawing room.
He passes a small room, looks in.
CUT TO
CLIMBER. CLOSE UP. A sudden look of sadness.
CUT TO
What he's looking at--a table full of photos of ECHO. As a baby, a child, a teenager, growing more glorious before his eyes. He can't help it, he is drawn there.
HOLD ON
CLIMBER AND THE PICTURES. He picks up a recent shot--at a charity somewhere with a gorgeous young man in a tuxedo.
CLIMBER can't help this either, he is aware of how he's dressed. He tugs at a shirt sleeve. Then--
HARRY SINCLAIR (OVER)
(sharp)
My hair was growing gray.
(and on that)
CUT TO
ECHO'S FATHER. One look at HARRY SINCLAIR and you know he's a world-class rich man's son. Tanned, handsome, hair in place, probably whacks a great polo ball. Fifty-five years old and trim on the outside, soft where it matters.
He stares at the photo CLIMBER holds. CLIMBER, embarrassed, puts it back hurriedly, knocks over a couple more pictures, which only makes the moment worse.
HARRY SINCLAIR
Someone will tend to it.
CLIMBER nods, leaves the pictures alone, faces the other man.
CLIMBER
You wanted to see me.
HARRY SINCLAIR
(nods)
Remuneration.
(hands over a check)
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
CLIMBER looks at it. Lot of money.
CLIMBER
You're very generous, Mister Sinclair.
HARRY SINCLAIR
I have only the one child.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER. The check in his hand.
CLIMBER
You owe me two.
HARRY SINCLAIR
(shocked)
Two thousand additional?
CLIMBER
(head shake)
Total.
(going quickly on)
I get one-twenty-five an hour. Two thousand is what you owe me.
HARRY SINCLAIR
Oh, I see--a man with pride.
CLIMBER
(so what if they don't like each other)
Shitloads.
HARRY SINCLAIR turns, heads for the door.
HARRY SINCLAIR
I'll be back in a moment with your pay. Stay here, I don't want to lose you again.
THE CLIMBER doesn't move and as soon as SINCLAIR is gone, he can't help it, he has to look at her pictures.
CUT TO
THE HALLWAY AND HARRY SINCLAIR'S VOICE.
HARRY SINCLAIR (OVER)
Oh, when we're done you might want to go out back. Echo wanted to say goodbye.
CUT TO
CLIMBER IN CLOSE-UP. Yesssss!
CUT TO
"OUT BACK" and CLIMBER wandering along through what seems to him endless gardens. Fortunately, he spots the pool man.
CLIMBER
Miss Sinclair?
POOL MAN
(points)
Beach.
CLIMBER
Not the east beach or anything tricky?
POOL MAN
Just the one.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, at the end of the lawn now. Ahead of him is a rounded wooden bridge that curves over the beginning of the sand dune. You can start to hear the ocean now.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, moving over the bridge. The ocean is louder now, and then
CUT TO
CLIMBER JONES, stopping, staring, because you have to--there are no greater beaches on earth than these and there is no such thing as a private beach in the Hamptons, it's illegal to have a private beach in the Hamptons--
--but if anybody could have one, it would have been old old man Sinclair--that would have been long ago, of course--but there's no one on this great expanse at the moment.
CUT TO
THE BEACH AND THE OCEAN and out a good distance, hair wet and long--ECHO. She sees THE CLIMBER, waves.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, waving stupidly back, starting across the dune, picking up speed as he goes.
CUT TO
ECHO, and she looks like you want her to look, and it's all perfect, the water and the sand and the sun--
--except for this: the waves are dangerously high.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, sand getting into his loafers, big deal, he can always buy a pair of new shoes, and he's trotting so happily toward the water--
-- and then the happiness dies.
CUT TO
ECHO, getting smacked sideways by a large wave, disappearing for a moment and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, running to the water's edge now, staring out and then
CUT TO
ECHO, struggling to the surface, coughing, waving at him and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, rooted, watching. He does not move.
CUT TO
ECHO, and just before another wave has her she manages to shout "Help!"
At least that's what she must have hoped it sounded like but to CLIMBER at the water's edge, he can barely hear the faintest sound "... help ..."
CUT TO
CLIMBER, so afraid for her, for what's happening to her as he stands as before--
--rooted--
--not moving at all.
CUT TO
ECHO, bobbing to the surface and this time her "Help" scream goes over the waves and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, and he hears it, and there's only one thing he can do.
CLIMBER
Shit.
And off come his shoes, and still in his clothes he plunges into the raging surf.
CUT TO
ECHO, down again, up again, the wind is getting serious.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, splashing through the water, always trying to keep her in sight and
CUT TO
ECHO, managing somehow to stay on top of the water and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, panting terribly, pulling up, looking around--
-- and a wave takes him unaware, knocks him terribly down and
CUT TO
THE FOAMING WATER AS CLIMBER struggles to get his bearings--
--no good, another wave has him--
-- and now the worst thing of all--
--the undertow has him.
CUT TO
ECHO, bobbing up and down, trying to see where he is, shouting "Help" over and over and
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, and he's not going to help anybody, at least not now, maybe not ever, because he has no defense against the undertow as it pulls him out to sea.
CUT TO
ECHO, and she sees what's happened.
ECHO
Shit.
CUT TO
A HIGH SHOT and we see the impossibility of it all.
CLIMBER, out of it now, feeble now, being pulled helplessly farther from shore.
ECHO, and she's the one who needed rescuing just a blink before.
And the distance between them is ever widening.
HOLD ON THE TWO OF THEM. Then--
CUT TO
ECHO, and suddenly she is knifing through the water, kicking the shit out of the waves, pulling in great long strokes, and not only does she have power, she has form, and as she swims faster than before
CUT TO
CLIMBER, trying not to go under, but there's not a lot he can do
CUT TO
ECHO, and if Johnny Weissmuller
ever had a sister, it was this one here, and before she was going fast--
--now she kicks into overdrive.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, going down, and if ever your life should flash before your eyes, well, this is the moment.
CUT TO
ECHO, a rocket, and now she's near him and
CUT TO
CLIMBER, or rather where he was, he's gone and
CUT TO
ECHO, or rather where she was, she's gone, too.
CUT TO
THE OCEAN. Nothing but the waves pounding toward shore.
HOLD.
KEEP HOLDING,
Then here they come--she's got one arm locked around his chest, and with the other she starts the trip toward shore and it's a long way but you can tell from just looking at her, she's not going to stop halfway.
HOLD. Then, after a long moment
CUT TO
THE SHORE as she pulls him through the surf, up to a drier part of the beach, lays him down, kneels over him, tilts his neck back, pulls his mouth open, starts to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and as she does--
CUT TO
THE BRIDGE over the start of the dune. And here comes THE POOL MAN. Beat. Now THE BUTLER chugs into view.
Beat
Now the staff, half a dozen people in uniform flooding over the wooden bridge--
-- and now here come half a dozen more--
CUT TO
ECHO AND THE CLIMBER. He's blinking now, awake now.
But barely. He looks like shit.
CUT TO
ECHO
This is my hero.
THE STAFF applauds enthusiastically.
HOLD on the moment. Then--
CREDITS START TO ROLL.
As they go on, we
CUT TO
The table with the photographs, the one that CLIMBER found so irresistible, with all the pictures of ECHO growing up. The table still has pictures, but different ones.
CUT TO
A RING. Can't tell more than that until we
SLOWLY PULL BACK TO REVEAL
ECHO AND THE CLIMBER, in front of Nathan's Famous hot dogs in Coney Island. He holds a Cracker Jack box. The ring came from there. You can tell from the uncertain look on his face he is asking her to marry him. You can tell with the look in her perfect eyes she's not going to let him out of the room.
CUT TO
CLIMBER. IN CLOSE UP. The uncertain look from the previous picture replaced by something completely different: blind panic.
SLOWLY PULL BACK TO REVEAL
IT'S THEIR WEDDING DAY. CLIMBER, not in the world's most fetching tuxedo, stands paralyzed, trying to smile. This is their marriage moment. Echo, in a gown Grace Kelly would have killed for, stands by her man. Beside her is her FATHER. Beside CLIMBER is his, JIMMY, also in a terrible tux, looking more Cagney-like than ever. They are in a church somewhere. A giant church. And it is crammed with hundreds of the rich and famous.
CUT TO
ECHO AND THE CLIMBER on their honeymoon. A fabulous Parisian three-star. The chef stands at their table. ECHO is enchanted. CLIMBER is staring at the food on his plate, a look of confusion on his face.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, a look of agony on his face.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL