by J. R. Rain
BACK TO THE JEEPS: Abdullah takes careful aim as the Jeep closes in on Jack.
EXT. AT THE CLIFF’S EDGE
An American soldier reaches down from the chopper’s hatch. Jack turns and picks the little girl up and swings her around.
JACK
You’re going to be okay now, Tessla.
Tessla nods, then hugs him hard around the neck. Jack lifts her up and into the waiting arms of the soldier, who promptly hauls her aboard the chopper.
SOLDIER
Now it’s your turn, Superman.
As Jack reaches up for the man’s proffered hand, a gunshot rings out. Jack lurches forward. A bloody flower has blossomed on his right shoulder. The camel, completely spooked, bucks violently. Jack pitches forward over the cliff, and down into the canyon. Young Tessla, looking down from the chopper, screams and lunges forward, but the soldiers restrain her.
EXT. CITY OF TEHRAN – DAY
Tehran, the ancient capital of modern-day Iran, teems with vibrant life. Modern streets meet medieval corridors. Automobiles juxtapose with mule-powered wagons. Crowded street markets contrast sharply with glass and steel skyscrapers.
SUPERIMPOSED across the screen are the words: “TEHRAN – TWENTY YEARS LATER”
EXT. A VERY MODERN BUILDING – DAY
A brass nameplate near the main entrance reads: U.S. EMBASSY.
INT. U.S. EMBASSY – DAY
The silver tip of a walking cane comes into view, tapping across a polished marble floor. THE CAMERA moves up along the ornately carved cane to a silver-handled ball gripped tightly by long fingers.
INT. OFFICE – DAY
The man with the cane steps into a large office and leans the cane against an executive desk. He turns toward the camera and we see his face for the first time:
Although boyish and good-looking, the man’s features are haggard: hair slightly unkempt, an eternal melancholy in his hard, azure blue eyes. The man is, in fact, JACK ROME, the same daring twenty-year-old we’d met at the Omanian camel races. The years have not been kind to Mr. Rome. He sits behind his wide desk.
JACK
The world is as crazy as ever, Sigmund.
As he speaks, he looks over at a small fish tank sitting on the filing cabinet by his desk. As he looks, he frowns. We soon see why.
JACK
Sigmund?
He gets up and limps over to the tank. His little goldfish is floating upside down.
JACK
Ah, hell.
Jack uses a small net and retrieves the fish from the tank. He steps into an adjoining bathroom and sadly drops the little guy in the toilet. Jack flushes, watching the fish swirl around and around until it disappears.
JACK
On to the Big Fishbowl in the Sky, my friend.
As he steps back into his office, his intercom buzzes. His secretary’s voice comes through his speaker.
SECRETARY (O.S.)
Jack, there’s a Miss Morgan here to see you.
JACK
Sigmund is dead, Angie.
SECRETARY
I’m sorry to hear that, Jack.
I’ll get you a new fish.
JACK
Don’t bother. Maybe my next pet should
be a fern.
SECRETARY
Should I tell Miss Morgan that you are in
mourning and to come back tomorrow?
JACK
No, no. Buzz her in.
As he sits behind his desk again, a very exotic-looking woman with huge brown eyes steps hesitantly into his office. She appears oddly familiar. Jack stares at her, blinking and frowning.
INT. LOBBY OF JACK’S OFFICE – DAY
Leaning casually on a mop, a JANITOR watches the young lady enter Jack’s office. He casually removes a folded piece of paper from his overalls. He unfolds it. It’s the same exotic-looking young lady.
INT. JACK’S OFFICE – DAY
Her beauty is not lost on Jack Rome. He blinks once or twice, taking her in. Once he’s over his surprise, the professional bureaucrat returns.
JACK
Miss Morgan?
The young woman nods, scanning the room. There is a heaviness to her, as if she’s carrying a great weight. Clearly, her heart is heavy. Her eyes settle back on him, and as they do, they seem to widen even more. Perhaps in recognition?
MORGAN
And you are Jack Rome?
JACK
You got him.
(he pauses, now openly staring)
Do I know you?
MORGAN
(noticeably ignoring his question)
I need your help, Mr. Rome.
Jack seems to want to press the matter of knowing her, but he backs off. He sits back in his chair and is immediately businesslike again.
JACK
Help in what capacity, Miss Morgan?
MORGAN
I need you to help me find my son.
INT. JANITOR’S CLOSET – DAY
Hidden from view among mops and brooms and cleaning agents, the janitor dials a number on his cell phone. A voice with a thick Russian accent answers.
VOICE (O.S.)
Yeah?
JANITOR
She’s here.
INT. JACK’S OFFICE – DAY
Jack leans forward across his desk, clearly concerned.
JACK
What happened to your son?
MORGAN
My son has been...kidnapped.
Jack leans forward, frowning. He doesn’t take this news lightly.
JACK
And he’s here in Iran?
MORGAN
Yes.
JACK
Are you an American citizen?
MORGAN
Yes.
JACK
Where do you live?
MORGAN
In the United States.
JACK
Do you know who kidnapped him?
MORGAN
Yes.
(a beat)
My ex-husband.
JACK
There’s many legal issues here in Iran when
it comes to custody, a country where fathers
are often given sole custody of their children.
You will need an attorney. We do have a legal
specialist here at the embassy, one who I can
highly recommend—
MORGAN
The father isn’t Iranian, Mr. Rome. He’s a
fugitive from America.
(a beat)
And I only want you to help me. You, and
no one else.
JACK
(blinking, confused)
Why me?
She stares at him long and hard, and now the first hint of a smile appears on her face.
MORGAN
My name is Tessla Morgan.
But you can call me Tess.
You saved me from the
camel races twenty years ago.
Jack’s eyes narrow. Finally, recognition dawns on him. His mouth drops open. He searches for words, fumbling repeatedly, until he finally manages to say:
JACK
Are you hungry?
EXT. CAMPSITE – DAY
A massive, full-scale archaeological dig is in progress. Trucks and tents and equipment are everywhere. Workers, swarming like ants, removing dirt and debris from within an ancient stone temple—a temple carved directly into the side of a sandstone cliff—
INT. STONE TEMPLE – DAY
Two men work their way through the man-made tunnels and passages. The lead man holds before him a torch. Other such torches are mounted in the walls. More workers using wheelbarrows pass them.
Taking up the rear is BORIS KARAKOV, a wealthy Russian pharmaceutical tycoon. As he follows his assistant, he suddenly and violently coughs. He pulls out a handkerchief, wipes his mouth. Blood coats the white cloth. He pauses briefly, gasping. His assistant, DIMITRI, rushes back to him, but Boris irritably waves him off. They move forward again a
nd soon come upon a stone room.
INT. STONE ROOM – DAY
The two men enter a small room. Immediately we see a man sitting in a chair, bound and gagged. Two Russian soldiers are guarding him. The man in the chair is Iranian and clearly terrified. As Boris and Dimitri speak, they do so in Russian, their words SUPERIMPOSED on the screen in English.
DIMITRI
We caught him taking pictures of the
Garden Chamber.
BORIS
Who is he?
DIMITRI
We searched his tent. He is a journalist in Tehran,
posing as a worker. We confiscated all his equipment,
even photos of his wife and kids.
Boris is suddenly struck by another fit of coughing. More blood on his handkerchief. Now that he’s in a slightly brighter space, we can see just how sick he is: sunken cheeks, pale and clammy skin. Boris hastily shoves the soiled handkerchief into his shirt pocket.
BORIS
It is a pity, then, that he died so tragically
in an accident. What should it be this time,
Dimitri?
DIMITRI
An accidental fall down a shaft?
BORIS
Very good. Please send my condolences
to his wife and children.
Dimitri nods once to the soldiers, and the two Russian businessmen leave the room. The horrified reporter, aware of what is about to happen, begs for his life, speaking rapidly in Farsi—but his pleas are ignored...
INT. STONE HALLWAY – DAY
As the two Russians exit the cell, two gunshots ring out. Boris doesn’t even wince. In fact, he smiles for the first time.
BORIS
Now, give me a progress report, Dimitri.
DIMITRI
We are still removing debris from the
Garden Chamber—
BORIS
And the passageway mentioned in the text?
Dimitri clearly does not enjoy giving his employer bad news. He speaks reluctantly.
DIMITRI
We will find it, sir. We are close. So very close.
BORIS
And what of this woman? The boy’s mother?
DIMITRI
She’s being taken care of as we speak.
INT. SMALL CAFE – DAY
Jack and Tess are in a downtown cafe. An odd assortment of traditional Persian food is laid out before them: grape leaves, finger foods, small pastries, and bowls of dipping oils. The two sit opposite each other near a window. As Tess speaks, Jack hungrily eats.
TESS
And after the divorce, the United States Government
brought charges of fraud against him. When he told
me he was going skip town, I never dreamed that he
was going to take our son with him.
JACK
And how do you know they’re here?
TESS
He has business here. A scheme to recoup
his losses.
JACK
And you know where to find him?
TESS
More or less, but I can’t do it alone. I need help.
I need your help.
(a beat)
Jack...all this time...I thought you were dead.
EXT. CLIFF, OMANIAN HIGH DESERT – FLASHBACK – DAY
Young Tessla watches from the chopper as a bullet impacts twenty-year-old Jack Rome, hurling him off his camel and out into space, falling. But he doesn’t fall far, mercifully spared by the slimmest of rock ledges. He lands hard, shattering his leg.
INT. CAFE – PRESENT – DAY
JACK
I was in a coma for a week.
Seven different operations to repair my leg.
(a beat)
And I always wondered what became
of you, too.
TESS
Mother met a visiting American historian.
They fell in love, and he moved us to America.
Quite a culture shock, I must say.
JACK
And now here you are.
TESS
I’ve come full circle, so to speak.
You saved me as a child, and now
I’m asking you to save my boy.
JACK
Hero’s don’t limp and carry canes.
You’ve got the wrong guy.
EXT. STREET OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT – DAY
A car pulls up outside the restaurant. Two men step out, each wearing black robes and brandishing black sub-machine guns. Those on the sidewalk instantly react by fleeing. The gunmen kick open the restaurant door and open fire.
INT. THE RESTAURANT – DAY
With glass and mirrors exploding everywhere, Jack grabs Tess and pulls her to the ground. Bullets tear apart the restaurant, ripping through everything. Jack and Tess scramble over the debris-strewn floor. They make their way around a counter and sit together. More bullets. People screaming.
TESS
What the hell’s going on?!
JACK
You tell me!
Jack looks around the counter. The gunmen are now standing in the doorway of the destroyed cafe. One of them fires off another burst into the counter, shredding it. Jack ducks back around. He grabs Tess’s hand.
JACK
C’mon!
Crouching, he leads her into the adjoining kitchen. There, he comes face to face with an AK-47. He gulps, looks up. But it’s the chef, now brandishing his own weapon. Jack breathes a sigh of relief.
JACK
(in Arabic, subtitles)
Frahid, it’s me! Jack!
The chef nods and moves toward the open slide and rattles off his own shots, stopping the gunmen in their tracks, who dive for cover behind overturned tables. The chef looks back at Jack and nods toward the rear entrance. The message is clear: Go!
JACK
Thank you, my friend.
Jack and Tess dash through the back door and into an alley behind the café.
EXT. ALLEY – DAY
But waiting for them outside are two more gunmen. But Jack’s sudden appearance catches them briefly by surprise. He has just seconds to act, and Jack does. He flips his cane around, deftly catching it by the steel tipped end, and bashes the snake-handled ball against the side of the first attacker’s head. The man crumples instantly. Jack next drives the steel tip hard into the second man’s solar plexus. As the attacker doubles over, air exploding from his lungs, Jack uses his cane like a baseball bat, and cracks it hard over the man’s head. Out cold.
As the man hits the ground, his head cloth falls away, revealing a pale face and blond hair. Very un-Persian. Tess gasps.
JACK
You know this guy?
TESS
Yes. I think so.
JACK
C’mon, let’s get out of here
and you can tell me about it.
INT. JACK’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Jack’s elegantly decorated apartment overlooks downtown Tehran, where the city sparkles ten floors below. Sitting at a bay window, Jack drinks from a glass of wine as Tess paces nearby, speaking rapidly.
TESS
Three years ago, I was approached
by Boris Karakov—
JACK
The Russian pharmaceutical giant.
Worth billions. Known for his
innovative research into cancer.
TESS
All true. But not so well known is that
he’s only got months to live. He’s dying of
an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer.
(a beat)
So how do you know him?
JACK
He’s here in Iran. Funding a massive
archaeological dig in the northern deserts.
So what did he want with you?
TESS
He wanted my father’s research.
JACK
I thought your father was an historian.
TESS
He was; in fa
ct, he was one of the original
scholars assigned to study the Dead Sea Scrolls.
It was because of this that he came to the attention
of Boris Karakov.
JACK
A cure for cancer was in the scrolls?
TESS
Better. A cure for everything.
(a beat)
Jack, do you know the story of the
Garden of Eden?
JACK
Of course. Who doesn’t? What does that
have to do with your father and Boris?
TESS