EXCESS BAGGAGE

by Max Adams



FADE IN:
  
EXT. PORTLAND, OREGON (ESTABLISHING) - DAY

Portland, home of rivers, bridges, and more parks than you can shake a stick at. 
The Columbia River, spanned by the Highway 5 and 205 bridges, glistens a muddy 
brown in the sunlight; the Willamette glitters off to the South.

INT. PARKING GARAGE/UPPER LEVEL - DAY

EMILY ROSE T. HOPE cut her teeth on a million dollar teething ring, and it was 
bitter -- too bitter. It left her an old woman's attitude in a young woman's 
body. 

She idly taps a cellular phone's keypad with one perfectly manicured nail as she 
stares through the parking level's open struts at a distant bridge -- and an 
approaching river barge. 

The barge draws closer to the bridge. Closer. Closer still. She takes a drag off 
a cigarette, stubs it out, and dials a number on the phone's keypad.

EXT. BRIDGE - DAY

AMADEUS T. HOPE, an older man who most assuredly broke his teeth on a Rolls 
Royce, stands in a phone booth just off the bridge, waiting for the phone to 
ring and caressing a briefcase like it contained a million dollars -- which it 
does. Nearby, idle joggers in the park are more than obviously undercover cops. 

The phone rings and Amadeus lifts it.

                             AMADEUS
                  I'm here.

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  Amadeus T. Hope?

                             AMADEUS
                  Yes.

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  Did you bring the money.

                             AMADEUS
                  Yes.

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  Listen carefully.

                             AMADEUS
                  I wish to speak to my daughter.

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  I'm not interested in what you wish, Mr. Hope. Just 
                  follow directions and stick to the plan. Am I clear?

                             AMADEUS
                  Very.

INT. PARKING GARAGE/UPPER LEVEL - DAY

Emily watches the barge move towards the bridge and readjusts her speaking 
apparatus -- it's a voice filter and it's a real bitch talking through this rig.

                             EMILY
                  Do you see the barge approaching the bridge?

INT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

Amadeus squints through glass booth walls, notes the approaching barge, nods.

                             AMADEUS
                  I see it.

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  Walk to the bridge, throw the briefcase onto the 
                  barge, and come back to the phone booth for further 
                  directions.

                             AMADEUS
                  How do I know you'll release her?

                             EMILY (V.O./FILTERED)
                  You don't.

INT. DETECTIVE VAN - DAY

DETECTIVE DAN SIMS is the kind of guy who does his job well, but everything 
always goes to hell anyway. This gives him a grim take on life, but he keeps 
trying. He watches a fellow COP fiddle with telephone tracing equipment. Sims' 
less than garrulous partner, BARNABY, listens in on an extra set of headphones.

                             COP
                  Shit. Cellular phone. 

                             SIMS
                  What did you expect? A silver platter? 

                             COP
                  Would'a been nice.

Sims stares out the van's polarized window at Amadeus, who's walking steadily 
out along the bridge.

                             SIMS
                  It's probably hers -- where's he going?

                             BARNABY
                  To throw the money over the side.

                             SIMS
                  What?

                             BARNABY
                  That's what they just told him to do.

Sims, glaring, grabs for a walkie talkie.

                             SIMS
                  Were you going to tell me before or after he tossed 
                  it?

Barnaby shrugs.

                              SIMS (CONT'D)
                      (into walkie talkie)
                  He's throwing the money onto the barge. I want full 
                  surveillance -- don't lose that barge --

INT. PARKING GARAGE/UPPER LEVEL - DAY

Emily's got the phone balanced precariously on one shoulder as she flips open 
the trunk of a gray Mercedes Benz and extracts some heavy duty tape. She stands 
again to stare out at the distant bridge. 

Amadeus, stick figure tiny with distance, heaves his briefcase over the side and 
starts back to his phone booth at a steady pace.

                             EMILY
                  Nice throw, Dad.

Joggers (i.e. under cover cops), looking like ants from here, scramble to keep 
pace with the barge. Emily laughs softly as she tapes her ankles together.

The phone crackles to life.

                             AMADEUS (V.O.)
                  You've got the money. Where's my daughter?
 
Ankles taped, Emily hops to the edge of the trunk to rummage for more bondage 
paraphernalia and holds the voice filter carefully in place while she speaks:

                             EMILY
                  You'll find her in the trunk of her car, which is 
                  in fifth level parking at --

She pulls a wrinkled slip of paper from her jeans pocket and squints at it --

                             EMILY (CONT'D)
                  352 East Tenth Street.

She hangs up and, working fast now, because time is running out, gags herself -- 
a real gag: stuffing, knots, the works. 

Lifting hand cuffs -- the final touch -- she crawls into the car's trunk and, 
still clutching the handcuffs -- presumably for later use -- slams the lid 
closed from the inside. 

The ECHO of the slamming trunk reverberates through the dim garage, and dies.

EXT. BRIDGE - DAY

Judging from the number of plain cars screaming out of parking spaces, it's a 
good bet they got that address.

INT. DETECTIVE VAN - DAY

Sims comes out of the van at a dead run, talking into a walkie talkie, as 
undercover cars peel out, SIRENS wailing on as they go.

                             SIMS
               Odds are someone's still inside monitoring -- 

He glances at the distant parking structure.

                             SIMS (CONT'D)
               They can still see us from there, turn off the god 
               damn sirens!

INT. PARKING GARAGE/UPPER LEVEL - DAY

The Mercedes sits innocently in its parking slot. Silence -- except for the slap 
slap slap of approaching footsteps, and a light, airy tune being whistled by the 
person approaching.

WILL POGUE ambles nonchalantly between cars, well dressed yuppie at large, just 
picking up his car and heading home -- or that's what you'd think, until he 
saunters to the Mercedes, casually glances both ways, and a slim jim flashes in 
the gloom. 

He's inside the car, yanking the ignition and starting the motor, between 
whistles.

EXT. RIVER BARGE - DAY

B.g., a helicopter drones. The barge MATE steps out of the wheelhouse, notices 
the briefcase on the aft deck, frowns, walks to it, picks it up, shakes it, 
opens it -- and ogles a million bucks, cash.

                              MATE
                   Holy shit! 

He spins back to the wheelhouse -- a plea for help.
 
                              MATE (CONT'D)
                   Larry! Larry! You gotta come see this!

The PILOT (let's take a wild guess and assume this is Larry) sticks his head out 
the wheelhouse cabin's door -- just as a helicopter zooms down and a SHARP 
SHOOTER aims a high powered rifle straight at the mate. A HELICOPTER COP leans 
out with a megaphone.

                              HELICOPTER COP (MEGAPHONED)
                   This is the Portland Police Department. You with 
                   the briefcase, set it down and put your hands on 
                   your head.

                              MATE
                   What the -- ?

                              HELICOPTER COP (MEGAPHONED)
                   You in the cockpit, pull over immediately.

The mate drops the briefcase and money starts fluttering all the hell over.

INT. POLICE HELICOPTER - DAY

The sharp shooter smirks at the helicopter cop in a superior way --

                              SHARP SHOOTER
                   It's not a car, John, it's a boat. You don't pull 
                   over --

-- when he sees the money take wind --

                             SHARP SHOOTER (CONT'D)
                   -- Oh shit, the money!

The helicopter cop pales -- still yelling through the megaphone --

                             HELICOPTER COP (MEGAPHONED)
                   -- Oh fuck, the money. You! Pick the briefcase 
                   back up!

Below, the mate wants nothing more to do with that briefcase and has gotten down 
on his knees to say a few Hail Marys.

                             HELICOPTER COP (CONT'D) (MEGAPHONED)
                   You with your hands over your head, pick that 
                   briefcase up immediately!

EXT. RIVER BARGE - DAY

The pilot abandons the wheelhouse to try to stop the money's pell mell trail 
into the sky -- 

He stops dead when the sharp shooter brings the rifle to bear on him -- going 
after the money is threatening behavior --

The helicopter cop is still yelling through his megaphone --

                             HELICOPTER COP (MEGAPHONED)
                   Pick up that briefcase! You moron! Pick it up!

The mate is staring up at the helicopter, eyes big, shaking his head back and 
forth -- no way is he touching that brief case --

The barge, minus its pilot, hits bottom, the jolt spinning the briefcase out 
along the deck --

INT. UNDERCOVER CAR - DAY

Dan Sims wrestles his seat belt, struggling to snap it into a mechanism that 
just doesn't want to work, riding shot gun as the undercover car careens around 
the corner and down the street toward the parking structure -- 

EXT. PARKING GARAGE - DAY

The gray Mercedes slips out the structure's exit -- as miscellaneous undercover 
cars careen past it on their way in -- and turns down the street towards Sims' 
car. 

INT. UNDERCOVER CAR - DAY

Dan, cursing his seat belt, glances up in time to see the Mercedes pass, does a 
double take and turns to read the license plate --

                               SIMS
                   Holy shit, that's her car!

Barnaby, at the wheel, speeds along in the opposite direction.

                               BARNABY
                   What?

Sims, still clutching his seat belt, grabs for the siren as they hit a bump, 
drops the siren, grabs it again.

                               BARNABY (CONT'D)
                   I thought you said no sirens.

                               SIMS
                   Turn around! That's her god damned car! 

INT. MERCEDES - DAY

Will, whistling casually, hears tires squeal behind him and checks the rear view 
mirror -- in time to see Sims slap the SIREN atop the undercover car.

                               WILL
                   Holy shit!

Will steps on it, sliding between two more unmarked cars that screech around 
corners to cut him off -- he cranks the wheel and avoids a third -- 

Will drives better than well -- but he's sweating, cursing under his breath, 
fighting to outdistance cop cars converging behind him, to dodge incoming cars 
that keep adding up --

                               WILL (CONT'D)
                   Jesus Christ, all this for a lousy grand theft auto?

EXT. RIVER BANK - DAY

Life is not looking good here. Money scattered all over the ground, all over the 
water, the barge pilot and mate shaking in their shoes, the barge grounded in 
mud at an awkward angle -- and glum undercover cops milling to and fro. The 
helicopter cop talks into a radio mike.

                               HELICOPTER COP
                   Dan, we lost the money.

INT. UNDERCOVER CAR - DAY

Dan Sims, rocking around each curve, hangs onto his swinging seat belt for dear 
life and yells into his radio.

                               SIMS
                   What do you mean, you lost the money? It's on a 
                   barge! How hard could it be to keep track of a barge?

                               HELICOPTER COP (V.O.)
                   We didn't lose the barge. We lost the money.

                               SIMS
                   For Christ's sake, where'd it go?

INT. RIVER BANK - DAY

The helicopter cop stares glumly up at all those fluttering bills in the sky. . 
. down at all those floating bills on the water. . . .

                               HELICOPTER COP
                   Half is air borne, and the other half sank.

INT. UNDERCOVER CAR - DAY

Dan's about three shades of purple, still clinging to his dysfunctional seat 
belt, yelling into the radio --

                               SIMS
                   Well fish it out! --

When the car slows. Dan rounds on Barnaby, the driver.

                               SIMS (CONT'D)
                   What are you slowing down for!

                               BARNABY
                   We lost him.

Sims looks up from the radio at the abandoned street.

                               SIMS
                   God damn it, where are the helicopters.

                               BARNABY
                   They lost him too.

Sims slumps.

                               SIMS
                   I don't believe this.

Barnaby shrugs.

                               BARNABY
                   He can't have gone far. They'll pick him up.


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