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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