M I L L E N N I U M IT... HAS... BEGUN... NOTHING IS FORSAKEN... Virtual Season Episode #403. "Gestalt" written by: Andrew Wyatt (August 2002, re-edited version) TEASER EXT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - NIGHT A sedan with tinted windows pulls up in front of a wealthy home, stopping at the front door. Legend INDICATES: Washington, D.C. July 17, 10:31 PM The rear door of the car opens and CONGRESSMAN ALAN TURNING (60's, but still strapping) steps out, carrying a briefcase. He shuts the car door and the sedan's driver pulls away. Turning walks to the front door, which we see stands open, ready to receive him. A butler, WALT (50's), stands just inside the doorway. WALT (crisply) Good evening, sir. TURNING Good evening. As Turning steps inside-- CUT TO: INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - FOYER - NIGHT Turning hands his briefcase to WALT, who then helps to remove Turning's suit jacket. WALT Your wife called not half an hour ago, sir. TURNING (concerned) Is everything all right? WALT (quickly) Oh, yes, sir. She simply wished to notify you as to her safe arrival in San Francisco. She promised to call later this evening if the opportunity presented itself. Turning nods, visibly tired. TURNING I won't be needing anything else tonight, Walt. I'm simply going to shower and turn in. WALT Are you sure, sir? Turning simply nods wearily and makes congenial gesture as he turns towards the staircase leading upstairs. WALT Very good, sir. INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - BATHROOM - NIGHT The air is filled with steam, and the sound of running water indicates that Turning is showering. CLOSE ON - TURNING'S FACE The camera very slowly inches in on Turning's craggy face as he showers. He holds his face under the spray of water, eyes closed. He rubs his forehead and temples with his hands, appearing very tired. INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - STUDY - NIGHT Shower finished, Turning is now wearing an expensive bathrobe, his wet, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back. He sits in a high-backed armchair watching television. He also nurses a scotch and water, idly fingering the rim of the glass. Turning is watching 'CNN'. The volume on the TELEVISION is soft, but an ANNOUNCER can be understood. ANNOUNCER (on television) "When asked about the fallout of rumored shakeups in the Committee on the Environment and Public Works, California Representative Alan Turning remained characteristically evasive." Turning's own face appears on the television screen during the report, in the form of a prerecorded clip with a caption bearing his name. TURNING (on television) "As I said before, the Committee is not ready to make a statement on that matter at this time. I'm sure that when the Chairman feels that a public statement - if any - is necessary, it will be made in due haste." INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - HALLWAY - NIGHT BEHIND TURNING We follow Turning as he walks with heavy steps through a darkened hallway, towards his bedroom door. As his hand reaches for the knob CUT TO: INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - BEDROOM - NIGHT The lights in the bedroom are already on. The bedroom door opens. Turning steps into the room, and his downcast head promptly snaps up, a look of uncomprehending shock on it. A RAPID SERIES OF IMAGES as Turning looks in horror around the bedroom: -- Turning's king-sized bed, spattered in blood, where a female body wearing only underwear lays, obviously killed by a gunshot to the face! -- Lingerie scattered about the floor. -- A glass plate sitting on the nightstand, covered in cocaine and razor blades. -- A stack of sleeveless pornographic videocassettes, crudely labeled by hand. In the corner we see that a poor-quality adult film is playing on the bedroom television, though the volume is muted. -- A gruesome close-up of the wall above the bed, evidently where the deceased woman's head was blown open. A few frames are all that is needed to establish that the blood is fresh. CLOSE ON - TURNING'S FACE Turning utters a faint guttural moan, and raises a hand to his face, as if he has become physically ill. He quickly turns to flee the grisly scene. BEHIND TURNING Turning wheels around to face us. His eyes go wide, as he is obviously startled by something that was directly behind him. He barely manages a gasp before-- -- A DASHING MAN (30's, athletic, blond) aims a silenced 9mm at the camera. He FIRES the gun. A FLASH of light engulfs the FRAME. CUT TO BLACK. FADE IN: EXT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - NIGHT The DASHING MAN is caught in profile as he steps out Turning's front door. A dark sedan speeds up and screeches to a halt in front of the Dashing Man. He opens the back door of the car and slides inside. INT. CAR - NIGHT As the car's engine roars and the tires squeal on road, the Dashing Man produces a cellular phone from his jacket pocket. Speed dialing a number, he then listens for the hollow, electronic RING, which we hear as well. INT. SITTING ROOM - NIGHT In another house, a MYSTERIOUS FIGURE sits on a couch in a sterile and cavernous sitting room. The room is lit only by a few shafts of lunar light coming through a skylight. The Figure's back is to the camera, and from what we can see, he is naked, or at least shirtless. A thin cigar smolders in his right hand, and a RINGING black portable PHONE rests on a end table to his right. Somewhere, on an unseen stereo, "Come to Daddy" by Aphex Twin is playing at an incredibly loud volume. The figure does not answer the PHONE, but smokes his cigar calmly, listening to the music. In the lyrics of the relentless electronic/industrial music a horrible voice screeches over and over. MUSIC "I want your soul. I will eat your soul. I want your soul. I will eat your soul. I want your soul. I will eat your soul." After the PHONE rings several times, the Figure finally reaches down and picks it up, still holding onto the cigar. The Figure picks up the line by clicking a button on the phone. He says nothing himself, but a voice on the other end - that of the Dashing Man - speaks. DASHING MAN (V.O.) It's done. The Figure waits a beat, hangs up the phone, and then returns it to the end table. The singer in the MUSIC continues his distorted screaming, as the Figure exhales a plume of smoke. MUSIC "Come to daddy. Come to daddy. Come to daddy." FADE OUT. ACT ONE BLACK. "One of the extraordinary things about human events is that the unthinkable becomes thinkable." -- Salman Rushdie FADE IN: A RAPID SERIES OF IMAGES each one separated by momentary bursts of STATIC, as if we are seeing a television quickly changing channels. In fact, the images are apparently from television commercials. TELEVISION "-right now you can get a bacon double cheeseburger for only-" "-swimsuit season is here, and it's time to lose those extra pounds-" "-free yourself from the symptoms of seasonal allergies-" "-rated the best sport utility vehicle in its class two years in a row-" "-helped me to reduce my monthly payments and regain control of my life-" CUT TO BLACK. FADE IN: INT. BLACK RESIDENCE - FOYER - DAY HELEN BLACK shuts the front door as she comes in with the mail. Legend INDICATES: Black Residence Baltimore, Maryland July 19, 10:45 AM She sorts through the handful of mail as she slowly walks, until something catches her eye. INT. BLACK RESIDENCE - LIVING ROOM - DAY FRANK BLACK and JORDAN BLACK sit together on a sofa. The two are reading along in a book together, silently. Helen enters the room and proffers an envelope that came in the mail. HELEN (brightly) Letter for you, Frank. Frank looks up and takes it from her hand, smiling. FRANK Thanks. Helen leaves Frank to his letter as he tears it open deftly. Out of the envelope he produces a carefully clipped newspaper article. The very large headline (clearly front page and above-the-fold) declares: CALIFORNIA REP. ALAN TURNING FOUND MURDERED. The color photo accompanying the article depicts only Turning's home from the outside, surrounded by police and crime scene tape. After a moment, Frank notes that the article is paper-clipped to a piece of white card. CLOSE ON - WHITE CARD written with a black pen in block lettering is: THEY ARE AFRAID. WIDER Jordan takes notice of Frank's diverted interest. JORDAN What is it, Dad? Frank doesn't respond immediately. He notes that there is no return address on the envelope, and that it is postmarked yesterday from within Baltimore. Turning it over, he discovers a familiar "eye symbol" drawn on the back. FRANK (distracted) Just a letter from a friend. INT. BLACK RESIDENCE - BEDROOM - DAY Frank is speaking on the bedroom phone with RYAN FROST. FRANK This Congressman that was killed the day before yesterday. What do you know about it? RYAN (V.O.) Only what's been on the news, really. Neither DCPD nor the Feds have come calling my way. Why? FRANK (gravely) It could be Group-related. RYAN (V.O.) (a beat, carefully) What makes you think that? FRANK Someone whose judgment I trust called my attention to it. Although clearly hesitant, Ryan finally abdicates. RYAN (V.O.) Okay... I'll prod the D.C. cops a bit, but I'm not promising anything. (a beat) Your friends from CIRT are involved, I'm pretty sure. FRANK (flatly) I expected that. Frank hangs up the phone. He gazes at the eye drawn on the back of the envelope, still in his hand. EXT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - DAY Ryan's Japanese subcompact pulls up and parks near the house. The area buzzes with activity, even two days after Turning's murder. POLICE OFFICERS and DETECTIVES swarm everywhere, as do FBI AGENTS. As Ryan and Frank get out of the car-- CUT TO: EMMA and McGREEVEY emerge from the front door of the home. Emma spies Frank after a moment. EMMA (under her breath) I don't believe it. Emma approaches Ryan and Frank, an irritated look on her face. McGreevey is occupied in a conversation with a police detective, and fails to notice Emma leaving his side. EMMA (slightly hostile) What are you doing here, Frank? RYAN (to Emma) I'm participating in this investigation, by recent request of the DCPD Homicide Lieutenant. Mr. Black is assisting me. EMMA (glaring fixedly at Frank) This is not the Lieutenant's crime scene, Mr. Frost. The FBI don't need your assistance in this matter. I don't need to tell you how seriously this is, Frank. I'm not going to let you make a scene. FRANK (evenly) Why should I make a scene? EMMA Don't bait me, Frank! Emma gestures broadly at the media circus going on across the street. EMMA (CONT'D) The entire country is watching this. You think the Group did this? If that's the case, I don't want you setting one foot inside this crime scene. Ryan and Frank walk past Emma, towards the front door. RYAN Excuse us. Emma remains where she is, obviously flustered. INT. ALAN TURNING'S RESIDENCE - BEDROOM - DAY Frank and Ryan are being led around the crime scene by a Washington D.C. detective, NATHAN YOUNG, who is briefing them on the details of the case. YOUNG ...a lot of the evidence has already been removed in here. It seems that the female was sitting up in the bed when she was shot. Turning was standing in the doorway, facing the hall. Ryan roams around the spacious bedroom, taking in the details. Frank, meanwhile, squats down at a BLOODSTAIN in the pearly white carpet, evidently where a bleeding and mortally wounded Turning fell. FRANK'S INTERNAL POV -- Turning's face, shocked and horrified, obliterated by a muzzle flash! -- Television static, crackling loudly, with the vague sounds of commercials playing underneath! -- A UPC symbol, lit with a hellish red glow. -- A pair of massive wooden doors, shod in brass, SLAMMING shut thunderously! -- An arid wasteland, covered in a murky haze. Somewhere, a multitude can be heard CHANTING something unidentifiable. Frank shakes his head slightly, clearly confused and disturbed by these images. YOUNG The girl was identified by fingerprints. High-rent escort. (a beat) Look, the evidence is pretty complex here, but our immediate suspicion is that the items found in the bedroom were planted here. They just don't jive with statements from the family and hired help, or anything else that was turned up in the search. RYAN (doubtfully) So the narcotics, the pornography, the slain hooker; it was all intended to to discredit Turning? FRANK No. Ryan and Young look at Frank quizzically. FRANK (CONT'D) It's too sloppy. Elaborate and shocking, but not convincing. Whoever did this didn't expect the authorities to fall for the scandalous window dressing. YOUNG Then what would be the point? FRANK To complicate things. It's much more evidence that needs to be dealt with. More tantalizing rumors to leak to the press. It's obfuscation. Emma enters the room abruptly, but looks uncomfortable when she sees Young. EMMA Detective, I'd like to speak with Mr. Frost and Mr. Black in private, please. Young shrugs and exits the bedroom. Emma SIGHS. EMMA Look, I didn't mean to sound adversarial. My nerves are a little frayed with all that's been going on here and at Quantico. FRANK I can believe it. When Frank doesn't say anything else, Emma presses him. EMMA You wouldn't be here if you didn't suspect the Group. FRANK What makes you so sure? RYAN (quickly) Agent Hollis, the high profile nature of the case is what drew me and Frank here. Nothing more. EMMA I don't know what you hoped to learn here. The Justice Department is devoting its every resource to this investigation. FRANK (softly, direct at Emma) This case will never be solved. EMMA (angrily) Why? Because the Group did it? Is that what you think? (lowering voice significantly) Does this look like a Millennium Group execution to you, Frank? (a beat) I don't even know why I'm discussing this. I shouldn't be. Emma turns to leave the room. FRANK You don't know for certain, do you, though? They haven't told you one way or the other yet, have they? Emma stops and glares at Frank. FRANK (CONT'D) They will. INT. MILLENNIUM GROUP CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY The familiar Group conference room is, as usual, swathed in shadows. THE ELDER sits at the head of the long table, concern clearly lining his face. Other Group members are present at the table, including some we recognize, such as Finley, BLAYLOCK, and - menacingly - MABIUS. Other members who are present we haven't seen before; including ALBRECHT (white male, 40's), TITUS (swarthy Hispanic male, 40's), and DUCHAMPE (white female, 60's). BLAYLOCK Is there any doubt at all? FINLEY How could there be? Only they would be this brazen. THE ELDER There is no doubt. It is the Board. ALBRECHT What makes you so certain? THE ELDER (vaguely) Their calling cards are not difficult to spot... ALBRECHT This is inconceivable. (a beat) Should we tell The Old Man? TITUS Absolutely not. MABIUS I agree. He would know already if it was that important. BLAYLOCK (hesitantly) This could mean that we have misjudged their goals. THE ELDER They may have simply overreacted. If so, then they have sealed their own fate with such a public display. DUCHAMPE I'm not so sure... TITUS Nor I. The Board is cautious to a fault. They wouldn't have done this if there was an iota of potential exposure. FINLEY (hesitantly) With all due respect, our knowledge of them isn't sufficient to be making assumptions of this caliber. THE ELDER (cutting her off, sharply) We are working on that, presently. In the meantime, what is the feeling from the Roosters? TITUS What it has always been. Remain vigilant for the taint of Evil in the Board's activities, as well as possible direct conflict with our interests. THE ELDER (almost an afterthought) And the Owls? DUCHAMPE (scowling) Likewise. Vigilance. THE ELDER Good. (to Finley) I believe that it is time to apprise Candidate Hollis of the situation. Mention nothing of the Board. Finley nods. THE ELDER (CONT'D) Then let us adjourn. The members disperse, except for Mabius, who lingers. After a moment, he approaches the still-seated ELDER. MABIUS Do you believe them to be a serious threat? THE ELDER (thoughtfully) Serious? I don't know. No, I don't believe so. But a possible threat, certainly. Mabius waits a moment and then leaves The Elder. THE ELDER (softly) Everything is. INT. RYAN'S CAR - DAY Ryan is driving, while Frank rides shotgun. Outside, a hazy Washington D.C. summer day rolls on. They drive in silence for a bit, until Ryan finally breaks it. RYAN She's right, you know. FRANK (a beat) About what? RYAN About Turning's death not looking like a Millennium Group execution. Frank remains silent. RYAN The Group's M.O. is a point-blank gunshot wound, execution-style to the back of the head. That's what we saw in the five bodies found by the river earlier this month. FRANK I know. It's also what I saw in Maine last year. RYAN Have you ever seen anyone this high-profile murdered by the Group? FRANK (soberly) No. RYAN (hesitantly) And have you ever seen them plant evidence meant to discredit someone personally? Frank smirks from personal experience: FRANK No. They only bother to discredit those who are more useful alive. RYAN (hesitantly again) So... FRANK (quickly) Look, I understand what you're saying. I'm a little confused too. But I trust my source on this. Ryan seems to accept this with a small shrug. FRANK What do you know about Turning? Ryan motions towards a manila folder resting on the car's dash. RYAN Take a look for yourself. California Republican from a suburban district. He was a corporate lawyer before entering politics and was elected on an economic platform. He tended to side with California Democrats on social issues, but was notoriously lenient towards big business, particularly on environmental issues. As Ryan speaks CUT TO: CLOSE ON - A MANILA FOLDER Frank picks it up and flips through the contents. The folder contains papers detailing Turning's political career, mostly printed from the Web. There are a few microfilm printouts of Congressional documents as well. FRANK (inspecting the documents) Turning was a prominent member of the the House's Committee on the Environment and Public Works. That would put him in a position to dictate policy above and beyond what he could do from the House floor. Maybe he made some enemies while on the Committee. RYAN (in disbelief) Wait a minute, wait a minute... are you saying that this was a political assassination? FRANK Maybe. Someone saw Turning as a threat. He had to be eliminated quickly. It was damage control. Something would have happened if Turning had been allowed to live another day, something that was unacceptable. RYAN (a beat) I take it we're here to look for that something. EXT. RYAN'S CAR - DAY Ryan's car approaches Capitol Hill, the building looming in the searing July heat like a white temple. INT. ALAN TURNING'S OFFICE - DAY Frank and Ryan are being shown inside Alan Turning's office in the House of Representatives by one of the Congressman's aides, JERRY WINNEHAM (white male, 30's, spectacled and sharply dressed). Though it is just a reception area (the Congressman's private offices are through a nearby door), the room has quite obviously been recently ransacked of its paperwork and other personal items. Jerry gestures towards some chairs along the wall, but Frank and Ryan remain standing. Jerry leans against the edge of a secretary's desk. JERRY I don't know how I can help you gentleman. The FBI took everything of consequence to the case, and quite a bit more that wasn't. FRANK The FBI is investigating the Congressman's death from a specific angle. We're pursuing another. They may have missed something that could be relevant to our investigation. JERRY (curious) What angle *are* you pursuing? RYAN (quickly) The Congressman's death may be linked to his activities here in the House. JERRY (eyes widening) Well... like I said, the FBI took almost everything, including Congressional documents. I hope we get them back eventually, but I'm not not expecting it. RYAN Were you close to the Congressman? JERRY Alan and I were friends. He was very genuine. Most people couldn't see through his old-guard business mind to to the strength of character underneath. It was a great honor for me to work under him. FRANK I realize the D.C. police and the FBI have already asked these questions, but did the Congressman's demeanor or behavior change in any way immediately prior to his death? JERRY (shaking his head) No. But that's not surprising. Even if there was a crisis in his life, Alan wasn't one to talk about it. He let others get close to him, but rarely unburdened his problems on them. FRANK What about the environmental Committee that the Congressman served on? Did his activities there change at all? Frequency, intensity? JERRY (slowly) Well, everyone knows that debate in the Committee has been pretty vicious recently, and there were rumors that a member or members might give up their seats on it. (a beat) Alan was suspected of being one of them. FRANK Debate about what? Jerry shrugs a little. JERRY Mostly legal aspects of policy. Who's responsible for cleaning up this or toxic mess, and to what degree. Alan was a big proponent of revising RCRA and Superfund to protect business interests. But I seriously doubt he could resign his seat on the Commitee over it. Frank chews over this for a moment. Ryan, eyeing Frank in the awkward silence, finally pipes up. RYAN (overly-casual) Did the Congressman ever mention something called the Millennium Group? JERRY No. What is it? FRANK (ignoring him) Thank you for your time, Mr. Winneham. Frank turns to leave, and Ryan, a little puzzled, follows suit. RYAN (hurriedly, to JERRY) Thank you. INT. CAPITOL HALLWAY - DAY Frank and Ryan walk down a carpeted-and congested hallway, heading towards the camera. House aides, clerks, and other staffers mill around them, bustling off to various duties. FRANK (quietly) I don't think the Group murdered Turning. RYAN (nodding) Okay... but what about your contact? Is he wrong? FRANK The Group's involved. I just don't know how. For now, we need to dig up some information on Turning and the other legislators who sat on that Committee. And do it quietly. RYAN Why? FRANK Because whoever murdered Turning is, in all likelihood, watching for just such a thing. Ryan and Frank walk past camera, which lingers on the hallway. A figure's profile comes into view, and the camera CHANGES ITS FIELD OF FOCUS from the bustle of the corridor to his face. It's the Dashing Man, whose cold gaze follows Frank and Ryan. FADE OUT. ACT TWO FADE IN: A RAPID SERIES OF IMAGES As before, the CUTS are separated by momentary bursts of STATIC, as if we are seeing a television quickly changing channels: TELEVISION "-a delicious meal in only ten minutes, right from your microwave-" "-selected videos are guaranteed in stock, or it's free-" "-look how easily it picks up dirt and hair with patented vortex action-" "-has a smooth and bold taste, not like those other beers-" "-helps you to navigate the complex world of finance confidently-" CUT TO BLACK. FADE IN: INT. CIRT OFFICES - DAY Emma is sitting at her desk in the FBI Academy's CIRT communal office space. Legend INDICATES: FBI Academy Quantico, Virginia 3:07 PM She is poring over an intimidating stack of documents, evidently culled from Alan Turning's home and office. She appears very overstressed and under-rested. A MAILROOM EMPLOYEE speeds pasts, pushing his cart. As he does so, he drops a stack of mail on Emma's desk. She glances up at this, and then does a double-take, noticing a small manila envelope, addressed to her by hand. She stands up and retrieves it, curious. Opening it carefully, she find no letter within the padded envelope. She turns it upside-down, and a small, silver KEY falls into her palm. CLOSE ON - EMMA'S PALM The KEY looks ordinary enough, and bears only a number to identify it: 'D22'. EMMA frowns. She glances at the envelope, noting the Washington D.C. postmark. While Emma considers the key thoughtfully, Finley approaches her from behind. She lingers for a second, and then walks around so that Emma sees her. FINLEY A clue, I hope? EMMA (flustered) No, just... something personal. Emma surreptitiously shoves the torn envelope into her desk and pockets the KEY. FINLEY Listen, I asked McClaren if I could come in on the Turning case. It's not a reflection on you or anyone else. The Group would like to see the case resolved. EMMA (raises an eyebrow) What's the Group's interest? FINLEY (seriously) There is a suspicion that Turning's murder was meant to harm the Group. EMMA (a beat) How? I don't see the connection. FINLEY Turning was an ally. He wasn't a member, but was aware of and trusted the Group. I know it's tenuous, but right now, it's all we have to go on. While Finley talks, Ken McGreevey walks up. MCGREEVEY Hollis. C'mon. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY Emma and Finley enter the room and take seats at the long table, while McGreevey moves to the front to the address the assembled agents. ANDY McCLAREN is present among the crowd of dark-suited CIRT AGENTS seated around the table. MCGREEVEY All right, folks. As you know, things will inevitably slow in the Turning case once we’ve worked through the considerable paper trail. Crime scene evidence and interviews has yielded zilch so far. Nonetheless, I don't need to tell you that the Attorney General herself has a great interest in this particular case. (a beat) Carol Finley from the Millennium Group will be joining our team today. The Group is eager to contribute to the investigation, as they had a good relationship with the Congressman. Emma is not paying close attention to McGreevey. Clearly, her mind is elsewhere, ruminating over recent events. INT. STORAGE ROOM - DAY Frank and Ryan are cramped into a small area of open floor space in what is evidently a large room for housing Congressional files. All around them are stacks of boxed documents. Open boxes rest near the two men as they leaf through papers. RYAN Wow, so this is what my tax dollars pay for. I figured all this stuff would be on computers by now. FRANK (distracted) Public record doesn't necessarily denote easy access. (a beat) Here. Ryan edges in close to Frank to get a better look at the document he's indicating. RYAN What am I looking at? FRANK Influence. Theoretically, lobbyists can't affect the actions of Congressional Committees like Public Works and the Environment directly. But political action committees give millions of dollars to individual legislators. The legislators then take the interests of their benefactors not just to the House or Senate floor, but to the Committees they sit on. RYAN (scoffing) Democracy. Still, that's no surprise. You think the motive behind Turning's murder lies somewhere in these donations? FRANK I suspect it's an adequate record of where interests lie on the Hill. I don't doubt that there's some money exchanging hands under the table. But the patterns here are a place to start. DISSOLVE TO: INT. STORAGE ROOM - DAY (LATER) Some time has passed. Frank and Ryan have immersed themselves in documents which record gifts and campaign donations to legislators. Frank, clearly becoming frustrated, tosses a stack of papers roughly back into a box. FRANK Turning's benefactors don't seem out of place for the kind of politician he was. Lots and lots of big business. There's some names I don't recognize, but I suspect most of it leads back to conservative foundations. RYAN (not looking up) Maybe it's not so much what's there as what isn't there. Ryan gets up from where he was sitting on the floor and proffers a selection of photocopies to Frank. RYAN Check this out. Eleven representatives sit on the Committee on Public Works and Environment, including Turning. Every one of them took gifts from this organization during this session of Congress. Mostly wining and dining, but some occasional extravagances. Like jewelry for the Chairman's wife. (a beat) Except for Turning. He never accepted anything from them. FRANK (reading) "The Foundation for American Stewardship and Prosperity." RYAN (eagerly) What if Turning was pissing off the wrong people by snubbing this group? FRANK His murder was about damage control, not bitter feelings. It's a good lead, though. We should set out some feelers for this Foundation and the other Committee members. RYAN (smirks) I take it we aren't going to tell the D.C. police or the FBI about this yet? FRANK (eyes wide, shakes head) I'm glad you didn't end up with the Group. INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT Emma is walking up to her apartment door. She is clearly drained after the day's events. Her next-door neighbor, TEDDY HUTCHINSON (white male, 30's, rumpled) is coming home at the same time, walking from the opposite direction. Spying Emma as he reaches his door, he smiles broadly. TEDDY Hi. Emma glances up, acknowledging him vaguely. EMMA Hey. Emma fumbles for her keys, obviously trying to get in the door before her neighbor attempts further conversation. Her hand closes around something in her pocket, and she suddenly stops, as if in realization. Teddy is stepping into his apartment when Emma shouts in his direction. EMMA Hey! Teddy steps back into the hallway quickly. TEDDY (smiling) Yeah? Emma walks over to him. EMMA Listen, uh... TEDDY (slightly embarassed) Teddy. EMMA Teddy. I, uh... Emma holds up the KEY that was mailed to her. EMMA Do you know what this could be a key to? Teddy stares at the key, and then looks at her uncomprehending. TEDDY I don't... EMMA (quickly) I found it, and I'm trying to figure out what sort of door or lock it would open. TEDDY Oh. (a beat) Looks like a key to a locker. Y'know, like at a gym or an airport. Emma stares at the key thoughtfully. INT. DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT Emma is walking through a heavy summer vacation crowd near the baggage carousels at Dulles. Legend INDICATES: Dulles International Airport Washington, D.C. 11:40 PM She is walking quickly, but glancing around furtively, as if looking for something. Eventually, she spies what she is searching for: rows of small personal lockers, available for public rental. Scanning the letter-number designations on the front of the lockers, she quickly finds 'D22'. Emma swiftly retrieves the small KEY from her pocket and inserts it into the lock. Before she turns the key, however, she hesitates, suddenly unsure. Emma leans in and places her ear on the locker door, listening intently. After a moment, she reaches up to the KEY, still in the lock, and turns it hesitantly. She opens the locker door slowly. CLOSE ON - LOCKER INTERIOR The small space contains only a VIDEOCASSETTE. EMMA is clearly puzzled, but she quickly takes the VVIDEOCASSETTE and shuts the locker. CUT TO: CLOSE ON - A TELEVISION SCREEN The screen shows only the typical blue screen that appears when a VCR has no signal. After a second, an image springs to life on the screen, however, that of an elegant study. The quality is poor, and the tape has clearly been shot with a household video camera. The camera is jostled a bit and suddenly Alan Turning comes into view. WIDER INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Emma is sitting directly in front of her television, watching the tape that she procured from the airport. EMMA (leaning forward) Oh no. TURNING (V.O.) (clears his throat) "Hello, Ms. Hollis. I am Alan Turning, United States Representative from California. I don't know you personally, though your name has come up as someone who can be trusted. You're probably wondering why a federal legislator is talking to you from a recorded videotape. I am aware that you are affiliated with both the FBI and the Millennium Group. Though I am wary of the former, I do trust the latter, and my need for assistance from law enforcement individuals is pressing. To put it bluntly, I am afraid for my own life. Though I wish it were anything but, this is my official plea of help to the Millennium Group. EMMA Oh *no*. INT. SKYSCRAPER PENTHOUSE - NIGHT The Mysterious Figure we have seen before is standing in a spacious office at the top of a downtown Boston high-rise. Legend INDICATES: Boston, Massachusetts July 20, 1:30 AM The FIGURE stands before floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the camera, gazing out into the city. He is dressed in a fine Italian suit and smokes a thin cigar. No lights are turned on, and the glimmer of the skyline is the only thing illuminating the room. Gentle FOOTSTEPS on the snow-white carpet are heard. The Dashing Man emerges from the inky shadows of the room. DASHING MAN You don't ever go home, do you, sir? MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (softly) This is home. (louder) Is it true that there could be a problem with the Washington matter? DASHING MAN There is a possibility... MYSTERIOUS FIGURE The Group? DASHING MAN (quickly) No. But, oddly enough, a pair of ex-Candidates. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (curious) Really? DASHING MAN It's not certain what they've managed to piece together. Not much, I would wager, sir. But I suspect that unanswered questions lead to with these two. Especially one of them. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE You're sure there's been no exposure elsewhere? What about the other Committee members? DASHING MAN Not a chance, sir. As usual, we are well-insulated. They wouldn't be so foolish, even if they did know anything. The FIGURE ruminates over this for a moment, exhaling a plume of smoke. DASHING MAN You're not going to tell the other members are you, sir? MYSTERIOUS FIGURE Return to Washington and watch the two you mentioned personally. If you and those under your authority do their jobs, there will be nothing to tell them. DASHING MAN (grits his teeth) Yes, sir. The Dashing Man turns to leave. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE It's not my wrath you'll face if you fail. The Dashing Man stops abruptly, clearly agitated, but then quickly leaves. INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT CLOSE ON - HER TELEVISION SCREEN Another portion of the VIDEOTAPE featuring the deceased Alan Turning is playing on Emma's VCR. TURNING (V.O.) (on television) "Needless to say, I was shocked when I discovered my fellow legislators, many of them leaders in my own party, were dealing with such individuals. My immediate reaction, I am ashamed to say, was not to report their activities. I felt that I should spend some time weighing my options. (a beat) Yesterday, I was confronted by Robert Bridges, a public relations officer for the Foundation. He did not mince words, offering extensive monetary compensation and unspecified political favors in return for my cooperation. When I initially balked, he became agitated and began to indirectly threaten the welfare of my family and myself if I should refuse. This audacious tactic only made me more indignant, and I walked away from the conversation. (a beat, a sigh) Today I received a series of photographs..." Turning holds up the glossy, color printouts to the camera, but they are difficult to see TURNING (V.O.) (on television) "...which depicted myself and various members of my family seen through a telescopic rifle sight." Suddenly, Turning's image becomes distorted as someone PAUSES the VCR. CAROL FINLEY is the one watching the videotape in Emma's apartment. Emma stands nearby, chewing nervously on her knuckles. EMMA (clearly shaken) What do you think? FINLEY (carefully) Well... I think it's safe to assume that the people behind this "Foundation" don't know about this tape. (a beat) Are you sure that no one has been poking around your investigation? EMMA (shakes her head slowly) No one... but nothing about this makes sense. You can't just threaten a US Congressman like that, especially when you tell him who you're representing. Why didn't Turning call in the Secret Service, the FBI, anybody? Finley thinks about this for a moment. FINLEY I don't know. Those are good questions. But this does seem to establish that Turning wasn't murdered because of his association with the Group. It's just a coincidence, thankfully. EMMA (pacing) He must have been murdered just after he mailed this to me, otherwise it would have gotten to Quantico sooner. (a beat) How did he even know about my association with the Group? And why did he think the Group could help him? Emma stops pacing and glares hard at Finley. EMMA (CONT'D) There's something you're not telling me. Finley almost smiles for a second, but then becomes very serious. FINLEY We've heard of this Foundation before. They spread a lot of influence around Washington. The Group makes it a priority to know who pulls the strings on the Beltway. But, in all honesty, we had no idea they represented criminals, or that their activities were significant outside of politics. (a beat) Look, I'd like to show this tape to the Group for obvious reasons. There are some who will want concrete evidence that we should be involved. Emma continues to glare to at Finley hard for a moment, and then drops her eyes and shakes her head slowly. EMMA All right. Normally, I wouldn't, but since it was meant for the Group anyway... I'm not sure I should show it to McClaren just yet anyway. Finley nods, ejects the VIDEOCASSETTE, and then pockets it. FINLEY Listen, get some rest. I'll see you at the Academy tomorrow. Emma nods, not looking directly at her. Finley sees herself out. After a moment, Emma suddenly has an idea, and sits down at her personal computer. She clicks on the "Millennium Group Intranet" icon. EMMA "We all go a little mad sometimes." The voice recognition software kicks in, verifies Emma's password, and then the familiar ouroboros image appears on her screen, declaring: "GOOD MORNING, EMMA. THERE ARE 165 DAYS REMAINING." Emma chooses to search the Group files via the Intranet, and types the phrase: "Foundation for American Stewardship and Prosperity" in the search field. After a few moments, the computer returns with the message: "ACCESS DENIED. BLUE LEVEL ACCESS REQUIRED." Emma sits back in her chair, thoughtfully. EMMA (quietly) Not significant, my ass. FADE OUT. ACT THREE FADE IN: A RAPID SERIES OF IMAGES As before, the CUTS are separated by momentary bursts of STATIC, as if we are seeing a television quickly changing channels. TELEVISION "-thrilling space action, just like in scenes from the movie-" "-now, for your convenience, you can pay at the pump-" "-witness some of the world's worst aerial disasters caught on tape, this Friday-" "-no one will be turned down, regardless of their previous history-" "-a refreshing spring scent that also gets your clothes whiter-" CUT TO BLACK. FADE IN: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. STREET - DAY Ryan and Frank are driving down a city street near the Beltway in Ryan's car. Legend INDICATES: Washington, D.C. 8:54 AM INT. RYAN'S CAR - DAY RYAN Can I ask you something, Frank? It's kind of personal. FRANK (a beat) Yeah. RYAN Do you believe in Armageddon? In any way? Like, excluding the sun's inevitable collapse about three billion years from now, do you think the human race will have an end? FRANK I think self-destruction is a conceivable scenario for mankind, if we don't make the right choices. As for heavenly hosts descending from the sky, I don't know. I think it's something you either have faith in or dismiss altogether. Why do you ask? RYAN I don't know... the human race has such a hard time existing, it's hard for me to imagine it going on forever. You know, people seem to bad mouth religion these days, but it does make people think about the consequences of their actions. Me, I like the idea of Judgment Day. An accounting, where everybody will have to answer for their deeds, for how they treated one another. "Every secret thing." FRANK (smiling) It's certainly a good motivational tool. INT. CAPITOL HILL HALLWAY - DAY Frank pushes open a door, and Ryan follows behind. As the door shuts, we can see that the brass plate on it reads: 'REP. GILLIAN PLUMBERG, R. VIRGINIA' INT. PLUMBERG'S OUTER OFFICE - DAY As Frank and Ryan enter, the SECRETARY glances up at them. RYAN (to SECRETARY) Mr. Frost and Mr. Black, to see the Congresswoman. We have an appointment. SECRETARY (smiling) Take a seat. She'll be done in a moment. Frank and Ryan dutifully sit down. DISSOLVE TO: A few minutes later, as the door to GILLIAN PLUMBERG'S interior office open and two men walk out. One is BLAYLOCK, the other an unidentified GROUP MEMBER (black male, 30's). Frank is clearly shocked, and he glares at BLAYLOCK as the two Group members walk past him and through the outer door. Just before he exits, BLAYLOCK shoots Frank and equally icy glance. Before Frank can inform Ryan of this new development, GILLIAN PLUMBERG (white female, 50's) appears and gestures for them to come into her office. PLUMBERG Mr. Frost, Mr. Black. Frank and Ryan rise and enter the office. INT. PLUMBERG'S INNER OFFICE - DAY PLUMBERG shakes Frank and Ryan's hands vigorously and then walks around behind her desk, talking as she does so. PLUMBERG Sorry about the wait. It's been a busy morning already. Frank narrows his eyes a bit. FRANK I hope you don't mind my asking, those men who were just in here: who were they? PLUMBERG (smiling) Oh, just some Senate aides pestering me about party nonsense. You said you represent the Washington Police Department? I assume this about Alan Turning's death? RYAN Yes. We understand you served with the Congressman on the Committee for Public Works and the Environment. PLUMBERG True. An interesting group. RYAN How so? PLUMBERG Oh, just a curious dynamic. (smiles) Lots of strong personalities with strong opinions. RYAN Have you ever heard of an organization called the "Foundation for American Stewardship and Prosperity?" PLUMBERG Oh, yes. It's sort of a conservative think-tank and interest group. I have have some political contact with them. FRANK You also accept expensive gifts from them. Including a luxury Alaskan cruise package for you and your family. Plumberg's bright attitude instantly wilts. PLUMBERG (severely) I don't appreciate your tone, Mr. Black. Any gifts I have accepted from *any* organization or individual have been dutifully reported. RYAN Did Congressman Turning accept gifts from this Foundation? PLUMBERG I don't know. Private gifts are normally considered private matters on the Hill, Mr. Frost. Most legislators consider it rude to discuss them in public. FRANK How did they approach you? PLUMBERG Who? FRANK (slightly hostile) The Foundation. What line did they use? A gesture of good faith? PLUMBERG Organizations dedicated to political ideals regularly bestow gifts to show their appreciation to politicians who show similar dedication. There is nothing underhanded about it, Mr. Black. FRANK What else did they bestow? Your re-election? PLUMBERG (very irritated now) Gentlemen, if you want to make a formal criminal accusation against me, please do so. But I don't appreciate law enforcement officers or their hired guns using my very valuable time to throw out inflammatory remarks like like tabloid journalists looking for a sound bite. (standing) Now if you have no more relevant questions to ask, I'll ask you to leave! Frank and Ryan glance at each other, and then get up to leave. EXT. LINCOLN MEMORIAL - DAY Frank and Ryan are sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The area is bustling with a mixture of public servants, tourists, and homeless people. FRANK The two guys who were in there before us, they were Group members. RYAN I figured. Y'know, I didn't really expect that to go any better than it did. Not to sound like a cynic, but everyone knows that politicians are in bed with special interests, but no one realistically expects them to admit it. FRANK Maybe that's what's bothering me. Plumberg painted the Foundation as just another special interest group. I'm not so sure that the Foundation is just another anything. RYAN Yeah, well, we still don't have anything at all to link the Foundation to what happened to Turning. I mean nothing. There's no chain or evidence, no third-party witnesses. I wasn't even able to arrange a meeting with the PR department for another week. Where do we go now? FRANK (shaking his head) There has to be something-- Frank trails off as something catches his attention. Sitting about five feet away from him and Ryan on the same step is a familiar figure. FRANK (slowly) Ed? ED THE WRITER sits, clutching a notebook to his chest. His clothes are disheveled and dirty, and his hair has clearly not seen a comb in some time. His skin is pasty and eyes are watery. He doesn't look at Frank or Ryan, but stares off into the distance, beyond the reflecting pool to the Washington Monument. Next to him is a wire-basket dolly stuffed with newspapers and magazines. Ryan looks quizzically at ED, who he clearly thought was a homeless person, and at Frank. FRANK Have you been following me? (a beat) The letter. Turning's murder. What do you know? You at least have suspicions. Ed says nothing. Frank edges over closer to him earnestly. FRANK Hey. Hey! I know you're here to tell me something. The Foundation. Who are they? ED (turning, looking intense) There aren't words for what they are. FRANK Did they kill Turning? ED It's not that simple. They don't work that way. FRANK What about the Group? The ones you write about... how are they involved? ED (emphasizing each word) They. Are. Afraid. FRANK (suddenly realizing) They know who killed Turning, don't they? They're trying to find him too. ED (whispering intensely) They won't. Frank is clearly exasperated by the cryptic answers. After a beat, he looks squarely at Ed. FRANK Look, I know that you don't understand their nature. But you do have theories. You see the patterns that others can't. ED (slowly) Alan Turning. United States Representative from California. Murdered in his home on July 17th, 1999. It was atypical for them; obviously a homicide. Usually they frame it as an accident. A car wreck, sudden illness, random act of violence But he was an immediate threat. He saw too much and couldn't be brought under their influence. FRANK What was he a threat to? Ed looks squarely at Frank through squinting eyes. ED The Plan. INT. OFFICE BUILDING LOBBY - DAY As Ed continues to speak in VOICE-OVER, the camera PANS across a series of raised metal letters reading: 'FOUNDATION FOR AMERICAN STEWARDSHIP AND PROSPERITY' As the camera continues to PAN and PULL BACK, we see that they are on a logo hanging in the lobby of the extravagant Foundation D.C. offices. The building is unabashedly Republican in atmosphere, and staffed by smartly-dressed female secretaries in too much make-up. The exact function of the Foundation is vague, but clearly its workspace is a place of great activity. ED (V.O.) Everyone assumes that the modern human existence is formless. That it's just the wheels of capitalism and Government grinding forward and carrying six billion people with it. We assume that everything that is horrible about life is the result of poor judgment or accident. We assume that no one would willfully perpetuate misery for its own sake, that no one would actively seek to inflict destruction on the human race and the planet we inhabit. INT. OFFICE - DAY ROBERT BRIDGES (early 40's, white male, black hair, husky) sits at his desk, clearly embroiled in rote paperwork. A name plate on the desk reads: ROBERT BRIDGES PUBLIC RELATIONS ED (V.O., CONT'D) For nearly one hundred and twenty years, countless ecological disasters have been attributed to "human error." Rising violence and apathy in ordinary people is blamed on social and economic problems too complex to solve. Rapidly dwindling world resources. Ethnic hatred. Increasing political destabilization. All of these are considered insurmountable problems, where no one can be directly blamed. No one considers the alternative explanation! Suddenly, realization creeps into Bridges's expression and he looks up from his work very slowly. Mabius is standing by the closed door to his office, his face expressionless. Mabius steps forward, and Bridges attempts to rise from his chair. A pair of arms-hands clad in black gloves--quickly clamps across his neck from behind. EXT. LINCOLN MEMORIAL - DAY FRANK Which is? ED That there exist men who are responsible for it all! Men who actively engineer atrocity and corruption. Do you think "human error" is an adequate explanation for the deaths of hundreds of thousands by cyanide gas in India? That one drunken captain is all it takes to utterly destroy an arctic ecosystem? That children are killing each other with assault rifles because they are social misfits? It's not quite satisfying, but it's all just believable enough to make it work. It's a game, an elaborate series of minute moves that edge us toward the inevitable. FRANK You're saying that someone is responsible for all these things? And that they killed Turning? ED Yes! Like the Group, they are willing to remove any obstacle that stand in the way of the Plan. But the men at the center of it all are untouchable. They are insulated by multiple layers; nothing can be traced back to them. Their orders filter down through thousands of servants, each one unaware of any layer beyond the one immediately above. Legions of men and women, all of whom know nothing about the Plan they work so diligently to fulfill. FRANK What men? What legions? ED Everyone! You, me. Everyone. We buy their products. We want to believe their lies. They're everywhere! Manufacturing, raw materials, entertainment, food products, medicine. We can't escape them. Not even the Group can escape them. That's why they're afraid. (a beat) The Group's afraid they might win. (a beat) I'm afraid too. Ed looks around surreptitiously, clearly agitated. ED I have to get out of here. He starts to get up, and Frank puts out a hand to grab Ed's sleeve. FRANK Wait. Why would they do this? What purpose would it serve? ED (double beat) I don't know. Ed pulls away feverishly, glaring at Frank. He grabs his dolly full of newspapers and drags it laboriously down the steps of the Memorial, one at a time. Ryan watches him go, his jaw hanging open. RYAN Was *that* your contact? FRANK I trust him. He's been right before. (looks at Ryan severely) He's given up his life to watch the Group from afar. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. RYAN (doubtfully) It didn't seem like he told us much of anything. FRANK Putting aside what Ed says about this conspiracy, I think it's safe to assume that the Group is looking for Turning's killer. And Ed is probably right about the true perpetrators being untouchable. If these men can have a Congressman murdered and get away with it, it's very likely that even the Group will come up empty-handed. They may even be risking-- (horror suddenly creeps into his face) Hollis. EXT. FBI ACADEMY - DAY Emma Hollis is crossing the plaza in front of the Academy building, when she spots Frank walking up to her swiftly. She slows, looking down at her feet, when she sees him coming. EMMA (not looking at him) What do you want, Frank? FRANK Has the Group talked to you about the Turning case? EMMA I don't see why I should even answer that question. FRANK Look, you might be in danger. The Group might not be prepared for it. EMMA What are you talking about? FRANK In a crisis, who do you think gets sacrificed, a Candidate or a Member? EMMA Are you threatening me? FRANK (growling) I'm trying to warn you. The Group may finally be in over its head, and they'll be more than willing to drag you into it. EMMA Look, I don't have time for this. Emma starts to walk away and Frank grabs her arm. Emma fiercely rips her arm free. EMMA Hey! Several people in the plaza stare at the pair when Emma cries out, but no one stops to see if anything is wrong. FRANK Listen, goddamnit! They will use lies to manipulate; *anything* to destroy an enemy. You know that. Don't let them use you as cannon fodder. EMMA You listen to me. I owe a debt to the Group, but that doesn't mean I'm their lapdog. They've been more accommodating and straightforward with me than you ever were. Right now, if they asked me, I would gladly help them with whatever they wanted. Frank eyes her carefully and then nods his head slowly, regaining his composure. FRANK Look, I'm sorry. Just listen to me for a minute. Turning served on an environmental Committee in the House. Everyone but him who sat on that Committee was on the take from an organization called the "Foundation for American Stewardship and Prosperity." Emma's eyes widen just a bit upon hearing this. FRANK There's a possibility that he was murdered for refusing to cooperate with them. Emma looks around for a moment. EMMA (reluctantly) Turning was threatened by a Foundation Public Relations Officer named Robert Bridges. He disappeared from his Washington D.C. offices this morning, just a few hours before we arrived to question him. Frank blinks. FRANK It's the Group. They got to him. EMMA He could have bolted, Frank. Murderers do that, you know. FRANK You don't believe that for a minute, do you? INT. DARK ROOM - DAY Bridges sits in a high-backed wooden chair, his hand behind his back, and his legs and forehead duct taped firmly to the chair. He is bare-chested, and clearly terrified. Sweat pours from his body, and his eyes search the room desperately. A dim, buzzing lamp is the only light source, and its gives off a sickly yellow glow. All other details of the room are cloaked in shadow. BRIDGES Oh, please God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh please don't hurt me. I don't know anything. I don't know a thing. Dear God please. As Bridges babbles, suddenly a distinct click is heard, followed by a quiet humming sound that quickly builds to a mild drone. The impression is that some electric device has been turned on, and this is clearly not lost on Bridges. BRIDGES (craning his neck to see) What is that? What... look, I told you I don't know anything. Out of the shadows steps Mabius, pushing a small metal cart. On it rests a HUMMING box with a few meters and knobs on the front. Attached to the box are two cables ending in electrodes with spring-loaded metal teeth. BRIDGES Oh no. No. No. Please. Please. They don't tell me anything. I just follow orders. I've never even met the top brass at the Foundation. I'm nobody. They only tell me what I have to know. Mabius holds up the two electrodes in front of BRIDGES's face. A bright blue spark of electricity pops as they touch slightly, sending up a tiny cloud of ozone. BRIDGES (sobbing) Oh God, look, look. They don't care about me, but you don't know what they'll do if you piss these people off. They'll destroy you. They'll tear out you heart and eat it, for God's sake. (screaming) You don't screw with these people! They're monsters! You've got absolutely no idea who you're dealing with! MABIUS (calmly) Then we're even. As the camera PANS from Mabius's face into the darkness of the room, Bridges begins howling screams of pain. FADE OUT. ACT FOUR FADE IN: A RAPID SERIES OF IMAGES As before, the CUTS are separated by momentary bursts of STATIC, as if we are seeing a television quickly changing channels. TELEVISION "-you'll find the hottest music at the coolest prices-" "-we can prepare you for a career of the future-" "-don't miss our incredible sale on all queen-sized mattresses-" "-I trust my doctor, and for my migraines he recommended-" "-gently cleanses while it conceals the effects of aging-" CUT TO BLACK. FADE IN: INT. THE ELDER'S OFFICE - DAY The Elder, wearing eyeglasses, is seated at his desk, quietly writing. A KNOCK is heard at the door. THE ELDER (not looking up) Enter. Finley opens the door and walks in, shutting the door gently behind her. THE ELDER (still not looking up) Carol. What is it? FINLEY Has there been any progress? THE ELDER Nothing we feel confidant about. Give it time. Soon we will completely apprised. (a beat) Is there something else? FINLEY (sighing slightly) I believe that we should tell Emma about the Board. The ELDER stops writing and sets down his pen. He also removes his spectacles. THE ELDER Sit down. Finley does so. THE ELDER What makes you think this is warranted? FINLEY I believe the Board is evolving into a major threat. They are willing and able to carry out dramatic actions for their purposes. Emma is in an ideal position to address any future incidents. Furthermore, because of her potential exposure, it wouldn’t be prudent to leave her out flapping in the breeze. THE ELDER (a beat) The Board is a Blue Level matter. Do you honestly believe that violating our usual protocol is worth any potential benefits to be gained by doing so? FINLEY In this case, yes. THE ELDER What have you told her so far about them? FINLEY Nothing. She only knows we were watching the Foundation. (a beat) She has many unasked questions. She's seen things: our research, our experiments. Knowledge of the Board may ease the tension I'm sensing from her. THE ELDER No Candidate should be introduced to those endeavors until Initiation. That rule is inviolate. (a beat) Inform her of the Board, but be judicious about the details. FINLEY That won't be difficult. We know very very little as it is. THE ELDER *That* is all about to change. This is is who we are. FINLEY (rising to leave) This is who we are. INT. McCLAREN'S OFFICE - DAY Emma sticks her head through Andy McClaren's door. EMMA You wanted to see me, sir? MCCLAREN (gesturing) Sit down, Hollis. Emma does so, looking at him curiously. MCCLAREN I understand you had an altercation with Frank Black outside the building today. EMMA (rolling her eyes a bit) Word travels fast around here. It was nothing. Frank's been working with the the D.C. Police on the Turning case. When I didn't want to listen to His theories, he got a little harsh, that's all. MCCLAREN (a beat) About the Turning case. McGreevey's feeling is that you know something you're not sharing. Something the Millennium Group knows as well. EMMA Sir-- MCCLAREN Whatever edge Group-affiliated agents have, it’s not worth a damn if those Agents aren't honest with their peers. EMMA Sir, there isn't anything. I'm as much in the dark as anyone here. (a beat) And without Robert Bridges there isn't much of a case anymore. MCCLAREN (frustrated) I know it. What do you suggest? EMMA (shifts uncomfortably) Honestly? MCCLAREN Yes. EMMA We raid the Foundation. Bridges can't be the only one. MCCLAREN Based on what? I already went out on a limb to go after Bridges, based only on a vague lead from the Group? EMMA And he ran! Don't you think that means something? MCCLAREN And you're translating that into a conspiracy within this Foundation? Look, these are respectable people, Hollis. They represent the cream of the conservative lobbyists in Washington. EMMA A warrant, that's all I need. For the whole place, not just Bridges's office. MCCLAREN (a beat) All right. But bring McGreevey along, will you? INT. OFFICE - DAY A door opens into the darkened reception area of the Foundation for American Stewardship and Prosperity, flooding the room with light. Legend INDICATES: July 21, 2:10 PM Emma and Ken McGreevey step through the door. Looking around, they see that every piece of furniture has been removed, leaving room after room of barren office space. Only the fixtures and a few pieces of trash scattered about the floor remain. The place is clearly deserted. EMMA (under her breath) Son of a-- Suddenly, a low sound comes from somewhere in the back of the office. Emma and McGreevey exchange glances quickly and draw their side arms. Emma also pulls out a flashlight and turns it on. Cautiously but swiftly, they take turns edging down a corridor in the direction of the noise. As they pass doorways, they carefully check behind them. MCGREEVEY (yelling) FBI! We're armed! Show yourself! Emma's flashlight passes across something that moves up ahead in the corridor. EMMA Freeze! Hands in the air! Emma trains her flashlight on someone lurking in the darkness ahead, and the beam illuminates the face of the Dashing Man momentarily. Catlike, he darts through a doorway. EMMA Damn! (to McGreevey) Go around! He's heading down the back stairwell! McGreevey nods and takes off, as Emma bolts after the Dashing Man, clearly desperate to catch him. She reaches a steel fire door and slams through it. As she does so, a silenced 9mm muzzle swings up next to her temple, wielded by the Dashing Man. DASHING MAN Your weapon. Biting her lower lip in frustration, Emma releases her grip on her gun, and the Dashing Man takes it by the muzzle. DASHING MAN Good girl. (a beat) It's going to have to wait for another day, Ms. Hollis. (softly) I'll make it a point to see you again real soon. The Dashing Man slides away and runs off in the direction that Emma and McGreevey originally came, his footsteps soft. Aggravated and angry, Emma stands there dumbly, and covers her eyes with her hand. After a few seconds, McGreevey appears, loudly running up the metal stairs. Seeing Emma, he stops, his gun in hand. MCGREEVEY (bewildered) What happened? (realizes) Who was it? EMMA (breathless) We had him. We had the bastard. INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - DAY Emma is working at her computer at home, when someone knocks on her door. Opening it, she finds Finley waiting expectantly. Emma, clearly tired, leans her head against the doorjamb wearily. EMMA What is it? FINLEY There's something... I've been given Permission to inform you of something that only members are usually told. Emma, suddenly paying close attention, gestures for Finley to come inside, which she does. EMMA I don't understand. About the Foundation? FINLEY Please, sit down. It's complicated. Reluctantly, Emma does so. EXT. BLACK RESIDENCE - DAY Frank and Ryan are sitting on the Black family front porch, while Jordan plays in the street in front of the house with some neighborhood CHILDREN. RYAN I just can't shake the feeling that we missed something. FRANK I think we did. Something significant played itself out while we were chasing smoke and mirrors. RYAN Doesn't that make you angry? People slinking around beyond the reaches of the law, doing God knows what? It seems unfair. People like the Group and Turning's killers just appoint themselves as the architects of the future. What gives them the right? FRANK I don’t think "right" has anything to do with it. RYAN (a beat) Do you believe what that Ed guy said? About some diabolical cabal being responsible for everything horrible in the world? It seems like fantasy. FRANK I don't know. I'm not ready to dismiss it. Theologians say the same thing about the Devil, that he was invented as a way of explaining evil, of absolving ourselves of responsibility. (a beat) If they are out there, they can't succeed without our willing participation in their Plan. And that seems to come all too easily. INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - DAY Emma sits on the edge of her chair, clearly engrossed in a conversation with Finley. EMMA I don't get it. If this is all true, why doesn't the Group do something about it? FINLEY What can we do? The Foundation has proven to be a dead end. Smoke and mirrors. EMMA (thinks) What about the videotape? Let me take it to McClaren. With it we could get the Bureau to assist in the investigation. FINLEY (gravely) The videotape was stolen from the Group's evidence archives. EMMA (in shock) What? How can that be? FINLEY We're asking ourselves the same thing. INT. OFFICE - NIGHT A VIDEOTAPE is thrown roughly down on the top of a mahogany desk. The camera PANS up to the Mysterious Figure, who sits at the desk, his face hidden in shadow. CLOSE ON - DASHING MAN'S FACE DASHING MAN There is no longer a problem. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (O.C) And what about the Foundation? DASHING MAN We will have to withdraw our influence for a time. The Group is watching too closely. WIDER MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (soberly) So. It begins. DASHING MAN The other members are waiting, sir. (a beat) They will want an explanation. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE They knew this day was coming. They are prepared. The MYSTERIOUS FIGURE rises, buttoning his suit coat. INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT The Mysterious Figure strides down a cavernous corridor, his footfalls echoing on the marble floor. He reaches a pair of large doors, opens, them, and steps inside. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE ON - MYSTERIOUS FIGURE'S FACE. We now get our first clear look at the Mysterious Figure's face. He is a white male in his early 50's, clean-shaven with baby face good looks. His short hair is combed neatly in an executive's part. MYSTERIOUS FIGURE Gentleman. The Millennium Group now know for certain that we exist, and will from this moment be directly opposing the Plan. (a beat) Stage One is over. The camera PANS across the conference room, revealing the Mysterious Figure's audience. The assembled group consists of about a dozen BOARD MEMBERS, all of them older men, almost all of them white. Seated at a long, dark conference table in high-backed chairs, all are dressed in expensive suits, and many are smoking and/or drinking. They all look up expectantly at the Mysterious Figure. INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT The camera CUTS to the view of the conference room from the hallway, with the Mysterious Figure's back to the viewer and the BOARD MEMBERS beyond him. The FIGURE turns and shuts the large double doors, one with each hand. As they close, we see that they are the same towering, brass-shod doors Frank saw in his vision. DISSOLVE TO: STATIC. The now-familiar TELEVISION SCREEN appears. Now, however, the bright, cheerful commercials alternate rapidly with news clips. The volume of the TELEVISION is subdued, however, and Frank speaks over the sound. TELEVISION "-facing continued violence in the Kosovo province-" "-great financing rates on an amazing selection of vehicles-" "-hottest summer yet, leading to a jump in electricity demand-" "-that yummy crunch you love, now with colorful marshmallows-" "-increasing pressure in the Senate to derail newly proposed gun legislation-" "-the number one movie in America, now in theaters-" "-rising incidences of AIDS in South Africa-" "-indulge yourself with the miracle of hydro-jet action-" "--lifting the European ban on genetically-altered foods-" FRANK (V.O.) (slowly) At the twilight of the millennium, we ask ourselves if the horrors of the modern world are our doing. Is evil the act of someone else: human monsters, malevolent entities, shadowy figures that plot their schemes in secret? Or does our own action, or inaction, create the monstrousness that we are bombarded with everyday? Does living the way we do make us an accomplice to the downward spiral of civilization, of the human race itself? Can a species be its own end? (a beat) And if so, is it too late? Can we indeed, stop it? CUT TO: STATIC. FADE OUT. THE END