M I L L E N N I U M IT... HAS... BEGUN... NOTHING IS FORSAKEN... Virtual Season Episode #416. "The Dawn of Nothing" written by: Andrew Wyatt and Dan Owen TEASER FADE IN: CLOSE ON - A COMPUTER'S MONITOR as typed words appear onscreen, accompanied by the SOUND of keyboard clatter O.C.: slim blonde. tall and single The CLICK of a mouse button as the message jumps to the upper-portion of a two-way chat program. A brief segment of the past conversation appears as the CAMERA PULLS back: Niceguy789: So, what do you look like? Suzysmile01: slim blonde. tall and single WIDER INT. SUZY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Awaiting a reply from Niceguy789 is SUZY ALPEN (28). Betraying herself to her internet claim, she has dark hair and is slightly overweight. Legend INDICATES: Suzy Alpen's Residence Albany, New York July 24, 11:17 PM From a stereo, "My Curse" by Afghan Whigs is playing softly. AFGHAN WHIGS "All ugly thoughts are gone. I'm sure we'll all be friends. I'll try to break your back. You'll try to make amends." Suzy checks her wrist-watch, SIGHING as she waits. Then, a reply: Niceguy789: WOW, you sound fantastic! Why are you single? Suzy smiles meekly to herself and replies: never found the right man :( She hits her mouse button and sits back with a YAWN. A few seconds later: Niceguy789: Hmm, we'll have to put that right then... Suzy LAUGHS to herself, slightly - not taking his proposal seriously. She types a reply: LOL. in your dreams ;0 hang on a sec Suzy sends her message and leaves the room. When she has gone, CAMERA PUSHES INTO the monitor again... as a message appears: Niceguy789: I'm waiting... INT. SUZY'S KITCHEN - NIGHT The only light is from the fridge which Suzy has open. She's gulping down some Coca-Cola from a large bottle in great thirst. Behind her is a large kitchen window, reflecting everything inside the room due to the lack of interior light. AFGHAN WHIGS (CONT'D) "Curse softly to me baby and smother me in your love. Temptation comes not from hell but from above." Suzy quickly finishes her bottle and closes the fridge. Semi-darkness. As she turns, she stumbles over and looks down at her black CAT - which begins PURRING at her legs. SUZY Hen-ry! Stupid cat... I'll feed you in a second, okay? She brushes Henry aside with her foot, and places the empty bottle on a kitchen counter, before leaving. Her cat watches her go, eyes gleaming. INT. SUZY ALPEN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzy re-enters her bedroom and sits at her chair again. She reads Niceguy789's reply she missed and CHUCKLES to herself, before typing: back now! miss me? A few seconds pass, before: Niceguy789: You bet I did! With all my heart :) A beat as Suzy goes to type, but a follow-up message appears: Niceguy789: Enjoy your drink? Suzy frowns now, caught off-guard at this comment. She shakes her head as she replies: how did you know I got a drink? A few seconds pass, before: Niceguy789: Lucky guess She relaxes, smiling a little at her paranoia. She types: you must be psychic ;) Two seconds later: Niceguy789: Nice cat. This time Suzy stops dead. Scared. She swallows, unsure what to type next. Before she can think straight: Niceguy789: Knock, knock Suzy frowns. O.C. two very loud KNOCKS are heard on the main door downstairs! Suzy jumps in her seat, unsure what to do, or type. Her mind a confusion of thoughts. She shakily gets up from her chair and leaves her room again. CLOSE ON - COMPUTER MONITOR Niceguy789: Ring, ring EXT. SUZY'S HALLWAY - NIGHT Suzy is making her way down the stairs to the main door. The doorbell RINGS twice, causing her to stop and touch her mouth nervously. She quickly reaches the bottom of the stairs and slinks past the front door to a telephone in the hallway. Distantly, the MUSIC on Suzy's stereo rises to a crescendo. AFGHAN WHIGS (CONT'D) "And there's blood on my teeth. When I bite my tongue to speak. Zip me down, kiss me there, I can smile now, you won't find out ever." Mindful of the door to her right, she picks up the receiver and dials 911 in bated breath - but there's no dial-tone! She tries to dial again. Nothing. The phone line is dead. Suzy notices a baseball bat resting against a hat-stand near the front door. She edges closer to it, mindful of the door. As her arm reaches out for her makeshift weapon-- --SMAASSHH! The front door is kicked open and clubs her round the head with incredible force! Suzy is thrown back and bangs her head on the stair banister, immediately knocking herself unconscious. A BLACK FORM steps into her house and stands over her limp body, thrown on the floor. The Black Form shuts the splintered front door gently, as the CAMERA PANS up his menacing shape. We see that in one hand, the Black Form holds a slim, black notebook computer, now closed. In the other, the individual holds a silver handheld camcorder, through which he films footage of Suzy's prone form. CUT TO: CAMCORDER POV Suzy appears in grainy color, from the Black Form's point of view. Somewhere, the sound of Suzy's stereo still comes through faintly. As the camera SLOWLY ZOOMS IN on the nasty contusion on Suzy's head, however, the MUSIC fades away completely until all that can be heard is the figure's coarse BREATHING. AFGHAN WHIGS (CONT'D) "Hurt me, baby. I flinch so when you do. Your kisses scourge me, Hyssop in your perfume. Oh I do not fear you." The MUSIC fades out as we... FADE OUT. ACT ONE FADE IN: BLACK. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep." -- Robert Frost FADE IN: EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY Early morning. A MAILMAN (late-30s) walks down the sidewalk and turns into someone's garden, holding a package. He approaches the front door and KNOCKS twice, WHISTLING low to himself as he waits. Legend INDICATES: Poughkeepsie, New York November 14, 9:27 AM A few seconds later the door is opened and SETH ALPEN (late-20s) opens the door. Seth's hair is uncombed, and he looks hung over and pale. He YAWNS as the Mailman hands over the package. MAILMAN Seth Alpen? SETH (nods, tired) Yeah. MAILMAN Morning. Gotta package for you. Can you sign for it, please? SETH Uh, yeah. The Mailman takes out a clipboard, with a pen attached to it. He indicates a space on a document. MAILMAN Just here, please. Seth lazily scribbles his name and takes the package. MAILMAN (CONT'D) Thanks. Have a nice day now. Seth nods, still in a stupor, and closes the door. INT. SETH'S LIVING ROOM - DAY Seth enters his messy living room and YAWNS again. He rips open the package and sits down on his moth-eaten sofa. Eventually, he unravels a video cassette from some bubble-wrap. It has no stickers or writing on it. Seth frowns, and gets up from the sofa with a SIGH. The cassette is loaded into the VCR and Seth hits 'PLAY'. He settles back into his sofa and turns the TV on using the remote control. After some brief static, an image springs to life on the TV. ANGLE - SETH'S TV A dark exterior shot of Suzy Alpen's front door revolves into view. Nearly as quickly as the image appears, a heavy black boot (the cameraman's) rears up and kicks through the door, splintering the latch! The sound quality is poor, but a woman's quick YELP can be heard, followed by a heavy thud. The cameraman steps through the doorway, training his camera on Suzy Alpen, lying in a heap just inside the foyer. CUT TO - SETH Seth is sitting forward anxiously on his sofa now, and begins to realize what he's watching. He clasps a hand weakly to his mouth. SETH Oh Jesus... CUT TO - SETH'S TV The camera has zoomed in on Suzy's face, and after holding there for a few minutes, the scene cuts to static. Almost immediately, another scene appears, this time showing Suzy lying unconscious on a dingy bed, bound to the railings and blindfolded. The scene is dark, and very little detail can be discerned. Abruptly, a series of letters and numbers appear at the bottom of the screen in a white, block typeface: m3m Fd3m Almost on cue, Suzy begins to wake up. She mutters thick, guttural SOUNDS, but then begins to speak out loud, while CRYING uncontrollably. SUZY (ON TV) What's going on? Oh God. Please don't hurt me. *Please* don't hurt me. I-I'll do whatever you say - I have money. Ple-ase... As Suzy continues to SOB desperately, a HAND appears in front of the camera, clad in a black leather glove. It holds an enormous Bowie knife, almost as if showing it off for the camera. CUT TO - SETH As Seth watches, on the television O.C. Suzy begins to SCREAM hysterically, punctuated by sobs and nearly incoherent words. Seth's eyes widen in horror and disgust as he fumbles for the VCR remote, desperate to turn it off. MATCH CUT TO: INT. DEBRIEFING ROOM - ALBANY PD - DAY CLOSE ON - FRANK'S FACE The same videotape is playing, and Suzy can be heard pleading with her captor again, though the volume is low and tinny. WIDER FRANK BLACK and RYAN FROST are seated at a conference table, watching an television O.C. LIEUTENANT PALMER (50's) stands nearby, holding a remote. VIC MERFISH (30's) sits unobtrusively off to the side. Suzy's screaming begins, and both Frank and Ryan show visible discomfort, though muted by years of experience. Palmer watches not the tape, but the two consultants, gauging their reactions. Suzy's SCREAMS die, replaced only by low, INDISTINCT SOUNDS. After a few moments, the tape ends. RYAN exhales and shakes his head a bit. RYAN I actually *hope* that's all there is. PALM (nods) That's it, yeah. Less than three minutes of footage altogether. By our count, she's stabbed twenty-eight times, though she probably stopped breathing after the first five. The girl's poor brother saw nearly all of it. He didn't actually know what it was at first. Then he recognized his sister, missing almost four months now. FRANK That's what the perpetrator wanted. His intention was to evoke anguish, a complement to the thrill he received from the act. Ryan consults his notepad, nodding at Frank's observation. RYAN I agree. So the Alpen girl was abducted sometime between the evening of July twenty-fourth and the morning of the twenty-sixth. Keeping into account the package's postmark, then giving the perp a twenty-four hour window after the abduction and murder each, that gives over a month during which this murder could have occurred. Big window. (a beat) No body? No D.O.A.'s matching the description? What about elsewhere in the state? PALMER (shakes his head) Nothing. (a beat) There's something else. This is only one of four presumed kidnappings with a similar M.O. in the state of New York in as many months. All white, middle-class women between twenty-two and thirty. The Alpen woman's abduction was the third, chronologically. But this is the first tape to surface. FRANK Do the other missing people have living relatives? PALMER Yeah. We sent dicks back to them yesterday, too, and to the local post offices, to see if anything was undelivered. We wanted to catch any other tapes before they wound up in some poor mother's hands. (clearing his throat) Well, I'll let Vic here take you through how the tape's informed the case so far. He's the only one in the department who's gone over it in any kind of detail yet. Vic Merfish approaches the television and takes the remote from Palmer. Vic rewinds the tape and plays it again, muting the volume. VIC The footage was shot with a handheld camcorder, but may have been cleaned up digitally. This is almost certainly not the original tape. RYAN How can you tell? Vic pauses the VCR at the point at a point when the strange alphanumeric code appears on the screen. VIC Grain, color, other picture qualities. But the key indicator is here. (indicates the code) Those characters are crisp, not like the background footage at all. As if the letters and numbers were added with an editing suite as the original was copied onto this cassette. FRANK Which means the code is a message. To us. PALMER Why us? Why not something more direct to the girl's brother for extra scares? FRANK Does Seth Alpen understand the code's significance? PALMER (squinting at Frank) No. FRANK Then he's not meant to. The person who filmed this knew his tape would wind up here eventually. Perhaps even wanted it to. Frank rises and approaches the television, resting his hand on the image of Suzy's face, a pale blob nearly obscured by the Bowie knife on the screen. FRANK (CONT'D) The act of murder is significant to him, but not particularly ritualistic. There's no props, no window dressing. Just a powerless victim and a knife. (to Vic) What else? VIC Not much. The abduction scene's very brief. He's revealed no details that we didn't piece together already from Suzy Alpen's house. And as you say, the murder scene is sparse, and poorly lit. Could be a suburban home... or a dungeon - can't say for sure. From the camera's height, I'd put the cameraman at five-seven to six-six in height. RYAN But what about the code? VIC (sheepishly) Not a clue. I was hoping you might have some insight. Uh, numerology, maybe..? PALMER (to Ryan and Frank) All our resources are at your disposal, gentlemen. Given the sheer brutality of this, we've reexamined our leads on both the Alpen case and the other kidnappings. As you've no doubt read in the report, we believe Suzy and the other victims met the perp through an online chat, where he went by numerous handles. Last month we put out an online alert notifying chat users in the area of his most popular aliases. Some who had seen him online or chatted with him came in to give statements. A few are coming back in today. INT. HOMICIDE DIVISION - ALBANY PD - DAY Ryan and Frank are questioning CASSIE ELIN (20's), a plain young woman dressed in conservative, casual clothes. RYAN You said in your previous statement that you had several conversations with "Niceguy789" through a chat program. And you met him through an online personal ad of some kind? CASSIE Sort of. It's more like looking over somebody in a bar before you walk up and talk to him. There's sites where people with similar interests list their personal information and chat numbers. If you're interested in someone you send a request when you see they're online. FRANK What were your impressions of him? CASSIE (shrugs) I dunno; pleasant, sweet, a little dull, though. Honestly, I only chatted with him about five or six times, and it was just small-talk. I never saw him online again after late October or so. Frank and Ryan exchange glances. RYAN Thank you, Miss Elin. Cassie nods and gets up to leave. Once she's out of earshot, Ryan turns to Frank. As he speaks, Vic approaches, interested in watching the consultants work. RYAN (CONT'D) Four abductions, one a confirmed murder. Four online aliases. Each with different interests and different vital information. He changes his face every time he's searching for his next victim. All the aliases lead back to e-mail accounts with phony names. (sighs) Any thoughts? VIC (thinking aloud) We could log the messages of chat users with similar listings, but his aliases are different enough to make it impractical. We could troll for him, lurk online under a female alias. FRANK And when he discovers it's the police? He'll vanish. And we'll be right back where we started. We don't know what the code means, but maybe he left a clue somewhere else. Frank leafs through a stack of a documents until he finds what he's looking for. FRANK Look. To get a web-based e-mail account, you have to give a name and some personal information. They ask for a mailing address, but it's not required. Yet for each e-mail account, the killer *gave* a permanent address. VIC Yeah, but they're all fake. We checked them months ago, when we connected the abductions to the chat thing. They're just random residential addresses. FRANK Maybe not. Frank raises his eyebrows to Vic, who looks incredulous. EXT. MINJA KAMDAR'S RESIDENCE - DAY Frank and Ryan are walking up to the door of a suburban, ranch-style home. Ryan inspects a slip of paper on which he's jotted a few notes. RYAN This is the address that he gave for his "Niceguy" alias, the one he used when chatting with Suzy Alpen. A Miss Minja Kamdar lives here. Frank nods tersely and KNOCKS on the front door of the home. MINJA KAMDAR (40's) answers after a pause. An Indian woman, she's dressed in a traditional silk shirt, sash and sandals. She smiles warmly upon seeing the men. MINJA Yes, can I help? RYAN (flashes his credentials) Good morning. We were sent from the Albany Police Department. Lieutenant Palmer should have informed you we'd be stopping by. Could we have a moment of your time, please? INT. MINJA KAMDAR'S RESIDENCE - DAY Minja's home is clean and furnished in a nondescript, middle-class way. Here and there, however, there are hints of a mystical presence: a framed picture of a Hindu god, a wall-hanging of an astrological diagram, etc. Minja gestures for Frank and Ryan to sit on a sofa in the living room, and then sits down herself. MINJA I'll help you in any way I can. But I *was* thoroughly questioned by the police weeks ago, I have to say. FRANK We understand, Miss Kamdar. We're just private consultants hired by the Albany PD. The investigation has evolved somewhat, and we're reviewing some of the department's leads. This puts Ms Kimdar's mind at ease, and she smiles evenly. Ryan consults some of his notes. RYAN (from his notes) You told the police that you had no idea why someone would give your address as his or her own. Are you absolutely certain about this? D'you have anyone who might want to hurt you? A friend with a grudge, relative, co-worker? MINJA (shaking her head) I can't think of anyone, Mr. Frost. After the police decided that I was no longer a suspect, they said that my address was probably chosen at random. RYAN We believe that may not necessarily be the case. Frank glances at a complex astrological diagram on the wall behind Minja. FRANK What do you do for a living? MINJA (proudly) I'm a professional astrologer. FRANK What about your clients? Would one of them have any reason to use your address? MINJA (bewildered) I don't know why. I do sometimes give private consultations here, so many of them know where I live. FRANK'S INTERNAL POV -- A video camera's dark lens. -- An astrological chart. -- A woman's hand, bound at the wrist with rough rope. -- The rope cuts into her flesh, drawing blood! -- A female voice SCREAMS horribly! -- A chessboard, with only a few pieces remaining on each side. -- A gleaming Bowie knife! Frank's vision is broken by the sound of Minja's phone RINGING. He blinks, trying to shake off the images, as Minja rises to answer the nearby phone. MINJA Excuse me, please. (picks up phone) Hello? (a beat) Um... yes. Yes, just a moment, please. Minja proffers the phone to Frank. MINJA It's for you, Mr. Black. Frank rises and takes the phone, frowning. FRANK This is Frank Black. An extremely DEEP VOICE responds, obviously filtered through a voice modulator that distorts it eerily. The voice is nonetheless clipped and precise. DEEP VOICE (V.O.) Mr. Black. FRANK Who is this? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) Miss Kamdar doesn't know me. That's not to say that she doesn't know how to find me. Frank's lower lip curls into a scowl and his eyes narrow, searching the room as if the individual on the other end were somewhere in Minja's house. FRANK Who *is* this? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) (a beat) I think you know. FRANK (condescending) I'm not sure I do. DEEP VOICE (V.O.) I gave Suzy twenty-eight reasons to love me, and she still left me. Did you like watching it, Mr. Black? Frank's eyes widen. He silently mouths "tape recorder" to Ryan. Equally wide-eyed, Ryan rummages through his jacket pockets, finally producing a micro-cassette recorder. Frank covers the receiver briefly, turns on the recorder, and holds it up to the receiver. FRANK (to phone) No. DEEP VOICE (V.O.) Such a shame. But there are plenty of others who do. FRANK What do you want? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) "Want" has nothing to do with it, Mr. Black. We don't choose our path, it's open for us. You, of all people, should know that. Frank goes to Minja's front windows, peering through the blinds, scanning the street outside. FRANK What makes you think you know me? I'm not impressed by this. DEEP VOICE (V.O.) I'm not trying to impress you. I just wanted to let you know that I... understand. FRANK Where's Suzy's body? How many more have you murdered? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) The answers are there for all to see. You're just not looking hard enough. But don't worry. There's more to come, I assure you. The phone CLICKS as the line disconnects suddenly. Frank holds the phone in his hand, thinking. Ryan sees the vacant expression in Frank's eyes. RYAN Jesus. Was that him? CUT TO: CLOSE ON - CELLULAR PHONE A black-gloved HAND turns off a cellular phone, the receiver of which is covered with a small black box. WIDER INT. DARK ROOM - DAY The Black Form stands over a broken bed, the same one to which Suzy Alpen was tied in the videotape. Now, another woman is bound to it: RACHEL MCGRORY, a plain-looking dishwater blonde (30's). She is conscious and obviously terrified, her face streaked with dried sweat and tears. A strip of duct tape covers her mouth, which the Black Form removes - FSSSHHHRRR! - with a shift motion. Rachel YELPS a bit at the pain, but otherwise says nothing, simply eyeing her captor warily. Her mouth trembles. The Black Form produces a handheld camcorder, and points it at Rachel. In his other hand, the Black Form holds up a stack of large cards, so that Rachel can read them. Whatever is written on them, however, remains unseen. BLACK FORM (voice still distorted) Now. Read out loud for the folks at home. Rachel licks her cracked lips, unsure of what to do, her mind clouded by terror. We PAN LEFT, to see a Bowie knife resting on a small, scratched, wooden table. FADE OUT. ACT TWO FADE IN: INT. OFFICE - LASWELL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT ANDREW LASWELL (30'), dressed conservatively and with thinning hair, sits at his cutting-edge desktop PC in his luxury high-rise apartment. The computer's monitor in unseen, but its bluish luminescence glows on his features. He is clearly relaxed, and his eyes show a kind of glazed detachment as he considers whatever is on the screen. His hand is on the mouse, clicking gently every five seconds or so. Abruptly, Andrew's reverie is broken by the sound of his doorbell RINGING. Startled, he quickly turns off the computer monitor. He then rises to answer the door. INT. FOYER - LASWELL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Andrew trots up to the door of his apartment, smoothing out his dark sweater before looking through the peephole. Light JAZZ plays softly somewhere from his stereo. ANDREW Who is it? POLICE LIEUTENANT (O.C.) N.Y.P.D., Mr. Laswell. Open the door. A brief look of panic crosses Andrew's face, but he quickly clams himself and unlocks the door. ANDREW Can I-- The door is practically thrown open as two POLICE LIEUTENANTS and half a dozen OFFICERS pour inside. One of the lieutenants quickly seizes Andrew by the arm and slaps a pair of handcuffs on him. ANDREW (CONT'D) (indignant) What the hell is going on? The officers push past Andrew and the lieutenants and immediately start ransacking the apartment. LIEUTENANT Andrew Laswell, you're under arrest for possession and distribution of obscene materials featuring minors. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. As the lieutenant recites Miranda, Andrew closes his eyes and grits his teeth. He shakes his head for a moment, and then slumps his shoulders in resignation. INT. CLOSET - LASWELL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT An officer enters Andrew's enormous walk-in bedroom closet and flicks on the light. He immediately begins searching the shelves and boxes. After a moment, he discovers a stack of unlabelled video cassettes, which he dumps into an empty mail crate. INT. DEBRIEFING ROOM - ALBANY PD - DAY Frank, Ryan, and Lieutenant Palmer stand over a conference table, covered with reports, photographs, and computer print-outs. PALMER Ms. Kamdar has *no* idea whatsoever about the code on the videotape? RYAN None. But she must know something. The perp intimated strongly that she knew something crucial, that we needed her help to find him. I don't think it was a red herring. PALMER What makes you guys so sure? FRANK His tone on the phone. He's taunting us. Mocking our inferior intellect, as he sees it. It's not unheard of for a perpetrator to leave clues, like a challenge. I've seen it before. PALMER (sighs, a beat) And he's going to do it again, isn't he? FRANK Absolutely. The fourth kidnapping victim, Rachel McGrory, may already be dead. He may be out there right now, looking for number five. Ryan's eyes scan the video capture printouts of Suzy Alpen's murder. RYAN What I'm wondering is: where are the bodies? A YOUNG DETECTIVE opens the door to the debriefing room and sticks his head inside. YOUNG DETECTIVE Lieutenant! Line one. Palmer picks up the phone hanging on the wall nearby. PALMER Lieutenant Palmer here. Frank joins Ryan in examining the photos, his eyes searching for something, anything he might have missed. The bold white letters and numbers glare back at him: "m3m Fd3m". PALMER (O.C.) (in disbelief) Jesus. You're kidding. No, no. Hang on. Frank and Ryan turn to Palmer, who covers the receiver with his hand and swallows hard before he speaks. PALMER You're not going to believe this. INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NYPD - DAY CLOSE ON - A TABLE As an unlabeled video cassette is slammed down on its metal surface. TILT UP to Frank, who stares with smoldering intensity across the table at someone. FRANK Where did you get this tape? WIDER Andrew Laswell is sitting at the table, across from Frank, Ryan, and LIEUTENANT OSGOOD (40's). His appearance betrays that fact that he has spent the night in jail. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair is disheveled. He wears a day's worth of stubble and a grim pout. ANDREW I'm out of here in a few hours. My attorney has advised me against saying anything. Frank's eyes blaze with anger. He places his spread fingers on the video cassette. FRANK This particular tape shows a woman being *murdered*. Where did you get it? ANDREW (taken aback) You mean *that* one? Christ. That thing made me sick! I-I was going to *destroy* it. OSGOOD Yeah, we understand you're real particular about your tastes. ANDREW (to Frank) You telling me that thing is real? (a beat) That woman is really dead? FRANK (scowling) Where? ANDREW (resigned) I saw this... ad. In the back of a magazine. It's been running for a few months now. Frank nods, as Ryan looks on with a stern expression. INT. VICE DIVISION - NYPD - DAY CLOSE ON - MAGAZINE A small, text-only, black-and-white advertisement, hidden away in the corner of an extreme bondage magazine. Frank reads out loud from it. FRANK (O.C.) "I know that there are born victims. Like-minded souls send a self-addressed stamped envelope." WIDER Frank is hunched over the magazine in the bustling Vice Division of a NYPD station. Ryan and Lieutenant Osgood stand over him. FRANK He gives a post office box in the Catskills. RYAN (to Osgood) I heard about this Laswell guy on the news this morning. Who tipped you off about his, uh, proclivities? OSGOOD His maid, if you can believe it. Kept seeing naughty things on his computer screen. The guy's a millionaire, y'know. Made a killing on the internet, then he spends it all on kiddie porn. You're just lucky we were reviewing the stuff we found in his apartment this morning. RYAN Well, we should phone that address in to Albany as soon as possible. OSGOOD Sure. Use my phone. Ryan takes the magazine from Frank, tears out the page with the advertisement, and trots off. FRANK Lieutenant, where in New York could one could purchase that magazine? OSGOOD (chuckling darkly) Just about any adult book or video store worth its salt. You might even be able to find it at a newsstand that carries porno. People are getting just keep gettin' weirder these days. FRANK (seriously) Where would you recommend? EXT. ADULT BOOK STORE - NEW YORK STREET - DAY Frank walks up to a garishly lit adult book store, coldly curious. The greasy windows reveal little of the store's interior. The wares are nonetheless declared by buzzing pink neon, posters of porn stars, and unfriendly block lettering proclaiming "THE LARGEST SELECTION". Frank pushes the door open, a bell announcing his arrival. INT. - ADULT BOOK STORE - DAY Frank lurks near the door, taking in the uneasy atmosphere of the store. Men, most dressed plainly, quietly search shelves of countless videos, magazines, novels, and software. The clerk, RICHIE (50's), eyes Frank suspiciously, his tattooed arms folded across his chest. Frank approaches the counter, pulling the bondage magazine out of his jacket. FRANK Excuse me. Do you carry this magazine? RICHIE (glancing at the magazine) Over there. Frank follows Richie's gaze to the nearby newsstand. FRANK Thanks. Maybe you could help me, I-- RICHIE (scowling) I'm not a tour guide, sir. Browse until you find what you want. Then buy it. Then leave. Frank blinks, taken aback. He wanders over to the newsstand, scanning the titles. A hundred different perversities are arrayed in glossy color, and Frank's eyes show more disbelief than disgust. FRANK'S INTERNAL POV -- A woman's lips, caked with dried blood and saliva. They move slightly, silently forming words. -- A starry firmament, filled with uncountable galaxies and spinning wildly, as if out of control. -- A video cassette, its magnetic tape pulled from the case and snarled into a hundred loops. -- A crystalline pattern of sparkling light, as if reflected off a numerous geometric surfaces. As Frank considers these images, a well-dressed man, CHRIS (30's), walks up to him, gesturing in a friendly manner to catch his attention. CHRIS You a cop or just new meat? FRANK (holds up magazine) D'you see this one anywhere? CHRIS (pursing his lips) Yikes. A man of dangerous tastes, I see. (grabs a magazine off the newsstand) Here you go. Don't let Richie intimidate you. He wouldn't know "customer service" if it bit him in the ass. FRANK (taking the new magazine) Do you work here? CHRIS (shakes his head) Just a patron like yourself, man. Name's Chris. FRANK (nods) Frank. (indicates bondage magazine) Do you know anything about this stuff? CHRIS More than I should. (laughs) Not much, actually. My scene's a little... different. But I read that one for laughs occasionally. FRANK (his tone cool) Let me ask you something. Where do you go for the real fringe? Extreme stuff. CHRIS (intrigued, eyes narrow) Like what? FRANK Violent B&D. Not simulated, but *real*. CHRIS (scoffs) You've seen too many movies. Chris suddenly becomes serious. He motions for Frank to walk with him, pacing slowly around the store. As he speaks, Chris eyes the endless shelves and lurid products. CHRIS Here's the scoop, Frank. The more conventional your tastes, the easier it is to satisfy them. Your tastes can can only become so specific and so taboo before the likelihood of finding a company to make the product, a company to produce the product, and a company to sell the product vanishes to zero. (a beat) I'm not saying there aren't people out there who get off on rape, torture, even snuff. But if there *are*, they have to be *so* secretive and *so* cautious that your chances of actually finding them are virtually nil. They use secret language, layers of anonymity. In what singles bar are you going to feel comfortable asking someone if they like having their genitals hooked up to a car battery? FRANK (a beat) Thanks for the advice. I need to get a few more things. EXT. ADULT BOOK STORE - NEW YORK STREET - DAY Frank exits the adult book store with a slim, brown paper bag. RYAN (O.C.) Frank! Frank looks up to see Ryan approaching him from just up the sidewalk. RYAN (CONT'D) (eyeing the bag) Research? FRANK Back issues of the magazine from Laswell's apartment. What's the word from Albany? As Ryan fills Frank in, the two walk back towards their car, and Frank takes out a a stack of magazines and begins thumbing through the classifieds in the back. RYAN Ulster County Sheriff's Department is checking out that Catskills P.O. Box. Palmer wants us back in Albany, to help lean on Ms. Kamdar. She still insists she can't help us. It's either that, or we head upstate to Rome, where the most recent abduction occurred. FRANK (looking at magazines) Wait a minute. This classified ad has appeared for the last five months. But each time the P.O. Box changes. The latest issue has a Schenectady box. That's right outside Albany. RYAN We can check it out. But you and I know nothing's going to come of it, or any of those addresses. FRANK But if he's advertising and distributing his tapes, that means he expects people to reply. RYAN (nodding, suddenly understanding) And that means he'll be checking his mail. INT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR - SCHENECTADY STREET - DAY Ryan and Frank are sitting in the front seat of an unmarked police car, across the street from a Schenectady post office. Nearby are a few other unmarked cars, from both the Albany PD and the Schenectady Sheriff's Department. Frank is talking on his cell phone with Minja Kamdar. FRANK Just review each one carefully, Ms. Kamdar. Take your time. Yeah. I know. Well, he said you didn't know him, but that doesn't mean you won't recognize him. Yes. Thank you. Frank hangs up his cell phone and puts it away. RYAN Think he'll be on those surveillance tapes? FRANK It's a shot in the dark. My instincts tell me he's often disguised when walking in public. Right now, though, we show her everything we've got on this case, and that includes the post office's surveillance. RYAN (musing) Dozens of fake names and addresses. Online aliases. Disguises. He likes his privacy. FRANK (shakes his head) He's just being practical with his anonymity. He actually craves fame and recognition. Not enough to do anything stupid, but enough to taunt us and torment innocent family members. RYAN Then he's sure not going to pop in and ask for his mail with half a dozen cops across the street. We've been watching this post office for three days, Frank. He knows, somehow. Frank begins to say something, but stops when he notices the sound of a phone RINGING. Both he and Ryan stare at each other for a moment, and then crane their necks around to see where it's coming from. EXT. STREET - DAY CLOSE ON - PUBLIC PHONE A public phone about ten yards from Frank and Ryan's car is RINGING loudly. Frank and Ryan quickly get out of their car and race to the phone. A few plainclothes OFFICERS get out of nearby cars as well, confused at the sudden flurry of activity. Frank takes Ryan micro-cassette recorder and turns it on before picking up the receiver. FRANK Hello? DEEP VOICE (O.C.) Hello, Mr. Black Don't waste your time. I won't be coming out today. FRANK (looking around wildly) Where are you? DEEP VOICE (O.C.) Close. I'm dismayed by your progress. I've left you something to motivate you. Lieutenant Palmer should be calling you *any* moment now. The line goes dead with a CLICK. Frank hangs up the public phone slowly, his mind obviously racing. RYAN (wide-eyed, demanding) What? What did he say? Frank's cell phone RINGS. Wordlessly, Frank it takes it out and answers the call. INT. DEBRIEFING ROOM - ALBANY PD - DAY Lieutenant Palmer stands before Frank and Ryan, the television and VCR nearby. PALMER It was mailed to her mother in Rome this morning. A courier brought it in a couple of hours ago. It's nearly identical to the previous tape. But there's something new, just before he stabs her. Palmer presses the "PLAY" button on the VCR. CLOSE ON - TELEVISION After a moment of static, an image springs to life: the wooden door of a suburban home. Seconds later, a black boot rears up and kicks open the door, playing out a scene that is now familiar from the tape of Suzy's abduction. This time, however, it is Rachel McGrory's home that the cameraman invades. The image jumps and jerks wildly as the cameraman dashes into Rachel's living room. Rachel appears, SHRIEKING as she turns to run from the advancing camera! She darts down a hallway, as the cameraman follows, closing the distance between them. The action is barely discernable as the camera jumps around madly. All that can be heard is the course panting of the cameraman. Eventually, Rachel slams her bedroom door on the cameraman, but he is upon it in an instant. He throws himself into the door before she can lock it, tossing her back into the room. With frightening speed the cameraman produces a self-defense stun-gun, and shocks Rachel with it! A CRACKLE of blue electricity hits her full in the chest and she slumps to ground, letting out a GASPING MOAN. The cameraman stands over Rachel, filming her prone body as if savoring the moment. He zooms in on her face, which is flushed and covered with tangled hair. WIDER Frank and Ryan both shift in their seats, not taking their eyes from the television. CLOSE ON - TELEVISION The scene cuts to a now-familiar shot of Rachel, tied to a bed. The camera jostles a bit, and then zooms in on her face. She looks up hesitantly, just to the left of the camera, and begins to speak in a hollow, strained voice. Her eyes dart left and right as if she is reading something. The camera slowly zooms in on Rachel's face, until her tear-filled eyes fill the screen. RACHEL (ON TV) "'Tis all a... checker-board or nights and days... where destiny with men for ... pieces plays: hither and thither moves, and mates and slays, and one ... by one... back in the closet lays." The camera shifts slightly and there are muffled THUDS, as if the cameraman is doing something O.C. Rachel begins to SCREAM hysterically. FADE OUT. ACT THREE FADE IN: INT. LIVING ROOM - MINJA KAMDAR'S HOME - DAY Ryan and Frank are speaking with Minja Kamdar, who sits anxiously on the couch. A collection of computer print-outs and other papers are scattered across Minja's coffee table, next to a stack of video cassettes. MINJA I'm sorry, gentlemen. I just don't see how I can help anymore. I don't recognize anybody on the surveillance tapes. RYAN What about the poetry? Ryan indicates a slip of paper, on which he has transcribed Rachel McGrory's words from the most recent tape. MINJA (shakes her head) It sounds familiar, but I can't place it. FRANK It's from Omar Khaiyam's "Rubaiyat". He was a medieval Persian poet and astrologer. MINJA (realizing) Oh, yes. I've read it. But... I don't see how it relates to anything. FRANK I believe the perpetrator thinks of himself as *destined* to commit these murders. His victims were ordained from the beginning, by the stars themselves. (a beat) Please, just look at the victims' profiles. You may be able to see something we missed. Ryan motions for Frank to step aside so they can talk privately. Minja leafs through the papers in front of her. RYAN (softly) Something's weird here. How does this guy know your name? How did he know you're working the case? FRANK (softly) I don't know. He wants something from me. It's more than simple taunting. He wants me to be involved in his plan somehow. RYAN (softly, urgently) How? MINJA (speaking up) Wait. Mr. Black... Frank and Ryan turn back to Minja quickly. MINJA (CONT'D) All the victims. They're all Capricorns. FRANK What d'you think that means? MINJA I don't know. But if he's into astrology, it's almost certainly not an accident. In fact he... With a look of realization, Minja quickly rifles through the files, looking for something excitedly. Frank and Ryan exchange curious glances. After a moment, she proudly indicates the birth dates on several printouts of online personal data. MINJA And every one of his aliases is a Taurus. A Capricorn and a Taurus have a strong affinity. Good compatibility, especially for romance. FRANK (after a pause) Could you draw up astrological charts for the victims and the perpetrator's aliases? Pertaining to recent events and the near future in particular. MINJA Yes. I can tell you right now that a Taurus is in for a rough ride. The last two months of 1999 are a time of strife for them. A great potential for harm, even physical danger. Frank nods soberly, as he and Ryan step aside again. Minja begins gathering up papers that she needs. RYAN (softly) I've got another idea. What about the mail the police took from his post office box? I'm betting that someone out there got a taste for what our guy had to offer and went back for more. INT. NIGHTCLUB - NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT Frank, Ryan, and two UNIFORMED OFFICERS enter a small, gloomy Goth club. The club's atmosphere is deliberately sparse, all worn plaster and naked metal. It's early on a weekday evening, so the club is relatively dead. A few younger patrons lounge listlessly on couches, nursing drinks. The dance floor is empty. The DJ, TRAVIS BAUER (30's), spins Swans at a deafening volume from a raised booth in the back of the club. He seems oblivious to the lack of patrons. Frank, Ryan, and the officers cross the dance floor and approach him. The BARTENDER (20's) looks visibly edgy at the sight of police, unsure about what she should do. Ryan climbs the steps to Bauer's booth and tugs on his sleeve. RYAN (shouting) Travis Bauer! Travis removes his headphones, nervously noting the uniformed officers. TRAVIS (shouting) Yeah?! RYAN (shouting) Let's talk outside! EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREET - NIGHT Travis paces back and forth nervously at the edge of an alleyway outside the club, smoking a cigarette. Ryan holds up a enlarged photocopy of the advertisement from the bondage magazine. TRAVIS What? Yeah, I answered one of those ads. So *what*? RYAN Quite an attitude you have for someone who's been sitting on murder evidence. TRAVIS Wise up, man. It ain't real. It's like that witch movie. You're supposed to think it's real, but it's all phony. FRANK How many tapes have you sent away for? TRAVIS Two, but I only the got the one so far. (grinning) Man, I got friends who are itching to see what those sick bastards do next. FRANK (incredulous) Do you realize that the tape is real? This isn't *entertainment*. That woman is *dead*. Travis looks at Frank and Ryan, scanning them for signs that they might be lying. TRAVIS You're not kidding are you? (a beat) Holy -- you mean that chick is *really* dead? (a beat) That's so awesome! A look of utter contempt flashes across Ryan's face. RYAN Awes--? (to officers quickly) Put the cuffs on this sack of crap. One of the officer steps forward, seizing Travis's arms. He quickly slaps a pair of handcuffs on Travis's wrists. TRAVIS Hey, you can't do that! RYAN Now, I want you to take us back to your place, where you're going to give us that tape, as well as any copies you might have made of it. INT. TRAVIS BAUER'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Frank and Ryan are inside Travis's apartment, rooting through his video collection amid the squalor of dirty dishes and laundry. The uniformed officers stand by grimly in the apartment doorway, keeping a firm grip on Travis, who cranes his neck to watch Frank and Ryan. TRAVIS Wait. That one. Yeah, that's it. Frank holds up a video cassette with a scrawled, illegible label. He gestures at the stack of milk crates, containing similar tapes. FRANK Are all of these pornographic? TRAVIS Most of 'em. Hey, I don't get my jollies off that extreme stuff. I'm just a collector. A tape of some girl being murdered is a big find, even if it's a fake. It's just about *the* worst thing I've ever seen on video - besides "Showgirls." RYAN (sarcastically) You mean the *best* thing you've ever seen. TRAVIS Hey, who doesn't want to watch something they're never going to see firsthand, no matter how sick it is? What about all those real-life disaster shows? Why do you think those are so popular, man? FRANK D'you own any other snuff? TRAVIS Naw. I've got weirder stuff than plain old murder, though. Electrocution, genitalia mutilation, torture footage smuggled out of Israel, crush films, chicks who-- RYAN Crush films? TRAVIS Where a naked woman in stiletto heels steps on small animals. Frogs, mice, hamsters-- RYAN (holding up a hand) All right, all right, all right... I didn't need that particular image. I assume you won't mind us taking this tape, in return for ignoring the rest of this "fine" cinema. Frank's cell phone RINGS and he swiftly answers it. FRANK Yeah. (a beat) Yeah. Okay. Frank covers the mouthpiece and looks up at Ryan. FRANK (to Ryan) It's Palmer. He's got something. INT. HOMICIDE DIVISION - ALBANY PD - NIGHT Lieutenant Palmer walks briskly through the Albany PD Homicide Division, Ryan and Frank following close behind. Palmer fills them in as he leads them to the briefing room. PALMER It was pure luck really. A forensic geologist from the state police was in the station for another case. He happened to see the code posted up on the board, and knew what it was immediately. RYAN Well, what already? They three enter the briefing room, where JILL DYMEK (40's) is waiting. INT. BRIEFING ROOM - ALBANY PD - NIGHT Jill watches them enter and holds out her hand. DYMEK A crystallographic designation. (a beat) Jill Dymek, New York State Police. You must be Mr. Frost and Mr. Black. Bleak names. Frank and Ryan dutifully shake hands with Dymek. RYAN *What* is it? DYMEK (smiling) It's like a code for a mineral's geometry. A way to mathematically describe a crystal. FRANK And what mineral does this code correspond to? DYMEK Only one that I know of: diamond. There is a pause as the others absorb this new information. FRANK How exactly do these numbers and letters interpret as a diamond? DYMEK (rolls her eyes) I couldn't even tell you myself without a textbook in front of me. I haven't studied it since graduate school. It's an old system, but still the only one widely used by mineralogists. When Frank looks unsatisfied with this, Jill goes to the black board and draws a simple diagram of a cube, with an "xyz" projection inside of it. DYMEK (CONT'D) Look. Suffice to say that the first part describes the basic molecular unit of the crystal. In diamond, it's a simple cube like this. The second part describes the way the cubes stack together in three-dimensional space. But there's no third part, so we can't be absolutely sure it's diamond. PALMER Third part? DYMEK Well, normally, there would be a number in the code telling you how long this axis is. (indicates the drawing) It's a length in angstroms, unique to each mineral. Frank gazes at the blackboard, biting his lip in thought. He shakes his head momentarily, as if not understanding, but then his eye catches the map of New York state on the wall next to the blackboard. Realization sweeps over his face. FRANK It's a map. Frank darts up to the wall map, and begins pulling out pushpins. He discards all the pins associated with post office boxes, relatives, aliases, and video cassettes. RYAN Frank? FRANK I must be blind. Look. The abduction sites. Frank grabs a highlighter lying on a nearby table and draws an enormous "X" across eastern New York state, tilted slightly on its side. He then outlines it with a square. He points forcefully to the center, where the axes cross. DYMEK He lives here. "There are born victims." He didn't choose his victims. Fate did. PALMER Mother of God. We had it all along. FRANK (visibly angry with himself) He's laughing at us right now. RYAN (inspecting the map scale) Looks like just under fifty miles between each abduction site and the center. (to Palmer) Can we get some GIS software up and running? Let's pinpoint the latitude and longitude to the second. EXT. OVERGROWN FIELD - NIGHT Dozens of police vehicles pull up a gravel road to the edge of an overgrown field, throwing up clouds of choking gypsum dust. The Montgomery County Sheriff's Department, New York State Police, and Albany PD are present in force. A state police S.W.A.T. TRUCK begins unloading OFFICERS in flak jackets wielding automatic rifles and shotguns. Dawn is beginning to creep up the eastern horizon. Frank and Ryan stand near Lieutenant Palmer, warily considering the scene. Palmer is filling in local officers and the SWAT COMMANDER. Legend INDICATES: Ft. Plain, New York PALMER The site is an old ammunitions bunker, built into the hill on the other side of this field. Since the perpetrator deliberately led us here, we anticipate one of two scenarios. Either he's long gone, and any valuable evidence with him, or he's waiting for us. Assume him to be armed and dangerous, but don't take any chances. He might have two civilians alive in there somewhere. The SWAT commander barks some orders to his men. Frank approaches Palmer as the team begins to move in on the bunker. FRANK There's no way this is going to end well. He's had too much time to prepare. PALMER I know, but it's not an option. There could be two women still alive in there. That means we go in now. Frank gazes around the surrounding woods. FRANK What about the surrounding land? PALMER It's all owned by the state. Hasn't been used in decades, though. They let university kids come out here to do research sometimes. There's old farms all around here. EXT. BUNKER - NIGHT The SWAT team begins moving into position, approaching the hillock in which the bunker is housed. The huge metal door is shut, but is not obviously locked. The first OFFICER to reach the door waits until the other men are in position, and then reaches out tentatively to open the door. Staying out of the doorway, the officer opens the outer door, which squeals in protest on its hinges. EXT. OVERGROWN FIELD - NIGHT Ryan walks up to Palmer, glancing around quizzically. RYAN Where's Frank? PALMER (confused) Wasn't he with you? EXT. FARMHOUSE - NIGHT Frank approaches a sagging, abandoned farmhouse some distance from the bunker. He carries a flashlight and his sidearm is drawn. Cautiously, he mounts the creaking front porch. The front door is slightly ajar. Frank edges inside carefully, sweeping his flashlight across the gray, decaying interior of the building. The cold white beam catches a glint of crimson; droplets of blood on floor of the foyer, leading up the stairs. INT. BUNKER - NIGHT The interior of the bunker is lit by dim, naked light bulbs in wire frame housings. The bunker is dirty but seemingly empty. There is another door, however, in the back of the room. Somewhere from further inside comes the tinny strains of "When the Foreman Bears His Steel" from Gilbert and Sulivan's "The Pirates Of Penzance". The SWAT officers move into the bunker quickly once they realize no one is in the main chamber, approaching the inner door. OFFICER #1 He's got power... where's that music coming from? The SWAT team again moves away from the doorway, and an officer carefully opens it. After a moment of silence, the SWAT team notices a sound emanating from inside room: a thin, muffled sound. The COMMANDER nods to the two officers on either side of the door, who dart inside the room, shotguns brandished. They stop short just inside the doorway, however. OFFICER #2 Oh my God. INT. FARMHOUSE - NIGHT Frank quietly mounts the staircase, keeping his flashlight and gun trained on the landing above. He has gotten about halfway up when the tomblike stillness of the house is shattered by his cell phone RINGING! Frank starts visibly, and then closes his eyes in anger; he knows who is calling. He takes out his phone and answers it. FRANK What do you want? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) I knew you wouldn't stand by idly and watch it play out, Mr. Black. You had to run off on your own. We're the same that way. Not content to be mere voyeurs. Frank continues to slowly climb the stairs. FRANK Are you here? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) No, unfortunately. We'll meet soon enough, though. INT. BUNKER - NIGHT In the inner room of the bunker, SAMANTHA DEMARCK is bound to a high-backed steel chair, which is bolted to the floor. Her head is tied securely to the back of the chair. Her eyes bulge hugely, her face flushed. She tries violently to move her head, sweat pouring from her brow. Underneath the duct tape covering her mouth, she SCREAMS weakly. The speakers in the corners of the room, blasting "Pirates of Penzance", all but drown her out. OFFICER #2 (to the officers behind him) Get the paramedics in here! OFFICER #1 It's okay, Miss-- The first SWAT officer steps forward into the room... and trips over a thin wire! A metallic CLANK is heard, accompanied by the sound of WHOOSHING air and a wet THUD! Immediately, Samantha's thin cries and struggling cease. OFFICER #1 No! OFFICER #2 Oh God. Oh God. What did you do, Summers?! CLOSE ON - FAR SIDE OF ROOM In the FOREGROUND is the indistinct and bloody form Samantha, a long wooden shaft driven through her head. The camera zooms past her, to a digital camcorder sitting on a tripod, aimed at Samantha. Next to it is an elaborate hunting crossbow, connected to the trip wire. A cable runs from the camcorder to a laptop computer resting on the floor. On the screen, a real-time image of the bunker's interior plays out in blurry pixels. Suddenly, a message box jumps to life on the screen: 'DISCONNECTED FROM REMOTE HOST' From the speakers comes the sound of Mabel singing to the pirate chorus. MUSIC "Go, ye heroes, go to glory, Though you die in combat gory, Ye shall live in song and story. Go to immortality!" INT. FARMHOUSE - NIGHT Frank reaches the upstairs hallway of the farmhouse. He edges along with agonizing slowness, noting the first door on the left is smeared with dark bloodstains-and slightly ajar. FRANK How do you know me? Why are you interested in me? DEEP VOICE (V.O.) Because our fates have been entwined since the beginning of time, Mr. Black. Frank pushes the bedroom door open gingerly. The smell that emerges is so overpowering that he grimaces, covering his nose with the sleeve of his coat. FRANK How? I've never met you. DEEP VOICE (V.O.) You have. We've played this game before. Don't you know who I am? As Frank steps inside the bedroom-- HARD CUT TO: INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Two ROTTING CORPSES, which are propped up on a bed. They're slumped together as if in embrace. From their blood-stained, shredded clothing and faded hair, they are loosely identifiable as Suzy Alpen and Rachel McGrory. Above the bed, scrawled across the peeling, yellowed wallpaper, is a large message written in a gritty, charcoal-black substance: 'DID YOU LIKE WATCHING US DIE, MR BLACK?' Beneath the words is an astrological symbol Frank knows all too well: a circle divided by a cross. FRANK Avatar. Frank's eyes narrow and his teeth grit behind his strong expression. FADE OUT. ACT FOUR FADE IN: INT. HOMICIDE DIVISION - ALBANY PD - DAY Frank, Ryan, Palmer, and Vic Merfish have gathered to discuss the morning's raid. Frank seems lost in his own thoughts, clearly seething. Vic indicates some of the computer paraphernalia found in the bunker as he speaks to the others: VIC It looks like he used the laptop's cell phone to send a real-time streaming video feed out to another computer, presumably wherever he was at the time of the raid. (a beat) Based on his earlier activities, I think we can assume that he'll be distributing the footage somehow. FRANK (distracted) Online. (a beat) He's put it online, where anybody can download it for free. VIC (nodding) I figured as much. I notified some friends at the FCC and FBI; I told them to sniff around bondage sites and newsgroups for mpegs, or the like, uploaded in the next twenty-four hours. PALMER (to Frank) Where do we go from here? We have one woman still missing. Stacey Yeung. The first one abducted. FRANK She has to be alive. Since she wasn't in the farmhouse, we have to assume that he has one more film planned. RYAN He's going to come to you, Frank. You know that, don't you? Frank nods soberly. PALMER So this is *the* Avatar? The guy from San Francisco in the eighties? FRANK (nodding) He committed brutal murders, multiple shootings and stabbings in public places. One day, he just stopped. No one knew why. He was never apprehended. Over time the case remained firmly unexplained, until two years ago. I was still with the Millennium Group, and we discovered he'd resurfaced, this time broadcasting murders live over the internet. (a beat) But he escaped again. Vanished just like before. RYAN (whistling slightly) So our perp is the most infamous still-at-large American serial killer of the twentieth century? FRANK He's brilliant, meticulous, arrogant, and extraordinarily lucky. If he has one last film planned, it's our *last* chance to catch him before he goes underground again... for two years, ten years... who can say? INT. MINJA KAMDAR'S LIVING ROOM - DAY Minja is showing Frank and Ryan computer print-outs of astrological data and charts. She leans in closely, clearly excited to be helping with the investigation in a tangible way. MINJA I wish I knew more about geology. I should have seen the diamond connection. Diamonds are sacred stones to a Taurus, at least in Vedic astrology. FRANK We now know for certain that astrology is a critical part of this man's pathology, Ms. Kamdar. If the details are obscure, it's only because he's *deliberately* trying to make it difficult for us. MINJA Well, all these fake birth dates look disparate, but they all produce very similar readings. Strong Saturnian influences. In terms of the last days of 1999, being born on one of these dates is just about the worst thing that could happen to you. RYAN Meaning what, exactly? MINJA (shaking her head in amazement) Catastrophe. Calamity. Danger to body and soul. You name it. And I'm not talking metaphorically. It's clearly negative and immediate in its consequences. FRANK Death? MINJA (nodding cautiously) Perhaps. If his real signs match those of his aliases and he's done his reading, then he may fear for his own life. RYAN (to Frank) It's his last hurrah. FRANK (nodding) A magnum opus to greet the new millennium. RYAN (thoughtfully) But where exactly? The bunker's been compromised. That throws the whole crystallography thing off. FRANK (after a pause) What about the third dimension? RYAN (puzzled) But that'd be up and down. That doesn't make any sense, unless he's fifty miles underground or fifty miles up in the sky? How would that work? Minja looks a little lost, but seems eager to contribute. MINJA If he's obsessed with astrology, maybe he'll be *watching* the sky. Both Jupiter and Saturn will be near the zenith tonight, in Pisces and Aries respectively. FRANK (to Ryan) That's it. (to Minja) Is there an observatory or planetarium in the area? EXT. STATE UNIVERSITY - DEPARTMENT OF PHYSICS AND ASTROPHYSICS - NIGHT Frank and Ryan's rental car pulls up into a small parking lot adjacent to the physics building. Legend INDICATES: State University of New York, Albany Department of Physics snd Astrophysics 7:45 PM As they exit the vehicle, a CAMPUS SECURITY OFFICER (40's) approaches them, flashlight in hand. OFFICER We searched the building an hour ago, Mr. Black, as you suggested. We didn't find a thing. There was supposed to be some Skywatchers here tonight, but we had 'em cancel. I don't know what else we can do for you, other than to keep our eyes peeled. FRANK The man we're looking for is extremely dangerous, and I'm certain he'll be coming here tonight. Search the building again. If you find *anyone* suspicious, don't confront them. Call the police and ask for Lieutenant Palmer in Homicide. The campus officer shrugs his shoulders in resignation, and trots off. Ryan eyes the small round observatory situated on top of the physics building, the CAMERA FOLLOWING his gaze. The campus is well-lit at ground-level by streetlights, but the building's roof appears dark and gray under the starry sky. RYAN (unsmiling) Why do I have this feeling that we're about to re-enact the last scene from "Rebel Without a Cause"? Frank doesn't respond, staring at the building himself through narrowed eyes, lost in thought. FRANK'S INTERNAL POV -- A black, executioner's-style hood, through which cold eyes peer! -- A bound woman squirming in horror on a bed, seen through the grainy black-and-white of a camcorder! -- A night sky, spinning like an out-of-control merry-go-round! -- A gun's muzzle, EXPLODING in white flashes as the gun is FIRED again and again! RYAN Seriously, Frank, it's possible you're wrong about this. (a beat) It *is* a stretch that led us here. Frank turns to stare at Ryan, his face serious and honest. FRANK He's here. I'm sure of it. (a beat) Stay here, and keep an eye on the exits. RYAN (utter disbelief) What?! Are you crazy? You're going in there alone? Hey, if *you* are right, isn't that exactly what he wants? FRANK (shaking his head patiently) He won't show himself until he sees that I'm here. If you're with me, then he may very well kill you as an afterthought. It's safe as long as I go in alone. it's the only way to draw him out. RYAN (shaking his head) No. No. That's just stupid, Frank. If this is your strategy for dealing with serial killers, I'm *amazed* you're still alive. At least let me call Palmer and get some black and whites here before you go charging inside. FRANK (after a pause) Do what you have to. But there's only one way this is going to go down. I have to go talk to Avatar one on one. Frank turns to walk towards the physics building, as a look of exasperation crosses Ryan's face. After a moment, he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. INT. PHYSICS BUILDING STAIRWELL - NIGHT Frank opens the door at the bottom of an unlit stairwell, throwing a rectangle of cold, fluorescent light across the lower landing. He kicks down the built-in doorstop with his toe, and heads up the dark stairs! His shoes scuff on the concrete steps. The building is THRUMMING with the sound of generators and high-voltage microscopes somewhere in its bowels. Frank warily looks up the stairs as he ascends them, straining his eyes in the near blackness. He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a tiny MagLight, which he turns on. The tiny spot of light sweeps across whitewashed cinderblock and metal railings. Eventually, Frank reaches the top landing, where a white metal door is labeled with red stencil letters: "OBSERVATORY" The door has a deadbolt lock, but as Frank reaches out and pushes on the handle, it turns easily. INT. OBSERVATORY - NIGHT The door to the observatory opens, revealing a surprisingly small room, lit by several tiny, dim golden lights around its perimeters. Frank steps inside tentatively, scanning his surroundings, and shutting the door behind him. A huge, dual refracting-reflecting telescope dominates the center of the room, along with the computer equipment used to run it. The ceiling has a port, covered with a retractable metal slab, and large flywheels and gears run all along the metal roof's perimeter, allowing the port to be rotated in concert with the telescope. After a moment, Frank notes a small metal staircase along one side of the room, leading to a door at the base of the hemispherical ceiling. Once he has convinced himself that no one is hiding anywhere in the room, he quickly climbs the stairs and opens the door to the outer balcony. EXT. OBSERVATORY BALCONY - NIGHT Frank comes through the small door onto a wide balcony running around the perimeter of the observatory. He gazes down onto the physics building roof, and the surrounding treetops, which rustle in the freezing wind. AVATAR (O.C.) Good evening, Mr. Black. Frank jumps a bit at the sound of the voice. Standing on the balcony off to his left, is a terrifying figure. He wears a black, executioner's-style hood with small eyeholes, and a black vest emblazoned with a crossed circle. With his right hand he points a .45 at Frank with stony precision, while his left hand twitches anxiously at a sheathed Bowie knife on his side. AVATAR (CONT'D) You've kept us waiting for some time. We can't get started without you. (a beat) Hands up, please. Avatar's voice is precise and airy, Californian with a hint of trailer-park twang. Frank raises his hands slowly, fury darkening his brow. Avatar approaches Frank and sticks his free hand inside Frank's coat. He pulls out Frank's handgun. AVATAR (CONT'D) Please don't do anything so stupid as shouting for help. I wouldn't want to have to pre-empt tonight's performance. FRANK (coldly) What do you have in mind? AVATAR Well, as you no doubt have deduced by now with Ms. Kamdar's assistance, I don't have long in this world. I don't fear death, but it will mean the end of my work, which is, to say the least, disappointing. Avatar motions with his gun for Frank to walk along the balcony. Frank does so, slowly, keeping his hands in the air. FRANK What does this have to do with me? AVATAR Well, I've always thought highly of you, Mr. Black. Followed your career over the internet and in newspapers; the Frenchman, Henry Dion, Ed Cuffle. Good work. But your pursuit of me has been a bit sluggish. You're a hunter like myself. Frank stops short, seeing that they are not alone on the observatory balcony. Ahead of him is Stacey Yeung, bound to a chair much like Samantha DeMarck was in Avatar's bunker. She is clearly terrified, and nearly freezing in the November air. In front of her is a familiar apparatus: a digital camcorder connected to a laptop computer. FRANK (indignant) I am *nothing* like you. AVATAR (amused) You really think so? What's so different about us? One hunts to satisfy an unacceptable lust for murder, one hunts to placate a righteous indignation about murder. Different motives, but hardly worlds apart, Mr. Black. (softer) Besides, if my guess is right, you've had that feeling too. That sweet release that comes only when you watch the last gasp of carbon dioxide expel from someone's lungs by your hand. (a beat) You've felt it too. FRANK (turning to face Avatar, shaking his head) You're not going to bait me. I slew those demons a long time ago. AVATAR Ah, but what about the rest of the world, Mr. Black? They want to feel that release too. (gestures at camcorder) Even if they have to experience it vicariously. Everyone wants to see what the killer sees. FRANK You're wrong. AVATAR Am I? I could show you my mailing list, Mr. Black. Do you *know* how many addresses are on that list? Hundreds. Thousands. How many policemen do you suppose live at those addresses? Doctors? Elementary school teachers? (a beat) Maybe people whose names we hear on the news every night even? FRANK (exhausted) What are you going to do to this woman? AVATAR I think you know. Avatar walks up to Stacey, cradling her chin gently with his hand, all the while keeping his gun trained on Frank. AVATAR (CONT'D) I'm going to slit sweet Stacey's throat, and then I'm going to penetrate her throbbing little heart and gasping little lungs and dirty little bowels with cold steel again... and again. (a beat) Or, you're going to kill me. Frank says nothing, but a look of confusion passes over his face. AVATAR (CONT'D) Either way, this camera will film every moment of it and send the data to a remote computer. From there, several individuals who appreciate my work will upload the film to pornographic websites and copy it to video cassette for free, worldwide distribution. Avatar removes his Bowie knife and holds it close to Stacey's throat. He then crouches down carefully, not moving the knife, and puts his gun down on the ground. AVATAR (CONT'D) Of course, you could always kill me, and sweet Stacey will live long, meet a nice boy, and settle down. Happily... ever... after.... Avatar deftly kicks his gun with a swift tap from his boot. It slides across the concrete balcony with an oily metallic clicking, coming to rest a few feet in front of Frank. Frank lowers his hands slowly, but stares fixedly at Avatar. AVATAR (CONT'D) Go ahead and pick it up, Mr. Black. I assure you I have no weapons other than the one pressed to Stacey's throat here. Frank tentatively reaches down and takes the gun, keeping his eyes on Avatar, who watches him carefully in return. AVATAR (CONT'D) The situation is quite simple, really. A civilian's life is in danger, which can only be prevented by the use of swift and lethal force by yourself. The law is very clear here, Mr. Black. The Albany police department will *not* question your judgment should you choose to kill me. (a beat) But then there's that nosy little camera, isn't there? Watching, taking in the photons and translating them to to electrons. Frank glances at the object in question. AVATAR (CONT'D) (mockingly) You think you could shoot that camera and then me... before I kill sweet Stacey here? Do you want to risk it? Frank slowly levels the gun at Avatar. AVATAR (CONT'D) Oh, and before you think about shooting me in the shoulder or some other suitably cinematic tactic, I should say that there's always the possibility that the bullets are potassium cyanide-filled hollow-points. In which case, should I be shot, I would be dead in about fifteen seconds, regardless of the mortality of the wound. (glancing at watch) You have sixty seconds to decide... Stacey's eyes bulge at Frank in desperation, her face deathly pale. Frank's face is a mask of flinty determination, but he does nothing, the gun trained unwaveringly at Avatar's head. The knife touches Stacey's neck delicately. Seconds pass. AVATAR (CONT'D) (softly) Which will it be, Mr. Black? Who will be the monster that people cheer on as they watch? You... or me? FRANK (desperate) You don't have to die tonight. Nothing is fated. Avatar says nothing. He twists the knife carefully, the point spinning on Stacey's white neck, drawing a drop of blood. More seconds pass. AVATAR Twenty seconds, Mr. Black. Then she dies. Frank still does nothing, seemingly frozen. AVATAR (CONT'D) (softly, into Stacey's ear) The stars are setting, and the caravan starts for the dawn of nothing. (a beat) Oh, make haste! BLAM! The gun goes off! Avatar tumbles messily backwards, his hand gripping the Bowie knife defiantly! He collapses in a dark heap, silent, unmoving. Frank lowers the gun, smoke still curling in the air. His face betrays a hint of sadness and anger. He drops the firearm, dazed. Swiftly, he walks to the camera and laptop computer which is heard CHURNING as it zaps its information across the internet. He seizes the laptop computer with frustration and SLAMS it down on the balcony! Plastic and glass shatters. He drops the destroyed computer to his feet, turning his attention to removing Stacey's bonds. After a moment, he frees her. Stacey says nothing at first, only sobs, her tears steaming in the cold night air. Frank removes his coat and wraps it around her, holding her close. Stacey glances in revulsion and fascination at Avatar's sprawled, bloody form. STACEY (through tears, teeth chattering) Who, who was he? Frank crouches down and removes Avatar's hood. He is revealed to be an average-looking man in his late thirties or early forties. He's clean-shaven, and has closely-cropped brown hair. His dark eyes are wide, but register no emotion. The bullet caught him square in the throat, which is ragged and bloody. FRANK A nobody. Frank rises and puts his arm across Stacey's shoulder, leading her back into the observatory. The camera PULLS BACK, soaring out over the campus treetops. As the view becomes wider, we see Albany squad cars SCREECH into the parking lot next to the physics building, their sirens WAILING. The camera PANS up to the night sky, where Jupiter and Saturn glint faintly through the light pollution. The twinkling stars begin to dim as we: FADE OUT. THE END