M I L L E N N I U M IT... HAS... BEGUN... NOTHING IS FORSAKEN... Virtual Season Episode #421. "The Swords of Armageddon" written by: Dan Owen and Matt Asendorf TEASER FADE IN: EXT. BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT A cold night. A gentle breeze of snow-flakes fall across the scene, as we HOLD ON the suburban home for a moment. The house has been decorated with brightly colored bulbs, and other Christmas decorations. Inside we can HEAR the sound of a television. A legend INDICATES: Black Residence Christmas Eve, 10:13 PM 8 days remaining... INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT A warm atmosphere as the Black family sit around their TV, watching Frank Capra's "It's A Wonderful Life". FRANK BLACK is relaxed on the sofa with JORDAN spooned near his body, holding her. TOM and HELEN BLACK are sitting in separate armchairs, enjoying the movie. ON SCREEN - snow flakes from a scene in the film... MATCH CUT TO: EXT. RUSSIAN COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT Snow falling across a desolate, cold, landscape of flat plains. A BLACK TRAIN is moving along its track, its age-old pistons pushing the rusted wheels around. Legend INDICATES: East Russia 1:12 AM INT. DRIVER'S CABIN - BLACK TRAIN - NIGHT The TRAIN DRIVER is leaning out of his window as his MEN work the controls and shovel coal into its burning furnace. TRAIN DRIVER'S POV The faint black outline of the rail-track is almost completely covered in snow. Something can be seen parked across the track just around an oncoming bend. The Train Driver frowns, then turns back to his crew. TRAIN DRIVER (in Russian, subtitled) Hold it! There's something on the tracks up ahead. His WORKERS stop what they're doing, waiting for more commands. INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT The final moments of the film are being shown. The MUSIC swells and the credits start to roll. Helen is first to get up from her seat. HELEN Well, that's my cue for bedtime. Coming Jordan? FRANK I'll take her up in a minute. Jordan moves out of her chair and allows Frank to get up next to her. Tom gets out of his chair and YAWNS. HELEN (to Tom) You joining me? TOM I'll be there in a second, I need to use the bathroom first. Tom leaves the room quickly, closely followed by Helen. HELEN 'Night, Jordan. JORDAN Byyee! Frank holds Jordan still, and she looks up at her father. FRANK I've got something to show you. JORDAN What is it? FRANK It's a secret. Hang on a sec. Frank leaves the room, and Jordan sits back on the sofa watching the CREDITS roll up the screen. EXT. RUSSIAN COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT In the f.g a PARKED CAR has been positioned over the train tracks. In the b.g. the approaching train is beginning to slow down. A MAN gets out of the car and stands facing away from us, waving his arms in the air for the train to stop. INT. DRIVER'S CABIN - BLACK TRAIN - NIGHT The Driver sees the waving man, and tugs the brakes on. TSSSSSHHHH! The SOUND of the brakes carries over into: INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT As Jordan YAWNS. She's sitting on the sofa, waiting for her father. The door opens and Frank appears, holding something behind his back. Jordan sits up and smiles. FRANK Close your eyes. Excitedly, Jordan closes her eyes tightly. Frank smiles and steps inside, still holding his surprise behind his back. FRANK (CONT'D) No peeking now. Hold out your hands. Jordan smiles, and holds her hands out. Frank places something on her palms, causing Jordan to stir in anticipation. FRANK (CONT'D) Okay, now open. Her eyes shoot open and she stares down at her gift: a large, glass, snow-globe. Inside a wonderful vista of clouds and stars can be seen, the bottom is covered in 'snow'. JORDAN Wow, cool. What is it? Frank CHUCKLES and sits next to her. FRANK It's a snow-globe, silly. Watch this. Frank takes the globe and gives it a good few shakes. He hands it back to Jordan, who watches the 'snow' spiral around the beautiful landscape inside. Jordan turns solemn, as Frank holds her. FRANK This is what it looks like where mommy is right now. Well, it's what I imagine, anyway. She's up there, looking down on us from Heaven. Protecting us, and making sure we do good things. So whenever either of us gets lonely... or a little upset... we've got this to look at and to remember she's still close by. Okay? Jordan smiles, nods and gives her present another strong shake. CLOSE ON the twisting 'snow-flakes' as we: MATCH CUT TO: EXT. RUSSIAN COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT Similar twists of snow spill down onto the ground. Now, SIX MEN are standing out from their parked car - waving the black train to a standstill. Each man wears protective clothing to cheat the cold. The train finally stops with a final SQUEAL of brakes and the six men walk towards it - together. INT. DRIVER'S CAB - BLACK TRAIN - NIGHT The Train Driver sees them approaching and leans toward his second-in-command. TRAIN DRIVER (in Russian, subtitled) This will be good... The LEADER of the six men reaches the side of the train and stares up at the men inside. The Train Driver stares down at him. TRAIN DRIVER (in Russian, subtitled) What's the problem? This train has a schedule to keep. LEAD MAN (in Russian, subtitled) I'm sorry. Our car broke down. It's so cold out here. The Train Driver now notices that the six men have broken up, some heading down the other side of the train. TRAIN DRIVER (in Russian, subtitled) Hey, where are they going? He looks down, directly at the Lead Man - who casually holds up a handgun. In a brief second - BANG! - the Train Driver is shot in the forehead by a bullet. He slams back against some levers, which tumble him out of the cab and onto the cold snow outside. The snow quickly begins soaking up the blood pouring from his head wound. EXT. BLACK TRAIN - NIGHT On the opposite side of the cab, the remaining five men all FIRE a few rounds inside - killing the rest of the crew inside. They then march off down the train's side. INT. CARGO HOLD - BLACK TRAIN - NIGHT THREE RUSSIAN MEN are seated inside, watching over large LEAD CONTAINERS. They have heard the sound of FIRING guns and get up quickly. Suddenly their carriage door is snatched opened and - BANG! BANG! - both are professionally shot in the head. Their bodies collapse onto the floor as THREE INTRUDERS enter inside and go over to the stacked containers. One of the men; MR WING, an Asian man in his mid-thirties, calls to his comrades outside: MR WING We have them! The containers are here! EXT. RUSSIAN COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT - LATER EIGHT RUSSIAN MEN have been lined up outside the train. All are kneeling in the freezing snow and bowed down, MUTTERING prayers in Russian. The hijackers are busy offloading some crates from the carriage in the b.g. The Lead Man walks casually along the line of captured Russians, tapping his handgun against his thigh. He reaches the first man in line and stops, then taps the Russian on the head with his gun. LEAD MAN (in Russian, subtitled) Look at me. The nervous Russian looks up at the masked Lead Man, wary of the gun in his hand - eyeing it with fear. LEAD MAN (in Russian, subtitled) You. Do you know who I am? RUSSIAN MAN (in Russian, subtitled) No. No, I do not. The Lead Man steps back and takes off his face protection. It's MABIUS. He looks down, coldly, at the knelt Russian. Malice flares in his eyes. MABIUS (in Russian, subtitled) And now...? The Russian suddenly goes into hysterics, his eyes darting, and breaks into a sweat! He makes the sign of the cross on his chest quickly as he speaks: RUSSIAN (in Russian) Please! Please, no! I-I beg you, no! MABIUS (calmly, in Russian, subtitled) Bow before me. The Russian glances across at his comrades, seeing the fear in their faces. He shuts his eyes tightly and bows to Mabius, exposing the top of his head. Mabius holds up his gun, inches from the man's head... and FIRES! HARD CUT TO: INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Jordan, holding the snow-globe, YELPS and jumps off the sofa! She drops the globe and it tumbles (in SLOW-MOTION) to the floor, before SMASHING apart! Frank stands and holds her tightly, seeing her face all white and her eyes wide with shock. Her breath comes in rapid fits. FRANK Jordan?! Jordan, you okay? It's okay... it's okay... Jordan begins to calm down... controlling her breathing again. Frank, extremely concerned, strokes her head and hugs her. PULL BACK from father and daughter, locked in a hug and-- CLOSE ON - THE CRACKED SNOW-GLOBE as the contents of the globe leak out onto the carpet... FADE OUT. ACT ONE FADE IN: BLACK. "And with pestilence and with blood I shall enter into judgment with him; and I shall rain on him, and on his troops, and on the many peoples who are with him, a torrential rain, with hailstones, fire, and brimstone." -- Ezekiel 38:22 FADE IN: INT. LIVING ROOM - KITCHEN - NIGHT Frank carries the broken snow-globe to a bin inside a cupboard, wrapped in some wet kitchen towels. He SIGHS to himself sadly as Tom enters the kitchen behind him. TOM Frank? Frank turns to see Tom. TOM (CONT'D) Jordan in bed? FRANK Uh, yeah. Tom notices the shards of plastic and wet towels in the bin. TOM I wouldn't worry about it. Accidents happen. You can always buy another before Christmas. Tom smiles, but Frank isn't in the mood. Tom notices. TOM What's wrong? FRANK (ignoring him) You're right. I'll buy a new one tomorrow. Frank moves past Tom, who turns to watch him go with concern. TOM Frank... Frank stops and turns slightly. TOM (CONT'D) ... I'm glad you and Jordan are here this Christmas. Reminds me of the old family days in Seattle. FRANK (nods) I remember. Tom and Frank share a brief smile and Frank heads upstairs to bed. INT. JORDAN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Jordan is having difficulty getting comfortable in her bed. She keeps rolling over and patting her pillow. The occasional SNIFF is heard as she rubs her tear-stained cheeks. The door opens and Frank enters slowly. Jordan stops and immediately settles down, facing away from him. FRANK Hey. No answer. FRANK (CONT'D) I'm not angry at you, Jordan. Jordan is listening, still SNIFFING. Frank walks closer and sits on the edge of her bed. FRANK (CONT'D) What made you cry out like that? Jordan says nothing. Frank eventually stands up. JORDAN I can't sleep. Frank stops. FRANK I can get you a hot drink, or something. JORDAN (reluctant) No. It's okay. Just so you know. FRANK (nods) Goodnight, sweetie. Jordan is chewing her lip, waiting for her father to leave. After a beat, Frank goes, leaving the door slightly ajar. Jordan lets out a SIGH to herself and closes her eyes; but not committed to sleep, more in shame. EXT. DOWNTOWN WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY A cold, brisk, Christmas morning in the center of the metropolis. Washingtonians weave down the street, entering stores, drinking cups of coffee and purchasing food from street vendors. Legend INDICATES: Downtown Washington D.C, Christmas Day, 11:43 AM 7 days remaining... The sound of a CHOIR can be heard O.C., as we focus on EMMA HOLLIS, dressed in a warm coat and bobble hat. She stops to admire something and we shift our attention to see what she sees: a full SCHOOL CHOIR singing Christmas Carols under a pavilion. Emma smiles, lost in the ambience of the festive period. Somebody approached her from behind. Emma senses it, and turns to see CAROL FINLEY - similarly dressed in a warm coat. FINLEY Merry Christmas. EMMA Merry Christmas. FINLEY (smiles quickly) Enjoying the music? EMMA Yeah, I used to be in a choir myself. A long time ago now. I don't think I was any good, because the teacher politely dropped me from the line-up a few weeks before the big concert for the parents. I told my mom I had laryngitis and had to fake it for three whole weeks. Emma smiles at the memory. FINLEY I must admit, nothing stirs up memories of Christmas more than music. For most people to sing carols is the only reason they'd even *consider* going to church. Emma nods, agreeing. FINLEY Which is actually an alarming thought. Emma turns to face her more directly, intrigued. FINLEY (CONT'D) I mean, we *are* celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. But people forget what Christmas is all about. Most only go to church to... marry, or bury someone they loved. How many people nowadays just... go. To sit and pray... to contemplate the mysteries of life and the universe. (a beat) Have we been celebrating the birth of a Messiah who never existed..? Emma says nothing, but her eyes show she's digested the information well. She turns back to the choir. Finley's eyes watch her. FINLEY (CONT'D) Two-thousand-years. That's a lot of candles on a cake. Emma again turns back to Finley, becoming slightly agitated. EMMA I'm sorry, but... is this going anywhere? FINLEY (ignoring her) And we don't really know for sure it's two-thousand years. We may be four years too late... or fifteen years too early. Who knows? But it doesn't matter, because it's all about what people collectively *believe*. Technically, the millennium doesn't start until January 1st, 2001... but that's not what the media tells us. So it's not popular opinion - even amongst clergymen. Or the Millennium Group. Emma is noticeably fidgety. Finley seems to have stopped. EMMA It's just another year to me. Finley raises her eye-brows, nodding her acceptance of Emma's opinion. FINLEY I respect your opinion, Emma. (a beat) But all opinions can be changed. (a beat, turns to choir) I'm here to officially ask you... to become a full member of the Millennium Group. Emma's eyes widen and she swallows in her throat. She takes a moment to answer. EMMA Why now? FINLEY Because it's time. We're fast approaching a turbulent period, and all candidates are to be initiated as accepted members *before* the millennium. (a beat) Believe me, being a member has many perks. Nothing would change in your life - you'd still work for the Bureau, you'd still pay taxes and work hard for your pension... but you'd also be a member. And you'll understand what that means soon enough... *if* you accept. Finley smiles, watching Emma's stunned expression. FINLEY Think it over. Just don't take too long. We need an answer in *this* century. Finley smiles slightly at her joke, and leaves. Emma watches her blend into the crowd of people as the choir's SINGING reaches a crescendo. INT. DINING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - DAY Frank, Jordan, Tom, Helen and Charlie are sitting, eating a large Christmas Dinner at the dining table. Jordan, however, looks bored by her food. Frank takes notice. FRANK What's wrong? JORDAN Just tired. I didn't get to sleep again. Not for ages. FRANK Probably all the excitement that Santa was coming. Jordan looks embarrassed. JORDAN Da-ad... Tom smiles up at Frank, who returns to his meal just as his cell phone begins to RING. He fumbles in his pockets for it, not noticing Jordan rolling her eyes. Tom and Helen are ignoring the interruption. Frank finally takes out his cell and answers it. FRANK Frank Black. (a beat) Yeah. Right. It's Christmas Day, Ryan. (beat, checks watch) I understand. Uh-huh. Okay, bye. He hangs up. Before Frank can say anything, Jordan scrapes the chair back and leaves the room. Frank watches her go, before turning to Tom. FRANK I'm sorry, but I have to go. I shouldn't be too long. Just something Ryan wants my opinion on. HELEN Oh. Don't worry about it. You're almost finished anyway, and nobody ever enjoys Fruit Cake anyway. FRANK I think Jordan's a little annoyed with me. TOM She's used to it by now. Tom CHUCKLES a little, reassuringly... but Frank doesn't react in an expected manner. FRANK (flat) Yeah. Tom and Helen turn serious, as Frank gets up to leave. EXT. BLACK RESIDENCE - DAY A WHITE VAN is parked across the street, with a small satellite dish on its roof. A man's face (ANDREW NIELSEN) can be seen in the side-mirror. Something catches his attention-- ACROSS THE STREET Frank steps out of his brother's house and jogs over to his parked Cherokee jeep. He gets inside. The ENGINE starts and the vehicle reverses out into the road, before speeding off down the street. Nielsen's face watches his jeep disappear, still only visible on the mirror's reflection. EXT. DR GLENDALE'S RESIDENCE - DAY An expensive property, well-maintained and part of an equally impressive neighborhood. Legend INDICATES: Glendale Residence West Baltimore In the driveway two POLICE CRUISERS have parked. Frank's jeep pulls to a halt outside the house. DR GLENDALE'S FRONT DOOR Frank RINGS the bell, which echoes inside the house. The door is opened by a POLICE OFFICER with an expectant expression. FRANK Hi, I'm Frank Black. Mr.. Frost's expecting me. The Officer nods and opens the door. Immediately, RYAN FROST approached from down the hallway. RYAN Hey, Frank. FRANK (nods) I hope we can make this quick. RYAN Don't worry, I still have presents to open, too. I'm hoping to make this quick for Cindy's sake. I think we can hold off a full investigation till tomorrow. Just need your feedback on something. This way. Frank's expression is one of business now. He is led down the wood-paneled hallway by Ryan. RYAN (CONT'D) Nice place, isn't it. Belonged to Doctor Alfred Glendale. A retired Government physicist. FRANK Where's his body? RYAN (grins) Cutting to the chase, as always, I see. Through here. Ryan steps into a side-door, closely followed by Frank - who begins buttoning up his jacket. INT. DR GLENDALE'S STUDY - DAY A FORENSICS TEAM are dusting for prints around the room, together with POLICE PHOTOGRAPHERS and DETECTIVE ARMSTRONG. Alongside a bookcase is a study table, where DR ALFRED GLENDALE (70s) is still slumped across some paperwork. Dead. A nasty gunshot to the roof of his head, which has coated his gray hair in brown/red blood. Armstrong notices Ryan. ARMSTRONG Mr. Frost. I see you've brought your acquaintance with you. (to Frank) Mr.... Black, isn't it? Frank shakes Armstrong's hand. FRANK Hi. (surveying the room) Found anything? ARMSTRONG We're dusting for prints right now. Frank begins a cursory examination of the study table, careful not to touch anything. His face is expectant of a vision... but nothing comes. RYAN Notice the cause of death? FRANK Difficult to miss. ARMSTRONG Execution style, see? Could indicate a professional hit... or could be some kid copying what he saw at the multiplex. RYAN (to Frank) *We've* seen it before. FRANK I see it all the time. This isn't the response Ryan wanted. He turns silent, mindful of Frank's defensiveness. Armstrong senses something wrong, but lets it go. Frank turns to Armstrong. FRANK (CONT'D) Is anything missing from the house? ARMSTRONG Doesn't look like it. The body's about three days old, apparently. Dr Glendale's wife, Eileen, found him when she arrived home from visiting relatives. Dr Glendale gets travel sick, so didn't go with her. Wrong decision, huh? RYAN Any reason someone would want this man dead? ARMSTRONG (shrugs) Can't think of one offhand. He's been retired since '82. Just lived here with his wife... quietly. Frank turns, just as a fly BUZZES past his face - causing him to sway out the way. Frank then notices Dr Glendale has a computer monitor on his desk. FRANK (to Armstrong) Can I touch this? ARMSTRONG Sure. Armstrong waves the same intrusive fly away. ARMSTRONG (CONT'D) Jeez, doesn't take the local bug life long to sniff out a stiff. Frank isn't listening, but instead presses the 'POWER' button on his computer and the machine WHIRRS into life. Armstrong and Ryan wait, watching Frank's expectant expression until Dr Glendale's computer start-up screen is displayed. All three crowd round, watching. ARMSTRONG (CONT'D) Hoping to find e-mails or letters that could help? FRANK (to Ryan) Look here. Frank points to an icon of an ouroboros on the right-hand side of his screen; text underneath reads 'MILLENNIUM GROUP INTRANET CONNECTION'. Ryan's eyebrows raise. RYAN I knew it... ARMSTRONG Can someone enlighten me, please? Frank hardly hears, just stands up and looks down at the bloody hole in Glendale's head. INT. LIVING ROOM - GLENDALE RESIDENCE - DAY A spacious living room, crammed with style and expense. A few OFFICERS are lingering around the room, while some PHOTOGRAPHERS take snap-shots of the window frames. Frank, Ryan and Armstrong are seated on one of two sofas, with Dr Glendale's grieving widower: Mr.s.. EILEEN GLENDALE. She is a soft-spoken woman, rather timid, with bouffant gray hair. EILEEN If only I hadn't decided to stay at my sisters for Thanksgiving. I-I should have... should have been here. ARMSTRONG You weren't to know, Mr.s. Glendale. These things can't be predicted. EILEEN Eleven years. Eleven years and I've never left the area for... more than a few days! Then... when I do... Frank looks sympathetic. FRANK Is there anything you could tell us? Anyone you know who may want to do this? RYAN Don't worry about dropping names; we'll check out as many people as necessary. But if there's anyone in particular you-- EILEEN No, I'm sorry. But no. Nobody. Nobody hated Alfred. I'm sorry. Armstrong can't hide his disappointment. Frank's cell phone begins to RING. He silently curses it with a frown but gets up to answer. As he moves away, Ryan continues. Frank answers his cell phone quietly. FRANK Yeah. The Caller speaks with a familiarly relaxed French accent: THE CALLER (V.O.) Frank Black? FRANK Speaking. THE CALLER (V.O.) Is this line secure? FRANK Who am I talking to, please? THE CALLER (V.O.) It's perhaps best if we speak on a ground line. I hope you'll take your first step, and go to the phone booth at the end of the street. Before Frank can answer, the Caller hangs up. After a few seconds of listening to the ENGAGED TONE, Frank wanders back to the interview with Mr.s. Glendale. RYAN Did you know your husband was a member of the Millennium Group? EILEEN *Member*? He wasn't a member of... the Millennium Group? (hollow laugh) I haven't heard that name since-- FRANK You know of the Group? EILEEN Of course I do, but I-I don't see what they have to do with anything. ARMSTRONG Neither do I. RYAN (ignoring Armstrong) Your husband's computer's connected to their personal intranet. EILEEN (frowns) But... why? It makes no sense... FRANK He never *told* you he was a member? EILEEN The Group were just investors. RYAN In what? EILEEN Some of my husband's projects in the 70's, for Rotarin. ARMSTRONG Rotarin? Who're they? EILEEN The Rotarin Corporation. I don't know details. It was all top secret and never openly discussed. Alf never talked about anything much, anyway. Nothing specific. He works-- (looks sad, correcting, whispers) --*worked*... for the Government, as a nuclear weapons analyst - that's all I know for sure. This gets everyone's interest. FRANK And the Millennium Group funded one of his projects? EILEEN Yes. Something like that. (remembers something) Oh, if you want, I have some photographs... Eileen gets up and walks across the room. She pulls open a drawer in a cabinet and takes out a thick photo album. She returns and sits, opening it. EILEEN Here. This is him when he worked on the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos. FRANK'S INTERNAL POV: An incredibly fast sequence of three images FLASH by at incredible speed, almost too fast to comprehend, and very NOISY: -- Parachutists leaping out out of an airplane's cargo bay! -- A nuclear mushroom cloud rising into the air! -- A bridge spanning a valley EXPLODING! -- A view of clouds being pushed away by a blast front! Frank looks shocked by the ferocity of the images, hardly understanding them due to the speed. Ryan and Armstrong are peering at a black-and-white photograph of FIVE MEN standing inside a laboratory, posing for camera. One of them is a YOUNGER DR GLENDALE. Eileen's eyes are watering as she stares down at the photograph. A teardrop wets the photo, and she rubs her eyes, taking a DEEP BREATH. She closes the album quickly. EILEEN Well... Eileen gets up to put the album away. Ryan stands quickly. RYAN I'm sorry, Mr.s. Glendale. She stops, turning back slowly. RYAN (CONT'D) We should give you some time to yourself. EILEEN (smiles weakly) I'm... prepared to do whatever it takes to catch the person who did this to my husband. RYAN (nods) Can we keep your album? It may help us. Eileen nods and passes it over. Ryan takes it, smiling thinly. Eileen stands, daubing her eyes on a tissue from her blouse. INT. MILLENNIUM GROUP CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY The long table usually occupied with twelve Group members is empty. At the head sits THE ELDER, his head seat turned to face dozens of TELEVISION SETS embedded in a wall. His right hand holds a remote control, while his left cups a glass of wine. The Elder's blue eyes stare at the screens. Each one is showing recordings of various news reports gathered during the entire year of 1999. The sounds of SHOUTING, REPORTERS, BOMBS, EXPLOSIONS, CRYING, SCREAMS, GUNFIRE, etc: -- Images of earthquakes shaking buildings in Turkey, -- Newsreels of various American hurricanes, -- Students running for cover from a high-school building, -- GUNFIRE and mass graves in the Kosovo War, -- People wearing glasses to view a Total Solar Eclipse, -- Australian troops in East Timor, -- The faces of starving African families, flies on their faces -- The ferocious winds of a hurricane rocking ships in a harbor, -- A volcano spewing red-hot lava into the air, -- Long traffic jams on an interstate road, -- Russian tanks RUMBLING into Chechnya, -- A procession of shooting stars (the Lenoid meteor shower) And dozens more horrific or awe-inspiring imagery pour out from the screens like a cacophony of chaos onto the senses. Slowly, The Elder's hand hits a sequence of buttons on the remote control and - one-by-one - the televisions are turned off. Soon, there is just one television remaining on: showing a REPORTER talking to camera. REPORTER There are those that believe the end of the world is just round the corner. And I have to say, judging from the scenes here... it's not a belief I'm so quick to ridicule anymore. That screen turns off, and is replaced by an ouroboros symbol. In the center of the tail-eating snake are the words: "GOOD MORNING, MR. SWANSON. THERE ARE 7 DAYS REMAINING." The Elder takes one long breath and takes a sip of his wine. FADE OUT. ACT TWO FADE IN: EXT. DR GLENDALE'S RESIDENCE - DAY Frank is leaving the premises hurriedly, buttoning open his jacket. Ryan is following closely, still clutching Mr.s. Glendale's photo album. RYAN Hey, where are you going? FRANK I have to make a call. RYAN Forgot your cell phone? FRANK Flat battery. RYAN (indicates the house) I'm sure Mr.s. Glendale wouldn't mind if you used-- Frank twists round to face Ryan. FRANK It's private, sorry. Ryan looks a little worried, not used to seeing Frank so defensive. Frank almost looks ashamed to side-step the issue and lie to Ryan, but turns away and begins walking. RYAN (CONT'D) This *is* the Group's doing, Frank. I know it. Too much of a coincidence for it *not* to be. You know the feeling. Frank doesn't look back. FRANK I know. Ryan watches Frank step out onto the sidewalk and begin a brisk walk down the street. He wrinkles his brow, not approving of Frank's behavior. EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY Inside the glass booth, the phone is already RINGING inside. Frank's hand reached out and snatches open the door. The volume of the ringing phone INCREASES. Frank closes the booth and SIGHS before picking the receiver up. FRANK I'm here. THE CALLER (V.O.) Congratulations on taking the first step in your final journey. FRANK I really don't have time for this... THE CALLER (V.O.) I know. You've been very much in demand recently. Probably worked harder in retirement than you did in your *entire* career. FRANK There aren't many people with my experience. Aren't you going to tell me who you are? THE CALLER (V.O.) I'm almost upset you don't recognize my voice. I must be spending too much time away from my native land. Realization suddenly dawns across Frank's face, his eyes narrow. FRANK Le Saux? LE SAUX (V.O.) (chuckles) Finally. Glad I made a lasting impression. Tell me, Frank, have you been afraid since we last spoke in France? FRANK Of what? LE SAUX (V.O.) Of the seemingly unpredictable, cruel and unjust world... the chaos of society we all tolerate and accept. FRANK I don't tolerate it. LE SAUX (V.O.) But you accept it. Dreams of a Utopia will always be unrealistic. Does the world scare you, Frank? FRANK (a beat) Yes. LE SAUX (V.O.) Reassuring to know. In my experience only the fearless should be feared. FRANK What do you want, Le Saux? LE SAUX (V.O.) It's simple. I want you to catch a subway train on the Washington Metro. Be on the twelve-forty-five at Greenbelt Station. Platform 2. I'll be waiting for you there. Take the next step, Monsieur Black... and total understanding will soon be yours. I promise. The line goes dead and HUMS after Le Saux hangs up abruptly. EXT. EAST RUSSIA - DAY A HELICOPTER sits in the middle of a wide area of frosted grassland, its rotor blades CHOPPING the cold air. Legend INDICATES: Chukotskiy Poluostrov, East Russia The Bering Sea is visible in the horizon, as a team of MEN carry the stolen metal crates into the back of the waiting helicopter. Some distance away, Mabius is standing on a fold-up chair - observing. He's still wrapped in winter clothes to beat the freezing air. His face shows no emotion as he stares at proceedings. He glances down at a laptop computer which is connected to a cell phone. He types in a message on an e-mail screen. INT. MILLENNIUM GROUP CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY The Elder is still seated alone, his fingers interlaced and his eyes closed in deep thought. In front of him is a laptop computer, which begins to CHIME. He hurriedly hits "ENTER" and a simple message appears on an e-mail screen: The magpie is returning to roost with silver The Elder swallows, reclining in his seat. He SIGHS to himself in extreme anxiety. INT. KITCHEN - BLACK RESIDENCE - DAY Helen is tidying away the dinner things. The kitchen is swamped with pots and pans. Jordan enters with some table decorations, still looking a little subdued still. Helen notices. HELEN You're quiet today. Are you feeling okay? Too much dessert? JORDAN I'm okay. (a beat) Will dad be home soon? HELEN Um... maybe. He shouldn't be long. We can always heat it up for him later on. Helen decides to keep Jordan active. HELEN I think there's still some plates on the table. JORDAN Okay. Jordan walks back into the adjoining dining room. Helen watches her go, smiling. INT. DINING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - DAY Jordan walks into the dining room and toward the oval table that dominates the room. All that remains on the table are 5 dinner plates and 4 dessert plates. As Jordan approaches the table her actions become slow... and she stares down at the tablecloth - almost in a trance-like state. Sound is drowned out by a dull but constant throbbing noise. Jordan slowly blinks, mouth slightly agape... and picks up the first plate. With slow, but precise movements, she gently places one of the large dinner plate onto the table and presses it down firmly. Slowly, she picks up another plate - this one slightly smaller - and places it next to the first plate. Again, with firm but slow movements. Eyes still wide, she picks up a very small dish and places it next to the other two. Now, three plates are lined up on the table in descending size. Jordan gathers the remaining plates into a stack and picks them up. She steps back to view the 3 positioned plates remaining. Ominously, the oval table stands before her - the three plates gradually reducing in size on its surface. Like three shrinking circles. HELEN (O.C.) Can someone please help with the washing up? Normal sound resumes for Jordan suddenly as she snaps "awake" from her activity and jumps a little - RATTLING the stack of plates in her arms. She turns to see Helen enter. O.C. the sound of Tom descending the stairs is heard. TOM (O.C.) Okay, I'm coming. HELEN (smiling, calls out) You needn't think you're getting away with it. Jordan turns to stare up at Helen, and smiles. Helen sees the three plates on the table and returns her gaze to Jordan. HELEN (CONT'D) Jordan? Jordan turns to the oval table and picks up the 3 dinner plates, placing them on the pile in her arms. JORDAN Sorry. Helen watches her continue setting the table, thinking. INT. FBI ACADEMY OFFICES - DAY Emma Hollis is at her desk, clearing some personal things from her drawer into her handbag. All around her the familiar sound of TAPPING keyboards and TALKING Agents can be heard. Special Agent JANE LESKY walks past her, and stops when she notices Emma's rather sullen expression. LESKY Hey, I know it's Christmas Day and we're the poor saps doing morning shift, but it could be worse. Emma smiles and LAUGHS her comment off. EMMA I was just thinking. Lesky sees it's more than that, and decides to press further. LESKY You should be happy. Despite all the pro-feminine and equal opportunities spiel in the Bureau, a female Assistant Director's pretty rare. You're a regular role model now. Emma smiles, so does Lesky. LESKY (CONT'D) People giving you a hard time? EMMA No. People have been very supportive. But it's not even definite I *am* taking over from Ken... or that I'd even want to... considering what happened to him. LESKY Yeah, stepping into dead man's boots must be tough. But I just thought, y'know, that this was what you'd probably always *dreamed* of. EMMA It is. (sighs) Oh, I don't know - I just have other things on my mind. Like my dad. LESKY I heard about what happened. Not exactly good timing. You don't have to, but you're welcome to sit in on Christmas Dinner at my house. If you're at a loose end. I'm not angling for promotion either. Lesky flashes a smile, which is returned by Emma. EMMA Thanks. I appreciate the offer. But, uh, I wouldn't want to impose. Really. Emma quickly leaves before Lesky can reply. Lesky simply watches Emma walk into her new office and close the door - which reads 'ASSISTANT DIRECTOR E. HOLLIS' on the front. INT. GREENBELT SUBWAY STATION - DAY Lots of people are waiting on the platform for the next subway train to arrive. A cold wind blows some litter across the concrete platform, as Frank arrives. He glances up and down the platform, looking for Le Saux. He quietly assumes a position with the other people, and waits... He glances over at a clock positioned on a nearby concrete pillar. It reads: 12:48 PM Almost on cue, a distant RUMBLE begins. People ready themselves to board as a subway train TRUNDLES into the station and pulls to a halt, brakes HISSING. The automatic doors slide open and people disembark onto the platform, their empty seats replaced by those getting on. Frank joins the embarkers. INT. SUBWAY TRAIN - DAY Frank walks up the aisle of a carriage containing almost thirty people, dressed in warm Winter clothes. Frank takes the nearest vacant seat and looks around at his fellow passengers. After a few seconds, the scenery outside begins to slide away as the train enters the underground tunnel to its next destination. Frank's features are illuminated by the interior lighting, as the outside world plunges into darkness. He begins tapping his fingers on his cell phone, nervously waiting. THE NEXT CARRIAGE ALEXANDER LE SAUX (from "The First Prophet") is seated here, staring down the aisle at Frank Black in the next carriage. A striking similarity to the scene aboard the plane in "The First Prophet". Le Saux watches him intently. FRANK'S CARRIAGE Frank is growing impatient, glancing around at the people around him. A LOW BUZZING noise begins to sound; almost indecipherable at first. Gradually, the BUZZING increases in pitch and Frank notices a BUSINESSMAN seated in front of him quickly brush a fly away with the back of his hand. The BUZZING continues, growing noticeably louder. A few FLIES dart across the carriage, causing a few more people to flick them away and GRUMBLE under their breath. One MAN stands up and closes an ajar window - but this just makes the BUZZING more noticeable. THE NEXT CARRIAGE Le Saux grits his teeth, watching with concern, as the passengers in Frank's carriage begin losing their composure to combat the intrusive insects. He stands up from his seat and steps into Frank's carriage. FRANK'S CARRIAGE The subway train begins to slow and the train glides into the next station. Frank notices Le Saux in the corner of his eye. Le Saux smiles meakly at Frank as the doors HISS open. Hardly any passengers get on at this stop, but a few get off. Le Saux steps off the train and glances back at Frank. Frank brushes away a BUZZING fly as he gets up quickly and darts out of his door. INT. COLLEGE PARK SUBWAY STATION - DAY Frank is on the platform. Behind him, the silent figures of angry passengers can be seen inside the train - taking swipes at the BUZZING flies. Frank looks up and down the long platform, but cannot see Le Saux. He shakes his head, annoyed at being given the runaround. The subway train's doors HISS closed and the train HUMS off into the subway tunnel again. INT. SUBWAY TRAIN - DAY A frightening, constant, and high-pitched BUZZING of black flies has consumed almost *all* sound from the carriage. Angry and scared passengers are up on their feet, swatting the air and shielding their mouths and eyes from the onslaught. A few BUSINESSMEN are gasping for air and taking futile efforts to shout for help, but the air is almost black and seemingly "alive" with the large flies. BZZZZZZZZZZ. Suddenly, one PASSENGER starts COUGHING loudly and GASPING for air. Other people join him, sweating profusely. Before long, the entire carriage is full of people sweating, COUGHING, gagging for air, and clutching their chests in pain. BZZZZZZZZZZ. One SUITED MAN takes a desperate lunge at a window and cracks the glass with his elbow! He then tumbles into the aisle, knocking someone else over, before landing on his back. BZZZZZZZZZZ. His wide-open eyes stare up at the ceiling as dozens of flies land on his face and crawl across his skin, and into his mouth! Other passengers soon join him, falling to the floor or against seats, with final GASPS, most clutching their chests and dying with wretched expressions of confusion and extreme pain. BZZZZZZZZZZ. Soon, all the passengers are dead on the floor and almost instantaneously the BUZZING stops. An eerie silence sounds almost deafening as the CAMERA PULLS BACK down the train, revealing row upon row of empty seats. No witnesses... FADE OUT. ACT THREE FADE IN: INT. FORENSICS LABORATORY - DAY A FORENSIC SCIENTIST is looking at something through a microscope. Detective Armstrong is watching, together with Ryan. SCIENTIST Hmm, male Caucasian by the look of this head hair. RYAN How can you tell? SCIENTIST Asian hair looks flat when magnified - hence their natural straightness. African hair's more circular, so we get curls. But Caucasian hair's a mix of both - making the hair kind of wavy. Easy to identify. RYAN (wryly) Male Caucasian... that narrows it down. We can start door-to-door questioning. Armstrong appreciates the humor quietly to himself, while the Scientist almost hisses under his breath-- SCIENTIST A DNA test should prove - *conclusively* - whose hair this is, Mr. Frost. But it's your job to find a suspect to test. I wouldn't count on the national database getting results. The program's still in its infancy. ARMSTRONG We're getting prints we found at the Glendale home delivered soon - so fingers crossed. Armstrong looks disinterested and abandons his microscope in protest. Armstrong feigns an embarrassed look when addressing Ryan. ARMSTRONG Hey, you do know he's just doing his job. RYAN Giving us text-book lectures on hair follicles? A man's dead. ARMSTRONG A man's *always* dead, Frost. Why's this one got you so... agitated? The guy was old, rich and had a good life. Doesn't excuse the murderer, but at least he'd *had* a life to take. We've both seen dead children as young as three. Ryan glances away. ARMSTRONG (CONT'D) You and this Frank guy know something I don't? RYAN (a beat) Let's just say we have our own suspicions about who's responsible. ARMSTRONG The Millennium Group? A law-enforcement consultancy firm made up of ex-Federal Agents? Armstrong smirks in a mocking manner, but is a little stunned when Ryan just moves past him without a word. Armstrong watches him go - somewhat annoyed. INT. FBI ACADEMY CORRIDOR - DAY Emma makes her way up the corridor with her handbag slung over her shoulder. She looks deep in thought as she reaches the elevator, and hits the button. She waits. In a sudden movement she suddenly digs into her FBI jacket and takes out her cell phone. She hits a pre-set number. Her display reads: FRANK BLACK She holds the phone to her ear, but gets an ENGAGED TONE. Frustrated she hangs up, just as the elevator PINGS and the doors open. She steps inside. EXT. SUBWAY STATION ENTRANCE - DAY Frank is walking up the concrete steps that lead up onto the normal level of the city street. He has his cell phone pressed to his ear, talking to someone: FRANK So why the disappearing act? If you're just playing stupid games with me, you can find someone else's time to waste. LE SAUX (V.O.) I'm deadly serious. It's simply too dangerous to risk direct contact at this time. The Group are rumored to have put tabs on everyone they perceive as a threat to their agenda. This time is crucial for their plans. FRANK You must have known the Group would retaliate against you when you destroyed their excavation in the Ardeche. ACROSS THE CITY STREET We can see Le Saux standing in a phone booth, just around the corner of a block of buildings. From this vantage-point his can see Frank standing across the street, cell phone pressed to his ear. LE SAUX I had the co-operation of the Group in a sense. Well, a minority of them. I could have executed the captured members to stop my face gracing the 'Wanted' list their Elder diligently keeps on file. But that's not my style. There's been too much death this century. INTERCUT BETWEEN SCENES: Frank SIGHS, shaking his head. FRANK I don't want to be dragged into this. Whatever vendetta you have with the Group.. it's *your* business. LE SAUX I'm not convinced by your aversive comments, Frank. Because I know that despite your protests and anger at the Millennium Group, you still feel attracted to the mystique of them. Aren't you? Wouldn't you like to know *everything* about them? Of course you do. You're naturally curious - like all good lawmen. FRANK (V.O.) I just want a quiet life. LE SAUX (laughs) Don't we all. One step at a time, Monsieur Black, and all will be revealed. Frank is about to speak, but-- DIAL TONE. He hangs up, cursing under his breath. Immediately his cell RINGS again and he answers it in a heart-beat. FRANK Yeah. INT. EMMA'S APARTMENT - DAY Emma is on her home phone, sitting straight in her sofa with a picture of her father - James Hollis - in her hand. EMMA Hi, it's me. INTERCUT BETWEEN SCENES: FRANK Emma? I'm sorry... this isn't the best time. EMMA Sorry for interrupting anything, but I just wanted to talk. FRANK I'm busy with a case right now - a murder Ryan called me in on. EMMA No, Frank. I mean I want to *talk*. Just you and me. This gets Frank's attention. FRANK About what? EMMA Face-to-face. Um, how does Washington National Park sound? About half an hour? FRANK Fine, yeah. But I can't be long. Jordan was expecting me home hours ago. EMMA Okay. See you soon. INT. OFFICES - BALTIMORE PD - DAY Ryan is searching through various old newspaper articles on a micro-fiche machine. The machine WHIRRS as typed text scrolls across the screen. Armstrong enters holding some files in his arms. ARMSTRONG Found anything? RYAN The usual anti-nuclear energy articles... some science journals on neutron bombs and depleted uranium. Nothing of any use. ARMSTRONG Well, I took what you said about the Group to heart, you'll be pleased to know. Ryan twists round in his seat. RYAN Oh yeah? What did you find? ARMSTRONG Details of a court case Glendale was involved in - that almost put an end to his career. I also managed to get hold of Dr Glendale's accountant with the help of his widow. For a retired physician... he was *really* raking in the dough. RYAN How so? ARMSTRONG Looks like his "retirement" may have been a smokescreen maintained by this Rotarin Corporation. Ryan chews his lip, keenly interested. EXT. WASHINGTON NATIONAL PARK - DAY Frank is waiting, standing on a thin pavement which crosses the lawns, staring out across the grass towards the capital city's skyline. A few trees have decorative light-bulbs strewn inside their branches. Emma walks up to Frank, dressed in her long coat. Frank turns when he senses her approach. EMMA (smiles curtly) Hey. FRANK Hey. EMMA I'm grateful you took the time to see me. FRANK So what's wrong? EMMA (smacks her lips) Pretty much everything. At least, it seems that way. Frank slowly turns as he speaks, instigating a slow walk across the Park. FRANK The Group? EMMA Doesn't take a genius, does it. FRANK Well, you made your bed... EMMA Oh, come on, Frank! Emma stops, making Frank twist round to meet her eyes. EMMA (CONT'D) Stop judging me. I realize now I was kidding myself. Misguided loyalty, you could say. I-I thought I *owed* them. Six months ago my father was dying in front of my eyes. Mentally. The Alzheimer's made sure he wasn't my father anymore. He looked like dad... he talked like dad... but he wasn't my dad. He was like some... cheap imitation. Sometimes not even that - more like a... a familiar stranger. (a beat) But the Group cured him. Just like that? It was a miracle. FRANK (shaking his head) It was a highly advanced medical procedure that *should* be made available to the world... not used to gain peoples loyalty. Even your father didn't agree with your decision to cure him, did he? Emma goes silent, glancing away. EMMA (quietly) No. Frank's made his point - and he knows it. FRANK That's because *he* knows the Group. Better than you, better than me even. They tempt you with things, promise you answers to age-old secrets... *any* tactic they can think of to get your loyalty. After a while, you begin to believe in them without question. Become blinded by faith and fear. Peter Watts was an acclaimed Assistant Director of the FBI for ten years... then he joined the Group... and changed. Common sense gave way to an overbearing belief in a corrupt cause. EMMA I couldn't believe that they were as bad as you made out. I mean, how can they be? Preventing an apocalypse is a worthwhile cause. FRANK (snorts) But they say one thing, and do the other. Perhaps that wasn't *always* the way, Emma... but it is now. You can't *stop* an apocalypse if one's going to happen. You can see it coming, maybe. Prepare for it. But if the time really *is* up... if Nature has selected us for extinction... you can't fight fate. EMMA They've asked me to become a member, Frank. Frank stops. He stares into her eyes for what seems like an eternity, then resumes his slow walk. Emma follows a second later. EMMA (CONT'D) What should I do? If I refuse, I don't know what they might do. They've treated me pretty fairly for months - invested time in me. If I back out now... FRANK You already know what I think, Emma. You didn't need to bring me here to know my opinion. Maybe you want me to give you an excuse to join. My blessing? EMMA No. I'm past that now. But my becoming a member may be the best chance either of us will ever have of truly understanding them. FRANK You want to go "undercover"? EMMA Why not? *If* they really are... bringing about the end of the world - as crazy as that seems... what better way to be sure than to join them? If I join, and they really are a dangerous cult, or whatever... then okay. I can deal with that. I'll resign quietly. FRANK You can't *resign* from these people! You still don't get it?! Once you're in, you're in for life. EMMA *You* got out. FRANK I wasn't a member. (beat, pointedly) Lara Means was. Peter Watts was. Those dead corpses we found this year and last year were. I'm sure those people would have some pretty strong opinions on what you should do... if they were alive to speak. EMMA (not rising to it, thinking) Well, thanks for your time. Emma turns round and walks away. Frank watches her go for a second, before calling out: FRANK Emma! Emma turns round to face Frank, a few meters away. FRANK (CONT'D) (beat, quieter) Whatever you decide... I'll always be here. To talk. Emma can't help a smile creep across her face. She inhales gratefully. EMMA Thank you. That means a lot. And with that, she continues her walk. Frank takes a DEEP BREATH as he watches her go. He checks his watch, then wearily rubs his eyes and the sides of his head in fatigue. INT. MILLENNIUM GROUP LECTURE THEATER - NIGHT A small amphitheater of seats surround The Elder, who is standing behind a podium. The seats are filled with dozens of Millennium Group members, all watching The Elder intently. Amongst the gathered members we notice Ms. Finley, ALBRECHT, OTTO, TITUS and BLAYLOCK in particular. The Elder clears his throat and reads from a pre-prepared speech. THE ELDER Time slips between our fingers like grains of sand from a beach. With every passing moment we grow closer to the climax of another millennia. And as always, the date teases us with dreams of a New Age... or nightmares of a savage closure to mankind's time on Earth. (a beat) Everyone here today believes in the notion, that in a mere two weeks, humanity's fate will stand on a precipice overlooking extinction. (a beat) Our only salvation will come in the form of Divine intervention. A metaphysical event... that will astound all disbelievers and allow us, as a species, to continue our journey into *another* new millennium. (a beat) Since bygone days when the First Old Man shared conversation with Jesus Christ at Golgotha, we have been preparing. Furthering people's understanding, establishing ideals, cementing morality... striving to better ourselves and others... so that our civilization may not perish into a corrupt sea of hatred, death, destruction and greed. (a beat) One thousand years ago, when the Millennium Group lost cohesion and fractured into warring parties across Europe, one band of Danish Roosters remained convinced the world was doomed. But their "Last Day" became a New Day, as the sun broke expectations and rose in the East. A Divinity had *seen* mankind's growing potential for Good, and allowed the inevitability of doom to be delayed. A member raises his hand. This is JAMESON, mid-40's. The Elder raises his eyebrows. THE ELDER Mr. Jameson? JAMESON And what of the Owls? It sometimes feels as though you forget there are *two* factions to the Group. The Elder stops, a little thrown by Jameson's comment. He smiles slightly and interlaces his fingers - ignoring his speech papers now. THE ELDER I haven't forgotten. Despite what we Roosters - as the controlling half of the Group - believe, our counterpart faction see things differently. All Owls, being rigidly scientific, believe the failure of the world to end a thousand years ago is conclusive proof that *our* beliefs were - and are - totally misguided. That there was never any danger of the world ending just because people *believed* it would. After all, the basis for this belief relied - effectively - on a fear of mere numbers. So... who is correct? Nobody. There are no black-and-white answers when it comes to Faith. If nothing can be proven... then it cannot be disproved. The transition from 999 AD to 1000 AD wasn't a failure for Rooster beliefs, it was a success for our Faith. (a beat) I'm hoping that same Faith will allow us safe passage into the next era. But it's perhaps not as a easy this time; men kill without reason, symbols of evil have become icons, misery and famine are common-place, evil dictators have assumed political power with tragic results, while the general public purchase material items as substitutes for their spiritual discontentment. We're living in a greedy society of cynics and fractured souls. (a beat) But while the time ahead is rocky... and uncertain... it's never without hope. Jameson shifts in his seat, accepting The Elder's words of wisom. He lowers his head. The Elder sees the submissive gesture and makes a long lingering gaze around the table. THE ELDER Believe me... the time *is* near. FADE OUT. ACT FOUR FADE IN: EXT. BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Frank's jeep drives past the White Van, which is still parked outside. Frank swings his vehicle into the driveway to find a blue car already parked there. Legend INDICATES: 5:01 PM He pulls to a halt at the blue car's side. INT. HALLWAY - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT A weary-looking Frank walks into the hallway, which has been lined with decorations and lights. He pockets the keys to his jeep just as Tom pokes his head round the living room door. TOM Ah, Frank, there you are. We have a visitor. Frank furrows his brow. INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Ryan is seated on the sofa with a suitcase and some file-folders. He has a mug of fresh coffee, which he places on a coaster as Frank enters the room. FRANK Ryan, what's wrong? RYAN Where did you get to? I've spent the whole day making excuses for you. FRANK The call was urgent. Ryan looks put out, but bites his tongue. RYAN Armstrong dug a little deeper into Dr Glendale's life history. Found some *very* interesting things. FRANK I'm listening. Ryan looks uncomfortable being in the presence of Tom and Helen, and his eyes betray his feelings. Helen is first to get up. HELEN It's okay, I'll leave you both to it. Come on Tom, you can help me change Jordan's bedcovers. TOM Oh. Oh, yeah. Helen smiles politely as she passes Ryan and Frank, then turns stern as she jostles Tom out the door. With them both gone, Frank walks over to where Helen was sitting. RYAN As I was saying; this guy had a bizarre life. Could be a best-selling autobiography. Frank takes out his cell phone and seems to stare down at it with anticipation of a call. Ryan is busying some files and forms. RYAN (CONT'D) Here, see for yourself. (passes a form to Frank) Records of a case brought against Alfred Glendale in 1982, while he was working for the Rotarin Corporation: a Government funded organization that were at the forefront of nuclear technology. They still are, actually. Glendale was suspected of covertly supplying the Russian Mafia and KGB with nuclear secrets, using elaborately coded messages across the internet. Funny how his wife let that slip her mind, huh? Frank is only half listening. He turns his cell phone off and scans through the files Ryan has passed him. FRANK Was he convicted? RYAN No. It never went to court, due to lack of evidence. So the case was dropped. But mud sticks. Glendale was forced to resigned before his inevitable dismissal. (wryly) With his pension plan intact, of course. FRANK And then what? RYAN After a few years, once everything had calmed down, he made something of a minor comeback: becoming a consultant on nuclear energy for the Government. FRANK His widow already told us that. RYAN Yeah, but his accounts don't tally with the wage a consultant would expect to earn in that line of work. His pay-packet actually *increased* in retirement. (wryly) Some pension plan. FRANK He was still working on the side? RYAN Kind of. He wasn't strictly a consultant for the Government, but instead liased with the people who helped finance 40% of the Rotarin Corporation he'd resigned from. FRANK The Millennium Group. RYAN Got it in one. Basically it seems his "resignation" was a front for the press, and he merely took a step back in Rotarin's affairs. FRANK But why would the Group have such strong connections with the Rotarin Corporation? They've always seemed joined at the hip with law-enforcement, not nuclear research. RYAN Beats me. They have their fingers in a lot of pies, it seems. FRANK Why would the Group kill Glendale after all this time? Why kill someone with so much expertise and experience who's on your side? RYAN I'd have thought that were obvious, Frank. It's happening again - another member's been needlessly killed just because he saw the mistake of joining them to begin with. FRANK What did Glendale discover that caused the Group to act in such brutal fashion? RYAN Peter Watts found out the Group were planning to assassinate members and contacts they thought were "loose cannons", or a threat. Maybe Glendale discovered the same thing. FRANK Maybe. But, no, it goes deeper than that. I know it. RYAN (smiles) Nice to see the old Frank back again. Frank turns his attention to Ryan suddenly, his brow crinkled. RYAN (CONT'D) You've been acting... weird lately. Something bothering you? FRANK No. Nothing. RYAN (uncomfortable beat) So who called you, anyway? FRANK Sorry? RYAN Earlier today. Who was so important you had to abandon a crime scene? FRANK Just... some problems Emma was having. She needed to talk. RYAN About what? FRANK Personal stuff. Nothing important. About her dad, her new job... RYAN (snorts) Oh, yeah, Assistant Director Hollis. It's not *what* you know, it's *who* you know, as my dad used to say. Frank smiles thinly to agree with Ryan's cynicism at Emma. RYAN (CONT'D) Well, I'll keep slaving away for more leads on this. Ryan waves his file in the air as he stands up with his suitcase. Frank stands too. RYAN See you tomorrow. I'll let myself out. FRANK Sure. Ryan leaves. Frank watches him go and runs his hands through his hair, then feels a twinge of pain at the onset of a headache. INT. FINLEY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Finley's apartment is like an Aladdin's cave of modern luxuries and ancient artifacts, altogether in a warmly lit living room. Sparse decorations twinkle their lights across picture frames and cabinets. Legend INDICATES: 8:32 PM Finley walks over to her home computer and sits down with a SIGH. She uses her mouse to double-click a MILLENNIUM INTRANET CONNECTION icon (the same one Dr. Glendale has). After a second, a voice-recognition window opens. FINLEY "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The window disappears and is replaced by a large golden Ouroboros symbol. Inside it are the words: "GOOD EVENING, CAROL. THERE ARE 7 DAYS REMAINING." FINLEY (CONT'D) (to herself) Are there? The ouroboros disappears and opens up a Millennium Group search-engine website. Finley is about to type something, when her phone RINGS. She digs into her jacket and brings out a small cell phone, then punches a button. FINLEY (CONT'D) Carol Finley speaking. LE SAUX (V.O.) Good evening, Madame. FINLEY I'm sorry, do I know you? LE SAUX (V.O.) We've never met before. FINLEY Did you want something? LE SAUX (V.O.) I was just wondering, perhaps you could help put my mind at ease. FINLEY Okay. LE SAUX (V.O.) I always thought the Group were extremely rigid in their beliefs, their rituals, their traditions. Do you take that to be true? FINLEY Are you a member? LE SAUX (V.O.) Please, answer the question. FINLEY I'm sorry, it's late and-- LE SAUX (V.O.) Don't hang up - it was actually a rhetorical question. I'm just finding it very strange that one of the oldest and most sacred rituals hasn't taken place yet. FINLEY What do you mean? LE SAUX (V.O.) The Walk. FINLEY I've, I've never heard of that. LE SAUX (V.O.) That's understandable. It's only ever been performed once before. I'm just amazed all those ancient texts your Elder keeps hasn't shed some light on this practice. FINLEY What is it? LE SAUX (V.O.) I'm not the one to ask. I'm just curious to know the answer. If you find out, though... let me know. I'll be in touch. Le Saux hangs up. Finley slowly puts her phone down, thinking hard. She gets an idea and types: the walk into the Group search-engine. She clicks "FIND", but a message is returned claiming: No matches found relating to "the walk" Finley idly chews her lower lip with concern. INT. KITCHEN - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT A glass is filled with water under a faucet, and raised to the lips of Frank. He takes a swig and swallows something. In his hand is a second Paracetamol tablet, which he pops into his mouth and swallows with some water. He takes a second to relax afterwards, still feeling ill at ease. INT. STAIRS - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Jordan walks to the top of the stairs, dressed in her pajamas, and stares down them to the dark hallway. She looks detached and emotionless. EXT. BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Ryan opens his car door and lugs his suitcase onto the passenger seat. As he stretches arms before getting inside he notices the White Van parked outside Frank's house. In the driver's window we can see Nielsen. Nielsen turns to stare directly at Ryan... then what looks like a map is raised into view. Ryan pays no further attention to him, and gets inside his car. Ryan's car reverses into the street and drives past the White Van. Nielsen watches it go and turns back to stare at the Black Residence. INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT The dark screen of the television is switched on and soon a picture appears: it's a 24-hour news channel. Frank reclines in an armchair and closes his eyes. On the screen an ASIAN REPORTER is standing outside a subway station building, talking into camera. ASIAN REPORTER The incident occurred on the capital's Metro system at approximately 1 p.m. this afternoon. Frank's eyes open wide at the mention of this stations. A legend at the foot of the screen reads: 'SUSPECTED SUBWAY GAS ATTACK ON WASHINGTON METRO" Frank sits up. ASIAN REPORTER Given the fatalities - almost twenty bodies, we're told - authorities are understandably investigating the very real possibility of a terrorist nerve gas attack on the capital. The Asian Reporter's words fade into the background as Frank's expression is overcome with awe and shock. The sound of HISSING breaks his expression, and he glances up to see that the TV picture is breaking up. As the Reporter speaks, wavy lines flutter across the screen and momentary bursts of snowy static HISS into the room. Frank stands up and crosses to the television set. Not being technically minded, he just taps it on the side a few times. This seems to do the trick, and the picture returns to normal... but as Frank steps back a SQUEALING wails from the TV and the picture vanishes. The dark screen envelops the room with silence. Frank SIGHS and is about to try something else when -- TSSSSSHHHHH! -- the screen turns completely snowy. TSSSSSHHHHH! Frank senses something to his left and turns towards the curtained window. INT. STAIRS - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Jordan is slowly descending the stairs, her feet making no noise on the soft carpet. As she walks downward, she passes a large photo-frame with three circular shapes displaying photos of Tom, Helen and Charlie. Each circular photograph descends in size (largest to smallest). Jordan reaches the foot of the stairs and stands in silence - just staring at the door frame to the living room; which resembles a large rectangle due to the light shining through the gaps in the doorframe. INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Frank rushes over to the window and pulls the curtains open! He stares outside, his hands cupped to the window to limit reflection. In the distance, beyond the houses, a sudden and terrible BLAST of bright light flits across the sky - illuminating *everything* ten times brighter than a lightning bolt! Frank jerks back from the window, grabbing his eyes and MOANING in intense pain! He stumbles backwards and falls onto the floor. Through a crack in the curtains... we see an odd reflection of a nuclear mushroom cloud rising in the distance! A surreal tension and prickling sensation occurs, and we notice some candle-sticks are beginning to melt around the room. Decorations on the Christmas tree begin dropping and dripping hot plastic onto the carpet... Then suddenly, small fires start erupting around the room as flammable objects begin to burn! Frank's eyes are half-open and his head drooped to the left. He seems to be having spasms, as his shoulders and arms twitch against his sides. A THUNDEROUS sound of unstoppable devastation is heard outside - as the approach of a raging shockwave approaches! INT. HALLWAY - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Jordan licks her dry lips, as she stands looking at the glowing door. The light around the doorframe turns a strange red/yellow as the sound of CRASHING is heard outside! INT. LIVING ROOM - BLACK RESIDENCE - NIGHT Frank's body isn't twitching as much now... and his flickering eyes stare down at his cell phone - which is resting on the floor. Through the din, it audibly begins to RING. But nothing matters now... The room's windows EXPLODE, showering glass everywhere as the entire room explodes into an inferno of fire before Frank's dying eyes. FADE TO BLACK. Legend INDICATES: TO BE CONTINUED... FADE OUT. THE END