Apt Pupil

                                    by

                               Brandon Boyce











                                                Based on the novel by:

                                                          Stephen King





                                                  PRODUCTION DRAFT #4A
                                                          4/25/96 rev.









     FADE IN:

     Through the window of a moving vehicle, we see a series of
     small, middle-class houses.  This could be any suburban street
     in America.


     INT. CITY BUS - DAY

     A boy is seated near the back of a moving bus.  This is TODD
     BOWDEN, 15, as All-American as they come.  He stares out at the
     other passengers indifferently.  Then something catches his eye.


     EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET - SANTO DONATO - DAY

     TITLE: SANTO DONATO, CA  FEBRUARY 1984

     Todd pedals his bike down a quiet street and pulls up to an
     unassuming bungalow set far back on its lot.  This is the kind
     of house one would hardly notice driving through the peaceful
     suburban community of Santo Donato.  Todd gets off his bike and
     heads up the front steps.  On the way, he bends down to pick up
     the L.A. Times.

     Two signs, in laminated plastic, are secured neatly above the
     door bell.  The first reads: "ARTHUR DENKER".  The second reads:
     "NO SOLICITORS, NO PEDDLERS, NO SALESMEN".

     Todd RINGS the bell.  Nothing.  He looks at his watch.  It is
     twelve past ten.  He RINGS again, this time longer.  Still
     nothing.  Finally, Todd leans on the tiny button, staring at his
     watch as he does so.  After more than a minute of SOLID RINGING,
     a voice is heard from within.

                          DUSSANDER (O.S.)
             All right.  All right.  I'm coming.  Let it
             go!

     Todd lets go as a chain behind the heavy door starts to rattle.
     Then it opens.  An old man stands behind the screen.  He is KURT
     DUSSANDER, a.k.a. Arthur Denker.  Mid-seventies.  Standing there
     in his bathrobe and slippers, a cigarette smashed in his mouth,
     he looks like a cross between Boris Karloff and Albert Einstein.
     Dussander stares at Todd, who tries to speak, but suddenly
     cannot.

                          DUSSANDER
                    (continuing)
             A boy.  I don't need anything, boy.  Can't
             you read?  I thought all American boys could
             read.  Don't be a nuisance, now.  Good day.

     The door begins to close.  Todd waits till the last moment 
     before speaking.

                          TODD 
             Don't forget your paper, Mr. Dussander. 

     The door stops.  Dussander opens it slowly.  He unlatches the
     screen and slips his fingers around the paper.  Todd does not
     let go.

                          DUSSANDER
             Give me my newspaper. 

                          TODD 
             Sure thing, Mr. Dussander. 

     Dussander snatches the paper away and closes the screen door.
     Quickly, almost imperceptibly, the old man's eyes survey the
     area: across the street, up and down the sidewalk, the boy's
     bicycle.

                          DUSSANDER 
             My name is Denker.  See?
                    (pointing)
             Denker.  Perhaps you cannot read after all. 
             What a pity.  Good day. 

     As the front door closes, Todd speaks rapidly into the narrowing gap.

                          TODD 
             Bergen-Belsen, January '43 to June '43. 
             Auschwitz, June '43 to June '44.  Then you
             went to Patin. 

     The door stops, still partly open. 

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             After the war, you escaped to Buenos Aires.
             From 1950 to '52 you were in Cuba, and 
             then... From 1952 to '58... I don't know.  No
             one does.  But in 1965, you popped up in West
             Berlin, where they almost got you. 

     The door opens wider. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Listen, boy.  I don't know what is the matter 
             with you.  But I don't have time for this 
             game.  Now, get out of here before I call the
             police. 

                          TODD 
             Call them if you want. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Fine. 

     The heavy door slams shut. 

                          TODD 
             It's okay by me Herr Kommandant.  I'm sure
             the police would love to meet the "Blood-
             fiend of Patin." 

     In a flash the front door is open, so is the screen.  Dussander
     is through the doorway and descending upon Todd with the rolled
     umbrella raised to strike him.  Todd stumbles back against the
     porch rail. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You get away from this house, God damn you! 
             I'll beat you all the way home.

     But Todd regains his composure quickly.  He brushes himself off
     and levels his eyes at the old man who now hardly seems the
     threat he was a few seconds ago. 

                          TODD 
             After 1965, no one saw you again... Until I
             did.  Three weeks ago on the downtown bus. If
             you want to call the cops, go right ahead.
             I'II wait on the steps. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You'll do no such thing. 

                          TODD 
             I won't?  Listen, old man, if I want to start
             screaming right here, I will.  If I want to 
             ride down to the police station and bring the
             cops back myself, then I will.  I will do
             what ever I want.  Do you understand?
                    (pause) 
             But if you like, I could come in for a
             minute.  We could talk. 

     Pause. 

                          DUSSANDER
             I'd be out of my mind to let an insane boy
             like you into my home.

     Pause. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Is that what you want, to come into my home?
             So be it.  There is no arguing with crazy
             people.

     Dussander turns and steps back through the screen door.  He
     stops at the threshold of the house and turns.  He is holding
     the screen door open with one leg, the front door open with the
     other.  He looks straight ahead.  A moment later, Todd steps
     into the house. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S HOUSE - DAY

     Dussander's home is what you would expect of a single, poor, old
     man.  Nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary.  Todd looks
     around, perhaps half-expecting to find a Nazi flag or an oil
     painting of Der Fuehrer hanging above the mantle.  But he
     doesn't, and moves into the living room where an old picture of
     a woman sits framed on an end table.

                          DUSSANDER 
             My wife.  She died in 1955 of lung disease.
             At that time I was working at the Menschler
             Motor Works in Essen.  I was heartbroken. 

     Todd's attention drifts away and his fingers slip over to a
     lampshade next to the photograph.  He begins to feel it as
     though he were inspecting it for something. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Stop that! 

     Todd jumps back a little but then recovers. 

                          TODD 
             Tell me, wasn't it Ilse Koch who made the
             lampshades out of human skin?

                          DUSSANDER 
             Now I don't know what you're talking about. 

                          TODD 
             Sure you do, Mr. Dussander. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Denker.  Denker.  Denker.  You don't listen,
             boy.  The television has fried your brain. 

     Pause. 

                          TODD 
             Your hands are shaking. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Yes, they're shaking.  I'm old.  We all 
             shake.  You are most tiresome, and rude.  Now
             if you have a point I wish you'd come to it. 

                          TODD 
             We're in no rush.  If I thought you had 
             plans, I'd say cancel them, but since I know
             you don't... 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You know nothing of my business -- 

                          TODD 
             What business?  You sit in that ugly chair
             and watch soap operas all day.  Except on 
             Friday afternoons when you walk down to the 
             movie theater.  And twice a week you take the
             bus downtown to do your shopping.  You always
             use the express lane because you never have 
             more than ten items.

                          DUSSANDER 
             You have been following me?

                          TODD 
             Of course, I followed you.  You think I 
             normally go around to peoples' houses and
             accuse them of being Nazi fugitives? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Perhaps for me you made an exception. 

                          TODD 
             No, for you I had to be sure.  For Kurt
             Dussander I had to be absolutely certain.
             ...Now, I am, and that's why I'm here. 

     Todd sits on the sofa. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Oh, yes, I see now.  As I am this ex-Nazi
             fellow, as you say, then this must be the
             part where I offer you my hidden stash of
             gold, taken from the mouths of old Jewish 
             men, of course, which I keep buried in the 
             basement.  Isn't that right, boy?  Well, I'm
             afraid you're wasting your time. I have no 
             money.  If I did I might even give you some
             just to be done with this nonsense. 

                          TODD 
             I don't need money.  You don't have any 
             anyway.  At least, I don't think so.  You
             probably had to spend it all to sneak in the
             country.  A good American passport is 
             expensive on the black market, that I know. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Do you?  Good for you. 

                          TODD 
             Yes, I do.  I know it all, Dussander.  You're
             my One Great Interest. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Your what? 

                          TODD 
             My One Great Interest.  Well, not you 
             personally, but, ...well, it's something I 
             learned back in eighth grade.  Our teacher,
             Miss Harmon, she said we'd have to find our
             One Great Interest in life.  You know, the 
             thing that would really grab us.  Once we did
             that, everything would fall into place.  Like
             hers, she said, wasn't teaching, but 
             collecting nineteenth-century postcards.  I
             guess there's no money in that, so she has to 
             be a teacher.  Anyway, she told us to start
             thinking about it.  So I did, but nothing
             happened.  Until the following summer, in 
             Ronny Pegler's garage.  That's where I found
             it.


     INT. RONNY PEGLER'S GARAGE - DAY

     Todd and RONNY, both 13, rummage through several large boxes in 
     the corner of the garage.  We see that the boxes are filled with
     old war magazines.  Ronny tosses several of them to the ground 
     as he digs for his dad's old copies of Penthouse.  Ronny selects
     one Penthouse and rifles through it.  He discards it a moment
     later. 

                          RONNY 
             One of these has three girls doing it at the
             same time.

     But the old war magazines catch Todd's attention.  He picks one
     up curiously and carefully flips through the tattered pages.  We
     see a few of the photographs:  Nazi storm troopers, prisoners
     behind barbed wire, the ovens.

                          RONNY (CONT'D) 
             I got it!  Check this out. ...Todd, look. 

                          TODD 
             Hang on a sec. 

     As young Todd stares into this secret world, his voice comes
     in...

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             It was all there... pictures of stuff I'd 
             never seen, stuff they never put in the books
             anymore, especially the ones they give us to
             read.  And here were stacks of them. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

     Todd speaks excitedly.  Dussander, very bored, clearly indulges
     him.

                          TODD 
             It... grabbed me.  It was just like Miss 
             Harmon said.  I couldn't believe it.  But
             there it was, the camps, the uniforms, the 
             ...the way they saluted each other.  But what
             am I telling you for?  You know more about
             this stuff than anybody. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Yes, what are you telling me for? 

                          TODD 
                    (ignoring him) 
             Then last year I wrote my big term paper on 
             Dachau.  I got an A+.  It was the only A+ she
             gave.  I mean I always do real well.  A's on
             everything.  That's why I'm accelerated. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Accelerated? 

                          TODD 
             You know, accelerated.  I skipped two grades,
             second and ninth.  I didn't need them.
             That's why I'm already a junior. 

     Dussander sits. 

                          DUSSANDER
             I see...

                          TODD 
             Some kids resent me for it.  That's not 
             important.  Anyway, my paper really floored
             my history teacher.  I guess because I got 
             through all those books without throwing up.
             But I learned something.  I learned that when
             you talk about the camps now, you have to 
             remember to sound really disgusted.  I mean,
             you can't just say what happened like the
             magazines did and leave it at that.  If I 
             tried that the teacher would have freaked and
             called my parents in. 


     INT. RONNY PEGLER'S GARAGE - DUSK

     Todd sits on one of the boxes surrounded by dozens of the old
     magazines.  The door to the house opens and Ronny, looking
     cross, pokes his head out. 

                          RONNY 
             Todd, your mom's on the phone.  She says you
             have to come home for dinner.  ...Todd? 

     Todd, lost in the sea of old photographs, doesn't notice Ronny
     at first.  Then he looks up at him.  In his eyes is a glint of a
     darkness that we will come to know better. 

                          TODD
             What? 

                          RONNY 
                    (suddenly wary of Todd)
             Your mom's on the phone. 

     ANGLE on Todd. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

                          TODD 
             Nowadays you have to... soften it. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Why do I care about this?

                          TODD 
             Because, I don't want it softened. 

     Todd hops up and begins to pace the floor. Dussander stares at
     him blankly, unsure of where this is going. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I am sure you trouble your parents to no end. 

                          TODD
             Actually, I'm pretty low maintenance.  That's
             what my dad says. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You told your parents about me, then? 

                          TODD 
             You think I'm crazy? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I think you're crackers, but go on.  I'm
             riveted.

     Todd looks deep into Dussander's eyes.  Dussander is
     uncomfortable.  Slowly, Todd reaches out and brushes his finger
     against Dussander's hand.  Dussander gets up. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             What are you doing? 

     Pause. 

                          TODD 
             And then it happened... I was on my way to
             the library.  It was raining... 


     FLASHBACK: INT. CITY BUS - DAY

     Todd's voice narrates what we are seeing.  Todd, seated near the
     back of the bus, watches Dussander climb aboard.  Todd thinks
     nothing of it at first, but soon finds that he is unable to take
     his eyes off him.  Todd is trying to place the old man's face in
     his mind... 

                          TODD (V.O.)
             You climbed on the bus and started this slow
             walk down the aisle.  Just like you were 
             examining a new batch of inmates.  I don't
             think anybody gave you a second glance but 
             me, but somehow ...people seemed to move out
             of your way.  And under your arm you carried
             a rolled up umbrella.  But what really did 
             it, what really set me off was the coat.  You
             were wearing this long black rain coat.  My
             mind suddenly flipped back to a picture of
             you taken at Patin.  You in your S.S. 
             greatcoat with a riding crop under your arm. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

                          TODD 
             It was incredible. 

     Dussander stares back at him flatly. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             All of this... because of a rain coat? 

                          TODD 
             Well, it wasn't that easy.  I mean, I had to
             really check up on it.  And every picture of
             you in those books is forty years old, at 
             least.  I went back to the library to find 
             the picture.  And then I matched it with the
             photos I took.

                          DUSSANDER 
             You took photographs of me? 

                          TODD 
             Yeah, I got this little camera.  Fits right
             in the palm of my hand.

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (crunches cigarette into ashtray) 
             Clever boy.

                          TODD
             But even then I couldn't be sure.  I needed
             real proof.  So I went to the mall and bought
             a fingerprint kit from the hobby shop and a
             book that tells you what you're supposed to
             look for and then dusted your mailbox while
             you were at the movies.  Pretty smart, huh? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You... put dust on my mailbox?  For 
             fingerprints?  You took photographs of me? 
             What else did you do?... I don't believe any
             of this. 

                          TODD 
             I already had a copy of your fingerprints. 
             They're on your want sheet from the Israeli
             government.  It's on database at UC Irvine.
             Can you believe that? 

                          DUSSANDER
             Bourbon. 

     He storms toward the kitchen and stops. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Would you care for a drink, boy? 

                          TODD 
             Sure, you got a Coke? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             No Kok. 

                          TODD
             Milk? 

                          DUSSANDER
             Milk. 

     Dussander disappears into the kitchen.  Todd stands alone in the
     living room. 

     He lets out a long, nervous breath, showing for the first time 
     the presence of something other than the cold confidence he has
     been putting up for Dussander.  He knows he has crossed into
     dangerous territory from which there is no going back.  But 
     after a moment he composes himself; he has come this far.  The
     sternness returns to his eyes.  Todd is all business.  He takes
     a breath, and then speaks loudly enough for Dussander to hear
     him in the kitchen. 

                          TODD 
             It takes eight good matches, they're called 
             compares, actually, for a fingerprint to get 
             accepted in court. 

                          DUSSANDER (O.S.)
             Is that right? 


     FLASHBACK: EXT. DUSSANDER'S FRONT PORCH - DAY

     Todd steps up onto the porch and looks around calmly.  He pulls
     the powder and brush from his pocket and begins to examine the
     mailbox for prints. 

                          TODD (V.O.)
             Yeah, there were two sets of prints.  The 
             first I figured were the mailman's.  Once I 
             knew what I was looking for, yours were easy
             to spot. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

                          DUSSANDER (O.S.)
             You should be a detective. 

     The SOUNDS of a refrigerator opening and closing come from the 
     kitchen.  Drinks being poured.  Todd begins to move slowly
     toward the kitchen. 

                          TODD 
             Maybe I will... Mom thinks I'd be good at it. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     He reaches the doorway just as Dussander turns around with the drinks. 

                          TODD 
             I found fourteen compares. 

     Dussander approaches him carrying a tumbler of milk and a glass
     of bourbon.  He hands the tumbler to Todd, who brings it up to
     his lips and hesitates. 

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             You have some. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Good Gott.

     He snatches the cup and swallows twice. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             You see?  It's milk, boy.  From Dairylee
             Farms.  On the carton is a picture of a
             smiling cow. 

     Todd pauses and then begins to drink. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
                    (more to himself than Todd)
             ...And two missing children.
                    (pause) 
             Boy what you have done, I have to explain
             this to you because clearly you don't
             understand, what you have done is a
             violation. 

                          TODD
             A violation? 

                          DUSSANDER
             Yes. 

                          TODD 
             Kind of like those experiments with the
             decompression chamber.  Now, that was a
             violation, Dussander. 

                          DUSSANDER
             That fucking name.  Enough of that.  I demand
             it. 

                          TODD 
             You what? 

                          DUSSANDER
             I demand -- 

                          TODD 
             You demand nothing from me.  Ever.  Get it?

     Pause. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, I will tell you this once more, and for 
             the last time.  My name is Arthur Denker.  It
             has never been anything else.  It has never
             even been Americanized.  If you must know,
             and apparently you must, I was named by my
             father who greatly admired the stories of
             Arthur Conan Doyle.  I did serve in the 
             reserves, I admit, and in the late thirties, 
             when I was first married, I supported Hitler.
             I supported him most, I suppose, because for
             the first time in years there was work and
             there was tobacco. ...Would you like a 
             cigarette? 

                          TODD 
             No.  My dad used to smoke.  Mom made him
             quit.  Now he's addicted to Nicorette...
             that's nicotine gum. 

     Dussander turns toward the counter and pulls a kitchen match
     from a cabinet.  He lights his cigarette with his back to Todd. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Nicotine gum. 

     Dussander's eyes drift to the collection of kitchen knives 
     neatly stuffed in their block on the counter in front of him. 
     He lingers a moment, pulls deeply on the cigarette, then turns
     and continues.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             Anyway, Hitler lost his mind at the end, 
             directing phantom armies at the whim of his 
             astrologer.  He even gave his dog, Blondi, a 
             death capsule.  On May 2nd, 1945, my regiment
             surrendered to the Americans.  I remember
             that a private named Gonzales gave me a
             chocolate bar.  I wept. 

     Bored, Todd sinks into a chair at the table.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             I was interned at Essen where I was treated
             very well.  We listened to the Nuremberg
             trials on the radio and when Goering 
             committed suicide, I bought half a bottle of
             schnaps and got drunk.  When I was released, 
             I put wheels on cars at the Essen Motor Works
             until I retired in 1963.  In 1967 I emigrated
             here, to California, and became a U.S. 
             Citizen.  I am as American as you are.  I 
             vote.  No Buenos Aires, no Berlin, no koo-ba.
             And that's it, my whole story.  I hope you're
             satisfied. But if not, it's, as you say, 
             tough shit for you.  Now, you go.  Enough of
             this.

     Dussander points to the door, but Todd remains motionless in his
     chair.

                          TODD 
             That was pretty good.  So much to remember. 
             But I guess it helps when you have forty
             years to practice your story.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Oh, to hell with this and to hell with you. 
             I'm calling the police.  Your father is 
             going to beat your behind when he picks you
             up at the police station. 

                          TODD 
             No.  My parents don't believe in violence. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Well, they should start.  I'm calling. 

     Dussander steps past Todd and picks up the receiver of the phone
     hanging on the wall above the table.  The boy still sits
     motionless behind him.  Dussander dials a "9", and then, with 
     more difficulty, a "1".  He stands with his finger poised over 
     the final "1".  Tiny beads of sweat roll over his forehead.  His
     shoulders drop.  Todd stands up.  Their faces are close
     together. 

                          TODD
             Hang up the phone. 

                          DUSSANDER
             This is unforgivable.  Do you know the things
             you're accusing me of? 

                          TODD
             Do it. 

     Slowly, Dussander brings the receiver down onto its hook.

                          DUSSANDER 
             If you don't want money, what do you want? 

                          TODD 
             I want to hear about it. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Hear about what? 

                          TODD 
             The camps. Everything.  The experiments. The
             examinations.  All the stuff the writers are
             scared to put in their books because people 
             will think they're sick.  That's what I want,
             ...everything. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Everything? 

                          TODD 
             Exactly.  And you're going to tell it to me. 

                          DUSSANDER
             You're a monster. 

                          TODD 
             According to history you're the monster. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             How could you ask me to remember such things?
             I can barely remember to take my heart
             medicine. 

                          TODD 
             You were there.  You did those things.  No
             one can tell it better than you can.  And you
             will tell it, starting today.  Right now.  If
             you don't, I'll tell everyone who you are.  I
             swear it. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Why should I?  Why should I do any of it? 

                          TODD 
             Because you hung up the phone.  That's why.
             ...And just so you know, just so there is no 
             misunderstanding whatsoever.  Everything I
             have on you, the compares, the want sheet,
             all the photographs, are all in an envelope 
             under my mattress.  I'm going to put it there
             every time I come to see you.  If anything
             happens to me, if I should suddenly 
             disappear, some one will find it.  Believe
             me -- 

                          DUSSANDER 
             That's a foolish thing to do.  What if your 
             mother goes in your room anyway?  What if she
             hires a maid? 

                          TODD 
             You better hope she doesn't.
                    (looking at watch) 
             We're wasting time.  Let's get started.  I
             have to be home for dinner. Today I want to
             hear about the ovens.  How you baked them
             after they were dead... and before. 

     Pause. 

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (to himself)
             A boy... a boy...

                          TODD 
             But before we start, put your teeth in.  You
             look better with your teeth. 


     EXT. DUSSANDER'S HOUSE - DUSK

     It is later the same day.  Todd emerges from the house.  The
     setting sun tells us he has been inside for several hours.  He
     picks up his bike and hops on.  He stops.  He turns to look up
     the street in both directions.  No one.  A moment later he
     pedals off down the street. 


     MAIN TITLES


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM - DAY

     TITLE: SEPTEMBER 1984

     A typical high school image.  Rows of students sit listening to 
     a lecture from MR. PROXMIRE, fifties, as he weaves his way
     through the aisles. 

                          PROXMIRE 
             But in 1902, Panama didn't exist.  The 
             country we know as Panama was part of
             Columbia. 

     As the teacher continues to lecture, the camera stops on JOEY,
     17.  On his desk is a folded note. He hands it across the aisle 
     and motions for it to be sent to Todd a few rows over.  The note
     moves across the room, avoiding the meandering teacher, on its
     way to Todd.

                          PROXMIRE (CONT'D) 
             Now the nations of the west knew they needed
             a canal through Central America.  They were
             tired of waiting for their ships to sail 
             around Cape Horn.  This was the new century,
             the age of modernization.  And the U.S. was 
             at the forefront.  Teddy Roosevelt was in the
             White House, looking for any chance to assert
             the might of America.  When Columbia balked
             at the offer made by the U.S. and England, 
             Roosevelt sent his naval war ships to sit off
             the coast of Panama, just sit there, where
             they could be seen from the coast. 

     The FEMALE STUDENT across the aisle from Todd now has the note.
     She whispers to him but he doesn't hear.  Todd is trying to say
     awake with great difficulty.

     The girl extends the note just as Proxmire passes.  He stops,
     turns around, plucks the note from the girl's hand and heads for
     the front of the class. 

                          PROXMIRE (CONT'D) 
             Finally Columbia gave up the territory for 
             about a tenth of its original price.  And as
             Roosevelt would say later, "The U.S. stole
             the Panama canal fair and square."

     Without glancing at it, Proxmire crumples the note and drops it
     into the waste basket by his desk. 


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL - LOCKER AREA - DAY

     It is in between classes.  The denizens of STUDENTS crowd around
     their lockers.  Among them is Todd.  He searches through his
     locker and selects a book.  Suddenly the door SLAMS shut to 
     reveal the face of Joey standing against the lockers.  Todd,
     startled, jumps back. 

                          JOEY
                    (laughs) 
             Take it easy, Jesus.  It's just me, flinch-
             man. 

                          TODD 
                    (serious)
             Don't do that. 

                          JOEY 
             I got news for you.  You're gonna like it. 

                          TODD 
             Walk with me to French. 

     The two walk down the corridor.

                          JOEY 
             Someone likes you.  Someone good. 

                          TODD
             Who? 

                          JOEY 
             Well, I heard my sister talking on the phone
             with Lisa Herman, and... well -- 

                          TODD
             You going to tell me who it is? 

     Two CHEERLEADERS pass them.

                          JOEY 
                    (lowering voice) 
             You didn't hear it from me. 

                          TODD
             Fine. 

                          JOEY
             Becky Trask. 

                          TODD
             Was that so hard? 

                          JOEY 
             So ask her out and the weekend after next you
             can double with me and Vanessa. 

                          TODD 
             What about this weekend? 

                          JOEY 
             I'm already planning on being grounded. 

                          TODD 
             Grounded?  What for? 

                          JOEY 
             Where the hell you been?  Report cards were
             sent out today.  I know that never affects 
             you... 

     They arrive at the door of Todd's classroom as the BELL SOUNDS.

                          JOEY (CONT'D) 
             Shit.  Don't forget what I told you. 

     Joey runs off, leaving Todd looking after him. 


     EXT. DUSSANDER'S BACK PORCH - DAY

     TITLE: OCTOBER 1984

     It is late afternoon.  Dussander sits in a rocking chair facing 
     out into the backyard.  Todd is in the lawn chair off to the
     side.  He has just finished a McDonald's cheeseburger and is 
     about to start another one.  Dussander eats a Big Mac, washing
     it down with bourbon.  A large cat keeps jumping onto 
     Dussander's lap while he is eating.  He brushes it away annoyed. 

                          TODD 
             I've never seen anyone drink bourbon with
             McDonald's before.  ...So, How did the stuff
             get to Patin? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             In railroad cars marked "Medical Supplies." 
             It came in long crates that looked like coffins. 

                          TODD 
             That's fitting.  Was it always Zyklon-B?

     The cat jumps into Dussander's lap again.  He throws it down,
     this time harder.

                          DUSSANDER 
             No, from time to time we would be sent 
             something else.  Experimental gases.  The
             High Command was always interested in 
             improving efficiency.  Once they sent us a
             gas code-named "Pegasus."  A nerve gas. 
             Thank God they never sent it again.  It...

     Todd sits up a little, leaning in. 

                          TODD
             It what? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             It didn't work very well.  It was quite boring.

                          TODD 
             Bullshit.  You're lying.  What did it do? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             It killed them.  What do you think it did,
             made them walk on water?  It killed them. 

     The cat jumps up a third time.  This time Dussander picks it up
     and tosses it a good six feet.  The animal hits the ground and runs away.

                          TODD
             Tell me. 
                    (slurps on his Coke)
             Tell me. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I won't.  I refuse.  Where are my cigarettes? 

     He finds the pack and fumbles a cigarette to his lips.  He
     lights it.  Todd watches calmly, giving the old man a moment to
     collect himself, and then... 

                          TODD
             What did it do? 

                          DUSSANDER
             It made them dance. 

                          TODD
             Dance? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Like Zyklon-B, it came in through the shower
             heads.  After a few seconds the prisoners 
             began to leap about.  Some were screaming.
             Most of them were laughing.  They began to
             vomit and to... to defecate helplessly. 

                          TODD 
             You mean they... they... shit themselves?
             ...Woah. 

     But Dussander ignores him, staring out into the yard as he
     begins to remember more easily. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             They began to twitch all over and make high,
             strange sounds in their throats.  At last
             they collapsed and just lay there on the 
             concrete, twitching and yodeling, with blood
             streaming from their noses.  But I lied to
             you, boy.  It didn't kill them.  Either 
             because it wasn't strong enough or because we
             couldn't bring ourselves to wait that long.
             I suppose it was that.  I sent five men in 
             with rifles to end their agonies.  These were
             five men I trusted.  It would have looked bad
             on my record to have wasted so many 
             cartridges at a time when the Fuehrer had 
             declared every cartridge a national resource.
             I was always given high marks for efficiency. 

                          TODD
             Yeah, I bet. 

     Dussander looks down at the remains of the meal in his lap. As
     if his own story has suddenly disgusted him, he balls the food
     up in its wrapper and shoves it into the paper bag. 

                          DUSSANDER
             How do you eat this crap everyday? 

                          TODD 
             Why didn't you just do the job yourself? You
             carried a gun, didn't you? 

                          DUSSANDER
                    (incredulous) 
             I was the commandant of the camp.

                          TODD 
             So you never killed anybody? 

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (getting frustrated) 
             The entire world was at war, boy.  People died. 

                          TODD 
             That's not a real answer.  I'm asking about
             you. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, I was a soldier in a position of power.
             You don't get to be there by selling ...girl
             scout's cookies. 

                          TODD 
             I know what the SS was, Dussander.  Who are
             you talking to?  It was a bunch of dumb, rich
             kids who bought their way into the service so
             they wouldn't have to go fight on the front. 

     Dussander stares at Todd, wanting to say something.  Todd
     shovels a few more fries into his mouth, then looks up and sees
     Dussander eyeing him. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             That's enough for today, boy.  I beg you.
             I'm tired. 

                          TODD 
             Yeah, fine.  That was good story though.  You
             always tell them good, once I get you started. 

     ANGLE on Dussander. 


     DUSSANDER'S DREAM #1: EXT. OPEN FIELD - DAY

     Dussander is asleep in his bed.  A low groaning sound comes in
     very slowly.  Dussander's eyes open.  He sits up, looks around,
     sees that his bed is in the middle of a large open field.  It is
     grassy, but certainly not beautiful.  Something is wrong about 
     this place.

     He stands out of the bed, wearing pajamas.  But it is cold.  He
     takes the sheet and wraps himself in it.  The groaning is
     getting louder, more human.  We have never seen him frightened,
     until now.  He steps a few paces from the bed.  The groans have
     becomes low screams.  There is no where to go.  Slowly, as if he
     knows what he's going to see, he looks down at the ground.  It's
     just grass.  But the human voices are now wailing desperately. 

     His knees buckle, but he tries to fight it.  He reaches his 
     knees and lowers his head toward the ground.  The white sheet
     flows around him and blows off in a gust of wind.  The screams
     are now at a feverish pitch.  His ear is inches from the grass
     and his eyes, marked with unmistakable terror, are wide open
     as...


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     Dussander bolts upright in his bed.


     EXT. OUTDOOR SHOOTING RANGE - DAY

     RICHARD (DICK) BOWDEN, 38, is a taller, grayer version of his
     son.  He stands over Todd's shoulder watching him shoot at a 
     paper target.  He still has on a tie from work, but the knot has
     been loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up.  Both Dick and
     Todd wear headphones and orange shooting glasses.  Dick chews
     gum.  They are alone on the range.

     Todd fires a few rounds from his father's .30-.30.  A strained
     tension exists between the two Bowdens. 

                          DICK 
             You're tight.  Don't hold your breath so long.

                          TODD
             Forget it.  I can't concentrate. 

     He pulls off his headphones in disgust and hands the rifle to
     his father.  Dick takes it and begins to reload it for him. 

                          DICK 
             I know your upset.  So am I.  So is your
             mother. 

                          TODD 
             These honors classes... they aren't as easy 
             as I thought they'd be.  I totally admit it,
             I didn't prepare enough.  I'm sorry. 

                          DICK 
             Well, fine, but now is not the time to slack 
             off.  You got a chance to finish at the top of
             your class--

                          TODD 
             Nobody wants that more than I do, Dad.

                          DICK 
             Well you haven't been hitting the books very
             much. 

                          TODD
             I know... 

                          DICK 
             And seeing as you're not playing soccer this
             year it's not like you don't have enough
             time-- 

                          TODD 
             That still bothers you, doesn't it? 

                          DICK
                    (with difficulty)
             No, son. If you weren't enjoying it, then
             you shouldn't play.

                          TODD 
             I think it bothers you and you're not telling
             me. 

     Dick decides to take a shot himself.  He readies himself and
     fires. 

                          DICK 
             That was lousy.  Here. 
                    (gives the gun back to Todd) 
             I want to see your grades come up, buddy. 
             That's all that bothers me.  And if you say 
             you need more time to study, then that's what
             we'll do.  The first thing is to cut out all
             the time you spend reading to Mr. Denker. 
             It's a nice thing to do, but it's not helping
             our school work a bit. 

     Dick is looking at his son, unsure if he has just seen a
     contortion of rage on his son's face.  But Todd is cocking the
     rifle and...

                          DICK (CONT'D) 
             Hey, Todd.  You still with me? 

                          TODD 
             Yeah... no.  Dad, don't do that.  Please.
             Don't punish Mr. Denker for something that's
             my fault.  I mean, he'd be lost without me-- 

                          DICK
             He'll be fine without you. He was fine before
             and he'll be fine after. There's nothing 
             wrong with wanting to help people, but you
             gotta make sure you got yourself squared away
             first. That's what matters. 

     Todd turns to face his father, and speaks to him with a new
     seriousness.

                          TODD 
             Dad, am I like other kids? 

                          DICK 
             Not by a long shot. 

                          TODD 
             Then trust me on this.  Don't lose faith in
             me because I blew a couple of exams.  I will
             get my grades back up.  In fact I've already
             started.  Three days a week I go over to 
             Freddy Tremain's for extra help. He's a wiz
             at trig. But please, Dad, whatever you do, 
             don't punish a helpless old man for something
             that's my fault. 

     Pause. 

                          DICK 
             Did you practice that in front of a mirror or
             something?

     Todd smiles.  Feeling his father caving in, he aims the rifle and 
     squeezes off a round.  Dick keeps his eyes on Todd as he shoots.

                          DICK (CONT'D)
             Hey, he's not...?

                          TODD 
                    (it takes him a second)
             ...No.

                          DICK
             Just checking. 
                    (thinks for a moment) 
             All right... We'll give your way a shot. If
             you think you can do it, if you really do,
             and your serious, then... okay. 
             You really like the old guy, don't you?

                          TODD 
             I'm making a difference in somebody's life. 
             It's that simple.

     Todd aims the rifle down range and pulls the trigger.  The gun
     jams.  Todd tries to move the lever but it gets stuck. 

                          DICK
             Okay, okay. 
                    (takes the rifle) 
             Don't ever force it.  Watch. 

     Dick begins to methodically unjam the gun. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DUSK

     TITLE: NOVEMBER 1984

     Dussander looks shabbier than in previous scenes.  His clothes
     and hair reflect an increasing disregard for personal 
     appearance.  He goes to the basement door and, leaning carefully
     over the steps, retrieves a fresh bottle from his stash, stored
     precariously on some shelves leading down to the basement.  He
     comes back to the counter and cracks the bottle open.  Todd's
     irritated voice booms in from the living room.

                          TODD (O.S.) 
             Don't get too drunk.  We still have a little
             while. 

     Dussander mumbles contemptuously and then speaks so Todd can
     hear him.

                          DUSSANDER 
             You don't have to do that, you know. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S LIVING ROOM - DUSK

     Todd has built a fire, probably the first fire Dussander's
     fireplace has seen in twenty years.  The room is bathed in a
     warm orange glow as the winter sun sets outside.  Todd uses the
     poker to adjust one of the logs. 

                          TODD 
             Screw you.  I'm doing this for me.  This
             place is freezing. 

     Dussander comes back in with his drink and settles into his easy
     chair, which has been positioned in front of the hearth.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Yes, it must be fifty degrees outside.  I'm
             sure to you it seems positively frigid.

                          TODD 
             Why didn't you pay your gas bill?

                          DUSSANDER 
             It slipped my mind.  I will attend to it
             tomorrow. 

                          TODD 
             Slipped your mind.  I noticed it didn't slip
             your mind to stock up on a new case of
             bourbon. 

                          DUSSANDER
             Leave me alone. 

     Todd finishes with the fire and sits on the floor a few feet
     away.

                          TODD 
             All right, so finish your story, because I'm
             still not clear.  You cook up this stew, and
             you bring the prisoner in, and you let them
             smell it, and suddenly they tell you
             everything? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Oh, don't misunderstand me.  Certainly with a
             pistol pressed to their head, a prisoner 
             would tell us everything we wanted to know, 
             sometimes more.  But mine was a much more ...
             elegant method.  Remember, it had been months
             since they had smelled real potatoes
             simmering over an open flame, and boy, when
             that delicious odor hit their noses their
             mouths would drop and out would pour an
             account of every minor infraction their
             friends had committed, I mean it was
             magnificent...

                          TODD
             And you let them eat the soup? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Oh, we never promised them the soup in 
             exchange for information.  We never mentioned
             it at all. 

     Pause.  Todd is impressed. 

                          TODD 
             Wow, that's really good, Dussander.  I mean
             that's...
                    (pointing)
             that's thinking. 

     Dussander does not respond.  He gazes deeply into the fire.

                          DUSSANDER
             ...But, as the war pressed on, the time for
             such civilized measures became a luxury.  I
             remember by April of '45, we had barely
             enough food to feed ourselves.  The sound of
             the Russian mortars grew louder everyday, but
             still, the train cars from France and Poland
             kept coming.  This was a time of desperation.
             The ovens burned day and night and still I
             knew we would not beat the arrival of the
             Russian forces.  Many of my men, the cowardly
             ones, deserted during the night.  But the men
             that remained, the same ones I had called
             upon so many times, ...continued the work.
             At first we thought a massive fire in the
             main building would serve our purpose.  We
             could just crowd them in and pull a gas torch
             up to each of the windows.  But with so many
             of them, we couldn't be sure the bodies would
             burn properly.  We needed something
             ...certain.  Then a young, bright soldier, I
             shall never forget his enthusiastic smile,
             pointed to a pair of bulldozers near the
             Western gate which had been used during
             construction.  How perfectly simple it was.
             The bulldozers carved a narrow trench, four
             meters deep, down the center of the camp.
             For two hours they dug until I realized we
             may not have enough gas to finish the job.
             So the inmates were given shovels and told
             they were building a shelter from the
             incoming artillery.  When they were done, I
             immediately called for a practice drill and
             three thousand naked bodies began to march
             into the trench.  It took less than twenty
             minutes to get them in place.  Quickly the
             bulldozers moved down the sides of the pit
             sending the piles of earth into the massive
             grave.  Those who tried to free themselves
             were shot, of course, but very few cartridges
             were wasted that day.  The machines were too
             fast.  Back and forth they went... packing
             the dirt.  One by one the tractors ran out of
             gas and my men had to scurry along with
             shovels.  But by sunset... it was done.  I
             gave the order to evacuate.  In the distance
             the plumes of Russian mortar fire rose like
             an approaching thundercloud.  But I knew that
             no matter what happened, ...no one would ever
             forget what we did here.

     Dussander stares into the fire.  Todd, wide-eyed, is locked on
     Dussander when...

     The PHONE RINGS.

     They look at each other, a bit puzzled.  Clearly, it does not
     ring very often, and when it does, Dussander cannot help but be
     apprehensive.

     It rings again.  Dussander gets up and moves toward the kitchen,
     Todd watches him go. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Hello? 
                    (Pause. Then with apprehension) 
             Yes? ...No, no trouble at all. ...Yes.
             ...Yes, he's here. ...I see.
                    (his face softens) 
             ...Really? ...No, no plans. ...Ah, lovely. 
             ...My dear, I'd be delighted. ...Certainly.
             ...Of course I will. ...Yes, until then.
             ...All right. ...Good-bye. 

     He hangs up and turns to Todd with a odd grin. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             It seems I am to be your guest for
             Thanksgiving dinner.


     INT. OLD TOYOTA CAR - ROADSIDE - NIGHT

     Todd and Becky are in the backseat of Becky's car.  They are on
     a date and have parked on the side of a road overlooking the
     lights of their town.  At 16, BECKY TRASK, is an attractive girl
     who has recently discovered that boys like her and she likes
     them.  They are kissing in the back seat.  MUSIC plays on the
     stereo.  Becky's blouse is unbuttoned.  She stops kissing Todd. 

                          BECKY 
             Is everything all right? 

                          TODD
             Yeah, I'm fine. 

     Becky smiles to herself, unconvinced. 

                          BECKY 
             You're nervous.  I think it's sweet. 

                          TODD
             No... No, I'm cool. 

                          BECKY 
             Do you want me to do something else? 

     Todd just stares at her.  He doesn't know what he wants.  Becky
     decides for him.  She slides down out of the frame.  Todd is
     startled at first, but lets her.  After a moment, he closes his
     eyes. 


     EXT. DUSSANDER'S BACK PORCH - NIGHT

     Dussander sits in his rocking chair.  A small blanket drapes
     across his lap.  He smokes a cigarette and holds a near-empty
     glass.  On the ground beside him, there is a small bowl.

                          DUSSANDER
             Here kitty-kitty.  Here kitty-kitty. 

     Out in the yard, the large cat emerges from the darkness and
     moves across the grass.  It sees Dussander and, more 
     importantly, the bowl next to him.  We see that the bowl is
     filled with milk. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Come, puss-puss.  That's right.  I'll wait. 

     Dussander sits perfectly still.  Cautiously, the cat moves
     toward the porch. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             That's right, puss-puss.  You can smell it
             now, can't you? 

     The cat creeps to the edge of the steps.  It takes them one at a
     time.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             That's right, kitty-kitty.  That's right.

     After a moment the cat edges up to the bowl.  Its tail twitches
     nervously.  Finally, it begins to lick up the milk.  Dussander
     crunches the cigarette out in his empty glass.  His movements
     are slow and patient.  From under the blanket he pulls a pair of
     yellow rubber gloves.  He begins to put them on.  The cat jumps
     back for a moment.  Dussander freezes.  He waits the cat out. 
     Soon the animal is back at the bowl.  Dussander continues with
     the gloves.  He watches the cat's tail.  As the animal gets
     comfortable, its tail flips under the rail of the rocking chair.
     Dussander slams the chair back.  The CAT SHRIEKS.  Dussander
     flips the blanket on top of the cat and wraps it into a tight,
     squirming, HISSING bundle.  He stands out of the chair. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Gotcha. 


     INT. BECKY'S TOYOTA - ROADSIDE - NIGHT

     It is later.  Becky sits behind the wheel.  Todd is next to her.
     A different song is on the RADIO.  They sit for a moment in
     silence, clearly uncomfortable. 

                          TODD
             I'm sorry. 

                          BECKY 
             It's all right.  Maybe you'll be more in the
             mood later. 

                          TODD 
             I don't know.  That's never happened before. 

     Becky lights a joint.  She takes a puff and exhales toward Todd.

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             Can you blow that the other way? 

                          BECKY 
             Maybe you don't like me. 

                          TODD
             No, I do. 

                          BECKY 
                    (exhaling out the window)
             Maybe you don't like girls. 

     For a moment it is as though Todd's face were purple with rage.
     But a moment later the expression is gone.  Todd turns away.
     Becky sees that her comment has hurt him. 

                          BECKY (CONT'D)
             That was a lousy thing for me to say.  I'm
             sorry, honey.

     She kisses him on the cheek.  He nods reluctantly. 

                          TODD 
             Let's just go home. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

     Dussander bursts through the door with the bundle.  A single paw
     emerges from the corner of the blanket and flails at Dussander, 
     clawing him across the neck.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Oww, you mother-fucker. 

     They move across the room to the stove.  With difficulty,
     Dussander pulls open the oven door, revealing the glowing red
     interior.  The animal SCREAMS and claws at Dussander's neck and
     arms, escaping more and more from the blanket with every 
     gyration of its body.  With a mighty shove Dussander plunges the
     cat toward the opening, but the animal braces its paws on the
     edge of the stove.  The two are deadlocked.  But Dussander's 
     hands are too close to the heat.  He screams.  His grip loosens
     just enough.  With a desperate cry, the animal charges up
     Dussander's body, over his head, and leaps to the floor.
     Dussander dives after it. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Come here! 

     But the animal is too swift.  In a second, it is atop the
     counter and out the open window above the sink.  Although
     defeated and exhausted, Dussander cannot contain his excitement.
     His panting gives way to a twisted, hearty laugh. 


     TODD'S DAYDREAM: INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY

     This is a 1940's laboratory.  Todd is in his boxer shorts.
     Dussander is next to him, wearing a lab coat and his S.S.
     officers hat.  Todd looks down on the examination table.  A
     YOUNG GIRL, about 16, is held to the table with clamps.  She is 
     naked, staring at Todd.  Behind the table is a glass window and 
     behind that is another room where OTHER SCIENTISTS are
     monitoring equipment.

     Over Dussander's methodical voice, Todd's dream shows flashes of
     what is being done: some sort of sexual experiment on the girl. 

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (to other scientists) 
             Test run eight-four.  Electricity, sexual 
             stimulus, metabolism.  Based on the Thyssen
             theories of negative reinforcement. 

     Dreamlike SOUNDS and images pass before us: Todd's breathing,
     the girl's cry, electrical equipment, naked flesh, maybe
     Todd's, maybe the girl's. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             Subject is a young Jewish girl, approximately 
             sixteen years of age, no scars, no
             identifying marks, no known disabilities -- 

     Inside the control room, a SCIENTIST monitors a volt meter, 
     calling out the readings as Dussander yells for the voltage to
     be increased.  As the meter rises, the girl SCREAMS more 
     violently.  Perhaps her eyes roll back, her tongue flutters in 
     her mouth.  Through all of this, the scientists call out and the
     record heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity, voltage, etc.
     Todd's eyes close.  His breathing accelerates as does the motion
     of his hips until... 


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM - DAY

     Todd snaps out of his daydream.  His trigonometry class is
     having an examination.  He sits at his desk, staring blankly at
     the paper before him.  Most of the answer spaces are empty.  He
     knows he is going to fail another test. 


     EXT. OUTOOOR SHOOTING RANGE - DAY

     Todd is blasting away, rapid-firing the rifle down range at an
     unfortunate paper target.  The protective headphones lay on the
     counter beside him, as does his backpack.  He stops shooting
     when a voice snaps over the P.A. speaker next to him. 

                          VOICE (O.S.) 
             You, on lane twelve.  You need to have your 
             headgear on at all times. (click) And no
             rapid firing.

     Todd looks over at the man frowning at him from inside a small
     booth.  Todd puts on the headgear, and after a moment, the man 
     goes back to reading a newspaper.  Todd looks up and down the 
     range.  One or two other shooters are concentrating on their 
     targets.  Todd quickly hoists his rifle up and aims it at the 
     man in the booth.  He snaps off a single dry round.  Todd smiles
     weakly at the sound of the click.  Unnoticed by anyone, he turns
     back toward the target, strangely comforted.


     INT. DINING ROOM - BOWDEN HOUSE - DAY

     Thanksgiving dinner.  All the Bowden's are there, including
     Dick's parents, VICTOR and AGNES. Dussander sits at the head of 
     the table, Todd next to him.  The family has finished dinner and
     is having coffee.  Dick and his father smoke cigars.  Todd's 
     mother, MONICA BOWDEN, still pretty at 36, pours Dussander some
     more coffee. 

                          MONICA
             Todd loved that dog.  A lot more than Dick 
             did. 

                          DICK 
             We all loved that dog. 

                          AGNES
             I remember when you had to put it down, Todd
             cried for two weeks.  Just about broke my
             heart. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Excuse, me, Mrs. Bowden.  Put it down?  I've
             been here over twenty years but that's a new
             one. 

                          VICTOR 
             Means put it to sleep, Victor.

     Dussander still looks puzzled.  He looks to Todd, but Victor
     jumps in.

                          VICTOR (CONT'D) 
             Well, it's how they kill it, Arthur. They do
             it all the time at the pound, ...sick dogs,
             dogs nobody wants.

                          MONICA
             It's very humane.

                          DUSSANDER
             I see. 

     Todd shoots him a fiery glare that the others don't notice.

                          MONICA 
             Some more pie? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             As my departed wife used to say, 'One must
             never overdo the sublime.' 

                          AGNES 
             It was delicious, Monica. 

                          VICTOR 
             Tell me, Arthur, if you don't mind me asking.
             What did you do during the war? 

                          AGNES 
             Now don't get too personal, Victor. 

     A quick moment between Todd and Dussander.

                          DUSSANDER 
             I was a student at the University until my
             reserve unit was called in 1943.
                    (notices Victor) 
             But we were not a combat unit, thank God.
             Mechanical engineers.  Help me find my 
             cigarettes, Todd.  Would you?  In those days,
             not even the call of higher learning could
             exempt an able body from military service.

     Dussander's cigarettes are right in front of him.  Todd fetches
     one and, bringing it to his own lips, lights it for him.

                          MONICA
             Todd Bowden!

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (laughs knowingly) 
             My dear, I do apologize.  My hands are too
             arthritic to strike a match, I'm afraid. 
             Your son has been good enough to help an old
             man with his filthy habits. 

                          MONICA 
             Well...as long as you don't inhale. 

                          TODD 
             Cigarettes are gross, Mom. 

                          VICTOR 
             Well, Victor, you were doing your part like
             we all were, I suppose.  Of course, if you 
             were in the Pacific Fleet I'd have to shoot
             you. 

     Everyone laughs, except Todd.

                          DICK
                    (to Dussander) 
             My dad is very proud of the fact that the
             Bowden men have hit every major conflict
             since the Civil War. 

                          VICTOR 
             That's right.  Dickie served two tours in 
             Vietnam.  Earned a bronze star and a purple
             heart. 

                          DICK 
             It's one family tradition I'd like to put an
             end to.  Todd and I blow a few caps down at 
             the range every week.  That's all the combat
             he needs.

                          TODD 
                    (perking up, offended) 
             What's that supposed to mean? 

                          DICK
             Forget it. 

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (looking at Todd) 
             Perhaps your son would excel in combat. 

                          MONICA 
             Todd could excel at anything.  Right, honey?

     Todd doesn't answer.  His eyes are still on Dick.  Dick notices
     him. 

                          AGNES 
                    (getting up, starts to clear some
                    dishes) 
             Oh, let's don't even talk about this. I can't
             stand to think of you boys fighting another
             war.

                          DUSSANDER 
             The Purple Heart.  You were injured? 

                          TODD 
             He was knocked unconscious and woke up in a
             hospital.

     A long pause.  Dick is embarrassed and offended by Todd's stab.
     He puffs on his cigar.  Agnes comes in from the kitchen and picks
     up some more dishes.  Dick stands suddenly to help her.

                          DICK 
             Mom, let me get that for you. 


     EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET - SIDEWALK - NIGHT

     Todd and Dussander walk together in silence.  Todd is clearly in
     a bad mood.  Dussander prods him.

                          DUSSANDER 
             You shouldn't be so hard on your father. 

                          TODD 
             Why don't you mind your own business. 

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (amused at Todd's short fuse) 
             Boy, It's not so easy to raise children. Your
             father does the best he can, I'm sure. Having 
             his own father there is bound to cause some
             anxiety on his part-- 

                          TODD 
             Oh, give me a frigging break, will you?  Look
             who's talking to me, for Christ's sake.  And
             what was that crap about the dog?  If you 
             were any more charming I was going to puke. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Heavens, boy, wasn't that precisely the 
             point?  I used the evening to our advantage. 

                          TODD
             Our advantage?  Our advantage?

                          DUSSANDER 
             Certainly now they will offer no objections 
             if you continue to come over and read to me. 

                          TODD 
             You sure take a lot for granted.  Do you 
             think there's anybody forcing me to come over
             to your scuzzy house and watch you slop up
             booze all day?  Do you? 

                          DUSSANDER
             Lower your voice.  People will hear. 

                          TODD
             So what?

     Dussander stops. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             No, nobody forces you to come.  In fact, you
             are welcome to stay away.  Believe me, boy, I
             have no scruples about drinking alone.  None
             at all.

     They start walking again.  Dussander turns up his driveway.
     Todd follows.

                          TODD 
             You know, if they found out what you are,
             they'd spit on you. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I am sure they would have nothing but 
             revulsion for me.  But what would they say
             about you, boy, when I told them you had 
             known about me for nine months... and said
             nothing? 

     Dussander unlocks his door and steps in.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Come and see me if you please, and stay home
             if you don't.  Good night, boy.

     He closes the door. 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     TITLE: DECEMBER 1984

     Todd places a brightly wrapped Christmas present on the table in
     front of Dussander, who looks at it skeptically. 

                          TODD 
             Go ahead, open it.  Wait, I better pull down
             the shades, first. 

                          DUSSANDER
             What for? 

                          TODD
             Just to be safe. 

                          DUSSANDER
                    (getting up) 
             To hell with this.  You open it. 

                          TODD
             Oh, relax, old man.  Sit down and open it. 

     Todd opens the refrigerator and pulls out a can of Coke.
     Dussander slowly sits back down. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You wrapped it yourself, I see. 

     He begins to remove the bow, and then the paper.  He moves very
     cautiously, as if the package might explode at any moment.

     Finally, he removes the lid and his expression shifts from one
     of fear to one of exasperation. 

                          TODD
             Merry Christmas!

     We see that the box contains a replica of an officer's S.S. 
     uniform, complete with hat and jackboots.  Dussander reads the
     label.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Pete's Quality Costume Clothiers - Serving 
             You Since 1976.

                          TODD 
             Go ahead, try it on. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Are you out of your mind, boy?  What makes 
             you think I would put something like that on? 

                          TODD 
             I thought you'd like it --

                          DUSSANDER 
             Like it?  My God, you're a bigger fool than I
             thought.  Maybe I'll put it on and do a 
             little shopping downtown.  Is that what you
             thought?  You stupid, boy. 

                          TODD 
             Don't call me stupid. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             You... You know, you are correct.  I am the 
             stupid one.  For months I have suffered your
             indignities.  I have exposed my past to you 
             while watching you stuff your face with those
             wretched hamburgers.  I have stocked my 
             refrigerator with Coca Cola and ding dongs. 
             All for you, I have done these things and I'm
             tired of it.  But because I value my life and 
             my freedom, what's left of it anyway, I do
             them.  But I'll die before I put this thing
             on, you fucking piss-ant. 

                          TODD 
             That's enough.  You don't get to talk to me
             like that. 

     Dussander bangs the table.

                          DUSSANDER
             I should smash you. 

                          TODD
             Do it.  Please.
                    (pause) 
             Indignities?  What you've suffered with me is
             nothing compared to what the Israelis would
             do to you.  Remember what happened to 
             Eichmann?  You forget that, I think.  And,
             you know, that's my fault.  I have let you
             forget.  You have gotten comfortable with
             this situation.  Well, don't you for one 
             minute ever forget who holds the cards here.
             Don't you ever forget that envelope under my 
             mattress.  I tried to do this the nice way, I
             tried to do something to please you, but you 
             don't want it.  So fine, we'll do it the hard
             way.  You will put this on because I want to 
             see you in it.  Now strip.

                          DUSSANDER 
             I hope you go to hell -- 


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     It is five minutes later.  Dussander stands in the uniform.  He
     looks at it indignantly.

                          DUSSANDER 
             The insignia is all wrong.  The boots should
             be leather, not imitation. 

                          TODD 
             That suit cost me over eighty bucks... with
             the boots. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             And this material... what?  Polyester? 

                          TODD 
             Quiet.  Straighten that hat. 

     Dussander ignores him.

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             Straighten that hat, soldier!

                          DUSSANDER
             Good Gott. 

     Dussander does what he is told. 

                          TODD
             Actung!

     Slowly Dussander straightens up.

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             Now, march... Do it!

     Dussander begins to move his feet in place. 

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             That's it.  March.

     Dussander has gotten into a rhythm, marching faster in place.

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             About face.

     Dussander spins sharply on his heels.  He continues to march.

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             About face. 

     Dussander is stomping in place vigorously.  He spins on command,
     facing Todd.  He gives a Nazi salute.  Todd watches him march
     for a moment.  At first he enjoys the domination, but as 
     Dussander gets caught up in the marching, Todd's expression changes. 

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             Okay, that's enough. 

     Dussander is still marching furiously. 

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             I said that's enough! 

     Suddenly Dussander stops.  He collapses into a chair, exhausted.
     He sits there panting for a moment. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy... be careful. You play with fire. 


     DUSSANDER'S DREAM #2: INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     Dussander wakes to a strange, faint rumble.  He climbs out of
     bed and walks across his bedroom toward the source of the sound.
     We follow him as he moves farther and farther away from his bed.
     Soon it is apparent that he is in a space much larger than his
     room.  Yet he is still in darkness, as if his room has suddenly
     ended and continues into a black void.

     But the rumble gets louder, more mechanical sounding.  As the
     sound crescendoes we see what Dussander sees.  A train car.
     Steam rises in the air as if the train has just come to a
     complete stop in the night.

     Dussander stares at the boxcar coldly, and we realize that
     something is staring back at him.  Eyes, dozens of them, glare
     back at him from between the slatted boards of the train.  Some
     are low to the flooe, like those of children.  Others are
     higher.  Dussander snaps at them in German.

                          DUSSANDER
                    (in German)
             Come out. ...Come out, now!

	 No one exits the train.  Yet, the eyes seem to move around
     cautiously within the boxcar.  Dussander is getting angry.  His
     orders aren't being carried out.  Suddenly the door of the train
     slides open.  But still only the eyes are visible.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
                    (in German)
             Line up in front of the train. Now!

     Again, no one gets off.  Enraged, Dussander takes a few steps
     toward the train.  In a flash the eyes charge at him.  But these
     are not the eyes of prisoners.  These are wolves.  Dussander can
     only cover his face with his arms as the snarling teeth descend
     upon him.


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     Dussander wakes from his nightmare in a cold sweat. His pajamas
     are soaked. Disoriented and out of breath, he climbs out of bed
     and clicks on the light.

     The closet. He stares at the closed closet door for a moment and
     then moves toward it slowly. He opens the door and runs his
     fingers across the assortment of shirts and jackets. His hand
     stops near the back.


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - FIVE MINUTES LATER

     Dussander is seated on the side of the bed smoking a cigarette.
     He is dressed, with the exception of the boots and hat, in the 
     SS uniform.  He appears calmer, less agitated.  He crunches out
     the cigarette and slips under the covers.  He turns off the
     light.  He closes his eyes.  For the moment, he is at peace.  


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL - LOCKER AREA - DAY

     Todd stands facing his open locker.  He is staring at his report
     card.  Sweat collects on his forehead.  He looks like he is 
     about to explode.  He wipes his brow with his sleeve and turns
     around to see if anyone notices him.  TWO STUDENTS catch his 
     eye.  They are both Asian.  They are smiling and pouring over 
     each other's report cards.  Todd zips open his backpack, giving
     us a quick glimpse of the disassembled rifle pieces inside.  He
     throws the report card in and zips up the bag.  Slinging the bag
     over his shoulder, he slams the locker shut and heads off down
     the hall.


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - DAY

     Todd is shooting baskets with Joey.  It is after school.  Todd
     wears a white T-shirt.  Off to the side, we see the dress shirt
     he was wearing earlier and his school bag.  

                          JOEY 
             So what are you going to do? 

                          TODD
             Fuck if I know.  

     Todd throws up a clumsy shot.  It misses.  

                          JOEY 
             You're throwing it flat.  Let it roll off
             your fingers more.  

                          TODD 
                    (snapping at him)
             I don't need a lesson.  

     Todd adjusts his grip on the ball anyway.  He shoots again.  No
     good.  

                          JOEY 
             Your dad, man.  I don't know.  I mean, I'm a
             fuck up.  My dad is used to this crap from 
             me.  

     Todd does not respond to his friend's attempt at humor.   He is
     slamming the ball around with great force.  He bounces it hard
     off the back wall to give himself a rebound.  He is mumbling to
     himself.  

                          JOEY
             What? 

                          TODD
             What? 

                          JOEY 
             You said something? 

                          TODD
             No.

                          JOEY 
             You're talking to yourself, Bowden.  It's not
             the first time I've noticed it.  What is 
             going on with you?

                          TODD 
             Nothing, Joey.  I fucked up.  I'II fix it.  
             I'II fix it.  

                          JOEY
                    (hurt) 
             All right, man.  Whatever you say.  Look, I
             got to get to practice.  

     No response from Todd.  

                          JOEY (CONT'D) 
             If you need to talk, you can call me.  You
             know that.  I'II see you around.  

     Joey walks off.  Todd continues shooting the ball.  

                          TODD
                    (mumbling) 
             You're talking to yourself, Bowden.  You're
             talking to yourself, Bowden.  

     He throws up a shot.  It is good.  

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             I'II fix it.  I'II fix it.  

     A strange SQUAWKING sound is heard.  Todd doesn't hear it at
     first, but as the sound grows louder Todd stops the ball and 
     looks around.  His eyes focus on the area near an open doorway.
     Sunlight streams into the empty gym.  Todd walks closer, seeing
     that the sound is coming from an injured bird that has crawled 
     in from outside.  He goes up to it.  The bird is black.  Its 
     wing is damaged.  It SQUAWKS loudly, looking up at Todd.  Todd
     begins mumbling again.  He starts to dribble the ball 
     thoughtlessly.  As his words become clearer, the bouncing gets
     harder.

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             I'll fix it.  I'll fix it.  I'll fix it.  

     Todd is bouncing the ball very hard next to him.  The bird
     continues to SCREAM.  Slowly the ball drifts from beside Todd to
     in front of him, gaining force with every bounce.  He brings it
     up to his face and with both hands throws it down with all his
     might.  When it comes back up, it is smeared with blood.  He
     throws it down again, this time it comes up with feathers
     smeared in the blood.  The squawking has stopped.  Blood
     splatters on Todd's shirt.  His eyes close.  

     He stops the ball, looks around.  No one has seen him.  He 
     notices his shirt.  Calmly, he tears it off, wraps the ball in
     it, and tosses it in a nearby trash can.  


     EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET - DAY

     Todd pedals his bike through town, carrying a brown paper bag 
     under one arm.  He turns down Dussander's street.  He stops in
     front of the house and heads for the front door.  


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     Dussander emerges from the basement just as Todd comes into the
     kitchen.  Todd sniffs the air, frowns.  

                          TODD 
             What the fuck happened in here?

                          DUSSANDER 
             Ah, boy...  I burned my TV dinner, I'm afraid.  

                          TODD
             Something's come up.  Sit down.  

     Dussander's studies Todd for a moment.  Although Todd appears
     calm, his tone reflects a somber, business-like attitude.

                          DUSSANDER
             I see.  
                    (sits at table) 
             What seems to be the trouble? 

     Todd sets his grade card and the envelope on the table.
     Dussander picks up the grade card and examines it.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Quarterly Progress Report.
                    (he reads silently) 
             You seem to have fallen on the rocks, my boy.
             One B, three C's and a D.  Hardly the work of
             a "National Merit Scholar," or whatever you
             call yourself.  

                          TODD 
             This isn't a joke, Dussander.  I can't blame
             this on teachers or honors classes anymore.  

                          DUSSANDER
             Looks like you have a problem then.  

                          TODD 
             I have a problem?  You still don't get it.  
             I'm out of excuses.  Do you know what's going
             to happen when my dad sees that?  He's going 
             to hit the fucking roof.  He'll get it all
             out of me.  The truth, you...everything.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, it's not my fault your grades have 
             fallen.  

                          TODD
             Don't be so sure.  

     Dussander throws Todd a dismissive wave.  He gets up to get a drink 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Please, you don't spend that much time here.
             I hardly think--

                          TODD 
                    (quickly, as if confessing something) 
             I can't study anymore. 

     Pause.  Dussander looks at him oddly, a bit surprised.  But then
     opens the cabinet and pulls out a glass, allowing Todd to continue.  

                          TODD 
                    (with difficulty) 
             I try.  But it's...  different now.  I sit in 
             front of my books and start thinking about...
             about corpses, and electrified fences and
             people getting strangled with piano wire.  
             All that crap you tell me.  The next thing I
             know it's after midnight.  I sit in class 
             like a zombie, ...useless.  But that's not
             the half of it.  Check out the letter.  

     Dussander goes back to the table and picks up the envelope.  He
     opens it.

                          DUSSANDER
                    (reading letter) 
             'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Bowden, this note is to
             suggest that we have a group conference 
             concerning Todd's first semester grades.  In
             light of his previous good work in this
             school, the sudden deterioration in his
             grades suggest a specific problem which
             should be addressed before his academic 
             advancement is jeopardized permanently.  Such
             a problem can often be solved by a frank and
             open discussion.  I am ready to work out a 
             time for us to meet.  In a case such as this,
             earlier is usually better.  Sincerely yours,
             Edward French.'  Who is this Edward French,
             the headmaster? 

                          TODD 
             French?  Fuck no.  He's a stupid guidance
             counselor.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Guidance counselor?  What is that? 

                          TODD 
             He guides and he counsels.  You read the
             fucking note.  Do you realize I could have to
             go to summer school?  Me, in there with all
             those fuck-ups.  I do not want to go to
             summer school.  

                          DUSSANDER
             Or to the reformatory.  

                          TODD
             What did you say? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, ...you have a far greater problem than
             your school grades.  Before you speak to me
             about what they will "get out of you", 
             remember the facts. ...Seventy thousand 
             people died at Patin.  Have you forgotten 
             that?  To the world at large I am the most 
             despicable of criminals, a monster.  Do you 
             think I would stand aside and let you turn me
             in so easily?  Without a fight?  Is your 
             American self-confidence so bloated that you 
             have never once realized you are an accessory 
             to my crimes.  You have criminal knowledge of 
             an illegal alien, and have not reported it. 
             Don't you see that?  And if I'm caught, I 
             will tell the world all about you.  When the 
             reporters put their microphones in my face it
             will be your name I'll repeat over and over
             again.  Todd Bowden, yes that's his name.  
             How long?... oh, for months, almost a year.
             He wanted to know everything...  That's how
             he put it, yes - everything.  

                          TODD 
             They'd never believe you.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Perhaps, perhaps not.  It's a gamble.  How
             would you explain all those books you were
             reading to me?  My eyes are not what they 
             were but I can still read fine print.  I can
             prove it.

                          TODD 
             So what? I'd say you tricked me.  

                          DUSSANDER
             Why would I do that?

                          TODD
             For friendship, because you're lonely and had
             no one in your life.  No jury would take your
             word over mine.  A Nazi?  Forget it.  Just 
             get it out of your head.  You can't threaten
             me and you can't scare me.  What you can do
             is find me a pencil.  

                          DUSSANDER
             A pencil, what for? 

     Todd sets the small paper bag on the table.  Dussander opens it
     and removes a small bottle.  The label reads: "ink eradicator."
     He also removes an x-acto knife and a few sheets of rub-off
     letters.  

                          TODD 
             That will take care of the report card, I 
             think.  About that fucking letter, I don't
             know.  

     Todd sits down at the table.  He takes the bottle from Dussander
     and examines the report card.

                          TODD (CONT'D) 
             Fuck...  come on, a pencil.  A sharp one.  
             With an eraser.  

     Dussander pauses.  He knows Todd is right.  Slowly, he goes to 
     the counter and opens a drawer.  He rummages through it as Todd 
     sits with his back to him.  Dussander picks out a pencil with an
     extremely sharp point.  He holds it point out and approaches
     Todd.  He gets closer, the point moves in toward the back of 
     Todd's head.  He holds the point inches from the boy's neck.  He
     deliberates.

                          DUSSANDER
             Will this do? 

     Todd grabs the pencil.  Dussander turns toward the window.  He
     thinks for a moment.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             Tell me, does this French know your parents
             in a social way? 

                          TODD 
             Him?  Fuck, no.  They wouldn't mix with a
             geek like him.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             How about professionally?  Has he ever called
             them before? 

                          TODD 
             No.  I've never needed it.  Why? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I have an idea.  It will require you to make
             one phone call.  


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL - OFFICE WAITING AREA - DAY

     Kurt Dussander, a.k.a. Arthur Denker, a.k.a. Victor Bowden,
     Todd's grandfather, sits outside an office marked, "Edward
     French - Guidance."  Dussander looks the best he has ever 
     looked.  His hair is clean and combed.  His face is shaved.  And
     he is smartly dressed in his best blue suit.  As he waits, he
     glances down at a piece of paper.  We see that it is a "crib-
     sheet" of Todd's family tree.  Several names appear on the 
     sheet, connected to other names by lines and arrows.  By each
     name is one or two word description, such as "dead: cancer,
     1981" or "divorced, Dallas, Tex."  The door opens up.  Dussander
     pockets the note.  EDWARD FRENCH, 40's, stands in the doorway.
     He wears a turtle neck under his sportcoat.  

                          FRENCH 
             Mr. Bowden?

                          DUSSANDER
             Mr. French, a pleasure.  

     There is a bit of hesitation on French's part, but they shake 
     hands.  Dussander notices the shoes on French's feet, bright red
     converse high-tops.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             My, those are some... colorful shoes.  


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL - FRENCH'S OFFICE - DAY

     French makes his way around his desk.  Dussander stands by the
     door.

                          FRENCH 
             To you, sir, I'm sure they seem quite out of 
             the ordinary.  But when it is your job to get 
             confused sixteen year-olds to open up to you,
             you take whatever steps you need.  Please
             have a seat.  

     They both sit.  

                          DUSSANDER
             And the shoes work? 

                          FRENCH 
             They seem to help, believe it or not.  Well,
             I thank you for coming down, Mr.  Bowden, but
             I'll be frank with you...  

                          DUSSANDER
             Yes, please do.

                          FRENCH 
             The fact that you're here and not Todd's
             parents tells me a great deal.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             I'm sure.  My son and his wife asked me to 
             come in and discuss this sorry business with 
             you, Mr.  French.  Todd is a good boy, believe
             me.  This trouble with his grades is only
             temporary.  

     Dussander pulls out his cigarettes and then, thinking twice,
     puts them back.

                          FRENCH 
             It's all right.
                    (pulls an ashtray from desk
                    drawer) 
             There's no smoking on school grounds, but if 
             it will make you more comfortable, I'll never
             tell.

                          DUSSANDER 
             A terrible habit, but thank you.
                    (lights up) 
             I suppose I should begin by informing you 
             that my son and my daughter-in-law are having
             troubles at home.  Rather bad troubles, I
             should think.  

                          FRENCH 
             I appreciate your candor.  

                          DUSSANDER
                    (leaning in)
             The mother drinks.

                          FRENCH
             Oh.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Yes.  The boy has told me that he has come
             home on two occasions and has found her 
             sprawled out on the kitchen table.  He knows 
             how my son feels about her drinking and so on
             these occasions he has put dinner in the oven
             himself and forced enough black coffee down 
             his mother's throat so that she will at least
             be awake when Richard gets home.

                          FRENCH
             That's bad.  Has Mrs. Bowden thought about
             getting professional help for her problem? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             The boy has tried to persuade her, but she is
             far too ashamed, I think.  If she was given a
             little time...  You understand? 

                          FRENCH 
             Of course.  Your son... Todd's father...

                          DUSSANDER 
             He is not without blame, believe me.  The
             hours he works.  The meals he has missed.  
             They take a toll on a family.  I was raised
             to believe that a man's family came before 
             his work or anything else.  I tried to teach
             my son that... but --

                          FRENCH 
             There's only so much we can teach our kids, 
             Mr. Bowden.  ...What about Monica's mother or
             father?  Couldn't they talk to her? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Her mother, Sabrina, lives in a nursing home
             in Florida.  I'm afraid after her husband
             died she lost her will to live.  

                          FRENCH 
             Probably not the best person for Monica to
             speak to.  

                          DUSSANDER
             Indeed.  

                          FRENCH 
             Mr. Bowden, I don't have to remind you, I'm 
             sure, of Todd's stellar academic record.
             National Merit Scholar finalist, Academic
             All-Stars.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Yes.  I keep his certificates on the wall of
             my store.  I run a small bookstore in San
             Remo.  

     A hint of skepticism crosses French's eyes.  

                          FRENCH 
                    (glancing at folder on desk) 
             Yes, I see that.  Anyway, Todd is, and I hate
             to phrase it this way, but he's one of the 
             ones worth fighting for.  He's a special kid,
             we both know that.  But If Todd's grades
             don't improve drastically and quickly...
             he'll be opening a real nasty can of worms.
             Summer school would just be the beginning.  
             His whole college acceptance schedule would
             be thrown way off course.  The good schools
             won't know what to make of him.  I'm sure
             he'd hate that and so would you.

                          DUSSANDER
             Of course.  

                          FRENCH 
             So let's get to the bottom line, shall we? 
             What I'm proposing is some family counselling
             at the Counselling Center downtown.
             Everything is in confidence, of course.  A
             man in charge down there, Harry Shumacher, is 
             a good friend of mine.  I think Todd and his 
             parents should go see him together.  It might
             be difficult for Todd to go to his parents 
             with this; I think you should do it.  Maybe
             we can get everybody on track by the end of 
             the next quarter.  It will be tough, but not
             impossible.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             I'm not sure that would be the best thing for
             the boy.  The parents might resent him if I
             took them that proposal right now.  Things
             are very delicate.  To swing the scale too 
             far in the wrong direction might cause more 
             harm than good.  The boy has promised to work
             harder in his studies.  He is most concerned
             by the drop in his grades, more alarmed than
             you might expect.  He has his mind set on 
             attending Stanford or Berkeley next fall and
             does not wish to see his plans altered.  

                          FRENCH
             Yes, well -- 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Also, the parents would resent me.  Monica
             already thinks I meddle too much in her
             affairs.  

                          FRENCH 
             I have a great deal of experience in these 
             matters, Mr. Bowden.  And please understand
             that my interest in your son's marital 
             problems begins and ends with the effect they
             are having on Todd.  And right now I think 
             they are having quite an effect.  I really
             think counselling is in order here.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Allow me to make a counter proposal.  You 
             have, I believe, a system for warning parents
             of poor grades? 

                          FRENCH 
             Yes, Interpretation of Progress cards.  IOP
             cards.  The kids call them flunk card.  They
             only get them when their grades in a class 
             fall below the seventy percent.  That means a
             "D" or an "F".  Why? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             And they are sent out when? 

                          FRENCH
             Mid-quarter.  That's about three weeks into
             the new marking period.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Allowing for Christmas break, the next time
             they are sent out will be in late January,
             correct?

                          FRENCH
             Yes, that's right.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Good.  Then what I suggest is this...  


     EXT. DUSSANDER'S BACK PORCH - DAY

     Dussander still wears the blue suit.  The tie has been loosened
     and top button undone.  Todd still wears his backpack.

                          TODD
             You what? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             I told him you were getting back on track by
             your own accord.  I gave him my word.  If you
             get even one flunk card--

                          TODD 
             Are you out of your fucking mind?  I'm going
             to get three or four flunk cards.  I failed
             an economics test today, so there's another
             one. 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, it was the best I could do without
             arousing suspicion.  

                          TODD 
             I could have done better myself --

                          DUSSANDER 
             Well you didn't, did you?  This is the way it
             is and now you are upset because the only way
             you can make things right is to work.

                          TODD 
             You're insane.  I'm upset because it can't be done.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             It can.  And it will.  You will work.  

                          TODD 
             I don't take orders from you.  Maybe you've
             forgotten --

                          DUSSANDER
                    (turning on him) 
             Listen, boy.  Before today it was possible,
             just barely possible, that you could have
             denounced me and come out clean yourself.  
             The way your nerves have been lately I don't
             think so, but never mind that.  It was - at
             least technically possible.  But now things
             have changed.  Today I impersonated your 
             grandfather, one Victor Bowden.  And it was
             you who arranged the meeting.  What would
             people make of that?  If things come out 
             now... perhaps you were right, your age and a
             good attorney might keep you out of jail, but
             you would be humiliated, boy, publicly.  You 
             would be infamous.  Your parents too.  Do you 
             know what such a scandal would do to them?
             To you?  Think about that.  

     Todd is stunned.  He turns away, then back again, struggling for
     the right words.  

                          TODD
             You fucker.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             It's a done deal, boy.  If you don't like it,
             you can discuss it at family counselling.  

                          TODD 
             God!  I wish... I wish -- 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Never mind your wishes.  Your wishes make me
             sick.  All I want to hear is that you
             understand the situation.  

     Todd is furious.  He sees there is no other way, but continues
     fighting.

                          TODD 
             Look, you gotta believe me.  There is no way
             in hell that I can pull myself out of a half
             year slide in a couple of weeks.  I wish I 
             could, but we're just going to have to think
             of something else.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Boy, the time for discussion is over.  This
             is the way it is.  You are going to work.
             And I am going to be right here with you.  

                          TODD 
             What are you talking about? 


     EXT. BIKE PATH - DAY

     Todd is standing with his bike on a dirt path.  He is looking
     out at something.  The wind blows throw his hair.  A distant
     glimpse of some buildings off to the side tell us he is on a
     hill.  

                          DUSSANDER (V.O.) 
             You are going to spend the rest of this 
             quarter, all of your vacation and the first 
             three weeks of January studying.  During your
             free period you will study.  During lunch,
             you will study.  And after school and on 
             weekends you will come here and do the same.


     EXT. BIKE PATH - TUNNEL - DAY

     Todd pedals his bike furiously toward the camera.  He approaches
     a tunnel lined with corrugated metal below an overpass.

                          TODD (V.O.)
             Not here, at home.  

                          DUSSANDER (V.O.)
             No.  At home you will dawdle, you will talk
             on the telephone, watch TV.  Here, I can make
             sure that nothing distracts you from your
             studies.

     Todd emerges from the tunnel.  


     DUSSANDER'S DREAM #3: EXT. PRISON YARD - NIGHT

     Spotlights, like those from a guard tower, criss cross over a 
     small compound surrounded by an electrified fence.  Inside the 
     pen, wolf-like dogs snarl and gnash their teeth.  The spotlight
     catches the source of their aggravation...  

     Dussander, caught ghoulishly in the roving light, stands in 
     uniform outside the pen.  He is laughing.  In his hand is his
     Luger.  He fires through the fence, killing one of the dogs.
     They go wild.  He laughs harder.  He shoots again, and then
     again.  It is like shooting fish in a barrel.  

     The light beam passes the pen to reveal that the dogs have 
     transformed into human prisoners.  They maneuver helplessly to
     avoid Dussander's bullets.  But he fires faster, his laugh 
     growing more extreme.  His movements in between shots becomes a 
     sort of dance.  One prisoner flies against the fence in a pools
     of sparks.  As Dussander's waltz reaches it's climax, one 
     prisoner remains in the pen.  He looks up.  It is Todd.  Angle
     on Dussander's toothy grin.  The gun comes up...  


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - IMMEDIATELY AFTER

     Dussander wakes up.  A CLANKING SOUND echoes from the street.
     Dussander looks like he could have been having a wonderful sex 
     dream, but he turns his head toward the direction of the street.
     He clicks on the light.  Dressed in the SS uniform, he gets up
     and moves toward the window.  

     Through the window, bathed in the glow of a street lamp, a
     derelict, who we will come to know as ARCHIE, rummages through
     Dussander's trashcans.  Under his arm are a few of the empty 
     bourbon bottles.  


     INT. BECKY'S TOYOTA - NIGHT

     The car pulls into the driveway of Todd's house.  Becky is
     smoking a joint and blowing the smoke out the window.  They both
     look a little tipsy, as if they have been to a party.  She holds 
     the joint up to Todd.  He contemplates, then takes it.  Todd's
     first toke of marijuana isn't very small.  Becky looks on, 
     surprised.  She reaches out for the joint and Todd waves her 
     off.  He pulls again, this time ingesting a huge hit.  He holds 
     it, then exhales.  He gives the roach back to Becky.

                          TODD 
             Their light is still on.  I'll get out on
             your side.  Don't say anything.

     Becky gets out.  Todd slides over and does the same.  She 
     crushes the joint out on the pavement and puts the rest in her
     purse.


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     Dussander watches Archie collect the cans and bottles.  There is
     something about Archie that makes Dussander wonder if he has
     seen him before.  Archie looks up, right into Dussander's 
     window, as if he were expecting him to be there.  The two stare
     at one another for a long moment.  Suddenly Dussander is aware
     that he is dressed in the SS uniform.  

     He quickly steps back from the window.  His breathing is short 
     and erratic as he waits in the shadows for Archie to finish.  
     After a long moment, the noise from the street stops.  We hear
     only the faint steps of Archie walking away.  


     INT. TODD'S BEDROOM - BOWDEN HOUSE - NIGHT

     Todd and Becky's lips are locked in a passionate kiss. In their
     exuberance they fall onto the bed.  As they try to undress and
     kiss at the same time, Becky begins to moan.  Todd brings his
     fingers to his lips.  

                          TODD
             Shhh.  

     Their clothes tumble off around them.  

                          TODD (CONT'D)
             Don't move.  

     He slides off her and opens the drawer by his bed.  He pulls out
     a condom.  By now she is naked.  Todd slips out of his underwear
     and falls on top of her.  The RADIO plays in the b.g. as Todd
     begins to grind away with his hips.  She moans softly with 
     delight.

     The CAMERA MOVES off of them to reveal a man in a lab coat 
     setting up a volt meter.  This is one of the scientists from 
     Todd's laboratory nightmare.  The CAMERA continues TO PAN across
     the bedroom, showing the other scientists preparing for the 
     electricity experiment.  The CAMERA STOPS on Dussander,
     clipboard in hand, observing everything carefully.  

     Todd releases with a final thrust.  Becky is MOANING in a series
     of high, fast yelps.  Todd lies still on her body.  Becky is
     speechless, still quivering from the unusually intense love
     making.


     INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     The bedroom is dark except for the glowing tip of a cigarette.
     Dussander is in bed, wide awake...  


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     TITLE: JANUARY 1985 

     Todd sits alone at the table, eating while he studies.  
     Dussander crosses the frame behind him, drink in hand.  Todd is
     noticeably annoyed by Dussander's presence.


     EXT. BIKE PATH - TUNNEL - DUSK

     It is raining.  Todd is riding fast.  He wears a raincoat with 
     the hood up.  He talks to himself loudly, but we can't make out
     what he is saying.  He enters the tunnel.  

     The muddy run-off inside the tunnel catches Todd by surprise.
     He loses control of the bike and falls into the mud.  

                          TODD
             Fuck.  

     Todd gets up and tries to free his bike, but the mud and water
     do not make the job easy.  He is almost finished when a gruff
     voice catches his attention.  

                          ARCHIE (O.S.) 
             Hey, kid, you having some trouble? 

     Todd looks up and sees a figure moving toward him in the shadows
     of the tunnel. Todd quickly pulls out a pocket knife.  He flicks
     open the blade and hides it behind his leg.  

                          TODD 
             No.  I got it... thanks.  

     The figure steps closer.  The light catches his face to reveal
     Archie.  He is an unshaven, filthy mess, and when he speaks his
     words are slurred from years of steady drinking.  

                          ARCHIE 
             That case maybe you could loan me a dollar.
             Help out a Vietnam vet? How 'bout it? 

     Todd eyes the man cautiously.  He looks around.  No one is 
     nearby.  The constant din of the rain echoes within the confines
     of the tunnel.  

                          TODD 
             I... I don't know... I don't think so.  

     Todd palms the knife out of sight and slowly approaches the bum.  

                          ARCHIE 
             C'mon, you got something for me.  I know you
             do.

                          TODD
             Well, maybe... I have to check.  

     Todd's hands go into his pockets.  He stops a few feet from the
     bum.  

                          ARCHIE 
             See, I got to get up to L.A.  Got a job
             waiting for me up there.  

     Todd moves closer.  Close enough to touch the bum.  

                          TODD 
             I thought I did have a couple of quarters...

     The bum looks at him hopefully. Todd looks back at him, sizing
     him up, really noticing him for the first time.  

                          ARCHIE
             You know, 
                    (his voice drops) 
             For a dollar I'll give you a blow job.  Take 
             you right up there where it's still dry.  You
             never had so good, kid.  You'll come your
             brains out.  

     Todd freezes for a moment.  The bum is right in his face.  
     Suddenly Todd throws a handful of change at the bum and sprints
     back to his bike.  He hops on and is gone in a flash, leaving
     the bum there to pick up the scattered coins.  

     As Todd zips away, the hood is off his head.  The rain begins to
     beat away the splattered mud from his face.


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL - HISTORY CLASS - DAY

     Mr. Proxmire makes his way through the rows of desks.  He is
     passing out papers.  

                          PROXMIRE 
             Our illustrious administration, in its quest
             to make my job as difficult as possible, has
             decided that home room teachers are now 
             responsible for handing IOP cards for all 
             your classes.  So for those of you getting
             flunk cards, you'll find them attached to
             last week's exam.  

     Moans erupt from the class.  Todd sits motionless at his desk.
     The moment of truth.  Proxmire passes him and places the exam
     face down on Todd's desk.  Todd hesitates before turning it
     over.  He is sweating.  

     He flips the paper over and glares at the small card clipped to
     the top of the paper.  He picks up the card and reads it: "I'm
     sure glad I didn't have to give you one of these for real!
     Great improvement, Todd. -- Anne Leland."  Todd cannot contain 
     his delight.  Nearby students stare curiously at the strange boy
     beaming over his flunk card.  


     INT. DUSSANDER'S KITCHEN - DAY

     Dussander sits at the table.  He holds the IOP card out at arm's
     length to read it.  The bourbon bottle next to him is empty.
     Todd sits across from him.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             Well, this calls for a celebration, no? 

     Dussander gets up and goes to the refrigerator.  

                          TODD 
             Look, I guess I owe a lot of this to you.
             I'm not proud of it, but it's true.  

                          DUSSANDER 
                    (eyeing him cautiously)
             Your gratitude humbles me.
                    (pause) 
             How about some Ritz crackers and Velveeta?

                          TODD 
             Sure, what the hell.  

     Dussander goes about his task, taking items from the cabinets, 
     etc.  Todd watches all of this intently, but without expression.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             I would have expected you to be doing back 
             flips down the hallway after such good news.
             You are so quiet.  

     Todd does not respond.  

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             Today, I think, I give you the day off from
             studying.  How's that?  How about one of my
             stories instead?  I still have a few good
             ones saved up.  

                          TODD 
             I don't care.  Whatever you want.  

     Todd is wringing his hand together nervously under the table.
     Dussander places a box of crackers on the table and goes back to
     the counter.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Let's see.  I could tell you about the 
             special soap we made.  Or there is always the
             story of how I escaped from Berlin after I
             was foolish enough to go back.  That was a
             close one, I promise you.  

                          TODD
             Anything, really.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             No, none of these I think.  You don't seem to
             be in the mood.  

     Dussander slices open a pack of Velveeta and puts it on a plate.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             I think today I will tell you the story of an
             old man who was afraid.  He was afraid of a
             certain young boy who was, in a queer way, 
             his friend.  The boy proved to be a very good
             student, but perhaps not in the way his 
             mother or his teachers had envisioned.  At 
             first the old man disliked the boy intensely,
             but then he grew to... to enjoy the boy's 
             company.  Of course, there was still a great
             deal of distrust between them.

     He puts a glass of Coke in front of Todd and goes back to the
     counter.  He opens a drawer, takes something out, closes it.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D)
             Each knew something that other wanted to keep
             secret.  But over time, the old man began to
             feel that things were changing.  He felt his
             hold on the boy slipping away from him.  

     Dussander goes to the cellar door.  His back is to Todd.  He
     opens the door and clicks on the light.  Todd stands up
     silently.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             So.  One sleepless night the old man got out
             of bed and wrote down the story of his 
             involvement with the boy.  Everything he 
             could remember, from the first day forward.  

     Todd has moved across the floor, careful not to let the floor 
     creak under his steps.  He is right upon Dussander.  Dussander
     reaches out with one arm for a fresh bottle, grasping onto the
     railing with the other.  His body hangs over the steep
     staircase.  

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             When he finished his hand was stinging from 
             arthritis but he felt good for the first time
             in weeks.  He felt safe.

     He gets his balance again and turns to face Todd.  Dussander
     holds the kitchen knife he was using earlier down at his side 
     where Todd can see it.  A tense silence passes between them.

     Todd is frozen.  Dussander steps past him and back into the 
     kitchen.  He closes the cellar door behind him. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             He climbed back into bed and slept until it
             was time for General Hospital.  

     Dussander sits back in his chair, cutting the seal on the fresh
     bottle. 

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             On the following day the old man put on his
             best suit and went down to one of the local
             banks and rented a safety deposit box.  The 
             bank officer explained to the old man that he
             would have a key and the bank would have a
             key.  To open the box both keys would be 
             needed.  No one but the old man could use the
             old man's key without a signed, notarized
             letter of permission from the old man 
             himself.  With one exception.

     Todd sinks into a chair across from Dussander and takes a sip of
     Coke.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             That exception is made in the event of the
             box-holder's death.  

                          TODD
             Then what? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             Then the box is opened in the presence of a
             bank official and a representative of the 
             Internal Revenue Service.  The contents of 
             the box are inventoried.  In this case they 
             will find only a twelve-page document.  Non-
             taxable... but highly interesting.  

     Todd understands what the old man has told him.  He slams his
     glass down on the table and jumps out of his chair.  

                          TODD
             You can't... you can't do that.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             My boy, it is already done.  

                          TODD 
             But... Christ!  Look at you.  You could go at
             any time.  

     Todd stares at Dussander in disbelief.  After a moment he storms
     out the back door to the porch.  


     EXT. DUSSANDER'S BACK PORCH - DAY

     Todd is leaning over the rail looking out at the yard when
     Dussander steps onto the porch.  He carries with him the bottle
     of bourbon and a glass.  

                          TODD 
             Then there is nothing for me.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             But there is.  As the years go by, as I get
             closer to the grave, your hold on me will 
             become worth less and less.  A man five, ten
             years older than I worries more about his 
             ailing heart than being extradited to Israel.
             And there will come a day - if I live long
             enough - when I decide what you know no 
             longer matters.  Then, and only then, I will
             destroy my document.  

                          TODD 
             But... but so many things can happen to you 
             in between.  Accidents.  Sickness.  You could
             slip in the shower, for Christ's sake...  

     Dussander shrugs and lights another cigarette.  He begins to
     sing softly, then gets caught up in the song...  Todd turns away, angry.

                          DUSSANDER 
             Que sera, sera...  Whatever will be, will
             be... The future's not ours to see... Que
             sera, sera...  

     Pause.  Dussander sees he has pressed Todd's button.  He moves
     closer.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             My dear boy, I see you thinking about it, 
             even now.  It is in your eyes.  Killing me.
             It would take only a flick of a knife.  Or
             maybe push me down the steps, make it look 
             like an accident?  I am old.  You are strong.
             You are angry.  Good assets for killing.  But
             there is something missing...  

     Dussander speaks with a near whisper in Todd's ear.

                          DUSSANDER (CONT'D) 
             To have some one in your control.  To have
             them know that they are alive because you
             have not decided to the contrary.  Do you
             have that power?  Ask yourself.  It is no
             easy question.  I think you know that.  

     There is a long pregnant pause.  Then Todd lets out a sigh, as if
     to dismiss what he has just heard.  He turns to face Dussander.  

                          TODD 
             You know this means we're through.  You won't
             be seeing me around here anymore.  

                          DUSSANDER
             No, I suppose I won't.  

                          TODD 
             I'm never coming here again.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             And so it comes to an end.  Here.

     Dussander pours a splash of bourbon into the boy's glass.  

                          TODD 
             What are you doing? 

                          DUSSANDER 
             A drink.  To our lives together, the
             beginning... and the end.  

     Todd picks up his glass.  

                          TODD 
             I think you should fuck yourself.  

     He CLICKS his glass against Dussander's.

                          DUSSANDER 
             My boy, don't you see that we are fucking
             each other? 

     He drinks.  Todd, reluctantly, does the same.

                                                        FADE TO BLACK.


     EXT. MAIN STREET - SANTO DONATO - DAY

     TITLE:  APRIL 1985 

     Dussander, dressed smartly for a day out of the house, emerges
     from a matinee at the movie theater and strolls down the 
     sidewalk, the umbrella under his arm.  He stops at an empty bench 
     and sits to wait for the bus.  

     Archie sits down next to him.  At first Dussander doesn't pay
     attention to him, but Archie's behavior tells us that he is 
     keenly aware of Dussander's presence.  Dussander stares out into
     the street, but Archie fidgets about, his eyes roaming, and 
     finally slides a little closer to Dussander.  Dussander looks at
     him flatly.  Archie grins.  Dussander turns away, prepared to
     dismiss this odd behavior as that of a crazed derelict.  Then
     Archie speaks...

                          ARCHIE 
                    (leaning over) 
             I notice the kid don't come around no more.  

     Dussander doesn't respond.  He catches Archie in a glance and
     sees that he is staring at him.  

                          DUSSANDER 
             What?

                          ARCHIE 
             Little blond-hair boy. ...What's the matter,
             you ain't his friend no more? 

     Dussander is like stone, flashing the eyes of a man who is not
     to be harassed.  Finally...  

                          DUSSANDER 
             You mistake me for somebody else. ...Pardon
             me, my bus is coming.  

     Dussander stands, slightly rattled only to those who know him
     well.  He looks down the street for the bus.  Archie doesn't 
     move.  Rather, he inspects Dussander from head to toe, stopping
     on the shoes.  

                          ARCHIE 
             Damn... Cuban high heels.  Nice ones, too. 

     The SQUEAL of brakes grows louder as the bus comes to rest in 
     front of Dussander.  He has become perceptibly more nervous as
     he waits for the passengers to exit.  He climbs up the first
     step.

                          ARCHIE 
             I ain't seen a pair like that since I was in
             Havana.  
                    (talking louder because of the 
                    bus) 
             That's the only place you can get'em.  Can't
             get'em exported... Government don't let you.  

     The door closes behind Dussander. The bus pulls away. Through
     the window of the bus Dussander watches Archie as he continues
     his speech to no one.  


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL OFFICE - DAY

     TITLE: MAY 1985 

     Todd sits nervously in a chair next to a tough, leather-clad 
     trouble maker.  A SECRETARY sits behind a long desk.  Her phone
     beeps and she picks it up.  

                          SECRETARY 
             Go in, Todd.  They're waiting for you.  

     Todd approaches a door marked: "Dr. Carl N. Morgan - Principal."
     He goes in.  


     INT. HIGH SCHOOL PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - DAY

     Todd opens the office door.  As his eyes scan the floor he
     notices a familiar pair of yellow high-tops.  He looks up to see
     Ed French leaning against the wall.  Seated at the desk is
     MORGAN, a thin, stern man, around 50.  Todd's face shows a
     moment of trepidation, but he regains his composure almost
     instantly.

                          MORGAN
             Have a seat, Todd.  

     Todd does as Morgan pours over Todd's files.  

                          MORGAN (CONT'D) 
             I see from your record and from what Mr.  
             French tells me that after a minor slip up
             last semester you're right back on course.
             Straight A's for the quarter so far.  And I 
             hear your little slip didn't bother the folks
             up at Stanford too much either.  

                          FRENCH 
             A good break for you, Todd.  

                          MORGAN 
             Looks like that little talk with your...