0d95465d9d08a01d744d71e51384f301b5fd1b0f
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THE BOURNE IDENTITY
: THE END
 In the Mediterranean Sea, Italian fishermen rescue an unconscious American (Matt Damon) floating adrift with two gunshot wounds in his back. They tend to his wounds, and when the man wakes, they find he suffers from dissociative amnesia. He has no memory of his own identity, while he retains his speech and finds himself capable of advanced combat skills and fluency in several languages. The skipper finds a tiny laser projector under the man's hip that, when activated, gives a number of a safe deposit box in Z端rich. Upon landing, the man heads to investigate the box. Arriving at the bank, the man finds the box contains a large sum of money in various currencies, numerous passports and identity cards with his picture on all of them, and a handgun. The man takes everything but the gun, and leaves, opting to use the name on the American passport, Jason Bourne.
After Bourne's departure, a bank employee contacts Operation Treadstone, a CIA black ops program. Treadstone's head, Alexander Conklin (Chris Cooper), activates three agents to take down Bourne: Castel (Nicky Naude), Manheim (Russell Levy), and the Professor (Clive Owen), while also issuing alerts to local police to capture Bourne. Meanwhile, CIA Deputy Director Ward Abbott (Brian Cox) contacts Conklin about a failed assassination attempt against exiled African dictator Nykwana Wombosi (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje). Conklin promises Abbott that he will deal with the Treadstone agent who failed.
Bourne attempts to evade the Swiss police by using his U.S. passport to enter the American consulate, but he is discovered by guards. He evades capture, leaves the embassy, and gives a German woman, Marie Kreutz (Franka Potente), $20,000 to drive him to an address in Paris listed on his French driving license. At the address, an apartment, he hits redial on the phone and reaches a hotel. He inquires about the names on his passports there, learning that a "John Michael Kane" had been registered but died two weeks prior in a car crash. Castel ambushes Bourne and Marie in the apartment, but Bourne gets the upper hand. Instead of allowing himself to be interrogated, Castel throws himself out a window to his death. Marie finds wanted posters of Bourne and herself, and after agonizing, agrees to continue to help Bourne. After a chase in which Bourne evades Paris police in Marie's car, the two fugitives spend the night together in a Paris hotel.
Meanwhile, Wombosi continues to obsess over the attempt on his life. Conklin, having anticipated this, planted a body in the Paris morgue to appear as the assailant, but Wombosi is not fooled and threatens to report this. The Professor assassinates Wombosi on Conklin's orders. Bourne, posing as Kane, learns about Wombosi's yacht, and that the assailant had been shot twice in the back during the escape, just as he was. Bourne now considers himself to have been the assailant. He and Marie take refuge at the French countryside home of her step-brother Eamon (Tim Dutton) and his children. Under pressure from Abbott to tie off the Wombosi matter entirely, Conklin tracks Bourne's location and sends the Professor there, but Bourne shoots him twice with Eamon's shotgun, mortally wounding him. The Professor reveals their shared connection to Treadstone before dying. Bourne sends Marie, Eamon, and Eamon's children away for their protection, and then contacts Conklin via the Professor's phone to arrange a meeting. From a rooftop near the arranged location in Paris, Bourne sees Conklin has brought backup, so he abandons the meeting, but uses the opportunity to place a tracking device on Conklin's car, leading Bourne to Treadstone's safe house.
Bourne breaks in and holds Conklin and logistics technician Nicolette "Nicky" Parsons (Julia Stiles) at gunpoint. When Conklin begins pressing him to remember his past, Bourne recalls his attempt to assassinate Wombosi through successive flashbacks. As Kane, and working under orders from Treadstone, Bourne infiltrated Wombosi's yacht but could not bring himself to kill Wombosi while Wombosi's children were present, and instead fled, being shot during his escape. Bourne announces he is resigning from Treadstone and is not to be followed. As agents descend on the safe house, Bourne fights his way free. When Conklin leaves the safe house he is killed by Manheim operating under Abbott's orders. Abbott shuts down Treadstone.
Abbott reports to an oversight committee that Treadstone is "all but decommissioned" before discussion turns to a new project codenamed "Blackbriar". In the final scene, Bourne finds Marie renting out scooters to tourists on Mykonos, and the two reunite.
In the Mediterranean Sea , Italian fishermen rescue an unconscious American ( Matt Damon ) floating adrift with two gunshot wounds in his back . They tend to his wounds , and when the man wakes , they find he suffers from dissociative amnesia . He has no memory of his own identity , while he retains his speech and finds himself capable of advanced combat skills and fluency in several languages . The skipper finds a tiny laser projector under the man s hip that , when activated , gives a number of a safe deposit box in Z端rich . Upon landing , the man heads to investigate the box . Arriving at the bank , the man finds the box contains a large sum of money in various currencies , numerous passports and identity cards with his picture on all of them , and a handgun . The man takes everything but the gun , and leaves , opting to use the name on the American passport , Jason Bourne . After Bourne s departure , a bank employee contacts Operation Treadstone , a CIA black ops program . Treadstone s head , Alexander Conklin ( Chris Cooper ) , activates three agents to take down Bourne : Castel ( Nicky Naude ) , Manheim ( Russell Levy ) , and the Professor ( Clive Owen ) , while also issuing alerts to local police to capture Bourne . Meanwhile , CIA Deputy Director Ward Abbott ( Brian Cox ) contacts Conklin about a failed assassination attempt against exiled African dictator Nykwana Wombosi ( Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje ) . Conklin promises Abbott that he will deal with the Treadstone agent who failed . Bourne attempts to evade the Swiss police by using his U.S. passport to enter the American consulate , but he is discovered by guards . He evades capture , leaves the embassy , and gives a German woman , Marie Kreutz ( Franka Potente ) , $ 20,000 to drive him to an address in Paris listed on his French driving license . At the address , an apartment , he hits redial on the phone and reaches a hotel . He inquires about the names on his passports there , learning that a John Michael Kane had been registered but died two weeks prior in a car crash . Castel ambushes Bourne and Marie in the apartment , but Bourne gets the upper hand . Instead of allowing himself to be interrogated , Castel throws himself out a window to his death . Marie finds wanted posters of Bourne and herself , and after agonizing , agrees to continue to help Bourne . After a chase in which Bourne evades Paris police in Marie s car , the two fugitives spend the night together in a Paris hotel . Meanwhile , Wombosi continues to obsess over the attempt on his life . Conklin , having anticipated this , planted a body in the Paris morgue to appear as the assailant , but Wombosi is not fooled and threatens to report this . The Professor assassinates Wombosi on Conklin s orders . Bourne , posing as Kane , learns about Wombosi s yacht , and that the assailant had been shot twice in the back during the escape , just as he was . Bourne now considers himself to have been the assailant . He and Marie take refuge at the French countryside home of her step-brother Eamon ( Tim Dutton ) and his children . Under pressure from Abbott to tie off the Wombosi matter entirely , Conklin tracks Bourne s location and sends the Professor there , but Bourne shoots him twice with Eamon s shotgun , mortally wounding him . The Professor reveals their shared connection to Treadstone before dying . Bourne sends Marie , Eamon , and Eamon s children away for their protection , and then contacts Conklin via the Professor s phone to arrange a meeting . From a rooftop near the arranged location in Paris , Bourne sees Conklin has brought backup , so he abandons the meeting , but uses the opportunity to place a tracking device on Conklin s car , leading Bourne to Treadstone s safe house . Bourne breaks in and holds Conklin and logistics technician Nicolette Nicky Parsons ( Julia Stiles ) at gunpoint . When Conklin begins pressing him to remember his past , Bourne recalls his attempt to assassinate Wombosi through successive flashbacks . As Kane , and working under orders from Treadstone , Bourne infiltrated Wombosi s yacht but could not bring himself to kill Wombosi while Wombosi s children were present , and instead fled , being shot during his escape . Bourne announces he is resigning from Treadstone and is not to be followed . As agents descend on the safe house , Bourne fights his way free . When Conklin leaves the safe house he is killed by Manheim operating under Abbott s orders . Abbott shuts down Treadstone . Abbott reports to an oversight committee that Treadstone is all but decommissioned before discussion turns to a new project codenamed Blackbriar . In the final scene , Bourne finds Marie renting out scooters to tourists on Mykonos , and the two reunite .
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bourne_Identity_(2002_film)
The Bourne Identity (2002 film)
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<b>                                  "THE BOURNE IDENTITY"
</b>
                                            by

                                       Tony Gilroy

                                    Based on the novel

                                            by

                                      Robert Ludlum

<b>                                   PARIS DRAFT 9/20/00
</b>
<b>                
</b>
<b>               DARKNESS. THE SOUND OF WIND AND SPRAY.
</b>
<b>               MUSIC. TITLES.
</b>
<b>               EXT. OCEAN -- NIGHT
</b>
               The darkness is actually water. A SEARCHLIGHT arcs across 
               heavy ocean swells. Half-a-dozen flashlights -- weaker beams -- 
               racing along what we can see is the deck of an aging FISHING 
<b>               TRAWLER.
</b>
               FISHERMEN struggling with a gaff -- something in the water --

<b>               A HUMAN CORPSE.
</b>
<b>               EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE BODY sprawled there. The Sailors all talking at once -- 
               three languages going -- brave chatter to mask the presence 
               of death --

<b>                                     SAILOR #1
</b>                         -- Jesus, look at him --

<b>                                     SAILOR #2
</b>                         -- what? -- you never saw a dead man 
                         before? --

<b>                                     SAILOR #3
</b>                         -- look, look he was shot --
                              (nudging the body --)

<b>                                     SAILOR #1
</b>                         -- don't, don't do that --

<b>                                     SAILOR #2
</b>                         -- he's dead, you think he cares? --

<b>                                     SAILOR #1
</b>                         -- so have some respect -- it's a --
                              (stopping as --)

               THE BODY MOVES! -- convulsing -- coughing up sea water -- 
               the Sailors -- freaked -- jumping back -- standing there, as --

               THE MAN begins to breathe.

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               A wreck. Too small for all the people in here right now -- 
               SAILORS sweeping off the table -- rough hands laying THE MAN 
               down --

               THE CAPTAIN -- brutal and impatient -- watching from the 
               door as --

               GIANCARLO tears through the clutter -- searching for a medical 
               kit buried in the shambles. GIANCARLO is sixty. A bloodshot 
               soul.

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         -- it's here -- hang on -- it's here 
                         somewhere -- give me a minute -- get 
                         some blankets -- get some blankets 
                         on him --
                              (finding the kit --)
                         -- here we go -- here it is --

               GIANCARLO with an old trunk -- just getting it open, as --

<b>                                     THE CAPTAIN
</b>                         Giancarlo.
                              (Giancarlo turns back --)
                         We pick him up? Okay, we have to 
                         pick him up. But that's as far as it 
                         goes.

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         He needs a doctor.

<b>                                     CAPTAIN
</b>                         Fuck that. He lives? He dies? I don't 
                         care. We've wasted two hours on this 
                         shit already. You do what you can, 
                         but we're not going back.
                              (pure steel now)
                         You understand me?

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         Yes, sir.

<b>                                     CAPTAIN
</b>                              (to the rest of them)
                         Let's get back to work!

               GIANCARLO watching them run out. Snagging a quick pull on a 
               pint of rum he's got stashed and --

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- DAWN -- TIME CUTS
</b>
               Transformed into a makeshift operating room. A light swings 
               overhead. THE MAN layed out across the table. Sounds -- groans -- 
               words -- snatches of them -- all in different languages.

               GIANCARLO playing doctor in a greasy kitchen apron. Cutting 
               away the clothes. Turning THE MAN on his side. Two bullet 
               wounds in the back. Probing them, judging them.

               Now -- GIANCARLO with a flashlight in his teeth -- TINK -- 
               TINK -- TINK -- bullet fragments falling into a washed-out 
               olive jar.

               Now -- something catching GIANCARLO'S EYE -- A SCAR ON THE 
               MAN'S HIP -- another fragment -- exacto knife cutting in -- 
               tweezers extracting A SMALL PLASTIC TUBE, not a bullet at 
               all, and as it comes free --

               THE MAN'S HAND SLAMS down onto GIANCARLO'S and we SMASH CUT 
<b>               INTO A --
</b>
               FIRST PERSON POV -- we are staring up at --

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         You're awake. Can you hear me?
                              (we're blinking --)
                         You've been shot. I'm trying to help 
                         you.
                              (we're trying to find 
                              our voice --)
                         You were in the water. You've been 
                         shot. It's okay now.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         Where am I?

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                              (switching to English)
                         You're American. I thought so. From 
                         your teeth -- the dental work --

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         Where am I?

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         You're on a boat. A fishing boat. 
                         Italian flag. We're out of Vietri.
                              (he smiles)
                         It's the cold that saved you. The 
                         water. The wounds are clean. I'm not 
                         a doctor, but the wounds, it looks 
                         okay. It's clean.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         How did I get here?

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         You we're lost at sea. They pulled 
                         you out.
                              (we say nothing)
                         Who are you?
                              (still nothing)
                         You were shot -- two bullets -- in 
                         the back. You understand me?
                              (we try to nod)
                         Who are you?

               Long dead pause.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>               EXT. OCEAN -- DAY
</b>
               The Trawler plows through heavy seas.

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               GIANCARLO is hunched over a desk -- tweezers and flashlight -- 
               busy working at that strange plastic tube that came out of 
               THE MAN's hip.

               THE MAN is bandaged. He's sitting up, and it must hurt like 
               hell, but physical pain is not the thing troubling him right 
               now. He's staring around the room -- at his body -- at the 
               walls -- haunted --

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         What if it doesn't come back?

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                              (still working that 
                              tube)
                         I told you. You need to rest.

               Silence. THE MAN can't rest. Too busy trying to make sense 
               of all this.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I can read. I can read that sign on 
                         the door. I can count. I can talk...
                              (focusing now --)
                         What are you doing?

               GIANCARLO rummaging around -- finding a magnifying glass --

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         What is that?

               INSERT -- MAGNIFIED POV -- a slip of plastic from the tube -- 
               written there -- 000-7-17-12-0-14-26.  GEMEINSCHAFT BANK, 
<b>               ZURICH.
</b>
<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         It came from your hip. Under the 
                         skin.
                              (turning back --)
                         You have a bank in Zurich.
                              (waiting)
                         You remember Zurich?

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         No.

               GIANCARLO staring at him now. Different suddenly. Suspicious.

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                         Look, I'm just on this boat, okay? 
                         I'm an engineer. Whatever this is, 
                         it's not for me to be involved, okay?

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I don't remember Zurich.

               GIANCARLO pulls his pint. Takes a hit.

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                              (offering the bottle --)
                         You drink rum?

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>               EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE MAN stands at the rail, staring out to sea. So lost. He 
               turns to head inside -- there, a surfcasting rod propped 
               against a locker.

               THE MAN picks up the rod -- flips the bail -- traps the line -- 
               now he's casting far out into the darkness. And for the first 
               time, he smiles.

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT GALLEY -- NIGHT
</b>
               A ratty old espresso machine. THE MAN standing there, staring 
               at the thing like it's a test. Then his hands begin to move -- 
               trying to pack a grind -- trying to fit it in -- turning on 
               the steam and --

               The whole thing explodes.

<b>               EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- DAY
</b>
               THE MAN alone doing chin-ups on the deck rail. He's still 
               bandaged and the wounds must hurt like hell, but he's pushing 
               himself. Using the pain -- bathing in it -- maybe even hoping 
               that it will hold some answer for him.

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT GALLEY -- NIGHT
</b>
               A chess board. Wooden pieces jumbled in a box. THE MAN 
               hesitates -- takes a black knight from the box -- lingers 
               for a moment -- and then places it on the board. He's off 
               and running. He knows this. Placing pieces faster and faster -- 
               still setting it up, as we --

<b>               INT. FISHING BOAT HEAD -- NIGHT
</b>
               One of the ugliest bathrooms on the planet. THE MAN standing 
               before a pitted, tarnished, cataract of a mirror. Staring at 
               himself.

               And then he speaks.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                              (in perfect French)
                         I don't know who I am. Do you know 
                         who I am? Do have any idea who I am?

               And then he stops. Blinks. Wipes away the perspiration just 
               beading on his forehead.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                              (in perfect Dutch)
                         Tell me who I am. If you know who I 
                         am, please stop fucking around and 
                         tell me.

               No answer. Just that face. His face. Who am I?

               And what else is inside there?

<b>               EXT. FISHING BOAT -- DAY
</b>
               SAILORS hauling in the nets. THE MAN -- still bandaged, but 
               healing -- working beside them. Earning his keep. Getting 
               healthy.

<b>               EXT. ITALIAN COASTLINE -- DAWN
</b>
               A small, colorful fishing village. The trawler motoring in.

<b>               INT. THE FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- SAME TIME
</b>
               THE MAN buttoning up borrowed clothes. GIANCARLO pulling 
               some cash from his pocket --

<b>                                     GIANCARLO
</b>                              (offering the money)
                         It's not much, but it should get you 
                         to Switzerland.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I won't forget this.

               GIANCARLO gives him a look. Shakes his head, and --

<b>               INT. POKEY ITALIAN TRAIN STATION -- DAY
</b>
               The ticket window. THE MAN and a TICKET AGENT.

<b>                                     TICKET AGENT
</b>                         Una sola via?

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         Si. One way. Una sola via.

<b>               EXT. TGV -- DAY
</b>
               A HELICOPTER SHOT -- a bullet train speeds through snow- 
               capped Alps. We move in on a window -- and staring out is...

<b>               INT. TGV TRAIN -- DAY
</b>
               ...THE MAN. People all around him -- families -- businessmen -- 
               normal people going about their lives. THE MAN turns back to 
               the window, but he's not watching the scenery -- he's looking 
               at his reflection. So lost. His face suddenly plunged into 
               darkness as the train bombs into a tunnel...

<b>               EXT. TRAIN -- NIGHT
</b>
               ...and out of the darkness into night and the HELICOPTER 
               SHOT, as the train races toward ZURICH.

<b>               INT. CIA HEADQUARTERS CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               A VIDEO MONITOR -- FULL FRAME -- meet WOMBOSI. He's an African 
               ex-dictator, think Idi Amin crossed with Mobutu. He's in 
               some sort of throne room. And he's angry. Bodyguards and a 
               translator hovering nervously around him. What this is, is 
               NEWS FOOTAGE -- an interview conducted by a German TV station.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                              (he speaks english)
                         ...no, no, no -- the time is not 
                         right, my enemies are too strong. 
                         I'm telling you to wait for this, 
                         you understand? I'm telling you this, 
                         and I'm making a warning to all those 
                         peoples out there that think that my 
                         powers have become so weak that they 
                         can play with me as they wish. You 
                         will see -- I will tell you when the 
                         evidence is clear. Then you will 
                         have a story. My old friends will 
                         hear about themselves.
                              (stopping, freezing 
                              on that image, and --)

               MARSHALL, a CIA bigwig has the remote control. And the floor.

<b>                                     MARSHALL
</b>                         That's Nykwana Wombosi speaking in 
                         Paris the day before yesterday. I'm 
                         sure most of you have a passing 
                         knowledge of Mr. Wombosi. Some of 
                         you on the African desks have worked 
                         with him over the years. Some of you 
                         very closely...

               TWELVE CIA MANDARINS sitting around the table like kids in 
               detention. We will tour the faces as MARSHALL continues, but 
               the guy we're interested in is named WARD ABBOTT. Picture a 
               sawier, slicker John Poindexter.

<b>                                     MARSHALL
</b>                         ...He was an irritation before he 
                         took power. He was a problem when he 
                         was in power. And he's been a disaster 
                         for us in exile.
                              (the tape --)
                         Wombosi likes to send us messages 
                         through the European media. This is 
                         an interview we pulled down from a 
                         local German television station in 
                         Dresden. We've been getting these 
                         little broadsides every couple of 
                         months. He knows this -- he knows 
                         that -- he's writing a book about 
                         the Agency's history in Africa -- 
                         he's going to name names. It's 
                         basically a shakedown...

               ABBOTT'S FACE says this is news to him. HIS HANDS suggest 
               otherwise.

<b>                                     MARSHALL
</b>                         This interview -- and I'll make the 
                         tape available for anyone who wants 
                         it -- he goes on to claim that he 
                         has just survived an assassination 
                         attempt. He says it's us. He says 
                         he's got proof.
                              (beat)
                         The overwhelming negative 
                         ramifications of this should be 
                         obvious.
                              (hard and dry)
                         The Director wants to know if there 
                         is any possible shred of truth in 
                         this accusation.

               Long pause. No hands go up.

<b>               INT. ZURICH TRAIN STATION -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE MAN wandering through the terminal. Passing A PIZZA PLACE 
               closing up for the night.

               THE MAN checks his funds. Just enough for one cold slice.

<b>               EXT. ZURICH STREETS -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE MAN walking aimlessly.

<b>               EXT. ZURICH PARK -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE MAN trying to get comfortable on a bench. It's chilly 
               but this will have to do until morning.

               Just settling in, when --

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #1 (O.S.)
</b>                              (authority German)
                         Can't you read the signs?

               THE MAN turns. TWO ZURICH COPS coming toward him.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #2
</b>                         On your feet. Let's go. Right now.

               THE MAN makes his feet. They're on top of him now.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #1
</b>                         The park is closed. There's no 
                         sleeping in the park.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #2
</b>                         Let's see some identification.

               THE MAN not sure what to do. Eyes moving. Mouth shut.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #1
</b>                         Come on. Your papers. Let's go.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I've lost them. I've...
                              (German now)
                         My papers. They are lost.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #1
</b>                              (not sympathetic)
                         Okay. Let's go. Put your hands up.

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #2
</b>                              (pulling his nightstick)
                          -- come on -- hands up -- up --

               THE MAN raising his hand slowly -- ZURICH COP #1 reaching up 
               to pat him down --

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         -- look, I'm just trying to sleep 
                         okay? --
                              (German again)
                          -- I just need to sleep --

               ZURICH COP #2 has heard enough -- giving a sharp poke with 
               the nightstick -- into THE MAN's back -- and that's the last 
               thing he'll remember because --

               THE MAN is in motion.

               A single turn -- spinning -- catching COP #2 completely off 
               guard -- the heel of his hand driving up into the guy's throat 
               and --

               COP #1 -- behind him -- trying to reach for his pistol, but 
               THE MAN -- still turning -- all his weight moving in a single 
               fluid attack -- a sweeping kick and --

               COP #1 -- he's falling -- catching the bench -- trying to 
               fight back but -- THE MAN -- like a machine -- just 
               unbelievably fast -- three jackhammer punches -- down-down- 
               down and -- COP #1 -- head slammed into the bench -- blood 
               spraying from his nose -- he's out cold and --

               COP #2 -- writhing on the ground -- gasping for air -- 
               struggling with his holster -- THE MAN -- his foot -- down -- 
               like a vise -- onto COP #2's arm -- shattering the bone -- 
               COP #2 starting to scream, and then silenced because --

               THE MAN -- he's got the pistol -- so fucking fast -- he's 
               got it right up against COP #2's forehead -- right on the 
               edge of pulling the trigger -- he is, he's gonna shoot him --

<b>                                     ZURICH COP #2
</b>                              (gasping, pleading)
                         -- no -- please God no -- please 
                         don't -- please no -- my Go

               -- stopping as --

               THE MAN slams the gun against his temple and --

               This fight is over.

               THE MAN standing there. In the silence. Two unconscious cops 
               at his feet. Blood on his pants. What just happened? How did 
               he do this? And there's THE GUN in his hand. And God, it 
               just feels so natural -- checking it -- stripping it down -- 
               holding it -- aiming it -- like this is something he's done 
               a million times before...

               This is something he definitely knows how to do.

               And then he stops cold. Throwing down the gun. Running off 
               into the darkness --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE -- DAY
</b>
               A deep, inner office. An ops office. Operations. Unlabeled 
               and anonymous. A backwater project center hidden deep within 
               the Langley facility. Utilitarian. Several rooms linked like 
               a suite.

               Small staff. SEVERAL TECHNICIANS. One or two for 
               communications. A couple for research. People are at their 
               posts. And it's all quiet. But they are busy. Quietly urgent. 
               This is a place under siege.

               ZORN is the number two here. Brilliant bloodless lapdog. 
               He's coming through the suite. Coming through quickly. Heading 
               toward the boss's little office at the back --

               TED CONKLIN. Ivy League Ollie North. Buttoned down. Square 
               jaw. Everything tucked away. But there's tension in the air. 
               Work on the desk. Cot in the corner.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                              (looking up)
                         What?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         Abbott wants to talk.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Tell him we're busy.

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         I tried.

<b>               INT. CIA COMMISSARY -- NIGHT
</b>
               ABBOTT with coffee. CONKLIN not lingering.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Storm clouds are gathering, Ted. It 
                         looks like rain and I don't have a 
                         thing to wear.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         I don't know what we're talking about.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         We're talking about Marseille. We're 
                         talking about Nykwana Wombosi. And 
                         I'm asking you if this abortion in 
                         Marseille has anything to do with 
                         Treadstone.
                              (silence)
                         Was this Treadstone?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         You're asking me a direct question?

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         I thought you were never going to do 
                         that.

               Silence. Pressure drop.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         They're putting together an agency 
                         oversight committee. They're going 
                         to look through everyone's budgets. 
                         Treadstone is a rather sizable line 
                         item in my ledger.
                              (beat)
                         What am I going to do about that?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         You'd want to make that go away. 
                         You'd want to remind them that 
                         Treadstone is a training organization. 
                         That it's all theoretical. You'd 
                         want to sign off on that.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         And what if I couldn't do that?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Then I'd have to explain Treadstone. 
                         And you'd have to explain how you 
                         let me get this far.
                              (silence)
                         Doesn't sound like much of a Plan-B, 
                         does it?
                              (Abbott staring)
                         We'll clean up the field. You clean 
                         up your budgets.

<b>               EXT. ZURICH -- DAY
</b>
               Morning in the financial district. Upscale. Uptight.

               GEMEINSCHAFT BANK just one of many elegant fortresses on 
               this street. Everything just now opening for business. TWO 
               GUARDS unlocking the front door and --

               THE MAN across the street. Tucked in the shadows. Checking 
               for cops and trouble. Looks clear. He's walking and --

<b>               INT. BANK RECEPTION AREA -- DAY
</b>
               Ornate, formidable and tech at the same time.

<b>                                     RECEPTIONIST
</b>                         Can I help you?

               THE MAN standing before her. Looking very out of place.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         I'm here about a numbered account.

               THE RECEPTIONIST nods. Pulls a pen and bank card.

<b>                                     RECEPTIONIST
</b>                              (instant English)
                         If you'll just enter your account 
                         number here I'll direct you to the 
                         appropriate officer.

               THE MAN takes the pen, as we --

<b>               INT. BANK SECURITY CHECKPOINT -- DAY
</b>
               A BIO-METRIC SCANNER. A piece of ultra-tech amidst the 
               Baroque. TWO SERIOUS BANK GUARDS manning the equipment.

               THE MAN standing there, staring down at this machine. 
               Something ominously decisive about this. What if it's him? 
               What if it's not?

<b>                                     BANK GUARD #1
</b>                         They've been waiting your hand, sir...

               THE MAN focuses. Here we go -- BANK GUARD #2 guiding his 
               open palm onto the mirrored scanning surface.

               THE MAN catching his reflection for a moment before a wave 
               of white light passes beneath his hand and now --

<b>               INT. BANK HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               THE MAN being led by A THIRD GUARD to a special elevator.

<b>               INT. DEEPER INSIDE THE BANK -- DAY
</b>
               Elevator doors open. THE MAN steps out. MR. APFEL -- anal 
               Zurich banker -- waiting there.

<b>                                     APFEL
</b>                         Good morning, sir. I assume you're 
                         here about your box.

<b>                                     THE MAN
</b>                         ...yes...
                              (what now?)
                         The box.

               APFEL nods. Gestures down the corridor --

<b>               INT. BANK SAFETY DEPOSIT VIEWING ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               Sterile and kind of odd. But total privacy. THE MAN sitting 
               there, as A DEPOSIT GUARD places a large SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX 
               before him. THE GUARD leaves the room. Closing the door behind 
               him.

               THE MAN is alone. And there it is, right in front of him. 
               This is it. Here are the answers. He lifts the lid.

               THE BOX. There's a shallow tray on top. In this tray: a beat-
               up passport in the name of Jason Bourne. A French driver's 
               license with a Parisian address. Credit cards for Jason 
               Bourne.

               THE MAN. Holding these objects close -- as if by holding 
               them he might absorb their essence. Forcing himself to 
               believe. This is him. His picture. There it is. He's Jason 
               Bourne.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         My name is Jason Bourne.
                              (sounds good)
                         Hi, I'm Jason. Jason Bourne. Jason 
                         Bourne, nice to meet you.

               BACK TO -- THE BOX -- the shallow tray on top. There's 
               Kleenex. Several sets of contact lenses. A knife. A comb. 
               Three sticks of gum. A ring. A pair of sunglasses. A Rolex.

               BOURNE setting these things aside.  Lifting the top tray.  
               Staring into THE DEEP BOTTOM TRAY and --

               First of all...

               MONEY. Lots of it. Ten thousand dollar stacks of hundreds. 
               Lots of them. Close to a million dollars. There's A GUN. A 
               very good gun. Several clips of ammo. And...

               FIVE MORE PASSPORTS. All clean. Crisp. Brand new. All with 
               his photo inside. Five different names. Three different 
               Countries. Each one of these pristine passports clipped to a 
               piece of card stock that says:

<b>               NAME: 
</b><b>               NATIONALITY: 
</b><b>               PLACE OF ISSUE: 
</b><b>               SIGNATURE SAMPLE:
</b>
               And a bar code. 
               Two Dutch passports. A French. A South African. A Belgian.

               And...

               There's one piece of card stock still with the paper clip in 
               place. And no passport. This card reads:

               NAME: John Michael Kane 
<b>               NATIONALITY: U.S.A. 
</b>               PLACE OF ISSUE: Paris, France 
               There's a signature sample. 
               And a bar code. But no passport. This one is missing.

               BOURNE sitting there. Trying to push his confusion away.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Bourne. My name is Jason Bourne. I 
                         live at 121, Rue de la Jardin, Paris.

               But there's something hollow about this. He came looking for 
               one identity and now he's faced with six. The money... The 
               gun...

               Suddenly, it's all fucked up.

               BOURNE into gear. Looking around the room -- there -- there's 
               a pile of red canvas burn bags in the corner. BOURNE grabbing 
               one -- stuffing everything into it -- everything except...

               The gun. He doesn't want the gun. No guns.

<b>               INT. BANK SAFETY DEPOSIT OUTER AREA -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE is done. Handing the box back to THE DEPOSIT GUARD --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I'm trying to think how long it's 
                         been since I was here.

<b>                                     DEPOSIT GUARD
</b>                         I'm not sure. Must be three weeks.

<b>               EXT. STREETS OF ZURICH -- DAY -- VARIOUS SHOTS
</b>
               BOURNE exits the bank. The red bag full to its limit. He's 
               walking briskly now. Looking for a taxi. Nothing in sight.

               BOURNE crossing the street. Shit, there's A COP on the corner -- 
               turn -- change pace -- make it look natural --

               BOURNE around a corner. And it's looking good for a moment -- 
               but only a moment -- TWO MORE COPS walking a beat -- walking 
               this way -- turn -- cut -- cross the street --

               BOURNE heading down a boulevard. Trying to look small. Pulse 
               starting to race. Fighting the paranoia. Where the hell is a 
               cab? Turning back fast as A SIREN starts bleeding in from 
               behind him --

               It's just an ambulance.

               BOURNE turning back. Forcing himself to focus. And fuck -- 
               there's A METER MAID, and she's stopped writing up a ticket -- 
               she's staring at him and --

               BOURNE trying not to panic -- don't run -- smile -- stay 
               small -- get to the corner -- scan the options -- but --

               THE METER MAID -- she's watching him go and she's pulling 
               her radio and --

               BOURNE hitting this next corner -- banging a right -- forcing 
               himself not to run -- glancing back and --

               THERE'S ANOTHER COP -- but this one is jogging -- searching -- 
               he's got his radio out and --

<b>               FINALLY TO --
</b>
               BOURNE bailing on the street -- disappearing into --

<b>               EXT. U.S. EMBASSY COMPOUND -- DAY
</b>
               Big gates. Speed barricades. SEVERAL U.S. MARINES standing 
               guard near a gate house. An American flag. Lots of people 
               coming and going. BOURNE playing it as normal as possible as 
               he heads for the entrance.

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE ZURICH -- VISA ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               The passport and visa office. Big room. No windows. Unpleasant 
               on purpose. Two lines: A short one for U.S.  Citizens, a 
               marathon for everyone else. CONSULATE CLERKS stationed in 
               open cubicles along the back wall. And it's a zoo. American 
               tourists who've lost their passports. Foreigners looking for 
               visas. Asylum seekers. Everyone here has a problem.

               BOURNE on the U.S. line. Standing there trying to think. 
               What's he gonna say? What can he say? With the cops outside, 
               and the incident in the park, then the bank...

<b>                                     MARIE (O.S.)
</b>                         -- no, this is not my current address. 
                         It was my current address two days 
                         ago when I started standing in line 
                         outside --

               A NEARBY CUBICLE. Meet MARIE KREUTZ. German. Big energy. 
               Real beauty hidden beneath the armor. And armor it is, because 
               this is a warrior in full, crisis battlemode.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- and so now I lost my apartment, I 
                         have no address, and I have no visa, 
                         and you keep telling me how much 
                         help you cannot give me!

               A CONSULATE CLERK caught in her headlights.

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         Miss Kreutz, please... I'm gonna 
                         have to ask you to keep your voice 
                         down.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         All the papers -- all the papers 
                         they asked for -- I brought all the 
                         papers --

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         Miss Kreutz, excuse me, but you 
                         entered into a fraudulent marriage 
                         in an effort to circumvent the 
                         immigration laws of the United States --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You only know that because I told 
                         you!
                              (she's incredulous)
                         Ask the case officer -- find his 
                         name -- it's on the papers -- I told 
                         him all this myself! --
                              (tearing through the 
                              papers now --)

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         -- it's not the source of the 
                         information that's important here --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- I paid this fucking guy -- I paid 
                         him four thousand dollars -- my last 
                         four thousand dollars to marry me, 
                         okay? -- I told this to the case 
                         officer last week...
                              (she's found it --)
                         ...here -- Mr. Thomas. I told Mr.  
                         Thomas I didn't know this guy was 
                         already married -- I admitted this!

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         -- Miss Kreutz, please --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- I'm the one that got ripped off! -- 
                         not you -- not the United States 
                         government -- me -- I'm the one being 
                         ripped off!

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         So now you're asking for a student 
                         visa?

               That shuts her up. Yes. Today she's a student.

<b>               INT. CIA OFFICE COMPLEX -- NIGHT (BUT SAME TIME)
</b>
               Motion -- CONKLIN racing down a staircase -- ZORN chasing 
               after --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- and they're sure it's him? --

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         -- he accessed the account --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- but it was him --

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         -- yes, sir, it's confirmed --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE -- VISA ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE on line. Fear meter rising by the minute.

<b>               BOURNE'S POV
</b>
               Scanning the room -- the perimeter -- the people -- A TURKISH 
               MAN almost in tears as he tries to explain his case to a 
               DESK CLERK -- TWO AMERICAN BACKPACKERS that have lost their 
               passports -- MARIE still in the midst of her madness -- A 
               SECURITY CAMERA high on the wall capturing everything -- 
               lots of data -- too much going on and --

<b>                                     MAN ON LINE (O.S.)
</b>                              (from behind him)
                         You're up.

               BOURNE comes to. Shit. It's his turn.

               A WOMAN CLERK waving him forward. BOURNE trying to think -- 
               what the fuck is he doing? -- what's he gonna say? -- now 
               he's at the window, and if he was looking for a friendly 
               face, he came to the wrong place --

<b>                                     WOMAN CLERK
</b>                              (cold shit)
                         You're a U.S. Citizen?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes.
                              (pause)
                         I mean, I think so. Yes. Yes...

<b>                                     WOMAN CLERK
</b>                         Well, either you are, or you aren't.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Right.

<b>                                     WOMAN CLERK
</b>                         You have your passport?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I have a passport. I've got...
                              (the bag there, but...)
                         Actually, it's a little complicated.

<b>                                     WOMAN CLERK
</b>                         Do you have your passport, sir?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Look, maybe I should just...

<b>                                     WOMAN CLERK
</b>                         Sir, you waited on line.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yeah, I know...

               But he's already bailing, walking away from the woman, the 
               window, the room -- he's out of here --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE LOBBY -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE on the move -- hustling back toward the lobby -- trying 
               to snag a view out to the street -- there's a window just 
               ahead and --

               BOURNE'S WINDOW POV -- ZURICH COPS -- outside -- on the street -- 
               half-a-dozen of them lingering around the entry gate and --

               BOURNE stalled for a moment -- options dwindling -- he can't 
               go back to the passport office -- he can't go out the front 
               and --

               The lobby looks tough -- there are two other points of entry 
               into the main building, but they're both guarded by MARINES 
               and METAL DETECTORS --

               As he gets closer -- it gets worse --

               A ZURICH POLICE INSPECTOR near the door, in deep conversation 
               with TWO MARINES and THE EMBASSY SECURITY OFFICER and --

               BOURNE trying to burrow through the human traffic -- trying 
               to get to THE LARGER OF THE TWO ENTRY GATES -- this one the 
               farthest from the front door and the passport office corridor, 
               and it's the most crowded -- A COUPLE PEOPLE lined up here -- 
               waiting for one of THE THREE MARINES STAFFING THIS POST to 
               check their bags and pass them through a metal detector and --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF (O.S.)
</b>                         -- stop! -- stop right there! --

               BOURNE turns back -- as does everyone else in the lobby --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                              (from across the lobby)
                         -- YOU -- red bag -- the red bag -- 
                         stop right there! -- hands up! --

               BOURNE glancing back -- ONE OF THE GATE MARINES BEHIND HIM -- 
               the guy's raising his M-16 --

<b>                                     GUN MARINE
</b>                         -- you heard him -- let's move it! -- 
                         down -- let's go! --

               BOURNE nodding -- total compliance -- starting to drop -- 
               but only starting, because now --

               He's swinging the backpack and --

               THE GUN MARINE -- nailed -- blind-sided -- no chance and --

               BOURNE -- all motion -- all forward -- all perfect -- vaulting 
               the metal detector even as he pulls ONE OF THE PEOPLE ON 
               LINE around to shield his back and --

               ANOTHER GATE MARINE -- right there -- trying to grab him -- 
               making his move -- BOURNE -- almost an afterthought -- his 
               boot -- like a knife -- out of nowhere -- SNAP! -- the guy's 
               arm just shattered and --

               THE SECURITY CHIEF -- freaking out -- TWO MARINES WITH HIM -- 
               they're raising their weapons and there's people in the lobby 
               and --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- no -- no -- hold your fire! --

               BOURNE -- landing hard on THE GUN MARINE -- rolling away 
               from the gate -- into the building now -- coming up with the 
               backpack and --

<b>                                     SOMEONE SCREAMING
</b>                         -- he's got a gun! -- he's got a 
                         gun! --

               And he does -- BOURNE with the M-16! -- coming up with it -- 
               coming up on the move -- swinging it around as he searches 
               for an escape route and THE GUN -- it's like a magic wand of 
               hysteria --

               PEOPLE IN THE LOBBY -- SCREAMING -- diving away -- everyone 
               dropping for cover and --

               BOURNE -- bailing -- on the run -- sprinting down a hallway -- 
               tossing away the M-16 as he sprints into the building --

<b>                                     THE SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                              (frantic on his radio 
                              now --)
                         -- red! -- red! -- red! -- code red! -- 
                         South side entrance! -- male -- five-
                         ten, brown hair -- black jacket -- 
                         red bag --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE OFFICE HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               Quiet for a second -- offices on either side of a carpeted 
               hallway -- BUREAUCRAT-TYPES doing their thing, when suddenly --

<b>                                     BUREAUCRAT #1
</b>                         Excuse me?  Can I help you?
                              (but backing up as he 
                              says it, because --)

               Here comes BOURNE -- coming fast -- and he definitely does 
               not belong back here --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE LOBBY/SECURITY GATE -- DAY
</b>
               Panic -- people fleeing the lobby -- MORE MARINES hustling 
               in from outside and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIRE STAIRWELL -- DAY
</b>
               Door flies open -- BOURNE bombing in -- shit! -- it's a dead 
               end -- no way out but up the stairs --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE GROUND FLOOR CORRIDOR -- DAY
</b>
               SECURITY CHIEF -- THREE MARINES -- sidearms drawn -- jogging 
               past the INNER OFFICES -- running beside them, a frantic guy 
               in a suit --

<b>                                     DEPUTY DCM
</b>                         -- what're you talking about? --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- we're evacuating the building --

<b>                                     DEPUTY DCM
</b>                         -- we're in the middle of a trade 
                         meeting! --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- call the code! -- I want everyone 
                         out! --

<b>                                     DEPUTY DCM
</b>                         -- you gotta give me more to go on --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- he's running from the cops, he's 
                         got a bag filled with God knows what, 
                         he's in the building and I don't 
                         know where! --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWAY -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE climbing fast -- two -- three -- stairs at a time -- 
               racing up as a SECURITY ALARM STARTS SCREAMING -- bleet -- 
               bleet -- bleet --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH-FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               THE ALARM ringing everywhere -- TRADE CONFERENCEES -- sixty 
               confused and frightened people -- spilling out into the 
               corridor --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR KITCHENETTE -- DAY
</b>
               A NEW DOOR flying open -- it's BOURNE -- ready for anything, 
               but there's nothing -- he's in a butler's prep area off the 
               main conference room -- momentum stalled for a moment --
               nothing in here but tablecloths and silverware and coffee 
               cups and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWAY -- DAY
</b>
               THREE MARINES -- armed and stoked -- staring up the stairs -- 
               leapfrogging -- point-to-point assault procedure --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN STAIRS -- DAY
</b>
               Carpeted and grand -- SECURITY CHIEF with FIVE MARINES NOW -- 
               charging up -- pushing past THE PEOPLE trying to come down 
               and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               Completely clogged now -- PANICKED TRADE PEOPLE all over -- 
               EMBASSY TYPES -- trying to herd them toward the main stairs -- 
               everyone talking at once -- THAT ALARM STILL BLARING and --

<b>                                     VOICE (O.S.)
</b>                         -- no! -- the other way! -- take the 
                         backstairs! -- the backstairs! -- 
                         he's on the other side -- there's a 
                         bomb! --

               And as the crowd reacts -- as they mob back away from the 
               main stairway -- we see -- holy shit, the guy yelling was 
<b>               BOURNE --
</b>
<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWELL -- DAY
</b>
               THE ASSAULT MARINES -- still climbing -- weapons out -- clean 
               and fast -- one more flight to go -- ready for anything --
               completely freaking out as the door above them on the fifth 
               floor flies open and --

<b>                                     LEAD MARINE
</b><b>                         -- HALT! -- STOP WHERE YOU ARE! --
</b>
               MARINE GUNS swinging up -- trigger fingers tense and --

               IT'S TRADE PEOPLE! and now THEY'RE SCREAMING and this combined 
               with THE ALARM and THE MARINES YELLING FOR THEM TO GET DOWN 
               and ALL OF IT ECHOING THROUGH THE STAIRWELL and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE -- he's CLOSING A DOOR behind him -- he's jamming A 
               CHAIR -- wedging it in tight so the door won't open and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               THE SECURITY CHIEF -- HIS MARINES -- coming from the main 
               stairs -- weapons drawn -- fighting their way through the 
               pandemonium and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE scanning for options -- the room is huge -- empty now -- 
               the massive conference table covered with the meeting papers 
               left behind -- windows along one wall and --

               BOURNE rushes to the window staring down and --

<b>               BOURNE'S WINDOW POV
</b>
               Fifty feet below there's a courtyard -- it's a sheer drop -- 
               completely fucked and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               SECURITY CHIEF -- TWO MARINES -- just outside THE CONFERENCE 
               ROOM DOOR -- trying it -- it won't budge and --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- blow it -- shoot it open! --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               THE DOOR -- shattering -- eaten up by GUNFIRE! -- TAT-TAT- 
               TAT-TATTAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! and --

               WHAM! HERE THEY COME -- through the door -- guns -- eyes -- 
               adrenaline -- everything ready and --

<b>               THE ROOM IS EMPTY!
</b>
<b>               EXT. U.S. CONSULATE BUILDING WALL -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE -- dangling fifty-feet above the stone courtyard! -- 
               he's gone out the window! -- hanging there -- hanging with 
               one hand -- one hand clutching the corner of a ledge and --

<b>               INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               Utter confusion -- SECURITY CHIEF -- FIVE -- SIX -- SEVEN 
               ARMED MARINES all piling in -- ready to rock but there's no 
               one to shoot -- no target --

<b>                                     SECURITY CHIEF
</b>                         -- check the closets! -- get those 
                         back doors covered -- there's a 
                         kitchen back there -- go! -- go! -- 
                         go!

               TWO MARINES -- scanning the windows -- looking down and --

               MARINE POV -- all clear -- no way he went down there and --

<b>               EXT. U.S. CONSULATE BUILDING WALL -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE still hanging there -- looking down -- up -- there's 
               no choice -- he has to go down --

               BOURNE finding a toehold below him -- reaching -- touching 
               down -- it gives way -- crumbling and --

               BOURNE hesitates. Does he know how to do this or not? Stalled 
               for a moment, then...

               BOURNE starts climbing down. And this is all one shot. No 
               cutaway. No cheating.

               We are watching a master at work...

               Handhold to a drain pipe. Swinging to a better ledge.

               Dropping to an air-conditioner. Grabbing a window frame just 
               before the air-conditioner gives way. Teetering there. Now 
               he's on the fourth floor.

               Below, there's an open window on the third floor. Struggling 
               to keep his balance, he reaches behind him to shift the weight 
               of the bag, and as he does --

               THE RED BAG falls. Thump. Into the courtyard. Forget the 
               open window. Now he's got to go all the way.

               Timing his next move and --

               He's pushing off -- reaching -- there's another drainpipe 
               and he's snagged it -- he's got a dragline now -- starting 
               to fall -- straining to hold the pipe -- slowing his descent -- 
               the drainpipe pulling away from it's housing and --

               BOURNE letting go -- just before he falls backward -- one 
               last grab -- catching a gutter -- holding it just long enough 
               to slow his fall and --

               Letting go for the last fifteen feet and --

<b>               EXT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               A DOZEN MARINES -- pumped-up and listening to --

<b>                                     SECURITY
</b>                         -- we're gonna go room by room until 
                         we find him -- so let's get teamed 
                         up --

<b>               EXT. AN ALLEYWAY NEAR THE U.S. CONSULATE -- DAY
</b>
               MARIE storming away. Pissed-off -- broke -- illegal -- ruined 
               and --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (German)
                         Motherfucking sonsofbitches!
                              (a new problem --)

               A LITTLE RED CAR. A beat-to-shit Euro car. A shitty little 
               red car angled in beside a dumpster with a big red Zurich 
               parking ticket on the windshield.

               MARIE grabbing the ticket -- tearing it up -- tearing the 
               shit out of it -- blind with misfortune -- throwing the pieces 
               on the ground and stomping on them and then --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (looking up --)
                         What are you looking at?

               BOURNE standing across the car -- on the passenger side --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I need a ride.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I need a ride out of here.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Oh, Jesus...
                              (backing away and --)

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Please. I don't want to scare you.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         It's a little late for that.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I've got a situation here and --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Get the fuck away from my car.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I'll give you ten thousand dollars 
                         to drive me to Paris.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Great. You know what? I'll give you 
                         ten gazillion dollars to get the 
                         fuck away from me before I start 
                         screaming my head off.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         You don't want the police any more 
                         than I do.

               BOURNE tosses cash -- a stack of hundreds -- across the car 
               into her hands -- she catches it. Looks at it.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Jesus...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Get me out of here. Please.

               MARIE looking at him. At the money. Back at him, and --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               VIDEO PLAYBACK -- FULL FRAME -- fast forward -- a speeding 
               blur of images from a surveillance camera outside the Zurich 
               bank -- it's two days worth of footage -- they're scanning 
               for Bourne's arrival and --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         go -- keep going -- go...wait -- 
                         stop -- you went past it --

               COM TECH #1 working the console. Freezing the image. Punching 
               it up. There it is -- BOURNE leaving the bank with the red 
               bag.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                              (staring at the monitor)
                         It's him. My God, it's really him...

               ZORN the phones across the room. COM TECH #2 at his console --

<b>                                     COM TECH #2
</b>                         -- we got a cross-ref ready to go 
                         here, sir, we're running hotel, 
                         airline, train, and medical variables, 
                         anything else you'd like?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         No...
                              (still staring at 
                              Bourne)
                         Go ahead. Run it.
                              (coming to --)
                         Let's get a map, let's get a grid 
                         map on Zurich.

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                              (holding the phone)
                         Sir...

               CONKLIN up from the console. ZORN waiting for him --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         Zurich police are looking for an 
                         American with a red bag. Apparently 
                         he put two cops in the hospital last 
                         night.

               Silence. Like the floor just fell away. So heavy.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What the fuck is he doing?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         Maybe it's a game. Maybe he's trying 
                         to send us a message.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         It doesn't matter now. We've just 
                         got to be the first ones there.
                              (decision time)
                         Get everybody up. I want them all 
                         activated.

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         All of them?

               A moment between them. CONKLIN all steel here now.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         You heard me.

<b>                                     COM TECH #2
</b>                              (from the console --)
                         Sir, the cross-ref is coming up 
                         cold...

               CONKLIN breaks away -- back to the console and --

<b>               EXT. BARCELONA RESIDENTIAL BOULEVARD -- DAY
</b>
               Establishing shot. A grand house. PIANO MUSIC over this -- 
               someone butchering a piece by Haydn and --

<b>               INT. BARCELONA GRAND HOUSE MUSIC ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               Meet THE PROFESSOR. He's a piano teacher. Late fifties. 
               Deceptively fit. He's sitting here, listening to a NINE- 
               YEAR-OLD STUDENT struggle through the music.

               And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

<b>               INT. HAMBURG CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               A boring, marathon business meeting. FIFTEEN MIDDLE MANAGERS 
               are trapped around a German sales presentation. Meet MANHEIM.  
               Bald. Fifty. He looks dumb and piggy. Anything but. Sitting 
               here --

               And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

<b>               EXT. A ROMAN CAFE -- DAY
</b>
               Meet CASTEL. He's thirty-five. Slender. Clean-cut. Easy to 
               miss. He's here alone. Reading the paper. Sipping espresso.

               And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

<b>               EXT. A ROAD ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF ZURICH -- DAY
</b>
               The little red car parked. MARIE pacing around. BOURNE poring 
               over a map spread out over the hood.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         So what's in Paris?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I want to go home.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         For twenty thousand dollars.

               BOURNE looks back from the map.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I said ten thousand.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You have blood on your pants.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Okay.
                              (beat)
                         Twenty thousand. Ten now. Ten there.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         No. No, that was too easy --
                              (pacing away --)

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Wait up --
                              (after her now --)
                         -- just wait up --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- get the fuck out of here -- all 
                         this money, this crazy offer, I mean 
                         give me a fucking break with this, 
                         this is --
                              (stopping because--)

               BOURNE just grabbed her. Both of them shocked that he's done 
               this. He immediately pulls back.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Look, I want a ride to Paris.
                              (wide open now)
                         That's all I want. I swear.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You swear?
                              (cold here)
                         That's great. I feel so much better 
                         now.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't want anything but a ride. 
                         All I want to do is go home.

               Silence now. She looks back. Measuring him.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You could buy a car for twenty grand. 
                         You could buy this car.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't want to go alone. I want you 
                         to drive me to Paris. Like we're a 
                         couple. Like we're a couple and we're 
                         travelling together. That's all we're 
                         doing.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         And I don't get hurt. I get twenty 
                         thousand dollars and I don't get 
                         hurt.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I won't hurt you.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What if I say no?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Then I'll find another ride.

<b>               EXT. ROME STREET -- DAY
</b>
               CASTEL through the streets on a motorcycle. Whipping to a 
               stop -- stepping off the bike in front of --

<b>               U-STORE-IT STORAGE WAREHOUSE.
</b>
<b>               INT. STORAGE WAREHOUSE ELEVATOR -- DAY
</b>
               CASTEL and THE ELEVATOR OPERATOR -- rising slowly through 
               the dark warehouse and --

<b>               INT. CASTEL'S STORAGE UNIT -- DAY
</b>
               Darkness -- a key turning -- door opening -- light goes on 
               to reveal CASTEL standing there and we're in --

               CASTEL'S STORAGE UNIT. What's in here? Like nothing. Like a 
               stack of old newspapers in the corner. Some mildewed books 
               piled along one wall. Some shitty plastic chairs.

<b>               QUICK TIME CUTS
</b>
               CASTEL working fast. Closing the door. Moving to the pile of 
               books. Taking the top book off. Opening it.

               INSIDE THE BOX -- a timer. A small bomb. A booby-trap. An 
               LED light stops flashing as CASTEL'S HANDS code in his 
               password and --

               CASTEL moving to the newspapers stacked in the corner.  
               Pulling away the top pile and --

               A METAL LOCK BOX. Hidden here. CASTLE pulling it out. Opening 
               it. An empty tray on top and --

               CASTEL taking off his watch. Taking off his rings. Taking 
               out his wallet. His Spanish passport. Emptying his pockets. 
               All of this goes into the empty tray and --

               CASTEL lifting away this top tray -- setting it aside and --

               THE METAL LOCK BOX -- there's more -- a much larger bottom 
               compartment -- and it's deja-vu all over again -- we're 
               looking at the identical contents we saw Bourne find in the 
               Zurich safe-deposit box.

               First of all...

               MONEY. Lots of it. Ten thousand dollar stacks of hundreds. 
               Lots of them. A GUN. A very good gun. A dozen clips of ammo. 
               And FIVE MORE PASSPORTS. All clean. Brand new. All with his 
               photo. Five different names. Four different countries. Each 
               one of these pristine clipped to a piece of card stock that 
               says:

<b>               NAME: 
</b><b>               NATIONALITY: 
</b><b>               PLACE OF ISSUE: 
</b><b>               SIGNATURE SAMPLE: 
</b><b>               A BAR CODE: 
</b>               Two Italian. Two Spanish. A Portuguese.

               CASTEL going for the Portuguese passport and --

<b>               EXT. ALPS HELICOPTER SHOT -- DAY
</b>
               The little red car driving through The Alps.

<b>               INT. THE RED CAR -- DUSK
</b>
               BOURNE staring out the window. MARIE driving. Long silence 
               until --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Just so you know, if you're gonna 
                         burn me on the money, you might as 
                         well kill me.
                              (Bourne looks over)
                         I was supposed to have this car back 
                         three days ago. It's not my car.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I know that.

               MARIE staring at him -- glancing back to the road -- just in 
               time -- almost rear-ending a slow moving truck --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Shit --
                              (trying to settle)
                         Can I tell you how much you're 
                         freaking me out? Okay? Because you 
                         are -- you're completely freaking me 
                         out.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I'm sorry. Really. What do you want 
                         me to do?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I don't know. Smile. Sneeze. 
                         Something. You've got a bag full of 
                         money and a ride to Paris. Fuck it, 
                         I don't know...
                              (the radio)
                         What kind of music do you like?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What does that mean?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Listen to what you want.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (out of nowhere)
                         Who pays twenty thousand dollars for 
                         a ride to Paris?

               There it is. And she wants an answer --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know. I don't know who I am.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Yeah, well, welcome to the club.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         No. No, I mean, I really don't know 
                         who I am. I can't remember anything 
                         earlier than two weeks ago.
                              (it's not flying)
                         I'm serious.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What? Like amnesia?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Look, go ahead... put the radio on...

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Amnesia?
                              (total incredulity)
                         You're saying you don't remember 
                         anything that happened before two 
                         weeks ago?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         That's what I'm saying.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (German)
                         Give me a fucking break.

               BOURNE staring at her. She's furious. She's downshifting -- 
               she's accelerating -- pulling out to pass the truck on a 
               blind turn, as we --

<b>               EXT. ZURICH BANK -- DAY/DUSK
</b>
               APFEL emerges from the bank. Leaving work. Turns the corner 
               into a quiet side street and --

               Up ahead, here comes another guy in a suit. It's MANHEIM 
               walking toward us, deep into a cell phone conversation. Barely 
               noticing Apfel as they get closer and --

               As they pass -- MANHEIM -- it's completely out of the blue -- 
               he's jabbing the cellphone down into Apfel's shoulder and --

               APFEL -- no clue -- already clutching at the coronary 
               exploding in his chest -- dead before his body hits the street 
               and --

               MANHEIM -- still walking -- he's never broken stride -- and 
               as he goes he's fiddling with the cellphone and --

               INSERT -- THE CELLPHONE -- MANHEIM'S HANDS working to retract 
               a syringe into the device and --

               MANHEIM striding away. Disappearing into Zurich...

<b>               INT. PARIS MORGUE -- NIGHT
</b>
               Not the best morgue in town. Cold tile. A wall of freezers. 
               Death lighting. Now add some color. Meet NYKWANA WOMBOSI in 
               the flesh.

               Meet HIS ENTOURAGE -- eight or ten of his thirty children -- 
               two of his wives -- three of his bodyguards -- the whole 
               crew spread out in this horrible basement room. THE WIVES 
               are chatting. THE KIDS are playing, fighting and eating candy.

               THE BODYGUARDS -- three of them here -- are white. These 
               guys are French/Corsican mercs. Not quite the A-Team. The 
               guy in charge of this ugly little unit is named DEAUVAGE. 
               Into it. Too into it.

               TWO MORGUE ATTENDANTS hanging back. THE MORGUE BOSS -- who's 
               clearly suffering this for a bribe -- moves to one of the 
               freezer lockers...

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                              (French)
                         Okay, Monsieur Kane... number 121...

               And he pulls open FREEZER #121. And thank God we can't see 
               it, because whatever's inside there is clearly horrible. THE 
               MORGUE BOSS barely takes a glance, standing back as quickly 
               as possible.

               DEAUVAGE -- lead bodyguard -- moves to clear a zone for his 
               boss --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         Get the fuck out of my way --
                              (pushing Deauvage 
                              aside --)

               WOMBOSI moves to the freezer box. Stares down. As if it were 
               nothing. He's seen -- he's made -- much, much worse. And now 
               he reaches down into the box -- hands on -- literally feeling 
               around this dead, awful corpse with his bare hands -- feeling 
               around for something -- feeling and feeling and not finding --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                              (turning to Deauvage --)
                         It's not him.

               DEAUVAGE looking pale as WOMBOSI slams shut the freezer.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                              (quiet hard fury)
                         So who's crazy now?

<b>               EXT. PARIS STREET -- NIGHT
</b>
               A MINI-MOTORCADE driving towards Neuilly. Two security cars. 
               A van full of kids and mothers. And one big Mercedes stretch.

<b>               INT. THE MERCEDES STRETCH LIMO -- NIGHT
</b>
               WOMBOSI alone in the back. Looking haunted.

<b>               INT. TRUCKSTOP CAFE -- NIGHT
</b>
               It's a weird spot. Open all night. But Euro-style. Quiet 
               tonight. A few Alpen-truckers chowing down. A local or two 
               at the bar and --

               BOURNE AND MARIE at a back table. Drinking coffee. He's got 
               the red bag open. All the passports -- the personal junk -- 
               the money -- all the shit from the Zurich bank box -- he's 
               been showing it to her --

               And he's got her attention now.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         And you have no idea -- not a clue -- 
                         what came before that?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         No.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         When you think of it, before the 
                         ship -- before you wake up on the 
                         ship, what do you see?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Nothing. It's just not there.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Well, this is great.
                              (she sits back)
                         I'm sick of myself and you have no 
                         idea who you are.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I kept trying things, I thought if I 
                         could find all the things I could 
                         do, I could --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- you could put it together --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- which was okay for a while, I was 
                         okay with it...
                              (hesitating now)
                         But then -- there's all these other 
                         things -- all these other things I 
                         know how to do -- and this -- this 
                         stuff from the bank and...
                              (suddenly flat out --)
                         I think something bad happened.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What are you talking about?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Sounds like you were in an accident 
                         or something.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I was shot twice in the back.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Okay, so you're a victim.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         There was a gun. Who has a safe 
                         deposit box with a gun and all this 
                         money and all these passports?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Lots of people have guns. You're 
                         American. Americans love guns.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I fought my way out of an embassy.  
                         I climbed down a fifty-foot wall -- 
                         I went out the window and I was doing 
                         it -- I just did it. I knew how to 
                         do it.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         People do amazing things when they're 
                         scared.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Why do I? -- I come in here -- 
                         instinctively -- first thing I do -- 
                         I'm looking for the exit -- I'm 
                         catching the sightlines -- I know I 
                         can't sit with my back to the door --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You're paranoid. You were shot. It's 
                         natural.

               She's not listening. He leans in. Flat out now.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I can tell you the license plate 
                         numbers of all three cars out front. 
                         I can tell you that the waitress is 
                         left-handed and the guy at the counter 
                         weighs two-hundred and fifteen pounds 
                         and knows how to handle himself. I 
                         know that the best, first place to 
                         look for a gun is the cab of that 
                         grey truck outside. I know that at 
                         this altitude I can run flat out for 
                         half a mile before I lose my edge. I 
                         knew that you were my first, best 
                         option out of Zurich? How do I know 
                         all that? How can I know all that 
                         and not know who I am? How is that 
                         possible?

               Long dead pause.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         God, you're not kidding, are you?

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE RESEARCH DESK -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE'S FACE -- a video image frozen on A COMPUTER SCREEN -- 
               it's Bourne looking at the camera -- Bourne looking up at 
               the camera in the consulate passport office and --

<b>               PULL BACK TO REVEAL
</b>
               HALF A DOZEN COMPUTER MONITORS -- and lots of shots of Bourne -- 
               twenty angles -- twenty different locations -- twenty candid 
               perspectives of Bourne and his mad scramble through the 
               consulate --

               CONKLIN and RESEARCH TECH #1 poring over these surveillance 
               tapes downloaded from Zurich --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         And that's the best angle of the 
                         courtyard?

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #1
</b>                         That's the only angle.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What do they have on the streets? 
                         The area. They must have something.

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #1
</b>                         Hang on...
                              (typing away --)

               CONKLIN rubbing at the tension in his temples as ZORN enters --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         Abbott. He knows about the embassy. 
                         He's coming down for a show and tell.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         That'll solve all our problems.

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #1
</b>                              (he's hit paydirt)
                         Sir...

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                              (turning back --)
                         What's that?

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #1
</b>                         It's an angle of the street -- some 
                         sort of alleyway -- you can just...

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Enhance it.

               INSERT -- THE MONITOR -- as the image enlarges to fill the 
               screen. And there's Bourne. And the little red car. And Marie.

<b>                                     CONKLIN (O.S.)
</b>                         Who the hell is that?

<b>               EXT. ZURICH AIRPORT HOTEL -- NIGHT
</b>
               A drone barn. Practically on the runway.

<b>               INT. ZURICH AIRPORT HOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               One of those rooms. Just a plain functional box. MANHEIM 
               laying on the bed. Fully dressed. Suit and tie. Just laying 
               there, staring at the ceiling. Who knows how long he's been 
               like this.

               Just waiting.

               ON THE NIGHTSTAND -- A gun. A knife. His e-phone pager. His 
               fresh credentials. And a photo of Jason Bourne.

<b>               INT. WOMBOSI'S PARIS COMPOUND -- NIGHT
</b>
               Quick orientation: Picture a heavily-walled palace just off 
               the Bois Du Boulogne. But once inside you could be back in 
               Brazzaville. It's just a buffet of oddness. Home to fifty 
               children and nine wives. The decor blends money and nouveau 
               riche materialism with a hard, back-home tribal esthetic. 
               It's a visual treat. Not condescending or stupid, but flat-
               out strange and menacing.

               It's late. And the palace is dark and sleepy now, but carry 
               all that through this next series of quick shots --

<b>               WOMBOSI HOUSE SECURITY STATION
</b>
               Just inside the door. BODYGUARD #1 slouched before a bank of 
<b>               SECURITY MONITORS.
</b>
<b>               WOMBOSI MAIN HALLWAY
</b>
               Littered with toys. Children's crap everywhere. BODYGUARD 
               #3. Snoozing on a Louis Quatorze chair draped with African 
               cloth.

<b>               WOMBOSI THRONE ROOM DOORS
</b>
               DEAUVAGE -- head bodyguard -- posted outside this imposing 
               set of doors. He's trying to stay awake. Reading a spy 
               thriller.

<b>               FINALLY TO
</b>
<b>               WOMBOSI'S THRONE ROOM
</b>
               And there he is -- the emperor himself -- WOMBOSI on his 
               throne. Except the room is dark and empty. And he's sitting 
               there by himself. A king without a country.

               Sitting there. With a gun in his lap. Drinking hard from a 
               bottle of Jack Daniels.

               Stewing.

<b>               EXT. FRENCH ROADSIDE -- DAWN
</b>
               Beautiful morning. The red car parked along the road. BOURNE 
               alone in the passenger seat. Deep asleep. Nestled there.

               And then, he wakes suddenly. Starts. Freaked for a moment. 
               Instantly feeling for the red bag. There it is in his lap. 
               He looks around and --

               MARIE sitting away from the car. She's got a loaf of bread. 
               A soda. Smoking a butt. Same clothes, but her make-up's been 
               washed away. Clean. Simple. Gorgeous.

               BOURNE steps out. Morning legs.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I needed a break.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Where are we?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         We're about an hour away.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I can't believe I slept.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You were tired. Here...
                              (bread and soda --)
                         For twenty-thousand I like to throw 
                         in breakfast.
                              (he takes it)
                         So what do you dream about?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I dream I'm asleep. I dream that I'm 
                         asleep and I can't wake up.
                              (he takes a hit from 
                              her smoke and coughs --)
                         I don't think I smoke.

               Another silence. She's watching him.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You ever think maybe you have a 
                         family?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I thought about it. I don't know.

               She looks away. Was she hoping for another answer?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I guess it's like Christmas every 
                         day for you, huh?

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE CONKLIN'S OFFICE -- DAY
</b>
               MARIE'S FACE -- A PASSPORT PHOTO -- she's eighteen -- she's 
               smiling -- really alive and fresh and --

               CONKLIN behind his desk. ABBOTT staring grimly at the picture --

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Who is she?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         Marie Helene Kreutz. She's twenty- 
                         six. Born outside Munich. Father was 
                         a welder. He died in '91. We don't 
                         have the mother. There might be a 
                         step-sister, we're trying to track 
                         that down.
                              (apologetic)
                         It's tough. She's a wanderer. She 
                         pops up on the grid here and there 
                         but... I mean, the last time she 
                         paid an electric bill in Europe was 
                         '94. No taxes. No steady employer. 
                         She's got three arrests. Two 
                         shoplifting cases, one in Spain, one 
                         in Germany. And she actually did 
                         three months in an Italian detention 
                         center for credit card fraud.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         No political affiliations?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         She's a gypsy. If it's a cover, it's 
                         a great one.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         I'm assuming we're exploring that 
                         possibility.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         We're exploring every possibility.
                              (tighter by the moment)
                         We are in pursuit. How much more do 
                         you want me to tell you?

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Pursuit would indicate that you know 
                         exactly where he is.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         No. Pursuit ends when we know exactly 
                         where he is.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Yes, well, I think we need some fresh 
                         eyes on this problem. I'm bringing 
                         in some people from upstairs.

               CONKLIN hesitates. Inside he's screaming.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         We've been down here for two weeks 
                         banging our heads against the wall. 
                         We've been sleeping down here. We 
                         just got our first lead fourteen 
                         hours ago, and now? -- now that we 
                         finally have something to work with -- 
                         you want to bring planning personnel 
                         down here?
                              (real steam)
                         I'd rethink that.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         I want a second opinion.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         This is an operations desk.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         I'm not asking.

<b>               EXT. PARIS STREET NEAR BOURNE'S APARTMENT -- DAY
</b>
               THE LITTLE RED CAR cruising through town.

<b>               INT. THE LITTLE RED CAR -- DAY
</b>
               MARIE driving. BOURNE checking building numbers as they pass --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Slow down. No, don't stop. Just...

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (looking over)
                         That's it? Is that it?

               AN APARTMENT BUILDING. Big building. Elegant but cold.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Four-fifty. That's the address...

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Looks familiar?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         No.
                              (staring back as they 
                              pass --)
                         No. Go around. Keep going...

               MARIE pulling up -- turning a corner -- watching him as she 
               does. But he's pre-occupied -- eyes scanning -- taking it 
               all in --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Where?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yeah. Pull in here. Park it.

               MARIE angles into an alleyway. Cuts the engine.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         So this is it, right?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I guess.

               Dead pause. She's waiting. He's still scanning the street.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I should go.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't remember any of this.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Jason...

               He turns back. She's staring at him.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Sorry. The money, right?

               Before she can say anything, he's digging in the backpack. 
               He pulls out another stack of hundreds. Hands it over. She 
               takes it. It's not what she wanted, but she's used to being 
               disappointed. Fighting it.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Okay, so...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Thanks for the ride.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Anytime.

               Silence. That moment. He focuses. Getting it.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Look, I don't know what's up there.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You got me pretty fucking curious.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Look, you could come up. Or you could 
                         wait if you want. I could go check 
                         it out. You could wait.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Nah...
                              (hide the pain)
                         With you, I mean, you'd probably 
                         just forget about me, right?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         How could I forget about you?
                              (he smiles)
                         You're the only person I know.

               MARIE smiles. We've never seen it before. Worth waiting for.

<b>               INT. PARIS APARTMENT BUILDING FOYER -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE standing at the directory. Five apartments. 
               One per floor. Five names. A buzzer. An intercom. There it 
               is.

               J. Bourne.

               BOURNE presses the buzzer. After a moment, he presses again. 
               Nothing.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I guess you're not home.

               BOURNE checking the door. How to pop it open? Just about to 
               get into it, when --

<b>                                     CONCIERGE (O.S.)
</b>                              (from the shadows 
                              inside --)
                         Monsieur Bourne...I'm coming...

               THE CONCIERGE is sixty. Plump and proper.

<b>                                     CONCIERGE
</b>                              (opening the door --)
                         Mr. Bourne, there you are -- I was 
                         wondering -- I haven't seen you --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Here I am.

               THE CONCIERGE looking at BOURNE like maybe she's never seen 
               him look like this before. And she's looking at MARIE like 
               here's the reason her tenant looks like such shit.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (he tries a smile)
                          I seem to have lost my key.

               THE CONCIERGE nods. Instant chilly disapproval.

<b>                                     CONCIERGE
</b>                         I've been ringing your bell. It's 
                         good you were away. We had some 
                         trouble with the hot water. It's 
                         been repaired.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Great. We could use a shower.
                              (they look like shit --)
                         It was a long drive.

               THE CONCIERGE steps aside and --

<b>               INT. PARIS APARTMENT FIFTH FLOOR LANDING -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE at the apartment threshold. He has a key 
               now.

               Turning it. And the door opens...

               Nothing...

               No bombs. No wife and kids. No one.

<b>               INT. PARIS APARTMENT -- DAY
</b>
               A huge, rambling flat. Large entry hallway. Large rooms beyond 
               that. It's obviously expensive. But cold. Completely 
               impersonal. No photographs. No mementoes. No human history.

<b>               WE'RE MOVING NOW
</b>
<b>               THE LIVING ROOM
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE exploring.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         It's big.

               BOURNE silent. Struggling to get a feel for the place.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         This is like a real apartment.
                              (she likes it)
                         This is really yours?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I guess so.

               MARIE taking it in fast. BOURNE seems paralyzed. Trying to 
               soak it all in. Willing himself home. Touching things as he 
               passes. As if a texture, a smell -- something will become 
               familiar. He's deep into this as we go to --

<b>               THE BEDROOM
</b>
               MARIE in the doorway. Checking it out. It's so clean and 
               simple. But it's not the decor she's most interested in...

               MARIE opening an armoire...

               Nothing but men's clothes. No competition. She's feeling 
               better by the moment as we go to --

<b>               THE KITCHEN
</b>
               Like a stage set. Lots of props and no sign of food. BOURNE 
               picking up a frying pan.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         This is my frying pan.
                              (and then --)
                         This is my spoon.
                              (trying harder)
                         I'm Jason Bourne and this is my 
                         kitchen.

<b>               THE MASTER BATHROOM
</b>
               MARIE still on the prowl. Mirror city. Big tub. One 
               toothbrush.

<b>               AN OFFICE STUDY
</b>
               There's a desk. Chair. Phone. Basic. BOURNE with a folder in 
               his hand. Staring at the bookshelves. Binders, reference 
               materials and hardbound volumes -- all of it about maritime 
               law. Ship schedules. Registry catalogs. All about boats.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         This is your office?
                              (from the doorway)
                         God, you live like a monk...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         All this stuff -- it's all about 
                         boats.
                              (looking up)
                         I think I'm in the shipping business.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         See. It's starting to come back, 
                         yeah?
                              (he sort of nods)
                         You mind if I take a bath?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Go ahead.

               MARIE backs out. BOURNE alone again. Standing there for a 
               moment. Dealing with it.

               And then he sits down in a chair.

               BOURNE sitting there. Staring. The room, the desk -- it's 
               all so devoid of personality. And then, something catches 
               his eye and --

               INSERT -- THE DESK TOP -- a faint silhouette through the 
               dust and grime. Outlines of where a computer used to sit.

               BOURNE reaching suddenly under the desk. Bingo. Pulling out 
               a retractable computer keyboard tray. But it's empty. No 
               keyboard. Now he's really confused and --

               INSERT -- A PHONE/ANSWERING MACHINE -- BOURNE pressing the 
               playback button and --

<b>                                     PHONE MACHINE
</b>                         "You have no messages."

               BOURNE leaving that for a moment -- about to anyway -- and 
               then he turns back -- new idea -- pressing for the speaker 
               phone -- and then hitting redial and --

               THE PHONE stars dialing...

               RINGING and...

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         Bonjour, Hotel Marboeuf...

               BOURNE quick grabbing the receiver. Taking it off speakerphone 
               and --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         ...yes -- oui -- uh...

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         Yes, sir. Hotel Marboeuf, Paris.  
                         How can I direct your call?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Paris?

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         Yes, sir...
                              (switching to English, 
                              thinking that's his 
                              problem --)
                         How can I help you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes, I'm...I'm looking for Mr. Jason 
                         Bourne.

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         One moment, please...
                              (a long pause, and 
                              then --)
                         I'm afraid, I have no one by that 
                         name registered, sir.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         D'accord... Merci.
                              (about to hang up--)
                         Un moment -- un moment --

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         -- sir? --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- hang on -- I need you to check 
                         another name for me -- hang on -- un 
                         moment, s'il vous plait --

               BOURNE grabbing the backpack -- tearing through it -- where 
               is it? -- where is it? -- shit and money falling out and --

               There it is -- from the safe-deposit box -- that piece of 
               card stock -- the one with no passport attached to it --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (reading it)
                         Kane. Do you have Mr. John Michael 
                         Kane?

<b>                                     OPERATOR/PHONE
</b>                         One moment, sir.

               BOURNE waiting. And then there's muzak -- holding music and --

<b>               THE MASTER BATHROOM
</b>
               Water running in the tub. MARIE pulling off her boots. 
               Checking the temperature.

<b>               THE OFFICE STUDY
</b>
               Bourne still on hold. And then --

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                              (a new voice suddenly)
                         Bonjour? Monsieur? Allo...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes, I'm here...

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         You call about Monsieur Kane? John 
                         Michael Kane?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes. Is he there?

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         You are a friend of his?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         I have some very bad news for you, 
                         sir. I'm terrible sorry to have to 
                         tell you this, but Monsieur Kane has 
                         passed away almost two weeks ago...

               Silence. BOURNE is rocked. But the Manager, it's natural, he 
               interprets the silence as grief...

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         There was an accident. On the 
                         motorway. Apparently, he was killed 
                         instantly. Really, I'm terrible sorry 
                         to be the one to tell you this...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         ...I understand...

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         ...we actually, we were unaware for 
                         several days that this had happened. 
                         When they came for his things, it 
                         was made known for us, you see?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Who? Who came?

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         His brother. You know his brother?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Right. Yes. Of course.

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         It's very bad this. Terrible sad. 
                         Such a young man.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Do you -- his brother -- do you have 
                         a phone number?

<b>                                     MANAGER/PHONE
</b>                         I think not...
                              (quick French to 
                              someone in the office 
                              there --)
                         No, I'm sorry. It was very sudden. 
                         He was here very briefly.

               BOURNE just hands up the phone. Just like that. Not even 
               goodbye. Standing there frozen. Stunned. John Michael Kane 
               is dead. And he had the passport.

               Suddenly, everything's changed. They shouldn't be here. This 
               is bad. Danger.

<b>               THE MASTER BATHROOM
</b>
               MARIE playing with her hair in the mirror. Checking the water --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (calling out to him --)
                         She wasn't kidding about the water. 
                         It's freezing.

<b>               THE OFFICE
</b>
               BOURNE frozen there. On alert. He forces a smile. Decoy mood.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Hang on. I'll check the kitchen...
                              (moving out of the 
                              office --)
                         Maybe it takes a while to get all 
                         the way upstairs.

<b>               THE KITCHEN
</b>
               BOURNE moving to the sink. He's smiling. Upbeat. But it's an 
               act. His eyes are everywhere. Turning on the water. But 
               ignoring it. What he's really doing is searching out a weapon. 
               Pulling A KNIFE very quietly from behind the stove. Holding 
               it. Feels pretty comfortable. Hiding it down by his side. On 
               the move again, now --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yeah, it's cold in here, too...
                              (calling to her as he 
                              goes --)
                         Let's give it another minute.

               BOURNE like we've ever seen him. Like an animal. Every sound -- 
               every breeze -- everything carries information.

               Standing still. Taking it all in.

               Real quick layout -- there's big windows along one wall that 
               face out to the street below. The hallway to the bedroom and 
               bath feeds into the living room from one side. There is a 
               large frosted airshaft window along that hallway wall. Simple 
               furniture.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (suddenly --)
                         -- omigod! --
                              (she's behind him --)
                         -- what're you? -- no -- no --

               MARIE backing away -- completely freaked -- BOURNE standing 
               there with the knife in his hand and --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- no -- Marie -- no! -- it's not 
                         like that --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- please -- Jason -- omigod --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- quiet -- quiet --

               MARIE -- frightened -- confused -- paralyzed for a moment --

               BOURNE glancing back -- a curtain fluttering behind him -- 
               motioning for MARIE to get down -- do it -- now -- down!

               MARIE hesitating and --

               BOURNE -- what's he doing? -- he's unscrewing a lightbulb 
               from a lamp beside him and --

               MARIE about to say something -- he shakes her off --

               BOURNE -- knife in one hand -- lightbulb in the other -- 
               putting his foot on a chair in front of him and --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         ...what are you doing?...

               BOURNE waving her to shut up -- crawl -- now -- back up -- 
               get under the window -- go! --

               MARIE -- he seems so sure -- it's weird, but she's doing it -- 
               she's under that frosted window -- down below the sill -- 
               looking back -- what the fuck is he doing now? --

               BOURNE -- the lightbulb -- he's tossing it across the room -- 
               over her head -- into that frosted window and --

               As she ducks down --

               As it SHATTERS --

<b>               EVERYTHING STARTS HAPPENING AT ONCE
</b>
               PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT! -- silenced automatic 
               weapons fire -- raking into the apartment and --

               THE FROSTED WINDOW peppered with holes and --

               MARIE on the floor as THE WINDOW SHATTERS above her and --

               CASTEL -- he's in the airshaft! -- hanging from an abseil 
               rope -- but off guard -- FIRING BLIND -- strafing the 
               apartment and --

               BOURNE kicking that chair across the room and --

               CASTEL reacting -- instinct -- moving target --

               THE CHAIR just strafed to shit and --

               BOURNE rolling away and --

               CASTEL -- he's coming in -- last pieces of window frame 
               CRASHING AWAY as he swings into the apartment and --

               MARIE -- right below him -- shit raining down as he flies in 
               and --

               BOURNE throwing the knife and --

               CASTEL -- turning -- too late -- the knife catching him in 
               the neck and --

               BOURNE -- in motion -- attacking and --

               CASTEL -- knife impaled in his neck -- clawing for it with 
               one hand -- trying to get off a shot and --

               APARTMENT WALL -- PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT!-PHFT! -- gunfire 
               tearing wildly around the room and --

               BOURNE -- full-stop -- kicking the gun -- kicking it up -- 
               ROUNDS TEARING ACROSS THE CEILING and --

               MARIE -- SCREAMING NOW -- trying to crawl away and --

               CASTEL -- no chance -- off balance -- BOURNE -- his open 
               palm driving up into CASTEL'S JAW -- the body wants to fall 
               backward, but BOURNE has the guy's arm in his free hand -- 
               jerking it like rope -- tearing it from it's socket and --

               THE GUN CLATTERING FREE across the floor and --

               BOURNE -- his knee -- like a piston -- hard into CASTEL'S 
               GUT -- and then down -- his foot -- down into CASTEL'S KNEE, 
               shattering it and --

               CASTEL is on the floor -- stunned -- wiped -- knife pouring 
               blood from his neck -- arm hanging like a rag doll -- bone 
               torn through his pant leg above the knee and --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         omigod -- omigod -- what're you doing? -- 
                         what're you doing? --
                              (incoherent fear and 
                              confusion, German 
                              and English and--)
                         -- what is he? -- what've you? -- 
                         omigod -- what is this? --

               BOURNE ignoring her -- grabbing the guy's backpack --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- what're you doing? -- Jason, 
                         please, tell me what's happening!

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Open it --
                              (tossing Castel's 
                              backpack behind him --)
                         -- do it -- what's he got in there?

               CASTEL -- eyes wild -- tries to make his feet --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Who are you?
                              (kicking him down--)
                         -- who are you?

               CASTEL -- crablike against a wall -- bloody hands leaving a 
               mess as he struggles to get to his feet --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- who are you? -- tell me who you 
                         are -- who sent you? --
                              (bearing down)
                         -- what is this about? -- YOU'VE GOT 
<b>                         TO TELL ME WHAT THIS IS ABOUT! --
</b>
               CASTEL -- staring back -- eyes wild -- mouth shut -- his 
               expression -- is it terror or pure steel? --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b><b>                         WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?
</b>
<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (suddenly from behind)
                         ...omigod, no...

               MARIE -- the guy's backpack -- something in her hand -- and 
               as freaked out as she was a moment ago -- this is worse --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What? -- what? --
                              (attention split --)
                         -- what is it?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         ...this is my picture... he's got my 
                         picture --
                              (holding it up, in 
                              horror --)
                         -- this is me -- this is Zurich -- 
                         this... this... this is yesterday --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- just --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- where does this come from? --
                              (to Castel)
                         How do you have my picture?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Marie, just --
                              (waving her back --)
                         -- just stay there! -- just --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- he's got my picture! -- this is 
                         yesterday! -- this is me! --
                              (out of control now --)
                         -- where did you get my picture? --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- let me do this, okay? --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- do what? -- what are you doing? -- 
                         he's got my picture --
                              (just apoplectic --)
                         -- he's -- my God -- look at him -- 
                         he's bleeding to death -- my picture -- 
                         look! -- he was trying to kill us! -- 
                         omigod --

               Now there's KNOCKING AT THE DOOR and --

<b>                                     THE CONCIERGE
</b>                              (muffled but urgent)
                         Mister Bourne! Mister Bourne! What's 
                         going on? Is everything all right in 
                         there?
                              (-- and she keeps 
                              banging and --)

               MARIE is past the point of rationality and CASTEL is bleeding 
               and shaking and BOURNE is trying to think and it's just 
               impossible and --

               Suddenly -- CASTEL is moving! -- and fast -- it's superhuman -- 
               unbelievable -- just enough spring in his good leg and --

               BOURNE bracing himself but --

               CASTEL isn't attacking! -- he's running away -- he's crossing 
               the living room -- but there's nowhere to go -- absolutely 
               nowhere -- except --

<b>               THE WINDOW
</b>
               CASTEL hurling himself into the glass and --

<b>               EXT. THE PARIS APARTMENT BUILDING -- DAY
</b>
               WINDOW SHATTERING! -- CASTEL -- in a cloud of broken glass -- 
               sixty feet above the street --

               Falling and falling and...

               IMPACT! -- landing on the roof of a parked car and --

<b>               INT. THE PARIS APARTMENT -- DAY
</b>
               THE APARTMENT -- BOURNE in motion -- five things at once -- 
               checking the window -- kicking the gun away -- grabbing the 
               red bag -- grabbing what he can -- no time to spare and --

<b>                                     THE CONCIERGE
</b>                              (still outside the 
                              door--)
                         --I'm calling the police, Mr.  Bourne -- 
                         you give me no choice -- I'm calling 
                         them right away! --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- your shoes -- Marie! -- where? -- 
                         where are your shoes? -- Marie --

               MARIE standing there in utter shock -- paralyzed -- the 
               picture in her hand -- the broken glass -- all of what just 
               happened --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         He's dead isn't he?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Marie -- look at me -- there's no 
                         time for this --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         He went out the window -- why? -- 
                         why would someone do that?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- we can't stay here -- I can't 
                         stay here -- it's not safe here --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         He came to kill us.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- we can go -- I can get us out of 
                         here -- but we have to go now --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You knew he was coming.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         No.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I trusted you.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         You're wrong. I didn't know.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I don't trust anybody and I trusted 
                         you!

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I didn't know this would happen.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         He had my picture! He knew I was 
                         here! He came here to kill us!

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         And where is he now?
                              (that gets her quiet)
                         You believe what you want, but I'm 
                         telling you the truth -- I never 
                         would have brought you here if I 
                         thought it was dangerous.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                              (totally overwhelmed)
                         Oh, Jesus...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         You stay -- if you want, you stay -- 
                         it's okay -- it's better -- maybe 
                         it's better -- I don't know --
                              (starting to back 
                              away --)
                         But I can't stay here. I can't.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         But the police --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- there's no time --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- we'll explain it --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- how? --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- there's two of us -- we'll tell 
                         them -- we'll just --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- forget it --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- we'll tell them what happened --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know what happened!
                              (huge here)
                         I don't know who he is! I don't know 
                         what he wants! I don't even know who 
                         I am! The only thing I know is that 
                         if I stay here, I'm never gonna find 
                         out!

               BOURNE -- that's it -- grabbing the backpack -- pulling it 
               on -- just about to make his move --

               She's standing there. Just utterly swamped. Lost.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Come with me.
                              (she turns back, he's 
                              waiting --)
                         I can get us out of here. I know it. 
                         Then we can think. Then we can work 
                         it out. We'll explain it then.  Once 
                         we're safe.
                              (rock solid)
                         I can protect you.

<b>               EXT. THE PARIS APARTMENT BUILDING -- DAY
</b>
               A CROWD is gathered around CASTEL'S BODY. Rubberneckers and 
               people pointing up to the broken window -- THE CONCIERGE 
               running out to the street and getting the news and THE SOUND 
               OF SIRENS bleeding in from the distance and --

<b>               THE CAMERA PULLS BACK TO FIND
</b>
               THE LITTLE RED CAR pulling out of the alley. Turning away 
               from the scene. Disappearing into the streets of Paris --

<b>               INT. WOMBOSI COMPOUND MAIN HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               THRONE ROOM DOORS flying open -- WOMBOSI exploding out into 
               the hallway --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         -- No! -- I say, no! -- they go this 
                         far -- out a body in the grave -- 
                         another body! -- no! -- this isn't 
                         over -- these people are not finished -- 
                         nothing will make them finish until 
                         they have Wombosi! -- the real Wombosi -- 
                         until I'm the one in the box! --

               SIX KIDS -- TWO WIVES -- THREE BODYGUARDS -- all startled by 
               this steamrolling mass of energy and paranoia --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         -- what are you doing? --
                              (bearing down on 
                              Bodyguard #2 --)
                         -- sleeping? --
                              (to Deauvage --)
                         -- he's sleeping! -- this man is 
                         sleeping at his post! --
                              (kicking the chair 
                              out from under him --)
                         -- I've had men killed for this! --
                              (but he's still moving --)
                         -- you think these people? -- these 
                         people who come for me -- you think 
                         they sleep? -- they never sleep! -- 
                         they spend all the day -- all the 
                         night -- all time thinking about how 
                         to put Wombosi in that box! --
                              (he's just gonna keep 
                              going, and we're 
                              into--)

<b>               A MASSIVE ONE-TAKE TRACKING SHOT
</b>
               DEAUVAGE on his feet -- racing to follow -- KIDS scattering 
               out of the way -- THE WIVES completely unfazed and --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         -- there is no box for Wombosi! -- 
                         they don't have a box that can hold 
                         me! -- I know these people -- I know 
                         they never sleep! -- I know they 
                         never stop! -- they never stop until 
                         the knife is at their throat! --
                              (suddenly distracted --)
                         -- what is the window? -- this window 
                         is open! -- who leaves this open! --
                              (before Deauvage can 
                              possibly respond --)
                         -- this is a war, you fool! -- you 
                         think these people are like you? -- 
                         you think this is stupid people? -- 
                         careless people? -- these people see 
                         an open window, they reach in with a 
                         big hand and grab your heart until 
                         you die! --
                              (still rolling as--)

<b>               WE'RE HEADING DOWN TO THE POOL
</b>
<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         -- and it won't just be me! -- they 
                         don't just want Wombosi now! -- they 
                         want my babies -- they want my 
                         children! -- and I say no! --
                              (grabbing Deauvage --)
                         -- you leave that window open again, 
                         you better pray they kill me --
                              (something's caught 
                              his ear in the 
                              distance and now 
                              he's trying to get 
                              there --)
                         -- everything changes here now! -- 
                         everyone is a soldier here now! -- 
                         this is a fortress now! Are we clear 
                         with this?

<b>                                     DEAUVAGE
</b>                         Yes, sir. All clear.

               WOMBOSI stops to look at DEAUVAGE. In the background, we can 
               hear A CHILD CRYING by the pool --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         This man is out there. Kane is out 
                         there. And they pretend he's dead. 
                         That means he's coming back.

               WOMBOSI moving quickly now and WE'RE STILL TRACKING -- taking 
               him into --

<b>               THE POOL AREA
</b>
               FORTY KIDS going nuts in the water. ONE KID crying. WOMBOSI 
               like a shot -- picking the kid up -- drying his tears -- 
               making a funny face -- getting a smile as --

<b>               INT. GARE DU NORD -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE stash the red bag in a locker.

<b>               INT. CIA PSYCHOACOUSTICS LAB -- DAY
</b>
               AN ELECTRONICS CONSOLE. Super-tech. Meters -- LEDs -- wave-
               form analyzers -- audio spectrum filters -- all of this gear 
               dancing and responding to every nuance of --

               BOURNE'S VOICE -- OVER SPEAKERS -- we're listening to a 
               recording of the call he made from the apartment to the Hotel 
               Marbeouf Paris --

<b>                                     BOURNE/TAPE
</b>                         "Okay. Merci."
                              (pause)
                         "Un moment -- un moment --"

<b>                                     OPERATOR/TAPE
</b>                         "-- sir? --"

<b>                                     BOURNE/TAPE
</b>                         "-- hang on -- I need you to check 
                         another name for me -- hang on -- un 
                         moment, s'il vous plait --"

<b>               PULL BACK TO REVEAL
</b>
               A secret studio buried deep in the Langley facility. Equipment 
               up the ass. Five people in this darkened room: AN ENGINEER 
               working the board. CONKLIN looking sour. ZORN in the shadows. 
               ABBOTT sitting there waiting for analysis from --

               MRS. DOYLE. She's late sixties. A long-time spy shrink. An 
               eminence. A diamond-hard, seen-it-all intelligence.

<b>                                     BOURNE/TAPE
</b>                         "Kane. John Michael Kane."

<b>                                     OPERATOR/TAPE
</b>                         "One moment, sir."

               MRS. DOYLE nods to THE ENGINEER. She's heard enough.

<b>                                     MRS. DOYLE
</b>                         He's not lying. He's very highly 
                         stressed, but he's not lying. He's 
                         confused. He's aggressively searching 
                         for a way out of the chaos. This 
                         conversation, the video from the 
                         consulate -- the body language, vocal 
                         pattern -- it's my sense he's really 
                         lost here.
                              (beat)
                         I think he snapped.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Is that a medical term?

               She turns. Battle lines drawn.

<b>                                     MRS. DOYLE
</b>                         You want clinical terminology? It's 
                         called, "conversation hysteria."
                              (to Abbott now --)
                         I don't know exactly how you train 
                         these people. I'm not sure I want to 
                         know. I'll take a guess there's some 
                         extremely rigorous behavior 
                         modification going on here.

               Silence. The idea dangling for a moment.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Let's assume that's true.

<b>                                     MRS. DOYLE
</b>                         You can only wind people so tight. 
                         Even machines break down.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         This unit has an unblemished record 
                         of success.

<b>                                     MRS. DOYLE
</b>                         Then I guess I'm in the wrong meeting.

<b>               EXT. BELLVILLE CAR PARK -- DUSK
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE stashing the red car.

<b>               INT. CIA HALLWAY UPSTAIRS HALLWAY -- DAY
</b>
               ABBOTT and CONKLIN walk and talk. They want to get loud, but 
               they can't. Too many people passing by --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         That was two hours -- two hours to 
                         get a second opinion -- and nothing 
                         changes. He's loose. He's out of 
                         control. It's very clear what needs 
                         to happen.
                              (point blank)
                         I have work to do.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         What if he is working for someone 
                         else? What if he turned?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Turn? To who? Where does he turn? 
                         What does he have to offer? He's got 
                         nothing. He's a killer. He's a piece 
                         of equipment for crissake. Where's 
                         he gonna turn?

<b>               EXT. HOTEL DE LA PRIX -- NIGHT
</b>
               Funky. Out of the way. Cash and carry. No-questions-asked 
               kind of flop. Our establishing shot somehow includes THE 
               PROPRIETOR and HIS DOG.

<b>               INT. THE HOTEL ROOM BATHROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               HAIR DYE washing down a rusted drain. It's MARIE alone in 
               this crappy little bathroom. Jeans and bra. All of it soaking 
               wet.

               A new hair color.

               A MIRROR. There she is. Her turn to stare at herself and 
               wonder.

               And then she smells something. Smoke...

<b>               INT. THE HOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               It's a shitty little room. BOURNE sitting on the bed. And 
               the smoke is coming from...

               HIS PASSPORT -- the Jason Bourne passport -- on fire. BOURNE 
               holding it as it burns away. Bourne's face -- melting -- 
               bubbling -- finally disappearing, -- BOURNE letting go just 
               before it burns his fingers and --

               BOURNE sits back. And there's MARIE standing there. And she's 
               holding out her passport --

               He looks at her. Big moment.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         No.
                              (he won't do it)
                         You know who you are. You know what 
                         that's worth? That's everything.
                              (pause)
                         I can't live like this. I can't do 
                         anything until I know who I am. 
                         Believe me, you don't want what I 
                         have.

               He looks away. Silence. And then, she touches him. His 
               shoulder.

               BOURNE almost recoils. Almost. He doesn't know what to do. 
               Doesn't know how to react.

               MARIE in front of him now -- she's taking his hand -- and he 
               hesitates -- looking at her -- is this happening? -- she's 
               taking his hand -- moving it down her body -- staring at him -- 
               both of them silent -- his hand -- her skin -- his mind racing -- 
               he wants this -- wants it in every way -- but it's 
               overwhelming -- when was the last time something like this 
               happened? -- he can't remember -- he doesn't care -- he's 
               pulling her toward him -- and they're kissing -- and you 
               know the rest...

<b>               INT. CDG AIRPORT -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR arriving in Paris.  Coming through the terminal 
               as his pager goes off -- never even stopping as he reads and --

<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               HOTEL SEQUENCE -- SKETCHED ONLY
</b>
               HOTEL MARBOEUF PARIS. This is the place that answered the 
               phone when Bourne hit redial in his apartment. This is the 
               place that John Michael Kane was staying when he "died."

               And so begins, the investigation...

               Now, since the presence of danger -- ie Wombosi's guys and/or 
               Treadstone -- is still up in the air, and since this scene 
               could either play very quickly or very long, and since we're 
               not exactly sure where we stand with page count -- this scene 
               is not finished.

               The rules of the scene, however, seem to be thus: Bourne 
               would have to be very nervous about being recognized. If he 
               was Kane and Kane stayed here, he's not the guy to do whatever 
               "social engineering" needs doing.

               Long version? Bourne sets the table and Marie gets the goods. 
               Somehow there's a threat from Treadstone or Wombosi.

               Fast version? It's all results -- we see them execute a plan 
               rather than work it up. MARIE is already in the hotel. In a 
               hotel uniform? Posing as a guest? In any case, she looks 
               very much different than we've ever seen her before.

               She gets close to the office. Hides. Waits. BOURNE calls the 
               desk from a pay phone. Asks for something. We see that some 
               sort of improvised booby-trap has been set inside the hotel 
               to start a fire. In the confusion -- MARIE -- very bravely -- 
               gets into the office. We do a quick cut outside to Bourne 
               waiting and --

<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               EXT. STREET OUTSIDE THE HOTEL MARBOEUF -- DAY
</b>
               Walk and talk. BOURNE and MARIE leaving the hotel fast. He's 
               on alert -- always on alert now -- making sure they're not 
               being watched. And she's excited and pumped -- she did it! -- 
               she's got the hotel record in hand --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You stayed there five times in the 
                         past six months. But I didn't have 
                         time -- I could only get the bill 
                         from the last stay -- you were there 
                         for two days. Some room service -- 
                         there's half a dozen phone calls 
                         here so that's someth--

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (cutting her off)
                         Who paid the bill?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         It's a company... MPG Capital.

<b>               INT. AN EMPTY OFFICE SUITE -- DAY
</b>
               Vacancy wasteland. Dead phone lines hanging. Carpet pulled 
               up. Completely stripped out. BOURNE and MARIE standing there 
               staring.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         This can't be it.

               She turns around -- and what's he doing? -- BOURNE with a 
               piece of paper and pencil -- or something/anything resourceful 
               and handy -- maybe it's carpet lint -- maybe it's breaking 
               the glass on the door and holding it up to the light -- or a 
               rubbing -- anyway, he's doing something ingenious with the 
               glass door --

               And as he's doing this, we're hearing --

<b>                                     TELEPHONE VOICE (OVER)
</b>                              (British, female)
                         Destin Navigational, can I help you?

<b>                                     BOURNE'S VOICE (OVER)
</b>                         Hey, how are you. I'm trying to reach 
                         Richard? Is he there.

               We're watching the MPG LOGO emerge and seeing BOURNE and 
               MARIE react, as we hear --

<b>                                     TELEPHONE VOICE
</b>                         I'm afraid there's no Richard here.
                              (continuing into --)

<b>               INT./EXT. SHITBAG PARISIAN PHONE BOOTH -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE on the pay phone. MARIE behind him at the bar. He's 
               got a pad and paper. This is all business.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Well, where are you? Where am I 
                         calling?

<b>                                     TELEPHONE VOICE
</b>                         This is an answering service, sir. 
                         The company's located in Southampton, 
                         but --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- this is a tire dealership, right?

<b>                                     TELEPHONE VOICE
</b>                         No sir, this is a navigational chart 
                         registry. I'm afraid you have the 
                         wrong number.

               Dial tone. BOURNE making a note. And as he does --

               TIME CUT -- one minute later -- call number two --

<b>                                     NEW VOICE (OVER)
</b>                              (French, male, hassled)
                         Marseille-Tropez Marina, how can I 
                         help you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Hey, so this is the Marina, right?

<b>                                     NEW VOICE
</b>                         Yes, sir. Can I help you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (he's got the number)
                         This is the one in Marseille, right?

<b>                                     NEW VOICE
</b>                              (Last time I looked.)

               TIME CUT -- one minute later -- call number three --

<b>                                     OPERATOR RECORDING (OVER)
</b>                         The number you have dialed has been 
                         disconnected. If you think you've 
                         reached this message in error--

               TIME CUT -- one minute later -- last call --

<b>                                     RECORDED VOICE (OVER)
</b>                         "You've reached the office of Simon 
                         Rawlins at Alliance Security Maritime 
                         Division. Paris office hours are 
                         from nine a.m. to six p.m. If this 
                         is an emergency, please call our 
                         twenty-four hour help line at..."

               BOURNE hangs up. Scribbles down the number. Backing away and --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE RESEARCH DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               CONKLIN and the RESEARCH TECHS jamming on the console --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- let's check that Interpol window 
                         again --

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #1
</b>                         -- I'm on it --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- I want that red car -- the girl -- 
                         we gotta get lucky here --

<b>                                     RESEARCH TECH #2
</b>                         Sir.
                              (Conklin turns --)
                         I've got a code here from NSA -- 
                         they're not gonna give us Keyhole 
                         satellite clearance unless we have 
                         sign-off from upstairs.

               CONKLIN turns and --

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         No.
                              (sitting there tensely)
                         We can't risk it.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Our last sighting was forty-eight 
                         hours ago. Even if they stayed in 
                         the car, the grid is huge.
                              (please)
                         This is it. He's trained -- 
                         conditioned -- they're built to 
                         disappear. You give him another day 
                         to run and we may never find him.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         This doesn't go upstairs.

               CONKLIN left hanging. ABBOTT clear on this one.

<b>               EXT. EST. SHOT -- LA DEFENSE -- DAY
</b>
               Monolithic tech. Reflection city.

<b>               INT. ELEVATOR -- LA DEFENSE -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE dressed for success. Suit. Cleaned up good. Catching 
               his reflection in the elevator's mirrored ceiling. Nerves on 
               edge.

<b>               INT. OFFICE LOBBY -- DAY
</b>
               ALLIANCE SECURITY MARITIME DIVISION. Glossy posters of yachts, 
               tankers and luxury sailboats. BOURNE standing there. Sucking 
               it up. God knows what he's walking into here and --

<b>               INT. ALLIANCE SECURITY -- DAY
</b>
               A SECRETARY leading BOURNE through a suite of offices and 
               into --

<b>               INT. PETER RAWLINS' OFFICE -- DAY
</b>
               Meet RAWLINS. He's a young, jolly Brit -- pink and overfed -- 
               and quite shocked to see...

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         Mr. Kane...
                              (hastily tidying up)
                         Come right in... please... have a 
                         seat.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Thanks.

               BOURNE just trying to feel his way through this...

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         Well...
                              (really thrown)
                         I must admit, when my assistant told 
                         me you were here I was, really -- I 
                         was quite -- I was surprised.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Really.

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         We thought you were gone for good.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Did you?

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         Well, I mean it's a tough business, 
                         isn't it? Cutthroat.

               A long awkward beat. Neither of them sure where to go.

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                              (finally)
                         Look, our bid -- it was competitive -- 
                         but definitely at the high end of 
                         competitive -- when we didn't hear 
                         back from you, we did some re-analysis 
                         of the numbers, and honestly, we'd 
                         really like a chance to do a bit 
                         better.
                              (pitching now)
                         I'm assuming you're still in the 
                         market. It's the same vessel?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         We just picked up a job quite like 
                         the one we were bidding for you. 
                         Gorgeous boat, hundred-and-seventy- 
                         five-foot pleasure cruiser. I think 
                         we learned a few things that might 
                         allow us to make our proposal for 
                         your job, as I said, a bit more 
                         competitive.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Okay.

               Another beat. Rawlins holding back until now...

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         Was it the break-in?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Excuse me?

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         We also thought we hadn't heard from 
                         you -- we've had a bit of a publicity 
                         nightmare, people have been talking.
                              (the meat)
                         Our offices were broken into -- 
                         vandalism mostly -- shortly after we 
                         last spoke.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I hadn't heard.

               RAWLINS smiles. Reset. Sales mode.

<b>                                     RAWLINS
</b>                         Let me get you a new copy of the 
                         proposal.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         That'd be great.

<b>               INT. A CAFÉ NEAR LA DEFENSE -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE entering. And there's MARIE in the back working a 
               payphone -- waving for him to sit -- she's onto something.

               BOURNE sits. Pulls out the Alliance Security Brochures and 
               literature. Flipping through it. Boats. Water. He's getting 
               closer. Pictures of yachts and various security blurbs and a 
               list of references for huge yachts -- jobs they've done in 
               the past...

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         I found it.
                              (standing there)
                         It took six calls.
                              (she's creeped out)
                         I found Kane. I found the body.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Let's go --
                              (already standing --)
                         We got to get away from this phone.

<b>               INT. PARIS MORGUE FRONT DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE TWO MORGUE ATTENDANTS watching BOURNE put down a hundred 
               dollar bill. MARIE standing a little off -- she will not be 
               comfortable in the morgue.

<b>                                     ATTENDANT #1
</b>                              (picking up the cash)
                         What was the name again?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Kane. John Michael Kane.

<b>                                     ATTENDANT #2
</b>                         It's number 121.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I want to see the body.

<b>                                     ATTENDANT #1
</b>                         Our boss could come back. We're not 
                         supposed to.

               BOURNE pulling out another hundred and --

<b>               MORGUE FREEZER ROOM
</b>
               It's showtime. MARIE back by the door. BOURNE right on it. 
               ATTENDANT #1 pulling open the freezer and...

               BOURNE sags. ATTENDANT #1 looking baffled.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What?

               INSERT -- FREEZER #121 -- it's empty.

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS (O.S.)
</b>                              (from behind them --)
                         What the hell's going on here?

               Here comes the boss back from his break -- a little drunk?

<b>                                     ATTENDANT #1
</b>                         This guy, he came to see the American, 
                         but the body, it's missing.

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         They came last night.  His brother.

<b>                                     ATTENDANT #2
</b>                         It's not in the book.

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         Who are these people?
                              (now English to Bourne)
                         Who are you? What's going on here?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Where did this body go?

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         I said, someone came last night --
                              (big attitude now)
                         Look, this isn't a carnival -- people 
                         call and they make an appointment 
                         and they follow the rules -- everyone 
                         signs in and out -- this is a serious 
                         place -- serious work -- it's not 
                         just to come in whenever you like --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (like a shot)
                         Shit, we didn't sign in.

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         So get the hell out of here.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Fine. But I'd like to sign in. In 
                         fact, I insist on it. Where's the 
                         book? I gotta sign in --
                              (off and running now --)

               Everybody following -- all of them confused -- and into --

<b>               FRONT DESK AREA
</b>
               BOURNE there first -- all forward motion here -- balls out --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Is this it? --
                              (the book)
                         -- this is it, right? --

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         -- slow down -- you can't just take 
                         the book like that --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- don't sweat it, I have a pen -- 
                         no problem -- just let me find the 
                         page --
                              (then quick to Marie)
                         -- honey, why don't you wait for me 
                         outside, okay? --

               MARIE trying to take the hint, but she's curious what he's 
               doing --

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         -- we have rules here, this is a 
                         very serious place -- I'm the one 
                         who decides who gets in here, okay? --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- what do I? -- I put the name of 
                         the person I came to see? --

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         -- this is serious business down 
                         here and we cannot have people coming 
                         and going --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         -- here we go -- I found it --

               But he's not writing -- he's ripping -- tearing the page out 
               of the book --

<b>                                     MORGUE BOSS
</b>                         -- what are you? -- what are you 
                         doing? -- you crazy fuck -- you ripped 
                         the book! -- you stupid fucki--
                              (no chance to finish 
                              this, because --)

               BOURNE just slammed him against the wall. Hard. Like a tractor 
               hit him. And fast.

               And that shuts up the room.

               THE TWO ATTENDANTS rushing to help their boss --

               BOURNE grabbing MARIE and pulling her out the door --

<b>               EXT. PARIS STREET -- NIGHT
</b>
               Moments after the morgue. BOURNE striding away. MARIE 
               struggling to keep up. And BOURNE is different now -- zoning 
               in -- he's close -- he's hardening --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What are you doing? --
                              (he's scaring her)
                         -- Jason -- stop -- talk to me...

               BOURNE ignoring her -- ripping through the Alliance Security 
               brochures -- scanning them as he walks --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         -- I don't know what you're doing 
                         and you're scaring me -- what are 
                         you looking for? -- what just happened 
                         in there? --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Nykwana Wombosi.
                              (he stops, holding up 
                              the brochure --)

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What is that?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         It's a name. Mr. Wombosi owns a thirty 
                         million dollar yacht. He's the proud 
                         owner of an Alliance Security package.
                              (handing her the 
                              brochure --)
                         He also paid a visit to the morgue 
                         to see John Michael Kane.
                              (the ripped-out page --)

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What does that mean?
                              (but he's walking 
                              again --)
                         Jason, what does that mean?
                              (she's trying to catch 
                              up, but he's walking 
                              really fast --)
                         Jason, please... who is he?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know.
                              (he's not turning 
                              back again --)

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         So what are we doing?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Go back to the hotel.

               MARIE just stops. Reeling.

               BOURNE walking away. Into Paris night and --

<b>               INT. CONKLIN'S TREADSTONE OFFICE -- DAY/NIGHT?
</b>
               ABBOTT alone here. On the phone. Looking up to see --

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         They found him. They found Bourne.

               ABBOTT jumps off the call. Eyes never leaving ZORN.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Where?

<b>                                     ZORN
</b>                         You better come in.

<b>               EXT. L'ETOILE -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR -- A MOTORCYCLE -- screaming through traffic 
               and --

<b>               INT. WOMBOSI'S SECURITY ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               VIDEO MONITOR -- there's BOURNE -- staring up and --

<b>                                     DEAUVAGE
</b>                         Jesus fuck, what is this?

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE RESEARCH DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               VIDEO MONITOR -- different angle -- more clandestine -- but 
               same deal -- there's BOURNE just standing there and --

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Omigod.

<b>               EXT. WOMBOSI COMPOUND -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE live. On the street. Bathed in a streetlight. Staring 
               up at a security camera.

               Total hero moment.

               I'm here. I'm waiting. I know you're watching.

<b>               EXT. WOMBOSI COMPOUND -- NIGHT
</b>
               Confusion to say the least -- WOMBOSI -- pistol in hand -- 
               moving as fast as he can through the clutter -- KIDS 
               scattering as he follows DEAUVAGE -- racing for THE SECURITY 
<b>               ROOM --
</b>
<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               CONKLIN -- ZORN -- ABBOTT -- THE TECHS -- everyone plugged 
               into the tension here --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- how long? --

<b>                                     COMM TECH #1
</b>                         -- minutes -- he's close --

<b>               EXT. NEUILLY STREETS -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR on the speeding cycle -- closing in fast and --

<b>               EXT. WOMBOSI'S COMPOUND -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE standing there as the FRONT GATE opens. The moment. 
               The big deep breath. He's walking in --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               Uglier by the second -- desperation madness --

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         -- he went inside! --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                              (to Abbott)
                         -- if we can get a clean shot --

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         -- inside the house? --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- that's what they're trained for -- 
                         just a surgical strike.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Forget it.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What do you want to do?

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         We don't know what we're into!

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         We're in the shitter, man! Pick your 
                         poison. Maybe he's in there to finish 
                         the job. Maybe he's working for 
                         Wombosi. Maybe they want to go on TV 
                         together. Every possibility sucks -- 
                         we've got to move!

<b>               INT. WOMBOSI COMPOUND MAIN HALLWAY -- NIGHT
</b>
               DEAUVAGE and BODYGUARD #1 giving BOURNE a serious pat down.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Is he here?

               DEAUVAGE doesn't answer -- spinning BOURNE around -- they're 
               really going over him --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               CONKLIN on his feet -- ABBOTT beet red -- this is getting 
               loud --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         You don't have the stones for this. 
                         You people come down here and wink 
                         and whisper and we send these guys 
                         out and get it done. And you're clear. 
                         And the guys upstairs get what they 
                         want. And the whole bunch of you are 
                         so stuffed on deniability it's coming 
                         out of your ears.
                              (gauntlet)
                         Well, you know what? You're here 
                         now. What do you want to do?

               ABBOTT just shaking his head no.

               And CONKLIN snaps -- suddenly he's over the console -- there's 
               the button -- and he's pressing it and --

<b>               EXT. NEUILLY ROOFTOPS -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR in position -- roof of the house next door -- 
               hum -- hum -- hum --

               It's the E-PHONE PAGER -- he's just been activated and --

<b>               INT. WOMBOSI'S COMPOUND HALLWAY -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE being marched toward the throne room doors -- DEAUVAGE 
               and BODYGUARD #1 flanking him -- KIDS and WIVES staring as 
               he passes -- the way you'd look at a prisoner on the way to 
               the gallows --

               THE BIG DOORS thrown open wide and --

               WOMBOSI on the throne.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         Come in.
                              (an imperial gesture)
                         Please...

               BOURNE steps up to the plate.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         Did you bring investment advice for 
                         me tonight? It was tax shelters, 
                         wasn't it? Swiss debenture-swaps.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         MPG Capital.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         I think investment advice from a 
                         dead man, it's a bad idea.
                              (beat)
                         How does it feel to be dead?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         It's a lot more stressful than I 
                         thought.

               KIDS have started sneaking into the room -- DEAUVAGE is trying 
               to scoot them out but --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         -- no -- no, let them in! -- let 
                         them in.
                              (to the kids)
                         Come in -- on y va -- come in...
                              (to Bourne)
                         I think everyone wants to see the 
                         dead man.

               BOURNE watching the kids -- they are all staring --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         What do you do?
                              (on his feet now --)
                         You get an appointment with me? You 
                         make sure it's on the boat? You come 
                         visit me -- you pitch me this bullshit 
                         investment package. You drink my 
                         water -- eat my bread -- play with 
                         my children -- and what? -- two nights 
                         later you come back and you put this 
                         death --
                              (slamming something 
                              down onto the throne --)
                         -- you put this in my engine room!

               There is A BOMB on the throne now.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         So this is a different kind of 
                         meeting.
                              (steam building)
                         Maybe now we talk some truth, okay? 
                         One dead man to another.

               BOURNE -- caught off guard as -- WOMBOSI suddenly rips away 
               his jacket -- so hard that he tears straight through to the 
               shirt --

               BOURNE'S BACK -- bare -- two bullet scars -- still raw --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         You see this?
                              (calling to Deauvage --)
                         I told you my shot was better!

<b>                                     DEAUVAGE
</b>                         He went in the water -- how did he 
                         live?

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         No, no no...
                              (and he means this --)
                         This is a strong killer. This is a 
                         crazy strong killer. Oh, yeah...
                              (circling)
                         To make a killer that looks like 
                         you? This young? This face?
                              (he means this)
                         It's bloody fucking amazing.

               BOURNE imploding -- this news -- the kids staring at him -- 
               the bomb -- it's all getting loud around him --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Who do you think sent me?

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         I know who sent you. I don't know 
                         why.
                              (this could get 
                              physical at any moment 
                              now --)
                         I learned many, many things from the 
                         CIA. Many things. I learned the way 
                         they think.
                              (beat)
                         Was the bomb on my boat supposed to 
                         go off or not?

               BOURNE distracted by the kids -- these faces -- it's...

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         You didn't set the bomb. Why?

               BOURNE not sure -- about any of it --

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         Was this a game or a fuck up?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         Get the kids out!

               He doesn't have to say it twice -- they know the drill -- 
               they're gone.

<b>                                     WOMBOSI
</b>                         And the door.

               DEAUVAGE closing the doors and as he does --

<b>               THE PROFESSOR ATTACKS...
</b>
<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               THIS SCENE HAS NOT BEEN WRITTEN
</b>
               It's a shootout.

               The Professor is infinitely more talented at this than the 
               bodyguards.

               Bourne needs to get out of there -- without looking wimpy --

               No children are harmed.

               As the Professor rallies -- he will shoot Wombosi -- he will 
               find Bourne's jacket left on the floor (in which later he 
               will find a clue leading him to Belleville) and last but 
               hardly least, he will take a parting shot at the bomb still 
               sitting there on the throne.

               There will be a huge, trailer-worthy explosion.

               This might not want to be very long. There is an extensive 
               action sequence just around the corner.

               So Bourne escapes. Physically he's just weary. Emotionally 
               he's fucked.

               All of that happens and we cut to --

<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               CONKLIN flipping out -- THE PROFESSOR is not responding --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- code him again -- punch it in --

<b>                                     COM TECH #1
</b>                         -- he's not responding --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         -- the paging unit must be damaged --

<b>                                     COM TECH #2
</b>                         -- we just ran a remote diagnostic, 
                         sir, it's not the unit --

               ABBOTT looks like he might puke. ZORN watching his career 
               burn to the ground around him.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         What are you doing?

               CONKLIN grabbing shit -- like a madman --

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         I'm going to Paris.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         No you're not. You're not going 
                         anywhere. I'm shutting this down.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         You're not doing shit. You're so 
                         scared you can't even think.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         You just blew up a house in Paris! 
                         This program is over. Call it off.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         I can't call it off. He's not 
                         responding. Get out of my way.

               CONKLIN splits and --

<b>               INT. THE HOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT
</b>
               It's really late. BOURNE enters the room. MARIE in the corner. 
               Smoked out. Cried out. Lifed out.

               Silence. Not a word.

               His shirt is torn to shit. He scraped-up -- blood here and 
               there. He moves past her into --

<b>               THE BATHROOM
</b>
               His hands shaking as he tries to wash them. He bags it.

<b>               THE ROOM
</b>
               BOURNE comes out. And there's a long silence until --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         It doesn't matter who you were before. 
                         It's who you want to be. That's all 
                         that matters.
                              (is he listening?)
                         We have this money. We have what we 
                         have. I had nothing before and now, 
                         I don't know, maybe I have more, 
                         maybe it's nothing, but...
                              (he looks over)
                         I say we leave here. We leave this 
                         place. We go until we can't go 
                         anymore.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         You could do that?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Yes. That's who I want to be.

               BOURNE nods. Turns off the light. Takes her hand. And they 
               lay in bed. Just laying there.

<b>               INT. PARIS SOMEWHERE -- NIGHT
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR cooping somewhere. Tending to his wounds. 
               Ignoring his pager. He's slipped off the grid.

<b>               INT. HOTEL ROOM -- DAWN
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE packing up to hit the road. Together.

<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               DOUG'S ROUGH DRAFT OF THE BIG ACTION SEQUENCE
</b>
<b>               INT. HOTEL DE LA PAIX -- LOBBY -- DAY
</b>
               MARIE dropping off the key. Hope hangs in the air --

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         xxxxxx...

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               BOURNE enters. He's got the black duffel. Car keys.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               And now they're headed for the door. Something doesn't feel 
               right for BOURNE -- and then he notices --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Stop where you are.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What?

               Bourne turns back to the CLERK.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Where's the dog?

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         My husband's out looking for him.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         He run away often?

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         That old beast? Miss his breakfast? 
                         Not a chance.
                              (returning to cleaning)
                         It's always something, right?

               Suddenly -- just like that -- everything's different --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Get in the basement.

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         What?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                              (to Marie)
                         Get everyone down in the basement.

               Now MARIE doesn't need a second warning --

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         What the hell're you talking about?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         You're in danger. All of you. I have 
                         no time to explain.

<b>                                     CLERK
</b>                         Wait a minute --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I'm sorry.

               -- those words -- the way he said it -- she's grabbing her 
               purse, clearing out of the room. Slamming the door behind 
               her -- click -- it's locked.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Jason...

               No answer -- too busy -- reaching under the check-in desk, 
               coming up with -- A SHOT GUN, an old one, but nonetheless a 
               gun --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Who is it? Who's out there?

               And now BOURNE is moving, pulling open a drawer.  A box of 
               shells. Filling his pockets.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I won't let that happen.

               And he is moving down the small hallway.  Away from the front 
               door -- towards the back door under the stairs.

<b>               EXT. HOTEL DE LA PAIX -- COURTYARD -- DAY
</b>
               THE HOTEL BACK DOOR -- kicked open -- BOURNE coming out of 
               the house -- coming hard -- and --

               The small courtyard is empty -- but now the ALARM is going 
               off -- and BOURNE turns back to MARIE -- races to grab her 
               as --

               RATATATAT -- The FRONT DOOR -- WINDOWS -- ARE SHREDDED and -- 
               here comes the PROFESSOR.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               And now they are running, across this little courtyard. To a 
               wall -- BOURNE is up, on it -- reaching down for MARIE -- 
               grabbing her -- swinging her over the wall as --

               ABM!!! The PROFESSOR SHOOTS.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Go!

               MARIE takes off running. BOURNE leans over the wall, FIRES 
               BACK TWICE -- RATATAT -- The WALL IS SHREDDED. BOURNE takes 
               off running -- reloading on the fly.

               Rounds a bend, is chambering two rounds when he sees -- a 
               WOMAN is in her kitchen -- staring at him -- no time to 
               explain -- he turns back --

               The PROFESSOR is just vaulting over the wall. BOURNE FIRES 
               TWICE -- BAM! BAM! But the spray is too wide from this 
               distance. Windows are shattered to both sides of him but -- 
               the PROFESSOR stumbles but keeps going -- blood on his face 
               now -- RATATAT --

               BOURNE has to move. Reloading his almost useless gun. Reaching 
               MARIE -- facing a choice and they climb a wall -- FLOWER 
               POTS EXPLODE around them but they make it -- now --

               RUNNING IN A LABYRINTH -- right -- then left -- through a 
               small staircase. LEAPING a wall -- landing on a STEEP ROOF -- 
               sliding, falling, crashing to the ground in --

               A SMALL COURTYARD -- steep walls on all sides. But there's a 
               large window -- and it's open. And they step through and 
               find themselves --

<b>               INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT -- BATHROOM -- DAY
</b>
               They close the window behind them -- catch their breath --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Did we lose them?

               BOURNE shakes his head. Tucks the gun under his coat.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Who is it?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         We have to keep moving.

               And now he is opening the door -- they step into --

<b>               INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT -- DAY
</b>
               STARTLED KITCHEN WORKERS stare as BOURNE and MARIE calmly 
               walk out of the bathroom and head towards the front door of 
               the empty restaurant. Quiet.

               And then they open the door to the street and --

<b>               EXT. BELLEVILLE -- COMMERCIAL STREET -- DAY
</b>
               The first thing we notice is noise. The street is burgeoning 
               with life. The second thing we notice are SIRENS. POLICE 
               CARS approaching. BOURNE and MARIE head down the street, 
               blending in.

               Up ahead -- TWO POLICE CARS snaking through traffic. BOURNE 
               steers them off this crowded street.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>               EXT. BELLEVILLE -- QUIET STREET -- DAY
</b>
               And BOURNE and MARIE are hurrying down this street when -- 
               BAM -- The PROFESSOR comes out of a building -- across and 
               down the street. No time to hide -- he's seen them -- he's 
<b>               FIRING.
</b>
               BOURNE tackles MARIE to the ground behind a car. RATATAT -- 
               The PROFESSOR is literally shredding it. And now BOURNE is 
               moving --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What are you doing?

               And BOURNE is on the offensive. BAM! BAM! Moving towards the 
               PROFESSOR who is ducking behind cars on the other side.

               They are shredding the street -- FIRING ruthlessly at each 
               other and -- NOW THE POLICE ARE HERE -- BLOCKING both ends 
               of the street. GUNS are drawn -- BOURNE's vulnerable on two 
               flanks. The COPS are YELLING. And now --

               THE PROFESSOR BLASTS the COPS -- And now things have changed.

               THREE WAY FIREFIGHT and BOURNE grabs MARIE and they dive 
               into --

<b>               INT. SMALL EPICERIE -- DAY
</b>
               And the PROFESSOR shreds the store as BOURNE attemps to fire 
               back. SHIT flying everywhere in here -- hard to see and -- 
               The PROFESSOR is advancing on them -- cops are no match for 
               his fire power. They move to the back -- kick open a door --

<b>               INT. HIGHWALLED COURTYARD -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE cross this small courtyard, the PROFESSOR 
               is right on their heels. CRASH through a door -- and now 
               they are in --

<b>               INT. SMALL SWEATSHOP -- DAY
</b>
               COUPLE of ASIAN WOMEN sewing in here. One MAN in charge -- 
               and BOURNE and MARIE charging through -- the MAN about to 
               say something -- but now the PROFESSOR is on their tail and --

<b>               INT. SMALL AFRICAN SHOP -- DAY
</b>
               Making god knows what in here -- vats of something. Small 
               grouping of workers -- BOURNE shutting the door behind him -- 
               it's shredded with BULLET HOLES. BOURNE and MARIE racing to 
               the next door as -- BAM -- the PROFESSOR kicks the door open -- 
               BOURNE about to fire -- but there is a WOMAN right behind 
               the PROFESSOR! Can't do it -- turns to run as -- RATATATAT --

               The PROFESSOR FIRES as BOURNE and MARIE dive into --

<b>               INT. LIVE POULTRY SHOP -- DAY
</b>
               And now CHICKEN feathers are flying everywhere -- the glass 
               at the front of the door is shattering. BOURNE and MARIE 
               make it through the gauntlet.

<b>               EXT. BELLEVILLE -- STREET -- DAY
</b>
               And BOURNE and MARIE are running. And he is reaching into 
               his pocket -- fishing around -- and just as he pulls out the 
               car keys -- we recognize this as the street they parked their 
               car on and --

<b>               BY MARIE'S CAR
</b>
               BOURNE unlocks the door -- pops MARIE's open. And --

               THERE'S A COP -- yelling at them and -- BOURNE hits the gas -- 
               they fly out of their parking space -- BAM!! The COP fires, 
               shattering their windshield and there -- up ahead -- THE 
               PROFESSOR coming out -- about to FIRE -- BOURNE aims for him -- 
               forces him to dive out of the way and -- ONE QUICK MOVE around 
               a TRUCK and they are free.

<b>               INT. THE LITTLE RED CAR
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE looking back nervously -- so far all over --

<b>               ON THE STREET
</b>
               The PROFESSOR looking around. PEOPLE staring at him -- covered 
               in blood -- the COP racing up -- yelling -- not yelling for 
               long because the PROFESSOR is firing at him and --

               Now the PROFESSOR is moving -- not running -- just a swift 
               walk and now he's past the truck -- and --

               A MOTORCYCLIST comes flying down the street -- oblivious -- 
               going way too fast for these streets and -- the PROFESSOR 
               swings his gun stock like a bat -- takes him out -- clean 
               and smooth -- bike crashing to the ground and --

               The PROFESSOR grabs the bike and takes off -- SHOOTING at 
               TWO POLICE CARS just racing to the scene and we are into --

<b>               EXT. BELLEVILLE BLVD -- DAY
</b>
               HIGH SPEED CAR CHASE. And BOURNE better do some fancy driving 
               because here comes the PROFESSOR -- and he's a lot faster -- 
               much better armed.

<b>               INT. MARIE'S CAR
</b>
               BOURNE driving. MARIE looking back -- seeing the PROFESSOR 
               gain on them --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               And -- THE PROFESSOR FIRES -- SHREDS the back off their car --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Give me the gun --

               And now she's got his shotgun, leaning out the window.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Wait 'till he's close.

               BOURNE swerves, up on the sidewalk back onto the street -- 
               slaloms through the traffic -- racing towards an intersection 
               and --

<b>               IN THE INTERSECTION
</b>
               CARS coming the other way, BOURNE just makes it through -- 
               the PROFESSOR tries to squeeze through -- skidding and --

               CRACK! The PROFESSOR hits the front of a car sideways on his 
               bike -- he is THROWN clear through the intersection, right 
               into the windshield of an oncoming car and --

               He gets up, grabs his gun and works his way towards his bike 
               and now we see --

<b>               EXT. VARIOUS SHOTS AROUND PARIS -- DAY
</b>
               COPS are mobilizing -- swarming into this area and --

<b>               BACK TO THE CAR CHASE --
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE pick up a few cops on their tail -- shed 
               all of them -- the last car goes into an EXPLOSIVE FLIP -- 
               the PROFESSOR is now right behind them. And now we are into --

<b>               CRAZY CAR CHASE WITH COPS RIGHT ON THEIR TAIL
</b>
               BOURNE, MARIE and the PROFESSOR leave a trail of totaled 
               cars that the cops have to try and navigate through -- finally 
               saying fuck it and hitting a few cars themselves and now we 
               are into --

<b>               CAR CHASE THROUGH NARROW STREETS
</b>
               MARIE'S CAR and the MOTORCYCLE can pass where the police 
               cars cannot. BOURNE may be able to shed the cops, but not 
               the PROFESSOR. And now one quick move and they are --

<b>               EXT. QUAI -- DAY
</b>
               Racing against traffic up the Seine. Past the Louvre. COPS 
               pursuing on the other side of the river. BOURNE and the 
               PROFESSOR leaving behind a trail of carnage. And now --

               The PROFESSOR is pulling up along side them -- one lane over.  
               Both swerving to avoid oncoming cars and --

               MARIE FIRES -- TWICE -- TAKES out a few windshields. The 
               PROFESSOR fires at the same time -- MARIE'S CAR DOOR -- GONE -- 
               she's totally exposed but --

               THE PROFESSOR -- his BIKE is SPOUTING GAS -- one of the 
               pellets nailed his tank.

<b>               BOURNE AND MARIE --
</b>
<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>               THE PROFESSOR --
</b>
               No problem -- he's unwrapping a piece of duct tape from the 
               barrel of his gun -- two seconds and the hole is patched and -- 
               BOURNE AND MARIE -- the side of the car is completely gone -- 
               the PROFESSOR is gaining -- across the river dozens of police 
               cars are racing alongside. Many more can be seen on their 
               side -- a road block ahead -- running out of options and --
               BOURNE turns hard -- crashes over the sidewalk and flies 
               down a side street. A POLICE CAR pulls out behind them -- 
               the PROFESSOR can't stop -- skidding hard, turning the bike 
               sideways, skidding out -- sliding across the ground and 
               BAMMM!!! SMASHING into a GLASS PHONE BOOTH which shatters.

               And he's up -- lifting up his bike and --

<b>               BOURNE AND MARIE
</b>
               SIX POLICE CARS on their tail -- more joining. Every street 
               they look down has POLICE CARS racing in parallel. Running 
               out of options and in the background --

               THE PROFESSOR is back in the game -- passing the police cars 
               and up ahead --

               THE ROAD IS BLOCKED. POLICE ROAD BLOCK -- cops with guns. 
               Gotta act quick and -- BOURNE turns hard left -- there's a 
               metro staircase -- only way out and --

               THEY BOUNCE down the stairs. CRASH through the doors down 
               below.

               THE FIRST POLICE CAR -- no way he's following. SLAMMING on 
               his brakes. SKIDDING to a halt -- SKIDDING sideways -- gonna 
               stop in time -- just at the edge of the steps and then --

               THE SECOND POLICE CAR isn't braking -- T-BONES the first car -- 
               BAM!!! -- sends it rolling sideways down the steps until it 
               crashes to a halt at the bottom -- upside down.

               THE PROFESSOR -- he's turning -- heading for a different set 
               of stairs. BOURNE AND MARIE -- crashing through the turnstiles -- 
               people diving out of their way and --

               AT THE STAIRCASE -- THE WINDOW of the POLICE CAR is kicked 
               out and -- TWO VERY ANGRY COPS emerge -- pull their guns out -- 
               head into the station. BOURNE and MARIE's world just got a 
               lot more dangerous and --

               THE PROFESSOR is racing down the other staircase -- an up 
               escalator -- people diving out of the way as --

               BOURNE and MARIE slalom through the station -- suddenly -- 
               there's the PROFESSOR -- parallel corridor -- metal barricades 
               keep them separated. PROFESSOR FIRING.

               UP AHEAD -- a horizon line -- BOURNE guns it -- a steep 
               staircase and -- THEY FLY down the steps -- landing on --

<b>               THE METRO PLATFORM
</b>
               The PROFESSOR lands on the other side -- both racing down 
               the platform -- PROFESSOR tearing up the wall behind them 
               and -- HERE COMES A TRAIN -- on BOURNE and MARIE's side -- 
               travelling the opposite way -- temporary refuge. Not for 
               long -- there's no way out on this end of the platform. They 
               skid to a halt -- just as --THE TRAIN DOORS OPEN -- STARTLED 
               STRAPHANGERS stare at BOURNE and MARIE as they stop onto the 
               platform -- take off running.

               THE PROFESSOR has to turn his bike around. He's quick -- but 
               it gives BOURNE and MARIE a two second head start.

               BOURNE AND MARIE almost at the other end of the platform -- 
               gunfire ripping up the windows behind them. Gonna go for the 
               steps -- but here come --

               THE ANGRY COPS -- remember them? -- the ones who took the 
               ride down the steps -- they're firing now and --

               BOURNE AND MARIE turn back -- the PROFESSOR is firing and 
               there is only one option --

<b>               INT. METRO CAR -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE into the conductor booth. People diving off 
               the train as BOURNE hits the YELLOW BUTTON and -- the TRAIN 
               STARTS ROLLING -- doors still open -- they disappear into 
               the protection of the tunnel walls -- then BOURNE hits the 
               button to close the doors and -- THE PROFESSOR -- watching 
               the trains accelerate out of the station -- and now he's 
               racing his bike down the platform -- opposite the motion of 
               the train and -- here comes the end of the train and --THE 
               PROFESSOR throws his bike into a skidding 180 and skids off 
               the platform all in one move -- landing hard on the tracks 
               but facing the right direction and now he's accelerating 
               towards the train -- just as an oncoming train is racing 
               into the station and -- HE LEAPS onto the back of the train 
               in the nick of time. His GUN CLATTERS to the tracks.

<b>               IN THE LAST METRO CAR
</b>
               The window is shattered and the PROFESSOR lets himself in -- 
               wind whipping through his hair from the shattered windows.  
               And --

<b>               IN THE FIRST METRO CAR
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE finally getting a breather. BOURNE keeps 
               looking back -- nothing -- the train is deserted. Finally --

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               And ahead -- daylight -- the train tracks go above ground 
               and as the train hits daylight -- we see the PROFESSOR 
               directly behind BOURNE on the other side of the glass and --

               CRASH! The PROFESSOR grabs BOURNE through the glass, ramming 
               his head into the metal as --

               BOURNE grabs the knob, swings the door open and CRUSHES the 
               PROFESSOR -- CRUSHES him again and now he is free and --

               BOURNE turns, pulls up the shotgun and -- the PROFESSOR kicks 
               it out of his hands -- it clatters to the ground and now we 
               have a beat -- THE TRAIN CAR races across the Bir Hakeim 
               bridge -- all of Paris laid out behind them. BOURNE and the 
               PROFESSOR squaring off -- both looking at the gun -- realizing 
               there's no chance for either one of them to get it and --

               A BRUTAL RUTHLESS FIGHT breaks out. BOURNE's motivated -- 
               the PROFESSOR's crazy -- makes it a pretty even match. Looks 
               like it could go on for a little while when suddenly --

               BAM!!! The PROFESSOR drops to the ground -- behind him -- 
               MARIE wields the shot gun.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         xxxxxx

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         xxxxxx

               And BOURNE takes the gun from her -- standing there -- 
               reloading -- both barrels -- raising the gun -- aiming it --

<b>                   ...................................................
</b>
<b>               INT. MOVING METRO CAR -- DAY
</b>
               THE PROFESSOR sitting there. Like a dummy. Like a puppet 
               that's been propped up. He's fucked -- his whole side ravaged 
               with shot -- his arm shredded -- hand barely there -- blood 
               flowing fast --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Who else is coming?

               THE PROFESSOR staring up at the gun. Stunned. Doomed. Mouth 
               dry. Eyes struggling to make sense of the chaos.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I won't ask again.

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         I work alone. Like you...
                              (confused beat)
                         ...we always work alone.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What do you mean?

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         Who are you? Rome? Paris?
                              (Bourne is just staring --)
                         Treadstone... both of us... I was 
                         warned but...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Treadstone?

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...which one are you?...

               BOURNE lowering the weapon -- head swimming --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Paris. I live in Paris...

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...headaches... you have that... I 
                         get such bad headaches...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...it's a problem...

               He's losing blood fast -- things inside him seizing up --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Treadstone.

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...or in a car... when it's dark... 
                         something with the headlights...
                              (circuits exploding)
                         ...pills, right? Treadstone had those 
                         pills...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What is Treadstone?

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...what did you do?... you must've 
                         really fucked up...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I think so.

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...someone said caffeine -- for a 
                         headache... doesn't seem...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What do they want me to do?

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         ...they won't let you go...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Why?

               THE PROFESSOR -- coughing -- a spasm -- helpless --

<b>                                     PROFESSOR
</b>                         Look at this...
                              (all the blood --)
                         ...least you have a woman....

               And he's gone. Like that. Sitting there. And BOURNE looks 
               paralyzed too. Kneeling there. Stalled out.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Jason...

               BOURNE doesn't answer -- can't, because there's this sound -- 
               this pulsing hum -- BOURNE reaching into THE PROFESSOR'S 
               POCKET and --

               INSERT -- THE E-PHONE PAGER -- covered in blood -- hum -- 
               hum -- hum -- BOURNE'S HAND wiping at the blood that covers 
               the display --

               BOURNE staring at it. Very familiar to him.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         We've got to go.

<b>               INT. METRO CAR -- DAY
</b>
               BOURNE and MARIE racing back through the cars -- away from 
               the scene of the crime and --

<b>               EXT. ABOVE-GROUND METRO PLATFORM -- DAY
</b>
               THE SHATTERED TRAIN pulling into the station -- doors opening -- 
               SCREAMS ECHOING through the station from up the platform and --

               BOURNE and MARIE getting off the last car and --

<b>               EXT. STREET/ALLEY NEAR THE PLATFORM -- DAY
</b>
               Two minutes later. BOURNE and MARIE -- exhausted -- beat -- 
               Everything all at once --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Take this.

               She turns. He's holding the locker key.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Take it.

               But she doesn't move.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         And that's it?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         If you're lucky.
                              (it's hanging there)
                         Take it.
                              (beat)
                         There's enough in there to make a 
                         life. Any life. Just get out now. 
                         Get low. Stay low.
                              (beat)
                         Take it.

               She takes it. Staring at him. Simply refusing to cry.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What was I thinking, right?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I can't protect you anymore.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         What about you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I'm gonna find the end of this.
                              (beat)
                         I can't protect you.

               MARIE takes one last look. And she's running --

               BOURNE hangs there a moment -- listening to her go -- and 
               then he pulls out THE E-PHONE PAGER. And it's pulsing like 
               crazy.

               BOURNE flips open the shell. There's a keypad in there.

               Holding it. Like a missing organ.

<b>               INT. THE ZURICH AIRPORT MOTEL ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               Remember MANHEIM? He's still there waiting. And his pager 
               goes off, and --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE PARIS -- NIGHT
</b>
               A safehouse -- CONKLIN filling a burn bag -- racing -- 
               everything's going --

<b>               EXT. TREADSTONE PARIS -- NIGHT
</b>
               CONKLIN done with the dirty work -- out into the street --

               As he's about to leave -- he hears a sound -- a familiar 
               sound -- hum -- hum -- hum --

               He cross the street -- looks down to the Quai below --

               Holy shit -- there's one of his E-PHONE PAGERS --

               He goes down -- picks it up --

               And now --

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What did you do to me?

               CONKLIN wheels around. There he is. Right behind him.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What did I do? What've you done? Do 
                         you have any idea? Any conception? 
                         What you've destroyed? Do you have 
                         any idea how much time and work -- 
                         how many people have their lives 
                         wrapped up in this?

               So now you know.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Are you Treadstone?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Am I Treadstone? Me?
                              (peering at him closely 
                              now --)
                         What the hell're you talking about?

               BOURNE showing nothing -- or is he trying too hard not to?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         What did you do to me?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         What did I do? I spent thirty million 
                         dollars on you. I spent three years 
                         finding you -- four years training 
                         you --
                              (incredulous)
                         What did I do?
                              (staring now)
                         What in the name of God have you 
                         been doing, Jason?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't know.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         They're right about you, aren't they? 
                         You're fried.
                              (on it now)
                         You really don't know what's going 
                         on, do you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I know you've been trying to kill 
                         me.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Of course. We had to try. We didn't 
                         know what was wrong.
                              (warming to this --)
                         We didn't know you were in trouble.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         So now you know.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         So it's time to go home.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         That's all I get?

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         We'll make you better. We can put 
                         the pieces back. We can do that.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         I don't think so.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         We have to go home, Jason.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Jason Bourne is dead.

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         There never was a Jason Bourne.
                              (that gets him)
                         You have to come with me. It's the 
                         only way. We can give it back to 
                         you...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Keep it.
                              (and he's walking --)

<b>                                     CONKLIN
</b>                         Jason...
                              (trying to follow --)
                         They can't let you go...

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         That'll be their second worst mistake.

               And with that, BOURNE scrambles up a wall -- like it's nothing -- 
               CONKLIN just left there -- on the Quai -- in the dark --

<b>               EXT. BANKS OF THE SEINE -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE walking away -- faster and faster --

<b>               EXT. BANKS OF THE SEINE NEARBY -- NIGHT
</b>
               MANHEIM -- A CAR PARKED IN THE DARKNESS -- sitting alone 
               with his briefcase. Opening it. There's his gun.

               BOURNE -- walking -- deeper into the darkness and --

               MANHEIM -- in the dark car -- loading the weapon -- calm -- 
               steady -- methodical and --

               BOURNE -- walking and --

               MANHEIM -- stepping out of the car -- closing the door quietly -- 
               deep in the shadows and --

               BOURNE -- still coming -- the darkest part of the path just 
               ahead and --

               MANHEIM -- raising the gun and --

<b>               THE CAMERA SPINS TO HIS TARGET AND --
</b>
               IT'S CONKLIN! -- just climbing back up from the Quai --

               MANHEIM -- the gun -- phftt -- phftt -- phftt --

               CONKLIN -- three holes -- head -- heart -- gut -- his body 
               dropping like a stone beside his car.

               MANHEIM walks over. Looks down. Point blank -- phftt -- that 
               makes it four and --

<b>               INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS DESK -- NIGHT
</b>
               ABBOTT and ZORN alone in the dark. As a red light begins 
               pulsing on the console.

               That red light means Conklin's dead.

               After a moment, ZORN moves to the console and shuts the light 
               off.

<b>               EXT. BANKS OF THE SEINE -- NIGHT
</b>
               BOURNE still walking. And he's just gonna keep on going, as 
               we --

<b>                                                               DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>               INT. CIA OPERATIONS CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY
</b>
               MARSHALL at the head of the table. A cadre of INTEL HONCHOS.

<b>                                     ABBOTT (O.S.)
</b>                         The Treadstone project has actually 
                         already been terminated. It was 
                         designed primarily as a sort of 
                         advanced game program...

               ABBOTT in the hot seat. ZORN right there beside him.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         ...We'd hoped it might build into a 
                         good training platform, but quite 
                         honestly, for a strictly theoretical 
                         exercise, we thought it was far too 
                         expensive. The cost-benefit ratio 
                         was just too high. It's been all but 
                         decommissioned at this point.

<b>                                     MARSHALL
</b>                         All right, what's next?

               ZORN handing ABBOTT the next hundred pages.

<b>                                     ABBOTT
</b>                         Okay, this is Blackbriar. Blackbriar 
                         is a joint, DOD, communications 
                         program that we really feel has good 
                         traction to it.

               ABBOTT is just gonna go on and on and on.

<b>               EXT. MARTHA'S VINEYARD -- DAY
</b>
               Gorgeous Summer day. A SCOOTER RENTAL SHACK near the beach.

<b>               SIX MONTHS LATER
</b>
               MARIE coming out of the shack with two helmets. Handing them 
               to A HAPPY COUPLE waiting there on their scooters.

               THE HAPPY COUPLE rides off.

               MARIE turns back and --

               There's BOURNE. A new look. A smile.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Can I help you?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         This your store?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Think I could rent a scooter?

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         You have ID?

<b>                                     BOURNE
</b>                         Not really.

               Beat. He smiles.

<b>                                     MARIE
</b>                         It's not a problem.

               Her turn to smile. And we...

<b>                                                                  FADE OUT:
</b>
<b>                                         THE END
</b></pre><br>
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	<td><h1>Bourne Identity, The</h1><br><br>
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In the fight between Bourne, Marie, and Castel, who dies?
In the fight between Bourne , Marie , and Castel , who dies ?
Castel
Castel
Castel
Castel