The following is not a novelization or an actual script but a dry transcript of the aired episode that includes accurate word-to-word dialogues, settings descriptions, action scenes and/or camera movements where the transcriber felt they were necessary. This transcript is posted on "TWIZ TV.COM - FREE TV SCRIPTS DATABASE" courtesy of RAHUL KUDVA. "BURN NOTICE" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by FUSE ENTERTAINMENT in association with FOX TELEVISION STUDIOS. This transcript is posted here without their permission, approval, authorization or endorsement. Any reproduction, duplication, distribution or display of this material in any form or by any means is expressly prohibited. It is absolutely forbidden to use it for commercial gain. For entertainment and educational purposes only. No infringement intended.
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TRANSCRIPT:
NB - The curly parentheses {} represent Michael's voiceovers.
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[Opening Montage.]

[Michael stands on the pavement in Warri, Nigeria, in the hot sun.]

        {My name is Michael Westen.}

[He cocks a gun in the restroom.]

[He runs.]

[He's on a bike, pursued by guys firing at him from a sedan.]

        {I used to be a spy until...}

[He listens in barely-concealed shock to the man on the phone.]

MAN: [from phone] We got a burn notice on you. You're blacklisted.

[Dressed as a messenger, he whistles.]

[As he walks down a street, he grimaces in pain (due to a couple of broken ribs).]

        {When you're burned, you've got nothing.}

[Shot of his accounts statement on the computer ("Accounts Frozen"). He checks his cell phone as he gets off a bus.]

        {No cash, no credit, no job history.}

[He manages to pull himself onto a plane. The plane takes off.]

[In a Miami motel room, he sits up groggily in bed, shirtless, while Fiona Glenanne sits nearby.]

        {You're stuck in whatever city they decide to dump you in.}

MICHAEL WESTEN: Where am I?

FIONA GLENANNE: Miami.

[Shot of Miami Beaches.]

[At night, in his loft, he assembles a fake bomb.]

            {You do whatever work comes your way.}

[He fires at a propane tank on his Charger, blowing up the front portion of his car, to keep Evelyn (the assassin) at bay.]

[He detonates a C-4 explosive to impress Ari Zamar.]

        {You rely on anyone who's still talking to you...}

[He and Sam Axe walk and talk.]

[He creeps along a dirty terrace, video camera in hand, in the process of framing Alvaro Desantos.]

[He laughs at Walter's (the art dealer) suggestion about collecting nude Greco-Roman statues.]

        {A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend.}

[Fiona fires a machine gun, loving every moment of it.]

[He kisses her in bed, after their lovers' fistfight.]

[He and Fiona have dinner in a Chinese Restaurant.]    

FIONA GLENANNE: Should we shoot them?

        {An old friend who used to inform on you to the FBI.}

[Sam smiles at Michael as he suns himself.]

[Sam ducks just in time to avoid being shot by Jamaican gangsters. The rear-view mirror isn't as lucky, though.]

[He looks through binoculars.]

[He and Axe Sam talk in a cafe.]

SAM AXE: You know spies. Bunch of bitchy little girls.

        {Family, too.}

[Michael's mother, Madeline, smiles at him.]

[Michael looks at his ringing cell phone, as Sam sits behind.]

SAM AXE: Hey, is that your mom again?

[Michael hangs up.]

[His mom, Madeline, smiles.]

        {... if you're desperate.}

[At home, Madeline speaks to Michael.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Someone needs your help, Michael.

[Michael holds a gun out as he looks around his loft.]

        {Bottom line...}

[He and Sam make a hasty getaway from the exploding gangplank of drug-smugglers' boat.]

[He drives quickly away in his Charger.]       

            {Until you figure out who burned you...}

[He looks through a cracked glass.]

[He moves out-of-sight behind a wall.]

        {... you're not going anywhere.}

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

            {There aren't many rules in the spy trade. There are a few agreements that most intelligence agencies honor, though. Low-level agents get traded, not prosecuted.}

DISSOLVE TO:

[Street outside Consulate General of Pakistan. Day. Camera focuses on the entrance to the building, while two Pakistani flags flutter in the wind.]

            {You don't shoot foreign operatives if you can avoid it, and you stay away from embassies and consulates.}

[Michael and get out of the Charger, parked near the curb. Sam carries a leather briefcase. Closing the passenger door, Sam tries to reason with Michael.]

SAM AXE: Mike, look, you know I'm up for just about anything, but this, this is like cursing in church. I mean, technically, this is foreign soil.

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, technically, it's just trespassing. The one perk of being burned - my crimes are just crimes, not acts of war.

[They star walking towards the consulate building.]

SAM AXE: But does it have to be the Pakistani consulate? Couldn't it be, I dunno, Jamaica? Those guys are probably very easy going.

MICHAEL WESTEN: And they're not gonna know anything about Carla.

SAM AXE: Look, she's just an employee, Mikey. Some agent they sent to boss you around. It's not like she burned you personally.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You don't know that. She's all I got. Look, if she worked in Kurdistan, the Pakistanis might have a file on her.

SAM AXE: I don't know. I mean, the... the prints she left on Veronica's camera did not come up in any government system, and my buddies checked around, like you wanted. They didn't come up with anything.

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's why I'm making a new friend. Look, I gotta believe that the best intelligence outfit in the region took a few notes when she took off her burkha and started wreaking havoc.  Look, if you don't wanna help, I can ask Fiona.

SAM AXE: [concedes] No, no. It's fine. Fine. You guys need your space. Now that she's not your girlfriend anymore, I guess it's probably weird that you...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [wearily] She was _never_ my girlfriend, Sam.

SAM AXE: Okay, Mike.

[They walk into the building.]

 

CUT TO:

[Consulate General of Pakistan. Day. In the main lobby, Sam stands at the back of a queue, waiting to be processed at a counter. There are people waiting in lines or seated.]

            {Consulates are a great place to renew your visa, pay your taxes back home, or find foreign spies working under diplomatic cover.}

[Michael, wearing large-frame horn-rimmed glasses and carrying a copy of the Miami Herald, walks purposefully past Sam's queue, cutting past.]

SAM AXE: Hey, hey. Back of the line right here, pal.

[Michael just walks past the line. Sam Chuckles wryly at the guy's nerve. Michael leans over the counter, talking officiously to the lady behind the counter.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [nasally] Rich Franklin, Miami Herald. They called to say I was coming.

[The bewildered lady shakes her head.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: 'Course they didn't. I need a couple of visas. I'm doing a-a piece on foreign trade. I need visas for my editor. I need one for me. [quickly] I need it pronto. I'm sorry. I need it right now.

[The lady jumps up from her seat and rushes towards the door.]

            {Like all bureaucrats, consulate employees live in fear of a pissed-off journalist.}

[The lady throws a nervous look towards Michael as she runs out the door. Michael looks about, impatiently. Sam, seeing his queue now blocked, sees his cue to act like an over-impatient jerk.]

SAM AXE: What a crock.

[He tries to push past the kurta-clad guy in front of him.]

SAM AXE: Sir, can I just... I just would like to get in front of you, just for like...

[The guy doesn't allow him past.]

SAM AXE: [loudly] Hey, look. Do I need to speak Pakistani? Can you not understand what I'm saying? 

[As Michael leans over the counter, the Head Consul walks up behind him.]

HEAD CONSUL: Sir, you are from the Herald?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [proudly] Miami Herald.

HEAD CONSUL: [accommodatingly] Oh, I am so saary for the mix-up. Please, come with me to my office. Come. Come, sir. Please.

[He leads Michael into through a door. Sam whines even louder.]

SAM AXE: This guy takes cuts. This is how it works around he... What, you gotta know somebody around here?

[As Michael and the Head Consul walk into the adjoining hallway, Sam's complaining voice is audible.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You must be getting a lot of that lately.

SAM AXE: [vo, loudly] I'm talking about textiles here, okay?!

[The Head Consul looks behind, uneasily.]

HEAD CONSUL: I'm sure it's nothing.

[Sam's voice just seems to be getting louder and angrier.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I hear it's getting harder and harder to do business with Pakistan.

[The Head Consul looks behind and Chuckles uncomfortably.]

SAM AXE: [vo] Anybody here take numbers?!

[Back in the main lobby, Sam pulls out a sheaf of papers from his leather briefcase and holds them up, with exaggerated movements.]

SAM AXE: I'm opening a factory in Lahore in seven days! If I don't get these sign-offs today, ain't gonna be nothing on those looms, sugarlips!

[In the adjoining hallway, the Head Consul is really uneasy about the impression the loud, pompous American is having on the member of the easily-pissed-off press.]

SAM AXE: [vo] Textiles!

[They reach a seating area.]

HEAD CONSUL: [politely] Just take a seat.

[Michael sits down heavily, exhaling loudly and impatiently. The Head Consul goes to a closed door and knocks on it. A sticker, on the door frame, reads "HEAD OF SECURITY".]

HEAD CONSUL: Waseem.

[He opens the door and beckons the head of security.]

            {Most of the people who work in a consulate are just municipal drones enjoying an overseas post.}

[A suit-clad handsome bearded Pakistani comes out. The Head Consul explains the problem at hand (Sam) in Urdu to him.]

HEAD CONSUL: [in Urdu] Koi shor macha raha hai baahar. Madad chaahiye. [Someone's making a noise outside. I need help.]

HEAD OF SECURITY: [in Urdu] Achcha. [Okay.]

HEAD CONSUL: [in Urdu] Madad karo, yaar. [Help me out, buddy.]

[The head of security nods his assent and starts walking with the now-emboldened Head Consul.]

            {But the head of security...}

[... is...]

                                                           WASEEM

                                                    PAKISTANI SPY

            {... that guy's almost always a spy.}

[As they pass Michael, the Head Consul gestures pleasantly to Michael that he will be a minute. Michael smiles cursorily at him. They walk outside. Michael looks over his shoulder, making sure he's alone. He walks into Waseem's office.]

[Outside in the main lobby, the Head Consul, accompanied by Waseem, walks out to confront Sam.]

SAM AXE: This is baloney! Come on! Like, today would be...!

HEAD CONSUL: Sir! Excuse me, sir!

SAM AXE: What? What's your problem?

[As Sam turns to face him, the Head Consul holds his finger up to Sam in a confrontational way. Waseem stands aside, almost uninterested.]

HEAD CONSUL: Sir, you need to lower your vaalume, first of all.

SAM AXE: This is my regular speaking voice.

HEAD CONSUL: This is naat your regular speaking voice.

SAM AXE: This _is_ my regular speaking [mocking] "vaalume", sir.

SPLIT-SCREEN: [As Sam and the Head consul argue (on the left), Michael (on the right) puts on a pair of black leather gloves, in Waseem's office.]

HEAD CONSUL: This is naat... Don't patronize me.

SAM AXE: Okay, let's start over. [softly, mock-polite voice] Hello. How are you?

[In Waseem's office, Michael opens a filing cabinet drawer and rifles through a bunch of files. Not finding what he's looking for, he closes the drawer and opens another.]

[In the main lobby, the argument is getting more and more heated.]

HEAD CONSUL: [loudly] You are shouting! This is not proper for this kind of place!

SAM AXE: But you're shouting back. You're causing the same problem. Me, I'm a loud American.

HEAD CONSUL: This is the vaalume for a cattle market or a vegetable cart or something. This is naat...

[Sam pushes the sheaf of papers in the Consul's face.]

SAM AXE: Please take a look at that. Sign that, and this guy's out of here.

HEAD CONSUL: No, you don't tell me what to do. Who are you?

[In Waseem's office, Michael finds a folder he finds interesting enough.]

            {One job of a security chief is babysitting the secrets.}

[He opens the folder and looks at the paperwork inside.]

            {If one goes missing, it's a big deal, even if it's just transactional data on chemical imports.}

[Removing a few papers from the folder, he writes a message in Urdu on the folder. He places the folder on top of the open cabinet drawer. Placing the stolen papers inside the copy of the Miami Herald, he opens the door.]

            {Steal a few files, no matter how boring, and you've got leverage.}

[Taking a quick look around, he walks outside.]

[In the main lobby, Waseem finally takes charge.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: Sir.

SAM AXE: Yes.

WASEEM ALI KHAN: [polite, but meaning business] I would like to invite you to lower your voice.

SAM AXE: [low, deep voice] Okay. How's that? Is that better?

[The Head Consul snaps, yelling and pointing at Sam, as Waseem closes his eyes in silent frustration.]

HEAD CONSUL: You're mocking me!

SAM AXE: I am mocking you!

[As they continue to argue beside Waseem, Michael walks out just as purposefully as he had entered.]

            {Play your cards right, and you can trade what you've got for what you want.}

[As he walks away, he smiles victoriously.]

 

CUT TO:

[Opening Title.]

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami and South Beach. Day.]

 

FLASH-CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. While a poker game is underway inside the house, Michael stealthily creeps outside, ducking past a window on the way to the garage.]

            {In any covert operation, your first concern is remaining undetected.}

[As he passes by the window, he hears Madeline, Fiona and other women talk cards.]

[In the garage, he rummages through some stuff.]

            {Whether you're infiltrating a military base or getting car parts from your mom's garage without her knowing, staying invisible is tough.}

[The garage door opens and Madeline stands outside. Michael sees her through a car rear-view mirror.]

            {And no matter how good you are...}

MADELINE WESTEN: [pleasantly surprised] Michael. There you are!

[Michael plasters a smile on his face.]

MADELINE WESTEN: I thought you couldn't make it. [beckons] C'mon in!

[She goes inside. Looking heavenward for strength, Michael follows her.]

            {... sometimes they're better.}

[Inside the house, he walks into the kitchen area and looks into the dining area, where Fiona and three older women sit, playing poker, while Madeline gets snacks ready in the kitchen. Fiona looks like she's had better days.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi, how's it going?

FIONA GLENANNE: [resigned] Down to the felt. Full-Boat Phyllis here...

[Phyllis looks surprised at the nickname.]

FIONA GLENANNE: ... didn't tell me she used to deal Hold 'Em... [holds up a beer bottle] in Reno.

[Chuckles from the older ladies. Michael joins his mother in the kitchen.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [softly] Your girlfriend's getting creamed.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [tired of repeating it] Not my girlfriend.

MADELINE WESTEN: Okay, honey, whatever you say.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, thing is...

MADELINE WESTEN: What?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, we're not, uh... [shrugs] Well, we're still workin' together, But the other part... That's, uh... Well, we've closed the door on that.

[Madeline looks disappointed.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [whispering] Why do you always do this?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [whispering] I didn't do it this time. She did.

MADELINE WESTEN: [whispering, disbelieving] Right.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [loudly, quick subject-change] Let's play poker!

[He goes to the dining table, where one of the ladies, Regina, talks.]

REGINA: I mean, exactly. I mean, how does the boy even find a loan shark in the first place?

PHYLLIS: The yellow pages?

FIONA GLENANNE: Sure. That works.

[Michael sits next to Fiona.]

REGINA: Andy's in deep trouble with that man. If he doesn't come up with the money, they're going to hurt him again. It's just awful. Diane's been through so much.

[Michael couldn't care less about what the topic of discussion. However, Fiona looks interested.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You know, Michael sometimes helps people with problems like this. We both do.

[Regina looks intrigued.]

REGINA: [smiling] Really?

[She and Phyllis beam expectantly at Michael. Michael smiles, helplessly.]

[Outside, Michael and Fiona walk towards the car, Fiona still hurting from the hammering she received from Phyllis. Michael speaks quietly to her, not quite happy.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi, what was that?

FIONA GLENANNE: What was what?

MICHAEL WESTEN: "Michael helps people with problems like this sometimes"?

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, you do.

MICHAEL WESTEN: The guy borrowed money from a loan shark. Yeah, a dumb thing to do, but _he_ made the deal, _he_ owes the money, and we have no business getting involved with that.

FIONA GLENANNE: He borrowed the money to invest in his mom's retirement. Stupid - yes - and sweet. And now she's gonna lose the house.

MICHAEL WESTEN: What is this about, Fi? You really care that much about some lady you never met living out in Boca Raton... with a buncha cats?

FIONA GLENANNE: You owe me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I gave you the car.

FIONA GLENANNE: [indignant] You owe me more than that.

[He sighs.]

FIONA GLENANNE: I wanna do this because this guy, Andy, chose to put somebody he loved... before himself. [beat, softly] That's why.

[She turns around. Michael ponders it a second.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Let's go.

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Andy and Diane's House. Day. A middle-aged lady (Diane) opens the door for Michael and Fiona to enter. As Michael enters, a cat meows.]

DIANE: Hello. Phyllis said you were handsome.

[Michael smiles.]

FIONA GLENANNE: And single, too. Can you believe it?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, let's talk about your problem. Uh, I hear your son's having trouble with a loan shark.

[Diane sits down.]

DIANE: A-Andy's a good boy, a kind boy.

[Michael nearly sits on the cat lying on the couch. The cat hisses at Michael, who shifts over.]

DIANE: It's just he's... a lot like his father was. He just doesn't always... think.

FIONA GLENANNE: How much did he borrow, Diane?

DIANE: [distressed] Two hundred thousand dollars. And the man said that if he doesn't return the money... Well, he can't return it. He doesn't have it.

[Michael sits back warily as the cat walks over his lap, meowing.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Uh, he a gambler?

DIANE: No. God, no. He's a cell phone salesman. He invested it.

[Michael carefully moves the cat off of him, as Fiona watches smilingly.]

DIANE: It was... sweet, really. I mean, the cancer didn't get me, but the medical bills might. So he was just trying to... to make

money so he could take care of me.

[The door opens and a young, skinny guy (Andy) enters, sporting a recent black eye.]

ANDY: [apprehensively] What's going on here, Ma?

[She looks at him and then back at Michael and Fiona.]

DIANE: Look, I have two hundred dollars left in savings. Please, you can have it. You can have all of it. Just, please, [sobs] make sure he doesn't hurt my boy anymore.

ANDY: [retorts] No! Absolutely not! We talked about this. This is my problem.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, it's not just your problem now, is it?

ANDY: Who're you?

FIONA GLENANNE: We're people who can help.

ANDY: [sighs] Oh, my...

[He tries to walk away, but Diane grabs his hand, stopping him. Conceding, he sighs and looks at Michael and Fiona. So, meet...]

                                                           ANDY AND DIANE

                                                            THE CLIENTS

ANDY: I don't think there's anything we can do. He says I gotta pay him, but I can't.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Loan sharks are businessmen. We'll strike a deal with him, set up a payment plan. How much money can you still get your hands on?

ANDY: [mock-thinks] Uhhh, none of it.

[Michael frowns, quizzically.]

ANDY: I put it in this club, and it's... gone.

FIONA GLENANNE: All of it?

ANDY: It was a high-risk, high-reward...type deal. [shrugs] Little... illegal.

[Downcast, Diane puts her hand to her mouth.]

ANDY: That's why the money all had to be cash.

[Fiona looks at Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Let's start from the beginning.

ANDY: Okay, but, uh,  can we... talk about it outside?

[Not wanting to discuss this in front of his already-distraught mother, he jerks his head towards the door. Happy to get away from the cats, Michael stands.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yes.

[Outside the house, in the backyard, Andy narrates his tale of woe to Michael and Fiona.]

ANDY: A few months ago, I started going to Velvet, this club on South Beach, and I got to know the owner, Zeke.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [mockingly] Zeke.

ANDY: He's a really good guy. He cut me in on the club. Uh, partnership. I put up five grand. [excitedly] Dude, I'm tellin' you, I saw dividends right away. Zeke would pull these fat wads of cash out of the safe right in the back. I mean like...

[He makes a buzzing sound as he holds up his hand, his thumb and index finger about three inches apart.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fat wads. Got it.

ANDY: Yeah. So anyway, uh, one day, Zeke comes to me, says he can get me in on this new place he's gonna open. Two hundred K, full partnership. Thing is, the club is... in Cuba.

[Michael and Fiona can see where this is going.]

ANDY: Hence the cash-only thing. Shady, I know, but Zeke says we're looking at like a thousand percent return on investment.

FIONA GLENANNE: [more a statement than a question] So you went in.

ANDY: [scoffs] Yeah. I had to get the cash together. My mom's got bills. Anyway, so I go one day to deliver the cash to Zeke's house, and I'm telling you, the minute I put the cash on the table, the FBI swarms the place.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Can I tell the rest of the story just to save time? The Feds rush in, arrest Zeke, but not before rushing you out the back.

[Andy looks at Michael, amazed.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Zeke's under indictment, but he's promising not to turn you in.

MICHAEL WESTEN: The feds take the cash, but...

FIONA GLENANNE: At least you got your freedom.

[Andy looks nonplussed.]

ANDY: How did you...?

FIONA GLENANNE: [sympathetically] Andy, you were conned.

ANDY: But the Feds...

MICHAEL WESTEN: They weren't Feds. They were actors. It's a classic kiss-off. Zeke's a con man.

ANDY: I'm such an idiot.

FIONA GLENANNE: Look at the bright side. You might get to keep your kneecaps.

ANDY: You think... you think Zeke will give me the money back when he finds out I'm onto him?

MICHAEL WESTEN: No. But there are other ways we can get your money back.

[Michael smiles. Andy looks confused.]

 

FLASH-CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

 

FLASH-CUT TO:

[Club Velvet. Night. As loud music plays, people dance on the crowded floor. Scantily-clad ladies dance on stages. Michael and Fiona stand at the bar. Michael is all business, while Fiona gyrates, trying to play matchmaker for Michael (I think).]

FIONA GLENANNE: Ooh, look at her. And her. I bet she'd be fun.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Are you shopping for me or for you?

FIONA GLENANNE: You are gonna have to get back out there sooner or later.

[Michael is more focused on the VIP room at the back of the club.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: No, what I have to do is get back there. Andy said Zeke's office is just past the VIP room. Good bet he keeps the cash there. Probably launders the money through the club.

[Fiona seems more interested in grooving to the music.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Fi! The cash. The safe.

FIONA GLENANNE: I don't understand why you refuse to mix business with pleasure.

[Michael looks over her head towards the VIP room and sees movement.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Can we focus? Our ticket to the back room just showed up.

[Fiona leans against the bar counter and looks towards the VIP room.]

FIONA GLENANNE: You're no fun, Michael. Now, Zeke, on the other hand, looks like he knows how to have a good time.

[They look at a handsome, thirty-something, blonde-haired guy, who's having a great time, with a hottie on each arm. He is...]

                                                           ZEKE

                                                      CON MAN

[Zeke and the ladies move through the club.]

            {Exploiting an asset is easier when they have a vice, an addiction you can feed - drugs, money, respect, women.}

FIONA GLENANNE: Breaking into the safe shouldn't be too hard.

[She removes her hairpin, letting her hair fall loosely over her shoulders.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Getting invited into the back...

[She sways her head to free up the hair. Seeing Michael's attention more on Zeke than her, she juts her head in his sight as he speaks.]

FIONA GLENANNE: ... shouldn't be too difficult, either. Why don't you go and meet your Pakistani spy and let me take care of this?

[She starts to dance her way through the gyrating crowd, glancing teasingly at Michael.[

MICHAEL WESTEN: Uh, just don't... just... just... [loudly over the music] just don't work too hard!

[He walks away.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Hotel. Night. As Michael leans against the bar, Waseem enters, dressed casually, fanning himself with the folder Michael wrote on. Seeing Michael, he walks over to the bar.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: [reading off the folder] "I will be wearing a white shirt and..."

[He Chuckles as he points to an Urdu word on the folder.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: What's this word right here? It is a kind of a... spicy goat cheese.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I was trying to say "black pants". My Urdu is a little rusty.

WASEEM ALI KHAN: At least you got the name of the restaurant right. I'm Waseem Ali Khan, and you are...

MICHAEL WESTEN: Just a friend who needs a favor.

WASEEM ALI KHAN: Mm. Well, I need a favor, too. I would like those documents returned. So what can I do for you?

MICHAEL WESTEN: So direct. It's refreshing. I'm looking for a spy - a woman who worked in Kurdistan about fifteen years ago. I don't have her real name, but she was very distinctive, very attractive, very forceful. I'm sure she made a big splash. Your intel might have some info on her?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: What you want is worth more than what you have. Sorry. Wish I could help.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Come on, Waseem. Pick up the phone. Call back home. To land a gig like this in Miami, you gotta be pretty well connected.

WASEEM ALI KHAN:  I am, and I'd like to stay that way. So go ahead. Leak those documents. I'd rather take my chances than ask for an eyes-only dossier on a foreign operative. Now, uh... how are the peach mojitos here, hmm?

[Foiled, Michael remains expressionless.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Club Velvet. Night. As hip-hop music plays, Fiona lies seductively on a bed in a private curtained-off enclosure in the VIP room, holding her champagne flute. A martini glass in his hand, Zeke jumps on the bed and sidles up next to her.]

            {If you need to get into a secure area, the best approach is to give yourself a good reason to be there.}

ZEKE: Now it's just us.

[Smiling, she moves close to him.]

            {Why sneak past guards when you can just spill a martini?}

[As they are about to kiss, she pushes his elbow upwards, causing his martini to splash onto her chest, wetting her dress. She jumps up, looking at her wet dress angrily. Zeke looks apologetic.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [British accent, pissed] Oh, bloody 'ell!

ZEKE: I'm sorry.

[She huffs, peeved. Standing up, holding her arms outwards, she looks at Zeke.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [demanding] Where's your loo?

ZEKE: Uh... out the front, around the bar.

FIONA GLENANNE: [scoffs incredulously] You want me to go out there looking like this?

[Putting down her flute, she points at her dress.]

ZEKE: No. No, of course not. Use mine.

[He gestures to the door, leading to the offices. With a loud, prolonged sigh, her arms still held outwards, she walks off in a huff. Going through the doorway, she steps into a hallway. Dropping the act, she starts to look around. She removes her hairpin from the bracelet, she stuck it in.]

            {A hairpin is one of the most versatile tools in a thief's arsenal. It's as good as a key most of the time.}

[She stops and looks at office lock.]

            {But not when the lock is a magnetic-card reader.}

[Thwarted, she walks away.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Fiona reports her finding to Michael and Sam.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Zeke is one careful con man. He's security-conscious, he's smart. Smooth, too, in a cheesy, Sam kinda way.

SAM AXE: [nursing a beer] Hey, smooth is smooth, baby.

[Michael smiles.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Club is locked down tight. We wanna get to the safe, we need Zeke's key card, and he keeps it on him all the time.

SAM AXE: Can't you lift it, sticky fingers?

FIONA GLENANNE: Yes, I can, but I already made my play. He'll get suspicious if I duck and come back again.

MICHAEL WESTEN: So it's looks like a two-man job now.

FIONA GLENANNE: Yeah, the trouble is, Zeke only lets girls and marks past security.

SAM AXE: [uh-oh] Yeah, so one of us has to play the fool.

FIONA GLENANNE: [smiling at Sam] I know who I'd vote for.

[Sam looks reluctant. Smiling, Michael gun-gestures at Sam, by pointing at him and bending his thumb.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [turns to Michael] See you tonight. You're perfect for it, Michael.

[As Fiona walks away, Michael's cocky smile slowly dissolves into a nonplussed frown. Sam stands up, happily.]

SAM AXE: Hey, how's that thing going with your new Pakistani pal?

[Michael glares after Fiona as he speaks to Sam.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's a good guy. He likes Miami. There might be an angle there.

[As Sam goes to grab another beer from Michael's Coldair fridge, Michael's cell phone rings. He answers it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Diane?

DIANE: [from phone, whispering] They're here, on the porch. Andy, get away from the door!

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Sit tight. We're coming.

[He starts to walk out. Sam places the beer back in the fridge and follows Michael out.]

 

CUT TO:

[Outside Andy and Diane's House. Day. Michael and Sam pull up opposite the house in the Charger. They see a short balding guy sitting on a garden chair outside the house.]

SAM AXE: How about if I handle the lookout and you deal with whatever is goin' on inside?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mmm, that _seems_ fair.

SAM AXE: Yeah. He's, uh, he's an old guy, little frail, but he's probably armed.

[Sam gets out of the car.]

 

CUT TO:

[Andy and Diane's House. Day. Diane is forced to sit as two beefcakes go to work on Andy in the kitchen. A wifebeater-clad thug punches Andy in the gut, as another holds his arms. Andy grunts out in pain, as his mother freaks out.]

DIANE: [distraught] Stop, please! We don't have anything.

[A middle-aged Eastern European man, with long gray hair and a Brando-Godfatheresque voice, speaks to her.]

LOAN SHARK: I'm terribly sorry, but your son, he's very late with my money.

[He is...]

                                                           BARANSKI

                                                      LOAN SHARK

[Wifebeater thug strikes Andy again. Michael stands at the back door, facing the kitchen.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Guys, guys. Wifebeaters - so not a good look.

BARANSKI: Who's this? Who are you?

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm a friend. Now, we can come to some kind of an arrangement.

[As Michael talks, he advances slowly towards the thugs holding Andy.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You're a businessman, right?

BARANSKI: I am. This man owes me two hundred. With the vig, two-thirty.

[Michael sees a magazine - "Cat Fancy" - on the kitchen and picks it up.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: And you're gonna have it. Look at this.

[He holds up the magazine for the thugs to see, as he advances slowly.]

            {The key to hand-to-hand combat is being able to close the distance between you and your opponent without putting them on their guard.}

[He's getting closer.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: These are nice people. This is not necessary.

[He starts to roll up the magazine.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: We don't have to do this. I mean, guys, c'mon.

[He's on them. Wifebeater thug grabs his shirt, but Michael swings his arm around the thug's arm and locks it. He jabs the rolled-up magazine in the guy's solar plexus hard, causing him to double over, bending right into a cocked knee to the face. He's down for the count. The other thug (holding Andy) lets Andy go, so he can grab a knife from the kitchen island. He lashes it out towards Michael, but Michael grabs the knife arm and twists it backwards. A jab with the magazine in the thug's throat disorients him, long enough for Michael to twist his wrist, making him drop the knife. A cocked elbow to the face ends the fight. Diane and Andy look on in surprise. Baranski looks on in disdain.]

BARANSKI: Impressive.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We don't want any trouble.

BARANSKI: Okay, but now it's on you, too. Two days. If I have my money, there'll be no more trouble. If I don't, you'll need a

lot more than a magazine.

[Diane and Andy look anxiously at Michael, who grins calmly.]

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Andy and Diane's House. Day. With Baranski and his thugs gone, Andy lies painfully on the couch, his shirt open to reveal a big red bruise on his stomach. Diane brings him an ice-pack as she speaks to Michael and Sam.]

DIANE: Two days?

[She applies the ice-pack to Andy's bruise. He reacts with an "Ow..."]

DIANE: How can we get that kind of money in two days? [to Andy] Keep it on.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We're gonna hit the club tonight.

ANDY: You know how to crack safes?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Some, but I can't crack just any safe. I need some details.

SAM AXE: Andy, d'you think you would recognize Zeke's safe if you saw it again?

ANDY: I think so, but how are you going to get to the safe? Zeke's got these two huge guys guarding the VIP. He only takes women back there.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Andy, _you_ got back there.

ANDY: Oh, sure, but I was an investor.

[As the camera zooms towards Michael and Sam meaningfully, Sam points at Michael.]

SAM AXE: Andy, you're looking at Zeke's new mark.

[Blank stare from Andy. Sam gestures towards Michael, Michael gestures towards himself. Finally, Andy gets the idea and Chuckles.]

 

CUT TO:

[Miami marina park. Day. Waseem and a young hot blonde lie on a beach blanket on the grass, a picnic basket nearby. Waseem takes a strawberry off the plate resting on her stomach and snakes it teasingly towards her mouth. She giggles and bites into it. They are rudely interrupted by a jumping-into-view Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Whassup, Waseeeem?!

WASEEM ALI KHAN: How unexpected. Trina, meet my friend, uh...

[Michael sits down on the beach blanket and lies back, rummaging through the picnic basket.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mr. Inconsiderate. I shoulda brought a fruit salad. [takes a grape and eats it] So, Waseem, have you given any more thought to what we talked about?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: I'm sorry, but no.

MICHAEL WESTEN: So you really don't want your documents back?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: I wouldn't say that. I'd say the price is too high.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Really? Too high. I could get six figures from any number of buyers, and they'd all have a bone to pick with Pakistan. You're sure you're not interested?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: What's bad for Pakistan and what's bad for Waseem... they aren't necessarily the same thing.

[He looks hungrily towards Trina.]

MICHAEL WESTEN : I know what you mean. You're a tough one, Waseem. You win.

[He pulls an envelope from his behind his pants and holds them out to Waseem.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Take your documents back.

[POV: Camera. As Waseem confusedly puts his hand on the envelope to take it, the shutter clicks. He smiles victoriously at Trina. Click!]

[Sam stands at the cabana, clicking pictures of the "exchange".]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [to Trina] Honey, he's a keeper. I wouldn't let go of him.

[He gets up and leaves.]

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Andy looks at one of the many books on safes and locks, strewn on the table.]

ANDY: All this stuff belongs to Fiona? Is she a locksmith?

[As he speaks, Michael zips up a figure-higging jumpsuit.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: No. Just a hobby of hers.

[He taps at a spiral-bound book, titled "Siebels Safes".]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You sure that's the safe?

ANDY: Yeah. I remember that dial. So, once you're into Zeke's office, what, you just drill through the lock?

[He picks up a cordless powerdrill. Pulling the trigger, he aims it and holds it out, but Michael takes it back.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: It's not a high-end safe.

[He picks up a small hammer.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I just knock the lock off with a hammer. The real problem will be carrying the cash out of the club.

ANDY: Right. Cash is heavy. I brought mine to Zeke in an overnight bag. You wanna borrow my duffel?

MICHAEL WESTEN: No. They're gonna carry the cash out for us themselves.

[He holds up trashbags, folded to the size of a wallet, and puts in into a pocket on the jumpsuit.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Gonna stuff it into a trashbag, give it to the busboys, and then bring it out to the Dumpster.

ANDY: Listen, uh... [picks up a bag] I brought you something from the store. I wish I could pay you, but it's all I got.

[He dumps the contents of the bag - several cell phones - onto the table.]

ANDY: Think you can use a buncha cellphones?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah. I can find a use for them.

[Michael moves aside. There's a knock at the door. Andy heads towards it.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [from outside] Michael?

[Michael, hearing his mother's voice, gestures with the coat-hanger he's holding, to Andy to stop.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [softly, urgently] No, Andy. Andy. Andy. No!

[Andy opens the door. Madeline stands outside, lighting up a cigarette. Michael looks thwarted.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Hi. You must be Andy.

[She and Andy shake hands.]

ANDY: Yeah.

MADELINE WESTEN: Oh, I'm Michael's mom.

[As they talk, Michael dons a jacket.]

ANDY: Ohh, hey, hey. Your son's been helpin' me out. I gotta get goin', but I just wanna say your son's awesome. Smartest guy I ever met.

MADELINE WESTEN: Thank you. [chuckles]

ANDY: All right.

[Closing the door behind him, he leaves.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [deadpan] Sweet kid. I can see why he's in trouble.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mom, I gotta get to work, actually. Uh, what is it you need?

MADELINE WESTEN: Well, I can't find my salad spinner.

MICHAEL WESTEN: That is tragic.

MADELINE WESTEN: Well, I lost it during poker. Did you take it?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Ma, why are you here?

MADELINE WESTEN: [shrugs] It's... this thing with Fiona.

[Michael silently continues with what he's doing.]

MADELINE WESTEN: Just tell me what happened between you and Fiona, and then you can go to work.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't know what you want me to say.

MADELINE WESTEN: Michael, please. I don't know what it is you're thinking, but Fiona is the best thing in your life.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [smiling at her] You're the best thing in my life.

MADELINE WESTEN: Don't be that way, Michael. I want you to talk to me.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't want to talk about it.

MADELINE WESTEN: Fine. You don't wanna talk about it? I'll talk to Fiona.

[She walks away. Michael leans on the table, exasperated.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [sighs] Great.

 

CUT TO:

[Club Velvet. Night. As usual, dancers gyrate to the music on the crowded floor. At the bar, Michael speaks to three club girls, in a loud and quick Texan accent.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: So, he goes on up to the hill and he says, "Which one-a _you_ am I takin' home?"

[He laughs, acting full of himself, while the club girls laugh politely. He turns towards the end of the bar, where Fiona and Zeke sit, and lifts his glass to Fiona, who does the same to him.]

ZEKE: Who's your friend?

FIONA GLENANNE: [heavy British accent] You don't know Davis? He's wild. He's some oil baron's kid.

ZEKE: [intrigued] Oh, yeah? You wanna introduce me?

[Agreeing, she takes him over to where Michael stands with the girls.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You're a vegg-atarian? What?

[He notices Fiona coming up.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: There she is! Day-amn!

[He gives her a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, as she giggles. After he lets her back down, she introduces Zeke.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Davis, Zeke. Zeke, Davis.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Friend, you're ruinin' my ratio. I have a good ratio going on.  I got four ladies to one Davis. Four to one, I like that.

ZEKE: Oh, I-I can fix that. Ladies.

[Another three pretty ladies come up.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now you're talking. I'm Davis Cullen.

ZEKE: My name's Zeke. Is that a Texas drawl I hear?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Born 'n' raised.

ZEKE: Ahh.

[Zeke's cell phone rings.]

ZEKE: Oh, pardon me.

[He puts the phone to his ear.]

ZEKE: [into phone] Honeybear? [laughs] It's been a long ti...

[Michael grabs the cell phone out of his hand and speaks into it.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Honeybear, he's gonna have to call you back. He's gonna mind his manners.

[Closing the phone, he drops it into his drink and places the drink back on the counter.]

ZEKE: [smiling] That _was_ rude. My apologies. How 'bout a bottle of Dom?

MICHAEL WESTEN: What is this? Breakfast?

ZEKE: Whiskey, then.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [agreeing] Hic!

ZEKE: Why don't we take this party back to a private location?

[Michael puts his arm around one of the ladies.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Round up, ladies!

[Michael, Fiona, Zeke and the ladies walk towards the VIP room.]

[In the back room, Fiona dances with the other girls, while Zeke and Michael speak privately.]

ZEKE: So, Fi tells me that you're into oil.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, that was daddy's business. I got the hell out of Killeen as fast as I could. Four AM's for goin' to bed, not gettin' up.

ZEKE: Amen to that, brother. So, what do you do, Davis?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Littla this, littla that.

ZEKE: How'd you like to add "club-owner" to your portfolio? Usually, I bring in people slow. Offer them limited partnerships in Velvet, see how it goes. But with you, I can see you're like me, a player. I'm not even gonna waste your time in the shallow end.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Don't then. Say som'n', son.

ZEKE: I'm opening a new club in Havana.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Havana. Last time I checked, that was in Cuba.

ZEKE: We deal only in cash. No legal hiccups that way. It's gonna be huge. The upside is enormous.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Now, how much you puttin' in?

ZEKE: Me? Plenty. I mean, no cash, but sweat equity. Believe me, the cash, ahh, that's the easy part.

[Fiona, acting drunk, sidles up behind Zeke.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Why don't you boys stop playing with each other...

[She kisses Zeke on the lips, slowly sliding her hand into his jacket. Pulling out his magnetic card, she surreptitiously hands it to Michael.]

FIONA GLENANNE: ...and play with me instead?

[Michael takes it and shoves it inside his jacket.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: This whiskey is runnin' right through me! Where's the head?

[Zeke, more interested in watching Fiona dance near him, points towards the back door.]

ZEKE: Uh, that way.

[Michael gets up and heads for the back door. He enters the hallway, leading to the offices. He walks up to the door of Zeke's office and slides the card through the reader. A couple of rapid beeps later, he's in. Inside the office, he shuts the door, pockets the keycard and walks towards the safe, behind the desk.]

            {There are two schools of safecracking. Some people like to beat the lock. Some people like to break the lock.}

[He starts to unbutton his shirt, exposing his jumpsuit. Looking at the safe, he stops.]

            {But it doesn't much matter when the safe is sitting wide open.}

[Sure enough, the door to the safe is ajar. Michael opens it fully, and shrugs incredulously.]

            {Good counterfeit money is more expensive than you think.}

[He pulls out a wad of bills, marked as $10,000. He flips through the wad. There's a genuine Benjamin on top and newspaper cutouts underneath.]

            {If you're looking to fake money on the cheap, a real bill bound to a stack of filler will do.}

INTERCUT WITH:

[Outside Club Velvet. Night. Sam, sitting in his car, near the service entrance, gets a call on his phone. He answers it.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] Time to collect the trash?

[Inside the club's office, Michael speaks to Sam, while looking at the fake wad.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] This safe is nothing but a prop to impress marks. There's nothing in here but a few hundreds and some newspapers.

[He tosses the wad inside.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] So, where's the real safe?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] No time to look. I don't want any more surprises. I'm putting ears on this guy. Put your phone on mute and plug it in.

[Michael pulls a cell phone out from a pocket and puts his cell phone on speakerphone.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] Aw, Mike, you're tying up my cell? Well, [chuckles] how's Veronica supposed to get ahold of me?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Tell her to try the bar at Carlito's.

[Sam looks a bit annoyed. Michael opens up the computer CPU and, using pliers, pulls out a wire.]

[Outside in the club, Zeke goes to meet a couple of middle-aged men. They shake hands and greet each other familiarly. From a distance, Fiona sees one of the men holding a Club Velvet keycard (similar to the one she stole from Zeke). She calls Michael.]

[In the office, as Michael prepares to bug the place, his cell phone rings.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, Fi?

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Michael, you got a problem. It looks like Zeke's got partners.

[And, yep, they're...]

                                                           ZEKE'S PARTNERS

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] I think you need to hurry it up.

[Michael hurries up. Removing the back panel of the cell phone, he connects two wires from the CPU to a couple of leads in the cell phone.]

            {Thirty years ago, the CIA would've killed for bugs as small as cellphones. They're the perfect improvised listening device, but they burn juice like a Humvee. If there's no charger handy, an unused USB port will do the trick.}

[Outside in the club, Zeke and his partners start walking towards the back.]

FIONA GLENANNE: [into phone] Michael, it's really time to go. Your cover's about to be blown.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Almost done.

[Michael calls Sam on the "bug"-cell phone and places it inside the cabinet.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Sam, you there?

[Sam answers.]

SAM AXE: [into phone] Yeah. Yeah.

[Michael shuts the CPU cabinet.]

[Sam drops his phone into his pocket.]

[Zeke's partners walk in the hallway towards the office. One of them (the bearded one) passes his keycard through the scanner and the door opens. They enter and see... no one inside. They close the door behind them. The door nearby opens and Michael steps out from the men's room.]

[Outside in the club, he rejoins Fiona and Zeke, who are dancing. Coming up behind Fiona, he slips her the keycard.]

ZEKE: Hey! Hey! You wanna talk some business?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [Texas drawl] Maybe a little later! I think it's time for me and this little lady... [lifts a giggling Fiona onto his shoulder] to get to know each other better. You don't mind, do you, partner?

[While Fiona waves bye to Zeke on Michael's shoulder, Michael walks out. He seems a bit upset that this job is going to take a bit longer than he anticipated.]

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. As Michael gets a yogurt from the fridge, Andy stands nearby. Sam and Diane are also there.]

ANDY: There was nothing in the safe?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Newspaper. Fat wads of it.

ANDY: Man, we got one day. I got Baranski calling me for his money, and now you're telling me...

DIANE: Settle down. See? Michael doesn't look worried.

[Michael smiles at Andy.]

SAM AXE: Sharp lady, your ma. Remember Zeke's partners, the guys who played the Feds that stung you? Listen to what Zeke was telling them last night.

[Sam hits play on the tape recorder.]

ZEKE: [from recorder] I'm telling you, this Davis cat is big-time, and he's hungry.

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: [from recorder] What kind of timetable are you looking at?

ZEKE: [from recorder] How soon can you rent the house?

[Laughter comes from the recorder. Sam turns it off.]

SAM AXE: See, he wants to score, so it's just a matter of convincing him that the only way he's gonna see our money is if he shows us his first, and when he does...

[He trails off, so Andy can continue for him. Andy looks just as dim as he did ten seconds ago. He shrugs. Diane comes to Sam's rescue.]

DIANE: They're going to con him, trick him into giving them the money.

ANDY: [finally getting it] Ooooh. Okay. Cool.

[Sam and Diane exchange a look.]

SAM AXE: [repeats] Cool.

[Michael drops his smile and rolls his eyes.]

 

FLASH TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

 

FLASH TO:

[Club Velvet. Night. The club is closed for the night and Michael (as Davis Cullen) and Zeke drink at the darkened bar, alone. Sam walks up, in a suit, looking all business.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Zeke, this is Chuck, pain-in-the-ass wet nurse that's watchin' my money.

[Zeke and Sam shake hands.]

SAM AXE: Charles Finley, sole executor of Mr. Cullen's trust.

[Michael finishes his drink.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm runnin' a quart low. I'm gonna get back here and serve m'self.

[Michael walks behind the bar, leaving "Chuck" and Zeke to speak privately. Putting an arm over Zeke's shoulders, Sam leads him to a private table.]

SAM AXE: Sir, do you have any idea who you're getting into bed with here? Davis Cullen can be... difficult. I mean, there have been a few incidents.

ZEKE: [smiles] I think I'll take my chances.

SAM AXE: Don't say I didn't warn you.

ZEKE: Fair enough. Now, what we're talking about is two hundred grand.

SAM AXE: Hmm. Not insubstantial. What's your commitment?

ZEKE: Well, as I explained to Mr. Cullen, I don't invest financially. However, my time, my expertise...

SAM AXE: Oh, I see.

            {To win a negotiation, you have to show you're willing to walk away.]

ZEKE: I don't share in the same kind of profits, either, 'course. By getting in on the ground floor of our club in Havana, Mr. Cullen can expect...

 

SAM AXE: I'm sorry, sir. Did you say Havana?

ZEKE: Yes.

[Sam sucks in air and turns.]

            {And the best way to show you're willing to walk away... is to walk away.}

[Sam picks up his briefcase and starts to... walk away. Zeke gets up and walks behind him.]

ZEKE: Whoa-whoa-whoa, where are you going?

[Sam turns and speaks to Zeke.]

SAM AXE: Sir, it is my fiduciary duty to protect Mr. Cullen's estate. Not a penny moves without my sign-off - not a penny, and I can't very well sign off on anything in Cuba. Good day.

[Sam walks off. Thwarted, Zeke strides over to Michael at the bar.]

 

ZEKE: I don't think we have a deal.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sonuvabitch!

[Michael hurls his glass at a bunch of bottles, smashing them.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, we'll see about this!

[Michael walks off in a huff, leaving Zeke a bit shaken.]

 

CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Madeline opens the door for Fiona to enter. Fiona holds a six-pack of beer bottles.]

FIONA GLENANNE: For the hostess. I figured I'm gonna need to get you girls half in the bag if I'm gonna hold my own at poker today.

[She hands Madeline the six-pack.]

 

MADELINE WESTEN: Um, yeah. Well, about that...

[Fiona looks about and sees there's no one else in the house, besides them.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Am I early?

[Madeline walks to the table and sets the six-pack down.]

MADELINE WESTEN: No. No. No. I asked the girls if they'd come an hour later. I wanted some time to talk to you alone. [motions for Fiona to sit] Please.

[They sit at the table.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Well, what's on your mind?

MADELINE WESTEN: This breakup. The two of you are making a huge mistake.

[Fiona smiles warmly at Madeline.]

MADELINE WESTEN: If you don't mind my saying.

FIONA GLENANNE: [shaking her head] Madeline...

MADELINE WESTEN: No, please, listen. I need you to know you are the best thing that ever happened to Michael. He's different when you're around. He's better. He's almost happy.

FIONA GLENANNE: Thank you for saying that. It's more than he's ever said himself.

MADELINE WESTEN: I know. His father was the same way. But I see the way he looks at you, Fiona.

FIONA GLENANNE: I'll always... I'll always care about your son, Madeline. Y'know, I-I just can't be the second...

MADELINE WESTEN: ... most important thing in his life.

[Fiona looks at her, wondering how she knew.]

MADELINE WESTEN: [proudly] I can't blame you for that, honey.

[Fiona doesn't have the heart to tell her that neither of them are the most important to Michael. Madeline puts a beer in front of Fiona.]

 

DISSOLVE TO:

[Swaagat Restaurant. Day. Inside the Indian restaurant, sitting in front of a heavily garlanded Ganesha idol, Waseem feeds a hot brunette a piece of Chicken Tikka. Caressing his chin, she walks towards the ladies' room.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: Hurry back.

[Just as she leaves, BAM! Michael sits in front of Waseem, grinning widely. Waseem is startled by the sudden intrusion, but recovers quickly.]]

MICHAEL WESTEN: A Pakistani spy eating in an Indian restaurant. My friend, you have gone native.

WASEEM ALI KHAN: Why, I like the Chicken Tikka. What do you want?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Same as ever, I just want that file.

[Michael holds out a bunch of photos to Waseem. Waseem looks at the photos. The first one is of Michael holding out the envelope and Waseem taking it, while Trina lies back, smiling.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Kinda looks like you're taking a bribe, doesn't it?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: Maybe. But it's flimsy.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I don't know. You're taking a kickback there. You're accepting a free lunch right now. This is on me, by the way.

[Michael turns around and gestures to the Indian manager.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Rajeev!

[Rajeev waves back, smiling.]

RAJEEV: Hey. Hello.

[Michael turns back to Waseem.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: I haven't done anything wrong.

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's right, and you could explain all of this to your boss back home, probably even keep your job, but your time in Miami would be over. You've been made, approached, possibly compromised. You'd be relocated to a different consulate. Where do you think they'd send you? Libya? Honduras? How's Serbia these days?

WASEEM ALI KHAN: I thought you wanted to be friends.

MICHAEL WESTEN: We can still be friends. All I want is a ten-year-old file, remember? But if you really think leaving the beaches, the blondes, and the brunettes is worth it, that's your call, Waseem.

[Michael gets up and walks off. Waseem looks troubled.]

 

CUT TO:

[Club Velvet. Day. In the darkened club, while Michael stands at the bar, Sam and Zeke sit at a table, discussing business.]

SAM AXE: Despite my strenuous objections, Mr. Cullen has impressed upon me his desire to move forward.

[Zeke and Michael smile at each other.]

ZEKE: Well, I'm glad to see that cooler heads have prevailed.

SAM AXE: I have two conditions. As executor of Mr. Cullen's trust, I still have to protect myself legally, so I'm afraid that neither of these are negotiable. First, I need to see some paperwork, and none of it had better mention "Cuba".

ZEKE: Well, shouldn't be much of a problem to dummy up some paperwork.

SAM AXE: Wonderful. Secondly, and this is vital, we need to know that you are as financially committed as Mr. Cullen. 

ZEKE: Ooh, as I explained before...

SAM AXE: I will hold Mr. Cullen's two hundred thousand dollars off-shore in a joint escrow account. If you would like to see this deal go through, you will have to put matching funds into the same account.

ZEKE: Yeah. Well, I never put up my own money.

SAM AXE: [to himself] Awkward. [to Michael] Mr. Cullen, I'm very sorry.

[He chuckles wryly as he starts to pack up his paperwork.]

SAM AXE: I tried - twice. You've seen that. But, uh, I'm sorry. I cannot allow you to be involved... in this.

[He stands and starts to walk out. Zeke looks at Michael. Michael looks expectantly back at Zeke.]

ZEKE: Fine.

[Sam stops walking and turns around.]

ZEKE: Let's do this.

[Michael smiles at Zeke and whips his head towards Sam.]

SAM AXE: Very well. Ready your funds. We'll make the transfers tomorrow.

[Sam leaves. Zeke and Michael shake hands. Michael leaves.]

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Michael, Fiona and Andy stand around the tape recorder, listening in to Zeke and his partners]

ZEKE: [from recorder] I only need the money for one day.

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: [from recorder] No. No way.

ZEKE: [from recorder, arguing] This is stupid. I got a whale here. Don't you see that?

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: [from recorder] You need to watch yourself, Zeke. You're just the face. You don't like how we do it, you can go back to tending bar. If you can get him out to the house, so we can give him the brush-off, fine. Otherwise, cut him loose.

[The recorder shuts off.]

FIONA GLENANNE: Sounds like Zeke's partners have veto power.

ANDY: So he can't put up any money. We need to deal with Baranski. I've got five hours.

[Michael gets on his cell phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: I'm gonna get us some more time.

[He calls up Baranski.]

INTERCUT WITH:

[Restaurant kitchen. Day. Baranski speaks to Michael on his phone.]

BARANSKI: [into phone] Hello. How are we this evening?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Oh, we're good. We're gonna get you the money. We just need a little more time.

BARANSKI: [into phone] That is acceptable. I can wait. But there is someone here who does not share my patience.

[As he speaks, Baranski walks past a frightened-looking Diane, sitting on a stool.]

BARANSKI: Tell Andy his mother is very disappointed with him.

[Not wanting to freak Andy out, Michael smiles at him and turns around.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, seriously] Listen to me very carefully. You do not wanna hurt that woman.

BARANSKI: [into phone] You're right. I don't. But she's going to stay right here with me until I have every penny.

[Michael looks really pissed as he hangs up.]

 

CUT TO:

[Michael's Loft. Day. Having explained the situation to Andy, Michael and Fiona now have to calm him down.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Andy, listen to me. Baranski's not gonna hurt your mom.

ANDY: Are you sure? How can you be sure?

MICHAEL WESTEN: He's just trying to prove a point.

ANDY: That he can get to us at any time.

MICHAEL WESTEN: That he really wants his money.

ANDY: Well, I really want to give it to him, but I can't.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Andy, you have to just trust us.

 

[Andy swallows and nods slowly.]

 

FLASH TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Day.]

 

CUT TO:

[Restaurant. Day. Michael sits with Barry at an outdoor table.]

BARRY: You want me to make two hundred grand just - poof - appear in a numbered account? Michael, I'm good, but I can't just will that kind of money into existence.

MICHAEL WESTEN: No one's saying it has to exist. C'mon. You've never written a bad check? You were called "Bad Check" Barry.

BARRY: I know. I guess I could wire the money from an account that happens to be closed.

MICHAEL WESTEN: 'Course you can. I have faith in you, Barry.

BARRY: Yeah, but I'm gonna have to bounce the money through a few time zones just to keep my fingerprints off of it. Take a couple days to set it up.

MICHAEL WESTEN: How does a couple hours sound?

BARRY: [throws his head up] Oh, it sounds like Michael Westen. There's just one thing. You're not gonna have long before some branch manager in Zurich catches wind. One panicked phone call to Aruba, your money's gone.

MICHAEL WESTEN: How much time before my money disappears?

BARRY: Five minutes, maybe.

MICHAEL WESTEN: You give me ten?

BARRY: Uhh, for anyone else, Michael, it'd be three.

[Michael gets up and starts to walk off. He calls Zeke on his phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone, Texan drawl] Zeke, it's Davis. I'm in.

 

CUT TO:

[Rental Mansion. Day. Michael pulls up to the house in the Saab 9-3. Zeke opens the door for him.]

ZEKE: Hey, I was beginning to think that Finley guy called all the shots.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Yeah, I don't see Chuck figurin' much into my financial future.

ZEKE: How about you wire that money, we solidify that future, and I call a coupla girls over to help celebrate?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Sounds mighty fine to me. Lemme just get my banker on the horn.

[Michael dials a number on his cell phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] It's Davis.

[Zeke stands up with his laptop so Michael can call in the account number on the screen.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Great Cayman Savings account number 07-412-0029. You got it?

 

[Michael hangs up. Zeke sits back down. The balance shows ($0.00). They wait anxiously for some activity on the laptop screen.]

ZEKE: [looks up at Michael] Takin' a while.

[Michael smiles at him. A few seconds later, under the balance, the message "TRANSFERRING" starts to flicker. And just like that, the balance is now $200,000. Michael is relieved. Zeke, thrilled to bits, slaps Michael on his thigh.]

ZEKE: Blondes or brunettes?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [opening a bottle of whiskey] Why choose?

ZEKE: My man!

[Zeke dials a number and puts his phone to his ear.]

ZEKE: [into phone] Harmony...

[Outside the mansion, Zeke's partners sit in a car, wearing FBI jackets. The bearded guy listens to Zeke on his phone.]

ZEKE: [from phone] It's Zeke. Throwing a little gathering over at my place.

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: He's ready for us.

[He starts the engine. Just then, Sam walks up to the car, wearing a suit and sunglasses. He flashes a MDPD badge at them.]

SAM AXE: Miami-Dade police. Turn off your engine. Step out of the vehicle.

[Zeke's partners look nonplussed.]

[Meanwhile, inside the house, Michael and Zeke sit on the sofa, sipping whiskey.]

ZEKE: Girls are on their way. They shouldn't be too long now. They, uh...

[Suddenly, there's the sound of staccato gunfire coming from outside. Zeke looks up, while Michael checks his watch.]

[Outside, armed with an H&K MP5, Sam fires at the trunk area of Zeke's partners' car, while Fiona stands nearby.]

[Surprised, Zeke jumps up and runs towards the front door to see what's going on.]

[Sam fires till the car explodes.]

[Zeke runs to the door and looks on in shock as his partners' car erupts in a fireball. Michael comes up behind him, looking at the wreckage, speaking on the phone.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [into phone] Yeah, I see it now. I see the fireworks. Well, thanks for callin'. We're gettin' it.

ZEKE: Who was that?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Those are my new partners. A couple of ex-Delta Force boys I know, real heavy badasses.

ZEKE: What are you talkin' about?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Where do you think I got my money, son? Finley's got my trust all tied up in knots. Those are my boys out there. They insisted on watchin' my back. Good thing, too. You got FBI troubles. You had a couple agents closing in on the house. We got to get.

ZEKE: [horrified] They killed them?

MICHAEL WESTEN: Nothin' gets between me and a deal.

ZEKE: [stammering] N-n-no. No. I can't do this. I-I can't... The-the-the deal is off!

MICHAEL WESTEN: [loudly] The hell it is! I cut those boys in! They expect to be paid!

ZEKE: There is no deal.

[He goes to get his laptop, but Michael corners him.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You are not backing out! You back out, you gimme their money!

ZEKE: I-I can wire you back what you already paid me, but I have to get back to...

[Michael pushes Zeke on to the sofa.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You think those boys are just gonna accept what they put in? One thousand percent return on investment! That's what you promised me, and that's what I promised them.

ZEKE: [terrified] I don't have that kind of cash.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Well, then, you better get it. They just killed two federal agents. It's gonna take a lot to get out of this one, Zeke. You need cash now.

[Michael walks away. Zeke looks like he'll be needing a change of pants soon.]

 

CUT TO:

[Stock footage of Miami. Night.]

 

CUT TO:

[Club Velvet. Night. Zeke runs inside the empty club and runs behind the bar, like his life depends on it (or so he believes). Michael walks in behind him. Shoving the curtains out of the way, Zeke uncovers the safe - the real one. Michael shakes his head seeing it was here all this time. Zeke hurriedly opens the safe and starts to put all the money inside a duffel bag.]

ZEKE: Two hundred... and forty six thousand dollars. You think it's enough? I mean, do you think the guys are gonna want more?

 

MICHAEL WESTEN: You'd better hope not.

[Picking up the bag, Michael walks away. Thankful to be alive, Zeke weakly leans on the bar and heaves a sigh of relief.]

[In the office, he pours himself a glass of scotch in memory of his fallen con-men. And who should walk in right at that moment, but his very-much-alive partners. His eyes go wide in disbelief.]

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: Whoa. What are you...?

ZEKE: How're...?

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: Zeke, what the hell is going on? We just got jumped.

ZEKE: No-no-no. Because he told me that you were dead.

[The partners look at each other in confusion. Zeke suddenly realizes something and sits at the computer. He checks the bank balance - it's ($0.00). He hits "Refresh" continuously, hoping it corrects itself.]

ZEKE: Okay, that's wrong. I saw the money. It-it-it was there. It was right there.

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: What money?!

ZEKE: The transfer. Davis Cullen's money. I saw it.

[The bearded guy looks furiously at Zeke. Zeke understands and winces.]

ZEKE: [downbeat] I gave him the cash.

ZEKE'S PARTNER #1: [irate] The money in the safe? [shouts] How much did you give him?!

ZEKE: [timidly] All of it.

[The bearded guy ominously pushes the door shut.]

ZEKE: I gave him all of it.

[The door slams shut.]

 

CUT TO:

[Andy and Diane's House. Day. Andy stands anxiously by the door, looking at his watch.]

ANDY: Two o'clock. He said two o'clock.

MICHAEL WESTEN: [checks his watch] It's two-oh-one.

[A car pulls up in front of the house. Andy opens the door and walks out quickly. Two of Baranski's thugs get out and one lets Diane out. He holds his hand out for her, but she shoves it aside and goes and hugs her son, tearfully.]

ANDY: I'm so sorry, mom. I'm sorry.

DIANE: Are you okay?

ANDY: Yeah. Yeah.

[As mother and son have a happy reunion, Michael walks over to Baranski at the trunk of the car. Michael puts the duffel bag into the trunk.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Two hundred grand plus the vig, minus three hundred. I got you a little present. It's in the bag.

[Baranski opens the bag and sees a copy of Cat Fancy magazine, with a cute Scottish Fold staring at him. He pulls the magazine out.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: That's next month's issue. You're a lifetime subscriber now.

BARANSKI: I'd rather have the three hundred.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, but this is money well-spent. Now you have a monthly reminder to keep your hands off of people's mothers.

[Baranski looks at Michael.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: [low, serious voice] Leave.

[Baranski closes the trunk and gets into the car. As the loan sharks drive off, Diane and Andy look at Michael gratefully.]

DIANE: Thank you.

[Feeling a simple thanks isn't enough, she hugs Michael. Michael smiles at her. When she breaks the hug, Andy gives him a hug of his own. Michael is not as enthused this time.]

ANDY: If you ever need anything...

MICHAEL WESTEN: Do your mom a favor. Go to a bank next time.

[Andy nods. He and Diane chuckle. His work done, Michael smiles at them.]

 

CUT TO:

[Madeline's House. Day. Madeline is in the kitchen, cleaning dishes. Michael enters through the back door. To her mild annoyance, he turns the kitchen sink faucet towards his side of the sink, so he can wash his hands. He uses dishwasher soap on his hands and holds them under the running water.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: You have, uh...

[Without looking at him, she passes him a towel. He notices her standoffishness.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Is everything all right?

MADELINE WESTEN: Sure.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Wanna talk about this thing with Fi?

MADELINE WESTEN: It's all right, Michael. That door is closed. I get it. I talked to Fiona.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Oh, of course. Her, you believe.

MADELINE WESTEN: Don't get mad at me. You don't wanna talk about it, I'm not talkin' about it.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Mom, I know how much you like her. I'm sorry.

MADELINE WESTEN: And it's all right, Michael. Fiona is a wonderful girl, but if it's not meant to be...

MICHAEL WESTEN: [happy that she agrees with him] It's not meant to be. Thank you. I'm gonna leave.

[He tries to walk out, but she speaks.]

MADELINE WESTEN: I just worry about you, that's all. I don't want to give up the idea that you'll find someone. I want you to have a family of your own.

MICHAEL WESTEN: This is about grandchildren?

MADELINE WESTEN: No, honey. It's not about me. It's about you. Life is hard if you have to live it alone, and having kids just makes the ride more fun.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I was fun?

[She smiles and pats him on the cheek. He leaves.]

 

CUT TO:

[Restaurante Carlito. Day. Michael eats lunch at a table. Waseem enters and slaps a thick folder on the table. He sits down.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: This better not be old newspapers.

WASEEM ALI KHAN: That was buried deep. Not easy to get. I call in favors like that again, people ask questions.

[Michael looks through the folder.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: Don't worry. No more favors.

[He sees a picture of Carla, sitting in a jeep.]

            {They say a picture's worth a thousand words. Add in a few hundred that survived the censor's black pen, suddenly you've really got something.}

[He looks at a paper which is filled with black censor lines, covering most of the words. Satisfied, he drops an envelope in front of Waseem.]

MICHAEL WESTEN: There's the negatives. You earned them.

[Waseem checks the negatives.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: You're a man of your word. Thank you.

MICHAEL WESTEN: Thank you... for lunch.

[Michael hands Waseem the check.]

WASEEM ALI KHAN: What is this?

MICHAEL WESTEN: [grinning] Your turn, Waseem.

[Michael stands and walks away, leaving Waseem completely befuddled.]

[Michael walks outside and joins Sam, who waits by the Charger.]

SAM AXE: Well. Someone's in a good mood.

MICHAEL WESTEN: I think I found Carla's cover.

SAM AXE: Not bad, Mike. Not bad at all.

[They get inside the car. Michael checks his rear-view mirror and smiles. They drive off.]

 

CUT TO:

[Closing credits.]

 

FADE TO BLACK

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