THE NARVIK CONCESSION

a screenplay for a major motion picture
by

DR. E. HENRY THRIPSHAW, M. D.

famous writer of such movie classics as

THE BLUE HORROR

and

THRIPSHAW'S DISEASE

Copyright (c) 1986 by Dr. E. Henry Thripshaw. Film rights purchased by Gwen What's-her-name with a rubber check for $15.00. All other rights reserved.




FADE IN:

INTERIOR: DETECTIVE OFFICE - DAY

Camera comes up on NICK ARCHER, sitting at his desk. He is reading a copy of
the paperback novel "The Narvik Concession", and looks extremely bored.

A knock at the door. RHONDA, his shapely brunette secretary, leans into the
room.

                                RHONDA
         Somebody to see you, Nick.
                   (Nick doesn't look up)
         A client.

                                NICK
                   (looking up)
         Yeah? She got cash?

                                RHONDA
         Could be.

                                NICK
         Send her in.

Rhonda exits. A moment later, SOPHIE RODGERS - a particularly nice-looking
brunette - enters, looking worried.

                                SOPHIE
         So you're Nick Archer.

                                NICK
         Could be, sweetheart. You must be the dame I saw in the paper.

                                SOPHIE
         Paper?

                                NICK
         Yeah.

Nick holds up a copy of the New York Times. Large headline: MILLIONAIRE RODGERS
FOUND SLAIN. Smaller print below: HEIRESS DAUGHTER SOUGHT AS SUSPECT.

                                SOPHIE
         Let me see that... hmmm...
                   (handing the paper back)
         Nope. It's not me.

                                NICK
         I meant this headline.

Nick turns to the middle of the Sports section, points at a headline about
halfway down the page. A one-column article: PLOT COMPLICATION DISCOVERED.
A picture of Sophie is above the article.

                                SOPHIE
         Oh, yeah, that's me. I discovered this plot to rob some penguins,
         see-

                                NICK
                   (interrupting)
         Yeah, sweetheart, and I'm Cab Calloway. You're giving me the
         runaround and you haven't been in the room one minute yet.

                                SOPHIE
         Who's Cab Callo-

                                NICK
         Something's going on, and it's bigger than you think. I've got
         no time to play games with broads who want to play dumb, so we'll
         talk later on at O'Reilley's bar, and then you'll play it straight.
         For right now, you'd better grab your bag and get out of here - and
         quick, because you were followed.

                                SOPHIE
         Me? Followed?

                                NICK
                   (standing up and pushing her towards the window)
         Yeah. Quick! Out the fire escape.

Nick pushes Sophie out the window, and slams it shut; Sophie begins climbing
down the fire escape.

The door opens suddenly. Somebody is pushing Rhonda into the room.

                               RHONDA
         Nick, there's-

                                NICK
         Yeah, fine. Send 'em in, toots.

Rhonda steps aside. In comes ALEXANDER HAIG, followed by SECRETARY OF STATE
GEORGE SCHULTZ.

                                SCHULTZ
         You Archer?

                                NICK
         That's me. What do you two want?

                                SCHULTZ
         Just want to give you a warning. Stay off the Rodgers case.

                                NICK
         You mean the heiress, the millionaire killing?

                                SCHULTZ
         No, dummy, the plot complication.

                                HAIG
         You want me to rough him up a little?

                                SCHULTZ
         Easy, Haig...

                                NICK
                   (putting his feet up on the desk)
         All right, Schultz. You think you can come in here and boss me
         around. Well, I've got news for you. I've put up with two-bit
         hoodlums like General Haig there before, and I've been threatened by
         better Secretaries of State than you. Why don't you go waste your
         breath on something you can handle, like Soviet Foreign Secretary
         Gromyko?

                                SCHULTZ
         I've handled Gromyko before -

                                NICK
         Bull. Don't play games with me. You're no match for Gromyko and
         you're no match for me. Get out of my office. It'd scare away my
         customers to see me hanging out with ugly gunzels like Haig here.

                                HAIG
         Why, you...

                                SCHULTZ
         Easy, Haig!
                   (to Nick)
         All right, Archer, we'll let you off the hook this time. But we're
         only doing this to advance the plot! You come across us again and
         we may not be so nice!

                                NICK
                   (sarcastically)
         I'm shaking in my boots. Oh, and Haig - your shoe's untied.

                                HAIG
                   (looking down)
         Wha-? Where?

                                SCHULTZ
                   (grabbing Haig, heading for the door)
         Come on...

They leave. Nick waits a moment, gets his coat and hat, leaves the office.
Nick's voice is overdubbed onto the scene along with some exciting detective
music.

                                NICK (over)
         I wouldn't have thought much of the dame's story by itself, she
         was obviously lying, but Schultz and Haig had got me interested.


EXTERIOR: FORTY-FOURTH STREET - DAY

Nick is walking down the dingy pale sidewalk. Other pedestrians stare at him
in awe. Taxicabs slam into parked cars to get a better look at him. Tough-guy
music. The voice-over continues.

                                NICK (over)
         If those two were in on the case, then that meant the President
         was in on it too. I've had more problems with the President than
         with the Guccione family, so if the White House thought this
         broad had a story then I wanted a piece of the action.

Nick climbs into a cab. A brunette is driving.

                                NICK (over)
         Before I went to O'Reilley's I thought I'd drop by the Soviet
         Consulate for a quick drink.

The cab drives away.


EXTERIOR: THE SOVIET EMBASSY - DAY

The cab pulls through the magnificently barred gates. The guard looks into the
car, smiles, waves them on.


INTERIOR: THE SOVIET EMBASSY RECEPTION ROOM

Nick enters, and SOVIET AMBASSADOR VLADIMIR K. SARATOV comes in and shakes his
hand. Saratov is all smiles, as always, as he greets his old friend.

                                SARATOV
         Ah, Nick! You decadent capitalist! Care for a drink?

                                NICK
         You know I never turn one down, Saratov.

                                SARATOV
         The usual? Bourbon and lemon, no ice?

                                NICK
         Yeah. You oughta try it - better than that vodka stuff of yours.

                                SARATOV
         Ah, Nick! One of your American jokes.

Saratov pours the drinks, and hands one to Nick.

                                NICK
         Exporting any good revolutions lately?

                                SARATOV
                   (shrugs)
         Times are bad, Nick. Sometimes everybody want revolution - sometimes
         nobody want it.
                   (drinking his vodka)
         So what brings you round to the Embassy?

                                NICK
         Business.

                                SARATOV
                   (sadly)
         Always business. You never drop by for a game of Krachtowvich.
         What is it this time?

                                NICK
         A broad. Sophie Rodgers. Brunette. Heard of her?

                                SARATOV
                   (with a worried look)
         That's classified Embassy business. What do you know about it?

                                NICK
         Not much. That's why I'm asking.

                                SARATOV
                   (turning away)
         I can't tell you anything.

                                NICK
         Look, Vladimir, we've been friends ever since the Kruschev case.
         Level with me. It'll make the plot run a lot smoother.

                                SARATOV
         Hmmmm...
                   (after a pause)
         All right, Nick. But only because we're friends, and because I
         want to get this exposition scene over with.
                   (writing down an address and handing it to Nick)
         Try this address. You'll be able to get some information there.
         But if anybody there asks, you didn't get it from me.

                                NICK
         Thanks.

INSERT SHOT of the paper in Nick's hand. The address reads, "Abu-Khazad Ware-
house, 55 West Seventeenth Street, Al-Jihaz, Saudi Arabia".

                                SARATOV
         Be careful, Nick.

                                NICK
         Why do you say that?

                                SARATOV
         Because this is a cheap detective movie, and the hero's friends are
         supposed to tell him to be careful. It artificially raises the
         suspense.

                                NICK
         That's a goddamned cheap trick.

                                SARATOV
         What do you expect from a screenplay written in two days?

                                NICK
                   (ominously)
         Better dialogue.

Nick walks out of the Embassy. Saratov stares after him. Ominous detective
music begins playing. Send your request along with $15.00 to cover postage
and handling to E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises for a cassette of ominous
detective music to play as background for scenes like this.


EXTERIOR: O'REILLEY'S BAR - EVENING

Nick walks down the sidewalk and enters the bar.

                                NICK (over)
         I had a lot to think about as I entered O'Reilley's Bar that night.
         The Saudis were in on this caper, and I'd heard they were dangerous
         customers.


INTERIOR: O'REILLEY'S BAR

A really cheap, low-class dive. Hardly any brunettes. Nick goes to the bar and
orders a drink.

                                NICK (over)
         With them and the President in on this caper, I knew I was gonna
         be in for a hard time. I was hoping to talk to Glasgow - one of
         my old adversaries who I'd sent up to Sing Sing a few years back.
         Glasgow was no good, but he knew every detail of underworld gossip
         that went along the grapevine - and I wanted all the information
         I could get on this caper.

Nick, drink in hand, walks across the bar to a dark booth in the back corner.
JOE GLASGOW, an old-time Mafia hood, is slumped over a bottle of cheap whiskey.

                                NICK
         Hello, Glasgow.

                                GLASGOW
                   (looking up)
         Nick Archer... what do you want?

                                NICK
         Information.

                                GLASGOW
                   (getting up)
         Forget it. I don't even want to be seen near you. Being near you's
         trouble right now.

                                NICK
         What have you heard?

                                GLASGOW
         Shut up, Nick. You ain't heard nothun' from me.

                                NICK
         It's the President, isn't it? He talk to you?

                                GLASGOW
         No, not the President-

                                NICK
         Who, then?

                                GLASGOW
                   (grabbing his coat)
         Forget it, Nick! I've told you too much already. You sent me up for
         killing Aldo Moro - I don't owe you nothing!
                   (shouting)
         Nothing! 

Glasgow leaves quickly. Nick sits down at the table. A long moment with no
punchline. Sophie comes in, walks up to Nick's table.

                                SOPHIE
         Hello, Nick.

                                NICK
         Sit down.

Sophie sits across from Nick.

                                NICK
         Now tell me what this is all about.

                                SOPHIE
         Well, it all started about three weeks ago...


EXTERIOR: AN ALLEYWAY NEAR O'REILLEY'S BAR - NIGHT

Glasgow is standing in the alleyway, hands raised, looking scared. A dark
shadowy FIGURE points a gun at him.

                                GLASGOW
         No - wait! I didn't tell him nuthin'-

The shadow fires six bullets into Glasgow's body.

                                GLASGOW
                   (collapsing, holding his stomach, desperately)
         -I didn't say nuthin!--

                                FIGURE
                   (deep ominous voice)
         That's a double negative. 

                                GLASGOW
                   (screamed as he dies)
         Noooooo-thinnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...!

The dark shadowy figure leaves. A long pause. Two alleycats come over and eat
the body.

A drawing of the dark shadowy figure can be obtained from E. Henry Thripshaw
Enterprises for $15.00. Be sure to mention this offer. Accept no substitutes.


INTERIOR: O'REILLEY'S BAR -- THE FAR BOOTH

Nick and Sophie. The table is covered with empty glasses. Both Nick and Sophie
are still perfectly sober. Nick opens the ninth bottle of Jack Daniel's.

                                SOPHIE
         ...and that's the whole story.

                                NICK
         I believe you this time. All right, I'll take the case. Come
         on - we've gotta go to Saudi Arabia.

                                SOPHIE
         Saudi Arabia? What for?

                                NICK
                   (pulling out the note)
         A Soviet Diplomat friend gave me this. Seemed to think it might be
         important.
                   (getting up)
         Let's go. And quick, too - I've got a feeling something's happened
         to Joe Glasgow.

                                SOPHIE
         How do you figure?

                                NICK
         We got through an awful lot of exposition real quickly - I figure
         there must be a reason.

Ominous detective music. Nick throws two quarters onto the table as a tip. The
actual two quarters Nick used to pay the tip are available from E. Henry
Thripshaw Enterprises for the astoundingly low price of fifteen dollars. Truly
rare items. Collect the whole set.


EXTERIOR: THE STREET OUTSIDE O'REILLEY'S BAR - NIGHT

Nick and Sophie come out of the bar and walk down the dingy street. Quiet,
suspenseful detective music. (NOTE: This music is available on the cassette
of suspenseful detective music mentioned earlier. Still only fifteen dollars
from E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises. Get 'em while they last.)


MONTAGE: THE WALK DOWN THE STREET

Eerie, chilling camera shots. Suspicion in the air. Nick's voice-over is
dubbed in.

                                NICK (over)
         The case was getting suspicious. Too many unresolved questions.
         How did Sophie get mixed up in this affair? Was she still trying
         to hide something? Why was the President in on this caper? Who was
         putting the thumbscrews on Glasgow? Who in the hell was Narvik,
         and what did he have to concede?

Sophie points into the alleyway.

                                SOPHIE
         Nick - look!


EXTERIOR: THE ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

Nick picks up Glasgow's empty coat, looks at the marks on the ground.

                                NICK
         Hmmm... Glasgow. Eaten by alleycats.

                                A VOICE FROM THE SHADOWS
         That's right, Archer.

From the shadows of the alley come DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR LATHROP and two
uniformed POLICEMEN.

                                NICK
         Lathrop.

                                LATHROP
         Hi, Nick. Thought you'd show up.

                                NICK
         Glasgow... murdered?
                   (Lathrop nods)
         Who did it?

                                LATHROP
         We've got a hunch you did.

                                NICK
         Me? Cah-mon, Lathrop...

                                LATHROP
         Look, Archer. We've got fifteen witnesses said you had an argument
         with him in O'Reilley's Bar a few hours ago. There's been bad blood
         between you and him ever since that Aldo Moro thing. And there was
         that stock market swindle a while back -

                                NICK
         Face it, Detective-Inspector. You got nothing on me. Glasgow had a
         lot of enemies. I'm not the worst of 'em.

                                LATHROP
         Then maybe you'd like to explain what Thorpe's chauffeur was doing.
         Found him dead in the East River.

                                NICK
         Thorpe? The numbers runner?

                                LATHROP
         That's right.

                                NICK
         Can't pin that on me, either. But I'm glad you told me.

                                LATHROP
                   (with a suspicious edge)
         I'm sure you are.
                   (a pause)
         I can't get you yet, Archer. But remember this: I've got my eye on
         you. You make one slip, and you're in the cooler. For keeps.

                                NICK
                   (sarcastically)
         I'm shaking in my boots. Oh, and Lathrop - your shoe's untied.

                                LATHROP
         You pulled that joke back in Scene One. And just because it works
         on Alexander Haig doesn't mean it works on me.
                   (as Nick and Sophie start to leave)
         Hey! Where you going?

                                NICK
         Saudi Arabia.

                                                              DISSOLVE TO:

EXTERIOR: A LONG SHOT OF THE CITY - DAY

Panorama shot. Al-Jihaz and the Oman Deserts can be seen just past Harlem.
Exciting Phil Collins music.

                                NICK (over)
         Saudi Arabia was located in a bad part of town. Nobody went to
         Saudi Arabia if they had a choice, but then I didn't. I didn't
         know where Thorpe's chauffeur fit into all this, but I figured
         I'd find the answers somewhere. And somewhere out there... I'd
         find Narvik.


EXTERIOR: THE ABU-KHAZAD WAREHOUSE, SAUDI ARABIA - DAY

An old, worn, wood-planked warehouse built back in the Twenties. An actual nail
from one of the rotting floorplanks can be purchased from E. Henry Thripshaw
Enterprises, at a cost of one cent.

(A shipping and handling charge of $14.99 must also be included. Make your
check out to Dr. E. Henry Thripshaw.)

The exciting Phil Collins music is replaced by an exciting Jimmy Page guitar
solo. Nick walks up to the weatherbeaten door, tries the knob. The door opens
on creaking hinges. Nick goes inside.


INTERIOR: THE ABU-KHAZAD WAREHOUSE

An assortment of large crates. Dim lighting. Nick enters quietly. Looks around
the warehouse. Finds nothing in particular. Sees a door to a small shipping
office. Goes to the door.

Nick pulls out a lock-pick and forces the office door open.


INTERIOR: THE SHIPPING OFFICE

Nick turns on the light. Looks around. Picks a clipboard off the desk.

INSERT SHOT of the clipboard. A lot of writing in Arabic, Elvish, and the
Dwarven Cirth Runes. One phone number can be read clearly: LAkeside 5-8718.

Nick looks at this number, sets down the clipboard.

There is a THUMP somewhere in the building. Nick quickly sets down the clip-
board, turns off the light.

The music changes from exciting Jimmy Page solo to exciting Vivaldi concerto.


INTERIOR: THE ABU-KHAZAD WAREHOUSE

Nick steps behind a crate. Two ARABS come in with rifles.

                                ARAB #1
                   (in Arabic)
         Khlefarm... doldi est khalazd nushdi ben Nick Archer.

                                ARAB #2
                   (in Armenian)
         Jlasjh! Kuhlamma bine sulggg!

                                ARAB #1
                   (in Japanese)
         Wakarimasen! Archer-san ben Nikido dozo Sophie-Rodgers-sama!

                                ARAB #2
                   (in German)
         Icht ben Sultengaarde! Eine das Archer been Huulstenkarden?

                                ARAB #1
                   (in German)
         Nein.
                   (called out in Swahili)
         Ar-cher! Hodi! Na kupa hati m'zuri!
                   (a pause, then in Mongolian)
         St-thong. Olstel thal Nick non guilldo.

                                ARAB #2
                   (in an obscure dialect of Betelgeuse V)
         Blurb blbbbl oosloofloo poog Nick-bloog enelblOOGloo. Ilbloog boof
         boodle oobelebloob Sophie Rodgers-bloob.

                                ARAB #1
                   (in perfect English)
         I guess Nick's not here, then. Let's go.

The two Arabs leave. Voice-over of Nick.

                                NICK (over)
         So that was their terrible plot! Sophie was just an unwitting pawn
         in an international ring of smugglers. But what were they smuggling,
         and how did Guido fit into this racket?

Nick looks out from behind the case. The warehouse is quiet. He pulls a crowbar
out of his shirt pocket and wedges open one of the crates.

The crate is full of plastic bags filled with white powder. Nick opens one and
sniffs at the powder. Tastes a bit of it with his finger.

                                NICK
         ...Salt.

                                A VOICE FROM BEHIND HIM
         Salt indeed, Mr. Archer.

Nick turns suddenly. ABDUL IBN-KAREEM stands behind him with a submachine gun.
(Abdul's lines are delivered in perfect English, but are given Mongolian
sub-titles. I don't know why. It'll give the Mongolians in the audience
something to relate to.)

                                NICK
         You must be Narvik.

                                ABDUL
         Narvik? Who the hell is Narvik?

                                NICK
         You know - "The Narvik Concession"?

                                ABDUL
         I don't know what you're talking about. I am Abdul - Abdul Ibn-Kareem.
         It is good to know the name of the man who will kill you.

The exciting Vivaldi concerto is replaced by an exciting Slim Whitman/Diana
Ross duet.

                                NICK
         You're planning to kill me with that music, right?

                                ABDUL
         Joke while you can, Archer. Your life is short. I suppose you have
         realized what it is we are up to by now.

                                NICK
         I've figured out most of it. You had plans to double-cross the Big
         Boys in Washington, and that's why you needed the warehouse for a
         front. But that's when Sophie Rodgers came into the picture. She
         held the deed to the building. So you had to get her out of the
         way.

Abdul nods.

                                NICK
         But you killed the Rodgers millionaire by accident. Set up some poor
         heiress for a fall. But you missed your target. Wrong Rodgers family
         entirely.

                                ABDUL
                   (sneering)
         It was all Kihladda's fault.

                                NICK
         That's when the Soviets got interested. You were moving in on their
         side of the street. That's why you had to bump off Fidel.

                                ABDUL
         If we could have got to Ambassador Saratov in time...

                                NICK
         Yeah, but you didn't, did you? Now it's too late.

                                ABDUL
         That's what you say, Archer. We were too late for Saratov - but now
         I can kill you. 

                                NICK
         You talk pretty big for a man who's in serious trouble.

                                ABDUL
                   (with a laugh)
         Serious trouble? Who do you think's in charge here, hmm?

                                NICK
         I'd look behind you, if I were you.

                                ABDUL
         Hah! You think you can fool me with that old trick-

                                NICK
                   (diving for cover)
         All right, Abdul! You asked for it! 

At that moment a sixty-foot-tall motorized scorpion covered with deadly laser
rifles and nuclear particle cannons crashes through the back wall of the ware-
house and blasts Abdul with a barrage of terrifying photon bolts.

Nick sits up. The scorpion's GUNNERY OFFICER sits up and waves a gloved hand.
The cockpit opens and the PILOT gives a short salute.

                                NICK
         Thanks, guys.

                                GUNNERY OFFICER
         Any time.

Now available from E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises: a working copy of the
gigantic scorpion robot war-machine. Complete with replicas of the Pilot and
Gunnery Officer. LIMITED QUANTITY ON HAND, so order today. Make out your
$15.00 check or money order to Dr. E. Henry Thripshaw.

Nick turns and leaves.


EXTERIOR: OUTSIDE THE ABU-KHAZAD WAREHOUSE - DAY

Nick steps out of the warehouse, walks down the street. Exciting Wagner opera
aria from "The Ring of the Niebulung".

                                NICK (over)
         A few of the pieces had begun to fall into place. But there were
         still a lot of questions that needed answering.

He walks further along, steps into a phone booth. A couple of jet planes crash
nearby as the pilots try to get a better look at him. He dials the operator.

                                NICK (over)
         How much did Glasgow know? Who had murdered him, and who had
         murdered Thorpe's chauffeur? How was the President tied in with
         all this? And who the hell was this Narvik character anyway?

                                OPERATOR
                   (filtered through the phone)
         Number?

                                NICK
         Lakeside 5-8718.

CLICKS AND BUZZES over the line. A long pause. The phone RINGS.

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         The number you have dialed has been disconnected.

                                NICK
         Hello?

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         Please check the number you have dialed, and dial again.

                                NICK
         You can't fool me that easily.

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         Damn! He caught on. -What do you want?

                                NICK
         Abdul told me to call. Said to mention the President.

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         We know about the President. Look, we've got another job for you.
         This Sophie dame is on ice over at the Ritz. Go pick her up and
         bring her to headquarters. I want her here before Air Force One
         lands.

                                NICK
                   (raising an eyebrow)
         Sophie. On ice at the Ritz. Got you.

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         Oh, and there's a giant metal scorpion in your area. Does Abdul
         know about it yet?

                                NICK
                   (after a short pause)
         Yeah. He knows.

                                VOICE ON THE PHONE
         Okay. Get on it.

A CLICK on the phone. Nick hangs up.

                                NICK
                   (to himself)
         The Ritz...


EXTERIOR: THE RITZ HOTEL - DAY

Establishing shot. Beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes. A genuine Ritz
cracker is available from E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises for fifteen dollars.


INTERIOR: THE RITZ HOTEL - LOBBY

We can see Nick crossing to the desk. A bespectacled DESK CLERK greets him.

                                DESK CLERK
         Yes, sir?

                                NICK
         Rodgers. Sophie Rodgers. What's her room?

                                DESK CLERK
         Oh, let me just check...

The clerk looks through a book on the counter.

                                DESK CLERK
         I'm afraid there's nobody registered under that name-

Nick grabs him by the lapels and lifts him bodily over the counter.

                                NICK
         Look, you soft-bellied worm, tell me the truth or I'll rip your
         lungs out.

                                DESK CLERK
         But-

                                NICK
         I eat meaner things than you for breakfast. You want me to break you
         into perfect thirds?

                                DESK CLERK
         Okay! Three-forty-three! It's room 343! Here's the key!

                                NICK
                   (taking the key)
         That's better.

He sets the clerk back down and turns towards the elevators. The clerk reaches
for a phone.

                                NICK
                   (without turning around)
         You call them ahead and I'll personally make you eat Fourth Street.
                                DESK CLERK
                   (backing away from the phone)
         Uh... yes, sir.

Nick heads for the elevators.


INTERIOR: RITZ HOTEL - THIRD FLOOR HALLWAY

An ARAB is leaning against the wall by the door to Room 343, reading the Koran.
As Nick turns the corner, he quickly puts it under his robes and pulls out the
Daily Racing Form. The Racing Form that the Arab was reading that day is now
part of the Thripshaw Archives, and it can be YOURS for a mere fifteen dollars.

Nick walks up to him.

                                ARAB
                   (trying to sound American)
         Hey... uh - Hi there, . . . chum.

                                NICK
         Hi.

                                ARAB
         How you like these, uh, Red Sox?

                                NICK
                   (playing along with it)
         Doing pretty well this season.

                                ARAB
                   (holding up the Racing Form)
         I like these, uh, how-you-say, horse races. How you like this
         Princess Favor in the fifth?

                                NICK
         Looks good. How about Velvet Dawn in the eighth?

                                ARAB
                   (looking at the Form)
         Oh, I am sorry, I, uh, like this Salty Val by a nose. This David
         Baze - he is a fine jockey.

                                NICK
         Yeah, I guess so. How about Kick In The Balls in the ninth?

                                ARAB
                   (flipping through the Racing Form, agitated)
         -Where is this, Kick In The...

Nick kicks the Arab hard in the groin.

                                NICK
                   (unlocking the door)
         Well, you asked.

He enters the room.


INTERIOR: THE RITZ HOTEL - ROOM 343

Nick walks in and finds Sophie, who is bound thoroughly to a chair and gagged.
He pulls the gag off her.

                                SOPHIE
         Nick!

                                NICK
         Here - let me untie you.

                                SOPHIE
         Don't bother. I rather like it.

Nick nods, pulls off his coat. Sophie wriggles sensuously.


                                                              DISSOLVE TO:

INTERIOR: RITZ HOTEL - THIRD FLOOR HALLWAY

The Arab is just waking up. He looks up just as a dark shadow appears over him.
His eyes widen in terror.

                                ARAB
         No - no - Aaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggghhhhhhhh! 


                                                              DISSOLVE TO:

INTERIOR: RITZ HOTEL - ROOM 343

It is dark outside the windows. Evening. A clock reads seven-thirty. Nick and
Sophie walk towards the door.

                                SOPHIE
                   (just making conversation)
         Say, who is Cab Calloway anyway-

                                NICK
                   (shushing her, listening at the door)
         Quiet!

Nick listens at the door, throws it open.


INTERIOR: RITZ HOTEL - THIRD FLOOR HALLWAY

Robes and a copy of the Koran and Racing Form by the door. Nick and Sophie
look down. Small animal footprints are on the robe.

                                NICK
         Hmmm... cats. Alleycats.

                                ABDUL
         Most perceptive, Mr. Archer.

Nick looks up. Abdul and two other Arabs stand there with guns.

                                NICK
         Abdul! You're still alive.

                                ABDUL
         If you remember the original novel, you'll recall I was supposed to
         die by falling down a well.

                                ARAB #1
                   (in Sanskrit)
         Ilglrorrf shagga r'wq, klathath rrrrauous.

                                ABDUL
         Shut up.

                                NICK
         How'd you survive against that scorpion?

                                ABDUL
         Lucky break. Now you answer MY question. Why did you kill my man
         here in the hall? Hmm?

                                NICK
         I didn't kill him. He was alive when I went in.

                                ABDUL
         You must think I am gullible, Mr. Archer.

Abdul raises his submachine gun. Exciting music: Groucho Marx and Bing Crosby
singing a duet of "Go West, Young Man".

                                ABDUL
         Now we will go to the Boss. To the elevators, please...

The group walks down the hall to the elevators.

Nick pushes the Down button.

                                NICK
         I didn't kill him. You know that. I don't have any alleycats.

                                ABDUL
         That is not my concern, Mr. Archer. My concern is to send you
         to the Boss. Ahmed and L'Heem will escort you there safely.

                                NICK
         And you'll stay here?
                   (Abdul nods)
         Orders?

                                ABDUL
         Of course.

                                NICK
         It'll cost you your life, you know.

Abdul exchanges a worried glance with his two henchmen.

                                NICK
         See, if I had those alleycats, they must still be on this floor
         somewhere. Ever think about that?

                                ABDUL
                   (without conviction)
         You're bluffing.

                                NICK
         They could be lurking around the corner... or just inside the door...
         or they could be coming down the far hallway right now.

                                ABDUL
         I don't believe you.

Nick reaches behind his back and completely rewires the elevator buttons. He
continues talking as he does so.

                                NICK
         You're playing with your life, Abdul... Just think... a life of
         worshipping Mohammed, fighting back the unholy invaders, your
         pilgrimage to Mecca, all wasted... because you took one chance too
         many and turned into Purina Cat Chow...

                                ABDUL
         Enough!

The elevator doors open. Nobody notices that there's only a shaft waiting, and
no elevator.

                                ABDUL
         We'll leave you here. The Boss can come to you. We'll just wait
         downstairs in case you try to escape.
                   (to his men, in Arabic)
         Ak-ludll!

The three of them step into the open elevator shaft and fall to their deaths.

                                SOPHIE
         Well, that was easy. But wasn't he supposed to die by falling
         into a well?

                                NICK
                   (as the elevator slides into place)
         Dramatic license.

The two of them get into the elevator. The doors close.


EXTERIOR: OUTSIDE THE RITZ HOTEL - EVENING

Nick and Sophie step outside.

                                SOPHIE
         So the case still isn't solved, huh?

                                NICK
         Hardly. We don't know who killed Glasgow yet, or who he was
         working for; we don't know who killed Thorpe's chauffeur; we
         don't know who Abdul's Boss is - and we still don't know who the
         hell this Narvik guy is.

                                SCHULTZ
         Well, maybe now you'll get to find out.

A hand falls on Nick's shoulder. Nick turns to see Secretary of State Schultz
and General Haig.

                                SCHULTZ
         You're going for a ride. Get in the limo, both of you. And don't
         try anything clever - we have six B-52 Bombers with nuclear
         warheads ready to blow the entire city off the map if you pull any
         funny stuff.

Nick and Sophie reluctantly climb into the black limo.

An official State Department report on various aspects of the Strategic Arms
Limitation Talks is now available from E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises for the
incredibly low price of fifteen dollars. Collect the whole set.


                                                              DISSOLVE TO:

EXTERIOR: A BLEAK AND DESERTED HILL - DAY

The black limo pulls up. Nick and Sophie get out, followed by Haig and Schultz.
Schultz gestures up the hill. They walk up. Nick's voice is dubbed over the
action.

                                NICK (over)
         I knew what to expect. I knew who would be there, but it wasn't
         the sort of thing you look forward to.

On top of the hill is THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, flanked by two or
three WHITE HOUSE AIDES.

                                NICK (over)
         Sure enough: there he was. The President of the United States.
         Along with a couple of gunzels I'd seen in countless mug shots.

The President smiles, extends a hand. Nick shakes hands reluctantly.

                                NICK (over)
         I never have liked the President's looks and I never will.

The President smiles a little wider.

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Nick Archer. I've heard a lot about you.

                                NICK
         I've heard a lot about you too.

                                THE PRESIDENT
         And this must be Sophie. Glad you found her. Wouldn't have wanted
         the Arabs to keep her. More useful to us.

                                NICK
         Yeah, sure. Maybe you'd better tell us what you want. I've got a
         dentist appointment.

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Tough guy to the last. All I want from you, Nick, is some infor-
         mation. You know where the Saudi Arabian warehouse is. I want to
         find it.

                                NICK
         They're beginning to cut into your profits, eh?

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (no longer smiling)
         What profits?

                                NICK
         From your drug-smuggling operation. Don't act so surprised! You've
         been running cocaine into the country by the ton. Air Force One,
         right? The Customs boys would never dare touch that.

The President glowers angrily.

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Don't be an idiot, Nick -

                                NICK
         And that's not even touching those military cargo planes...

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (trying to act nonchalant)
         All right, hey - this is a capitalist government. A guy's entitled
         to make a few bucks any way he can...

                                NICK
         Sure. But then the Saudis started switching your cocaine shipments
         with ordinary table salt.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (losing his nonchalance)
         A shipment here and there...

                                NICK
         But it added up. And meanwhile they were selling your cocaine on
         the streets for big bucks while you came out with nothing.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (it finally bursts out of him)
         The dirty bastards were cutting into my profit margin!
                   (looking at Nick suspiciously)
         But how'd you figure it out?

                                NICK
         Federal deficit. Dead giveaway. You were losing money and you had
         to make up for it somehow.
                   (the President nods)
         Why'd you kill the chauffeur?

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (growling)
         Thorpe was making a bundle. Kept betting high odds that my cocaine
         shipments wouldn't get through. I got mad at him. I killed his
         chauffeur to let him know how I felt.

                                NICK
                   (nods)
         And Glasgow? And the Arab? You kill them too?

                                THE PRESIDENT
                   (with a frown)
         No...

                                NICK
         What?

                                THE PRESIDENT
         No! I didn't kill them. 

                                NICK
         The alleycats? That wasn't you?

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Alleycats? What the hell would I be doing with alleycats? Look:
         all I want is to get these damn Arabs off my back.

                                NICK
         What about the Boss? And what about this Narvik?

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Narvik? Who the hell is Narvik?

A long pause. Finally Nick takes Sophie's arm and turns down towards the limo.

                                NICK
         All right, Mr. President of the United States. I think you're
         telling the truth. I'm gonna let you go this time. But you keep
         these small-fry of yours off my back, you hear me? One more
         appearance of Schultz or that bimbo Haig, and you're out on the
         street before you can say recall election! 

Nick and Sophie get into the limo and speed away. The President and his aides
stand on the hill for a long moment.

                                THE PRESIDENT
         Dammit, he makes me mad.


                                                              DISSOLVE TO:

EXTERIOR: FIFTY-SIXTH STREET - EVENING

The limo pulls up. Nick and Sophie get out. Entire buildings collapse because
of the weight of people inside rushing to the windows to get a look at the
famous detective.

                                SOPHIE
         What now?

                                NICK
         I don't know. If we only knew where this Boss was, and what he
         wanted... but we have no way to find him.

                                AN ALLEYCAT
         Well, you're in luck because he wants to find you. 

Nick and Sophie turn around. Three ALLEYCATS - a Siamese Persian and two
Tabbys - are pointing submachine guns at our heroes.

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         Inside. The Boss wants to see you.

The cats move them into a building marked "DAVID O. SELZNICK BEHAVIORAL
RESEARCH CENTER - Founded 1872".


INTERIOR: DAVID O. SELZNICK BEHAVIORAL RESEARCH CENTER - RECEPTION ROOM

The cats lead Nick and Sophie through. Five or six other ALLEYCATS are here,
including a black-furred RECEPTIONIST with white paws.

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         We have them.

                                RECEPTIONIST
         Go on in. He's waiting.


INTERIOR: DAVID O. SELZNICK BEHAVIORAL RESEARCH CENTER - INNER OFFICE

The three cats bring Nick and Sophie in.

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         Here they are, Boss.

Behind the desk, THE BOSS stands: DR. DESMOND MORRIS, behavioural anthropolo-
gist.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Ah! Welcome, Mr. Archer. Miss Rodgers.

                                NICK
         So you're the boss. Desmond Morris: best-selling author on
         behavioral anthropology.

                                DR. MORRIS
         That's right. I hope my cats didn't frighten you.

A badly-done print of Dr. Desmond Morris walking down a staircase wearing a
cheap leather jacket is available from E. Henry Thripshaw Enterprises for
the easy-to-afford fee of $15.00, about $14.98 more than it's worth.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Remarkable, aren't they? A true breakthrough in behavioral research.
         They're strong-willed, keen-witted, and can make life-or-death
         decisions in a flash - and yet, as common alleycats, they can go
         almost anywhere unnoticed.

                                NICK
         Then they're the cats that killed the Arab outside our door.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Of course! I had to make sure you got here safely, and to do
         that I had to get the Arab out of the way. You see... Miss
         Rodgers' old warehouse is more valuable than you seem to realize.

                                NICK
         That's what the Arabs seem to think.

                                DR. MORRIS
                   (with a derisive laugh)
         The Arabs! Pawns in a much bigger scheme. I was just using them
         to keep the President busy while I continued my work. They're
         expendable now. Now my plot is complete.

                                SOPHIE
         What's so valuable about that old warehouse, anyway?

                                DR. MORRIS
         Nothing! Totally useless. It's the land that's valuable.

Nick and Sophie exchange a glance.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Underneath that land, there's a new mineral form of acetylcholine -
         the most powerful behavioral drug ever to be seen by the eyes of man!
         It's responsible for these cats! And I can do that with anything - -
         birds, dogs, plants, television executives...

                                NICK
         And you want the deed to the warehouse -

                                DR. MORRIS
                   (completing the thought)
         - so I will have the exclusive supply of the drug.

                                NICK
         And use it in other, more powerful, scientific experiments.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Wrong! No money in that. I'm going to sell it on the streets
         for thirty times the price of heroin!

Nick and Sophie stare at him in amazement.

                                DR. MORRIS
                   (thoughtfully)
         Of course, I still have to have the drug made illegal. No drug
         really sells very well until it's made illegal, you know. But
         that will be a relatively trivial problem. And soon - I will have
         more money than anyone else in the world!

                                SOPHIE
         Why, you're mad!

                                NICK
         It all makes sense now...

                                DR. MORRIS
         I knew you'd see it my way.

                                NICK
         ...except for one thing. Why did you have Joe Glasgow murdered?

A pause. Morris looks surprised.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Glasgow?

                                NICK
         Yeah, Glasgow. He was murdered. Why?

                                DR. MORRIS
         Why would I murder him? He was working for me! I thought you 
         murdered him!

                                NICK
         No! But - if you didn't murder him...

                                DR. MORRIS
         ...and you didn't...

                                NICK
         ...then -

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         -WE did!

The Siamese Persian and five other alleycats stand on top of the desk, holding
submachine guns and a variety of tactical nuclear warheads.

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         Glasgow got too wise to us.

                                ORANGE TABBY
         He overheard our plans to take over the Behavioral Research Center
         once and for all, so we had to silence him.

                                ANGORRA
         We just couldn't take any more! Look at the flashing lights, push
         the food buttons, run down the maze, salivate when the bell rang...

                                BROWN TABBY
         We were being driven nuts by this behavioral research bullshit.

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
         But now it's all over! We're taking over now, Doctor Desmond
         Morris - we're sick of your behavior tests, we're sick of your
         goddamned drugs, and we're sick of you! Let him have it!!

                                DR. MORRIS
         Noooooooooooo.......!

The cats open fire, and Dr. Morris falls to the ground riddled with bullets.

The alleycats throw down their weapons and rejoice.

                                ANGORRA
         We're free! We're free! Now let's get even with those goddamned
         dogs who've been annoying us all these years!!

                                SIAMESE PERSIAN
                   (to Nick and Sophie)
         You're free to go. We have no quarrel against you. But if you ever
         give any of that mind-drug to any dogs, or any mice... you'll be
         hearing from us.

The cats run from the room. Nick reaches down, grabs the dying Dr. Morris by
the throat.

                                NICK
         I've only got one last question, Morris, and you've got no reason
         not to answer me now.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Whaaat...?

                                NICK
                   (slowly and clearly)
         Who the hell is Narvik, and what the hell's he got to concede?

Dr. Morris takes his last breath, and speaks his last words.

                                DR. MORRIS
         Archer... Narvik isn't a person. It's a goddamned city... on the
         northern border of Norway and Sweden.
                   (with a gasp)
         The author just needed a good title, that's all. You've been
         reading... too many cheap paperback novels.
                   (slumping)
         Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrnolpff.

Nick stands, looks at Sophie. A pause.

                                NICK
         Let's get out of here.

They head for the door.


EXTERIOR: FIFTY-SIXTH STREET - OUTSIDE THE INSTITUTE - NIGHT

Nick and Sophie step out of the building. Flames are beginning to gleam in the
upstairs windows. Occasionally a cat runs out.

                                NICK
         Well, that's the end of that.

                                SOPHIE
         Oh, Nick, you've been so helpful.

                                NICK
         Yeah. Well, you're off the hook now, baby. I just wish I were.

                                SOPHIE
         What do you mean?

                                NICK
                   (gesturing to the burning building)
         There's dead bodies all over town, there's a building in flames,
         somebody's gonna find those dead Arabs in a little while...
         My old pal Detective-Inspector Lathrop is gonna be looking for a
         way to pin this all on me. And this time he's probably gonna find
         it.

We can hear approaching SIRENS off in the distance.

                                NICK
         I've only got one way out of it. I'm gonna talk to my old friend
         Saratov, and defect to the Soviet Union.

                                SOPHIE
         What?
                   (a pause)
         You can't do that!

                                NICK
         No choice. It's been nice knowing you, sweetheart.

He turns and begins walking towards the limo. Sophie watches him silently. He
opens the back door and steps in.

                                NICK
                   (quietly, to the driver)
         Soviet Embassy.

                                DRIVER
         Very good, sir.

The door begins to shut.

                                SOPHIE
                   (shouting it out)
         Wait! 

The door opens again. Nick looks out. Sophie rushes to the car, stops.

                                SOPHIE
                   (quietly, trying to play it cool)
         You'll need something to live off of. I'm... getting a little
         bit of lease money off this warehouse...

                                NICK
                   (trying to play it cool, and easily succeeding)
         Oh yeah?
                   (Sophie nods)
         You planning to give me the deed?

                                SOPHIE
         No... I'm trying to say I'll go with you.

A long pause. Nick looks into Sophie's eyes.

                                NICK
         Good. That ought to start to make up for all the trouble you've
         put me through.

Sophie smiles, gets in the car.

                                NICK
         To the Embassy, driver, and step on it!

                                DRIVER
         Yes, sir!

The door shuts. The car pulls away into the night. The David O. Selznick
Behavioral Research Institute burns to the ground.

FADE OUT

FINAL CREDITS




Be sure to see Nick Archer's next exciting mystery, "The Andropov Papers".
Coming soon to a theatre near you.

Nick Archer Picture Postcards are now available for only $15.00 from E. Henry
Thripshaw Enterprises. Order while quantities last! This offer is not
guaranteed in the state of Wyoming due to new antitrust laws.


THE END

Copyright (c) 1986 by Dr. E. Henry Thripshaw. Film rights purchased by Gwen What's-her-name with a rubber check for $15.00. All other rights reserved.


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For those who are curious, this script was written during the Reagan Administration.