Crampton Read Free

CHIEF
    Wrong. It is somebody's way of saying "fuck you" to the FBI. Until we have that person in custody, this is the only case on your desks. The director wants 100 percent commitment on this one. Everything else can wait.
    A few grumbles from the agents.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Shut up. Here's where we stand so far. The security tapes are useless--looks like somebody tampered with the cameras so they'd malfunction, start picking up television signals--so we've got no idea what the guy looks like. Ballistics has the gun, and forensics has the rest of this...
    He taps the mannequin head.
    SECTION CHIEF
    We should hear something back from them within the hour. In the meantime, I want you to work in teams of two. Until we have a better idea what we're dealing with, we're going to look at this thing from every possible angle. Your individual supervisors will give you your orders. Remember--there are no shit jobs. Anything might get us a lead. Any questions?
    No hands go up.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Good. One last thing. The media is already halfway up our ass. In about an hour the director will issue a statement. During the course of this statement he will say that the Bureau has not ruled out the possibility that Agent Johnson's murder was a terrorist act.
    BRADY
    (to himself; skeptically)
    Sure, why not.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Does anyone here have a better explanation for what happened this morning?
    The agents remain silent.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Right. Now, get back to your divisions.
    The agents start getting up and talking loudly to each other. Brady gets out of his chair.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Agent Wells, can I see you for a second?
    BRADY
    What's up, Chief?
    SECTION CHIEF
    You seen anything like this before?
    BRADY
    No. The fraud cases I usually handle, they're all about profit. This seems more like a revenge deal. There's no profit in revenge.
    SECTION CHIEF
    How about the disappearing act? You deal with people who know about that kind of thing, right?
    BRADY
    Yeah, I was thinking about that, too. But those guys ... when they're gone, they're gone--zap. No little mementos.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Follow up on it anyway. I already talked to your supervisor. You'll report back to me directly.
    BRADY
    No problem.
    Brady turns to go.
    SECTION CHIEF
    Hang on. Teams of two, remember?
    BRADY
    What?
    SECTION CHIEF points to a chair in the third row, where Helen is sitting.
    INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY
    Brady walking down the hall, fuming. Helen is a step behind, matching his pace.
    HELEN
    Is this going to be a problem for you?
    BRADY
    No.
    HELEN
    Then what's your damage?
    BRADY
    (stopping short)
    My "damage?" My "damage" is that I've been slaving away working bunco jobs for five years, and this is what it gets me--a rinky-dink assignment with a newbie partner.
    HELEN
    Gee, Agent Titanic, sorry the murder of another FBI agent didn't help your career more.
    (she starts walking again, leaving Brady behind)
    Asshole.
    She exits through a door marked "GARAGE". Brady follows.
    INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - PARKING GARAGE
    Helen steps up to a CLERK's window.
    HELEN
    Sweeten, badge number 3293-2211. Need a car.
    CLERK
    Hang on.
    Brady comes through the door.
    BRADY
    Who the hell are you, anyway?
    HELEN
    What does that mean?
    BRADY
    It means do you know what you're doing, or do I have to worry that you're going to get your gun caught on your purse and accidentally shoot me.
    HELEN
    It won't be accidentally.
    The clerk passes Helen a set of keys.
    CLERK
    B-64.
    HELEN
    Thank you.
    She walks up the ramp. Again, Brady follows.
    HELEN
    Look, Agent ... what's your name again?
    BRADY
    Brady Wells.
    HELEN
    ... Agent Wells, I put up with this FBI boys club bullshit for seven years down in Florida, and I'll tell you, southerners are a lot better at it than you. So do us both a favor and drop it.
    They reach a parking spot marked "B-64," where a nondescript sedan is parked. She tosses him the keys.
    HELEN
    Here. Make yourself useful.
    He snatches them out of the air.
    CUT TO:
    EXT.