A violent cop's death... in rewind!
Over black: noise of an alarm crying loud. A shotgun. The bullet ricochets ¡peing! EXT.: BERLIN STREETS – DAY TRAVIS, a 40-year-old thief, has just shot a bullet. He takes refuge behind a car, removes the female stoking from his head. Bullets bite the air around him. Noise of glass shattering near, TRAVIS gets scared. Filtered by a loudspeaker: OFFICIAL’S VOICE Stop right there! You’re surrounded! Give up! TRAVIS hesitates in despair. He studies possible escape routes: a narrow street winds away from the near corner. MACINTOSH is 12 years old, he’s wearing a black suit and tie, 50’s style. He grabs the loudspeaker from a 25-yearold police officer and pushes him aside, taking charge of the situation. Into the loudspeaker: MACINTOSH Travis, you stupid, don’t even think about it. Listen. That’s a cul-de-sac. TRAVIS hesitates recharging his gun. He looks now at the road opening at his right. Filtered by the loudspeaker: MACINTOSH’S VOICE We’ve also blocked that other road. If you pay attention, you’ll see one of our agents waiting for you there. Indeed, peeping slightly over the corner we see COLLINS’ head. He’s 13 years old and wears a black suit, tie and a hat. He waves his gun and blinks an eye playfully, like saying: “I’d really think about it twice, Travis”. TRAVIS sweats, his gun’s ready. Taking courage he stands up and shoots at the voice. A bullet opens a hole in the wall right above MACINTOSH’s head, who peers up rolling his eyes. Upset, he signals something to his agents. 1
TRAVIS sees a third boy on the side-mirror of the car he’s using as a shield. The boy’s also wearing a suit and, stooping, he’s cautiously pressing forward holding a gun. TRAVIS smiles wickedly and turns to him readying his gun. A couple of small arms wrap around his neck taking him by surprise. It’s MACINTOSH, lying belly down on the car’s hood. They force. MACINTOSH bites his ear. Soon the other children throw themselves on TRAVIS, neutralizing him. MACINTOSH, out of himself, keeps on biting his ear savagely as TRAVIS cries in pain. COLLINS Mac! That’s enough! You’re disgusting! MACINTOSH ignores him. A voice reaches him among TRAVIS’ cries: OFFICER 2’S VOICE Macintosh! You’ve got radio-call!
MACINTOSH hesitates, finally lets TRAVIS’ ear go and jumps off the car. He fixes his hair and suit. The other agents have handcuffed TRAVIS, who’s touching his bleeding ear in pain. COLLINS tells him his rights. A 30-year-old officer in uniform MACINTOSH takes it upset. Into it:
MACINTOSH Yeah, Macintosh here. BROWN’S VOICE (22 years old) (over the radio) Macintosh, lucky I found you. I’ve got bad news for you. MACINTOSH Then you’re not lucky at all. What d’you want, Brown? I was having lunch. BROWN’S VOICE I’m sorry to inform you that... well, that... you’re father’s passed away this morning. (MACINTOSH grows pale) The Sputnik found him and 2
BROWN’S VOICE (cont’d) kept their promise, they got revenge. Those old bastards… I’m sorry, detective. MACINTOSH (covers his face with a hand) Oh no... EXT.: CEMETERY IN BERLIN – AFTERNOON It’s very cold. MACINTOSH’s son is 30 years old, he cries heartedly as a priest says something in Latin. Other people, many kids among them, listen looking at the ground. SON Grandpa Peter... MACINTOSH (slapping him like a kid) Enough, don’t cry, big boy. You’re ruining your shirt. We see MACINTOSH’s father’s coffin. It’s only 30 cm long, it must belong to a baby. Two young men are lowering it into a tiny pit in the ground using silk stripes. MACINTOSH hesitates, for a second he feels moved and extends his arm to touch the coffin, but it’s too short and doesn’t reach it. He stands back in the same position. He glances at his watch that runs anti-clockwise. COLLINS pats on his shoulder. To him: MACINTOSH Listen, this man’s charging us by word? The lousy fox, we can’t keep track with that low-class Etruscan of his. COLLINS indicates him to keep quiet, friendly. A 15-yearold girl dressed in black kisses him, touched. MACINTOSH thanks curtly, his face is like stone. SON cries even louder now and kneels on the ground touching the small coffin. The voice of a dying old man reaches us, like from very far away: OLD MAN’S VOICE Please, somebody! Get me outta here! Can’t see shit in this place! 3
The priest cuts his sermon, towards a near tombstone.
PRIEST Oneâ€™s being born over there. Do something.