THE LONE GUNMEN Ep. #2x04: "Actual Malice" Written by: Holly Surbaugh TEASER OPEN EXT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - DAY LEGEND indicates: OVER THE RAINBOW CONSORTIUM CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON, D.C. 1:00 P.M. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - MAIN LOBBY - DAY CLOSE ON - We see a large sign on an ornate easel. Above a picture of a smiling gentleman are the words "Humanitarian of the Year." Below the mug shot photo is his name, Joseph Jackson Pritt; his title, Executive Director and Founder of the Over the Rainbow Consortium; and some brief bio information. PULL BACK - The huge room is bustling with activity. It would normally have a stifling elegance with its marble supports, fountains and brass scupltures. But a carnival atmosphere has erupted. Families with children are milling about everywhere. Balloons are being sold, and Muzak has been replaced by a kid-friendly folk singer on a stool with a guitar. A large stage has been erected just in front of the largest fountain. Here is another banner that reads, "Humanitarian of the Year." A podium is center stage, and to its right are a row of gentlemen in suits, happily chatting amongst themselves while eating from paper plates filled with goodies from the buffet table that runs the length of the room on the left side of the lobby. We come to Frohike, who is weaving in and out of the crowd, obviously desperately searching for something. He scowls, and following his line of sight, we see him spy a little boy cutting in line at the buffet table. FROHIKE (shouts angrily) Remmy! Frohike rushes up to the boy who looks up at him. He is seven years old, small for his age, and dweeby oversize glasses slide down his tiny, freckled nose. A woman and her two daughters stand opposite of Frohike and Remmy on the other side of the table. Frohike grabs the kid by the scruff of the neck. FROHIKE (growls with menace) Remmy! He notices the woman staring at him, and lets the kid go. He begins to pat Remmy on the head. FROHIKE ...uh, I asked you to not wander off like that, uh...Son. You know how I worry. Remmy is unimpressed. He just makes a face at Frohike before reaching for a chocolate doughnut on the table. He starts to messily shove the pastry in his mouth without a reply, getting icing all over his face. WOMAN (chuckles) I can see you've got yourself a handful there. FROHIKE You've got no idea. WOMAN Don't be so sure. Little girls can be just as rowdy when they want to be. But, of course, I'd never complain about it now. (grows serious, and rubs the shoulder of her younger girl) We're just so happy to have her well again. And you know she wouldn't be here if it weren't for the Rainbow Consortium paying for the operation. I'm just so glad, and proud really, that Mr. Pritt is getting the recognition he deserves for helping so many little ones like my Gwen. But I probably don't have to tell you that. I mean, why would any of us parents be here if not to show our support for that wonderful man. Frohike fidgets uncomfortably. FROHIKE Yeah, gotta love that guy. Well, we better go find Mommy. He smiles unconvincingly at the woman, then drags the kid off back into the crowd. They wander around for a few seconds before Langly approaches. FROHIKE Is it done? LANGLY Every bathroom on first floor is now out-of-service. And you owe me big for this one. Just then a man approaches the podium onstage and announces that the presentation ceremony is about to begin. People begin to collect in front of the stage. Pritt walks onto the stage. He is a very tall and very broad older man. He has a round, cherubic face with very few wrinkles, but his full beard is completely white. He would look quite a bit like Santa Claus, if not for the dapper, pin-striped business suit. Pritt waves to the crowd that spontaneously breaks into thunderous applause at his appearance. While the clapping continues, Frohike looks down at Remmy. FROHIKE All right, Kid. It's time to do your thing. Remmy has polished off the doughnut, but the evidence is still on his cheeks. He throws a sly grin at Frohike. REMMY What thing? FROHIKE The crying thing. You know, pitch a fit. REMMY I don't know if I'm sad enough to cry. But you know what always makes me sad? Five bucks. Frohike kneels down so that he's the same height as the kid. He grabs him by the front of his bright blue Pokemon t-shirt. FROHIKE Cry, dammit! REMMY I doan wanna cry. FROHIKE Oh, you will. Suddenly, Remmy lets out a ferocious yowl, followed by a healthy scream or six. Frohike jumps back, startled. Everyone in the lobby, including the people onstage, turns to look at the boy who is throwing himself down on the floor, wailing horribly. REMMY I hafta go to the bathroom!! I hafta go to the bathroom!! Frohike picks the boy up with mock tenderness and hurries him over to a security guard. FROHIKE Listen, buddy, my kid's gotta go real bad. Do you think you could let me go upstairs? GUARD I'm sorry, sir, but this is a secure building. No one but employees are allowed to leave the main lobby. Just when you thought Remmy's screaming couldn't get any louder, the volume goes up, along with the frequency. The guard winces as it echoes around the room, which is silent with disbelief, except for the mayor demanding of another guard that something be done to get on with the show. FROHIKE None of the bathrooms down here work-- (pause for more screams) Have a heart. I mean, this is getting embarrassing. The guard goes into the bathroom door directly to his left and behind him. He immediately rushes out again with a creeped out look on his face. GUARD Nasty! FROHIKE See what I mean? GUARD Yeah. Come on. I'll accompany you up to the first floor. But be quick about it. The guard uses a special key to get the elevator doors to open. By now, Remmy has given up on individual screaming and has opted for one continous yell whose lengthy duration is a testament to the superior lung capacity of children. The doors finally open. The three step inside, and the screaming finally halts with the closing of the elevator doors. Everyone in the room breathes out with relief. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - FIRST FLOOR The elevator doors slide open. The guard goes out ahead of Frohike and Remmy. Frohike sees a fire extinguisher inside a glass case. He silently opens the case and removes the extinguisher. GUARD Okay, the bathrooms are down the hall and to the-- Frohike bonks the guard on the head. Remmy cackles maniacally. REMMY Did you hear the thunk he made when he hit the floor? Frohike rolls his eyes. He drags the guard out of the way, leaving him sitting on a guest chair next to an office. He takes the elevator key. He then goes to a different elevator, with a now-quiet Remmy tagging along. He uses the key, enters the elevator and returns to the ground floor, where Langly joins them. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - ELEVATOR LANGLY (pushing the button) The offices we need are on the eighth, fifteenth and twentieth floors. We'll have to hustle if we're going to get them all wired before the speeches end. FROHIKE I'll take fifteen and twenty. You can take eight and the kid. The elevator begins to ascend quickly and smoothly. LANGLY Why do I have to take him? You're the one who's supposed to take him. And you've spent more time with him than I have. The elevator dings on eight, and the doors slide open. Langly quickly steps out. LANGLY No, no. You're the designated babysitter, not me. FROHIKE But he likes you better. With that he shoves Remmy out of the elevator just before the doors close. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - EIGHTH FLOOR HALLWAY REMMY (banging on the closed elevator doors) Hey! That's not true! You can't leave me here! This guy's an even bigger loser than you are! He gives up with one, last, disheartened kick. Langly grunts, then makes his way toward the offices he needs. He doesn't even watch to make sure Remmy follows, but the kid does anyway. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - EIGHTH FLOOR MAIN OFFICE The room is full of desks for secretaries in front of locked office doors. Langly heads towards the larger, more important offices at the back of the room, the ones that actually have windows. He breaks into the main one, and pulls out of a backpack several identical small devices, which he hooks onto the back of a couple different computers in the rooms. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - EIGHTH FLOOR OFFICE - DAY Remmy watches him struggle with some cords that are tangled. REMMY My uncle says that he taught you everything you know that's worth anything. (a beat) And he said that you're the worst student he ever had. That you couldn't hack your way into a graphing calculator. LANGLY (muffled, as he scoots under a desk) That's because your uncle is a moron. He doesn't know what he's talking about. REMMY Nuh-uh. He's the greatest hacker in the world. He wouldn't even have to come into this building to get information off those computers. Langly rushes back out from underneath the desk, banging his head in the process. LANGLY (gesturing with a tool) Look, kid. That would be impossible. Im-pos-see-blay. Get it? These computers are not hooked into anything. These people are lawyers, and lawyers are paranoid. They never keep anything important on a computer with online access. No access, you can't break in. But these remote modems are going to do the trick, if you just leave me alone and let me do my work. REMMY Loser. LANGLY (shouting) Get out of here! Remmy races out of the office, leaving the door open. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - EIGHTH FLOOR MAIN OFFICE He begins to snoop around at all the different desk stations. Picking stuff up, moving it around. He breaks a glass paperweight in one. He looks over his shoulder once, before brushing the shards off the tabletop with a stray piece of paper and scooting them under the desk. There's no remorse because he doesn't care. Then Remmy discovers office chairs with wheels. Once he sits on one, we watch him roll around for a little bit. REMMY Whee! Langly comes out of the office just as Remmy rolls quickly toward him, banging into him painfully. LANGLY Oof! Arghh! Remmy! REMMY Watch where you're going, Loser. LANGLY I am not a loser! REMMY Are too! LANGLY Am not!! REMMY Are too!! LANGLY AND REMMY (simultaneously) ....not, not, not, not, not.... ....are, are, are, are, are.... LANGLY (screaming) Not, infinity!! REMMY Oh, yeah? The kid reaches next to them. On the wall beside the office door is a fire alarm. He pulls it down. Alarms go off and suddenly water from the sprinkler system pours down. Langly spares himself just enough time for his eyes to widen before he picks the kid up and takes off running, with Remmy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - EIGHTH FLOOR HALLWAY They race down a hallway towards the elevators, but just as they reach them, they hear a ding coming from the floor below. Guards! Langly does a quick one-eighty and hides inside a cubicle with his hand over Remmy's mouth while the guards rush past. Then he picks the brat up again and heads for the stairs. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - STAIRWELL Langly emerges into the stairwell with Remmy over his shoulder still. Frohike appears behind them, also wet and also booking it as fast as he can. FROHIKE Langly! What the hell did you do? LANGLY Don't blame me! It was the evil munchkin! INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - MAIN LOBBY - DAY They run like the dickens and finally get down to the main lobby again, where frightened parents are pouring outside into the daylight with their kids. EXT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - DAY The guys work to blend in with the crowd until they see their VW Bus screech to a halt on the street in front of them. The door opens, and they throw themselves inside. INT. VW BUS - DAY FROHIKE (gasping for air) Remind me never to rent a kid from Kimmy again. Byers is behind the wheel. Driving off, nonchalantly merging into the Saturday afternoon traffic and ignoring the fire truck whizzing past towards the Over The Rainbow building. BYERS What happened? FROHIKE Nevermind. Did you get it? Byers reaches down into the cup holder and holds up several Zip disks. BYERS Sucess. As soon as those modems were attached, it was a piece of cake downloading all the info we need. Frohike and Langly tiredly wilt into their seats, still trying to catch their breath. REMMY Big deal. FADE OUT END TEASER OPENING THEME OPEN ACT I FADE IN INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - NIGHT Our heroes buzz open their heavy front door and troop in, all three carrying paper bags full of 99 cent heart attacks. They arrive mid-conversation, each falling into his typical location to eat. FROHIKE I can't believe you're still being so stubborn about this. Byers was just about to take his first bite, but now just stares tiredly at the french fry hovering in front of his mouth. BYERS (sighs) We've had this same argument a thousand times for days. Can't we please just eat dinner in peace? LANGLY He's right, Byers. It's all there in those files we liberated. FROHIKE Large "donations" come in from shady corporations, then later, supposedly charitable supplies are bought with the same amount of dough from a company with secret ties to the Consortium. Those supplies are shipped, and within the hour, another donation rolls in. Pritt's operation is serving as a front for something; it's so obvious. BYERS I'll admit, it's very suspicious. It definitely warrants further investigation, but I'm telling you, we don't have enough to go public. We don't even have any idea what they might really be up to. All we've got is some circumstantial evidence. FROHIKE So we could at least advertise our upcoming expose, generate some excitement over it. Circumstantial evidence still counts as evidence. BYERS And how are we supposed to explain where that evidence comes from when we-- From the back of the headquarters, a peal of feminine laughter interrupts the argument. FROHIKE Shush!! They all look at each other and listen carefully. There it is again! A woman laughing, followed by the muffled sound of Jimmy's voice. Byers rises from his chair and walks a few paces towards the curious noise. BYERS Jimmy? JIMMY (O.S.) All right! The guys are back! Jimmy rushes out to where the guys are, pulling behind him a gorgeous young woman who is holding his hand. She has short black hair that feathers prettily around her face, and she is wearing nice, but casual clothing. Everyone sort of stares at them. JIMMY You guys have got to meet Mindy. Langly leans in close to Frohike. LANGLY (quietly) Great. He already hogs the cable. Does he have to bring chicks back here? FROHIKE Riddled with envy, are we? (moves toward Mindy) My dear, allow me to introduce myself. Melvin Frohike, at your service. He holds his hand out charmingly, almost seeming to bow. Mindy reaches out with one hand to shake his, and puts the other to her cheek. MINDY I can't believe it's really you. JIMMY Mindy is a really big fan. She recognized me at the laundromat, and I just had to bring her back here to show her where it all really goes down. BYERS That's nice, Jimmy, but this really isn't a good time for visitors. MINDY Oh, please let me stay. Jimmy was filling me in on all your exciting adventures. You're such heroes. Byers looks down bashfully. BYERS Well, I wouldn't necessarily label us as heroes per se. FROHIKE (drawing himself up to full height) No, we're merely men who put it all on the line, everyday, in a crusade for truth. LANGLY And justice. And...well, you know, the American way...I guess. MINDY (awestruck) Wow. JIMMY See? I told you these guys were cool, the best. Frohike takes Mindy by the hand and leads her to his chair. FROHIKE Sit down. Get to know the real Gunmen. MINDY Really? I have so many questions. Like...what do your families think about your work? I mean, it's so dangerous. BYERS Well, they don't always understand. Sometimes they don't even necessarily approve. But we feel what we're doing is important enough that we can go ahead, and just trust that they'll be proud of us one day. MINDY What are you working on now? LANGLY We're right in the middle of-- BYERS (interrupts) Ahem! FROHIKE Well, it's still a little fuzzy, so we won't go into detail. But I will tell you that we've received an anonymous tip that someone important, someone almost above suspicion, is up to some dirty dealings. MINDY Ah. Do you guys follow up on a lot of anonymous tips? LANGLY We sure get a lot of them. The majority turn out to be nutjobs looking for attention. But you can't assume anything. Mindy leans forward. She appears to be completely enthralled in everything the Gunmen are saying. The guys eat up her attention, and Jimmy stands off to the side, beaming like a proud father. He practically bounces up and down with excitement over the thrill of rediscovering his own unbridled enthusiasm for the work through new eyes. MINDY How did you all get involved with this? How did the Lone Gunmen come into being? Everyone looks to Byers. BYERS (distantly) It's a long story. What it all comes down to is, someone needed help. And in helping her, we realized that there are so many others out there who need help, too. Most of them don't even realize it. (looks Mindy in the eye with sincerity) We started this paper because it was the best way we could think of to help as many people as possible. That's our ultimate goal. MINDY So how many people have you helped? Estimate? Jimmy can no longer contain himself. He jumps into the conversation, gesturing emphatically. JIMMY (counting off on his fingers) Tons of people!! I mean, we help out our readers, and FBI agents, and professional hackers, and Death Row prisoners and...and, who else? (thinks for a moment, then brightens) Ooh! Guys! Tell her about the talking monkey! Mindy's head swivels from looking at Jimmy to other Gunmen. MINDY (eyebrow arched) Talking monkey? CUT TO - EXT. PRITT'S HOUSE - NIGHT LEGEND indicates: PRITT RESIDENCE ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND 9:05 P.M. We see a very large house, set back on a manicured lawn. It's not a mansion by any means, but it speaks of material comfort and privilege. INT. PRITT'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT An adorable, blonde little girl is parked in front of America's favorite babysitter. She is about six years old, and she is watching reruns of Scooby Doo and giggling to herself. Her mother, Diane, calls to her. DIANE (O.S.) JoJo? Time for bed. Come give Grandad and me a kiss. JoJo rises clumsily to her feet and scurries into the kitchen. INT. PRITT'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT Diane is at the sink, rinsing out dishes from dinner and placing them in an open dishwasher. Pritt sits at the family dinner table. He smiles when he sees his granddaughter tumble into view. JoJo dutifully goes up to her mother and gives her a smacking kiss on the cheek as she leans down to put plates in the dishwasher. She then presents herself right in front of Pritt, tiny lips pursed. Rather than lean his cheek down to her, he picks her up in his arms and cuddles her on his rotund lap. He whispers something in her ear, and she giggles loudly. Diane looks over her shoulder at them and smiles. When her daughter playfully breaks free, she says, DIANE JoJo, go upstairs, and get into your pjs and brush your teeth. In just a minute, I'll come up to tuck you in. As the little one scampers off, Diane finishes her task and closes the appliance. She then leans against the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel. DIANE Thanks again, Dad, for letting us stay here. The divorce has been hard enough on her without moving to a new city right away. PRITT Hush! What kind of father would I be if my own family wasn't welcome in my home? Besides, I love having my baby girl around. DIANE Well, JoJo loves it, too. I haven't seen her so happy in a long while. PRITT I was talking about you. Diane laughs, drops the towel in the sink and goes over to hug Pritt. DIANE I love you, old man. Diane leaves the room and goes upstairs to tend to her daughter. Pritt takes a deep breath, and gets up. He walks through the house, towards the living room, where he switches off the television JoJo left running. Then he goes into his den/home office. INT. PRITT'S HOUSE - OFFICE Pritt pulls a chain and a tiny, green desklamp lights up the pitch black room. He bothers with no other light, but simply reaches for the phone and dials from memory. PRITT Plans have changed, my friend. I'll still meet you at the airport, but you won't be able to wait here. (beat) No, our timetable will not be affected. It's time you were getting back to work. INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - EARLY MORNING CLOSE ON - A large stack of newspapers rests on a surface. LEGEND indicates: TWO DAYS LATER PULL BACK - Langly, Byers and Jimmy are in their sleep clothes. Jimmy is handing out cups of coffee while the others sort the morning's deliveries. Suddenly, Frohike runs from the back, bathrobe flapping and slippers skittering. He slams into the table, and Langly very nearly spills coffee on himself. LANGLY Hey! Watch it, man! FROHIKE The Post! Where's the Post? LANGLY What's your deal? FROHIKE My deal is in the e-mail I just got from Kimmy. He said that a Post reporter has been snooping around asking about us, talking to him and others, inquiring about what we're working on. Kimmy said he basically kept his mouth shut, but dammit-- (bangs fist on table) --I just knew we should have ran with the Pritt story. Someone else is onto this, I just know it. Fifty bucks says that our unknown friend wasn't monogamous. Every paper in the city is probably racing us to the gold. BYERS Calm down. We'll check to see if there's any mention of it. They all scramble to find the Washington Post among the tall stack. When they do, they all huddle around Byers who is rapidly flipping through the pages of the News Section. BYERS (sighs with relief) Nothing. Jimmy backs off. He shakes off the momentary tension, and then proceeds as usual directly towards the Sports page. In his dig to find it, he sees the Post's weekend magazine. A strange look comes over his face as he reaches for it. Holding it close, he peers at it in disbelief. He even scrubs his eyes a little to make sure he's really seeing what he thinks he is. JIMMY Uh, guys? FROHIKE What, Jimmy! We're thinking! JIMMY (foreboding in his voice) I think you better take a look at this. BYERS (concerned) What is it, Jimmy? LANGLY What? Is it our story? JIMMY Sort of. BYERS What do you mean "sort of?" JIMMY Well, it's definitely our story, but it's not like you mean. FROHIKE (as he tears it from Jimmy's grasp) Oh, just give it here, Doofus. He looks at it and freezes, mouth agape. Silently, he holds the magazine insert in front of his chest so that the others may read it. CLOSE ON - The magazine's cover story is illustrated with a candid photo of all four men, standing around their VW Bus and talking animatedly. The headline in a bold font blares: FALLING SKIES AND GOVERNMENT SPIES The subhead reads: Independent newspaper men seek hidden truths FADE OUT END ACT I OPEN ACT II FADE IN INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - DAY The guys are all highly agitated as Byers sits reading the paper, occasionally repeating a passage out loud for the others. Frohike walks to and fro in front of Byers, running his hands through his hair. Langly and Jimmy sit to the side. BYERS (reading) They are almost endearing in in their staunch belief that they are the country's best hope for exposing criminal activities of all shapes, sizes and colors. JIMMY Well...that's not so bad, is it? Endearing is good, right? No one spares the optimist a glance. FROHIKE Unbelievable. This article is making us out to be just fools with too little to do and a weird pasttime. We're...hobbyists with delusions of grandeur. LANGLY Yeah, it's like, who died and crowned us Biggest Fruitcakes in Washington. BYERS (reading) The small-time journalists frequently depend on others to make their deadlines, according to colleague Kimberly Belmont. Byers looks up with a confused, disbelieving expression on his face, but continues almost without pause. BYERS (reading) "I mainly jump in when they're in over their heads, which is a lot. As often as not, their-- " Byers makes sardonic quote marks with the fingers of one hand. BYERS (continued without pause) " --'investigations' will land them in jail." Langly jumps up and joins Frohike in pacing. LANGLY That's what he calls keeping his mouth shut? Arghh! You know what that sound in the distance is? It's the camel's back breaking. Kimmy is going down this time! FROHIKE He's going to have to wait his turn. Who wrote this garbage? Byers doesn't pay attention. He just keeps reading, as if he cannot look away from the horror. BYERS (reading) However, the man who writes the checks for the operation, Publisher James Bond, defends the efforts of his employees-- Frohike stops dead in his tracks. FROHIKE Employees!!??!! Everyone stares directly at Jimmy, who can do nothing except shrug helplessly. It's not his fault. FROHIKE That is it! He strides over to Byers and rips the offending publication out of his hands. FROHIKE We're going to pay a certain-- (reads from the byline) Willamina Pryor a little visit. INT. WASHINGTON POST BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY The four guys march into the stately offices of the Post, and approach the grizzled security guard. FROHIKE We'd like to speak with Willamina Pryor. GUARD #2 Do you have an appointment? FROHIKE No, but we're pretty certain she'd like to talk to us. GUARD #2 I'll call up then, see if she's even in the building. What name do you want me to give? BYERS The L-- (a beat) Just tell her that Mr. Byers and his friends are here. The guard turns his back and mumbles into the phone. After a moment, he gives them the go-ahead. GUARD #2 Elevator's on the end of the hallway. Go to seven, and ask for directions. Most of the group heads in that direction; however, Byers stops to ask the guard a question and the others hold up a little ahead to wait for him. BYERS Do you know Ms. Pryor? GUARD #2 Oh, yeah. Well...not real well, but she's one of my favorite writers here. She's the one they say writes all of those C.O.W. articles. BYERS Cow articles? GUARD #2 Yeah-- (spells out initials) --C.O.W. Crackpot of the Week. You know she had this one about a guy who'd had a heart transplant, and the donor was a woman, and he swore to God that having a woman's heart made him more sensitive. And a better cook to boot! (laughs loudly) God only knows where she finds these people. Byers cringes and moves on. INT. WASHINGTON POST BUILDING - ELEVATOR Byers pushes a button and then stares woefully up at the flashing numbers as they ascend. BYERS I just can't believe that we're getting this kind of treatment. And from the Post. In the past, I've practically idolized this place. FROHIKE For God's sake, why? BYERS Why? Why did high school graduates flood journalism schools in the late 70s? Because this is practically the birthplace of investigative journalism. The Post brought down a president. FROHIKE Woodward and Bernstein brought down Nixon, along with a lot of brave people passing on information even when they knew it could cost them everything. LANGLY Like Deep Throat. You know, the original. FROHIKE (to Langly) Leave Kissinger out of this. (to Byers) My point is that papers bask in the reflected glory of their staff. Reporters are the ones who take the real risks, and integrity starts and finishes with them. A large, prestigious paper, just like any other big organization, is prone to politics, corruption, bribery, you name it. What's happening to us is just more proof of that. The elevator dings. They step out into the famous Washinton Post newsroom. We watch the four of them, in profile, survey the maze of cubicles amid the clack of computer keys, the ring of telephones and the buzz of indistinct conversation. INT. WASHINGTON POST - NEWSROOM - DAY WILLAMINA PRYOR (O.S.) You saw the article, huh? Their heads whip around to the sound of a familiar voice. They gape at the face of their enemy. JIMMY (confused) Mindy? You work here? BYERS She's Willamina Pryor. (takes a stubborn step forward) That's a cute nickname. FROHIKE And an even cuter story you wrote about us. Frohike holds up the offending item and glares. Mindy isn't nearly as captivating as she once was. MINDY (looks down and sighs, then looks up) Let's talk privately in the conference room. LANGLY Yeah. Let's. INT. WASHINGTON POST - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY She leads them to a room encased in glass. Long vertical blinds hang over the floor-to-ceiling windows out into the newsroom. Mindy closes them. FROHIKE You know, I wondered where some reporter we'd never seen had gotten the cojones to directly quote us. But you were there that day just to get dirt for your piece. JIMMY (disillusioned) Does this mean you're not our biggest fan? MINDY Well, fan is a strong word. I have read your paper before. And I did enjoy it. LANGLY Yeah, you liked it so much you had to go out and write a vindictive article about us. MINDY Vindictive? Oh, come on, did you see any mention of a talking monkey in this piece? (a beat) I sincerely tried to make it so that the public would see the Lone Gunmen for your dedication as well as for your eccentricities. FROHIKE Lady, you are a piece of work. You talk like you expect us to nominate you for a Pullitzer when you interviewed us under false pretenses, failed to accuracy check with us, quoted us in misleading ways. And my guess is that you didn't just bump into Jimmy while he was folding his whites. MINDY So I sort of planned an encounter. You make it sound like I was stalking him. JIMMY (groaning) You lied about that, too? FROHIKE And the list goes on. The more I think about it, only one word comes to mind. LANGLY Actionable. FROHIKE That's the one. You are going to be buried in so much legalese, you're going to need a translator just to say good morning. JIMMY Hey! Hold it. Now let's just call a 30 second timeout. Jimmy walks to one end of the rectangular room. The guys and Mindy watch him go with question in their eyes. JIMMY Guys. Jimmy makes awkward neck motions, indicating with his head that the others are supposed to join him. They grudgingly oblige. Mindy starts to take a couple steps closer. JIMMY Not you, Mindy. She throws her hands up in a "What next?" gesture, but remains on her side of the conference table. FROHIKE What is it? We're in the middle of threatening somebody here. Jimmy leans in as if this were a huddle. This implies that the other should lean in, too, but they hold only so much patience to play along with their junior member's antics. JIMMY (whispers) Maybe we shouldn't sue, at least not yet. I mean, maybe we should give her another chance. LANGLY Jimmy, what is it with you and wanting to give out those babealicious discounts? She did us wrong and she deserves to pay. JIMMY I realize that, but don't you think maybe she just made an honest mistake? She seems like a nice person. If she just spent a little more time with us, she'd see what we really do. And then she'd fix everything. BYERS A retraction would be nice. FROHIKE Guys, it's not like we can't have both. They tell everyone that we're not crackpots, and yet we still sue their pants off. JIMMY But why? FROHIKE Pay attention! She lied and she wrote bad stuff about us. JIMMY But we do it all the time. I mean, we get it right, so that makes her not as good as we are, but just because she screwed up is no reason to ruin her life. LANGLY What are you talking about? JIMMY Well, the first time I ever met you, you told me that you were writing a story about my football team, but you weren't. FROHIKE (chagrined) That was different, Jimmy. JIMMY I just have to think that she's like us. She was wrong, but now she should have a chance to make things right. That's what we would want in her shoes. BYERS I think that Jimmy's right. FROHIKE What? BYERS Look, if we did take legal action, the court would scrutinize both sides of the case. They would probe into everything trying to find out if she was telling the truth, and maybe we would win eventually, but it might end up being a Pyrric victory. Because as much as we didn't like what Mindy wrote, there are a lot of worse things that could come out. (a beat) Maybe we would all be happier in the end if we just gave her a chance to print a retraction and be done with it. Frohike and Langly shrug with feigned indifference. They still want metaphorical blood, but they see the sense in Byers' words. The group turns back to Mindy, who tries unsuccessfully to pretend that she isn't dying to know what they were discussing amongst themselves. BYERS We're willing to discuss ways that you could make amends sans the inconvenience of the legal process. MINDY (suspiciously) Amends? BYERS We're willing to allow you to really interview us and tag along while we work, on the condition that you write a generous retraction to the libelous article your paper published. MINDY I admit to no wrongdoing. And even if I did want to do a follow-up, there's no way I could make the kind of deal you're talking about without editorial approval. FROHIKE So go get your approval. We'll wait. Mindy frowns, but doesn't argue. She leaves them sitting in the room. FADE TO - 30 MINUTES LATER Actually, maybe a little less. The guys look bored. Langly is now seated, drumming his fingers on the nearby table. Frohike seems to be staring at his watch. Jimmy paces. Finally, Mindy returns. LANGLY Took you long enough? MINDY That's the chain of command at work. (a beat) All right. I apologize. Not for the article, but for the fact that you were upset by it. I'll go with you. For now. BYERS I suppose that's satisfactory. FROHIKE For now. Frohike glares at her as he opens the door of the conference room. FROHIKE After you. INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - NIGHT All is busy preparation for a nighttime excursion. The men shuffle around, loading equipment into packs and studying individual maps, blueprints, ect. Mindy notes with amusement their solid black clothing. MINDY So what have you boys scheduled for this evening? Paint balling? BYERS No, something a little more passive. We've found out that our subject has a mysterious departure time scheduled for tomorrow's date. Coincidently, a delivery has been arranged for midnight tonight at one of their warehouses. We suspect illicit activity, so we're going to watch and take pictures should anything interesting happen. MINDY You know, if you expect me to aid and abet in this surveillance, the least you could do is tell me who it is that you're after. They all look at each other. Frohike doesn't look exactly pleased, but he doesn't protest either. BYERS Fair enough. We believe that Joseph Jackson Pritt is involved in both smuggling and money laundering. Mindy turns her head to the side, shaking a little bit with gentle laughter as she grins widely. The she looks back at Byers' straight face. Now her eyes widen incredulously. MINDY You can't be serious. Are we discussing the same man who was recently profiled in People magazine under the headline of "The Only Good Lawyer?" FROHIKE Yeah, we might have started investigating just for that alone. I mean, when was the last time you heard of someone powerful's nose being that clean? BYERS We realize the implications. MINDY No, you don't. Think about it. Pritt started off with just a legal defense fund for parents whose children were wrongfully taken away. Then he expanded to overseas relief for war orphans and displaced children, assistance for the prosecution of child molestors, aid to families with sick or dying children. I mean, if it involves kids, you name it, he's fixed it. (a beat) Pritt has helped literally millions of families worldwide. Even if by some miracle you do prove that he's dirty, you'll still lose in the end. JIMMY If we prove that he's dirty, it'll be worth it. Mindy just shakes her head. MINDY I don't buy it. But I'm here anyway, I might as well help. What do you want me to do? Frohike grins and tosses a backpack at her. She catches sloppily, studies it, then looks up with a wary look on her face. FADE OUT END ACT II OPEN ACT III FADE IN EXT. WHARF - NIGHT LEGEND indicates: WHARF 16 BALTIMORE, MARYLAND 11:38 A.M. Surveillance has begun. We see Langly and Mindy sitting in the VW together. INT. VW BUS - NIGHT LANGLY (speaking into a headset) Frohike. Byers. In position? EXT. WAREHOUSE #2 ROOFTOP - NIGHT Frohike and Byers are sitting on the roof of the warehouse across the street from the one operated by the Consortium. FROHIKE Yeah, we're here. Just waiting for the special guests to arrive. INT. VW BUS - NIGHT LANGLY What about you, Jimmy? (long pause) Jimmy? EXT. WAREHOUSE #1 - NIGHT We see Jimmy in the process of scaling a chain link fence in order to enter the backside of the warehouse. As he drops lightly to the ground, he finally responds. JIMMY I'm inside. INT. VW BUS - NIGHT LANGLY Roger that. MINDY You know, as much as this seems like a wild goose chase, it is a rather well-coordinated goose chase. I have to admit that I'm just a little impressed. LANGLY Oh, so you're impressed now. By a bunch of silly, pretentious kooks with overactive imaginations and a habit of ranting. MINDY I never said that. No matter what you think, I didn't even intend to imply it. LANGLY Whatever. I'll tell you what I think. I think that all you so-called "real" journalists need to wake up. You're just pawns being led around by hidden powers without a clue about what's really happening. MINDY But-- LANGLY (interrupting) What exactly did I say that indicated this rant was over? No, listen, now take for example the coverage of the Gulf War, first ever broadcasting of war to the home viewing audience... Langly continues, droning on, and as Mindy realizes that he's only winding up for a lengthy tirade, she places her elbow on the window frame with her hand to her forehead. Staring out the glass is all there is to distract her. EXT. WAREHOUSE #2 ROOFTOP - NIGHT BYERS How is Mindy dealing with her first stakeout? Frohike, who is eavesdropping with a grin on his face, places a hand over his mouthpiece to reply to Byers. FROHIKE She's getting the treatment. (chuckles) No less than she deserves. BYERS (sighs) I'm not so sure. FROHIKE What's eating you, man? Byers looks down and fiddles with the strap attaching a large camera to his neck. BYERS I keep thinking back to what Jimmy said, about how Mindy is just like us. (a beat) Jimmy doesn't know anything about journalism, or publishing, or writing. He looks to us to know what's right and wrong. I'm starting to question what we teach him. Frohike removes his headset to make the conversation more private. FROHIKE You can't compare what we do to what she did to us. BYERS But that's just it. She did it to us. If it had been someone else, would we have cared? If it had been someone we were going after, would we have hesitated? FROHIKE Cut it out, Byers! Stop beating yourself up over this. Mindy is not just like us. She was just writing a fluff piece. There was no front page crunch, no deadline considerations, and she still didn't get it right. Frohike blows out sharply. He then pierces Byers with his gaze. FROHIKE And those are just exterior differences. Do you want to know what really separates her from us? She works for one of the most powerful newspapers in the country, even in the world. The ethical code for journalists like her was formed to keep papers like that from taking advantage of the little guy, to stop abuses of the power of the written word. (a beat) But for all that power they wield, they keep screwing it up. They tighten those blinders every chance they get, and they ignore the stories that really need telling in favor of the Crackpot of the Week. Those are the stories we make public. Now ask yourself if that isn't worth bending a few rules. BYERS For God's sake, Frohike! Do you hear yourself? What you're saying amounts to "The ends justify the means." We're supposed to fight against people who think like that. FROHIKE So what do you want us to do? Huh? I didn't hear you complaining when we raided Pritt's offices. All those legal and medical files, all those people whose privacy we violated. And even now, we've got Jimmy in there trespassing for us. Do we have to put the quietus to all our little black ops so that you can sleep at night? Byers closes his eyes and leans his head back until it rests on the wall he leans against. BYERS I guess I just want us to never forget to think about this. We still do what we've always done, but we keep thinking like this so that we never come to a point where we cross a line into a place where we don't want to go. Byers opens his eyes. BYERS You know, we've grown blase about all this cloak and dagger stuff. But the First Amendment doesn't give us a license to break the law. We may sometimes be forced weigh the law against true justice, but... (a pause) We're not above the law. FROHIKE I hear you, but-- Frohike cuts himself off because he notices that the headset in his hand is crackling with the volume of Langly's shouts to get their attention. FROHIKE Hold your horses, Langly. What? LANGLY (O.S) I hate to interrupt you girls at your slumber party up there, but we have company. Time to work! In their heavy debate, Byers and Frohike have missed the arrival of a truckload of workers, but now they watch as a brand new Lincoln Towncar drives up. Pritt and an unknown man emerge. Pritt's compatriot is also mature, although he appears much younger than Pritt himself. He has dark black hair that grows gray at the temples. He is dressed just as nicely as Pritt. Both Gunmen snap quick photos of the proceedings. As the men unpack crate after crate, the action moves inside the warehouse, where Pritt and his friend observe a foreman shouting directions. INT. WAREHOUSE #1 Jimmy hides behind some large trash cans. He also takes pictures. When the workers fill this section and move to another part of the warehouse, Jimmy carefully eases out of his cover, treading lightly towards one of the crates. The crates seem to be of random sizes and shapes rather than uniform. Jimmy sees a smaller one. He reaches inside his jacket and comes up with screwdriver. He frowns, but it will have to do. He grunts as he struggles to remove the crate lid with his makeshift "crowbar." Finally, it comes undone. Unfortunately, the fight to open it ends so abruptly that the screwdriver flies out of his hand and with a clatter loud enough to draw attention. Jimmy notices with horror that many men are headed this way, but before escaping he takes a quick peek inside the container he went to so much trouble to open. CLOSE ON - The crate, lid gaping on only one side, reveals the dim outline of hand guns. PULL BACK - Jimmy's eyes widen, but then he takes off. He hits the fence running and manages to vault halfway up. Then he's over and running. EXT. WAREHOUSE #1 - NIGHT JIMMY Uh, guys! LANGLY (O.S.) Way ahead of you, Jimmy. With that, the VW Bus barrels past, slowing only enough so that Jimmy can jump in. They narrowly miss being seen by Pritt and his friend, who run out of the warehouse. They share a puzzled, yet significant look before heading back inside. INT. LONE GUNMENT HQ - NIGHT Mindy yawns behind her hand. She's understandably tired considering that it is the wee hours of the morning, but the guys are way too energized to even think about sleeping. They are laughing and congratulating themselves. We see Frohike working at last on the layout for the upcoming issue with the headline: PRITT INVOLVED WITH ARMS SMUGGLING Langly is working on the computer next to Frohike. Byers comes up behind him and lays a freshly developed photograph next to his keyboard. BYERS Before we publish, it would be nice if we could identify this man. He points to Pritt's unknown friend. LANGLY I'm on it as soon as I finish editing this. MINDY (to Jimmy) Are you sure you saw what you think you saw? JIMMY Of course. I saw a box full of guns. FROHIKE Face it, Pritt is dirty. Just as we suspected. MINDY I'm still having trouble buying it. She shakes her head. MINDY Anyway, I've got to get some sleep. What about you? BYERS We'll rest after Pritt is locked away. Mindy smiles a little, but then she leaves without another word. After we hear the door close, Frohike announces that his work is complete. FROHIKE There! A few holes to fill in, but a surefire winner boys. I can smell another UPI revenue on our hands. BYERS Now it's time to make our own anonymous tip. EXT. PRITT'S HOUSE - MORNING LEGEND indicates: PRITT RESIDENCE ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND 7:15 A.M. Law enforcement officials swarm over Pritt's house, driveway and front lawn. Frohike and Byers stand unobtrusively on the sidewalk across the street from Pritt's house. FROHIKE I love the smell of scandal in the morning. Byers reaches up a camera to his face and clicks the shutter a few times. An ATF officer notices them and stides to their side. ATF OFFICER #1 Hey, beat it. This area is restricted, and it's frankly too early to deal with you vultures. BYERS We're not breaking any laws; this sidewalk isn't private property. FROHIKE Yeah, we're just doing a little standing-in for John Q. Public. The agent's jaw tightens, and he looks like he's about to get tough when another dark suited official jogs over and interrupts. ATF OFFICER #2 Smith! It's over. We're clearing out. Nobody found nada. The first agent takes a few steps back to meet the second. They speak quietly, but not so quietly that Frohike and Byers can't hear them. ATF OFFICER #2 We searched the home and the office. Nothing particularly suspicious. ATF OFFICER #1 The warehouse? ATF OFFICER #2 Nothing but toys. It's part of some collection to be donated to poor kids or something like that. The only weapons on hand had H20 caliber ammunition. ATF OFFICER #1 Just great. (He sighs) Pritt is clean. Byers and Frohike stare blankly at the officials as they head back to their cars. BYERS No. FROHIKE It can't be. They are so consumed with rising trepidation that they fail to realize someone is approaching from behind them. When a hand falls on Frohike's shoulder, they both jerk somewhat. MINDY Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. (a beat) Did I just hear that the cops came up dry? FROHIKE Came to gloat, did you? MINDY Noooo...actually, I'm here for the Post. She wriggles the reporter's notepad in her grasp for effect. FROHIKE (furious) You b-- MINDY Hey! Easy. It's not what you think. FROHIKE Oh, so you didn't take our permission to follow us around as an opportunity to steal our big story. BYERS (very quietly) It doesn't look like there is a story. MINDY Hey, I told you both how I feel about this investigation. It'll come to no good. Period. I wouldn't be out here at all, except my editor got wind of the raid. And I'm afraid he wasn't the only one. Mindy bobs her chin up, telling Byers and Frohike to look behind them. They glance over their shoulders to see two news vans pulling up and broadcasters hopping out. Mindy leans in close behind them as they stand riveted to the sight. MINDY Them's the breaks. Like it or not, there is a story here. Even the suggestion that Mr. Humanitarian of the Year has been naughty is enough to be big news. Depending on how stupid the President is today, Pritt might even end up the lead for tonight. All three are jolted away from the sight of the news crews by a loud caterwauling. They face Pritt's house again. Pritt's granddaughter, JoJo, runs out of the open front door, wearing flannel pajamas with feet. She leans down, collects stones from the gravel bed running the perimeter of the house and begins to throw them at the departing officers. JOJO (sobbing) My granddad is a great man! He's not a crook! He's not! He's not! Her mother rushes out of the house, quickly knocking the rocks out of her small hands before she has a chance to throw anymore. She waves the angry police back as she kneels to draw the small child into her arms. Diane picks JoJo up and scurries inside. The girl clenches both arms and legs around her mother, but she continues to hurl her innocent malevolence. JOJO He's a great man! CLOSE ON - Byers and Frohike's faces both register horrified anguish watching the miserable scene. FADE OUT END ACT III OPEN ACT IV FADE IN INT. VW BUS - DAY Frohike drives, while Byers sits in the passenger seat. A suffocating silence blankets them. They both continue to stare straight ahead without speaking. INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - DAY Frohike enters the front door ahead of Byers. He stops and allows Byers to trudge past him. There are still no words between them. No one else is home. FROHIKE I guess the others are at the printer. One of us better call them. You know, stop the presses before we have to pay for too many issues that'll never see the light of day. There is no response. Frohike merely watches as Byers makes his way towards the work stations, seeing nothing. Then, something catches his eye. Frohike looks on as Byers snatches up the proof from earlier, the one with the Pritt headline on it. Byers only gazes at it for a moment, his face expressionless. Then tension enters his face around his eyes and mouth, and he visibly grits his teeth while he viciously rips the page in half. Frohike winces. FROHIKE Byers, I...I'm... He trails off and never finishes because the sound of the hiss of the door comes between them. Langly bursts upon the scene. LANGLY Great! You guys are here. You're gonna declare me your own personal savior over this one. Guess what I found to go in a perfect follow-up for the Pritt story. You'll never guess. FROHIKE Shut up, Langly. There's not going to be anything to follow up on. We found out that Pritt is clean. The feds couldn't come up with anything, which means we've got zip. LANGLY But last night, I mean, Jimmy... FROHIKE The moron obviously couldn't tell the difference between toy guns and the real McCoy, okay. He screwed us but good this time, alright. BYERS And we ruined a man's life over water pistols. Langly's face registers shock, but not at the same level as his compatriots. LANGLY That can't possibly be. Even if he wasn't running guns, Pritt is still up to his armpits in smuggling. Frohike anxiously runs a hand over his almost nonexistent hair. FROHIKE I know. I didn't want to believe it either. LANGLY No, I'm serious. Man, just wait a minute and check out what I found before you crucify us. (a pause) Mindy got me into the morgue over at the Post, which was real sweet because most people have to pay $2.95 a download to access their archives. Now that's not a big issue for someone with my superior capabilities, but the online d-base only goes back as far as '77 anyway. I had to dig a little deeper than that to come up with this. Langly lays down an old photo for the others to peruse. CLOSE ON - The picture is a yellowed black-and-white of soldiers. They look very young and very happy. LANGLY This pic went with an article about the troops coming back from Korea. The two on the far right are Pritt and a guy named Edward Antioch. Not only Pritt's war buddy, but also the same geezer we saw hanging out at the warehouse last night. FROHIKE So? LANGLY So ol' Eddie here is also famous in some circles. Ask me why. I'll tell you, he's a bigtime smuggler. American, but does most of his business in Europe. Deals in everything you can think of that theres a black market for: weapons, drugs, software, artifacts, anything. Byers grabs the photo and begins to have some expression of hope. LANGLY Antioch disappeared about six years ago. Word is that Interpol was closing in and he took off on a full-time Asian vacation. But apparently he didn't. He came home. (a beat) Don't you get it? He has to be working for Pritt, or maybe it's the other way around. Whatever. Pritt is not a good guy. FROHIKE Sweet Jesus. Byers pushes back from the workstation to walk and think. BYERS You know, we've been assuming that Pritt intended to ship illegal goods sometime today or tonight. What if he was just getting a person out of the country? LANGLY A person dying for some action after six years. Frohike slams his hands together for a banging clap. FROHIKE I've got it! He rushes over to the filing cabinet and begins digging through stacks of files. Finally, he comes across what he's seeking. FROHIKE Today at five, Pritt was going to personally see off a group of volunteers headed for Eastern Europe. I'll bet you anything that Antioch is going to try to deliver some goodwill to the poor kids in the Bosnian refugee camps. LANGLY And get back into the fencing game while he's at it. BYERS Five o'clock doesn't give us much time. But it'll have to do. EXT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - DAY LEGEND indicates: OVER THE RAINBOW CONSORTIUM CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS 3:38 P.M. INT. PRITT'S OFFICE - DAY The office is spacious with kid-friendly decor including a large framed photograph of Pritt surrounded by well-groomed native children in primitive garb. Normally kept pristine, the office is now in complete disarray, thanks to D.C.'s finest. Pritt is seated at his desk with Antioch across from him in one of two seats. A briefcase lies open on the surface of the desk next to a computer monitor. Pritt rises from his comfy office chair, moving around to the other side of the desk. He scoots past Antioch, then stands upon the chair to Antioch's right. Antioch shows no reaction. PRITT Here we go. Completely undisturbed. Pritt deftly twists the screws holding the grate onto a wall vent close to the ceiling. He reaches inside and produces several documents. After placing the grate back on, he grunts as he jerkingly makes his way down to the floor again. PRITT Need to think of a new hiding place. That one is hell on my knees. ANTIOCH (laughs) You're getting old on me. PRITT Hah! Take a look in the mirror. Now listen up, youngster. Your new passport and everything else you might need is here. Go by the name of Ted Gibbon until you get things reorganized. ANTIOCH I hear I'm headed into a mess. PRITT Yes, well, that particular branch just hasn't been the same since you left the game. But now you're coming out of retirement again, and I expect bottom lines to bounce back once and for all. (a beat, as he shuts the briefcase) I'm just sorry that your visit had to be so short. And, well, marred by these unpleasantries. ANTIOCH Think nothing of it. It's over now. INT. VW BUS - DAY Langly, Frohike and Byers are all seated around computers within the back of the van. BYERS Are we having any problems? LANGLY None whatsoever. The information storage units may have been offline, but everything else is wired, just like any other high security building. FROHIKE Then, get moving already. We haven't got all day. LANGLY If you want to deal with all the protocols in the security system, be my guest. As it is, you're just going to have to--aha! Presto! INT. PRITT'S OFFICE - DAY CLOSE ON - Pritt's hand jiggling a door knob. PULL BACK - Both Pritt and Antioch are standing near the door. Pritt is tugging at the locked door to no avail. PRITT I can't believe this. How can I be locked in my own office? He steps back and Antioch gives it a try. He has no luck either. ANTIOCH Damn electronics. PRITT I miss keys. INT. VW BUS - DAY LANGLY Rats are in the cage. Now it's time to make like an evil munchkin. INT. PRITT'S OFFICE - DAY Both men startle and cover their ears as the loud fire alarms go off. EXT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - DAY Several firetrucks, police cars and an ambulance screech to a halt in front of the main entrance. INT. ORC CORPORATE HQ - FIFTEENTH FLOOR COMMON SPACE - DAY Firemen and police officers are searching the common area past the elevators. One fireman hears muffled shouts and thumps coming from one office. FIREMAN Hold on. I'll get you out. He touches the door, and then tries the handle. The door miraculously swings open and the two men previously trapped inside step out as quickly as possible. PRITT I own this building. What is going on? FIREMAN We came out to investigate, but it looks like a false alarm. All the same, you'd better evacuate. Just follow the officer down the stairs and out of the building. PRITT (annoyed) Fine. Let's just go. A cop comes over, but is distracted by a nearby fax machine beeping it's alert to an incoming message. A single sheet prints out. Pritt walks over and picks up the paper. His eyes widen, but he shows no further reaction. OFFICER Sir? We'd better hurry. PRITT You're certainly correct, Officer. I'm coming right now. He gives a tight smile, and folds the paper over so that no one can see what was faxed. However, at that moment, every single fax machine in the wide office room, about a dozen or so, simultaneously begin to read out. Puzzled, the cop plucks a sheet from another nearby machine. PRITT No! Too late. The cop reaches for his revolver almost before the message registers, and the two other cops on that floor begin to move towards them as well. The paper the cop was holding floats to the floor like a feather. OFFICER Hold it right there. CLOSE ON - The fax sheet lies face up on the ugly, nubby office carpet. It is a copy of an Interpol wanted poster with a color picture of Antioch's face. EXT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - MORNING A truck driver unloads the last of stacks of freshly printed copies of The Lone Gunmen at Jimmy's feet. Jimmy looks down at the stacks with a huge, doofy grin on his face. As the delivery person climbs back up into the driver's seat, Jimmy calls out to him. JIMMY Thanks. Thanks a lot. The truck pulls out, and as it passes by Jimmy, he smacks it with glee. He bends down and lifts a heavy stack of papers to his shoulder, then heads for the door. As he buzzes himself in, he lets out a healthy whoop. INT. LONE GUNMEN HQ - MORNING JIMMY All right! Guys, it's here!! The others are all sitting at a table together. They wear gloomy expressions. Jimmy dumps the papers down on the table with a triumphant smack. Jimmy stands back, hands on hips, and grins some more. Until he notices that no one else is up for a victory celebration. JIMMY What's wrong? Why aren't you celebrating? BYERS Jimmy, we're just not in the mood to celebrate right now. JIMMY But why not? I mean, check it out. One of our best front pages yet. We're sure to get a ton more money from AP. And, look at this. Jimmy crosses the room to where another stack of papers rests, the morning deliveries. He picks up off the top the day's Washington Post. JIMMY We're front page here, too. LANGLY We saw already, Jimmy, all right? JIMMY But did you see at the bottom, underneath the story? Special contribution from John Byers, Richard Langly, Melvin Frohike and James Bond. Mindy let us share credit. That should help credibility a lot, don't you think? Jimmy continues his pep talk as he ruffles through the Post to find something else of interest. JIMMY And here, page 56, at the bottom, under the obituaries. A retraction of the errors in that bad story Mindy wrote. He slaps it down as well on the table. JIMMY Booyah! He offers his hand up for a high five, but there are no takers. Jimmy deflates finally, realizing that he's never going to get his friends excited. He retracts his hand, shoving in the back pocket of his jeans. JIMMY I don't get it. Why aren't you happy? I mean, we won. (a beat) You guys were right. Frohike looks down at the visual symbols of their triumph. Then he looks up at Jimmy again. FROHIKE Jimmy, Pritt did turn out to be everything we thought he was and more. But what if he hadn't? (a beat) Sure, in the end, we were right. But what if we had been wrong? FADE INTO - INT. ANTIQUE SHOP - DAY CLOSE ON - The Washington Post, the 1A headline about Pritt, being carried under someone's arm. PULL BACK - Yves holds the paper as she stolls past racks of ancient pottery. She approaches the front desk of the antique shop. The Professor sits behind it, focusing on a ledger. He barely looks up as Yves addresses him. YVES I called ahead about a Venetian mirror? PROFESSOR Oh, yes. Please, join me in the back. INT. ANTIQUE SHOP - BACK ROOM - DAY The Professor rests in a chair behind a desk. Yves places the Post before him. YVES (in a clipped tone) The competition is finally dead. It'll take the Justice System a while to finish its work, but there's no way they'll recover from this. Satisfied? PROFESSOR More than satisfied. You deserve congratulations. Yves face remains stoic with a slight impression of fury. YVES Thanks. PROFESSOR I know. You prefer more hands-on assignments, but really, my dear. Running a few little errands will get you back in good graces. A pause as he peruses the story. He smiles as he sees the Gunmen's names listed at the bottom. He taps the byline. PROFESSOR And you are to be commended on that as well. You've turned something routine into a valuable asset. You seem quite adept now at using them as your...messengers. Yves smiles coldly, revealing a mercenary pride. YVES I know. With that, she pivots on her heels and exits, closing the door behind her. She pauses just outside the tiny office. CLOSE ON - The smile fades from Yves' face. It leaves behind an inscrutable expression that seems many things at once. Disturbed. Sad. Angry. Resigned. Yves then moves out of frame. Hold on the door signage for the antique shop. FADE TO BLACK CREDITS END