ONE NIGHT IN CAIRO FADE IN: EXT. THE CITY OF CAIRO, EGYPT - NIGHT We know it's Cairo because, rearing above the sprawling, labyrinthine city, are the famed great pyramids of Giza, bathed in the pale light of a full moon. The low buildings and streets are lit by oil lamps, giving some parts of the city a soft yellow glow. EXT. WINDING STREET - NIGHT A figure wearing a crumpled cream suit makes his way unsteadily along, one hand on a wall to stay upright, the other clutches a fat-bodied glass bottle, which we may presume contains local grape juice. BRENNAN pauses and tilts his head back to take a drink, glugging it down. He loses his balance and staggers backward, but recovers. He wipes his lips and lets out a burp that echoes off the surrounding walls. He holds up the bottle to examine it. The label shows a pyramid flanked by palm trees. NECTAR DE NILE. BRENNAN 's the good stuff, all right, an' no mistake. An Irish brogue, a long way from home. Onward he staggers, approaching an alley mouth. A muffled WOMAN'S CRY reaches him, Brennan lurches to a stop and peers into the alley. Further up the alley, three men surround a woman. A change comes over Brennan, he's still drunk but the sight of a lady being molested by uncultured swine ignites his blood. He's off and running, tossing the bottle away. BRENNAN Oy! Leave her alone, ya mooks! The three men and the woman turn their heads, seeing him. DABNEY and OLIVER, white foreigners, wear cream suits like Brennan but are less scruffy, the third man is BENU, a bearded, dangerous-looking local wearing long robes. The woman, NEHARU, with skin the color of gourmet coffee, wears an ankle-length white dress with gold threads, harkening back to the days of the Pharaohs and their queens. Dabney jerks his head at Benu, telling him to deal with this idiot. Benu reaches inside his robes and pulls out a huge goddamn knife with a curved blade. He steps forward and grins, relishing the thought of carving Brennan up. Most men would stop at the sight of the knife but Brennan has literally no intelligence. He sweeps the knife aside with his arm and punches Benu so hard he goes horizontal in mid-air. Benu hits the ground and stays down. If this was a cartoon his eyes would be Xs. Dabney reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a revolver, but Brennan is upon him in two steps and drives his fist deep into Dabney's stomach, folding him like he's made of paper. Dabney collapses, holding his guts and groaning. Brennan kicks the revolver away, it skitters down the alley. Oliver assesses the situation and makes his choice, he turns and runs away as fast as he can, ignoring Neharu. Brennan and Neharu stare at each other, neither speaking. She's uncertain, because here is another white infidel who might demand to have his way with her. He's uncertain because his brain is pickled. But part of said brain might be thinking, here is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life. He turns away and staggers to a wall and doubles over, as his stomach suddenly has a violent disagreement with the grape juice. Brennan retches until it's all out. He sucks in air, and straightens up. Neharu just stands there watching him. If she's disgusted by his throwing up, she shows no sign. Brennan is more than a little embarrassed. He dabs at his mouth and chin with a handkerchief as crumpled as his suit. BRENNAN Hey, sorry about that. Must have been something I ate. NEHARU You have nothing to apologize for. These men-- She indicates Dabney and Benu with a contemptuous wave of her hand. NEHARU --dared lay their foul hands upon me. I am grateful for your assistance, Mr...? BRENNAN Brennan. I'm happy to be of help. A car draws up and stops at the alley mouth. Brennan looks back over his shoulder. Four Egyptian men in suits climb out. They just stand there, staring at Brennan. None of them look friendly. Brennan swings to face them. He bunches his fists, ready for the next round. Neharu steps up beside him and gently touches his arm. NEHARU There is no need for concern, Mr. Brennan. These men are... friends. The way she says "friends" perhaps gives us cause for doubt, but Brennan doesn't notice. He unclenches his fists and relaxes, a little. BRENNAN Glad to hear it. NEHARU I must go with them. May the gods guide your path, Mr. Brennan. Good night. Brennan watches as Neharu walks along the alley, to the car. The men waiting for her bow from the waist, showing respect. One opens the back door for her. Neharu looks back at Brennan, and smiles. She climbs into the back seat. Everyone gets aboard and the car drives off, leaving a cloud of exhaust fumes behind. DABNEY You goddamn asshole. Dabney's still holding his guts as he pushes himself up onto one knee. He talks through gritted teeth, with an American accent. BRENNAN An' who the hell are you, mate? DABNEY We were rescuing her. And then you came bumbling along, Stupid son of a bitch. Brennan's fists bunch again and for a moment we might think he's going to pound this guy again... but he stays cool. BRENNAN Hey, it didn't look as if the lady wanted anything to do with you and your pals. DABNEY These guys who picked her up. He indicates the alley mouth with a jerk of his head. DABNEY They're cultists. They worship the old gods. The bloodthirsty gods. It was our one shot to get her out of here, and you blew it. Dabney struggles to stand, he's unsteady and weak. DABNEY They're going to chain her to an altar and they're going to cut out her heart and feed it to their crocodile god. We could have saved her, dammit. Brennan shakes his head, not believing, but in doubt. BRENNAN If they mean her harm, why did she go with them? Nobody forced her to climb into that car. DABNEY You idiot, they screwed with her head. They hypnotized her. They've got her so mixed up she's going along with it. BRENNAN Why didn't she say anything? DABNEY How could she? Why didn't you ask? Goddamn Mick asshole. That's one insult too many, Brennan drives his fist into Dabney's stomach. Dabney bends double and sinks to his knees and keels over onto his side, clutching his guts and groaning. Brennan leaves the alley. He looks in the direction the car went. It's long gone of course. Well, shit. EXT. THE SHINING CRESCENT HOTEL - DAY A one-star dump for the low budget traveler. INT. BRENNAN'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY A view of the poorest quarter of Cairo from the balcony. Somewhere in the distance, an IMAN calls morning prayer. Brennan sprawls face-down on the bed, fully clothed, snoring. Empty bottles litter the floor. A KNOCK at the door. Brennan sleeps on. LOUDER KNOCKING. Something penetrates the skull and Brennan stops snoring. MORE KNOCKING. He half-opens one eye. BRENNAN Whassat? The door opens, a native PORTER peeks in, face like a weary road map, tired of dealing with these goddamn foreigners. PORTER Effendi, you have a visitor. A lady. She says it is most urgent that she speaks with you. I told her you do not rise before noon, but she refuses to go away. Brennan has a momentary VISION of Neharu in the alley, smiling at him, soft and beautiful. BRENNAN What's she look like? PORTER The lady has hair of gold. She would fetch many camels if she was mine to sell. BRENNAN Huh. Okay, gimme five minutes. No, make that ten, I need to piss. Then show her up, will you? PORTER I will do as you ask. Brennan's eyes slowly close. He goes back to sleep. LOUD KNOCKING at the door startles him awake. He rolls over and sits up, sucking in air. BRENNAN Just coming! He looks at the empty bottles. Quickly gathers them up and stuffs them under the mattress. He tries to smooth out the creases in his shirt and pants. He licks his fingers and runs them through his hair. He opens the door. Stares at the flawless peaches and cream face of EMILY HAWTHORNE, an English beauty. She wears a crisp white blouse and jodhpurs, and carries a leather crop, as if she's ready to go riding. Brennan blinks, taking all this in. She offers her hand. EMILY Mr. Brennan? Allow me to introduce myself. Emily Hawthorne. I'm looking for a guide. I'm told you're the man for the job.

Top of page