This is an excerpt (first 30ish pages) of a completed screenplay.

"Secret Agent: British Intelligence. EYES ONLY" - screenplay by Derek Paterson.

FADE IN:

EXT. LONDON SKYLINE PANORAMA - DAY

Establishing shot, with the title,

                     London, England


EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

A modern chrome and concrete edifice.


INT. UNDERGROUND CAR PARK - DAY

The in-ramp barrier lifts up to admit a silver BMW.

The BMW slides smoothly into a reserved spot.

The driver climbs out.  Dark suit, tailored to fit.
Impeccable appearance.  Cool and suave are just two
adjectives that fit BIFF THRASH.

Thrash locks his car and moves to an elevator door.


INT. OFFICE BUILDING LOBBY - DAY

An elevator door hidden behind a giant rubber plant opens
and Thrash steps out.  His gaze sweeps the lobby.  A pretty
RECEPTIONIST behind a desk.  A SECURITY MAN in a suit.
Various OFFICE TYPES going in and out.

Thrash moves to another elevator, for general use.  The
door opens.  OLD CHARLIE the elevator operator wears a red
cap and blazer.  Thrash steps in.


INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

                      OLD CHARLIE
          Morning, sir.

                      THRASH
          Morning, Charlie.

                      OLD CHARLIE
          Nice weather we're having.  Did
          you have a good weekend, sir?

                      THRASH
          Yes to both.

As Charlie presses the button, two bulky gentlemen in cheap
suits squeeze into the elevator.  IVAN and BORIS.  Thrash
moves to make room for them.  The door closes.

                      OLD CHARLIE
          Floor, please?

                      IVAN
               (East Europe accent)
          Seventh floor.

Charlie presses another button.  The elevator hums.

Thrash is perfectly relaxed.  Slightly behind him, Ivan
exchanges a sideways glance with Boris.  Ivan slowly reaches
inside his jacket.  Boris's hands stiffen to form deadly
karate blades.

Thrash explodes into action, he back-kicks Boris into the
corner, spins and karate chops Ivan, knocking his gun out
of his hand.  Thrash brutally smashes Ivan's face into the
wall, stunning him.  Ivan slides down, leaving a bloodstain.

                      BORIS
          I kill you!

Boris launches a karate chop at Thrash who blocks it with
his arm and crushes Boris's throat with a well-placed elbow
strike.  Boris's eyes widen in shock.

                      THRASH
          'Fraid not, old chum.

Boris falls to his knees, then pitches forward.

Old Charlie places his hand on Thrash's shoulder.

                      OLD CHARLIE
          'Ere!  This is an elevator!

Thrash twists the hand and suddenly he's behind Old Charlie,
with his arms around Old Charlie's neck, applying pressure.

                      OLD CHARLIE
          Oh God, no, please, I have
          grandchildren--

SNAP!


INT. X'S OFFICE - DAY

The formidable figure of "X", head of British Intelligence,
sits behind his desk, facing Thrash.

                      X
          Well of course I'm not happy, Biff.
          No, not happy at all.  Enemy agents
          penetrating our security and riding
          up and down in elevators?  Not on,
          just not on.

                      THRASH
          Their credentials did check out,
          sir.  They were authorized to be
          inside the building.  I should
          imagine the bodies of the clerks
          whose identities they assumed will
          turn up in a day or two.

                      X
          Needless to say I've sent a memo
          to heads of departments, telling
          them to be more careful.  Shutting
          the stable door after the horse
          has bolted, but there you have it.
          Can't say I'm not disappointed
          that Old Charlie turned out to be
          a "sleeper".  Worked here for thirty
          years.  Suddenly, betrayal.  Simply
          shocking.

                      THRASH
          That's the thing about sleepers,
          sir.  They're the worst kind of
          enemy agent.  Cunning, ruthless.
          They pretend to be a friendly old
          elevator operator, talking about
          the weather, asking you if you had
          a pleasant weekend, when they're
          really thinking about ways to kill
          you.  But what really worries me,
          sir, is that the two men who
          attacked me were Kilovian agents.


INT. CORRIDOR, ELEVATOR DOOR - DAY

Thrash emerges from the elevator.  Inside the elevator,
Old Charlie, Ivan and Boris lie dead.  Thrash straightens
his tie and walks away.

Two OFFICE SUITS happen by and react to seeing the bodies.
SUIT ONE enters the elevator to check they're alive.  SUIT
TWO pulls out his phone and makes a call.


INT. X'S OFFICE - DAY

X and Thrash, continued.

                      X
          Kilovian?  You're sure?

                      THRASH
          No mistaking the technique, sir.
          Typical Kilovian foreign service,
          "KK" Department, a gunman and an
          unarmed combat specialist.  If the
          bullet misses, the hands and elbows
          will snap bone.  Fortunately I
          know something about that stuff
          myself.  I'm just sorry I didn't
          leave anyone alive for
          interrogation.  They might have
          been able to furnish us with some
          interesting tid-bits.

                      X
          Nonsense, no need for any apology.

X's phone BLEEPS repeatedly.  He has three receivers on
the one set, colored red, blue, and black.  He picks up
the red receiver.

                      X (INTO PHONE)
          This is "X" speaking, go ahead.
               (...)
          Yes, Prime Minister.
               (...)
          Yes, sir, I can confirm there is a
          leak, quite possibly in your office
          or very high up in the civil
          service.
               (...)
          You may recall, sir, that you
          insisted I reveal the name of the
          agent I would be assigning to this
          particular case.  That same agent
          was attacked not ten minutes ago
          by enemy agents.
               (...)
          I'm afraid not sir.  You see, agent
          Biff Thrash was killed.  Bullet
          through the head, didn't feel a
          thing.

Thrash reacts uncomfortably to the news of his own death.

                      X (INTO PHONE)
               (...)
          Yes sir, a sad loss to the service.
               (...)
          Single, sir, no next of kin.
               (...)
          Yes, sir, a small mercy.  The
          assignment will of course be passed
          on to another agent.  You don't
          mind if withhold his name, do you?
          Given the circumstances?
               (...)
          Postumhous award, Prime Minister?
          I appreciate the gesture, sir, but
          we in the service prefer to stay
          below the radar, even in death.
               (...)
          Yes sir.  I'll see to the funeral
          arrangements personally.

A subtle KNOCK at the door, BLENKINSOP enters.  In many
ways similar to Thrash, that same cool, suave thing.  He
carries a red folder.

Thrash rises to greet Blenkinsop, pleased.

                      THRASH
          Blenkinsop, old chap, delighted to
          see you.  "X" is on the blower
          with the P.M.  How have you been?
          Haven't seen you since that shindig
          in Baghdad.  I'll never look at
          cheese dip the same way again.

                      BLENKINSOP
          Never mind me, old boy, what about
          you?  Rumor has it that a cleanup
          squad is mopping out one of the
          elevators, it's jammed full of
          East European thuggees.

                      THRASH
          I wouldn't go that far.  Just a
          couple of agents, very possibly
          Kilovian.

                      BLENKINSOP
          They actually got inside the
          building?  Good heavens.

                      THRASH
          They had an inside man.

                      BLENKINSOP
          An inside--?!

                      THRASH
          Old Charlie, the elevator operator.
          Alas he paid the ultimate price,
          as did they.

                      BLENKINSOP
          Old Charlie.  Well I never.  Says
          good morning to me every day.
          Hard to believe.  But of course,
          if you say so...

X has hung up the phone.

                      X
          When you've quite finished chatting,
          gentlemen?

Thrash and Blenkinsop move to stand before X's desk.

                      X
          Glad I never voted for the bugger.
          Right, is that the Blotsky file?

Blenkinsop gives X the red folder.

                      BLENKINSOP
          Yes sir, afraid I can't let it out
          of my sight, sir.  Red folder,
          must be returned directly to the
          Master.

                      X
          Thank you, I'm aware of secure
          document procedure.  In actual
          fact I wrote the bloody thing.
               (reading from folder)
          Blotsky.  Sounds like a drunken
          Russian.  Nothing could be further
          from the truth.  Designed our new
          orbital laser platform.  Man's a
          genius, apparently.

                      THRASH
          There's no "apparently" about it,
          sir.  Mansfield Blotsky is very
          possibly the greatest scientist
          our country has ever produced.  He
          has brains oozing out of his ears.

                      X
          Not literally, one hopes.  The
          reason the P.M. is all a-flap is
          that Blotsky has vanished from his
          London flat, eluding Special Branch
          officers assigned to keep him warm
          and dry.  We've been asked to locate
          and recover Mr. Blotsky with all
          speed.  Think you're up to the
          task, Thrash?

                      BLENKINSOP
          If I were a betting man, sir, I'd
          wager ten pounds on Blotsky being
          returned to Special Branch by the
          end of the day.

                      X
          You hear that, Biff?  A vote of
          confidence in your abilities.

                      THRASH
          For which I'm grateful, sir, but
          there's this business with leaks,
          and foreign johnnies trying to do
          me in.

                      X
          I told the P.M. you're dead.  If
          the "mole" leaks this to the enemy,
          as I expect the blighter to, they
          won't be prepared for your showing
          up on the job.

                      THRASH
          Jolly clever, sir, but where do I
          start?  I'm a cold-blooded killer,
          sir, not Sherlock Holmes.  Blotsky
          could be anywhere.

                      X
          That's why I called for the Blotsky
          file.  The man has a daughter, one
          of those brainbox types.
          Mathematics and enginering degrees.
          Single, of course.  I'll call ahead
          and warn her you're coming.  You'll
          be a Special Branch officer assigned
          to protect her.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

Winding through beautiful English countryside.

Thrash's BMW follows the road.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash at the wheel.

                      G.P.S. VOICE
          Drive another five hundred yards.
          Then stop.  End of journey.


EXT. COUNTRY MANSION - DAY

Thrash's car rolls up in front of an impressive mansion
set amid lovely gardens.


INT. THRASH'S CAR - DAY

Thrash studies the mansion admiringly.

                      THRASH
          Nothing to get excited about.
          Just your typical little house in
          the country.

He checks his gun, slides it back into its underarm holster.

                      THRASH
          I'm in the wrong line of business.
          Should have stuck with physics and
          chemistry.

He gets out the car.


EXT. COUNTRY MANSION EXTRANCE - DAY

Thrash approaches the front steps.

The front door opens and Thrash finds himself staring down
the twin barrels of a shotgun.  He stops in mid-step.

The shotgun is held by MIRANDA BLOTSKY, wearing a baggy
pullover and old jeans that can't conceal her beauty.

                      THRASH
          Miss Blotsky, I presume.

                      MIRANDA
          If the next words out of your mouth
          are, "Would you be interested in
          buying..." then I have to tell
          you, things could get rather loud.

                      THRASH
          Before you shoot...

Slowly, Thrash brings out an ID wallet.

                      THRASH
          ...let me show you my warrant card.

The ID is Thrash's picture, with SPECIAL BRANCH logo.

                      THRASH
          Chief Inspector Smythe, Special
          Branch.

Miranda lowers the shotgun.

                      MIRANDA
          Oh.  I might still shoot you anyway.
          Considering you're one of the potato
          heads who lost my father.

                      THRASH
          Much rather you didn't.  And I'm
          afraid I can't take personal
          responsibility.

                      MIRANDA
          How do I know you're not lying?

                      THRASH
          If it was my fault, I'd apologize
          and throw myself upon your mercy.
          Any chance of a cup of tea?

                      MIRANDA
          Jesus, you're Special Branch, all
          right.  Okay, you can come in, but
          wipe your feet and don't touch
          anything.  That includes me.


INT. MANSION ENTRANCE HALL - DAY

Thrash enters.  The place is oddly empty.

                      MIRANDA
          Not that there's much left to touch.
          You might be forgiven for thinking
          burglars cleared us out.  Actually
          it was the tax man.  Finally caught
          up with us.  Sent in the bailiffs.
          Witty bunch, had us in stitches.


INT. MANSION LIVING ROOM - DAY

Miranda leads Thrash inside.  Some beat-up chairs and a
T.V. in the corner.

                      MIRANDA
          Here we are, the last corner of
          civilization.  Chairs supplied by
          the local charity shop.  A friend
          kindly loaned us the T.V.  Plus a
          receipt, in case bailiffs turn up
          again.  Please take a seat,
          Inspector.  I'll go and pop the
          kettle on.  And then perhaps you
          can tell me what's happened to my
          father... and what you're going to
          do to get him back here, safe and
          sound.

                      THRASH
          Let's forget about the tea for a
          moment, shall we?  Tell me what
          you know about your father's work.
          Presumably he didn't keep you
          totally in the dark, given your
          scientific knowledge?

                      MIRANDA
               (upset)
          I-I'm sorry, Inspector, I can't
          discuss the subject.  It's... he
          drove himself so hard, to complete
          the project on schedule, and now
          this.  He's vanished into thin air
          and no one seems to give a damn!

                      THRASH
          I assure you, Miss Blotsky, I give
          a damn.  And not just because of
          some face-saving security cover-
          up.  I'm going to find your father
          if it's the last thing I do.

Miranda gazes into his eyes.

                      MIRANDA
          Yes, I can... see the sincerity in
          your eyes, Inspector.  You're not
          like the other policemen.  You're...
          different.  I can feel it.

The flame of attraction grows between them.

                      MIRANDA
          I should warn you... I'm a
          scientist.  I don't get to mix
          much with men... not unless you
          count other scientists, who have
          little interest in anything except
          their research.

They're face to face, close enough to kiss.

                      THRASH
          I'm not a brute who takes pleasure
          in striking women, but if you don't
          control yourself... and stop looking
          at me with those huge eyes...

Their arms encircle each other.

                      MIRANDA
          So wrong... and yet... so utterly,
          utterly right.

They kiss, a passionate business that lasts until--

The CLUNK of car doors closing outside.

                      THRASH
          Are you expecting visitors?

                      MIRANDA
          No.

Thrash looks out the window.  A black car, and three MEN
in cheap suits.

                      THRASH
          Are you sure?  Next door neighbors?
          Long-lost cousins?

Miranda peers out the window, sees the men.

                      MIRANDA
          I'm sure.  Who are they?  God,
          they've got guns.

                      THRASH
          I'm sorry to say it looks as if
          you're about to be paid a visit by
          the Kilovian State Circus.

Thrash draws his gun.  He gives Miranda his phone.

                      THRASH
          Do me a favor?  Dial 666 and press
          the star button twice.  Sends an
          emergency signal.  Satellites will
          pinpoint our location.  S.A.S.
          will have have a strike team
          airborne within sixty seconds.

He steals a look out the window.

                      THRASH
          They're coming.


EXT. COUNTRY MANSION EXTRANCE - DAY

The three gunmen approach the front door.  (They all have
East European accents.)

                      WOLFMAN GUNMAN
          His car, still here.  Grozny kill
          him good.  Revenge for Ivan and
          Boris.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Be careful, Grozny.  He killed
          them with his hands.  Ivan and
          Boris were not so easy to kill.


INT. MANSION LIVING ROOM - DAY

Thrash is at the door, covering the entrance hall.  Miranda
finishes a phone call.

                      MIRANDA
          A rather stern-sounding woman just
          told me your request for immediate
          action is being executed.  Is that
          good?

                      THRASH
          Absolutely spiffy.

                      MIRANDA
          What are you doing?

                      THRASH
          Making ready to shoot the first
          eastern devil who comes through
          the door, actually.

                      MIRANDA
          I-I'd like to offer you some help,
          but fact is, I don't have any
          shotgun cartidges.  I've no idea
          where father keeps them.

                      THRASH
          I know.  I could tell by the way
          you were holding it that it wasn't
          loaded.  Get down behind the chairs.

Scarface Gunman CRASHES IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!  Miranda
screams and falls back.

                      THRASH
          Miranda!

The other two gunmen CRASH IN THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.

                      THRASH
          Bugger!

Wolfman Gunman kicks Thrash's gun out of his hand -- Thrash
kicks Wolfman Gunman's gun out of his hand!

                      WOLFMAN GUNMAN
          Zavaraski!  Kreza shoyin!
               (subtitled)
          Your mother!  Worked in an army
          brothel!

Thrash judo throws Wolfman Gunman into Thug Gunman.

                      THRASH
          Verskov pyuni!
               (subtitled)
          Your father is unknown!

Thrash karate chops Thug Gunman's hand so he SHOOTS Wolfman
Gunman in mid-air.  Thrash spins and drives his elbow into
Thug Gunman's head.

                      THRASH
          Lights out!

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN (O.S.)
          Very good, Meester Thrash.

Thrash turns, hands raised.  Scarface Gunman has one arm
around Miranda's throat, he holds his gun to her head.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          But now I have the upper hand, I
          think.  Move one inch and a bullet
          will find its way into this pretty
          young lady's head.  I'm sure neither
          of us wants that to happen.

Thrash glances at the guns on the floor.

                      THRASH
          Come now, comrade.  Don't make
          threats that you aren't prepared
          to carry out.  You didn't come
          here to kill the girl, you want
          her alive.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Alive is good.  Dead is okay too.
          But you, Meester Thrash.  I'm
          thinking, what if I bring you in
          alive?

                      THRASH
          That's preposterous.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Heh.  Not so preposterous.  In
          this business, reputation is
          everything.  I would be the man
          who captured the famous Biff Thrash
          of British Intelligence.  Promotion,
          at least.  Maybe even station head.

                      MIRANDA
          My God, I don't--  Two of your
          friends have been killed, and that's
          all you can think about?

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Do not anger me!  These dogs were
          not my friends.  They were
          Slimovska, half-breed scum.  I am
          Aristokravska, of the pure blood.
          Did your father teach you nothing?

                      MIRANDA
          M-my father?!

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Yes, your father.  He fled to this
          country to escape the purges.  He
          should have returned to give the
          benefit of his knowledge to the
          mother country.  But he did not.
          And so we must persuade him.

                      THRASH
          I should imagine that the price of
          Doctor Blotsky's returning to
          Kilovia and working for you
          willingly is his daughter.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Quite so.  That is what he demands.
          But if I kill her... and blame her
          death on you... then perhaps he
          will work for us for better reasons.
          But.  Double bluff.  He thinks she
          is dead but I allow her to live.
          You leave here with me in the boot
          of my car, unconscious.

Thrash frowns.  Doesn't like that idea.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Think it over, Meester Thrash.
          Think it over quickly.  I'm also
          good with Plan "B" -- I kill you
          both.

Thrash lowers his hands, straightens.

                      THRASH
          Very well.  She lives.  I go with
          you and give you the coup of the
          decade.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Hah.  I knew the chivalrous English
          knight would not let his lady die.

                      MIRANDA
          No, please -- there must be some
          other way.

                      THRASH
          I'm afraid not, Miss Blotsky.  He
          has me completely snookered.  One-
          two-three-star.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Snookered, yes, I understand this
          word.  But what does one-two-three-
          star mean?

While he's talking, Miranda figures it out.  She thumbs
the numbers into Thrash's phone, which she's still holding.

A secret blade springs out the bottom of the phone.

                      THRASH
          It's something you say when
          someone's giving you the NEEDLE...
          STICKING IT TO YOU, if you catch
          my drift.

                      SCARFACE GUNMAN
          Your stupid language--  AAAAAAH!

He has screamed because Miranda has jammed the blade into
his thigh.  Scarface Gunman stands frozen, his eyes open.

Miranda moves to Thrash's side.

                      MIRANDA
          Good grief, is he just going to
          stand there?

                      THRASH
          Until someone administers the
          antidote, yes.  It's a blowfish
          poison derivative.  Probably the
          same stuff he would have used to
          keep me quiet.

                      MIRANDA
          I see.  You're... not really a
          police inspector, are you?

                      THRASH
          I'm sorry for deceiving you with
          that false name.  Not that it did
          any good, they seemed to already
          know who I was.  My real name is
          Thrash, Biff Thrash.  I work for
          British Intelligence.

                      MIRANDA
          I shouldn't be surprised, given my
          father's security clearance.

Thrash picks up his gun, checks it.

                      THRASH
          How do you fancy a nice drive into
          London?

                      MIRANDA
          London?

                      THRASH
          It's odds-on that these unsavoury
          fellows are connected with the
          Kilovian embassy.

                      MIRANDA
          Can someone bring pressure to bear
          on the Kilovian ambassador?

                      THRASH
          Quite possibly.  Though I was
          thinking of something a little
          more direct.

                      MIRANDA
          What are you going to do, just
          walk in and ask if they'll let him
          go?

                      THRASH
          The simplest plans are usually the
          best.  There's less that can go
          wrong.

Miranda looks at the bodies in the entrance hall.

                      MIRANDA
          What about...?  Are we just going
          to leave them?

                      THRASH
          Don't worry about a thing, I'll
          make sure this mess is tidied up
          and the house made ship-shape by
          the time you return.

                      MIRANDA
          Oh well, in that case... just let
          me get my coat.

                      THRASH
          Jolly good.  Just let me get my
          phone.

Thrash looks at Scarface Gunman, still frozen in place.


EXT. COUNTRY MANSION EXTRANCE - DAY

Thrash stands by his car, talking on his phone.

                      THRASH (INTO PHONE)
          Confirm two black bags and a statue.
          Require cleanup and joinery.  Oh,
          and could you cancel the S.A.S.
          team please?  They're probably
          trimming the tree tops as we speak.
          Thank them for their diligence.
               (...)
          Right, Thrash out.

Miranda exits the house wearing a coat.

                      THRASH
          Would you please leave the front
          door open, Miss Blotsky?  Should
          anyone happen along, we'd wish
          them to think this was some kind
          of robbery gone badly wrong when
          you weren't here.

                      MIRANDA
          Quite frankly you amaze me, Mr.
          Thrash.  Three desperate men just
          tried to murder you.  Yet you have
          enough presence of mind to think
          about leaving a door ajar.

                      THRASH
          It's all part of the training they
          give us, Miss Blotsky.  Even in
          the most adverse circumstances,
          our most effective weapon is our
          mind.

                      MIRANDA
          Inside, when that rude fellow came
          crashing through the window, you
          called my name.  Reverting to "Miss
          Blotsky" seems pointless, don't
          you agree?

                      THRASH
          All right, I'll call you Miranda
          if you call me Biff.

Thrash points his phone at his car and unlocks it.

                      MIRANDA
          Goodness me, is there anything
          that phone of yours can't do?

                      THRASH
          As far as I know it gives a really
          terrible foot-rub, so I've got an
          advantage over it there.
               (...)
          Stupid thing to say, really, I
          apologize.

Unnoticed by Thrash or Miranda, the black car's rear door
opens.

Thrash opens the passenger door of his car for Miranda.

                      MIRANDA
          Thank you.

                      THRASH
          My pleasure.

The PATTER of tiny feet goes unnoticed by Thrash.

                      MIRANDA
          I notice we're both studiously
          avoiding any references to what
          almost happened in there... what
          would have happened if those beastly
          men hadn't come along.

                      THRASH
          There's absolutely nothing for
          either of us to be embarrassed
          about, Miranda.  You're a damned
          attractive woman and I'd like to
          think I'm a ruggedly handsome chap
          who might just have a chance with
          the ladies.  But we have a pressing
          problem, and we may be racing
          against the clock.  Any personal
          stuff between us...

                      MIRANDA
          Yes?

Miranda's keen to hear what he has to say next.

Thrash makes unintelligible choking noises...  Hntzz...
flargle... like that.

                      MIRANDA
          I-I don't understand.  What are
          you saying?

Thrash clutches his throat, choking.  Grraaawkk.  Urffff.

                      MIRANDA
          I'll just climb in, shall I, while
          you stand there and make me look a
          complete fool?

Miranda gets into the passenger seat.

                      MIRANDA
          For goodness' sake, I'm not asking
          you to commit to a long-time
          relationship.  There's no need to
          pretend you're choking.

But Thrash IS choking, because a DWARF is on his back, and
has looped a garrote cord around his neck.  The dwarf is
bald and as wrinkled as your scrotum, and wears a permanent
grin with crooked teeth.  His name is YORGA.

                      YORGA
          Hahaha!  Like the lady says, no
          need to pretend you're choking,
          Meester Thrash!

Miranda talks to Thrash through the open car door, still
unaware of the fact Yorga is strangling him to death.

                      MIRANDA
          Don't worry, Mr. Thrash, I can
          take the hint.  Let's just forget
          it ever happened.
               (...)
          Shall we be on our way?
               (...)
          Mr. Thrash?

                      YORGA
          This very special occasion.  You
          are my five hundredth victim!

Miranda looks at herself in the sunshade mirror and gives
her hair a finger comb.

                      MIRANDA
          Why must men always think they're
          so special?  Never mind, Miranda,
          you'll always have science.  The
          cold equations will never let you
          down.

Yorga LAUGHS crazily as Thrash struggles to breathe.

                      MIRANDA
          I'll just sit here... admire the
          view.

BAM!  She SCREAMS as Yorga's twisted face slams into the
windscreen.

Thrash kicks Yorga off his car hood.

                      THRASH
          I say, would you mind getting off
          my bloody car?

Yorga hits the ground hard, he lies there stunned.

                      MIRANDA
          Mr. Thrash... Biff... what on earth
          was that?

                      THRASH
          Please stay in the car, Miss
          Blotsky... Miranda.  Shan't be a
          tick.  Just a little tidying up to
          do.

Yorga pushes himself up.

                      THRASH
          Come on, Stumpy.  Let's get this
          over with.

Yorga leaps at Thrash, holding a stiletto knife.

                      YORGA
          I keel you!

Thrash karate chops Yorga's skull, stopping him in mid-
air, and as Yorga falls Thrash knees him in the face so he
spins backwards, end over end.  Yorga's knife goes flying.

                      THRASH
          And Thrash shoots from the penalty
          spot!

Thrash kicks Yorga as if he's a soccer ball.  Yorga flies
through the air, lands like a sack of turnips.

                      THRASH
          And it's in the net!  The goalkeeper
          didn't stand a chance!

Thrash advances on Yorga, not finished with him yet.

                      YORGA
          No, no, no!  Leave Yorga alone.

Miranda climbs out the car.  Sees Yorga lying face-down.

                      MIRANDA
          Biff -- stop!  What are you doing
          to that poor little man?

                      THRASH
          Miss Blotsky, I asked you to stay
          in the car.

                      YORGA
          Please... no hurt Yorga.

                      MIRANDA
          Do you expect me to just sit there
          and watch you beat the living
          daylights out of him?  What you're
          doing is cruel and inhumane, and I
          will not allow it to happen.  Can't
          you just... stick your phone into
          him, or something?

                      THRASH
          This "poor little man" is a Kilovian
          agent!  Don't be fooled by his
          size.  And if it's who I think it
          is, you should be running away and
          screaming in terror.

Yorga sobs pitifully, still lying face-down.

                      YORGA
          Please help Yorga.  Bad man hurt
          Yorga.

Yorga suddenly flips over, holding a gun!

                      YORGA
          Ha ha ha!  Yorga hurt bad man!

                      MIRANDA
          Biff, look out!  He has a--

Thrash is adjusting his WRISTWATCH.

                      MIRANDA
          Then again, you probably already
          know...

The wristwatch emits a powerful magnetic pulse that grabs
hold of Yorga's fallen knife.

The knife flies into Yorga's crotch!

Yorga clutches the knife, SCREAMS once in agony... and
dies.  He lies on his side, motionless.

Miranda turns away, horrified.

                      MIRANDA
          Oh my God.  It got him right in
          the belfry tower.  I can't bear to
          look!

                      THRASH
          Lucky shot, I was aiming for his
          eye.
               (re his wristwatch)
          Absolutely spiffing field test,
          what?  Emits a powerful
          electromagnetic pulse, picked up
          his knife and--

He sees Miranda's about to faint, and embraces her.

                      THRASH
          I'm sorry, Miranda, I'm being
          insensitive.

                      MIRANDA
          Oh Biff, hold me, hold me in your
          powerful arms and make the horror
          go away.

They're face to face again, intimately close.

                      THRASH
          Two things for you to consider.
          Our little friend there was hoisted
          by his own petard.  That's how own
          knife in his crotch.  Poisoned, I
          suspect.  The shallowest cut would
          have resulted in agonizing death
          for the victim.  So let's chalk
          that one up to ironic justice.  He
          would most certainly have killed
          me without a second thought.  And
          quite probably have done the same
          to you.

                      MIRANDA
          How ghastly.

                      THRASH
          Not to worry, he's dead now, and
          good riddance.

                      MIRANDA
          Yes.

                      THRASH
          There's something I need to ask
          you.

                      MIRANDA
          Mmm?

                      THRASH
          You wouldn't happen to have any
          make-up in your purse, would you?

                      MIRANDA
          What?

A FEW SECONDS LATER

Thrash kneels beside the dead Yorga.  Miranda watches.

                      THRASH
          You can wait for me in the car if
          you prefer.

                      MIRANDA
          No, I'm... curious.  That's what
          makes me a scientist, I suppose.

                      THRASH
          As you wish.  Let's roll the little
          bugger over, shall we?

He rolls Yorga onto his back.  Yorga's dead eyes stare
unseeing at the heavens.

Thrash opens a bottle and pours liquid into a hankie.

                      THRASH
          Right, then.  The judicious
          application of a few drops of make-
          up recover... a good rub with a
          tissue...

                      MIRANDA
          Bless you.

                      THRASH
          Very witty.  And let's see what we
          have...

Thrash rubs Yorga's forehead.  Revealing a Nazi swastika.

                      THRASH
          Lo and behold.  Exactly where I
          thought it would be.

                      MIRANDA
          I-I don't understand.  Are you
          trying to tell me...?  That's
          impossible.

                      THRASH
          I only wish it were impossible.
          You're looking at a genuine
          souvenier from the Second World
          War.

He looks up at Miranda.

                      THRASH
          Technically it's a Nazi
          terrorweapon.  If you laugh, I
          shall be rather disappointed.

Miranda doesn't laugh.  She's horrified.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

Thrash's car speeds through English countryside.

                      THRASH (V.O.)
          Thrash here, sir.  On my way back
          to London.  I have Miss Blotsky
          with me.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash and Miranda.  Communicating with "X" via radio.

                      X (V.O.)
          Excellent.  Heard you had a bit of
          a scrum with some unsavory types?

                      THRASH
          Confirmed, sir.  The cleanup team
          should be there now, they'll fill
          you in on the details.  I have a
          concern with one of the players,
          sir.  Regret to report the Dark
          Eagle may have arisen again.


INT. X'S OFFICE - DAY

"X" is on the blue phone.

                      X (INTO PHONE)
          Good heavens, you're sure?


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

                      THRASH
          Quite sure, sir.  You'll recall
          our American cousins reported
          sighting a dwarf assassin last
          month in Berlin when the ambassador
          was almost killed.  It's possible
          this was the same fellow.

                      X (V.O.)
          May I assume you neutralized the
          threat?

                      THRASH
          Absolutely, sir.  Examination of
          the body revealed the swastika.


INT. X'S OFFICE - DAY

"X" sits back and shakes his head.

                      X (INTO PHONE)
          I've been briefed on this, of
          course, but it's still hard to
          believe...


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash explains as much for Miranda's benefit as for X's.
She listens with a growing sense of disbelief.

                      THRASH
          The "Zwerg Geschwaderangriff
          Meuchelmorder" appeared appeared
          at the end of the Second World
          War.  The Nazis unleashed the
          genetically modified dwarfs in a
          desperate attempt to stall the
          Allied advance until atomic weapons
          could be completed and deployed.
          The Russian Army lost thousands of
          top-ranking officers to the dwarfs
          before they even realized what was
          happening.  Our forces also suffered
          losses, but the American O.S.S.
          launched a counteroffensive against
          the dwarfs and pretty much wiped
          them out.  Unfortunately some
          escaped, judging by today's events,
          are still operational.  Code name:
          Dark Eagle.

Miranda glances back, looking out the rear window.

                      THRASH
          I'm surprised the Kilovians would
          employ a dwarf, but their being
          prepared to overlook their ethnic
          bigotry on this occasion may be a
          measure of how important Professor
          Blotsky is to them.  They wanted
          Miss Blotsky, sir, so they could
          control him.  I suspect they may
          be holding him in their embassy in
          London.  Any way we can check that,
          sir?

                      MIRANDA
          Biff.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

A big black car speeds after Biff's car, closing the gap.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash sees the big car in the rear view mirror.

                      THRASH
          I'll have to call back, sir.  Bit
          of a problem.  Got some company.

Thrash taps a switch, ending the radio call.

                      THRASH
          Looks like an embassy car.  Moving
          rather fast.  Must be a souped-up
          engine under the bonnet.  This
          could get interesting.

Thrash puts his foot down, increasing speed.

                      THRASH
          Not to worry, we have a few horses
          of our own, and they're all
          thoroughbreds.  Just a tap on the
          accelerator and off we go.  Take
          that, Ivan.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

The two cars speed along, faster and faster.

The big black car's roof hatch opens.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash looks in the rear view mirror, and frowns.

                      THRASH
          Hmm.  Rather odd.  Some kind of
          roof hatch...

He smiles at Miranda, reassuring her.

                      THRASH
          We're bullet-proof, by the way.
          Hand guns and automatic weapons
          can't touch us.  Even the tires
          are rocket science.

Another glance in the rear view mirror.  The big car is
still closing on them.

                      THRASH
          Even so... a little more distance
          might not go amiss.

He shifts gear, the engine ROARS louder.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

The big black car, with its roof open, in hot pursuit of
Thrash's car.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Miranda looks back over her shoulder.

                      MIRANDA
          That's all very reassuring, but I
          think these gentlemen mean business.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

A huge pair of machine guns mounted on a platform rise up
out of the black car's interior.  A gunner, DIMITRI, sits
behind them.


INT. THRASH'S CAR, MOVING - DAY

Thrash sees the gun platform in the rear view mirror.

                      THRASH
          You have got to be kidding me.


EXT. BLACK PURSUIT CAR, MOVING - DAY

Dimitri racks the bolts on the twin machine guns.  They're
each fed by huge ammunition boxes.

                      DIMITRI
          Oh yeah, baby.  Rock and roll with
          my bitches.

ZENGLOV, the huge driver, calls up from below.

                      ZENGLOV
          Cannot be going faster!  I am giving
          all all she has got!

                      DIMITRI
          Is enough!

Dimitri laughs like a maniac.

                      DIMITRI
          Now you die, Meester Thrash!

The machine guns blaze!  DAKA DAKA DAKA DAKA!


EXT. THRASH'S CAR - DAY

Thrash's car EXPLODES in a huge fireball!

The blazing wreck flips off the road and crashes into trees.


EXT. BLACK PURSUIT CAR - DAY

The car skids to a stop at the side of the road.  Dimitri
and Zenglov stare at the burning wreckage of Thrash's car.

                      DIMITRI
          Zerdy zuchakva!  Lucky shot!  Must
          have hit his fuel tank!

                      ZENGLOV
          Ha ha!  It is the end of the British
          agent.

                      DIMITRI
          Za, it is end.  No survivors
          possible.

Zenglov draws a gun and opens his door.

                      ZENGLOV
          Nonetheless.  For survivors we
          must check.  You will stay with
          car.  If any hanky-panky, you will
          be shooting until nothing left
          alive.

Zenglov climbs out.  He's a huge brute.

                      DIMITRI
          Be careful, Zenglov!

                      ZENGLOV
          Zenglov was born careful.


EXT. THRASH'S BURNING CAR - DAY

Zenglov approaches the blazing wreck warily.  But something
puzzles him.

                      ZENGLOV
          Most curious.  The flames I see.
          The crackling I hear.  But I do
          not be feeling the heat.

Zenglov moves closer to the burning car.

The burning car flickers and fades and comes back again.

                      ZENGLOV
          Zoshistra!  What is this?

The burning car fades and vanishes!  An illusion!

Zenglov discovers a football-size globe on the ground,
fitted with colored projector lenses.

                      ZENGLOV
          Magic light box!  British agent
          trick!
               (...)
          Then British agent must be--

                      THRASH
          Right here, old chum.

Thrash karate chops Zenglov's gun out of his hand and
punches Zenglov in the guts, then gives him a left and
right cross, rocking Zenglov's head.

                      THRASH
          Taste English knuckle, Ivan.

Zenglov throws back his head and LAUGHS.  Thrash steps
back, surprised.

                      ZENGLOV
          Zenglov laughs at your feeble
          punches.  Zenglov is bare knuckle
          wrestling champion of People's
          Republic of Kilovia.  Zenglov is
          be killing seven men in last year's
          contest.  Zenglov is be twisting
          your head off and pissing down
          your neck, Zenglov thinks.

Zenglov raises his big fists.

                      ZENGLOV
          So come how, British agent.  We
          settle this like men, with blood.

                      THRASH
          Yes, quite.  Jolly good idea, that.
          Just to clarify... when you say
          "blood" you don't mean the first
          to get a bloody nose, do you?

                      ZENGLOV
          He he he.  I will remember you for
          your sense of humor, Englishman.
          After I crush the life from your
          body.

                      THRASH
          Perhaps you can remember this,
          too.

Thrash cups his hands to his mouth and shouts--

                      THRASH
          Demosh klatska!

                      ZENGLOV
          What?  No!

Zenglov turns and looks at the black car, at Dimitri.


EXT. BLACK PURSUIT CAR - DAY

Dimitri racks the bolts on the twin machine guns.

                      DIMITRI
          British agent must have defeated
          Zenglov.  Would not have thought
          such a thing possible.  Zenglov
          gives life to ensure British agent
          will not escape!  Hope one day, I
          am worthy to follow in Zenglov's
          footsteps!

Dimitri OPENS FIRE.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - THRASH AND ZENGLOV - DAY

Thrash dives into the trees as machine gun fire RIPS ZENGLOV
APART.  The big thug SCREAMS as he dissolves.


EXT. BLACK PURSUIT CAR - DAY

The twin machine guns stop shooting.  Dimitri squints
through the clouds of gunsmoke.  There's no one there.

                      DIMITRI
          Desvash kublish, Zenglov!  Good
          comrade!  British agent must have
          been atomized.

He stands, gets ready to climb down off the gun platform.

                      DIMITRI
          Zo, mission accomplished!  I return
          to embassy and make report.

Thrash comes whistling through the air like a rocket,
executing a super-high kung fu kick that connects with
Dimitri's face.  SPLAT.


EXT. CLEARING IN THE WOODS - DAY

Miranda starts in surprise when she hears Thrash approach.
Thrash's car is here, intact and unharmed.

                      MIRANDA
          There you are.  I was frightened
          out of my mind with worry.  I heard
          shooting.  Lots of it.

                      THRASH
          Dreadfully sorry, as you can see
          there was no need for concern.
          Luckily for me these chaps couldn't
          shoot straight.

                      MIRANDA
          Must you be so casual about
          everything?  Those men were trying
          to kill you, just like the thugs
          back at the house.  It's all because
          of me.  I can't let you risk your
          life any more.  You need to dump
          me like a hot potato and go back
          to London alone.  Don't worry about
          me, I can fend for myself.  I'll
          go to ground, stay with friends.
          No one will ever find me and use
          me as a lever against my father.

                      THRASH
          I'm afraid it doesn't work like
          that, Miss Blotsky.  You and me
          are stuck with each other.  So
          let's just get in the car and
          continue on our way.  Whatever
          they choose to throw at us next,
          trust me, I can handle it.

Miranda looks up at the sky.

                      MIRANDA
          What's that noise?

The distant sound of a HELICOPTER, coming closer.

                      THRASH
          Truth to tell I'm not really--

                      MIRANDA
          It sounds like--

They glimpse the helicopter, flying low over tree tops.

                      MIRANDA
          It's a helicopter.  Has it come to
          pick us up?

The helicopter is a gunship, armed with machine guns and
rocket pods.

                      THRASH
          I'm afraid it hasn't.  In fact...


EXT. HELICOPTER COCKPIT, FLYING - DAY

A dwarf pilot, wearing a red uniform and helmet, sits at
the controls.  He grins evilly.  Let's call him IGOR.


EXT. CLEARING IN THE WOODS - DAY

                      THRASH
          I strongly suspect I may have spoken
          too soon.  Come on.  This way.

Without looking at Miranda he grabs her and pulls her after
him, deeper into the woods.

                      THRASH
          Run for your life, Miss Blotsky.
          Only a matter of time before he
          spots the car, then turns on his
          infra-red sensors and spots us.

                      MIRANDA
          M-m-might I make a suggestion, Mr.
          Thrash?

                      THRASH
          By all means, Miss Blotsky.

                      MIRANDA
          D-d-do you think you could lead me
          by the hand, instead of pulling me
          by the breast?  N-not that it's
          entirely unpleasant, you understand.

Thrash realizes his mistake, he didn't take Miranda's hand,
he grabbed her boob instead.  This time he takes her hand,
and they set off again.

                      THRASH
          I beg your pardon, Miss Blotsky,
          that was foolish of me.  I should
          have looked before I grabbed.

                      MIRANDA
          Think nothing of it, Mr. Thrash.
          You were in a hurry.  Perfectly
          understandable.

                      THRASH
          Even so, Miss Blotsky, a proper
          gentleman would have asked before
          taking such a liberty.

                      MIRANDA
          I assure you, Mr. Thrash... I've
          had it up to here with "proper
          gentlemen".

They leave Thrash's car behind as they move further into
the woods.


EXT. CLEARING IN THE WOODS - DAY

The helicopter descends until it's hovering just a few
feet off the ground.  Igor studies Thrash's car.

                      IGOR (V.O.)
          Zis is Scorpion.  Haf located enemy
          vehicle.  Request permission to
          burn ze entire area.

                      GENERAL VON KLANK (V.O.)
          Negative, Scorpion.  Permission
          denied.  We want the woman alive.
          Do you understand?

                      IGOR (V.O.)
          Scorpion understands.  But Scorpion
          does lot like it.  Scorpion wants
          to make boom boom!


EXT. DEEPER IN THE WOODS - DAY

Thrash looks at the sky through breaks in the greenery.

                      THRASH
          Still buzzing around, from the
          sounds of things.  He hasn't
          napalmed the woods yet, so we should
          be grateful for small mercies.

                      MIRANDA
          Good heavens, would they do that?

                      THRASH
          These people will stop at nothing
          to achieve their fiendish goals.
          Unfortunately for them, we will
          stop at nothing to stop them, if
          you see what I mean.

                      MIRANDA
          Yes, I think I--

                      THRASH
          That's funny, he's in hover mode.
          He hasn't moved in ten seconds.

Thrash glimpses the helicopter, its nose pointing away
from them.

                      THRASH
          He's skimming the tree tops, hoping
          to ping us.  Keep him busy for a
          couple of minutes, with luck.
          Come on, we're going the other
          way.

Thrash leads Miranda away from the helicopter.


EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - PURSUIT CAR - DAY

Thrash and Miranda step out between trees.

                      MIRANDA
          So where exactly are we...?  Oh.

She sees where they are, Thrash has brought them back to
the road, to the black pursuit car with machine guns.

Miranda looks down at Dimitri, unconscious on the ground.

                      THRASH
          Don't worry, my friend there is
          taking a peaceful little nap.

Thrash climbs up onto the pursuit car.

                      THRASH
          I know it's not cricket, but I
          rather thought I'd use their own
          weapon against them.  Besides,
          shame to waste a good anti-aircraft
          gun, what?

                      MIRANDA
          Y-you're going to shoot at the
          helicopter?

Biff inspects the twin machine guns.

                      THRASH
          That's the general idea.  The
          wonderful thing about the Kilovians
          is their penchant for World War
          Two weapons.  I bet this old lady
          has shot down a Heinkel or three.

He climbs onto the gun platform and sits behind the guns.
Under his control, the guns swivel left and right, and
rise up and down.

                      THRASH
          Hydralics are working like a charm.
          Ammo drums are over half full.
          Can't wait to let 'er rip.  When I
          open fire, you might want to clap
          your hands over your ear, Miss
          Blotsky.  Things could get a little
          noisy.

                      MIRANDA
          Thank you for your consideration,
          Mr. Thrash, I'll try to remember.

The helicopter buzzing becomes louder.  Thrash lines up
the guns.  The helicopter slowly hovers into sight.

                      THRASH
          Here he comes.  Can't say I think
          much of his search pattern.  Never
          mind, that's the least of his
          problems.

Thrash peers over the gun sights... but frowns.

                      THRASH
          Hang on a second...

The helicopter cockpit is empty -- no pilot!

                      THRASH (V.O.)
          Where's the bloody pilot?  Who's
          flying the bloody thing?

Igor is behind the pursuit car, a remote control box with
an aerial in one hand, a machine pistol in the other.  The
machine pistol is as big as Igor.

                      IGOR
          You vill be putting your hands up.
          Or else I fill your body with holes.

Thrash raises his hands, bewildered.

                      THRASH
          Where the bloody hell did you--?
          Damn and blast!  Of course!  The
          gunship hovered for ten seconds!

                      IGOR
          Climb down, please.  No trickery.
          I cannot miss.

Thrash climbs down and stands beside Miranda, both keep
their hands raised.

                      THRASH
          All right, you little swine.  Now
          what?  Do you expect me to talk?

                      IGOR
          He he.  I see that movie.  Was
          good.  Wanted laser beam to cut
          man in half.  Wanted to hear him
          scream.  Like I hear you scream,
          very soon.

                      THRASH
          Do your worst, you dog.  I'll never--

BLAM!  A single shot.  Thrash stares for a moment longer,
then his eyes close and he pitches forward.

                      MIRANDA
          Biff!

FADE TO BLACK


INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

As if awakening from an uncertain dream...

A huge Nazi swastika flag.

Two grim-looking NAZI SOLDIERS armed with machine pistols.

A bed.  Thrash is lying on this.  He's just woken up.  He
wears a white smock that falls to his knees.

                      THRASH
          What the deuce...?

He raises his head, looks around the otherwise bare room.
It has grey concrete walls and a single exit with no door.

                      THRASH
          Not to mention where the deuce and
          how the deuce.

Keeping a wary eye on the guards, who watch him in silence,
Thrash climbs out of the bed.



               End excerpt.
                                                            03/13
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