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Under Fire (1983)

by Clayton Frohman and Ron Shelton.
Story by Clayton Frohman.
Shooting draft.

More info about this movie on IMDb.com


FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY


SOMEWHERE IN AFRICA

EXT. GRASSY PLAINS - DUSK

BIRDS ARE FLUSHED FROM HIDING. A soldier carrying an automatic 
weapon rises up out of the grass and looks around. A mortar 
shell explodes nearby. There are no sound effects. He seems 
unperturbed.

Several more explosions in the field. The soldier motions 
with his arm and:

FIFTY MORE SOLDIERS RISE UP OUT OF THE GRASS More small 
explosions.

FREEZE FRAME

With a click-click of a camera -- still no fx.

THE SOLDIERS RUN THROUGH THE GRASS FOLLOWING THEIR LEADER As 
they do, the platoon leader waves his arms again.

FIVE ELEPHANTS CHARGE OUT OF THE SHRUBBERY Through a field 
of small mortar explosions.

FREEZE FRAME

With the click-click of a camera.

THE ELEPHANTS CHARGE OUT ACROSS THE PLAINS Each carries an 
enormous load of supplies, and each is ridden by a soldier 
with a rifle.

A HELICOPTER GUNSHIP DIVES OUT OF THE SKY firing rockets at 
the soldiers and elephants. A tribal mask is painted on the 
nose of the chopper.

THE ELEPHANTS REAR UP IN TERROR

The soldiers on the elephants stand up and aim rifles at the 
chopper and begin firing.

THE CHOPPER ATTACKS THE ELEPHANTS against an African sunset.

FREEZE FRAME

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

INT./EXT. LOBBY OF THE 'NEW PEOPLE'S HOTEL' - DAWN

A door slams o.s. and the figure of RUSSELL PRICE, 30, appears 
at the top of some stairs. Sleepy-eyed, he pulls on a multi-
pocketed fishing vest over a baggy shirt. He carries a beat 
up canvas bag over his shoulder.

A BLACK WOMAN, 40, sleeps at the lobby switchboard desk. 
Another OLD BLACK MAN sweeps the floor. Price mumbles a 'good 
morning' and goes to two vintage WW II vending machines -- 
one for candy, one for Coca-Cola. He buys two candy bars and 
a coke, and begins eating his "breakfast" as he crosses the 
lobby.

EXT. THE HOTEL - DAWN

JIMMY, a cab driver, has been sleeping in a chair against 
the wall. Several street vendors have their wares laid out 
on the sidewalk against the hotel. Some are shaded by 
makeshift awnings, some are not. Jimmy rises as Price arrives; 
there is familiar ritual in their greeting.

They cross the street together toward Jimmy's waiting taxi, 
a hand-painted purple old American car with the words on the 
door, "New People's Taxi Company" and Jimmy's name in script 
above it. Price hands a candy bar to Jimmy.

										 PRICE
				 'Morning, Jimmy, think you could 
				 squeeze me in?

										 JIMMY
				 Where is you would care to go at 
				 once, Mr. Price?

										 PRICE
				 Bang-bang.

										 JIMMY
				 Twenty dollar.

Price hands him a wad of bills.

										 PRICE
				 You're a thief, Jimmy.

Jimmy smiles broadly, nodding, then points to the sky.

										 JIMMY
				 Booteeful picture, huh, snap-snap?

										 PRICE
				 I don't do skies.

The two men get into the strange cab parked in front of an 
open marketplace just starting to come alive; the cab drives 
off.

EXT. A REMOTE AFRICAN VILLAGE - DAY

The taxi arrives, and Price gets out.

Price ambles over to stand in the early morning shade against 
an old building. A hand-painted image of Che Guevarra -- 
with an X painted over it -- is on one wall. Price pulls a 
joint from his pocket and lights up, taking a hit.

The sounds of war machinery soon interrupt the stillness. 
Price hurries to the corner.

P.O.V. A JEEP LEADING AN ARMY CONVOY

Price pulls a handful of colored rags from his pocket and 
picks out a yellow kerchief, tying it to his arm. Price then 
steps boldly into the street in front of the approaching 
convoy. He exchanges shouts with an officer in a jeep, and 
with a motion is given permission to join.

PRICE CLIMBS INTO THE LAST OF THREE TROOP TRUCKS

Each truck is filled with perhaps 25 African soldiers in 
khaki, each holding an automatic rifle. Another jeep follows, 
towing a World War II cannon.

																										CUT TO:

INSIDE THE TROOP TRUCK - DAY

										 PRICE
							(cheerily)
				 Hi, guys.

The soldiers look over disinterestedly. Two dozen cases of 
Coca-Cola are tied to a stretcher among stacks of guns.

As Price settles in for the ride, he begins pulling cameras 
from his bag. Quickly and automatically, rarely looking, he 
switches lenses, loads film, and prepares his cameras. He 
has done this a thousand times.

A SINGLE WHITE SOLDIER -- OATES, rises from among the blacks, 
and shakily makes his way toward Price. A mercenary dressed 
in a ragged uniform of his own design, carries two machine 
guns and a .45. He smiles broadly, recognizing Price. HODGE 
slaps Price's hands as if they were teammates.

										 OATES
				 G'damn, Price, you tuna sucking piece 
				 of raw meat -- whatchyou goin' to 
				 Zambeze for?

										 PRICE
				 Thought I'd get some great shots of 
				 your head gettin' blown to 
				 smithereens.

										 OATES
				 Smithereens?! Be a great fuckin' 
				 picture, eh?

										 PRICE
				 Be a prize winner.

										 OATES
							(proudly)
				 Ya think so?
							(beat; changing tone)
				 Trade ya some greenies for a joint.
							(beat)
				 I gotta have a joint.

										 PRICE
				 I'm on the wagon, man, sorry.

										 OATES
							(shrugs)
				 Ahh. Dope-wise, this place sucks.
							(looks around, leans 
							in confidentially)
				 Lotta fuckin' coons around here, eh?

They nod. He laughs obscenely and deeply.

										 PRICE
				 I thought you were fighting for the 
				 Government?

										 OATES
				 I am. This is the Government.

										 PRICE
				 These are the Rebels.

										 OATES
				 Fuck they are. This is a Government 
				 convoy to Calunda.

										 PRICE
				 This is the Abou-Deian Revolutionary 
				 Front.

Pause.

										 OATES
				 You're shitting me.

Pause. Finally Oates starts laughing uncontrollably.

										 OATES
				 These guys be pissed if they knew, 
				 eh?
							(Price nods in 
							agreement; Oates 
							suddenly gets serious)
				 This is the dumbest motherfucker I 
				 ever signed up for. Don't pay shit 
				 either.
							(Price nods in 
							agreement)
				 Nicaragua. That's the spot. Cheap 
				 shrimp, lotta rays -- real thin in 
				 the spook department too, dig?

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE REBEL'S AIRFIELD - DAY

The convoy rumbles past a check-point into a small airfield 
containing a motley collection of DC-3's and old planes. TWO 
RUSSIAN ADVISORS and THREE CUBAN ADVISORS watch.

										 OATES
				 Well hell... I wonder where the 
				 fuckin' Guvmint is?

As he speaks, the cab of the truck is rocked with a mortar 
shell and explodes. Soldiers scramble to safety. Some grab 
the guns being transported.

TWO SOLDIERS GRAB THE STRETCHER OF COKE and start running 
for safety. Smoke and explosions are everywhere -- they 
abandon their cargo and run for cover.

OATES SCRAMBLES TO SAFE GROUND quickly and instinctively, 
looking around wildly to "read" the situation. Price dives 
next to him.

A SOLDIER IS HIT AND GOES DOWN NEARBY, staggering towards 
Price and Oates.

A DC-3 GOES UP IN FLAMES IN THE BACKGROUND

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER REACHES FOR OATES who darts out quickly 
and drags the injured Rebel to safety.

PRICE HAS HIS CAMERAS OUT AT ONCE and is firing away.

TWO REBEL SOLDIERS POINT TO THE STRETCHER OF COCA-COLA and 
start moving toward it through the smoke. They want to rescue 
the soft drinks.

PRICE LEAPS FROM HIS BUNKER AND RACES TOWARD THEM dangerously, 
waving and shouting as he does.

										 PRICE
				 Hold it! Hold it!

They don't speak English but stop at his craziness.

PRICE STOPS AND AIMS HIS CAMERA, and as he does he motions 
for the soldiers to continue.

P.O.V. THE FRAMED IMAGE -- SOLDIERS, SMOKE AND COKE IN B.G. 
As the soldiers move toward the Coke, Price snaps picture 
after picture.

A MORTAR EXPLOSION BLOWS THE COCA-COLA TO A MILLION BITS The 
two soldiers stop short -- several more steps and they would 
have been killed. Price's intrusion has accidentally saved 
them. The two soldiers run toward safety, bewildered and 
scared.

ON THE AIRFIELD - THE SMOKE CLEARS AND ALL IS CALM

Gradually the airfield comes back to life. Several teams of 
medics run with stretchers from the hut and begin gathering 
bodies. Rebel soldiers appear from every conceivable shelter 
and move across the field.

Oates emerges and meets Price on the torn up runway amidst 
the rubble. They look around at the devastation.

										 OATES
				 Well, I guess we know where the 
				 Guvmint is.

										 PRICE
							(cynically)
				 You can walk to work from here.

										 OATES
				 Convenient, ain't it?

Oates starts to walk away, then stops and speaks earnestly, 
as if trying to connect to a real world that doesn't exist.

										 OATES
				 My brother just got married.

										 PRICE
				 I don't know your brother.

Suddenly, the distant roar of a jet. All the soldiers on the 
field scan the horizon; Price looks up. The air raid siren 
goes off.

A JET DIVES OUT OF THE SKY TOWARD THE AIRFIELD OATES AND THE 
SOLDIERS DIVE TO COVER

JET STREAKS OVERHEAD and, instead of rockets and bombs, it 
drops something else:

THE SKY IS FILLED WITH A MILLION PIECES OF PAPER The jet 
pulls out and disappears. All is quiet again as the million 
papers flutter in the sky above the airfield.

Out of frustration a single soldier fires a couple of shots 
at the paper.

Price grabs a piece of paper out of the air. It is:

A PICTURE OF A SWIMMING POOL IN FRONT OF A CALIFORNIA HOUSE

HE STARES AT THE IMAGE and turns it over. There is writing 
on the backside in Spanish and Russian. He looks around.

OATES WANDERS OVER with a handful of the leaflets.

										 PRICE
				 What's this?

										 OATES
				 Great shit, eh?

Price tries to read the writing on the back as Oates looks 
at a leaflet familiarly.

										 OATES
				 U.S. Gummint offers this house to 
				 any Cuban pilot flying Migs for the 
				 Rebels who chooses to defect to 
				 America with a Russian jet. We know 
				 they ain't gonna run off with no 
				 planes -- but the Rebs don't -- 
				 They're scared. They start thinking 
				 about that swimming pool. Damn near 
				 smell that chlorine. Starts workin' 
				 on 'em, and pretty soon they don't 
				 let the Cubies near a Mig. Use their 
				 own spook pilots and destroy their 
				 own air force in a week. Guaran-fuckin-
				 teed.

										 PRICE
				 C.I.A.?

										 OATES
							(proudly)
				 Smartest guys in the world.
							(afterthought)
				 Hey, you gotta scoop here, eh? You'll 
				 be famous.

OATES shakes hands with Price who looks at the picture.

										 PRICE
							(dispassionately)
				 Maybe.

										 OATES
							(looking around)
				 I gotta run... have a good one.

Oates heads off across the runway as papers continue blowing 
down out of the sky; Price looks up and speaks to himself.

										 PRICE
				 I love Africa.

																										CUT TO:

INT. HOTEL ROOMS AT THE NEW PEOPLE'S HOTEL - NIGHT

CLAIRE STRYDER, 40, reads a report over the telephone as she 
times the call with a stopwatch. A photograph of Claire's 
high-school-aged daughter sits on her dresser.

ALEX GRAZIER, 50, struggles with his tie and a drink at a 
dresser in the adjoining room. Their connected rooms are 
littered with hand washed laundry and the paraphernalia of 
their trade -- typewriters, tape decks, books, notes, 
pictures.

Their love affairs of three years is ending.

										 CLAIRE
							(on the phone)
				 "...and so this strange war that 
				 features two provincial governments, 
				 three rival liberation fronts, and 
				 at least twenty-five tribal 
				 associations, grinds into its seventh 
				 year..."

Alex picks up a Melodica, a novelty wind instrument, and 
tries to court her with "Caravan" as she files her story. 
Though mildly put off, she maintains her cool throughout the 
call. He thinks he's Paul Desmond.

										 CLAIRE
				 "...The Battle for the Airfield at 
				 Abou Deia is just another chapter in 
				 this endless story. From Ndjamena, 
				 Chad, this is Claire Stryder."
							(beat)
				 No -- you didn't hear any music -- 
				 must be the connection. Okay? So 
				 long.

She hangs up and rises more irritated than angered.

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex, don't play that God damn thing 
				 when I'm filing.
							(beat)
				 We're late.

Quickly expressed, her anger passes.

										 ALEX
				 It's my party -- we'll be late. You 
				 called it a "strange war" and an 
				 "endless story." If you filed that 
				 story for me, I'd say you were 
				 editorialishing.

										 CLAIRE
				 I like to editorialize. You drunk?

Alex loves to be melo-dramatic and is quite conscious of his 
ability to charm. He's also aware that it's worn off with 
her.

										 ALEX
				 Drunk? Only with the memories of 
				 making love with you on the plains 
				 of Fianga as the first Army of 
				 Liberation marched in and opened 
				 fire.

										 CLAIRE
				 And freed the Proletariat.

Alex raises a drink.

										 ALEX
				 Right.

										 CLAIRE
				 I'm going to the party without you.

She leaves -- he quickly puts on his coat and follows her.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE ELEVATOR GOING DOWN - NIGHT

										 ALEX
				 Christ, I don't want to go to this 
				 stupid party. I'm bad at false 
				 modesty.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're great at it.

She straightens his half-tied tie in an act of familiar 
affection rather than motherliness. Nervousness. She speaks 
calmly -- this is ground they have already covered.

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex, you're going to make a great 
				 anchorman in New York and undoubtedly 
				 I could be a Pulitzer Prize winning 
				 hostess -- but I'm not going with 
				 you.

										 ALEX
				 You can work out of the East Coast. 
				 We'll get a place on Long Island and 
				 burn our suitcases.

										 CLAIRE
				 I still like suitcases.

										 ALEX
				 Every Saturday night we'll have a 
				 party... invite all our friends, sit 
				 out on the veranda and interview 
				 each other.

										 CLAIRE
				 I've done all that.

										 ALEX
				 I haven't.
							(beat; changes tack)
				 Well, God dammit, I'm getting tired 
				 of memorizing who's the president of 
				 the... Republic of Maldives.

										 CLAIRE
				 Mamoon Abdul Gayoom.

										 ALEX
				 Yeah, he succeeded Mamoon Abdul 
				 Gayeem.

They both smile slightly as the elevator comes to a stop. 
The door doesn't open, and the light flickers.

										 ALEX
				 And I'm tired of Third World 
				 elevators.

He bangs the door with his fist. It opens, and they enter a 
dismal hallway. The sounds of a party come from beyond.

										 ALEX
				 Don't leave me.

										 CLAIRE
				 I already have.

As they approach the door to the party, he speaks with new 
toughness.

										 ALEX
				 Fuck Abou Deia and New York. I'm 
				 going to Nicaragua with you.

										 CLAIRE
				 No.

										 ALEX
				 I've heard it's a neat little war 
				 with a nice hotel.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE ROOM WITH THE PARTY - NIGHT

A cheer goes up for Alex as he and Claire enter. Party hats, 
booze, hand-made signs reading "Bon Voyage," etc. Fifteen 
journalists of varying nationalities cover this backwater 
war.

Though both upset, they act as if everything is normal.

PRICE STANDS ON A CHAIR AT THE CENTER summoning Alex who 
moves through the group with ease, instantly at home. Price 
holds up a bottle of champagne in toast.

										 PRICE
				 Alex, get up here!

Alex climbs on a chair next to Price who puts his arm around 
him.

										 PRICE
				 To the man who gave me my first job, 
				 and fired me from my first job... 
				 and gave me my second job...

										 VOICE FROM CROWD
				 And fired you from your second job...

										 PRICE
				 Just a few words, Alex.

										 VOICES FROM CROWD
				 Impossible! Can't be done! etc.

However miserable, Alex shines in these situations. He raises 
his hand -- silence.

										 ALEX
				 You may be asking yourself what 
				 exactly are you doing here in this 
				 "strange war, just another chapter 
				 in an endless story... that grinds 
				 into its seventh year..."

Claire slips to the side bar and pours herself a drink, 
watching Alex and shaking her head with some affection.

JIMMY, THE CAB DRIVER, ENTERS WITH A CAKE covered with 
candles. The crowd parts for the cake shaped like the country 
of Chad. The crowd begins singing "Caravan" in a half-drunken 
tribute to a man they like and respect.

PRICE MOVES AROUND THE ROOM TAKING PICTURES of the party; it 
is all casual, silly, fun.

THROUGH CAMERA P.O.V.'S OF ALEX IN A PARTY HAT, whip pan to 
CABBY WITH THE CAKE, whip pan to DRUNKEN JOURNALISTS.

THROUGH CAMERA P.O.V. OF CLAIRE -- FREEZE FRAME, pan follows 
her as she moves through the room -- FREEZE FRAME, she picks 
up another drink and leaves through a side door -- FREEZE 
FRAME.

ALEX GIVES IN AND JOINS THE SINGING, enjoying his own tribute 
once he has managed to give in to it.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE DARKROOM - RED LIGHTS

Claire's face is also covered with tears as she smokes, 
wandering idly among clothespinned photos. A part of her 
life is ending -- life with Alex -- but it's not ending 
neatly.

A ROW OF HANGING PHOTOGRAPHS catches her eye. She stops and 
looks closely -- then laughs in spite of herself at a series 
of pictures: PHOTO OF A TALL AFRICAN NATIVE WITH A COCK SO 
LONG IT IS TIED IN A KNOT; PHOTO OF A BEAUTIFULLY BREASTED 
AFRICAN WOMAN; PHOTO OF SEVERAL POSING SOLDIERS; PHOTO OF A 
PHOTO -- THE RANCH HOUSE WITH POOL; PHOTO SELF-PORTRAIT OF 
PRICE BLOWING SMOKE RINGS; PHOTO OF CLAIRE AND ALEX IN HAPPIER 
DAYS.

CLAIRE PULLS THE PHOTO OF ALEX AND HER from the clip and 
looks at it.

THE DOOR OPENS, AND PRICE ENTERS

										 PRICE
				 Oh. I didn't know you were here.

										 CLAIRE
				 Sure you did. You were taking pictures 
				 of me all over the room.

										 PRICE
				 Well... yeah... you looked great. 
				 Why aren't you partying?

										 CLAIRE
				 In a minute.

He notices the picture she's looking at.

										 PRICE
				 I printed that up for Alex.

										 CLAIRE
				 It wouldn't be the greatest thing 
				 you could give him right now...
							(beat)
				 We just split up.

										 PRICE
				 Jesus, I'm sorry. Who left who this 
				 time?

										 CLAIRE
				 I'm the villain... I thought it could 
				 be a little cleaner this time -- me 
				 in Central America, him in New York.

										 PRICE
				 That's pretty clean.

										 CLAIRE
				 But he's decided to go to Nicaragua 
				 too.

										 PRICE
				 To cover you or the war?

										 CLAIRE
				 To cover everything.

Silence. Price moves behind her and gently kisses her on the 
ear. She smiles quickly and nervously.

										 CLAIRE
				 No.

He kisses her on the neck.

										 CLAIRE
				 For godsakes, Russell, listen.

The sounds of the party can be heard. He ignores them and 
moves around her, trying to kiss her on the lips. She puts 
her hand over his mouth.

Price reacts strongly, flaring slightly and withdrawing.

										 PRICE
				 I don't want to wait for you again. 
				 We've been circling each other since 
				 the Montreal Olympics.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're a genius of bad timing.
							(beat)
				 I'm going back to the party.

She heads to the door; Price stays. She stops before getting 
there, hesitates, then pulls the PHOTO OF THE ELEPHANT from 
the string and returns to Price, handing him the photo.

										 CLAIRE
				 This is a great shot.

										 PRICE
				 Thanks.

										 CLAIRE
				 I've heard the light in Nicaragua's 
				 even better.

He doesn't respond. They stand for several moments -- the 
sounds of the party get louder. She turns and heads to Alex's 
celebration, leaving Price alone in the darkroom.

PRICE LOOKS AT CLAIRE AS SHE LEAVES, stares aimlessly for 
several moments, then focuses back on his PHOTO OF THE 
ELEPHANTS.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

											NICARAGUA 1979

EXT. THE STREETS OF MANAGUA - THE CAPITOL - AFTERNOON

CLOSE ON: TIME MAGAZINE WITH COVER PHOTO OF THE ELEPHANTS, 
gradually PULL BACK to reveal other magazines, candy, cigars, 
Nicaraguan toys, all in a corner shop, and finally:

A FIRE TRUCK LEADS A PROCESSION through the streets -- a 
group of middle class Nicaraguan women carry a banner that 
reads "Our Revolution is in Christ" (in Spanish), followed 
by three Catholic PRIESTS in bright robes, followed by a 
sound truck with P.A. system, followed by hundreds of 
townspeople carrying banana leaves and religious signs. All 
are singing a Catholic hymn in a swaying, hypnotic rhythm. 
Small red and black flags are scattered throughout.

A CAB DRIVING THROUGH THE STREETS runs into the parade and 
stops. Price sits in the front seat -- his luggage is tied 
precariously to the roof. The trunk of the cab has been 
smashed in beyond repair. Price hops out of the cab with his 
camera bag -- he doesn't know what the parade is about but 
it looks great. He hands the cabbie some money to stay nearby.

										 PRICE
				 Wait here.

He runs to join the procession.

PRICE HOPS ONTO THE RUNNING BOARD OF THE FIRE TRUCK and almost 
simultaneously his light meter is out. HE is surrounded by 
images: SMALL GIRLS DRESSED AS ANGELS LINE THE STREET, 
TOWNSPEOPLE HANG FROM DOORWAYS AND WINDOWS, ICE CREAM CARTS 
AMONG RELIGIOUS ICONS, SOLDIERS WITH GUNS STAND IN SMALL 
GROUPS ALONG THE PARADE ROUTE.

PRICE IS QUICKLY TAKING PICTURES OF EVERYTHING, changing 
cameras, occasionally taking a quick light reading; his 
actions are instinctive and automatic. Suddenly:

TEN YOUNG TEENAGERS BURST INTO THE PARADE They wear red and 
black handkerchiefs, baseball caps, and strange masks. They 
are chanting:

										 TEENAGE BOYS
				 Rafael, Rafael, Rafael... libre o 
				 muerte... Rafael...

A LARGE PAINTING OF THE FACE OF RAFAEL is carried aloft on a 
stick, draped with red and black scarves.

PRICE PHOTOGRAPHS the boys and the painting.

NATIONAL GUARD SOLDIERS SHOVE INTO THE PARADE Up and down 
the street they spring into action, running for position 
with their guns.

An ice cream vendor is knocked down, a mother clutches her 
"angel" daughter, another child is whisked inside a door as 
the Soldiers break into the procession.

THE "MUCHACHOS" WITH RAFAEL TURN TO RUN but realize that the 
soldiers have cut off their escape.

THREE SOLDIERS BREAK into the parade and are separated from 
the boys only by a group of Priests. Trapped, the boys panic, 
but as the SOLDIERS push towards them:

THE PRIESTS BLOCK THE SOLDIERS and intentionally scuffle 
with them, allowing the boys just enough time to dart into a 
house. One of the boys drops the picture of Rafael as he 
heads in the door.

THE CROWD PUSHES FORWARD, the route to the door is blocked 
off, and the boys escape.

SOLDIERS FIND THE PORTRAIT OF RAFAEL and shoot it full of 
holes with their automatic weapons.

PRICE PHOTOGRAPHS "RAFAEL" as his image is ripped to shreds 
with bullets.

The singing and the parade march on.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL IN MANAGUA - LATER - DAY

Overlooking Managua is a sub-tropical paradise that seems 
far removed from a brutal civil war, this one time tourist 
watering hole serves as home base to the international press. 
The cab pulls up, and Price gets out. The driver unties his 
luggage from the roof as TWO PRESS CORPS MEMBERS recognize 
Price and greet him as an old friend.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE HOTEL POOL AND OUTDOOR BAR - DAY (DUSK)

ALEX SITS WITH A BEAUTIFUL NICARAGUAN WOMAN, 35, at a table 
as PRESS CORPS MEMBERS mingle. A man we will come to know as 
HUB KITTLE, 40, dressed New York casual, table hops in the 
b.g.

PRICE SEES ALEX and sneaks over to drop the Time magazine 
over his shoulder onto the table in front of him. Without 
looking up, Alex knows Price has arrived. He smiles.

										 ALEX
				 Welcome to Managua.

They shake hands warmly, and Price sits down. Price points 
to the cover as a beer is served.

										 PRICE
				 You have something to do with this?

										 ALEX
				 Well... I thought of calling your 
				 photographs "Pictures from a Lost 
				 War"... I'm great at captions -- the 
				 New York editors loved it since none 
				 of them knew where the hell Chad was 
				 anyway -- it legitimized their 
				 ignorance, got you a cover, me a 
				 feature, and packaged a class struggle 
				 in two words. Nifty, eh?

										 PRICE
				 Nifty.

Russell acknowledges ISELA CRUZ sitting with Alex.

										 PRICE
				 I'm Russell Price.

										 ALEX
				 I'm sorry... this is Isela Cruz. She 
				 works for the hotel and helps out as 
				 a translator.

										 ISELA
				 My pleasure.

IN THE BACKGROUND CLAIRE WALKS INTO THE POOL-BAR AREA She 
carries her handbag and some papers -- she stops short seeing 
Price sitting with Alex. She hesitates, starts toward them, 
stops, and sits down at the bar at the opposite end of the 
pool.

Price sees her, and she sees Price. They pretend they don't. 
Price turns to Isela and launches into a stream of broken, 
chauvinistic Spanish with his usual elegance.

										 PRICE
							(in Spanish)
				 Looks like you guys have a lot of 
				 bang-bang down here, eh? Little 
				 misunderstanding between the poets 
				 and the government?

										 ISELA
				 "Misunderstanding?!" "Down here" 
				 it's called a war. It started in 
				 nineteen thirty. Before you were 
				 born.

										 ALEX
				 My Spanish is a little out of shape -- 
				 what'd he say?

										 ISELA
				 He said he considers it an honor to 
				 be able to photograph our war.

Price looks at each of them and decides not to push.

										 ALEX
				 Russell's got a way with words.

										 ISELA
				 I can tell.

										 PRICE
				 You're a helluva translator.

										 ISELA
				 I know. I'm much in demand around 
				 here. Will you excuse me? If you 
				 have any questions, just ask.

Alex stands to help Isela from her chair. Price presses on, 
instinctively and effortlessly.

										 PRICE
				 Who is Rafael?

										 ALEX
				 It depends who you ask.

Alex turns to Isela, who stops as she rises.

										 ISELA
				 Rafael? Comandante Rafael. He is 
				 either a Marxist dupe of Russia and 
				 Cuba...
							(beat)
				 ...or the most popular leader of a 
				 most popular democratic revolution.
							(to Price cynically)
				 Take your pick.

										 PRICE
				 I don't really give a damn... but 
				 the guy's got a great face.

A beat, then Price asks his question almost sexually, as if 
he thinks he could seduce Isela, Rafael, the whole war.

										 PRICE
				 How would he like to be photographed?

										 ISELA
				 You'd never find him.

										 PRICE
				 Wanta lay odds?

										 ISELA
				 You would lose.
							(beat)
				 You must excuse me.

She starts to leave again, and again he stops her.

										 PRICE
				 Just one more thing -- is Rafael 
				 owned by the C.I.A. or the K.G.B.? 
				 I'll figure out the rest.

Isela seems to welcome the question. Her tone is less flip, 
and she focuses hard on Price.

										 ISELA
				 Mr. Price... the world is not divided 
				 into East and West anymore. It is 
				 divided into North and South. By the 
				 time you people figure that out -- 
				 it will be too late.
							(beat)
				 Congratulations on your cover.

She touches his Time magazine, kisses Alex on the cheek, and 
floats magically through the pool area.

Price frames her with his fingers as if composing a shot.

P.O.V. OF ISELA THROUGH PRICE'S FINGERS Isela kisses another 
journalist, grabs someone's hand, and lands gracefully at 
another table.

										 PRICE
				 So far this war's got it all over 
				 Africa.

										 ALEX
				 You're gonna have a ball.

ALEX PLACES HIS HAND OVER PRICE'S "FRAME" blocking out his 
view of the sexy Isela. Though Alex's tone is gentle, the 
threat is obvious.

										 ALEX
				 Hands off. I need an interpreter 
				 more than you do right now.

Price takes the hint.

										 PRICE
				 You still hanging in there with 
				 Claire?

Alex chooses his words carefully and speaks slowly.

										 ALEX
				 I'm hanging in there like an interim 
				 post-war government waiting for the 
				 palace to be overrun... by younger 
				 men.

Silence and an uneasiness that Alex intended. Price manages 
a smile.

										 PRICE
				 Younger men.

Alex smiles disarmingly.

CLAIRE RISES AT THE OPPOSITE BAR, picks up her papers, and 
heads straight for the two men with a bounce in her step.

BOTH MEN ARE A BIT SURPRISED AT HER ENTRANCE and she hands a 
stack of mail to Alex.

										 CLAIRE
				 Hi, Alex... Russell! When did you 
				 get in?

										 PRICE
				 Just now.

She shakes Price's hand in a friendly manner that comes out 
awkwardly, then races past the moment to address and entertain 
both men.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're not going to believe this -- 
				 I just beat you guys and everybody 
				 else here to a story...
							(she teases them)
				 ...exclusive... eat your heart out.

										 PRICE
				 What'd ya get?

										 CLAIRE
				 I've just been promised a private 
				 interview with Tacho.

										 ALEX
							(impressed)
				 Congratulations. The bastard won't 
				 talk to me.

										 PRICE
				 Who's Tacho?

They turn to Price as if everyone knows who Tacho is.

										 CLAIRE
				 That's President Somoza's nickname.

										 PRICE
				 I don't know who the players are 
				 yet.

										 ALEX
				 Want me to order you a hot dog and a 
				 program?

A bit of tension and awkwardness -- Claire quickly takes 
control and changes the tone.

										 CLAIRE
				 Fellas! No fighting after six at 
				 night, all right? Curfew.
							(beat)
				 C'mon, we've all got something to 
				 celebrate.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE VIKING CLUB OF MANAGUA - NIGHT

Corrugated metal roofs, thatched hut booths, a strange 
combination of decorative and architectural devices. DAISY 
WILLIAMS, a large black woman from Nicaragua, sings "I Left 
My Heart in San Francisco" with a mediocre jazz group.

HUB KITTLE is present, and other journalists drop by the 
table to say hello.

A BOY PHOTOGRAPHER, 13, aims an ancient bellows type polaroid 
at a booth in which Claire sits between Alex and Price. They 
are holding a pose indefinitely while the boy struggles with 
the camera. They hold up the TIME COVER and a couple of beers 
in celebration, and when he finally snaps the picture -- no 
flash.

The boy puts the camera down disappointedly.

										 BOY PHOTOGRAPHER
							(in broken English)
				 Sometimes it doesn't work.

The three journalists relax their pose.

										 PRICE
				 Let me look.

ON THE BANDSTAND Daisy has just finished "San Francisco" and 
spots Alex, motioning to him.

										 DAISY
				 Ladeez and Gen'mun, hep me get Aaleex 
				 ov' here...

Daisy applauds lightly for Alex to join them. Alex is equally 
pleased and embarrassed.

										 ALEX
				 There's not many piano bars left 
				 where I'm still welcome.

										 CLAIRE
				 Go ahead.

										 ALEX
				 If she can't sing in the key of C 
				 I'm in trouble.

Alex excuses himself and joins Daisy on the bandstand. Price 
and Claire are left alone in the booth as Price hands the 
repaired camera back to the boy.

ALEX AT THE PIANO begins a slow, easy cocktail version of 
"Stardust," the song of his generation perhaps, and he seems 
happy, seduced by his own chords.

PRICE AND CLAIRE RESUME THEIR POSE, and this time the camera 
FLASHES. Price pays for the picture from the boy.

At first there is a moment of awkwardness between them.

										 PRICE
				 Well...

										 CLAIRE
				 "Well"... you finished your assignment 
				 in Chad?

										 PRICE
				 Got Africa all wrapped up and pouched 
				 to my editor.

She smiles and relaxes a bit at the typical Price remark.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're going to love this war, 
				 Russell... there's good guys, bad 
				 guys, cheap shrimp...
							(an afterthought)
				 And Alex is still singing in the 
				 background.
							(beat)
				 I missed you.

										 PRICE
				 We gotta get alone somewhere to talk.

ALEX BEGINS SINGING as he plays. He sings like a trumpet 
player -- no voice but great phrasing. He half smiles as he 
sings, enjoying the song and enjoying making them 
uncomfortable.

ALEX AT THE PIANO

										 ALEX
				 Sometimes I wonder why I spend these 
				 lonely nights, Dreaming of a song...

BACK AT THE BOOTH

										 CLAIRE
				 Jesus... he's doing it on purpose.

										 PRICE
				 Alex is one of the world's leading 
				 experts on military strategy.

They don't really want to talk about Alex though his presence 
is unavoidable. Price changes gears, gets slightly goofy, 
and steers the conversation to more comfortable turf.

										 PRICE
				 Well, hell, I just got off the boat... 
				 gimme the scoop on Nicaragua...

										 CLAIRE
				 Well... about sixty years ago the 
				 U.S. Marines invaded to protect 
				 American business interests and put 
				 down a peasant revolt led by a little 
				 man who wore a giant cowboy hat --
				 his name was Augusto Sandino... In 
				 nineteen thirty-four he was murdered 
				 at a peace conference, and the Somoza 
				 family has ruled ever since...

										 PRICE
				 No, no, no... I don't mean the stuff 
				 about the peasants -- I mean the 
				 real stuff.

She knows what he means, but she wants to tease him a bit 
first.

										 CLAIRE
				 The "real" stuff?... you mean a 
				 history of class struggle in agrarian 
				 societies?

										 PRICE
				 No, c'mon!

										 CLAIRE
				 Oh. Okay... well...
							(beat)
				 Just a couple things.
							(beat)
				 One -- there's only two kinds of 
				 beer available -- Tona and Victoria. 
				 Victoria's better.
							(beat)
				 And two -- if you see Miss Panama 
				 hanging around the hotel bar -- hot, 
				 hot, hot -- but don't touch. She 
				 belongs to Tacho, and if anybody 
				 gets caught with her then El 
				 Presidente has promised to personally 
				 cut off the guy's...
							(unsure which word to 
							use)

										 PRICE
				 Pecker?

										 CLAIRE
				 Yeah... and throw it into Lake 
				 Managua.

										 PRICE
				 Jesus.

										 CLAIRE
				 And the lake's already polluted.

Price is impressed, and yet another new face drops by the 
booth -- they both recognize and see him coming, a 
contemporary of Price, REGIS FLYNN, a scraggly British 
journalist who heads over to their table holding three beers.

										 PRICE
							(mutters to Claire)
				 Is there anybody here we don't know?

										 CLAIRE
				 No.

Regis slides into their booth, happy to see them.

										 REGIS
				 G'damn, Price... kudos on the African 
				 snaps.
							(shakes hands, a 
							perfunctory kiss on 
							her cheek)
				 Jeez, Claire, I haven't seen you 
				 since...

										 CLAIRE
				 Three Mile Island.

										 REGIS
				 Yeah... shit...
							(wistfully)
				 Holiday Inn, right?

He nods; they all sip beers and watch Alex sing.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE NIGHT CLUB KITCHEN

A teenage DISHWASHER looks around nervously, then pulls a 
paper sack from off the shelf, removing a strange mask from 
it. He pulls the mask over his head. Then from the bag he 
removes a hand-made zip gun, puts a bullet in it, and darts 
into the shadows of a nook, waiting.

BACK TO THE BOOTH where Regis softly croons a few bars of 
"Stardust" into Claire's mike. The three of them are having 
a good time, mildly drunk at best, and uninhibited.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE CLUB

As we hear Alex's gentle rendition of the standard, a NECKING 
COUPLE moves back into the shadows of the club. Each pulls 
on a mask, as in the b.g.:

ISELA AND AN ELEGANT MAN ARRIVE AT THE CLUB

The man, somehow out of place, dresses with casual continental 
style, not overdone but expensive and tasteful -- clearly 
from another world. He wears a neat hat and moves gracefully. 
Isela looks stunning, dressed for the evening. The DOORMAN 
greets them familiarly.

Isela casually checks her watch as they enter the club.

The masked couple in the shadows check their watches.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE VIKING CLUB

As Isela and the man enter, commanding attention without 
trying. Isela stops at the piano long enough to kiss Alex 
gently before sitting in the booth with the man.

IN PRICE'S BOOTH the new arrivals have caught their attention -- 
Price and Alex still clown slightly, and Claire teases them.

										 CLAIRE
				 Jesus... Louis Jordan walks in, and 
				 I'm sitting with the Everly Brothers.

										 REGIS
				 Before you fall in love -- that's 
				 Marcel Jazy... friend of wine, women, 
				 and Somoza. They say he's a 
				 businessman...

										 CLAIRE
							(interrupting)
				 He's a businessman in search of a 
				 business... he doesn't try very hard 
				 to cover up his connections to the 
				 C.I.A...

P.O.V. OF JAZY LIGHTING ISELA'S CIGARETTE

										 CLAIRE
				 But look at his moves -- can the 
				 C.I.A. light cigarettes like that?

										 PRICE
				 What's wrong with the Everly Brothers?

THE WAITER ARRIVES AT PRICE'S BOOTH and sets down three shrimp 
cocktails and more champagne, as:

INT. THE BACK DOOR OF THE CLUB

It opens quickly, and three more MEN IN MASKS enter quickly.

BACK TO THE BOOTH as the waiter speaks with a firm coolness.

										 WAITER
				 Please stay at your table, and you 
				 won't be hurt.

A FACE IN A MASK MOVES QUICKLY PAST PRICE'S TABLE

ANOTHER MASKED FACE COMES OUT OF THE KITCHEN The dishwasher 
waves a gun.

TWO MASKED FACES -- THE COUPLE -- ENTER THROUGH THE FRONT 
DOOR The woman carries an automatic rifle and guards the 
entrance.

THREE MASKED FACES APPEAR Almost materialize from thin air, 
moving silently and without commotion. The music winds down 
slowly. (Six Guerrillas total)

A GUERRILLA QUICKLY SPRAYS AN IMAGE ON THE WALL With a few 
deftly drawn strokes, the FACE OF RAFAEL magically appears. 
The name "RAFAEL" is written under the face, then other names 
and revolutionary slogans. As this takes place:

A WOMAN GUERRILLA HAS A GUN AT THE HEAD OF A NICARAGUAN 
BUSINESSMAN The middle-aged, well-dressed local sits with 
his wife and two other men. They freeze in fear, the nightclub 
freezes, as the GUERRILLAS take control of the room swiftly 
and smoothly.

ONE GUERRILLA FACES THE NICARAGUAN BUSINESSMAN at the table 
and speaks loudly but without panic. The masked Guerrillas 
around the room are serious but nervous.

										 GUERRILLA LEADER
							(in Spanish)
				 We do not want to waste any ammunition 
				 on a head as empty as yours -- but 
				 we will.

										 BUSINESSMAN
							(in Spanish)
				 What is this?!

										 GUERRILLA LEADER
							(in Spanish)
				 Shut up! Get up!

The BUSINESSMAN refuses. The GUERRILLA LEADER takes a hand 
grenade from his pocket and pulls the pin without hesitation, 
then holds the grenade in front of him fearlessly, inches 
away from the Businessman's face.

The Businessman rises slowly. The LEADER motions toward the 
back door of the club.

										 GUERRILLA LEADER
							(in Spanish)
				 You are coming with us -- you will 
				 not be hurt -- we will trade you for 
				 the release of some Nicaraguans who 
				 care about Nicaragua.

The woman with the gun shoves it into the man's head forcing 
him to move toward the kitchen door.

PRICE TAKES PICTURES QUICKLY WITH A TINY CAMERA that fits 
into the palm of his hand. Neatly, surreptitiously, and calmly -- 
Price is coolest in any crisis.

CLAIRE PUNCHES ON HER TINY TAPE RECORDER instinctively, and 
a tiny red light comes on.

THE BUSINESSMAN IS SHOVED TO THE DOOR He hesitates, afraid 
to leave the room. The Guerrilla shoves the grenade in his 
face; the woman sticks the gun into his neck even deeper.

MASKED GUERRILLA AT THE FRONT DOOR SHOUTS FOR THEM TO HURRY

THE BANDMEMBERS -- INCLUDING ALEX -- BACK AWAY FROM THE 
BANDSTAND Alex trips over the drum set slightly -- a clanging 
clash of cymbals startles everyone, and as the drama freezes:

THE KITCHEN DOOR SWINGS OPEN, AND THE BOY PHOTOGRAPHER EMERGES 
Innocently, the young boy struts out of the kitchen to see 
what's going on, and as he does the DOOR STRIKES THE ARM OF 
THE GUERRILLA WITH THE GRENADE, and:

THE GRENADE IS KNOCKED FREE For an instant, everything 
freezes, and:

THE GRENADE ROLLS ACROSS THE FLOOR Daisy Williams, the singer, 
runs away screaming as the grenade comes to rest near a 
crowded section of the club.

A Guerrilla guarding the side door rushes for it, picks it 
up, and as he does:

THE GRENADE EXPLODES IN THE GUERRILLA'S HAND A brutal 
explosion -- the ceiling caves in partially, the musical 
instruments explode, and:

THE SANDINISTA GUERRILLAS DART FROM THE ROOM through various 
doors. The boy photographer lies bloodied. The Guerrilla who 
picked up the grenade is a barely recognizable corpse. The 
Businessman is soiled but unhurt.

ONE HALF OF THE CLUB BREAKS OUT IN FLAME As a broken gas 
pipe feeds a sudden outburst of fire, the club's patrons 
panic -- screaming and shoving towards the door as the ROOM 
LIGHTS UP, and:

PRICE'S LIGHT METER IS OUT AT ONCE followed quickly by a 
35mm camera, quickly clicking off picture after picture of 
the club amid the flames and panic. The new light makes his 
job easier.

PRICE TAKES A LIGHT READING near the body of the boy 
photographer. He sees the boy's camera lying nearby. Price 
puts away his light meter and feels the boy's pulse, then 
puts his ear to the boy's heart -- making sure he is not 
still alive.

LA GUARDIA SOLDIERS AND FIREMEN FILL THE ROOM

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE PRESS ROOM AT THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - LATER

The chaos of a busy, cramped Telex room. A switchboard -- 
several journalists trying to place phone calls. Press come 
and go -- coffee, cigarettes, and half-eaten sandwiches.

CLAIRE TEARS A STORY OFF THE TELEX while Price stands to the 
side of the action eating a sandwich and watching.

ALEX STANDS AT THE CENTER OF IT ALL Established as the senior 
figure (or one of them) to whom other, younger journalists 
come for information.

A YOUNG JOURNALIST, a Time stringer, is slightly distraught 
on the phone, and interrupts Alex's dealing with others, 
cupping the phone, to announce:

										 TIME STRINGER
				 ...it's Charlie, from New York -- 
				 says that a terrorist bombing of a 
				 Central American restaurant isn't 
				 big enough to hold for the world 
				 section...

										 ALEX
				 Tell him we have pictures.

										 YOUNG JOURNALIST
				 He knows.

										 ALEX
				 Tell him there were pieces of body 
				 in the piano, and somebody was 
				 singing, "I Left My Heart in San 
				 Francisco."
							(beat)
				 What's he got better than that?

										 TIME STRINGER
				 He's got the Pope visiting Egypt.

Alex grabs the phone in disgust and launches in.

										 ALEX
				 Forget the Pope, Charlie. Every week 
				 you got the Pope somewhere. This is 
				 a very big story down here because 
				 it's the first sign of fighting in 
				 Managua.
							(beat)
				 Yeah, well get a map and look up 
				 Nicaragua -- ya drive to New Orleans 
				 and turn left.

While Charlie argues on the other end of the phone, Alex 
initials papers and performs several jobs at once.

										 ALEX
				 Like hell I'm editorializing, the 
				 whole thing happened in a roomful of 
				 C.I.A. and press. What do you want?!
							(beats)
				 How do I know they were C.I.A.? They 
				 wore name tags, what do you think? 
				 We're backing a Fascist again -- I 
				 know that ain't news, but see if you 
				 can find an angle!

HUB KITTLE has been floating through the room and, upon 
hearing the word "fascist," takes offense and approaches 
Alex.

										 HUB
				 Hey! There's fascists and then there's 
				 fascists, right? Be careful how you 
				 throw words like that around.

Alex ignores Hub though he is slightly pestered by him, and 
continues on the phone as he initials papers brought to him.

										 ALEX
				 We don't have any pictures of Rafael 
				 because nobody knows where the son 
				 of a bitch is, and anybody crazy 
				 enough to go after him...

Alex spots Price who is standing nearby, still eating a 
sandwich, still enjoying the high energy buzz of the room. 
Alex directs his next line so that Price cannot fail to get 
the message. Alex plays the moment coolly.

										 ALEX
				 ...is liable to get his nuts shot 
				 off.

Hub nods seriously, in agreement. Price turns. Alex smiles. 
Price smiles. Alex hangs up, grumbling, then turns his 
attention to the persistent Hub Kittle.

										 ALEX
				 Yeah, well g'bye...
							(to Hub)
				 Who the fuck are you?

										 HUB
							(extending a hand)
				 Hub Kittle. I'm with Lewitsky and 
				 Knupp -- New York. We have a client 
				 down here.

Alex is irritated but fascinated.

										 ALEX
				 Who?

										 HUB
				 President Somoza.

Alex is incredulous that Somoza employs a New York P.R. firm. 
Hub is professionally used to this reaction -- no panic.

										 HUB
				 I know, I know...
							(beat)
				 But there's an untold story here. I 
				 mean, the man has a point of view 
				 too, right?

Alex turns to leave; Hub corners him.

										 HUB
				 We got a national anthem contest 
				 going on right now, and you guys are 
				 ignoring it. Lotta human interest.

Alex turns to other business though Hub persists.

ELSEWHERE IN THE ROOM a young NICARAGUAN WOMAN, 18, is talking 
to Claire. She seems to be part of the local press.

										 CLAIRE
				 I want you to get me copies of the 
				 Government inventory lists of all 
				 captured Guerrilla weapons. I want 
				 to know if the guns are Israeli, 
				 Belgian, Russian, Cuban...

										 YOUNG WOMAN
				 The Guerrillas are not supplied by 
				 anybody from the outside.

										 CLAIRE
				 Fine -- give me proof.

A TELEPHONE OPERATOR CALLS TO CLAIRE through the chaos.

										 OPERATOR
				 Su hija, su hija! Your daughter from 
				 Los Angeles.

Claire sighs at the bad timing but seems delighted to be 
interrupted by her daughter, and brushes aside a Stringer 
forcing paperwork upon her. Claire takes the phone into a 
bare, adjacent hallway for some privacy.

IN A BARE HALLWAY Claire talks to her daughter.

										 CLAIRE
				 Hi, baby! How are you?
							(beat)
				 Has Grandmother spoiled you silly by 
				 now? She has? Good.
							(beats)
				 Yes, I got your letter with the 
				 picture of your new boyfriend. He's 
				 very good looking... but he's a bit 
				 old, isn't he? No? Just how old is 
				 he?...

P.O.V. FROM THE TELEX ROOM TO CLAIRE Price knows this is not 
his world, and he wanders outside.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. MANAGUAN STREET NEAR THE HOTEL - LATER THAT NIGHT

Price bounces along, whistling, "San Francisco." An occasional 
Guardia jeep or taxi rumbles past. He strolls up the walkway 
of a house from which comes a strange, blue glow.

INT. THE MONEYCHANGERS HOUSE - NIGHT

Blue walls, bare bulbs, several pictures on the wall, and an 
old woman lying in a hammock. Music in the b.g. Price 
approaches her and hands her a $100 bill -- there is a brief 
negotiation of the black market value.

										 PRICE
							(in broken Spanish)
				 Cuanto?

										 OLD WOMAN
				 Quince.

										 PRICE
				 Veinte.

										 OLD WOMAN
				 Diezysiete.

She shrugs, declaring the negotiation ended, and leaves the 
room to change the dollar into cordobas. Price idly studies 
the pictures on the wall:

PICTURE OF ANASTAZIO SOMOZA IN WHITE, PICTURE OF THE VIRGIN 
OF GUADALUPE, PICTURE OF SANTA CLAUS, FADED NEWSPHOTO OF 
HANK AARON HITTING HIS 715TH HOME RUN.

PRICE SMILES AND TURNS RIGHT INTO A SHARP BAYONET mounted to 
a rifle held threateningly by a Guardia soldier.

THE SMALL ROOM IS FILLED WITH NATIONAL GUARDS We haven't 
heard them enter over the sounds of music and our 
preoccupation with the pictures.

										 PRICE
				 What is this? I'm a journalist!

No answer. Price pulls a thick passport and press credentials 
from a pocket, handing them to the Officer in charge.

										 PRICE
				 Journalista, journalista!

The officer looks at Price's passport photo, studies it 
briefly and takes the passport. He nods.

A rifle butt is jammed violently into Price's belly -- he 
doubles over. The Officer nods, and Price is led away.

As the Guard hauls him outside, the OLD WOMAN appears in the 
doorway with a stack of local currency.

																										CUT TO:

INT. MILITARY HOLDING CELL - NIGHT

Price is led into a dark cell where another PRISONER, 50, 
lies in street clothes on the floor. The Prisoner is spat 
upon by the Guards and kicked awake. Price cringes.

										 GUARD
				 Padre Puta, Padre Puta, Padre Puta...
							(in Spanish to Price)
				 Here is a Priest for you to confess 
				 your sins.

The Guards laugh and leave. The Prisoner rises to his feet. 
Price keeps his distance. The Prisoner looks in bad shape.

										 PRISONER PRIEST
				 Cigarillo?

Price hands him a cigarette and lights it. A long, deep drag.

										 PRICE
				 Priest?
							(the man nods)
							(in broken Spanish)
				 What are you doing here?

										 PRISONER PRIEST
							(in Spanish)
				 The government accused me of using 
				 the church to hide Rebels and guns.

										 PRICE
							(in Spanish)
				 Governments are always wrong, eh?

										 PRISONER PRIEST
							(in Spanish)
				 This time they're right. Who are 
				 you?

										 PRICE
							(in Spanish)
				 Un periodista.

										 PRISONER PRIEST
							(in Spanish)
				 Whose side are you on?

										 PRICE
							(in Spanish)
				 I don't take sides. I take pictures.

										 PRISONER PRIEST
							(in Spanish)
				 No sides?

										 PRICE
							(in Spanish)
				 No.

The Prisoner Priest looks at Price with disdain.

										 PRISONER PRIEST
				 Periodista Puta, todos periodistas 
				 son putas.
							(All journalists are 
							whores)

The Prisoner sits down in the corner ignoring Price who is 
surprised to be treated so despicably.

										 PRISONER PRIEST
							(quietly)
				 Go home.

																										CUT TO:

INT. A BRIGHTLY LIT ROOM

Price is led into a lineup of 10 people, all Nicaraguans. 
The room is narrow and so brightly lit that at first he covers 
his eyes.

FIGURES MOVE IN THE SHADOWS A Guardia soldier moves up and 
down the lineup, stopping to point at a prisoner. In the 
line we recognize the WAITER from the Viking Club. Price 
speaks to the soldier in a calm, reasoned tone.

										 PRICE
				 Mi amigo -- mala interpretacion, eh? 
				 Periodista, comprende? Famoso. Time 
				 magazine.

The soldier whirls at Price in a rage out of all proportion 
to Price's tone, shouting:

										 SOLDIER
							(in Spanish)
				 Shut up!

Price holds up his hands -- he may be fearless, but he's not 
stupid. The soldier pulls a knife, then pulls his own tongue 
from his mouth, and makes motions with the knife as if cutting 
out his tongue. The message is clear -- Price doesn't speak.

The soldier walks up to the Waiter and points. The Waiter is 
frightened.

Through the shadows we see an officer talking with a civilian 
in a hat. The civilian points to a door.

THE WAITER IS LED AWAY THROUGH A DOOR protesting desperately 
as he goes. The soldier moves to the next prisoner -- he too 
is led away. This repeats itself until the soldier arrives 
at price.

THE SOLDIER POINTS TO PRICE

PRICE'S P.O.V. THROUGH THE SHADOWS The civilian is in a 
discussion with the officer -- it is clear that his opinion 
affects the decisions. For a moment Price doesn't know where 
he's going to be led. The civilian points to a different 
door -- it opens -- and Price steps down off the display 
rack into a room.

THROUGH THE DOOR as Price steps through, the action continues 
with the other Nicaraguan prisoners. Price looks around 
quickly, but the Civilian and Officer are gone. He is quickly 
shown into a bare office.

INT. THE BARE ROOM

Pictures on the wall of Somoza and the FLAG RAISING AT IWO 
JIMA. Price's cameras and bag sit on a desk.

P.O.V. THE CIVILIAN THROUGH A DOOR -- IT IS MARCEL JAZY His 
rumpled elegance is at odds with the brutal surroundings. 
The door closes.

A SENIOR OFFICER ENTERS THE BARE ROOM, and Price addresses 
him at once.

										 PRICE
				 Soy un periodista.

										 SENIOR GUARD OFFICER
							(in excellent English)
				 Mr. Price... you must accept our 
				 deepest apologies for the 
				 misunderstanding. Somebody saw you 
				 taking photographs of terrorists 
				 hooligans in the parade and at the 
				 nightclub -- our young officers get 
				 carried away... they're always looking 
				 for traitors.

										 PRICE
				 That film is half way to New York by 
				 now.

										 SENIOR GUARD OFFICER
				 I know, I know... It was all a 
				 misunderstanding... una mala 
				 interpretacion. Your cameras.

The Officer reaches for one of Price's cameras and hands it 
to him, but as he does:

THE CAMERA DROPS TO THE GROUND AND BREAKS -- SILENCE The 
Officer would love for Price to get angry.

										 SENIOR GUARD OFFICER
				 I'm sorry.

Price smiles barely, and refuses to pop off.

										 PRICE
				 Forget it.

Price puts his cameras in his bag, and as he is shown from 
the room he notices a copy of the TIME MAGAZINE WITH ELEPHANT 
sitting on the desk.

										 SENIOR GUARD OFFICER
				 This way.

Price is shown to a door, handed over to a soldier, and led 
outside into the night.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. MILITARY PRISON - DAWN

Claire stands at the main doorway surrounded by GUARDS, an 
OFFICER, and an unidentified CIVILIAN -- she is arguing with 
them in rapid Spanish, not allowing them to get in a word.

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 You throw a journalist in jail -- it 
				 gets in the papers. You walk all 
				 over the same press credentials you 
				 pass out. I demand to speak to someone 
				 in authority or I'll go to Tacho 
				 myself... I don't understand you -- 
				 you're big and strong and handsome 
				 but you're not so smart!
							(beat)
				 You should be trying to seduce us!

										 OFFICER
				 Senora...

PRICE IS SHOWN OUT A DOOR IN THE BACKGROUND and sees her.

										 PRICE
				 Claire!

They hurry toward each other and embrace briefly. The Guards 
watch it all curiously.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're okay?

										 PRICE
				 I'm fine -- what're you doing here? 
				 These guys are goons.

										 CLAIRE
				 They love being beaten up by a woman
							(beat)
				 I've been looking for you all night -- 
				 why'd they lock you up?

They walk away together.

										 PRICE
				 I don't know. Taking pictures. The 
				 usual. Jazy got me released.

										 CLAIRE
				 Jazy?! You think there's a story 
				 there?

										 PRICE
				 Ahh... C.I.A. stories are all alike. 
				 I wanta find Rafael.

										 CLAIRE
				 You need help?

										 PRICE
				 No. You?

										 CLAIRE
				 No.
							(beat)
				 When should we start.

										 PRICE
				 I figure you probably want to do a 
				 little research on the history of 
				 Marcel Jazy's business connections 
				 in the third world countries with 
				 C.I.A. influence...

										 CLAIRE
				 Oh. I assumed you'd just look him in 
				 the eye and say "Gimme a break, for 
				 crissakes, Marcel, are you a spy or 
				 aren't you?"

																										CUT TO:

EXT. GARDEN COURTYARD OF MARCEL JAZY - DAY LATER

Marcel Jazy stands, drink in hand, looking slightly rumpled 
in the daylight, slightly older, but more charming and self-
effacing than his first impression indicated. His two story 
Mediterranean style house is in slight disrepair; the gardens 
are scraggly and overgrown. The pool is empty. Jazy addresses 
Price and Claire.

										 PRICE
				 ...are you a spy or aren't you, eh?

										 JAZY
							(smiling)
				 Spy is such an odd word, Mr. Price... 
				 nobody is a... 'spy'... anymore.

										 CLAIRE
				 Russell prefers pictures to words...

										 JAZY
				 You don't have to apologize... you're 
				 journalists.

										 CLAIRE
				 And you're a businessman?

										 JAZY
				 A businessman? That sounds good. 
				 Okay, I'm a businessman.

										 PRICE
				 Why was I arrested, and why did you 
				 get me released, and who are you?

As he speaks, the questioning comes to a sudden halt as a 
SPECTACULAR LOOKING WOMAN emerges from the shadows of the 
house into the light of the courtyard. She is tall, Latin, 
and besides high heels wears only a shiny, high fashion 
swimsuit, cut high on the legs.

Price, Claire, and Jazy stop to watch as the woman stops to 
look into the empty pool.

										 WOMAN IN SWIMSUIT
				 No agua.

										 JAZY
							(nodding)
				 No agua.

										 WOMAN IN SWIMSUIT
							(in Spanish)
				 Oh, Marcel! You told me there would 
				 be water in the pool this week!

Jazy leans in very coolly to Price and Claire as he pours an 
extra glass of wine and speaks softly in English again.

										 JAZY
				 If she dove in, I assure you she 
				 wouldn't notice.

He carries the glass of wine to the woman, smiling warmly.

										 JAZY
							(to Miss Panama in 
							Spanish)
				 Sweetheart, the Guerrillas knocked 
				 out the pumping station on the road 
				 to Masaya, and we must ration water 
				 for the time being. Next week maybe 
				 things will be better.

										 WOMAN IN SWIMSUIT
							(in Spanish)
				 Maybe I should go back to Panama.

										 JAZY
							(in Spanish)
				 Maybe you should.

Jazy pushes a lounge chair over to her and hands her a glass 
of wine. The woman unfolds gracefully into a lounge chair in 
the sun. Very sexy. She reaches for and kisses Jazy's hand 
affectionately -- he kisses her forehead. She feels better 
now.

Jazy motions for Claire and Price to follow him inside.

INT. JAZY'S HOUSE - DAY

The pool is visible in b.g. His house, like the pool, is 
rumpled and slightly sloppy though it betrays the taste of 
its occupant -- books everywhere, pictures on the wall, 
nothing cheap or tacky but everything is well worn.

										 JAZY
				 You were arrested because the Guardia 
				 are clowns who specialize in excess. 
				 You were released because I told 
				 them to release you.

										 CLAIRE
				 These are not the normal duties of a 
				 businessman.

He looks at them directly.

										 JAZY
				 But they are the normal duties of 
				 a... spy, eh? You win, I'm a spy.
							(smiles)
				 There, are you happy? I feel better.

He refills their glasses.

										 JAZY
				 Now we can relax. You can turn off 
				 your little thing.

The red light of her recorder is on. She smiles slightly, 
undisturbed, and turns it off.

										 JAZY
				 Oh, I trust you won't say anything 
				 to hurt me. In some ways I'm a 
				 terrible spy. I used to be much better 
				 at it, but now it seems everyone 
				 knows who I am. I have too many 
				 girlfriends. I like to be 
				 photographed.
							(beat)
				 I talk too much.

Price and Claire are almost afraid to speak, afraid to 
interrupt this strange performance.

										 JAZY
				 I always talk too much... but my 
				 girlfriends like that... No matter.
							(pointing to the 
							swimsuited woman)
				 You know who she is?

										 CLAIRE AND PRICE
				 No.

										 JAZY
				 That's Miss Panama. Do you know who 
				 that is?

										 CLAIRE AND PRICE
				 Oh, yeah, yes, etc.

										 JAZY
				 She's in love with me. I've got to 
				 get some water in the pool.
							(beat)
				 And once a week I have lunch with 
				 President Somoza to discuss security 
				 measures against the Sandinista 
				 insurgents, but all he wants to talk 
				 about is Miss Panama... he's worried 
				 about her.

Claire interrupts with a smile.

										 CLAIRE
				 Because he thinks she's seeing another 
				 man?

Jazy smiles slightly before confirming.

										 JAZY
				 ...and he assigned me to find out 
				 who the man is.

They all smile at this complication. Price is impressed. 
Jazy changes the subject with fluent and disturbing ease.

										 JAZY
				 We all know the Revolutionaries are 
				 going to win, don't we?

Silence. They don't know how to respond.

THEIR P.O.V. AS MISS PANAMA STRETCHES LIKE AN ENORMOUS CAT 
They all are slightly entertained and glad for the relief.

Unsure what to say next, Price notices a picture on the wall:

CLOSEUP - A BLOWN-UP FRAMED PHOTO OF THE RANCH HOUSE WITH 
POOL

The same picture we saw on the leaflets in Africa.

										 PRICE
				 There's a rumor about this picture. 
				 Some people say you're a genius -- 
				 that you invented this scheme.

										 JAZY
				 It was lots of people's idea... Have 
				 you been to Leon?

										 CLAIRE
				 We're going to Masaya... they say 
				 the Rebels have hit the cuartel.

										 PRICE
				 It's supposed to be nasty there... a 
				 lotta people think Rafael's in the 
				 South. I want to find out.

										 JAZY
				 No, no, it's not "nasty" yet. Another 
				 week maybe.
							(beat)
				 You would love Leon. A nice cathedral 
				 and beautiful light... et un peu de 
				 bang-bang.

										 CLAIRE
				 We're not doing a travelogue, you 
				 understand.

										 JAZY
				 Of course, of course... only I have 
				 heard that Comandante Rafael has 
				 recently had his unit in the area.

										 PRICE
							(surprised)
				 Rafael is near Leon?

										 JAZY
				 Well... it's a rumor, what do I know?

The voice of Miss Panama.

										 MISS PANAMA
				 Estoy desemperado!

										 JAZY
				 She's lonely!

										 CLAIRE
				 Don't let us stand in the way.

										 JAZY
				 It's my job.
							(beat)
				 You think I talk too much?

He doesn't wait for an answer, but excuses himself and goes 
out to tend to Miss Panama.

P.O.V. OF JAZY AND MISS PANAMA BY THE EMPTY POOL as Jazy 
touches her, whispers, and she waves to Claire and Price.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PRICE'S HOTEL BATHROOM - DAY

Early morning. Price lathers up with shaving cream for the 
first time, cleaning up. As he applies the lather he stops, 
and slowly draws a face on the mirror with shaving cream 
until he is staring at:

THE IMAGE OF RAFAEL IN SHAVING CREAM ON THE MIRROR

																										CUT TO:

EXT. NICARAGUAN COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

A RENTED CAR WITH WHITE FLAGS turns onto the road to Leon. 
Price drives, eats, and reads a map. Claire takes the map 
from him and reads it herself. They seem to enjoy their first 
moment alone without Alex looking over their shoulder. A 
small band-aid is on Price's clean shaven cheek.

										 CLAIRE
				 Did you dream about Miss Panama last 
				 night?

										 PRICE
				 I dreamed about you.

										 CLAIRE
				 Have a good time?

										 PRICE
				 Yeah... so'd you.

She reaches out and touches his band-aid.

										 CLAIRE
				 And old war injury flaring up?

										 PRICE
				 Is the tape on?

										 CLAIRE
				 Of course.

										 PRICE
				 I was on the deck of the U.S.S. Pueblo 
				 catching some rays when the North 
				 Koreans attacked... took a bullet 
				 right in the chest, but by luck I 
				 had an extra roll of high speed 
				 ektachrome in this pocket right 
				 here... over the heart...

										 CLAIRE
				 And the bullet ricocheted off the 
				 film, grazed your cheek, and saved 
				 your life.

										 PRICE
				 You heard about it?! I was lucky.

PASSING SHOT OF A CLUSTER OF ROADSIDE CROSSES marking a series 
of graves. Immediately the tone in Claire's voice changes, 
sobered by the reminder of war.

										 CLAIRE
				 Did anyone ever die next to you in 
				 combat?

										 PRICE
				 Yeah.

										 CLAIRE
				 What did you do?

										 PRICE
				 F.8 at a sixtieth.

										 CLAIRE
				 That's an old joke. My question was 
				 serious.

										 PRICE
				 So was I.
							(beat)
				 You ever dream about me?

										 CLAIRE
				 Once.

										 PRICE
				 How was I?

										 CLAIRE
				 Fast.

Again their glibness is interrupted by what they came to 
see. Even as they joke, they watch the landscape with concern.

REFUGEES ARE STREAMING OUT OF LEON, mostly women and children, 
some old men, carrying their possessions. Soldiers stand 
around.

										 CLAIRE
				 I'm basically a coward, Russell, I 
				 hope you understand that. I hope we 
				 don't get shot.

										 PRICE
				 Me too.

																										CUT TO:

A GUARDIA ROADBLOCK ON A HILL OVERLOOKING THE CITY

The press car pulls up to a stop. Price and Claire get out 
quickly, hand their credentials to a soldier, and open the 
trunk and the hood. As the car is searched they look down at 
the city.

P.O.V. LEON AS A PLANE CIRCLES FIRING ROCKETS AND SMOKE RISES 
from several places in the town. The sound of gunfire.

										 CLAIRE
							(to soldier in Spanish)
				 I thought it was quiet here.

										 SOLDIER
							(in Spanish)
				 Quiet? Are you sure you want to go 
				 down there? Not me.

The soldier laughs at the journalists and hands back the 
credentials.

										 SOLDIER
							(in Spanish)
				 You must leave the car here.

Price speaks in English knowing he can't be understood.

										 PRICE
							(to soldier)
				 You thinking of scoring a Toyota?

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 No problem -- we leave the car.

Price and Claire remove their things from the car, and Price 
takes the distributor cap as well as the keys. They walk 
over and look down the road leading into the city under seige.

MORE REFUGEES EVACUATE THE TOWN -- it is a most uninviting 
sight. The plane passes over the town in the distance firing 
rockets.

										 CLAIRE
				 Now what?

Price responds by flashing his light meter in the air, taking 
a quick, nervous reading.

										 PRICE
				 C'mon. Be careful.

										 CLAIRE
				 Be careful?! Where the fuck we going? 
				 Better light?

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREET INTO LEON - DAY

PRICE AND CLAIRE WALK SLOWLY INTO LEON

Looking around warily as they go, they are the only people 
entering the town. Claire speaks softly into her tape recorder 
as they walk in, recording the event without editorializing.

										 CLAIRE
				 ...June tenth... the evacuation of 
				 Leon... a woman carries a pig... 
				 signs for the F.S.L.N. are 
				 everywhere... a body...

THE BODY OF A YOUNG MAN lies ignored on the sidewalk. They 
continue walking and soon come to:

AN INTERSECTION HELD BY LA GUARDIA TROOPS WITH A TANQUETTA 
Price and Claire duck into a doorway, protected in effect by 
the Government soldiers who wait silently, guns ready, around 
the corner of a building. We see what they're waiting for.

A YOUNG SANDINISTA COMES OUT OF A BUILDING a block away, 
holding a handgun. Momentarily confused, he begins running 
toward us, toward the soldiers waiting in ambush. The 
Guerrilla races quickly to his waiting death, and as he turns 
the corner right into a dozen Guardia troops:

THE GUARDIA GUNS OPEN UP ON THE YOUNG GUERRILLA, killing him 
instantly.

CLAIRE TURNS HER HEAD AWAY unable to watch.

PRICE RECORDS THE EVENT WITH HIS CAMERA

THE GUARDIA FOLLOW THE TANQUETTA SLOWLY down the street toward 
the Rebel youth's house. Suddenly the intersection is empty.

PRICE AND CLAIRE MOVE DOWN A SIDESTREET SLOWLY as:

SEVERAL GUERRILLA MUCHACHOS DART OUT OF AN ALLEY with 
sharpened sticks, a spear gun, and one home-made gun. The 
Muchachos hesitate briefly, lost, and see Price.

THE MUCHACHOS QUICKLY POSE FOR A PICTURE motioning for Price 
to record them. They pose instantly in "tough-guy" posture.

PRICE TAKES THEIR PICTURE and just as quickly they dart away 
through a bombed out building.

THREE SANDINISTAS LEAP OFF A ROOFTOP and race toward Claire 
and Price who freeze:

										 CLAIRE
				 Russell?!

For a moment they aren't sure what this means -- are they in 
trouble? The Sandinistas shove past the two journalists, 
pushing open a doorway and disappearing inside. For a moment 
Price and Claire are alone on the street.

THE DOOR OPENS AGAIN SLOWLY and a middle-aged WOMAN appears, 
motioning for them to come inside.

INT. PEDRO'S HOUSE - DAY

The Three Sandinistas, dressed half in khaki, half recycled 
disco, are pleading with a young man, PEDRO, 15.

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(in Spanish)
				 You must come and help us... one 
				 more time.

										 PEDRO
							(in Spanish)
				 No, please...

One of the Sandinistas brings Pedro his rumpled baseball 
jersey from another room.

										 SANDINISTA #2
							(in Spanish)
				 For Leon... for Nicaragua!

Pedro sees Price and Claire and is more interested in them. 
He speaks in broken but understandable English.

										 PEDRO
				 Americans? Journalists?

										 CLAIRE AND PRICE
				 Yes.

Pedro lights up, and runs to a shelf where he returns with a 
baseball he is signing.

										 PEDRO
				 Ah! I put my autograph on this ball.

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Pedro! There is no time to waste.

Pedro is more interested in the two Americans.

										 PEDRO
				 When you get back to the United 
				 States, I want you to give this ball 
				 to Tippy Martinez for me. He is from 
				 Nicaragua.

Pedro hands Claire the baseball as the Sandinistas plead 
with Pedro for his help. He is more interested in getting 
the baseball delivered to Tippy Martinez. Claire accepts the 
ball graciously, exchanges awkward glances with Price, and 
puts it in her shoulder bag.

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Enrique is dead! Roberto has 
				 disappeared! The Guardia has the 
				 church, and we need you!

										 PEDRO
							(to Claire and Price)
				 You come, eh?
							(to the Sandinistas)
				 Can they come with us?

										 SANDINISTA #2
				 Come! Everybody come!

They go to the door and open it a crack to look out.

P.O.V. THE TANQUETTA PASSES as Soldiers kick open doors across 
the street.

The Sandinistas go to a corner of the room and push a book 
shelf out of the way. A large hole has been broken in the 
wall. They climb through the hole into the living room of 
the next house; the woman pushes the shelf back over the 
hole with great effort.

INT. THE NEXT HOUSE - DAY

A family huddles in the corner as the MAN OF THE HOUSE pulls 
back a couch and a hanging blanket, revealing another hole 
knocked in the wall. The Sandinistas, Pedro, Claire and Price 
scramble through.

P.O.V. THROUGH A SERIES OF DOOR-SIZED HOLES IN THE WALLS of 
all the houses on the block, connecting the homes with a 
secret passageway. The six of them race through the houses, 
each hole opening and then closing magically.

INT. THE KITCHEN OF A TINY SIDEWALK RESTAURANT - DAY

The Three Sandinistas, Pedro, Claire, and Price emerge. A 
WOMAN, 50, runs the cafe and welcomes them. The SIX crawl so 
as not to be seen from the street; they stop long enough to 
survey the plaza.

P.O.V. THE CENTRAL PLAZA OF LEON DOMINATED BY A HUGE CATHEDRAL 
Half a dozen bodies are scattered across the plaza. Otherwise, 
it is empty.

P.O.V. SIX GUARDIA SNIPERS IN THE CHURCH TOWER control the 
plaza. As we watch, they fire off occasional shots in 
different directions--there is no way to cross the plaza.

THE WOMAN PULLS A TRAY OF "CONTACT BOMBS" from the oven, 
home-made grenades that look like muffins on a tray. Pedro 
grabs one and pretends to bite into it. The Sandinistas start 
to laugh and catch themselves as Pedro clowns. Claire and 
Price aren't sure what the "muffins" are and don't respond; 
mostly they are on edge. The contact bombs are put in a sack.

The woman opens a trap door in the floor, and the six of 
them climb down a ladder into a tunnel.

																										CUT TO:

INT. TUNNEL UNDERNEATH THE FLOOR - DAY

Pedro leads them with a candle through a dark passage under 
the street. Overhead we hear gunfire. Rats scurry, and water 
runs through an open sewer.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE CATHEDRAL - DAY

A tapestry rug is pulled away, and Pedro's head appears. He 
climbs out and soon all the party is in the church. A PRIEST 
leads them quickly through an immense, nearly. European 
interior of ornate altars and burning candles. The small 
party is led to a small corner of the sanctuary where a long, 
rickety ladder leads up to the roof.

THE SANDINISTAS SCRAMBLE UP THE LADDER as it sways. Pedro 
follows with his sack of contact bombs. Then Price goes up 
as the Priest holds the ladder. The American is much larger 
than the Nicaraguans -- the ladder squeaks and sways, and 
when he is nearly at the top:

THE LADDER CRACKS as Price reaches the top and is helped to 
safety. The Priest steadies the ladder now made unsafe and 
clearly Claire wants to go onto the roof.

										 PRIEST
							(in Spanish)
				 No, please... it's not safe. You 
				 must come with me.

Claire looks at Price -- she wants to go on the roof but the 
sound of close gunfire settles the dilemma. Claire hurries 
off to safety with the Priest.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROOFTOP OF THE CATHEDRAL OF LEON - LATE IN DAY

THREE SANDINISTAS, PEDRO, AND PRICE EMERGE FROM A TUNNEL 
onto a lower level of the cathedral rooftop where a body 
lies. They are exposed immediately and automatic weapons 
fire opens up on them -- the Sandinistas flatten against a 
wall, quickly becoming separated from Price and Pedro.

TWO SANDINISTAS RACE FOR COVER BEHIND A CUPOLA in a move 
that is equally daring and foolish. The diversion draws fire 
from the two soldiers.

PRICE'S LIGHT METER IS INSTANTLY OUT TAKING READINGS as Pedro 
huddles with him, curious at this strange act.

TWO GUARDIA MOVE INTO POSITION TO FLUSH OUT THE SANDINISTAS 
as they hide behind the cupolas. The hidden Third Guerrilla 
opens fire killing a Guardia soldier, and the other soldier 
races for the belltower. As he does:

THE SANDINISTAS SEIZE THE MOMENT TO RUSH CLOSER, waving to 
Pedro who slips along a wall with his bag of bombs.

PRICE STARTS TO FOLLOW BUT IS PINNED DOWN BY FIRE and chooses 
to take refuge halfway in an alcove. As fire from both sides 
ricochets all over the rooftop, Price switches camera lenses 
seemingly oblivious to the action.

PEDRO MEETS ONE OF THE SANDINISTAS in a protected niche and 
quickly they are unfolding his bag, setting the "muffin bombs" 
out on the rooftop.

THE OTHER TWO SANDINISTAS OPEN HEAVY FIRE and briefly draw 
heavier fire from the belltower, as:

PEDRO PICKS UP A MUFFIN weighing it briefly in his hand, 
like a pitcher. He studies the surroundings -- runners on 
first and third, no outs -- he spits in his left (his pitching 
hand) and rubs it in casually.

Pedro crosses himself, goes into an abbreviated pitching 
motion, then rears and fires the 'muffin' toward the belltower 
window, exposing himself as he does.

AN EXPLOSION IN THE TOWER

PEDRO THROWS ANOTHER INTO THE TOWER -- another explosion.

A GUARDIA SOLDIER STAGGERS INTO THE WINDOW and a Sandinista 
drops him with a shot.

All is quiet.

THE THREE SANDINISTAS CAREFULLY RUSH THE TOWER, looking in 
and motion to Pedro and Price that all is okay, and as they 
do:

ANOTHER SHOT RINGS OUT -- they whirl around -- Pedro and 
Price drop again. A lone Guardia soldier fires at them from 
the other tower.

A THIRD SANDINISTA DROPS HIM WITH A VOLLEY OF FIRE Again all 
is quiet.

PRICE FOLLOWS THE SANDINISTAS TO THE FIRST BELLTOWER and 
looks in.

FIVE BODIES LIE SCATTERED AND BLOODIED One of the Guerrillas 
kicks a couple of them to make sure they are dead. In the 
corner, one body lies on top of another. Satisfied, the 
Sandinistas head for the other tower.

PRICE STAYS BEHIND TO TAKE A FEW PICTURES and the ever-present 
light meter appears, followed by several quick shots of the 
bodies. Then Price goes to one of the arched, stone windows. 
He looks out over the city.

P.O.V. OF LEON -- DUSK Late in the afternoon now, the fighting 
is over for the day. An occasional gunshot. Smoke rises from 
scattered places throughout the city. There is new rubble. 
The town is littered with bodies.

P.O.V. THE RED CROSS WAGON MOVING THROUGH THE STREET

A man walks in front of it, chanting slowly, rhythmically:

										 RED CROSS MAN
				 Hay heridas o muertes aqui? Hay 
				 heridas o muertes aqui?
							(Are there wounded or 
							dead here?)

We see a woman drag a body out into the street. The Red Cross 
man makes small stacks of bodies. He douses the bodies with 
gasoline and sets the pile aflame. Then continues.

										 RED CROSS MAN
				 Hay heridas o muertes aqui?

Price watches. He thinks he hears something, then dismisses 
it. Something else. A voice, almost a whisper.

										 VOICE
				 Price. You motherfucker, Price, I'm 
				 talking to you.

He turns. One of the bodies speaks.

										 VOICE
				 Where are those bastards... are they 
				 away?

Price looks out -- the Sandinistas are on the other side of 
the roof. This war gets stranger.

										 PRICE
				 They're away.

A body rolls out from under another body. Blood-splattered, 
smiling, wiping the blood from his face. It is Oates, the 
mercenary from Africa. He peeks out the window -- the 
Sandinistas are on the other side of the roof. He whispers.

										 OATES
				 What the fuck are you doing here?

										 PRICE
				 What the fuck are you doing here?

For a moment they understand that they are there for the 
same reason -- they make their livings off war. Oates peeks 
out the window nervously and repeatedly.

										 OATES
				 Awright, awright -- you're lookin' 
				 good... how ya like Nicaragua?

OATES readies his automatic weapon in case it's needed -- 
routine. Price doesn't know how to answer.

										 PRICE
				 It's beautiful.

Oates laughs quickly and softly -- he is tuned into the 
strangeness of Price's answer.

										 OATES
				 Shitload o' greasers though, eh?

P.O.V. THE SANDINISTAS HEADING BACK TOWARD US

OATES AND PRICE SEE THEM, and Oates crawls back under the 
pile of bodies.

THE SANDINISTAS LOOK INTO THE BELLTOWER, all looks quiet, 
and they motion to Price.

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(in Spanish)
				 It's getting late -- come on.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL - DUSK

The Three Sandinistas, Pedro, and Price are hiding in the 
shadows of the main church entrance. The Sandinistas are 
carefully peeking around the corner, checking out the plaza. 
It seems safe. The door opens; the Priest lets Claire out. 
For a moment she looks around to see who's still alive -- in 
the shadows Price looks like one of the Guerrillas. They see 
each other and embrace briefly.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're okay?

The Sandinistas seem to relax. The Sandinistas take pride in 
Pedro and pat his left arm for Price and Claire.

										 SANDINISTA #1
				 San-dee Koufax, no?

										 SANDINISTA #2
				 Si, Koufax.

										 SANDINISTA #3
				 Es mejor que Koufax, eh?!

They seem to want approval from the Americans.

										 CLAIRE
				 Much better than Koufax.

The Sandinistas slap hands, familiar with the American 
gesture. The Six start walking across the plaza away from 
the church. In the b.g. we see piles of bodies burning; the 
Red Cross tends to the wounded locals. Spirits are high as 
they walk. The tiny red light glows on Claire's recorder.

										 PEDRO
				 Koufax is okay... but Tippy Martinez, 
				 he is the best... he pitches for the 
				 Baltimore Orioles, and some day I 
				 will be the second man from Nicaragua 
				 to play in the major leagues...

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(to Price and Claire)
				 Tippy Martinez had a good fastball, 
				 but Pedro has a curveball and a 
				 screwball that are better.

All five of them agree that Pedro is the best; they slap his 
valued arm and relax for the first time all day.

										 PEDRO
				 You will give my autographed baseball 
				 to Tippy and tell him in five years 
				 I will be pitching with him, okay? 
				 He better watch out for me, eh?

																										CUT TO:

EXT. ROOFTOP OF THE CATHEDRAL - DUSK

OATES CHECKS THE CLIP ON HIS RIFLE and looks down into the 
plaza.

OATES P.O.V. TO THE SIX WALKING AWAY He doesn't smile or 
joke -- it's all business.

He aims the rifle.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE PLAZA - DUSK

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(in Spanish)
				 It's too dangerous to return to 
				 Managua at night. You should stay at 
				 the house of hammocks.

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 Gracias. Can they get into trouble 
				 for keeping us?

										 PEDRO
				 No, no... you are not combatants.
							(would rather talk 
							baseball)
				 The Baltimore team is my team...

A SHOT RINGS OUT, AND PEDRO'S CHEST EXPLODES in front of us. 
Sudden panic, rage, confusion -- the Sandinistas whirl and 
scan the building.

P.O.V. OATES RACING ACROSS THE CATHEDRAL ROOFTOP into the 
night.

PRICE GRABS PEDRO'S GUN AND WHIRLS to face the church; his 
action is instinctive, angry, and electric with energy.

CLAIRE GRABS PEDRO'S ARM AND DRAGS THE BODY to safety, though 
there is no safety and the body is lifeless. Her actions are 
protective and automatic.

THE SANDINISTAS TAKE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION and move 
quickly. Two of them fan out to cover the escape. Price 
screams in the direction of Oates,

										 PRICE
				 You bastard!

Claire drags the body near a bench under a tree.

										 CLAIRE
				 What about him?!

										 SANDINISTA #1
							(dispassionately)
				 He's dead.

The Sandinistas survey the cathedral and streets carefully, 
warily, upset at their nonchalance. They know the sniper is 
disappearing into the night, but they continue to look.

										 SANDINISTA #1
				 I will talk to Pedro's mother. You 
				 must go to the house of the hammocks 
				 if you want to be safe.

The Three Sandinistas fan out toward the church as it gets 
dark.

PRICE AND CLAIRE STAND NEXT TO PEDRO, feeling helpless and 
ineffective. They both look at the body. Price realizes he's 
holding Pedro's gun and places it down next to the body. 
Price notices the tiny red light is still glowing on her 
tape recorder. He points it out to Claire. She turns it off.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE HOUSE OF HAMMOCKS - NIGHT

IN A NEARLY DARK ROOM full of hanging hammocks, Claire sits 
on the floor lit by a low wattage bulb hanging from a cord. 
In another room through a door Price can be seen with a family 
in the hammock workshop. Claire talks softly into her 
recorder.

										 CLAIRE
				 Hello sweetheart, this is your mother. 
				 I'm in Leon and I miss you. Don't 
				 worry about me -- it's not dangerous 
				 at all. I guess you can't believe 
				 what you hear on the news. I'll put 
				 this this tape in the mail when I 
				 get back to Managua, but knowing 
				 what the mail service is like, I may 
				 be home before it arrives. I think 
				 about you all the time and hope I 
				 can make it back before you graduate 
				 from Jr. High.

As she speaks Price bids the family farewell and comes into 
the room with Claire where he lies down in a hammock.

										 CLAIRE
				 I love you and I'll finish this letter 
				 when I get back to the hotel.

Claire lies down on a mat, exhausted, after turning out the 
light. Several moments pass before Price speaks.

										 PRICE
				 I know who shot Pedro. I knew somebody 
				 was in the tower.

										 CLAIRE
				 Why didn't you tell the guerrillas?

										 PRICE
				 I don't know... then they would've 
				 killed him I guess. I didn't want to 
				 interfere.

										 CLAIRE
				 It wasn't an easy choice.

										 PRICE
				 I think I made the wrong one.

Silence.

										 CLAIRE
				 You didn't take any pictures when it 
				 was over.

										 PRICE
				 I didn't?
							(beat)
				 I picked up a gun. Jesus.
							(beat)
				 Is something happening to us?

										 CLAIRE
				 Yes.

Silence. They lie for a long time in the dark. A light in 
the house is turned off. Finally:

										 PRICE
				 Are you asleep?

										 CLAIRE
				 No.

Price gets out of the hammock and lies down next to her. 
They don't speak. They kiss. She unbuttons his shirt. He 
unbuttons her blouse. They undress just enough to begin making 
love softly, quietly.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PRICE AND CLAIRE'S ROOM - DAWN

The first light of dawn strikes Claire's bare torso.

PRICE'S LIGHT METER APPEARS AT HER BACK Price takes a reading, 
then moves the meter to her neck, another reading. He moves 
it down her nude body lit beautifully in the vague light, 
partially covered with a blanket.

He scurries across the room, stark naked, with a camera. 
Price begins photographing her.

He moves back to her and gently removes the blanket from the 
rest of her body. His actions are quiet and easy. He stops 
frequently to admire her.

Claire lies sleeping nude, except for her socks. Price moves 
around the room -- picture, picture, picture.

CLAIRE WAKES UP SLOWLY and pulls the blanket back over her. 
She opens her eyes and sees Price sitting in a chair several 
feet away with his camera.

										 PRICE
				 G'morning.

										 CLAIRE
				 What are you doing?

										 PRICE
				 You look beautiful.

She realizes what he's been doing.

										 CLAIRE
				 How long have you been doing this?

										 PRICE
				 'Bout ten frames. Wait'll you see 
				 the pictures -- you look great.

Her sense of violation is balanced by this notion. For a 
moment we sense her attitude can go either way -- outrage or 
some sense of being flattered, however ill conceived. She 
chooses the latter.

										 CLAIRE
				 I'll bet I look great -- give me the 
				 film.

										 PRICE
				 After they're printed.

										 CLAIRE
				 I'll develop them myself -- give it 
				 to me or I'll start taping what you 
				 say in your sleep.

Price hands her the film and climbs back under the blanket 
with her.

										 PRICE
				 I talk in my sleep?

										 CLAIRE
				 Girl's names and F-stops. Terrible.

They curl up together, holding onto each other. A small child 
crosses the courtyard, peeking at them. A rooster crows.

										 PRICE
				 Call the office. I don't want to go 
				 to work today.

The peacefulness is shaken by the roar of an engine close 
by.

A HELICOPTER GUNSHIP PASSES OVER THE COURTYARD They look up, 
jolted out of the moment. The war is back.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE OUTSKIRTS OF LEON - MORNING

Price's rental car is a smoking wreck. He and Claire arrive 
and she removes a single, feeble white flag that remains. 
They study the car briefly and then turn as:

A GUARDIA TROOP CARRIER LUMBERS past with a truckload of 
refugees behind. They wave the flag and catch a ride with 
the refugees.

																										CUT TO:

INT. FIFTH FLOOR OF INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - DAY

Alex comes out a door chatting with somebody, and passes a 
mini-cam crew, old friends.

										 ALEX
				 How was Matagalpa?

										 MINI-CAM CREW #1
				 No bang-bang, Alex... none at all.

										 ALEX
				 You find anything?

										 MINI-CAM CREW #2
				 Half the press corps.

A small laugh. They continue on. Alex enters Claire's room.

INT. CLAIRE'S ROOM

Alex enters. Nobody there. As he turns to leave he sees some 
pictures in a stack of papers on her desk. He picks one up.

CLOSE UP: A PICTURE OF CLAIRE SLEEPING IN LEON It's all over 
and he knows it. He stares at, even admires, the image. He 
puts it down and turns to leave as:

CLAIRE ENTERS

										 CLAIRE
				 Oh!

										 ALEX
				 Oh.
							(awkwardly)
				 How was Leon?

										 CLAIRE
				 Bloody.

										 ALEX
				 Yeah... I'll bet... Claire...

Alex finally acknowledges that it is over with Claire, but 
refuses to say it directly.

										 ALEX
				 I'm tired of Nicaragua.

										 CLAIRE
				 You haven't been here very long.

										 ALEX
				 Long enough, lets face it, you were 
				 right... everybody was right.

										 CLAIRE
				 About what?

										 ALEX
				 My cheekbones. What do you think of 
				 'em?

										 CLAIRE
				 I like your cheekbones. Alex, are 
				 you all right?

										 ALEX
				 This is a face made for television.

										 CLAIRE
				 You decided to go with the network.

Alex nods, then seems to hit the end of his own resilience 
and gets vitriolic.

										 ALEX
				 Is he a good fuck?

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex...

In a simple monologue Alex goes from outrage to acknowledgment 
of what he already knew.

										 ALEX
				 That's a reasonable question for a 
				 reporter to ask, isn't it?!
							(beat)
				 I shoulda never come down here, eh? 
				 This is the way it's going to be.
							(beat)
				 I'll make a shitload of money in 
				 television for just sitting there.
							(beat)
				 I'm gonna show up to work at 
				 Rockefeller Center every morning and 
				 they're gonna hand me the news with 
				 my coffee and toast.
							(beat)
				 I shoulda never come down here, eh? 
				 This war down here belongs to you 
				 guys, okay? I'm on tommorrow's plane.

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex...

										 ALEX
				 You want to take me to the airport? 
				 It's okay.
							(beat -- resigned)
				 I shoulda never come down here.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE MANAGUA AIRPORT - NEXT DAY

A cab pulls up. Soldiers stand around everywhere. Price, 
Claire, Alex, and the Cabbie get out. The cabbie takes his 
bag.

										 ALEX
				 Take this to check in. I'll be right 
				 there.

Price pulls a bottle of wine from his camera bag and sets 
three styrofoam cups on the cab roof. He hands the cork to 
Alex and shows him the label.

										 PRICE
				 Sniff this sucker, eh?

Alex does, and looks at the label.

										 ALEX
				 Jesus, where'd you get this?

										 CLAIRE
				 The C.I.A.

										 ALEX
				 Where else.

They toast and drink.

										 PRICE
				 Hey -- I'll leave you guys alone, 
				 eh?

										 CLAIRE
				 No, no, don't be ridiculous.

										 ALEX
				 We're grownups, Russell...
							(non acerbically)
				 Most of us.

Awkward smile from Price.

										 PRICE
				 You two wanta happy snap?

Price makes the motion of taking a picture. They look at him 
with affection, yet astounded again by his inappropriateness.

										 ALEX
				 No happy snaps.

										 PRICE
				 Okay, okay...
							(beat)
				 I'll just... be over here.

He wanders away from the car to give them a moment alone, 
and as he does he pulls the light meter from his pocket, 
flipping it on and off nervously without looking at it. He 
wanders idly toward a Guardia soldier. The soldier gets 
nervous.

										 ALEX
				 You're sure about him?

										 CLAIRE
				 For the moment.

Alex considers this -- he understands (whether he wants to 
or not).

THE SOLDIER COMES FACE-TO-FACE with PRICE, WHO BACKS OFF

										 PRICE
							(to soldier)
				 I'm a personal friend of Tacho's.
							(smiles disarmingly)

The soldier stops at Tacho's name. Price turns.

P.O.V. ALEX AND CLAIRE KISSING GOODBYE

PRICE TURNS AGAIN, embarrassed, faces the soldier.

										 PRICE
				 Don't look, huh?
							(beat)
				 No mire!

The soldier, confused, turns away, and as he does:

ALEX SLAPS PRICE ON THE SHOULDER, AND THEY TOO EMBRACE

										 ALEX
				 Don't get hurt.

										 PRICE
				 Ahh, I'm a chicken, don't worry.
							(beat)
				 Alex, listen to me...

										 ALEX
				 Yeah?

										 PRICE
				 Within a year you're gonna be one of 
				 the "Ten Most Admired Men in America."

Alex is amused, Price is serious. The cabbie comes out and 
Alex heads into the airport.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. SOMOZA'S COMPOUND - A PRESS LUNCHEON - DAY

Daisy and her combo from the Viking Club perform "The Girl 
From Ipanema" as ONE HUNDRED PRESS MEMBERS and V.I.P.'s sit 
at long tables in the garden. The pleasantness of the 
surroundings is countered by the presence of dozens of 
SOLDIERS in the background, guarding the house, etc. Visible 
at the head table are: TWO GENERALS AND THEIR WIVES, MRS. 
SOMOZA, TWO WEALTHY BUSINESSMEN, MISS PANAMA IN A FLOPPY 
HAT. Elsewhere mingling are: JAZY, ISELA, PRICE, REGIS. An 
elaborate array of food sits on the table.

INT. SOMOZA'S HOUSE - DAY

Overlooking the gathering from his private living room, Somoza 
grants Claire her interview. He close the window to muffle 
the singing.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're late to your own luncheon, 
				 Mr. President -- we can schedule 
				 this for another time.

										 SOMOZA
				 Nonsense -- let them wait. We are a 
				 stunning couple, eh? My stomach is 
				 very flat -- I've been working out.

										 CLAIRE
				 We are a stunning couple. Mr. 
				 President, you own one fifth of all 
				 the land in Nicaragua, you own the 
				 shipping port, the national airlines, 
				 the Mercedes dealership...

										 SOMOZA
				 I am on a salt free diet...

He takes her hand and leads her to two large portraits hanging 
on a wall -- his parents.

										 CLAIRE
				 Do you always hold hands with 
				 reporters?

										 SOMOZA
							(ignores her)
				 This is my mother and father. They 
				 were very special to me. Every Sunday 
				 morning I drive out to the cemetery 
				 and put flowers on their grave. I 
				 think people should know that.

										 CLAIRE
				 Would you care to comment on the 
				 fall of Leon to the rebels?

Somoza just smiles unaffected by her questions; she knows 
the game is undaunted.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE LUNCHEON TABLES - DAY

Hub Kittle is bending Price's ear in the crowd. Price seems 
ammused and watches the anthem contest as he munches food.

										 HUB
				 Listen, Russell, let's grow up. It's 
				 very easy to fall in love with the 
				 underdog, eh? But there's an upside 
				 and downside to this thing -- just 
				 wanta remind you... this stuff about 
				 a "Revolution of Poets" is crap.

										 PRICE
				 But it's great P.R. So what's the 
				 upside?

										 HUB
				 Simple. And it could happen. Somoza 
				 destroys the terrorist insurgents, 
				 rebuilds the country, shitcans the 
				 purveyors of excess, stabilizes the 
				 cordoba, and is finally beloved as 
				 the savior of Nicaragua.
							(beat)
				 Our pal. Got a smoke?

Price gives him a cigaret.

										 PRICE
				 What's the downside?

										 HUB
				 The Commies take over the world.

It's simple, and Hub is pleased with his presentation. A 
SOLDIER moves through the crowd looking quite out of place, 
finds Hub and hands him a note. Hub reads it, seems delighted, 
and excuses himself from the table.

										 HUB
				 Excuse me, gentlemen, but the war 
				 may be over.

Price and Regis look at each other strangely -- what's he 
talking about? They shrug, Regis bites into a papaya, and 
Hub hurries inside. Price and Regis watch the singer.

																										CUT TO:

INT. SECOND FLOOR OF SOMOZA'S HOUSE - DAY

										 SOMOZA
				 My people love me. My stomach is 
				 flat. Did I say that already? No 
				 matter. It is flat.

										 CLAIRE
				 There are reports that the Guardia 
				 operates a torture chamber at 
				 Coyotepe.

Somoza ignores the question and reopens the window, flooding 
the room with the Tony Bennett classic.

										 SOMOZA
				 I like this song.

										 CLAIRE
				 Since the earthquake in 1972 destroyed 
				 half of Managua, over three hundred 
				 million dollars in foreign relief 
				 aid have poured into the country, 
				 yet nothing has been re-built. It is 
				 said that the money has gone into 
				 your pocket.

										 SOMOZA
				 I love the press, I really do. Some 
				 of my best friends are journalists.

										 CLAIRE
				 Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, Brazil, and 
				 Panama are reportedly on the verge 
				 of breaking off diplomatic relations 
				 with your regime. Would you comment?

HUB KITTLE AND AN OFFICER BURST INTO THE ROOM interrupting 
the interview. Something has happened. Somoza initially lashes 
out at them -- the first time we've seen him lose his cool -- 
then recovers.

										 SOMOZA
							(in Spanish)
				 I am busy! Get out of here at once 
				 or I'll put my foot up your ass!

The OFFICER seems familiar with these tirades and grabs Somoza 
by the arm, whispering into his ear. Somoza seems delighted 
with the news and turns to Hub for confirmation. Hub nods.

										 SOMOZA
							(to Claire)
				 I'm sorry to have to conclude this 
				 most pleasant encounter, but something 
				 has happened.

As Somoza leaves the room with the Officer and Hub, Hub turns 
to Claire to squeeze in one final P.R. stroke.

										 HUB
				 Did he tell you about his parents in 
				 the graveyard, the flowers and all 
				 that?
							(she nods)
				 Good, good...

Claire is left alone momentarily in Somoza's room. A soldier 
enters and accompanies her outside to the luncheon.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE LUNCHEON - DAY

As Claire comes outside, there is a flurry of activity at 
the head table. TWO OFFICERS hastily set up an easel with a 
large military-topographical map of Nicaragua. A SOLDIER 
takes the microphone from the Singers -- the music grinds to 
an inglorious halt -- and carries it to the head table.

Price spots Claire and makes a "What's all this about?" 
motion. Claire holds out her palms and shrugs -- she doesn't 
know. All attention is quickly focused on the head table, 
as:

PRESIDENT SOMOZA MAKES A GRAND ENTRANCE FLANKED by Hub Kittle 
and an Officer. He seems suddenly in unusually good spirits. 
Hub taps the mike -- it works -- he motions for Somoza to 
come forward.

										 SOMOZA
				 My friends... this gathering was not 
				 intended to be a press conference as 
				 much as a... "get-together"... but I 
				 have just been handed a piece of 
				 news.

Somoza plays the moment with theatrical elan.

										 SOMOZA
				 Rafael is dead.
							(beat)
				 He has been killed in an ambush in 
				 the Cordillera mountains of the 
				 Jinotega district.

Somoza points to a spot on the map as do his Officer.

THE PRESS TABLE IS SHAKEN FROM ITS NONCHALANCE and several 
journalists immediately leap to their feet to question him.

										 JOURNALISTS
				 Mr. President! Mr. President!

										 SOMOZA
				 Please my friends -- no questions. A 
				 press release is being prepared.

Somoza hands the mike to an aide who returns it to the music 
stand. Almost immediately the music begins again.

AT THE PRESS TABLE there is some confusion over the 
announcement. Some journalists hurry off to file the story, 
others just sit. Price seems alarmed by the announcement, 
confused. Slightly wired, he listens to Regis and OTHER 
JOURNALIST discuss it.

										 OTHER JOURNALIST
				 They got Rafael? You believe that?

										 REGIS
				 Every six months Tacho gives this 
				 speech -- maybe they finally lucked 
				 out.

CLAIRE TRIES TO CORNER HUB KITTLE who is heading back inside. 
Hub disappears inside, Claire pressing after him.

JAZY APPROACHES PRICE and leans in as if sharing a confidence. 
IN the b.g. the luncheon is breaking up.

										 JAZY
				 Russell, excuse me... but I've just 
				 been put in a rather embarrassing 
				 position.
							(hesitates)
				 Mrs. Somoza would like her picture 
				 taken with Miss Panama. In color?

Price throws his camera bag over his shoulder, pulls out a 
camera, and follows Jazy. They walk toward the head table.

										 PRICE
				 How the hell could Tacho find Rafael.

										 JAZY
				 Russell, please... I have my hands 
				 full...

Mrs. Somoza and Miss Panama are waiting as Price and Jazy 
arrive. Price is automatically switching camera lenses, but 
he continues to grill Jazy.

										 MRS. SOMOZA
				 Tacho, Tacho... venga, por favor!

Price and Jazy exchange glances as Somoza reluctantly joins 
the portrait.

SOMOZA POSES WITH HIS WIFE AND HIS MISTRESS ON EACH ARM as 
Price flashes a light meter under their noses, then backs 
off to take the picture.

										 PRICE
				 Is Tacho lying again? They did kill 
				 him, didn't they?

										 JAZY
				 Everybody smile.

Price takes a picture, Somoza wants to leave and Jazy would 
just as soon have this awkward moment over with, but:

										 PRICE
				 One more, please! Una mas, por favor?

Reluctantly they pose again, and Price grills Jazy who is 
trapped.

										 PRICE
				 We help each other, right? Could you 
				 move your girlfriend into the sun...

Jazy moves Miss Panama slightly, returning to Price.

										 JAZY
				 What do you need?

										 PRICE
				 Is Rafael alive or dead?

										 JAZY
				 I don't know.

										 PRICE
							(to the posers)
				 Just one more -- thank you.
							(to Jazy)
				 I thought you knew everything?

As Somoza holds an interminable pose, Jazy launches into a 
speech, keeping his voice low enough so Tacho cannot hear.

										 JAZY
				 What do I know, eh? Tacho needs a 
				 victory very badly... he needs to 
				 prove to Jimmy Carter that he is 
				 still winning. He thinks Rafael's 
				 death is the proof he needs.

										 PRICE
				 Carter don't need proof. He just 
				 sent twenty-five million in new arms 
				 to Tacho.
							(to posers)
				 I'm sorry... almost got it here.

										 JAZY
				 No, no... the arms shipment has been 
				 delayed in New Orleans because Jimmy 
				 is getting nervous.

										 PRICE
				 The State Department's gonna pull 
				 the plug on Tacho?! Pardon my French -- 
				 but whose fucking side are you on?

Jazy and Price motion for the posers to move a step over.

										 JAZY
				 ...I work for everybody. If there is 
				 a transition of power, I facilitate 
				 a relationship with the new people. 
				 If there is not, I facilitate the 
				 status quo.
							(beat)
				 Either way, I facilitate.

										 PRICE
				 Great job.

										 JAZY
				 I send messages to Jimmy and I tell 
				 him that the Revolution is a flood 
				 that cannot be stopped but it can be 
				 controlled... nobody listens... I 
				 can't even get a little water in my 
				 pool.

										 PRICE
				 Rough ain't it. Thank you everybody, 
				 very nice.

Price smiles to Somoza, Mrs. Somoza, and Miss Panama. Somoza 
hurries off from his uncomfortable position at last.

										 PRICE
				 I don't think Rafael is dead. I'm 
				 gonna find him.

										 JAZY
				 They say he's very handsome.
							(beat)
				 It would make a wonderful picture, 
				 eh?

The two men share a smile.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROAD TO MATAGLAPA - EARLY MORNING

A rental station wagon covered with press flags races along. 
Inside the car are the British crew -- Regis drives -- and 
Price and Claire.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. MATAGALPA - DAY

A city of about 50,000 located on the side of a hill. The 
car pulls slowly into the base of the town into a clearing 
with assorted vehicles -- Red Cross, La Guardia, Press. The 
car moves slowly as its occupants survey the town, until it 
pulls alongside a Red Cross truck that has broken down. Price 
sticks his head out the window to ask instructions of a R.C. 
WORKER.

										 PRICE
				 Con permiso -- who controls what 
				 today?

										 RED CROSS WORKER
							(in Spanish)
				 The Sandinistas hold the hills, the 
				 Guardia has everything else.

										 CLAIRE
				 How do we find the guerillas?

										 RED CROSS WORKER
							(points)
				 Va alli, dos o tres cuartos, doble 
				 la esquina al francotirador.

										 REGIS
				 What'd he say?

										 CLAIRE
				 Go two or three blocks and turn right 
				 at the sniper.

Regis and his crew don't like this at all. Price points.

P.O.V. A TOWER FULL OF GUARDIA SNIPERS

										 PRICE
				 You can drop us off.

MAIN ROAD INTO MATAGALPA

A gradual uphill grade -- the press car moves slowly. Guardia 
are on both sides of the street, as the car stops at the 
corner, directly beneath the sniper tower. They all look up.

P.O.V. THE SNIPERS LOOKING BACK DOWN AT THEM

THE CAR SLOWLY TURNS LEFT

										 PRICE
				 Wrong way!

										 REGIS
				 We're not looking for the guerillas.

										 CLAIRE
				 Then let us out.

The car stops, the door opens, and:

A WALL NEARBY IS RIDDLED WITH BULLET HOLES AS THEY CLIMB 
OUT, so they climb back in quickly.

P.O.V. A SOLDIER HOLDS OUT HIS ARMS AS IF TO SAY, "accident."

										 SOLDIER
				 Lo siento!
							(I'm sorry!)

The soldier seems sincere, but they don't want to take a 
chance.

										 PRICE
				 Go one more block.

THE CAR MOVES DEEPER INTO MATAGALPA, gradually moving among 
tanquettas patrolling the streets, coming to a barricade 
which they manuever past as Guardia soldiers look at them 
strangely. The car turns around -- it has come too far.

A GUARDIA OFFICER SIGNALS FOR THEM TO GET OUT but the idea 
doesn't appeal to Regis and he whirls around, panicking 
slightly, and heads off in the other direction.

										 CLAIRE
				 He just wanted to see credentials, 
				 for crissakes, what're doing?

										 REGIS
				 You want to drive?

										 PRICE
				 We want out!

THE BARRICADE OFFICER SPEAKS IN A WALKIE TALKIE to a squadron 
leader a couple of blocks away as the car approaches.

THE SECOND OFFICER WHISTLES FOR THE CAR TO STOP but it speeds 
up.

THE OFFICER FIRES A PISTOL SHOT AT THE CAR SHATTERING THE 
WINDSHIELD

INSIDE THE CAR -- VISION IS BADLY IMPAIRED BY THE SHATTERED 
GLASS and Regis panics, hitting the floorboard and the car 
suddenly screeches around a corner, racing through Matagalpa. 
The car squeals around corner after corner blindly, into:

A GUARDIA BARRICADE AS A FUSILADE OF SMALL ARMS FIRE RINGS 
OUT The windshield is totally destroyed now, and:

THE OCCUPANTS OF THE CAR CROUCH LOW as the car races. Price 
and Claire scream at Regis to stop, but it's too late.

THE CAR SCREECHES INTO REVERSE as Regis tries to see out the 
back window and Price, out of necessity operates the foot 
pedal with his hand. The car smokes into an intersection and 
sees:

AN OPEN BLOCK AHEAD -- no Guardia are visible, so the car 
races down the open block and as it comes to an intersection:

A SHERMAN TANK COMES AROUND THE CORNER FACING US

Several times larger than a tanquetta -- it dwarfs us and 
everything around it. Its giant gun faces us head on.

THE PRESS CAR SCREECHES TO A HALT, and everyone scrambles 
out.

										 PRICE
				 Periodista, periodista, periodista!

The mini-cam equipment is dropped as the British crew 
scrambles to safety against a building. Price and Claire end 
up on opposite sides of the street.

Silence -- the huge and silent tank is deciding what to do.

THE TURRET SWINGS SEVERAL DEGREES TO ONE SIDE and lowers as 
the scattered journalists freeze.

A THUNDEROUS ROAR -- THE TANK DESTROYS THE CAMERA EQUIPMENT 
leaving a huge crater and not a trace of the expensive qear.

CLAIRE STARTS LAUGHING, FRIGHTENED, nervous and amused.

PRICE TAKES PICTURES

A WOMAN THROWS A CONTACT BOMB FROM A WINDOW AT THE TANK The 
tiny bomb makes a pitiful explosion, hopelessly ineffective.

THE TANK SWINGS ITS TURRET TOWARD THE HOUSE AND OPENS FIRE 
and the wall of the house crumbles quickly as a family 
scrambles to the rooftop of a neighboring house. Their house 
is destroyed in a second.

LA GUARDIA TROOPS APPEAR AND BEGIN FIRING TOWARDS Claire and 
Price, who turn to see:

SANDINISTA ARMY REGULARS RUNNING DOWN THE HILL alongside the 
homemade local guerillas. This is the first time we've seen 
the F.S.L.N. regular army in their camouflaged khaki dress.

THE GUARD TAKES A POSITION TO FIGHT IT OUT and Claire and 
Price are caught in a cross-fire, pinned to walls on each 
street side.

PRICE PUSHES THROUGH A DOOR TO SAFETY and looks back:

CLAIRE IS TRAPPED OUTSIDE pounding on a door that doesn't 
open. She tries another -- no luck. She curls up in a doorway 
making herself as small as possible as bullets rip the wall 
around her.

AT THE TOP OF THE HILL, AN OLD BUS MOVES SLOWLY INTO THE 
STREET

Several youthful guerillas are pushing it.

THE BUS COMES FLYING DOWN THE HILL TOWARD THE TANK Several 
hundred feet away, it gathers speed toward us.

INT. THE SPEEDING BUS

A YOUTH at the wheel props a board under the steering wheel 
and races to the back as ANOTHER YOUTH opens the door as the 
bus races past Claire toward the tank.

THE TWO YOUTHS LEAP OUT THE BACK DOOR where they tumble into 
the dirt just before:

THE BUS SMASHES INTO THE TANK AND EXPLODES

GUARDIA SOLDIERS SHOOT THE TWO YOUTHS before they get away, 
as:

GUERILLAS APPEAR ON EVERY ROOFTOP opening heavy fire on La 
Guardia.

GUARDIA TROOPS RETREAT QUICKLY ON FOOT AND IN TANQUETTAS

THE SHERMAN TANK TRIES TO DISLODGE ITSELF FROM THE BUS but 
cannot, and drags the bus with it as it backs down the hill.

PRICE RUNS OUT TO CLAIRE and huddles with her. She is shaken 
but unhurt.

SANDINISTAS ARE EVERYWHERE, moving into Matagalpa as Price 
and Claire move past several bodies to higher ground.

SANDINISTA BARRICADES ARE ON EVERY CORNER where women serve 
food to their men. Claire and Price wander through, 
momentarily disoriented. A small boy runs through the street 
kicking a soccer ball, occasionally avoiding a body. He runs 
right up to them and speaks.

										 BOY
				 Busca triquitraques?

										 CLAIRE
				 Si.

										 BOY
				 Venga.

They follow him up a hill.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. MIDDLE-CLASS HOUSE OVERLOOKING THE CITY - DAY

THE NEIGHBORHOOD IS TOTALLY SANDINISTA and several guerillas 
are at the door. The boy speaks to one of the guards, and 
they are admitted.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE HOUSE - DAY

THEY ARE SEARCHED IMMEDIATELY, asked to put down their gear, 
asked for credentials, and led down the hallway of a house 
that is very American middle class.

ANOTHER SOLDIER WITH RIFLE detains them momentarily before 
showing them into a room used as a Revolutionary Command 
office.

ISELA STANDS IN MILITARY FATIGUES talking to her Sandinista 
colleagues. Clearly she commands respect and makes decisions. 
She finishes and turns to Claire and Price in a very 
businesslike way, never acknowledging directly that they 
have met before.

										 ISELA
				 You are looking for Rafael?

They are somewhat taken aback at her directness and 
information.

										 PRICE
				 Yeah. If it's possible.

										 CLAIRE
				 Do you know why we're here... exactly?

										 ISELA
				 Mr. Price doesn't do anything before 
				 announcing it first in the bar.
							(beat)
				 It's a good story. You'll be more 
				 famous.

EXT. A MOUNTAIN ROAD - LATER - DAY

An old truck chugs up a series of cutbacks through rough 
terrain. The truck has no hood, and a BOY sits on the fender 
pouring oil from a series of Folgers cans into a funnel stuck 
permanently into the engine. Underneath, dangling cans catch 
the oil as it flows through. Price, Claire and FOUR ARMED 
SANDINISTAS sit in the back. ISELA rides in front.

THE TRUCK PASSES THROUGH A FRIENDLY GUERILLA ROADBLOCK

																										CUT TO:

EXT. TOBACCO FIELDS IN REMOTE TERRAIN - DAY

ISELA, CLAIRE, PRICE AND THE FOUR HIKE into increasingly 
inaccessible terrain.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. RAFAEL'S CAMP - DUSK

Heavily guarded but very mobile, the camp consists of perhaps 
100 Soldiers, women preparing food, several tents. Price and 
Claire attract attention as they enter.

PRICE STOPS AND LOOKS AROUND THE CAMP CLOSELY seeming to 
take it all in. He's been in many similar camps, countries, 
wars.

P.O.V. TWO SOLDIERS GUARDING THE ENTRANCE TO ONE TENT

										 CLAIRE
				 Rafael's tent?

Price doesn't answer but continues taking it all in, and 
ISELA shouts to them to continue.

										 ISELA
				 Venga, companeros.
							(Come, comrades.)

THEY CONTINUE INTO THE CAMP, BUT PRICE STOPS AGAIN Something 
has caught him, his sixth sense, a feeling -- he refuses to 
walk further for the moment. No glibness, just coolness.

										 CLAIRE
				 What is it?

Price looks around, speaks quietly.

										 PRICE
				 Rafael is dead.

Claire looks around quickly. There is no evidence to her.

										 PRICE
				 I can smell it.

										 CLAIRE
				 I don't know.

										 ISELA
							(slightly exasperated)
				 Venga por favor! Alli!

They continue into the camp -- now Claire looks around 
nervously. Price mutters a half laugh, softly and strangely, 
as they are led to a makeshift table and offered food. In 
the b.g. Isela enters one of the tents.

PRICE AND CLAIRE SIT DOWN TO EAT and Price continues scanning 
the camp as they talk.

										 CLAIRE
				 What're you talking about?

										 PRICE
				 He's dead. I know it.

										 CLAIRE
				 Then why did they bring us all the 
				 way here to see him?

He doesn't know.

P.O.V. FOUR FIGURES/CONFERRING IN FRONT OF A TENT Isela 
emerges and joins them. The others are: THE PRIEST FROM LEON, 
A BUSINESSMAN WHOM WE SHOULD RECOGNIZE FROM EARLIER SCENES, 
AND COMMANDANTE CINCO, dressed in camouflaged khaki.

ISELA WALKS OVER TO CLAIRE AND PRICE after talking with the 
others. She brings COMMANDANTE CINCO with her. They sit down.

										 ISELA
				 This is Commandante Cinco.

They all shake hands.

Isela begins at once.

										 ISELA
				 Today we took Matagalpa. Leon is 
				 about to fall, and Masaya. And next 
				 week we could be in Managua but it 
				 is still possible to lose.
							(beat)
				 In the last days of our final 
				 offensive the people of Nicaragua 
				 must know that Rafael is alive and 
				 well.

										 COMMANDANTE CINCO
				 Queremos un fotografia.

										 ISELA
				 We need a photograph.
							(beat)
				 Come with us.

THEY ALL RISE AND HEAD TOWARDS RAFAEL'S TENT

INT. RAFAEL'S TENT

The tent is filled with Sandinista officers and soldiers 
standing and sitting around.

RAFAEL'S BODY LIES ON A TABLE The shirtless upper torso 
propped slightly upright, still wearing glasses, the figure 
of Rafael is distinctly non-heroic. He is slightly overweight, 
slightly balding, but as he lies there surrounded by his 
men, the the glow of lanterns, he looks almost alive.

Price and Claire look at each other.

										 COMMANDANTE CINCO
				 Usted es un fotografo magnifico.
							(beat)
				 Queremos que vive.
							(You are a great 
							photographer. Make 
							him alive.)

Price laughs -- the request is ridiculous.

										 ISELA
							(to Claire)
				 Why is he laughing?

										 PRICE
				 You're crazy.

Cinco steps forward -- his presence commands attention. His 
delivery is forceful but not emotional. As he begins to speak, 
Price stops laughing.

										 CINCO
							(in Spanish)
				 We have momentum, but many more lives 
				 will be lost. Even Washington is 
				 starting to admit that the butcher 
				 Somoza is not loved by his people. 
				 They have detained twenty-five million 
				 dollars in new arms shipments for 
				 Somoza at an airfield in Florida 
				 until they find out if Rafael is 
				 alive or dead. We know about these 
				 things.

He pauses briefly.

										 CLAIRE
				 If Washington thinks Rafael is dead, 
				 they will ship the arms to Somoza. 
				 Do you understand.

										 PRICE
				 Yeah.
							(without enthusiasm)
				 Commandante... Soy un periodista.

CINCO attacks that defense with new vigor.

										 CINCO
				 This has nothing to do with journalism -- 
				 there is more to the world than 
				 journalism. We are going to end this 
				 war with you or without you.
							(beat)
				 People don't really believe in Rafael -- 
				 they believe in the idea of Rafael, 
				 no? Because for now the idea of Rafael 
				 is enough for the people of Nicaragua. 
				 When the war is over -- none of this 
				 matters.

PRICE hesitates, his manner devoid of its usual cockiness.

										 PRICE
				 I don't do things... like this.

										 CINCO
				 Enough lives have been lost already.
							(beat of empathy)
				 It's difficult, I know -- but you 
				 must do it.

COMMANDANTE CINCO PLACES AN ARM ON PRICE'S SHOULDER and speaks 
in broken English.

										 CINCO
				 In the morning, eh? When there's 
				 better light!

																										CUT TO:

INT. PRICE AND CLAIRE'S TENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Price lies on his back on a table. Claire sits in a chair, a 
lantern is on the table. His reclining body is not unlike 
Rafael's. He plays with a camera without looking at it, 
turning it slowly, removing and replacing a lens. He's never 
been this calm, this unmoving.

Claire, however, moves around the tent like a caged animal -- 
like Price normally is. She smokes. She's nervous and wired.

										 CLAIRE
				 I spend my whole life separating how 
				 I feel from how I think and what I 
				 see from what I say -- that's called 
				 journalism, isn't it?

He nods slightly.

										 CLAIRE
				 It's disciplined. It civilized. It 
				 involves distinctions. I'm great at 
				 distinctions. I wish I wasn't so 
				 good at them. Sometimes I envy you -- 
				 you don't make any -- it's very 
				 convenient.
							(beat)
				 The only time I don't worry about 
				 all those things is when I'm with my 
				 daughter.

										 PRICE
				 Or when you're in bed.

										 CLAIRE
				 Yes!
							(beat -- changes 
							direction)
				 My job is to find a story, then tell 
				 a story -- whatever it is -- because 
				 I believe that if enough people hear 
				 enough stories then somehow, through 
				 information alone, we all have a 
				 better chance to survive.
							(beat)
				 I believe in information.
							(beat)
				 That's a very romantic streak I have 
				 running through me -- maybe it's a 
				 weakness. Information is good -- 
				 lack of information is bad. Simple, 
				 eh?

										 PRICE
				 Not so simple.

										 CLAIRE
				 You're God damn right it's not.
							(beat)
				 You take that picture you'll take it 
				 for all the right reasons -- I 
				 understand.

										 PRICE
				 I'm not gonna take it.

He fiddles with the cameras.

										 CLAIRE
				 That's fine for you. But do I go 
				 back and say I interviewed Rafael? 
				 Do I go back and say I missed the 
				 biggest story of the war? Or do I 
				 say Rafael was stone cold dead -- 
				 that's the information, isn't it? Or 
				 do I say he entertained us all in 
				 his inimitably charismatic manner 
				 around the ol' revolutionary campfire?
							(beat)
				 Can we throw up our arms and say we 
				 fell in love with the querillas 
				 because their cause was... 
				 sympathetic?
							(beat)
				 Journalists don't fall in love.
							(beat)
				 Which story do you want me to tell?

Silence.

										 PRICE
				 Do what you want to do.

										 CLAIRE
				 Christ, what the fuck are we doing 
				 here?

										 PRICE
				 I want to be here.
							(beat)
				 With you.
							(beat)
				 What do you want.

Silence.

										 CLAIRE
				 I want this war to end.
							(beat)
				 I'm not going to tell the world that 
				 Rafael is dead.

Silence. Claire lies down on the cot. Exhausted but high. 
Price gets off the table and goes to her.

										 PRICE
				 I love you.

										 CLAIRE
				 I think I love you.

										 PRICE
				 Don't think so much.

He gets on the cot with her. They kiss deeply, passionately, 
and begin making love.

EXT. THE CAMP - FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN

THE CAMP IS COMING TO LIFE as the flap opens on Price's tent 
and he looks out. He raises his camera and starts taking 
pictures of:

A WOMAN COOKING OVER A FIRE AS A BUSINESSMAN LOOKS ON, a 
face we recognize from earlier in Managua -- FREEZE FRAME

THREE YOUNG GUERRILLAS PLAYING WITH A DOG -- FREEZE FRAME 

THE PRIEST FROM LEON DRINKING FROM A GOURD -- FREEZE FRAME

TWO CHILDREN PLAYING WITH HANDMADE TOYS -- FREEZE FRAME

ISELA COMING OUT OF ANOTHER TENT -- FREEZE FRAME

PRICE RISES AND LOOKS AROUND THE CAMP, wandering over to a 
large can where he drinks some water.

CLAIRE EMERGES FROM THE TENT and watches Price head over to 
a shaded area with his cameras.

CLAIRE'S P.O.V. OF PRICE AS HE MOVES THROUGH A GROUP OF 
SANDINISTAS GATHERED AROUND A TABLE

Their backs are toward us as he adjusts seating positions 
and rearranges items that have been provided for the table.

He takes a light reading and moves quickly into position. 
Price raises his camera.

																										CUT TO:

PRICE'S P.O.V. OF A TABLEAU OF RAFAEL, CINCO, AND SOLDIERS 
They sit at a table studying a map, a copy of La Prensa is 
displayed -- the headlines declare that RAFAEL IS DEAD and 
featuring a photo of Somoza at the luncheon as he points to 
a map of the country. For an instant Rafael looks alive -- 
FREEZE FRAME.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROAD BLOCK TO MANAGUA - LATER

Price and Claire are sitting on top of a Red Cross truck as 
it heads through Sebaco. Soldiers from La Guardia are 
everywhere. As the truck moves through the village, something 
catches Price's eyes:

OATES STANDS AGAINST A WALL IN COMMAND OF A SQUADRON Two 
whores and several troops sit against a wall. As the truck 
passes, Oates waves casually, with emotion.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PRICE'S HOTEL BATHROOM IN MANAGUA - DAY

Red light in the bathroom as Price pulls several photo prints 
from the bath and plasters them wet against the mirror.

PHOTO OF RAFAEL IN THE CAMP, and he looks very much alive. 
He pulls more shots from the bath: THE PRIEST FROM LEON, THE 
BUSINESSMAN, COMMANDANTE CINCO AND ISELA. He dries them off 
and hides them with their negatives under a pile of equipment.

He picks up the shot of Rafael and leaves.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN MANAGUA

A group of muchachos in masks, baseball caps, and bandanas 
race through the streets carrying a photo blow-up of Rafael.

																										CUT TO:

INT. JAZY'S HOUSE

The newspaper headline sits on Jazy's desk as Jazy studies 
it unemotionally. We hear Miss Panama's voice:

										 MISS PANAMA
				 Marcel!

He spins on his chair as she glides in modeling a new dress. 
She spins magically for him -- he blows her a kiss.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. LUSH RIVER VALLEY OF NICARAGUA - DAY

A small private plane flies through a canyon, dwarfed by the 
spectacular landscape. Hub Kittle works the room.

INT. THE PLANE - DAY

Two MASKED GUERILLAS hold a gun to the head of a pilot. A 
large sack is crammed into the tiny compartment with them.

EXT. A SMALL MOUNTAIN TOWN IN NICARAGUA - DAY

The plane flies in low over the town and suddenly:

THE SKY IS FILLED WITH LEAFLETS that flutter to the ground. 
Townspeople, bewildered at first, pick up the papers to see:

CLOSE UP -- PRICE'S PHOTOGRAPH OF RAFAEL ALIVE

LOCAL RESIDENTS RAISE THEIR FISTS IN SALUTE to the plane as 
it disappears into the mountains.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROOFTOP GARDEN OF THE INTERCONTINENTAL - DAY

Journalists are gathered to watch the fighting which is now 
on the outskirts of Managua. Price stands to the side casually 
taking pictures of Journalists taking pictures of the war. 
Hub Kittle floats around providing drinks and P.R.

P.O.V. A PUSH-PULL AIRPLANE MAKES BOMBING PASSES on the 
capitol. Columns of smoke rise throughout the city.

REGIS MOVES HIS MINI-CAM CREW INTO POSITION AT THE RAIL

										 REGIS
				 We got the smoke in frame?

										 CREWMEMBER
							(moves the camera 
							slightly)
				 We got the smoke.

										 REGIS
				 Roll it...

CLAIRE STANDS TO THE OTHER SIDE with binoculars watching. 
She accepts a drink from Hub and speaks into her tape deck.

										 CLAIRE
				 Under a steel gray July sky... start 
				 again... under a gray steel Managuan 
				 sky... scratch it... In an 
				 extraordinary development in Managua, 
				 President Anastazio Somoza has ordered 
				 the Air Force to begin bombing his 
				 own capitol, under a sky... fuck 
				 it...

She fires down the drink and puts down the mike. She picks 
up the binoculars again and, glancing below, is shocked:

P.O.V. BELOW -- ALEX GETS OUT OF A CAB WITH HIS SUITCASES

He starts into the hotel, glances up, and they see each other.

										 CLAIRE
				 Oh my God...

Price sees Alex at the same time. Alex waves to both of as 
he heads into the hotel. Price and Claire look at each other.

Claire sits down at a table, stunned to see Alex. Price 
commandeers a waiter and joins her with a fresh tray of 
drinks.

										 CLAIRE
				 A Scotch, please...
							(he nods)
				 Double.

Price joins her as other journalists jockey for position at 
the railing. He is equally upset and confused.

										 PRICE
				 What's he doing here?

										 CLAIRE
				 I have no idea.

ALEX COMES THROUGH THE DOOR with a couple journalists, sees 
Price and Claire and comes over to join them. A polite kiss 
on Claire's cheek, a handshake for Price. A moment of 
awkwardness.

										 ALEX
				 Congratulations.

										 PRICE
				 On what?

										 ALEX
				 On what?! The Washington Post, the 
				 Times, networks, wire services -- 
				 everybody's picked up the picture. 
				 It's fabulous.

										 CLAIRE
							(nervously)
				 Well, yes... it's fabulous.

										 PRICE
				 Fabulous.

Unsure silence.

										 CLAIRE
				 Why are you back?

										 ALEX
				 I came back because of Russell.

										 PRICE
				 Because of me?

										 ALEX
				 Yeah... the whole fucking East Coast 
				 is falling in love with Rafael -- 
				 they were sure he was dead this time. 
				 Somebody wants to do a musical about 
				 him and his mug's on every T-shirt 
				 in Central Park.

Alex enjoys the lunatic mixture of politics and popular 
culture.

										 ALEX
				 I think he's bigger than Farrah 
				 Fawcett.

Claire and Price struggle to enjoy this supremely 
uncomfortable moment. It's not easy to enter the game. Claire 
attempts to change the subject.

										 CLAIRE
				 You look good. Things're okay?

										 ALEX
				 I'm happier in New York, sure, things 
				 are great. You guys?

										 PRICE
				 Terrific... now... I'm a little slow 
				 here, Alex... what exactly did you 
				 come back for?

No more games. Alex addresses Price with conviction.

										 ALEX
				 It's a great story.
							(beat)
				 I want to talk to Rafael... and you're 
				 the only man in the world that can 
				 take me to him.

Price's and Claire's hearts sink. They look at each other. 
Alex, despite his reluctance to return to Nicaragua, seems 
genuinely enthused about the possible story. Before Price or 
Claire respond, Hub Kittle notices Alex and comes over with 
a tray of drinks, extending genuine greetings to the Senior 
Correspondent.

										 HUB
				 Alex! Couldn't stay away, eh?

The fresh round of drinks are put on the table. The sound of 
bombs ripping the capitol are the only thing we hear.

																										CUT TO:

INT. CLAIRE'S ROOM - NIGHT

Claire and Price now have adjoining rooms. She is staring 
out the window as he comes in. The mood is strained.

										 CLAIRE
				 We've got to tell Alex what happened.

										 PRICE
				 No way.

										 CLAIRE
				 I'll tell him. He deserves to know.

										 PRICE
				 We don't owe him anything!

										 CLAIRE
				 We owe him that!
							(beat)
				 He got you started in this business... 
				 he covered for your missed deadlines 
				 and made excuses for your 
				 unprofessional attitude before the 
				 world fell in love with your 
				 pictures...
							(beat)
				 Before kids fresh out of journalism 
				 school were rushing off to any war 
				 they could to interview bullets and 
				 take pictures of bodies -- like Price!
							(beat)
				 He took care of you before you were 
				 hot!

Silence. She's hitting home but he doesn't want to acknowledge 
it.

										 PRICE
				 He wouldn't understand.

										 CLAIRE
				 Before Nicaragua you wouldn't 
				 understand. I'm not sure I exactly 
				 understand.
							(beat)
				 What are we going to do?

There is something calculating in Price's tone, this is not 
the fearless, boyish innocent anymore.

										 PRICE
				 I'll take Alex to find Rafael -- 
				 we'll go to Sebaco on the road to 
				 Matagalpa -- the Guardia heavily 
				 control the area and they're scared 
				 right now -- they'll never let us 
				 through. We won't be able to get 
				 near Rafael. Alex will understand -- 
				 and we'll turn around and drive back 
				 without a story.

Claire is disturbed at this compounding of the lie.

										 CLAIRE
				 That's a lie!

										 PRICE
				 Tell me about lies!

Silence. They are co-conspirators and they know it.

										 CLAIRE
				 I don't want to tell him either.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD TO MATAGALPA - NEXT DAY

Price's white flagged newly rented press car streaks along, 
overtaking an ox cart. A guardia convoy is going the opposite 
direction, back toward Managua. Alex looks out of the car 
with interest--he hasn't been to the front line for several 
wars.

										 PRICE
				 We may not be able to find him, 
				 y'know...

										 ALEX
				 I've got supreme confidence in you.

A car is on fire by the side of the road. Price flies past; 
Alex watches curiously. Several people stand around the car.

										 ALEX
				 Claire looks good, eh?

										 PRICE
				 Everybody looks good in the tropics.

Alex isn't sure how to respond to this curious reply.

										 ALEX
				 Since I haven't been able to find 
				 Isela since coming back, you're going 
				 to have to translate for me -- what 
				 the hell does that mean?

Price is nervous, wired, on edge.

										 PRICE
				 Alex... I love her.

Alex takes this calmly -- it's not exactly new information.

										 ALEX
				 And she 'thinks' she loves you.

										 PRICE
				 It's past the thinking stage.

Alex looks at the passing scenery -- he's in no hurry.

										 ALEX
				 I'd like to know something -- it 
				 probably doesn't matter in the great 
				 final scheme of things... but I'm 
				 interested...
							(beat)
				 Did you ever lay a hand on her before 
				 she left me?

										 PRICE
				 No!

										 ALEX
				 That's the truth?

										 PRICE
				 Yes!
							(beat)
				 Alex -- we're friends!

There is something desperate in his voice.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. A ROADBLOCK ON THE EDGE OF SEBACO - DAY

Price and Alex are ordered out of their car by a very 
unfriendly Guardia soldier. He is ordered to put down his 
camera bag. The hood and trunk are opened.

										 SOLDIER
				 Venga.

They are led to a shed by the roadside, A TIRE REPAIR SHOP, 
where they sit down in an oily, dusty shack. They watch the 
soldiers:

P.O.V. THE SOLDIERS TEARING UP THE RENTAL CAR, pulling off 
door panels, looking for weapons.

										 ALEX
				 I bet you go through a few rental 
				 cars.

										 PRICE
				 Don't worry. I put this in your name.

PRICE AND ALEX JERK TO LIFE at the sound of screaming in the 
distance. A volley of gunfire follows. Price moves quickly 
into an adjoining shed and looks through a crack in the wall:

P.O.V. AN EXECUTION SQUAD IN A FIELD as several bodies are 
being hauled away. Two soldiers reload their guns. PAN to a 
figure moving behind a wall -- OATES.

PRICE HURRIES THROUGH THE SHACKS TOWARD THE EXECUTION WALL 
as Alex calls to him and hurries after -- Price is single-
minded. As he moves through the shacks we hear another volley 
of fire, and Price bursts into a clearing to see:

TWO TRUCKS BEING LOADED WITH BODIES AS OATES SUPERVISES. 
PRICE STEPS INTO THE CLEARING -- FACE-TO-FACE WITH OATES.

They look at each other for several beats before anyone 
speaks. Oates is slightly embarrassed.

										 OATES
				 No pictures, eh? Might look bad.

Oates smiles half-way; Price looks around at the bodies.

										 PRICE
				 You get paid by the body or by the 
				 hour?

										 OATES
				 I get paid the same way you do. What 
				 the fuck you doin' in Sebaco -- this 
				 place's about to blow... ain't it?

										 PRICE
				 You didn't have to nail Pedro.

										 OATES
				 Who's Pedro?

Alex arrives and tries to pull Price back -- at the same 
time he sees the bodies and is sickened at the sight.

										 ALEX
				 Oh my God...

A body is carried through and loaded on a truck. Oates's 
tone is one of explanation rather than defense, very matter-
of-fact.

										 OATES
				 There's a motherfucking war goin' 
				 on, pal... lotta sad stories.

Price mumbles and wanders to the next truck a few feet away, 
and as he sees it he stops short, speechless. He points:

THE BODIES OF THE PRIEST FROM LEON AND THE BUSINESSMAN, 
figures we saw at Rafael's camp, sit in the back of the truck. 
They are splattered with blood and lifeless. Price is shaken.

										 PRICE
				 Why them? Why them?!

Oates has to look to see who he's talking about, and Price 
loses his cool.

										 PRICE
				 You're a cocksucker!

										 OATES
				 I don't suck no dick, man...

PRICE GRABS OATES AND PUSHES HIM BACKWARDS but Oates responds 
like an animal. The two men go down in a heap and lash out 
at each other in the dust. Their fighting is largely 
ineffective, though very physical, until Oates asserts himself 
and knocks Price against a wall, breaking free to pick up 
his automatic rifle that he handles with one hand and shoves 
it into Price's face.

										 OATES
				 I'd prefer not splattering your brains 
				 in a dump like this -- I got 
				 priorities.
							(to Alex)
				 Guy wants to be a hero, pops, get 
				 him outta here before he's a number.
							(beat)
				 Be a shitty little town to buy it 
				 in.
							(beat)
				 Who are you?

										 ALEX
				 Russell, let's get outta here.

										 PRICE
							(to Oates)
				 Fuck you.

										 OATES
				 Guy's got a sense of humor, old man.
							(beat)
				 Got any dope? Tough place to find 
				 decent dope?

										 PRICE
				 Why them?

										 OATES
				 Them? C'mere. You too.

He leads them under an awning nearby where a couple soldiers 
sit. A small table, some weapons, two shallow boxes, food, 
beer. Oates rummages around to find what he wants, and pulls 
out:

A HANDFUL OF PHOTOGRAPHS, mostly snapshots, odd sizes, with 
names written on them. He sifts through them quickly and we 
see an assortment of photographs of Nicaraguans. He finds 
what he's looking for and holds up:

PRICE'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE PRIEST AND THE BUSINESSMAN, the 
picture taken in Rafael's camp, blown up, cropped, and 
identified. The faces are circled.

										 OATES
				 If your mug shows up in this box... 
				 and ya try to make it through 
				 Sebaco... I owe yer ass.

This information hits Price in the gut, and he is seized 
with fear.

										 ALEX
				 Who gives you the pictures?

										 OATES
				 What's this, an interview? I ain't 
				 that dumb.

Price turns, he doesn't want to face it.

										 ALEX
				 Off the record.

										 OATES
				 Off the record... some pachuco gives 
				 'em to me. Ain't none of my business, 
				 but I heard he gets 'em from a Frog.

Oates pulls another picture from a different box and holds 
it up:

PHOTOGRAPH OF ISELA

										 OATES
				 Nice, eh?

										 PRICE
				 She dead?

										 OATES
				 Not yet.

Alex grabs Price and heads back toward the roadblock.

										 OATES
				 Whatya' expect? We're the ones gettin' 
				 our butts kicked.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE CAR - DAY

Price hangs a U-turn at the roadblock and heads back to 
Managua. He drives crazily.

										 PRICE
				 Some-motherfucker-took-my-fucking-
				 pictures-I-don't-fucking-know-what-
				 happened!
							(beat)
				 Fuck me!

Silence.

										 ALEX
				 Didn't you ship the film to New York?

										 PRICE
				 I developed it in my room.
							(pleads)
				 Jesus Christ, Alex?!

Silence. The car races.

										 ALEX
				 Slow down.
							(compassionately)
				 It wasn't your fault if somebody 
				 stole your stuff...

										 PRICE
				 It was.

Alex doesn't force the issue, nor does he understand it 
entirely.

										 ALEX
				 What about Rafael?

No answer -- the car races back to Managua. Alex stares at 
Price trying to figure out what is wrong.

																										CUT TO:

INT. PRICE'S ROOM AT THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - LATER

A MAID IS CLEANING HIS ROOM which is the usual disaster. 
Price enters, just returned, and quickly looks for his 
negatives under the equipment where he had hidden them.

										 PRICE
				 Algo no esta aqui. Fotografias.
							(Something is not 
							here. Photographs.)

										 MAID
							(in Spanish)
				 Everything's always a mess here. You 
				 should be neater.

										 PRICE
				 Negativos, negativos!

The maid shrugs -- Price is crazy anyway, and:

CLAIRE WALKS INTO THE ROOM She too looks shaken. He looks 
up.

										 CLAIRE
				 Commandante Cinco's body was just 
				 found on the road to Matagalpa.

The maid starts crying. They look at her helplessly as she 
sobs, 'Cinco, Cinco...'

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MANAGUA - DAY

A cab takes them through the increasingly nervous city. La 
Guardia troop trucks are everywhere -- things seem more 
hurried. A hunting rifle sits in the cabbie's lap. They get 
out and knock on Jazy's door.

GUARDIA SOLDIERS WATCH THEM FROM A DISTANCE, a development 
that Price and Claire are aware of.

										 CLAIRE
				 I don't think it's Jazy.

Still no answer.

										 PRICE
				 Oates said it was a Frog. How many 
				 Frenchmen you know around here? Jazy 
				 ain't 'facilitating' shit.

Price is impatient. He looks around nervously -- the Guards 
are out of view -- and he slides a knife into the latch, 
jimmying the lock. The door opens slowly -- an alarm goes 
off.

Price and Claire duck inside quickly.

										 CLAIRE
				 Christ!

Price, momentarily comfortable with the danger, responds 
quickly and finds the alarm wire running along the door jamb.

LA GUARDIA TROOPS NEARBY HEAR THE ALARM and head toward 
Jazy's.

INSIDE THE HOUSE PRICE FINDS THE ALARM BOX which he pries 
open and expertly pulls two wires. The alarm stops.

Immediately they begin going through drawers and cupboards. 
She pulls out some harmless snapshots of Miss Panama, replaces 
them.

										 CLAIRE
				 Are we looking for negs or prints?

										 PRICE
				 Anything.

They find nothing downstairs. The look up at the sound of 
distant gunfire.

Suddenly: Loud banging at the front door -- La Guardia.

EXT. TWO GUARDIA SOLDIERS AND A THIRD ARRIVING - DAY

They look around warily, hungrily -- they know something is 
wrong.

BACK INSIDE THE HOUSE we hear the shouting soldiers, banging. 
Price and Claire look at each other, and the camera bag. 
Claire points upstairs to Price, to the door for herself. 
Russell grabs the bag and bounds quickly upstairs. Claire 
goes to the front door, shaking nervously.

CLAIRE OPENS THE DOOR AND FACES THE SOLDIERS

										 CLAIRE
				 Que quiere?
							(What do you want?)

										 SOLDIER
				 Donde esta senor Jazy?

										 CLAIRE
				 No esta aqui.

										 SOLDIER
				 Que quienes?
							(Who are you?)

										 CLAIRE
							(smiles)
				 Una novia suya.
							(A girlfriend of his.)

The soldiers look at each other curiously and push open the 
door to look in the house without entering -- respectful of 
Jazy.

										 SOLDIER #2
				 El hombre tiene muchas novias, eh?
							(The man has many 
							girlfriends, no?)

The soldiers laugh and peer into the room. Claire forces the 
door closed on them, teasing slightly.

										 CLAIRE
				 No, no, no...

Afraid to make a mistake with one of Jazy's sweethearts, 
they don't press the issue. The door closes shut.

INT. THE HOUSE

CLAIRE sighs with frightened relief and hurries upstairs to 
join Price.

JAZY'S BEDROOM as she enters. A rumpled bed, a spilled wine 
glass -- a pleasant mess.

										 CLAIRE
				 Russell?
							(no answer)
				 Russell?

A door off the bedroom is open -- light spills out. Claire 
stops cold at what she sees:

PRICE STANDS IN A ROOM FULL OF PHOTOGRAPHS Hundreds of 
pictures of all sizes, photographic equipment, an enlarger, 
cameras and lenses, etc. Pictures of Sandino, newspaper 
photos, snapshots.

P.O.V. OF RUSSELL'S PHOTOGRAPHS FROM RAFAEL'S CAMP cropped 
and blown up -- Commandante Cinco, the Priest of Leon, the 
Businessman, Isela. Photographs of other slain rebel leaders. 
The pictures include faces that have been circled with names 
written in -- exactly as in the pictures Oates possessed.

They are both stunned.

										 PRICE
				 Let's get out of here.

THEY HURRY DOWNSTAIRS and as they get to the front door -- 
the sound of somebody opening it. They freeze.

THE DOOR OPENS AND MISS PANAMA ENTERS She smiles and greets 
them in a friendly, aloof manner, and continues toward the 
waterless pool.

										 MISS PANAMA
				 Hola.

Price and Claire return the greeting and continue out the 
door.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. JAZY'S HOUSE - THE SOUND OF MORTAR IN THE DISTANCE

As they emerge, Claire tears a white cloth in half and ties 
it to a stick, handing half to Price who does likewise.

An earth mover goes past, a Guardia soldier at the wheel. 
More soldiers cling to the machine, their guns at the ready.

										 PRICE
				 We've got to talk to Alex.

They start walking.

										 CLAIRE
				 You think our flags are big enough?

Flags held high, they move nervously down the street into 
the ominous silence of the city.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MANAGUA - NIGHT

Alex, Price, and Claire get out of a cab and approach a large 
statue of Somoza on horseback, surreally lit by floodlights 
in the center of a traffic circle. Four Guardia Soldiers are 
visible on the sidewalk in the b.g. drinking with two women.

										 PRICE
				 This is what I want to show you.

										 ALEX
				 We drove through three roadblocks a 
				 half hour before curfew so you could 
				 show me a statue of Tacho.

										 PRICE
				 It's not Tacho. It's Mussolini. Tacho 
				 went to Italy to commission a statue 
				 of himself, he found a warehouse 
				 full of Il Duces on horseback, got a 
				 great deal on one of 'em -- brought 
				 it back and switched heads.
							(beat)
				 Ya can't tell, can ya?

Silence. Alex knows Price too well -- it's a great story but 
that's not why they're here.

										 ALEX
				 What the hell are you talking about?

										 CLAIRE
				 I think what he's trying to say -- 
				 what we're trying to say -- is that 
				 things aren't exactly what they seem 
				 to be.

										 ALEX
				 Well, they don't "seem" to be that 
				 great so I can't wait for this one...
							(mocks silliness)
				 Hey, here we are! Two guys in the 
				 tropics in love with the same dame... 
				 bullets flying!

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex! That's not why we're here.

										 ALEX
				 Oh yeah? I left the country because 
				 of him...
							(points to Price)
				 ...and I came back because of him...
							(beat)
				 And now the cutest couple in town 
				 has me looking up a horse's ass on a 
				 midnight tour of Managua.
							(points up the statue's 
							ass)
				 What are we doing here?

Silence. Claire addresses Alex calmly.

										 CLAIRE
				 Rafael is dead.

Silence. Alex isn't quite sure he understood.

										 ALEX
				 In the picture he's dead?

										 PRICE
							(shouts)
				 Dead!

										 ALEX
				 How the hell...

										 CLAIRE
							(interrupts quickly)
				 Who cares how?!

Silence. A bit of gallows laughter from Alex as he circles 
the statue. Price calms and tries to explain.

										 PRICE
				 Alex... I think I finally saw one 
				 too many bodies.
							(beat)
				 Somoza is a killer.
							(beat)
				 I thought the war would end sooner.
							(beat)
				 How many reasons do you want?

										 ALEX
				 You saw too many bodies? That's a 
				 lot of bodies.
							(beat; to Price)
				 You stupid son of a bitch.
							(to Claire)
				 Did he talk you into it?

										 CLAIRE
				 No! I wanted Rafael to be alive.

										 ALEX
				 In some way I understand him doing 
				 it, I don't like it but I 
				 understand... but you?

										 CLAIRE
				 I'd do it again.

Alex lets it all sink in. These two people about whom he has 
such passionate feelings have totally exposed themselves to 
him.

										 ALEX
				 You two have, of course, just served 
				 me up your balls -- if that's what 
				 they're called -- on a platter.
							(several beats)
				 I can bury you both. You're handing 
				 me your careers.

They don't respond -- he's right.

										 ALEX
				 Well, Jesus Christ... this is a 
				 motherfucking story, Russell...
							(long silence)
				 What am I supposed to do with it?

										 CLAIRE
				 Anything you want.

Small, tired gallows laughter from Alex. There is a long 
silence before Alex speaks, aware of the irony.

										 ALEX
				 They're holding the lead in the World 
				 section for Rafael.

										 PRICE
				 It's great stuff, isn't it? We'd go 
				 down in a blaze of glory.

										 ALEX
				 Oh yeah...
							(distraught)
				 I don't know what to do.
							(beat)
				 I've gotta take some kind of a story 
				 back with me. Maybe Jazy, eh?

										 CLAIRE
				 Oh Jesus.

										 PRICE
				 It's a little dangerous looking for 
				 Jazy at the moment.

										 ALEX
							(mock heroic)
				 Ah, danger -- I love it. You could 
				 ask the pointy-shoed little bastard 
				 about your pictures... and I could 
				 ask him whatever happened to Isela.

										 CLAIRE
				 She's an officer in the Rafael army -- 
				 we saw her in Matagalpa.

Alex is surprised slightly, but takes pleasure in revealing 
it.

										 ALEX
				 You mean I slept with a Sandinista?

Price and Claire exchange glances. Alex is dead serious.

										 ALEX
				 I guess Rafael is alive, eh?

																										CUT TO:

INT. CLAIRE'S ROOM - NIGHT

PRICE AND CLAIRE LIE IN BED sweating. A siren and distant 
mortar can be heard outside. Price goes to the window and 
shuts it -- the room is quieter and hotter. He pounds a broken 
air conditioning duct.

										 PRICE
				 Damn air conditioning.

He looks out the window -- it never used to be this 
complicated.

										 CLAIRE
				 I wish I was home.

Silence.

										 PRICE
				 C'mere.

She goes to him, lies down, and they embrace.

										 CLAIRE
				 Do you think it's almost over?

A loud, long burst of automatic weapons fire is heard 
somewhere outside. Their eyes are open as they hold onto 
each other.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE STREETS OF MANAGUA - NEXT MORNING

A sense of foreboding. Heavy road equipment prowls the street 
looking for Rebel barricades to destroy. Tanquettas and 
Guardia everywhere.

The flag draped press car of Price and Alex drives slowly.

P.O.V. OUT OF THE CAR AS THEY LOOK CAREFULLY Things feel 
wrong. Guardia barricades are everywhere, forcing them to 
follow a route they might not choose. The Guardia soldiers 
at the barricades seem on edge. When Jazy's house is visible 
in the distance, barricades force them another direction.

GUARDIA SOLDIERS RACE DOWN A STREET TOWARD GUNFIRE and the 
car stops. When the road is clear it creeps into an 
intersection. They check their position.

THE CAR CREEPS TO A STOP and they look around further.

A PIG CROSSES THE STREET 100 YARDS AWAY AND IS SHOT BY A 
SOLDIER.

Everything is wrong. Price looks around restlessly.

										 PRICE
				 Alex... let's go back.

										 ALEX
				 Jazy's probably sitting in the bar 
				 laughing at us. Which way's the hotel?

										 PRICE
				 I don't know.

A WOMAN PEEKS OUT OF A DOORWAY WATCHING

										 ALEX
				 I'll ask her... be right back.

										 PRICE
				 Just a sec'... take a flag.

But Alex is out of the car at once, approaching the woman.

Alex motions that "it's not necessary" and talks to the woman. 
We can't hear, but she points down the block.

INSIDE THE CAR Price cranks film into place, his actions are 
automatic and nervous. When he looks up:

P.O.V. ALEX FIFTY YARDS AWAY

Walking in the direction she pointed, he motions to Price as 
if to say, "Just checking this out."

PRICE LOOKS AROUND NERVOUSLY FOR A SENSE OF DIRECTION And as 
he does, looks through the camera.

THROUGH CAMERA P.O.V. OF THE DEAD PIG followed by quick 
blurred pans to other images -- TANK, HOUSE, WOMAN, SOLDIER -- 
until it settles on ALEX IN THE INTERSECTION. Two Guardia 
soldiers come up to him and he holds out his hands as if to 
say, "I'm lost."

ALEX TALKS TO THE SOLDIERS -- FREEZE FRAME click, click -- 
and the whirring sound of a motor drive, another FREEZE FRAME 
click, click, more whirring -- Price is on automatic pilot. 
Another soldier orders Alex up against a wall.

Nobody sees Price taking pictures -- it happens too quickly.

THROUGH CAMERA P.O.V. ALEX IS SHOT IN THE CHEST FROM POINT 
BLANK RANGE -- FREEZE FRAMES click, click, whirring as the 
images blur and the camera is dropped.

PRICE STARES WITHOUT THE CAMERA

P.O.V. ALEX LIES DEAD AS THE SOLDIERS LOOK AROUND The act 
was random, almost nonchalant.

PRICE STARTS TO RUN TOWARD ALEX shouting madly.

										 PRICE
				 You fucks! You fucks!

He stops quickly as they see him, realizing how exposed he 
is.

THE GUARDIA START FIRING AT HIM, realizing the murder was 
recorded.

										 GUARDIA SOLDIER
				 Fotografia!

																										CUT TO:

PRICE LEAPS IN HIS CAR and starts it up, racing around the 
corner as bullets rip into the car.

THE WINDOW SHATTERS, AND PRICE IS HIT IN THE SHOULDER He 
clutches his bleeding arm as he races on.

EXT. SHANTYTOWN BARRIO - DAY

THE CAR GRINDS TO A HALT and Price leaps from it, racing 
into a maze of ramshackle huts.

																										CUT TO:

INT. SOMOZA'S BUNKER

A hastily called press conference. Tacho takes a quick drag 
on a cigarette and makes the announcement.

										 SOMOZA
				 It is with grave concern that we 
				 announce that Alexander Grazier, 
				 senior American correspondent, has 
				 been murdered at the hands of 
				 terrorists...

A shock wave goes through the room -- hands raised, questions.

										 SOMOZA
				 Mr. Kittle has prepared statements 
				 for you.

Somoza turns and leaves as Kittle passes out press statements.

																										CUT TO:

INT. CLAIRE'S HOTEL ROOM

TV is on. She's at the typewriter working on a story.

A PHOTOGRAPH OF ALEX COMES ON THE TELEVISION NEWS, with 
Spanish language commentary over the image.

CLAIRE KEEPS WORKING AND GRADUALLY TYPES LESS AS SHE HEARS 
the story, finally rising and moving in front of the 
television as a local newsman reads of Alex's death and we 
see the Somoza press announcement.

The phone rings: Claire picks up the phone and listens 
silently before hanging up. She sits down shakily on the bed 
and starts crying.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE SHANTYTOWN BARRIO - DAY

PRICE HURRIES THROUGH the passageways between tin shacks, 
through tiny yards of goats and chickens, through houses as 
poor that the war has nearly passed them by. Price is hurting, 
and looks around with fear to see:

THE GUARDIA SOLDIERS MOVE DOWN INTO THE SHANTYTOWN, fanning 
out to quickly engulf the barrio. They move quickly.

A HELICOPTER GUNSHIP MOVES IN LOW over the barrio and opens 
up sporadic outbursts of fire to insure nobody will try to 
flee.

PRICE RUNS DOWN AN ALLEY and nearly runs right into the 
Guardia. He hides behind a paper thin wall of flattened beer 
cans -- the Guardia move past him only inches away. Price 
starts off in another direction, but Guardia appear -- he is 
trapped in the barrio.

																										CUT TO:

INT. HOTEL LOBBY

Journalists are everywhere -- suitcases packed -- trying to 
get out of the country. The registration desk is chaos. Regis 
tries to get the attention of the clerk -- so does everyone 
else.

										 REGIS
				 Get my bill and get me a cab, hey, 
				 amigo!

The clerk is under attack.

										 CLERK
				 No cabs.

										 REGIS
				 Cabs!

										 CLERK
				 No cabs!

CLAIRE GETS OFF THE ELEVATOR AND MOVES THROUGH THIS CHAOS 
Regis sees her and tries to give her comfort -- she's beyond 
that. She wears a jacket and carries her bag -- she's going 
somewhere.

										 REGIS
				 I'm sorry, Claire...

She pushes him away politely; she is single-minded now.

										 CLAIRE
				 Heard from Russell?

										 REGIS
				 Nobody has.

										 CLAIRE
				 Wanta help me find him?

Regis looks at her like she's crazy.

										 REGIS
				 Claire... it's on the weird side out 
				 there...

Hub Kittle enters the lobby, sees Claire and volunteers:

										 HUB
				 Jesus Christ, Claire, a human tragedy, 
				 what can I say?

Claire is nearly in tears, but resists.

										 CLAIRE
				 Fuck off, Hub, get outta my way.

CLAIRE EXITS THE HOTEL AND GETS INTO HER PRESS CAR

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MANAGUA - LONG SHOT OF JAZY'S HOUSE - DAY

Claire stays in her car and watches the house -- no way to 
get close -- and she continues driving, her route dictated 
by the same barricades that directed Alex and Price.

She passes the dead pig in the street, and TWO RED CROSS 
WORKERS make their way slowly around a corner, frightened. 
Claire gets out of her car and approaches them.

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 Do you know where the American 
				 journalist was killed?

They all point down a street. She shows them the polaroid of 
Price and her.

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 Have you seen him?

They haven't and continue on their way. Claire walks in the 
direction they pointed -- no street fighting but many Guardia.

P.O.V. PRICE'S CAR FAR DOWN THE STREET SURROUNDED BY GUARDIA

																										CUT TO:

EXT. SHANTYTOWN - DAY

PRICE HUNCHES DOWN AND CRAWLS BEHIND THE STALLS as soldiers 
move through the yards looking for him.

A WOMAN IN A DOORWAY WATCHES PRICE HIDE

THE WOMAN APPEARS IN A DOORWAY AND MOTIONS WITH HER HEAD for 
Price to dart inside.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE HOUSE - DAY

Nothing is said. Price is led into a room, one of many -- 
but this room is boarded over. There is no escape. Price is 
in pain, his arm bleeds, he's tiring.

										 WOMAN
							(in Spanish)
				 This is the best I can offer.

										 PRICE
				 Gracias.

PRICE STANDS IN THE TINY ROOM WAITING

He leans against the wall behind the door. He shuts his eyes -- 
a noise at the door. When he opens them:

THE WOMAN IS STANDING THERE WITH A GUN

She hands it to him and leaves, bolting the door.

PRICE LEANS AGAINST THE WALL HOLDING A REVOLVER and he waits -- 
cameras around his neck, gun in hand, bloody, slightly 
ridiculous, and scared.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE STREETS OF MANAGUA - DAY

Price's shot up car is not far away, but she's afraid to 
approach it. She shows the picture of Price to a small boy 
who doesn't recognize it.

GUARDIA SOLDIER SPOTS CLAIRE and walks toward her. She cannot 
tell if the act is routine or threatening. He calls out to 
her.

										 SOLDIER
				 Venga aqui.

She hesitates -- Alex is dead, everything is crazy. She starts 
toward him, then changes her mind, turns, and walks quickly 
away from him.

THE SOLDIER RUNS TOWARD HER

CLAIRE RUNS FASTER and darts into a narrow passageway behind 
a house, where she looks back. He calls for support -- several 
join him and hurry after her. Panicky, she runs between 
houses.

OVERHEAD PLANES BUZZ THE NEIGHBORHOOD as Claire emerges from 
the 'maze' to see:

P.O.V. PRICE'S CAR ABANDONED and full of holes near the shanty 
town. Guardia are everywhere. The helicopter gunship is 
overhead.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE HOUSE WHERE PRICE HIDES - DAY

He hears the Guard breaking in, and he cocks his gun.

INT. SAME HOUSE

as the Squadron Leader and three soldiers burst in -- the 
woman stands in the middle of the room and lies.

										 WOMAN
							(in Spanish)
				 Nobody is here. Get out.

The Sqaudron Leader points to different rooms for each 
soldier, and they proceed to kick in each door, automatic 
rifles ready.

PRICE'S ROOM AS HE HEARS A SOLDIER AT THIS DOOR.

THE DOOR IS KICKED OPEN, AND A SOLDIER STEPS INTO THE ROOM 
For a moment he doesn't see Price -- then he whirls and faces 
the photographer who's so scared he's forgotten to raise his 
gun.

PRICE AND THE SOLDIER ARE FACE-TO-FACE The soldier is a 
fourteen-year-old boy fighting back tears. He, too, is scared 
to death. Neither is quite sure why he is there -- they just 
want it to end.

PRICE AND THE BOY AIM THEIR GUNS AT EACH OTHER as they hear 
the voice of the Squadron Leader in the other room.

										 LEADER
				 Esta alli?!
							(Is he there?)

No answer.

										 LEADER
				 Esta alli?!

SQUADRON LEADER HEADS TOWARD THE ROOM but as he does, the 
boy soldier appears in the doorway.

										 BOY SOLDIER
				 No esta aqui.

The Leader grunts an order, and the squadron quickly heads 
to the next house.

PRICE'S BODY SLUMPS AGAINST THE WALL EXHAUSTED, and the woman 
enters as soon as the last soldier has gone.

Price's brief moment of peace is shattered by the screaming 
of Guardia troops and the explosions of rocket fire from the 
gunship. He looks outside.

THE GUNSHIP FIRES INTO THE SHANTYTOWN killing several of its 
own Guardia troops. A GUARDIA OFFICER screams at the gunship 
and fires a hand gun at the giant chopper.

										 GUARDIA OFFICER
							(in Spanish)
				 We are you! We are you! What are you 
				 doing?!

GUARDIA TROOPS EVACUATE THE SHANTYTOWN in a panicky scramble 
to escape their own gunship.

PRICE RACES THROUGH THE BACK OF THE SHANTYTOWN, taking 
advantage of the chaos, and without slowing down, breaks 
free of the maze of the barrio.

CLAIRE'S P.O.V. OF PRICE RACING ACROSS THE STREET, past a 
body and an overturned, smoking car, back into the rubble 
strewn blocks of the edge of the city. A tanquetta comes 
around a corner and sees Price a block away.

										 CLAIRE
				 Russell!

PRICE SEES HER, and races along a wall until they meet, 
grabbing her on the run -- each is panicky and frightened -- 
and they duck into very shallow cover, barely safe.

										 PRICE
				 What're you doing here?!

They embrace quickly and tightly, but look around nervously 
as they do. Price isn't sure if anybody knows about Alex.

										 CLAIRE
				 Alex!

										 PRICE
				 The Guardia did it -- I got pictures.

P.O.V. A TANQUETTA PASSES ON THE NEXT STREET, visible through 
shattered holes in the buildings. A Guardia squadron passes.

PRICE AND CLAIRE RUN DOWN THE STREET in the opposite 
direction, their path guided somewhat by an overturned bus 
in an intersection, abandoned barricades and roadblocks, and 
the rubble of street fighting.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE STREET OF JAZY'S HOUSE - DAY

PRICE AND CLAIRE hesitate at the corner and move slowly along, 
seeing two Sandinistas, dressed half in camouflaged gear, 
half disco. The TWO GUERRILLAS seem to control the street. 
Price and Claire approach warily.

										 PRICE
				 Hola.
							(the Guerrillas nod; 
							in Spanish)
				 Do you control this area?

The Sandinista looks at his comrade, then looks around 
nervously, frightened, then shrugs.

										 DISCO SANDINISTA
							(in Spanish)
				 I don't know.

Price and Claire continue on down the street and 
simultaneously noticed something strange:

THE DOOR TO JAZY'S HOUSE IS WIDE OPEN They approach carefully 
and look in a view to the court-yard. Claire sticks her head 
in the door slowly, and as she does:

A GIANT HAND GUN IS STUCK IN HER TEMPLE as TWO MUCHACHOS 
quickly seize her and Price, dragging them inside.

																										CUT TO:

INT. JAZY'S COURTYARD - LATE IN DAY

JAZY STANDS WITH A THIRD GUN AT HIS HEAD, being held by the 
most forceful and crazed of three young Muchachos. With guns 
on Jazy, Price, and Claire, there is much confusion as to 
who's in charge and what exactly they're doing.

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Who are you?

										 JAZY
				 They are my friends.

										 MUCHACHO #2
							(in Spanish)
				 Shut up. We kill them all.

										 MUCHACHO #3
							(in Spanish)
				 No. Only him.

The guns are aimed back and forth in confusion -- Price and 
Claire don't have a chance to respond, and they're not sure 
what to say.

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Him or him or her?

The Muchachos begin arguing rapidly among themselves; and as 
they do, Jazy addresses Price and Claire coolly.

										 JAZY
				 Well, here we are, eh?

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Assassin! Shut up!

										 JAZY
				 The boys are confused -- they think 
				 I had their family killed.

										 PRICE
				 You murder people.

										 JAZY
				 "Murder" is a word for criminals. I 
				 have a job to protect the stability 
				 of a continent.

										 MUCHACHO #3
				 Pig! Hijo de puta!

										 JAZY
				 Please...

He is not begging for his life as much as for them to calm 
down.

										 CLAIRE
				 You got caught by some boys?

										 JAZY
				 Yes. Poets too, I imagine.
							(beat)
				 Is your recorder on?

										 CLAIRE
							(hesitates)
				 Yes.

										 JAZY
				 Good. I have a speech to make.

The Muchachos don't understand what he's saying, but they 
stop to listen to his style. The guns remained trained on 
all three.

										 JAZY
				 I like you people, but you are 
				 sentimental shits. You fall in love 
				 with the poets, the poets fall in 
				 love with the Marxists, the Marxists 
				 fall in love with themselves. The 
				 country is destroyed with rhetoric, 
				 and in the end we are stuck with 
				 tyrants.

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Shut up!

Jazy turns to the boy who jams the gun into his head and 
speaks with tired authority.

										 JAZY
				 Un minuto, por favor.

										 MUCHACHO #2
							(to Price and Claire, 
							more calmly)
				 Who are you?

										 JAZY
							(in Spanish)
				 They are journalists.

The Muchachos are immediately surprised and delighted, and 
one of them speaks in excited, broken English.

										 MUCHACHO #1
				 Periodistas! Take this picture! I'm 
				 going to blow his head off.

The Muchachos quickly withdraw their guns from Price and 
Claire and aim them all at Jazy's head.

										 JAZY
				 Somoza? He is a tyrant too, of course. 
				 A butcher.
							(beat)
				 But finally that is not the point, 
				 you see. If we wish to survive -- we 
				 have a choice of tyrants, and for 
				 all the right reasons, your poets 
				 choose the wrong side.

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(impatiently)
				 Fotografia!

										 PRICE
				 No.

										 JAZY
				 Yes.
							(beat)
				 Your picture of Rafael was 
				 brilliant... but I am alive, and 
				 better looking. A good looking 
				 Frenchman with a sympathetic face is 
				 murdered in cold blood while fighting 
				 for the survival of Europe and 
				 America.
							(beat)
				 You will have another magazine cover!
							(smiles)
				 Muy complicado, no?

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Ready! Now!

										 CLAIRE
				 You picked the wrong side.

										 JAZY
				 In fifty years we will know who's 
				 right.
							(beat)
				 Are you going to take the picture as 
				 the bullet enters the skull or as it 
				 comes out? This wall's a nice color, 
				 eh? I can move into the sunlight.

CLAIRE TURNS AND WALKS AWAY, her back to the scene.

										 JAZY
							(to Claire)
				 It's just a story!

PRICE REMAINS AND STARES AT JAZY as the Muchachos grow 
increasingly impatient. Some part of him wants to take the 
picture.

										 MUCHACHO #1
							(in Spanish)
				 Shut up!

										 JAZY
				 They say that if somebody's holding 
				 a gun on you, you should never stop 
				 talking... that's the theory -- who 
				 knows?...

PRICE TURNS AND WALKS AWAY toward Claire. Still -- Jazy talks.

										 JAZY
				 Maybe it's a good thing that I talk 
				 too much...

A GUNSHOT RINGS OUT.

Price grimaces. Claire shuts her eyes. They turn to look at 
the fallen Jazy as the Three Muchachos, frightened by their 
own act, race back into the street. For several moments Price 
and Claire stand, frozen, until the rumbling sound of a 
helicopter gunship nearby forces them to hurry outside.

PRICE AND CLAIRE GO TO THE DOORWAY and look out as a jeep 
full of Guardia screams past

P.O.V. SEVERAL GUERRILLAS RETREATING FROM AN ADVANCING 
TANQUETTA a block away. The neighborhood seems to be changing 
hands again.

Price and Claire slump in the darkness near the doorway; she 
touches near his wounded arm.

										 CLAIRE
				 You okay?
							(he nods)
				 Russell... what did Alex do?

										 PRICE
				 Nothing. He asked for directions.

She shakes her head and leans it against Price's shoulder 
but the distant popping of guns does not even allow her a 
moment of mourning. Their heads pop up nervously.

										 PRICE
				 We gotta get outta sight -- half the 
				 fucking army's looking for me...

										 CLAIRE
				 They're not looking for me.

Silence.

										 CLAIRE
				 Let me have the film...
							(beat; unsure)
				 ...if I can't get to the hotel I'll 
				 come back here...

Price doesn't want her to go alone, but he's not that excited 
about hiding out in the middle of the city either.

										 PRICE
				 Aw, Christ...
							(frustrated)
				 I've wrecked everything else, at 
				 least let me take care of you here.

										 CLAIRE
				 Russell... it's more dangerous being 
				 with you than being alone.

He knows she's right. He loves her, and he's made enough 
disastrous decisions lately. He hesitates, then pops open 
his camera and removes the film. Price ties the film into 
the white flag that hangs from a stick stuck into her belt.

PRICE AND CLAIRE EMBRACE AND KISS BRIEFLY

										 PRICE
				 Don't get hurt.

										 CLAIRE
							(affectionately)
				 That's great advice.

They kiss, and Claire runs out after a Red Cross truck. Price 
watches nervously until they turn a corner, out of sight, 
then goes back inside Jazy's courtyard. PRICE NEARLY STUMBLES 
OVER JAZY'S BODY, stops, stares -- he'd forgotten already. 
The body makes him uneasy, and after several moments he finds 
a sheet and covers Jazy. Price then sits down and waits 
nervously, sharing the courtyard with Jazy.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MANAGUA - DUSK

CLAIRE WALKS ALONGSIDE THE RED CROSS TRUCK as it comes around 
a corner. The truck turns one direction, she wants to go the 
other way toward the hotel.

P.O.V. -- THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL ON THE HILL IN DISTANCE - 
DUSK

Guardia troops heavily patrol the ground between Claire and 
the hotel -- a jeep, a troop carrier, a tanquetta, and fifty 
foot soldiers.

CLAIRE TAKES TEMPORARY COVER offered by a MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN 
who sees that she is afraid of La Guardia. Claire steps behind 
a walled yard. Moments later:

A BOY ON A BIKE RIDES SLOWLY OUT OF THE YARD and turns up 
the hill toward the Guardia and the hotel. Claire's white 
flag is tied to his handlebars.

CLAIRE WATCHES FEARFULLY as the boy pedals into the military 
zone. The woman offers Claire some food; she declines.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROAD TO THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - DUSK

THE BOY PEDALS slowly, in no hurry, past La Guardia troops. 
Some of them watch him curiously, some ignore him. The white 
flag flutters as he rides.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MANAGUA - DUSK

CLAIRE RETRACES HER STEPS to the block where Price is hiding 
in Jazy's house.

THE TWO DISCO SANDINISTAS LIE DEAD IN THE STREET, a dog sniffs 
at the bodies. Claire looks around -- there is little sign 
of life. She enters Jazy's house.

																										CUT TO:

INT. JAZY'S HOUSE - DUSK

CLAIRE ENTERS and stops. She calls out his name, no answer. 
Price is gone. She hurries back outside.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. JAZY'S HOUSE - DUSK

TWO GUARDIA TROOP CARRIERS RACE PAST, sirens screaming, loaded 
with Guardia soldiers. Claire steps into the street unsurely, 
looking every direction.

PEOPLE BEGIN COMING OUT OF THEIR HOMES and what remains of 
their small homes. They come one at a time at first, then in 
small groups, carrying belongings, pets, chickens, etc.

CLAIRE SHOWS A PICTURE OF PRICE AND HER to a woman who comes 
out of the house next to Jazy's, but the woman shakes her 
head, not recognizing Price.

A PUSH-PULL PLANE DIVES IN LOW FIRING ROCKETS at the homes.

THE CROWD GROWS and chaotically flees the destruction, 
gradually finding a direction out of the city. Claire is 
swept along in the crowds, at first without choice, then 
finally fleeing for her life with the rest of Managua. As 
she moves with the crowd, she looks for Price everywhere, 
without success.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. A TEMPORARY REFUGEE CAMP - NIGHT

SEVERAL CAMPFIRES burn near the edge of the city where dozens 
have taken temporary refuge. Claire arrives to see: A BODY 
ON A STRETCHER BEING CARRIED up outside stairs to a rooftop 
from which glow several bare bulbs. She goes up the stairs 
to the rooftop.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. A ROOFTOP HOSPITAL - NIGHT

A MAKESHIFT MOBILE HOSPITAL under awnings and palm fronds, 
capable of moving location in minutes. A WOMAN DOCTOR and 
two temporary orderlies tend to wounded. A small black and 
white television sits on a table and those who are able watch 
the seige of Managua on television while it goes on around 
them. Claire looks for Price among the dead or wounded.

P.O.V. -- THE CITY UNDER ATTACK

Claire watches for several moments -- smoke, flame, the 
buzzing sound of planes swooping low, fleeing crowds. She 
then notices the television.

PRICE'S FOOTAGE OF ALEX'S DEATH comes on the TV screen, and 
she pushes closer to see the grim sequence. The NEWS 
COMMENTATOR explains in Spanish what we see CLAIRE IS SO 
DISTURBED AT THE IMAGES that she turns away, sickened, hurt, 
guilty, outraged, but unable to break down. She closes her 
eyes -- her face is covered with tears. The Doctor notices 
this and speaks softly to her.

										 DOCTOR
				 Journalist?
							(Claire nods)
				 You knew the man who was killed?
							(she nods again)
				 Fifty thousand Nicaraguans have 
				 died... and now one Yankee.
							(beat)
				 Perhaps now Americans will be outraged 
				 at what is happening here, eh?

It takes a while for Claire to respond.

										 CLAIRE
				 Yes... perhaps they will.

Noise in the distance from mortars. The Doctor speaks calmly, 
without bitterness in the voice, but with total conviction.

										 DOCTOR
				 Maybe we should have killed an 
				 American journalist fifty years ago.

Claire acknowledges the grim truth of the observation with a 
slight nod, and walks to the railing as:

ALEX'S DEATH IS REPEATED IN FREEZE FRAME SEQUENCE over and 
over again as the Orderlies, Doctor, and patients gather to 
watch with fascination.

CLAIRE STARES OUT AT THE CITY ON FIRE, when her eye catches 
something -- a light in the sky. She watches:

P.O.V. -- A HELICOPTER WITH SEARCHLIGHT PASSES OVERHEAD, 
momentarily illuminating the hospital, but it continues on, 
curiously uninterested in the Guerrilla activity. The chopper 
sweeps above a nearby hill and hovers, then slowly lowers to 
earth.

CLAIRE WATCHES with interest then descends the stairs.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE CEMETERY - NIGHT

SOMOZA WATCHES AS A BACK HOE DIGS UP THE COFFINS of his 
parents. An Army helicopter lands, lighting the scene, and 
Miss Panama rushes from the chopper into his arms as the 
turbulence from the blades raises her dress and musses his 
hair. Soldiers place the dirt-covered caskets on the roofs 
of Somoza's two Mercedes, hastily tie them down, and the 
strange motorcade, flanked by two heavily armed jeeps, drives 
off into the dark.

CLAIRE WATCHES IT ALL from a safe distance, not far from the 
refugee camp. She turns and walks slowly back to the camp.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE REFUGEE CAMP - LATE AT NIGHT

Claire sits down against the remains of a wall. The war has 
overtaken her -- she doesn't know if Price is alive -- and 
though totally involved, she is at last an observer once 
again. Claire notices the tiny red light of her recorder is 
still on. She turns it off, and as the sounds of battle 
gradually die down, Claire falls asleep -- exhausted.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE REFUGEE CAMP - DAWN

CLAIRE SLEEPS AGAINST THE WALL as a dog sniffs and licks her 
face. She awakens with a start -- the dog scurries away. 
Claire rises and looks around.

A LOCAL WOMAN PUSHES A CART carrying the wrapped body of her 
husband through the otherwise quiet streets of Managua.

CLAIRE MOVES THROUGH THE CAMP just coming to life, and looks 
around trying to interpret the eerie silence. A WOMAN tends 
to her TWO SMALL CHILDREN.

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 Have you seen La Guardia?

										 WOMAN WITH CHILDREN
							(in Spanish)
				 No. Is the war over?

										 CLAIRE
							(in Spanish)
				 I don't know.

A DISTANT, DRONING NOISE GETS STEADILY LOUDER. Claire looks 
around nervously.

A CHILD RUNS DOWN THE STREET SHOUTING

										 CHILD
				 Tanquettas! Tanquettas!

P.O.V. -- SEVERAL TANQUETTAS AND EARTH MOVERS coming over 
the hill in the distance. The Refugees look up fearfully and 
some hide. As the war machinery gets closer, we see that:

SANDINISTAS ARE DRIVING THE MACHINES draped with red and 
black (F.S.L.N.), blue and white (Nicaraguan), and yellow 
and white (the Vatican) flags. Graffiti of victory covers 
the tanquettas.

PEOPLE COME INTO THE STREET CHEERING, embracing, only 
gradually realizing what has happened.

										 WOMAN WITH CHILDREN
							(in Spanish)
				 Is the war over?

										 CLAIRE
				 Yes.

										 WOMAN WITH CHILDREN
				 Es bueno.
							(It is good.)

The woman continues with her children, her comment 
unemotional, and Claire smiles slightly and walks away, 
through a city awakening slowly to its victory.

CLAIRE STOPS A RED CROSS TRUCK and shows the driver her 
picture of Price. The picture means nothing to the driver. 
Claire continues through the city, looking for Price.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - MORNING

CLAIRE WALKS INTO THE POOL AREA where chairs and tables float 
in the pool, the bar is overturned, and the once sumptuous 
press oasis is a disaster.

																										CUT TO:

INT. THE INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL - MORNING

CLAIRE ENTERS A DESERTED LOBBY, also a mess, and hesitates 
before climbing the circular stairs.

CLAIRE LOOKS INTO PRICE'S ROOM, and finds it empty, and 
typically messy.

CLAIRE WALKS INTO HER OWN ROOM -- PRICE STANDS AT THE BALCONY 
looking out at the jubilant city from which smoke still rises.

CLAIRE AND PRICE EMBRACE DEEPLY, holding onto each other 
without the slightest intention of letting go.

																							 DISSOLVE TO:

INT. THE INTERCONTINENTAL LOBBY - LATER - DAY

PRICE AND CLAIRE COME DOWNSTAIRS to the lobby. They are 
cleaned up in fresh clothes; they have survived and the war 
is over.

THE LOBBY IS COMING TO LIFE AGAIN with Regis' camera crew, 
who look like they've had a long night, a BUS BOY, A MAID, 
AN OLD COUPLE, and A WHITE WOMAN, 38, with TWO SMALL DAUGHTERS -- 
all either sit or mill in the b.g.

PRICE AND CLAIRE STOP SHORT at what they see.

										 PRICE
				 Alex.

P.O.V. -- A HANDMADE CASKET SITTING IN THE LOBBY with the 
name, "A. Grazier" scrawled in felt pen.

Price and Claire stand next to the box silently -- there is 
nothing to say -- but the silence is interrupted by a familiar 
voice that is polite, unforced, and sincere.

										 VOICE OF HUB KITTLE
				 It was the best I would do under the 
				 circumstances. The casket, I mean.

Awkward silence until they realize that he's sincere.

										 CLAIRE
				 Can you help us ship it home?

										 HUB
				 I've already taken care of it.
							(beat)
				 I always liked the guy. I can't even 
				 get tickets for my own family, but I 
				 could get you two on the plane if 
				 you want.

We see the woman and little girls as Hub's family.

										 PRICE
				 Yes, please...

										 HUB
				 Tacho's in Miami.

A shared silence at the lunacy of the moment, interrupted by 
the tired voice of one of Hub's daughters.

										 HUB'S DAUGHTER
				 Daddy!

										 HUB
							(to Price and Claire)
				 I am sorry. I had a job to do -- 
				 that's all -- it put me in some 
				 unhappy situations.

Hub goes over to take care of his family.

																										CUT TO:

EXT. PLAZA OF MANAGUA'S LARGEST CATHEDRAL - LATER - DAY

Thousands of people have gathered to celebrate in loud and 
joyous singing, led by a group on the highest cathedral steps, 
surrounded by Revolutionary leaders waving to the crowds. A 
SINGING GROUP sings a song to Nicaragua, and a song to Rafael.

RAFAEL'S BODY IN A FANCY CASKET is carried in through the 
crowd to wild cheering and singing. High over the pallbearers' 
heads it moves through the crowds.

PRICE AND CLAIRE STAND TO THE SIDE watching it all. The 
celebration is joyously infectious, and for the moment we 
can forget the bloodshed, forget the problems that lay ahead, 
forget even the death of Alex.

PRICE PULLS OUT A CAMERA and begins taking pictures of the 
celebration.

ISELA IS AT THE MICROPHONE with other Guerrilla leaders.

CLAIRE WORKS THROUGH THE CROWD with her mike held high, 
recording the singing of the crowd.

PRICE BACKS UNDER THE AWNING of a stand selling refreshments, 
and especially Rum and Coke mixtures known suddenly and 
triumphantly as "Nicalibres." As Price snaps off pictures -- 
a voice from an American in casual street clothes drinking 
at the temporary bar.

										 OATES
				 Hey, Pricey...

Price looks over to see the smiling Oates.

										 OATES
				 It's all over, eh? We made it. I 
				 like the singing.

										 PRICE
				 What're you doing here?

										 OATES
				 Free country. Now it's free, anyway.
							(raises his drink)
				 Nicalibre!

Oates holds up his Kodak Instamatic camera.

										 OATES
				 How 'bout a quickie?
							(no response)
				 No? Things are heating up in 
				 Thailand... thought I'd check it 
				 out.
							(beat)
				 You ain't gonna turn me in, are ya?

PRICE TURNS AND WALKS AWAY

										 OATES
				 Am I gonna see ya in Thailand? We 
				 could be friends!

Price keeps walking, into the crowd, where he finds Claire. 
Oates orders another Nicalibre, and beats his foot to the 
music.

PRICE AND CLAIRE IN THE CROWD

										 PRICE
				 We've got a plane to catch.

										 CLAIRE
				 Did you get enough pictures?

No answer -- a final complicated question from Claire -- 
they smile. Price waves for a cab which pulls over. They get 
in the cab and drive away.

HOLD ON THE VICTORY CELEBRATION

THE END
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