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1979 Blue Thunder Original Draft Screenplay
This is the original Blue Thunder script written by Dan O'Bannon and Don Jakoby in 1979.


                             
                              
                              
                              
                               BLUE THUNDER
                               A Screenplay
                                    By
                               Dan O'Bannon
                                    &
                                Don Jakoby
          
          
          
                         Registered: WGA West, 1979
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
 
          EXT. - ROOFTOP - LOS ANGELES - SUNSET
          A rapid MONTAGE... Too fast to follow at first... MEN'S VOICES
          SHOUTING instructions... fuel being pumped through neoprene
          hoses into a craft... the CLATTER of helicopter BLADES... FRANK
          MURPHY pulling an impenetrable, black VISOR over his blue
          eyes... The visor is attached to a white helmet. MURPHY
          takes off his helmet for a moment. The wind whips his blonde
          hair. He is in his mid-30's, and extraordinary good looking.
          Tall, athletic, with affable blue eyes and clean, straight
          features. He SMILES -- a super smile.
          He begins walking toward a helicopter. He's wearing a full black leather
          flying suit. Murphy is a COP - a helicopter PILOT for the
          L.A.P.D.
          Murphy LOOKS out at the skyline of Los Angeles...near
          sunset. He climbs into the copter with his partner.... Murphy
          pushes the large yellow knobs forward... then the small red
          adjusters... the copter lifts off and away...
          EXT. SKY OVER LOS ANGELES - SUNSET
          MOVE WITH THE COPTER...going up...over Los Angeles...into
          the L.A. air basin. The last rays of the sun turning the
          copter bubble pink and purple.
          They go higher. Up over the city. To the north are the Hollywood Hills...colored
          red...and to the west - the Pacific Ocean with the sun
          setting on it...
          Below are the shimmering sodium lights of the city Murphy hates.
          Los Angeles at night. This is Murphy's world of tinted
          plastic and humming electronics. He floats-rock steady-an
          angel of surveillance-high above the city.
          He 4000 h.p. Pratt & Whitney engines carry them higher. The
          SOUND we hear is subjective-the sound Murphy hears fro
          inside the chopper. Up here it's QUIET...except for the
          STATIC CRACKLE of POLICE CALLS.
          Murphy's partner, FELIX, looks down at the array of
          electronic surveillance devices in the copter. Each copter
          carries a compliment of sensory devices-I.R, U.V.,
          optical-with amplification and magnification capabilities.
 
          Felix completes his check...all systems are 'GO'. Murphy
          finishes trimming up the aircraft. They relax a moment.
                              MURPHY
                    Look at them.
                              FELIX
                    What?
                              MURPHY
                    The patterns.
          Murphy is looking down into the pink-and-yellow grid of
          sodium arc lights shimmering in the heat. Night is coming
          onto the city.
                              MURPHY
                    Figure - it's summer - it's
                    Saturday night - it's 8:30 P.M. - eighty-six
                    degrees. That means at this very
                    instant, there are one point one million
                    people fucking.
                   
          Felix looks amused, but before he can say anything:
                   
          
                              MURPHY
                         (is ready to go to work)Set?
                    Set?
                              FELIX
                         (automatically)
                    Set.
                        
          Murphy takes the chopper down to patrol altitude. MOVE WITH
          THEM. The dark shape of their chopper slicing across the
          grid of lights beneath.
          EXT. HELICOPTER - NIGHT
          Felix is peering through the 'NIGHT BINOCULARS' connected to the
          instrument panel in front of him.
                              FELIX
                    Try sunset. They move along Sunset
                    Blvd. 500' in the air.
                              MURPHY
                    How's it look?
 
                              FELIX
                    I've got a nigger in a beanie.
                    Selling dope out of a van.
          FELIX'S P.O.V: through the 'Night Binoculars'. We see a
          BLACK MAN in a wool cap selling dope to two teenage kids
          from the side of his Chevy van, parked in a fast food
          drive-in. The picture is magnified - bright as day.
                   
                              MURPHY'S VOICE
                    What's the ticket?
          Felix increases the magnification. We can SEE the dope in a
          plastic bag-and the denominations of money changing hands!
                              FELIX'S VOICE
                    Looks like ounces. - Grass.
                              MURPHY'S VOICE
                    Is it a red beanie?
          The black man is wearing a red, pull down wool cap.
                              FELIX'S VOICE
                    Yeah.
                              MURPHY'S VOICE
                    Forget him. He's one of ours.
          Felix moves the binoculars off the man.
          They fly on. STILL FELIX'S P.O.V.: he finds some hookers on Sunset. Zeros
          in on a cute girl. Her BOOBS. Increases the magnification.
          Her CLEAVAGE fills the screen.
                              FELIX'S VOICE
                    Two feet west, Murphy. The view
                    improves.
                              FELIX'S VOICE
                    Oh yes. It's hot down there
                    tonight.
          The scene is tinted red by all the tail lights on Sunset.
          They get a police call on the RADIO.
                              DISPATCHER'S VOICE (FEMALE)
                    Ahh...800...
                         (their code number)
                    ...I have a 301 in
                    progress...corner, Olympic and Rodeo...will
                    you respond?
 
                              FELIX
                    It's early for our "Latin Lover".
          Murphy is already swinging the copter toward Olympic.
                              MURPHY
                    It's a hot night. Tell them we're
                    rolling. Check it with Central.
                              FELIX
                    800, rolling, Central. Give me
                    Bruddock.
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Roger, 800. Bruddock here.
                              FELIX
                    Is that our boy?
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Sounds like him.
                              FELIX
                    We're rolling. E.T.A.: one
          The computer read-out on their instrument panel reads: 1:30 AT
          200 MPH - TO OLYMPIC-RODEO.
          EXT. CITY - GROUND LEVEL - NIGHT
          LONG SHOT of the police helicopter, with blue running lights and
          Xenon flashers, racing across L.A. skyline at 200'.
          INT. APARTMENT - OLYMPIC & RODEO - NIGHT
          A tall, skinny CHICANO slaps a nearly-nude GIRL across the bed,
          and dives out the window.
          INT. HELICOPTER - NIGHT
          Murphy and Felix leaning forward eagerly in the bubble. Their faces
          light by the city lights below. All the instrument gauges
          red-lined. They're coming up on Olympic & Rodeo. Very low
          over the trees now. Murphy drops the copter into a low,
          tight circle.
                              MURPHY
                    Hit it.
 
          Felix turns on the 'NIGHT Sun'...the blinding blue SPOTLIGHT
          carried by all LAPD helicopters.
          EXT. - STREET - OLYMPIC & RODEO - NIGHT
          Night turns into DAY. The street lights up surreal blue-white. The
          beam sweeping the buildings.
          Two LAPD cruisers squeal up, and four very mean-looking cops
          jump out.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          Murphy has the copter in a very tight circle. His expression is
          grim. Felix is doing all the looking.
                              FELIX
                    I can't see shit.
          Teed-off, Murphy widens his search pattern. Here and there
          Felix can glimpse neighbors sticking their heads out the windows,
          looking at the copter. No one on the street,
                              FELIX
                    He's gone, Murphy.
                              MURPHY
                    He can't be.
          Murphy keeps circling. Round and round...and round...
          INT. NEIGHBORING APARTMENT - NIGHT
          An elderly man, an INSOMNIAC, lies in his bed, clenching his pillow
          to his head.
          Trying to keep his eyes closed with the copter CLATTERING overhead...the
          BEATING OF THE ROTORS...OVER and OVER...
          The copter is so close he could almost touch
          it...THWACKATAWAKATA...it goes by...the room lights up DAZZLING
          WHITE.
          His eyes finally pop open in rage. He begins SCREAMING.
                              INSOMNIAC
                    Jesus! Christ! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!
          Bouncing in bed, he jumps up. Paces around. Finally goes to
          the window and stares out with RAGE.
 
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
                              FELIX
                    Give up, Murphy. He's gone.
                              MURPHY
                         (adamant)
                    Once more.
          They go into another circle.
          INT. PARKED CAR - OLYMPIC & RODEO - NIGHT
          As the copter leaves the scene, we see-in its last sweep of the
          light-the CHICANO, sticking his head up from under some mats
          and newspaper in the back of his '62 Chevy Impala. He's been
          hiding all along. He grins and flips the bird to the
          departing chopper.
          EXT. APARTMENT HOUSE - OLYMPIC & RODEO - NIGHT
          One more thing Felix & Murphy don't see: the INSOMNIAC half
          out of his window, frothing with rage, shaking his fist at
          the departing copter.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          They fly on in silence. Murphy's eyes scanning...scanning... He
          finds something.
          Murphy sees a small GREENHOUSE, with a panel open and a small
          light inside. Part of the large house.
                              MURPHY
                    Now what do you suppose he's
                    growing in there?
                              FELIX
                    Special ferns?
                              MURPHY
                    Let's see.
          Down they go. Both sets of Night Binoculars on. The copter
          sneaks in. It's running lights off.
                              MURPHY
                    Get the address.
          Felix reads the address in the dark the Binocs.
 
                              FELIX
                    1801 Glenda Way.
                              MURPHY
                    Call it into CERNAC.
          Felix punches the address info into the computer terminal on
          his board. While he does, Murphy boosts the magnification on
          his Binocs way up-we ZOOM in through the open panel of the
          greenhouse.
          INSIDE the greenhouse we see PLANTS GROWING. Too dim to identify
          clearly.
                              MURPHY
                    Throw in the U.V. filter.
          Felix flicks an ultraviolet filter into Murphy's goggles.
          The scene in the greenhouse BRIGHTENS (they're seeing by the
          U.V. growing lights-a pale purple bulb in the ceiling.
          The computer read-out on this address finally pops up on the
          green screen:
                    1801 GLENDA WAY FRASER, FRANK WHITE
                    MALE BORN 8/30/44 SINGLE CA DR LIC
                    #N2399476 MUSICIAN INTERNATL
                    FEDERATION OF MUSICIANS UNION CARD
                    #6561786 1980 FED INCOME TAX
                    REPORTED GROSS EARNING $67,000 NO
                    STATE INCOME TAX FILED MEMBER ACLU
                              FELIX
                    It's a Fred Fraser asshole. No
                    wants - no warrants. He's
          Murphy's still staring intently at the PLANT.
                              MURPHY
                    I can't tell. Super the Mary Jane
                    slide.
          MURPHY'S P.O.V.: a superimposition pops up: a marijuana leaf
          from a botany book. The slide and the greenhouse plant are
          identical.
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah. Hydroponic marijuana. Call
                    West L.A. and tell them to visit
                    Frank baby in the morning.
 
          They clatter away.
                              FELIX
                         (looking back)
                    So long asshole.
          Murphy is scanning the city-always. He sees a BLACK MAN
          about 40, distinguished looking, in a jogging suit. Running
          in the park. After dark.
                              MURPHY
                    What's this guy up to?
          Felix takes a look through the Night Binoculars.
                              FELIX
                    Jogging.
                              MURPHY
                    You're sure of that.
                              FELIX
                         (checks again)
                    Yeah.  I'm sure.
                              MURPHY
                    You say the same thing when they're
                    carrying color TVs.
          Felix chuckles.
                              MURPHY
                    Let's check him out.
          The copter moves lower. The black man keeps up pace.
                              MURPHY
                    Let's see if I can hit a jogging
                    pace.
          The copter paces the man...and moves lower. The black man
          breaks stride. It's impossible to ignore the helicopter now.
          It's only 100 feet above his head.
                              MURPHY
                    Hit him with the Night Sun.
 
          Felix throws the spotlight on. 200,000 WATTS OF XENON-QUARTZ
          LIGHT PIN THE MAN. The CLATTER is deafening. Murphy drops
          the copter 10 feet lower. The man freezes. The copter just
          hangs there. A war of nerves. Slowly, the man begins to walk
          out of the park. Murphy follows him at a walking place. Just
          playing.
          They walk him out of the park. Up the street. To his front
          porch. The man keeps his hands away from his pockets. He
          slowly opens the front door and steps inside. Safe.
          The neighbors have begun to look out their doors and windows.
          Murphy pulls the copter up and away, chuckling.
          INT. MAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
          The victim stands shaking in his jogging suit. His wife
                              VICTIM
                    Jesus, Emily. It was just like a
                    Close Encounter of the Third Kind.
          INT. - COPTER - NIGHT
                              MURPHY
                    Where to now?
                              FELIX
                    Nude Lucy's?
                              MURPHY
                    Too late.
          Murphy peels the copter away. End of a night's work.
          EXT. L.A.P.D. HELIPORT - NIGHT
          Murphy brings the bird down. The same landing pad he took
          off from earlier.
          Murphy's boss, CAPTAIN BRUDDOCK, is waiting for him in the huge indoor/outdoor
          hangar area. Bruddock is 45, heavyset, a real fan of
          Murphy's and a good helicopter man.
 
          Murphy takes a long, appraising look at the L.A. night
          skyline, and walks toward Bruddock. Flashes his dazzling
          grin.
                              MURPHY
                         (nods as he passes him)
                    Bruddock.
          Murphy's on his way home.  It's nearly 3 A.M.
          INT. - UNDERGROUND POLICE GARAGE - NIGHT
          Murphy chucks the container of the pint of milk he;'s just finished
          into a trash basket. Neatly. He;'s still wearing his flight
          suit and windbreaker, in spite of the hear.
          He unlocks the huge blue TRANS AM-the model with the
          firebird emblem on the hood-gets in-and SQUEALS OFF into the
          night.
          EXT. SAN DIEGO FREEWAY - NIGHT
          The big Trans-Am going up and over that long hill
          overlooking the San Fernando Valley. It's red taillights
          blaze in the night. The only car on the road.
          INT. TRANS-AM - NIGHT
          The air conditioning on full. The STEREO pumping out WAGNERIAN
          OPERA.
          EXT. SAN FERNANDO VALLEY - VAN NUYS BLVD - NIGHT
          The streets are nearly empty of cars at this late hour. The Trans-Am
          comes to a traffic light, changing yellow to red. The car
          stops.
          INT. TRANS-AM - NIGHT
          Just as the car stops.:
                              MURPHY
                         (counting something)
                    --Eight.
          He record the number to a little blue notebook he carries in
          his pocket.
          INSERT: ON NOTEBOOK as he writes the number "8".
 
          For some reason Murphy is counting traffic lights.
          EXT. MURPHY'S TRACT HOUSE - VALLEY - NIGHT
          A small, one-story tract home at the end of the street.
          There is a driveway, and a little garage in back.
          In front of the house, two PUNKS wait in a beat-up car. PUNK
          #2 is restless.
                              PUNK #1
                    Hey man, be cool-this dude gets
                    home at 2:20 sharp. Like fuckin
                    clockwork.
                              PUNK #2
                    Well where the fuck is he?
                              PUNK #1
                    Just cool off. You can keep the
                    fuckin wallet. I just want the
                    fuckin car.
          INT. "7-11" 24-HOUR MARKET - NIGHT
          Murphy is buying two gallons of "Sweet Acidiphilus" milk. He pays
          and heads out to the parking lot. On the way he begins
          humming.
                              MURPHY
                         (stops himself)
                    Don't hum.
          EXT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - NIGHT
          The Trans-Am throbs past the parked car. As he passes Murphy sees
          the two PUNKS.
          Murphy pulls into the drive and turns off the engine. He gets
          out of his car-carefully locks it-takes a huge plastic cover
          from the trunk and sheaths the car--and walks toward the
          house, carrying his grocery bag.
          The two PUNKS are waiting on the lawn. Murphy smiles at
          them.
                              PUNK #2
                    Hey man! You!
                              PUNK #1
                    Let us go through you pockets, man.
 
                              PUNK #2
                         (pulls out a SWITCHBLADE
                         KNIFE)
                    Gimme the fuckin wallet!
          Murphy puts the bad on the ground.
                              PUNK #2
                    See this! I'm gonna stick you, man!
                    Gimme the wallet!
                              PUNK #1
                    You better give it to him, man.
                    We're junkies.
          Murphy shakes his head slowly.
                              PUNK #2
                    Cocksucker!
          PUNK #2 lunges. Murphy sidesteps him. PUNK #1 grabs Murphy's
          shoulders. Murphy shakes him off. Just as PUNK #2 lunges again-and
          is lucky.
          The arc of the knife CATCHES MURPHY IN THE SIDE. Imbeds there
          with a THUD.
          The kid grins. The last grin of his life-- for Murphy reaches
          out swiftly with enormous strength grabs the punk by the
          throat throttles him and SNAPS HIS NECK.
          The kid goes limp. As the other punk scuttles away running. Jumps
          in the jalopy. And peels away down the street.
          Murphy looks down at the knife sticking in his side. Looks
          at the kid at his feet. Looks around the neighborhood. No
          lights on. No one has heard.
 
          He checks the throat for a pulse. None. He lifts the kid. Hefts
          the body over his shoulder. And walks thirty feet to the end
          of the block and an empty schoolyard playground.
          EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT
          The chainlink fence around the yard is ten feet high. Murphy takes
          another look at the streets. No activity.
          He gauges the fence height. Then, with a huge GROAN, tosses
          the body-all dead weight-over the fence. It lands in the
          school sandbox with a thud. Murphy puts his hand to his side gingerly. Walks
          back to his lawn. Picks up the grocery bag. Unlocks the
          kitchen door. Three locks.
          INT. MURPHY'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
          Neat. Extraordinarily neat for a single man.
          Murphy opens the refrigerator. Inside: 4 one-gallon cartons
          of Knuden's "Sweet Acidophilus" milk. And nothing else.
          Murphy puts in the 2 additional cartons of milk. Closes the
          fridge door. Holding his side, he goes into the living room.
          INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
          Nothing on the walls. Furniture: a couple of chairs. One chair,
          a stack of textbooks. What the subject is we can't see.
          Passes through this room quickly. Goes into the bathroom.
 
          INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
          He flicks on the light. Looks down at the switchblade sticking
          out of his side. Yanks the knife out and tosses it in the
          sink. It CLATTERS, metal against porcelain.
          Feels off the windbreaker. Drops it to the floor. Peels off
          the blue LAPD shirt underneath. Peels off the T-shirt under that. To
          REVEAL-- He's wearing a flak jacket of DuPont Kevlar body
          armor. The punk's knife has penetrated only inch into the
          bullet-proof vest. Murphy always wears his DuPont body
          armor.
          Murphy smiles as he examines the slight bruise on his rib
          cage. No damage.
          Walks to the bathroom closet. Slides it open. Hangs the
          damaged flak jacket next to the four others hanging in the closet. Slides
          the door closed. A thin film of perspiration on his
          forehead.
          Goes back to the sink. Stares at himself in the mirror. A
          small vein throbs on his forehead. He rubs his temple. Opens
          the medicine cabinet. Swallows four aspirin.
          Walks out of the bathroom.
          INT. HALL - NIGHT
          Walks down a short hall. Stops outside the BEDROOM.
          Hesitates a moment. Goes in.
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          BLUE CANDLELIGHT flickers on Murphy's face, seemingly from many
          candles.
          A birdcage hangs from the ceiling. In the cage, a blue parakeet, barely
          moving in the heat. Murphy refills its water tray.
 
          There is a serene manner to Murphy...except for the slight
          tremor in the fingertips of his left arm, hanging at his
          side.
          A terrible headache is coming on.
          EXT. COFFEE SHOP - SAN FERNANDO VALLEY - DAY
          Murphy and his girlfriend DEBBIE.
          They're standing next to Debbie's beat-up MGB. The canvas
          top of the car is torn.
                              MURPHY
                    You ought to to fix this top. It's
                    hot. It's summer.
          Debbie looks up at the bright, white sky.
                              DEBBIE
                         (California logic)
                    Why?  it's not going to rain until
                    winter.
                              MURPHY
                         (gives up)
                    I guess you're right.
          Debbie is 20; average intelligence; sexy; with an 80's
          beehive hairdo. She's hot to trot and considers Murphy a
          dream boat.
          Her hand runs down his arm. The direction of her affections
          makes Murphy uneasy. His job is to try and keep her pure.
          Murphy is protective toward her.
                              MURPHY
                    How's your job?
                              DEBBIE
                         (not interested in that)
                    The same.
                         (scanning his face)
                    C'mon--let's go to your place and
                    make it.
                              MURPHY
                    It's okay. You don't have to say
                    that.
 
                              DEBBIE
                         (purring)
                    Silly.  I want to.  You're not
                    shacked up with somebody, are you?
                              MURPHY
                    No.
                              DEBBIE
                    Well then. Why not?
          Murphy smiles, somewhat amused by his own predicament. He
          looks at the coffee shop. A couple of Valley rednecks are eyeing
          Debbie-making wicked offers through the glass window. That
          makes Murphy nervous.
          Debbie's figured out what's wrong.
                              DEBBIE
                    Say...what's your sign?
                              MURPHY
                         (not listening)
                    What?
                              DEBBIE
                    What's your sun sign?
                              MURPHY
                         (distracted by the leering
                         rednecks)
                    I don't know.
                              DEBBIE
                    What month were you born?
                              MURPHY
                    --November, I suppose.
                              DEBBIE
                         (the light dawns) 
                    Ohhhh...you're a Cancer.  That's
                    why you don't want to go home.
                         (ratting on)
                    Cancers never want to go to their--
          Murphy can't help interrupting - it slips -
 
                              MURPHY
                    That's not right. The dominant
                    Cancer personality is home-centered
                    and seated in the 4th house of
                    family life and security. You
          Debbie, floored by how much he knows about this stuff, goes all
          soft and squishy.
                              DEBBIE
                         (gurgling)
                    Ohhhh...you lied to Debbie, didn't
                    you?
          She reaches up and puckers his lips with his fingers.
                              DEBBIE
                    You know all about your signs.
                    Don't you?
          Murphy says nothing. Instead he puts an arm around her and
          walks her to his car. Charming her with his dazzling smile.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION HANGAR - DUSK
          The big wall cloth overlooking the city reads 7:15.
          Murphy walks into the hangar at 7:15 precisely every night.
          He's wearing his flight suit. He looks perfectly well.
          He goes to the airship he's going to fly tonight-white with
          blue stripes like all of them-and goes over the checklist with
          the flight mechanic. "Rotor"..."Trim bars"...every item, in
          the same order, every night. Satisfied, he walks inside to
          the Ready Room. It's hot: 92 degrees at 7:45 P.M. He's
          perspiring.
          Felix arrives. Throws his gear in the copter and starts
          filling out some paperwork. He looks around for Murphy.
          Can't see him.
          LYMANGOOD, the rookie pilot in the division, walks by. Lymangood
          is thin and gawky, like a young colt. Felix is a settled cop
          who drinks Michelob on weekends with his wife.
                              FELIX
                    Hey, Rook. See if you can find
                    Murphy for me.
          Lymangood ambles off with a grin.
 
          INT. READY ROOM - DUSK
          Lymangood sticks his head in to look for Murphy.
          Murphy is standing perfectly still, looking at the big wall
          clock, with his eyes closed. Concentrating.
          CLOSE SHOT of the sweep second hand on the clock. It passes "11"...just
          hits "12"...and...
          ...MURPHY's EYES pop open. Murphy smiles: wipes perspiration
          from his forehead.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Hello? Murphy is startled.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    I'm new, sir. Lymangood's the name.
                    Felix is looking for you.
          Murphy acknowledges that with a nod.
          Lymangood is curious about something: Murphy can see it
          written all over his face.
                              MURPHY
                    Is something wrong, Lymangood?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Excuse me, sir, but-I couldn't
                    figure it out. You were doing
                    something just then? With the
                    clock?
                              MURPHY
                    flashes his dazzling grin) Oh-it's
                    just a game I was playing. I read
                    in an article once, where crazy
                    people can't tell time intervals
                    with their eyes closed.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Really?
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah.
                         (grins, joking with Lymangood)
                    Every once in a while I check
                    myself out.  Try it for twelve
                    seconds.
 
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Okay.
          Murphy looks at the clock.
                              MURPHY
                    Start...now.
          Lymangood tries the game. Closes his eyes. Nervously opens
          them some seconds later: 14 seconds later.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Oops. Are they long-or short? The
                    crazies?
                              MURPHY
                    (stares; amused at this inability) I
                    don't remember.  You weren't too
                    bad.
                         LYMANGOOD
                         (an admiring fan)
                    You got it exact.
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah.
          EXT. ROOFTOP HELIPORT - DUSK
          Murphy is on his way to the copter. Bruddock is waiting, to introduce
          him to two grim-faced men.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Murphy. These are agents Miller and
                    Fletcher. Federal Bureau of
                    Investigation.
          Murphy and the feds stare at each other.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (nervously)
                    Murphy is our best pilot.
                              MILLER
                    Lieutenant Murphy, can we talk
                    inside.
                         (not a question)
                              MURPHY
                    Sure.
 
          INT. BRUDDOCK'S OFFICE - DUSK
          AGENTS MILLER & FLETCHER are the new breed. Young and mean,
          in their 30's-reptiles in 3-piece suits. They make every
          nervous.
                              FLETCHER
                    We've been studying your record,
                    Murphy. We think you're
          Murphy's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He declines the cigarette.
          Fletcher puts them away.
                              FLETCHER
                    You flew during the war. Stationed
                    near Dak-Tau.
                              MURPHY
                    Yes sir.
                              MILLER
                    Cobra gunships, wasn't it? Murphy
                    nods.
                              MILLER
                    You were an armaments specialist
                    and weapons instructor.
          Murphy nods, looking to Bruddock for help. Bruddock shrugs helplessly
          - he doesn't know.
                              FLETCHER
                         (sighs)
                    Well -- you're the logical choice.
          Murphy is puzzled.  Miller sidles up to him.  Buddy-buddy.
                              MILLER
                    We're going into the eighties,
                    Murphy.
          Murphy nods. No arguing with that.
                              FLETCHER
                    Domestically...things are getting
                    sticky. To be perfectly frank,
                    Frank--
                          (chuckles at the word play)
                    --we're concerned about our
                    counter-insurgency potential. Your
                    nuts and terrorists are getting
                    better armed each year. It suddenly
                    becomes clear that they're trying
                    to convince him to help them.
                              MILLER
                    It's a whole new ballgame, Frank.
                              FLETCHER
                    We think the place to start
                    re-arming is "up there".
                         (eyes float up toward the
                         ceiling)
                    That's why we're talking to you.
          Fletcher & Miller look at him lecherously.
                              MILLER
                    We want your help on the new
                    helicopter.
                              MURPHY
                    The new helicopter?
                              MILLER
                    The "Police Special". We're going
                    to adapt a helicopter with military
                    specs to urban use.
          Fletcher & miller's eyes glow eagerly.
                              FLETCHER
                    We've chosen Los Angeles, Frank. We
                    like the attitude here. Bruddock--they
                    smile over at him--says you're the
                    man...and frankly, we agree.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (who is euphoric with relief)
                    Murphy's out best pilot.
          Murphy settles back. Thinks. He's not sure what a helicopter like
          that means. He has some reservations.
                              MURPHY
                    Aren't the citizens-
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    The Assholes don't have to know.
                              FLETCHER
                    We'll handle that, Frank.
                   
                         (raises an eyebrow)
                    If they don't let us protect
                    them--who will?)
                              MURPHY
                         (the dazzling grin)
                    When you put it that way...
                              FLETCHER/MILLER
                    Excellent, Frank.
          As pleased as two car dealers unloading a lemon.
                              FLETCHER
                         (relaxed now)
                    The basic frame will be flown in
                    here this week. It's the Hughes
                    Attack Helicopter. We'll modify it
                    right out here.
                         (points to the LAPD hangers)
                    That way you can grow up with it.
                              MURPHY
                    Fine.
                              FLETCHER
                    Murphy, I want you to meet Roger
                    Cochrane.
          Fletcher introduces him to a FOURTH MAN who has been
          watching all this. This man-like Murphy-is tall, blonde,
          sharp-eyed, but somehow...not likable.
                              FLETCHER
                    I thought we'd kill two birds with
                    one stone. Cochrane and you will
                    act as understudies for each other.
                    Cochrane's from the S.F.P.D.
          They shake. Their smiles frozen. Like two rattlers meeting,
          they have no use for each other.
                              MURPHY
                    Cochrane-I've heard the name.
 
                              COCHRANE
                         (chilly)
                    Likewise.
                              MURPHY
                         (smiling)
                    Sodom and Gomorrah.
                              COCHRANE
                    Beg pardon?
                              MURPHY
                         (needling)
                    San Francisco.
                              COCHRANE
                         (gets drift)
                    Ahhh...San Francisco. Yes.
          Murphy looks around the room - excuses himself.
                              MURPHY
                    I have a patrol.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Ah! Right! You gentlemen excuse me
                    for just a second, I gotta brief
                    Frank. Be right back. Don't go
                    away!
          Cochrane watches, until Murphy gets to the door.
                              COCHRANE
                    Catch you later.
          Cochrane has a way with a phrase. It seems directed at
          Murphy. Murphy doesn't like the expression.
          EXT. ROOFTOP HELIPORT - SUNSET
          Murphy and Bruddock walk toward the copter.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    How about that? They had me going
                    there for a minute! Aren't those
                    guys something? They scared the
                    shit out of me. The Police Special!
                         (swoops his hand like a bird)
                    Zap!
                         
          Felix is waiting for them, Bruddock calms down.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    You guys have a new assignment.
                         (clears throat, knows they're
                         not going to like it)
                    We want you to eyeball a porn loft.
                              MURPHY
                    A what?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    A porn loft. Some guys are
                    producing pornographic films in an 11th
                    story skylight. Vice doesn't like
                    it. They want a video record. Yucca
                    and Vina, 6601 Yucca.
                              MURPHY
                    Well why doesn't Vice-
                              BRUDDOCK
                    They don't have an 11-story
                    stepladder.
                              FELIX
                    Tell them to stand on their pricks.
                    Bruddock grins.
                              MURPHY
                    Are you kidding?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    It's an order. Felix ties to
                    de-fuse Murphy.
                              FELIX
                    C'mon, Murphy. We get to see some
                    free skin.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Starting at 11 o'clock tonight
                    you're videotaping any time you're
                    not on a call. Got it?
                              MURPHY
                    While we're watching pros hump, our
                    Latin friend's raping half of West
                    L.A. That's the way you want it?
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Look, all I know is somebody in
                    ASTRO owes somebody in Vice a favor.
                    And Vice wants these guys, bad.
                              MURPHY
                    How long does this go on?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Until further notice.
                              MURPHY
                    Jesus!
          Head down, Murphy heads for his copter. Felix follows along,
          wolfing down a Hostess cupcake. They both throw their gear
          into the copter.
          Murphy sees Felix eating that cupcake - appalled.
                              MURPHY
                    You've got to eat right, Felix.
                    Those things de-web your nerves,
                              FELIX
                         (licking his fingers)
                    I know.
          They get into the copter.  Last minute
                              MURPHY
                    How'd the Dodgers do?
                              FELIX
                    Lost 3 to 2 in the 9th.
                              MURPHY
                    Shit.
          Murphy writes down "3-2-9", sticks it in his pocket.
                              MURPHY
                         (clicks final switches)
                    Set?
                              FELIX
                    Set.
          They lift off.
 
          The copter climbing up into a twilit sky. Murphy's time of
          day. On the side of the white-and-blue helicopter it says:
                    TO PROTECT AND TO SERVE        
                    L.A.P.D.
          INT. L.A.P.D. FLIGHT CONTROL CENTER - TWILIGHT
          Murphy's copter is logged out.
                              CONTROLLER
                    Airship 12...rolling...7:59...make
                    that eight o'clock.
          EXT. SKY - TWILIGHT
          As they gain altitude...MOVE WITH THEM...
          Murphy's taking the copter STRAIGHT UP...higher and higher.
          Felix begins to notice they're going too high.
                              FELIX
                    C'mon, Frank...
                              MURPHY
                    What?
                              FELIX
                         (looking around)
                    Frank, you're too high...
                        
                              MURPHY
                    Just getting a view of the
                    mountains.
          Murphy cranes around, looking at the Angeles mountains,
          tinted rose. He commands an incredible panorama-way above
          the Hollywood Hills now. Felix is looking around, his
          A 727 comes in over the San Fernando Valley-at near
                              FELIX
                    We're in commercial airspace!
                         (genuinely alarmed)
                    They can't see us,
                              MURPHY
                    We can see them.
          Murphy goes...higher.
 
                              FELIX
                    Jesus!
                              MURPHY
                    What?
          Murphy is looking west, up the coast and over the mountains.
          Drinking in the view of the Valley on one side of the mountains...L.A.
          on the other...and the ocean, the dying sun glinting off it. Quiet,
          except for the police calls on the radio.
                              MURPHY
                         (shakes his head & smiles)
                    An ocean of humping humanity.
          Murphy finishes his little look, and abruptly DROPS THE COPTER
          500 FEET - straight down.
          Felix nearly loses dinner, and the Hostess cupcake.
                              FELIX
                    Aaaa!!!
                              MURPHY
                    What?
          There's a trace of a smile on Murphy's face. Felix lets the
          matter drop.
                              MURPHY
                    Check the Corvette. He just made
                    four lefts in a row.
          They're at patrol altitude. Murphy's been paying attention
          all along. He always surprises Felix.
                              FELIX
                         (amazed)
                    How do you see shit like that?  I'm
                    not flying, and I don't see shit
                    like that.
                              MURPHY
                    Patterns. I'm always looking for
                    patterns.
 
          EXT. SKY - NIGHT
          They cruise over the Hollywood Hills. Over the top of Mulholland
          Drive. There's a large party going on at one of the
          expensive homes.
          A large, lighted swimming pool. Disco music pouring across the
          hillside. Colored lights flashing in sync, couples dancing.
          The copter edges closer.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          Felix and Murphy watching the party.
                              MURPHY
                    What are you beautiful people
                    dancing to?
          Felix hits the directional mike. POUNDING DISCO MUSIC fills
          the copter bubble.
                              FELIX
                    You've got to learn to boogie with
                    it, Murphy.
          Murphy obediently starts the copter BOUNCING TO THE MUSIC.
          Their BLADE CLATTER is starting to bother the people at the
          party. Some of the them give the copter the fist. Some wave.
          Felix and Murphy give it right back.
          Music and choppers-the kind of scene that could happen only
          in L.A....
          EXT. SKY - NIGHT
          They descend into LA.
          MOVING WITH THE COPTER as it descends from the hills into
          the gigantic lighted grid of Los Angeles.
          INT. COPTER - OVER L.A. - NIGHT
          Back to business. They're craned forward peering into the city.
          The colored pink lights of the metropolitan reflect off
          their visors.
                              MURPHY
                    Where's that porn loft of
                    Bruddock's?
 
                              FELIX
                    6601 Yucca.
                              MURPHY
                    Check the video.
          Felix turns on the little TV camera mounted beneath the
          copter. They get a crisp little day-for-night image.
                              FELIX
                    We've got time yet-let's visit Nude
                    Lucy.
                              MURPHY
                    Roger.
          Murphy swings the copter east.
                   
          EXT. SKY OVER ECHO PARK - NIGHT
          Clattering through the low hills of Echo Park, past hillside homes.
          As they come up over a rise - in the dark -
                              MURPHY
                    Hit the 'Whisper Mode'.
          Felix hits a switch. The attack angle of the rotor blades
          changes. The helicopter becomes almost SILENT! Just a faint RUFFLE
          SOUND.
          Murphy creeps the copter at tree level in the hills, into position.
          They hover at the end of a cul-da-sac street, hidden behind
          tree lights. Peeping Toms, two of them in their black
          leather suits, hunched in their floating plastic bubble.
          Quiet as mice.
          Felix peers at a large, lighted picture window, in an
          expensive hillside home. Using the fabulous Night Binocs. Staring
          intently, licking lips.
          A BEAUTIFUL GIRL walks into the lighted BEDROOM.
                              FELIX
                    Ten thirty. Just like Big Ben.
                              MURPHY
                         (corrects him)
                    Ten thirty-one.
          Murphy isn't all that interested. These expeditions are
          something he does for Felix-though Felix never guesses.
 
          THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW: a lithe, well-bred, 20 year-old, rich
          girl, who graduated from all the right Eastern schools,
          walks nude into the bedroom. (Overlooking the Silverlake
          area) And begins a routine of yoga exercises on the bed.
                              FELIX
                         (getting hot)
                    It's great that she keeps herself
                    in shape.
          She wraps a leg around her head.
                              FELIX
                    How does she do that?! Murphy-how
                    does she do that?
                              MURPHY
                         (not particularly interested)
                    I don't know.
                              FELIX
                         (voice heavy)
                    Do you think she knows we're here?
                              MURPHY
                    You bet she does.
                              FELIX
                         (excited now) You think so?
                              MURPHY
                    Sure. She's a pervert.
                              FELIX
                         (cramming his eye tighter)
                    Murphy.. you're beautiful!
          The bedrooms lights go out.
                              FELIX
                    Awwww...
                              MURPHY
                    Well, that's it. Another successful
                    night. They've done this many
                    times.
 
                              FELIX/MURPHY
                         (laughin' & scratchin', they
                         sing: "Ohh...We're the
                         Sandmen... We're the
                         Sandmen....")
          They sing their joyous song of celebration as Murphy pulls
          the copter up and away.
          Halfway down the hillside to Hollywood they turn the CLATTER
          OF THE BLADES back on.
          EXT. SKY OVER HOLLYWOOD - NIGHT
          The police helicopter moving across the glittering buildings and
          lava-flows of traffic, and finding the address. The machine
          hovers above some apartment houses a block away from the
          porn loft. Whisper Mode back on.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          From their altitude, 150 feet up, they can see through the skylight.
          There are a few people moving around in the loft, playing
          with lights. A porno movie set.
                              FELIX
                    We got here just in time.
                         (starts videotape rolling)
                    She's undressing.
                              MURPHY
                    That's right, Felix.
          Murphy's tired of looking at this stuff.
                              FELIX
                         (as excited as ever)
                    They're gonna do it...
          Murphy's looking at the controls, trimming up the copter.
                              FELIX
                    Shit!!
          Murphy looks up.
                              FELIX
                    The lights blew. Goddam clowns.
          Felix is teed-off. The lights come back on quickly, however.
 
                              FELIX
                    Ah. Shit. Now the guy's turned off.
          Inside the loft, squabbling and absolutely no action.
          A CALL on the RADIO.
                              DISPATCHER'S VOICE
                    Ahhhh...800...we have a 301...in
                    progress Olympic and Robertson.
                    Will you respond?
                              MURPHY
                         (comes alive)
                    That's him!  Get us off this.
          Felix is already calling in to ASTRO.
                              FELIX
                    Central, this is 800. Do we have
                    permission to respond?
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Negative.
                              FELIX
                         (pleads)
                    We got nothing going on here.
                        
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Hold your position. You're due in
                    twelve minutes.
                              FELIX
                    But sir-
                              BRUDDOCK
                    That's it, 800. You don't have the
                    fuel.
          The little yellow FUEL LIGHT is BLINKING. They expression on
          Murphy's face tells Felix to give it up. They're lost. Felix
          clicks off communication. Murphy is pissed at the situation.
          EXT. OLYMPIC BLVD - NIGHT
          The CHICANO RAPIST is cruising away, tapping his fingers on
          a steering wheel the size of a half dollar, to Mariachi
          music.
 
          Sticks a pair of bloody pantyhose to his nose, inhales
          deeply and happily: "Ahhh."
          EXT. LAPD COPTER PAD - NIGHT
          Murphy lands. Hauls his gear out of the craft. A wave of the hand
          to the next pilot ("All yours"). He walks past Bruddock
          without saying anything.
          EXT. SAN DIEGO FREEWAY - NIGHT
          The big, blue TRANS AM going over the hill to the Valley... Wagnerian
          opera...
          INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
          A dimly lit, expensive den. Exotic green plants. The late afternoon
          sun tones the blinds bronze.
          Murphy sits in a black leather chair.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    ...and how long have you felt that
                    people's behavior forms a hidden
                    pattern?
                              MURPHY
                    It's not hidden.  It can be read
                    like a map.  Of course you have to
                    know what you're looking for.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    That's what I meant. Hidden from
                    those who don't have the map. How
                    long?
                              MURPHY
                    Since Nam. When I saw that you
                    could detect movements by the birth
                    rate.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    I see. And how long have you been
                    having the headaches?
                              MURPHY
                    Sixty three days.
          ECCLES manages to be a tall but rotund man, about 40. He's
          not stupid-but then he's not the world's best. He's your
          classic fool: who tends to find most of when his patients
          say vaguely amusing.
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                    I hope you know headaches aren't
                    physiological.
                              MURPHY
                    That's why I'm here.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (a real ass)
                    Exactly.  The problem lies
                    somewhere deep inside your mind.
                        
                              MURPHY
                    Aren't there any pills--?
          Eccles looks at Murphy. He doesn't know if Murphy is a
          pill-head or what.
          Eccles decides not to be taken in. He goes to his
          cabinet-Murphy can't see inside from where he's sitting. The
          pills come in a big, brown glass pharmaceutical jar labeled:
          "DEXTROSE, SUGAR PILLS". He is giving Murphy a placebo.
          Eccles transfers a couple dozen pills to a small plastic
          pill bottle, and closes the cabinet.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Try these. They're something very
                    new - but good. They'll help.
                              MURPHY
                    Thanks. What are they?
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (ignoring the question)
                    Tell me, Mr. Brubaker--what do you
                    do for a living?
                        
                              MURPHY
                    I drive a bus.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    I don't ride buses that often. Do
                    you enjoy that?
                              MURPHY
                    The job gives me a view.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Of what?
 
                              MURPHY
                    People. I can watch people.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (pausing)
                    I see. -- Tell me, Arnold, do you
                    have a girlfriend?
                        
                              MURPHY
                    Yes.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    And how is that? For you?
                              MURPHY
                    I like her - except...
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (smiles; a spider in a web
                         feeling vibes)
                    -- Yes?  Except -- what?
                        
                              MURPHY
                    She's sexually perverse.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (tonelessly) Sexually
                         perverse? -- How...?
          Murphy hesitates...shifts in his chair...he's not going to
          say..
          EXT. COPTER PAD - ASTRO H.Q. - EVENING
          Murphy walks toward his white, blue-striped copter.
          The chief technician, SIMPSON, and his assistant KINCAID are
          doing something with Murphy's copter. Kincaid is young-in
          his early 20's. Both are cops turned technicians.
          Fletcher, the FBI man, is overseeing their work.
                              MURPHY
                         (affable)
                    Hey, what are doin' to my copter?
                        
                              SIMPSON
                    Fooling around.
 
                              FLETCHER
                    We want you to test a new piece of
                    equipment for us. You don't mind?
                              MURPHY
                    What is it?
                              FLETCHER
                    There are two reasons why you can't
                    arm these things.
                         (he means the copter)
                              SIMPSON
                         (adjusting a screw)
                    --The assholes on the ground--
                        
                              FLETCHER
                    --And the telescopic sight on a gun
                    vibrates too much. You can't keep a
                    steady aim because it bounces.
                    Right?
          Murphy nods.
                              FLETCHER
                    So more. This is the new "Lock &
                    Fire" system.
                         (he points out the parts)
                    A gyro and a laser-smooth as silk.
                    Point this thing and you can put a
                    5.67 millimeter round into anywhere
                    you're capable if aiming.
                        
                              SIMPSON
                    Cute, huh?
                              MURPHY
                    Are you gonna let us use it?
                              FLETCHER
                    Is the Pope Jewish? All we want to
                    know is: will it stay attached to
                    the helicopter while you're flying?
          INT. HANGAR AREA HALLWAY - EVENING
          Lymangood is looking for Murphy.
          He checks the window that looks into the Ready Room.
          Kincaid, the junior technician, is standing there looking in
          at Murphy, Lymangood joins him.
 
          Murphy, in the Ready Room, is flipping a coin, over and
          over. His hand snakes out-catches it-he checks "heads" or
          "tails"-and flips it again.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Jesus, what's he doing?
                              KINCAID
                    He does it if something's bothering
                    him. He'll catch the quarter heads,
                    everytime. Watch.
          Murphy flips the coin. ON HIS EYES as he watches the coin
          fall. His hand snakes out - grabs it lightning fast. "HEADS". Murphy
          smiles.
                              KINCAID
                    See. I've seen him do it twenty
                    times running.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What's the trick?
                              KINCAID
                    I think he "sees" faster than
                    normal people. He's got good "hand-eye".
                    -- He just grabs it.
                         (shrugs)
                    I can't do it.
          INT. READY ROOM - EVENING
          Lymangood enters.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (smiles)
                    No clock tonight.
                         (glances at wall clock)
                              MURPHY
                    Already did that.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (looking at coin)
                    Mind if I try it?
          Murphy flips the quarter to him. Lymangood flips
          it...catches it. "Heads".
 
                              MURPHY
                    That was luck. Try it again.
          Lymangood does. "Tails" this time.
                              MURPHY
                    See? Lymangood grins.
                              MURPHY
                    Where's Felix?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Felix called in sick. I'll fly
                    shotgun if it's okay with you.
                              MURPHY
                         (hesitates momentarily)
                    --Okay.  Let's go.
          Lymangood tries the coin again. "Tails". Lymangood worries.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (as they're walking out)
                    How important do you think that
                    exercise is? For flying?
                              MURPHY
                    It depends on how important you
                    think timing and coordination are.
          Lymangood squirms under his stare.
          INT. COPTER - SUNSET
          Murphy is taking Lymangood straight up - for his view of
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Aren't we too high...?
                              MURPHY
                    No.
          Murphy reaches his scenic vista altitude. The great, sweeping
          panorama of mountains and sea. He drinks it in, while
          Lymangood whistles a song.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What's our altitude?
 
                              MURPHY
                    One thousand feet.
          Murphy is ready to initiate Lymangood. He abruptly DROPS THE
          COPTER 500' to patrol altitude.
          Lymangood does not react. Still whistling, alert. Never
          occurs to him that Murphy would do anything improper. No
          vertigo.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Five hundred feet.
                         (leans quickly over and looks
                         at the altimeter)
                    Hey, I got it exact!
          Murphy is annoyed.
          Lymangood is eager to learn how it is that Murphy's so good.
          He listens carefully to Murphy.
                              MURPHY
                    Let's start out over Sunset.
                         (finds a pretty hooker)
                    Check her out.
          Lymangood puts the Night Binoculars on her.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Uh huh,
                              MURPHY
                    Try the "Lock & Fire" on her.
          Lymangood looks bothered.
                              MURPHY
                    We're supposed to check it out,
                    aren't we?
          Lymangood nods.
          He swings the gyro sights onto the GIRL. LYMANGOOD'S
          POINT-OF-VIEW: through the telescopic sights. The
          cross-hairs on the girl JIGGLE and bounce around wildly.
                              MURPHY
                    Turn it on.
          Lymangood cuts the gyro and laser feedback. The image
          smooths out-becomes rock steady-the girl fills the scope. He
          adjusts his aim. The crosshairs center on her cleavage.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (busy flying)
                    How is it?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Super!
          Lymangood keeps the crosshairs on her. Nervous time. Murphy
          has an idea.
                              MURPHY
                    Get Bruddock.
          Lymangood gets Bruddock on the radio.
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Bruddock here.
                              MURPHY
                    The Lock & Fire works, Bruddock.
                         (grins)
                    Can we shoot someone?
                        
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Negative.
          Murphy CHUCKLES and clicks off the radio. Lymangood looks
          over and smiles nervously. Swings the sights off the girl.
          They continue to cruise. Lymangood spots an old 914 Porsche.
          They're tracking above it, over Santa Monica Blvd.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Those are cute cars.
                              MURPHY
                    Cunt cars.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What?
                              MURPHY
                    Those were the kind bosses used to
                    give their twinkies. Sporty but not
                    too expensive. Now they're just
                    pieces of shit.
                          (Lymangood looks at him
                         skeptically)
                    Go ahead--check out the license
                    plate.
          Lymangood swings the Binocs onto the car's plates. It reads
          "4 U VICKI". Is Murphy right, he wonders?
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah. Chicks loved 'em.
                         (turns his attentions to their
                         radio calls)
                    Our boy better hit soon, or it's
                    off to the porn loft for us.
           A RADIO CALL comes in.
                              DISPATCHER'S VOICE
                    Ahhh...800...we have a 301 in
                    progress...Rancho Park area. Olympic
                    and Patricia Avenue...will you
                    respond?
                              MURPHY
                         (swinging the copter)
                    Tell Central we're on our way.
          Tell them we have an E.T.A. of forty seconds.The digital read-out
          says: 0:40 - AT 240 MPH - TO OLYMPIC-PATRICIA.
          EXT. GROUND LEVEL - OLYMPIC & PATRICIA - NIGHT
          The skinny Chicano RAPIST is giggling as he runs across a lawn.
          He hurtles across the sidewalk and dives through the rear
          window of his parked Impala. He snuggles under the
          newspapers and straw mats in the back seat-
          --Just as the helicopter comes clattering in over the tree-tops,
          the Night Sun sweeping the area. We hear one last GIGGLE
          from the back seat.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (looking hard)
                    I don't see him.
                              MURPHY
                    Look, dammit! We got here too fast
                    for him to be gone. He's down
                    there!
 
          Murphy puts it into a circling pattern. Nothing is moving down
          on the street.
          INT. INSOMNIAC'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
          The OLD MAN we saw earlier. He's heard the copter coming
          from a long way off-and now it's here. Clattering and
          circling. Again.
          He stares at the ceiling, whispering with despair and rage.
          Two pieces of plaster flake off and drift down onto his
          face.
          He flies into the bathroom-ravages the medicine chest-flies
          back to the bedroom-grasping the pillow about his ears-flies
          to the window and waves his fist at the circling copter.
          He screams-but we hear only THWATAWATAWATA...
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          Lymangood sees the Insomniac throw his pillow at them from the
          window. He smirks and continues looking for the Chicano.
          INT. PARKED IMPALA - NIGHT
          The Chicano peeks out from under the mats. Sees the police lights.
          Ducks back under.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
                              MURPHY
                    I've got an idea. Scan those parked
                    cars for a warm engine.
          Lymangood inserts an I.R. (infrared) filter in his Binocs.
          LYMANGOOD's POINT-OF-VIEW: the cars with warm hoods and
          engines show up white hot, the cooler engines show dull
          grey. We see two "hot" engines on the street.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    There are two-the Caddy at the end
                    of the block, and the Impala.
                              MURPHY
                         (music to his ears)
                    The Impala!
          The copter moves down on the Impala, lighting it up.
 
          INT. PARKED IMPALA - NIGHT
          The Chicano knows instinctively that the jig is up. He leaps into
          the front seat and starts the engine. Peels out with rubber
          burning.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (whoops)
                    You got him!
                         (radios for help)
                    Central, we have a hot pursuit!
                    1962 white impala Chevrolet heading
                    east on Olympic!
                        
          INT. IMPALA - NIGHT
          Driving like a madman through the scattered traffic on Olympic.
          Ahead, the towers of the Century City, lit up at night.
          The kid has a gun, but he can't see the helicopter to shoot
          it-it's right overhead. He gives up sand throws the pistol
          on the front seat, and drives faster.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
                              MURPHY
                    Shit! He's headed for Century City!
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What?
                              MURPHY
                    The underground parking garages!
                    Fuckin' smart beaner. Tell them!
                              LYMANGOOD
                    800...continuing pursuit...where
                    are ground units?
                              DISPATCHER'S VOICE
                    Ground units closing west on
                    Olympic.
 
          EXT. CENTURY CITY - NIGHT
          The 60-story Twin Towers lit up. The copter racing by at a height
          of 20 stories...ECHOING AND CLATTERING off the plazas and
          buildings. Nighttimes crowds, theater-goers, diners looking
          up to see what's going on.
          The Impala squeals down Century Park East. The signs says:
          "UNDERGROUND PARKING - MILE". Distant POLICE SIRENS.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          Murphy skimming building corners. Frustrated.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    There he goes!
                              MURPHY
                         (sees Impala is going to make
                         the underground garage)
                    We're had!
                         (grabs radio mike)
                    Central!  Bruddock!  Are you there?
                        
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Bruddock here.
                              MURPHY
                    Permission to use "Lock & Fire" in
                    pursuit!
                              BRUDDOCK'S VOICE
                    Negative-it's counter policy to-
          Murphy SNAPS OFF COMMUNICATION.
                              MURPHY
                         (to Lymangood)
                    You've got one shot. Make it good.
          The Impala is almost at the underground ramp.  Lymangood
          hesitates-stares at Murphy-then grabs the rifle system.
          Turns it on-sights through the telescopic scope-
          LYMANGOOD's POINT-OF-VIEW: in the sights-the CHICANO-bright as day-driving
          the Impala-GRINNING-the crosshairs centered on his head-
                              MURPHY'S VOICE
                    Shoot!
          Lymangood hesitates a beat-SQUEEZES THE TRIGGER. BANG!
 
          Through the telescopic sights-at the moment he FIRES-we see
          a large aluminum LIGHT POLE flash by. The bullet HITS the
          top of the light housing, the light goes out; the Impala
          turns down the ramp and out of sight.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (incredulous)
                    Damn-we hit the light pole. Murphy
                    looks at him. And the copter in a
                    tight circle around the underground
                    garage.
                              MURPHY
                         (furious)
                    S.O.B.! --Lucky!-
          The LAPD motorcycle units appear, and flash down the ramp
          after the Impala.
          EXT. CENTURY CITY PLAZA - NIGHT
          The Chicano, mingling with the shoppers and theater goers, gives
          the circling copter the finger. Laughs and melts into the
          crowd.
          INT. COPTER - NIGHT
          Murphy in a rage - circling - circling. The ground units report
          up to the helicopter.
                              MOTORCYCLE COP'S VOICE
                    Ahhh...800...we have it official.
                    The suspect...entered the underground
                    parking structure...white Impala
                    found abandoned...
                              MURPHY
                         (sharply)
                    Did anybody get a look at him?
                        
                              COP'S VOICE
                    -- They say he was a Chicano.
                              MURPHY
                    Well how about that!
                         (clicks off communication)
          Fuming. Murphy flies away.
          They fly on - in silence - both thinking.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (finally; coldly)
                    We never used the Lock & Fire
                    system.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What about the missing round?
          Lymangood points to the fire counter. It reads "0001".
                              MURPHY
                    I'll take care of all that.
          Murphy keeps flying. Waiting for Lymangood to decide. He
          looks over at Lymangood.
                              MURPHY
                         (that dazzling smile)
                    Our secret.
          Lymangood is flattered. He's been asked to join the club.
          It's more like a rabbit having its beck snapped by a hawk.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Sure!
                         (smiles eagerly at Murphy)
                              MURPHY
                         (smiles back reassuringly)
                    Good.
                        
          INT. BRUDDOCK'S OFFICE - NIGHT
          Bruddock and the FBI man-Fletcher & Miller-are sitting around
          reading through some files. Fletcher is making notes on a
          yellow legal pad. Cochrane, the San Francisco flyboy,
          watches them.
                              MILLER
                    You've had several complaints
                    recently from the F.A.A.-about your
                    pilots flying into commercial
                    airspace.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    It doesn't say that there.
                              MILLER
                    No.
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    I'll talk to them.
                              MILLER
                         (grins)
                    Don't bother; actually it's only
                    Murphy.
                        
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (seems surprised)
                    Huh.
          Now Cochrane ("San Francisco") is at the files. He's still
          smarting from being made to play second fiddle to Murphy.
                              COCHRANE
                    I notice here-a complaint? In 1978,
                    Murphy was accused by some women
                    sunbathers...on the roof of the
                    Ambassador Hotel...of harassment...
                         (reading from report)
                    Or was it peeping?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    That was way overblown. Murphy just
                    didn't like them up there.
                              FLETCHER
                         (reading from his legal pad)
                         How does this sound: "Officer
                         Frank Murphy has served with
                         the Los Angeles Astro Division
                         with distinction for the last
                         nine years. In addition,
                         Officer Murphy is a decorated veteran
                         of the Vietnam conflict during
                         which time he served with
                         distinction."
          He is composing a public relations statement.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    That's good. When do we put this
                    thing out?
                              FLETCHER
                    Not yet. Wait until we've got the
                    Special in the air.
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Say something about Murphy's
                    medals.
                              MILLER
                    You guys are gonna end up with all
                    the credit for this.
                              COCHRANE ("SAN FRANCISCO")
                    You've had...how many is it? Eight?
                    Ground related deaths in this
                    division in the past years?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What about it?
                              COCHRANE
                    Murphy's been involved in three?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Yeah.
                              COCHRANE
                    That's a lot.
          Fletcher and Miller look over at Cochrane.
                              FLETCHER
                    Is there something about Murphy
                    you're not happy with?
                              COCHRANE
                    I didn't say that.
          Seen through the big window, Murphy's helicopter comes in
          and lands.
          EXT. COPTER PAD - NIGHT
          Murphy disembarking. Bruddock comes up, with Fletcher and Miller,
          and Cochrane.
                              MURPHY
                    Any luck on the ground with that
                    Impala?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    They're checking it for prints.
                              MURPHY
                         (not hopeful)
                    That's nice.
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Sometimes, Murphy, you forget
                    there's the rest of the
          Murphy is keeping his eye on the copter, not letting it
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Could you have used the Lock &
                    Fire?
                              MURPHY
                    Yes. Lymangood's looking nervous.
                    Beyond the point of no return now.
                              MILLER
                    Too bad you couldn't have.
                              MURPHY
                    Let's get that "Special" built.
          Miller nods.  Couldn't agree more.
                              MURPHY
                    You'll excuse me.  I've got to
                    check that copter.  Rotor's a
                    little slow.
                         (starts away)
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (catching up to him)
                    Oh, Murphy--
          Murphy stops.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (furtively)
                    Don't fly so high.  People notice.
                         (rolls his eyes toward FBI
                         men)
          Murphy looks at Fletcher and Miller, and at Cochrane's. 
          Nods to Bruddock.  Continues on his way.
 
          INT. TECH-SERVICE SHOP - NIGHT
          Nearly empty at this hour.  Murphy is looking for something. 
          He sees it.  A half-emptied box of 5.68 mm rounds sitting on
          a bench.  He swipes one--puts it in his shirt pocket. 
          Murphy also takes a small tube of Elmer's glue.
                              KINCAID
                         (looking up from his work)
                    Murphy.  Something you need?
                              MURPHY
                    Do you have a wrench?  I want to
                    check the rotor on 19.
                              KINCAID
                    What's wrong with it?
                              MURPHY
                    Rotor's a little show.
                              KINCAID
                    Hang on a minute and I'll help you.
                              MURPHY
                         (leaving)
                    I'll be outside.
                         (grabs a screwdriver)
          INT. COPTER - HANGAR - NIGHT
          Murphy hurries past Lymangood.
                              MURPHY
                    Hang up Kincaid a minute, will you?
          Murphy climbs into the unattended copter #19.  With the screwdriver,
          he turns back the counter from 0001 to 0000.
          Then he climbs out and gets at the magazine for the Lock &
          Fire rifle...careful to make sure nobody's looking.  Sees
          Kincaid coming out of the shop; waits until Lymangood
          ambushes him with some asinine question.
          Kincaid taken care of, Murphy pries the top off the magazine and
          looks inside.  The missing round is clearly visible, looking
          at the side-by-side, spring-loaded clips.
          Murphy inserts the borrowed round; carefully replaces the shiny
          black metal cover; and wipes it clean of prints.
 
          He then takes out the small tube of Elmer's glue--extracts ONE
          DROP--and does something with it.  But we can't see what.
          Kincaid is climbing up onto the copter.
                              KINCAID
                    What's this with the rotor?
                              MURPHY
                    Thought it was a little slow. 
                    makes the copter heavy.
          Bruddock notices the activity around the hangar and comes down
          from his office.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What's going on?
                              KINCAID
                    Rotor's a little slow, sir.  We're
                    gonna tear it down.
          Murphy smiles at Bruddock.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Good work, men.
          Bruddock walks on.
          Surreptitiously, Murphy takes one of Eccles' HEADACHE PILLS.
          DISSOLVE TO:
          LATER
          They've got the entire rotor assembly torn down into a thousand
          pieces.
          Lymangood comes in with some coffee.  Cochrane is with him.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (offers Cochrane a cup)
                    Coffee?
                              COCHRANE
                    Never drink it.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Murphy?
 
                              MURPHY
                    Never drink it.
                              COCHRANE ("SAN FRANCISCO")
                    Lymangood says you told him one of
                    these things can do
                              MURPHY
                         (working)
                    That's right.
                              "SAN FRANSISCO"
                    Impossible.  It's aerodynamically
                    impossible.
          Murphy says nothing; keeps working.
                              "SAN FRANSISCO"
                    Have you done it?
          Murphy stops working.  Puts down his wrench.  These are
          strange men.  They love staying up all night working on helicopters. 
          Half mechanics--full-time pilots.
                              MURPHY
                         (right at Cochrane)
                    Once.  In Nam.
                              "SAN FRANSISCO"
                         (skeptically)
                    How?
                              MURPHY
                    I was on recon.  I did a
                    loop-the-loop.  It was night.
          (AUTHOR'S NOTE: They are talking about a full vertical circle--which
          means that the copters must, at the top of the arc, be
          flying upside down)
                              "SAN FRANSISCO"
                    That's not possible.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    At night--are you sure?
                              MURPHY
                         (the dazzling grin)
                    I'm sure.
          He wipes his hands.
 
                              MURPHY
                    If you'll excuse me, I have to
                    finish this.
                              "SAN FRANSISCO"
                    Catch you later.
          Again, that phrase.  There's an edge in it.  He's sure
          Murphy's fibbing--almost sure.
          INT. TRANS AM - NIGHT
          Up the San Diego Freeway.  Murphy checks his watch, switches
          off the Wagnerian opera on the tape deck, turns on the
          RADIO.
                              NEWS RADIO
                    "...Police report still no progress
                    in the death of a young gang member
                    two nights ago.  The body of the
                    youth was found in a schoolyard in
                    Encino.  Police are still unsure
                    whether the slaying was gang
                    related--"
          Murphy writes down "1" in his little blue notebook.
                              NEWS RADIO
                    "...Meanwhile in local baseball the
                    Dodgers lost 4 to 3 in 10 innings. 
                    Weather today promises to be hot
                    and smoggy with a high near 100 at
                    the civic center, 98 in
                    Hollywood..."
          Murphy seems to be taking some of his information down.
          INT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - NIGHT
          The Trans Am pulls up and parks.  Murphy lets himself in through
          the kitchen door.
          INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
          Murphy opens the otherwise empty fridge, and drinks a long draught
          of Sweet Acidophilus, straight from the carton.  Then he
          makes his way to the bathroom.
 
          INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
          Murphy turns on the light.  He starts the cold water running
          in the sink, on full, and splashes the chill water on his
          face, washing away the heat.  Relief.  Then he turns off the
          tap and shakes his hands dry.
          His face beaded with cold water, he takes the tiny bottle from
          his pocket and swallows another headache still.
          Then he goes down the hill to the bedroom.
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          For the first time we actually see the bedroom.  Wall to wall
          -- BIZARRE.
          More a SHRINE than a bedroom.  Blue candlelight flickers on
          Murphy's wet face.  Hundreds of blue offertory candles--the
          kind Catholics light for saints--illuminate the room and
          fill it with hazy smoke.  Thousands of glass figurines
          reflect back the twinkling blue flames.
          On the far wall -- mercilessly watching over the room -- is
          a large, blue SUN with stylized sunbeams radiating out from
          it like daggers.  In the very center of the sun is a single
          emotionless EYE.  The guardian of the shrine.
          The room is hot; 110 degrees.  Stifling.  Perspiration
          thickens the beaded water on his face.
          Murphy's eyes are on the wall, below the sun.  Scrawled there
          in vivid chalk is a single word:
                              PROTECT
          Murphy walks across the room.  he takes the notebook from
          the pocket of his windbreaker.  Written in it is:
                                1 4-3-10 100-98
          He goes to the wall and copies the numbers onto a blackboard. 
          He studies the wall.  We SEE a thick, white, curving line, and
          to the left an axis with numbers on it.  The curve is at the
          "170" level--whatever that means.  Murphy cocks his head,
          attaching some meaning to it.
          On the blackboard, he circles "1".  Then he extends the curve
          lower: "1" unit.  The curve has gone into a new region.
 
          Going to the next line--"4-5-10"--he circles the "10".  Then
          he goes to where the alphabet is written, counts over 10,
          finds "J"--the 10th letter.
          A new word is being spelled.  So far, only the first letter:
                              J
          Satisfied, he wipes the sweat from his brow, and refills the parakeet's
          water tray.
          Murphy rubs his temple.  The vein thumping.  Takes the pill
          bottle from his pocket...opens it...changes his mind...puts
          it away.
          DISSOLVE TO:
          EXT. MANSION - DAY
          Murphy's Trans Am comes up the long drive and stops in front of
          a very large house.  Old, Victorian.  A PRIEST is waiting on
          the steps.
                              PRIEST
                    Ah, Officer Murphy!  It's good to
                    see you!  They'll be fetching Teddy
                    momentarily.
          The two men shake hands.  Waiting.
                              PRIEST
                    It's a shame more people like
                    yourself don't take the trouble to
                    be Big Brothers.  We'd have fewer
                    problems in the world.
          Murphy smiles; says nothing.
                              PRIEST
                    Teddy talks about you all the time.
                         (a pregnant pause)
                    I don't mean to be forward...
                         (smiles delicately)
                    But I expect one of these days a
                    good looking man like yourself will
                    be getting married.  And who
                    knows?  Maybe you'll take Teddy
                    away from us, eh?
                              MURPHY
                    Who knows.
 
          The moment is saved by the sudden appearance of red-headed TEDDY,
          coming down the steps.  He dives into Murphy's arms -- and
          Murphy sweeps him up -- TOSSES HIM HIGH INTO THE AIR -- and
          catches him.  Teddy squeals with excitement.  Teddy is 9
          years old,
                              MURPHY
                    I'll have him back for dinner.
          The two go off in Murphy's car.
          EXT. SURFACE STREET - DAY
          Safely away from the Home, Murphy opens up the Trans Am and lays
          down some rubber.  Teddy shrieks with delight.
          Murphy looks over and smiles.  Murphy likes to drive fast,
          and Teddy feels completely safe.  They like each other. 
          Teddy is the only person with whom Murphy is totally
          comfortable.
                              MURPHY
                         (over the roar)
                    Ice cream?
                              TEDDY
                    Yes!!
          EXT. PARK - DAY
          LYRICAL WALKING SEQUENCE - TELEPHOTO LENS - HIGH ANGLE -
          SOFT & GAUZY.  Murphy and Teddy walking in the park, eating
          ice cream, laughing.  Murphy throwing Teddy high and
          catching him...  Gentle music that tells of joy and
          sadness...
          EXT. PARK BENCH - AFTERNOON
          Warmth, golden sunlight slanting through the trees, children playing
          in the distance...
                              MURPHY
                    How'd you like to go away
                    someplace?
                              TEDDY
                    Oh, wow, Frank!  Where?!
                              MURPHY
                    The mountains?
 
                              TEDDY
                    Yeah!  Yeah!  Which ones?
                              MURPHY
                    The Sierras...or maybe Yosemite.
                              TEDDY
                    When?!?  When, Frank?!
                              MURPHY
                    When I get some time.  Labor Day.
                              TEDDY
                    When's that, Frank?
                              MURPHY
                    Next week.  Before school starts.
                              TEDDY
                         (is already there)
                    Will we drive?  Is it far?
                              MURPHY
                    Not for the Trans Am.
                              TEDDY
                    What'll we do there?
                              MURPHY
                    Catch fish.  When it's hot in Los
                    Angeles it's clean up there.
                         (Murphy painting a picture)
                    The wind comes off the lake and
                    smells like pine trees...
                              TEDDY
                         (suddenly alarmed)
                    What are pine trees?  I don't know
                    what those are.
                              MURPHY
                    It's okay.  They're nice.  Like
                    this tree.
          He points up at the tree they're under.
                              TEDDY
                         (super-excited)
                    Oh yeah, Frank!!  I want to go!!
 
                              MURPHY
                         (happy)
                    Good.
          A sudden thought flickers across Teddy's face...something he's
          been thinking about for some time...
                              TEDDY
                    Frank...?
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah?
                              TEDDY
                    Do you have a girlfriend?
                              MURPHY
                         (slowly)
                    Sure...
                              TEDDY
                    What's her name?
                              MURPHY
                    Debbie -- Why?
                         (getting suspicious; teddy
                         angling toward something)
                              TEDDY
                    Will we take her with us?
                              MURPHY
                    Debbie?  Don't worry.  No.
                              TEDDY
                    Oh.
          Silence.
                              TEDDY
                    Why don't you at least ask her?...
                              MURPHY
                    You want me to ask her?
                              TEDDY
                    Well...yeah...
          Murphy hugs him with one arm, tousles his hair.
 
                              MURPHY
                    Hey, we don't want girls messing up
                    our trip, do we?
          Teddy does not respond to the rough-and-tumble.  he looks at
          the ground.  Murphy slowly takes his arm away.
                              MURPHY
                         (thinks about this)
                    All right...maybe I'll ask her.
          Teddy brightens like the sun coming out.  Murphy sees this
          and melts.
                              MURPHY
                    How 'bout a hot dog?
                              TEDDY
                         (jumping up)
                    Sure!
          Murphy gets up and they start down the pathway--when Murphy suddenly
          remembers something of crucial importance.
                              MURPHY
                    We've got to put a dime in the
                    meter.
                              TEDDY
                    Now now...
                              MURPHY
                         (peers down at him)
                    You don't want the Trans Am to get
                    a ticket.
                              TEDDY
                    No.
                         (looks sad; the hot dog)
                              MURPHY
                    We can come back for the hot dog.
          That does it.  They walk briskly toward the parking lot.
          Murphy's holding the dime.  He looks nervous.  As they
          approach the meter, he gives the dime to Teddy.  Teddy runs ahead--gets
          there at exactly the moment the red flag WHINES up.
 
          Murphy looks immensely relieved.  They head back to
          INT. DEBBIE'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON
          Plants in little plastic pots, cheap stereo, poster on the wall
          of her patron saint Travolta.
          Debbie is sitting on the soda, nude except for brightly-colored
          bikini panties, her hair up in rollers.  She is rolling a joint
          from a lid.
          The PHONE RINGS.  She cradles it on her shoulders as she continues
          to roll the joint.
                              DEBBIE
                    Hello?
                         (listens)
                    Fraaank!  You're kidding!
                         (listens)
                    I thought you'd never invite me to
                    your place!
                         (listens)
                    Sure -- Wow!
                         (listens)
                    I finally get to see the place.
          INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (over praying hands)
                    How is she sexually perverted,
                    Arnold?
          A long pause.
                              MURPHY
                         (finally)
                    She's a nymphomaniac.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    How so?
                              MURPHY
                    I've read enough.  She's not
                    normal.  She wants to do it--
                              DR. ECCLES
                    --Have sex?--
 
                              MURPHY
                    --every time we're alone.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    So?
                              MURPHY
                    Before marriage.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    But that's not perverted.
                              MURPHY
                    You don't think so.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    No.
                              MURPHY
                         (gives up)
                    I see.
                         (changing the subject)
                    Do you have some more pills?
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Oh!  They're working?
                              MURPHY
                    They help.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    In a minute.
                         (pursuing the point)
                    You think Debbie misbehaves...
                              MURPHY
                    She's a victim.  You see a lot of
                    them down there.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    "Down there"--curious phrase. 
                    Anyway--
                         (studying Murphy)
                    Do you feel you have to "protect"
                    people?
          No answer.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    You don't have to protect people.
 
                              MURPHY
                    No?
                              DR. ECCLES
                    No.  It's not your job.
          Murphy says nothing.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (insistently)
                    People are O.K.  They can take care
                    of themselves.
          Long pause.  Murphy is struggling with this.  He feels it
          deeply.  He does not agree.
                              MURPHY
                    --But they don't.
          Murphy gets up from the chair and walks to the window.  From
          the 15th floor he looks down on L.A., stifling under the
          weight of the August sun.  His eyes sweep the city.  We SEE
          it as he must see it: a grid of little moving dots.
                              MURPHY
                    There are fifty rapes a night. 
                    They find six babies a week stuffed
                    in garbage cans.  People run around
                    like little robots.  They'll do
                    anything: because they don't think
                    anyone is watching.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    No one is.
                         (smirks)
                    God is dead.
          Murphy turns around and looks at him, studies him back.
                              MURPHY
                    I watch.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (testily)
                    You watch what?
                              MURPHY
                         (drawn out by anger)
                    I watch the patterns.
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                    What do the patterns do?
                              MURPHY
                    They weave themselves into greater
                    complexity until they reach levels.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Levels?  Levels of "what"?
                              MURPHY
                    ...Numbers.
                               DR. ECCLES
                    And let me guess.  The numbers are
                    like a "message".
          Murphy nods.  He wouldn't have carried it this far if he'd
          been less excited.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Who sends this message?
          No reply.  Eccles makes a notation in Murphy's folder:
          Paranoid -- dangerous?
                              DR. ECCLES
                    What kind of numbers?
                              MURPHY
                    There are positive numbers and
                    negative numbers that determine the
                    Level -- it's complicated.
                         (tries to clarify)
                    It's a little like "Dungeons and
                    Dragons" -- the game!
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (nods)
                    I know the game.
                              MURPHY
                    But it involves a lot more than
                    that--the closing D.J.I.A.--
                              DR. ECCLES
                    D.J.I.A.?
                              MURPHY
                    Dow-Jones Industrial Average.  It's
                    been going down.
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (worries about that)
                    Yes, it has.
          There is a long pause.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Who are you?
          The question hangs in the late afternoon sunlight.  They both
          know it's a good question.  But Eccles is not prepared for
          the answer.
                              MURPHY
                    Thor.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (eyebrows arch; cranes
                         forward)
                    What about Thor?
                              MURPHY
                         (immediately)
                    Thor was the god of thunder and
                    lightning.  He rode across the sky
                    in a chariot, drawn by two goats. 
                    He watched over the world.  He was
                    good and he was strong.
          Eccles stares at him, trying to contain his wonder.  Murphy
          is the real thing -- a Full Blown...
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (clears his throat)
                    But not really.  Thor is a myth.
          EXT. L.A.P.D. HELIPORT - SUNSET
          SHOCKINGLY LOUD CLATTER OF ROTORS from a helicopter coming
          in to land...passing MURPHY as he walks across the rooftop
          landing pad...the SETTING SUN PAINTING HIM IN BLOOD...
          ...Bruddock, Fletcher, Miller, and San Fransisco (Cochrane) waiting
          for him...
          ...There--hidden by a tarpaulin--stands a helicopter.  The
          technicians finish pulling the tarp off...
          ...of the new HUGHES ATTACK HELICOPTER.  Its silhouette is
          clearly different from a normal copter.  It is smaller...and
          more malignant...a wasp...
 
                              FLETCHER
                         (proudly)
                    Bare bones--but there is it.  What
                    do you think?
          Murphy walks up to it.
          Walks around it.
          Looking at it the way Charles Lingbergh must have looked at the
          finished Spirit.
                              MURPHY
                         (moved)
                    I like it.
          INT. BRUDDOCK'S OFFICE - DUSK
          Bruddock is looking out of his huge picture window--15 stories
          up--overlooking the darkened L.A. skyline.  His hands
          clasped behind his back.
          3 or 4 helicopters moving across the city--their Night Suns lighting
          up the city like London furing the Blitz--only here the
          light comes from above.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (proud of his boys)
                    Give 'em hell.
          he turns away from the window and sits at his desk.  San Fransisco
          is in a chair in front of the desk.  They've been talking.  An
          AIDE comes in with a report for Bruddock.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What is it?
                              AIDE
                         (bored with the report)
                    It's a vandalism report from the
                    Department of Water and Power.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What do they want from us?
                              AIDE
                    Seems somebody shot out one of
                    their streetlights in Century City.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What do they want from us?
 
                              AIDE
                    It was shot out from above.  At a
                    high angle.  They want our patrols
                    to check for snipers on the roofs
                    of the Towers.
          San Fransisco perks up.  An antenna starts to quiver in his
          mind.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Mind if I take a look at that?
          Aide hands him the report.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (irritated)
                    Tell them to get the County
                    Sheriffs to do a door-to-door check--it's
                    probably somebody in the building
                    showing off to their girlfriend.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                         (looking at the photos)
                    Looks like it was a .22.  High
                    velocity.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Typical kid's gun.
          San Fransisco hands the report back to Bruddock's Aide.
                              AIDE
                         (moving to next item)
                    Agents Fletcher and Miller would
                    like a schedule from you on Murphy's
                    free time--regarding the new
                    helicopter.
          Bruddock nods.
          INT. TECH-SERVICE SHOP - NIGHT
          San Fransisco approaches Kincaid.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Do you know, offhand, what caliber
                    round the Lock & Fire rifle uses?
 
                              KINCAID
                    Caliber?  it shoots 5.67
                    millimeter... .22 caliber.  Why?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                         (smiles)
                    Just wondering.
          INT. PATROL COPTER - NIGHT
          Felix & Murphy over Hollywood.  Porn loft duty again.  Felix
          peering through the Binocs.
                              FELIX
                    Check out that skylight, Murphy. 
                    WHOO-EE!  If they get any
                    friendlier they'll be inside each
                    other!
          Murphy grabs the Lock & Fire...moves the crosshairs
                              FELIX
                    ...Easy!...
                              MURPHY
                    Sex and perversion.
                              FELIX
                         (chuckles uneasily)
                    Right on.
                              MURPHY
                    Bang.
                              FELIX
                    Not funny, Murphy.
                              MURPHY
                    Relax, Felix.  I couldn't hit
                    anything anyway.  The lights just
                    blew.
          Felix turns quickly and looks.  The skylight is DARK.
                              FELIX
                         (incredulous)
                    Again the lights!
          Murphy switches off the videotape recorder, swings the
          copter west.  Turns off the Whisper Mode.
 
                              FELIX
                         (after a silence)
                    Barbara and I get into some pretty
                    weird stuff.  I wouldn't want
                    anybody hanging over us with a gun.
          Murphy says nothing.
                              FELIX
                    Hey, no hard feelings.  Okay?
                              MURPHY
                         (ice cold)
                    Sure.
                              FELIX
                    Hey, let me show you the new place
                    in Carson!
                              MURPHY
                    Where is it?
                              FELIX
                    Follow Sepulveda.  Then north over
                    the towers.
          Murphy turns the copter.
          OVER CARSON - NIGHT
          Felix spots his new house - spotlights illuminate the yard.
                              FELIX
                    There!  The green one.  Barbara's
                    in the yard--buzz her.
          They buzz the house 200 feet up/  Felix's wife BARBARA realizes
          it must be him.  She waves.  Two kids and a dog running around
          in the back yard.  Murphy stares down at them.
                              MURPHY
                    Hell of a nice lawn you got.
                              FELIX
                    That's green concrete.
                              MURPHY
                    green concrete?!
                              FELIX
                    You don't have to mow concrete.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (disturbed)
                    I should have been grass.
                              FELIX
                         (letting it pass)
                    Otherwise, what do you think?
                              MURPHY
                    It's nice.
                              FELIX
                    You've got to come visit us
                    sometime.
                              MURPHY
                    I will.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION - NIGHT
          Lymangood's practicing the coin trick Murphy showed him. 
          The coin comes up--head.  Lymangood brightens.
          San Fransisco comes up to him.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Lymangood--
          Lymangood snaps to attention.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Did you, or did you not fire the
                    Lock & Fire system the other night?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    What night was that, sir?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    The night of the chase over Century
                    City.
                              LYMANGOOD
                         (thinks)
                    Oh, yes.  No, sir.  We did not.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    You're sure.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Positive, sir.
 
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Where's Murphy?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    I believe he's on patrol, sir.
          San Fransisco walks off.  Lymangood stares after him.
          INT. READY ROOM - NIGHT
          Murphy comes in from patrol.  Lymangood has been waiting for
          him -- comes rattling up.  Murphy can see he's alarmed.
                              MURPHY
                    What?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    San Fransisco was asking me about
                    the Lock & Fire.
                              MURPHY
                    What did he ask?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    If we fired it.  I told him no.
                              MURPHY
                    Didn't he believe you?
                              LYMANGOOD
                    I don't know.  Are you sure we're
                    okay?
                              MURPHY
                         (the reassuring grin)
                    There's nothing wrong.
                         (glances at clock - past 2
                         A.M.)
                    I've got to go.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    I just thought you'd want to know.
                              MURPHY
                    Yeah -- sure.  Thanks/
          Lymangood scoots off.  Murphy takes out his notebook and writes:
          San Fransisco.
          INT. HANGAR - NIGHT
          San Fransisco is examining copter #19.
 
          He climbs in and checks the Lock & Fire counter.  It reads
          "0000", with no signs of tampering that he can find.
          He climbs out on the side of the copter and checks the magazine. 
          He pries off the shiny metal top and looks inside.  Both clips
          are even: full up.  No missing 5.67 round.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Damn.
          He puts the cover back on--snugly--and climbs down.
          INT. BEDROOM/SHRINE - NIGHT
          Carrying his little blue notebook, Murphy goes to the wall. 
          Stares at it.  The white dropping line is at the 140 level--below
          the level marked "PROTECT"--and almost through the level
          marked "J".
          Murphy compares a number in the notebook with a calendar on the
          wall.  The date is Wednesday, August 29.
          He subtracts the "29" from the number in the notebook=="66"--and
          gets "37".
          He lowers the curve 37 points.  He then takes the "3" and
          the "7" in "37", multiplies them to get "21".
          The alphabet is written on the wall.  he counts over 21 and
          gets "U".
          He writes the "U" after the "J" to spell:
                              JU
          Satisfied, he smiles, wipes sweat from his brow--the vein
          throbbing.  He takes two of Eccles' headache pills.
          Then he turns and stares at the large CLOCK on the wall.  he
          closes his eyes--counts--pops them open--just as the sweep secondhand
          passes "12".
          Murphy smiles.  He knows he's not sure.
                                                    DISSOLVE TO:
 
          INT. MURPHY'S GARAGE - AFTERNOON
          Murphy is hard at work on a strange-looking mechanical
          device.
          A narrow chute angles down from a box.  Murphy drops a billiard
          ball into the box.  Then he presses a remote button on the
          end of the wire.  An electrical relay closes, and the
          billiard ball rolls out of the box...down the ramp...drops
          off the edge of the workbench...and falls into a styrofoam
          coffee cup on the floor.
          Debbie's MGB comes rolling up the driveway.  She's wearing a
          noticeably expensive pair of boots and a nice shirt.
                              DEBBIE
                         (peeking into garage)
                    Hi!
                         (looks around)
                    So this is it.  I expected a vacant
                    lot.
                         (laughs)
                              MURPHY
                    What?
                              DEBBIE
                    Nothing.
                              MURPHY
                    That's a nice blouse.  It's nice.
                         (puzzled)
                    I thought you were broke.
                              DEBBIE
                    I got a new job.
                              DEBBIE
                         (Murphy starts to ask)
                    I don't want to talk about it. 
                    What are you working on?
                              MURPHY
                         (off guard)
                    Oh--a machine to create oranges.
                              DEBBIE
                    Looks more like something you'd use
                    to make a chicken lay eggs.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (looks at her nervously)
                    I've got to tell you something...
                              DEBBIE
                    What?
                              MURPHY
                         (worried)
                    I'm a cop.
                              DEBBIE
                         (surprised)
                    A cop?  You told me you drove a
                    cab.  Why???
                              MURPHY
                    Some people don't like cops.  I was
                    afraid we wouldn't see each other. 
                    is it okay?
                              DEBBIE
                         (adjusting)
                    Yeah.  Sure.  Yeah.  That's quite a change. 
                    What kind of a cop?  Homicide? 
                    Drugs?
                              MURPHY
                         (the smile)
                    No.  Just an office cop.  I do
                    paperwork.
                              DEBBIE
                    I guess that's far out.  If I get a
                    ticket you can fix it.
                              MURPHY
                         (taking the plunge)
                    I thought maybe we'd take a trip
                    sometime.  To the mountains.
                              DEBBIE
                    Why?
          Imagine Debbie in the mountains.  Her question makes sense.
          EXT. MURPHY'S DRIVEWAY - LATER
          Murphy is patching the tan canvas roof of Debbie's MGB.  He
          hauls out a piece of BRIGHT RED CANVAS.
 
                              DEBBIE
                    Isn't that loud for the rest of the
                    roof?
                              MURPHY
                    Up on top here nobody but God's
                    going to see it.
                              DEBBIE
                    I'm not so sure I want him watching
                    me.
                              MURPHY
                    Do you want to stay dry or not?
                              DEBBIE
                    Go ahead.
          Murphy sews it on...as Debbie begins to eye his house.
                              DEBBIE
                    I'm dying to see the inside of your
                    house.
                              MURPHY
                         (breaks the news)
                    Oh, we can't go in today.  The
                    landlord's fumigating.
                              DEBBIE
                    I don't smell anything.
                              MURPHY
                    It's a new chemical.  Odorless.  If
                    I were you I wouldn't go near the
                    house.  I'll show it to you next
                    time.
          Debbie wrinkles her nose at the house.
                              DEBBIE
                    That's cool.  Let's go to a motel.
                              MURPHY
                         (getting nervous)
                    No.
          Debbie looks around--she's enjoying playing with him.
                              DEBBIE
                    The garage looks clean.  C'mon.
 
          She leads him by the hand into the garage.
          INT. GARAGE - AFTERNOON
          An old cot in there and Debbie's looking at it.
                              DEBBIE
                         (purrs)
                    C'mon...
          Murphy resists.  She suddenly looks at him.  Turns serious.
                              DEBBIE
                    I like you.
                              MURPHY
                         (mystified)
                    Why?
                              DEBBIE
                    Because you try to be nice to me. 
                    Nobody else does that.
          She turns her hand over his chest.  Suddenly she stops.
                              DEBBIE
                    What are you wearing under the
                    shirt?
                              MURPHY
                    It's a jacket I wear when I go
                    hunting.
                              DEBBIE
                    Silly.  Take it off.
                         (still stroking his chest)
                              MURPHY
                         (sweating)
                    I can't.
                              DEBBIE
                    Don't you like me?
                              MURPHY
                         (the truth)
                    I do -- But we don't have to do
                    this.
 
                              DEBBIE
                         (angry)
                    You keep saying that!  Don't have
                    to.  I want to!
                              MURPHY
                         (in pain)
                    Don't...
          Debbie suddenly draws away.  A flash realization.
                              DEBBIE
                    You can't.
          Murphy writhes in torment.
                              DEBBIE
                         (stunned)
                    Have you ever?
          A flash of ANGER goes through Murphy.  He almost hits
          her--then controls himself.
                              DEBBIE
                         (angry; crying)
                    Jesus Christ.  Are all cops like
                    you?
          She runs to her car, screaming and sobbing.
          Murphy watches her drive away.  Then he turns and slams the
          palms of both hands down on the workbench.  His contorted
          face is awful to see.
          he rips the pill bottle out of his pocket and swallows
          EXT. ROOFTOP HELIPORT - SUNSET
          Murphy walks toward his copter.
          Bruddock intercepts him--accompanied by Fletcher, Miller,
          and San Fransisco.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Murphy!  Go home.
                              MURPHY
                         (rattled)
                    Why?
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Get a night's sleep.  You're
                    testing the Special tomorrow.
                              FLETCHER
                         (broad smile)
                    She's ready.  We're starting at 6
                    A.M. sharp.
          Murphy begins to light up, thinking about it.
                              MILLER
                         (laughs and slaps him on the
                         shoulder)
                    How about that?
          They are all happy.
          INT. HANGAR - NIGHT
          Murphy climbs up on ship #19.  He checks the 5.76 mm magazine. 
          He slides his fingers along the edge of the magazine
          lid...and finds...
          INSERT: the small drop of GLUE he sealed it with is BROKEN.
          Now, careful not to touch the lid with his fingers, he dusts it
          for fingerprints.
          INT. FORENSIC DEPT. - ASTRO DIVISION - NIGHT
          Murphy walks in carrying a black card with scotch tape on it. 
          Imprisoned under the tape: white FINGERPRINTS.
                              MURPHY
                         (to Forensic cop)
                    I'd like to check a set of prints.
                              FORENSIC COP
                    What's up?
                              MURPHY
                    Someone's been swiping my Right
                    Guard in the locker room.  I want
                    to know who.
                              FORENSIC COP
                         (laughs)
                    Sure.  Go ahead.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (smiles)
                    Thanks.
          Murphy goes back to the files.  The cabinets hold millions
          of prints--but Murphy tries--just one set.  ROGER
          COCHRANE--"San Fransisco".
          He pulls the microfilm on Cochrane.  Compares prints. 
          Identical.
                              MURPHY
                    ...San Fransisco...
          EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - POLICE WEAPONS RANGE - DAY
          An observation copter comes in low and fast, throwing up dust--it
          CLATTERS overhead.
          CAMERA MOVES through a mock city.  Mock alleys...mock building
          fronts...parked in one alley we glimpse a military tank,
          it's body and turret painted black & white.
          A sign says:
                    PINKVILLE - WEAPONS EVALUATION
                    CENTER            L.A.P.D.
          Murphy, Bruddock, San Fransisco, agents Fletcher & Miller;
          are standing admiring the "POLICE SPECIAL"--the Hughes
          Attack Helicopter, now fully armed and painted a gleeming,
          menacing BLUE.
          Army Master Sergeant ALVIS SHORT addresses them on the
          merits of the helicopter.  He's 26 years old and a weapons
          expert.  His Army uniform contrasts with their LAPD
          uniforms.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    She don't look normal--she don't
                    fly normal--she ain't normal.
                         (pounds underside of
                         helicopter)
                    Nordoc--NATO--armor.  One inch
                    thick.
          Sgt. Short points to the SHAFT supporting the rotor on top.
 
                              SGT. SHORT
                    That, gentleman, is your "mast
                    sight".  You can look through and
                    sight while hiding behind terrain.
          We see a little window on top of the rotor.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Like a periscope.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    Precisely.
          Sgt. Short points to a drum-like gun mounted under the copter--it
          has six barrels.  The G.E. model 61A.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    The G.E. Vulcan 20mm electric
                    cannon is standard armament on the
                    most advanced fighter aircraft
                    today.  She'll fire up to 4000
                    rounds per minute.  She's a honey.
          REACTIONS: Murphy, San Fransisco.  That firepower
          Sgt. Short climbs up into the one-man bubble.  He pulls out a
          HELMET.  it looks like a fighter pilot's helmet, but is has
          wipes and tubes attached.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    But this, gentleman, is the whole
                    schmeer.  The heart of the
                    system...the Honeywell Fire Control
                    Helmet..."Hell-Fire" for short.
          He hands it to Murphy, who slips it on.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    It's the pilot's "reads up display"
                    system.  The helmet superimposes
                    your gun cues on the real world.
          MURPHY'S POINT-OF-VIEW: As he looks around the desert
          through the helmet's visor.  Murphy SEES green tracer
          superimposed in front of his eyes.  He can line up any
          target he wants just by looking until the tracer lines rest on
          the target.
 
          [AUTHORS' NOTE: This equipment is standard on the Air Force's
          new F-15 fighters.  We're not making this hardware up.]
          
                              SGT. SHORT
                    All you have to do is set the end
                    of the green tracer line you
                    see--on your target--and press the
                    cannon button.  Poof.  You never
                    miss.
          The 20mm General Electric cannon rotates to point in
          whatever direction Murphy looks.  It's eerie.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Look and destroy.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    Precisely.  But everyone's eyes are
                    different, so you can compensate. 
                    You've got to "read" your eyes into
                    the system each time you take it
                    up--into the fire control
                    computer.  The pilot does that manually,
                    by firing one round at any target
                    he chooses--a line-up target. 
                    Instead of firing a round, the
                    computer puts a little pink
                    dot where you would have
                    hit...showing you how far off you
                    are from center.  You then move the
                    joystick till bulls-eye rests over
                    the dot.
                         (checks to make sure they
                         understand)
                    The system is then locked to your
                    vision.  From then on--at any speed
                    or angle--you can't miss.  Where
                    you look is where you hit...Any
                    questions?
          No questions; just stunned looks.
                              SGT. SHORT
                    Very well.  Who's first?
                              MURPHY
                    I guess that's me.
                         (laughs)
                    I just hope I can fly this thing.
 
          Murphy turns and looks over at the FBI people.  Fletcher &
          Miller.
                              MURPHY
                         (laughing)
                    You're sure you want to put this
                    thing over L.A.?
                              FLETCHER/MILLER
                    Absolutely!
          Everyone's grinning.
          EXT. TARGET RANGE - DAY
          A length of desert, marked off by rags tied to wooden stakes. 
          Inside the target zone: a garden of dolls, three-foot dummies--"killers
          and terrorists".  Also, two concrete pillboxes.  Just
          outside the area are hundreds of "innocent bystander" dolls.
          The Police Special races overhead on a dry run.
          INT. "POLICE SPECIAL" ATTACK HELICOPTER - DAY
          Murphy is getting the feel of the copter.  He puts it in a
          hover, and lowers the Honeywell visor.
          Murphy looks around for a line-up target.  He SEES a distant
          rock.  he sets the end of the tracer lines on the rock...and squeezes
          the little RD BUTTON on the black joystick.
          MURPHY'S POINT-OF-VIEW: a pink dot of light appears, "two feet"
          from the rock.
          Murphy edges the joystick a hair to the left...the dot moves to
          dead center...Murphy squeezes the button again.
          The cannon fires ONE ROUND.
          Dead ON.  The rock EXPLODES.  The system is set for Murphy's
          eyes.
          He begins his run.
          Coming in fast and low, he lines up the gun cue on the first enemy
          dolls.  He keeps the tracer lines dead on as he presses the
          red button.  The cannon fires: a SOUND like paper tearing.
 
          EXT. TARGET AREA - DAY
          From the bunker, Bruddock and the others see white puffs of smoke
          coming from the attack helicopter--still distant.
          EXT. FIELD OF DOLLS - DAY
          The field of dolls EXPLODES.  The dolls are torn apart, shattered,
          along with the sand around them.
          INT. COPTER - DAY
          Murphy is keeping the tracer lines dead on the dolls--not even
          blinking--as he passes overhead.  He's erasing them:
          airbrushing them out of existence.
          EXT. FIELD OF DOLLS - DAY
          Every doll has been hit.  And not a single round outside the
          marked area: only dust and debris settle on the bystander
          dolls.  A perfect run.
          We hear VOICES commenting from the pillboxes:
          "Perfect"..."Surgical precision"...Bruddock: "Next run he'll
          try the pillbox."
          The indigo-blue copter turns and makes its second run.
          We are looking at the concrete PILLBOX with its foot-thick walls. 
          Again the cannon screeches--again the white puffs of smoke.  The
          pillbox EXPLODES.  In less than two seconds it is reduced to
          concrete dust by the 20mm cannon shells.
          Amid the settling dust and cordite fumes, there is only a one-word
          comment from the observers' bunkers.
                              VOICE OVER
                    Wow.
          INT. COPTER - DAY
          "San Fransisco" Cochrane is making his run.
          He's using the Honeywell helmet.  But Cochrane BLINKS--and
          moves the tracer lines off the target for an instant--
          EXT. FIELD OF DOLLS - DAY
          Several rounds go ASTRAY--and chop a bystander doll in half. 
          Everyone in the bunker sees it happen.
 
          INT. OBSERVATION BUNKER - DAY
          Murphy is looking on with the others.  He WINCES as he sees
          Cochrane's miss.
          The others don't seem disturbed.
                              FLETCHER
                         (evaluating Cochrane's run)
                    Close enough.
          EXT. DESERT - LATER
          The two pilots; their boss; the two federal agents; under
          the proud eye of the sergeant--walk slowly around the Police
          Special urban attack helicopter, evaluating it, nodding...
          It crouches on the sand: blue, beautiful, deadly. 
                              FLETCHER
                    Well?  What do you think?
          INT. GUN SHOP - DAY
          The INSOMNIAC--haggard, deep purple pouches under his reddened
          eyes--enters, looking around uncertainly.  He's never been
          to a gun store before.
          He approaches the SALESMAN, a paunchy middle-aged man with a big
          automatic pistol holstered conspicuously on his belt.
          The Salesman takes one look at the Insomniac--scans his eyes up
          and down his body--and whips out the pistol!  Points it
          straight at the old man's head in a totally business-like
          stance.
                              SALESMAN
                    FREEZE!
          The Insomniac's tired eyes pop open wide and he throws his heads
          in the air.
                              INSOMNIAC
                    Don't shoot!
          The Salesman comes out from behind the counter--pistol still pointed
          at the Insomniac's head.
                              SALESMAN
                    Mister, don't even twitch!
 
          The Salesman frisks the Insomniac.  Yanks up his
          shirttails.  Finds nothing.  Relaxes and re-holsters the
          pistol.
                              SALESMAN
                    Sorry about that, mister.  But
                    don't ever walk into a gun store
                    with your shirttails out.  Coffee?
                         (pours a cup from the
                         percolator)
                              INSOMNIAC
                         (shaking with relief's anger)
                    What the hell was that about,
                    godammit it to hell?
                              SALESMAN
                    Lost my best salesman that way. 
                    Punk came in with his shirttail
                    out.  Whipped out a pistol and blew
                    him away.
                         (hands him coffee)
                    Here.  This'll calm your nerves.
          The Insomniac doesn't take the coffee.  Instead, he sits down
          on a box and cradles his face in his vibrating hands.
                              INSOMNIAC
                         (reaction; shaking)
                    Jesus H. Christ Almighty Lord.
                         (deep sighs)
                    Ohhh...
          The Salesman puts down the coffee, reaches under the
          counter, and brings up a bottle of whiskey.
                              SALESMAN
                    Try this.
          The Insomniac takes it and drinks deeply.
                              SALESMAN
                    Now then.  Something I can do you
                    for?
                              INSOMNIAC
                    I want to buy a gun.
                              SALESMAN
                    What kind?  Rifle?  Pistol? 
                    Shotgun?
 
                              INSOMNIAC
                    Something long range.  A hunting
                    rifle.
                              SALESMAN
                    Ah.  Okay.
          He takes a huge, vicious-looking rifle from the rack.
                              SALESMAN
                    This is a .300 Weatherby Magnum.
          The Insomniac rises and takes it.  It is a beauty.
                              INSOMNIAC
                    How far will it shoot?
                              SALESMAN
                    Effectively?  Oh, 300 yards away. 
                    The the eye out of a fly.  Farther
                    for a large target.
                              INSOMNIAC
                    Good.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION - AFTERNOON
          Murphy walking down the hall with Bruddock.
                              MURPHY
                    We haven't heard from the Latin
                    Lover recently.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    You can forget about him.  e got
                    him.
          Murphy is surprised.
                              MURPHY
                    How?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Prints off that Impala.
                              MURPHY
                    Are we going to get a conviction.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Oh--he's dead.
 
                              MURPHY
                         (surprised again)
                    How?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    He was shot three times in the face
                    trying to flee from the arresting
                    officers.
                              MURPHY
                         (trying to understand)
                    He was running backwards?
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (laughs)
                    I told you the department would
                    take care of it.
          Murphy seems shocked.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    In here.
          Murphy follows him into a room.
          INT. AUDIO-VISUAL ROOM - AFTERNOON
          Bruddock has invited Felix, Lymangood, and about 30 other cops
          to a screening of sorts.
                              FELIX
                    What are we gonna see?
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (at front of room))
                    A little "skin".  I thought you'd
                    all want to see what happened at
                    the porn loft this morning.  Roll
                    it!
          A VIDEOTAPE starts on a large MONITOR at the front of the room. 
          PICTURE on the monitor shows: the 11-story porn loft in
          Hollywood, seen from a copter.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    The occupants were suspected of
                    trafficking in drugs...section
                    69C...corrupting the morals of
                    minors...etcetera.
 
          The LOFT is shown in daylight.
                              FELIX
                    Daylight surveillance.  Whose idea
                    was that?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Vice, who else?
          The VIDEO shows a wide angle of the building from the
          bobbing copter.  There are two CARS parked in front: one of
          them is an OLD RED MGB WITH A RED PATCH ON THE ROOF.
          Murphy sits up straight--staring.  The helicopter CAMERA pans
          up the building and ZOOMS into the loft.
                              MURPHY
                    Can we see those cars again?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Recognize something?  --Keep
                    rolling--
                              FELIX
                    Who's flying?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Harrison and Morse.  Keep watching.
          INSIDE THE LOFT: a porn movie set.  Movie lights set up.
          Murphy sees -- DEBBIE.
          She's unbuttoning her blouse.  Murphy watches her undress. 
          No sound on the video.  ROOTS and CATCALLS fill the screening
          room.
                              COP #1
                    She's not bad!
                              COP #2
                    Get it on baby!
          MURPHY WATCHES as a fat, coarse man paws Debbie--giving her directions. 
          Watching.
                              FELIX
                         (shouts out)
                    I know this operation--the lights
                    blow and the chick never fucks!
 
                              COP #3
                    It's daylight, Felix!  They're
                    gonna fuck.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Watch.
          A nude male actor starts toward Debbie.  The VIDEO PICTURE
          suddenly LURCHES--a violent maneuver by the camera copter.
          The people in the loft begin pointing out the window.
                              FELIX
                    Harrison fucked up!  He got
                    spotted!
                              BRUDDOCK
                    That's right--they got spotted.
          The people in the loft panic.  Head for the exits.  The fat
          director grabs Debbie.  They run out a door--she's pulling
          clothes on.  MURPHY'S BLUE EYES.
          The picture ENDS.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (as the lights come back on)
                    That's it.  I thought you' all like
                    to see how it turned out.
          BOOS and shouts of disappointment.
                              FELIX
                    Fucking shit!  They blew it.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    No more dirty movies in that loft. 
                    Now we can get back to normal duty.
                              COP #1
                    Harrison is a fucking idiot.
                              MURPHY
                    What happened to the people?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    We got the director and the
                    cameraman.
                              MURPHY
                    What about the girl?
 
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (grins)
                    Why, Murphy?  Did you want to date
                    with that chick?
          LAUGHTER in the room.  Murphy waits for his answer.
                              MURPHY
                    What about the girl?
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (shrugs)
                    She split.
          INT. HALL OUTSIDE AUDIO-VISUAL ROOM - AFTERNOON
          Murphy and Felix are walking to the helicopter.
                              FELIX
                    We still didn't see them fuck.
          Murphy shows nothing.  Calm.  Blank.
          INT. POLICE LOCKER ROOM - AFTERNOON
          The locker room is empty.
          Until San Fransisco enters.  He goes straight to Murphy's
          locker; removes a subtle little tool from his pocket; and
          with obvious skill, picks the lock.  He is careful to leave
          no marks.
          He opens the locker and looks at the contents.  Not much.  A
          zip-up athletic bag.  Soap and towel.  Murphy's windbreaker. 
          A box of raisins.
          He opens the bag.  A change of underwear.  White socks.  A
          pair of tennis shoes.  Nothing there.  He zips it back up
          and puts it back, exactly where it was.
          Looking for something--anything.
          He finds it.  In the pocket of Murphy's windbreaker...Murphy's
          LITTLE BLUE BOOK.
          He opens it and flips through it.  Gazes at the pages. 
          Column after column of numbers and graphs.  What does this mean? 
          He finds his own nickname written: San Fransisco.  Frowns.
 
          Then San Fransisco smiles.  He's found the missing piece. 
          He slips the notebook into his pocket.  Carefully readjusts the
          windbreaker so that it is hanging exactly as it was.  Then,
          quietly, he relocks the locker.
          He turns--and MURPHY is standing behind him.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Murphy!!
          Murphy seems to dwarf him.
                              MURPHY
                    Leaving?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Yes.  I was just on my way out.
                              MURPHY
                         (a nice smile)
                    I'll walk you out.
          San Fransisco nods.  They walk down the four flights of stairs
          to the garage.  As they walk:
                              MURPHY
                    Checking on something?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    No.  Why do you ask?
          INT. UNDERGROUND GARAGE - AFTERNOON
          Nobody else around.  Murphy walks San Fransisco to his car,
          a yellow Stingray.
          San Fransisco unlocks the door and puts one foot in.  There
          he pauses.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Catch you later, Murphy.
                              MURPHY
                    When?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Beg pardon?
                              MURPHY
                    When will you catch me?
 
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Oh--Monday.
                              MURPHY
                    Monday is Labor Day.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Then Tuesday.
          San Fransisco gets in, slams the door, and starts the engine. 
          Throbthrobthrob.  Murphy bends down and taps on the window. 
          Warily, San Fransisco rolls it down.
                              MURPHY
                    Cochrane, you're paranoid.
          Now San Fransisco knows Murphy is crazy.  He snorts and drives
          away.  Looks back in his rearview mirror.  Murphy waves.
          INT. PATROL COPTER - OVER HOLLYWOOD - NIGHT
          Felix & Murphy.
          They look down at Hollywood Blvd., at the lava flow of bumper-to-bumper
          traffic, the sidewalks jammed with people, the long lines queued
          for movie theaters.
                              MURPHY
                    Hollywood.
                              FELIX
                    Labor Day weekend.
                              MURPHY
                    Like turkies in a row.
                              FELIX
                         (chuckling; and not hearing)
                    Yeah...
          INT. MURPHY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
          Murphy is sitting on one of the chairs, watching the news
 
                              TV NEWSCASTER
                    "...And in local news...the Los
                    Angeles Police Department today
                    reported that two of its officers
                    have shot and killed a nude,
                    unarmed man in the Watts area.  The
                    officers reported that the victim
                    'appeared to be reaching for a
                    weapon'.  The incident, which
                    occurred outside the 7-11 market on
                    105th Street, is the 3rd such
                    incident since June 17th...and the Southland
                    weather for this Labor Day
                    weekend..."
          Murphy takes his ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket, clicks the
          point out, and reaches for his windbreaker.  He reaches in
          his pocket...
          No blue book.
          He digs deeper.
          Tries the other pocket.
          Alarm jumps onto his face.  He gets up, searches all
          He starts tearing the place apart.  Not many places to look...so
          little furniture...
          INT. SAN FRANSISCO'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
          This is where he has been living while in L.A.  Modern, bright,
          impersonal.  The window is open and outside is L.A. on a
          Saturday night.
          San Fransisco is lying on his back on the bed, fully clothes. 
          By the light from the bedside lamp, he is studying the
          little blue book.
          It is incomprehensible.
          INT. FELIX'S BEDROOM - JUST BEFORE DAWN
          Felix and his wife asleep.  Felix uncovers his head and lies
          there, his eyes open.  Thinking.
                              BARBARA
                         (waking up)
                    What's wrong with you?
 
                              FELIX
                    That Murphy.
          INT. BEDROOM/SHRINE - DAWN
          Murphy opens the birdcage and removes the blue parakeet. 
          Holding it cupped in both hands, he walks out.
          EXT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - DAWN
          Bloody scarlet in the light from the rising sun -- his
          breath a chill plume of vapor -- holding his hands cupped in
          front of him --
          And THROWS IT HIGH into the air.
          The little bird flutters toward freedom.  Murphy watches it
          go.
          INT. TRANS AM - DAY
          Teddy is showing him he's drilled holes into all their
          camping utensils.
                              TEDDY
                    See, Frank?  Just like you told
                    me.  Now they'll be lighter to
                    carry.  When are we going, Frank?
          Murphy's got a lot on his mind.
                              MURPHY
                    That's good, Teddy.
          EXT. PARK - DAY
          Walking.
                              TEDDY
                    What's it like being up in a
                    helicopter, Frank?
          Frank looks up at a tall, abandoned park building.
                              MURPHY
                    I'll show you.
          They climb up an old metal ladder to the roof.
 
          EXT. ROOF OF BUILDING - DAY
          Three stories above the concrete pavement.  From there, they
          can look off and see the mountains.
                              TEDDY
                    Are those the mountains, Frank?
                              MURPHY
                    No, the real ones are father away.
          Murphy goes to the edge of the road and stands with his toes sticking
          over.  Teddy comes and stands next to him, imitating
          him--hanging his toes off.  It makes us nervous.
                              MURPHY
                    Being in a helicopter is like this,
                    only much, much higher.  And you're
                    moving.
                              TEDDY
                    Throw me up in the air, Frank.
          Murphy reaches down and grabs him -- tosses him HIGH INTO
          THE AIR -- catches him.  Teddy loves it.
                              TEDDY
                         (yelling)
                    I'm flying, Frank!
          Murphy tosses him--higher.  They are perilously close to the
          edge of the roof.
          Wish each toss -- he throws Teddy HIGHER.  Teddy is screaming
          with joy.  With one FINAL TOSS -- Murphy catches Teddy and
          holds him, several beats too long.  Teddy can tell something
          is wrong.
                              TEDDY
                    What's wrong, Frank?
                              MURPHY
                    Nothing.
          Murphy squeezes him.  Murphy is in TEARS.  Written on his
          face is the last real emotion he will ever show.  He puts
          Teddy back down.
                              TEDDY
                    When are we going, Frank?
 
                              MURPHY
                    Tomorrow...
                              TEDDY
                         (sensing a problem)
                    Promise?
                              MURPHY
                    I promise.
          INT. DR. ECCLES' OFFICE - EVENING
          Eccles opens the door.  No necktie.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    I don't normally see patients on
                    Sunday.
          Murphy hands him the green parking ticket.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    What's this?  No bus today?
                              MURPHY
                    I brought my car today.
          There is a sense of finality to all this.  They both know
          it.  Eccles validates his ticket.
                              MURPHY
                    I'm all out of pills.
          Hands Eccles the little bottle.
          Eccles takes it and fills it from his large bottle of
          useless placebos.  As he does, Murphy walks to the window
          and stares down at Los Angeles.  His back to Eccles.
          Eccles sets the bottle down on his desk and tries a new technique. 
          He's been thinking about this case.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    I'd like you to finish this
                    sentence: "People need..."
                         (waits)
          Murphy has his back to him.  A pause.
                              MURPHY
                    "...to be reminded that somebody's
                    watching."
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Because they don't behave?
                         (no answer from Murphy)
                    How did Thor remind them?
                              MURPHY
                    He punished them.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (smiles; he's been doing his
                         homework)
                    And--who is Thor's real enemy?
                              MURPHY
                         (immediately
                    The Serpent of the World.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    And where is the Serpent now?
          Murphy stares down at the patterns.
                              MURPHY
                         (those candid blue eyes)
                    The Serpent crawled west for
                    thousands of years, until the head
                    reached here.  It likes it here. 
                    An endless supply of victims.  Los
                    Angeles is the head of the Serpent.
          Even Eccles is chilled by this image...and by Murphy's seriousness. 
          He presses toward the point he's after.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    What did Thor do to the Serpent?
          This is all known mythology.
                              MURPHY
                    Thor fought the Serpent in the
                    final battle of the world.  At
                    Regamon.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (leaning forward)
                    What happened in the final battle?
                              MURPHY
                    Thor slew the Serpent.
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (gets to his point)
                    Yes--but to Thor?  What happened to
                    Thor?
          Murphy turns to face Eccles.
                              MURPHY
                    Thor died.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    He died...
          A long pause.  Eccles waits.  He's maneuvered Murphy well.
                              MURPHY
                    Thor made a mistake.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    But you are Thor...?
          No response.  Logical trap.
 
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (relaxing)
                    Shall I prove to you that you're
                    not Thor?
          Murphy nods "yes".
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Thor drove a chariot across the sky
                    and hurled thunderbolts.  What do
                    you drive?
                         (eagerly waiting)
                              MURPHY
                         (pauses)
                    A bus.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    Exactly.  Thor wore a magic belt
                    around his middle to give him
                    strength.  Yes?
          It's well known.
                              MURPHY
                    Yes.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (beside himself)
                    Where is your magic belt, Mr.
                    Brubaker?
          Murphy puts his hand to his waist...wraps his fingers around his
          belt...feeling the DuPont Kevlar armor around his middle.
                              DR. ECCLES
                    There are no magic belts.
                         (triumph)
                              MURPHY
                    True.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (leans back; he's had his
                         orgasm)
                    So! -- You're not Thor. 
                    Ipso-facto.  See?
 
          ECCLES STANDING ALONE -- by the window -- looking down at
          the nighttime, sodium-arc lit street.  Feeling good.
          Just then, Murphy's blue blue Trans Am with the huge eagle emblem
          on the hood SQUEALS out of the parking garage and shoots up
          the street.
          For just a moment, Eccles wonders.
                                                    DISSOLVE TO:

          INT. FLETCHER'S HOTEL ROOM - MORNING
          Fletcher, the senior FBI man, is watching sports on TV.  Drinking
          beer.  Feet up.
          KNOCK on the door.  Fletcher pulls on his bathrobe and opens
          it.  There stands San Fransisco.
                              FLETCHER
                    Cochrane!
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Sorry to bother you on a holiday,
                    but this can't wait.
          Fletcher's eyes narrow.  Fletcher closes the door.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    I found this.  it belongs to
                    Murphy.
                         (hands him the blue notebook)
          Fletcher opens the blue notebook and glances at the columns
          of figure and strange notations.  Flips through it.
                              FLETCHER
                    What is it?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Murphy's financial notebook.
                              FLETCHER
                    Where did you get it?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Does it matter?
          Fletcher sits down to study the notebook.  Amidst the puzzling
          numbers, he finds something written in English.
 
                              FLETCHER
                    "World Serpent"?  What does that
                    mean?
          After a moment he gets up and turns off the TV.  Sits back
          down again with the book.  He turns the page.  Finds another notation
          in English.
                              FLETCHER
                    "Dow-Jones down again."
                         (turns page; studies columns
                         of numbers)
                    I don't understand these numbers. 
                    Is this stock market stuff?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    These look more like racing odds to
                    me.
                              FLETCHER
                    Murphy's into the horses?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Maybe he's been losing on the
                    market.
                              FLETCHER
                    "World Serpent"--a race horse?
          Now Fletcher really burrows into the notebook.
                              FLETCHER
                    "San Fransisco".  Is that you?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    In a financial notebook?
                              FLETCHER
                         (turns page)
                    "Special."
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Guess what that means.
          They look at each other.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Do you know what the Special would
                    worth to a terrorist group?
          Long pauses.  Fletcher's mind is racing like a horse.
 
                              FLETCHER
                    World Serpent...a terrorist group?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    If the S.L.A. had had the Special,
                    instead of a few
                              FLETCHER
                    "San Fransisco"...a delivery
                    spot...or a target?
          Fletcher sees visions.  He picked Murphy.  He put the
          Special in his hands.
                              FLETCHER
                    I'd better call Miller.
          He reaches for the phone.
          EXT. SPORTING GOOD STORE - DAY
          Murphy is pounding on the door.  Shakes his hand.  Points at
          the sign.
          Murphy pounds harder.  Doesn't look like somebody to be fooled
          with.  The Salesman opens the door exasperatedly.
                              SALESMAN
                    Look buddy!  It's Labor Day!
          Murphy pulls out his police I.D.  The Salesman's manner changes. 
          Murphy pushes past him.
          INT. SPORTING GOODS STORE - DAY
                              SALESMAN
                    Yes?
                              MURPHY
                    I need stuff for a camping trip. 
                    The best you've got.
          The Salesman is annoyed, but he gives up.
                              SALESMAN
                    Can you make it fast?
          Murphy walks to the merchandise.
 
                              MURPHY
                    Two of your best sleeping bags. 
                    And a boy's hiking shoes, size
                    five.  And...
          The Salesman starts pulling stuff from the shelves.
          EXT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
          A cream-colored Buick cruises to the curb.  FLETCHER &
          MILLER climb out.  They look.  Murphy's car isn't in the driveway. 
          They go to the door.  Knock.  No answer.  Knock LOUDER.
          The front door of the neighboring house opens, and an OLD
          MAN comes out onto the porch.
                              MILLER
                         (sees him)
                    Got a problem, sir?
                              OLD MAN
                    I'm the landlord.  I own that
                    property.  Is something wrong?
                              FLETCHER
                    FBI.  Would you mind opening up
                    Officer Murphy's home, please.
          The Landlord hurries over with some keys.
                              LANDLORD
                    FBI?
          They show him their badges.
                              LANDLORD
                    Is it okay? -- to do this?
                              FLETCHER
                         (harshly)
                    Just open the door, sir.
          He unlocks several locks...but not all.  Miller looks at Fletcher. 
          They break the remaining lock.  The front door swings open.
          They go in.
          INT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
          They stare around at the practically empty living room.
 
                              FLETCHER
                    Ohmigod, he does need money.  He's
                    sold everything he owns.
                              MILLER
                    He's getting ready to cut out!
          Miller goes into the kitchen.  It's a very neat kitchen. 
          Meanwhile, Fletcher picks up one of the textbooks scattered around
          the living room.  Abnormal Psychology by Coleman.
                              MILLER
                         (shouts)
                    Murphy!
          No reply.  Both FBI men and the landlord prowl through the
          house, looking.
          They enter the bathroom and look around.  Fletcher  immediately
          tries the light switch.  It doesn't work.
                              MILLER
                    What in the world?
                              FLETCHER
                    I can't breathe in here.
          Fletcher goes to the window and throws open the blackout curtains. 
          The sunlight streams in and strikes the wall like
          They see...everything.  The glass figurines...the empty
          birdcage...the sun god...the numbers and words scrawled all
          over the wall...
                              MILLER
                    Oh my Lord Jesus.
          They are in the lair of the monster.  Sheer disgust written
          all over their faces.
          Fletcher is staring at the wall.  At the writing:
                              PROTECT
                              JUDGE
          In the merciless sunlight it is clear that the blue sun0eye is
          made of plastic.  In the final analysis you come down to...a
          cheap plastic wall ornament that you bought in Woolworths...
 
                              MILLER
                    Holy shit.
                              LANDLORD
                    I had no idea.
                              FLETCHER
                         (exhales)
                    We'd better call Bruddock.
                              MILLER
                    I saw a phone in the front room.
          He goes to the living room to call.
          INT. LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON
          Murphy is standing there, bulky packages under his arms.  He
          seems to fill the living room.
          Miller stares at him.  he drops the packages.
          As the other two come into the living room -- Murphy -- no choice
          now --------
          --- Takes a .38 snub-nosed revolver from inside his windbreaker
          -- Fires THREE SHOTS.
          Fletcher & Miller--and the Landlord--crumple to the floor.
          Murphy walks to the bodies.  All three have holes in their
          chests where he has shot them.  Looks down--trembles a
          bit--but no tears here.  Feels for a pulse.  None.
          Murphy puts the gun back in his belt.  Goes into the bathroom. 
          Washes his hands -- then goes into the bedroom.
          INT. BEDROOM/SHRINE - AFTERNOON
          Murphy sees his violated shrine.  The open window--the sunlight
          defiling it.  It will never be the same.
          Leisurely, he walks to the wall.  Picks up the chalk. 
          Studies the words.  Then he adds to "JUDGE"...spelling...
                              JUDGEMENT DAY
          Murphy walks out of the bedroom.
 
          INT. BATHROOM - AFTERNOON
          His face set and grim.  Murphy begins to dress.  Ritualistically:
          like a matador preparing for the bull ring.
          His best flak jacket. His best T-shirt. His pressed L.A.P.D.
          shirt. His best black leather boots. His best flying outfit.
          He goes out into the hall.
          INT. HALL - AFTERNOON
          From the hall closet, he hauls the "orange crater"...and a large
          wooden box full of something very heavy.  Takes a big .45
          automatic pistol from the closet and straps it on.
          He starts to leave, by the kitchen door -- and stops. He
          looks at the CLOCK on the wall. The sweep secondhand. He
          closes his eyes...for long seconds... and pops them open. 9
          seconds. He's three seconds short.
          Now he knows he's gone nuts.
          Murphy starts to cry -- trembles -- It lasts only a second. He
          swallows three pills. Full control again.
          He returns to the bedroom.
          INT. BEDROOM/SHRINE - AFTERNOON
          Murphy looks around for the last time. Tips a candle over. A
          fire begins. He leaves the bedroom.
          After a moment, we hear the kitchen door SLAM. The thousands
          of glass figurines in the bedroom RATTLE.
          EXT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
          Murphy puts the "orange crater" and the wooden box into the Trans
          Am. Drives away.
 
          Somewhere, a phone is ringing.
          INT. MURPHY'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
          CAMERA TRAVELS slowly through the house. Camping equipment
          dumped on the floor... Three dead bodies... Orange light
          flickering in the bedroom...the crackle of flames... In the
          living room, the phone rings... And rings... And rings...
          EXT. PAY PHONE - AFTERNOON
          Debbie standing with the phone burring in her
          ear...waiting..
          EXT. SURFACE STREET - AFTERNOON
          Murphy's Trans Am in traffic. He glides through a yellow
          traffic signal. An LAPD black & white falls in behind him. Murphy
          watches them in the mirror. They seem interested in his
          car...a shark sniffing a leg in the water. They decide
          against stopping him -- turn of down a side street.
          EXT. CATHOLIC BOYS' HOME - AFTERNOON
          Teddy sits on the front steps, next to a pile of
          The expression on his face tells us everything.  He knows
          that Murphy isn't going to show.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION GARAGE - AFTERNOON
          Murphy parks the Trans Am.  Picks up the "orange crater" under
          one arm...the wooden crate under the other...he's not
          smiling.
          EXT. ROOFTOP COPTER PAD - AFTERNOON
          Kincaid is working on one of the copters.  Looks up.
                              KINCAID
                    Murphy?  You're early.  No one's
                    here yet.
 
                              MURPHY
                    Yes.
          Kincaid looks at the boxes under his arm.
                              KINCAID
                    What's that stuff?
                              MURPHY
                    Some things.  Top off the Special
                    and roll it out.  We're running
                    some tests tonight.
                              KINCAID
                    I didn't hear anything about that
                         (murphy sets down the "orange
                         crater")
                    What's that?
                              MURPHY
                    An orange crater.
                              KINCAID
                         (not understanding)
                    Oh.
                              MURPHY
                    Hurry it up.
          Kincaid rolls out the "Police Special" helicopter from its hangar. 
          He's a little suspicious.
                              KINCAID
                    Where's Bruddock?
                              MURPHY
                    Coming.
          Murphy climbs up into the one-man bubble with the "orange crater". 
          He settles it on the floor and opens a small hatch in the
          lower front.  The chute fits--it sticks out the hole. 
          Kincaid has climbed up and is watching.
                              KINCAID
                    I'm going to call--
          But he isn't going to call.  Murphy hits him a precise little
          jackrabbit punch in the neck.  Kincaid slumps down from the
          copter.
          Murphy seats himself and closes the door.
 
          INT. "POLICE SPECIAL" URBAN ATTACK HELICOPTER - AFTERNOON
          Murphy turns on the power switch.  The instrument panel lights
          up...all digital...green and red.  Makes the hardware seen
          in Sci-Fi films seem primitive by comparison.
          In a hurry now.  He runs through the instrument check.  All
          "GO".  Starts the rotors whirling. Lifts off.
          Murphy's AIRBORNE.
          EXT. SKY - AFTERNOON
          Murphy gaining altitude.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Astro Division dropping away below him. This is his night --
          at long last. He goes all the way up -- very high -- for his
          view of the mountains. He looks North -- up the coast --
          West to the Pacific -- and East -- to the mountains. The
          mountains make him think of Teddy.
          He pushes the joystick forward... and Thor soars off to
          battle the Serpent.
          EXT. SKY OVER LOS ANGELES - AFTERNOON
          Murphy gets down to business.  He swoops down on the city
          below.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Flying over a deserted industrial area. He SEES the giant
          advertising sign for "Carpeteria"-- A 20-foot-high plastic
          giant holding a roll of carpet. The plastic giant is on a
          warehouse roof. Its plastic eyes overlook the city--staring
          across rooftops. Murphy puts the copter in a hover. Picks up
          the Honeywell Fire Control Helmet. Puts it on. Lowers the
          visor. Throws the switch interlocking it with the copter. Time
          to sight in his cannon.
 
          Murphy sights on the giant. Below the copter, the Vulcan
          cannon swivels. Murphy presses the red button on the
          joystick. On the front of his visor, we SEE the little red
          dot appear--a pinpoint of rosy light. He nudges the
          joystick.  Click. Presses the button again--twice.  BAMBAM.
          The Carpeteria Giant's eyes are gone. Murphy's cannon is
          set. Murphy flies on, leaving the giant staring blindly at
          the sunset.
          EXT. "SPECIAL" - OVER BEVERLY HILLS - AFTERNOON
          Murphy puts the copter on hover again. Pries the lid off the
          wooden crate. Inside -- HAND GRENADES. He loads them into
          the "orange crater"--a wire looped through their pins-- Picks
          up the cord with the pushbutton.
          EXT. BEVERLY HILLS - AFTERNOON
          Murphy's copter at 150'.  Hovering. The residents come out. They
          gather in a small knot.  Below the copter. They copter comes
          -- lower.
                              NEIGHBOR #1
                    What's he trying to do?
                              NEIGHBOR #1
                    Land?
          A small object falls from the copter. Drops into a green
          plastic trash can. The neighbors walk up and look in. It
          EXPLODES! SCREAMS ... yelling ... panic ...
          Murphy flies on.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy's YELLING... Tears streaming down his cheeks... He's
          going to punish this errant city... But he's fighting
          himself.
 
          EXT. SKY - HIGH ANGLE - AFTERNOON
          Looking down at Murphy's indigo-blue copter from a HIGH ANGLE... MOVING
          WITH IT as it flies across Beverly Hills... Trailing a
          string of cherry-red explosions behind it on the ground... Murphy's
          dropping grenades like Johnny Appleseed...
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy's getting into it.  Singing now. He looks up and sees
          a police helicopter buzzing toward him. The white-and-blue
          copter flies right up; to within 100 feet. They're puzzled
          by what's happening.  Can't figure it.
                              POLICE COPTER VOICE (ON RADIO)
                    Ahhh..."Special"...what's
                    happening?
          Murphy smiles.  LOOKING at them. Squeezes the little red
          button. The police helicopter BURSTS.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - AFTERNOON
          Bruddock comes rushing into Communications Center,
                              BRUDDOCK
                    What the hell's going on?
                              RADIO COP ON DUTY
                    We have a wacko cop up there.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (a sinking feeling)
                    Who?
                              RADIO COP
                    Murphy.  He took the "Special".
          Bruddock's stomach does a flip flop.  He ages ten years.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    ...What patrols do we have up
                    there?
                              RADIO COP
                    He just shot down our only one.
 
          Bruddock stares.  He scrambles, still stunned.
          "San Fransisco" comes in, fast.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Murphy's with a revolutionary group
                    called World Serpent.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Are you crazy?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    No sir.  He'll be making demands
                    any minute.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    We'd better send up...everything we
                    can...
                         (mind racing)
                    We'd better call the Mayor -- Fire
                    -- Civil Defence -- Where the hell
                    are Fletcher and Miller?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    They went to Murphy's house.
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Well, goddamit, get them!
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                         (starting out)
                    Yes sir.
          EXT. SKY - AFTERNOON
          Murphy is flying toward the San Diego Freeway. Toward the
          interchange/over[ass with the Santa Monica Freeway.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy looks down. SEES: a STATION WAGON on the steep "up"
          approach ramp from the Santa Monica onto the San Diego
          Freeway. Murphy paces the car. Presses the remote button in
          his lap. A grenade rolls out of the box down the chute out
          the hatch drops from the copter.
 
          The grenade FALLING -- fuse burning --
          INT. STATION WAGON - AFTERNOON
          SALESMAN DRIVING.  Wearing a nice business suit. He -- SEES!
          -- the grenade IMBED itself in the hood.  THUD. He stares. 
          Horrified. The grenade spewing smoke. His windows rolled up
          for air conditioning.
          Consider the possibilities. No way to reach through the windshield;
          you try in a panic--jam your fingers. You can't stop in the
          relentlessly flowing traffic -- you try. All you can do is
          frantically roll down the window-- reach out with your left
          hand-- grope for the grenade-- and WATCH-- as it EXPLODES.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy nods as the windshield of the weaving station wagon explodes
          in a burst of crystal. The car goes off the ramp.
          EXT. SAN DIEGO FREEWAY - AFTERNOON
          Fast moving traffic. People see the copter overhead, but
          think nothing of it. A GASOLINE TANKER TRUCK tooling along.
          EXT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy sees the gasoline tanker. Drops a grenade--
          EXT. GASOLINE TANKER TRUCK - AFTERNOON
          --right on TOP. The grenade hits the flat strip along the
          top of the tanker--and BOUNCES--
          INT. GASOLINE TANKER - AFTERNOON
          The DRIVER hears a metallic BANG on his tank -- then
          nothing. He looks in his side mirror. Sees a small explosion
          as the grenade detonates harmlessly by the roadside.
 
          Another grenade hits the tanker top -- BANG -- and bounces off. Driver
          sees another muffled explosion.
          EXT. SAN DIEGO FREEWAY - AFTERNOON
          Other motorists see what's happening. Brake lights light up
          all over the road. Cars swerving and stopping. people begin
          noticing the helicopter. Which -- peels away..
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy gives up on the tanker. He sees a better target. The
          CONCRETE SUPPORT COLUMNS that hold up the freeway. He smiles
          -- lowers his Honeywell visor. Sights on the first concrete
          pillar...presses the button... Murphy--just by looking at those
          pillars-- turns them to dust. The entire freeway interchange
          starts to topple.
          INT. ASTRO H.Q. - AFTERNOON
          The MAYOR...and the POLICE COMMISSIONER...and an AIR FORCE GENERAL...and
          a COLONEL...the room is jammed.  Phones ringing all over
          The MAYOR has just been apprised.  For an interminable moment,
          he stares at Bruddock.
                              MAYOR
                         (incredulous)
                    A Hughes Attack Helicopter???!  I
                    didn't even know there was such a thing! 
                    What the hell did you think you
                    were doing?  Did you lose your
                    mind???
          The only answer from Bruddock is a lot of mortified sweat.
                              MAYOR
                    What the hell do you intend doing?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    Sir, we're sending up every airship
                    we've got, with a SWAT sharpshooter
                    on each one.  LAX is clearing the
                    airspace over L.A.
 
                              MAYOR
                    Will that work?
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (sweating)
                    Well sir, he is in a better ship --and
                    he is our senior pilot--
                              "SAN FRANSISCO" COCHRANE
                    I'd like to take one of those ships
                    up, sir.
          Bruddock nods permission.  San Fransisco strides out.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (to Aide)
                    Where the hell are Fletcher and
                    Miller!
                              AIDE
                    There's no answer yet at their
                    hotel, sir.  We're trying them at
                    Murphy's house, but there's
                    something wrong with his phone.
                              CIVILIAN
                         (to Mayor)
                    Just in case this doesn't work,
                    sir...we think you should meet Air
                    Force General Ames...
          The Mayor is not a stupid man, nor a weak man; he's just out of
          his depth here.
                              MAYOR
                         (doesn't understand)
                    Yes, General? ...
                              GENERAL AMES
                         (friendly confident fellow)
                    We've scrambled two F-15's out of
                    El Toro.  Just in case.
                         (big friendly smile)
                    But don't keep us waiting too
                    long.  Those babies burn fuel.
          The Mayor hasn't the vaguest idea of what he's talking
          about.
 
          INT. READY ROOM - AFTERNOON
          Lymangood's waiting, fully dressed in his flying suit. Someone
          sticks their head in the room and yells "Ready?" Lymangood
          nods "yes". He flips the quarter one more time. It comes up
          -- TAILS.  Wrong.  Lymangood swallows. He knows Murphy is up
          there.  Waiting for him. Lymangood hurries out.
          EXT. COPTER PAD - AFTERNOON
          Three copters revving up. Cochrane flying one of them. Lymangood
          jumps into another -- #19.
                              LYMANGOOD
                    Where's my SWAT man?
                              BRUDDOCK
                    We can't wait for him.  You've got
                    the Lock & Fire--you'll have to
                    take it up alone.
          Bruddock gives them final words of encouragement.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (shouting over the blade
                         clatter)
                    You know what to do.
          INT. SAN FRANSISCO'S COPTER - AFTERNOON
          San Fransisco's aching for a try at Murphy.  His SWAT man
          has a question.
                              SWAT RIFLEMAN
                    What's the best shot?
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Go for Murphy.  It you can't hit
                    him, go for the engine block.
                              SWAT RIFLEMAN
                    Gotcha
                         (cocks his weapon)
          San Fransisco lifts their copter off.
 
          EXT. SKY OVER L.A. - AFTERNOON
          Three white-and-blue police helicopters -- climbing... Three
          black dots in the sky... they climb up above the Hollywood
          Hills and rendezvous.
          They can see Murphy's copter: across the city. MOVE WITH
          THEM as they go for it.
          Aerial combat over Los Angeles. Copter against copter.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy is picking his way across Carson. Along Sepulveda --
          past the towers -- he follows the landmarks -- sees FELIX'S
          GREEN YARD coming up.
          Murphy lowers the Honeywell visor.
          INT. FELIX'S LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON
          Felix cocks his head. He hears the sound of an approaching
          helicopter. Then he hears a RIPPING SOUND. Frozen for a long
          moment -- until he recognizes it -- CANNON FIRE. He heaps
          like a coil spring grabs his wife and dives under the
          Hammond organ.
          The house SHAKES...
          Just as suddenly as it began -- the firing STOPS.
                              BARBARA
                         (blubbering)
                    He tries to kill us!
                              FELIX
                         (stands up; realizes)
                    No.
          He runs into the backyard.
          EXT. FELIX'S BACKYARD 0 AFTERNOON
          The cement back yard is shattered.  Every piece of it.  It
          looks like the surface of the moon.
 
                              FELIX
                    He was after the concrete!!!  The
                    goddamn!  Green!  Concrete!!!
          Murphy's copter is clattering away.  Felix runs after it.
                              FELIX
                         (crying)
                    Murphyyyy!  Goddamiiiit!
          He falls to the ground, overcome, weeping.
          EXT. FELIX'S NEIGHBORHOOD - AFTERNOON
          The neighbors are running around the streets.  Crazed.  They
          can't figure out what's going on.
                              A MAN
                         (hysterically)
                    Someone call the police!
                              ANOTHER MAN
                         (eyes like saucers)
                    I think that was the police.
          A big battery-powered RADIO in a kid's hand is BLARING:
                              RADIO
                    "This is the Emergency Broadcast
                    System.  This is NOT a test.  There
                    is a sniper in the air over Los
                    Angeles.  We repeat: this is NOT a
                    test.  This is the Emergency
                    Broadcast System.  Stay inside your
                    homes.  There is a sniper in the
                    air over Los Angeles..."
          The radio is drowned out by approaching SIRENS.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy never stops scanning...scanning...scanning the sky
          for other aircraft. He SEES them approaching-- Three black
          dots against the yellow sky-- Resolving into white-&-blue
          L.A.P.D. helicopters.
          Murphy does a final check on all systems.
 
          EXT. SKY - AFTERNOON
          The three copters approach.
          MOVE with them as they box Murphy in. One on each side --
          one above him. He has three targets -- they have one.
          San Fransisco's copter is to Murphy's right. Lymangood is
          above and behind him. The third copter is to his left.
          The SWAT sharpshooters open the bidding. Their rounds
          plunking off Murphy's Nordoc armor.
          Murphy LOOKS at the copter to his left. The 20mm cannon
          swivels in that direction. Murphy squeezes the button. RIIIIP. 
          The copter comes apart like a dandelion in a windstorm. One
          down.
          San Fransisco has maneuvered around - in front and below Murphy. His
          SWAT man sees an OPENING in the sliding door Murphy's using
          to drop grenades. He fires.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          The SWAT bullet drills THROUGH MURPHY'S ARM -- unprotected
          by his armored vest.
          Murphy checks the arm -- rotates his shoulder -- opens and closes
          his hand.  Just a flesh wound with blood. Murphy cinches up
          his flight jacket and bunkers down to do some flying.
          He pulls his copter away-- just as #19 matches speed. He
          sees it's Lymangood at the Lock & Fire.
          INT. COPTER #19 - AFTERNOON
          Lymangood drops the sights on Murphy -- through the bubble
          of the Hughes copter --
          LYMANGOOD'S POINT-OF-VIEW: The crosshairs drop on MURPHY'S HEAD...steady
          as a rock...Murphy looking STRAIGHT BACK INTO THE
          GUNSIGHT...HIS HONEYWELL VISOR DOWN...
          Lymangood's finger on the trigger...
 
          Lymangood HESITATES...
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          MURPHY'S POINT-OF-VIEW: Through the VISOR -- Lymangood at
          the Lock & Fire -- pinned in the green tracer lines like a
          bug on a plate -- EYEBALL TO EYEBALL --
          Murphy turns his head and looks-- --at Lymangood's TAIL
          ROTOR-- FIRES just ONE SHOT--
          EXT. COPTER #19 - AFTERNOON
          The tail rotor flies off-- The copter starts to
          counterrotate-- Spinning out of control--
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
                              MURPHY
                         (to himself)
                    Cut your engine, Lymangood.
          Copter #19 stops spinning-- Starts to drop slowly... The
          "auto-rotation" of his rotor will let him down in one piece.
                              MURPHY
                    That's right.
          That leaves San Fransisco. Whose copter is now above and
          behind Murphy. Swooping in like a hawk--
          Murphy LOOKS back-- San Fransisco disappears from view-- Right
          into Murphy's blind spot. Directly behind Murphy. Murphy can
          see him in the mirror-- but not with the unaided eye-- The
          rear of the Special blocks a direct view. Not even by
          craning his beck. Design limitation: the Vulcan will fire
          only along Murphy's line-of-sight.
          Murphy's doing a hundred things at once -- flying like crazy -- Using
          every trick he knows -- San Fransisco hangs in there.
 
          San Fransisco's SWAT man blows a HOLE in his own bubble, to allow
          him to shoot forward. The rifle rounds are coming perilously
          close to Murphy's ROTOR-- And his ENGINE up top-- Murphy's
          alarmed.
          Then a smile breaks out... Possibly the happiest one he's
          ever given...
          EXT. SKY - AFTERNOON
          Murphy pushes his copter forward, squeezing a little extra speed. San
          Fransisco tries top keep up.  His man keeps firing.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          Murphy suddenly HAULS BACK ON THE STICK-- and takes his
          copter-- --UP. San Fransisco follows -- climbing also -- he's
          good too -- pulling an equally steep climb out of his
          ordinary copter--
          But Murphy pulls back the stick even FARTHER-- --till the
          copter is VERTICAL-- --then it TILTS BACK-- --and UPSIDE
          DOWN--
          --in a perfect loop-the-loop.
          INT. SAN FRANSISCO'S COPTER - AFTERNOON
          Murphy has gone up and OUT OF VIEW. Alarmed, San Fransisco
          peers straight up-- Still can't SEE MURPHY--
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                    Where is he?!!
          He looks around -- over his shoulder -- There's Murphy --
          BEHIND him.
                              SAN FRANSISCO
                         (covered with light
                         perspiration)
                    A loop-the-loop???
                         (still hasn't learned)
                    That's not possible.
 
          INT. "SPECIAL" - AFTERNOON
          San Fransisco's copter is dead ahead. Murphy's thumb comes
          down.
          KA-WHOMP!!!  San Fransisco's copter explodes -- Ten million
          flaming pieces of metal... As Murphy flies by--where it
          was--he looks down... burning debris hitting the ground...
                              MURPHY
                    Catch you later.
          INT. ASTRO H.Q. - LATE AFTERNOON
          The reports are coming in.  Grim, red faces all around.  The
          Mayor's head turns toward General Ames.
                              GENERAL AMES
                    "To every problem there's a
                    solution."  Are you ready for us to
                    handle it?
                              MAYOR
                    How are you going to his him
                    without taking out half of L.A.?
          The General defers to his Colonel.
                              COLONEL FAST
                    Mayor, the F-15 is the most
                    advanced combat plane the Air Force
                    has today.  "Download looking
                    radar" can pick out a squirrel with dog
                    tags in Rancho Park.  We'll find
                    him--and we'll surgically remove
                    him from the airspace.
                              MAYOR
                    What if you miss?
                         (suddenly angry)
                    That isn't Vietnam down there. 
                    That's Los Angeles.
                              COLONEL FAST
                         (confidently)
                    They'll all be armed with
                    heatseeking "air-to-airs".
                          (he forms shapes with his hand
                         to explain)
                    Those heat sensors have very narrow
                    cones of acceptance.  They'll find
                    him--and they'll hit him.
                              GENERAL AMES
                         (puts the bow on the package)
                    If you prefer we'll even contact
                    him visually before we fire.
                         (checks out window)
                    There's still enough light.
                              MAYOR'S SIDE
                         (to Mayor)
                    Your last helicopter, sir, just
                    floated down in Vernon.
                              MAYOR
                         (sighs; runs his hand through
                         his hair)
                    Send in your planes, General.
          INT. COCKPIT OF F-15 - TWILIGHT AT 20,000'
          The sun still high up here...blazingly bright. Cloud/smog
          layer below. The FIGHTER PILOT is a 20-year-old kid with
          icewater in his veins.  He looks out his cockpit at his
          WINGMAN in the second F-15.
                              PILOT #1
                    Ahh...Rhubarb leader here...we have
                    your target -- Bearing one-two-two
                    at thirteen miles -- Have we
                    permission to engage?
          These guys are cocky.  They're flying the hottest plane in
          the world, and they know it.  He looks down at his onboard
          radar...his onboard Fire Control system...listens to the
          voice from the ground...Nods.  Clicks over radio contact to
          his buddy.
                              PILOT #1
                         (thumbs up to wingman)
                    You heard him, "Blue-Eyes".  We're
                    going in.
                              PILOT #2
                    The Vulcans.
 
                              PILOT #1
                    Can't use 'em.  We don't want to
                    spray.  It'll have to be the
                    heatseekers.
                              PILOT #2
                    Sparrow or Sidewinder?
                              PILOT #1
                    You heard ground.  They want a
                    visual contact.
                              PILOT #2
                    Roger... Then it's the Sidewinder.
                              PILOT #1
                    Roger... Let's go...
          EXT. 20,000' - LATE AFTERNOON
          They go in. Air brakes drop down -- and their speed goes
          from 1200 mph to 400 in a couple of seconds.
          They drop altitude.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - LATE AFTERNOON
          Murphy's got a thousand things on his mind -- but one of
          them is... Scanning the high sky--just like during the
          War--for bogeys. Murphy SEES them. Two tiny black dots
          coming in at high altitude -- vapor trails behind them -- Murphy's
          10/10 vision is able to follow them all the way in. He
          starts to sweat. He knows what these are.
          Murphy drops his copter down to the floor -- 50' -- skimming
          roofs and wires...hiding in alleys... He hovers in an alley
          -- his periscope sight peeking up over a roof -- WATCHING
          the two F-15's come in.
          An LAPD cruiser jerks up into the alley. They begin firing
          at him. Bullets thud off the bottom of the copter. Murphy's
          trying to stay down until the F-15's make their pass. But
          the cops' bullets could his his rotor. He's forced up --
          just as the jets ROAR overhead.
 
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - LATE AFTERNOON
          They see him POP UP from hiding in the alley.
                              PILOT #2
                    He's in the alley.
                              PILOT #1
                    I see him.  Let's swing back.
          They make their turn our over Santa Monica -- and come back.
          EXT. WEST HOLLYWOOD = LATE AFTERNOON
          Murphy's flushed.  He's skipping over rooftops, looking for
          a new hiding place before the F-15's can make their turn.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - LATE AFTERNOON
          Murphy looks back -- West -- and sees the two dots gaining. He's
          desperate -- he has only 10 seconds left.
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - LATE AFTERNOON
          He has Murphy squarely in his firecontrol sights. His
          "Sanders Associates--Loral AN/Q" fire panel BLINKS ON-- MISSILE
          ARMED lights up.
                              PILOT #1
                         (warns off second plane)
                    My party.
          The stencil on the missile under his wing says: SIDEWINDER AIM
          9L RAYTHEON CO.
          The pilot presses the button.  FLAME SPURTS from the wing.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - LATE AFTERNOON
          Murphy sees the missile launch.  The short rod "floating"
          toward him. He looks down at the street. Drops the down to
          two feet. Street level. Turns the corner behind a low
          building. Races up the next block a foot off the ground
          (forcing a car off the road)-- On the corner he just turned:
          AMOS' BBQ PIT.
                                                         CUT TO:

          Moving with the Sidewinder missile -- CLOSING
 
                                                         CUT TO:

          THE ALUMINUM CHIMNEY on top of Amos' BBQ Pit.  Heat waves
          shimmer off it.  Smoke coming out.
                                                         CUT TO:

          HYPER-SLOW MOTION as the Sidewinder... ...loses Murphy as a
          target... ...and picks up... ...Amos' BBQ... The Sidewinder
          swandives straight down the CHIMNEY...
          (AUTHORS' NOTE: the Sidewinder missile is known to go up the
          hot exhaust pipe of a truck during tests)
                                                         CUT TO:

          INT. AMOS' BBQ - JUST BEFORE IT HITS
          ...FROZEN
          ...Ten or fifteen patrons sitting around the open pit barbecue
          with their food halfway to their mouths
                                                         CUT TO:

          EXT. AMOS' BBQ
          ...The place -- EXPLODES --
                                                         CUT TO:

          TWO BLOCKS AWAY
          ...Ribs and chicken shower down on the street.
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - LATE AFTERNOON
                              PILOT #1
                         (looking back)
                    Jesus... A miss...
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION H.Q. - LATE AFTERNOON
          Reports coming in.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (to General Ames)
                    One of your missiles just took out
                    a barbecue shack in Watts.
 
                              MAYOR
                         (shocked; to General)
                    What happened?
                              GENERAL AMES
                         (reassuring)
                    A fluke.  Those heatseekers need a
                    proper target.  Give them a chance.
                              MAYOR
                         (screams)
                    A chance!  You've had a chance! 
                    Call them off!
                              GENERAL AMES
                    When we do that, sir -- what about
                    Murphy?
          The Mayor's face trembles and twitches.
          EXT. SKY - SUNSET
          Murphy is racing for the tall glass towers of downtown L.A.
          The F-15's bore in after him.
          Murphy just gets to a skyscraper before they can fire. He
          darts around behind the building. He peeks over the roof of
          the building with his PERISCOPE SIGHT.
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - SUNSET
          They see him disappear before they can fire.
                              PILOT #1
                         (appreciative)
                    He's damn clever.  That guy's good.
                              PILOT #2
                    Yeah.  let's nail his ass on the
                    next pass.
 
          INT. "SPECIAL" - SUNSET
          Murphy watches through the periscope until they ROAR
          overhead. He's hovering just behind and below the roofline
          of a 60-story skyscraper. He looks down to the street, and
          sees squad cars and SWAT teams assembling below-- Starting
          to fire straight up. A few rounds clank off the bottom of
          his copter. Again the threat to the rotor. Murphy grits his
          teeth and holds this position-- until the jets make their
          turn -- and start back -- He's chosen this side of the
          building very carefully.
          Murphy checks his compass to make sure he's on the EASTERN face
          of the building. As the F-15's ROAR in -- Murphy HOLDS his
          position -- The rifle fire from the street increases --
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - SUNSET
          The copter is not visible -- it's on the far side of the building-- Murphy
          suddenly SHOWS HIMSELF -- as if he's made a mistake--
                              PILOT
                         (thinks he has him)
                    ...Dumb...
          The pilot fires. The other F-15 fires. Two Sidewinders head
          for Murphy's heat pattern at 1600 m.p.h. Murphy's copter
          suddenly DUCKS BACK OUT OF SIGHT.
          MOVE WITH the Sidewinder. It's lost Murphy's heat signature. It
          goes for the next best thing the reflection of the SUN on
          the WEST-facing side of the skyscraper. Sunset shimmering
          off the glass panels.
          They HIT the building. Imploding the top face.
          Glass and debris hurtle to the street.
 
          EXT. STREET BELOW - SUNSET
          Falling GLASS and flaming debris take care of the ground
          cops that have been shooting at Murphy.
          INT. F-15 COCKPIT - SUNSET
                              PILOT
                    Jesus!  Christ!
          They roar over the exploding building.
          INT. "SPECIAL" - SUNSET
          Murphy's not through with them. His gun visor is down. As
          the two F-15's roar into sight over the top of the
          building-- Murphy LOOKS at one-- --SQUEEZES the button-- --the
          WING shears off-- --the F-15's payload EXPLODES-- --the
          plane breaking apart as it falls into downtown L.A.
          The remaining F-15 climbs--gaining altitude--running.
          Murphy raises the visor.  Overcome at the release of tension,
          he weeps; tears flow down his face.
          He swallows three pills.
          INT. ASTRO H.Q. - AFTERNOON
          The REPORT in an aide's hand...MOVING with the report as it is carried
          to Bruddock...
          ...who studies it...and looks up at the Mayor.
                              BRUDDOCK
                         (with difficulty)
                    We just lost the top of the Arco
                    building.  And an F-15.
          They all look at each other.
                              MAYOR
                    That's it, General.  Call it off.
          General Ames doesn't try to disagree this time.
 
                              MAYOR
                         (quietly; to the room)
                    What now?
          The Police Commissioner has not been idle through all this.
                              POLICE COMMISSIONER
                         (mapping it out)
                    We can try to create a kind of fire
                    wall...divide the city in two.  he
                    keeps criss-crossing.  We'll
                    concentrate all our ground units
                    along one major trunk street.  If
                    he tries to cross over--with all that
                    firepower--we'll have a good shot
                    at him.
                              MAYOR
                    Where?
                              POLICE COMMISSIONER
                    Wilshire Boulevard.
          EXT. WILSHIRE BLVD. - NIGHT
          The street is roped and barricaded off.  No civilian traffic
          at all.  Hundreds of patrol cars and motorcycle units lining
          its length.  The L.A.P.D. looking like what is is: a
          paramilitary organization--the leanest, meanest police force
          in the world.
          Cops on walkie-talkies coordinating the battle plan.
          INT. MURPHY OVER SILVERLAKE - NIGHT
          Murphy is limping his copter over the dark hills, looking
          for one particular house.  He's catching a breather.  he
          checks his wounded arm; his jacket is soaked with blood.
          He sees the house ahead; turns the copter to 'Whisper Mode'. 
          He hangs there in the trees, looking through the window,
          waiting.
          Right on time, the light comes on and Nude Lucy appears. 
          Murphy watches for a long moment while she begins her
          exercises; then turns on his BLADE CLATTER.  Startled, she
          looks out the window.
          Murphy pulls the copter up, bobs his "wings" -- and away. 
          His way of saying goodbye.
 
          She watches the copter leave, then slowly covers herself
          with her hands.
          INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S ECCLES' OFFICE - NIGHT
          Dr. Eccles is looking out his 15th-floor picture window, across
          the L.A. skyline, watching sections of the city burn. 
          Immense columns of orange smoke gutter up into the sky and
          reflect off the cloud layer.
          The RADIO in his office is on.  He knows what's happening. 
          He sits down at his desk and begins to dictate notes into Murphy's
          file.
                              DR. ECCLES
                         (dictating)
                    In the case of Mr. Arnold Brubaker,
                    who claimed to be a bus driver...
          INT. "SPECIAL" - NIGHT
          Murphy is flying along the length of the empty San Diego Freeway. 
          One channel on his radio is tuned to police channels, the
          other to A.M.
                              A.M. RADIO
                    "All freeways are closed to traffic...the
                    L.A.P.D. requests that you stay
                    inside your homes...this is for your
                    own safety...we repeat..."
          He clicks over to the police channel.
                              POLICE CHANNEL (VOICE #1)
                    "Bluebird One to Bluebird Two...are
                    your units in position?  over."
                              POLICE VOICE #2
                    "Ahhh...Bluebird Two here...we're
                    all in position.  Over."
                              POLICE VOICE #1
                    "Remember, let him commit himself...hold
                    your fire until he's too close to
                    pull out...and remember, he's the
                    only thing in the sky...if it's
                    flying, it's him.  Over."
 
                              POLICE VOICE #2
                    "I read you..."
          Murphy hunkers down and heads for the LIGHTED STRIP ahead--Wilshire
          Boulevard.  Like a long, glittering snake.  Murphy can see
          the LAPD waiting...lined up...ready.
          EXT. WILSHIRE BLVD. - NIGHT
          They hear the CLATTERING COPTER coming in. Safety catches
          off-- Automatic weapons-- Pistols pointed skyward--
          INT. "SPECIAL" - NIGHT
          Murphy's not going to cross Wilshire-- He's going to run
          down its length, west to east, strafing.
                              MURPHY
                         (putting down his visor)
                    Well...let's do it...
          He puts the Special into a wide curve, turning around over the
          southwest section of the city, preparing for his run.
          INT. INSOMNIAC'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
          The Insomniac has no radio.  He's sleeping at last and doesn't
          know what's going on.
          All he hears is the CLATTER of an approaching helicopter. His
          EYES FLASH OPEN -- and he grabs the RIFLE.
          The old man flies to the window -- throws the rifle up to
          his shoulder --
                              INSOMNIAC
                         (shrieks)
                    Die!  You BASTARD!
          --and fires ONE SHOT.
          EXT. "SPECIAL" - NIGHT
          The single round HITS THE COPTER ENGINE. The engine spews
          OIL.
 
          INT. "SPECIAL" - NIGHT
          Murphy knows instantly that the copter is seriously damaged. The
          ENGINE SPUTTERS -- and STOPS. The worst SOUND of all -- NO
          SOUND BUT RUSHING AIR... oil pressures dropping as the
          copter loses altitude the large rotor blades auto-rotate as
          the air pushes up against them giving Murphy some control
          over the float-down--
          Murphy has practiced emergency landings like this -- all pilots
          do He looks quickly below-- sees a half-empty USED CAR LOT
          at the end of an alley... he aims for the lot... drifts down
          like a leaf... shoots the alley... just clears the end of it
          without hitting an apartment house... ...TOUCH DOWN.
          EXT. USED CAR LOT - NIGHT
          Catching his breath. Exhausted. We hear APPROACHING POLICE
          SIRENS.
          Three cruisers SQUEAL up at the end of the alley. 12 COPS
          with pistols and rifles scramble out. They brace on the
          hoods and trunks of the cars.
                              COP WITH BULLHORN
                    Come...OUT OF THE COPTER!  With
                    your...HANDS UP!  I repeat...COME! 
                    OUT!  With--
          Murphy doesn't move.  Sitting bent over.
          A nervous young cop -- in settling his elbow on top of the car
          door -- accidentally DISCHARGES his pistol.  The round hits
          the copter and PLINKS OFF.
 
          INT. "SPECIAL" - NIGHT
          Murphy looks up. Angry. Still wearing the Honeywell visor. He
          LOOKS at the cop cars. The cannon SWIVELS. The four
          cars--and the cops next to them--disappear in a THUNDEROUS
          orange ball of flame.
          EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT
          Smoke blows across the SCREEN...and fire. More SIRENS
          APPROACHING -- tires SQUEALING -- doors SLAMMING --
          The arriving SWAT teams don't ask questions -- They pump
          every weapon they have into the helicopter.
          The Special doesn't answer... It slowly collapses into a
          mound of metal and plastic... As suddenly as it began -- the
          firing STOPS.
          A SWAT team walking through the wall of smoke... Toward the
          copter -- carefully. They begin going through the charred
          wreck. Poking around. Murphy's body is not there.
          INT. ASTRO DIVISION - FRONT LOBBY - NIGHT
          The place is packed with newsmen and photographers, and cops. 
          Lights.  TV.  Pandemonium.  Bruddock, and the Mayor, and the
          Commissioner are trying to answer all the screamed
          questions.
                              POLICE COMMISSIONER
                         (into phone)
                    He's in the city somewhere!  Find
                    him!
          The front doors -- swing open. Murphy walks in. All sound
          STOPS.
 
          Every face in the room turns. Murphy walks slowly the length
          of the lobby. His uniform half burned; his face sooty; one
          arm hanging at his side, the other holding his flying
          helmet. Every cop in the place DRAWS and sights on Murphy. 200
          pistols pointing at him as he walks. Still dead silence.
          Murphy walks up top the night desk. Up to Bruddock -- his
          Captain -- He snaps to attention. Very tall. Very straight. Very
          crazy. He salutes Bruddock crisply.
                              MURPHY
                    Lieutenant Murphy -- reporting for
                    debriefing -- sir.
          Murphy holds the salute...waiting for an incredulous
          Bruddock to return it . . .
          
                                    THE END
                              


Comments on this item | Post a Comment >
Fee Galindo (19.9.2012)
Wow! Very different than the film version. I can understand the concern Mr. O'Bannon had with the completely different direction the project went.

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