LOOSE ENDS ACT ONE FADE IN: 1. SUPER: December, 1995. The cloaked CIA stealth satellite Misty soars 150 miles above Baja California. EXT. ABOVE BAJA CALIFORNIA - DAY At the upper limits of the lucent biosphere, a small spot grows as our eye closes on the strange object. 
Our eye enters Misty’s camera -- 
and plunges down. The Baja peninsula expands to Baja’s southern tip -- 
(Photo of Cabo Falso, courtesy of Latitude 38) as we overtake -- 2. EXT. ALTITUDE, OFFSHORE - CABO FALSO TO CABO SAN LUCAS -- a small twin-engine plane, following a long white wake, flies easterly along the beach toward Cabo San Lucas’ Land’s End. 3. INT. PLANE COCKPIT PILOT and CO-PILOT at the controls. The plane clears Land’s End, banks left. The white wake leads to a sleek motor yacht moving slowly to the Hacienda Hotel moorings. Co-Pilot aims a camera. Shutter CLICKS. SHOT: Motor yacht’s stern and lettering: DELFIN DE ORO Palma Mallorca España The plane banks left toward the Las Glorias Hotel. A small dinghy with three people aboard approaches the dock. 4. EXT. LAS GLORIAS HOTEL DOCK Fat, lumpy GEORGE SELKIRK (60), and his wife, SUSAN (50), a trim, aging beauty, stand on the dock beside two suitcases. Slim, tanned MONA DEERING (26) sits at the dinghy’s controls, her knees clamped tightly together. Mona, her plain features devoid of cosmetics, is dressed in white blouse, Bermuda shorts and sneakers. Her sun-bleached ponytail trails from a baseball cap. Still, she exudes considerable sexual energy. George scowls, turns his back on the two women. Susan gives Mona a “suffering wife” smile. SUSAN Take care of old Rocking Chair, Mona. It’s our baby. Remember, any problems, you have our telephone number. George picks up the suitcases, trudges to the hotel. MONA Don’t worry, Mrs. S. Bye, Dr. Selkirk. See ya’ all in a couple ‘a weeks. George ignores Mona, continues walking. Susan consoles Mona. SUSAN
Don’t mind him. George can be such a bear. MONA I don’t think he trusts me with Rocking Chair. 5. EXT. MARINA CHANNEL EXIT Mona and dinghy speed toward the Gold Dolphin. 6. EXT. GOLD DOLPHIN On the yacht’s flying bridge, CAPTAIN ROBERTO DELAFINA (62), a handsome Latino, black hair graying at the temples, leans on the coaming, looks down on the foredeck. As he turns to watch the approaching dinghy, we see his dark eyes — like looking down the barrel of a shot gun. On the foredeck, ENRIQUE (22), a short, buffed Latino stud, lays on the deck, fishing with a long boathook for a mooring line tied to a buoy in the water below. The speeding dinghy passes close to the yacht's bows, on which an image of a golden dolphin holding silver crucifix in its beak is prominently displayed. Enrique loses the mooring line as the buoy tosses about in the dinghy's wake. 7. EXT. FLYING BRIDGE - ROBERTO P.O.V. Enrique leaps to his feet, gives Mona the fist. ENRIQUE (yells) “Puta.” Mona flips Enrique the bird. The loose boathook heads overboard. Enrique scrambles to retrieve it. The dinghy races to the east, leaving behind a wide wake, a trail of rolling yachts and a lot of angry sailors. ROBERTO (laughs)  8. INT. CIA HQS. - LANGLEY - DIRECTOR’S OFFICE CIA Director MATTHEW FORD (60), heavy-set, balding, confers with Deputy Director of Intelligence, CLIFFORD YOUNG (55), a tall, lean black man, and Deputy Director of Operations, JAMES MAKEPEACE BOWIE (55), a white man built like an NFL linebacker with a face to match. FORD What a fascinating story. You know, I never did think the Warren Report made sense. But I had no idea this thing was so close to us. Young and Bowie study their hands. FORD (continues) So, what are we going to do about it? YOUNG I suppose a better question might be, why do anything after all these years? FORD OK, Cliff. What’s your answer? YOUNG I plead modesty. Actually what Cliff said was the Director’s question back in sixty four. The President told him to deep-six everything. FORD OK. So what’s the problem now? YOUNG Well, for one thing, researchers keep bombing us under the Freedom of Information Act. BOWIE Yeah. And Congress is talking about more hearings. If that happens, they’ll be looking for our files. FORD Well, if we don’t have them, what’s the problem. YOUNG We thought the most sensitive materials were destroyed. FORD (sighs) Bureaucrats never destroy records. They’re obsessed with covering their asses. Administrations come and go. BOWIE That’s not the problem. When the Director went into the files to do the job himself, all he found was -- 9. SUPER: 1964 FLASHBACK INT. CIA HQS - STORAGE FILE STACKS A CRAGGY FACED MAN (60), steel-rimmed glasses, a shock of thick curly white hair pulled back from a high forehead, wanders down an aisle between racks of file cases, peering at the labels with a flashlight. He stops at a section marked CUBA, 1958-1962, examines a row of cases labeled ZAPATA. Pulls one down. It’s empty. On its face is a single boldly scrawled word: "CUIDADO." 10. END FLASHBACK - RETURN TO SCENE FORD “Cuidado?” BOWIE Yeah. That’s Spanish for “Beware.” “Be careful.” FORD I know what it means, you jackass. It means we can’t make up a new batch of records because they can release photocopies of the originals to the press and then we’ll be stuck with a cover-up, just like we nailed Nixon with Watergate. YOUNG Yeah. It's been their life insurance policy for over thirty years. FORD Damn! Politicians and reporters are like dogs. BOWIE Say what? Bowie glances at Young, LAUGHS. FORD Like dogs. If a man runs, they bite him. And if he stands still, they piss on him. So, what d’you want me to do? YOUNG Well, we’ve worked out several scenarios, but they’re all risky, and call for policy decisions that aren’t ours to make. FORD Such as? BOWIE We’ve been keeping track of these guys for some time now. What say we grab them and wring them out for the files? Any time you give the order. FORD You know we can’t operate that way anymore. YOUNG Besides, the risk is too great. With the country so divided and everyone at each other’s throats, whatever we do, if it becomes public, there’ll be serious political repercussions. FORD Yeah. The country is practically ungovernable. Except in times of great crisis. YOUNG Especially in times of crisis. Because then it’s cover your ass time. People run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Biting and scratching for political advantage. Playing the blame game. Determined to protect their turfs, and the country be damned. BOWIE Hell. I don’t know why we have to keep covering for these pussies. FORD Well, what do you recommend? YOUNG Nothing. FORD Nothing? YOUNG Yeah, do nothing at all. Frankly, we think the Director back then was right. Let sleeping dogs lie. The more you stir it, the more it stinks. And then there’s the law of unintended consequences. FORD Well, I’m going to have to call the President. But if I don’t spell it out for him, he'll go crying to the National Security Council, the Secret Service, the FBI, the First Lady, and whoever he likes to talk to in the dead of night. YOUNG Yeah. There'll be leaks all over the place and the CIA will end up being the goat, just like with the Bay of Pigs. (Continue to p. 3.) | 
