"ATOMIC BLONDE" (2017)

ATOMIC BLONDE

Written by

Kurt Johnstad

Based on the Oni Press graphic novel series "The Coldest City"

written by

Antony Johnston

And illustrated by

Sam Hart

FADE UP FROM BLACKNESS:

SUPER: “BERLIN, NOVEMBER 9, 1989”

The room is lit by a single bare bulb and a small television. A man with “Eric Clapton” hair and moustache circa 1976 sits alone, drinking two fingers of single-malt scotch.

This is DAVID PERCEVAL.

INSERT - NEWS FOOTAGE

MTV’s Kurt Loder reports from the Berlin Wall. We see from the MTV news footage that massive crowds are assembling. Two EAST GERMAN SOLDIERS stand on the Wall, holding an MTV umbrella, an iconic symbol of the times.

BACK TO SCENE

We MOVE ON a reflection of Perceval on the television. Perceval leans in, shuts off the television and stands with a clear objective. Time to go.

The air is electric as West Germans carry hammers, chisels and pickaxes with purpose towards the Berlin wall.

We see Perceval turn the corner into a dark alleyway near a parked Saab 900 Turbo. Perceval sees a figure in the shadows and slows.

We hear the faint sounds of HAMMERS STRIKING against concrete.

In the distance, the CROWDS’ CHEERS are heard.

Perceval’s eyes follow a group of West Germans with hand tools moving towards the Wall.

Perceval turns back to the wordless figure in the shadows.

Perceval smiles softly to himself as he looks towards the crowds.

In the faint light, we see the flash of gunmetal.

We hear a GUNSHOT BARK out!

SUPER: “LONDON, NOVEMBER 11, 1989 - TWO DAYS LATER”

A bathtub filled with ice cubes and freezing water. A woman appears from beneath the surface.

This is LORRAINE BROUGHTON.

Broughton’s body is athletic and strong but also patchwork of bruises and cuts from the last ten days. She pulls a towel across her body, steps from the cold water and pours two fingers of Stoli into glass. Broughton looks down at the words “Hotel Moskva” on the label and then to the mirror.

She CLICKS on the dial of shitty RADIO. We hear David Bowie’s “Cat People Putting out Fire.”

Broughton opens a vanity drawer. Next to the cosmetics is a framed photo of her and a handsome man in front of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Broughton stares down at the photo for moment, held by a memory and then reaches for a compact.

Broughton covers her contusions with makeup and dresses in a Navy crepe wool skirt suit from Chanel, heels and Jackie-O sunglasses. Simple and sexy.

As she opens a Kelly bag we see a Browning Hi-Power at rest next to a pack of Woodbine cigarettes. Broughton doesn’t need to chamber check the weapon. It’s always loaded, cocked, locked and awaiting her command.

She pulls a cigarette from the pack, steps out of the bathroom, glances at the her empty bed and lights her Woodbine. Broughton walks out her apartment door.

Bowie’s voice builds as we follow her out.

The morning is crisp. A double-decker bus drives past with “Boycott Apartheid” painted on its side.

Just across the Westminster Bridge sits a limestone and glass post-modern fortress. This is the British headquarters of MI6. Broughton walks through the busy streets and into the Century House.

Broughton moves through the lobby and towards a line of people waiting at the metal detectors. The SECURITY PERSONNEL wave her straight through. She belongs here; she’s a bad ass. Security walks her to a single elevator, inserts a key, and Broughton enters the elevator alone. The doors close.

ELEVATOR

There is only one button, and that is an arrow down. Broughton pushes the button and rides the elevator for some time.

HALLWAY

As the doors open, she is meet by another two armed security personnel who nod and wave her past them.

Broughton walks down a long, top lit, Kubrickian 60s hallway. We see a remote video camera track her. No one else is down here, and the two security personnel are 100 yards away by now.

Broughton stops at an unmarked door. We see another video camera lens focus on her, and the electronic DEAD BOLT CLICKS the door open.

The “BIN” is a sterile ISO-FAC (Isolation Facility) for the debriefing of operatives returning to England. The room is sparse. All the walls are covered in 60s acoustic sound tiles save for a two-way mirror on one wall.

MR. ERIC GRAY, mid-sixties and capable, sits with EMMETT KURZFELD of the CIA at wooden table. Broughton enters and slows as she sees Kurzfeld.

Broughton takes a seat across from the two men.

Gray leans back and sits next to Kurzfeld.

OTHER SIDE OF THE TWO-WAY MIRROR

We see a older man, “C,” watching. His face is reflected in the glass of the two-way mirror.

Broughton looks straight into the two-way mirror and nods with the confidence that C is there.

BACK TO ISO-FAC

Broughton looks at Gray and Kurzfeld.

Gray reaches across to a Nagra III reel-to-reel recording unit that rests on the desk. Gray CLICKS the recording DIAL.

Gray leans forward and begins the interview.

Broughton calmly replies to Gray.

Broughton looks to the two-way mirror and then to Kurzfeld. Gray scribbles down a note in a folder stamped “Top Secret” in front of him and looks up at Broughton.

A GRAFFITI TITLE CARD SCRAWLS OUT: “THE COLDEST CITY”

SUPER: “LONDON, NOVEMBER 2, 1989 - NINE DAYS AGO”

Hard rain. Broughton walks up the wide stairs of Century House. A handmade Fox umbrella shelters her from the weather.

The office is classic British Empire. Framed conquest maps hang on the walls. A Regent desk in dark wood and oxblood leather chairs. Gray and another man, the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service known only as “C,” sit across from one another.

C What about her field craft and perishable skills?

C Knowing the reds as I do, she’ll need to use every damn one of them.

There is a KNOCK on the office DOOR. Neither Gray or C stand as Broughton enters the room.

Broughton looks to the emotionless man who remains seated in a straight-back chair.

C motions towards a chair, and Broughton sits at the table and opens a pack of Woodbine cigarettes.

Gray pulls a cadet lighter from his pocket, leans across his desk and lights Broughton’s Woodbine. Broughton takes a drag off of her cigarette and exhales.

Gray and C share a quick look, trying to decipher if she is lying to them.

SUPER: “WEST BERLIN, NOVEMBER 1, 1989”

5 AM. Snow is falling. Most Berliners in the French, British and American sectors of this divided city are asleep. A dependable-looking middle-aged man runs down the empty street.(The same man from the photo in Broughton’s vanity)

This is JAMES GASCIONE.

Gascione’s shoes pound the pavement. His lungs burn. Each quick exhale leaves a ghostly trail behind him. Remember the gradation of fear in Gascione’s eyes as he glances over his shoulder.

Two ROUGH MEN chase after him through the snow. They are all business. They are KGB.

Gascione cuts through a backyard, hurdles several fences, vaults over a brick wall and lands. He checks over his shoulder again. Nothing. Maybe he lost them.

Gascione sprints towards the river and glances again just as...

... the ROAR of an ENGINE gets his attention. Gascione holds his hands out on instinct, headlights blinding him until he feels the front of a sedan SLAM into his legs just above the knees.

Gascione’s body is lifted and then violently pinned against a parked car. Pain surges through his body as he looks down at his mangled legs. The sedan reverses a few feet, and Gascione crumples facedown onto the snowy pavement.

The two rough men slowly jog up to the scene as an average- looking man, YURI BAKHTIN emerges from the car and moves towards Gascione.

Gascione’s eyes tilt upward at Bakhtin.

Bakhtin presses the barrel of a Makarov pistol onto Gascione’s forehead. The MAKAROV BARKS OUT, and Gasicone is consumed by the white halo of a muzzle flash.

Silence.

Bakhtin grabs Gascione’s wrist and removes a classic “ Carl F Bucherer ” wrist watch. Bakhtin nods towards the two rough men, who lift Gasicone’s lifeless body from the blood-soaked snow and dump it into the river Spree.

C (PRE-LAP) Gascione is dead.

Broughton lowers her cigarette without a word.

Gray sets down a black-and-white photo of an average-looking MAN in a Soviet military uniform.

C Bakhtin never arrived in Moscow.

Gray picks up the photo and scans the documents within a TS (Top Secret) folder stamped “UK eyes only.”

Broughton takes another drag from her cigarette.

Broughton lowers her cigarette as a thin ribbon of smoke curls up towards the low ceiling.

C The real question must be: is it wise to hope it’s not possible instead of proving it is?

There is a moment of silence in the room. A challenge has just been laid down.

C Tell her the rest of the good news.

C You find Satchel in this embarrassing mess and we’ll hang him for treason.

Broughton exhales smoke from her lungs and hardens to the truth of this knowledge.

C (CONT’D) The list is the whole damn chessboard. Whoever controls it controls the Cold War.

C Gorbachev’s glasnost nonsense has his people hopeful, and there is nothing worse than a hopeful enemy.

Gray sits behind the Regent desk.

C The list is still in Berlin.

C leans ever so slightly forward in his chair to commit importance to his words.

C (PRE-LAP) Most of the allied officers have been in Berlin for years.

HARDCUT:

SUPER: “EAST BERLIN, NOVEMBER 2, 1989”

Perceval slams a empty shot glass of whiskey down on the bar.

We hear Public Enemy’s Chuck D coming through the SPEAKERS with “Fight the Power.” Drunk East German youth fill the place. It’s a strange mix of punk, hip hop, and anti-East German establishment.

Perceval takes some D-marks from a KID for a bottle of Jack Daniels and a old Penthouse magazine. Another East German hands him money, and Perceval hands over a pair of Levi’s. Perceval has a nice little side business in selling contraband.

C (V.O.) With no embassy to watch over them, they play by their only rules.

Perceval sees a clean-cut East German enter and sit at a quiet table near the bar.

This is SPYGLASS.

He is the real reason Perceval is in the East. Perceval moves across the room and joins him at the table. Perceval hands a small brown bag of contraband (canned food, Jack Daniels and women’s jeans) to Spyglass.

Spyglass looks up at Perceval with consternation settling in his brown eyes.

Spyglass’s eyes are filling with despair.

Perceval studies Spyglass for a moment.

Spyglass takes a breath as he controls his anxiety.

Spyglass nods. Suddenly, the front door of the club is kicked in. We see the green-gray uniforms of the EAST GERMAN STASI OFFICERS surge into the crowd.

Perceval scans the room. An EAST GERMAN BARTENDER quickly motions to him.

Perceval and Spyglass avoid the chaos of the room. The bartender pulls back a small service door to reveal a hallway.

The bartender, Perceval, Spyglass, and several patrons run down the hallway to the door leading outside. Perceval opens the door to see two STASI OFFICERS standing directly in front of him.

Spyglass and the others are in the hallway, unseen to the Stasi. Perceval reaches into his pocket and pulls out a worn leather wallet. He steps towards the Stasi and in the same motion, throws the wallet into one officer’s face as a distraction. Perceval punches one Stasi in the throat and knees the other in the family jewels. Both drop to the alley and writhe in pain.

Perceval looks back through the door, still open a few inches as Spyglass and the others are witness to his burst of violence.

Perceval steps past the two Stasi on the ground and slowly jogs away down the alley and into the night.

C (PRE-LAP) It seems Berlin has its way with the younger generation. It’s infectious, an epidemic really. They’re all feral and have gone native.

Broughton exhales her Woodbine and stares at Gray and C through the smoke.

C No history to confuse your loyalties. You don’t even know Perceval.

C stands and slowly walks towards the threshold of the office door. C pauses with his back to the room.

C (CONT’D) When that bloody Wall comes crashing down, we don’t want to be under it. I want that list, Broughton. Bring it back home, and you’ll find yourself at Buckingham for tea.

C moves out the door, and Broughton looks back across the desk at Gray.

Gray hands Broughton the TS folder.

Gray points to a large metal “burn can” for documents in the corner of the room.

Gray walks toward the office door. Broughton flips open the folder to a black-and-white photo of BER-1, David Perceval.

Perceval carries a flashlight and takes a pull off a fifth of JD. He walks briskly and makes his way through a covert tunnel network towards West Berlin.

Gray stops and turns at his office door.

Gray steps out of the office, and Broughton opens the TS folder in front of her.

PRE-LAP on soundtrack: “One Thing Leads to Another” by The Fixx.

Broughton is in a window seat. We see a couple empty mini bottles of Stoli on the tray in front of her and hardcover copy of Trevanian’s “Shibumi”. Broughton looks out the window at the bleak November sky.

Broughton walks off the Pan Am flight and towards the passport control kiosks. She hands the West German PASSPORT OFFICER her UK passport. He looks at the passport photo and then to Broughton. He flips through the pages with scrutiny, gives her another look and then stamps her passport and waves her through.

We follow Broughton into the uncluttered airport terminal. A loose crowd waits for the arriving international travelers. From this crowd, a GENTLEMAN steps forward, all business, and extends his hand.

Broughton slows to a stop. The Gentleman’s British accent is good, perhaps too good.

Broughton scans the terminal then looks back to the Gentleman.

Broughton eyes her surroundings as they cross into a parking lot.

We see an attractive WOMAN turn from a phone booth, watching them, then methodically dial a number on the pay phone.

A forest green BMW 2002 sedan is isolated at the end of the parking lot. The Gentleman and Broughton climb in.

The Gentleman pulls out of the airport parking lot and onto the main route. They drive in silence.

Broughton looks into her side mirror and notices a Saab 900 Turbo tailing them.

Broughton looks again to her mirror and sees the Saab is still there.

Broughton looks back to the mirror. The Saab speeds up behind them and taps the BMW 2002 in a perfect PIT maneuver. Broughton quickly buckles her seat belt. The Gentleman is too busy controlling the car to notice Broughton reach across and depress the button to his seat belt. The BMW spins off the road, and Broughton braces for impact.

The BMW slams into a metal guard rail. The WINDSHIELD SHATTERS, and the Gentleman is ejected onto the hood.

Broughton relaxes and looks out at the bloody and moaning body of her driver. A figure drags the Gentleman off the hood and onto the frozen ground. We see Perceval look back through the shattered glass at Broughton.

Perceval stuffs a rag in the Gentlemen’s mouth and secures his mouth, ankles and hands with duct tape. Broughton unbuckles her seat belt and steps out of the BMW.

Perceval drags the Gentleman across to his idling Saab. The boot is already open.

Perceval dumps the Gentlemen into the boot. The Gentleman starts to realize what is happening. Broughton unloads a huge right hand into his face, more as a fuck you to Perceval than anything. The Gentleman’s body goes limp. Perceval shoots her a look, impressive.

Perceval slams the boot closed.

Broughton and Perceval move and get into the car.

The inside of the car is littered with Wienerwald wrappers and empty beer cans. Perceval jams the Saab into gear and speeds away.

Perceval turns with a peripheral smile.

Perceval points out the windshield.

Broughton ignores the remark.

Perceval looks for a reaction but gets nothing from Broughton.

Perceval points outside the car again.

The tension builds within the car. Perceval SLAMS on the brakes and slides the car to stop. Perceval gets out of the car, opens the trunk, pulls the KGB driver out and drags him onto the sidewalk.

We see a sign the reads: “Embassy of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic.”

Perceval leans the KGB driver against the Soviet Embassy’s wrought-iron gates. Within the compound several SOVIET GUARDS start to move towards the gates.

Perceval stomps his foot across the driver’s face for good measure.

We see a man built like a Soviet T-10 battle tank. He wears a gray Soviet translation of a Brooks Brothers suit and is all business as he moves into the room.

This is ALEKSANDER BREMOVYCH, KGB.

A dozen STASI OFFICERS have six EAST GERMAN PUNK ROCKERS and B-BOYZ from the underground night club lined up in their underwear against the wall. There is a wooden table in the center of the room and nothing more. Bremovych sets a carton of Russian “Belomorkanal” cigarettes on the table.

Bremovych lights a filter-less Belomorkanal from a pack of twenty five. Four Stasi officers drag a young man over and SLAM him face down onto the table. Bremoyvch holds a small B/W photo of Bakhtin.

Bremoyvch nods and lays down another photo of Spyglass.

Bremoyvch takes a long drag on the filter-less cigarette and then jams it into the young East German’s eye. The young man howls in pain and buckles under his captor’s hands. Bremovych lights another cigarette and holds up the carton for the rest of young men to witness.

Bremovych turns back to the whimpering young East German.

Perceval and Broughton are driving through the streets of West Berlin.

We see outside, a massive wall of graffiti-covered concrete that divides East and West.

Broughton looks out the side window.

Perceval SLAMS on the brakes and pulls the car to a stop.

Broughton opens the door and steps out.

Broughton crosses the hardscrabble street and walks towards her small hotel, never looking back.

A Patrick Nagel print hangs on the wall. The room is equal parts Euro-chic and Miami Vice. We hear the RUNNING WATER from the bathroom. Broughton sits on the edge of the bed watching MTV news on a color Zenith.

Broughton turns off the sound on the Zenith. She moves the hardcover of “Shibumi” onto the nightstand, picks up the rotary telephone, dials, and speaks.

Broughton hears a CLICK and sets the phone on its cradle.

Broughton walks into the bathroom and turns off the cold water filling the chipped porcelain tub. She turns to a half- dozen little ice buckets filled to the top and then dumps them into the bathtub.

This is her daily ritual, the ice bath.

Broughton switches off the bathroom light. The ZENITH is still PLAYING in the other room. She undresses in the faint light and steps into the freezing water without pause.

Broughton sinks up to her nose with only her pale green eyes on the icy surface... then disappears below.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 3, 1989”

Broughton stands on the steps of a colorless apartment building and RINGS a call box BUZZER. Across the street, fifty feet away, is the graffiti-covered Berlin Wall snaking through the neighborhood.

Surveillance gear and monitors sit on a small table. Contraband is everywhere: LPs, Jack Daniels, cartons of Lucky Strikes and Marlboro Reds. We hear the BUZZER, and Perceval, still in his clothes from last night, stirs and answers the call box.

Perceval grabs his coat and moves towards the front door.

Broughton waits and watches a couple of children kick a soccer ball against the Wall. We see the same WOMAN from the airport watching from a parked beige Mercedes 300D.

After a few moments, Perceval exits his building.

They start down the street, side by side.

Broughton, without slowing her stride, interrupts.

Perceval looks at Broughton and then clears the air between them with a simple nod.

Broughton looks at Perceval.

Perceval stops at a street vendor selling currywurst from a rolling cart. Perceval turns to Broughton.

Broughton doesn’t need to say no for Perceval to understand. He buys two, and they walk through a broadstone archway.

We see a sign that reads “TIERGARTEN PARK.”

They continue on the crushed gravel path until stopping next to a frozen duck pond. Perceval throws small pieces of his currywurst bun out onto the ice.

A thin man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a heavy winter topcoat approaches.

It’s Emmett Kurzfeld.

Broughton extends her hand.

Kurzfeld’s hand stays in the warmth of his pocket.

Broughton slowly retracts her hand.

Broughton looks to Perceval.

Broughton looks back to Kurzfeld.

Kurzfeld turns to Perceval.

Kurzfeld nods towards Broughton.

Kurzfeld walks on alone through the park covered in rags of snow and frozen grass.

The NAGRA III keeps recording. The ashtray on the table is filled with several crushed Woodbines. Gray and Kurzfeld look across at Broughton.

Broughton pulls another Woodbine out of her pack.

The sky is colorless. A lone figure walks through the cold and across the “Bridge of Spies.” As the figure gets closer we see it is Bremovych.

His KGB DRIVER is waits for him on the West German side.

Bremovych pauses for a moment and looks at the swollen face and black eye of the driver.

The Gentleman opens the side door of a black sedan.

Bremovych climbs in.

Perceval and Broughton enter the room.

Broughton hands over her coat. She moves down a short hallway as Perceval hangs her coat on a hook by the front door.

Less chaos than the rest of Perceval’s apartment. A plain desk and two worn-leather club chairs. A bookshelf running the length of the room. A small TELEVISION PLAYS MTV Europe in the background.

Broughton scans the shelves filled with volumes in six foreign languages, save for the “Great Books” that are all in English.

Broughton’s eyes settle onto Volume 23.

Broughton turns back to Perceval.

A hint of a smile from Perceval.

Perceval is at his desk and reaches for an eighteen-year-old bottle of single malt from the Isle of Skye.

We hear the German version of “Major Tom” by Völlig Losgelöst PLAYING on the TELEVISION.

Broughton picks up a “Penthouse” magazine from a stack on table.

Broughton sets the magazine back down as Perceval pours two fingers of Talisker into a heavy glass.

Perceval raises the glass in silent tribute.

Broughton remains steady and without emotion. Perceval slowly sips the scotch.

The slightest smile appears at the corner of Broughton’s mouth, then disappears.

Perceval nods and lifts his glass of scotch.

Perceval glances at his desk and hands her a piece of paper with Gascione’s passport number.

Broughton gives him a silent look, and that’s all Perceval needs to have his question answered. Perceval moves back to the front door and hands Broughton her coat from the hook.

Broughton turns for the attaché office door.

Broughton pops open the back on the hardcover novel of “Shibumi” to reveal a lead lined compartment.

Inside: a Narga SN mirco recording unit and thin surveillance microphone.

With care Broughton tapes the wire to her lean body and then conceals the Narga SN recorder. Broughton checks herself in the mirror. Perfect. Behind her, the bathtub of ice cubes drains. Broughton steps into the room and glances at the Zenith.

We see news of the German protests growing in size around both sides of the Berlin Wall.

Broughton grabs her dark coat and is out the door.

Along a quiet street, just around the corner from Zoo Station, is a tiny watch repair shop. Broughton enters with purpose.

Broughton moves through orderly store filled with hundreds of grandfather clocks. A couple of patrons mill about the aisles. In the back of the shop, a middle-aged man known only as the WATCHMAKER stares through magnified jeweler’s glasses at the guts of a “Newman” Daytona.

The Watchmaker never looks up from his delicate work. With a thick German accent:

Broughton exits the shop without another word, and the Watchmaker never looks up from the precision of his work.

A working-class neighborhood. Broughton approaches the apartment building and deftly breaches her way inside.

Broughton climbs up a dimly-light stairwell to the fifth floor landing. She quickly shims the lock and steps into apartment 5A without a sound.

Broughton moves through Gascione’s apartment and studies the details of a dead man.

The CAMERA FOLLOWS her as she moves to the bedroom, examining.

A closet of perfectly-folded clothes and shoes in neat rows. The bed’s made with military corners. A porthole into Gascione’s precise and orderly life.

Broughton steps into the living room. She walks towards a Biedermeier Secretaire desk and picks up a framed photo.

We see a young James Gascione and David Perceval in the English countryside, Holland & Holland shotguns cradled over their shoulders and freshly-killed rabbits in both of their strong hands.

Broughton sets the photo down and takes in the room.

Outside the window, Broughton notices the building across the street bathed in blue flashing lights. She leans towards the window for a better view.

We see German polizei cars roll to a stop. A dozen OFFICERS advance towards the apartment building.

Broughton moves through the hallway as she hears the polizei five floors below.

Broughton pushes a sofa out of the living room and down the short hallway. She pushes the sofa out into the stairwell landing.

We hear POLIZEI BOOTS four floors below.

Broughton moves back to the kitchen and finds what she needs: a box of steel wool and bottle of high-proof rubbing alcohol. Broughton moves back down the hallway.

We hear POLIZEI BOOTS three floors below.

Broughton piles the steel wool on the sofa, soaks the sofa and steel wool in rubbing alcohol and stands back.

Broughton draws a black ski mask from her jacket pocket and pulls it over her head.

We hear POLIZEI BOOTS two floors below.

Broughton lights a match against the wall and tosses it onto the soaked steel wool and sofa.

WHOOOOM!

Broughton pushes the burning sofa down the stairs at the advancing polizei and forces them to dive out of the way. The polizei push past flames and climb the stairs. Still wearing the ski mask, Broughton ducks back in the apartment and waits in the darkness.

The first officer charges in with his baton in hand. Broughton slams the door and bolts it shut. As the officer turns, Broughton strikes him with blinding speed and then hanging arm throws him to the floor.

The officers outside in the hallway are POUNDING on the DOOR. Broughton picks the baton and then cracks it down on the officer. He is out cold.

We hear the CHAMBERING of a breaching ROUND into a shotgun, and Broughton rolls out of the way as the LOCK on the front door EXPLODES inwards.

Broughton bolts through the living room as a second officer grabs her from behind. Broughton snaps her head back, crushing his nose, and then hip throws her attacker through the glass doors of the balcony.

Broughton steps over the broken glass and the officer. She quickly climbs out onto the thin features of the building. It’s not gymnastic pretty but sixty feet off the street, Broughton is strong and without fear.

Broughton, now on the rooftop, quickly scans the buildings around her as she sprints across the flat roof.

Three polizei officers pull themselves onto the rooftop, and the chase is on. Broughton jumps down a staggered rooftop, lands and sprints with the polizei closing in.

Without slowly down, Broughton jumps across onto the next rooftop and lands safely. The polizei follow her with less elegance.

Broughton leaps across an open gap between the last two apartment buildings, lands on a ledge and then jumps into the void below.

The three polizei run to the edge of the rooftop, only to see the human wearing a ski mask and dark winter jacket land on the thick nylon roof of a farmer’s market tent.

Broughton slides down the tent roof, lands on her feet, and never looks back. The three polizei can do nothing but watch as the figure disappears into the evening crowds.

PRE-LAP on the soundtrack: “Der Kommissar” by After the Fire.

Broughton steps from a taxi and walks towards the doors of the Palm Restaurant.

Soundtrack shifts to a piano player behind a Bosendorfer singing a slow and sexy club version of “Der Kommissar.” Broughton walks up to an empty space at the Art Deco bar.

The BARTENDER nods. Broughton puts a cigarette to her lips and turns slowly to the room.

A PATRON holds out a Riga metal lighter with its flame burning. Without a word, Broughton leans into the fire, lights her smoke, and only when she pulls away do...

We see the Soviet KGB agent, Bremovych.

Broughton nods her head slowly through the smoke, studying his voice.

Broughton goes back to her Stoli.

A woman steps to the bar behind Broughton. This is DELPHINE LASALLE. She’s a mixture of punk rock and Peter Beard muse. This the same woman who was watching Broughton at the airport and on the street.

Lasalle turns to Bremovych.

Bremovych looks at Broughton.

Broughton shares a look with Bremovych, and then he exits past the restaurant tables towards the coat check.

Lasalle watches Bremovych leave and then turns back to Broughton with a smile that could end the Cold War.

Lasalle gestures to the Bartender for a drink.

The Bartender sets down a tumbler in front of Lasalle.

LaSalle smiles.

LaSalle takes a drink and lets her sexuality hang in the air for a moment.

Lasalle writes out the address on a cocktail napkin.

We see several paparazzi start a frenzy of STROBES by the front door.

Lasalle slides the address in front of Broughton.

Lasalle moves towards the crowd of photographers and out onto the street. We see Perceval watching from a corner table, a safe distance from being noticed by Broughton.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 4, 1989”

Broughton walks up the wide, brick steps of a government building.

We see Lasalle across the street, watching Broughton enter the West Berlin City Morgue.

The CORONER walks Broughton through the spotless corridors.

The Coroner holds the door open for Broughton.

A bright, sterile world. Along the wall, stainless steel racks of cold storage hold dead bodies. The Coroner heaves a cold rack open and pulls back a thin cotton sheet from the body. Broughton stares down at James Gascione in the stillness of death. There is a moment of contemplation for a fallen friend or maybe more.

Broughton looks at the Coroner, nice try.

Broughton hands the transfer papers to him.

The Coroner studies the paperwork carefully.

The corner pulls the sheet over the body and pushes the cold rack back into the wall.

The Coroner moves back to the door and holds it open for Broughton without another word.

Perceval sits behind his bare desk with his dark eyes locked onto Broughton.

Perceval grabs the morgue’s transfer papers from Broughton.

Perceval slams the paper down onto his desk.

Perceval pushes back from his desk and looks dead center into Broughton’s eyes.

Perceval and Broughton tread through the crisp afternoon parallel to the colorful graffiti-covered concrete of the Berlin Wall.

Broughton’s face shows nothing.

Perceval turns to Broughton.

Two US ARMY jeeps with SOLDIERS from the 2nd Battalion 6th Infantry patrol past. Perceval gestures towards the Brandenburg Gate.

They climb the stairs of a wooden observation platform for tourists and West Germans to see over the Wall to the East.

Perceval points and moves his hand along the ribbon of concrete. He stops at a tenebrific group of buildings on the eastern side of the Wall.

Perceval looks at Broughton and sizes up the moment.

Broughton nods.

Perceval smiles at his own words being repeated to him.

Perceval calmly replies:

The two stand in silence and look out over the Wall to the colorless East beyond. The stakes are clear to both of them: life or death.

Broughton glances at Perceval.

Perceval studies Broughton for a second.

Broughton says nothing.

Perceval walks down the wooden stairs and leaves Broughton standing alone on the observation platform.

Broughton removes thin wire from her body and sets it back into the hardcover book. We see several fully recorded SN mirco tapes on the desk. Broughton stands on the bed, slides a ceiling tile back and places the novel, Narga SN and recorded tapes in the small space and slides the ceiling tile back.

The night sky is without warmth. Broughton walks along the rain-soaked Kurfürstendamm. West Germans mill about the shopping district.

Broughton moves into the crowds at Zoo Station and exits out the other side. She crosses the quiet street, looks over her shoulder once to confirm no one is following her and then enters the small watch repair shop.

Broughton proceeds to the back towards the workshop. The Watchmaker is hunched over another Swiss watch, never looking up from his work.

Broughton picks up the plain envelope.

Broughton puts the plain envelope inside her coat pocket without looking inside.

Broughton looks at the Watchmaker for a moment and then leaves.

PRE-LAP on soundtrack: “The Politics of Dancing” by Re-Flex.

The smoke-heavy room is full of West Berlin’s new wave youth. Lasalle stands at the back of the room near the crowded bar as Broughton enters and approaches her.

Broughton lights a cigarette.

Lasalle hands Broughton a glass of Stoli on ice.

LaSalle lifts her drink in salute.

In one movement, Broughton lifts and empties her glass of vodka.

LaSalle orders another round.

LaSalle smiles at Broughton, leans closer and whispers in her ear.

Broughton looks at LaSalle and off that look --

Broughton pushes Lasalle against the hallway wall, kissing her softly, then harder and with more passion.

Broughton pushes open the club’s bathroom door just as two young punks exit.

Broughton locks the bathroom door as her winter coat falls to the floor.

Broughton’s hand wraps around the small of Lasalle’s back and pulls a concealed handgun from Lasalle’s lean waist.

Broughton backhands Lasalle across the face, sending her to the floor.

Lasalle looks up with a thin stream of blood at the corner of her perfect mouth.

Lasalle stares up the barrel of her own gun.

Broughton holds the weapon steady.

Lasalle nods her head.

Broughton cocks the hammer back on the pistol and drops the safety off.

Lasalle leans over and picks up Broughton’s winter coat.

Lasalle hands Broughton her coat.

Broughton de-cocks LaSalle’s pistol and thumbs the safety on.

Broughton pulls Lasalle closer, and they fall...

... onto the sheets of a simple bed. Lasalle’s hand pushes back along the wall... her fingers climbing against its rough surface, finding the light switch.

Broughton looks straight into Lasalle’s eyes which read equal parts temptation and fear. Broughton leans in, kisses her and gently bites her lower lip.

Lasalle’s hand pulls down against the light switch and the bedroom goes dark.

Broughton sits on the edge of the bed and exhales her cigarette smoke out the open window. The cold air feels good. Lasalle awakes... We see Broughton’s coat slung over the chair. RACK FOCUS... Outside the window.

A beat-to-hell Saab 900 Turbo stands out among the street of parked cars. Perceval lowers a high-powered Nikon F3 and telephoto lens. We see a “Seceret Service Style” ear bud in his ear. The headlights of the Saab illuminate, and Perceval pulls out into the morning.

Broughton leans forward and taps her Woodbine in the ashtray. A dozen used cigarettes rest there now. Gray threads a fresh reel to reel onto the NAGRA III and CLICKS record.

Gray looks at Kurzfeld and then scribbles a note into the TS folder.

An etiolated morning light comes through the window. Broughton has the open plain envelope on the small desk in front of her.

Broughton takes apart the back of the Ruhla wristwatch with a small screwdriver. She releases the pressure from the main spring and disassembles the watch movement using the pry points.

Broughton lifts the wheel plate and turns it over with a small tweezer.

We see engraved on the inside are a column of numbers.

Broughton removes the escape and sweep wheels. She sets them on the desk with the rest of the internal parts.

Broughton lays out a map of West and East Berlin. She looks at the column of engraved numbers.

First number in the sequence is 06. Broughton finds the number 06 on the map, and it tallies with Checkpoint Charlie.

Broughton looks to the next number: 7E. Broughton takes the tiny sweep wheel from the watch and rolls it on its edge 7 times in the direction of East, matching the 7E directive, and lands on the next engraved number 01.

Broughton repeats this action from position 01. 3N is the next number, and Broughton rolls the sweep wheel 3 times in the direction of North. She lands on number 12 on the grid coords of her map.

Broughton looks to the engraved numbers again. 2E is the last number. Broughton rolls across the map 2 times in the direction of East. She stops, lifts the sweep wheel and marks the rendezvous point on the map.

Broughton commits every detail of the map to her memory and begins to reassemble the watch.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 5, 1989”

Broughton waits to cross into East Berlin. A formidable- looking EAST GERMAN GUARD stares down at Broughton’s passport, then back into her face.

The East German Guard looks down again at her passport.

The East German Guard takes her papers and speaks with his SUPERIOR as Broughton waits. The East German Guard makes a phone call, then returns with Broughton’s passport and hands it back to her.

Broughton moves past an assembly of protesting EAST GERMAN YOUTH near the blank concrete Wall.

Broughton walks the local streets. As she moves, she glances at her reflection in a store window.

We see two young STASI OFFICERS shadowing her.

Broughton steps up her pace. The two Stasi officers continue to follow her.

Broughton moves through a crowded S-Bahn station and out the other side. The Stasi still follow... farther back now.

Broughton moves towards a large set of shops at the base of the East Berlin TV tower.

We see a government sedan pull to the curb.

The Stasi officers turn to the government sedan. Bremovych and his driver are in the front seat. In the rear seat sit two KGB officers, the same two rough men from Gascione’s assassination.

The KGB officers step from the back of the car and join the two Stasi officers. Broughton now has double the trouble walking towards her.

Broughton moves towards a local cinema named the Kino International.

Broughton moves through the doors and into the mid-century modern lobby.

THEATER

Broughton quickly moves into the dark and packed theater. The Stasi and KGB officers chase after her.

We see Richard Attenborough’s “CRY FREEDOM” and a young Denzel Washington on the screen.

Broughton egresses through the row of people, running down the aisle, then behind the aged-silk movie screen.

Broughton reaches up onto the movie theater wall and pulls down hard on the FIRE ALARM!

The audience jumps from their seats and floods the exits as the Stasi and KGB pursue Broughton.

Broughton melts into the crowd and disappears out the back doors in the mass exodus of patrons.

Bremovych and his driver pull to the curb at the rear of the movie theater. The Stasi and KGB search the crowd outside for Broughton. Nothing.

The two KGB officers move away from Bremovych’s sedan and back towards the crowd.

Broughton moves through the bombed-out neighborhood left over from the Second World War. She enters an abandoned building on the southwest corner of Arnimplatz.

Broughton moves up a set of crumbling stairs towards the roof. The Berlin Radio Tower looms close. Broughton steps onto the rooftop.

We see the young Bartender from the East German Club sitting in one of two lawn chairs on the roof. His newly-dyed hair and tattoos are visible from under his plain jacket.

This is MERKEL.

Merkel sits in one of the lawn chairs and looks out across the drab rooftops to the West.

Merkel points towards the Orwellian tower.

Broughton hands Merkel a fist full of Deutschmarks.

Broughton moves across the rooftop and down the dilapidated staircase.

Broughton laces the wire and SN mirco recording device back onto her body with flawless detail. Checks herself in the mirror, grabs her coat, and is out the door.

The Watchmaker is busy at work, when a solitary man enters the shop and moves towards the back to speak to him. Only when the man arrives do we reveal it is Bakhtin.

The watchmaker continues his accurate work.

The watchmaker looks up at Bakhtin.

The neon signs are bright. The KaDaWe department store is open late, and all is bustling along the Kurfürstendamm.

It’s a leather bar. On the wall, a mural-sized painting of a young Ronald Reagan in biker chaps à la “Daddy and the Muscle Academy” by Tom of Finland.

We hear “You Spin Me Round” by Dead or Alive PLAYING on a JUKEBOX.

The room is filled with men enjoying men and women enjoying women. Save for Perceval and Broughton, who sit in a red vinyl booth against a wall.

Broughton looks across at two men wearing full dress whites, clearly more Village People than US military.

Perceval raises his beer, about to drink.

Perceval stares at her, his beer still as stone in front of him. He slowly lowers the glass.

Perceval leans forward for impact.

Perceval stares at Broughton.

Broughton leans back into the booth slightly.

Perceval quickly scans around their table and firmly grabs Broughton’s arm to get her attention.

Broughton says nothing, only looks at Perceval’s hand on her bicep. Perceval gets the point and releases his grip.

Broughton stands and shoulders her winter coat.

Broughton walks out the door without another word.

Cold rain. Perceval steps outside as Broughton walks down the sidewalk.

Perceval jogs after her.

Perceval catches up to Broughton at a taxi stand.

Perceval extends his hand.

Broughton takes a moment, and then her hand meets his.

Broughton releases his hand, opens the taxi door and gestures for Perceval to join her.

Broughton looks to the German TAXI DRIVER and then to Perceval.

Broughton glances towards the taxi driver, and Perceval knows without saying anything (For operational security use a geminate-conversation). Broughton speaks Arabic. Perceval replies in Bahasa.

Broughton takes a moment and then replies with confidence.

The taxi slows to a stop.

We see they’re outside the bombarded ruins of the Kasier Whelm Memorial Church.

Perceval hands the driver several D-marks and exits. Broughton follows him onto the sidewalk. They now return to English.

Broughton’s determination is clear to Perceval.

Perceval nods.

Broughton turns, and without missing a beat, calls out over her shoulder.

Perceval watches her go, then lifts his coat collar to the cold and moves out alone into the night.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 7, 1989”

Broughton wears a jet black wig and a simple brown overcoat. She enters an S-Bahn station.

Broughton waits on the platform on the U6 line. The train arrives, and she steps into the matte-red train car.

The car is empty as Broughton sits next to Perceval. The train rolls down the tracks towards East Berlin.

The train begins to slow for the upcoming station.

Broughton and Perceval stand to exit.

The doors open, and they step out into the station.

They walk through the station until they reach a green metal door marked just as Perceval said: “Diensteingang.”

Perceval waits a beat for several workers to pass and then produces a small key and opens the door.

Broughton and Perceval slip inside without a wasted movement.

CONTROL ROOM/HALLWAYS

They move through an empty control room and down several dimly-light hallways until they reach an exterior door.

Perceval looks out through the dirty industrial glass window at four East German guards standing at attention across the street. Perceval looks at the sweep hand of his watch.

Outside, four more East German guards goose step towards the group standing at attention. Perceval locks eyes onto Broughton.

Outside, the guards goose step to a stop. As their comrades step off duty, the others step forward.

Perceval opens the metal service door, and they exit in a steady walk. Broughton and Perceval turn the corner just as the East German guards pivot and stand at attention, never seeing them exit the station.

Broughton and Perceval move through a barren neighborhood and quickly enter the door of the abandoned building.

From across the street, Spyglass watches their movements with apprehension.

Broughton and Perceval descend the stairs to the basement. As they turn the corner, they find Merkel waiting.

Perceval looks to Broughton.

At the top of the stairs, Spyglass appears, and all three of them turn. Broughton motions to Merkel.

Merkel nods and moves up the stairs past Spyglass. Perceval steps forward towards Spyglass.

Broughton approaches Spyglass and holds out a small package from Perceval’s office.

Broughton gestures to a small adjoining room.

Spyglass takes the package and does as he is told.

Merkel comes back down the stairs.

Merkel steps to a small table and rolls out a kitchen towel. Inside the towel is a Markov pistol.

Broughton chamber-checks the weapon and indexes the trigger perfectly to her hand. Broughton closes her eyes, feels the pistol’s weight, then finally looks down at the crisp profile of the front sight.

We have just witnessed flawless muscle memory and Broughton’s mastery of a weapon.

Broughton seats a loaded magazine, racks the slide and thumbs the safety. Clocked and locked, she slips the pistol into her waistband.

Broughton turns back to a clean-shaven Spyglass.

A 6x6 foot patch of the wall has been freshly painted pale yellow. Spyglass stands in front of the yellow patch.

Merkel steps forward and with a POLAROID LAND CAMERA -- CLICK! FLASH! -- Merkel pulls the film from the camera back, steps aside to a small folding card table and gets to work.

Spyglass is about say more when Perceval interrupts.

Merkel hands Perceval a forged West German passport. Perceval opens the lead page. Spyglass’s new photo is attached and stamped perfectly with the DDR-embossed seal. Perceval hands it to Spyglass.

Broughton looks to Perceval.

Spyglass looks at Merkel, who says nothing.

Spyglass turns around, visibly unsettled by her request.

Broughton glances at Perceval and then back to Spyglass.

Spyglass stares at her silently. Broughton points at the package wrapped in brown paper sitting on the table.

Merkel sets down a wallet and a set of keys next to the brown paper package of clothes.

Spyglass just stands there.

Spyglass strips down completely naked and begins to pull on the underwear and socks. Then, we hear a NOISE and Broughton draws and levels her pistol at the top of the stairs.

From the darkness appears a plainly-dressed East German woman (HELENA) and a young girl of four years (AUDREY). Merkel looks at the woman and child.

Perceval turns to Spyglass.

Half-dressed, Spyglass moves towards his wife and child.

Broughton looks at Perceval.

Perceval remains silent, and Broughton looks to Spyglass.

Spyglass stops talking. His wife and child are frightened.

Broughton turns to Perceval, who knows he has been caught. We hear the CROWDS of demonstrators outside MARCHING.

Broughton doesn’t look away from Perceval.

Perceval looks to Spyglass, the woman and the little girl.

We hear the SWELL of the CROWDS outside now. Broughton looks at the scared faces of Spyglass and his family.

Broughton turns back to group.

Spyglass hugs his wife and child and pulls the rest of his clothes on.

Perceval scans the streets. Merkel hands Broughton an umbrella at the doorway of the abandoned building. Spyglass and his family are at his side. We hear the distant CROWDS from Alexanderplatz.

The PROTESTERS slowly surge around the corner and begin to march past them. Merkel steps into the loud crowd moving down the streets.

Spyglass kisses his wife and daughter who have tears streaming down their faces.

Perceval removes a East German Ushanka (fur-lined officer’s hat) from his overcoat and puts it on his head. Perceval takes off his overcoat to reveal the green uniform and shoulder boards of an East German Oberst (Colonel).

Spyglass kisses his wife again.

Perceval and Spyglass’s family quickly blend into the thousands of East Germans and disappear down a side street.

Broughton lifts her umbrella.

Broughton and Spyglass step into the groundswell of the protest.

The same two KGB rough men (from the Gascione assassination and movie theater scene) are back, dressed in matching track suits. They occupy a gutted room. One works as a SNIPER and the other as his SPOTTER.

They’re set back from the window behind a Dragunov rifle and high-powered optics.

We see them scan the crowd below with precision, searching for their target.

Broughton looks to Merkel in the crowd, then lifts her black umbrella. Merkel nods, and throughout the crowd, dozens of black umbrellas begin to open.

The Sniper watches through his Dragunov scope as umbrellas begin to pop up and conceal the protesters. The Sniper glances at his spotter, who is unsure of what to do.

We see a sea of a hundreds of umbrellas on the streets below.

On the street, the crowd swells in size and closes the distance to the border laced thick with concertina wire.

The EAST GERMAN GUARDS watch the protesters as they advance towards the Oberbaumbrücke checkpoint.

Broughton turns to Spyglass as he leans into her.

Spyglass’s face reveals distress as he takes a few weak steps and staggers to his knees.

We see dark blood soaking down Spyglass’s back as the crowd of protesters comes apart.

We hear a SHOT ECHO off of the tall buildings.

CHAOS!

Umbrellas drop to the ground. Broughton’s eyes scan through the terrified protesters as East German Guards begin running in all directions.

The Spotter calls distance, bullet drop, and wind. The Sniper’s trigger fires with a smooth cadence. They search the street below for their target.

Across the street, Broughton pulls Spyglass behind a parked car to safety.

Broughton scans the buildings and rooftops. Another ROUND DEFLECTS off the hood of the car and POUNDS into the wall of the building.

Broughton grabs the side mirror of the car and angles it back towards the buildings. She is looking for the Sniper from the trajectory of the incoming rounds.

We see the slight glint of a rifle’s optics.

Broughton pulls Spyglass’s scarf from around his neck and hands it to him.

Broughton slaps Spyglass’s face as hard as she can to get his complete attention.

Spyglass puts the scarf against his wound with new resolve.

Broughton grabs Spyglass, and they sprint across the street towards the base of the Sniper’s building.

The Spotter provides security in the doorway as the Sniper breaks down and bags his rifle. The sniper team moves out into the hallway and SLIDES the bagged weapon down a coal shoot.

Broughton and Spyglass enter the lobby.

Spyglass leans against the base of the staircase. Broughton takes off her coat and reverses it, quickly changing the color from brown to green. Broughton exhales through her nose, slows her heart rate, and heads up the stairs.

First floor... Second... Third... and, as she is turning the corner to the fourth floor landing, the sniper team appears, coming down two steps at a time.

Broughton passes them on the stairs, and they pass her.

We see Broughton’s pistol press against the back of the Sniper’s head.

Without hesitation, the young Sniper spins and disarms Broughton. The PISTOL SKITTERS across the tile floor.

The Sniper draws and raises his own Markov when Broughton charges and disarms the weapon.

FIGHT TIME!

Two highly-trained men against one bad-ass woman.

It is close. Brutal. And extremely violent. Punches, knees and elbows thrown from both sides. The two men are relentless with their attack on Broughton. The Sniper knees Broughton in the face, and her body crumples to the floor, broken.

The Spotter picks Broughton up and is about to finish her off when... Broughton smashes her head into the Spotter and drives her thumb into the Sniper’s eye. Broughton’s body slams against the wall, sending plaster dust into the air.

They fight on.

We watch as three savages beat the living hell out of each other in a dingy staircase in East Berlin.

The Spotter leaps for the one of the disarmed pistols, but Broughton is there to stop him. They struggle for the weapon and roll across the landing.

The Spotter pounds his fists into Broughton’s body. Broughton escapes the barrage onto her back just as the Spotter raises the Markov pistol to her head.

Broughton uncoils her body, thrusts her legs into his chest and launches the Spotter backwards into the dazed Sniper. They both disappear over the stair railing without so much as a whimper.

Four floors of FREE FALL and then they SLAM onto the lobby floor next to Spyglass. Broughton picks up her pistol from the floor and calmly walks down the stairs. Broughton picks up the second pistol from the lobby floor and then steps past the two dead bodies.

Broughton and Spyglass move on. Broughton never looks back.

Broughton and Spyglass move down the street littered with black umbrellas.

Two unarmed EAST GERMAN GUARDS see Broughton supporting Spyglass, who’s soaked in blood.

The two East German Guards jog towards them.

Broughton turns and points her pistol directly at the two unarmed East German Guards. They back away, hands in the air, and then turn and break into a full run.

Broughton sees what she wants. She takes two steps to a parked Trabant sedan.

Broughton swings the door open and grabs a handful of wires beneath the dash. A few seconds is all Broughton needs to get the engine turned over.

Broughton shifts her eyes down the street several blocks.

We see a dozen East German frontier troops running up the hill toward them with their weapons drawn.

Broughton watches in the rear-view mirror.

Broughton jams the sedan in drive, cuts the wheel hard and spins out across the cobblestone streets. The East Germans jump into several military cars and give chase after Broughton.

This is FRENCH CONNECTION meets BULLITT but through the streets of East Berlin 1989!

Broughton races the stolen sedan through featureless neighborhoods. A half-dozen East German military cars hunt her at breakneck speed.

Broughton rallies down a narrow alleyway, out onto a wide street and through a gauntlet of near misses. Two East German military cars try to block her route. Broughton smashes through a crude roadblock and spins the military cars like tops.

Several more East Germans’ cars join in the hot pursuit.

Broughton’s side WINDOW EXPLODES and sends glass through the sedan. Broughton has had enough.

Broughton slides to a stop, jams her sedan into reverse, then draws and empties the Markov pistol out the windowless hole to her side.

BULLETS STRIKE into the pack of pursuing military cars.

Broughton whips the sedan back around as three more East German cars pile up in a smoking heap.

Broughton’s sedan is up on the sidewalk, flying over and through most every obstacle as the East German noose tightens around her.

Out the window, the Friedrichstrasse Station can be seen a few blocks away.

Broughton slides the sedan around the corner and towards the station when a East German T55 tank rolls down the street at them, stops and levels its big gun at them.

Broughton looks in her rear-view mirror at the military cars coming up behind her. Broughton scans her surroundings.

Broughton reverses the tiny sedan.

Broughton yanks the steering wheel hard and slides the sedan onto a narrow street above the Spree River. She jams it into gear, and they race on.

Without warning, an East German military truck slams into the sedan from a side street. The tiny sedan buckles on impact. Broughton and Spyglass flip end over end and plunge into Spree River.

The cold water pours into car from the shattered window. The sedan quickly disappears and is consumed by the dark river.

Broughton remains calm as the cold water rushes in.

Spyglass pulls at his trapped leg.

Broughton unbuckles herself and leans across to aid Spyglass. She pulls at his leg. Nothing. Broughton dives under the rushing water and tries to release his foot. Nothing. She surfaces, and the water continues to rise past their chests.

Broughton is about to dive under the water again, when Spyglass grabs her.

Spyglass’s eyes are pure and without fear. The water fills up to both of their shoulders. Spyglass grabs Broughton’s hand.

Broughton nods as the water reaches their necks.

They each take one last breath as the cold water covers them. Broughton holds onto Spyglass’s hand until his body convulses and relaxes in death.

The tiny sedan twists in the river’s current. Broughton pushes the car door open. She glances back at Spyglass’s lifeless body and then never looks back again...

Broughton swims underwater through the wintry river. She doesn’t have much time.

CLOSE ON THE NARGA III DECK

and the tail of the tape flapping on another full reel.

Broughton lights another Woodbine and watches in silence as Gray pulls the tape archive off of the deck, drops a fresh one on and threads it.

Gray CLICKS record, and the reel starts back up again.

Broughton’s head breaks the surface, and she pulls herself up against the wooden pylon of a boat dock out of sight.

She looks up the river to see dozens of East German soldiers searching. Broughton struggles to pull herself onto the dock as her body is quickly going hypothermic.

A CAR SKIDS to a stop on the street above of her.

We hear the DOOR OPEN and FOOTSTEPS approach her.

Broughton is desperate, fighting to warm her body as her cold fingers fumble with her empty pistol.

We see boots run up and then stop next to an exhausted Broughton.

Merkel grabs Broughton’s hyperborean body and quickly tosses her into the warm car. Merkel speeds away with Broughton in the passenger seat.

Broughton, wrapped in wool blankets, huddles around a coal fire contained in a metal bucket. Merkel sits in the flickering light.

Merkel looks at Broughton who shares no emotion. Broughton stares at the fire and replays everything in her mind.

Broughton’s still trying to put all the pieces together.

Broughton stands, blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Merkel stares at her for a moment in silence.

Merkel stands.

Broughton follows Merkel down a faintly-lit hallway.

Merkel kneels and lifts a false section in the floor, revealing an opening within the tiles. Merkel hands Broughton a metal flashlight.

Broughton lowers herself down into the dark hole and turns on the flashlight.

The flashlight’s yellow beam illuminates the damp tunnel. Broughton walks in silence towards West Berlin for several hundred yards until...

We see the beam of her flashlight cut across a dead man’s body.

The cold has kept the body preserved with a foxed green hue to the skin. Broughton kneels down for a closer look and identifies the face warped by death.

Broughton quickly searches his pockets and body and finds nothing of value. She stands and moves on past the KGB officer’s corpse towards the West.

Broughton stands in the cold and RINGS the BUZZER, which goes unanswered. She tries again, nothing. Broughton moves back out onto the streets and is on the move.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 8, 1989”

Broughton, wrapped in a towel, sits on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. Broughton’s emotions are just below the surface of her face. She replays every detail in her mind. Crossing over. The family. The snipers. How did the KGB know? The car flooding with water. Spyglass’s death.

How did the KGB know?

Suddenly, Broughton stands and moves through the room. She takes apart the phone. Nothing. She looks in the lamps. Nothing. Under the beds. Nothing. Window sills. Nothing. Doors. Nothing. She searches for the device. Then, from across the room, she sees her coat, still damp from the Spree River.

Broughton inspects the buttons, pockets, and liner. She feels along the collar and pulls a tiny UHF device and hard wire out of the coat.

We hear POUNDING on her hotel door.

Broughton stuffs the device back into her coat just as...

We see the hotel door BURST open.

The POLIZEI enter with complete intimidation. They’re followed by an older and very severe-looking FIRST CHIEF INSPECTOR.

The First Chief Inspector points at the four silver stars on his meticulous uniform.

The First Chief Inspector narrows his eyes at the remark.

The First Chief Inspector looks for a reaction but gets none from Broughton.

The First Chief Inspector stares at Broughton.

The First Chief Inspector takes a step closer.

The First Chief Inspector takes another step, closing the distance to Broughton’s face. Broughton remains stoic under the tension in the room.

The First Chief Inspector turns to Lasalle standing in the hotel room doorway.

The polizei brush past Lasalle. The First Chief Inspector strides towards the door and then turns back to Broughton.

The polizei are gone. Lasalle looks at Broughton.

Broughton moves towards her clothes that hang in the closet as she lowers her towel. Lasalle looks across at her naked frame. We see deep bruises covering Broughton’s body from the punishing staircase fight and car crash. Broughton pulls on her clothes.

Broughton grabs her coat.

Broughton pulls on her coat and moves towards the door.

Broughton moves past Lasalle, and the hotel room door closes.

Broughton walks off the street and up the stairs to a drab apartment building.

Perceval looks through the peephole and opens the door for Broughton.

Broughton says nothing and enters the room.

Broughton starts to take her coat off.

Broughton takes a breath.

Perceval steps aside, and Broughton moves towards a small bedroom door. She knocks gently and then slowly opens the door. Spyglass’s wife and daughter sit on a twin bed and stare up at her framed perfectly in the doorway.

Helena pulls her daughter into her arms and cries out in grief. Broughton shuts the bedroom door and keeps her promise to Spyglass.

Perceval, Kurzfeld and Broughton stand near the frozen duck pond in the harsh light of the afternoon.

They all look at one another for a moment knowing they don’t have an answer to that question.

Perceval turns towards Broughton.

Perceval looks at Broughton.

Broughton holds Perceval’s eyes for a moment.

Broughton takes a step towards the remark.

Perceval steps between them.

Kurzfeld leans towards Broughton and points his finger.

Kurzfeld walks away in disgust and doesn’t look back.

Perceval turns to Broughton.

They stand for a moment in silence.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 9, 1989”

Broughton stares out the window at the gray evening sky. A half-empty bottle of Stoli sits next to her.

We hear the PHONE RING.

Broughton picks it up and speaks.

Lasalle stands in her bedroom in La Perla with the telephone pressed to her ear.

Lasalle chamber checks her pistol, confirms it is loaded, and slides it beneath the pillow on her bed.

Broughton takes a sip of her Stoli and looks out around her empty hotel room.

Broughton sets the phone down, looks out the window, and then dials another number immediately.

Broughton hangs up the phone.

Broughton steps from a cab and walks up to Perceval’s building.

Broughton walks through the office door and leaves her coat on this time. Perceval and Broughton are civil, however they is a cat and mouse tension to the room.

Perceval moves across to his desk and lifts a bottle.

Perceval sets two glasses out and lifts the bottle.

Perceval pours three fingers of a single malt and hands it across to Broughton.

Perceval offers Broughton a seat in one of the two worn- leather club chairs. Perceval lifts his highball towards Broughton. They both take a silent, smooth drink.

Perceval smiles and leans in, serious and measured.

Perceval pauses for a moment and then, upon reflection --

Perceval takes a drink.

Perceval sets his empty glass down on the side table.

Broughton holds up the UHF device and hard wire and hands it to Perceval. His smile fades.

Broughton nods and moves towards the front door followed by Perceval.

Perceval opens the door for Broughton as she steps out into the hallway.

Broughton nods and continues on without ever looking back. Perceval closes the door. He looks at the UHF device and hard wire on the table and then grabs the keys to his Saab.

PRE-LAP on the soundtrack: “Voices Carry” by ‘Til Tuesday.

We see a window of the apartment slide open. Cold air gently blows the curtains. Lasalle listens to a Sony Walkman through headphones as she pours a drink for herself in her bedroom and sets the bottle down.

We reveal an INTRUDER wearing a ski mask standing behind her. Lasalle is completely unaware until the electrical cord pulls tight around her neck.

Lasalle struggles to free herself. She throws the Intruder off of her and scrambles, gasping for air, towards the bed. The Intruder lunges after Lasalle as she crawls up the bed, reaching for the pillow, her concealed gun just inches away.

We hear the downstairs BUZZER of the building.

The Intruder climbs on Lasalle’s back, grabs the cord and pulls it tight around her neck. Lasalle’s hand is on the gun, but she doesn’t have the strength to lift it into her palm.

A young couple leaves Lasalle’s building. Broughton slips through the open front door and moves down the hallway.

Lasalle twists around and claws the ski mask off the Intruder. We reveal: Perceval as he pulls back on the cord, and the life fades from her eyes.

Lasalle’s body falls to the floor. Perceval moves off of Lasalle’s dead body and begins to search through the apartment.

We hear a KNOCK on the door.

Perceval is out of time. He turns and climbs out the open window as Lasalle’s front door is pushed open by Broughton.

Broughton enters and finds Lasalle’s strangled, warm body on the floor. She moves through the apartment, sees the open window, and looks outside. Nothing.

Broughton moves back through the apartment and stops at the bathroom. She looks in and sees it has been converted to a small photo darkroom with a red blub. A clothesline hangs above the develop, fix, and stop trays. We see there are several photos of Broughton that reveal Lasalle’s fixation.

Broughton closes the door and moves back into the kitchen We see large glass containers of FLOUR, SALT... and SUGAR.

Broughton turns over the container, dumping the sugar onto the counter along with a package. Broughton opens the package to reveal a stack of photos.

INSERT - PHOTOS

Photo 1 - Perceval and Bremovych talking in a club.

Photo 2 - Perceval talking to the KGB Sniper, Ivan Yerchenko.

Photo 3 - KGB Agent Bakhtin handing Perceval an envelope.

Photo 4 - Perceval opening the envelope.

Photo 5 - Gascione’s Burcherer timepiece in Perceval’s hand.

Photo 6 - Perceval standing over Bakhtin’s dead body.

BACK TO SCENE

Broughton takes the photos and moves out of the apartment, never looking back at Lasalle’s body on the floor.

Broughton exits Lasalle’s apartment building and moves into the neighborhood. On the street, a sedan pulls out and follows her. Broughton can sense the sedan’s headlights and picks up her pace towards a busy intersection ahead.

Broughton stops at a small newspaper stand and glances toward the street and the approaching sedan. She can now see Bremovych and his driver clearly in the sedan driving towards her. She calmly turns and walks around the corner just as the light turns red.

Bremovych’s sedan pulls up just six feet away. Steady now... Broughton looks across the six busy lanes of traffic to the hotel’s taxi stand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Bremovych. Then, the sedan’s window starts to roll down.

Against the red light, Broughton bolts out into the fray of speeding cars and cuts through the screeching traffic.

We hear HORNS HONKING and SHEET METAL SMASHING.

Cars slide and pile up in the intersection. Broughton escapes without a scratch.

She sprints onto the median, across the next three lanes, and jumps into the waiting taxi. Broughton looks across at the wrecks of a dozen cars. Bremovych stands next to his sedan and watches her escape him once more.

The room is lit by a single bare bulb and a small television. Perceval sits alone, drinking two fingers of single-malt scotch.

INSERT - NEWS FOOTAGE

MTV’s Kurt Loder reports from the Berlin Wall. We see from the MTV news footage that massive crowds are assembling. Two EAST GERMAN SOLDIERS stand on the Wall, holding an MTV umbrella. An iconic symbol of the times.

We MOVE ON the television, and we see the reflection of Perceval. He leans in and shuts of the TV.

Perceval swings a small duffle bag over his shoulder and kicks over a Jerry can. The gasoline pours out onto the hardwood floor of his apartment.

Perceval stands at his front door, lights a match and throws it onto the floor. The whole room is consumed in flames. Perceval moves on.

Perceval steps out of his building. We see the flames and smoke coming from his apartment window. Perceval walks parallel to the graffiti-covered Wall and then cuts into the alleyway towards his Saab 900 Turbo.

A FIGURE steps towards him in the dark alley, and Perceval slows his steps as he approaches his car.

We hear the faint sounds of HAMMERS STRIKING against concrete.

In the distance, the CROWDS’ CHEERS are heard.

Perceval eyes follow a group of West Germans with hand tools moving towards the Wall.

Perceval turns back to the wordless figure in the shadows.

Perceval smiles softly to himself as he looks towards the crowds.

In the faint light, we see the flash of gunmetal.

We hear a GUNSHOT BARK out! BAAAM BAAAM BAAAM!

Perceval’s body falls to the cold alleyway. Broughton steps from the shadows and stands with the smoke twisting from the barrel.

Perceval coughs up a mouthful of blood and stares up at Broughton holding her gun in his face. She reaches down and removes the “ Carl F Bucherer “ timepiece from his wrist.

Perceval’s eyes struggle to focus on Broughton’s face and then, when they do, he softly grunts:

Broughton says nothing.

The pool of blood grows around Perceval’s body, and he relaxes in death.

SUPER: “NOVEMBER 11, 1989”

It’s raining in England. It’s always raining. A Royal Air Force C-130 Hercules aircraft parks on the hardstand. The giant props slow to a stop as the rear ramp extends down.

Broughton exits the front of the aircraft.

We hear the SOUND of a lone BAGPIPER.

Broughton turns and watches the Royal Scots Honor Guard exit down the ramp of the C-130 with two flag-draped coffins, the bodies Gascione and Perceval.

Broughton stands in silence as the coffins are loaded for ground transport.

The ashtray is full of Woodbines. The Nagra III reel to reel records on the table. Gray leans forward and then exclaims:

Broughton sits in silence for a moment.

Broughton leans across the desk. She has had enough.

Broughton sets down a manila folder.

Gray looks through a stack of black-and-white photos from Lasalle’s apartment. Gray lifts a black-and-white photo and shows it to Kurzfeld.

Gray and Kurzfeld looks across at Broughton.

Broughton points to the photo of Perceval and Bakhtin.

FLASH CUT:

Broughton sits at the desk in front of the Narga SN mirco recording device. A stack of recorded reel and reel tapes sit next to her. With great precision, Broughton methodically edits sections of tape together from different recorded conversations.

Broughton turns to Gray.

Broughton pulls out the Narga SN from her purse and sets it on the desk.

Broughton leans forward and CLICKS on the Narga SN and the mirco reels begin to play her masterfully edited tape.

We follow the dialogue back to each scene:

Perceval walks with Broughton. Two US ARMY jeeps with SOLDIERS from the 2nd Battalion 6th Infantry patrol past. Perceval gestures towards the Brandenburg Gate.

Perceval is in the alleyway next to his Saab 900 turbo.

Bremovych stands along the Art Deco bar next to Broughton and Lasalle.

We see the bombarded ruins of the Kasier Whelm Memorial Church. Perceval stands next to Broughton.

Bremovych stands turns to Broughton at the bar.

Perceval stares to Broughton in the parked car.

Broughton stares at the mirror of the wall and then at the two veterans of the Cold War. She calmly leans over and CLICKS off the Narga SN and the mirco reels fall silent.

Gray looks at Kurzfeld and leans over, CLICKS his NAGRA reel to reel. The tape stops for the first time in hours.

Broughton sits in silence.

Gray and Kurzfeld stand and exit the room. Broughton sits in the bare light. She slowly lights her last Woodbine and exhales.

SUPER: “DECEMBER 1, 1989”

A gorgeous blonde steps from a Newcastle taxicab and walks into the airport. It’s Lorraine Broughton. She carries no bags. She walks through security and boards an international flight.

C and Gray stroll along the Thames River under a late afternoon sky.

C Thatcher is going to have a difficult time with this.

C nods and squints towards the Palace of Westminster.

On the descent, Broughton looks out the window.

C (V.O.) Did we ever find the watchmaker?

FLASH CUT:

We slowly move into the shop window and reveal the watch repair shop is completely empty.

Broughton steps up to a waiting taxi and climbs into the backseat without hesitation. The taxi pulls out and drives towards the city of Paris.

Broughton is being driven through the City of Lights. The blonde wig is gone, and she’s wearing a new set of clothes. She looks through a small Hermès Kelly bag. Broughton exits the taxi and turns into the early evening.

The sun is nearly gone. Gray and C move their walk off the banks of the Thames and up to the Victoria Embankment.

C We’ll have to promote Broughton just to keep her quiet.

Broughton walks across the Place Vendome. The RITZ DOORMAN greets her as she enters the lobby.

Broughton moves through the grand lobby, passes the Bar Vendome and stops at the front desk. We don’t hear the conversation. Broughton smiles as she is handed the room key and moves to the elevators at the end of a gilded hallway.

Gray and C stand outside the black door of Number 10 Downing street.

C I never really trusted him.

Broughton walks down the hallway to the door of her suite. She enters and takes off her coat.

A titan of man sits on the couch with his back to her. He stands and turns to reveal: Bremovych.

Broughton moves toward Bremovych, and they embrace.

Broughton leans in and kisses her counterpart.

We hear a KNOCK at the hotel suite door. Broughton walks to the door, and a ROOM SERVICE ATTENDANT enters with a rolling cart and bottles of Dom Perignon and Stoli sitting in silver buckets of ice.

Bremovych signs for the bill and tips the attendant.

The Attendant turns to Broughton.

Only in this moment do we sense something familiar about him -- he turns and leaves without another word spoken.

Bremovych lifts the Dom Perignon from the ice.

Broughton moves to him, takes the bottle of Dom from his hands and sets it back into the ice.

Broughton lifts the bottle of Stoli from the second bucket and pours two glasses of vodka.

Bremovych doesn’t react and deflects her question.

Broughton holds up her wrist and reveals the “Carl F Bucherer” timepiece.

Broughton hands Bremovych his vodka.

Bremovych and Broughton looks at the vodka and then empty the glass. A shared moment of accomplishment between two warriors in the Parisian hotel suite.

Broughton moves to the vodka bottle. Bremovych reaches to the small of his back and his strong hand makes contact with a weapon.

With one swift movement, Broughton draws a suppressed handgun out of the ice and double taps the trigger before Bremovych can react. The two bullets punch through Bremovych’s cranial stem and kill him instantly.

The Room Service Attendant appears from the hallway. This is Merkel from East Berlin. He is followed by a cleaning team that moves into the suite, lifts Bremovych into a body bag, and begins to sterilize everything. Merkel looks at Broughton.

Broughton walks out of the suite and never looks back.

Broughton walks out of a side door of the L’Hotel Ritz. We follow her several blocks as she cuts through the Jardin des Tuileries and along the Place de la Concorde. She descends the stone stairs to a small motor boat waiting on the Seine.

A DECKHAND unties the boat and throws the line ashore.

We hear the BOAT’S ENGINE cry out in the cold air.

Broughton walks past the closed cockpit. At the controls of the small motor boat:

We see the Watchmaker. He touches the brim of his faded New York Yankees baseball cap as he recognizes Broughton. Not a word is spoken between them. Broughton moves towards the bow of the boat. We hear a voice call out:

Emmett Kurzfeld steps forward.

They share a moment of silence. Broughton sits down on a small bench seat against the cabin.

Broughton hands Kurzfeld the “ Carl F Burcherer “ timepiece. Kurzfeld pries open the back plate, and within it is a secret chamber: We see the encrypted list with the name of every Cold War intelligence officer.

Broughton smiles at the sound of her true given name.

PRE-LAP on the soundtrack: “Home Sweet Home” by Motley Crew.

On the boat’s prow, a defiant AMERICAN FLAG SNAPS in the wind. Broughton and her American counter-intelligence team speed past the Eiffel Tower under a starless night.

SLAM TO BLACK.

SUPER: GRAFFITI TITLE SCRAWLS OUT “THE COLDEST CITY”