"JACK REACHER" (2012)

ONESHOT

by

ChristopherM£Quarrie

Based on thenovelby Lee Child

Previous draftsby

Josh Olson

12/09/10

The sound ofhand tools;metal exerting rhythmic pressure on metal.FADE UPON:

EXTREME CLOSE-UPS:Polished brass,gleaming copper, black sand,mottled wrought-iron painted red.

A GNARLED HAND,thumbnail partially blackened-maybe it was slammed ina car door, hit withahammer - pulls a lever,driving somethinghome:

KA-SHUNK

Moving towarda city that could beanywhere. Populatedby anybody. Evenyou. Motionless construction cranesdominate the skyline.

TILT DOWNSLOWLY: Movingover the highway,following traffic into the city.

PUSH IN SLOWLYON: A VAN- it's alwaysa van - pacing slower than the rest of themorning traffic.No rush.

Cuts are occasionally punctuated with thatsound O.S:

Kil-SHUNK

DRIVER'SP.O,V. of thedowntown skyline,dead ahead. Our eyes lockon a trafficcamera -the sort you see a thousand timesa day butnever notice ...

But the Driver noticeseveryone. The cameras, meanwhile,see only the endlessflow of traffic, mindlessly logging themundane until future events will make it critically relevant.

Those gnarled hands gently tapa ball-peenhammer to an awl.They measure preciseamounts of black sand,

The van pulls in.A camera sees it,doesn't care.

PUSHING IN SLOWLY,on theback of theOWNER OF THE GNARLED HANDS,hunched overa workbench.His body prevents us from seeing the object of his methodical task. Measuring,tapping,pulling the lever ...

Kil-SHUNK

The van spiralsupward to the penultimate level- every spot full.The garage isin two sections- one old and packed,the othernew and empty- still under construction- cordoned offby yellow tape reading:

CAUTION:DO NOT CROSS

E.C.U. ON:A traffic cone,blockinga parking spot for no evident reason.Sheep don't askwhy- they park elsewhere.The van just runs over the cone:

KA-SHUNK.The Driver'sdoor opens,crepe-soled shoes step out.A sound ofa zipper o.s.The door slams:

KA-SHUNK.Follow the feetleaving faint printsin the dust on the concrete floor.Something metal-long, black,thin - is hidden behind the Driver's leg.

E.C.U.On a quarter dropped inaparking meter.

KA-SHUNK.Thirty minutes.

Tracking those feet again.The Driverbendsdown to crossfrom old section tonew under the yellow tape:

CAUTION

Nowwe see his rifle- wood stock,box magazine.

E.C.U.on the Driver's shoulder,cladin a light nylon windbreaker,as it brushesa concrete pylon.

The Driver emergesfrom theshadows at theedge of thegarage, looking out at the worldbelow.

We geta good look at his plain,placid face before he putson sunglasses to shield hiseyesfrom the glare.He checks hiswatch, stepsback into the shadows,opens the rifle's action:KA-

-SHUNKas the gnarled hands drive that leverhome, removinga single,freshly minted.308 caliber rifle- roundfrom a press,placing itin a box of fivemore.

-SHUNKas the rifle's actionslams the bullethome:

DRIVER'SP.O.V.SUPER WIDE ANGLElooking downon an outdoor mall.Low-lying office buildings,shops,the DMV,a long reflecting pool catching themorning light.People likemice. Like roaches ...

The Driver takesadeep breath,lets it out,takes another,lets it out ...He shoulders theweapon.

A RIFLE SCOPE invadesour P.O.V.and we are transported to the mallbelow.The nondescript isnow the intimate.The reticle wanders,letting people drift through,catching A MIDDLE-AGEDWOMAN witha valise as she passes thefountain,letting hergo.

All we hear now is the Driver'smeasured breathing; in ...out ...in...

The reticle settleson a YOUNGWOMAN. She's not trying to look good,but shedoes - shorts,white shirt, black bra.She eatsan ice-cream cone.

The reticle caresses her,ogles her breasts,follows the curve of her back tofinda YOUNGGIRL (age 6) holding theYoung Woman'shand, eatinga push-up. The reticle driftsback up to theYoung Woman'shead, settles on her temple ...leads hera little.

The breathing stops ...She'sdead.

But then she walksbehinda kiosk - gone- a lost opportunity.The breathing patiently resumes ...The reticle settleson A BUSINESSMAN seatedona bench, sipping coffee.The breathing stops ...

You are made towait. You aremade to watch.

KA-CRACK- The scopejumps, settlingon pinkmist as the Businessman crumbles out offrame.Halfasecond later his coffeecup lands behind thebench.

The breathing resumes,the reticle wanders.Some people are still walking.Otherslook toward the Businessman,momentarily confused.

The scope finds theMiddle-AgedWomanagain, oblivious to thedeadman twenty yardsbehind her. The breathing stops ...

KA-CR.4CK-Thescope jumps,the woman's valise throwing papers into the air.The reticlemoves fasternow. Smart people are running.Dumber ones- sheep- walkbackward in shock.

KA-CRACK/CR.4CK/CRACK-A flash of whiteasa bullet gashes the calm of reflecting pool.

The rapidlymoving reticle discovers the PrettyYoung Woman again,running away,that Little Girlin her arms. The reticlerapidly debateswhichone to take, finally choosing ...

CR.4CK- Thescope comes down,suckingus back to the parking garage.We can make out fivesplayedbodies- five plumes of blood bakinginthe sun.A CHILD'S DISTANT SCREAM reaches our ears.

The Driverturns calmly,sees six bullet shells scattered on the floor.Ashe collectsthem, one-by- one, we noticehis handsare wrapped in latex.

E.C.U. As hisgloved hand picksup one shell,his crepe-soled shoe kicksanother.

TRACK BACKSWIFTLY as the shell rollstowarda joint between two concrete slabs-one old,one new.

PLUNK -The shell dropsinto the joint.

CLOSE ON:The Driver, frozen,considering the shell for a moment,then quickly walkingaway.

CLOSE ON:Those crepe soles climbingin thevan.

CLOSE ON:the trafficcone dragging asthe vanbacks toward us,drops intodrive and cruisesaway, leaving the cone behind,crumbledand apparently meaningless.

The van spiralsdown, tires squealing. It skids toa halt, nearly hittingan oncoming car.Precious seconds areconsumed trying to navigate to the exit.

The edge of thegarage lookingdown at the mall.We could swear this first victim,theBusinessman,is sitting upon the bench again,his head obscured bya blinding red light in our eyes.

Sure enough,the Businessman is sittingon thebench- though still dead.TWOCOPS IN SWATGEAR kneel behind the bench.One Swat Guyprops the Businessmanup from behind, using hisheadwound as reference.The other Swat Guy shinesa laser pointer at the garage.

The laserflits like an insecton theceiling.

The stairwell door burst open.SIXMENIN SWAT GEAR enter rapidlyand fan out.A DETECTIVE(40s) enters behind them, pistol in hand.But his posture quickly slackenswhen something catches hiseye.As the SWAT guys clear the garage,the Detective holsters his weapon and squatsby that trafficcone ...

His radiochatters. He shuts it off.He shinesa flashlightacross the floor,follows the arching drag marks in the dust toanempty parkingspot.

The same light exposes footprints.Crouching in the parking spot,the Detective followsthe prints with his eyes,past the cautiontape,past the pillar. Then he glances at:

CLOSEON: The parking meter.Threeminutes on it.

At theledge where theDriver openedfire now,the Detectivelooks down at the eerilysilentmall.Five bodies are covered in sheets.The reflecting poolis being drainedby theFIRE DEPARTMENT.REVEAL:

The garage behind him isnowa crime scene- COPS everywhere taking pictures,bagging evidence.New tape all over.Whatwas CAUTION isnow POLICELINE.

The Detective's lips peelback slightly,exposing his teeth,his muted revulsion. It'smessy.Even forhim.

He turns,his eyessweeping thegarage,unsatisfied.

TIME CUT: BLINDINGLIGHT.From inside a tight crevice, we look up at the Detectivepokinga bent wire into our collective eye.

E.C.U. The wirehooks theopen end of a bullet shell, extracting itfrom betweentwo concrete slabs.

SERIES OF E.C.U.s:A pieceof tape collectsnylon fibers from the concrete pillar/A piece of tape collects a single strand of off-white hairfroma crepe-soled footprint/Gloved handsboxup the traffic cone/Empty the parking meter.

The Detective stands,inspects the shell,gently blows a little dust off,shineshis lightTO REVEAL:

E.C.U.: The trace ofa finger-print ...

E.C.U.s: Tape pulls the printfrom the shell/A hot light scansit/Tape lifts printsfrom the traffic cone/A hot light scans it/Tape liftsa printfroma quarter/A hot lightscans it.

CLOSE ON:A computer screen scans fingerprints of various shapesand clarity,rapidly comparingthem to a massive database.One after another the various prints match like tumblersina lock,cherries ina slot machine,producing thesame name overand over:

JAMES MllRKBARR

CLOSE ON:A MAILBOX bearing thename:

BARR

REVEAL:A two-bedroom ranch- paint neglected but otherwise solid.The blue light ofaTV flickersin the frontwindow. ASHADOW passes,slumps on acouch.

REVEAL:The Detectivein an unmarked car watching through binoculars.TheTV shuts off.The housegoes dark.The Detectiveraises his radio ...

BA-BOOM -the front and back doorsblow in simultaneously.SWAT GUYS rushin -weapon-lights flashing off walls,windows- hard tomake anything out. A DOG emergesfrom the kitchen,barksonce:

CRACK - apistol-shot.A yelp O.S.

BOOM - the doorblows in,SWAT guys rapidlyfillthe tiny space,lights finding the underwear-clad,pale- skinned frameof JAMESBARR - facedown on the bed.

They mobhim, pin him,zip his handsand feet together with flex cuffs.They stand back and:

Barr snores,out cold.The Detective pushesthrougha wall of SWAT guys.Besidean up-endednight stand he finds a wallet,a bottle ofbooze,a bottle of pills.

The Detectivedumps thepills in hislatex-gloved hand. The bottle is nearly full,theboozehalf-gone.

He checks Barr's wallet,holdsup the driver's license to theSWATGuy. The SWATGuy leans over to look at Barr'sface.He nods.

The Detectiveemergesfrom the bedroom to findCOPS turning the place over.He trips overadead dog.

Four SWATGuys carry Barr outlikea suckling pig- hog-tied,face-down,still snoring:

Total darkness shatteredbya shaft of light.The Detective entersas a shadow.Fluorescent lights flicker on, illuminatinga beigevan -the one we saw in the parking garage.Its frontbumper nuzzles:

A reloadingbench - the same benchwe saw earlier.We get a good look at itnow.The red-handled shell press, the jars of blackgunpowder, unused slugs.

The Detectivesteps over apair of crepe-soled shoes by the door,past a bluenylon windbreaker hangingon a hook, a stack of three orange cones in the corner.

He focuseson five spentshells tossed almost casually on the center of the bench,waiting to be reloaded. Re-used.Usinga pencil, hepicks up one of the shells,smells it. Thenhe checks hiswatch.

Four walls,a door withno knob, a table,two chairs. The Detective- HIS NAME ISEMERSON -lays evidence on a table like cardsfroma winninghand: Security camera stills of thevan,fingerprints,the shoes, the jacket,dog hair, the rifle,the shells.

CLOSE ON:A pair of cuffed handsoppositeEmerson picking absently ata blackened thumbnail.

Emerson smiles,throws alook over hisshoulder toA MAN IN A SHARPSUIT (60s)standing by the door,arms folded, waiting.He is:

Emerson laysdown a sheet of paperanda pen. Aftera long beat,the hands pickup the penand start writing.Emerson looks at his watch,satisfied.

Mere seconds later,the hands offer the paper to Emerson.Emerson takesit, confused.Scrawled on the paper are just three big words:

GET JACKREACHER

The cameracomes around toREVEAL:JAMES BARR, (29). His face isa little fleshy,almost boyish.Hiseyes are empty,but scared.Oh, and onemore thing:

He's not theman we saw pull the trigger.Somehow, despite all the evidence,JamesBarris innocent.

Emerson hands the"confession" toRodin.He readsit:

You are lying ina bed, looking through your large, bare feet ata flat screenTV on mute.You have a beer in onehand, remote in the other.You flip through channels,uninterested in everythingyou see.

Your clothes- khaki pants,sand-colored t-shirt, light jacket- are draped ona nearby chair besidea red dress. Your boat-shoesareby thedoor next toa pair of red high heels.You sip your beer.

A WOMAN INHER 40S so good-looking,so effortlessly sexual we can't begin toimagine her20s,stands at the mirror in her underwear,running your razor under each arm,talking to you in the other room.

She putsthe razor down next toa disposable tooth- brush. She considers her hair,looksfora brush,a comb. There's nothing.

You arestill flippingchannels - past football,past Girls Gone,vild,past the attractiveFEMALEREPORTER on CNN,past- You stop,go back toCNN.

The titlessay her nameis Anne Yanni.Police and ambulances fill theframebehind her.The scroll says something abouta sniper,five dead.

Then there'sa press conference,apodium, a cop named Emerson,a D.A.named Rodin.Back to Anne.

Your eyes focuson her -her lips moving silently, filledby the voice of theWomanin thebathroom:

Your hand drops the remote.Your bigarm puts the beer down next to halfadozen tatteredcondom wrappers. Your eyesfocuson the scroll .

... SUSPECTJAMESMARKBARR ...

The woman finishestyingher hair ina knot behind her head,decides it looksgood. She's right.

She realizesyou haven't saida word.

She walks out of thebathroom andinto:

She findsthe TV off,her dress laid neatlyon the bed, all trashswept hastily in the bin.

What she doesn't findisyou.

You areJACK REACHER.

There issomething youhave to do.

James Barrand FIVE OTHERPRISONERS ride in silence on opposite benches.They wear state-issue orange, hands chained.Barr chews hisblackened thumbnail nervously.The other five prisoners sizehim up, sharing furtiveglances.Barr happens tomake eye contact withA TATTOOEDPRISONER acrossfrom him.He nods, innocent,respectful.He looksaway.

Beat.Barr realizes Tattoos isaddressinghim.

Tattoos'boot snapsup, catching Barr under the chin. Barr isin shock, histongue half severed,hanging.

Barr holdsup his hands, tries to speak.Can't. Tattoo cocksboth his feetand stomps Barr's chest. Barr slumpson theFAT PRISONER next tohim.

The Fat Prisoner elbows Barr.Hishead snapsback, flinging bloodon the other prisoners.Now everyone is afterhim with boots,elbows,knees.

ANGLEON: The ventwindow looking into thecab of the van.TWO CORRECTIONSOFFICERS glance back,ignore it.

Rodinand Emerson talk across the farmer'sdesk. Emerson sifts throughan impressive heap of paper.

CLOSE ON Reacher'sback- broad shoulders,close cropped hair- as he walks to America's superstore.

Reacher's largehands pullon a neutral-colored t- shirt, tan chinos,some work-boots,a belt as:

We glimpse the scarsonhis muscularframe as he pulls onnew, cheap dudsand collects the tags.

He handscash to thePREGNANT, OVER-PIERCEDGUM- CHEWINGCASHIER (17).She giveshim a wanton smile, stuffinghis tags ina bag with his old clothes.

Reacher drops thebag in the trash,neverlooks back.

CLOSE ON Reacher'sback again,walkingthrough the worst part oftown toward:

A CHAIN-SMOKINGCASHIERIN HER 80s counts outtwo grand inhundreds as she giveshima wanton smile.

Reacher slapsdown a dog-earedpassport.We catcha glimpse of hisshop-wornphoto, hisgiven name.

CLOSE ON hisback as he walksdown the aisle.

REACHER'S P.O.V.of a WOMAN (late30s) looking out thewindow, hoping things willbe better where she's headed.She used tolook good.Now she's bitter.The seat beside her isempty.

She sees Reacher coming.She doesn't smile.She glances around the fullbus,at the empty seat next to her. She grudgingly clearsitof her things.

CLOSE ON Reacher'sback,holding thatsame Bitter Woman in hisarms, kissing her deeply.He walksaway, leaving her on the bottom step ofaGreyhound bus to somewhere else.She managesa smile. Shelooks good.

A knock at the door.A SECRETARYENTERS.

Rodin andEmerson sharea surprised glance.Rodin nods to the Secretary.As they stand,Jack Reacher enters, affording usour first reallook at theman. Solid. Imposing.Intimidating.Handsome but not pretty.Wise but not old.He is a human wall of calm heraldingan unearthly storm.

Reacher looks down at the unconscious,swollen, battered heap of bandages that isJames Barr.

Icy pause.

RODIN REACHER

No way. Not untilyou answer- Nicemeeting you.

Emerson andRodin followReacher into the hallway.We notice TWO UNIFORMCOPS guarding Barr'sroom.

RODIN? Why did he ask foryou then?

Rodin grabs Reacher'sarm.Reacher grabs Rodin's pinkie andbends it. Rodingasps, standson his toes. Emerson is trying not tolaugh.

Reacher tweaksRodin'spinkie a little harder.

Rodin shakes his head.Reacher letsgo.

All turn to findHELENRODIN, (30s) business suit, blackberry,three inch heels.Emerson smiles again.

HELEN REACHER

JackReacher? HelenRodin?

EMERSON RODIN

It's notwhat it looks like. Hecame to us.

They shakehands beforeEmerson leadsan angrily reluctantRodin away.

Reacher starts walking.Helenfollows.

Reacher stops,comes face-to-face withHelen.

CONCRETE.Tons and tons of liquid concrete pourfrom a crane-borne hose intoamassive foundation. CONSTRUCTIONWORKERS inhard hats manage the action.

Walking pastthem isLINSKY (40s).His brown suitand leather shoesstand out.He approachesa trailer at the edge of thejob site,knocks on the door,enters.

A moment later Linksy walks out holdinga briefcase.

Linsky dropsthe caseon the seat and opens itTO REVEAL stacks ofhundred dollar bills.Helooks at the gusher of concrete,back at themoneyand smiles.

His cellphone rings.He answers.

Helen and Reacher sit inabooth -greasy menus,the grill justa few feetaway. A single sheet ofpaper lies on the tablebetweenthem in Barr's screed:

GET JACKREACHER

Helen puts a tape recorderon the table,starts it:

She stops herself.Reacher smiles.

He turns off the recorder,becoming deathly serious.

PUSH INSLOWLY on ayounger James Barr, fit,cut, high and tight,dressed inArmy drabs.He sitson the floor,rapidly takingdown a rifle.

QUICKCUTS of Barr honing his skills.E.C.U.s of trigger, reticle,round, target.A silhouette300 yards awayin front ofa wall of earth.

CRACK/CRACK/CRACK- With each shotwemove closer to the target, sinking deeper into Barr's P.o.v.

CRACK/CRACK/CRACK- Bulletshit the paper target, kicking up clouds of dust behind it,overandover.

CRACK/CRACK/CRACK- The silhouette turnsforan instant intoa MAN. A cloud of blood instead of dust.

PUSH IN SLOWLYon the sameJames Barr,but different, distant, cleaning hisweapon slowly,assembling it with a mixture oflove and longing.MOVEIN CLOSER, tighter, untilwe see Barr'spores, smell hissweat.

This one inBaghdad - carscaked with dust, tires flat from dry rot.Barr castsa longshadow with the sun behindhim, his shirtsoaked withsweat. He shoulders hisweapon and we're in hisP.O.V.

The reticlescans an emptyBaghdad street,looking for targets of opportunity.A door opens,the reticle settles on it,waiting fora clear shot ...

FOUR AMERICANS,armed but wearing civvies,emerge from thedoorway.

CRACK/CRACK/CRl\CK/CRACK

EXT,BUS DEPOT -NIGHT

Reacherand Helen siton a bench,away from the other WOULD-BEPASSENGERS -a random mixof Americana.A PORTER loadsluggage undera Greyhound bus.

The busdoors open. Passengers shuffle to get on. Reacher joins thequeueand Helen follows.

Reacher stops,faces her.

We can tell she's right.Reacher finallynods.

Reacher ina seat by thewindow, knuckles to his lips, watching Helen walkaway.

PUSH IN SLOWLYas the questionnagshim: "Why?"

He getsup. We stay on hisempty seat.

Helen backs out ofa spot,drops the car indrive and suddenly slamson the breaks,nearly running over:

Reacher, standingin front of her car.She rollsdown the window ashe approaches.

The scene of the crime.Reacher stands at theedge of the mallthumbing througha thick folderin his hand. Inside wesee all of the evidence againstBarr- the weapon, the shells,the quarter,thevan, etc.

Reacher takesin the whole mall,more likea memorial now. A FEWPEOPLE walk around it,not across.The reflecting pool- drained dry- is surrounded by flowers,handwritten notes,stuffed animals.

P.O.V. ofReacher walking into the mall,lookingup at the parking garage.He'sbeing watched.

Linsky, parked across the street,watchesReacher.He has a file like theonewe saw in Rodin's office.A file on Reacher.

Anxious,Linsky dialsa cell phone,gets no answer, hangs up,frustrated.Meanwhile:

Reacher standsin the center of the nearly deserted mall underan eerie silence.He opens the folder again, surveys the aftermath of the crime.He turns his back to thegarage,squinting at themorningsun. He looks at theempty pool,a photograph ofa pristine bullet recovered there.He calculates.His eyes narrow.Something isn't right.

He looks at thegarage again.He is still staring at it when aMIDDLE-AGEDWOMAN passesbehind lnm and her head explodes.Reacher turns casually asshe falls, findingonly the faded blood-stainson the concrete.

Behind him,the Businessman liesfacedown in apool of his own blood.The reflectingpool is fullnow, the tributesgone. A bullet hits the water.

The event ishappening allaround Reacher- or rather behindhim. In front ofhim are all that remains; blood-stains,concrete chippedby bullets.Finally, he walks to the garage leaving fivebodiesbehind.

A gentleknocking takesus to:

A manicuredtwo story ina nice neighborhood,Helen on the porch.The front door opensTOREVEAL oneROB FARRIOR (LATE 50s).He'sbeen crying.For days.

Farrior pushes thedooropen and stepsback.Helen enters,noticing immediately thedrinkin Farrior's hand.He walks slowly into theden.Helen follows.

She notes thefamily picturesalong the wall- FARRIOR,A WIFE, aSINGLE DAUGHTERwhom we recognize in later picturesas the prettyyoungwoman from the mall.The one with the ice cream and the little girl.

Shewinces behind hisback. He sitsin an easy chair beside themorning paperand a bottle of scotch.

He takesa long sipfrom his drink.

In thatmoment we cansee Helen hashad a rough day.

He picksup the newspaperand offers it.She tenses, noticing thenewspaperwas coveringa revolver.

She takes the paper,glancing again at thegun.

But as shemoves to stand:

Helen freezes,glancing at thegun again.

Helen looks at thegun again.

But Helen stands,slowly,carefully.Farrior stands as she turnsfor the door.Out of the corner of her eye she seeshim reaching- for hisglass? The gun?

Helen walks faster.The frontdoorseems very far way. The light outside is blinding white ...

Reacher squints,shades hiseyes with hishand, lookingdown on the mall,five reddishbrown stains. He looksdown at the folder,a photo of the quarter, then at the parking meter.Ashedoes so we:

Look out across the mall,past the office buildings beyond,to the freshly constructed highwaybypassin the distance ...Andavan parkedon the shoulder.

PASSINGCARS would merelysee thevan as just another disabled vehicle.But there areno passing cars.This new spur is deserted.

SNIPER'SP.O.V. out the passenger-side cargo door.A reticle settlesonReacher standing in the parking garage,brightly lit be themorningsun behind us.

E.C.U.s of themuzzle,a fingeron the trigger.

CTI.ACK...CRACK/CR4CK/CRACK/CR4CK/CRACK

PING/PING/PING/PING/PING-The shells ejectone by one, landing inside thevan.

CLOSE ON: The Shooter:JAMESBARR, faceunblemished. He quickly shuts thevan door,jumps in the driver's seat and takes off.The van peelsawayTO REVEAL:

Reacher, standingon the shoulder,folderin hand, looking at the mallfrom thisnew vantage point.He turns, squints into thesun.Something isn't right.

Driver's P.O.V.of Reacher on the shoulder.REVEAL:

Linsky at thewheel, passing Reacher,watchinghim in his rearview.He also knowssomething isn't right.He dials hisphone again, gettingno answer.

Helen slams the door,breath trembling.She glances at Farrier'shouse, seeshim loomingbehind the screen door,glaring at her.

CLOSE ON her keysjingling asshe struggles to steady one into theignition.She can't do it.

The driver'sdoor ripsopen. She gasps- too scared to scream- turning to findD.A. Rodin.She could use her fatherabout now.

So much for that.

Her facegoes from fearful to fierce.She pushes the door openand gets out.

Helen is havinga "what haveI done?"moment.

As she climbsin her car,he tries to take herarm.

He letsgo as if shocked.Helen starts the carand speeds away,leavingRodin in the street.

CLOSE ON: A long drawer containing thebaggedand tagged rifle.Emersonslams it shutand turns to:

Beat. Something occurs to Reacher.He turns to leave:

Emersonblinks. He hasno idea.

Chili's-level cholesterol dispensary.

Reacher on thepay phone,Helen's card in hishand. He shouts over loudmusic,louder CUSTOMERS.Thirty TVs show sports of all kinds.

He hangs up,surveys the restaurant.He hates it here. But he eyes thefoodgoing backand forth, not to mention theATTRACTIVEWAITRESSES carrying it.

Reacher sitsalone in abooth. A YOUNG,PRETTY WAITRESS putsa beer and burger in front ofhim.He smiles politely,gets nowanton look.Damn.

He sips his beer,chews his burger,thinks ...

FLASH - in hismind he sees the crime scene,the parking garage,the overpass,the morningsun.

FLASH - Reacher is pulled back to the sportsbar.

Reacher says nothing.She sits.

Sandy blinksas if surprised,recovers.

She slaps Reacher'sface and stands,makinga show.

She grabs hisbeer to pour iton him.He grabs her wrist and shakes the beer loose.Thena wall of muscle fillsthe framebehind her. Reacher islooking up at FIVEGUYS, ranging in sizefrom big to massive.

The BIGGESTGUY is JEB (24).

Reacher stands calmly,measuring eye to eye with Jeb. Jeb is a little surprised,but committed.

That's oursister.

Off her stunned expression:

The door burstsopen and thefive guysmarch out, then Reacher.Sandy standsby the door.

Reacher'shands are athis side, calm,casual.He sportsa knowing smile.Jeb's eyesnarrow, wondering about Reachernow. He takesa step,stopping when:

Jeb charges,Reacher mixes boxing,Aikidoand a school-yardkick to the nuts.Jeb drops,gasping:

Reacher turns,picking a toothout of hisknuckle as he faces the other four.Two stepforward.Two step back - fear spreading quickly across their faces.

The two braveones charge.Reacher looks directly at the two cowards,unblinking,as he savagely takesthe brave ones out.

The last blow is the worst.This idiot throwsaround- house kick circa1989. Reacher catches the guy's ankle with hisright hand,driving his heel into the guy's supporting knee,snapping it backward.Theguy collapses, screaminglikea gut-shot animal- a scream that blends withan approaching siren.

DRIVER'S P.O.V.racing into the parking lot,nearly hitting thetwo cowardsas they run away.In the headlightswe see Reacher standingoverthree mangled, writhing figures.

Reacher turns to confrontSandy,but she's running in the opposite direction.Beforehe can follow,TWO UNIFORM COPS leapfromtheir cruiser,guns drawn.

ON THE GROUND.

DO IT NOW.

Reacher considersSandy,then the gunsaimed at him. He gets downon the ground with hiswould-be attackers - face-to-face with Jebas they're cuffed.

Jeb's expression flashes:"How did youknow?"Buthe says nothing.

In a dense forest farfrom the city,the beginning of some industrial structure occupiesa clearing.A backhoe sitsdormant bya deep, short trench.A pickup truck idlesnearby.Linsky'sVolvo wheels in and stops.He gets out with Reacher's fileinone hand, the briefcase fullofmoney in the other.

The pickup's lightscomeon, illuminatingLinsky.He squints, glancingback ata pistol on the driver's seat, debating weather to reach for it as:

TWO MEN get out of the pickup.One approaches, revealing himself tobeCHARLIE (28)a man we immediately recognizeas the real mall shooter.

The otherman lingersby the pickup,behind the headlights,A SHADOW.

He hands Charlie the file.As Charlieskims it, Linsky stealsanxiousglances at theShadow.

Linsky'sblood chills at thesound ofThe Shadow's voice, his strange accent.

Charlie shakes hishead in disgust.

On cue,the Shadow approaches,we stayCLOSE ON Linsky.He shuts hiseyes tight as:

As if resigned to hisdoom,Linsky slowlyopens his eyes and takes ina man atonce indescribably oldand improbably virile.He ismissing several fingerson both hands.One iris ismilky white.He is THE ZEC.

Charlie hasmoved behind Linsky, pistolinhand.

Linsky glances at Charlie's pistol-then the backhoe and the hole.After a long,dark moment,he nods.

Linsky realizeswith horror what theZee wants.He contemplates his trembling left hand.He startswith the thumb,putting it in hismouth and then,against all human instinct,he bitesdown.We play the moment off the Zeeand Charlie,listening as Linsky's agonized,slobbering O.S.slackens toa whimper.

ANGLE ON Linsky,his thumb bleeding,but intact-his shirt wet with drool.

The Zee nods casually.Linsky turns,walks dejectedly to the hole,letting his toeshang over the edge. Charlie taps Linsky'sarm with the pistol's grip.

But Charlie shakes hishead.Linskytakes the pistol and puts the barrelinhis mouth asThe Zee climbs onto thebackhoe.

POP - a muffled gunshot o.s.TheZee sighs:

As he starts the backhoe'senginethesound of steel door slamming takesus to:

TWOFIGURES stepinto the foreground,looking at Reacher on a cot- sleeping,we guess. Until:

He sits up and smiles,seeingHelen isnot alone.

Emerson scowls,slamming thedoor behind him.

Helen takesa long, shaky breathandwe CUT TO:

Moving towarda city that could beanywhere. Populated byanybody. Evenyou. Motionless construction cranesdominate the skyline.

TILT DOWN SLOWLY:Moving over thehighway,following traffic intothe city.

Jessica straps the Girl intoa car seat,kissesher forehead,shuts the doorand they areon their way.

QUICKCUTS of Rita droppingMarcos off,over and over,day after day.He always kisses her goodbye, alwayswaves back to her ashe runs to school.

Rita walks to her minivan alone,inahurry. She Jumps in and starts the stubborn engine.

The engine startsand sheis on herway.

A perfect mother,NANCYHOLT (38)kisses her perfect HUSBAND and theirTWOPERFECT CHILDRENas they eat breakfast.She grabs her purseand heads out.

Nancy leansover a glass cabinet filled withgorgeous men's watches,picking just the right one.

MOMENTSLATER the watchis being giftwrappedand she is shelling out cashfroma thickwad in her purse.

She takes thebag andshe is on herway.

Her husband hangsup thephone,puts a hand to his left arm,struggles to breathe.Oline rushes tohim.

Oline at thesame desk,broken.THREE LAWYERS sit acrossfrom her, handing her page after page to sign.

CLOSEON: A legal document titled:

ARCHERPARTNERS v.M.4RGRAVECONSTRUCTION

Olineshakes her head bitterlyand signs.

Oline walks with purpose,a leathervaliseunder her arm.She passes Rita,then a BUSINESSMAN(50s)on a bench,sipping a coffee.Meet:

Darren and hisWIFE (late40s) in the throes ofan animated argumentas he pullson his suitjacket.

He slams the doorbehindhim. She bursts into tears.

Darren looksup from his coffeeandsmiles at someone O.S. We noticean objecton the bench besidehim:

THUNK-CRACK- A bulletpunches a perfect hole in Darren's forehead.REVEALNancy is walking toward Darren when it happens.She drops thebag in her hand, staring in horror.And in the next six seconds:

CLOSE ON:Oline, ignoring theloud report,keeps walking.A bullet hits her behind the ear-CRACK

Her valise spillsandshe dies in a pile ofpaperwork that seconds before meant everything.

CLOSE ON:Rita. We're running alongside her.She knows what'shappening.But she's slow- CFIACK

CLOSE ON:Nancy, making the worstchoiceimaginable, turning to run- righttoward the garage- CR4CK

CLOSE ON:Jessica, running with thelittlegirl in her arms,her face stricken with terror.

CRACK

BLACK ...

wonder "who the hell stays there?"Reacher does.

Reacher washesblood from his shirt in thebathroom sink. Helen sitson the bed,drinking a beer, stealing awkwardlooks at his muscular frame.

She sips her beer,expressionless.A little cold.

He wrings outhis shirtand hangs iton the heater before sittingon the dresser.

Reacher ponders those words,sippinga beer.Then:

ON DARREN seatedon thebench next to those roses. COMEAROUND TO REVEALNancy walking toward him.

CLOSEON: The bag in Nancy'shandfrom the jeweler.

DARREN'SP.O.V. Nancy Holt,the perfect mother,walks towardhim with a loving smileon her face.Through Reacher's eyes,wecan see in an instant theyknow one another.Intimately.

CRACK- Darren diesright in front ofNancy.She drops her bag,standsfrozen with terror.

Reacher shakes off whatever isnagginghim:

Awkward beat.Helen stares at the shirtlessReacher.

He flicks something at her.She dropsher beer to catch it.She looks in her palmand findsher keys.

A vast expanse of flat,exposedground surroundsa mass of conveyer belts servinga central huddle of silos. The concrete factory is farfrom themain road, farfrom everything.The place isbusy. Cement trucks comeand go. The airand theground both are choked with concrete dust. Itlooks like themoon.

Charlie drivesup in agrey SUV, rapidly turning chalky white.He heads foran office trailer.

Charlie enters,stops short,surprised tofind:

The Zee,his back to the door,looking at the concrete silo churningaway outside.He is accompaniedby FOUR BALTICTHUGS.

He turns,studying Charlie with hisonegood eye.He motionsfor Charlie to take off his sunglasses.When he does,the Zee studies his eyes.

The Zee considers.Charlie hasa point,but:

Charlie stifles his frustration until:

And Charlie smiles.

Helen drivesup, Reachercomes out, gets in her car.

As she dropsthe car in drive,she handsReachertwo folders fullof photocopies.In the firstone:

Reacher'sP.O.V. The creditcard statementshowstwo items overand over; MARSHSUPERMARKETand EXXON.

ANGLE ON:A back seat filledwith legal fileboxes. He turnsand rummagesthrough as:

CRACK.• •CR.4CK/CRACK/CRACK-Rifle shots split our ears andwe are taken to:

Watching those crucialfewsecondsfrom multiple points ofview:

A MARINERECRUITER from insidea recruiting station.

A FEMALECIVIL SERVANTfrom inside theDMV.

A BUSINESSWOMAN lyingon thepavement behinda kiosk. For a beatwe think she's bleeding out.Thenwe see she's laying ina pool of four spilled ventes.

Each witnesstunes into the shooting ata slightly differentmoment, seesa different victim die.But they all hear thesame thing:

CRACK •••CRACK/CRACK/CR.4CK

Reacher closesa thick folderlabeled:

EYEWITNESS TESTIMONY

Helen thinksand we CUTTO:

A building painted bright red,amassiveAmerican flag flowingin the breeze.Not an. The.

Reacher scans the nearlyempty parking lot,notinga handful of cars parked close together,farfrom the front door.He opens the doorand gets out.

He slams the doorand walksaway, seemingly oblivious to A SILVERAUDI just entering the lot,A HULKING SHADOW insidewatchingReacher and Helen.

Capacious,brightly lit withlongrows of every conceivable auto accessoryknown toman.And deserted.Reacher clearly hates placeslike this.

DING -The sound of the service bellhangsinthe air for an eternity.Reacher ringsagain.

DING -Finally, A GUY (20s)appears.He's better than you, knowsmore, can't afford your car.Youwant to smash hisfucking face in.His tag reads:

Gary reaches for thephone.

Reacherpushes thephone down.

Reachersteps around back of the counter.

Sandy sits behinda desk managing tomake her dorky work shirt look hot,sifting throughpaperwork.She sees Reacher- followed byGary - and goes white.

Gary reluctantly leaves.Reacher shuts the door, wedges a chair under theknob.Sandy is scarednow.

Long silence.Then Sandy spills:

Beat. Sandy stands,trembling,undoessome buttons.

She sits likea little kid, all thewomangone.

Sandy grabsa pen and paper,scribbles fast.

Sandy stands,stretchesfor her purseshowing maximum ass and flexibility.Asshe hands overthe keys:

Sandy shrugs,her smile fading.

The roar ofan angryVB takes us to:

Reacher behind the wheel ofa tricked-out ElCamino. Unaccustomed to driving,he drops the car in reverse, grinds the gear,overdoes thegas and break.

ANGLE ON: That Silver Audi parked across the lot.

Inside we findone of the Zec's thugs.We'll callhim VLAD. We notice he's missingathumb.He watches the El Camino lurch out of the lot.Hefollows.

The rural outskirts.TheEl Camino turns off themain road and downa bumpy gravel driveway.A moment later, the Silver Audicomes intoview,hanging back.

Reacher takesin a two bedroom rental.ANOLD WOMAN sits in a rockeron the porch,staringinto space.

Reacher opensthe glove box,finding an envelope with registration,insurance,etc.

The Old Woman rocks gently,her only reaction. Reacher mounts the porch,flashing the car's registration with it's official-looking state seal.

She doesn'teven look atReacher. He notices the glass pipeand lighter in thefolds of her blanket, her glassy eyes.She'scooked out of her mind.

Reacher walksin the house.The OldWoman pulls a cell phone outfrom under her blanketand dials ...

Reacher enters.The place isa shit-hole.Dishes piled high in the sink, fliesbuzzing.He headsdown the front hall passingasmall bathroom.Further on he finds anopen door witha heavy haspon the frame for a padlock.The gear-head booty-centric postersin the room beyond denoteayoung man'stouch. The dresser drawersare allopen and empty.The closet contains nothing buta fewempty hangers.

Vlad has hiscar hunkered ina drivewaydown the road from Jeb's.His eyes narrowas a primer-coatedChevy drives pastand turnsdown Jeb's driveway ...

Reacher pulls Helen's card out of hispocketand picks up thephone todial. Then he stops,hangsup.

CLOSE ON:Reacher's hand,taking theend of his Jacket and wiping thephone of fingerprints.He turns, goesback to the bathroom and looksagain.

He notes theshower curtain rod.Except fora few metal rings there'snothing else there ...

WHACK -Reacher is struck violently across theback of the head.He pitchesforward intothe shower, rolling half-dazed to defend himself,seeing:

Not one,but TWO attackers- we'll callthem BIGand TALL -cut from the same cloth as Jeb.Bigis swinginga pipe with Reacher's bloodon it.Tall has a chopped-down baseball bat.

Reacher isfucked - onhis back ina tight space, fetal,curled up to protecthis head and body,taking brutal hits to his shins,kneesandforearms. Then:

Reacher kicks with both feet,hittingBig in the pelvis,sending him into the hallway.Hegrabs Tall's face, hisright thumb squishing into Tall'seye socket.Tall screamsand scramblesback like a crab, but Reacher holdson, letting Tall's adrenalized power haulthem both to their feet.

Tall hitsReacher with the bat-handle,but the strikes areinvoluntary,comical, girlie.Reacher pushes Tallbackward into the hallas:

Big gets on his feetandswings his pipe.Reacher turns Tall likea shield,the full force of thepipe landing on Tall's shoulder withasickening crunch.

Reacher pushes Tall intoBig,driving harddown the narrow corridor.Big tripsand falls.Reacher and Tall landon top of him.Reacher andBig grapple savagely, Tallsandwiched between them,screaming.

Reacher letsgo of Big,grabs Tall'shead in both hands and drives it likearock intoBig's faceover and over until bothmen are still.He stands,winded, dazed, bleedingfrom theback of hishead. Then:

Reacher turns tofindA THICK PUNK justa few feet away, aiminga pistol.He is one of Jeb'swingmen from thebar, the onewithout the shattered leg.

Before the lastword is out of hismouth,Reacher lashes out with hisrighthand, grabbing thegun firmly,pushing it leftas he leansright.

CRACK -the gun goes off into the wall behind Reacher.He spins thegun around,snagging the Punk's finger in the trigger guard.Reacher yanks thegun back with both hands,stripping that trigger finger to the bone.The Punk'sscream is cut shortwhen Reacher snatcheshimby the throat,drives him into the walland shoves thegun in the Punk'smouth.

Reacher pulls thegun out of hismouth.

Reacher thinkson it,then:

He digs1n the Punk'spocket, comes out withkeys.

The Punk looks at thepulpyheap of Bigand Tall.

Vlad is slightly confusedwhenReacher emerges driving theChevy back toward town.Vlad follows.

The rest of the firm hasgonehome.Helen sits at her desk covered withphotographsfrom the crime scene- Darren's flowers,Nancy'sbag, Oline's valise- all seeminglyinnocuous, if not for the motionlesshand in this corner,the spatter of blood in thatone.

He moves tolook out thewindow. She sees the clotted wound on theback of hishead, bloodon his collar.

She rubs her eyes,shakes her head.

Shooter's P.O.V.through thescope,choosing targets:

Barr walking to theledge,shouldering his rifle:

BARR'S P.O.V.through thescope as those fourdoomed Americanswalks into the line of fire:

The same place Reacher stood,takinginthe mall. Barr shootsfrom insidehis minivan:

CRACK/CR4CK/CRACK-the shells landing inback.

A beat later,the vanis speedingaway.

E.C.U.s:Tape pulls the printfrom the shell/A hot light scansit/Tape lifts printsfrom the traffic cone/A hot light scansit/Tape liftsa printfroma quarter/A hotlight scansit as:

A bullet slicing the water, settling to thebottom.

E.C.U.s:A bottle ofbooze, a bottle of pills,Barr passed out cold- just theway the policefoundhim.

A PAIROF GLOVED HANDS pressesa quarter to Barr's thumb/A bullet to hisfinger/Apairof feet squeeze into his crepe soled shoes/Those gloved hands pullon Barr's windbreaker,grab Barr's car keys/Open the door to hisminivan.

That takesa moment to sinkin, then:

But just aswe think he'swon her over:

When she doesn't,Reacher turns it off himself.

Helen sighs,turns, looksdown at the traffic.

She stares at the chain stores,the banks,theurban blandness of it all. It'spurgatory.

Helen blinks,refocuses,sees the car in question.

Reacher produces Helen's card withalicense plate number scrawled on it,

Helen studies the card,shakes her head withasigh.

A familiar cellphoneansweredby claw-like hands.

The Zee listens,scowls.

He hangsup, looks across theroom at:

Charlie.He reads theZec's face,pulls on his jacket,grabs his keysas the Zee dials thephone.

Vlad,a cell-phoneon the dashon speaker, looks at his remainingthumband sneers bitterly.

CLOSE ON: the photoson Helen's desk.Welook at them a little differentlynow.

His face doesn't change,but the remark stings.

Reacher takesa post-it anda pen from her deskand writes something.He folds itand hands it toHelen.

Then thephone rings.Reacher waits.Helen answers.

She grabsa pen, writes.Her face slackens.

She hangsup, staring atwhat she's written.She turns, looks out thewindow,noting theAudi is gone.

She rummagesthrough thephotographson the table, findingone in particularand freezing.

She handsReacher thephotograph she is holding. Oline Archer laysfacedown in a pile of blood- stained legal papers,one of which clearly reads:

ARCHERPARTNERS v. fall\RGRl\VECONSTRUCTION

TERMS OFSETTLEMENT

Reacher says nothing.She unfolds the note. It reads:

OLINE ARCHER

They bothlook at the photograph ofOlinein her pile of papers.Reacher says nothing.

Helen thinksabout this fora beat,then she writes an addresson her pad,tears it off,hands it over.

Her hand lingersin his.A pleasantlyawkwardmoment.

A pare of succulent, slightly parted lips take the finishingtouches of bright red lipstick.

PULLBACK TO REVEAL:Sandy looking likea million air-brushed bucks.She gives her haira tease, adjustsher breastsand blows a kiss to the mirror.

Follow Sandy's killer heelsdown thedimly lit walkway. She seesA MAN comingup the sidewalk, thinks nothing of it.He passes her,then:

She stops,turns and we see it's:

Long, awkward pause.

She thinks about it ...We tense.Don'tgo.Then:

A hand grabs her shoulderand spins her around.Sandy comes face-to-chest withVlad.His massivefist slams her temple,snapping her head sideways-

CRllCK

CLOSE ON: Sandy,her neck bent atan impossible angle, her eyesblank atodd angles, adeep blue bruise on the side of her face.PULLBACKTO REVEAL:

Detective Emerson- meticulous collector of evidence that he is -kneeling bya dumpster with that slightly sickened lookon hisface. We are:

Sandy's body hasbeen tossedaway like trash, position undignified.

PULL BACKTO REVEAL: A crime scene- the yellow tape, the idle cop cars,idleCOPS. We're behinda motel - one of those low-lying placesyou passand wonder "who the hell stays there?"Butnow youknow.

Reacher behind thewheelon a sleepy, over-lit city street. Hiseyes narrow,spying somethingahead.

REACHER'SP.O.V. A silver Audi,thatAudi, parked in an otherwiseempty loton the other side of the concrete divider.No fastway to get there.Reacher slows down, tries to see inside the car.

The Audi's headlightscomeon and the car suddenly drives away.As Reacher ponders thiswego to-

-Emerson,leafing through the registry with theNIGHT MANAGER anxiouslylookingon.

Reacher seesthe flashingred and blue police lights beforehe sees the motel.He wheelsinto the parking lot and brings theChevy toa stop,noting thevan markedCORONER, the red hair peeking outfrom under the sheet inback.

He glances in hisrearv1ewand sees thatAudi again, creeping past the motel.

Charlie and Vladslow down to rubberneck.They see Reacher's car in the lot,Emersonemergingfrom the lobby. Everything isin its proper place.

Emerson stops,sees theChevy. Reacher inside. Reacher and Emersonmake eye contact.Time stops. Recognition.Assumption.Conclusion.Action.

Emerson'shand goes forhis gun. Reacher drops the car in reverse.

Screamingtires. Reacher over-guns theChevyback into the street asCOPS realizea chase ison and run for theircars. Emerson isahead ofthem by several seconds -in his car and after Reacher likea shot.

The car lurches,gears grind.The road in Reacher's rearview gradually fillswith redand blue lights.He sees tail lightsup aheadand guns it.

(You are reminded;Reacher is notmuch ofa driver.)

Charlie glancesin the rearview.Vlad looksback.The Chevy iscoming up fast,chased by police.Vlad looks to Charlie."What dowe do?" Charlieguns it.

Reacher ignores thecops carson his ass,focusingon the Audiin front. TheoverpoweredChevy gainsuntil:

Reacher pullsup alongside the Audiand looks over. He can justmake outtwo faces looking back athim.

Reacher dropsback,cranks the wheel,clipping the Audi1 sassas:

Charlie struggles to thekeep the caron the road.

Reacher rams the stubbornAudi once,twice,about to ram it a third timewhenhe sees:

Three moresquad cars in front ofhim,closing, covering both lanes.Reacherslams the breakshard.

But the Audikeeps going,swerving to the shoulder, slamming intothe guard-rail,clippingan oncoming cop car and,miraculously,making it through.

The cop car spins out,blocking Reacher'schance of following.He has onlya split second to watch the Audi escape.But he hasbigger problems.He dropshis still-skiddingChevy in reverseand punches the gas.

The Chevy shudders,engulfed ina cloud of rubber smoke, and finallygainingspeed goingbackward as:

Emersonand the threesquad cars swerve to avoid slamminginto Reacher'sChevy, passinghim as:

Seven police cars aresuddenly ina tangle- three corning,fourgoing - all trying tofollow Reacher.

Meanwhile,Reacher takes the opportunity tomakea jerky three point turn,grinding gears,about to start speeding thewrongway up the divided road.

Then he getsan idea.

Reacher gets out of the carand simply walksaway. The stunned copswatchfrom their carsas Reacher jumpsover the dividerand across the road.

The police carsare suddenly useless.EmersonandA DOZEN COPS bail outand chase after Reacheron foot. Two of them haveK-9. But Reacher hasagood lead,he has no gun-belt,no bodyarmor. And he'sReacher.

Low-income suburbs.Bootson pavement,winded men breathing,dogs panting,radios squawking- flashlightbeams swinging leftand right.

For Reacher its the sort of coursea military lifer is made for- dodging obstacles,vaulting fences.

For Emersonand his men itis the weight of the gear on their belts,the coffeein their bellies.

Emerson and thecops fan outas TWOK-9 COPS drop to their kneesand snap their leads.Two finelooking GERMAN SHEPHERDSspeed ahead of the police.

Reacher hearsthem coming,the almost playful breathing.Other menwould run faster.Reacher stops.

FIRST DOG'SP.O.V. Lowand fast, loping across the grass, savageas it roundsa corner to find:

Reacher ina low crouch,hands outstretched.He catches the dog'sfrontlegs and spreadsthem likea wishbone.The dog is instantly helpless,frontlegs spread,chin on the ground.Reacher pins thedog, pulls itschoke collar taught,stepson it. The animal flails,helpless as:

SECONDDOG'S P.O.V.Again, low and fast,rounding the corner to findReacher throwingapunch. He jams his right fist directly into the dog'smouth,grabbing it by the scruff with the other.Thedog can'tbite down.And it can't breathe.The animal chokes, flails,and finallymakes sounds of surrender.

Emerson and theTWO K-9cops vaulta fence into the yard and find thetwo dogs,wheezingand cowering. Their master'ssnap the leadson and try to continue the chase,but their dogsrefuse tofollow.

Emerson doesn't stop toanswer.He runsaround the corner,gun drawn, but there isno sign of Reacher.

Silence.Emerson andNUMEROUS COPSemerge from behind severalhouses - convergingin awide circle.All exitswere covered.Where the helldid he go?

Emersonlooks around thedimly lit neighborhood asa low rumblinggrows intoa roar and theeye ofGod seems to illuminate the neighborhood.A police helicopter roarsoverhead,its blindingspotlight searching relentlessly.But Reacherisgone.

ANGLEON: the ground at Emerson's feet.He doesn't noticea ragged hole in the grassashe walksaway.

CLOSEON the back door- the frame split where the knob meets thejamb.COME AROUND to reveal the place is deserted.Not a stick of furniture.

A FORSALE sign leans against one wall,freshly rippedfrom the ground outside.

Reacher peersthrough curtains left behind.He watches thecops beat the bushes,lookunder cars.He dabs hisbloody knuckleson the curtainsand waits.

Charlieand Vlad watchfrom a distanceas the police gather at their cars togiveup.

The Zee witha cell phone in hisclaws.

The Zee thinks,angry.Frustrated. Finally:

Charlie looks at Vlad's missingthumb,considers his own ten healthy fingers.Finally:

Helen in her kitchen,dressed inarobe, tired after a long day.As she turns out the lightsshe hearsa noise o.s.She pauses,follows it to the door.

E.C.U:The door knobmoves ever so slightly.But the door is locked.Helenbacks away, scarednow. She turns for thephone justas it rings.A bright light blinds her through the sliding glassdoor in the kitchen.She lunges fora drawer,grabbing a kitchen knife.The bright light turns,illuminating:

Emersonwith TWO UNIFORMCOPS. Hehas a cell phone to his ear,shouting through the glass:

She sits on thecouch, stunned.Emersonand Rodin stand over her.

All of thishits Helenlike a truck.

Emersonand Rodin study her.Finally.

The phone rings,butHelen ignoresit, standing. Emersonhas to get between herand Rodin.

The room eruptsin cross talk,the ringingphone. Emerson's voice finally cutsabove it.

She walksinto the kitchen,pickingup the phone.

As Emersonand Rodinargue in the otherroom:

Helen blanches,recovers,considers her actionsvery carefully,stealinga glance at Rodinand Emerson.

Reacheron a pay phone.

REVEALhe is standing next to Helen'sLexus.We notice theback passengerwindow isgone.

She shakes her head."Typical Reacher."

Helen thinksabout this,turning slowly,looking at Emerson andRodin, still talking in the otherroom.

Helen turnsslowly, focusingon her fatherjust as her father andEmerson finish their dialogue.They focus on Helennow. Stillshe says nothing.

Tense pause.Helen suddenlyshe hangsup the phone.

Emerson nodsand heads for the door.Rodin lingers for a moment,but Helen foldsher arms.She's done.

Rodin leaves,shutting thedoor behindhim. Helen lets outa long, trembling breathand sitsdown.

Reacher'sP.O.V. of a signover thehighway:

WELCOME TOKENTUCKY - Unbridled Spirit

HARD CUT to another signcomingup slowlyon the side of a rural roud:

HINGE CREEKGUN RANGE -Member's Only

Reacher parksbetweena Hummer anda Ford F-150. Bumper stickers express the single-issue leanings of die-hard2nd Amendmenteers.MEN WHOCOULD VERYWELL BE MILITIA linger in the parking lot,givingReacher the once overwhen heemerges froma citified Lexus.

Wood paneled walls,spongyplywood floor,gunsand ammo for sale.A bigwindow behind the counter overlooksa long riflerange - theland dippingfor threehundred yards before gradually slopingupwards to a forest halfa milebeyond.A big flag reads:

SEMPER FI

Behindthe counter isMARTIN CASH (50s).He cleansa stripped rifle not unlike theweaponused at the mall.He studies Reacher,nods slightly.

Reacher turns toawall lined with simple10 x10 paper targets- concentric circlesarounda black bull's-eye.All of the targetsare used,bearing tightgroups of bullet holesin the center.Each target ismarked with therange fired- none less than fivehundred yards- and all bear thename of the marksman in small,meticulous handwriting.

We noticea few suspicious blank-spotson this otherwise orderly wall offame.

Reacher likes thisguy.As they shake hands:

Cash's face falls.Ashe reassembles therifle:

CLACK - Cash slaps the lastpieceof the rifle in place and racks the bolt.Reacher doesn't flinch.

Cash thinks fora beat,pulls outa target, writes:

AARON WARD - 700 yds.

He lays three bulletsdown next to his rifle.

A chilly wind blows across the desolate landscape. Reacher hangsthe targeton a wooden backstop.He turns to trek back the seven-hundred yards to the shooter'sbench, pausing briefly to consider:

Cash, hisrifle restingon a simpleplywood table.He glances at thegun, then Reacher,alone out there.

CLOSE ON:A pair of hands pickup of the rifleand rack the action.REVEAL:

It's Reacher,back at thebench now- foam plugs in his ears.Cash screwstwo .45 caliber casingsinhis. Reacher goesprone, shoulders the rifle.

A RIFLE SCOPEinvades our P.O.V.andwe are transported to the target.The reticleisa bit shakier than the one at the mall.Reacher breathesin and out,in and out.The reticle slowly settlesand:

CRl\CK.• •CRACK.• •CRl\CK-Reacher standsasCash raises apair of binoculars to hiseyes.

CASH'SP.O.V. Three shotsin the black- one just touching the edge,butstill good.Cash lowers his binocularsand studiesReacher withnew eyes.

INT, FRONTOFFICE -DAY

Cash lays downa dozen targets,each featuringa tight group in the center-so closeas to make a single ragged hole.

Each target bearsa name in the corner:

JllMESBllRR

ANGLE ON:A jury-rigged piece ofone-way glass overa ragged hole cut in the wall forasecurity camera.

ANGLE ON:cash's desk: a rat's nest of receipts,an old addingmachine and acrappy twenty-year oldPC covered ingrime playsback images capturedby a the camera; Thefaces of Cash'smany customers.

ON THE SCREEN,Barr enters,followedby a MAN INA BASEBALLCAP, face hard tomake out.Until:

Cash pauses the playback-blurry,grainy, butenough to identify:

Charlie.

Helen answers herringingcell phone.

Reacher usesa binderclip like forceps to lift Barr's targets intoa trashbag.

She hangsup.

COME AROUNDSLOWLY asshe addresssomeone O.S.REVEAL a largeheap of legal fileson adesk in front of her. Several of thedocumentsfeature the words:

MARGR4VECONSTRUCTION

REVEAL:She is sittingin District AttorneyRodin's office,addressing her father.

She standsand headsfor the door.

Helenemerges from Rodin's office,ignoringTHEMAN seated onone of several leather chairs-hisface hiddenby a newspaper.

The doors slideopen and Helen getson.The doors are just about closedwhen ahand catches them.As the doors slideopen again.

The Man enters,steps intothe frameTO REVEAL:

Emerson.

The doors close.The elevator descends.Aftera few beats Helen hasa realization.She does her best to hide thatshe is suddenly nervous.

Beat. Helen,thinks fast,pulling the stop button. The elevator lurches toa haltand the alarm sounds. Emerson grabs her,reachesunder hisjacket.

She screams,kicks, punches.He getsa hand on her throat and:

ZZZZZACK- nails her with the stun-gunhe holdsin the other.His lips are curledinthat slightly sickened sneer.Thereis no joy inthis.

Winded,bleeding froma scratch on hischeek,Emerson pushes the stop buttonbackin. Thealarm stops.He quickly pullskeys from his beltand insertsa particularly long onein the holemarked:

FIRE ONLY

The elevator opens.Emerson steps out with Helen's limp body over his shoulder.Here he meets:

Vlad and Charlie.

103,

Reacher on apay phone, Helen's card in hishand, keeping a wary eyeas he dials.

Confused, Reacher looks at Helen's card again,

INT, DARKROOM -NIGHT

Charlie has Helen's cellphone,

Charlie holds thephone toHelen,seated in a chair with Vlad behind her,hands restingon her shoulders. She's scared but otherwiseokay.

Reacher shakeshis head,pissed.

But she'sgone.

He hangsup the phone.

Charlie isstunned.He looks atHelen, Vlad:

Vlad leaves theroom as thephonerings again. Charlie answers, thistimeon speaker:

Reacher hangsup.

Long pause.The phone ringsagain.He answers.

Helenis stunned- not sure ifhe means it.

Charlie looks to thedoorwaywhere theZee is now lingering.Helen noticeshim for the firsttime and gasps audibly.Charlie covers thephone as:

Reacher hangson tenterhooks,listening toa muffled conversation,praying with hiseyes closed.Finally:

The trucksare gone, the dust has settled.Bright lights covering the rigmake thisplacelook even more likean alien outpost.Vlad and the other three Thugs patrol the premises,calm but alert.

Charlie occupies the highest point of thecompound atop the silos.He usesa sniper rifle witha night vision scope to scans the horizon in all directions.

The Zee sitsin a chairsmoking a cigarette.Helen studies this creature with fascination.Emerson lingersby the door,waiting for the fight.

The Zee doesnot even react.She turns toEmerson.

He turns toface her nowand her blood runs cold.

She looks toEmerson.That slightly sickened sneeron his facemakes her believehim.

107,

But the Zee appears genuinely confused.

Helen's cellphone rings, startling her.Emerson answers, hands it to Helen.

A wall of earth five feethighon either side. Reacher leans against Helen's car in the dark.

He hangsup as headlightsapproach.He tenses as a pick up truckcomes toa stop. THEDRIVER gets out, walks toward him,holdinga rifle,emerging from behind the headlightsTOREVEAL:

Cash pulls a knifefrom hisjacket and hands it over.

CRANE UP asReacher leadsCash to the wall of Earth on one side of thesunken roadTO REVEAL:

The Concrete factoryagood half mileaway, lit up like Christmas.Reacher and Cash peerfroma place of perfect cover.Cash pops thescope off his rifle, brings itto his eye likea telescope.

CASH'S P.O.V.He spiestwo of The Zec's BalticThugs but nothing else.His scope settleson theshadow at the tops of the central silos.

EXT, CONCRETEFACTORY- CROWSNEST -NIGHT

Charliesnaps alert asa car emergesfrom the sunken road halfa mile awayand makes an erratic turn.We think the car is drivingawayfrom the factory until the back-up lightscomeon. Charlie can hear the engine whiningfrom here,gunningin reverse.

Charlieaims and CRACK

The Zee,Helen and Emerson all prickup at thesound of the shot.The Zee checks hiswatchand smiles.

The BalticThugs take coverand get ready,watching the car come.

Reacher layson the floor,left elbowon the gas, righthand steering.A bullet blows out theback window.Another blasts through the headrest.

The back seat isfilledwith evidenceboxes -the densereams of paper asgood as armor.

Charlie firesagainand again, punching holesin the Lexusas it bouncesacross open ground,ever closer.

llO.

The Lexus hitsa dip, catches air,landshard - a mass of torn metaland shattered glass. It skids into a ditch, stuck.

Reacher dropsthe car in drive,reverse,drive again, slamming thegas with hiselbow, trying to rock the car free.Bullets pepper the roof.

Cash sightsin on the dark recess of the crows nest, drawing abead on the muzzle flashesand:

PING - Abullet hits the trim justinchesfrom Charlie'sface. He recoilsas the sound of the shot catchesup with the bullet.He brings thegun around and scans for the source.

Reacher realizes there'sa breakinthe shooting.He bails out of the carand runsacrossopen ground as:

Charlie seesReacher,draws a beadon him as:

Cash drawsa bead on the darknesswhere Charlieis hiding:

CRACK

Then he quickly ducks out of sight as:

PING-CRACK.Charlie's shot isthrown offby Cash's incoming.He swings his riflearound again to search the darknessfor Cash.No luck. He goesback to Reacher,painting his chest with the crosshairs.

PING. Another bullet just misses Charlie.He flinches, tries to ignore it,aiming atReacher and:

CRACK

A bullet hits theground at Reacher's feet.He runs full speed ina straight line,thesound of snipers duking it out in frontand behind.

Vlad emergesfrom theshadows and squints,seeing Reacher closing fastacross the lasthundred yards of open ground.He aims.

KAKAKAKAKAKAKA- Machine-gun fire.Reacher switches from adead run to a serpentine.

Cash'sscope deviatesfrom the crows nest to thetwo flashingmachine-gunslower down.He aims.

CRACK

A flood lightabove Vlad explodes,showeringhim with powdered glass.

Vlad ducks,motionsfor his ThreeThugs to spread out and rush tomeet Reacher at theedge of thecompound.

Meanwhile,Charlie sees Cash'smuzzle flashand draws a bead on his position.

Cash aims at another lightby Vlad as:

ZZZZZZZMACK- A bullet strikes theground just inches from his face- throws dirtand gravel in his eyes. Cash drops,blinded.

Charlie turnshis sights back to the field but Reacher isgone.

Meanwhiletwo Thugs rounda long row of shipping containers at theedge of thecompound,expecting to find Reacher but findingonly darkness.

ANGLE ON:A Third Thug lingerson the other side of the shipping container,watching the back door,so to speak.Reacher emergesfrom the darknessbehind him, knife inhand. The Thug turns at the lastsecondand fires asReacher grabs the muzzle.

The otherTwo thugshear this and runtoward it.

The rapidly firinggun'smuzzle sears Reacher'spalm but he holds tight.With his other hand he drives the knife into the Thug's chest,shovinghim back into the shipping container.The machinegun continues to fire.Reacher takes the pain,pounding the knife with his elbow until theThug drops.

His leftpalm blistering,Reacher grabs the Thug's gun but it isslung to the dead weight of hisbody. Reacher tries to pull out the knife,but the blade is stuck fast.He brings the sling to the blade instead, slicingit clean through.He has agun but it's empty.He searches the thug for magazines.

ANGLEON: The two Thugsrounding the shipping container as:

Reacherfinds a magazine,quickly jams ithome, charges theweapon as:

The two Thugsappear in time to seeReacher standing and opening fire:

KAKAKAKAKAKAKA- Reacher cutsdown thetwo Thugs before theyknow what hit them.But:

KAKAKAKAKA -Bullets pepper the shipping container. Reacher hitsthe ground and returnsfire,seeing:

Vlad, ducking forcover.Reacher getsup and presses the attack,firing in short controlled bursts,moving from one position ofcoverto the next.Vlad is doing the same until finally.

Reacher's gunis empty.Vlad emerges fromcover, steps out to geta clear shotand pulls the trigger.

CLICK - Vlad is out,too.He goes fora spare magazine.Reacher doesn'thave one.He drops the machine gunand rushes Vladas the Russian quickly reloads, driving the magazinehome,jerkingthe bolt-

WHAM - Reacher hitshim likea train.The two men go down hard,grappling close-in withaloaded machine- gun between their bodies.Vlad has control of the trigger,Reacher the muzzle.Stalemate then:

WHAM - Reacher head-buttsVladin the nose,buyinga few seconds of control.He wrenches thegun clockwise,turning the sling intoatourniquet around Vlad's neckand chest.Vlad punchesReacher, trying to break free. Itbecomesa fight to seewho can stay consciouslonger. Vlad loses.He collapses,dead.

Winded,bleeding, Reacher stands,lookstoward the silo at the center of thecompound.Hegrabs Vlad's gun and heads toward it.

Reacher creepsup the metal stairson the outside of the solo, totally exposed.He reaches the top and finds a steel door.He kicks it openand enters:

Reacher dives to one side,expecting tobe fired upon. Instead helandson the floor opposite:

Charlie,bleeding througha hole between hisneckand shoulder,gasping for breath.

Reacher stands,picksup Charlie's sniperrifle, steps inhis wounded shoulder.Charliesucks wind.

Charlie almost criesfrom the pain.He is pathetic now. Crippled.

CLOSEON Reacher -rage in his eyes,a lust for blood.But then he pushes itaway,backs off.

Reachernods checks the rifle.Charlie tips hishead back,waits for the shot.

CRJJCK-Charlie screams.A bulletin his foot.

CRACK- His screams shatter into sobs-a bulletin his other foot.

Emerson,Helen and theZee hear threemore shots, mingling with Charlie'showls ofagony.Five shotsin all.Emerson is scared,close to snapping.TheZee is amazingly calm,smokinga cigarette.

Charlie weeps,bleedingfrom his knees,elbows,feet.

He places the muzzled over Charlie's heart.

CRACK

REACHER'SP.O.V. The door creaksopenTO REVEAL:

Emerson behindHelen, agun to her head.A shadow in the corner casuallysuckson a glowing cigarette.

EMERSON'SP.O.V. Reacher just outside,Charlie's rifle in hishand.

Long pause.Emerson considers his optionsandmakes his move,aiming like lighting atReacher as:

Reacher shoulders the rifle just as fastand:

CRACK/CRACK

CLOSE ON:Helen. She flinches.

HELEN'S P.O.V.Reacheraiming the smoking rifle.

Emerson's pistol fallsin her lap.He collapses behind her- dead.

Reacher enters,aiming the rifle at theshadowinthe corner.Helen stands,trembling, holding Emerson's pistolby the barrel.Reacher putsdown the rifle, takes thepistol, putsan arm around her.

Then he flickson thelight. The Zee flinches slightly,almost likea roach ready to rununder the fridge.But he stayscalm. Smokes.

The Zee raisesan eyebrow,nods, mildlyimpressed.

The Zee says nothing.Reacher putsEmerson's pistol to his forehead.

Reacher studies this pathetic oldmanand realizes he's telling the truth.

As Helen picksup thephone and dials.

She looks at Reacher:"canyou believe this?"

Reacher thinksabout thisfor a second.

CRllCK-He shoots theZee through hismilky eye.

Helen drops thephone,too stunned to scream.

He wipes his prints off theweaponand places it in the Zec'sdead hand.

And he walks out.

Reacherand Helen walk towarda car covered in gray dustand riddled with bullet holes.

He reaches into theblown-open trunk of the carand pulls outa plastic bag containing targetsanda picture of Charlie.Hehands it toHelen.

Helen looks at thebag fora moment,then realizes:

Cash emergesfrom the darkness, still trying to get the grit out of hiseyes.

The faint sound of sirensO.S.They notice the first flashing lightsfrom a line of police cars approaching in the distance.

As Reacher andCash turn to leave:

Suddenly Helenlooks very small in the midst of this moonscape.Reacher puts hishands on her shoulders.

He kisses her gentlyon the cheek.Helengrabs him and kisseshim on the lips.They linger toolong for Cash's liking.He clears his throat.

Finally,Helen lets go.

Cash and Reacher walk back toward thesunken road, dissolving into theshadows.

We staywith Helen, in the middle ofawide open, bone grey wasteland,sirens getting closer.She takes a deep breathand waits,fearless,as we FADE TO:

WHITE

And a familiarbeeping aswe FADE INTO:

P.O.V. lookingup at the ceilingfroma hospitalbed.

James Barr- face still slightly swollen, hair matted from recentlyremoved bandages- awaitsjudgement.

Helen enters,pulls upa chair and sits.She hasa note-padand pen on her lap.

Barr'snods. Then hiseyes well up with tears of guilt andshame.

He shakes hishead.

She reaches into her valise,pulls out photos of the mall.Generic. All taken before the crime.

Barr takes the pictures,thumbsthroughthem, shrugs.

Helen nods,quietly amazed.

Barr starts to cry.

Helen tries her best not to smile at the irony.

PULL BACKSLOWLY fromA YOUNG COUPLE arguingin harsh whispersin the back of thebus. THEGIRL is near tears. TheGUY is on the verge of getting physical.

We can't hear whathe issaying, butnone of it is nice.

As we movebackward down the aislewe takein the faces of theOTHER PASSENGERS- a gallery of faces, human facesfrom all points,brought together by fate to share thisuncomfortable experience.They allwant the fight to stop.No one wants to getinvolved.

And this iswhere we findReacher- freshly turned out in the latest Target fashion,headed toGodknows where.He looks out thewindow, knuckle to his lips.

PUSH INSLOWLY as the questionnagshim: "Why?"

The sound ofa slap,a young woman crying out.

He getsup and walks to theback of thebus. We stay on hisempty seat.

BLACK *