"THE AMERICAN" (2010)

THE AMERICAN

Screenplay by Rowan Joffe

Based on the novel A Very Private Gentleman by Martin Booth

FADE IN:

A lake.

A forest.

A dacha.

A Saab outside the winterhouse.

A light within.

The impressive US Army Special Forces crest tattooed on the shoulder of his bare torso is at odds with JACK’s quiet manner and the distinguished silver that flecks his hair and stubble. JACK is no longer young.

A creak behind him and his eyes flick over his left shoulder.

INGRID (34) is naked. With an intimate familiarity she kisses JACK on the top of his head, sits close behind him and wraps her arms around her lover, linking her slender hands across his upper chest.

Her head resting on his shoulder, her face beside his, INGRID and JACK watch the fire together in easy silence.

INGRID leads JACK through the trees. Her coat has a white fur collar. They are fresh-faced and warm from bed.

They head towards a vast and frozen lake.

JACK senses something in the woods.

Beneath the Conifers: impenetrable darkness.

JACK looks around.

Thick snow blankets the world and muffles any sound. There is not the slightest breeze.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 2.

They continue through the woods until they reach the shoreline of the lake.

INGRID steps onto the ice.

Holds out her hand.

A beat.

JACK takes INGRID’s hand.

Solid as stone, the frozen lake takes his weight.

They walk out, INGRID slipping and laughing.

The landscape is magical.

JACK begins to relax, slipping and swearing.

Suddenly, he stops.

There are footprints in the thin snow going out across the lake.

Beside the Snow-hare’s prints are those of a man.

JACK studies the two sets of tracks.

Those of the Snow-hare are headingout into the lake. The man’s prints are heading in theopposite direction, towards the shoreline.

JACK spins around in the direction they’ve just come from.

No one.

A man sits in a Mercedes Benz.

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Then, about ten metres inland from the edge of the lake, a low branch dips and a thick rug of snow falls from the branch.

JACK grabs INGRID, yanks her towards the cover of the lakeside trees and pushes her down into the snow.

She grunts, winded. He lies besides her.

We hear the CRACK of a bullet- so quiet it might be a bough snapping under the weight of winter.

It isn’t.

JACK pulls a WALTHER PPK/S semi-automatic handgun from the pocket of his Parka.

Cocks it.

There’s another CRACK from the trees.

JACK pinpoints the spot from the drift of BLUE SMOKE, almost invisible in the winter air.

There’s someone in the shadows.

He rubs snow into his woollen hat, edges up until he can just see over the snow and pumps THREE SHOTS into the dusk under the trees.

We hear a muttering groan and then a sliding sound, as if JACK has just shot a tobogganist.

More snow slides off the trees.

Man steps out of the Mercedes, pistol in hand. Leaves car door open.

JACK waits.

INGRID gathers her breath but loses her wits:

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JACK keeps his eyes fixed on the trees.

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He stands up slowly and walks inland towards the corpse that is just visible now in the shadows beneath the trees.

INGRID follows, frightened.

The MAN is slouched forwards in a drift of snow, his body cushioned in white softness.

JACK kicks the sole of his boot.

JACK grabs his collar and turns him over. He doesn’t recognise him.

Checks his neck for a pulse.

There isn’t one.

JACK fumbles at his buttons and rummages in his clothing.

Finds cash and a disposable cigarette lighter but no identification.

INGRID sets off, stumbling up the track they have made through the snow.

JACK shoots her just once, in the nape of her neck.

She twitches in the snow, her blood staining the white fur of her coat collar.

From a distance, INGRID looks like a shot Snow-hare.

JACK approaches her.

And steps over her, trying not to look down.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 5.

Trying not to look back.

There is a MAN in the forest; he’s standing about 5 meters away from a dark Mercedes-Benz sedan.

The second hunter.

He is holding an automatic pistol and he’s on alert.

JACK comes from behind, walks around the car and kicks the car door closed. The man turns around surprised, and Jack gives him a bigger surprise, he fells him easily with a bullet in the head.

He removes the clip from his WALTHER and reloads it. Steps in to the Mercedes and drives to the House.

JACK packs a few belongings in a large holdall.

JACK shoots the front right tire of the SAAB.

Then he gets into the MERCEDES.

And drives off down the forest road.

We see JACK on the moving ferry, standing next to his car, looking at the water, his surroundings.

We’re on JACK *

Pause.

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PAVEL * (calm) Shit.

A beat.

PAVEL * There’s a bar not far from the station. Caffé Vigeti via Voltorno. Wait here.

PAVEL puts the phone down. *

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JACK washes his face in the cramped bathroom at the back of the bar.

JACK’s well trained ear picks up sounds coming through the ventilation: sounds from the street, from the kitchen.

JACK stares at himself in the mirror. He looks exhausted.

JACK waits.

PAVEL enters. *

Sits at JACK’S TABLE.

He is older than JACK. Refined but tough. A man of few words but much gravitas.

It’s clear there’s a long history of mutual respect between these two men.

PAVEL * Who was the girl? *

JACK * A friend. Who were the Swedes... *

PAVEL * I’m working on that... It’s going * to take some time. Did she set you * up? *

JACK * She had nothing to do with it. *

PAVEL * A pity. I’ve made arrangements for * you in a small town in Abruzzo, * while I sort this out. *

JACK looks at him. There is tension between the two men. *

PAVEL reaches into his inside pocket. JACK watches closely. *

PAVEL produces an envelope and pushes it across the table. *

PAVEL * Turn right outside the bar, then * second left, Via Magenta. *

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 6A.

We now cut to Jack at the car parked on the street, * (Previously hot.) as we hear Pavel. *

We cut back to the cafe. *

PAVEL * Don’t talk to anyone. And Jack, * above all else don’t make any * friends... you used to know that. *

PAVEL rises. *

JACK watches him go. *

JACK waits. *

PAVEL enters. *

Sits at JACKS table. *

He is older than JACK. Refined but tough. A man of few words * but much gravitas. *

It’s clear there’s a long history of mutual respect between * these two men. *

PAVEL * Who was the girl? *

JACK * A friend. *

PAVEL * A friend? *

JACK * Who were the Swedes... *

PAVEL * I’m working on that... It’s going * to take some time. Did she set you * up? *

JACK * She had nothing to do with it. *

PAVEL * A pity. *

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Beat. *

PAVEL * I’ve made arrangements for you in a * small town in Abruzzo while I sort * this out. *

JACK looks at him. There is tension between the two men. *

PAVEL * Don’t talk to anyone. And Jack, * above all else don’t make any * friends... you used to know that. *

PAVEL reaches into his inside pocket. JACK watches closely. *

PAVEL produces an envelope and pushes it across the table. *

PAVEL * Turn right outside the bar, then * second left, Via Magenta. You’ll * find a dark blue Fiat Tempra with * Pescara plates. I’ve marked a small * town on the map, Castelvecchio. * Stay there and lay low ‘till you * get my call. *

PAVEL rises. *

JACK watches him go. *

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JACK walks down a narrow street lined with parked cars.

He passes an dark blue FIAT Tempra from around 1995.

JACK waits until he’s certain no one’s following him before he doubles back on himself, grabs the key from its hiding place on top of the rear right tire and climbs inside.

Checking the rear view mirror and the road ahead, JACK opens the glove compartment and finds a PLAIN MANILLA ENVELOPE. Inside the envelope is:

-a PASSPORT bearing Jack’s photo in the name ofEdward Clarke

-a DRIVER’S LICENSE in the same name

-several thousand euros in CASH

-A MOBILE PHONE in a cellophane bag.

-and a MAP.

A long tunnel: one of the longest in Europe.

JACK at the wheel.

It seems like night: black ceiling, strip lights, shadows.

Vast fans suspended from the ceiling shift the traffic fumes.

A button of light, expanding...

...as we burst into daylight, blinding Jack.

We’re in another world and Jack puts on his sunglasses.

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JACK'S CAR is driving thru an amazing, hard but breathtaking landscape and finally winds its way up a twisting mountain road towards...

...a ramshackle, lonely, desolate Italian HILLTOP TOWN.

The town sits beneath it’s own castle. Medieval towers, gables, streets and church bells: framed by the snow-capped mountain peaks beyond.

This is not the Italy of E.M. Forster or ofBella Tuscany. This is the Italy where the Crusaders built their fortresses. The Italy where Sergio Leone conceived of his great Westerns.

A CHURCH BELL tolls...

JACK slows down, taking in the roadsigns.

At the crossroads are SIGNPOSTS, one of which pointing to the town.

The sign reads:

CASTELVECCHIO.

JACK looks at the sign and drives up the road to Castelvecchio. (POV)

He looks at the quiet townsquare, at the vast stone ramparts.

An OLD MAN comes out of a crooked medieval doorway, stares at JACK and disappears into another building. Two women stop talking to each other and look at him.

JACK looks at the dead sockets of the windows, random beneath the rotting patchwork of rooves.

A DOG barks. The atmosphere is deathly.

JACK makes a decision.

And drives away.

We see JACK’S CAR headingaway from CASTELVECCHIO.

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The CAR crosses a spectacular VIADUCT that spans a deep RAVINE.

The passenger’s window opens.

A MOBILE PHONE in a cellophane bag is thrown out.

It drops hundreds of feet down the ravine.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 9.

FADE UP

CASTEL DEL MONTE is a well preserved, happy looking little mediaeval town with a small handful of tourists.

A chunk of time has passed.

JACK is sitting at a table inside a small BAR wearing dark glasses, sipping a coffee and reading a guide book on Abruzzo. He looks like a tastefully dressed, almost Italian looking, educated American tourist. He blends in. And no one pays him much attention as he finishes his coffee, pays his bill, gets up and leaves.

At a leisurely pace, JACK passes a row of municipal rubbish bins just inside the fortified gates to the old town.

Behind the bins we catch sight of JACK’s FIAT.

We’re right in the heart of the mediaeval old town: like the stronghold at the centre of a castle.

JACK comes out of a shop, clutching a bag containing bread, cheese and tomatoes.

JACK approaches an old building just off the main square: an ancient apartment block with a small sign that reads LOGGIA ARBRUZZO.

JACK walks in and puts the bag on the kitchen table and the guidebook on the bedside table. Apart for this, JACK has avoided unpacking: living entirely out of his holdall for some time.

In the bedroom, JACK takes his binoculars off the wall and goes to the window.

Looks at CASTELVECCHIO through his casement window.

He then hangs them back on the hook on the wall and starts doing push ups. While he does those, we look at elements of his apartment, the sound of his push-ups accompanying us:

A toothbrush in the glass by the sink

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A Nikon camera with a long lens on the kitchen table.

One jacket hanging on a hanger.

It is sparse and spartan.

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JACK is lying on top of his bed, fully clothed and wide awake.

Taped to the inside of the wooden bed frame...

...is his WALTHER semi-automatic handgun.

A shot of Castel del Monte from afar.

JACK has his NIKON F6. He’s wandering round town, looking at the sights: the mediaeval architecture, the square, the church.

The CHURCH is at the top of town.

A PRIEST, dressed in black, surveys the world below him:

Locals are going about their business.

The PRIEST notices JACK.

JACK turns casually down one of the town’s many narrow alleyways.

The alleyway bends left and right in a series of blind corners and dark tunnels, the street enclosed by arches, criss-crossed by flying stone buttresses and flanked by outside stairwells. It’s a stalker’s heaven- or hell- depending on how dangerous the prey.

JACK proceeds along the alleyway until he gets to a crossroads where FOUR NARROW ALLEYWAYS converge. Each alleyway leads uphill or downhill with varying degrees of steepness.

From an upstairs window he can hear the soundtrack of a game show on television. From another alleyway comes the sound of a barking dog.

No dog is visible.

JACK knows this dog and knows it lives behind a hidden archway which is on his right hand side. He lives nearby and visits the dog every day to give it a biscuit.

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The HIDDEN ARCHWAY resembles an archer’s slit but is big enough for a grown man to slip through. Unlike a window, the ‘slit’ is actually just a crack in a triangular convergence of two separate and slightly overlapping ancient stone walls. The confluence of two stone surfaces makes the narrow gap between them very, very difficult to spot.

JACK slips through the HIDDEN ARCHWAY, making sure no-one sees him.

Inside are a few steps with 3 front doors connecting to it.

Rotting doors lead to abandoned cellars and storerooms.

The MONGREL tied to a post is barking savagely, his leash keeping him inches from sinking his bared fangs into JACK.

JACK stares at the dog: a mysterious creature of fear and fury, he throws him a biscuit, the dog calms down.

JACK reappears through the HIDDEN ARCHWAY and slips back into the alleyway. It’s like he’s materialised from thin air.

Just then a MAN on an old VESPA turns down the alleyway and drives towards him.

Casually, JACK continues walking.

The VESPA gets nearer. The MAN ON THE VESPA is wearing sunglasses.

JACK picks up his pace.

The VESPA is ten metres away.

Five metres.

JACK's face tenses up.

BANG!

JACK drops to his knees with his hand in his coat pocket, on his weapon we assume. As he goes down, he realizes this is not a gunshot; he turns around and the tension on his face disappears.

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BANG!

The VESPA backfires for a second time.

JACK takes his hand out of his pocket.

Still on his knees, JACK pretends to tie his right shoe lace.

The MAN ON THE VESPA stops outside an apartment a few meters further up the alleyway and takes off his sunglasses. He’s a corpulent, ruddy-faced Italian man in his late sixties.

He stares at JACK.

JACK stands.

For an instant, the directness of the question catches JACK out.

JACK’s pronunciation is good but his grammar is a bit rusty. Perhaps he’s playing up on this. It suits the role of ‘American tourist’.

The MAN laughs enthusiastically emphasizing the correct grammar:

A WOMAN’S VOICE comes from within the house- loud and angry- distracting the MAN ON THE VESPA, who screams back passionately, enters his front door, and shuts it behind him with a hearty slam.

JACK walks on.

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JACK puts some coins in a CANDY VENDING MACHINE outside a Tabacchi.

The MACHINE takes his money but won’t dispense his chewing gum.

He hits the refund button but nothing happens.

He thumps the machine.

Then sees the pattern of light alter in the shiny plastic of the vending machine and spins round to see:

The PRIEST.

The PRIEST smiles at JACK. He is dressed in an ill-fitting, un-stylish black suit, a black silk stock and a deep Roman collar fraying at the edge. His name is FATHER BENEDETTO. He is older than JACK.

This is stated matter-of-factly: like a man practising English.

Also a statement: this time with touch of triumph.

JACK is disconcerted but doesn’t show it.

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This much is true- after a fashion.

They speak in English unless otherwise specified:

FATHER BENEDETTO stands straight and poses winningly.

JACK shows no discomfort.

Father Benedetto points to the camera, assuming it is digital.

A beat.

JACK is slightly thrown.

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PAVEL * Pronto?

PAVEL * You don’t answer the cell I gave you.

A beat.

JACK * I’m calling you now. *

PAVEL * You don’t make this easy for me * Jack. I have a job for you, it’a a * custom fit... You don’t even have * to pull the trigger. *

Beat. *

JACK * I’ll think about it. *

Beat. *

PAVEL * That’s a good idea. *

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 16.

The SUN is sinking behind the high mountains that overlook the hilltop town.

JACK is wearing an immaculate white linen shirt.

He’s sitting in a small walled garden snuggled at the rear of a crumbling fifteenth century edifice, overlooked yet secluded and trapping the last rays of the sun.

FATHER BENEDETTO pours two large glasses of brandy from a globulous green bottle of ARMAGNAC and sniffs his drink like a honey bee hovering over a bloom.

He pronounces warmed“war-med”. His English is sophisticated but quaint, like an out-of-date book.

JACK sniffs his drink before he sips it. Not like a connoisseur: like a White House taster checking the safety of a Presidential beverage.

FATHER BENEDETTO grimaces.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 17.

FATHER BENEDETTO looks at JACK.

A beat.

FATHER BENEDETTO looks horrified.

A beat.

A beat.

JACK likes this man. His shrewdness is disconcerting but humane.

JACK sips his brandy.

JACK completes his morning exercises (self made boxing bag)then showers and dresses. His manner is precise and methodical. Only a man who has lived alone for many years can live like this.

JACK drives through a sizeable suburban sprawl. There’s a good deal of traffic and the landscape is peppered with shopping malls and office complexes.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 18.

JACK parks in a tourist car park just outside the mediaeval walls that surround the old centre of town.

He gets out of the car carrying a copy of the Italian daily newspaper Il Messaggero.

And folds the front page in half.

There’s a MARKET in progress. The central piazza is a hive of activity. Food, local produce, clothes and cheap CD stalls.

The market has attracted TOURISTS. Standing not far from a cheese stall is an attractive WOMAN in dark glasses. She’s rifling through her handbag, searching for something. Under her right arm is a rolled up copy ofIl Messaggero.

The front page has been folded in half.

JACK decides to proceed with caution.

Moving through the busy market, JACK approaches the OLD WOMAN running a cheese stall.

He points.

JACK glances casually around for the WOMAN.

She’s sitting outside a CAFE about twenty metres away, chatting on her cellphone.

JACK pays for his cheese and approaches the cafe.

JACK sits at an empty table next to the WOMAN.

She finishes her call in English. She’s well spoken. As she replaces the phone in her handbag, she knocks the newspaper off her table.

JACK picks it up.

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The WOMAN speaks quickly, purposefully, barely looking at JACK.

Judging by her stilted choice of words this is code.

A WAITER comes out and flicks a cloth over the table. It’s nearly midday and the sun is hot. He speaks with a tired voice:

He’s addressing the WOMAN.

Her Italian accent is perfect.

The WOMAN looks at JACK for the first time, studying him, awaiting his answer as if a great deal depended on it.

The final fail safe.

Now they can introduce themselves:

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The identification process over, there is nothing more to do but get down to business- and conversation becomes suddenly awkward.

She trails off.

Her HAZEL eyes flick over the crowd in front of the cafe.

She doesn’t answer.

JACK clears his throat.

Then says quietly:

She takes a long time to answer. When she does, she does so over the rim of her half-empty coffee cup, scanning the crowd like a cheating wife customarily anxious not to be seen by her husband.

JACK considers this.

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The WAITER delivers theSpremuta and the raspberry ice-cream.

The glass of lemon juice twists in MATHILDE’s slender fingers.

L’AMERICANO How compact?

JACK clears his throat.

A beat.

She’s not sure if he’s joking or not. Neither are we.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 22.

JACK scans the crowd.

On the other side of the square he spots a YOUNG MAN in his mid-thirties with short blonde hair and slight sunburn, hovering by a stall. Average height, slim, athletic build; sunglasses, stone-washed designer jeans very neatly pressed with a sharp crease.

The YOUNG MAN has disappeared into the crowd.

A pause.

JACK's jaw muscles grind.

A beat.

JACK passes a sign for a MODELLING AGENCY. It’s a small, inconspicuous sign, but it catches his eye because its graphics are subtly lewd and it’s attached to the buzzer of what is otherwise a purely residential apartment block.

A beautiful twenty six year old girl, CLARA, pulls up on her Vespa and parks it on the sidewalk in front of the agency.

She takes off her helmet.

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She and JACK look at one another.

She goes inside and JACK walks on.

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The sun is sinking.

It’s hunting hour.

An EAGLE hovers on the wind above the town, looking for prey.

JACK is lying on top of his bed, fully clothed but fast asleep.

He’s dreaming.

In his left hand is a BOOK of MEDIEVAL ART AND ARCHITECTURE.

Twitching in his sleep, JACK's grip on the BOOK slowly loosens...

THUD!

As the BOOK hits the floor JACK opens his eyes, sits up and rips the taped WALTHER from beneath the right side of the bed, pointing it at the door.

Silence.

JACK’s heart is beating.

JACK is looking through his Binoculars.

JACK’S POV:

...of CASTELVECCIO.

Empty but for the occasional stray dog and an old woman.

JACK parks his car in the same tourist car park.

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JACK has been watching the entrance to the local POST OFFICE for about 5 minutes to make sure no-one is there to surprise him in any kind of unpleasant way.

JACK makes his move.

The shop is small. JACK walks up to one of the two tellers, the one with the female postal clerk.

No reaction.

The clerk makes a sign with her right hand towards the other teller. JACK moves to his left and repeats:

The POSTMASTER draws a bundle of general delivery envelopes held together by an elastic band from a shelf near him. Some letters have been there for weeks. Months even.

A beat.

Deftly, like a teller counting through a thick wad of banknotes he flicks through the mail with thin, wasted fingers.

This makes all the difference. The POSTMASTER looks underneath a table where he stores packages.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 25.

...and reappearing with a PACKAGE.

The PACKAGE is from an Italian PHOTOGRAPHIC SUPPLIERS.

JACK flicks his eyes downwards. He has already put his PASSPORT on the counter.

The POSTMASTER scoops it up with bony fingers.

Looks from the picture to JACK.

JACK bears the scrutiny with a deadly straight face.

JACK unwraps the PACKAGE.

He removes:

-film

-photographic paper

-development fluids

-fixing solutions

-film protection bags

Then:

-a solid, monolythic rectangular receiver made out of a single piece of lightweight alloy.

-a bolt assembly.

-a barrel.

Only with this final piece is the puzzle complete.

Laid out on the floor is a Ruger M14 semi automatic rifle.

Without touching it, JACK studies the weapon like a connoisseur looking at the hue of a wine. In particular he notices that the SERIAL NUMBER has been scratched off.

Then he moves slowly, assembling the weapon with precision engineered expertise:

-inserting the barrel into the front of the receiver and securing it with the nut,

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 26.

-opening the sidefolding tubular stock and engaging the buttpad,

-snuggling the buttpad to his shoulder,

-looking down the barrel,

-and slowly squeezing back the finger-grooved TRIGGER as we

Our beautiful twenty four year-old Italian girl enters.

CLARA.

She sits on the edge of the bed, whose aging metal springs squeak slightly, and puts her smoking cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table.

She kicks off her slip-on shoes.

Lifts off her dress.

Slips off her panties and lies back on the bed in one practised motion.

JACK sits on the bed beside her.

He doesn’t look at her.

She reaches up to touch JACK as we cut to:

JACK knows this is impossible.

A very long pause.

When PAVEL speaks it’s with a calmness pregnant with intent. *

PAVEL * OK, Jack.

A beat.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 26A.

PAVEL * You’re out. *

CU on JACK - suspicious.

We stay with Pavel on the phone. He dials and then... *

PAVEL * Now listen to me carefully... *

CUT TO: *

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 27.

FATHER BENEDETTO...

...is sitting in his APE three-wheeler.

He’s broken down on the road between CASTEL DE MONTE and CASTELVECCHIO.

His comical and endearing method of rural transportation is a cross between a moped and a miniature pick-up truck.

In the back of the truck are two bleating LAMBS.

The APE is turning over but it won’t start.

The bonnet is open. JACK- who’s FIAT is parked just up the road- is fixing the engine.

He gives a signal and FATHER BENEDETTO turns the ignition key again.

This time the engine starts. FATHER BENEDETTO cheers.

And drives off. JACK only now sees the lambs. He walks towards his car. Castel del Monte is visible in the background.

Sixteenth century. Sombre wood panelling stained dark with polish and smoke. Two paraffin lamps stand on a huge antique sideboard, their frosted orbs engraved with scenes from the life of Our Lord.

The room is filled with a dining table: a massive black edifice of oak, five inches thick with six legs fluted like the columns of cathedrals.

Using antique crockery, ancient copper pots and utensils like old fashioned instruments of torture FATHER BENEDETTO performs culinary alchemy: transforming flesh into meat, dough into bread, hard earth nuggets into vegetables.

He hums as he cooks: Madame Butterfly arias.

JACK sips from a glass of wine and watches FATHER BENEDETTO potter around the wood fired stove. The priest has his own wine which he sips as he works between bouts of humming.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 28.

JACK eats a bowl of traditional Abruzzo lentil soup in silence.

FATHER BENEDETTO watches him, pleased to see his guest so absorbed.

As soon as JACK has finished, FATHER BENEDETTO invites him to help himself from the ancient tureen.

Then he bustles over to the stove, humming again.

JACK eats, studying a framed photo of FATHER BENEDETTO with his arm around a tough, corpulent Italian man in his mid- twenties. FABIO.

FATHER BENEDETTO returns to the table with a large covered dish issuing steam into his face.

He notices JACK’s eye-line.

Off JACK's intrigued look FATHER BENEDETTO clarifies:

FATHER BENEDETTO whisks the lid off the covered dish revealing a lamb stew covered in sauce.

FATHER BENEDETTO serves each of them and pours white wine into fresh glasses.

JACK helps himself to vegetables.

FATHER BENEDETTO watches him as he savours his first taste.

JACK licks his lips and sips some cold white wine.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 29.

The two men regard one another, the priest awaiting a verdict.

FATHER BENEDETTO shrugs.

The flash of a smile crosses the priest’s face.

JACK hides his unease from the watchful priest.

FATHER BENEDETTO’s eyes flick over the OMEGA.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 30.

He looks searchingly at JACK.

JACK is silent.

The two men continue eating.

The priest is on a mission to extract the truth... and JACK knows it.

JACK is driving.

He checks the rear view mirror.

All clear.

JACK accelerates the CAR, scraping the bumper against a small wall, and drives on, confident he did some damage to the bumper.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 31.

A dirt track meanders downhill past a few small holdings and allotments.

The CAR moves slowly.

JACK pulls up beside a high chain fence.

The DOGS on the other side start barking. This sets off other dogs in other scrap yards.

JACK gets out of the car and approaches a makeshift hut beside the fence. Before he’s a metre from the door it opens and a tough, well-built, unshaven Italian man in his mid- twenties looks him up and down.

FABIO.

Suspicion gives way suddenly to warmth:

JACK smiles politely.

The metal door slides open. FABIO leads JACK inside.

At the back of the cluttered workshop is a blue ALFA ROMEO being resprayed white. Beside it, one half of a LANCIA is being welded to another.

JACK knows better than to stare. He follows FABIO through to...

Girly calendars, Italian style.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 31A.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 32.

He winks at JACK. He’s being friendly.

The technical English is slightly beyond FABIO’s grasp.

This suits JACK.

JACK looks at the TOOLS hanging on the walls and littering the work benches.

FABIO shrugs.

FABIO gets on with work, sliding himself beneath the re- sprayed Alfa Romeo.

JACK picks out various implements, laying them on the work surface: drill, hacksaw, lathe, vice, mallet.

Behind an oil pan with a jagged hole in it he discovers several GEAR WHEELS with the teeth sheared off. He holds the biggest one up.

FABIO is engrossed in his work.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 33.

FABIO grins and growls. A gearwheel with no bite is useless to him.

JACK wraps the gearwheel in an oily rag and puts it in the sports bag with the tools.

At the door, he pauses.

That’s when JACK sees it on the notice board.A PHOTOGRAPH of FATHER BENEDETTO and FABIO.FABIO is much younger in this photo: fourteen or fifteen years old. He’s wearing an AS Roma football strip. Again: the priest has his arm around the boy.

On the workbench below the notice board is a MOBILE PHONE in a cellophane bag.

JACK exits Fabio’s WORKSHOP and looks up...

...at the VIADUCT above him that connects the two towns.

We hear CHURCH BELLS as we cut to:

FATHER BENEDETTO rings the CHURCH BELLS for Mass.

Close up of church bells.

As the CLAPPERS hit the SOUNDBOWS we smash cut to:

JACK has laid out his newly acquired tools on the flag stone floor of his room.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 34.

Beside them is the Ruger M14 semi automatic rifle.

Using the CHURCH BELLS as sound cover...

...JACK puts the GEARWHEEL on a flag stone tile and separates one of the gears from the shaft using the four pound mallet.

By the light of a little desk lamp, Jack is forming suppressor parts using one of the gear wheels and a hammer, again using the Church Bells as cover.

It’s very tricky work and his eyes ache in the poor light.

JACK is wearing a KNAPSACK over one shoulder.

His manner is dark, purposeful, alert.

The trees offer deep shade.

JACK stops.

Everywhere there is a profusion of autumnal colours.

JACK’s guardedness begins to evaporate. He has never seen anything so beautiful or utterly uncorrupted. He looks around, bewitched by delicate golds and yellows, brilliant crimsons.

JACK is transfixed.

JACK gets to the edge of the WOODS.

Beyond him is a river.

His original cautiousness has returned.

Carefully, he checks the RIVER for signs of people, surveying the lake side with his TELEPHOTO LENS, monitoring every square on an imaginary grid for human activity.

Satisfied that he’s alone, he takes a deep breath of air.

And turns back- heading for his car.

JACK has parked his FIAT in the shade of a TREE. The RIVER shimmers in the autumn sunshine.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 35.

JACK reaches a patch of soft grass beside the water.

This, he decides, is the perfect spot. He unrolls a blanket, kneels, and from his KNAPSACK he produces:

-a polystyrene cool box packed with ice and containing a chilled bottle of Frascati

-a loaf of coarse bread

-50 gms of pecorino

-100 gms of prosciutto

-a small jar of black olives

-an orange

-and a rolled blanket containing the disassembled parts of the M14 Mini Semi Automatic GUN.

JACK sets the stopwatch on his weather beaten OMEGA.

It takes approximately thirty-four seconds to assemble the bastardised M14 - including TELESCOPIC SIGHTS and SOUND SUPPRESSOR- and a further six seconds to press TEN ROUNDS into the magazine, slot it into the base of the hand grip, snuggle the butt to his shoulder and place his eye beside the rubber cup on the sight.

He’s fast.

Carefully he surveys the lake. Settles on a CLUMP OF REEDS. And with the focus and dexterity of a surgeon, concentrates until his grip and aim are perfectly tense and still.

A beat...

...as JACK holds his breath. Then squeezes the trigger.

CHOOP!

CHOOP!

CHOOP!

Not the conventional “phut, phut, phut” of a movie silencer, but the genuine dampened sonic boom of a TAC 65 sound suppressor.

Through the sight we see the water churn at four o’clock to the REED CLUMP and four metres off.

From the knapsack, JACK takes a watchmaker’s steel-handled screwdriver and adjusts the sight, then loads another ten rounds in the magazine.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 36.

CHOOP! CHOOP! CHOOP!

The reeds are clipped, the bullets slapping into the bank behind, mud spurting.

JACK adjusts again and reloads.

CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP!

The reed clump is shot to shit.

The sound of CHURCH BELLS.

JACK is at work:

-modifying the SOUND SUPPRESSOR to make it more efficient

-filing a sear on the trigger mechanism until the trigger squeeze is softer

-adjusting the position of the TELESCOPIC SIGHT mountings

And finally:

-checking the balance of the weapon: JACK poises it on the edge of a ruler over the pencil mark he has determined to be the gun’s centre of gravity.

The M14 balances perfectly.

By now the sun is low and the light fading. JACK's eyes are sore and his fingers aching.

He sits on his bed with his hands on his knees, silent in the dying light.

We’re in the living room of a small apartment. It’s simply and attractively furnished. There are 3 GIRLS: not obviously hookers.

The FIRST GIRL is on her mobile phone. Every now and again she glances at JACK. The SECOND GIRL approaches him for a light.

JACK JACK

C’é Clara? Is Clara here?

SECOND GIRL SECOND GIRL

No, questa sera no. She’s not here tonight.

She loops her arm through JACK’s.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 37.

JACK shakes his head.

JACK parks in his usual hiding spot and heads for the town square.

Suddenly, he spots something.

A hundred yards away is the same YOUNG MAN who JACK spotted in L’Aquila.

Cautiously, so as not to spook him, JACK continues walking.

The YOUNG MAN is several parked cars away on the opposite side of the street, leaning against a Fiat Punto, bending over as if speaking to the car’s occupant.

JACK side steps swiftly down a back street, uncertain as to whether or not he’s been spotted.

Closer on the YOUNG MAN: we reveal that there’s no one in the Seat.

JACK slips from one side street to another taking full advantage of short-cuts, alleyways and crumbling walls. His route is circuitous. It betrays a perfect knowledge of the maze-like back streets of the town.

Eventually JACK peeps out of a tiny passageway half-way down his own street and on the opposite side of the road from his LOGGIA.

The entrance to the LOGGIA is clear.

JACK crosses the street and slips inside.

We’re in the corridor outside JACK'S ROOM.

JACK takes his right hand from his pocket.

He’s clutching the WALTHER.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 38.

Slowly, he reaches his left hand upwards, towards the lintel above the door where he finds...

...a single FEATHER.

From the inside of the room we watch four sturdily fashioned deadbolt locks slide open. Each lock is new and home made.

JACK enters, shuts the door, locks all four bolts. And sits on the bed.

There’s a phone on the Station Platform, it’s fixed to the wall of the station building.

JACK puts a coin in the slot.Two rings.

JACK scans the area outside.

The door next to the phone opens.

Jack’s hand moves to his pocket.

We hear a CLICK.

The STATION MASTER steps out onto the platform next to the phone. Apparently he has spooked Jack as Jack is no longer on the phone.

The PHONE is deserted.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 38A.

Little more than a halt: one platform, one track, one station building - locked and shuttered.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 39.

Apart from the STATION MASTER, no one’s around.

JACK checks his watch: it’s exactly noon.

A TRAIN approaches. On the platform, there is also a MAN WITH A BRIEFCASE. Jack is on high alert.

The train is a Four-carriage local. It rattles round the bend in the track up the valley, diesel fumes pluming. There are no more than a dozen passengers on board.

MATHILDE is the only one to alight while the man with the briefcase boards.

Mathilde’s once brown hair is now BLONDE. She’s wearing a skirt and carrying a navy blue canvas sports bag.

They shake hands as the train pulls away, belching and honking as it rattles over the girders of an iron bridge and crosses some alpine rapids.

Something quaint, old fashioned in her diction. English with the hint of a Belgian accent.

JACK opens the boot of his car and she places her sports bag beside a WICKER PICNIC HAMPER.

She nods.

They get into the car.

As JACK’s door slams we smash cut to:

MATHILDE’s sunglasses reflect the alpine landscape.

She takes off her shades.

Her once hazel eyes are now GREY-BLUE.

She glances round the car’s plastic interior.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 40.

Perhaps she’s nervous. Her attempt at humour isn’t working and she stumbles slightly on her grammar:

She looks at the high mountains in the distance.

JACK nods.

She eases herself back, resigned to a long climb.

Her eyelids are drooping.

She smiles gratefully. But does not shut her tired eyes.

The CLOCK on the dash reads 12:17

They drive in silence.

JACK negotiates the alpine road, leaning into the steering wheel, shifting up or down a gear and glancing from the mirror to the road and back again.

JACK secretly scans her, taking in every detail: her low- heeled shoes are expensive but she wears no jewelry except a Seiko wrist-watch on a metal strap and a thin gold chain at her throat. Her tan is light, her slightly exposed breasts and her legs shapely and recently waxed.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 41.

But JACK doesn’t look at her like an object of desire. He looks at her cautiously, with an expression that says: “this young woman is ruthless. If she were not, she wouldn’t be alive.”

That’s when he notices the CAR in his rear view mirror.

It’s too far behind to decipher the make or model and it weaves in and out of frame as JACK negotiates the alpine road.

His eyes flick to the rear view mirror. Hers to the wing.

She spots the CAR behind. JACK catches her eye questioningly.

JACK slows just before the turn off and pulls over.

Then stops.

Now its MATHILDE’s turn to look questioning.

He gets out of the car and pretends to urinate.

The CAR behind passes at speed.

A gray Fiat Punto. The driver neither slows down nor looks in their direction.

JACK gets back in the car.

And turns off up a dirt track that disappears into the meadows.

JACK parks his FIAT in the shade of a TREE, near the river. This is the exact spot where he came to test the weapon.

MATHILDE gets out of the car and stretches.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 42.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 43.

MATHILDE surveys the shimmering water.

Takes a deep breath of mountain air.

She sits on a tree trunk not far from the water’s edge. Her dress dips between her legs as she leans forward and rests her forearms on her knees, tired from the journey and the long, sultry walk.

JACK looks at her, sensing a kindred spirit.

The WICKER PICNIC HAMPER is sitting on a rug by between the parked car and the lake. From the hamper, JACK removes:

-a polystyrene cool box packed with ice and containing a chilled bottle of Aspirinio

-a loaf of coarse bread

-two clods of mozzarella

-150 gms of prosciutto

-100 gms of salame

-a large jar of pitted green olives

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 44.

-a Thermos of sweet black coffee

-and, wrapped in cloth squares, the disassembled parts of the improved M14 semiautomatic rifle.

As MATHILDE starts to assemble the weapon with easy skill, JACK checks the stopwatch on his Omega.

It takes her approximately twenty-six seconds to assemble the bastardised gun- including TELESCOPIC SIGHTS and SOUND SUPPRESSOR- and a further three seconds to slot the empty magazine into the base of the hand grip, snuggle the butt to her shoulder and place her eye beside the rubber cup on the sight.

She’s almost ten seconds faster than JACK.

He stares at her: not an alluring young woman with good legs and nice tits but an extension of the weapon itself and everything it means.

He reaches into the PICNIC HAMPER.

It’s an order: her voice is emotionless.

He hands her the practise ammunition in two small cartridge boxes: the shells snug in little plastic trays.

She smiles almost imperceptibly.

She puts the gun down butt-first on the blanket.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 45.

She reaches into her BLUE CANVAS SPORTS BAG and removes a life size SUNFLOWER made of metal and plastic. She slots the three sections together and fixes them into a plastic base. The plant is approximately six foot tall and the sunflower itself is roughly the size of a human head.

And gets up, walks towards a tiny path thru the high grass.

MATHILDE follows without speaking. In her wake flutters a confetti of autumn leaves as her loose summer skirt sweeps across the forest floor.

He keeps his voice down but she hears him nonetheless, waving with her right hand: the hand holding the AMMUNITION BOXES. She’s no fool.

Neither is he. He has the gun.

He stops and points at a very overgrown field on a hill, surrounded by trees.

Mathilde walks on and at ninety meters distance she stops besides some purple trumpet blooms and ‘plants’ the SUNFLOWER.

Returning to Jack, he hands her the weapon.

Impressed, MATHILDE looks at the marks on the metal where the serial number has been burned off.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 45A.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 46.

No answer.

MATHILDE puts two jacketed rounds into the magazine and stands with her feet apart, braced. The breeze beneath the walnut tree ruffles her summer skirt and presses it against her legs.

CHOOP! CHOOP!

For a moment longer she holds on the target then lowers the gun, holding it under her arm like a lady on a shire hunt would hold a 12 bore.

She makes a minute adjustment to the telescopic sight, with her fingernail. She can’t have turned the vertical screw more than one notch.

Then she fully loads and fires again.

CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP!

JACK lifts his binoculars and looks at the target. In the centre of the sunflower head are three small HOLES.

With the magazine containing the remaining 28 jacketed rounds, MATHILDE takes aim again.

CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP-CHOOP!

Through his binoculars, JACK can see the empty space where the sunflower head used to be, the scarred stones behind and the little scraps of yellow plastic floating on the warm air.

MATHILDE says nothing. She fills the magazine with expanding rounds, snaps it in place and hands the weapon to JACK.

He’s taken aback.

She looks round for a target.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 47.

Slowly, JACK walks down to the stones, turns and looks back. Mathilde is well hidden in the deep shade of the trees. In the poor light all he can see is her dress and her blouse. He wipes the sweat from his eyes and shuts them tightly.

This is not just a weapon test... it’s a test of trust.

He opens his eyes again.

MATHILDE turns to face him as he shoulders the weapon.

He aims the M14 at the TREE right beside her.

Holds his breath.

And pulls the trigger.

CHOOP! CHOOP!

MATHILDE remains untouched.

So do the LEAVES.

Troubled, JACK blinks rapidly and counts to five.

Then he fires again.

CHOOP! CHOOP! CHOOP!

Through the sight, we see the leaves fall and the branch moving sideways.

Relieved, JACK walks slowly back towards Mathilde.

From her sports bag she removes a plain brown MANILLA ENVELOPE.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 48.

She thinks.

MATHILDE hands him the ENVELOPE and disassembles the weapon.

JACK wraps the M14 parts up in their cloth squares and places them in the bottom of the PICNIC HAMPER.

She has collected up the spent CARTRIDGE CASES.

They walk back to their picnic place.

She walks down to the river and hurls the brass cases in.

Again, the beauty of the place transfixes her.

By the time she turns back, JACK has laid out the picnic.

She reads the label on the bottle of wine.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 48A.

Deftly he uncorks a bottle.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 49.

And pours it into the grass.

She freezes.

JACK points slowly.

On her tanned forearm is a BUTTERFLY.

They both stare at the insect, transfixed.

She looks up at him. Like it’s a revelation she says:

JACK is momentarily taken aback.

The BUTTERFLY flits away.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 50.

A beat.

She waits for him to say more.

He doesn’t.

Suddenly, there’s movement in the bushes.

JACK snatches up his BINOCULARS. MATHILDE scans the tree cover.

He hands her the binoculars. And hurriedly packs up the picnic.

Her sunglasses back on, MATHILDE watches the meadows slip backwards in the nearside wing mirror as the car bumps back down the alpine track.

Again... a real sadness.

JACK glances at her.

JACK is touched.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 51.

The FIAT pulls up. Mathilde wakes as the car brakes

The YOUNG WOMAN’s manner is once more tense and formal.

Mathilde briefly and accidentally drops her Belgian accent to reveal her American accent. Jack realizes she speaks like an American and his head spins.

Mathilde opens the door and gets out. Jack does the same and walks to the car boot. He is there partly to make sure that she doesn’t take the gun as well as her own bag.

The distant sound of a DIESEL ENGINE. The train is approaching.

He nods and opens the car boot. She retrieves her bag.

She leans forward...

...and kisses him lightly on the cheek, her lips light and quick on his stubble.

She walks towards the platform and vanishes around the corner of the station building.

JACK watches her while she disappears and gets into his car.

And drives off.

Confused.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 52.

Two OLD MEN drinking beer at the bar. Two more at a table, playing Scopa with old fashioned Trentine playing cards.

Sitting at the back of the room, JACK stares at a shot of Grappa.

Above him, mounted on the wall, is a TELEVISION. On the TV is a Western: Charles Bronson and Henry Fonda in ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST.

JACK downs his shot, gets up and walks over to the bar. Pays.

The BARMAN nods at the screen.

JACK turns and looks.

HENRY FONDA in close-up, is about to shoot a red headed BOY of seven in the head.

JACK stares. Just at the moment that the gun goes off...

...JACK turns away.

CLARA and JACK are naked.

JACK tries to kiss her on the lips but CLARA turns away: just enough to let him know this is against the rules.

JACK kisses her neck. Her breasts. Her stomach.

As he moves his head between her legs, her fingers (already ensnared in his hair) tighten their grip, stopping him from going further.

JACK looks up at CLARA, across her belly, and she looks back at him, her expression fixed yet curious.

Against her rules but not, we sense, against her wishes, JACK kisses CLARA softly, tenderly, deeply until she is moving against his tongue, using her sex like a mouth to kiss him in return.

He then turns her over by moving her legs around and positions himself behind her.

JACK starts slowly and she starts enjoying it.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 52A.

CLARA comes, not wanting to.

Preoccupied, JACK does not. Instead he kisses her.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 53.

JACK is in bed with CLARA, covering himself with a sheet.

She looks at him.

He stares back at her: wordless.

A long pause: her eyes searching his. JACK gets out of bed and stands by the window, looking through the blind, down into the street.

CLARA watches him, confused but fascinated. JACK is getting dressed.

She lights herself a cigarette.

He hands her CASH.

She counts it.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 53A.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 54.

He walks to the door.

Pauses.

And leaves.

JACK is asleep.

He is not alone.

On the floor next to the bed lies:

INGRID.

Pale as death.

INGRID slowly sits up.

* * *

JACK wakes up suddenly, gasping.

The floor is empty, JACK’s sheets twisted and damp.

SUNRISE...

...over one of the most desolate and beautiful landscapes in all Italy.

In the gun-metal light of dawn, tricky work:

-cartridges taken apart

-tiny holes drilled in the nose to a depth of precisely 3mm

-the hole half-filled with mercury

-and plugged with a drop of liquid lead.

JACK is converting jacketed ammunition into EXPLOSIVE BULLETS.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 55.

Outside, the sun is merciless. Inside, JACK has taken refuge in the cool of the church. He is alone. He is not praying. Just staring impassively at the gaudy crucifixion: at the thorns and the nails and the running blood.

Footsteps. JACK checks behind him.

It’s FATHER BENEDETTO: dressed for Mass.

He mops the sweat from his brow with the hem of his Soutane, takes JACK by the arm and leads him to one side, away from the light of the candles.

A beat.

Another beat.

FATHER BENEDETTO leans close and whispers:

JACK glances up and down the aisle.

OLD LADIES are dribbling into church in twos and threes.

The BELL for mass starts ringing.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 56.

JACK walks down the streets towards the town square.

A Fiat Punto is parked just off the square. JACK immediately notices the car and its occupant. He hesitates and then decides to walk on towards the bar, knowing the car’s occupant will spot him.

JACK is drinking a coffee.

He has a pretty good view of the car and the young man sitting in it. JACK knows the guy can see him too.

The BARMAN hands JACK his change.

BARMAN BARMAN

Letter from a friend. Lettera da un amico.

And hands him a small white ENVELOPE.

JACK turns casually away from the BARMAN’s prying eyes and opens the envelope with extreme caution.

Inside is a folded CUTTING. It’s from the Swedish Daily newspaper ........... JACK unfolds the cutting. We catch a glimpse of:

-Ingrid’s winter house.

-A police line.

-Three COVERED BODIES in the snow.

JACK slips the cutting in his pocket and looks outside.

The car is empty. The YOUNG MAN has disappeared. JACK hesitates. Then decides to make a move. He grabs three SUGAR CUBES from a silver bowl on the bar and exits.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 57.

JACK leaves the bar, turning left and walking purposefully down the street.

It’s a warm Autumn night. The YOUNG MAN follows JACK.

JACK turns down a dark, deserted alleyway.

The YOUNG MAN hesitates.

His right hand moves casually to his jacket pocket.

And he follows.

We’re with the YOUNG MAN as he stalks his prey through the mediaeval maze of streets...

We end up in the narrow alleyway that JACK photographed on his first day in town.

Up ahead, disappearing round a distant bend, we catch a glimpse of JACK, his heels CLACKING on the cobbles.

The YOUNG MAN follows swiftly, his trainers silent. He gets to a crossroads where FOUR NARROW ALLEYWAYS- all identical- converge. The YOUNG MAN is unsure which alleyway to take.

The streets are empty.

He listens.

From an upstairs window he can hear the soundtrack of a late night film on television. It’s a romantic film, the violins muffled and sad with longing.

From another alleyway comes the sound of SAVAGE BARKING. The YOUNG MAN looks around for the source of the barking, but the streets are empty.

Suddenly, the barking stops.

The YOUNG MAN looks confused.

From his right hand jacket pocket we hear the unmistakable CLICK of a cocking mechanism.

We recognise the secret courtyard: the one reached by means of the hidden archway.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 58.

With one hand, JACK feeds another SUGAR CUBE to the MONGREL.

With the other hand, he holds his WALTHER behind his back...

...and cocks it.

The YOUNG MAN is walking on, past the hidden archway, scanning the CROSSROADS ahead, unsure which of the possible alleyways holds his prey.

JACK emerges from the HIDDEN ARCHWAY and walks quickly up behind him.

JACK has removed his shoes and his bare feet are silent.

He has thirty metres to cover.The gun hangs heavy in his right hand. It’s fitted with a TAC 65 SOUND SUPPRESSOR. He raises his right hand.

Twenty metres.

The gun is pointing at the YOUNG MAN.

Fifteen metres.

His finger takes up the slack of the trigger.

Twelve meters.

Then:

A VESPA turns into the alleyway behind JACK, its headlights on full beam.

JACK drops his right hand and thrusts his silenced WALTHER deep into his jacket pocket.

The YOUNG MAN looks his way.

JACK is outlined by the moped’s beam of light.

The two men are face to face, within a stone throw of each other.

The YOUNG MAN’s eyes widen with fear.

The VESPA hurtles towards JACK.

The MAN ON THE VESPA is wearing SUNGLASSES.

The YOUNG MAN starts to panic.

BANG!

The VESPA misfires.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 59.

Mistaking the sound for gunfire, the YOUNG MAN bends down and fires back.

We hear the sound of a single suppressed shot: CHOOP!

JACK dives into an alleyway and hides behind a wall.

The BULLET grazes the FRONT SUSPENSION of the VESPA and lodges in the REAR COWLING.

The MAN ON THE VESPA swerves and crashes, hitting a stone staircase.

JACK looks around.

The YOUNG MAN has disappeared.

The MAN ON THE VESPA is completely unconscious.

The front wheel of his VESPA slowly turns, squeaking.

Swiftly, JACK puts on the MAN’s SUNGLASSES.

Then grabs hold of the battered VESPA...

JACK rides the VESPA barefoot, turning left and right without hesitation, through archways, down steps, dropping level by level, cursing in time with his jagged breathing until...

JACK emerges from a narrow street.

He’s on the VESPA, looking for the young man.

THE YOUNG MAN runs to his car, gets in, suddenly HEADLIGHTS blaze as the Fiat Punto drives off and heads out of town.

JACK comes round the corner, turns and goes after the car as we smash cut to:

JACK’s top speed is 70 Km.

The Fiat Punto gleams black in the streetlight and is well ahead of Jack.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 60.

JACK doesn’t stand a chance if he doesn’t act straight away. He reaches for his pistol, from his belt at the back, with his left hand.

JACK shoots once, hits the rear window and rearview mirror.

The Fiat Punto swerves left, hitting the trash cans lining the side of the road. The car brakes to avoid crashing into the right corner at the road-junction. The car comes to a temporary halt and backs up to turn to the left. The car takes off again like a rocket. JACK is now right next to him and aims again, shooting at the front right side tire. The car violently swerves right and forward and hits the low wall - the car crashes sideways into the wall. As a result, the Vespa hits the car.

JACK gets up unsteadily. He’s badly scraped but otherwise unhurt. The crash has made his gun fly thru the air, it must be somewhere on the road.

He walks around the smashed up Fiat Punto. (shot as the POV of the driver)

Inside, the YOUNG MAN groans and twitches, locks his doors.

JACK tries to open the driver door unsuccessfully. He bends down to pick up a stone from the roadside.

The YOUNG MAN goes for what might be a gun but JACK smashes the car window with the stone and punches the YOUNG MAN in the face.

Grabs him by the head......and breaks his neck.

He looks for his gun on the road, finds it, and walks away back in the direction of the town.

JACK gets into his own car and drives off.

JACK is on the phone.

A beat.

PAVEL * Stay put. Finish the job.

PAVEL * Because you’ve lost your edge, * Jack.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 61.

JACK comes out of a pharmacy with a disinfectant and bandages...

...and quite literally bumps into CLARA.

JACK winces with pain.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 62.

Her limpid brown eyes twinkle.

A small, simply furnished kitchen.

As JACK sips a large cup of strong black coffee, CLARA cleans a vicious welt on his right shoulder blade.

On JACK’s back is an exquisite tattoo...

...of a BUTTERFLY.

His eyes open wide and he turns to her quickly.

A beat.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 63.

Of course.

He relaxes.

But not completely.

JACK drives into town, past the Fiat Punto and Carabinieri cars. The area is taped off and the police are stopping the cars leaving town.

TINS of fruit drops: three kinds:black cherry, pineappleand lemon. Each tin is emptied of its fruit drops.

Twenty rounds of ammunition- each round packed in silica- fit exactly into each tin.

Expanding tipped roundsin the black cherry, jacketed in the pineapple and explosivein the lemon.

JACK re-seals each tin with sellotape.

A popular and busy cafe provides JACK with ample cover. Sitting alone amongst the shoppers, tourists, old men and office girls, JACK has positioned himself with his back to the wall, next to a window with a good view of the entrance.

He is reading a copy of Il Messagero, flicking his eyes back and forth from the cafe entrance to a small column concerning the murder of two prostitutes in the nearby city of Chieti.

There is a knock on the window.

JACK looks up and sees, CLARA, with a girl he has not seen before, ANNA. Clara is smiling and waving to him from outside.

JACK beckons them to come in and they enter the cafe.

CLARA’s eyes twinkle mischievously.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 63A.

ANNA offers her hand to JACK. JACK half rises like the perfect gentlemen, folding his newspaper and accepting ANNA’s greeting.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 64.

He indicates two empty chairs and sits down again.

JACK glances at CLARA. How much has she told her friend?

CLARA looks at ANNA and then at JACK, waiting to see if there is any reaction. There isn’t.

Beat.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 65.

Her words sound rehearsed. She considers a crowded timetable.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 66.

Again: rehearsed. JACK is not expecting this. CLARA looks at him mischievously. ANNA is listening.

She feigns complete perplexity.

The twinkle in her eye. She’s testing him. JACK is the perfect gentleman.

There is no warmth in his suggestion. But CLARA doesn’t care.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 67.

JACK gets up to say goodbye.

Anna kisses Jack swiftly and softly on the cheek.

CLARA does the same on the lips. Behind the mischief in her eyes is something doubtful. Has she gone too far?

From a LUGGAGE SHOP that also sells OFFICE SUPPLIES Jack buys a black combination lock SAMSONITE BRIEFCASE, invoice books, notepads, envelopes, metal pens and a calculator.

JACK opens the black combination lock SAMSONITE BRIEFCASE and lines the bottom and sides with lead-lined film protection bags, cut to fit.

Into the base of the briefcase he glues pre-shaped pieces of firm grey plastic foam. These form the pockets into which he slots the constituent parts of the Ruger M14 semi automatic rifle. They fit perfectly.

Over this JACK uses the HOOKS and EYES to clip a false bottom: a tough card cover onto which are pasted the custom made headed notepaper, invoice books, notepads and envelopes.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 68.

To the briefcase’s central divider he adds the metal pens, a calculator and a mobile phone. He sets the combination to 014. Then shuts and locks the BRIEFCASE.

This done he sits on the bed and stares at the case. With his work complete, he is struck by a terrible sense of emptiness.

Time has passed. JACK is fully clothed. He is lying in bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. An alarm clock tells us it’s 05.13 am.

A small park not far from Castel Del Monte’s town square.

It is just after dawn. The pine trees and the poplars are silent. The sun is not yet up but the day is light. Sparrows hop about, searching for crumbs.

JACK, ravaged by lack of sleep, wanders about like the demon of a lost darkness, looking for his hole down to the underworld.

He’s twenty meters away, his hand raised in half-welcome, half-benediction.

They greet one another and FATHER BENEDETTO falls into slow step with JACK. The priest walks with his hands behind his back. JACK with his hands in his pockets.

They reach a Cypress tree and FATHER BENEDETTO bows his head in prayer.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 69.

He gives a small sideways glance at JACK.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 70.

JACK is silent.

A YOUNG COUPLE kissing on a nearby bench are part hidden by the shade of the trees.

A change of pace.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 71.

They stare at one another.JACK wants to confess. He does not know why. But he doesn’t.

The couple catches JACK’s eye and he does something we’re not expecting:

FATHER BENEDETTO is motionless.

There is a very, very long pause. FATHER BENEDETTO stares up at JACK with extraordinary intensity.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 72.

FATHER BENEDETTO walks. JACK follows. A gust of wind makes dust swirl from the gravel path. The two men do not speak again until they reach the next set of Cyprus trees.

On JACK.

Another gust of wind. The priest looks up into JACK's face.

The assassin’s eyes are red and stinging. Perhaps its from the dust.

JACK dresses very carefully for dinner. He checks himself in the mirror.

It is clear he wishes to make a favourable impression upon CLARA.

Of the thirty or so candle-lit tables that dot the restaurant, more than half are occupied by romantic couples.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 73.

JACK scans the tables and checks his watch. It’s shortly after seven pm and there’s no sign of CLARA.

He waits. Then turns to leave.

She kisses him once on the lips. She’s hot and flustered. She’s been rushing.

CLARA looks doubtful. It’s the same look she gave him at the cafe. She is breaking the golden rule of prostitution. Getting involved. Her heart is pulling one way and her head another.

A WAITER approaches.

Judging by his disapproving tone, the WAITER seems to know what CLARA does for a living. CLARA senses this immediately.

CLARA and JACK sit at their table, the WAITER lights their candle and deposits two menus peremptorily.

Completely ignoring her, the WAITER addresses JACK with a wink.

A beat.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 74.

CLARA CLARA

(to the WAITER, in Parla italiano. Come me. ITALIAN) Quindi ripeto: He speaks Italian. So do I. Listen:

She repeats her order, articulating each word emphatically, like a teacher to a slow school child:

She isn’t upset. It’s just her way of letting both men know that she’s in charge.

The WAITER turns to her, deferring to her strength of character.

He nods with some genuine deference and leaves.

CLARA sighs.

JACK smiles. CLARA smiles back. They have this contempt in common.

The WAITER reappears and pours a thumbful of wine. It is pale red in colour and frizzante. At CLARA’s insistence, JACK tastes it. It is dry and has a tar-like aftertaste.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 74A.

He looks at her and- for a brief moment- he undergoes what is a unique experience for him: a positive longing to repeat this brief moment many times in the future.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 75.

CLARA catches the glow of his warmth and blossoms.

A beat.

There’s something desolate about this that JACK can’t hide.

A GYPSY approaches, offering CLARA a ROSE. She refuses firmly.

JACK signals to the GYPSY and buys CLARA a ROSE.

She looks at him and smiles.

CLARA CLARA

As long as we know it is an Già, basta saperlo. illusion.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 76.

Her smile is only a little bit sad.

Nonetheless, JACK doesn’t know what to say.

They are saved by the appearance of the WAITER.

CLARA orders, full of Italian charm, putting JACK at his ease. He watches her contentedly: the way she talks and moves.

JACK and CLARA are walking. They look like film stars. CLARA slips her arm through his. They say nothing. The pedestrian shopping street is thronging with other couples. CLARA spots a GELATARIA and leads JACK towards it.

JACK and CLARA are sitting on some stone steps in the main square. CLARA is holding a magnificent ICE CREAM CONE. She’s a little bit drunk.

She eats, savoring the ice cream. JACK watches, savoring her pleasure.

She licks a tongue-ful, dripping with nuts and chocolate sauce, then holds the CONE out to JACK.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 77.

He hesitates. Takes out his gum. Doesn’t know where to put it. CLARA grabs it and wraps it in her paper napkin. JACK smiles. Eats.

CLARA’s CELL PHONE starts to ring. It’s on silent, but the screen is flashing, just visible where it sticks out of her handbag. CLARA looks down at the phone.

She turns the phone to silent. And looks up at JACK.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 78.

He means it.

A beat.

He’s put CLARA on the spot.

CLARA takes a deep breath.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 79.

She points at her head.

She points at her heart.

She looks at him.

JACK studies her, searching for his own feelings.

She fishes about in her handbag...

...and produces a SILVER BOX.

JACK unwraps the shiny paper. Inside is a plastic case like the sort you put engagement rings in. Inside the case is a BADGE, hand-painted, depicting the symbol of the region: the eagle of L'Aquila. JACK sticks the BADGE in his lapel.

An embarrassed beat.

CLARA kisses him.

A pause.

JACK opens his eyes.

He sits up like a shot, doesn’t immediately know where he has woken up.

We hear CLARA in the shower.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 80.

JACK sits up and looks around at the little room partly like a curious lover, partly like a very alert man.

Beside him, the drawer of the bedside cabinet is open slightly. Inside is a plethora of accessories: tissues, eye make-up remover, a chocolate bar, a notepad, a vibrator and a RED PURSE.

Curious JACK lifts the RED PURSE. It’s surprisingly heavy. He opens it. Inside the RED PURSE...

...is a Beretta single action Model 950B Pistol.

Just at that moment we hear CLARA turn the shower off.

JACK shuts the drawer and pretends to be asleep.

JACK is on the phone.

JACK * I need more time. *

PAVEL * You’re testing my patience. *

JACK * Give me a few days. *

PAVEL * I’ll give you two days... then you * make the drop. *

A beat. *

PAVEL hangs up. *

PAVEL talks on his cell phone. *

We cut back and forth between them. *

PAVEL * Another Swede?

PAVEL * Not a good idea, Jack. We’ve got to make that drop.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 80A.

PAVEL * Listen to me, Jack. The Belgians are already jittery. [A BEAT] Our pretty young client and her associates think someone might have put a tail on you.

JACK pops a piece of gum.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 81.

PAVEL * Who knows. But I told ‘em. I told ‘em if there was even the slightest chance security had been breached, you’d deal with it immediately. I told ‘em you were the most security conscious professional I know. I told ‘em no one gets close to you.

PAVEL * Exactly. If I can’t trustyou to keep a tight lid on operations then who can I trust?

JACK is tense. Every word is carefully enunciated:

PAVEL * You don’t have to tellme that, Jack. I know you. You shot your own girlfriend.

ECU on JACK.

He’s silent.

PAVEL * Clean up what you have to, Jack. I’ll stall them for two days. Then you make the drop.

JACK hangs up slowly, lost in thought, jaw muscles grinding.

JACK is sitting in his parked car looking through the Nikon with the TELEPHOTO LENS.

His POV:

Of CLARA seated in a cafe talking to a slick, tough YOUNG ITALIAN MAN in a suit.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 82.

He is showing her photographs. Of what- we cannot see. CLARA looks very, very serious.

The YOUNG ITALIAN MAN leaves. JACK watches him get into a smart black ALFA ROMEO containing two other ITALIAN MEN. Rome plates.

When he looks back at the cafe, CLARA has gone.

JACK opens his PICNIC HAMPER and in it he puts:

-a polystyrene cool box packed with ice and containing a chilled bottle of Aspirinio

-a loaf of course bread

-two clods of mozarella

-150 gms of proscuitto

-and his WALTHER PPK/S.

CLARA is waiting at the end of her street.

She is holding the RED PURSE. At her feet is a blue plastic bag rounded out by a watermelon.

JACK pulls his CAR into the curb.

She opens the passenger door, leans in and kisses JACK long and full on the lips.

She puts the plastic bag in the trunk.

Inside the trunk is the PICNIC HAMPER.

CLARA climbs in and fastens her seat-belt.

She puts the RED PURSE between her legs. JACK glances at the RED PURSE.

And drives.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 83.

She looks at him.

The CAR negotiates a familiar hairpin bend.

JACK is concentrating on the road.

She pauses to work out the mathematics. She’s smart. And puzzled. But she’s not frightened. Not yet.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 84.

She looks confused.

CLARA laughs.

JACK turns off the main road and onto an alpine track.

This is the same route he took with the Belgian woman.

The CAR bumps and tilts on the rough terrain.

CLARA is startled by such an insignificant track.

Now she’s anxious. This is not what she expected.

He swings the wheel suddenly to avoid a large boulder and the Fiat pitches as if struck by a wave.

CLARA clings to the door with her right hand, her left hand dug deep into the fabric of the seat to steady herself.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 85.

She laughs tensely.

She snaps her fingers.

She waves her hand in the air.

It’s as if the increased danger of the track diminishes her English.

He strikes the steering wheel hard with the palm of his hand.

She pouts her reply.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 86.

After 50 metres JACK twists the steering wheel slightly and applies the brakes. They roll gradually down to the outer edge of the woods and come to a stop beneath a familiarly squat but ample TREE.

Beyond them is the RIVER. The hidden valley is a riot of autumn colors, the reds and golds more brilliant than we’ve ever seen them.

CLARA gets out of the car, dumbstruck. JACK gets out too. He watches her... then swiftly checks the RIVER through his miniature binoculars. Deserted. By the time CLARA turns towards him, the binoculars are hidden.

She speaks so quietly JACK can barely hear her.

CLARA turns away, unbuttons her blouse and drops it on the grass. She is wearing no bra. On her back dapple the shadows and patches of sun eking through the branches of the tree. She kicks off her shoes, which curve through the air... and unzips her skirt. It falls to the grass. She bends and steps daintily from her knickers. Then turns to face JACK.

JACK cannot take his eyes off her. Dizzy, he steps forward without meaning to.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 87.

She is coquettish- and tosses her auburn hair to one side.

She doesn’t wait for his reply, but turns and runs through the grass towards the water.

Quickly, JACK glances inside the FIAT.

The RED PURSE is nowhere to be seen.

JACK undresses. As he removes his clothes, he stalls for time, using the cover of undressing to search for the RED PURSE.

We can see it wedged under the passenger seat.

Due to the design of the car, JACK cannot.

JACK turns to face the lake. He is naked. Yet with the caution of years he does not remove his shoes until he reaches the water’s edge.

CLARA is standing in the middle of the River.

He obeys her order. As he steps into the water the cold hits him and he gasps. CLARA holds out her hand and he takes it.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 88.

CLARA moves close to him. Looks up into his eyes.

JACK looks down at her and for a moment he forgets the awful plan in his head.

She kisses him, pressing herself against him, her skin and body as pure and warm as the water.

He tries helplessly to pull away.

She places her arms around his neck and raises her feet from the smooth stones, wrapping her legs around his waist. She tries to push herself onto him but he resists.

He doesn’t know what to say. She looks at him: confused, searching.

He walks towards the bank. She follows, but just as JACK climbs onto the shore she shouts.

CLARA has stepped on something, she bends down in the water to pick it up. It is a spent cartridge.

The word HUNTERS resonates with JACK, a deja vu he is not wanting to revisit. He is trying not to look too worried.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 88A.

CLARA is lying naked on a blanket, warming herself in the autumn sunshine.

Beside her is the RED PURSE.

Through sleepy, half-closed eyes she is watching JACK.

From her POV, JACK is kneeling behind the open PICNIC HAMPER, unpacking the food and wine. The LID of the basket obscures his hands.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 89.

JACK looks at her.

A beat.

She looks at him. Waiting for his reply.

She doesn’t believe him.

About this he’s telling the truth.

CLARA reaches for the RED PURSE.

From behind the picnic hamper lid we hear the CLICK of a cocking mechanism.

CLARA hesitates for a moment.

JACK watches her intently.

She reaches into her purse.

JACK is expressionless.

When CLARA withdraws her right hand she is holding a tube of SUNTAN LOTION.

A beat.

JACK watches as she commences smoothing it into her skin, rubbing it around her breasts, pushing them aside, pressing them upwards. Then she caresses the lotion into her belly and down her thighs, bending at the waist as she works it into her shins.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 89A.

She proffers him the SUNTAN LOTION.

JACK stares at her baking body, transfixed by its terrible and perfect beauty.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 90.

Hidden behind the LID of the picnic hamper...

...his trembling right hand grips tightly to his WALTHER.

A long pause.

He’s frozen.

Time seems to stop.

ECU on JACK.

Suddenly, CLARA sits up.

JACK swallows.

When he speaks his mouth his dry.

When he moves towards her, he is holding nothing in his hands.

He takes the tube of SUNTAN lotion.

And begins to run it into CLARA’s back.

SLAM!

JACK shuts the boot of the car.

He scans the river banks.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 91.

No sign of the picnic.

No sign of CLARA.

Then he spots something.

On the ground, not far from the car.

He walks over and picks it up.

It’s one of CLARA’s shoes.

JACK is staring at the SHOE.

JACK turns and walks over to the car.

CLARA is in the passenger seat.

JACK gets into the Fiat.

And hands CLARA her shoe.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 92.

CLARA shivers with disgust.

JACK looks lost, like a man drained of all resolution.

CLARA looks unhappy.

Silence.

JACK looks away.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 93.

CLARA’s eyes light up.

As the words leave his lips he thinks how much he wishes he could.

She’s upset but decides not to press her demand. Jack starts the car.

CLARA kisses him and simply says:

The car drives off.

Fade to black.

A POSTMAN hands the mail to FATHER BENEDETTO.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 94.

We follow FATHER BENEDETTO inside as he rifles through a bunch of church circulars. One LETTER catches his eye.

He opens it and starts to read aloud:

JACK is standing in his room with a very troubled look on his face. After staring, for what feels like minutes, he walks over to the table and takes the M14 out of the briefcase.

JACK is making a final adjustment to the Ruger M14 rifle.

We cannot see what he’s doing, but we sense the significance of the moment.

JACK is standing by the door in an impeccably pressed suit, the black SAMSONITE BRIEFCASE in his hand.

He surveys his room. All evidence of his existence has been meticulously tidied away. Only his holdall and suitcase are standing near the door.

JACK picks up his belongings and leaves.

The sun is shining. The mountains young and sharp and beautiful. The CAR moves swiftly across the great setting the road is surrounded by.

JACK watches the road. On the long straights he looks backwards and forwards.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 95.

JACK comes off the highway on a slip road and pulls into a forecourt consisting of several rows of pumps, a WC, a repair garage and a CAFE.

The car park is not large. JACK parks the Fiat near the CAFE.

JACK double checks the magazine in his handgun is full and slips his WALTHER into his jacket pocket.

Stepping out of the car he looks around the car park. It’s ominously empty. In the near distance we can hear the ROAR of highway traffic.

JACK takes the BRIEFCASE from the rear seat and walks away. He makes a show of locking the car but doesn’t.

Almost empty.

JACK sits at a table at the back of the cafe. From here he can see both entrances: the public entrance and the service entrance and also the door to the bathrooms. Through the window, he has a good view of the garage forecourt and the slip road to and from the autostrada.

JACK places the BRIEFCASE on a chair beside him and puts a PAPER BAG on the table next to the sugar dispenser. He checks his watch. It is two minutes before noon. He orders an espresso.

His nerve-heightened senses take in everything: the sound of the hum of traffic, the buzz of the refrigeration units and the murmur of the cafe’s few occupants.

JACK's eyes flick outside to the forecourt.

We hear the cafe door open.

And in an instant, MATHILDE is at his table.

She is dressed in a tight black skirt, a simple blue blouse and a dark blue jacket. Her hair is neatly styled, her make- up immaculate and heavier than we’ve seen her wear before. She looks exactly like the kind of woman who might carry a Samsonite briefcase.

She speaks quietly: her voice low and attractive.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 96.

The WAITRESS comes over with Jack's coffee. MATHILDE orders another for herself.

She opens the bag and takes out one of the TINS.

She can immediately feel that it’s heavier than it should be.

The polite phrase sounds even more polite with her slight Belgian accent.

The WAITRESS returns with the secondespresso and MATHILDE pays for them both.

JACK watches as she stirs her coffee to cool it. She’s nervous.

For a moment she is pensive.

She drinks her coffee, holding her cup in mid-air and looking out the window.

JACK follows her eye-line to check she’s not signalling to an accomplice.

The FORECOURT is still empty.

In the silence we can hear the buzz of the refrigeration units.

MATHILDE looks at JACK. Her expression is impossible to read. Perhaps it’s tinged with sadness. She drinks the rest of her coffee.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 97.

She picks up the CASE.

There is nothing JACK can do about this. She has taken him off guard and grasped the initiative.

All he can do is wait.

MATHILDE enters a cubicle, opens the CASE, bypasses the stationery, lifts the false bottom and checks the M14 parts are present and correct.

Then she loads a magazine of her handgun.

MATHILDE returns from the bathroom.

Not a question, a command.

JACK is obliged to stand up.

MATHILDE walks towards a silver 5 series BMW with slightly tinted windows.

She is carrying the BRIEFCASE.

JACK has his right hand in his jacket pocket.

She stops beside the BMW.

JACK still has his hands on the Walther.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 98.

Her RIGHT HAND slips into her pocket.

JACK twists his wrist upwards and thumbs the cocking lever.

She hands JACK an ENVELOPE.

JACK braces himself for a bullet.

Just then...

...a COACH pulls into the car park.

It stops with a hydraulic hiss and dozens of TEENAGE KIDS descend.

MATHILDE and JACK are surrounded. There is nothing either of them can do.

MATHILDE looks suddenly relieved.

She leans forward and kisses JACK lightly and quickly and on the lips.

JACK doesn’t answer. His whole body is still tense for the bullet that he knows is coming. Perhaps there is a second person in the car.

She gets into the driver’s seat of the BMW and swings the BRIEFCASE into the back.

JACK tenses as MATHILDE raises her hand in farewell.

The BMW pulls away and disappears down the slip road onto the autostrada.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 99.

JACK watches it go.

Thumbs back the lever on his Walther.

Gets into his Fiat.

And opens the ENVELOPE.

-No wires.

-No tricks.

-Just TWENTY THOUSAND US DOLLARS.

JACK stares at the money. He isn’t supposed to be alive. For a while he stays put. He shuts his eyes in the sunshine and listens to the laughter of the teenage kids. To a girl calling: “Amore!” To the cicadas. To the distant rush of traffic on the autostrada.

JACK’S FIAT turns off the highway beneath a sign.

The sign reads CASTEL DEL MONTE.

EXTRA MATHILDE/ PAVEL PHONE CALL *

PAVEL * Change of target.

FIAT

PAVEL * Stay on him!

PAVEL * Yes. *

JACK * It’s done. *

PAVEL * I’ll confirm with her. *

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 99A.

JACK * You’ll confirm with me, I’m * finished... *

Beat. *

JACK * Pavel? *

PAVEL * Have a nice life Jack. *

JACK * I will... *

JACK hangs up. PAVEL dials another number. We stay on his * face. *

MATHILDE * Hello... *

PAVEL * Just go off the phone with Jack, he * told me the exchange was * successful. *

MATHILDE * There wasn’t an opportunity... *

PAVEL * Find one. *

135 (ALTERNATE) *

PAVEL’S phone rings. He answers. *

PAVEL * Is it done? *

MATHILDE * No. *

PAVEL * What happened? *

MATHILDE * There wasn’t the opportunity. *

Beat. *

PAVEL * Find one. *

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 99B.

The BMW exits the highway on the same slip road signed CASTEL DEL MONTE.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 100.

The town square is jam-packed with cars and coaches.

Hundreds of tourists and locals have gathered near the church square. There is even a camera crew.

The church doors open. As FATHER BENEDETTO steps out a CHOIR starts to sing.

Behind him, LOCAL MEN are carrying a larger-than-life painted wooden STATUE OF SAINT DOMINIC.

Draped over a shepherd’s shoulder and wrapped around his neck is a lamb.

The CHOIR, standing outside the church, keeps singing while the procession, with the STATUE, moves onto the small church square. FATHER BENEDETTO walking now behind the statue as this strange annual religious parade is about to start its trip thru town.

MATHILDE is carrying the SAMSONITE BRIEFCASE, she is forcing her way into a home by breaking a locked door.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 101.

We see JACK looking for Clara. The town square is tightly packed so it’s hard to find people, let alone move. We then see his POV when suddenly two hands appear from behind in front of his eyes, he turns around and of course it is Clara. Clara kisses Jack deep. A long and loving kiss. Meanwhile the sound of the choir is getting louder, meaning the procession is coming closer to them.

We presume MATHILDE has killed someone as there is a body lying on the floor when we see her from behind, gun in hand, climbing thru a window and onto a roof.

The PROCESSION emerges thru the archway into the sloping piece of road leading to the town square.

FATHER BENEDETTO, the STATUE and the CHOIR march on while a crowd lines the street on either side of the procession.

Jack and Clara have to shout at one another above the noise of the choir approaching. They’re in mid conversation.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 102.

MATHILDE is on the roof, taking up her position to shoot. She looks thru the viewfinder, adjusting the sight, trying to locate Jack. The Church clock behind her indicates it is nearly noon.

Other HEADS...

-TOURISTS

-PROCESSION CROSSES

-KIDS on their PARENTS’ SHOULDERS

...keep blocking our view of JACK.

146 INSERT: 146

The TRIGGER FINGER, hesitating.

We’re right in the midst of the crowd.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 103.

A pause.

She swears in Italian. Obscenities. Then throws herself around JACK and squeezes him with all her strength. There are tears in her eyes.

He looks at her.

148 INSERT: 148

The TRIGGER FINGER squeezes.

The M14 Mini fires.

An EXPLOSIVE BULLET travels down the chamber at approximately 360 miles per hour headed straight for JACK's temporal lobe.

Only it never gets there.

The gun jams.

A chamber explosion is a nasty thing. Instead of shooting out of the barrel, the round explodes in the cannon's chamber.

Hot shrapnel fragments like a land mine, ripping into MATHILDE’s hands, forearms and face...

A loud BANG pulls JACK and CLARA apart as...

...MATHILDE drops two stories onto the street.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 104.

Jack sees Mathilde’s fall.

He gives her the money.

They become separated by the procession...

She looks worried.

CLARA turns and walks off through the crowd.

JACK watches her go.

Then runs through the Procession and catches the attention of Father Benedetto. He runs up the steep slope towards the place he saw Mathilde fall. Another person in the crowd also watches Jack run away, he keeps a keen eye on Jack’s movements. Father Benedetto lets the procession go on and attempts to follow Jack, who is much faster of course. Some other people from the choir follow their priest, not knowing why he is leaving the procession. The other person (PAVEL) * slowly follows them, up to a certain point from where he cannot possibly be seen by Jack.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 105.

The explosion has torn the flesh from Mathilde’s hands and lacerated her face. The fall has crippled her.

But as JACK kneels beside her, her pulse confirms that she’s alive.

The explosion has deafened her. She can’t hear him.

He presses his mouth close to her ear. And shouts:

Her bloodshot eyes struggle to focus on JACK as she starts to form the words:

Suddenly, JACK spins around, his WALTHER in his right hand.

Father Benedetto stands quite close to Jack, and is totally out of breath.

FATHER BENEDETTO remains where he is.

JACK cocks his weapon, steadying it straight at the priest’s heart.

A beat.

JACK stares at FATHER BENEDETTO, his finger clenched tightly on the trigger.

The priest swallows, looking from the bloody body of MATHILDE to JACK.

Her eyes are closing.

FATHER BENEDETTO looks at JACK.

There is great compassion in his voice:

A beat.

JACK un-cocks his WALTHER.

And pockets his weapon.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 106.

He looks down at MATHILDE.

JACK turns to leave. Sees the choir boys.

JACK walks across the half-empty open space with his hand thrust deep in his pocket...and turns down a narrow alleyway.

A long pause.

Then a single figure steps from a hiding place near

the steps.

And follows.

1) 2-shot Jack and Father B. “I’m sorry father”. *

JACK uses his knowledge of the medieval maze at the heart of town to elude the procession.

PAVEL follows, his hand thrust deep in the right hand pocket * of his suit jacket, gaining swiftly on JACK...

30 metres

20 metres

10 metres

We hear the unmistakable CLICK of the cocking mechanism in PAVEL’s pocket and see the shape of the barrel through the * expensive material, pointing at JACK as...

...JACK turns and shoots.

Both men fire at the same time.

JACK is the better shot. His first bullet hits PAVEL in the * heart.

The second shot hits PAVEL in the middle of the forehead. The * impact of the bullet destroys his face, plunging him suddenly back into anonymity.

JACK turns and continues on his way.

We can tell by his face he’s in extreme pain.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 107.

JACK’S FIAT races away from CASTEL DEL MONTE.

We can hear SIRENS.

JACK is at the wheel.

A LAND ROVER carrying CARABINIERI races towards us coming in the opposite direction.

They drive past JACK, heading straight for town.

JACK drives on.

Slowly his head starts to dip, like a man falling asleep at the wheel.

But he forces himself awake.

The FIAT weaves its way up the mountainside.

JACK turns off the main road and onto an alpine track.

This is the same route he took with the Belgian woman.

And with CLARA.

The car bumps and tilts on the rough terrain.

Surrounded by trees now.

The track turning to grass.

The FIAT approaches the outer edge of the woods.

Jack turns off the motor and let’s the car coast towards the stream.

We see CLARA standing next to a tree, her Vespa leaned up against it.

We see JACK’S face.

Time seems to slow.

"The American" June 21st, 2010 page 108.

CLARA stands there.

JACK’S car slowly crawls towards her.

His view of her is getting hazy...

Sunlight taking over, his car eases slowly past her and gently comes to a stop against the trunk of the tree.

Silence.

Then the steady sound of the horn honking.

From beyond the car we see a single butterfly fly up and rise towards the sky.

JACK is slumped against the wheel.

He isn’t breathing.

On his face is an expression of serene peace.