THE FIRST
CASUALTY
By
Wayne Mathias
FADE IN:
INT.
CAVE - NIGHT
In
the dark, two Spanish Soldiers in rain ponchos carry
between them a small but heavy crate with rope handles.
Their
boots SPLASH in puddles as they pass through the
doorway of a weathered steel vault.
As they approach the cave's mouth,
RAINFALL grows louder.
Behind them, another pair of wet, weary Soldiers carry out an
identical crate.
EXT.
HILLSIDE - NIGHT
SUPER: "CARTAGENA, SPAIN - OCTOBER 1936"
In
pouring rain, dozens of Soldiers haul crates from the cave
like
a trail of ants.
COLONEL HIDALGO (40s), a Gentleman-Officer of the Old School,
watches them load the boxes onto several trucks. He smokes
a
cigarette, until a raindrop puts it out with a SIZZLE.
He
sighs and tosses away the wet cig.
Next
to him, KOZLOV (40s), a tall, gaunt Russian in a navy
slicker, sees the Soldiers climb into the
loaded trucks.
All
the truck engines START as the last two Soldiers emerge
from
the cave empty-handed.
HIDALGO
(in Spanish)
[That's all of it?]
The
two men nod in unison.
HIDALGO
(continuing)
[Good. Let's move out!]
They salute with upraised fists.
The
two Soldiers climb in the back of the last truck.
Slowly the convoy SLOSHES away down the muddy hill.
EXT.
CARTAGENA NAVAL BASE - NIGHT
On a
rain-soaked pier, Soldiers lug the last crates from the
trucks onto two Soviet freighters docked on each side.
2.
A
dozen Navy Sentries guard the pier with rifles.
Near
the trucks, Hidalgo and Kozlov stand by a staff car.
A few
yards behind them, two Bankers watch uneasily from
inside an old black limousine:
SALVADOR GARCIA (50s), a silver-haired, aristocratic vice-
president, and ALEJANDRO RUIZ (40s), a short, high-strung
manager with pomaded black hair and a handlebar mustache.
Kozlov speaks to Hidalgo in heavily-accented Spanish.
KOZLOV
[It was a pleasure to meet you,
Comrade Colonel. Thank you for
your hospitality.]
(salutes)
Viva la Republica!
Hidalgo straightens and salutes back.
Kozlov heads for his ship, docked on the right.
The
Soldiers climb back into their trucks.
HIDALGO
[Comrade Kozlov, aren't you
forgetting something?
(beat)
I need a receipt.]
Kozlov reacts like a disinterested bureaucrat.
KOZLOV
[Receipt? There was no mention of
that in my orders.]
In
the limo, Garcia and Ruiz share a worried glance.
HIDALGO
[I was ordered to bring back a
receipt signed by you with the
exact number of crates!]
KOZLOV
[I'm sorry, Comrade Colonel.]
HIDALGO
[Are you refusing to comply?!]
3.
KOZLOV
[I said, it was not in my orders.
(pause)
When my ships arrive at their
destination, I will gladly forward
your request to my superiors.
(walks away)
Don't worry, Comrade. We're all
on the same side.]
Incensed, Hidalgo watches Kozlov ascend the gangplank.
Ruiz and Garcia emerge from their limo and
open umbrellas.
They
rush to Hidalgo in alarm.
GARCIA
[You're not just going to let him
leave, are you?!]
HIDALGO
[What do you recommend, Comrade
Garcia? That I arrest him?]
Ruiz
drops his umbrella and RUNS toward Kozlov's freighter.
On both
ships, Deck Hands withdraw gangplanks and cast off
mooring lines.
RUIZ
[WAIT! STOP! THIS IS IMPROPER
PROCEDURE!]
The
dark water behind Kozlov's freighter CHURNS.
At
the end of the pier, next to a motorcycle with sidecar,
two
Russians in trenchcoats and leather caps observe calmly:
DMITRI BORODIN (30s), a grim, wiry thug with bony features,
and
YURI PETRUSHENKO (20s), a thick-set goon.
Dmitri jots on a notepad while Yuri smokes and watches Garcia.
GARCIA
(to Kozlov)
[MARK MY WORD! I'LL REPORT YOU TO
PRIME MINISTER CABALLERO!]
Kozlov blandly waves farewell as his ship leaves the dock.
Yuri
KICK-STARTS his motorcycle.
Dmitri climbs into the sidecar and dons leather gloves.
4.
Yuri
turns the rig around. Its tires SLITHER
and RUMBLE on
the
wet planks.
The left-hand
freighter slowly pulls away. The Soviet
flag
ripples from its main mast.
Garcia and Ruiz shake their fists at the departing ships.
EXT.
DOWNTOWN MADRID - DAY
SUPER: "MADRID - APRIL 1937"
DANIEL ARCHER (30s), a fair-haired American reporter in a
tweed
suit, passes a barricade manned by several ragtag
Soldiers (20s) with old rifles and a Maxim machine-gun.
The
Soldiers stand guard, eat, smoke, or clean their weapons.
They
listen to the random THUMPS of distant artillery fire.
Daniel walks on, checking the addresses of the stately houses
on
this otherwise deserted street. All the
windowpanes are
crisscrossed with tape.
He
passes under a bold red banner suspended across the road.
In
Spanish it reads: "MADRID WILL BE THE TOMB OF FASCISM!"
EXT.
GERMAN EMBASSY
A
crew of Movers (20s) haul furniture and boxes from the gray
stone
mansion to a trio of parked vans.
Daniel calmly passes a German Sentry at the gate, then looks
at
the Nazi Swastika flag fluttering overhead.
INT.
GERMAN EMBASSY
GUNTER (20s), a curt Aryan secretary, interrupts the packing
of
his office files to stare coldly at Daniel.
GUNTER
Mister Archer, there are no
Spaniards here.
Through the door of the adjacent office, the stiff, hawk-
faced
attaché SCHILLER (40s) watches Daniel with distaste
while
emptying his desk.
Daniel glances at Schiller, but directs his words to Gunter.
5.
DANIEL
Look, everyone knows that Spanish
Nationalists have taken refuge in
the embassies.
Gunter ignores him and continues packing.
Schiller does likewise.
Daniel, fed-up, addresses both of them.
DANIEL
(continuing)
Where's the Ambassador? I want to
speak to him!
Schiller raises an indignant eyebrow.
He signals Gunter with
a
sharp cock of his head: Get rid of him!
Gunter gets the message. He opens
a file cabinet drawer and
quickly searches the folders.
GUNTER
Ambassador Faupel is now in
Salamanca. Where we are going.
He
selects a mimeographed page from a folder.
DANIEL
I figured the Republic would
throw
you out, seein' as how Hitler and
Franco are such good buddies.
Daniel peeks into one of the open boxes, then stops when
Gunter
SLAMS the file drawer shut.
GUNTER
The Third Reich recognizes the
Junta as the legitimate government
of Spain, not the Republic.
(presents the sheet)
Take this.
DANIEL
What is it?
GUNTER
A press statement.
Daniel skims it quickly, then
winces in disgust.
6.
DANIEL
I came looking to interview a
Franco sympathizer.
(drops page on
desk)
You can keep your Nazi bullshit.
Gunter sternly indicates the exit.
GUNTER
There are no Spaniards
here. Only
Germans. Good day, Mister Archer.
Daniel looks fed up and ready to leave.
An
older Spanish gentleman calls from the hallway.
PALACIOS (O.S.)
Gunter?
JOAQUIN PALACIOS (50s) shuffles in wearing only a bathrobe
and
slippers and holding a toothbrush. He
comports himself
with
the threadbare dignity of a once-rich man.
PALACIOS
(in Spanish)
[Gunter, I'm out of tooth powder.
May I use yours?]
Gunter is wide-eyed with embarrassment.
Palacios suddenly realizes Daniel is probably not German.
PALACIOS
(continuing)
Oh.
Daniel smiles like he's hit the jackpot.
He
glances at Gunter, who averts his eyes.
INT.
GERMAN EMBASSY - LIBRARY
The
bookshelves are empty. On the walls,
clean rectangles
indicate where paintings once hung.
The drapes are closed.
In a
plush armchair, Palacios, impeccably dressed in a French-
cuff
shirt, tie and slacks, STRIKES a match.
He
lights a cigar, sits back and puffs. His
resonant voice
is laden with resignation and grief
for a bygone era: his era.
7.
PALACIOS
My name is Joaquin Palacios. I
was a landowner until the fighting
broke out last summer.
(pause)
My farms, my estate... Everything
my family worked for was taken by
the Reds.
In a
similar chair, Daniel takes notes on a reporter's pad.
DANIEL
Are the Germans going to smuggle
you out of Madrid?
PALACIOS
They better. I intend to help
Franco overthrow this Godforsaken
Republic.
DANIEL
You prefer a dictatorship?
PALACIOS
Why bother with another election?
We all know the last one was
rigged by the Communists!
DANIEL
Do you mean to say the majority of
Spaniards were against land reform?
Palacios regards him with superior disdain.
PALACIOS
"Land Reform"...
(beat)
Señor, that's what happens when
you let the mob rule.
DANIEL
I see. So what does the election
of the Popular Front mean to you?
PALACIOS
Isn't it obvious? Democracy opens
the door to Communism!
He
puffs his cigar smugly as Daniel contemplates a response.
8.
DANIEL
The Communists are only a tiny
minority in the coalition.
PALACIOS
A minority with great influence.
(beat)
Like the Jews and the Freemasons.
(pause)
Your own country's in danger, too.
Look at Roosevelt.
Daniel's calm face barely hides his contempt.
DANIEL
(pause)
I voted for Roosevelt.
PALACIOS
That makes you a Communist dupe.
DANIEL
So Franco, Hitler and Mussolini
are heroes? After what happened
to Guernica last week?
PALACIOS
The Nationalists never bombed
Guernica. That's just a Red hoax!
The Republic destroyed the town
and blamed it on the Junta!
Daniel shakes his head slightly in dismay.
DANIEL
Well... Obviously, we read
different newspapers.
Palacios takes a satisfying puff; he's cool as a cucumber.
PALACIOS
Obviously.
Daniel takes notes and lets his anger subside.
INT.
GERMAN EMBASSY - CODE ROOM
In a
cramped, windowless nook, surrounded by radio and
encryption gear, sits FRANZ HARTMANN
(30s), a German agent
with
a head like a chiseled block. Wearing
headphones, he
eavesdrops and takes rapid, precise notes.
9.
PALACIOS'
VOICE
(filter)
Surely you've heard about Spain's
gold being sent to Russia.
Schiller
peeks in.
SCHILLER
[What is it, Hartmann?]
Hartmann raises his hand for silence.
DANIEL'S
VOICE
No, I haven't. Is that just a
rumor, or can you verify it?
INT.
GERMAN EMBASSY - LIBRARY - CONTINUING
DANIEL
Do you know someone I could talk
to about the gold?
PALACIOS
(long pause)
There is one man in Madrid.
(gestures)
May I write a note for him?
Daniel hands over his pad and pen.
Palacios writes.
PALACIOS
(continuing)
Alejandro Ruiz manages accounts at
the Bank of Spain.
(returns pad
& pen)
You must not reveal his identity.
Or mine.
DANIEL
Don't worry. You can trust me.
(pause)
Is Señor Ruiz... like you?
PALACIOS
(shakes his
head)
I warned him, months ago.
(pause)
Anyone in the middle of the road
is just asking to get run over.
10.
EXT. PLAZA DEL CALLAO - AFTERNOON
In
this downtown district off the Gran Vía, Pedestrians
SCURRY from one fortified doorway to the next. Traffic is
very
light.
On
the corner across from the Hotel Florida stands a block-
shaped kiosk with newspaper and magazine racks. PABLO (12),
a
lively, precocious boy, calls out the headline.
PABLO
[FASCISTS DENY BOMBING GUERNICA!]
Daniel quickly browses and selects issues of L'Humanité and
The
Daily Telegraph.
DANIEL
[Do you have The New York Times?]
PABLO
[Sold out. Maybe tomorrow.]
Daniel hands him a couple of thick peseta coins.
PABLO
(continuing)
Gracias. Salud!
DANIEL
Salud.
He
walks toward the hotel and skims one of his newspapers.
PABLO (O.S.)
[FASCISTS DENY BOMBING
GUERNICA!
READ ALL ABOUT IT!]
INT.
HOTEL FLORIDA - BAR - NIGHT
The
smoky, wood-paneled bar teems with Foreign Journalists
(20s-40s), all gabbing away and drinking like fish. Their
clothing is casual -- not a suit in sight.
At
the center of a flock of Reporters stands ERNEST HEMINGWAY
(37)
in a field jacket, corduroys & beret.
He regales the
crowd
while smoking & drinking whisky.
ERNEST
So we're about a mile from the
front when this soldier passes by
with a glazed, faraway look in his
eyes, like we're not even there.
11.
ROBERT CAPA (23), the Hungarian Jewish photographer, speaks.
ROBERT
Going to the front or leaving it?
ERNEST
Leaving. He knew the score.
Daniel ENTERS and surveys the crowd.
He
edges through the forest of bodies around Ernest.
ERNEST
(continuing)
A minute later, along come these
two guys in trenchcoats with
pistols, okay?
(beat)
One of 'em asks us in bad Spanish
if we've seen a soldier go by.
COLIN
YATES (40s), a quick-witted Englishman, comments.
COLIN
Russians, by any chance?
ERNEST
Mmm, probably.
(pause)
We just point that-a-way over the
hill. And off they go.
(puffs his cig)
We're just sittin' there smokin',
and a few minutes later... BANG!
MARTHA
GELLHORN (28), a sophisticated blonde reporter,
flinches.
MARTHA
Oh my God.
She
and Ernest share a private glance; they're more than
friends, but his sympathy must be discreet.
ERNEST
The trenchcoat guys come back.
(pause)
They say, "Gracias, Camaradas."
(pause)
We just nod.
(pause)
And away they go to the front.
12.
Daniel and the others stare somberly; some sip
their drinks.
DANIEL
Damn.
CAPTAIN FELIPE SANCHEZ (30), a lean, easygoing officer in
khakis & a Sam Browne belt, ENTERS and joins the crowd.
Ernest notices Felipe and adjusts his tone diplomatically.
ERNEST
Well, there's a war on. You can't
have an army without discipline.
DANIEL
Aren't you... Ernest Hemingway?
Ernest smiles and gives him a manly, vigorous handshake.
ERNEST
Bingo! You've won a free drink!
(fetches a
bottle)
Whisky?
Pleasantly surprised, Daniel nods.
Ernest gets a glass from the BARTENDER (30s) and pours Daniel
a shot.
DANIEL
Thanks. I'm Daniel Archer.
ERNEST
Welcome to Spain, Daniel. Cheers!
They
clink glasses and drink.
ERNEST
(continuing)
You must be one of the new guys.
Everyone's looking at Daniel, but he takes it in stride.
DANIEL
It's the suit, isn't it?
ERNEST
Proletarian chic is all the rage.
May I?
Daniel nods as Ernest undoes his tie and removes it.
13.
Ernest then opens his collar.
ERNEST
(continuing)
Mucho mejor. You don't wanna look
too bourgeois. The fanatics
here'll shoot you!
FELIPE
Ernesto is exaggerating again.
ERNEST
Ah, buenas noches, Felipe!
(beat)
Daniel, meet Felipe Sanchez, our
press liaison.
COLIN
(thick Russian
accent)
Comrade Commissar!
Felipe ignores him and shakes hands with Daniel.
FELIPE
Welcome, Daniel. Which paper are
you with?
DANIEL
The Yonkers Tribune.
Ernest and Martha share a bemused glance.
FELIPE
Ah. Very good.
(beat)
Is the hotel treating you well?
DANIEL
Yeah, but I had to take a room on
the sixth floor, facing the street.
GEORGE SELDES (46), the energetic American muckraker, gasps.
GEORGE
Christ! You're exposed to
artillery fire!
Daniel looks to Felipe.
14.
FELIPE
(sighs)
Inside rooms are hard to get.
I'll see what I can do.
ERNEST
If the shelling gets nasty, you're
welcome to hang out with me. I'm
in Two-Oh-Four.
DANIEL
Thanks. I might just take you up
on that.
The
Bartender's phone RINGS; he answers promptly.
BARTENDER
Digame.
He
listens for a few seconds, then turns to the crowd.
BARTENDER
(continuing)
Daniel Archer?
DANIEL
That's me.
He
takes the phone and converses softly in the background.
FELIPE
(to the Reporters)
I just want to remind everyone of
our tour of the munitions factory
tomorrow. We'll meet in the lobby
at eight o'clock.
Daniel reacts to Felipe and his caller
with a perplexed
expression.
Ernest and George give each other a subtle, curious glance.
INT.
AMMO FACTORY - MORNING
A
Dozen Reporters, including Daniel, George, Martha, Colin,
and
Felipe walk together in this hastily-improvised, low-tech
operation, led by DOLORES (30), the stocky foreman.
The
walls are adorned with bold Spanish labor posters.
Patriotic Spanish MUSIC on the radio
almost masks the faint
RUMBLE of artillery fire.
15.
Fifty
female Workers (15-40s) seated in assembly lines
rapidly SORT and RELOAD bullets at long worktables.
With
pleasure Daniel observes more young women hauling raw
materials and ammo boxes to and fro.
George notices, too.
GEORGE
I wouldn't mind working here!
Three
female Sorters at a huge bin of spent cartridges TOSS
one
casing after another into baskets labeled: 7.62mm,
7.92mm, 8mm, 9mm, 11mm, etc. A
basket labeled "DEFECTUOSO"
receives any deformed casings.
The
Sorters' hands, dirty from handling brass, move with
phenomenal speed. The metallic
CLATTER never ceases.
LILLIAN
HELLMAN (32), the feisty New York playwright, speaks
to
Dolores.
LILLIAN
Wouldn't it be simpler to buy new
bullets instead of reloading them?
DOLORES
Of course it would. The problem
is the embargo that keeps us from
getting the supplies we need.
FELIPE
We're short of everything: food,
medicine, gasoline, you name it!
COLIN
The Fascists don't seem to have
that problem.
DOLORES
You noticed.
DANIEL
What about the Russians? Aren't
they helping?
DOLORES
Yes, they help us a lot, but it's
not enough. Many shipments can't
get through the blockade. Or
they're sunk by the Fascists!
MARTHA
It's not fair, is it?
16.
DANIEL
The embargo's not being enforced
on Franco's side. Go figure.
FELIPE
Ending the embargo is our only
hope. Then we could buy what we
need from Britain, France,
America, or any other country.
GEORGE
Except Germany, of course!
Dolores and the Reporters laugh.
Some take notes, while
Daniel and a few others take photos
as they continue walking.
A
Worker delivers a basket of sorted casings to one of the
assembly lines.
Reloaders INSERT new primers, gunpowder, and lead bullets.
LILLIAN
How reliable are these bullets?
At
the end of the Reloader line, a Girl (15) inspects each
bullet before placing it in an ammo box.
DOLORES
They jam more often than new ones.
In a battle, that can have fatal
consequences.
Suddenly an air-raid SIREN blows.
Everyone stops and looks
around in alarm.
COLIN
Bloody hell!
DOLORES
[AIR RAID! EVERYONE TO THE
SHELTER! MOVE IT!]
The
Workers drop what they're doing and hurry in an orderly
fashion through a trap door to the basement.
MARTHA
Felipe, what do we do?!
FELIPE
Remain calm! There's room for all
of us! Follow them into the
shelter, single-file!
17.
As
the Reporters follow the Workers into the basement, Daniel
notices ELENA MORELL (20s), a slim, raven-haired Catalan
beauty in a faded sundress.
Elena
grabs a fistful of recycled bullets from an open box,
then
ducks into a closet.
Daniel reluctantly climbs down into the shelter. The trap
door
closes behind him.
A few
moments later, COMMOTION seeps through the floor.
Dolores opens the trap door and peeks out.
DOLORES
[ELENA MORELL! WHERE ARE YOU?!]
Daniel squeezes next to her to get a good look.
Elena emerges from the closet with an
old Mauser rifle slung
over
her shoulder.
With
a furious grunt, she PULLS OPEN the factory's enormous
sliding door. The THUNDERING
DRONE of bombers grows louder.
DOLORES
(continuing)
[ELENA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU
DOING?! YOU'LL GET KILLED!]
Elena
expertly chambers a round in her Mauser.
ELENA
[THEN I'LL GO DOWN FIGHTING!]
Daniel looks impressed.
Elena
dashes out onto the loading dock and disappears.
BOMBS
WHISTLE DOWN. EXPLOSIONS ROCK the earth,
growing in
intensity by the second.
Daniel slides past Dolores. She
tries to grab him, but he
shakes her loose and climbs out.
As
Daniel chases after Elena, Felipe pokes his head out the
half-open cellar door.
FELIPE
DANIEL! COME BACK HERE!
(beat)
ARE YOU CRAZY?!
18.
At
the gaping factory doorway, Daniel turns to Felipe.
DANIEL
Hey, I go where the story is.
With an impish grin, he EXITS.
EXT.
AMMO FACTORY
This
industrial neighborhood street is deserted.
The only
sounds are BOMBERS, EXPLOSIONS & FLAK BURSTS.
Daniel RUNS past a flaming car wreck and looks around. A
GUNSHOT rings out. He turns
sharply.
ELENA (O.S.)
[THAT'S FOR GUERNICA! FASCIST
COWARDS!]
Elena
aims at the Nationalist bombers and SHOOTS again.
She
ejects the spent casing, then aims, moving the barrel
ahead
of her target like a duck hunter.
BLAM!
Awestruck, Daniel cautiously approaches her with his Leica.
He
snaps a photo of her with fire in her eyes, shaking her
fist
defiantly at the sky.
ELENA
[YOU CALL YOURSELVES PATRIOTS?!
YOU MURDERERS!]
She
takes aim again. Daniel snaps another
picture.
BLAM!
Daniel gently shakes his head in wonder.
Elena
struggles with her jammed rifle, then notices Daniel.
ELENA
(continuing)
[What are you staring at?! Can't
you make yourself useful?!]
Daniel doesn't quite get it. A sudden
loud EXPLOSION makes
him
flinch. Smoke and dust fill the air.
Elena
fights with her stuck rifle bolt: GRRR!
19.
The
bombers' DRONING fades away, along with the EXPLOSIONS.
Finally the bent cartridge tinkles on the ground.
Daniel smiles at Elena. Both are
breathing hard from the
adrenaline rush. Her dress is
sweat-stained.
DANIEL
[I'm Daniel Archer. Sorry my
Spanish isn't that great.]
Elena
just looks at the smoky skyline, panting.
A
storm of emotion wells up in her eyes.
Tears
trickle down her cheeks.
She
begins to weep openly in heaving sobs.
Daniel watches her with awkward sympathy.
A
SIREN blows the "All Clear" signal.
Ambulance and Fire
Truck
BELLS cross the neighborhood in every direction.
Elena
somberly carries her rifle back to the factory.
Daniel walks alongside, glancing at her every so often.
DANIEL
(continuing)
You okay?
She
nods and wipes away her tears, then vents her rage.
ELENA
(long pause)
Are you satisfied?!
(pause)
Go to the zoo, see the animal!
(strikes a pose)
Go on, take pictures! Take all
you want!
(walks on)
Parásito!
DANIEL
Whoa, hold on! I'm on your side!
ELENA
Oh yeah? I don't see your gun,
Comrade.
20.
DANIEL
Well, fine! I admit, I'm not a
Communist, okay?
Elena
pauses and gives him a dagger-stare to make her point.
ELENA
Neither am I.
Daniel
searches her eyes in surprised curiosity.
DOLORES
(O.S.)
ELENA!
In
the doorway, Dolores and Felipe stand like annoyed parents
awaiting their errant children.
DOLORES
[Get back in here, crazy girl!
There's work to do!]
Daniel watches the two women have it out.
ELENA
[I should be at the
front with the
militia! Shooting bullets, not
making them!]
DOLORES
[Your militia days are over! Get
used to it!]
Felipe glances at Daniel with a skeptical head-shake.
Dolores re-enters the factory and bellows at her workers.
DOLORES
(continuing)
[BACK TO YOUR PLACES! INSPECT
EVERYTHING FOR DAMAGE!]
Daniel leans closer to Elena.
DANIEL
I'm staying at the Hotel Florida
in the Plaza del Callao.
ELENA
Why are you telling me this?
21.
DANIEL
If you have a story to share, I'm
a good listener.
Elena
stares in mild surprise, then proceeds through the door.
EXT.
AMERICAN EMBASSY - DAY
The
windows of this Embassy Row mansion are taped.
The U.S.
flag
flies from a pole near the door.
Daniel shows his passport to the Marine Guard, then proceeds
through
the entrance.
INT.
AMERICAN EMBASSY
Daniel finds the place dark and devoid of furnishings. He
climbs the stairs and searches for signs of life.
DANIEL
Hello...
(long pause)
Hello?
AMBASSADOR CLAUDE BOWERS (58), a thin, balding Midwesterner
in a
suit & bow tie, peers down from the second floor
landing. His tone is sincere and down-to-earth.
BOWERS
Are you Mister Archer?
DANIEL
Yes. I got a call yesterday.
BOWERS
Excellent. Come on up!
INT.
AMERICAN EMBASSY - OFFICE
Bowers' former office is huge and empty except for an old
desk
and a few simple chairs. The only light
comes through
the
open windows.
Bowers shakes Daniel's hand.
BOWERS
Glad you could make it. I'm
Claude Bowers, the Ambassador.
DANIEL
Good morning, sir.
22.
BOWERS
This is my attaché, Stuart
Wilson.
STUART WILSON (40s), a tall, classic "Old Boy" from New
England, shakes Daniel's hand.
WILSON
Army Intelligence. Thanks for
coming in, Mister Archer.
Bowers pours water from a pitcher into three tall glasses.
BOWERS
Have a seat.
(offers a glass)
Thirsty?
Daniel accepts the glass and sits in a guest chair.
DANIEL
Thank you.
Wilson takes his own glass.
BOWERS
Your articles on the invasion of
Ethiopia were quite perceptive.
He
sits on the edge of the desk and sips his water.
DANIEL
You read those, huh?
WILSON
Last year, hardly any of us
predicted an alliance between
Italy, Germany, and Japan.
Daniel drinks and sizes them up.
DANIEL
(long pause)
Looks like you're moving out.
BOWERS
Oh, we moved ages ago. All the
nations that recognize the
Republic sent their embassies to
Saint Jean-de-Luz.
DANIEL
In France?
23.
WILSON
Safest place to be right now.
He
sits in a chair facing Daniel and drinks.
BOWERS
We make frequent trips here,
though. Mainly to evacuate
American civilians.
DANIEL
But you wanted to see me
about
something else.
BOWERS
Tell me, Mister Archer, what's
your opinion of this "civil war"?
DANIEL
I just got here.
WILSON
The war's been going on almost a
full year. Surely you've been
reading about it.
DANIEL
The news is mostly propaganda for
one side or the other.
Bowers and Wilson share subtle looks of approval.
BOWERS
That's always the problem, isn't
it? The fog of war.
He
stands and gazes out the large windows.
Across the street, a motorcycle-sidecar rig is parked.
BOWERS
(continuing)
Everyone in the Spanish government
assures me that the Communists are
not taking over.
(beat)
And I want to believe them.
DANIEL
(pause)
Oh, I get it. You need a spy.
24.
Wilson is taken aback by the implication.
WILSON
Mister Archer... "Spy" is such a
loaded word.
(beat)
We prefer the term "informant".
BOWERS
You'd be doing your country a
great service.
WILSON
FDR needs accurate intelligence.
Unbiased reporters like you help
us "fill the gaps".
BOWERS
With Hitler and Mussolini helping