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A CONTAINER VESSEL comes into port. EXT. DOCKS - DAY MONTAGE - The Port THE FREIGHTER ties up at the dock. The thousand details of bringing 100,000 tons of steel to berth. ON THE BRIDGE: The SHIP’S NAVIGATOR takes the controls from “SLOW” to “REVERSE.” TUG BOATS maneuver the behemoth into position. LONGSHORMEN heave ropes out of the water and pull loops around the gigantic cleats. GIGANTIC CRANES glide into place on tracks, prepare to off-load the cargo containers. A VOICE You got every container in the port of Long Beach. I’m not saying you can’t search ‘em. You got more than you can search coming in every day. You couldn’t search ‘em all even if you wanted to. So, you do it at random, some get searched, some don’t. I’m just saying this one goes in the “don’t” category. Do we understand each other? INT. CUSTOMS STATION - DAY The VOICE belongs to JAKE STRAMM, 40, dark and intense. Dressed to the nines, sunglasses and haircut that cost like a car, enough stubble to be a “look," an aura of intensity. You don’t want to disagree with this guy. JAKE I think we have... an understanding. He opens a briefcase, pivots it so... A CUSTOMS AGENT I... understand... ...can see the contents. FILLED WITH CASH. JAKE I’d like to accept delivery personally. CUSTOMS AGENT That can be arranged... Jake strides out, leaves the Customs Agent the case, who closes it up and hides it. CUSTOMS AGENT(CONT’D) Druggie scum. FOLLOWING JAKE OUT TO: EXT. DOCK/SHIP He walks toward the GANGPLANK the CREW lowers into place. A RADIO-FILTERED VOICE He’s going onboard the ship. SECOND RADIO VOICE Someone remember to round up that Customs Agent before we take ‘em all in. Read me? PANNING UP -- along the legs of the giant crane -- IN THE CRANE HOUSING: FEDERAL AGENTS, a slew of them, in windbreakers, ball caps, sunglasses and radio earpieces. ONE TURNS -- “DEA” emblazoned on the back of his jacket. DEA AGENT ONE Confirm. Customs agent goes downtown. Look at this prick... JAKE STRAMM strolls up the gangplank like it’s his own personal yacht. DEA AGENT TWO ...thinks he’s such hot shit, and he’s headed for a fall. Let’s man up. DEA AGENT ONE (into his radio) Team Delta, man up. We’re going hot. Live ordnance, this is not a drill. The DEA AGENTS shuffle out of the housing. The crane turns, swings -- EXT. SHIP’S DECK - DAY Jake strides purposefully through the maze of cargo containers. Knows what he’s looking for. ABOVE - ON THE ARM OF THE CRANE: DEA AGENTS climb out overhead, from the housing, toward the winch and cables. BELOW, ON DECK: Jake turns down a corridor formed by mountains of freight containers. Searching... ABOVE: DEA AGENTS fix leather rappelling sleeves to the cable at the end of crane arm. JAKE Finds the container he wants -- marked by an ARABIC SYMBOL. He stops. JAKE (in Arabic) God favors our endeavor. A DECKHAND (appears around a corner) God is great. A SHADOW MOVES OVER THEM... ABOVE, ON A CARGO CONTAINER: Held by the crane -- THE DEA AGENTS slide down the cables, drop lightly onto the cargo container hovering over them, belly crawl to the edge... loom OVER: JAKE AND THE DECKHANDS at the cargo container door -- DECKHAND ONE You will be pleased... JAKE ...show me. DECKHAND TWO ...first, the money. JAKE No. You’ve been paid, by Victor. DECKHAND TWO No. You pay. Suddenly he has a gun pointed between Jake’s eyes. ABOVE: DEA AGENTS clip D-rings to the edge of the container. Ropes coiled and ready to rappel. DEA AGENT ONE Cool. Let it play out BELOW: Looking down the barrel of the gun... a long, tense, beat. JAKE Don’t piss on me, fucker of camels. Fuck you. And fuck Victor too. You can fuck each other. Then switch and fuck again. Then the camel. You can both fuck the camel. First Victor in the middle, then you. Then you fuck Victor while the camel gives him a reach around... DECKHAND ONE Shut up! He COCKS the weapon. Then -- DECKHAND ONE (CONT’D) (Explodes with laughter) Camel fucker!!!! He embraces Jake, kisses both his cheeks. A CREAKING SOUND. Deckhand Two looks overhead -- shadow over him -- DECKHAND TWO They’re supposed to be... UN-loading... A beat. Then HELL breaks loose -- SIX DEA AGENTS tumble in from above -- DEA AGENTS Freeze!/hands in the air!/drop your weapons! DECKHAND ONE, wheels -- RAISES his GUN -- But that’s all he gets. JAKE EXPLODES -- using the motion of the DECKHAND’s rising arm -- he wrenches it back, further -- -- KRAK! -- Jake whips him forward again, into DECKHAND TWO -- But now JAKE HAS THE GUN. DECKHAND TWO has a knife -- BLAM! Jake FIRES -- splits it in half -- Deckhand Two pulls a GUN -- BLAM! JAKE blasts it into the air -- over the side -- -- it falls and SPLASHES into the ocean. The Deckhands raise their hands and surrender. Jake turns toward the other DEA Agents. JAKE Let’s see what we got. He turns to the marked freight container. JAKE (CONT’D) Bolt-cutters! DEA AGENTS move forward to cut the chains, when -- A HUGE RACKET... drowns them out. WIND BLASTS them from off-screen. VOICE ON PA Step away from the cargo! A HELICOPTER rises into frame from below the ship rails... SNIPERS train rifle-scopes on the DEA PLATOON... swarms of red dots from laser sights. JAKE What the -- VOICE ON PA Put your weapons down and step off! This is the department of homeland security! JAKE Oh Christ, No! INT. PORT AUTHORITY - LATER Overlooking the freighter. HOMELAND SECURITY OFFICERS swarm the deck, cordon off the suspect container. Jake fights with his SUPERVISOR. JAKE Since when is smack a Homeland Security issue? I was setting this up for six months! DEA SUPERVISOR If they say it is, it is. “Security”... it’s whatever they say it is. Drugs too, if they come out of the Middle East. You know this is out of Afghanistan. They swing a pretty big dick right now. JAKE Not as big as mine. DEA SUPERVISOR I don’t see you down there. JAKE Christ, look at ‘em. Full hazmat, scared of a little H. Surgical mask’ll do ya. Man... look at that... monster bust. BELOW, ON DECK: HOMELAND SECURITY OFFICERS move in and out of the cargo container, head to toe in yellow rubber suits and shrouds, hazmat symbols on their backs. JAKE (CONT’D) (shouts out the window) HEY! LITTLE BIT OF HORSE NEVER HURT NO ONE! DEA SUPERVISOR You kept it off the street, anyway, Jake. Whole new bunch of mopes going down. That’s the job. JAKE This was just phase one. I was shooting for a double-play on this one, was gonna set up Khalid too. Buy it from here, sell it there... bust ‘em on both ends. Screwed on that count now. DEA SUPERVISOR Think so? Ain’t it enough getting Khalid to buy what he THINKS is today’s shipment? Jake raises an eyebrow. DEA SUPERVISOR (CONT’D) I mean... if he’s already bought your cover? JAKE (smiles) I think... I gotta go. CUT TO: EXT. KHALID’S MANSION - CRENSHAW - NIGHT Establishing. An old mansion from when this was THE place to live, circa 1920. Spanish and Mediterranean, set well back from the street. INT. KHALID’S MANSION LOUD, PULSING MUSIC. Various MEN and YOUNG WOMEN around the living room, partying, snorting, smoking. Some shooting up, laughing. EXT. KHALID’S MANSION A car pulls up. INT. JAKE’S CAR - NIGHT Jake, at the wheel, slips from his own sweats, back into his flashier drug dealer gear. He clips a tiny button microphone on his shirt. DEA AGENT ONE The transmitter’s on you. I’ll be rolling tape back here. We get him taking your action, we can bust him tonight. You okay for heat? JAKE No. I go light. They’ll frisk me if I’m packing. You saw me today. I can get a heater when I need one. DEA AGENT ONE Brass ones, man. JAKE Buncha addicts in a smack house? I don’t even need to be lucky. DEA AGENT ONE Khalid has bodyguards. Armed to the -- JAKE So I’ll have a gun when I need one. Jake steps out of the car... heads to the gate. EXT. GATE - MANSION - NIGHT Jake BUZZES an intercom. No answer. He buzzes again, leans on the wrought iron bars. The gate swings open... CREAKING. Jake frowns... not in the plan. EXT. FRONT DOOR - MANSION Jake walks up... cautious. JAKE Ok, just keep with me. Not liking this... INT. JAKE’S CAR JAKE (over the transmitter) ...stakeouts we had on Khalid said he had pretty thick security. This smells. The DEA AGENT nods and checks his weapon. INT. KHALID’S MANSION Draperies and smoke hang in the air. Shadows on the walls. THROBBING MUSIC... but in the beats in between... MOANS. The door swings open. Jake steps cautiously in... JAKE Khalid? Hello? DARK... shadowy. MOANS, RETCHING (off-screen). Jake rounds the entrance way into the foyer and toward the side room. JAKE (CONT’D) Khalid! MOANS, CHOKING, WRETCHING... POUNDING MUSIC. IN THE SIDE ROOM JAKE SEES ON A 20-FOOT DINING ROOM TABLE - HEROIN. White powder in bricks, wrapped in plastic, one spilled out onto the wood, pouring onto the floor -- Jake holds a handkerchief over his mouth and nose to avoid a contact high. BLACK TAR -- bricks in foil, stacked on the floor against the wall. Scales, plastic bags, syringes, pipes. THROBBING MUSIC comes from the stereo speakers. Jake spots a dark lump in the shadows, just beyond the foyer. A BODY. Big and muscular. A bodyguard if there ever was one. BODYGUARD (sharp intake of breath) HUUUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!! The Mountain of a Man approaches, confused, smiles hedonically, then coughs/sneezes a spray of blood and facial tissue towards Jake. Jake jumps to the side, strips the man’s shoulder holster... comes up with a gun. Jake backs away, CHAMBERS A ROUND in the pistol. JAKE Khalid! Estoy jacopo! Tengo dinero para ti! Mas drogas! Venga! THE BODYGUARD turns his head and wretches, puking blood onto the floor. He turns, staggers backward and falls across the drug filled table. Jake moves off, horrified... speaks into his microphone: JAKE (CONT’D) Stay on me, Clyde. Something really wrong in here. A TAPESTRY: Dividing the great room... FALLS DOWN... ripped by -- A HULKING MAN. Fat, confused, groping... HULKING MAN NNNnnnnnnaaaaaaggghhhhaaaaa... The thing staggers forward... falls. MORE TAPESTRIES FALL... PULSATING MUSIC... INSANITY INCARNATE. JAKE Khalid! God-dammit! Khalid, where are you? A WOMAN sprawled over a sofa, moaning, bleeding from her nose and cheek. ON HIS ASS: JAKE ON THE STAIRS -- OTHER BODIES IN THE SHADOWS MOANS of pain. JAKE backs up the stairs, riveted on the horror... ON THE LANDING a pretty COLLEGE GIRL sits, slumped. Stares at Jake coughing up blood -- wipes her mouth. COLLEGE GIRL (weakly) Help me. Jake is aghast! JAKE Shit! Jake maneuvers around the girl, against the wall, staggers onto the landing. UPSTAIRS JAKE (CONT’D) Khalid! Get out here, motherfucker! He bursts into -- THE MASTER BEDROOM -- sweeps it with his gun -- JAKE (CONT’D) (speaks into the wire) Ditching my cover, Clyde. Night of the Living Dead in here. Could use some back up. INTO ANOTHER BEDROOM Jake sweeps it... no one. INTO THE HALL -- He fires TWO SHOTS in the air -- plaster rains down -- JAKE (CONT’D) Khalid Fariouzi! United states drug enforcement agency! You are under arrest! He reaches -- THE STUDY... A vast den/office space... dimly lit. KHALID FARIOUZI, 48, Afghani, drug sheik, dead still, motionless, dejected at his desk, head in his hands, fingers deep in his thick, black lustrous hair. Jake holds the weapon on him... stalks closer... KHALID You are... too late. JAKE You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney -- KHALID My rights do not matter. There is only the will of Allah. His wrath is on the land. We are all of us dead. Dead for the glory of his coming, for the glory of his new kingdom upon the earth. As it was prophesied... so it is written. JAKE Hands in the air! Tears course down his face. Drop on the desk blotter. JAKE (CONT’D) What did you do to these people? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? KHALID It is the wrath... of Allah. One of his tears... on the blotter... not saltwater. It’s BLOOD. A tear of blood... JAKE Hands up -- where i can see them, Khalid! Khalid lifts his hands over his head... Rivers of blood course from his eyes and nose... Jake’s jaw drops -- -- CRASH -- CRASH -- CRASH -- ALL THE WINDOWS EXPLODE INWARD -- GLASS FILLS THE ROOM -- MEN IN HAZ-MAT SUITS swing in on ropes -- swarm Khalid -- and then -- JAKE (CONT’D) What the hell...? SWARM JAKE and take him down -- HAZ-MAT ONE Homeland security! Drop your weapon and cooperate! SMASH CUT TO: INT. SHOWERS Jake is force-showered by more MEN IN HAZ-MAT SUITS, his body thick with suds -- scrubbed hard with wire brushes, sprayed with lather-guns -- JAKE What the hell is going on here?!
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