Miami Vice Page #2

In the back - her long copper legs stretched out under a

short skirt - is GINA CALABRESE.

GINA:

This I gotta see...

(beat)

...the "make up an excuse and stop"

part.

CROCKETT:

Have faith.

GINA:

I have faith. In horoscopes and

fortune cookies...

TUBBS:

So?

GINA:

Switek pulling this off...? That's

not faith; that's delusional...

Wearing enough of nothing to hide the micro .380, which Gina

checks right now. There's a round in the chamber.

AERIAL:
THE SIKORSKI crosses past the stacks of $5 million

condos to a landing pad on a roof. The Miami of the '80's,

that twilight-zone frontier built on coke-fueled cash flow,

is over. The frontier development stage is passed. It has

BECOME Casablanca. Anything goes; everything has a price.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROOFTOP LANDING PAD - WIDE

The chopper rockets in, settles.

INT. UTILITY STAIRCASE

Crockett, Tubbs and Gina descend to the 25th-floor penthouse,

the target. As Crockett and Tubbs continue down to 24, she

looks over her shoulder at Tubbs...

TUBBS:

Damn, girl...

INT. SURVEILLANCE APARTMENT (ONE FLOOR BELOW THE TARGET)

PENTHOUSE - CROCKETT + TUBBS - NIGHT

enter. Two surveillance technicians, RICK and FRANK, are

glued to a monitor showing a bedroom in which nothing

happens. LT. CASTILLO is there, out of a past somewhere

between CIA and the Jesuits...

Referring to the monitor on which there are NO PEOPLE in an

EMPTY BEDROOM.

They are watching air move.

TUBBS:

This is exciting...

RICK:

That's 'cause nothing is happening.

CROCKETT:

No sh*t...?

FRANK:

(it goes past him)

Yeah. This is their

surveillance...how they video their

marks? See, we jacked their fiber

optics, like we piggybacked their

signal. Get it?

TUBBS:

Cooool...

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