Deep Rising Page #3

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FINNEGAN:

Missed one darling.

Leila turns and gives him a "jerking-off" sign with her hand.

FINNEGAN:

I love you too.

The Radar Imager suddenly blinks, and goes to black. Dead. Finnegan

taps on the screen. Nothing. Taps on the console. Still nothing.

Simutaneously two more imagers shut down. His mouth screws tight.

CUT TO:

16INT. ENGINE ROOM - NIGHT

Crammed wall to wall with enough horsepower to fly a 747. Pumped out

of two thumping engines. The domain of a scruffy, shifty-eyed,

likeable little weasle of a mechanical genius...JOEY PANTUCCI. Wearing

a mechanic's toolbelt, slung sideways across the hips like a

gunslinger, singing the theme to "Gilligan's Island" over the engine's

roar. Way off-key. His hands crammed deep in a tangle of wires. On the

walls are a few pictures: Of a few major league engines. Of a few

major league pinups, and a few of Pantucci and Finnegan...together in

the U.S. Navy...in front of the Saipan in shinier days.

PANTUCCI:

(singing)

" -- if not for the courage of the

fearless crew -- "

He tugs at the wires.

PANTUCCI:

" -- the Minnow would be lost, the

Minowwww would be lost."

Finnegan's voice explodes through his headset...

FINNEGAN (V.O.)

(radio filtered)

PANTUCCI!!

Unperturbed, Pantucci works at the wires.

PANTUCCI:

(into radio)

Can we use our indoor voice

please...

FINNEGAN (V.O.)

(radio filtered)

I'm flying blind here God damn it!

Pantucci pulls two wires from the tangle.

PANTUCCI:

You trying to make me feel guilty?

He begins to strip the wires with his teeth.

CUT TO:

17INT. PILOT HOUSE - SUNSET

Finnegan peers out of the windscreen, trying to see ahead of himself.

FINNEGAN:

Guilty will be the least of what you

feel when I run my rig into one of

these god damn no name islands! Get

me well here!

CUT TO:

18INT. ENGINE ROOM

Pantucci twists one wire around another.

PANTUCCI:

All better...

19INT. PILOT HOUSE - SUNSET

The console lights up. The screens come back on line. Finnegan is

pleased.

PANTUCCI (V.O.)

Now tell me again...

CUT TO:

20INT. ENGINE ROOM

Pantucci works his wrench around an engine mount. And his nervous eyes

around six men, big, bad men, standing on the far side of the engines

out in a narrow passage. A Maori(VIVO). Two Assies(MASON and

MULLIGAN). A Samoan(MAMOOLI). A Chinese(CHIN). And an Aborigine

(BILLY). Tattooed, armed to the teeth, packed in Kevlar body armor.

Mercenaries. Who would as soon wring your neck as shake your hand. And

a sixth man. HANOVER. The obvious leader. Smoother than the rest, but

still showing the edge of a man risen from their ranks. He consults

his watch with a growing concern.

PANTUCCI:

...why we took this job?

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