Schindler's List Page #3

People in long lines, waiting. Others near idling trucks,

waiting. Others against sides of buildings, waiting. Clerks

with clipboards move through the crowds, calling out names.

CLERKS:

Groder... Gemeinerowa... Libeskind...

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CRACOW - DAY

The party pin in his lapel catches the light in the hallway.

SCHINDLER:

Stern?

Behind Schindler, the door to another apartment closes softly.

A radio, somewhere, is suddenly silenced.

SCHINDLER:

Are you Itzhak Stern?

At the door of this apartment, a man with the face and manner

of a Talmudic scholar, finally nods in resignation, like his

number has just come up.

STERN:

I am.

Schindler offers a hand. Confused, Stern tentatively reaches

for it, and finds his own grasped firmly.

INT. STERN'S APARTMENT - DAY

Settled into an overstuffed chair in a simple apartment,

Schindler pours a shot of cognac from a flask.

SCHINDLER:

There's a company you did the books

for on Lipowa Street, made what,

pots and pans?

Stern stares at the cognac Schindler's offering him. He

doesn't know who this man is, or what he wants.

STERN:

(pause)

By law, I have to tell you, sir, I'm

a Jew.

Schindler looks puzzled, then shrugs, dismissing it.

SCHINDLER:

All right, you've done it -- good

company, you think?

He keeps holding out the drink. Stern declines it with a

slow shake of his head.

STERN:

It did all right.

Schindler nods, takes out a cigarette case.

SCHINDLER:

I don't know anything about

enamelware, do you?

He offers Stern a cigarette. Stern declines again.

STERN:

I was just the accountant.

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