The Eiger Sanction

1

(SEAGULLS SQUAWKING)

(SOFT PIANO PLAYING)

(CREAKING)

Who is it?

(GULPS)

(GROANING)

MAN 1:

What'd you have to kill him for?

MAN 2:
Shut up.

Now that the school year's

coming to a close,

many of you will be going forth to prove

how cleverly you can run the world.

More power to you as you take

your turn in the barrel.

Some of you will continue

with your education.

Some of you, I hope, will continue

with your interest in art.

Some of you will have other

interests, other talents.

If we've learned

nothing else this year,

I hope you've learned the

stupidity of the statement

that art belongs to the world.

'Cause art belongs to the

cultured who can appreciate it.

The majority of the great unwashed

does not fit into this category.

And neither, I'm sorry

to say, do most of you.

(BELL RINGS)

(STUDENTS CHEERING)

Dr. Hemlock.

I just wanted to tell you how much

I really enjoyed your course.

I've never felt this

close to art before.

How nice.

But I have a problem.

How terrible.

Well, you see, if I don't keep my B

average, I'm gonna lose my scholarship,

and I really don't think I'm gonna

do so well in your final exam.

I mean, I've gained a whole

new feeling about art,

but sometimes you can't always put

your true feelings down on paper.

How true.

If there was anything I could

do to get a better grade...

I mean, I'd be willing

to do anything.

Anything at all. Really.

Do you realize the

implications of that offer?

Are you busy this evening?

No.

You live alone?

Oh, well, my roommate's

gone for the week.

Good.

Then,

go on home,

break out the books and

study your little ass off.

That's the best way

to maintain a B average.

Oh, uh... Don't study it all off.

Why didn't you boff

the little quiff?

'Cause I don't pick on

students or drunks.

Get your feet off my desk.

Mr. Dragon wants to see you.

I'm sorry, Pope, but working for

you people no longer amuses me.

C-2 isn't too interested

in what amuses you, pal.

That's odd, being as your organization

has spent so much time and effort

in trying to give the

rest of the world a laugh.

You can remind Dragon

that I'm retired.

You still here?

Now really, you don't expect

me to just walk out that door,

do you, sweetheart?

Either through the door or through

the window. It's your choice.

Now look, pal...

Get your feet off my desk!

Now look here, buddy...

Don't call me "buddy,"

"pal," or "sweetheart."

(CHUCKLES)

If I wasn't under orders,

I would...

My superior wants to see you.

Your superior? Well, that doesn't

narrow the field much, does it?

Mr. Dragon wants to see you,

and right away, pal.

(GROANING)

I told you not to call me "pal."

Mr. Dragon's not gonna like this.

How long have you worked

for Dragon, Pope?

Twelve years. Why?

Then he's used to

having grief in his life.

You can tell him I'm retired. C-2's

gonna have to live without me.

Don't forget your trench coat.

How's anybody gonna recognize

you without your disguise?

(PHONE RINGING)

Yes, Dragon.

Ah, Hemlock!

I knew you'd show up.

It's just your charm, Pope.

I couldn't resist.

Hold it.

Empty your pockets, right there.

No wallet?

Well, I knew I'd be seeing you. I

thought I'd best leave it home.

(CHUCKLING)

Miss Cerberus, you're

looking inviting today.

I expected you before this.

Mr. Dragon does not like

to be kept waiting.

Oh, the impatient albino!

I don't think

Mr. Dragon's affliction

is a joking matter.

I thought it was

rather humorous, myself.

A spy network being run by a bloodless

freak who can't stand light or cold.

Or germs! Are you healthy?

Shall I turn my head and cough?

No known infections?

Nothing other than the usual.

Syphilis, running sores, and clap.

All right, go in.

(SIGHS)

DRAGON:
Come in, Hemlock.

A little to the left, Hemlock.

I'll turn on a light.

Thanks. Could you spare it?

You know, I'm something

of a distinction.

A total albino.

Even the slightest direct

light causes me intense pain.

Does your physical disability preclude

you from coming to the point?

All right. If you wish

no small talk, sit down.

We'll discuss business.

One of our agents has been

killed in Zurich by two men.

We want you to sanction them.

I'm sorry, you're gonna have

to get somebody else

to do your wet work.

Please, that is

a distasteful phrase.

Call it what you want,

"wet work," "termination,"

"sanction."

It all adds up to

the same thing, killing.

It is what you do best.

You don't seem to remember, Dragon,

I'm a retired assassin.

The operative word

there is "retired."

You'll have to get somebody

else to do your sanctions.

I understand a new Pissarro has

come onto the black market.

I'll just have to live without it.

Your fascination with paintings

has always amazed me.

You have how many now?

- Twenty-one.

- Marvelous!

I should think your collection

would be interesting material

for the Internal Revenue people.

How does an underpaid

professor buy rare paintings?

Masterpieces worth millions?

A professor with a

balance of $2,137

in his checking account?

You forgot the 42 cents.

I wonder what the

tax people would say

if I told them how I

made the money,

by killing people

for the government.

True. True. But, of course,

no one will believe you.

And even more important, it won't

do anything for your paintings.

What do you think

would happen to them?

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