Minority Report Page #4

FLETCHER:

Seventeen minutes.

ANDERTON:

Armor up -- sick-sticks and

concussion guns -- this is gonna be

close.

INT. PRECRIME READY ROOM - MORNING

Like a firehouse, everybody slipping into uniform, riding up

poles on chairs. A flurry of activity as weapons, helmets,

and other newfangled gear are pulled from wall racks.

KNOTT, a big redhead, thick of neck and thicker of head,

hands out the gear. He takes what looks like A BILLY CLUB

and points it at a HEAVYSET COP who wolfs down the last of a

Danish...

KNOTT:

Hey, Steadman, wanna lose those ten

ugly pounds like right now?

The cop reacts, pushes the stick away...

PETROTTA:

Touch me with that puke-pole,

a**hole, you're gonna wear the

f***in' risoto I had for dinner

last night along with the two

chilidogs I had for breakfast.

INT. PRECRIME ANALYTICAL ROOM - MORNING

As Jad spins around in his chair...

JAD:

Chief, we got a problem with our

location --

Anderton looks at him.

JAD:

It's no longer there.

Jad indicates a video screen showing VIDEO BOT VIEW OF A FIRE

CHARRED HOME. Only one wall is left standing...

INT. PRECRIME ANALYTICAL ROOM - MORNING

As Anderton looks at the Prevision, begins manipulating the

images... He glances at the PRECOG MONITOR. The female face

writhes in the screen and Anderton looks at her.

ANDERTON:

Where we going, Agatha? Talk to

me.

Anderton turns away as FLETCHER (30), second in command

approaches Anderton. The FEMALE FACE turns and seems to look

at Anderton through the screen.

FLETCHER:

Chief, the investigator from the

Fed is here.

ANDERTON:

(distracted)

You're kidding, that's today?

FLETCHER:

I wrote it down in your calendar,

then left a message at your house --

ANDERTON:

(working)

All I need, some twink from the Fed

poking around right now.

(then, to Jad)

Check again with the paper, they

had it forwarded. See if the

neighbors know where they went,

check all relations --

FLETCHER:

Uh, sir...

ANDERTON:

Get him some coffee and tell him to

wait outside.

VOICE:

I've got coffee, thank you.

Anderton turns to see DANNY WITWER. Mid-twenties, quietly

looking at everything and everyone. He extends his hand.

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