Wild Wild West Page #5

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Richards stews but he knows when to shut up. Grant turns

to Jim and gestures to a pile of newspapers on his desk.

GRANT:

Here's the problem, James. Somebody

has been abducting this country's

best scientists.

(pointedly to Richards)

That's eight in the last three

years. It's becoming a national

scandal... and God knows I've had

enough of those.

Grant goes to get another cigar, but his humidor is empty.

He starts searching the room for a cigar during:

JIM:

Eight? Is there some connection?

Did they know each other?

RICHARDS:

No. No connection at all. Other

than the fact that each one was a

top man in his field. A chemist,

an expert on electricity...

PANGBORN:

... a railroad engineer, a

ballistics expert...

GRANT:

Etcetera, etcetera. The terrible

thing of it is they've all turned

up dead a number of months later.

Brutally murdered.

(re the newspapers)

And I have little doubt the same

fate awaits this last poor fellow.

He opens another humidor -- damn, it's empty.

JIM:

But what would anyone have to gain

from all this...? Unless it were

a foreign power.

GRANT:

Exactly. Any number of nations

would love to cripple our scientific

growth. And what better way to

tip the scales in their favor than

by killing off the greatest minds

this country has produced.

He is now looking from one ashtray to another.

GRANT:

We find ourselves at the dawn of

the Golden Age of Science. And it

is the God-given destiny of this

glorious nation to carry the torch

that lights the way!

JIM:

(impressed)

Nicely said, sir.

GRANT:

(tossing it off)

Part of some speech they wrote for

this trip I'm taking.

Grant fishes an unappealing half-smoked cigar from an

ashtray, then catches himself:

GRANT:

Goddamnit! What am I doing?

(to Pangborn)

What's happened to all my cigars?

(to Jim)

Colonel Richards here has had a

dozen agents on these cases for

over a year. No arrests, no leads,

no clues...

JIM:

And?

GRANT:

And now the job's yours.

Grant smiles for the first time.

GRANT:

You start in the morning. Pangborn

here will make all the

arrangements... as soon as he brings

a goddamned cigar for the President

of the goddamned United States!

As Pangborn scurries out, we hear a STEAM WHISTLE BLOWING

and we:

CUT TO:

EXT. THE C STREET TRAIN STATION - PLATFORM - DAY

The train platform bustles with TRAVELERS and PORTERS.

Jim moves through it all, his saddlebags over his shoulder.

He stops short at the amazing sight of a strange vehicle --

a heavy-duty bicycle outfitted with an early, LOUDLY

ROARING, smoke-belching internal combustion engine. The

Harley Hog of its day -- the NITRO-CYCLE.

Its high-strung INVENTOR shouts at his ASSISTANT who is

trying to drive the vehicle up a ramp onto a freight car.

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