THE BOURNE IDENTITY

by

Tony Gilroy


Based on the novel

by

ROBERT LUDLUM












Paris Draft
9/20/00






DARKNESS. THE SOUND OF WIND AND SPRAY.

MUSIC. TITLES.

EXT. OCEAN -- NIGHT

The darkness is actually water. A SEARCHLIGHT arcs across
heavy ocean swells. Half-a-dozen flashlights -- weaker
beams -- racing along what we can see is the deck of an
aging FISHING TRAWLER.

FISHERMEN struggling with a gaff -- something in the water --

A HUMAN CORPSE.

EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- NIGHT

THE BODY sprawled there. The Sailors all talking at once --
three languages going -- brave chatter to mask the presence
of death --

SAILOR #1
-- Jesus, look at him --

SAILOR #2
-- what? -- you never saw a dead
man before? --

SAILOR #3
-- look, look he was shot --
(nudging the body--)

SAILOR #1
-- don't, don't do that --

SAILOR #2
-- he's dead, you think he cares? --

SAILOR #1
-- so have some respect -- it's a --
(stopping as--)

THE BODY MOVES! -- convulsing -- coughing up sea water --
the Sailors -- freaked -- jumping back -- standing there, as --

THE MAN begins to breathe.

INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- NIGHT

A wreck. Too small for all the people in here right now --
SAILORS sweeping off the table -- rough hands laying THE MAN
down --

THE CAPTAIN -- brutal and impatient -- watching from the
door as --

GIANCARLO tears through the clutter -- searching for a
medical kit buried in the shambles. GIANCARLO is sixty. A
bloodshot soul.

GIANCARLO
-- it's here -- hang on -- it's
here somewhere -- give me a
minute -- get some blankets -- get
some blankets on him --
(finding the kit--)
-- here we go -- here it is --

GIANCARLO with an old trunk -- just getting it open, as --

THE CAPTAIN
Giancarlo.
(Giancarlo turns
back--)
We pick him up? Okay, we have to
pick him up. But that's as far as it
goes.

GIANCARLO
He needs a doctor.

CAPTAIN
Fuck that. He lives? He dies? I
don't care. We've wasted two hours
on this shit already. You do what
you can, but we're not going back.
(pure steel now)
You understand me?

GIANCARLO
Yes, sir.

CAPTAIN
(to the rest of them)
Let's get back to work!

GIANCARLO watching them run out. Snagging a quick pull on a
pint of rum he's got stashed and --

INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- DAWN -- TIME CUTS

Transformed into a makeshift operating room. A light swings
overhead. THE MAN layed out across the table. Sounds --
groans -- words -- snatches of them -- all in different
languages.

GIANCARLO playing doctor in a greasy kitchen apron. Cutting
away the clothes. Turning THE MAN on his side. Two bullet
wounds in the back. Probing them, judging them.

Now -- GIANCARLO with a flashlight in his teeth -- TINK --
TINK -- TINK -- bullet fragments falling into a washed-out
olive jar.

Now -- something catching GIANCARLO'S EYE -- A SCAR ON THE
MAN'S HIP -- another fragment -- exacto knife cutting in --
tweezers extracting A SMALL PLASTIC TUBE, not a bullet at
all, and as it comes free --

THE MAN'S HAND SLAMS down onto GIANCARLO'S and we SMASH CUT
INTO A --

FIRST PERSON POV -- we are staring up at --

GIANCARLO
You're awake. Can you hear me?
(we're blinking--)
You've been shot. I'm trying to
help you.
(we're trying to find
our voice--)
You were in the water. You've been
shot. It's okay now.

THE MAN
Where am I?

GIANCARLO
(switching to English)
You're American. I thought so.
From your teeth -- the dental work --

THE MAN
Where am I?

GIANCARLO
You're on a boat. A fishing boat.
Italian flag. We're out of Vietri.
(he smiles)
It's the cold that saved you. The
water. The wounds are clean. I'm
not a doctor, but the wounds, it
looks okay. It's clean.

THE MAN
How did I get here?

GIANCARLO
You we're lost at sea. They pulled
you out.
(we say nothing)
Who are you?
(still nothing)
You were shot -- two bullets -- in
the back. You understand me?
(we try to nod)
Who are you?

Long dead pause.

THE MAN
I don't know.

EXT. OCEAN -- DAY

The Trawler plows through heavy seas.

INT. FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- DAY

GIANCARLO is hunched over a desk -- tweezers and
flashlight -- busy working at that strange plastic tube that
came out of THE MAN's hip.

THE MAN is bandaged. He's sitting up, and it must hurt like
hell, but physical pain is not the thing troubling him right
now. He's staring around the room -- at his body -- at the
walls -- haunted --

THE MAN
What if it doesn't come back?

GIANCARLO
(still working that tube)
I told you. You need to rest.

Silence. THE MAN can't rest. Too busy trying to make sense
of all this.

THE MAN
I can read. I can read that sign
on the door. I can count. I can
talk...
(focusing now--)
What are you doing?

GIANCARLO rummaging around -- finding a magnifying glass --

THE MAN
What is that?

INSERT -- MAGNIFIED POV -- a slip of plastic from the
tube -- written there -- 000-7-17-12-0-14-26. GEMEINSCHAFT
BANK, ZURICH.

GIANCARLO
It came from your hip. Under the
skin.
(turning back--)
You have a bank in Zurich.
(waiting)
You remember Zurich?

THE MAN
No.

GIANCARLO staring at him now. Different suddenly. Suspicious.

GIANCARLO
Look, I'm just on this boat, okay?
I'm an engineer. Whatever this is,
it's not for me to be involved, okay?

THE MAN
I don't remember Zurich.

GIANCARLO pulls his pint. Takes a hit.

GIANCARLO
(offering the
bottle--)
You drink rum?

THE MAN
I don't know.

EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- NIGHT

THE MAN stands at the rail, staring out to sea. So lost.
He turns to head inside -- there, a surfcasting rod propped
against a locker.

THE MAN picks up the rod -- flips the bail -- traps the
line -- now he's casting far out into the darkness. And for
the first time, he smiles.

INT. FISHING BOAT GALLEY -- NIGHT

A ratty old espresso machine. THE MAN standing there,
staring at the thing like it's a test. Then his hands begin
to move -- trying to pack a grind -- trying to fit it in --
turning on the steam and --

The whole thing explodes.

EXT. FISHING BOAT DECK -- DAY

THE MAN alone doing chin-ups on the deck rail. He's still
bandaged and the wounds must hurt like hell, but he's
pushing himself. Using the pain -- bathing in it -- maybe
even hoping that it will hold some answer for him.

INT. FISHING BOAT GALLEY -- NIGHT

A chess board. Wooden pieces jumbled in a box. THE MAN
hesitates -- takes a black knight from the box -- lingers
for a moment -- and then places it on the board. He's off
and running. He knows this. Placing pieces faster and
faster -- still setting it up, as we --

INT. FISHING BOAT HEAD -- NIGHT

One of the ugliest bathrooms on the planet. THE MAN
standing before a pitted, tarnished, cataract of a mirror.
Staring at himself.

And then he speaks.

THE MAN
(in perfect French)
(I don't know who I am. Do you
know who I am? Do have any idea
who I am?)

And then he stops. Blinks. Wipes away the perspiration
just beading on his forehead.

THE MAN
(in perfect Dutch)
(Tell me who I am. If you know who
I am, please stop fucking around
and tell me.)

No answer. Just that face. His face. Who am I?

And what else is inside there?

EXT. FISHING BOAT -- DAY

SAILORS hauling in the nets. THE MAN -- still bandaged, but
healing -- working beside them. Earning his keep. Getting
healthy.

EXT. ITALIAN COASTLINE -- DAWN

A small, colorful fishing village. The trawler motoring in.

INT. THE FISHING BOAT BUNK ROOM -- SAME TIME

THE MAN buttoning up borrowed clothes. GIANCARLO pulling
some cash from his pocket --

GIANCARLO
(offering the money)
It's not much, but it should get
you to Switzerland.

THE MAN
I won't forget this.

GIANCARLO gives him a look. Shakes his head, and --

INT. POKEY ITALIAN TRAIN STATION -- DAY

The ticket window. THE MAN and a TICKET AGENT.

TICKET AGENT
Una sola via?

THE MAN
Si. One way. Una sola via.

EXT. TGV -- DAY

A HELICOPTER SHOT -- a bullet train speeds through snow-
capped Alps. We move in on a window -- and staring out is...

INT. TGV TRAIN -- DAY

...THE MAN. People all around him -- families --
businessmen -- normal people going about their lives. THE
MAN turns back to the window, but he's not watching the
scenery -- he's looking at his reflection. So lost. His
face suddenly plunged into darkness as the train bombs into
a tunnel...

EXT. TRAIN -- NIGHT

...and out of the darkness into night and the HELICOPTER
SHOT, as the train races toward ZURICH.

INT. CIA HEADQUARTERS CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

A VIDEO MONITOR -- FULL FRAME -- meet WOMBOSI. He's an
African ex-dictator, think Idi Amin crossed with Mobutu.
He's in some sort of throne room. And he's angry.
Bodyguards and a translator hovering nervously around him.
What this is, is NEWS FOOTAGE -- an interview conducted by a
German TV station.

WOMBOSI
(he speaks english)
...no, no, no -- the time is not
right, my enemies are too strong.
I'm telling you to wait for this,
you understand? I'm telling you
this, and I'm making a warning to
all those peoples out there that
think that my powers have become so
weak that they can play with me as
they wish. You will see -- I will
tell you when the evidence is clear.
Then you will have a story. My old
friends will hear about themselves.
(stopping, freezing
on that image, and--)

MARSHALL, a CIA bigwig has the remote control. And the floor.

MARSHALL
That's Nykwana Wombosi speaking in
Paris the day before yesterday.
I'm sure most of you have a passing
knowledge of Mr. Wombosi. Some of
you on the African desks have
worked with him over the years.
Some of you very closely...

TWELVE CIA MANDARINS sitting around the table like kids in
detention. We will tour the faces as MARSHALL continues,
but the guy we're interested in is named WARD ABBOTT.
Picture a sawier, slicker John Poindexter.

MARSHALL
...He was an irritation before he
took power. He was a problem when
he was in power. And he's been a
disaster for us in exile.
(the tape--)
Wombosi likes to send us messages
through the European media. This
is an interview we pulled down from
a local German television station
in Dresden. We've been getting
these little broadsides every
couple of months. He knows this --
he knows that -- he's writing a
book about the Agency's history in
Africa -- he's going to name names.
It's basically a shakedown...

ABBOTT'S FACE says this is news to him. HIS HANDS suggest
otherwise.

MARSHALL
This interview -- and I'll make the
tape available for anyone who wants
it -- he goes on to claim that he
has just survived an assassination
attempt. He says it's us. He says
he's got proof.
(beat)
The overwhelming negative
ramifications of this should be
obvious.
(hard and dry)
The Director wants to know if there
is any possible shred of truth in
this accusation.

Long pause. No hands go up.

INT. ZURICH TRAIN STATION -- NIGHT

THE MAN wandering through the terminal. Passing A PIZZA
PLACE closing up for the night.

THE MAN checks his funds. Just enough for one cold slice.

EXT. ZURICH STREETS -- NIGHT

THE MAN walking aimlessly.

EXT. ZURICH PARK -- NIGHT

THE MAN trying to get comfortable on a bench. It's chilly
but this will have to do until morning.

Just settling in, when --

ZURICH COP #1 (OS)
(authority German)
(Can't you read the signs?)

THE MAN turns. TWO ZURICH COPS coming toward him.

ZURICH COP #2
(On your feet. Let's go. Right now.)

THE MAN makes his feet. They're on top of him now.

ZURICH COP #1
(The park is closed. There's no
sleeping in the park.)

ZURICH COP #2
(Let's see some identification.)

THE MAN not sure what to do. Eyes moving. Mouth shut.

ZURICH COP #1
(Come on. Your papers. Let's go.)

THE MAN
I've lost them. I've.
(German now)
(My papers. They are lost.)

ZURICH COP #1
(not sympathetic)
(Okay. Let's go. Put your hands up.)

ZURICH COP #2
(pulling his nightstick)
(-- come on -- hands up -- up --)

THE MAN raising his hand slowly -- ZURICH COP #1 reaching up
to pat him down --

THE MAN
-- look, I'm just trying to sleep
okay? --
(German again)
(-- I just need to sleep --)

ZURICH COP #2 has heard enough -- giving a sharp poke with
the nightstick -- into THE MAN's back -- and that's the last
thing he'll remember because --

THE MAN is in motion.

A single turn -- spinning -- catching COP #2 completely off
guard -- the heel of his hand driving up into the guy's
throat and --

COP #1 -- behind him -- trying to reach for his pistol, but
THE MAN -- still turning -- all his weight moving in a
single fluid attack -- a sweeping kick and --

COP #1 -- he's falling -- catching the bench -- trying to
fight back but -- THE MAN -- like a machine -- just
unbelievably fast -- three jackhammer punches -- down-down-
down and -- COP #1 -- head slammed into the bench -- blood
spraying from his nose -- he's out cold and --

COP #2 -- writhing on the ground -- gasping for air --
struggling with his holster -- THE MAN -- his foot --
down -- like a vise -- onto COP #2's arm -- shattering the
bone -- COP #2 starting to scream, and then silenced because --

THE MAN -- he's got the pistol -- so fucking fast -- he's
got it right up against COP #2's forehead -- right on the
edge of pulling the trigger -- he is, he's gonna shoot him --

ZURICH COP #2
(gasping, pleading)
(-- no -- please God no -- please
don't -- please no -- my Go--)
(stopping as--)

THE MAN slams the gun against his temple and --

This fight is over.

THE MAN standing there. In the silence. Two unconscious
cops at his feet. Blood on his pants. What just happened?
How did he do this? And there's THE GUN in his hand. And
God, it just feels so natural -- checking it -- stripping it
down -- holding it -- aiming it -- like this is something
he's done a million times before...

This is something he definitely knows how to do.

And then he stops cold. Throwing down the gun. Running off
into the darkness --

INT. TREADSTONE -- DAY

A deep, inner office. An ops office. Operations. Unlabeled
and anonymous. A backwater project center hidden deep
within the Langley facility. Utilitarian. Several rooms
linked like a suite.

Small staff. SEVERAL TECHNICIANS. One or two for
communications. A couple for research. People are at their
posts. And it's all quiet. But they are busy. Quietly
urgent. This is a place under siege.

ZORN is the number two here. Brilliant bloodless lapdog.
He's coming through the suite. Coming through quickly.
Heading toward the boss's little office at the back --

TED CONKLIN. Ivy League Ollie North. Buttoned down.
Square jaw. Everything tucked away. But there's tension in
the air. Work on the desk. Cot in the corner.

CONKLIN
(looking up)
What?

ZORN
Abbott wants to talk.

CONKLIN
Tell him we're busy.

ZORN
I tried.

INT. CIA COMMISSARY -- NIGHT

ABBOTT with coffee. CONKLIN not lingering.

ABBOTT
Storm clouds are gathering, Ted.
It looks like rain and I don't have
a thing to wear.

CONKLIN
I don't know what we're talking about.

ABBOTT
We're talking about Marseille.
We're talking about Nykwana Wombosi.
And I'm asking you if this abortion
in Marseille has anything to do
with Treadstone.
(silence)
Was this Treadstone?

CONKLIN
You're asking me a direct question?

ABBOTT
Yes.

CONKLIN
I thought you were never going to
do that.

Silence. Pressure drop.

ABBOTT
They're putting together an agency
oversight committee. They're going
to look through everyone's budgets.
Treadstone is a rather sizable line
item in my ledger.
(beat)
What am I going to do about that?

CONKLIN
You'd want to make that go away.
You'd want to remind them that
Treadstone is a training
organization. That it's all
theoretical. You'd want to sign
off on that.

ABBOTT
And what if I couldn't do that?

CONKLIN
Then I'd have to explain Treadstone.
And you'd have to explain how you
let me get this far.
(silence)
Doesn't sound like much of a Plan-B,
does it?
(Abbott staring)
We'll clean up the field. You
clean up your budgets.

EXT. ZURICH -- DAY

Morning in the financial district. Upscale. Uptight.

GEMEINSCHAFT BANK just one of many elegant fortresses on
this street. Everything just now opening for business. TWO
GUARDS unlocking the front door and --

THE MAN across the street. Tucked in the shadows. Checking
for cops and trouble. Looks clear. He's walking and --

INT. BANK RECEPTION AREA -- DAY

Ornate, formidable and tech at the same time.

RECEPTIONIST
(Can I help you?)

THE MAN standing before her. Looking very out of place.

THE MAN
I'm here about a numbered account.

THE RECEPTIONIST nods. Pulls a pen and bank card.

RECEPTIONIST
(instant English)
If you'll just enter your account
number here I'll direct you to the
appropriate officer.

THE MAN takes the pen, as we --

INT. BANK SECURITY CHECKPOINT -- DAY

A BIO-METRIC SCANNER. A piece of ultra-tech amidst the
Baroque. TWO SERIOUS BANK GUARDS manning the equipment.

THE MAN standing there, staring down at this machine.
Something ominously decisive about this. What if it's him?
What if it's not?

BANK GUARD #1
(they've been waiting)
(Your hand, sir...)

THE MAN focuses. Here we go -- BANK GUARD #2 guiding his
open palm onto the mirrored scanning surface.

THE MAN catching his reflection for a moment before a wave
of white light passes beneath his hand and now --

INT. BANK HALLWAY -- DAY

THE MAN being led by A THIRD GUARD to a special elevator.

INT. DEEPER INSIDE THE BANK -- DAY

Elevator doors open. THE MAN steps out. MR. APFEL -- anal
Zurich banker -- waiting there.

APFEL
Good morning, sir. I assume you're
here about your box.

THE MAN
...yes...
(what now?)
The box.

APFEL nods. Gestures down the corridor --

INT. BANK SAFETY DEPOSIT VIEWING ROOM -- DAY

Sterile and kind of odd. But total privacy. THE MAN
sitting there, as A DEPOSIT GUARD places a large SAFETY
DEPOSIT BOX before him. THE GUARD leaves the room. Closing
the door behind him.

THE MAN is alone. And there it is, right in front of him.
This is it. Here are the answers. He lifts the lid.

THE BOX. There's a shallow tray on top. In this tray: a
beat-up passport in the name of Jason Bourne. A French
driver's license with a Parisian address. Credit cards for
Jason Bourne.

THE MAN. Holding these objects close -- as if by holding
them he might absorb their essence. Forcing himself to
believe. This is him. His picture. There it is. He's
Jason Bourne.

BOURNE
My name is Jason Bourne.
(sounds good)
Hi, I'm Jason. Jason Bourne.
Jason Bourne, nice to meet you.

BACK TO -- THE BOX -- the shallow tray on top. There's
Kleenex. Several sets of contact lenses. A knife. A comb.
Three sticks of gum. A ring. A pair of sunglasses. A Rolex.

BOURNE setting these things aside. Lifting the top tray.
Staring into THE DEEP BOTTOM TRAY and --

First of all...

MONEY. Lots of it. Ten thousand dollar stacks of hundreds.
Lots of them. Close to a million dollars. There's A GUN.
A very good gun. Several clips of ammo. And...

FIVE MORE PASSPORTS. All clean. Crisp. Brand new. All
with his photo inside. Five different names. Three
different Countries. Each one of these pristine passports
clipped to a piece of card stock that says:

NAME:
NATIONALITY:
PLACE OF ISSUE:
SIGNATURE SAMPLE:

And a bar code.
Two Dutch passports. A French. A South African. A Belgian.

And...

There's one piece of card stock still with the paper clip in
place. And no passport. This card reads:

NAME: John Michael Kane
NATIONALITY: U.S.A.
PLACE OF ISSUE: Paris, France
There's a signature sample.
And a bar code.
But no passport. This one is missing.

BOURNE sitting there. Trying to push his confusion away.

BOURNE
Bourne. My name is Jason Bourne.
I live at 121, Rue de la Jardin, Paris.

But there's something hollow about this. He came looking
for one identity and now he's faced with six. The money...
The gun...

Suddenly, it's all fucked up.

BOURNE into gear. Looking around the room -- there --
there's a pile of red canvas burn bags in the corner.
BOURNE grabbing one -- stuffing everything into it --
everything except...

The gun. He doesn't want the gun. No guns.

INT. BANK SAFETY DEPOSIT OUTER AREA -- DAY

BOURNE is done. Handing the box back to THE DEPOSIT GUARD --

BOURNE
(I'm trying to think how long it's
been since I was here.)

DEPOSIT GUARD
(I'm not sure. Must be three weeks.)

EXT. STREETS OF ZURICH -- DAY -- VARIOUS SHOTS

BOURNE exits the bank. The red bag full to its limit. He's
walking briskly now. Looking for a taxi. Nothing in sight.

BOURNE crossing the street. Shit, there's A COP on the
corner -- turn -- change pace -- make it look natural --

BOURNE around a corner. And it's looking good for a
moment -- but only a moment -- TWO MORE COPS walking a
beat -- walking this way -- turn -- cut -- cross the street --

BOURNE heading down a boulevard. Trying to look small.
Pulse starting to race. Fighting the paranoia. Where the
hell is a cab? Turning back fast as A SIREN starts bleeding
in from behind him --

It's just an ambulance.

BOURNE turning back. Forcing himself to focus. And fuck --
there's A METER MAID, and she's stopped writing up a
ticket -- she's staring at him and --

BOURNE trying not to panic -- don't run -- smile -- stay
small -- get to the corner -- scan the options -- but --

THE METER MAID -- she's watching him go and she's pulling
her radio and --

BOURNE hitting this next corner -- banging a right --
forcing himself not to run -- glancing back and --

THERE'S ANOTHER COP -- but this one is jogging --
searching -- he's got his radio out and --

FINALLY TO --

BOURNE bailing on the street -- disappearing into --

EXT. U.S. EMBASSY COMPOUND -- DAY

Big gates. Speed barricades. SEVERAL U.S. MARINES standing
guard near a gate house. An American flag. Lots of people
coming and going. BOURNE playing it as normal as possible
as he heads for the entrance.

INT. U.S. CONSULATE ZURICH -- VISA ROOM -- DAY

The passport and visa office. Big room. No windows.
Unpleasant on purpose. Two lines: A short one for U.S.
Citizens, a marathon for everyone else. CONSULATE CLERKS
stationed in open cubicles along the back wall. And it's a
zoo. American tourists who've lost their passports.
Foreigners looking for visas. Asylum seekers. Everyone
here has a problem.

BOURNE on the U.S. line. Standing there trying to think.
What's he gonna say? What can he say? With the cops
outside, and the incident in the park, then the bank...

MARIE (O.S.)
-- no, this is not my current
address. It was my current address
two days ago when I started
standing in line outside --

A NEARBY CUBICLE. Meet MARIE KREUTZ. German. Big energy.
Real beauty hidden beneath the armor. And armor it is,
because this is a warrior in full, crisis battlemode.

MARIE
-- and so now I lost my apartment,
I have no address, and I have no
visa, and you keep telling me how
much help you cannot give me!

A CONSULATE CLERK caught in her headlights.

CLERK
Miss Kreutz, please... I'm gonna
have to ask you to keep your voice
down.

MARIE
All the papers -- all the papers
they asked for -- I brought all the
papers --

CLERK
Miss Kreutz, excuse me, but you
entered into a fraudulent marriage
in an effort to circumvent the
immigration laws of the United
States --

MARIE
You only know that because I told
you!
(she's incredulous)
Ask the case officer -- find his
name -- it's on the papers -- I
told him all this myself! --
(tearing through the
papers now--)

CLERK
-- it's not the source of the
information that's important here --

MARIE
-- I paid this fucking guy -- I
paid him four thousand dollars --
my last four thousand dollars to
marry me, okay? -- I told this to
the case officer last week...
(she's found it--)
...here -- Mr. Thomas. I told Mr.
Thomas I didn't know this guy was
already married -- I admitted this!

CLERK
-- Miss Kreutz, please --

MARIE
-- I'm the one that got ripped
off! -- not you -- not the United
States government -- me -- I'm the
one being ripped off!

CLERK
So now you're asking for a student
visa?

That shuts her up. Yes. Today she's a student.

INT. CIA OFFICE COMPLEX -- NIGHT (BUT SAME TIME)

Motion -- CONKLIN racing down a staircase -- ZORN chasing
after --

CONKLIN
-- and they're sure it's him? --

ZORN
-- he accessed the account --

CONKLIN
-- but it was him --

ZORN
-- yes, sir, it's confirmed --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE -- VISA ROOM -- DAY

BOURNE on line. Fear meter rising by the minute.

BOURNE'S POV

Scanning the room -- the perimeter -- the people -- A
TURKISH MAN almost in tears as he tries to explain his case
to a DESK CLERK -- TWO AMERICAN BACKPACKERS that have lost
their passports -- MARIE still in the midst of her madness --
A SECURITY CAMERA high on the wall capturing everything --
lots of data -- too much going on and --

MAN ON LINE (OS)
(from behind him)
You're up.

BOURNE comes to. Shit. It's his turn.

A WOMAN CLERK waving him forward. BOURNE trying to think --
what the fuck is he doing? -- what's he gonna say? -- now
he's at the window, and if he was looking for a friendly
face, he came to the wrong place --

WOMAN CLERK
(cold shit)
You're a U.S. Citizen?

BOURNE
Yes.
(pause)
I mean, I think so. Yes. Yes...

WOMAN CLERK
Well, either you are, or you aren't.

BOURNE
Right.

WOMAN CLERK
You have your passport?

BOURNE
I have a passport. I've got...
(the bag there, but...)
Actually, it's a little complicated.

WOMAN CLERK
Do you have your passport, sir?

BOURNE
Look, maybe I should just...

WOMAN CLERK
Sir, you waited on line.

BOURNE
Yeah, I know...

But he's already bailing, walking away from the woman, the
window, the room -- he's out of here --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE LOBBY -- DAY

BOURNE on the move -- hustling back toward the lobby --
trying to snag a view out to the street -- there's a window
just ahead and --

BOURNE'S WINDOW POV -- ZURICH COPS -- outside -- on the
street -- half-a-dozen of them lingering around the entry
gate and --

BOURNE stalled for a moment -- options dwindling -- he can't
go back to the passport office -- he can't go out the front
and --

The lobby looks tough -- there are two other points of entry
into the main building, but they're both guarded by MARINES
and METAL DETECTORS --

As he gets closer -- it gets worse --

A ZURICH POLICE INSPECTOR near the door, in deep conversation
with TWO MARINES and THE EMBASSY SECURITY OFFICER and --

BOURNE trying to burrow through the human traffic -- trying
to get to THE LARGER OF THE TWO ENTRY GATES -- this one the
farthest from the front door and the passport office
corridor, and it's the most crowded -- A COUPLE PEOPLE lined
up here -- waiting for one of THE THREE MARINES STAFFING
THIS POST to check their bags and pass them through a metal
detector and --

SECURITY CHIEF (OS)
-- stop! -- stop right there! --

BOURNE turns back -- as does everyone else in the lobby --

SECURITY CHIEF
(from across the lobby)
-- YOU -- red bag -- the red bag --
stop right there! -- hands up! --

BOURNE glancing back -- ONE OF THE GATE MARINES BEHIND
HIM -- the guy's raising his M-16 --

GUN MARINE
-- you heard him -- let's move
it! -- down -- let's go! --

BOURNE nodding -- total compliance -- starting to drop --
but only starting, because now --

He's swinging the backpack and --

THE GUN MARINE -- nailed -- blind-sided -- no chance and --

BOURNE -- all motion -- all forward -- all perfect --
vaulting the metal detector even as he pulls ONE OF THE
PEOPLE ON LINE around to shield his back and --

ANOTHER GATE MARINE -- right there -- trying to grab him --
making his move -- BOURNE -- almost an afterthought -- his
boot -- like a knife -- out of nowhere -- SNAP! -- the guy's
arm just shattered and --

THE SECURITY CHIEF -- freaking out -- TWO MARINES WITH
HIM -- they're raising their weapons and there's people in
the lobby and --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- no -- no -- hold your fire! --

BOURNE -- landing hard on THE GUN MARINE -- rolling away
from the gate -- into the building now -- coming up with the
backpack and --

SOMEONE SCREAMING
-- he's got a gun! -- he's got a
gun! --

And he does -- BOURNE with the M-16! -- coming up with it --
coming up on the move -- swinging it around as he searches
for an escape route and THE GUN -- it's like a magic wand of
hysteria --

PEOPLE IN THE LOBBY -- SCREAMING -- diving away -- everyone
dropping for cover and --

BOURNE -- bailing -- on the run -- sprinting down a
hallway -- tossing away the M-16 as he sprints into the
building --

THE SECURITY CHIEF
(frantic on his radio
now--)
-- red! -- red! -- red! -- code
red! -- South side entrance! --
male -- five-ten, brown hair -- black
jacket -- red bag --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE OFFICE HALLWAY -- DAY

Quiet for a second -- offices on either side of a carpeted
hallway -- BUREAUCRAT-TYPES doing their thing, when suddenly --

BUREAUCRAT #1
Excuse me? Can I help you?
(but backing up as he
says it, because--)

Here comes BOURNE -- coming fast -- and he definitely does
not belong back here --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE LOBBY/SECURITY GATE -- DAY

Panic -- people fleeing the lobby -- MORE MARINES hustling
in from outside and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIRE STAIRWELL -- DAY

Door flies open -- BOURNE bombing in -- shit! -- it's a dead
end -- no way out but up the stairs --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE GROUND FLOOR CORRIDOR -- DAY

SECURITY CHIEF -- THREE MARINES -- sidearms drawn -- jogging
past the INNER OFFICES -- running beside them, a frantic guy
in a suit --

DEPUTY DCM
-- what're you talking about? --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- we're evacuating the building --

DEPUTY DCM
-- we're in the middle of a trade
meeting! --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- call the code! -- I want
everyone out! --

DEPUTY DCM
-- you gotta give me more to go on --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- he's running from the cops, he's
got a bag filled with God knows
what, he's in the building and I
don't know where! --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWAY -- DAY

BOURNE climbing fast -- two -- three -- stairs at a time --
racing up as a SECURITY ALARM STARTS SCREAMING -- bleet --
bleet -- bleet --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH-FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY

THE ALARM ringing everywhere -- TRADE CONFERENCEES -- sixty
confused and frightened people -- spilling out into the
corridor --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR KITCHENETTE -- DAY

A NEW DOOR flying open -- it's BOURNE -- ready for anything,
but there's nothing -- he's in a butler's prep area off the
main conference room -- momentum stalled for a moment --
nothing in here but tableclothes and silverware and coffee
cups and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWAY -- DAY

THREE MARINES -- armed and stoked -- staring up the
stairs -- leapfrogging -- point-to-point assault procedure --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN STAIRS -- DAY

Carpeted and grand -- SECURITY CHIEF with FIVE MARINES
NOW -- charging up -- pushing past THE PEOPLE trying to come
down and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY

Completely clogged now -- PANICKED TRADE PEOPLE all over --
EMBASSY TYPES -- trying to herd them toward the main
stairs -- everyone talking at once -- THAT ALARM STILL
BLARING and --

VOICE (OS)
-- no! -- the other way! -- take
the backstairs! -- the backstairs! --
he's on the other side -- there's a
bomb! --

And as the crowd reacts -- as they mob back away from the
main stairway -- we see -- holy shit, the guy yelling was
BOURNE --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE BACK STAIRWELL -- DAY

THE ASSAULT MARINES -- still climbing -- weapons out --
clean and fast -- one more flight to go -- ready for
anything -- completely freaking out as the door above them
on the fifth floor flies open and --

LEAD MARINE
-- HALT! -- STOP WHERE YOU ARE! --

MARINE GUNS swinging up -- trigger fingers tense and --

IT'S TRADE PEOPLE! and now THEY'RE SCREAMING and this
combined with THE ALARM and THE MARINES YELLING FOR THEM TO
GET DOWN and ALL OF IT ECHOING THROUGH THE STAIRWELL and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

BOURNE -- he's CLOSING A DOOR behind him -- he's jamming A
CHAIR -- wedging it in tight so the door won't open and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY

THE SECURITY CHIEF -- HIS MARINES -- coming from the main
stairs -- weapons drawn -- fighting their way through the
pandemonium and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

BOURNE scanning for options -- the room is huge -- empty
now -- the massive conference table covered with the meeting
papers left behind -- windows along one wall and --

BOURNE rushes to the window staring down and --

BOURNE'S WINDOW POV

Fifty feet below there's a courtyard -- it's a sheer drop --
completely fucked and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY

SECURITY CHIEF -- TWO MARINES -- just outside THE CONFERENCE
ROOM DOOR -- trying it -- it won't budge and --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- blow it -- shoot it open! --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

THE DOOR -- shattering -- eaten up by GUNFIRE! -- TAT-TAT-
TAT-TATTAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! and --

WHAM! HERE THEY COME -- through the door -- guns -- eyes --
adrenaline -- everything ready and --

THE ROOM IS EMPTY!

EXT. U.S. CONSULATE BUILDING WALL -- DAY

BOURNE -- dangling fifty-feet above the stone courtyard! --
he's gone out the window! -- hanging there -- hanging with
one hand -- one hand clutching the corner of a ledge and --

INT. U.S. CONSULATE MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

Utter confusion -- SECURITY CHIEF -- FIVE -- SIX -- SEVEN
ARMED MARINES all piling in -- ready to rock but there's no
one to shoot -- no target --

SECURITY CHIEF
-- check the closets! -- get those
back doors covered -- there's a
kitchen back there -- go! -- go! -- go!

TWO MARINES -- scanning the windows -- looking down and --

MARINE POV -- all clear -- no way he went down there and --

EXT. U.S. CONSULATE BUILDING WALL -- DAY

BOURNE still hanging there -- looking down -- up -- there's
no choice -- he has to go down --

BOURNE finding a toehold below him -- reaching -- touching
down -- it gives way -- crumbling and --

BOURNE hesitates. Does he know how to do this or not?
Stalled for a moment, then...

BOURNE starts climbing down. And this is all one shot. No
cutaway. No cheating.

We are watching a master at work...

Handhold to a drain pipe. Swinging to a better ledge.

Dropping to an air-conditioner. Grabbing a window frame
just before the air-conditioner gives way. Teetering there.
Now he's on the fourth floor.

Below, there's an open window on the third floor. Struggling
to keep his balance, he reaches behind him to shift the
weight of the bag, and as he does --

THE RED BAG falls. Thump. Into the courtyard. Forget the
open window. Now he's got to go all the way.

Timing his next move and --

He's pushing off -- reaching -- there's another drainpipe
and he's snagged it -- he's got a dragline now -- starting
to fall -- straining to hold the pipe -- slowing his
descent -- the drainpipe pulling away from it's housing and --

BOURNE letting go -- just before he falls backward -- one
last grab -- catching a gutter -- holding it just long
enough to slow his fall and --

Letting go for the last fifteen feet and --

EXT. U.S. CONSULATE FIFTH FLOOR GRAND HALLWAY -- DAY

A DOZEN MARINES -- pumped-up and listening to --

SECURITY
-- we're gonna go room by room
until we find him -- so let's get
teamed up --

EXT. AN ALLEYWAY NEAR THE U.S. CONSULATE -- DAY

MARIE storming away. Pissed-off -- broke -- illegal --
ruined and --

MARIE
(German)
(Motherfucking sonsofbitches!)
(a new problem--)

A LITTLE RED CAR. A beat-to-shit Euro car. A shitty little
red car angled in beside a dumpster with a big red Zurich
parking ticket on the windshield.

MARIE grabbing the ticket -- tearing it up -- tearing the
shit out of it -- blind with misfortune -- throwing the
pieces on the ground and stomping on them and then --

MARIE
(looking up--)
(What are you looking at?)

BOURNE standing across the car -- on the passenger side --

BOURNE
I need a ride.

MARIE
(What?)

BOURNE
I need a ride out of here.

MARIE
Oh, Jesus...
(backing away and--)

BOURNE
Please. I don't want to scare you.

MARIE
It's a little late for that.

BOURNE
I've got a situation here and --

MARIE
Get the fuck away from my car.

BOURNE
I'll give you ten thousand dollars
to drive me to Paris.

MARIE
Great. You know what? I'll give
you ten gazillion dollars to get
the fuck away from me before I
start screaming my head off.

BOURNE
You don't want the police any more
than I do.

BOURNE tosses cash -- a stack of hundreds -- across the car
into her hands -- she catches it. Looks at it.

MARIE
Jesus...

BOURNE
Get me out of here. Please.

MARIE looking at him. At the money. Back at him, and --

INT. TREADSTONE COMMUNICATIONS DESK -- NIGHT

VIDEO PLAYBACK -- FULL FRAME -- fast forward -- a speeding
blur of images from a surveillance camera outside the Zurich
bank -- it's two days worth of footage -- they're scanning
for Bourne's arrival and --

CONKLIN
go -- keep going -- go...wait --
stop -- you went past it --

COM TECH #1 working the console. Freezing the image.
Punching it up. There it is -- BOURNE leaving the bank with
the red bag.

CONKLIN
(staring at the monitor)
It's him. My God, it's really him...

ZORN the phones across the room. COM TECH #2 at his console --

COM TECH #2
-- we got a cross-ref ready to go
here, sir, we're running hotel,
airline, train, and medical
variables, anything else you'd like?

CONKLIN
No...
(still staring at Bourne)
Go ahead. Run it.
(coming to--)
Let's get a map, let's get a grid
map on Zurich.

ZORN
(holding the phone)
Sir...

CONKLIN up from the console. ZORN waiting for him --

CONKLIN
What?

ZORN
Zurich police are looking for an
American with a red bag. Apparently
he put two cops in the hospital
last night.

Silence. Like the floor just fell away. So heavy.

CONKLIN
What the fuck is he doing?

ZORN
Maybe it's a game. Maybe he's
trying to send us a message.

CONKLIN
It doesn't matter now. We've just
got to be the first ones there.
(decision time)
Get everybody up. I want them all
activated.

ZORN
All of them?

A moment between them. CONKLIN all steel here now.

CONKLIN
You heard me.

COM TECH #2
(from the console--)
Sir, the cross-ref is coming up cold...

CONKLIN breaks away -- back to the console and --

EXT. BARCELONA RESIDENTIAL BOULEVARD -- DAY

Establishing shot. A grand house. PIANO MUSIC over this --
someone butchering a piece by Haydn and --

INT. BARCELONA GRAND HOUSE MUSIC ROOM -- DAY

Meet THE PROFESSOR. He's a piano teacher. Late fifties.
Deceptively fit. He's sitting here, listening to a NINE-
YEAR-OLD STUDENT struggle through the music.

And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

INT. HAMBURG CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY

A boring, marathon business meeting. FIFTEEN MIDDLE
MANAGERS are trapped around a German sales presentation.
Meet MANHEIM. Bald. Fifty. He looks dumb and piggy.
Anything but. Sitting here --

And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

EXT. A ROMAN CAF+ -- DAY

Meet CASTEL. He's thirty-five. Slender. Clean-cut. Easy
to miss. He's here alone. Reading the paper. Sipping
espresso.

And then, HIS E-PHONE PAGER starts pulsing -- hum -- hum --

EXT. A ROAD ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF ZURICH -- DAY

The little red car parked. MARIE pacing around. BOURNE
poring over a map spread out opver the hood.

MARIE
So what's in Paris?

BOURNE
I want to go home.

MARIE
For twenty thousand dollars.

BOURNE looks back from the map.

BOURNE
I said ten thousand.

MARIE
You have blood on your pants.

BOURNE
Okay.
(beat)
Twenty thousand. Ten now. Ten there.

MARIE
No. No, that was too easy --
(pacing away--)

BOURNE
Wait up --
(after her now--)
-- just wait up --

MARIE
-- get the fuck out of here -- all
this money, this crazy offer, I
mean give me a fucking break with
this, this is --
(stopping because--)

BOURNE just grabbed her. Both of them shocked that he's
done this. He immediately pulls back.

BOURNE
Look, I want a ride to Paris.
(wide open now)
That's all I want. I swear.

MARIE
You swear?
(cold here)
That's great. I feel so much
better now.

BOURNE
I don't want anything but a ride.
All I want to do is go home.

Silence now. She looks back. Measuring him.

MARIE
You could buy a car for twenty
grand. You could buy this car.

BOURNE
I don't want to go alone. I want
you to drive me to Paris. Like
we're a couple. Like we're a
couple and we're travelling
together. That's all we're doing.

MARIE
And I don't get hurt. I get twenty
thousand dollars and I don't get hurt.

BOURNE
I won't hurt you.

MARIE
What if I say no?

BOURNE
Then I'll find another ride.

EXT. ROME STREET -- DAY

CASTEL through the streets on a motorcycle. Whipping to a
stop -- stepping off the bike in front of --

U-STORE-IT STORAGE WAREHOUSE.

INT. STORAGE WAREHOUSE ELEVATOR -- DAY

CASTEL and THE ELEVATOR OPERATOR -- rising slowly through
the dark warehouse and --

INT. CASTEL'S STORAGE UNIT -- DAY

Darkness -- a key turning -- door opening -- light goes on
to reveal CASTEL standing there and we're in --

CASTEL'S STORAGE UNIT. What's in here? Like nothing. Like
a stack of old newspapers in the corner. Some mildewed
books piled along one wall. Some shitty plastic chairs.

QUICK TIME CUTS

CASTEL working fast. Closing the door. Moving to the pile
of books. Taking the top book off. Opening it.

INSIDE THE BOX -- a timer. A small bomb. A booby-trap.
An LED light stops flashing as CASTEL'S HANDS code in his
password and --

CASTEL moving to the newspapers stacked in the corner.
Pulling away the top pile and --

A METAL LOCK BOX. Hidden here. CASTEL pulling it out.
Opening it. An empty tray on top and --

CASTEL taking off his watch. Taking off his rings. Taking
out his wallet. His Spanish passport. Emptying his pockets.
All of this goes into the empty tray and --

CASTEL lifting away this top tray -- setting it aside and --

THE METAL LOCK BOX -- there's more -- a much larger bottom
compartment -- and it's deja-vu all over again -- we're
looking at the identical contents we saw Bourne find in the
Zurich safe-deposit box.

First of all...

MONEY. Lots of it. Ten thousand dollar stacks of hundreds.
Lots of them. A GUN. A very good gun. A dozen clips of
ammo. And FIVE MORE PASSPORTS. All clean. Brand new. All
with his photo. Five different names. Four different
countries. Each one of these pristine clipped to a piece
of card stock that says:

NAME:
NATIONALITY:
PLACE OF ISSUE:
SIGNATURE SAMPLE:
A BAR CODE:
Two Italian. Two Spanish. A Portuguese.

CASTEL going for the Portuguese passport and --

EXT. ALPS HELICOPTER SHOT -- DAY

The little red car driving through The Alps.

INT. THE RED CAR -- DUSK

BOURNE staring out the window. MARIE driving. Long silence
until --

MARIE
Just so you know, if you're gonna
burn me on the money, you might as
well kill me.
(Bourne looks over)
I was supposed to have this car
back three days ago. It's not my car.

BOURNE
I know that.

MARIE staring at him -- glancing back to the road -- just in
time -- almost rear-ending a slow moving truck --

MARIE
Shit --
(trying to settle)
Can I tell you how much you're
freaking me out? Okay? Because
you are -- you're completely
freaking me out.

BOURNE
I'm sorry. Really. What do you
want me to do?

MARIE
I don't know. Smile. Sneeze.
Something. You've got a bag full
of money and a ride to Paris. Fuck
it, I don't know...
(the radio)
What kind of music do you like?

BOURNE
I don't know.

MARIE
What does that mean?

BOURNE
Listen to what you want.

MARIE
(out of nowhere)
Who pays twenty thousand dollars
for a ride to Paris?

There it is. And she wants an answer --

BOURNE
I don't know. I don't know who I am.

MARIE
Yeah, well, welcome to the club.

BOURNE
No. No, I mean, I really don't
know who I am. I can't remember
anything earlier than two weeks ago.
(it's not flying)
I'm serious.

MARIE