Vault

[outside Canadian consulate]

[young boy is dripping ice cream on the unresponsive sentry’s boots; church clock bells toll Noon]
Boy: Four, Three, Two, One...
[boy drops the drippy ice cream cone on the sentry’s boot and runs to a safe distance]
Boy: Hey, dummy, your shift’s over!
[no response]
Boy: Hello, I’m committing a crime here!
[walks around the motionless sentry, waving his hands]
Boy: Jeez! What happened to the other guy?
[Fraser and another man stand watching the sentry through the window]
Ovitz: The man works twelve hour shifts, never moves a muscle. Not even a twitch.
Fraser: Who is he?
Ovitz: I don’t know, some yutz in a hat.

 

[inside the consulate; Fraser follows Ovitz up the stairs to the offices]

Ovitz : They flew him in from the academy when you were hospitalized. Say, how’s the back? Bullet wound, wasn’t it?
Fraser: Good as new. Thank you kindly, um...
Ovitz: Ovitz.
Fraser: Ovitz.
Ovitz: Yeah, it’s a nickname. Hers, respectfully and affectionately. [mutters]   Right, respectfully, my--
Fraser: Superintendent Moffat. Did he...uh, did he retire?
Ovitz: Promoted. The man spends seven years in that office, doesn’t make one valuable contribution. One day he slaps a Mountie hat on a Mickey Mouse doll and... [snaps his fingers]

[phone rings]  

Ovitz : Mm-hmm.   [hangs up]   She’ll see you now. Don’t be nervous.
Fraser: I’m not.
Ovitz: Yeah. Well, not to worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.
Fraser: What is?
Ovitz: Your personnel files. She ordered them directly from Ottawa. But I’m sure that’s standard procedure, right? I mean, you’re the deputy, she’s your new boss...
Fraser: Of course, standard procedure.
Ovitz: Your medical file, your time sheets...
Fraser: Also standard.
Ovitz: Sure. Wow, you sure have moved around a lot.
Fraser: Excuse me, um...
Ovitz: Ovitz.
Fraser: Ovitz. You know, if there’s certain information that you’ve been privy to as part of your duties as the Inspector’s executive secretary, you have a responsibility to keep that information to yourself.
Ovitz: Wow. You’ll be fine. She’s already eaten two file clerks for breakfast.
[Fraser looks at Dief, who runs down the stairs; he walks through the door...]

[27 ^th precinct; Vecchio enters Welsh’s office, his left arm in a sling]
Ray: I appreciate this, sir. I know you’re busy, won’t take a moment.
Welsh: You’re right. Disapproved.
Ray: You’ve thought this over carefully, sir?
Welsh: Mm-hmm. Yeah, for about three minutes.
Ray: Well, with all due respect sir, three minutes for an officer wounded in the line of duty, in defense of a fellow officer, I might add, seems to be--
Welsh: The Mountie. Setting aside this penchant that you and Constable Fraser have for shooting each other, uh, this bullet that you describe here in this form...this is your handwriting, I assume?
Ray: Oh, of course it is, sir.
Welsh: Is a truly remarkable piece of ammunition. You see here, it says shoulder wound?
Ray: Uh, yes, sir. Ripped right into the old lateral deltoid, sir.
Welsh: The truly startling thing? This bullet once inside your shoulder appears to have taken a radical change in direction, traveling southward, piercing a lung and injuring several major organs. Now why do you suppose it did that, Detective?
Ray: Who really knows why these things happen, sir. A freak accident.
Welsh: Uh-huh, and a rather convenient one. Cause this wound would entitle you to extended disability benefits to the tune of, uh... Oh. That’s a lot of sunshine and margaritas, huh?
Ray: Look, sir, I submitted the insurance form to the company. Now, if they approve it...
Welsh: All right, then the insurance company and I might have to sit down and have a little chat. Because wound or no wound, you’re back on the streets tomorrow.
Ray: And that’s your final decision, sir?
Welsh: Oh, it is. And Vecchio? This incident might fade from my mind completely were you to stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours.
Ray: Understood, sir.
Welsh: Have a good day, Vecchio.
Ray: You too, sir. [exits]

[bullpen; Gardino holds a hand-drawn diagram of a cartoon figure; he points with a pointer, for the benefit of small crowd]
Gardino: Now this bullet--
Huey: This ‘magic’ bullet. [holds up a bullet in a plastic evidence bag]
Gardino: --entered here, took a sharp right, bounced off the collarbone, pierced the rib cage, AND took a U-turn at the pancreas!
[Vecchio grabs the diagram, then the bullet]
Ray: Stay out of my desk.

Huey : Oooooh.
Gardino: Tsk, tsk, tsk... Temper, temper.

[Vecchio’s desk; Elaine gives him stack of mail]
Elaine: All bills. Welcome back!
Ray: Any more good news, Elaine?
Elaine: Your disability application? It’s been denied. The insurance doctor said, “No man could sustain this kind of injury and live.”
Ray: And the good news, Elaine?
Elaine: Uh, it can wait.
Ray: Elaine!
Elaine: They’re burying you with full honors, Thursday at 3 o’clock. Don’t be late.

[Music: ‘Leading Me On’ by Colin James]

[Riv; Francesca is driving]
Ray: Well, I’m a dead man, Fraser. Some yahoo down at City Hall reads my insurance report and flags my name in the central computer system. Look at this. [shows Fraser]   Vecchio, Raymond, deceased. So then the City Hall computer instructs the Federal and State computer to cancel my driver’s registration, my driver’s license, and my Social Security card. So now, I’m being buried on Thursday and I can’t even get my good suit out of the cleaners! Will you shut that off?!! [Vecchio reaches over and switches off the radio]
Francesca: No, I’m driving, I should get to hear to what I want. [turns radio back on]
Ray: This is my car, okay? You’ve merely been given temporary dispensation to drive it. Which means you can keep your butt in that seat and your hands on the wheel and your feet on the pedals and that’s it.
Francesca: Well, thank you, Your Eminence. I’ll remember that the next time you need somebody to back up your phony insurance claim.
Ray: Phony insurance claim? Let me tell you something, I have latent muscle damage which inhibits me from making three point turns.

[Francesca rolls eyes & scoffs]

Ray : [to Fraser]   Can you believe this? I’ve been putting up with this since-- Why are you wearing that? Where’s the brown uniform?
Fraser: I just had my first interview with my new Inspector.
Ray: Went well, did it?
Fraser: I’m on probation, Ray. Inspector Thatcher has reviewed my job performance and I gather she’s found my methods somewhat unorthodox.
Ray: Is that how they punish Mounties in Canada? They make ‘em dress like Americans?
Fraser: It’s not exactly an American uniform, and the brown one was somewhat antiquated. I’m told that this is the current fashion.
Francesca: I think it’s kinda cute.
Fraser: Thank you kindly, Francesca.
Ray: Look, you just keep your eyes on the road. [to Fraser] And you keep your eyes in your head.
Francesca: [sigh]   I wish I had a uniform. You know, when you wear a uniform, you’re somebody. People just respect you.
Ray: Let me tell you something, Frannie. You’re my sister, all right? But trust me, no matter what you wear, people will never respect you. All right, pull over.
Francesca: No.
Ray: I said, pull over.
Francesca: No. Not until you can show me some respect.
Ray: Look, this is my car, and I say pull over, now you pull over!
[Francesca slams on the brakes and the Riv comes to a screeching halt; Vecchio picks himself off the floor, straightening his sling]
Ray: [sigh]   Thank you.
Francesca: You’re quite welcome. Hey! Five minutes, or I’m coming in after ya.
Ray: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

[on the sidewalk; Fraser contemplates his fur hat]
Ray: What is that, a dead animal? She can make you wear a dead animal on your head?
Fraser: It’s regulation. [Fraser puts on the hat]   Well?
Ray: She’s definitely punishing you.
Fraser: She’s my superior officer, Ray. She’s not a field officer, mind you, but she’s a very fine officer, and a woman of considerable character.
Ray: Fraser, this woman hates you.
Fraser: I believe so, yes.
[Vecchio flashes his badge at people waiting in the line]

Ray : Okay, Police! Move aside. Police! Move aside.

Fraser : Ray, Ray, Ray. [grabs Vecchio’s good arm]
Ray: Don’t start with me, okay? This is a legitimate emergency situation, all right?
Fraser: What is? [Vecchio shows him a paper]   Bulls tickets?
Ray: Not just Bulls tickets. Bulls seasons tickets. All right, police!   Move aside! [shoves past the people in line]   Come on, back off, back off!   Look out, buddy! Police!   Move aside!
Man: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wow.
Ray: [to Fraser]   I am going to cash my last disability check. I’m going to renew my pass. And then I’m going to have something to look forward to. Who says you can’t take it with you?
Fraser: [to people behind them]   I apologize on behalf of my friend.

[a dark blue delivery/maintenance van pulls into the alley behind the bank]
Van Driver (Lenny): [into a walkie-talkie]   We’re in the alley, honey.

[inside the bank]
Female Customer (Morgan): [into hidden microphone]   Thank you, sweetie. [to bank teller]   Have a nice day.  

[2:40 p.m.; people are finishing their business & getting ready to leave for the day; the vault is standing open]

Morgan : [into her microphone]   Looking good.

 

[van]

Lenny : [to gang]   We’re on. [distributes handguns]

 

[bank; tellers putting up “Closed” signs; customers stream out]

Teller : See you next week.

Man : Have a nice weekend. Thank you.

[it’s 2:42]
Security Guard: Have a nice evening.
Morgan: I will.
[Vecchio and Fraser walk into the bank]

Security Guard : We’re closing now.
Ray: Oh no, you’re not! [pushes past the guard]
Security Guard: Hey!
Fraser: I’m terribly sorry, uh... [reads nametag]   Bob. We’ll just be a minute. Thank you.
Ray: [loudly]   Can I get a manager here? [waves his ATM card]   Can I see a manager?   Teller (Laurie): I’m sorry, sir, but the bank is closed. [moves closed sign]
Ray: Oh no, it is not! It is not closed. [moves sign aside]   See, it is open.
Laurie: No, it is not, sir. [moves sign back]
Ray: Yes, it is, ma’am. [moves sign aside]
Fraser: Ray, perhaps I could assist--
Ray: Fraser, look, this is my bank, this is my account, I’ll handle it, okay?
Laurie: Could I have a manager here?
Ray: Very good, Laurie. Way to take the initiative!
Bank Manager (Mr. Cooper): Can I help you, sir?
Ray: Yes. Hi, my name is Raymond Vecchio. This is my bank and this *was* my ATM card. [holds up his mangled card]
Mr. Cooper: Ah! Well. It’s a machine and occasionally we do have a problem or two. Let’s take a look, shall we?
Ray: Yes, let’s.

[van]
Morgan: We’ve got fourteen minutes to be in and out.

[she kisses Lenny; they exit the van, then the other 2 guys unload a cleaning cart]

[bank; manager’s office]
Mr. Cooper: Vecchio. Raymond?
Ray: Yeah, how many times do I have to tell ya?
Mr. Cooper: Uh, account number?
Ray: 9-9-1-0-5.
Mr. Cooper: Hmm. Well, you do have a problem. The account’s been frozen.
Ray: What?
Mr. Cooper: It can’t be accessed.
Ray: Yeah, well. I think it can. [flashes badge]
Mr. Cooper: I’m afraid not. Without a court order, Detective, I can’t help you. The owner of this account is deceased.
Ray: Deceased.

[Morgan, Lenny and others enter the bank dressed as janitors]
Security Guard: New team, huh, Vince?
Lenny: Yeah, it’s hard to find good help.
[they file past the security guard & fan out]

 

[manager’s office]
Ray: Okay. Now let me get this straight. I’m here, my money’s here, but the computer says that I’m not really here, so I can’t have it.
Mr. Cooper: I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll gonna have to call head office and if you could just come back tomorrow--
Ray: Hey, I’m a cop. I may not be alive tomorrow.
Mr. Cooper: Well, according to this, you’re not alive now.
Fraser: Excuse me, Ray. Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Sir, I am fully prepared to vouch for this man’s veracity.
Ray: See, a Canadian is vouching for me. Canadians do not lie.
Fraser: Well, now, I think that’s probably hyperbole--
Ray: He is also a Mountie. If you cannot trust a Mountie, who can you trust?
Fraser: Again, Ray, I’m not sure I’d go so far as--
Ray: Oh, yes, you would.
Fraser: I would.
Assistant Manager: Ten to three, Mr. Cooper.
Mr. Cooper: Excuse me.
Ray: Excuse you? I’m trying to do some business here with you! [they follow Mr. Cooper out of his office]   Will you wait a second?
Fraser: Look, Ray. Perhaps we should--
Ray: I want my money! All right, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you this check, you give me twelve hundred and forty-two dollars and we’ll call the head office in the morning.
Mr. Cooper: Mr. Vecchio, this is a secured area, if you would stand back please?
Ray: Are you not going to give me a consideration here? [Fraser notices the cleaning crew is shutting all the blinds] All right, fine. Fine! I mean, who am I, right? I’m just a cop, right? Nobody important. I’m just one of those nameless, faceless working stiffs who risks his life to protect your business and your family, and then just happens to get his head blown off trying to find your stolen BMW. Are you listening to me? Is anybody listening to me?!
Fraser: Ray, there’s something we better discuss--
Ray: Not now, Fraser!
Assistant Manager: Mr. Cooper, we have five minutes.
Morgan: FREEZE! This is a holdup!

[pulls out a gun, the crew covers the remaining bank occupants]

Norm : Get down!

Lenny : Let’s not have any dead here.

Morgan : Okay, everyone, nice and slow, down on the floor! DOWN! [recognizes Fraser]   It’s you! The Mountie!
Ray: Friend of yours?
Fraser: Ours. Last year, she robbed a brokerage firm.
Ray: The one who shot you in the hat?

Fraser : Mm.
Morgan: You made my life hell!
Fraser: I’m terribly sorry.
Ray: Don’t apologize to her.
Assistant Manager: Don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot!

Morgan : Nobody’s gonna shoot, just GET DOWN!!
[Fraser and Vecchio run into the vault and close the door, Morgan shoots after them]
Morgan: OPEN IT! OPEN IT!
Mr. Cooper: I can’t, it’s got a time lock on it.
Morgan: So, disarm it!
Mr. Cooper: I can’t. No one can.
Lenny: What time does it open?
Mr. Cooper: Eight o’clock, tomorrow morning.

 

[bank lobby]
Morgan: HE IS NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS! DO YOU HEAR THAT, MOUNTIE? [jumps & kicks on the vault door]
Lenny: It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. We’ll take care of the Mountie.
Morgan: I dreamed about him, Lenny. Every night while in prison. I carved his face into my cell wall. With my FINGERNAILS!
Lenny: Morgan, I got you out of there, didn’t I? I’ll get you out of this, okay?
Norm: Forget it! It’s impossible. That door is solid steel, two feet thick!
Lenny: Harold!
Harold: Combinations are easy enough. It’s the time lock. There’s no point in drilling a lock that can’t be disabled.
Lenny: Yeah, but there is a way, right?
Harold: There’s always a way. You drill holes into the locking bolts, you stuff ‘em with C-4, and then you blow ‘em.
Morgan: Good! Pack it with the stuff. I want those bozos blown to kingdom come.

[inside the vault; Vecchio is pacing; Fraser is on his hands and knees examining the vault’s interior]
Ray: Hello! 9-1-1! Hello! I am not receiving! Why aren’t I receiving here?
Fraser: Well, we’re inside a vault, Ray.
Ray: I know we’re in a vault.
Fraser: High carbon steel, I’d say eight to ten inches thick. There’s no hollow spots in the walls. Its probably backed by solid concrete.
Ray: All right. Check for ventilation.
Fraser: Got it.
Ray: A vent?
Fraser: Yes. And we are in luck, Ray! It is completely sealed off.
Ray: What?
Fraser: Airtight. Obviously for security. Rest easy, Ray. The money is perfectly safe.
Ray: Oh, well that’s a relief, because for a moment there I was concerned that all these little Thomas Jeffersons were going to run out of oxygen!
Fraser: Ray, there is no need for either sarcasm or panic. We’re in a eight by ten room with a ten foot ceiling. That gives us roughly 800 cubic feet of air. It is now 3:15. The time lock is not due to open until 8:00 a.m. So there is no danger of us suffocating for at least... [pause]   You know, Ray, in situations like this the Inuit--
Ray: Oh! We’re gonna die!
Fraser: We’re not gonna die, Ray.
Ray: Oh, yes, we are, Fraser. We’re gonna die protecting somebody else’s money!
Fraser: Ray, there is an inherent danger in all police work.
Ray: No, Fraser. What there is, is an inherent danger working with you.
Fraser: Well, you didn’t have to do this. You could’ve thrown your hands in the air like a baby--
Ray: That is what I was trying to do. I am not a baby!
Fraser: No, Ray. I know you. You were attempting to protect this institution--
Ray: No, I wasn’t!
Fraser: --and its employees with your life.
Ray: You see? That’s where you get confused. I’m not like you, Fraser. I don’t throw myself in the line of fire just so that some money-grubbing, back-stabbing bank doesn’t have to pay higher insurance premiums!
Fraser: You don’t really mean that.
Ray: Oh yes, I do.
Fraser: No, you don’t.
Ray: Yes, I do.
Fraser: I beg to--
Ray: In my heart and soul!
Fraser: I beg to differ--
*BANG*

[bank lobby; robbers are preparing to drill]
Norm: Could you slow down a bit, Harold? I’m looking forward to relaxing in jail this weekend.
Harold: I gotta drill eight holes through twelve inches of steel. Now, am I doing this or are you?
Lenny: I’m gonna go check on the truck. Why don’t you put this on the door.
[Lenny hands him an Under Construction sign]
Norm: What, I’m messenger boy?
Morgan: Go!

[Harold begins to drill]

[Riv; Francesca waits, polishing her fingernails and talking on her cell phone (bright pink, to match her outfit).   Music: ‘Cha Shooky Doo’ by Colin James.]
Francesca: No, Ma, I can’t go to the butcher’s...Because I’m busy...Ma, it’s always what you need and what Ray needs. What about what I need sometime?...What do I need? How about being treated like a valuable, respected human being for a change?...No, Ma. The butcher does not respect me. “Kiss me and I’ll give you a pork round” does not constitute respect... [sees the Under Construction sign going in the window]   Ma, I gotta go...Yeah, okay, Ma, fine. Yeah, pork chops and veal...Yes! Milk fed! [hangs up; then to Dief]   You stay here. And don’t touch the radio.

[as soon as she leaves, Dief jumps out of the window]

[inside the vault; drilling sounds]
Fraser: This is interesting, Ray. It’s a 1986 Windsor-Crayton Protector 2000.
Ray: Fraser, do you realize that we are going to die surrounded by millions of dollars?
Fraser: Ray, do you realize that this door has eight cantilever deadbolts countersunk into two feet of solid high carbon steel? And in the ten years this vault has been in active use, to my knowledge, it has never been breached.
Ray: I believe the Greeks have a word for this: hubris.
Fraser: Well, no, Ray, actually hubris is excessive pride or wanton insolence.
Ray: What about pathos?
Fraser: Well, pathos is a quality in an artistic representation which excites a feeling of pity or sadness.
Ray: Hmm. What about onomatopoeia?
Fraser: Well, onomatopoeia is wherein a word imitates the sound or action of the thing it describes, i.e. woof, bow wow, ribbit.
Ray: Irony!
[Fraser gives him a look]
Fraser: Now, the deadbolts are roughly four inches in diameter. If they’re drilling, it means they intend to fill the holes with some kind of high explosive and then blow the door off its hinges. No doubt they’ve already disabled the surveillance cameras, so there’s no fear of the police showing up, until the alarm has been triggered.
Ray: Which it won’t be until the door is blown.
Fraser: Which will be too late.
Ray: Which means we’ll probably die.
Fraser: Oh, we’re not gonna die, Ray. No doubt some foot patrol will chance upon our unhappy scene and notice that something is amiss.
Ray: In Chicago?
Fraser: That’s a good point.
Ray: Francesca!

[bank lobby; Norm is practicing pointing his gun at the hostages; drops it when Francesca knocks on the front door]
Francesca: Hey! Open up in there! Don’t hide from me, I see you!
Norm: We’re closed!
Francesca: What?!
Norm: Read the sign, lady!
Francesca: Hey! Don’t get smart with me, mister! Oh, oh what! So, you’re saying because I’m a woman I must be overreacting?
Norm: Don’t cause a scene, lady!
Francesca: A scene? Oh, no, no, this is not a scene. Now if I were screaming and stamping my feet for instance, LIKE THIS! [begins stomping her feet & shouting]   Yes! THIS would be making a SCENE! Come on! What, are you covering for him? Has he got some girl in there?! He does, doesn’t he! That low-life crumb is in there making a date with some bank teller!   Oh, this is RICH! A guy with a bad haircut flashes a badge, and the women are all over him!
[Morgan checks out the commotion]
Norm: Some nut says we got her brother.
Francesca: Look, you tell Mr. Fancy-Pants Detective, either he’s out here in two minutes, or I’m wrapping that car around a tree!
Morgan: Detective, huh?

[Norm opens door for her]
Francesca: Okay, where is he--
[they point their guns at her head]

[bank lobby; Morgan holds the phone out to Francesca]
Morgan: Talk.
Francesca: I refuse to be used as a pawn to make my brother forsake his duty.
Morgan: If that door doesn’t open in ten seconds... [waves her gun]
Francesca: Gimme that. [grabs the phone]

[inside the vault; the phone rings]

Ray : Phone!
Fraser: I was afraid of this.
[Vecchio lunges for the phone, Fraser wrestles him away]
Fraser: No, Ray! Ray, no!
Ray: What are you doing?
Fraser: It is them.
Ray: Of course it’s them. Who else has the phone number to the vault?
Fraser: Ray, they are going to try to talk to us. Convince us to open the door.
Ray: We can open it?
Fraser: Of course we can open it. The emergency release lever is right here. It’s standard equipment.
Ray: You knew this and you didn’t tell me?! [begins yanking on the release lever]
Fraser: Ray, would please just listen to me? This isn’t about the loss of millions of dollars from some bank! This is about the average ordinary citizen, who has placed their trust in an institution. We’re here to guard that trust.
Ray: Fraser, they’ll get their money back. It’s insured-- [lever comes off in his hand]   It’s broken.
Fraser: It’s not broken. I disabled it.
Ray: What did you do that for?
Fraser: In case one of us weakened.
[Vecchio makes a lunge for the phone again; Fraser wrestles it out of his hand and rips the cord from the wall]
Ray: What are you doing?
Fraser: It was Francesca.
Ray: Of course it’s Francesca! She’s in the bank!

[bank lobby]
Francesca: He-he hung up. I’m standing here with a gun to my head, and-and he won’t even come to the phone!

[inside the vault]

Ray : They’re gonna kill her, Fraser.
Fraser: No, they’re not, Ray. If they can’t speak to you, then they can’t tell you that they have Francesca. And if they can’t tell you that they have Francesca, then they can’t threaten you, rendering the point of a hostage moot.
Ray: But I know that they have her.
Fraser: But they don’t know that you know, you see? It’s the only way to protect her.
Ray: She’s my sister.
Fraser: She’s also a very intelligent young woman. Capable of handling herself in any given situation.
Ray: Do you really believe that?
Fraser: Not at all.
Ray: Good, me neither.

[bank lobby]
Francesca: DO something!
Morgan: Lady, I can’t threaten him if he won’t pick up the phone!
Francesca: So, keep dialing. What kind of bank robber are you?
Morgan: Look! You either shut up and sit down or I’m gonna shoot you.
Francesca: Yeah, like anyone would notice.

[Morgan shoves her to the floor]
Morgan: Don’t just stand there - DRILL!

[Harold resumes drilling]

[outside; Lenny notices Diefenbaker watching him]
Lenny: Out of here. Git! Go on!
[Dief runs off, but comes back after Lenny walks away, and sees the van’s back door is ajar]

[bank lobby]
Francesca: [to other hostages]   They’re gonna kill us all you know. A last prayer. A single bullet to the head. Tomorrow? We’ll be nothing but headlines... Yes. Headlines! And photographs! Oh! [dreamily]   Dead bodies on a blood-soaked rug. Family members prostrate with grief. A reporter chronicles their last brave moments.
[assistant manager begins to cry]
Francesca: Oh, oh no, don’t cry!   Hey! Let’s sing a marching song!

[inside the vault; we see only their feet]
Ray: Okay. So they have the drills, they have the explosives, and they have my sister. And we’ve got... What have we got, Fraser?
Fraser: We have our wits, Ray.
Ray: So they have the drills, they have the explosives and they have my sister. And we’ve got... What do we have, Fraser?
Fraser: Well, there’s always Diefenbaker, he’s ever alert to an emergency.

[van; Diefenbaker is nosing in a bag of chips]
Lenny: I said stay out of here! Get out!

[Dief jumps down]

 
[inside the vault]
Fraser: In fact, I think he will go straight for the nearest available help.

[street; Diefenbaker runs quickly...past a fire truck & crew. He keeps going...past several dozen citizens and a police officer issuing a traffic citation]

 

[inside the vault]
Ray: Okay, so they have the drills, they have the explosives and they have my sister...

[bank lobby; the hostages look bored, disgusted, confused]
Francesca: The first thing you have to watch out for is that Norwegian syndrome, because you cannot identify with them in any way. But not that you would, because you are brave innocent hostages and they’re unfeeling worms who should be stripped naked and hung upside down by their toes, but that’s later. Okay, in the meantime, I need you to listen to me very carefully.
Mr. Cooper: Excuse me. Who are you, anyway?

[street; Diefenbaker is still running...past several dozen more people]

 
[bank lobby; the drilling stops]
Morgan: You got it?
Harold: I can’t tell. I don’t know how deep the deadbolt is. I need the specs for the door.

[inside the vault; Fraser holds tuning fork to the door & listens]
Fraser: Now, I don’t have the specifications for the door, Ray. But I’ve been making calculations based on its thickness, the depth of the existing hole... [tunes again] ...and the reflection of the tonal input as it percusses against my tuning fork.
Ray: Where the hell did you get a tuning fork?
Fraser: That’s not important, Ray. What is important is that I have managed to ascertain that the bolts are eight point three inches from the outside surface.

[bank lobby]
Morgan : How far? [points her gun at Mr. Cooper]
Mr. Cooper: About eight inches.
Harold: We’re there, then. At nineteen point one minutes a bolt--

[inside the vault]
Fraser: ...nineteen point one minutes per bolt to drill the remaining holes. Another two minutes after that to set the charges, and then another minute to prime them--

[bank lobby]
Harold : --and one minute to prime them. That’s--

[inside the vault]
Fraser: Now that is one hundred and thirty minutes in total. The upshot of this, Ray, is that we need a plan.
Ray: Well, there is a plan, Fraser, and it goes something like this: They drill the door. They blow the door. They shoot us with automatic weapons. And we die.
Fraser: Mm-hmm. What about a happier plan, Ray? A plan in which we surprise them, we disarm them, and we rescue the hostages.
Ray: And we do all of this with a tuning fork? Look, Fraser, if I had a choice between one of their plans and one of yours, I’d choose theirs. It’s probably safer.

[bank lobby]
Francesca: Sure we’ll die painful grisly deaths, but it’ll be worth it! Because finally our families will respect us!

[assistant manager bursts out crying]

[inside the vault]
Fraser: You know, Ray, there’s only one way to break out of here, rescue your sister, and prevent this robbery.
Ray: Yeah, how’s that?
Fraser: It’d be dangerous. You’d be risking your life. You’d have to trust me implicitly.
Ray: Yeah? Well, I don’t trust you at all.
Fraser: You don’t really mean that, do you?
Ray: Oh, yes, I do. I mean, why should I trust you? In the last two years you’ve risked our lives 24 times.
Fraser: Boy, I had no idea it’d been that many.
Ray: Yeah, well it has.
Fraser: I didn’t realize you’d been counting.
Ray: Well, I just felt that I should, because you didn’t seem to pay any attention to it.
Fraser: Well, I’m sorry if it upset you, Ray.
Ray: I am not upset, I just wish you would ask me about it, let me know in advance.
Fraser: How far in advance?
Ray: Oh, I don’t know, Fraser, how ‘bout an hour?
Fraser: What if we’re in the middle of a crisis, Ray--
Ray: Just ask me.
Fraser: I’m asking you.
Ray: Well, I’ll have to think about it.
Fraser: Why?
Ray: ‘Cause I’ll just have to think about it, okay? God! Just...trying to get some rest!

[busy street; Diefenbaker still running in search of help]

[bank lobby; Francesca whispers into Norm’s ear]
Francesca: I know we’ve only known each other a brief time, but for some reason I feel a deep kinship towards you and your cause, and well, I know now that I wish to dedicate my life to whatever it is your life is dedicated to.
Norm: We’re stealing money, lady.
Francesca: Oh! [Norm points his gun at her]   Well I suppose that’ll do.
[he motions her to sit on the floor]

[busy street; Diefenbaker still running in search of help]

[inside the bank vault; Vecchio rests on the floor, Fraser is sitting next to him tapping expectantly, staring at Vecchio]
Ray: Okay. Okay! What is it? ...No, no, don’t tell me! Don’t tell me. Just do it, okay? Because if you tell me, two things are going to happen: one, I’m gonna know it’s stupid, and two, you’re gonna do it anyway. This way you can just do it and I won’t know that it’s stupid.
Fraser: So you’ve given this some thought?
Ray: Yes.
Fraser: And you’re quite sure?
Ray: Oh, I’m positive.
Fraser: All right.
[Fraser stands up, grabs the door lever and taps the sprinkler head; water pours down on them]
Ray: HEY! What the hell did you do that for?!
Fraser: Well, you said you didn’t want to know.
Ray: Yeah, well now I wanna know!
Fraser: Well, I’m not sure that I should tell you.
Ray: Well, tell me!
Fraser: You’re sure?
Ray: Yes!
Fraser: All right. As I mentioned earlier, they have 137 minutes to open this vault. Now they resumed drilling exactly 5 minutes and 27 seconds ago. That leaves them 131 minutes and 33 seconds. Now, taking into account the dimensions of this room, the size of this sprinkler head, and the rate of the flow of water, by the time they blow this door, this vault will be filled with water. And they will be met by a virtual tidal wave.
Ray: And where will we be in the meantime?
Fraser: Floating.
Ray: I realize that. Dead or alive?
Fraser: [pause]   Well, there should be sufficient air left.
Ray: How much is sufficient?
Fraser: [pause] An inch, give or take.
Ray: Oh, that much?
Fraser: What?
Ray: THAT MUCH?
Fraser: Oh yeah, yeah. That is, providing they maintain a constant rate of drilling.

[bank lobby]
Francesca: It’s now or never. [removes her jacket]   Auf wiedersehen . Hey! You with the drill! [rips open her blouse, revealing a bright red camisole]   Take me.
[Harold stops drilling and removes his goggles to get a better look]

[inside the vault]
Ray: And what if they stop drilling?

[consulate; Diefenbaker arrives and begins woofing and barking to the unresponsive sentry, at whom the boy and a friend are shooting spitwads; small white dots of paper cover one side of his face and Stetson]
Smaller boy: Maybe he’s stuffed.
[Dief barks again]

[inside the vault]
Ray: The backup plan?

[bank lobby; Harold resumes drilling while Lenny secures Francesca to a chair with duct tape]
Francesca: All right! So it was a desperate and foolish ploy. But someone has to stand up to you people. I’ll sacrifice anything, you know. My life, my honor, even my body.
Lenny: Look, I promise you, lady, nobody wants your body.
Francesca: Well, you say that now, but later when you’re tired, and frustrated, and the smell of sweat is in the air...
Morgan: Are you done yet?
Lenny: Will you shut up and stay put, please?
Morgan: You should have had her tied up in the first place.
[Francesca swivels around in her chair to face the other hostages]
Francesca: You see? Now I have them exactly where I want them. They think I’m nuts!  

[inside the vault; Vecchio is now up to his knees in water]
Ray: You know, I just can’t shake this feeling that we’re gonna die. Fraser?
[Fraser pops up out of the water, checks his watch and listens at the door]
Ray: How many was that?
Fraser: Six. Two more to go. All right, we’ve lost seven minutes. And at point two six cubic inches per second, that will leave us approximately... [pause]   Well...You know, Ray, there are worse things than dying.
Ray: Yeah? Name three.
Fraser: How about two?
Ray: All right.
Fraser: Living without honor, or dying without reason.
Ray: Which one would this be?
Fraser: Well, this wouldn’t be either of those, actually. This would be more like...death in the line of duty.
Ray: You know, I always thought duty was something you get paid to do. This is more like voluntary stupidity.
Fraser: Well, I’m sure there are some people who think that’s what good deeds are, Ray.
Ray: Well, aren’t they?
Fraser: Well, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.

[consulate; the church clock chimes, as boys continue to spitball]
Dief: Woof, woof, woof!
[suddenly the Mountie comes to life]
Constable: Trouble?
Dief: Woof! Woof!
Constable: Canadian?
Dief: Woof!
Constable: Lead on!

[Dief takes off, the Mountie hot on his heels]

[bank lobby; Norm prepares the explosive]
Norm: Get the detonator.

[street; Diefenbaker leads the way, the Mountie running full out to keep up]

[bank lobby; Norm inspects the detonator]

 

[inside the vault; the water is now waist deep]
Ray: The point is, Fraser, you almost get yourself killed for some stupid cause every other day and you never stop to ask yourself what are you getting out of this. Is someone paying you to do this? Or am I just some crazed do-gooder? Or, is God telling you to do this?
[Vecchio begins taking money out of a bag on the shelf]
Fraser: Ray! That is private property!
Ray: I don’t care! I am getting my twelve hundred and forty-two bucks. All right? That is what I’m getting out of this. But what about you? Do you know what you’re getting out of this? No, you don’t, do you?
Fraser: You know, Ray, it is simply a responsibility I assumed on when I put on the uniform.
Ray: Uniform, you don’t even like that uniform! They took away the uniform that you liked. And did you say anything? No! Not a word!

[street; Mountie & Dief still running... suddenly, an armed robber backs out of a store in front of them; the constable disarms the robber, tosses the gun and money bag back to the startled store owner and continues running after Dief]

[bank lobby; Harold pulls the drill away from the vault door]
Harold : We’re done.
Morgan: Blow it.

[Norm puts C-4 into the hole]

[street; Mountie is running full out, then suddenly pauses to help a group of preschool children cross the street]

[bank lobby; Lenny strings wire across the room; when he’s not looking, Francesca reaches out with her foot, pulls the cord behind her back, and begins to rub it against the back of the chair]
Francesca: [to hostages]   Think of me fondly.
[hostages begin to squirm]

 

[park; Mountie & Dief jump over a hedge or two, and he tips his hat to an elderly couple as he runs by]

[inside the vault; Vecchio and Fraser are now floating on their backs with their bare feet sticking up out of the water, using bags of money as floatation devices]
Ray: Admit it, Fraser. You feel unappreciated. Can you do this for me? Can you do this one small thing for me? Can you admit that at least once in your perfect existence you felt the need to put yourself before your duty? Because if you do that, I can float peacefully to my death.
Fraser: Why, Ray?
Ray: I just will, now humor me!
Fraser: All right. Uh. Occasionally, only very occasionally, I do feel s-- Is this really necessary?
Ray: Fraser. I am drowning on dry land.
Fraser: All right, Ray, all right. Occasionally I do feel...What was it?
Ray: Unappreciated.
Fraser: Unappreciated. Occasionally I do feel unappreciated.
Ray: You do?
Fraser: Occasionally.
Ray: Well, thank you! Good. So, from now on – well, for the next minute or two – can you try to stick up for yourself a bit more?
Fraser: Yes, I will try, Ray.

[bank lobby; Norm has finished installing the explosives]
Norm: We’re on.

[inside the vault; Vecchio and Fraser tread water, their faces inches from the ceiling]
Ray: Well, at least they won’t be gathered for nothing on Thursday. Hey, Benny!
Fraser: Yes, Ray?
Ray: My eulogy, I would have liked you to have delivered it.
Fraser: Well, I’m honored, Ray.
Ray: What would you have said?
Fraser: Well, let’s see. I think I would have said that you were a good friend and that you never failed me.
Ray: I didn’t, did I?
Fraser: Never. Well, except for that one time.
Ray: What time?
Fraser: You know, Ray to discuss it in a situation like this really would be considered nitpicking.
Ray: How did I fail you?
Fraser: You didn’t really fail me. I’ve almost forgotten about it.
Ray: Well, ten seconds ago you didn’t forget about it. You see, this is so like you. Here we are having a nice mano y mano and you have to ruin it by being honest.

[bank lobby; robbers have taken cover behind a partition]
Morgan: Do it.
[Norm depresses the button on the detonator and nothing happens]
Morgan: What now?
[they stand up and look toward the door; Lenny, Harold, and Norm begin walking toward it when Morgan notices that the cord has been pulled behind Francesca’s chair]
Francesca: What?
[behind her back she holds the split cord; the bare wires are barely an inch apart]
Morgan: You!
[she lunges toward Francesca causing her to flinch and the wires connect...the door explodes and Lenny, Harold, and Norm are thrown backwards onto the floor]

[inside the vault]
Ray: What was that?
Fraser: Our plan unfolding.

[bank lobby; the robbers pick themselves up off of the floor and approach the door... creaking noises, and a deep building rumble...]

[inside the vault]

Fraser : Ready?
[they duck under the water]

 

[bank lobby; the door falls down with the pressure... the three robbers are thrown backwards by the force of the rushing water, knocking them against a partition]
Francesca: [struggling to keep her feet out of the rushing water]   Forty-nine dollar shoes!
[Morgan rushes for the front door...she reaches it at the same time as the Mountie... they collide and are both knocked unconscious]
Dief: Woof!
[Vecchio and Fraser slide smoothly to a halt near the three unconscious robbers]

Fraser : Good work, Ray.
Ray: And you, Fraser.

 
[Vecchio and Fraser are untying the hostages]
Ray: I thought I told you to stay in the car.
Francesca: Oh, yeah, that’s gratitude.
Ray: For what?
Francesca: For thirty years of picking up socks, buying veal and kissing butchers.
Ray: Excuse me?
Francesca: And the next time I say five minutes, I mean five minutes! Clear?

[outside the bank; Dief waits beside the unconscious Mountie]
Ray: You see, Fraser, now this is how it’s done. The criminals are inside and we are outside. Now, do you think you can remember that next time?
Fraser: I’ll try, Ray.
Ray: Thank you. Is that a smile?
Fraser: No-no, of course not, of course not. Although, I will admit to a certain satisfaction.
Ray: It is a smile. Well, I’ll be!
Fraser: Be what, Ray?
Ray: It’s an expression.
Fraser: It means nothing to me.

[consulate; Fraser stands in front of Inspector Thatcher’s desk; the camera pans upward from his feet to reveal that he is again wearing the brown uniform]
Fraser: With respect, ma’am, I have always considered myself to be a diligent officer who’s conducted himself with loyalty and obedience. However, this uniform... I have worn this uniform with pride my entire career, as my father wore his and many before him. To me it is much more than just a-a piece of cloth. It is a tradition that links me to every officer who has ever worn it and acquitted himself with honor and integrity. While it is not the current fashion, I would be hard-pressed to change it without feeling that I had, in some way, betrayed that tradition. And so, in that this uniform, while not in common usage, is still regulation issue, and in that in most postings the choice of uniform rests with the officer and not with the commander... Well, I-I-I would prefer... That is, if it’s all the same, um... Actually I-I-I don’t much care... Ma’am, I will not change my uniform.
Thatcher: You’re fired.
Fraser: Understood.

<Doo Mah>

 

 

End