Gamble

"Gamble"

Screenplay by Joshua Allen

"Gamble" FADE IN: DESERT MESA - DUSK Bathed in twilight. There are no sounds here. A lonely wooden shack sits desolate in the plains below. One black van approaches the shack. It stops. DOOR OF THE VAN Opens. Man emerges dressed in nice, black suit. He puts a cigarette in his mouth. The back door of the van slides open. A second man dressed in a suit steps out. He plucks the cigarette from the first man's lips. This is Alexander. He points at the shack. The other man looks at it, back at Alexander. Alexander breaks the cigarette in half, shakes his head. Another man emerges, head covered by a black bag. ALEXANDER You can remove the bag, Mitch. We're where we are. Mitch removes the bag from his head. He looks around. MITCH And where's that? Sees the lighter in the other van driver's hand. Cigarette?

MITCH

The driver ignores him. Alexander starts toward the shack. We stay on the driver, who stands by the van, watches the men leave. When Alexander is out of sight, he lights a cigarette and flips the shack the middle finger. INSIDE THE SHACK Mitch is visible just behind him. He places a stick of mint Trident in his mouth and slowly begins to chew. MITCH I'm not impressed.

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3. ALEXANDER By a door? You'd have to be stupid.

Over Alexander's shoulder, Mitch's perspective, there is a mound of dirt inside the shack to which someone has affixed a door. Along the walls behind and to the sides of the mound are a few shelves littered with an assortment of dusty old jars. The mound of dirt is roughly five feet high. The wooden door looks old, but not ancient. Besides this mound and the jars, there is nothing in the shack. Alexander pulls the door open. Wind blows out with a whoosh. Through the door, darkness. Almost liquid black. Alexander produced a small penlight on his keychain. The light past the threshold falls on nothing. A curiously empty sound is all that can be heard. Go on then.

ALEXANDER

MITCH I don't know man. Why can't I see inside? ALEXANDER That's what you're going to tell me, Mitch. After a beat. You got rope?

MITCH

MINUTES LATER Mitch is tying a rope around his waist, standing at the threshold of the doorway. The driver and Alexander and another man, the driver of the other van, actually, are all holding the rope. Mitch looks at the doorway. Here I go.

MITCH

The three men holding the rope brace themselves. Mitch steps through the threshold. The rope immediately goes limp. The third man runs screaming. Alexander picks up the rope and pulls it until he gets to the end. The

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end is perfectly sheared as though by a machine. He stands, goes to the threshold. INT. LOOKING OUT THROUGH DOORWAY Alexander stands at the doorway, waiting. After a beat, he closes the door with obvious regret. EXT. SHACK The driver gets into to the van and drives away. Alexander looks around, then lights a cigarette. He climbs into the other van. A wind blows, carrying a strange a-melodious tune. The air is passing through the car window slightly ajar. Alexander breathes relief, then continues smoking. He is staring at the shack as though still waiting. He shakes his head and drives away. INT. SHACK The door opens slowly, tune begins again. Pan to the entrance of the someone walking across

soundlessly. The a-melodious slowly from the mysterious door shack as though following the dirt.

EXT. SHACK DOOR Opens. The a-melodious tune creeps out, but we can still see nothing. FURTHER BACK Looking down on the shack, still nothing. FURTHER AWAY Nothing. LAS VEGAS - SEVERAL DAYS LATER View on feet walking through a crowd. Details emerge as it moves, that make it apparent this is an airport or a busy bus terminal. VOICE OVER (TANK) Dear Molly, I feel like an alien that walks among people. Insects stream past me. I want to die. I

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5. stole seven hundred dollars from you for airfare and cab money...

Feet stop at a news stand. Pan up the legs and body to the back of a man's head. He finishes his transaction and turns to face us. He has longish hair and a dirty face. This is Tank. ...Love always, Tank. Tank moves toward us, blotting out all other vision. Cut to door to a cheap, crappy apartment opens. We see an old man with a tremor in his lip at the door. He points into the room. Tank stands behind him. This it.

OLD MAN

TANK Where's his stuff? The old man gestures into the room. TANK None of it walked away? OLD MAN Stuff don't take to walkin. Tank walks past the man into the room. He goes immediately to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. There are three cartons of eggs stacked on each other next to a stack of six cigarette cartons next to a rack of casino chips. Tank picks up one of the chips. View of chip. "Gold Mine" is written on it in bubbly gold print. Tank puts the chip in his pocket. TANK How much does he owe you? OLD MAN Three hundred for the room. He ain't paid me since July. That's one...two...three....four months up to date.

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6. TANK Five to keep it one more month?

The old man shrugs. Tank extracts the rack of chips. He starts counting out stacks of hundreds. OLD MAN I ain't taking that. What? I want money.

TANK OLD MAN

TANK This has got to be two thousand in chips. OLD MAN Can't spend 'em at Piggly Wiggly. Don't want them. Tank sighs and returns the chips to the rack. INT. GOLD MINE CASINO Tank is cashing in the rack of chips to a surprised cashier. She runs them through the machine. CASHIER How you want 'em? TANK Hundreds. A few twenties, though. The Cashier counts out seventeen hundred dollar bills, then five twenties. Tank scoops up the money and rolls it, stuffs it into his front pocket so that the bulge is visible. CASHIER You want an escort back to your motel, sir? Tank tips a nod of a an invisible cowboy hat and walks away without answering. Wanders over toward a poker table. It's a low stakes game. Lots of people are around, all staying a respectful distance. Tank pauses at the edge of the

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crowd and takes another step forward, craning his neck as though to see what card the woman nearest to him is holding. A security guard immediately appears, dressed in a suit, wearing an earpiece and a steely expression. Step back sir.

GUARD

Tank obeys. TANK Say, has Mitch Garston been in yet? I hear he's playing here now. The guard doesn't answer, he leaves. Tank wanders away. He sits down at a blackjack table. He waits for the hand to finish, then puts a hundred dollar bill conspicuously drawn from his pocket down on the felt. TANK I can buy my chips here, right? The dealer nods, passing a small stack to him. This is a low stakes table and his stack is already bigger than most of the old people sitting near him. TANK (to the dealer, when his turn comes around.) Did you ear that Mitch Garston won a big pot the other night. He playing at this table? DEALER Hit or hold, sir? Uh, hit.

TANK

She plays his card, it's a king. Twenty-five

DEALER

TANK About shift change, right? Want to go for a drink?

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The dealer whispers into her collar. After a second, another security guard appears. GUARD Come with me, sir. TANK (to the dealer) Detention for me. MINUTES LATER Tank is following just behind the security guard. He leads him into a still white room. The guard leaves without a word. The door closes behind him. Tank tries the handle, finds it locked. He doesn't wait long, the door opens again, Alexander comes in. ALEXANDER You got my attention, sir. Have a seat. Tank sits on a padded chair. Alexander on another. TANK Who the fuck are you? ALEXANDER You're looking for Mitch Garston. I'm the man who can tell you where he is. And you? TANK Paul Garston. Mitch's brother. ALEXANDER That's what you been telling people? TANK It's the truth. A beat. ALEXANDER Get out of my casino, whoever you are. You come back here, I'm going to have my guys break your thumbs.

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9. TANK (unfazed) That would end up a tragedy for someone.

APARTMENT BUILDING Tank counts out a fifteen hundred dollar bills to the old man. Square?

TANK

Old man pockets the money. OLD MAN Reckon you should sign a new lease. You're going to be stayin here, anyway. TANK I'm just holding it for my brother is all. He'll come back. OLD MAN Probably would have come back by now. INT. MITCH'S APARTMENT Tank has three pistols, field-stripped, laid on a TV tray in front of him. The are obviously old, worn guns, but look serviceable. He is writing in a notebook with a dull nub of a pencil VOICE OVER (TANK) Dear Molly. I bought a bunch of guns. Mitch still hasn't come back... He opens a briefcase at his feet a crack and peers in, counting. ...Two thousand dollars worth of weaponry. Enough to take on Russia. Love always, Tank. Tank tears out the paper from his spiral bound notebook. He folds it carefully into thirds and puts it in an envelope, which he addresses with the pencil. A knock at the door.

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Tank opens it. The old man is standing there, wearing a going-out hat. OLD MAN What was it you wanted me to mail? Tank hands him the envelope. OLD MAN Didn't your momma teach you to write addresses in ink? Tank hands the old man a fiver. TANK I want the change this time. The old man tries to look into the room. Tank closes the door before the old man can see the guns. THE OLD MAN Still outside the door. He frowns and leaves. TANK Looks down at the old man leaving. He brings a pair of ancient binoculars to his eyes. Long shot of businessmen getting out of a limo, laughing, going into building down the street. Binocular view pans to mass of people, streaming past each other. View on Tank. Confused. He goes back to the bed, takes a dusty, cracked shoulder holster out of the bag and begins to put his guns back together. INT. GOLD MINE CASINO View on the small-stakes blackjack dealer that Tank talked with earlier. She is stoically dealing a hand. MINUTES LATER She is in a bathroom, wiping the makeup off her eyes with a damp paper towel. Finished, she exits the bathroom and the motel wearing street clothes looking like anybody. EXT. GOLD MINE CASINO

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The dealer emerges. She doesn't bother to hail a cab, she can't afford one and prefers to walk. She begins strolling down the street. Face on view of dealer as she enjoys a warm desert breeze in her face. We can see Tank behind her, barely concealed by the crowd. His posture indicates he is carrying something heavy. Tank suddenly breaks through the crowd and with two long strides is right behind her. We see him throw his arm up and whistle for a cab. The girl, surprised by this is momentarily stunned. Tank wraps his arm around her waist and whispers something in her ear. The girl goes first into the cab. Tank follows quickly so she can't escape out the other side. CAB TANK (to driver) North Shaumber, no hurry. GIRL Let's see the money, then. Tank shows her a roll of hundreds. He flips through several to prove they are indeed all hundreds. GIRL What do you want to know? TANK I'm looking for my brother, Mitch Garston. I have it on good authority he liked to play your casino. GIRL Not the blackjack tables, certainly not for pennies. TANK I didn't see any high-stakes poker tables. GIRL No, Gold Mine isn't licensed for them. Besides, who said anything about poker?

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12. TANK Mitch loved poker. GIRL He loved chess, too. I used to see him sitting in the restaurant playing the old men that gather in there. TANK So you noticed him. GIRL You don't look much like him, for a brother. TANK Half brother. I haven't heard from him in almost six months. GIRL I want out up here. I earned my money. TANK (to driver) Pull it over here.

The cab comes to a stop. Tank peels off a couple of bills and hands them to her. She starts to get out, hesitates. She turns back. GIRL I don't know you. I didn't know Mr. Garston. All I know is rumors. Rumor is that Mr. Alexander has some kind of alternative gambles he does. Secretly. Invitation only. Crazy shit from what I here. But I don't believe the rumors. Why not?

TANK

GIRL The world's messy enough? What needs to be added? She leaves. Tank motions to the driver to keep going.

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13. TANK Back to the casino please. DRIVER Sounded like it didn't work out for you, buddy. How's that? Your girl.

TANK DRIVER

TANK It's worth a hundred if the girl never existed. DRIVER Yeah, a hundred don't look like much to a man like you. Two hundred.

TANK

The driver taps the pay slot. Tank feeds two hundred dollars through the slot. TANK (to driver) I hate people. DRIVER People ain't keen on you either. APARTMENT Tank sits on the edge of his bed, unshaven, eyes haggard, wearing only a tank top and boxers. He is writing in his notebook again. VOICE OVER It's unbearably hot here, Molly. I spent almost a thousand dollars today on information. I may have found Mitch. Then this will be over. Love always, Tank. A knock at the door. Tank quickly folds the paper and puts it in an envelope. View on the envelope. The address is in ink now. It is an address in Vermont. The name line reads only "Molly."

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View on Tank, unlocking the door. TANK I'm not giving you more money today... He squints, fumbles with the chain lock. He is so tired, coordination has started to decay. ...you take it out of the five I have you yesterday. (to himself) or the five the day before that. The door bursts inward suddenly. A thick bulldog man, the security guard from the Gold Mine Casino stands in the doorway. He is wearing dark shades, holding a gun. Dying time.

THUG

Tank rolls right, toward the kitchenette. Bullets pound the floor where Tank was lying. The only sound the gun makes is a airy chug. The thug takes a step in and gets catches a cast iron skillet on the shoulder. View on Tank, doesn't hesitate, doesn't think about his guns, just hits the thug again with the skillet. He quickly goes to his bed and pulls on his pants and a shirt. He picks up his briefcase, moves toward the door. Another thug appears. Eyes go wide, seeing the bashed head of his comrade. He brings his gun up. Tank charges with the briefcase. A bullet hits the case. The case flies open, guns and bullets pouring out. Tank swings the case. It hits the thug, knocking him off balance. Tank lets the case fly out of his grip and charges, hitting the man in the midriff. Both men go to the ground. Tank pounds with his fists into the man's jaw until he quits struggling. OLD MAN I know who you are.

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Tank looks up, fists raised. The old man is standing in the hallway, his going-out hat on. Tank lowers his fists and grabs for one of his smaller guns that is on the floor nearby. OLD MAN You're Tank Werner. You were a welter weight. I didn't recognize you until I saw the fists a flying Tank aims his gun at the old man. TANK No. You didn't recognize me at all. The old man holds his hands up. OLD MAN What you're asking I can't do. Not with any sort of reliability. A beat. Tank lowers the gun TANK Give me a head start? OLD MAN They already been called. Tank stuffs his gun into his waistband and runs down the stairs, out the front door. Police sirens are audible in the distance. Tank collects himself, puts his hands into his pocket and disappears into a crowd of passersby. MINUTES LATER POLICE OFFICER You say this man was a tenant of yours? Old man shrugs. He looks a little dazed. OLD MAN He said he was Mitch Garston's brother. Mr. Garston is the name on the lease. POLICE OFFICER In all likelihood, Mr. Lopez, this man was not at all related to Mr. Garston.

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16. OLD MAN I only know what he said. I had no reason to doubt it. POLICE OFFICER Can you give me a description of the man, any identifying details. OLD MAN No. No, I guess I'll probably need a good little while to think on it. The shock of this mess, you know. I'm an old man.

Officer puts a kindly hand on the old man's shoulder. POLICE OFFICE Take all the time you need. TANK In a car, driving through Las Vegas. View on rearview mirror. A black car changes lanes when he does. View from Tank's car. He blows a just-turned-red light to make a left turn. He hurries down the street, takes a few quick turns. View of the sign for the post office. Tank, relieved, pulls into the parking lot. He drops the letter into the blue collection box. MINUTES LATER View on Tank from above, moving through a crowd in a bus station. He reaches a wall of lockers and opens one with a key. In it is a duffle bag. He unzips the bag. He digs in it for a moment, then pulls out a solid roll of money. He smiles. Then his smile decays into a frown. Close on the money. The paper band securing the roll says "Gold Mine Casino." Tank jumps to his feet. View on a several security guards and men in suits coming at him from all directions.

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Tank starts to dash left, but a big man appears. He spins, sees a gun. Tank puts his hands up. Okay. Okay.

TANK

INT. GOLD MINE CASINO OFFICE In a very nice office. Tank is handcuffed, in a chair. Tank's POV, Alexander enters view and sits on a large leather covered chair. ALEXANDER We're inextricably bonded, you and I. TANK I find a big knife helps get things extricable. ALEXANDER You have murdered two men. And an old man, owner of your building. Tank's jaw clenches, but he stays impassive Yes, it appears that someone, presumably you, snuck into the old man's apartment after the police left and cut his throat with a hack saw. Alexander mimes the attack, giving a hard jerk to show the force that would have been needed. But simply by holding you here, now, without turning you over to the police, I am committing a crime myself. If I let you go now and the cops get you, I'd be in jail ten minutes later. TANK So we're buddies. ALEXANDER Your name is Melvin 'Tank' Werner. No relation to Mitch Garston. You were a boxer for about a week. Got walloped about six times, took it

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18. hard, quit the business. Since then, I understand from my friends that you've had a lucrative life as a hired killer. TANK Not me, brother. I deliver flowers. ALEXANDER I see. You're worried this is a setup. Well, let me assure you it is not. I'll prove it. When I had the old man killed, the old man who owned your building. The old man Mr. Dioner Lopez...

Alexander looks around as though making sure the sky won't fall on him. When I had the old man's throat ripped out with a hack saw I had a reason. You see, I've been having him help me tamper with federal mail. Alexander holds up an envelope with a penciled address to Vermont. He rips it open. Dear Molly--touching--Two thousand dollars worth of weaponry. (to Tank) Two thousand dollars? I saw your weapons, Mr. Werner. You overpaid. (read) Yada yada. Mitch still hasn't come back yet. (to Tank) That's the part I can't get my head around. You came here to kill Mitch. But if he's been missing for six months, why would you think you needed to kill him? TANK You're Sherlock Holmes. You tell me.

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19. ALEXANDER Mitch was always a gambler. He and I used to place wagers on everything.

A beat. You don't even want to hear the things we used to bet on. The things we used to be spectators of. TANK I've spectated myself a time or two. ALEXANDER You understand. A beat. I find that when you look at the world a certain way, with a certain frame of mind, you can discover things. Not just people or ideas, but actual things. But you have to really look for them. TANK What, like your cock? ALEXANDER Someday, maybe you'll get to see my menagerie. Not today. Beat A year ago I found a door. In a shack in the desert. A door imbedded into a mound of dirt. A normal, rectangular, if slightly short, door. TANK What was on the other side. ALEXANDER Enter Mitch. I could tell, through the slow sure way of people, that Mitch was growing bored with gambling. I thought maybe he was ready to up the ante. I put him on twenty-four surveillance. I watched him go through the

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20. quotidian of his life. I watched him shit, eat, masturbate. All of it, I watched. In every last movement of his being I could tell this was a man needing a new thrill. So I asked him if he would go through the door. TANK Muslims don't work that hard finding suicide bombers. ALEXANDER You're mistaken. But that's beside the point. It was more for me. I had found a match in Mitchell Garston, a man as equal to the task of gambling as I. If he was losing his will, perhaps it foreshadowed my own waning interest in sport. Where were we if that happened? So, I challenged him partly to challenge myself. TANK So what? What's the point in telling me this. ALEXANDER He went through the door and disappeared. He is gone, Mr. Werner. You are free to leave Las Vegas. Your job is done for you. The wager for Mitch was his life, and he lost. There is no one to kill. I have determined you are no threat to me. So now, please leave my city. TANK (surprised) Square? Square.

ALEXANDER

THE END