The 2130
EXT. RYDER HOME - DENVER, CO - NIGHT
One a.m. In a swanky suburb of Denver, Colorado, an expensive sports car (a
Ford Cobra) pulls into the driveway of a large luxurious home.
In a second-story room above the driveway, the lights are lit.
CUT TO:
INT. GARAGE - NIGHT
The car pulls to a stop. The driver, a smartly-dressed teenage girl named
LAURIE RYDER kills the engine and stares straight ahead for a moment, lost in
thought. She looks worried. Stepping out of the car, Laurie begins to walk
toward the house. Seeing the lights burning in the second-story room, she
stops, makes a decision, and hurries to climb some nearby stairs.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SECOND-STORY ROOM - NIGHT
The modest room belongs to none other than RICHARD KIMBLE, America's most
elusive interstate fugitive. He sits at a desk, writing a letter. Upon
hearing a KNOCK at his door, he stops writing, covers the letter with a handy
chauffeur's cap, rises, and crosses to the door.
KIMBLE
Yes?
LAURIE RYDER (o.s.)
Jack, i-it's Laurie. I've got to talk to you.
Reluctantly, Kimble opens the door. An agitated Laurie rushes in.
LAURIE RYDER
Jack, you've got to help me.
KIMBLE
What's wrong?
LAURIE RYDER
It's the car. Another fender.
KIMBLE
Laurie, it's one o'clock in the morning. Come
on, we'll talk about it tomorrow.
LAURIE RYDER
I know it's late. I-- I-I didn't realize it
but-- It's not really a bad dent. Would you
tell Dad that you did it?
KIMBLE
Would I tell him what?
LAURIE RYDER
Look, he's gonna kill me if he finds out. You
remember how mad he got the last time? He said
he wouldn't let me drive the car for a year.
KIMBLE
Laurie, if I take the blame for you, I'm not
helping you.
LAURIE RYDER
(deeply disappointed)
Ohhh, it's too soon after the last time. He's
gonna be furious.
Laurie sinks into a chair and looks imploringly at Kimble.
LAURIE RYDER
Please, Jack.
KIMBLE
Laurie...
LAURIE RYDER
(rises and confronts him)
Look, I know what I'm asking you is wrong. But
there are a lot of things wrong between Dad and
me. And not all his fault either. Help me once
-- just this one time -- please... I don't want
him to hate me.
(beat)
Jack, I promise. It'll never happen again.
Kimble thinks it over and finally relents, picking up his jacket off a chair.
KIMBLE
Let's look at the car.
Kimble and a relieved Laurie exit.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. GARAGE - DAY
The next morning. Kimble's employer (and Laurie's father), DR. MARK RYDER
looks over the damaged fender. Ryder is a distinguished, bespectacled,
middle-aged man. Kimble, now dressed in full chauffeur regalia, is
distinctly uncomfortable at telling this little white lie.
DR. RYDER
I appreciate your honesty, Jack. I probably
wouldn't've even noticed it if you hadn't
pointed it out.
KIMBLE
I'd like to pay for the repairs, sir.
DR. RYDER
Oh, forget it. I'll be leaving in about ten
minutes. Will you bring the car around front,
please?
KIMBLE
Yes, sir.
Ryder leaves the garage. Kimble, after taking a last look at the sports
car's damaged fender, gets into the car parked next to it -- the doctor's far
more conservative black sedan -- and backs out of the garage.
CUT TO:
EXT. RYDER HOME - DAY
Kimble backs the sedan out of the garage. At the end of the driveway, Laurie
stands with schoolbooks in hand. She waves to Kimble before he drives the
car up a semi-circular driveway that curves around to the Ryder front door.
On the street, Laurie's classmates drive up. She gets in their car and they
head off to school.
Kimble removes his chauffeur's cap and waits in the sedan by the front door.
Behind him, a police car appears and pulls into the Ryders' driveway.
Kimble watches nervously as two plainclothes detectives emerge from the car.
One heads for the garage, the other approaches the front door. Kimble tenses
up. As the 1ST DETECTIVE approaches the front door, he spots Kimble sitting
in the nearby sedan and joins him.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
(flashes his badge)
Morning.
KIMBLE
Morning.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
Who drives the little car?
KIMBLE
Miss Ryder.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
The doctor's daughter?
KIMBLE
That's right.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
Was she driving it last night?
KIMBLE
I don't know.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
Is she here now?
KIMBLE
No, she just left for school.
The 2ND DETECTIVE arrives, having just checked out the garage.
2ND DENVER DETECTIVE
(to the 1st Detective)
Right front fender has a dent.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
Hmm...
(to Kimble)
Doctor home?
KIMBLE
Yes, sir. Is there something wrong?
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
Well, hit-and-run. A man's in the hospital and
it looks like that car put him there. Thank
you.
Kimble looks extremely uncomfortable. The two detectives walk up to the
front door and ring the bell. Kimble wonders what to do. A maid answers the
front door.
1ST DENVER DETECTIVE
We'd like to see Doctor Ryder, please.
The maid allows the detectives entry. As soon as she shuts the door, Kimble
releases the brake on the sedan and silently coasts down the circular
driveway. The diabolically portentous voice of an omniscient NARRATOR has a
pithy remark for every occasion, and this is no exception:
NARRATOR (v.o.)
If you are Richard Kimble, you lead a
complicated life. However, certain decisions
are simple: when the police start getting
involved, you don't wait around to see what
happens.
At the bottom of the driveway, Kimble engages the engine and SQUEALS off down
the road.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. RYDER HOME - DAY
That afternoon. Laurie returns from school to find the sedan parked out
front and a uniformed man on a motorcycle just departing the premises. She
rushes into the house.
CUT TO:
INT. RYDER HOME - DAY
In his well-appointed den, Dr. Ryder speaks into the telephone.
DR. RYDER
That's right. He left the car at the gas
station. The one just beyond the three
point...
Laurie enters the den, unnoticed by her father.
DR. RYDER
Yes, about twelve-thirty... Oh, and,
Sergeant, if you want to question the
attendant, he's at the gas station now. His
name is Ernest Roblee... You're welcome,
Sergeant.
Ryder hangs up.
LAURIE RYDER
Hi, Dad.
Ryder condescendingly pats her on the cheek.
DR. RYDER
Run along, honey.
Ryder moves to the window, lost in thought
LAURIE RYDER
Was that the police?
Ryder stares out the window, clenching his fist.
LAURIE RYDER
Was there something wrong with the car?
DR. RYDER
Not with the car. With Jack Davis.
Ryder starts pacing the room.
LAURIE RYDER
What happened to him?
DR. RYDER
Nothing yet. He took the sports car last night
and almost killed a man with it.
LAURIE RYDER
What?
DR. RYDER
Had the gall to tell me he dented the fender in
the parking lot.
LAURIE RYDER
How do you know he hit somebody with it?
DR. RYDER
Witnesses. Someone saw it happen. And enough
of the license plate to report it to the
police.
LAURIE RYDER
Where is he now?
DR. RYDER
He's running. Left the car in the gas station--
The phone RINGS and Ryder picks up. As he speaks, Laurie sets her
schoolbooks and purse on a table with a chessboard.
DR. RYDER
(into the phone)
Hello?... Yes.... Kimble?... No. No, I don't--
Oh, wait a minute. A Doctor Richard Kimble?...
Yes. Yes, of course I remember.... Yes, I
see....
Ryder hangs up.
DR. RYDER
Laurie, do you know who our chauffeur was? He
was a murderer. A wife-killer.
LAURIE RYDER
Jack?
DR. RYDER
He was found guilty and sentenced. Then, he
escaped.
(bangs his fist angrily)
Can you imagine that? Right under my own roof!
Well, it's my own fault. I should have checked
his references.
LAURIE RYDER
How do you know that he's this doctor?
DR. RYDER
Fingerprints, all over his room. A doctor! He
was supposed to be dedicated to saving lives.
Do you realize that it's been two, almost three
years, since he got away? All that time,
running around loose -- the police haven't
been able to track him down.
(a sudden inspiration strikes him)
Yes! Of course! Of course!
(picks up phone, dials)
Operator? Uh, this is Doctor Mark Ryder. I
want to place a call to the State Attorney
General... Thank you, I'll wait.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. PAWN SHOP - DAY
That afternoon. A cluttered pawnshop run by a middle-aged LADY. She fusses
with some very cheap clothes as Kimble emerges from a dressing room carrying
his chauffeur's uniform. He's now outfitted in some traveling duds: jeans,
work shirt, and a windbreaker. [I.e., his usual working man's clothes (the
same ones he always wears, thus allowing for the economic re-use of stock
footage from earlier episodes).]
PAWN SHOP LADY
(off his new outfit)
Like it was made for ya!
KIMBLE
How much do I owe you?
PAWN SHOP LADY
(gets behind counter
to write receipt)
Ten bucks.
KIMBLE
(offers his uniform in trade)
Uh... how 'bout this?
PAWN SHOP LADY
Ha! Just what I need, a chauffeur's uniform.
I must've gotten ten calls for one yesterday.
The only thing I need worse is a suit of armor,
size thirty-eight short. Ha ha ha ha...
Kimble puts the uniform on the pawnshop counter.
KIMBLE
(apologetic)
I haven't got ten bucks.
She makes a face and moves out from behind the counter. But seeing his
forlorn look, she stops and turns to him hopefully.
PAWN SHOP LADY
You got seven?
KIMBLE
Yes.
Kimble fishes seven bucks in bills and change from his pocket and hands it
over. He's left with a few coins.
PAWN SHOP LADY
Okay.
Kimble heads for the exit as the Lady looks over the uniform.
PAWN SHOP LADY
Maybe I can find some tall kid who'll buy it
for Halloween. Ha ha ha ha ha ha...
CUT TO:
EXT. MEDICAL CENTER - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
A gigantic, seven or eight story tall, medical building. Most of its long
rectangular windows are lit. A plaque reads: MEDICAL RESEARCH CENTER.
CUT TO:
EXT. MEDICAL CENTER - LOBBY - NIGHT
The place is nearly empty. A receptionist is on duty. A nondescript man
enters the lobby and walks into a computer lab. Sitting in the lobby with
two bulky briefcases and a bundle of file folders is a tense LIEUTENANT
PHILIP GERARD -- the Indiana police detective obsessed with the capture of
Richard Kimble. He sits on the edge of a chair with his hand to his mouth,
checks a wall clock against his watch, and rises impatiently. In the
computer LAB, Ryder appears, also checking his watch. Ryder sees Gerard in
the lobby and joins him.
DR. RYDER
Lieutenant Gerard, I'm Doctor Ryder.
(they shake hands)
Sorry to keep you waiting. Glad you could
come.
GERARD
That's quite all right.
DR. RYDER
(off Gerard's briefcases)
You brought the Kimble files with you?
GERARD
(sharply)
I usually follow my orders.
Ryder gives Gerard a look.
GERARD
I'm sorry if I'm a bit edgy but I'm really not
used to this cloak-and-dagger business.
DR. RYDER
What do you mean?
GERARD
My instructions were to come to Denver and hand
the Kimble files over to you. That was all.
DR. RYDER
I think I can unravel the mystery for you.
(off the briefcases)
Here let me take one of these. We can get
started right away.
Ryder grabs a briefcase and starts for the computer lab.
GERARD
Uh, excuse me, Doctor. Get started on what?
DR. RYDER
Well, catching Kimble, of course.
Now it's Gerard's turn to give Ryder a long look. Ryder walks into the lab.
Gerard grabs the other briefcase and the bundle of file folders and follows.
CUT TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Gerard enters and looks over the lab. A gigantic 1960s-era computer (about
the size of Rhode Island) dominates the room. Technicians busy themselves
with various tasks.
DR. RYDER
(off the computer)
Impressive, isn't it?
Gerard nods.
DR. RYDER
I'm sorry about the night work, Lieutenant, but
these machines are in constant use during the
day and I have a pretty full schedule myself.
I'm sorry you were kept in the dark but
apparently the Attorney General felt that the
fewer people who knew about it the better.
GERARD
You really expect to catch Richard Kimble with
this electronic brain?
DR. RYDER
It's not a brain, Lieutenant, it's a computer.
A digital computer known as the 2130. It
doesn't think, it computes. I've been using
this and machines like it for several years
now in medical research. We've had some
remarkable results.
GERARD
I'm sure you have, Doctor. But have you ever
tried to compute the whereabouts of an escaped
criminal?
DR. RYDER
No, but we'll find Richard Kimble, Lieutenant.
Now, the first thing we must do is try to
establish a pattern.
GERARD
(dismissive)
He has no pattern. If he had, we'd've caught
him long ago.
DR. RYDER
We all have patterns, Lieutenant -- whether we
realize it or not. And a man who's been a
fugitive for several years, is likely to have a
very definite one.
GERARD
Doctor, I assume this project may take several
days, a week, maybe longer.
DR. RYDER
Perhaps.
GERARD
So, before we start, it's only right I should
tell you how I feel about it.
DR. RYDER
You don't think it'll work?
GERARD
That's right.
DR. RYDER
But nothing else has worked either, has it,
Lieutenant? So why not approach it with an
open mind? So, on the basis of a slight lack
of confidence in each other, let's begin at the
beginning.
Ryder and Gerard move to a nearby desk to get to work.
DR. RYDER
Now, then -- where and when did Kimble first
escape you?
As they talk, we PAN TO the 2130 clicking away ominously nearby.
FADE OUT
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - WEST OF DENVER, CO - DAY
FADE IN on Kimble walking down a lonely road, the next morning. Mountains
dominate the landscape behind him. A car approaches and Kimble sticks out
his thumb to hitch-hike. The car, filled with teens, pulls to a stop just
ahead of him. The car door opens invitingly and a grateful Kimble hurries to
climb in. But at the last moment, the door SLAMS shut and the car ROARS off.
The young people in the car LAUGH their heads off. A disappointed Kimble
watches them speed away.
A concerned middle-aged man, named TIM OATES, rushes from his trailer --
parked in a wooded area by the side of the road -- and joins Kimble.
TIM OATES
You all right?
KIMBLE
Yeah, I think. They're nice kids.
TIM OATES
Yeah. Whyn'tcha come back and have a cup of
coffee with us?
KIMBLE
(sees the trailer)
Okay. I'd like that.
Kimble and Tim Oates walk over to the trailer where Tim's wife MILLIE and
their three children are eating breakfast.
TIM OATES
Millie, looks to me like this man could use a
cup of coffee.
(to Kimble)
Sit down.
MILLIE OATES
All right.
Millie pours the coffee as Kimble and Tim Oates sit.
TIM OATES
My name is Oates. I'm Tim. My wife, Millie.
Alan, Bonnie, and Charlie. You get it?
KIMBLE
Get what?
Millie gives Kimble his cup of coffee and starts mixing some pancake batter.
Kimble drinks as he listens to Tim Oates.
TIM OATES
Alan, Bonnie, and Charlie -- A-B-C. Next one's
Douglas. Uh, or Debbie -- depending on what it
is... I got a bet with my wife we can get up to
William.
Tim gives Millie a playful whack on her rear end.
MILLIE OATES
(embarrassed)
Tim!
Tim laughs as Millie walks off. Kimble actually manages a smile.
ALAN OATES
(offers a plate to Kimble)
Piece of toast, Mister?
KIMBLE
(accepts the toast graciously)
Thank you, Alan.
(to Tim)
My name is Grant, Bob Grant.
TIM OATES
Headin' anyplace in particular, Mister Grant?
KIMBLE
Uh, California. There's a lot of work out
there this time of year.
TIM OATES
That's where we're headin'. Why don't ya come
with us?
(confers with Millie)
Millie, mix this man up some eggs.
MILLIE OATES
Some people like to travel alone, Tim.
TIM OATES
Well, the man's hungry, prob'ly broke. He don't
want to travel alone.
MILLIE OATES
We got children to think about. We don't know
this man.
TIM OATES
Well, he don't know us, either.
KIMBLE
(rises)
Uh, you're right, Mrs. Oates. I appreciate the
hospitality. I'll be going.
MILLIE OATES
Just a minute. Can you drive?
Kimble grins, no doubt remembering his most recent job.
KIMBLE
Yes, I can drive.
TIM OATES
Fine! We'll make twice as much time. Millie
never did learn how.
Kimble returns to his seat.
TIM OATES
Prob'ly just as well -- you know women drivers.
And, on that politically incorrect note, we
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - DENVER. CO - NIGHT
Ryder and Gerard, at adjacent desks. Ryder sits and makes notes. Gerard,
wearing his thick eyeglasses, stands and goes through his extensive Kimble
files.
DR. RYDER
Month of August... What was that date again?
GERARD
(consults a file)
Um... twenty-ninth.
DR. RYDER
August twenty-nine. Southern Idaho. Large
dairy farm. For how long?
GERARD
Six weeks. Somebody recognized him from a
wanted poster. He was actually caught and held
prisoner for a while.
[Gerard refers here to the episode entitled "Tug of War"...]
DR. RYDER
Not relevant. I don't want to know if he was
caught or recognized. I'm trying to establish
a geographical pattern. Dates, locations,
employment, means of transportation.
Everything since he escaped. Now, where'd he
show up next?
GERARD
He was seen in a town called [Drain?], near the
Oregon coast, September nineteenth. Then
driving a log truck and, uh, left town on a
freight.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Some time later that evening. A technician types away at a special punch
card keyboard as Ryder and Gerard look on.
DR. RYDER
I programmed all of the material and the
technician is now encoding it onto these
punch cards. Then we use these cards to feed
the data into the system.
Ryder leads Gerard away. A second technician removes a pile of coded cards.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Later. Hundreds of punch cards rapidly move through a sorting device.
DR. RYDER (v.o.)
This is the card sorter. It arranges the cards
according to their various codes at the rate of
eight hundred cards a minute and stores all the
information on tape. The data on each single
card takes up about one eighth of an inch of tape.
Giant reels of tape spin rapidly nearby.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Later. Ryder leads Gerard to a large noisy printer. Abruptly, it stops.
DR. RYDER
Now the computer knows as much about Kimble as
you do, statistically at least.
Ryder sits at the 2130's small keyboard/printer (it looks rather like a
typewriter) which prints out: DATA ASSIMILATION COMPLETE. Gerard watches
quietly. Ryder appears satisfied. He rises, tears some paper from the
larger printer, sits, and begins to write something on the torn paper.
Gerard looks on with interest as Ryder writes: CHECK FOR PATTERN. Ryder
rises and brushes past Gerard ("Excuse me...") and hands the paper to a
technician.
DR. RYDER
Code this, please.
Ryder returns to Gerard.
DR. RYDER
Now I'm going to ask the computer to examine
all of the material that it stored to see if
there's a pattern to Kimble's movement by
seasons.
The technician hands Ryder a coded punch card.
DR. RYDER
Thank you.
Ryder puts the card into the 2130 and switches it on. He then sits at the
2130's small keyboard/printer and presses a button. The computer immediately
prints: MOVEMENT OF SUBJECT RANDOM - NO DISCERNABLE [sic] PATTERN. Ryder
seems shocked. But Gerard's doubts have been confirmed.
GERARD
No, I didn't think there'd be a pattern.
That's always been our biggest problem with him.
Gerard walks off.
DR. RYDER
There must be a pattern. Either I've made a
mistake in the programming or some of your
information was wrong.
GERARD
You and I and the 2130 are all blameless,
Doctor. Kimble is simply not a predictable man.
DR. RYDER
(rises)
Lieutenant, all behavior patterns's instinctual
in man as well as in the lower animals
unless--
(inspired)
-- unless there are certain outside stimuli.
Actually, as I think back over your records,
the only thing that seems to have influenced
Kimble is pursuit.
GERARD
But we didn't program those moves. Or the
times when he contacted his family. You said
they'd be outside any pattern.
DR. RYDER
Hmmm, yes, but were there any others? I mean,
do you know of any other reasons why Kimble
should have moved from place to place, except
for the obvious ones of earning a living or
running from the law?
GERARD
(hates to bring it up)
There's the one-armed man.
DR. RYDER
The one-armed man? Oh, yes, I remember he
said--
GERARD
Kimble claimed to have seen such a man near the
house on the night of the murder. Of course,
he may exist only in Kimble's mind.
DR. RYDER
(excited)
But that's all that matters, Lieutenant!
(moves to his desk and sits)
Now, then, when we go through Kimble's records
again, we'll make sure to leave out all of the
movements except those which were motivated by
trying to locate a one-armed man.
Intrigued, Gerard joins him.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Still later. The computer prints out results:
SUBJECT PATTERN DEFINITE NINETY PERCENT AS FOLLOWS... DECEMBER JANUARY
FEBRUARY WARM CLIMATE WEST COAST OR SOUTHEASTERN U.S.... EMPLOYMENT
HARVESTING AND OTHER SIMILAR... MARKED TENDENCY LARGER EMPLOYMENT GROUPS...
MARCH APRIL MAY JUNE CENTRAL AND MIDWESTERN U.S.... EMPLOYMENT WHEAT CORN
BARLEY RYE FORTY PERCENT FIELD WORK SIXTY PERCENT TRANSPORTATION...
Ryder sits at the 2130's keyboard with Gerard standing right beside. Gerard
reads aloud from the printout, having to raise his voice over the racket of
the noisy printer.
GERARD
(reads)
Pattern definite, ninety percent. December
January February warm climate, west coast or
southeastern. Employment: harvesting and other
similar. Marked tendency: larger employment
groups. March April May June, central and
Midwestern states. Employment: wheat, corn,
barley, rye. Forty percent field work, sixty
percent transportation.
Gerard steps back, impressed.
DR. RYDER
(triumphant)
There's your pattern.
GERARD
Well, right or wrong, it's a little hard to
believe.
DR. RYDER
You'll get used to it.
GERARD
All right. It's winter. So, according to
this, he's either going west or southeast --
which involves eight or ten states.
DR. RYDER
Now, you and I dig up statistics on those
states -- where the greatest amount of
non-union employment can be found. I'll
program that into the 2130 which already knows
the types of jobs Kimble has held during
previous winters -- and then you can ask for
probabilities.
GERARD
Probabilities? How many?
DR. RYDER
(rises and walks off)
We can start with six.
GERARD
(disappointed)
Six...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Very late. The printer prints out:
PROBABILITY ONE......
CITRUS HARVEST = FLORIDA
PROBABILITY TWO......
WALNUT GROVES = CALIF.
Ryder looks over at Gerard who looks back and nods.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WALNUT GROVES - CALIFORNIA - DAY
Words on the door of a pick-up truck: RICHARDSON'S WALNUT GROVES -
CALIFORNIA'S FINEST. The truck pulls up in the grove next to Millie Oates
who loads a bag of walnuts into the bed. The truck drives off as she ties a
fresh bag around her waist. Nearby, Kimble, with a bag of his own, picks
walnuts. He pauses to wipe the sweat from his face. Young Alan Oates brings
a canteen to Kimble.
ALAN OATES
Water, Mister Grant?
Kimble takes a swig and hands the canteen back.
KIMBLE
Thanks, Alan.
Tim Oates stands nearby, cracking a walnut. Kimble quickly picks a few more
nuts.
TIM OATES
(to Kimble)
You're pretty good at this, Bob. You got quick
hands.
MILLIE OATES
(to Tim, off his snacking)
So have you when it comes to eatin' those
things.
Millie takes Tim's full bag and gives him an empty one.
TIM OATES
I'm a growin' boy.
ALAN OATES
Hey, I'll fill the canteen, Mom.
MILLIE OATES
Thank you.
TIM OATES
Good boy. Check on the kids and see what kind
of trouble they're in.
ALAN OATES
(heading off)
Okay.
Kimble watches Alan depart.
KIMBLE
(genuinely)
You have a nice family, Tim.
TIM OATES
Thanks. 'Bout all I do have.
KIMBLE
(meaningfully)
That's enough.
Tim offers Kimble a cracked walnut. Kimble accepts. He eats it and gets
back to work.
Meanwhile, Alan, canteen in hand, walks across a field to the groves'
headquarters. He pauses a moment when he sees Bonnie and Charlie run from
the main building to a police car parked out front. The groves' owner,
RICHARDSON, emerges from the building, talking with a uniformed police
officer.
RICHARDSON
Kimble, Kimble... No, I don't remember the name
from any of my crews. Course, I don't know.
Maybe he is, maybe he ain't. I can't remember
the face of every picker I got. I mean,
there's maybe eighty, ninety out in the grove
right now.
Alan fills the canteen at a large metal cooler. The officer hands Richardson
a copy of Kimble's wanted poster.
1ST CALIFORNIA COP
Well, I'll leave you one of these posters to
circulate around. Thanks a lot, Mr. Richardson.
RICHARDSON
Yeah, sure thing.
The officer and his partner move off as Richardson unfolds the poster. He's
momentarily distracted by some workers with a pick-up truck.
RICHARDSON
(to the workers)
Just load that over in the back, would ya?
The two police officers confer next to their parked car -- paying little
attention to Bonnie and Charlie who peer into the car. Charlie finds a copy
of Kimble's poster in the front seat.
1ST CALIFORNIA COP
Well, we got a choice. We could spend the rest
of the daylight hours looking over the pickers
here -- or we can drive down the line to
Cramer's.
2ND CALIFORNIA COP
I don't know. It's gonna be a long day either
way you look at it.
CHARLIE OATES
(holds up the poster)
Hey, Bonnie! Lookit! They got a picture of
our friend Mister Grant.
BONNIE OATES
What?
CALIFORNIA COP
What's that?
CHARLIE OATES
That's our friend, Mister Grant.
CALIFORNIA COP
Where is he now?
CHARLIE OATES
Out there with our folks, workin'.
Richardson, still carrying the wanted poster, approaches the cooler for a
drink. Alan Oates, still filling the canteen at the cooler, sees the poster
in Richardson's hand -- and, while listening to Charlie's conversation with
the police, immediately grasps the situation. Alan throws the canteen down.
CALIFORNIA COP
(to Charlie)
That's just fine. We're friends of his, too.
Alan starts walking back toward Kimble but quickly breaks into a run.
CALIFORNIA COP
Why don't you come along and point out your
folks?
CHARLIE OATES
Sure. Right there.
Together, the two kids and the two officers begin to move toward the groves.
CALIFORNIA COP
(pointing)
Down here?
CHARLIE OATES
Yeah.
Up ahead, Alan is a small figure running urgently through the huge field.
The two officers and the two kids walk briskly through the field.
Alan races up to Kimble and nearly falls at his feet.
ALAN OATES
Mister Grant! Mister Grant! Mister Grant!
Deputies... two of them... they got your
picture... they're comin' after ya...
Kimble looks off, realizes the danger, undoes the bag of walnuts from his
waist, and drops it to the ground.
KIMBLE
Thanks, Alan.
Kimble sprints off in the opposite direction. Tim and Millie, surprised,
join Alan in watching Kimble run off. Alan turns to his father with concern.
ALAN OATES
Pa. I don't know why -- but I just had to
warn him. Was it right?
TIM OATES
I don't know, son. I would've done the same
thing, I guess.
Tim puts a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder as they stare off in Kimble's
direction.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. RYDER HOME - DENVER, CO - DAY
That afternoon, Ryder sits at the desk in his den, working. The phone RINGS
and he picks up.
DR. RYDER
Hello?.... Yes. Yes, Lieutenant.
We CUT BACK AND FORTH between Ryder in his den and Gerard in his HOTEL ROOM.
GERARD
No question about it. It was Kimble all right.
DR. RYDER
They're sure?
GERARD
Half a dozen people identified him from the
photograph.
DR. RYDER
And he still escaped?
GERARD
Problem is, we were trying to cover too many of
your probabilities. If we'd've narrowed it
down, we'd've had enough manpower to get him.
DR. RYDER
Well, if you want it narrowed down, you'll have
to get me more information. The machine can
only compute the data that you feed into it.
GERARD
I'll give you all the information you want,
Doctor.
DR. RYDER
I'll see you down there in about half an hour.
Ryder hangs up, rises, grabs his hat and coat and rushes out the door without
even saying goodbye to his distraught daughter Laurie who stands nearby, next
to the den's large globe of the world. With great sadness, she watches her
father leave, then shuts her eyes and puts her head down on the globe,
profoundly upset at the turn of events.
FADE OUT
EXT. TRAIN YARD - CALIFORNIA - NIGHT
FADE IN on a freight train as it pulls out of the yard.
CUT TO:
INT. BOXCAR - NIGHT
The large door to the boxcar slides open to reveal a moving landscape -- and
Kimble barely hopping aboard the speeding train. He sits against the open
door for a moment, catching his breath.
VOICE
Hey!
Startled, Kimble looks in the direction of the voice. A bespectacled young
man sits by candlelight in a corner of the car amidst a few stray boxes that
serve as a sort of makeshift office. The young man is HOMER. His candles
quickly flicker out and he moves to re-light them.
HOMER
Would you mind closing the door, please?
Kimble rises and slides the heavy door shut.
HOMER
(lights a candle)
Thank you.
Kimble, not sure what to make of his traveling companion, hesitantly
approaches and sits on a straw bale opposite Homer -- who, on closer
inspection, appears to be a rather clean-cut beatnik.
KIMBLE
Hi.
HOMER
(reaches over and shakes hands)
Hello. My name is Homer.
KIMBLE
Jack.
HOMER
Hi.
KIMBLE
You a writer?
HOMER
(pad of paper in hand)
Yeah. Yes, I am.
Homer points with his foot to a large satchel on a nearby box.
HOMER
Seventeen months worth of notes there.
KIMBLE
That's enough for "The Odyssey"...
HOMER
Ha ha... That's very good. You're on the run,
aren't ya?
Kimble says nothing but looks down at the straw bale as if wanting a place to
lie down.
HOMER
Join the club. Here.
Homer offers Kimble an old sack. Kimble accepts it mutely, then lays it and
his head against the straw bale and shuts his eyes, trying to get some sleep.
A train whistle BLOWS in the night. Homer watches Kimble curiously, then
takes a seat on a tall box, flips to a fresh page of his pad and begins to
sketch an expert drawing of Kimble's face -- while incomprehensibly singing
an old folk tune as a sort of a lullaby. The drawing takes shape quickly,
accurately reflecting Kimble's features.
CUT TO:
EXT. MEDICAL CENTER - DENVER, CO - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
CUT TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - LOBBY - NIGHT
Ryder enters the lobby on his way to the computer lab. A reporter named
BASSETT confronts him.
BASSETT
Dr. Ryder?
DR. RYDER
Yes, sir?
BASSETT
My name's Doug Bassett, Doctor. I'm a reporter
for the Chronicle.
(holds up a clipping)
I'd like to ask you about this wire service
story on Richard Kimble. They almost nailed
him someplace in California.
DR. RYDER
Well, that's very interesting.
BASSETT
Yes, it is, when you consider that he was your
chauffeur until a few days ago.
DR. RYDER
Well, that's hardly a secret.
BASSETT
No, sir. Neither is this wire story. But your
recent night activities are. And so is the
fact that Lieutenant Gerard from Stafford,
Indiana -- Kimble's home town -- has been with
you every night in the data processing center.
DR. RYDER
What are you getting at, Mister, uh...?
BASSETT
Bassett. I'm getting at a story, Doctor. I'd
like you to tell me what you and that detective
are up to. Or I could make an educated guess
-- in print.
DR. RYDER
Mr. Bassett, if you do that, you'll destroy
everything that we're trying to accomplish.
I'm sure you don't want to do that.
BASSETT
I want a story, Doctor. That's all.
DR. RYDER
And you'll have it. You'll have it exclusively
-- when it's time. You have my word on it.
BASSETT
All right, Doctor.
(hands business card to Ryder)
Here's my card. You have a deal.
DR. RYDER
Right.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Ryder and Gerard stand by the card sorter. Ryder collects a stack of coded
cards and he and Gerard move to the 2130.
DR. RYDER
I must say, Lieutenant, he has impressive
[rigor?]. And your materials are very
comprehensive.
GERARD
Yes, but it'll be useless until we get some
idea where he went.
DR. RYDER
(loading cards in the machine)
We'll find out in just a minute.
GERARD
Course, there were a lot of ways he could have
escaped.
DR. RYDER
That's why we've eliminated everything from the
programming except those instances where there
was evidence of immediate pursuit.
(starts the machine)
He probably has a pattern to that, too.
GERARD
I don't think he'd risk public transportation.
Hitch-hiking is too exposed. He knows he was
almost caught this morning.
Ryder sits at the 2130's keyboard.
GERARD
No, my guess is that he'd get on a fast
freight. And there are two of them through
there...
(consults a file folder)
...uh, to Salt Lake City and Portland, Oregon.
The machine abruptly stops computing.
DR. RYDER
Let's see how you stack up against the computer,
Lieutenant.
Ryder presses a button and prints the results:
PROBABILITY ONE ...
SALT LAKE CITY
OR
PORTLAND
DR. RYDER
(impressed)
Well, Lieutenant, you seem to have computer
blood.
Gerard removes his eyeglasses, a little pleased with himself.
DR. RYDER
Perhaps you'd better notify the police in Salt
Lake City and in Portland.
Gerard nods and hurries off.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. TRAIN YARD - PORTLAND, OR - DAY
The fast freight slowly enters the yard, bell CLANGING, whistles WHISTLING.
CUT TO:
INT. BOXCAR - DAY
Homer removes his eyeglasses, rubs his eyes, and with the glasses dangling
from his mouth, rises and crosses to the heavy door by which Kimble entered
the boxcar. After glancing at the still sleeping Kimble, Homer slides the
door open, flooding the car with sunlight. Homer leans out the doorway a
moment, watching the Oregon landscape rush by, then turns to raise his
eyebrows to a now conscious Kimble. Pocketing his glasses, Homer crosses to
a box and sits. Kimble is a little surprised to see Homer still aboard.
Homer packs some things into his satchel.
HOMER
Good morning.
KIMBLE
Good morning.
HOMER
You feel better now?
KIMBLE
Huh? Yeah. Have any idea where we're headed?
Homer offers Kimble a cigarette.
KIMBLE
No, thank you.
HOMER
Oregon. We'll be in Portland in a few minutes.
(picks up his pad)
Hey, uh... Do you wanna hear what I wrote about
you last night?
KIMBLE
(shrugs, grins)
Okay.
Homer seems pleased and puts on his glasses.
HOMER
(reads from the pad)
One gets used to these one-named companions
after a while. This one is another Jack.
Not typical, though. Intelligent, well-read.
Calluses on his hands, but they aren't workers'
hands. Not talkative, either.
Kimble and Homer give each other a long look. Homer rises and grabs a seat
beside Kimble on the straw bale.
HOMER
(keeps reading, a little floridly)
Advertising executive maybe. Living beyond his
means, nagging wife, spoiled kids, running away
from it all. Could be a killer, too. Shot his
mistress after finding her with somebody
else? No -- not the type.
Kimble grows increasingly bemused.
HOMER
More likely an embezzler. Ran off with a load
of company funds, got a job somewhere under a
phony name, somebody recognized him so... he's
on the run again.
(casually, off his writing)
That's stream of consciousness stuff -- I do it
all the time. Did I come close anywhere?
KIMBLE
(wryly)
You know, I'm afraid I'm not gonna fit into
your saga.
Homer laughs, rises, packs away his pad, pockets his glasses, puts on a cap.
HOMER
Sure you will. Everybody does. Hey, I know a
place just outside of town where, uh, we can
get a couple of free meals just for splittin'
some logs. Gotta be careful not to cut off
your fingers, though. Okay?
KIMBLE
Sure, why not?
Homer moves to the open door and looks out. Up ahead, by the side of the
tracks, a number of police cars wait.
KIMBLE
(rises and joins Homer)
What's the matter?
HOMER
(fumbling in his pocket)
Cops. Squads of 'em. Just, uh, waitin'...
Abruptly, Homer's entire demeanor changes -- he wheels, pulls a switchblade
from his pocket, and grabs Kimble by the collar. The knife is an inch from a
stunned Kimble's throat.
HOMER
(threatening)
You tell 'em you were alone. Nothin' about me,
y'understand? Nothin' about my book, nothin'
about me.
KIMBLE
(terrified)
Okay.
Homer backs slowly away from Kimble, retrieves his satchel, then scurries for
the closed door on the opposite side of the car and tries to pull it open.
In the TRAIN YARD, uniformed police officers with guns drawn begin to board
the slow-moving freight.
In the BOXCAR, Homer can't open the closed door. Kimble watches with concern
then glances out the open door to see that the boxcar is edging closer and
closer to the waiting police. Homer gives up on the closed door. He leans
against it, clutching his satchel tightly to his chest, then suddenly runs
across the boxcar and leaps out the open door.
In the YARD, he hits the ground running, then stops and backtracks away from
the police. But two officers spot him and give chase.
In the BOXCAR, Kimble moves to the closed door and attempts to open it
himself.
In the YARD, Homer races alongside a parked train. An officer appears from
between the cars. Homer hurls his heavy satchel at the cop, then savagely
kicks him hard in the gut, knocking him down. A wicked near-blow to the head
and the policeman is suddenly unconscious. Homer picks up the downed
officer's gun as another policeman arrives. Homer carefully aims at the
oncoming officer, and gets off a shot just before the officer does. Wounded,
the officer sprawls across the railroad tracks, unconscious or dead.
Homer rushes off along the parked train with a squad of police in pursuit.
The lead cop FIRES once at Homer, missing. Other policemen move to help
their fallen comrades.
With police closing in on all sides, Homer exchanges fire, then tries to
climb between train cars. Two officers FIRE shots and Homer is hit. He
loses his grip on the car and falls to the ground, dead. Police surround him
from all sides, then cautiously approach his inert body, now face down in
the dirt.
An officer turns Homer over to look at his face.
1ST OREGON COP
He's finished.
2ND OREGON COP
That's not Kimble.
1ST OREGON COP
No. Tell you who it is, though -- it's Macklin.
Marty Macklin.
2ND OREGON COP
You mean the kid who shot those two guards from
Salem?
1ST OREGON COP
And that prison guard in Seattle.
Elsewhere in the TRAIN YARD, Kimble emerges from his boxcar. With all the
police diverted by "Homer," there is no one in sight. He races alongside the
stopped train and disappears between two cars.
Meanwhile, the 1st Officer pulls a pad of paper from beneath "Homer's" body.
Flipping through it, he discovers the sketch of Kimble's face (labeled "Jack"
and surrounded on the page by scribblings of that "stream-of-consciousness
stuff").
1ST OREGON COP
You got that flyer on Kimble?
2ND OREGON COP
Yeah.
The 2nd Officer pulls out Kimble's wanted poster, unfolds it, and hands it to
the 1st Officer who places it side-by-side with the sketch. A near match.
Elsewhere in the TRAIN YARD, Kimble is a small, lonely figure running a
little too fast among the quiet, motionless trains.
CUT TO:
INT. RYDER HOME - DENVER, CO - DAY
Ryder sits at his desk in the den, clearly troubled about something. He
rises and paces with his hands in his pockets. Laurie enters, somewhat
nervously, and joins him.
LAURIE RYDER
Did you want to see me, Dad?
DR. RYDER
Yes, Laurie.
(off the files on his desk)
Laurie, these are the complete files on
Richard Kimble. I've been over and over them.
School records, army history, medical career,
every single detail. And, you know, it's an
amazing thing, Laurie. Except for that one
moment of violence -- and what he did to us --
he seems to be a decent human being. A good
man and a good doctor. Don't you think that's
strange, Laurie?
LAURIE RYDER
What did you want to see me about, Dad?
DR. RYDER
Well, I thought maybe you wanted to see me
about something.
(beat)
Laurie, don't you think it's strange he told me
about the car, considering that he'd run down
somebody?
LAURIE RYDER
Well, maybe he thought you'd find out anyway.
DR. RYDER
And that's all you have to say?
LAURIE RYDER
Well, what do you mean?
Ryder just stares at her. Laurie grows increasingly agitated.
LAURIE RYDER
Do you think that I--?
DR. RYDER
I mean, I think I'd be sick if I'd been
hounding an innocent man.
LAURIE RYDER
(overwrought)
But his wife. Didn't he kill his wife?
DR. RYDER
I don't know. I'm not sure about anything.
Are you, Laurie?
LAURIE RYDER
(she cracks)
I tried to tell you before but--!
Ryder just stares at her.
LAURIE RYDER
Oh, anyhow... I had the car. It was late
and... I'd had some beer and... this-this man,
he just stumbled right into the street, right
in front of me. It wasn't my fault! I was
scared. That's why I asked Jack to say he put
the dent in the fender. I-I didn't even tell
him about the man.
Laurie looks down, ashamed.
DR. RYDER
But, Laurie, if it wasn't your fault, the
police probably--
LAURIE RYDER
I wasn't afraid of the police! I was afraid
of you!
Deeply wounded, Ryder looks away. Laurie tries to comfort him.
LAURIE RYDER
I-I kept in touch with the hospital, Dad. The
man's out of danger now.
Ryder puts an arm around her and presses his head to hers.
DR. RYDER
I'm sorry, Laurie. Forgive me.
LAURIE RYDER
Do you have to keep after him?
DR. RYDER
I'm afraid it doesn't matter what I do...
anymore. Gerard knows about 2130 -- anyone can
program it for him.
LAURIE RYDER
Isn't there anything you can do?
DR. RYDER
(an idea occurs to him)
Maybe. Yes, maybe there is.
Ryder pulls a card from his desk, then pauses and turns to Laurie.
DR. RYDER
Maybe there's something I can do about a great
many things.
Ryder kisses Laurie on the forehead and moves to pick up the phone, dialing a
number from the card. Ryder smiles at Laurie as he waits for an answer.
DR. RYDER
(into the phone)
Yes. Yes, I'd like to talk to one of your
reporters -- a man named Bassett.
FADE OUT
EXT. MEDICAL CENTER - DENVER, CO - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
FADE IN on the well-lit med center.
CUT TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Ryder reads a printout in the lab. An upset Gerard arrives from the lobby
with a newspaper and throws it down in front of Ryder.
GERARD
I'd just like to know how he got hold of that.
The headlines read: DIGITAL COMPUTER TRACKS FUGITIVE - SOPHISTICATED BUSINESS
MACHINE CLOSING IN ON FLEEING KILLER... The byline is by Donald [sic]
Bassett. [Lesser headline: "More Rigid Rules Sought in Fight to Clean City
Parks"] Ryder picks up the paper and studies it.
DR. RYDER
He must be a good reporter.
GERARD
He must also be psychic. Only four or five
people know exactly what we're doing here.
DR. RYDER
I'd say you can begin adjusting that figure
upwards.
GERARD
If Kimble sees this--
DR. RYDER
Then we can all go home. If he knows he's
being computed, then he'll begin to change his
pattern immediately.
GERARD
Well, we'll just have to act on the assumption
that he doesn't know -- yet.
DR. RYDER
Lieutenant, I've conducted an experiment...
(drops the newspaper)
... which I'd like to show you.
GERARD
Experiment?
DR. RYDER
Yes.
GERARD
If it has something to do with Kimble, I'm
interested.
DR. RYDER
It has. We have access to thousands of medical
and psychiatric case histories, including over
a hundred thousand convicted criminals. I had
those histories fed into the 2130 along with a
complete profile of Richard Kimble. And I mean
complete. And then I asked for the
probabilities of his being able to commit
murder under any circumstances.
Ryder hands scrap of paper to Gerard who reads it.
GERARD
(reads quietly)
Subject capability of committing murder...
(pause)
...ninety-eight percent negative.
DR. RYDER
No comment, Lieutenant?
GERARD
(coolly)
Just one. The remaining two percent is enough
for me. Shall we get to work?
Gerard moves off and a mildly surprised Ryder follows.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
The card sorter RATTLES noisily.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
The 2130 keeps on computing. Ryder stands watching Gerard who sits in what
had been Ryder's place at the 2130's keyboard as it prints out the latest
probabilities:
PROBABILITY ONE ...
FLOOD CONTROL LABOR
GANG ... PORTLAND
DR. RYDER
Flood control in Portland. Evidently, this
time he didn't run.
GERARD
(thinks hard, bites his knuckle)
Unnh... he's been in Portland before. Knows
his way around, probably feels more secure.
Also, there'd be more job opportunities there.
DR. RYDER
(unenthusiastic)
Well, there are your probables.
GERARD
Ahhh... you programmed all that additional
employment data?
DR. RYDER
Everything. Back to eleven years old when he
was mowing lawns for a quarter.
GERARD
Well, this ought to be about as accurate as we
can get. I'm gonna call the Attorney General's
office and then I'm going out there myself. If
Kimble hasn't seen a newspaper yet, we may
still have a chance.
Gerard exits. Ryder looks concerned.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN PORTLAND, OR - DAY
A FOREMAN leans against a truck and consults a clipboard. He's surrounded by
waiting men in working class clothes.
FOREMAN
Cole, John! In the truck.
John Cole picks up a satchel and heads for the rear of the truck.
FOREMAN
Johnson, James!
James Johnson grabs a satchel and follows John Cole.
FOREMAN
Smith, William!
No one moves.
FOREMAN
Smith, William!
After a moment, Kimble emerges from the crowd. Evidently, he's changed
aliases so many times in the last few days, he momentarily forgot he was
William Smith.
FOREMAN
Brown, Max! Gambel, Arthur! Savory, Robert!
As Kimble heads for the rear of the truck we see written on the truck door:
MULTNOMAH COUNTY FLOOD CONTROL. Kimble and others board in the rear of the
truck -- a flatbed with a tent-like covering to keep out the rain. Once
everyone is aboard, the rear is gated by the foreman's assistant.
FOREMAN
(to the men)
All right, relax, we got a long ride.
The foreman and his assistant move to get in the cab.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. AIRPORT - PORTLAND, OR - DAY
A plane lands on a runway.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ROAD - DAY
A police car rolls down a country road. Inside the car, Gerard sits next to
a uniformed driver.
CUT TO:
EXT. ANOTHER ROAD - DAY
The flood control truck stops to pick up two more men, one of them a black
LABORER with a newspaper. The two men climb in the back. Once safely
aboard, the black laborer signals to the foreman's assistant by waving the
newspaper and the truck drives off. Inside the truck, an unsuspecting Kimble
sits with the other men.
CUT TO:
EXT. POLICE ROADBLOCK - DAY
Police stop and check various vehicles. Two officers confer.
1ST PORTLAND COP
Well, there's a truckload of workers due in
about ten minutes.
2ND PORTLAND COP
You know, I think we'll get home in time for
dinner.
CUT TO:
INT. FLOOD CONTROL TRUCK - DAY
Kimble sits with the other men in the back of the truck. The black laborer
sits across from Kimble, reading the newspaper. Kimble glances over and sees
a headline: MAN VS. MACHINE; COMPUTER TRACKS FUGITIVE TO OREGON. Kimble
blinks in surprise. The laborer finishes reading that particular section of
the paper and drops it on the floor at his feet. Kimble reaches for it.
KIMBLE
Can I take a look at your paper?
The laborer gently pulls it away from Kimble.
LABORER
What's it worth to you? Couple of cigarettes?
KIMBLE
I'm all out.
LABORER
(shakes his head)
Sorry.
Kimble reaches into his pocket for what must be one of his last coins.
KIMBLE
What if I give you the price of the paper?
LABORER
And I get the paper back?
KIMBLE
Yeah.
Kimble hands over the dime and the laborer hands over the paper.
LABORER
(grins mischievously)
I wanna work the crossword.
Kimble manages a half-grin and quickly starts to read the article. The
laborer goes back to reading. Suddenly, Kimble drops the paper, rises, moves
to the rear of the truck and jumps over the rear gate, and out of the moving
vehicle. The laborer can't believe this and moves to the rear of the truck
to watch.
LABORER
(yells, to Kimble)
Hey, buddy!
LABORER'S POV - KIMBLE IN THE ROAD
Kimble lands unhurt and takes off running.
RESUME ON TRUCK
The laborer moves to the front of the truck and bangs on the cab.
LABORER
(to the foreman)
Hey, some guy just jumped ship!
Out on the ROAD, Kimble hops a fence and takes off across a farm with a
windmill.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. POLICE ROADBLOCK - DAY
Some time later. The flood control truck is stopped amidst the police cars.
Gerard shows Kimble's wanted poster to the foreman.
FOREMAN
That's him all right. But he must've jumped
out about six or eight miles back.
Gerard moves to the rear of the truck where the men are disembarking. Gerard
looks the truck over. He spots the newspaper and picks it up.
GERARD
(to the men)
Was he reading this?
LABORER
(grinning)
Yeah. He gave me a dime for it.
GERARD
(looks down at the paper)
Ten cents.
(beat)
Well, he'll never get a better bargain than
that.
Gerard tosses the newspaper back on the truck and walks off.
FADE OUT
EXT. MEDICAL CENTER - DENVER, CO - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
FADE IN on the well-lit med center.
CUT TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Ryder watches as Gerard packs up the Kimble files.
GERARD
I appreciate everything you tried to do, Doctor.
For a while, it looked as though it were going
to work. And maybe it would have if it hadn't
been for the human element -- in this case,
that reporter.
Gerard, his hands full with two briefcases and bundle of file folders, starts
to move off. Dr. Ryder's daughter Laurie is also present.
DR. RYDER
Well, who knows? Maybe in a year or two...?
GERARD
You mean we should wait around till he's
established a kind of anti-pattern pattern?
I'm afraid not, Doctor.
DR. RYDER
(puts an arm around Laurie)
Laurie and I are about to have dinner. Why
don't you take a later plane and join us?
GERARD
Well, thank you, but no. I'm afraid I wouldn't
be very good company.
Gerard would like to shake hands but can't, given his burden.
GERARD
Uh... goodbye, Doctor.
DR. RYDER
Goodbye, Lieutenant.
GERARD
Goodbye, Miss Ryder.
LAURIE RYDER
Goodbye, Lieutenant. Have a nice trip back.
GERARD
Thank you.
Laurie and Ryder watch as Gerard's lonely figure walks out of the lab,
through the lobby, and out of view.
LAURIE RYDER
(off Gerard)
Do you think he'll ever catch him?
DR. RYDER
Possibly. He knows more about Richard Kimble
than anyone else. But the 2130 knows just as
much.
Ryder moves to an intercom and presses a button.
DR. RYDER
(into the intercom)
George.
GEORGE THE TECH (o.s.)
Yes, Doctor?
DR. RYDER
(into the intercom)
It looks like Kimble reads the papers. He may
know that the computer's tracking him.
GEORGE THE TECH (o.s.)
Want to program that?
DR. RYDER
(into the intercom)
Yes. But suppose he reverses his pattern. Ask
for the probabilities.
GEORGE THE TECH (o.s.)
Yes, sir.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MEDICAL CENTER - COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Not long after. The computer prints out the probabilities:
PROBABILITY ONE ...
LOGGING ... PACIFIC NORTHWEST
PROBABILITY TWO ...
CRANBERRY BOGS NEW ENGLAND
PROBABILITY THREE ...
Laurie ponders the printout with concern.
LAURIE RYDER
Cranberry bogs. What an awful place to be this
time of year. Do you think he's really there?
DR. RYDER
(raises an eyebrow)
I don't know. I hope not.
Ryder tears off the printout, rises, and takes Laurie's hand.
DR. RYDER
Come on, Laurie.
Ryder crumples the printout, drops it in a wastebasket, and walks off with
Laurie, leaving the now-silent 2130 behind.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CRANBERRY BOGS - NEW ENGLAND - NIGHT
A line of men, bundled against the bitter cold, stand beside a building. The
first man in line sits down at a table and eagerly signs a clipboard. A nearby
sign reads: JOB OPENINGS - CRANBERRY PICKERS - OPEN UNTIL 9 PM... A man
carries some wood to fuel a low-burning fire in a metal barrel -- beside
which Richard Kimble (looking extremely chilled in his windbreaker) and a few
other men try to stay warm. A bus marked "SPECIAL" can be glimpsed in the
background.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
If you are Richard Kimble, fugitive, your
already complicated life has become more so.
You can no longer rely upon your instinct,
because for all you know, your pursuers may be
machines... and you are merely a human being.
Kimble and his fellows huddle around the meager, barely-visible fire. The
only other light comes from a lamp above the building's sign: ROYAL CREST
FOODS. The wind blows a scrap of paper past. It is a bleak scene as we
FADE OUT
Last revision: April 25, 2000