A Clean and Quiet Town
EXT. DOWNTOWN - CLARK CITY, KY - NIGHT
Past midnight. A seedy, garish neighborhood of neon signs, cheap hotels,
all-night liquor stores and placards advertising "torrid" dancing girls. The
street is filled with people as a jazz band GROANS a sleazy Dixieland version
of "When the Saints Go Marching In" but the only saint in sight is RICHARD
KIMBLE, America's most elusive fugitive, who walks these mean streets
anxiously searching for something -- or someone.
ANOTHER STREET
Hands in his pockets, he turns a corner and finds himself in an empty side
street. As he passes a closed pizza parlor, a VOICE from behind stops him.
VOICE
Hold it! Right there!
Kimble turns around to see his worst nightmare approaching: two uniformed
police officers. He looks around nervously -- are they talking to him? But
there's no one else on the street. The officers take him brusquely by the
arms and lead him toward a nearby alley. The older cop, OFFICER LYNCH, is
clearly in charge.
OFFICER LYNCH
(to Kimble, off the alley)
In there.
IN THE ALLEY
The officers force Kimble out of sight of the street and press him face first
against a brick wall.
OFFICER LYNCH
Get your hands up on the wall there.
Kimble obeys. Lynch studies Kimble's stony face. The younger officer pats
Kimble down and pulls a small wallet out of Kimble's inside jacket pocket.
The younger officer opens the wallet, then hands it to Lynch. Lynch looks it
over.
OFFICER LYNCH
(to Kimble)
Says here your name's Paul Miller. Is that
right?
KIMBLE
That's right.
OFFICER LYNCH
Turn around, Mr. Miller.
Kimble lets go of the wall and turns to face the officers. Lynch closes the
wallet and breaks into a disarmingly broad smile.
OFFICER LYNCH
(reassuring)
Just a routine check, Mr. Miller.
KIMBLE
(relieved)
Thank you.
Instantly, the younger officer punches Kimble hard in the gut. Lynch joins
in, mercilessly pounding Kimble. Kimble, his back to the wall, grimaces
horribly. The two officers beat the hell out of Kimble's torso.
IN THE STREET
A shapely brunette prostitute named CORA walks down the street. As she
passes the mouth of the alley, she hears the sounds of the struggle. She
pauses and peers in. She sees the silhouettes of the three men.
IN THE ALLEY
Kimble drops to the ground, breathing hard, struggling to remain conscious,
his lip bleeding badly. He lies at the feet of the officers, next to Lynch's
hat which has also fallen to the ground. Lynch reaches down and picks up his
hat.
OFFICER LYNCH
You hear me, Miller? Get out of Clark City.
Quick and far. And stay out.
Lynch throws Kimble's wallet down to him. The two officers depart.
IN THE STREET
Cora, seeing the two officers approaching, ducks out of sight into a nearby
doorway. The officers pause in the mouth of the alley and scan the area to
make sure that no one has seen them. Then, they move on up the street.
IN THE ALLEY
Kimble lies on the ground, half-conscious, next to his wallet. The near-
Olympian voice of the omniscient NARRATOR weighs in with a somber commentary:
NARRATOR (v.o.)
A man on the run comes to expect neither
justice nor mercy. Every hand is against him,
every face turns away from his pain. In such
moments, the thread of hope, of life itself,
stretches to the breaking point.
ON ANOTHER BLOCK
The two officers casually stroll down the sidewalk and approach a man in a
FANCY SUIT. We do not see the man's face at first, just his left arm and the
back of his head.
FANCY SUIT
Well? How did it go?
OFFICER LYNCH
(smiling)
We gave him the word, Mr. Cramer. He seemed
real impressed.
Pleased, FANCY SUIT reaches into his pocket with his left hand and pulls out
some money. Using only his left hand, he gives a few bills to each of the
officers who quietly take their money and walk off.
As they walk past him, FANCY SUIT turns to watch them go and we finally see
his face: "Mr. Cramer" is none other than FRED JOHNSON, the mysterious one-
armed man that Kimble has long sought in connection with his wife's murder.
Johnson is dressed -- far more stylishly than we have ever seen before -- in
a natty suit and tie, with a pinned-up right sleeve neatly tailored for his
missing arm. He grins a malicious, satisfied grin.
IN THE ALLEY
Cora's feet approach Kimble's wallet which lies near his fingertips. She
reaches down and picks it up. But Kimble abruptly grabs her arm and,
gripping it tightly, uses it to pull himself to his feet.
KIMBLE
Thank you.
Kimble gets to his feet but staggers backward to the wall, dragging Cora with
him. She is a little terrified at his strength. He leans against the wall,
breathing heavily.
CORA
I hope you didn't think I was... tryin' to
steal it.
To reassure him, Cora puts the wallet in his hand. She looks him over. He's
in bad shape.
CORA
Listen, mister, you better get to a hospital.
KIMBLE
No hospital. I'll be all right. I'll be all
right.
Cora steadies Kimble and gives him a shoulder to lean on.
CORA
Okay. Come on.
She starts to lead him out of the alley.
CUT TO:
INT. CORA'S ROOM - NIGHT
In her nice but not luxurious hotel room, Cora soaks a rag in a bowl of water
and wrings it out. With a cotton swab dangling from her lip, she turns to a
nearby Kimble, lying in a chair, to wash some blood off his temple.
CORA
Boy, you're in bad shape. What happened to
you?
KIMBLE
Didn't you see it?
CORA
Uh uh. I just come by the alley and seen you
layin' there.
Cora touches the cotton swab to his wound. Kimble flinches.
CORA
Oh oh, that's it. That's the worst.
KIMBLE
What's your name?
CORA
Why?
KIMBLE
Someone does you a favor, you--
CORA
(firmly)
I didn't help you, mister. I don't even know
you. You think I want the cops mad at me?
KIMBLE
I thought you didn't see anything.
CORA
As far as I'm concerned, you were hit by a car.
Now, hold still, I think it's still bleeding.
Cora touches the rag to his head but Kimble pulls her hand away.
KIMBLE
(insistent)
Why do the police want me out of town? Up
until two days ago I'd never been in Clark
City.
CORA
(amused, contemptuous)
You hustlers are just too much. You try to
muscle in on the action and then you yell when
you get pounded. What were you doing? Trying
to book some bets? Start a crap game? Shoot
some pool? Look, all the gambling in this town
is run by one outfit and they pay the cops off
pretty good to keep it that way.
KIMBLE
But I'm not a gambler. Why would they think I
was?
CORA
Okay, I believe you.
Cora rises and walks off to pour a drink at a small bar against a far wall.
CORA
But they don't.
KIMBLE
(sits up)
I'm looking for a man. I saw him a couple of
days ago about two blocks from here. I'm not
leaving town till I find him.
CORA
(brings Kimble the drink)
Well, take my advice and forget your friend.
KIMBLE
He's no friend.
CORA
(sits opposite him)
Well, maybe he's the one who got the cops on
you.
Kimble rejects the idea as he drinks his drink.
KIMBLE
He wouldn't go anywhere near the police.
CORA
Well, if I were you, I'd forget the whole
thing. Get out of town like they said.
KIMBLE
I can't. So who do I see to get this thing
straightened out?
CORA
(a big knowing smile)
I'm sorry, mister, but the hospital just
closed up.
Cora rises, walks off, and pours herself a drink. Kimble doesn't know quite
what to make of her sudden silence. He rises, slowly and painfully, and
tries to walk a few steps.
KIMBLE
(off his injured body)
Everything seems to be working all right.
Kimble joins Cora at the bar.
KIMBLE
Thank you.
CORA
Haven't done anything that ten bucks won't
cover.
Kimble, -- realizing that this hooker doesn't have a heart of gold, just a
heart for gold -- digs into his jacket pocket, finds a bill, and hands it to
her.
KIMBLE
There y'are.
They look at one another for a moment.
KIMBLE
Thank you.
Kimble heads for the door and opens it. He's halfway out when Cora's voice
stops him.
CORA
(coolly)
Hey, don't slam the door.
Kimble exits, quietly closing the door behind him. Cora drinks her drink.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - BUSINESS AREA - DAY
The next morning, Kimble buys a newspaper from a vending machine in front of
COOPER'S DONUTS. He discards the front section and goes straight to the back
pages. When he finds what he's looking for, he folds up the paper and moves
on down the street.
A few doors down, Kimble pauses next to an off-duty CAB DRIVER who leans on
the hood of his parked taxi, working a crossword puzzle.
KIMBLE
Hi.
CAB DRIVER
Yeah?
KIMBLE
If a guy wanted to get a bet down on a horse,
where would he go?
CAB DRIVER
Right over there.
The Cab Driver points to a nearby store called ELITE CLEANERS.
CAB DRIVER
(mispronouncing the name)
E-light Cleaners.
KIMBLE
(smiling)
You're an honest man. Most cab drivers
would've taken me around the block.
CAB DRIVER
Hey, I make a living.
KIMBLE
Um, don't I have to say somebody sent me, like
"Mike sent me" -- something like that?
CAB DRIVER
Ah, well, what kind of "Mike sent you"? You
walk in, you make a bet, you walk out, huh?
KIMBLE
Thanks.
Kimble walks over to the dry cleaning store and enters.
CUT TO:
INT. ELITE CLEANERS - DAY
Kimble approaches the friendly DRY CLEANING MAN who stands behind a counter
in the empty, nondescript store.
DRY CLEANING MAN
Yes, sir?
KIMBLE
They, uh, told me I could place a bet on a
horse here.
DRY CLEANING MAN
Well, they told you right.
(grabs a pad to write on)
What horse? What track? What race? Win,
place, show?
KIMBLE
(consults his newspaper)
Uh, Toybox, the third, at Hollywood Park, uh,
to win.
DRY CLEANING MAN
Well, how much?
KIMBLE
I hope you don't mind a small bet.
(pulls out a dollar bill)
All I've got's a buck.
DRY CLEANING MAN
A buck on the nose? Lifeblood of the business.
You win, you tell your friends. You lose, you
try again, right?
KIMBLE
Can I ask you something?
DRY CLEANING MAN
Don't see why not.
KIMBLE
Who runs the gambling in this town?
Abruptly, the friendly Dry Cleaning Man stops being friendly. He tears up
Kimble's ticket and walks off.
DRY CLEANING MAN
No gambling in this town.
The Dry Cleaning Man returns to his dry cleaning. Kimble fingers his dollar
bill thoughtfully for a moment and then exits the store.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - BUSINESS AREA - DAY
Back out on the street, Kimble approaches the Cab Driver who continues to
work his crossword puzzle.
CAB DRIVER
Six letter word for beach. Starts with an S.
KIMBLE
Strand.
CAB DRIVER
Huh?
KIMBLE
S-T-R-A-N-D.
CAB DRIVER
(tries it)
S-T-R...
(it fits; impressed)
Huh! Don't want a cab?
KIMBLE
Well, it depends. Tryin' to find the guy who
runs the gambling in this town.
CAB DRIVER
Uh huh. Why tell me?
KIMBLE
I never met a cab driver yet that didn't know
what was goin' on.
CAB DRIVER
(thinks Kimble's with the feds)
Washington?
KIMBLE
Just a private fella with a private problem.
CAB DRIVER
(nods)
Yeah, well, it'll cost ya, pal. It's a ten
buck trip. Uh, in advance.
KIMBLE
Everything in this town costs ten bucks?
Kimble pulls out a ten-spot and gives it to the Cab Driver who pockets it and
then indicates a tall office building across the street.
CAB DRIVER
Over there. In that building. Place you
want's called Enright Investments. Takes up
the whole sixth floor. Mortgages, real estate,
insurance. Guy you want's Oliver Enright.
Only you didn't hear it from me.
KIMBLE
What happened to the honest cab driver?
CAB DRIVER
You want information, you pay for it. You want
free information, you ask a cop.
Kimble gets a little nervous at the mention of the word "cop." The Cab
Driver senses the tension and looks Kimble over carefully.
CAB DRIVER
(darkly)
Only maybe you don't think that's such a good
idea.
KIMBLE
Thanks.
The Cab Driver watches with curiosity as Kimble abruptly walk off across the
street in the direction of the office building.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY
The elevator door opens. Kimble emerges into the humdrum lobby and confronts
a receptionist, the bespectacled MS. MORETTI who sits at a desk behind a
divider.
MS. MORETTI
Morning.
KIMBLE
Morning.
MS. MORETTI
May I help you?
KIMBLE
Yes. I'd like to see Mr. Enright. My name is
Paul Miller.
MS. MORETTI
Are you expected, Mr. Miller?
KIMBLE
No.
MS. MORETTI
May I inquire as to the nature of your
business?
KIMBLE
It's personal.
MS. MORETTI
I see. Is Mr. Enright acquainted with you, Mr.
Miller?
KIMBLE
No.
MS. MORETTI
Mr. Enright's a very busy man and I'm afraid
that seeing him just now is out of the
question.
KIMBLE
I'll wait.
MS. MORETTI
Oh, I-I'm afraid that's impossible. Maybe if
you could write a letter stating the nature of
your business, maybe an appointment could be
made.
KIMBLE
You got a phone book?
Though taken aback at this abrupt request, Ms. Moretti opens a drawer, pulls
out a small phone book, and hands it to Kimble. She watches with interest as
he thumbs through it.
KIMBLE
(reads from book)
Enright. Three-oh-five Martin Lane, is that
correct?
Kimble shuts the book and returns it to Ms. Moretti who smiles sardonically.
MS. MORETTI
Mr. Enright is not at home, Mr. Miller.
KIMBLE
I'll wait out in front until he is.
MS. MORETTI
(gives in)
Uh, well, if you'll just have a seat, I'll see
what I can do.
Ms. Moretti punches a button on her intercom. Kimble takes a seat in the
lobby. He thumbs distractedly through an old magazine, then puts it aside.
After a moment or two, a handsome young man in a suit emerges from the depths
of the office and confronts him. This is Enright's assistant, RALPH.
RALPH
Hello, Mr. Miller. Can I help you?
KIMBLE
(rises)
Mr. Enright?
RALPH
No.
KIMBLE
I'll wait and talk to Mr. Enright.
Ralph unbuttons his jacket to reveal a holstered gun on his belt, startling
Kimble.
RALPH
Please turn around, Mr. Miller.
Kimble reluctantly does so. Ralph pats him down, pulls out Kimble's wallet,
and checks his I.D.
RALPH
Thank you. One moment, please.
Kimble watches Ralph disappear into Enright's office with his wallet. After
a moment, Ralph reappears at the office door.
RALPH
Mr. Miller?
Kimble joins Ralph at the door and they enter Enright's office.
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY
Ralph closes the door. Kimble looks the undistinguished office over as
OLIVER ENRIGHT, a graying but handsome man, sits at his desk studying
Kimble's wallet.
ENRIGHT
My name's Enright. What do you want?
Kimble glances at Ralph, clearly wanting to talk to Enright alone.
ENRIGHT
All right, Ralph.
Ralph gets the hint and exits.
ENRIGHT
Sit down.
Kimble sits in a chair opposite Enright who tosses his wallet back to him.
ENRIGHT
You have three minutes, Mr. Miller.
KIMBLE
At 12:20 last night, I was walking east on
Cambridge Avenue. Two uniformed policemen
forced me into an alley and beat me up. They
told me to get out of town.
ENRIGHT
They say why?
KIMBLE
No, but I understand it's happened before to
out-of-town gamblers.
ENRIGHT
Are you from, uh, out-of-town, Mr. Miller?
KIMBLE
Yes, sir.
ENRIGHT
What's your business here?
KIMBLE
I'm looking for somebody.
ENRIGHT
Then why come to me? The sign on my door says
"real estate." You have a complaint about
police brutality, you should be talking to
Police Chief Abbott.
KIMBLE
I'm not a voter and I don't pay taxes. And I
have no visible means of support. Now, I could
go to the police chief and he could listen to
me or he could not. I could wind up in the
hospital or worse.
ENRIGHT
Still doesn't answer my question. Why come to
me?
KIMBLE
I understand you have some influence with the
police. I've been told this is a quiet town.
I'm a very quiet man. I'd just like to stay
here until I find the man I'm looking for.
ENRIGHT
How do I know you're telling me the truth...
about the beating?
After a pause, Kimble rises and unbuttons his shirt. Enright looks on in
horror at Kimble's bruised torso. He grabs a pen and puts it to a pad.
ENRIGHT
Where could I reach you, Mr. Miller?
KIMBLE
(buttoning his shirt)
At the Clay Court Hotel.
Enright scribbles this down.
ENRIGHT
(abruptly)
Goodbye, Mr. Miller.
As Kimble exits, Enright picks up the phone.
CUT TO:
EXT. POLICE STATION - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION - POLICE CHIEF'S OFFICE - DAY
The phone rings. CHIEF ABBOTT picks up. We CUT BACK AND FORTH between
Enright in his office and Chief Abbott in his.
CHIEF ABBOTT
Chief Abbott speaking.
(beat)
Oh, put him on.
(beat)
Morning, Mr. Enright.
ENRIGHT
The name Paul Miller mean anything to you,
John? He was just in here. From out of town.
He told me quite a story.
CHIEF ABBOTT
Oh? What kind of story?
(long pause)
Well, now, that's the first I've heard of it,
Oliver. Tell the truth, I find it hard to
believe.
ENRIGHT
So did I... till I saw the marks on him. Now
if any of your boys have the idea that they can
run things on their own, somebody should set
them straight. And soon.
CHIEF ABBOTT
I'll get on it right away.
(beat)
Yes, sir.
Chief Abbott hangs up and buzzes his intercom. As he does, we see that
someone else is in the room with him: Fred Johnson, still looking natty in
his fancy suit, sits across from the Chief watching him with interest.
VOICE ON INTERCOM
Yes, Chief?
CHIEF ABBOTT
Call the Sixth Precinct. Tell the captain that
two of his men are being charged with beating
up on a fella by the name of Paul Miller
sometime last night. I wanna know who those
two men are. And I want a full report of the
entire incident just as quick as he can make
it, understand?
VOICE ON INTERCOM
Right on it, Chief.
Abbott turns to Fred Johnson who, though unnerved by the news that his
"incident" with Kimble is under investigation, keeps a poker face.
CHIEF ABBOTT
Ah, I'm sorry about the interruption, Cramer,
but I guess you know how your boss is when he
wants something done in a hurry.
Johnson rises, pulls a thick envelope from his jacket pocket, and places it
on Abbott's desk.
FRED JOHNSON
You're right. He pays pretty good.
Chief Abbott opens the envelope and takes out a fat wad of cash which he
proceeds to count.
CUT TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY
The phone RINGS. Kimble emerges from the bathroom, drying his hands with a
towel, and picks up.
KIMBLE
Hello?
MS. MORETTI
Mr. Miller?
KIMBLE
That's right.
MS. MORETTI
Mr. Enright wants to see you immediately.
Ms. Moretti hangs up. Kimble wonders what he's getting into.
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY
Kimble and Enright stand in Enright's office. Enright holds two black-and-
white photographs of uniformed police officers -- neither one of whom beat up
Kimble.
ENRIGHT
These are the two men who assaulted you.
(hands photos to Kimble)
I'll, uh, I'll need your identification.
Kimble glances at the photos and hands them back.
KIMBLE
They're not the men.
ENRIGHT
If you'd said they were, I'd have you out of
town in the next five minutes. Sit down.
Both men sit.
ENRIGHT
The exact time you say you were beaten up these
men were investigating a complaint nearly a
mile away. Now, go on over to City Hall. See
Police Chief Abbott. He'll give you
photographs of every man in the department.
KIMBLE
I don't want to get even, Mr. Enright. I just
want--
ENRIGHT
I don't care what you want! I've got something
to protect too --
(rises)
-- a nice, smooth-running operation that draws
customers from three other states. We let a
citizen shoot a little craps, get his money
down on a horse, find a nice girl to entertain
him. It's that kind of a town, Mr. Miller. In
fact, it's that kind of a world. To satisfy
the reform elements we have to put the lid down
on every other type of crime. That's why I
have to know about those two patrolmen. They
didn't fill out a report. That means it was
outside the department -- a personal grudge --
and that I will not sit still for. You going
to help me with this or not?
KIMBLE
No.
(rises)
If I identify those men, they'll deny it. I
can't prove anything. The only reason I came
to you is because I thought you wanted me out
of Clark City. I was wrong. Let's leave it at
that.
Kimble starts to leave.
ENRIGHT
You, uh, staying in town?
KIMBLE
(turns to Enright)
I have to. I told you why.
ENRIGHT
Got a job?
KIMBLE
No.
ENRIGHT
Need one?
Kimble nods.
ENRIGHT
(smiles)
Maybe... you'd like to join the police force?
Hm?
KIMBLE
(grins wryly)
I don't think so.
ENRIGHT
All right, Mr. Miller. We can always find an
opening for a man like you.
KIMBLE
(slowly realizes)
I'm the bait, is that it, Mr. Enright?
ENRIGHT
(grinning)
You've got the idea.
(writes something on a pad)
Now, if those two try again, maybe I can find
them. Now, the pay is small...
(tears the sheet off the pad)
...the job is honest.
Enright offers the sheet to Kimble.
CUT TO:
INT. BAR - NIGHT
A sleazy dive where, to some tediously cheesy MUSIC, a torrid dancing girl in
a skin-tight gold outfit dances atop the counter of the bar, shaking her
feathered fans to the amusement of the bar patrons. As she dances down the
bar, we discover bartender Kimble polishing some glasses and enjoying the
show. A second bartender shouts over the music:
BARTENDER
Miller, go get us some more ice!
Kimble grabs an empty ice tub and disappears into the back. Just as he does,
Fred Johnson enters the bar through its swinging doors, cigarette in hand,
and looks the joint over. He walks confidently along the bar, scopes a
pretty blonde, grabs a stool at the far end, and watches the torrid dancing
girl dancing torridly. He gives no sign that he's aware of Kimble's presence
-- he's just out for an evening's entertainment.
Kimble emerges from the back with a tub full of ice. Johnson, looking for a
bartender, spots Kimble. The dancing girl flirts with a customer. Kimble,
his back turned to the bar, fails to see a nervous Johnson duck out the
swinging doors and disappear into the night. Only after Johnson is gone does
Kimble turn to the bar, emptying an ashtray, having just missed seeing his
elusive quarry by mere seconds.
FADE OUT
EXT. CLAY COURT HOTEL - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY COURT HOTEL - NIGHT
At the FRONT DESK, the DESK CLERK answers the switchboard.
DESK CLERK
Good evening. Clay Court Hotel.
(beat)
I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a Mr. Miller in
211. We've a Paul Miller in 208. Shall I
try--? Hello? Hello?
But the caller has hung up. The Desk Clerk pulls the switchboard plug and
reads a newspaper.
CUT TO:
EXT. DOWNTOWN - CLARK CITY - NIGHT
Garish neon signs, cheesy go-go MUSIC. Fred Johnson rushes from the sidewalk
to the street and flags down an oncoming police car. The car pulls to the
curb. Inside the car are the two officers who beat up Kimble for him.
Johnson confronts Lynch who sits in the passenger seat.
OFFICER LYNCH
What's on your mind, Mr. Cramer?
FRED JOHNSON
My old friend.
OFFICER LYNCH
Talkin' 'bout Miller?
FRED JOHNSON
Yeah. He has a room at the hotel around the--
OFFICER LYNCH
We know where he's at. Things have changed,
Mr. Cramer. Turns out Miller's working for Mr.
Enright.
FRED JOHNSON
A lousy bartender! Who cares what happens to
him?
OFFICER LYNCH
We do, Mr. Cramer. See you 'round.
Lynch nods to the driver and the car pulls away, leaving Johnson standing
helplessly on the sidewalk.
CUT TO:
EXT. FUNERAL HOME - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY
A sign out front reads: "A. L. HAMP FUNERAL HOME"
CUT TO:
INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY
The next morning, Fred Johnson meets with the cadaverous funeral parlor
director and part-time hit man, A. L. HAMP who tidies up a casket.
FRED JOHNSON
He said he wants it done quick.
HAMP
How quick?
FRED JOHNSON
Tonight if you can.
Like all paid assassins who run funeral parlors, Hamp is fluent in Latin:
HAMP
"Omnus [?] est a diablo."
(translates)
"All haste is from the devil."
Hamp sits at a desk opposite Johnson.
HAMP
Obscure Latin proverb, Mr. Cramer. All
right, tonight, if at all possible.
Johnson pulls a wad of cash from his inside jacket pocket, licks his thumb,
peels off two bills, and floats them down to Hamp's desk.
FRED JOHNSON
Okay?
HAMP
What's Mr. Enright doing? Cutting corners? My
price doesn't change. Five hundred dollars.
In advance. Surprised at Mr. Enright.
Johnson forks over the necessary amount. Hamp sweeps the money off the
desktop and into a drawer, then rises and offers his hand to Johnson.
HAMP
Pleasure meeting you, sir.
Johnson gives him a left-handed handshake.
HAMP
Come back again, any time.
FRED JOHNSON
Yeah. Sure.
Hamp watches Johnson exit, then picks up the piece of paper with his
"assignment" on it, looks it over, takes out a match, lights it, sets fire to
the paper, and places it in an ashtray to burn.
CUT TO:
EXT./INT. HIT MONTAGE - NIGHT
A little after one A.M. the next morning, Hamp walks down a sidewalk carrying
an ominous-looking instrument case. He rounds a corner and enters a seedy
building, an all-night burlesque theater.
On an upper floor he emerges from a stairwell and enters a men's room.
In the men's room, he checks to make sure it's unoccupied, places his case on
the sink, then locks the door. He removes his jacket and hangs it up.
Unlocking the window, he crouches beside it. Not wanting to dirty his nice
pants, he pulls some newspapers from the floor of a nearby stall, places them
in front of the window and kneels on them. Opening the window slightly, he
peers out.
HAMP'S POV: across the street, the Clay Court Hotel.
Hamp pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and looks it over.
On the paper is a drawing of the Clay Court indicating the exact location of
both Room 208 and the bathroom for Room 208.
He folds up the paper and pockets it, then checks his pocket watch.
The watch reads twenty past one.
Hamp pockets the watch and keeps an eye on the hotel.
Kimble appears on the street below.
Hamp grins and watches as...
...Kimble enters the hotel.
Hamp rises, moves to his instrument case on the sink, and opens it. Inside
are the parts of a disassembled high-powered rifle which he takes out and
begins to assemble.
Inside the hotel, Kimble confers with the Desk Clerk.
KIMBLE
Ring me at ten o'clock.
DESK CLERK
Sure thing, Mr. Miller.
KIMBLE
Good night.
DESK CLERK
Good night, Mr. Miller.
Kimble heads off for his room. The Desk Clerk makes a note to ring Kimble.
In the men's room, Hamp attaches a huge silencer to his rifle, then begins to
load a bullet.
In the hotel, Kimble arrives at his door and unlocks it.
In the men's room, Hamp finishes loading the rifle and moves to the window.
Entering his hotel room, Kimble removes his jacket and tosses it on the bed.
Undoing his shirt cuffs, he heads into the bathroom.
From HAMP'S POV: the light goes on in Kimble's bathroom window.
At the men's room window, Hamp lines up his shot.
In his bathroom, Kimble dries his face at the sink.
At the men's room window, Hamp adjusts the gun site and squints into it.
From over Hamp's shoulder, we see the rifle lined up perfectly with Kimble.
Hamp's steady blue eye peers through the gun site at his target.
An unsuspecting Kimble at the sink. We hear the GUNSHOT. The image of
Kimble SHATTERS like glass -- Hamp has accidentally shot not Kimble, but
Kimble's reflection in the bathroom mirror. A bullet hole appears in the wall
where the mirror used to be.
A stunned Kimble, on the floor of the bathroom, looks from the bullet hole
and shattered mirror to the bathroom window.
The bullet, he realizes, was meant for him.
CUT TO:
INT. CORA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
Not long after. A hand knocks on a door. The door opens to reveal Cora's
face. She peers through the chained door at an intense Kimble.
CORA
What do you want?
KIMBLE
I've got to come in. I've got to see you.
CORA
Got no time to see you.
Cora tries to shut the door but Kimble forces it in, grabs her, and presses
her against a wall in her room.
CORA
Mister, you got no right bustin' in here like
this. I don't know you. I don't want to know
you.
KIMBLE
My name is Paul Miller. I live at the Clay Court
Hotel. And I want some answers.
CORA
I got no answers. Now get out of here before I
start yellin' my head off.
KIMBLE
Go ahead and yell. Yell now or in court. It
makes no difference.
CORA
Court?
KIMBLE
That's right.
CORA
Why?
KIMBLE
As a witness. Now you saw those two policemen.
And you're gonna stand up in court and testify
that you saw them.
CORA
I-I didn't see anyone in that alley but you. I
don't know who you're talking about.
KIMBLE
Cora. Now just listen to me. I didn't want to
drag you into this. But things have changed.
Now, someone's trying to kill me. I've got to
know who they are and why.
CORA
I don't know. It was dark.
KIMBLE
It was light enough. There was enough light
from that street light.
CORA
I said I didn't know who you're talking about.
Now you can't prove differently and you know it.
So you get out of here.
KIMBLE
Now, there's someone else that wants those
answers. They want the same answers as I do.
He doesn't know about you yet but he will. His
name is Enright.
With that, Kimble walks out, leaving a shaken Cora behind. She knows she's
in real trouble now. She shuts the door and, clutching her stomach, moves
slowly and painfully to the center of the room.
After a moment, her bedroom door opens behind her. Emerging from the bedroom
-- in full uniform, no less -- is none other than Officer Lynch, his gun belt
in hand. He straps it on as he approaches Cora. Apparently, he's a regular
john of hers.
OFFICER LYNCH
Ought to shove you off a bridge. How'd you
hook up with him in the first place?
CORA
He dropped his wallet. I-I-I thought he was...
Lynch sighs and looks unhappy. Cora tries to reassure him, putting her hands
lovingly on his chest.
CORA
Listen, there's no way that he can make me
talk. You know that, Ted.
CUT TO:
INT. BAR - DAY
The next afternoon, Fred Johnson, Cora, and Officer Lynch sit at a table in
the bar where Kimble works. The place is nearly empty.
OFFICER LYNCH
(off Johnson)
Man's just tryin' to help you, Cora.
CORA
Why do you wanna help me? Are you the guy that
he's looking for?
Johnson, his stump resting on the table beside Lynch's hat, nods quietly.
CORA
(to Lynch, off the bar)
You must be out of your mind. Miller works
here.
OFFICER LYNCH
Relax. His shift doesn't start till nine
tonight.
CORA
Listen, fellas, um, uh, can't you take care of
this thing yourself? I mean, I-I don't like to
get mixed in, you know?
FRED JOHNSON
You already got mixed in.
CORA
But I didn't do anything. I didn't say
anything.
OFFICER LYNCH
Yes, you did, Cora. You said one word. Cops.
CORA
He thought I said that. Really. He thought I--
Cora stares at the two men, realizes they're not buying it.
CORA
I don't like to see anybody get hurt.
OFFICER LYNCH
Well, somebody's gonna get hurt. Now, how will
you have it? You or Miller?
That strikes a nerve. Cora stares at Johnson and makes a decision.
CUT TO:
INT. BAR - NIGHT
Around nine o'clock. The torrid dancing girl is hard at work. Cora sits at
the bar drinking. Kimble enters. Cora spots him and rushes to him.
CORA
Hey, mister!
Kimble stops and they confer.
CORA
Ah, did-did you tell 'em about me yet?
KIMBLE
No. I don't want to get you into trouble, Cora.
CORA
Trouble? See, I could get killed. Um, you
know, I think I got somethin' for ya. A
girlfriend of mine knows this guy and, uh, it
was something that he said. She thinks that he
may be the guy that you're looking for.
KIMBLE
What does he look like?
CORA
Well, he's, uh, dark, husky, and he's got one
arm.
Kimble tenses up.
KIMBLE
Where is he?
CORA
I don't know but my girlfriend works in an
all-night hamburger joint.
KIMBLE
Where?
CORA
Can you get off work?
KIMBLE
Yeah.
CORA
I'll take you there. My car's out back.
She grabs her purse and they both head out the door.
CUT TO:
EXT. HAMBURGER JOINT - NIGHT
Minutes later. Cora's car pulls up. Kimble's about to get out of the car.
CORA
Uh, wait a minute. She doesn't want to be seen
talking to you. Why don't you just go around
back? There's a rear door in the alley.
Kimble nods and gets out, shuts the car door, and walks into the alley beside
the hamburger joint.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT
Kimble enters the dark alley.
FRED JOHNSON
Hey, doc!
Fred Johnson appears from nowhere, SMASHING a huge metal trash can into
Kimble's head.
Kimble crashes to the ground.
Johnson kicks Kimble savagely in the face. With his good arm, Johnson hauls
Kimble to his feet.
Johnson punches Kimble's face with his stump. Then, with his left hand on the
back of Kimble's neck and forcing his stump against Kimble's throat, Johnson
tries to strangle Kimble.
For a long, agonizing moment, Kimble, his lip bleeding, desperately gasps for
air. With all his strength, he manages to push Johnson away.
Johnson stumbles backward against some stacked cardboard boxes. Kimble
rushes him but Johnson blocks a punch with his left hand, hits Kimble hard in
the chest with his stump, then kicks him backward.
Kimble falls to the ground and hits his head against a packing crate, his
hand resting on the garbage can lid beside him.
Johnson charges at Kimble with a knife.
Kimble grabs the garbage can lid and uses it to knock the knife from
Johnson's hand and then to force him backward.
A stunned Johnson stumbles into a corner as a savage Kimble attacks him with
a barrage of punches. With a wicked two-handed blow to the head, Kimble
finally knocks Johnson unconscious.
Kimble, breathing hard, slowly backs away from Johnson's inert body, sees the
knife lying nearby and picks it up. Kimble stares at it a long moment before
looking down at Johnson.
FADE OUT
EXT. POLICE STATION - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT
FADE IN on the well-lit front entrance of the station.
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
A few minutes later. All is quiet in the station as SGT. WEBER, the desk
sergeant hands some routine paperwork to OFFICER BILL.
SGT. WEBER
Why don't you check this against county file?
OFFICER BILL
Okay.
Officer Bill moves to a desk as the front doors burst suddenly open. A
disheveled Kimble drags an even more disheveled and half-conscious Fred
Johnson up to Sgt. Weber. Bill and another officer join them to see what all
the excitement is about.
KIMBLE
(to Sgt. Weber, off Johnson)
I want this man arrested.
SGT. WEBER
(to Kimble)
What's your name?
A big moment for Kimble. He tries to catch his breath.
KIMBLE
My name is... Richard Kimble.
(off Johnson)
He killed my wife three years ago.
SGT. WEBER
Well, that's a pretty serious charge, mister.
You got something to back that up?
Kimble and Johnson stand together at the desk. Johnson keeps his head down
and says nothing.
KIMBLE
You contact Lieutenant Philip Gerard in
Stafford, Indiana. He'll give you the details.
Sgt. Weber glances at the other officers, then looks at Johnson.
SGT. WEBER
(to Johnson)
What's your name?
FRED JOHNSON
Steve Cramer.
SGT. WEBER
(to Johnson, off Kimble)
What this fella say true?
Kimble looks from Johnson to the sergeant to Johnson again. But Johnson stays
silent. Sgt. Weber picks up a phone and dials. He stares at the two men
before him, not sure what to make of it all.
SGT. WEBER
(into the phone)
Yeah, this is Weber at the Third Precinct.
Let me speak to Captain Gilbert.
CUT TO:
INT. JAIL CELL BLOCK - DAY
The next morning, Kimble stands at the sink in his cell splashing water on
his face. He rubs his neck and dries himself with a towel. He hears some
noise behind him and turns. Officer Bill enters the cell block and unlocks
Kimble's cell door.
OFFICER BILL
Let's go, Doctor.
KIMBLE
(grabs his coat)
Where's Lieutenant Gerard?
OFFICER BILL
(shrugs)
Sergeant said something about somebody we're
supposed to meet.
Kimble takes a last look as his cell and he and Officer Bill exit the cell
block.
CUT TO:
EXT. ROAD - DAY
A black-and-white police car rolls down a road outside of town. In the back
seat of the car, Kimble and Fred Johnson sit handcuffed together. Johnson
looks like he's asleep. Kimble turns to Officer Bill, sitting beside him.
KIMBLE
Where are we going?
OFFICER BILL
Now, don't go getting all excited, Doctor.
You'll have all the answers soon enough.
CUT TO:
EXT. ESTATE - DAY
The police car pulls off the road and goes through the large iron gates of a
swanky, luxurious private estate.
The car travels along the long, winding driveway and stops in front of a huge
mansion. Officer Bill gets out and opens the door so that Kimble and Johnson
may climb out of the car.
A confused Kimble looks up at the mansion and wonders what's going on. The
car drives off as a servant greets Officer Bill, Kimble, and Johnson on the
front steps. The servant opens the front door and everyone enters.
CUT TO:
INT. ESTATE - DAY
Downstairs, in the ritzy, stylish basement, Enright sits, listening to the
sound of the front door upstairs SLAMMING shut. He looks tense, his hand to
his mouth. The servant leads Officer Bill, Kimble, and Johnson down some
stairs, through a door, and into the basement proper. Officer Bill shuts the
door behind everyone as Kimble and Johnson are led to a couple of seats near
the center of the room.
The servant approaches a man in a wheelchair who sits under a huge array of
blue lamps, getting some sort of ultraviolet light treatment. The lamps BUZZ
mightily until a timer bell RINGS and the servant shuts off the power. Then,
the servant wheels the man around to face Kimble, Johnson, Enright, and
Officer Bill.
The wheelchair-bound man is an elderly Italian gangster named VICTOR LUCHEK.
He wears sunglasses as protection against the lamps.
LUCHEK
You're Kimble, huh? I read about you. You
know me?
Kimble stares at him and shakes his head.
KIMBLE
I don't think so.
LUCHEK
(smiles)
I'm Victor Luchek.
Kimble looks uncertain.
LUCHEK
(laughs)
You think old Vic is dead, huh? Lots of people
think this. Victor Luchek, the big shot, how
he's just an old man stuck away in a hick town.
(to Officer Bill, off the handcuffs)
Take them things off his hands.
The servant wheels Luchek a few feet away so that Officer Bill may uncuff
Kimble and Johnson.
LUCHEK
(to Johnson)
You, punk, come here.
Johnson rises and joins Luchek.
LUCHEK
You make a lot of trouble for me, punk. Come
to a nice, quiet town. Hook up with the outfit
and everything is hunky dory, huh? Only you
gotta step out of line. Try to get a man
killed. Maybe louse up what takes me ten years
to get going. Maybe we stick your feet in a
barrel of cement. Drop you in the river.
FRED JOHNSON
He was after me.
LUCHEK
So you run. Let him catch you someplace else,
not in Clark City.
FRED JOHNSON
I'm sick of running. For the first time, I'm--
LUCHEK
Sit down, punk.
Johnson takes a seat, away from Kimble. The servant wheels Luchek over to
Enright. Luchek takes off his sunglasses.
LUCHEK
What's a matter, Ollie? Maybe you lose your
touch, huh? This hot-headed punk shows up in
town, running a vendetta. Ain't enough you
let him stick around. No. You gotta go on
sticking him on the payroll. Maybe the old
man, he'd like to know why, if it ain't too
much trouble.
ENRIGHT
(confidentially)
I owed the man something, Vic. Four years ago
in a Detroit bar, he stopped a drunk from
putting a knife through me. Few months ago, I,
uh, I meet him on the street. He's broke,
needs a job. I figured I owed him that much.
LUCHEK
A punk like that you don't give the time of day
to, no matter what you owe him.
(beat)
No more mistakes, Ollie.
Enright looks properly apologetic. Luchek has himself wheeled back to Kimble.
LUCHEK
Dr. Kimble, you wanna knock off this punk is up
to you but--
KIMBLE
No, I want him alive, Mr. Luchek. He's my only
chance to clear myself.
LUCHEK
But he don't want you alive. Either way, we
don't want your kind of trouble. So get killed
in some other town, Dr. Kimble. Here, we got
no use for victims either.
KIMBLE
I was hoping you'd turn him over to the Indiana
police.
LUCHEK
You ask too much. I don't give even a yellow
dog to the police.
Kimble looks down, disappointed.
LUCHEK
(sardonic, off Enright)
Maybe Mr. Enright, he will do this thing for
you. Mr. Enright is the big shot.
Enright looks unhappy. Luchek smiles. The servant wheels Luchek to a nearby
elevator. Enright, Kimble, Johnson, and Officer Bill watch as Luchek and the
servant enter the elevator and disappear.
CUT TO:
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
Some time later. Enright's car pulls into the parking lot outside his office
building. His assistant Ralph greets him, calling over an Enright EMPLOYEE
to take care of the car. Officer Bill, Kimble, Johnson and Enright emerge
from the car and stand in the lot with Ralph while the employee drives the
car away.
ENRIGHT
I'll handle this, Bill.
OFFICER BILL
Right.
Officer Bill departs.
ENRIGHT
(to Johnson)
Now, I, uh, I tried to give you a break and
you get me into this kind of trouble. Anybody
else did what you did, I'd kill him.
Kimble and Johnson exchange nervous glances.
ENRIGHT
(to Ralph)
Get your car.
Ralph leaves to get his car.
ENRIGHT
(to Johnson)
You, uh, saved my life once. All right.
(off Kimble)
I'll give you twenty-four hours start on this
man. With luck, that'll save your life. And,
uh, we're even.
Ralph pulls up in his car and gets out as Enright takes out his wallet and
hands some money to Johnson.
ENRIGHT
(to Johnson)
Here's two weeks' pay. Now, you get into that
car. You get out of town. Don't ever show up
around here again.
Johnson looks at Enright, then pointedly at Kimble, and hurries to the car.
Kimble makes a move to stop him but Enright intervenes.
ENRIGHT
(to Kimble)
You stay here.
Johnson's car pulls away and Kimble can only stand by and watch helplessly.
Enright and Ralph escort a frustrated Kimble into the building as Johnson's
car disappears from view, heading north.
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY
Enright, Ralph, and Kimble emerge from the elevator and approach Ms. Moretti.
MS. MORETTI
(hands him his messages)
Mr. Enright.
ENRIGHT
(takes his messages)
Thank you.
Enright shuffles through his messages as if it were just another day at the
office. After an awkward pause, and a glance at Ralph, Kimble wonders aloud:
KIMBLE
(to Enright)
Can I leave now?
ENRIGHT
You, uh, you a man of your word, Kimble?
KIMBLE
I like to think so.
ENRIGHT
All right. Give me your word you won't leave
Clark City before noon tomorrow. Hm?
KIMBLE
(reluctant)
All right.
ENRIGHT
You, uh, you leave before then, I'll have the
state police pick you up before you've gone ten
miles. That'll put you back on death row.
Clear enough?
KIMBLE
Clear enough.
ENRIGHT
Goodbye, Mr. Kimble. Wish I could say it was a
pleasure to know you.
Enright and Ralph head for Enright's office as Kimble boards the elevator.
CUT TO:
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
Moments later. Kimble rushes out of the building into the parking lot and
moves to Enright's car, parked by the side of the building. He jumps in,
starts it up, and drives away. The parking lot employee is too slow to stop
him.
EMPLOYEE
Hey! Hey!
Kimble SQUEALS out and speeds north.
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY
Enright pours a glass of water at his desk. Ralph peers out the window.
RALPH
Mr. Enright.
ENRIGHT
Mm hmm?
RALPH
You just lost yourself a car.
ENRIGHT
Kimble?
RALPH
Yeah.
ENRIGHT
That's, ah, too bad...
Enright sips his water, picks up the phone, pops a pill in his mouth.
ENRIGHT
...for him.
CUT TO:
EXT. CHASE SEQUENCE - OUTSIDE CLARK CITY - DAY
Ralph's car, driven by Johnson, speeds down the road.
Inside the car, Johnson whistles nonchalantly.
His speedometer reads a little over forty miles per hour.
Enright's car, driven by Kimble, tears along the same road.
At the wheel, an intense Kimble checks his speedometer: he's pushing eighty.
Kimble looks ahead intently.
Kimble's car takes a sharp turn too quickly. The tires SQUEAL.
Another sharp curve and he leaves the road completely for a moment.
Johnson, still whistling, idly checks his rear view mirror at the sound of
SQUEALING tires behind him. He turns to look out the rear window.
JOHNSON'S POV: Enright's car in hot pursuit.
Kimble, at the wheel, sees he's been spotted.
Johnson turns his attention to the road ahead and picks up speed.
Johnson takes a hairpin turn, followed closely by Kimble.
Farther north, a motorcycle cop pulls up beside a parked patrol car.
Standing by the car is a PATROLMAN who greets the motorcycle cop.
PATROLMAN
What do you say, [?], how things goin'?
The policemen turn their attention to the voice of the DISPATCHER coming over
their radios.
DISPATCHER
Attention all units. Intercept blue, four-door
sedan, license 88W701, believed northbound on
Route 30 between Clark City and [Glen Brook?].
Driver's description: male, Caucasian; age 35;
height, six feet; eyes, brown...
PATROLMAN
Let's move into position.
The policemen move to set up a roadblock.
Johnson's car speeds along.
Johnson looks back to see if Kimble is gaining on him.
Johnson's car takes a tight turn and nearly skids off the road, kicking up a
cloud of dirt.
Kimble's car, not far behind, kicks up a similar cloud.
An increasingly terrified Johnson looks back at Kimble.
Kimble senses he's closing in.
Johnson looks unhappy.
Johnson's car approaches the road block; the cops wave him down.
As Johnson pulls to a stop, the Patrolman hurries to him.
PATROLMAN
Registration, driver's license.
Johnson points to Kimble's car behind him. The Patrolman recognizes Kimble's
car from the Dispatcher's description.
PATROLMAN
(to the other cops)
That's him up there!
The cops let Johnson through and move to intercept Kimble. Johnson drives
off.
Kimble sees the police vehicles blocking the road and hits the brakes.
Desperately, Kimble tries to turn the car around. But, in doing so, the car
leaves the road and the rear tires end up in some roadside sand. The police
move in on him.
Kimble guns the engine but the car won't go. Kimble peers out of the window
to see...
...the rear tire spinning uselessly in the sand.
Guns drawn, the police surround Kimble's car.
PATROLMAN
(to the other cops, off Kimble)
Yeah, that's him all right.
(to Kimble)
Quite a ride you had.
Kimble looks dejected. The police have finally caught up with him after all
these years.
PATROLMAN
Well, let's see if we can give you a thrill on
the way back.
KIMBLE
(confused)
Where are we going?
PATROLMAN
Mr. Enright wants to see you as soon as
possible. He said you stole his car. The way
you were traveling, you could have wrecked the
car and then you'd've been in real trouble, Mr.
Miller.
Kimble suddenly realizes they are not arresting Richard Kimble for interstate
flight -- they're arresting Paul Miller for a slightly lesser charge...
KIMBLE
I'm being arrested for stealing a car?
PATROLMAN
Come on. Let's go.
The Patrolman helps pull Kimble's car from the sand and, with the police
escorting him, Kimble drives south, back to Clark City.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY
Later that day, an angry Enright confronts a subdued Kimble.
ENRIGHT
I was close, Kimble. I was that close to
turning you in. That's what you did to me.
You almost turned me into an informer. You
gave me your word and you broke it.
KIMBLE
I had to.
ENRIGHT
You give me your word, you keep it. What kind
of a world would it be if everybody went around
lying? All right. You got death row waiting
for you. That's just a minor annoyance
compared to the trouble you'll be in if I ever
see you again. Now you get out of this town
and you stay out.
Kimble exits quietly.
CUT TO:
INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - DAY
Kimble leaves Enright's office, walks past Ms. Moretti's desk, and heads for
the elevator as the Omniscient Narrator chimes in with a few choice words:
NARRATOR (v.o.)
A man on the run must never stop. After every
fall he must get up, push on toward the same
elusive goal, a goal so close at times as to be
only a heartbreak away.
Kimble rings for the elevator and takes a last look around at Enright
Investments. The elevator doors open and he boards. The doors close on him
as we
FADE OUT