Venice - Screenplay

Telling my story about Venice in pieces through a screen play. Is still heavily in the works for class.

Screenplay.

 

 

                Soft Knocks on a wooden door, an ocean breeze dances the woman’s hair in the doorway

 

Darya: Alisalakalim.

 

                A dark man opens the door at the sound of her voice, three men stand beside the woman at the door. The three men and the woman enter the mostly empty warehouse. There sits three tables, a standing chalk board with no writing and bright lights. A series of dark men in beards stand in front of the chalk boards. They stand silently waiting.

 

Ali-Aasim watches the group enter and looks up into the corner of the ceiling, nodding slightly at the CCTV.

 

Ali-Aasim: Inshallah, Miss “ “. Raise your arms.

 

A young man in a Bob Marley t shirt walks up to Darya with a personal metal detector, a chemical tracer sits in the palm of his other hand. Detects nothing, moves onto the three men. Detects nothing. A larger man walks up to the group and feels against their body for contraband. He nods at the ceiling when done.

 

Darya grins slightly, notices the repeating glances at the ceiling and holds her shaking hands together.

 

She speaks to Aasim in Farsi now. The group of men standing at the chalkboard take notice.

 

Darya: Inshallah, Aasim. It’s sitting in the port, details will follow shortly.

 

Ali-Aasim: Very well. Which one of your friends do I thank for the delivery?

 

Darya: All or none. It makes no difference to me. And who are your friends?

 

She glances behind Aasim at the men standing waiting.

 

Ali-Aasim: It makes no difference to me.

 

Aasim walks beside Darya putting his hand behind her back gently, guiding her and the men towards the center of the warehouse where the men await.

 

Int/Ext

 

Location: Control Room, Venice Port Authority

 

Six dark men sit inside a small room inside the port watching the video feed from the CCTV’s inside the warehouse. Four men sit staring directly at the console, two men sit leaning over their shoulder.

 

In Darsi,

 

Team Leader: Four? We agreed for two to attend. Which boat did they arrive in?

 

Peon 1: A small 40 ft Catalan in dock 163 in the west bay.

 

Team Leader manages his PDA and looks down from the screens for a moment.

 

Team Leader: Confirmed, have the others send a bomb threat to the Port Authorities from the Catalan.

 

Peon 2 walks away from the screens.

 

Peon 2: On it, sir.

 

Team Leader watches the screen while Aasim guides the group of four to the men at the center of the warehouse. He sits staring, focusing on the woman and her hands.

 

Team leader: Switch console 12 to IR.

 

The screen blinks out then back in watching the body heat signatures of the men inside the ware house. The young man in the Bob Marley t shirt and Darya are glowing orange.

All focus in the room switches to the woman.

 

Team leader sits watching the screens, growing in curiosity, leaning forward into the chair.

 

Team leader: S**t, the men are cool as ice and the woman is panicking.

 

Peon 1: She could be feeling the burden, she’s the only one in the group who speaks Farsi. The men are holding eye contact too heavily. They are watching instead of listening.

 

Team leader: The three are from Nigeria, yes? Recruited by Hands of Allah last summer?

 

Peon 1: That’s the story.

 

Team leader: What’s the status on the Catalan?

 

Peon 2: Port Authorities have kicked the door in, nobodies on ship. The others have a shotgun mic posted at the site. We’ll know when we know.

 

Team leader is staring back at the screens, watching the woman intensely. He is not blinking.

 

Peon 2: Zharcai,we have a problem.

 

Team leader looks at the man with half interest.

 

Peon 2: Others report the Port Authorities speak French and German.

 

The room falls silent. All watch the man with the new information instead of the video feed from the warehouse.

A phone rings inside the warehouse. The men inside the control room watch the video feed from the warehouse. On the screen is a group of men who have all turned their heads to look at Darya, whose phone is ringing. The men start looking towards the exits. Darya reaches inside her pocket and hits a button and looks back to Aasim with the same boring half smile.

 

Team leader: Call the men off the Catalan. It’s Interpol. Tell them to meet in Rome in a month. It’s Interpol.

 

Peon 2: Second problem sir, Scuba has pulled a man from under the boat. They’re resuscitating him.

And..

 

Team leader pounds his heavy fist on the console.

 

Team leader: F*****g say it, Abbas!

 

Peon one and three begin packing their electronics and communication gear.

 

Peon 2: Port Authority has a photo of a man… an older US Army man with inscription on the back of the photo. They found it under the box springs inside a San Francisco Giants cap.

 

Team leader: Husband. It’s a husband. Rome, boys. See you in Rome. Pass the word to the men inside. It’s a sting. We won’t be purchasing any chemical weapons today boys.

 

Peon one reaches to the far console and drags a dial down then back up again twice. The lights inside the warehouse dim then brighten, dim then brighten.

 

Each man inside the control room grabs their communications gear and a sports bag packed with scuba gear and heads for the exit.

 

INT/EXT

 

Location: Warehouse.

 

The men standing at the chalkboard have withdrawn pistols and fired at two of the men behind Darya.

The other man is standing inside the warehouse with his arms at his side while Darya sprints for the exit. As Darya bursts through the exit door inside the warehouse, the third man withdraws a weapon and opens fire on the men at the chalkboard. Darya doesn’t look back. She has taken a bullet to her left shoulder.

 

Darya grunts as she slams into the door with her uninjured shoulder. She hasn’t noticed her injured left shoulder yet.  She sprints across the cement inside the vacant port and looks for the Catalan. The Catalan is being towed out of dock 163. She sprints across the port, towards the Main Bay.

 

Four men with scuba gear and electronics equipment watch her run across the port and towards the Main Bay.

 

Team leader watches Darya and shrugs.

 

In english,

 

Team leader: F**k it. Gitmo blows anyways.

 

The men chuckle at this remark. They continue walking towards the pier.

 

Darya reaches the Main Bay and spots a heavy maroon speedboat. She jumps into the speedboat and begins analyzing her options.

 

A man, the owner, runs up to the dock and jumps in the boat.

 

Owner: Mam… mam! This is my boat. Get the f**k out of here…

 

Darya reaches for her small fisher’s knife in her pocket and shoves it into the man’s right bicep. He falls in pain as she removes the knife and the ignition keys from his pants pocket. She shoves the keys in the ignition and considers the body behind her. The man grabs a lifevest and slinks over the side of his speed boat as she pulls out of the Main Bay. As Darya passes the final dock in her new speedboat the men from the chalkboard fire parting shots towards her. She throttles the engine and pilots the boat towards the Canal. She sets her small pistol in the glove compartment.