KENNY

                      Jesus, you rich people.

            Kenny starts up the engine.  Bobby smiles a twisted smile.

            As the car pulls away, the two men sit in silence, neither

            willing to admit how glad the other is there.

            EXT. PENNSYLVANIA AVE. - NIGHT

            The limo wheels out into the street, carrying the two friends

            into the darkness.

            INT. BOBBY'S LIMO - NIGHT

            Bobby stares out the window at the passing city, the lights

            the lives behind those windows.  As the car drives on and on,

            the tension returns.  Bobby feels the weight of all those

            lives.  On him.  A long beat.  He gazes at Kenny, the only

            man he could ever admit this to:

                                BOBBY

                      I don't know if I can do this.

            Kenny glances over at him.  Bobby stares back.

                                KENNY

                      There's nobody else I'd rather have

                      going in there.

            Bobby looks at him.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)

                      Nobody else I'd trust Helen and the

                      kids' lives to.

            Kenny means it.  He looks away.  Bobby shifts, awkward.

                                BOBBY

                      Take a left.

            Kenny looks him.  This isn't the way to the Justice

            Department.  But he complies.

                                BOBBY (CONT'D)

                      We gave so much to get here.  I don't

                      know.  Sometimes I think what the hell

                      did we do it for?

                                KENNY

                      Because we knew we could do a better job

                      than everyone else.

            And Bobby, in the silence and closeness of the car, turns on

            Kenny - anguished, knowing his life is at its climax.

                                BOBBY

                      You know... I hate being called the

                      brilliant one.  The ruthless one.  They

                      guy who does the dirty work.  The one

                      everybody's afraid of. 

            Kenny looks to him, moved, not knowing what to say.

                                BOBBY (CONT'D)

                      I hate it.  I'm not smart, you know.

                      And I'm not so ruthless.

            He looks to Kenny, searching his face, then away,

            embarrassed.

                                KENNY

                      You're right about the smart part, but

                      ruthless, well...

            That breaks the tension as they arrive at the scene:

            THROUGH THE WINDOW

            Appears the grim, square lines of the SOVIET EMBASSY.  Police

            cars line the streets outside it.  All the windows are dark.

            A cordon of KGB GUARDS in plainclothes stand by the gated

            entrance.  On the opposite side of the street lounge two

            dozen WASHINGTON D.C. POLICE.

            RESUME

            Kenny gives Bobby a look.  Bobby rolls down his window.

                                BOBBY

                      Slow down.  Smell that?

                                KENNY

                      Smoke.

                                BOBBY

                      Just wanted to see for myself.

                          (beat)

                      They're burning their documents.

            The final duty of an embassy before war...

                                BOBBY (CONT'D)

                      They think we're going to war.  G-d help

                      us, Ken.

            EXT. SOVIET EMBASSY - NIGHT

            THE CAMERA lifts away from the limo, turning toward the

            Embassy, past the Guards, past the brass plate which reads

            EMBASSY OF THE UNITED SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS, up and up

            to the roof where black, reeking SMOKE billows from all of

            the Embassy's several chimneys.

            The CAMERA races into it.  It engulfs us all.

            EXT. JUSTICE DEPARTMENT - NIGHT

            Kenny squeals the limo up to the curb in front of the Justice

            Department.  The doors fly open, and Kenny and Bobby jump

            out, head up the steps to the building.

            INT. HALL OUTSIDE BOBBY'S OFFICE - NIGHT

            Bobby's STAFFERS greet them as they stride down the hall,

            Staffer #1 taking Bobby's coat.

                                STAFFER #1

                      Sir, Ambassador Dobrynin is already

                      here.  We have him waiting in your

                      office.

            They reach the double oak doors to Bobby's suite and stop.

            Bobby faces Kenny.

                                KENNY

                      I'll whistle up some luck for you.

            And before Kenny's eyes, all of Bobby's doubt vanishes.  In

            its place, a severe confidence.  A grandeur Kenny has never

            seen.

            It makes Kenny pause.  He beholds his best friend become a

            man of the ages.  And then Bobby SMOOTHLY opens the door.

            INT. BOBBY'S WAITING ROOM - NIGHT

            And a DOOR SHUTS OC like a threshold of history.  HOLD ON

            Bobby's waiting room.  Silent.  Cavernous.  Dim.  Plush

            carpet.  Heavy drapes framing dark windows.  And abandoned

            secretary's desk.  A row of sofas and chairs on either side

            of the room.  Two doorways, one at either end of the room.

            A WOMAN sits in one of the chairs for visitors.  Dressed in

            gray.  Prim.  But beautiful.  A secretary of some sort.

            One of the double doors to the hall swings silently open.

            Kenny glides in.  He sees the other door shut at the far end

            of the room.  Kenny crashes in one of the chairs to wait.

            HOLD ON THE SCENE, motionless, silent.

            Kenny WHISTLES two notes.  Stops.  And then he begins to

            WHISTLE the Irish tune, O'Donnell Aboo.  He gets a bar into

            it -- and there's a polite, soft COUGH.

            Kenny stops.  Then notices the Woman in gray across the room.

            He didn't see her.  It's dim over there.  She looks at him,

            expressionless.

            The CAMERA FINDS: a pin on her lapel.  A RED HAMMER AND

            SICKLE.

            Kenny reacts.  Dobrynin's assistant?  His opposite number?  A

            friend?  Or more than a friend?

            Here is the face of the enemy.  Not a smile between them.

            Kenny resumes his ease.  And begins to WHISTLE again.

            The haunting Irish song echoes in the vaulted ceiling,

            filling the dim room.  Strange, sad, beautiful.  The woman

            listens.  And her face begins to soften. 

            Kenny stares at the dark, lonely windows, his SONG striving

            to fill the empty room.

            Kenny sinks deeper in the chair, his tune all-consuming...

            and the Woman's voice breaks in.  Kenny stops, looks over.

            Her voice is tremulous and beautiful.  Just a snatch of some

            song in Russian.  She stops, awkward.

            Kenny stares.  The Woman stares back.  No smiles.  But in

            their eyes, they each see the other's fear, the other's

            beauty, the other's humanity.

            So this is the enemy.

                                THE WOMAN

                      Who are you?

            Kenny glances to the door.  He considers for a long moment.

                                KENNY

                      The friend.

            Kenny breaks the gaze.  He begins to whistle again.  The

            CAMERA drifts away, finding the far DOOR to the inner office,

            Kenny's tune stronger, carrying with it hope...

            INT. BOBBY'S OFFICE - NIGHT

            ... to the other side of that DOOR.  Dobrynin sits in a chair

            opposite Bobby behind his desk.  The room is equally dim.

            And far more tense.

            Silence.  And then the FAINTEST STRAIN of O'Donnell Aboo.

            Dobrynin glances briefly over his shoulder at the door.

            But Bobby, unseen by Dobrynin, can't help the flicker of a

            private smile.  It's Kenny's presence, and Bobby is the

            stronger for it.  And then the tune is gone.

            Bobby leans forward, cool, controlled, masterful.

                                BOBBY

                      Ambassador Dobrynin, we are aware that

                      at this moment your missiles in Cuba are

                      at the brink of operational readiness...

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. MISSILE SITE - CUBA - CONTINUOUS

            Floodlights illuminate MISSILES, vertical on their erectors,

            support VEHICLES, clustered across the man-made clearing.

            Mask-wearing Technicians wave a FUEL TRUCK back to the

            nearest missile.  Clouds of toxic VAPOR rise from the others.

            They've already been fueled.