LETHAL WEAPON




by Shane Black









     FADE IN:
     
     CITY OF ANGELS

     lies spread out beneath us in all its  splendor,  like  a
     bargain basement Promised Land.

     CAMERA SOARS, DIPS, WINDS its way SLOWLY  DOWN,  DOWN,
     bringing us IN OVER the city as we:

     SUPER MAIN TITLES.

     TITLES END, as we --

     SPIRAL DOWN TOWARD a lush, high-rise apartment complex.
     The moon reflected in glass.

     CAMERA CONTINUES TO MOVE IN THROUGH billowing curtains,
     INTO the inner sanctum of a  penthouse  apartment,  and
     here, boys and girls, is where we lose our breath,
     because --

     spread-eagled on a sumptuous designer sofa lies the
     single most beautiful GIRL in the city.
     Blonde hair. A satin nightgown that positively  glows.
     Sam Cooke MUSIC, crooning from five hundred dollar
     SPEAKERS.

     PASTEL colors. Window  walls.  New  wave  furniture  tor-
     tured into weird shapes.  It looks like robots live here.

     On the table next to the sleeping Venus  lies  an  open
     bottle of pills ... next to that, a mirror dusted with
     cocaine.

     She rouses herself to smear some powder  on  her  gums.
     As she does, we see from her eyes that she is thoroughly,
     completely whacked out of her mind...

     She stands, stumbles across the room, pausing to glance
     at a photograph on the wall:

     Two men.  Soldiers.  Young, rough-hewn, arms around each
     other.

     The Girl throws open the glass doors ... steps out onto a
     balcony, and there, beneath her, lies  all  of  nighttime
     L.A.  Panoramic splendor.  Her hair flies, her expression.
     rapt, as she stands against this sea of technology.  She
     is beautiful.

     On the balcony railing beside her  stand  three  potted
     plants.

     The Girl sees them, picks one up.  Looks over the balcony
     railing ... It is ten stories down to the parking lot.
     she squints, holds the plant over the edge.

                         GIRL
               Red car.

     Drops the plant.  Down it goes, spiralling end over end
     -- until, finally ... BAM --  !  SHATTERS.  Dirt  flies.  A
     red Chevy is now minus a WINDSHIELD.  The Girl takes
     another plant.

                         GIRL
               Green car.

     She drops it.  Green Dodge.  Ten stories below, BAM
     Impact city.  Scratch one paint job.  Grabs the final
     plant and holds it out, saying:

                         GIRL
               Blue car.

     POW.  GLASS SHATTERS.  Dirt sprays.  A blue BMW this
     time.  The Girl loves this game ... her expression is
     slightly crazed.  She reaches for another plant --
     There aren't any.  Her smile fades -- And for a moment,
     just a moment, the dullness leaves her eyes and she is
     suddenly, incredibly sober.  And tears fill her eyes as
     she looks over the edge --

                         GIRL
               Yellow car.

     And jumps the railing. Plummets, head  over  heels  like  a
     rag doll. Hits the yellow car  spot  on.  She  lies,  dead,
     like an extinguished dream.  Still beautiful.

                                                  CUT TO:

1A   EXT. BENEATH THE PIER    NIGHT                         1A

     FOUR TOUGH-LOOKING DOCK WORKERS are camped  out  under  the
     pier, warming themselves around a small bonfire, laughing
     loudly.  Christmas decorations dangle above them from the
     pier, and empty beer cans litter the sand around them.

     CAMERA PUSHES IN to discover an old collie tied to one of
     the pilings. Then we realize that the  dog  is  being  tor-
     mented by the dock workers.  They flick lighted matches
     at him.  Shake their beers and spray him in the face.
     These guys are not rocket scientists.

     The dog cowers, tugging bn the rope.  Tries  to  get  away.
     All to the great amusement of its tormentors.

     One of them turns, laughing --

     As a shadowy FIGURE strides calmly up to the fire:
     Long hair.
     Cigarette dangling from-lower lip.
     Shirt-tails hanging loose below the waist.

     Nothing threatening in his manner as he plops down  beside
     the men, smiling.
     They are immediately on their guard.

                         RIGGS (FIGURE)
               Happy holidays.  Mind if I join
               you?

                         PUNK  #1
               Yes.

                         PUNK  #2
               Fuck off.

     Riggs smiles at him innocently.  Strokes the collie's fur
     with one hand.
     With the other, he reaches intb a paper sack and produces,
     a spanking new bottle of Jack Daniels, possibly the finest
     drink mankind has  yet  produced.

                         RIGGS
               I need help drinking this.  Cool?

     The dock workers exchange glances.  There seems to be no
     harm in this.  One of them frowns:

                         PUNK  #1
               You a homo?

                         RIGGS
               Do I look like a homo?

                         PUNK  #1
               You got long hair.  Homos got long
               hair.

                         PUNK #3
               I hate homos.  Arrggh.

     Riggs shakes his head, laughs.

                         RIGGS
               Boy, you guys are terrific.  You
               make me laugh, you just do.

     At which point, appropriately enough, Punk #4 shakes a
     beer and sprays it in the old collie's face.

     The DOG pulls  away,  WHINING.
     Riggs leans forward.

                         RIGGS
               This your dog?  Nice dog.

     And then, he proceeds to do a peculiar thing:
     He starts to talk to the dog --
     in what seems to be the dog's own language.
     Very weird, folks...
     He coos, snuffles, barks softly, then withdraws,
     listening, his ear to the dog's muzzle.
     Riggs nods.  Frowns.
     The others look  on,  puzzled.
     Then Riggs looks at each of the four dock workers.

                         RIGGS
               Huh-  You know what?  He says he
               doesn't want you to spray beer in
               his face.  He says he just hates
               that.

     A pause.  Uncomfortable.  Then --

                         PUNK #1
               Oh, he does ... ?
                    (beat)
               Well, mister, why don't you ask
               him what he likes...?

     The others snicker.  Riggs simply nods.

                         RIGGS
               Okay.

     And once again, begins to confer with the dog.  Listens
     intently, piecing together what he is hearing.

                         RIGGS
               What ... ? You want ...  oh.  Oh,
               hell no, I couldn't do  that  ...
               Nossirree bob,  you  little  nut.

     He ruffles the dog's hair.
     The men are more puzzled than ever as Riggs turns and
     says:

                         RIGGS
                    (chuckling)
               Get this: He wants  me  to  beat
               the shit out of you guys.

     Everything stops.  A cloud passes over the assembled
     faces and a  pin-dropping  silence  ensues.

     Riggs, completely heedless, once again attends to the dog:

                         RIGGS
               What's that ... ?  The one ... in the
               middle...  'is a stupid fat duck'...
               What ... ?
                    (listens again)
               Oh ... Oh!  A 'stupid fat fuck!'
               Right.

     He looks up, shakes his head.

                         RIGGS
               Boy, this dog is pissed.

     The one in the middle grabs Riggs by the collar.
     Hoists him to his feet.  Gulp.

     Stands, staring down at Riggs, whose eyes are completely
     neutral, like a snake's.

                         PUNK #1
               Buddy, you're shortening your
               life span.

     He flicks open a mean-looking switchblade.

     Riggs is dead meat.

     So why then, does he choose this moment to execute a
     Three Stooges' routine, consisting of nose tweak, eye
     gouge, and rotating fist that bobs the dock worker on
     the head... ?

     He's nuts or something ...

     Riggs steps back and adopts a neutral fighting stance.
     The others begin to circle.

     The DOG BARKS.  Riggs turns to the dog, but his eyes never
     leave his grinning attackers.

                         RIGGS
                    (to the collie)
               What's that ... ?  You want me to
               take the knife away... and break
               his elbow... ?

     Circling ...

     Riggs, watching them, his eyes beginning to dance ...
     Breathing slow and even...

                         RIGGS
               But that would be excruciatingly
               painful ...

     Something inside Riggs is gearing up ... the others can
     perhaps sense it, their smiles falter a bit,  they  crouch,
     combat-ready...
     Riggs, eyes blazing ...

                         RIGGS
               And if I separated the fat one's
               shoulder... he'd probably scream...

     No doubt about it.  We know from the look in Riggs' eyes
     he's nuts.  He wants the fight, badly, all four of them
     at once ...

     And then Punk #1 springs...
     Big mistake.

     Needless to say, mincemeat is made of the  four  meddlesome
     dog-torturers.

     The beach is littered with their writhing forms as Riggs
     does, finally, what he set out to do:

     Unties the dog.

     Starts to go.
     As he does, he pats his shirt ...

     Pats his jeans ... Realizes his wallet has flown free
     during the fracas.

     Scoops to retrieve it from its resting place on the  sand,

     where it lies open, and as it lies open, yes,  folks,  that
     is a badge we see.

     Riggs, we realize, is an officer of the law.

     He lights a cigarette and notices the collie, seated.
     Frowns:

                         RIGGS
               Okay, skeezix.  Go on.  Get outta
               here.

     He begins to walk away.  The dog remains close at his
     heels.  Following him.

                        RIGGS
               No, no.  Don't follow me.  I'm an
               asshole.  Go away.

     The dog sits obediently and Riggs walks away.
     He can't help it, looks back over his shoulder...

     Sees the dog watching him with a beseeching expression.
     Pitiful.

                         RIGGS
               Aw, shit.

     He signals the dog.

                         RIGGS
               Awright.  Move it.  Let's go.

     The COLLIE BARKS happily and dashes toward him through
     the surf, kicking up sand and water.

     As they shuffle off against the palm-lined skyline, we
     hear, supered, Riggs' voice.

                         RIGGS (V.O.)
               So.  You live in the area?  What's
               your major ... ?

     And so on as we ...

                                            CUT TO:

2    OMITTED                                                 2
thru                                                          thru
4D                                                            4D

5    EXT. MURTAUGH'S HOUSE - PRE-DAWN                         5

     Palm trees cast shadows  on  the  lawn.  Toys,  lots  of  them,
     littered across the lawn.  A Big Wheel, a G.I. Joe figure.
     Christmas lights  are  strung  across  the  eaves.

                                            CUT TO:

6    INT. HOUSE - BATHROOM     SAME                            6

     A real gun, a .38  Police  Special,  dangling  in  its  hol-
     ster from the back of a chair.  Next to it -- A real
     badge, gleaming  in  the  light.  It  identifies  its  owner
     as LAPD Robbery/Homicide.

7    ANOTHER ANGLE                                                    7

     A birthday cake comes INTO FRAME.  A set of matronly
     hands places it directly in front of --

8    DETECTIVE ROGER  MURTAUGH                                      8

     Seated in the  bathtub.  He  groans,  throws  a  towel  over
     himself, and mutters in mock indignation:  Roger is
     tough:  An old-fashioned fighter, wears his past like a
     scar.  Piercing eyes; cynical.  He is surrounded by his
     family; wife and three  children,  names  and  ages  as
     follows:  TRISH:  Roughly  thirty-eight.  She  used  to  be   a
     stunner.  NICK:  Ten years old.  Precocious.  CARRIE:
     Age  seven.  Eyes  like  saucers.   Adorable.   RIANNE:
     Heartbreaker stuff, Seventeen.  Takes your breath away
     folks.  The cake is a real beauty.

                         CARRIE
               Make a wish, Daddy.

                         RIANNE
               Go for it, Dad.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (smiles)
               Go for it, huh...?  Okay, I'll
               go for it.

     He blows out the candles.  Applause.  His   gaze   lingers
     on -- the cake.  Or rather, the message scrawled atop it
     in icing:           WELCOME TO THE BIG 50

     The presents arrive.

                                               CUT  TO:

9    EXT. SIMI VALLEY - MORNING                                    9

     The scorched landscape stretches out  beneath  a  lattice-
     work of high-tension power lines.  only scrub grass
     grows here. Rusted railroad tracks  wander  into  the  dis-
     tance, and nestled beside them, like the  last  stop  be-
     fore death -- sits a lonely  trailer  home.  Battered  TV
     antenna.  A dirt yard which houses a beat-up pickup
     truck. Dead garden  sprouting  weeds.  The  ground  begins
     to tremble ... like an earthquake, RATTLING the POWER
     POLES, as, without warning -- An  express  TRAIN  BLASTS
     BY CAMEPA and streaks past the trailer  at  seventy  miles
     an hour.

10   INT. TRAILER HOME                                            10

     Now we are inside, the RUMBLING FAINTER ... And  we  are
     looking at a tired, chiseled face.  Etched  with  line  and
     shadow. Eyes closed, as the  shadows  from  the  speeding
     train strobe across DETECTIVE SERGEANT MARTIN RIGGS.
     Morning is not a good time for  Riggs.  The  CLOCK  RADIO
     suddenly BLARES to life:  "Silver Belllls ... It's
     Christmas Tiiime in the City..."  Riggs snaps awake
     instantly.  Alert.  Tense.  Face bathed in sweat.

11   ANOTHER ANGLE

     He is not alone.  In the doorway sits a thoroughly
     loveable black Labrador.  Sitting  stock  still.  Star3.ng
     at Riggs, watching him  sleep.  Tail  going  thump-thump-
     thump on the carpet.

     Riggs sits up.  Stares at the dog.

                         RIGGS
               Sam, today is the first day ...
               of the rest of my life.

     He lights a cigarette.  Inhales.
     Coughs and hacks.

     The TRAIN THROBS by outside, rattling his skull ...

                                            CUT TO:

12   INT. MURTAUGH HOME - SAME TIME                               12

     And it is a typical morning for Detective Roger Murtaugh.
     Chaos. The  TELEVISION  BLARES.  Young  Carrie  Murtaugh
     wails like a banshee.  Her brother Nick tells her to
     shut up. Trish Murtaugh is burning  eggs  in  the  kitchen.
     Roger Murtaugh enters then, fixing  his  tie.  The  follow-
     ing dialogue is fast and furious, tossed  over  the  shoul-
     der as Murtaugh scurries to and fro,  getting  dressed:

                         MURTAUGH
               Honey, what's this on my tie?

     She  looks.

                         TRISH
               An  ugly   spot?

                         MURTAUGH
               Thanks.  Sharp as a pin.

                         TRISH
               I'm thinking of going on 'Jeopardy.'

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't take any questions on cooking.

                         TRISH
               Thanks.  I love you, too.

     Carrie is still shrieking.  Tears stream down her face.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey, kid, turn off the waterworks,
               okay?

                         CARRIE
                    (points to Nick)
               Daddy, he changed the channel!

                         MURTAUGH
               NOOOOOO.

                         NICK
               She's a crybaby, Dad.

                         MURTAUGH
               Mind your own busines.
                    (nods toward the TV)
               That's  illegal.

                         NICK
               What's illegal?

                         MURTAUGH
               Can't put a dead body in an
               ambulance.  This 'Kojak'?

                         NICK
               'Starsky and  Hutch.'

                         MURTAUGH
               Huh.  It's illegal.  Never put a
               dead body in an ambulance, son,
               you got that?

                         NICK
               Sure, Dad.

                        MURTAUGH
               Honey, where's the spot remover?
                    (turns to Carrie)
               Young lady, stop crying or I'll
               give you something to cry about.
               Damn.

     He dabs at his tie.  Carrie screams.  In the kitchen
     Trish drops the eggs, swears.  The PHONE RINGS.  Carrie
     screams.

                         MURTAUGH
               That's it.  I'm gonna give you
               something to cry about.

     He grabs a copy  of Newsweek and hands it to her.

                         MURTAUGH
               Starving children.  See?  They
               haven't eaten, it's very sad.
               Cry.

     He moves away.

                         CARRIE
               Daddy, you're weird ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Thank you, Carrie.  Hear that,
               honey, the children think I'm
               weird.

                         TRISH
               They're bright children.
                    (hangs up the
                     telephone)
               Honey, you know a man named Dick
               Lloyd?  Don't step in the egg.

                         MURTAUGH
               Where's my thinking?  I should've
               checked the floor for egg.  Dick
               Lloyd ... ?
                    (beat)
               Jesus, Dick Lloyd.  What's he want?

                         TRISH
               The office called.  He's been
               trying to reach you for three days
               now.

                         MURTAUGH
               I haven't talked to him in... shit,
               twelve years?  No, wait a minute,
               that would make me fifty years old,
               that can't be right.

                         TRISH
                    (smiles)
               You're not getting older, you're
               getting better.

                         MURTAUGH
               Inform the children of this.
                    (kisses her; heads
                     for the door)
               Forget the eggs, I'll eat later.

                         TRISH
               Whatever.
                    (beat)
               Honey?
                    (as he stops)
               How come I never heard of Dick
               Lloyd?

                         MURTAUGH
               I never talked about him.

                         TRISH
               Oh.
                    (beat)
               Vietnam   buddy?

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.  Vietnam buddy.

     He exits the kitchen, crosses the entrance hall.  Stops,
     noticing Rickles the cat, who is happily munching on the
     remains of Roger's birthday cake.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey.

     He swats it aside.  Pauses, his gaze lingering on the
     silent message which gnaws at his guts.

               THE BIG 50 ...

     He comes out the front door.  Flicks  off  the  Christmas
     lights, crosses to the car. Looks up,  and  sees  --  his
     oldest daughter Rianne.  Jogging past.  She wears an
     adorable pair of dolphin shorts.  Walkman headphones.
     She waves.

                         RIANNE
               'Bye, Daddy.

     He waves.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (shakes his head)
               Goddamn heartbreaker.  She's a
               heartbreaker.

                                           CUT TO:

13   SERIES OF SHOTS - RIGGS  GETTING DRESSED                   13
    
     Riggs enters the living  room, naked.  Scars on his back,
     the kind you get from knives. Runs a hand  through  limp
     hair. Turns on the lamp. As he does  --  the  TELEVISION
     also springs to life; hooked to the same  circuit.  Pops
     three aspirin from a bottle.  Chews thein.
     Opens a bag of peanuts, throws it to the big Lab,  who
     gobbles them down.
     Eats a sandwich, standing in the middle of his apartment.
     'Looking at the floor.  What a lonely fucking guy ...
     Straps on his gun.  .9 millimeter Beretta, if it matters.
     Throws on a jacket. Downs a shot  of  whiskey.  Pauses,
     looking at a photograph on the wall.  Riggs, much younger,
     along with a pretty and vivacious woman in a wedding gown:
     his wife. Stares at the photograph.  His  fingers  twirl
     the whiskey glass with completely unconscious skill.
     Tense. Tense ... twirling the glass ... RICHARD DAWSON
     DRONES from the TV (our survey says -- !).  Riggs slings
     the shotglass. Dead center, SHATTERING the  TV  SCREEN.

                                              CUT TO:

14   INT. POLICE FIRING PANGE - MORNING                     14

     Targets: Human silhouettes with kill  zones  numbered.
     Murtaugh enters. Sheds his coat, unholsters  the  .38.
     Steps to the red line.  Shifts.  Stretches.  Cracks  his
     neck.  This is a ritual for him.  He stops to examine his
     right hand, holding it steady before his  eyes.  Except
     there is a slight tremble. Tiny, but  it's  there.  He
     frowns.  Braces himself:  Cross-draws with lightning
     swiftness. -- BAM! -- The sound is DEAFENING in the
     closed room. A neat round hole appears in  the  target.
     Perfect shot:  a neat third eye.  Murtaugh smiles.
     Holsters his gun. Puts on his coat -- and  sings  softly
     to himself:

                         MURTAUGH
               Happy birthday to me ...

                                                   CUT TO:

15   INT. CAR - DAY                                            15

     Sergeant Martin Riggs is driving.  He looks like he
     hasn't slept.  He certainly hasn't shaved.  The DISPATCH
     RADIO SQUAWKS.  He turns down the MUSIC from the car
     radio and hears:

                         DISPATCHER  (V.0.)
               All units in the  vicinity  and
               Fourteen X-ray thirty-one,
               shooting in progress at Venice
               Beach, Washington and Navy.
               Three victims down, PA  en  route
               Fourteen X-ray thirty-one, handle
               code three.

     Riggs hits the gas pedal and  PEELS  OUT.

                                            CUT TO:

16   EXT. CENTURY CITY PARKING LOT  -  MORNING                 16

     The sky threatens rain.  Cars buzz by as the city
     awakens.

     A section of the parking lot is cordoned off by yellow
     streamers which read:  POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS, and
     as we watch, a black and white patrol car pulls up,
     admitting two beat COPS and a young hooker.  Her name
     is DIXIE, and she is not happy.

                         DIXIE
               Can I stay in the car?

                         COP #1
               No.

                         DIXIE
               Aw, cut me a break.  I  told  you
               already: she came  out  on  the
               balcony --

                         COP #1
                    (points)
               That balcony ... ?

                         DIXIE
               -- No, the Chandler fucking
               Pavillion, of course that fucking
               balcony, and then slie jumped, and
               then I puked in a trash can.  Can
               I go now?

                         COP #1
               Not 'til you talk to  the  Sarge.

                         DIXIE
               Terrific.  Where the hell is he?

17   INT. MURTAUGH'S CAR                                     17

     The sarge drives up and gets out.  A BEAT COP Toes by.

                         BEAT  COP
               Happy 50th, Rog.

                         MURTAUGH
               Fuck you.

     He crosses to the two Cops and Dixie.

                         COP #2
               Hey,  Sarge.

                         MURTAUGH
               'Morning, Phil.  Get some rain,
               looks  like.
                    (beat)
               Hey, Dixie.  Nice threads.

                         DIXIE
               Hey, Murtaugh.  Tell these bozos
               to lay  Off.

                         MURTAUGH
               You.  Bozos.   Lay   off.

                         COP #1
               Had a jumper last night, Sarge.
               Dixie here was walking by, saw
               the whole thing.

                         MURTAUGH
               You got a statement?  Send her
               home.

                         DIXIE
               Thanks, Rog.  I'm beat, you know
               how it is.

                         MURTAUGH
               Sure.
                    (points to her
                     outfit)
               All dressed up and no one to blow.

                         DIXIE
               You're hilarious.

     She exits.  Cop #2 escorts Murtaugh across the parking
     lot.

                         COP #2
               Nice wholesome girl.  She got a
               new job, you know.

                         MURTAUGH
               What's that?

                         COP #2
               County ceiling inspector.
                    (beat)
               So.  Fifty years old, huh?

                         MURTAUGH
               Eat me.

     They stop next to the Porsche.  Murtaugh grimaces.

                         COP #2
               Name is Amanda Lloyd, age twenty-
               two, prostitute, one arrest, no
               convictions.  Born Tennessee,
               parents --

                         MURTAUGH
               What was the name?

                         COP #2.
               Lloyd.  Amanda Lloyd.  You know
               her ... ?

     Murtaugh looks stunned.  He speaks very slowly:
  
                         MURTAUGH
               I knew her  dad.

                         COP #2
               Jesus.
                    (an awkward pause)
               Vehicle is registered to her.  She
               landed right on top of her own car.

                         MURTAUGH
               Find out who bought it for her.
               Her sugar daddy.

                         COP #2
               Take some looking into.

                         MURTAUGH
               So look.

                                              CUT TO:

18   OMITTED

19   INT. AMANDA LLOYD'S APARTMENT - DAY                          19

     Murtaugh stares at the photograph we saw earlier.  The
     two soldiers.  One, we can assume, is Dick Lloyd.  The
     other is Murtaugh.  Younger, trimmer.  He speaks into
     the phone.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hello, honey ... ?  Give me the
               number for Dick Lloyd.  What ... ?
               Yes, the man who called me this
               morning.  His daughter just took
               a dive out a window.

19A  EXT. CHRISTMAS TREE LOT  -  DAY                              19A

     Martin Riggs and three lot employees are gathered around
     the liftgate of a truck bearing a load of Christmas trees.
     The truck shields them from the view of customers picking
     out trees in the lot.

     The lot employees are actually DRUG DEALERS.  They look
     around nervously in all directions as Riggs tastes a
     sample of their wares.

                         RIGGS
               Good stuff.

                         DRUG DEALER ONE
               You better fuckin' believe it.

                         RIGGS
               Okay.  Let's do it.  How much?

                         DRUG DEALER TWO
               How much for how much?

                         RIGGS
               For all  of  it.

                         DRUG DEALER THREE
               You want it all?

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.
                    (glances at
                     the trees)
               And maybe a nice big six-footer
               to put it under.

                         DRUG DEALER ONE
               The tree you can have for nuthin'.
               But the shit is gonna run you a
               hundred.

     Riggs lets out a soft whistle at the amount.

                         RIGGS
               That much, huh?
                    (digs into
                     his   pocket)
               Okay.  Let's see what I got.

     He pulls out a roll of money and begins to count it out
     in twenties and small bills.

                         RIGGS
               Twenty, forty, sixty --

     The Drug Dealers exchange dumbfounded expressions.

                         DRUG DEALER ONE
               Hey, man.  Hey!

                         RIGGS
               Wait, wait ... shutup.  I'm
               losin  count.  Where  was  I?   Oh,
               yeah...
                    (continues   to
                     peel  off  the
                     bills)
               ... Eight,   ninety,   ninety-five,
               ninety-six, ninety-seven...
                    (digs into his
                     pocket for
                     loose change)
               ... Ninety-seven-fifty.      Sixty.
               Seventy-five.  Okay, there's
               ninety-eight  dollars  and   twenty
               cents...

     He is about to check his other pocket for change when
     Drug Dealer One stops him.

                         DRUG DEALER ONE
               Forget  it,   dumbshit.

                         RIGGS
               C'mon.  I'm almost there.  Gimme
               a minute  to  --

                        DRUG DEALER ONE
               One hundred thousand, you stupid
               fuck!  One hundred thousand!

     Riggs is floored.  He can't believe his ears.

                        RIGGS
               Oh, Jesus ... I can't afford that.
               Not on my salary.
                    (beat)
               Look... let's do this instead ...
                    (pulls out his
                     wallet)
               I take your complete stash, okay?
               I take it all.  For free.  And
               you assholes go to jail.

     As he says this, he flips open his wallet and shows his
     badge.  The Drug Dealers at first look startled, then
     disbelieving.

                         RIGGS
               I could read you  your  rights,
               but ... nah.  You guys know what
               your rights are.

                         DRUG  DEALER  ONE
               Fuck you, man.  That badge ain't
               real.  And you ain't real.

                         DRUG  DEALER  TWO
               But you're sure as hell one
               crazy fuck!

     Riggs' eyes begin to blaze.  His nostrils flare.  Like
     a maniac, he lunges at Drug  Dealer  Two.

                         RIGGS
               You callin' me crazy!?  You
               think I'm crazy!  You, wanna see
               crazy?  I'll show you crazy!
               This is  crazy!

     Riggs then proceeds to slap and pummel the Drug Dealer
     in the manner of the "Three Stooges"... complete with
     "WOO-WOO" sound  effects.

     But he ends the routine by pulling a nine-millimeter
     Baretta from behind his back and pressing it against
     the neck of Drug Dealer Two.

                         RIGGS
               That's a real badge.  I'm a real
               cop. And this is  a  real  gun.
                    (to the other two
                     Drug Dealers)
               Face down on the ground.  Arms
               and legs out.  Do it now!

     Dealer One and Three begin to follow orders      but Riggs
     sees a flicker in their eves that          him to trouble.

      He spins around -- a FOURTH DRUG DEALER  is  behind  him
      with a shotgun.  The SHOTGUN EXPLODES.  Riggs ducks,
      allowing Drug Dealer Two to take the  full  force  of  the
      'blast in the  face.

      Riggs rolls in the sawdust          FIRING his BERETTA.
      Dealer Four takes a bullet between the eyes.
      Dealer Two now has an AUTOMATIC RIFLE in his hand.
      It CHATTERS in Riggs' direction.  Sawdust and pine
      needles fly in the air -- but Riggs is able to blow
      him away.

      One more Drug Dealer left.  Riggs can't find him.
      His eyes dart in all directions.  Where is he?!

      Behind Riggs, that's where!  He  presses  a  revolver  to
      the back of Riggs' head, taking Riggs' Baretta from
      him and tucking it into his belt.

      That's when:

19B   FIVE NARCOTICS OFFICERS                               19B

      come running from their stakeout  positions  around  the
      lot. But they stop short when  they  see  that  Riggs  is
      being held with a gun pointed to his head.

      The Drug Dealer begins to move with  Riggs  toward  a  van
      parked nearby.

                          RIGGS
                     (to officers)
                Shoot him!  Shoot him!

                          DRUG DEALER
                     (to Riggs)
                Shut  up!

                          RIGGS
                     (to Drug Dealer)
                Fuck you!
                     (to officers)
                Shoot him!  Shoot him!

     The narcotics officers don't know what to do.  They
     are frustrated.  Helpless.  Immobilized.

     Riggs sees the van looming  up.  The  van  means  defeat.
     The van means disgrace. The  van  means  victory  for  the
     bad guys, and we know that Riggs  would  rather  die  than
     be the instrument of the Dealer's escape.

19C  CLOSE ON RIGGS AND DRUG DEALER                       19C

     The veins are popping out in Riggs' neck.  The Drug
     Dealer is getting nervous and panicky.  His gun hand
     is trembling.  The barrel of the gun jiggles against
     the back of  Riggs'  head.

                         RIGGS
                    (to Drug Dealer)
               Do it, asshole.  Pull the trigger.
               Pull the trigger.

                         DRUG DEALER
               Shut the fuck up!

     They move closer to the van.  The narcotics officers
     have their guns poised for action, but don't dare use
     them.

                         DRUG DEALER
                    (to officers)
               Guns down!  Guns down!
 
                         RIGGS
                    (to officers)
               Shoot him!  Kill him!
                    (to Dealer)
               Pull the trigger!
                    (to officers).
               Waste him!
                    (to Dealer)
               Shoot me!
                    (to officers)
               Kill him!!

     The Dealer is so freaked now that his grip on Riggs
     slips momentarily -- and Riggs sees his opening.

     He spins.  Kicks the Dealer in the groin.  Dislocates
     his arm -- sending tlie gun  flying.  Riggs retrieves his
     Baretta from the Dealer's belt  and  shoves the barrel
     into the Dealer's face.

     Riggs' entire body quakes  with  rage.  His finger begins
     to squeeze back on the  trigger.  He  wants to kill the
     guy so bad he can taste it... and  yet,  he      doesn't do it.

     The other officers arrive and step between Riggs and
     the Dealer.

     Riggs turns away.  Breatliing hard.  Adrenalin pumping.
     He tucks the Baretta into his belt, then notices that
     his hand is covered with the spilled blood of one of
     the Drug Dealers.

     It gives Riggs  pause.  For a moment, he just looks at
     it.

     HOLD ON Riggs.   VERY CLOSE.  And the look in his eyes.

20   OMITTED                                                        20
thru                                                                thru
25                                                                  25

26   INT. METRO SQUAD ROOM - MORNING                         26

     Police have seldom looked this busy.  Yes, there are
     RINGING PHONES.  Yes, there are CLATTERING TYPEWRITERS.
     Yes, it looks like a circus.  And here comes Captain of
     Detectives ED MURPHY, moving like an after-breakfast
     juggernaut.  Behind him, a young woman rushes to keep up.
     The POLICE PSYCHOLOGIST, no less.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               I want Martin Riggs pulled from
               duty.

                         MURPHY
               Um... no.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               No.  No???  Captain, he walked
               into the line of fire.

                         MURPHY
               Very brave individual,  don't
               you think... ?

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               This is utter bullshit.

                         MURPHY
               Oh, is it?  Forgive me.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Martin Riggs is a cop with  a
               death wish.

     Murphy shoots her an incredulous  look.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               You can quote me.  It happens to
               be my professional opinion.

                         MURPHY
               Um... good opinion. See  you
               tomorrow.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Captain...

                         MURPHY
               Look, Doc, you're  way  off.  Way
               off.  Know what I think?  I think
               Riggs is pulling for a psycho
               pension.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Oh, do you?

                         MURPHY
               Yeah.  I am sure you're aware the
               department offers  a  disability
               stress pension --

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Yes, I'm aware --

                         MURPHY
               -- Except we don't offer  it  to
               everybody, only cops who seem to
               suffer from

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               -- From abnormal stress,  yes,  I
               know.  Or  suicidal  tendencies.

                         MURPHY
               Give the lady a cigar.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               You think Riggs is playing a game?

                         MURPHY
               Sure. He  wants  the  cash.  Seen
               it a hundred  times.  He'll  come
               around.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Sir, with all due respect ...  I
               think that's a dangerous attitude
               to take. May I  remind  you  that
               his wife of eleven years was
               recently killed in a car accident,
               and

                         MURPHY
               I know all about Riggs, Doc.  He's
               a tough bastard.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
                    (intense)
               He is on the edge.  He may be
               psychotic.

                         MURPHY
               Bunch of psych bullshit-  Look,
               can I pee now?

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               I think you're making a mistake
               by leaving him in the field.
               He's   suicidal.

                         MURPHY
               End of discussion.  We're gonna
               wait.  And then, if he offs
               himself ... Well, then we'll know
               I was wrong.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Yes, sir.  Then we'll know.

                                              CUT TO:

27   EXT. SIMI VALLEY  -  NIGHT                                      27

     Rain  sweeps  in  off  the  desert.  Cold.  Drenching.  Riggs
     walks slowly toward his trailer home, head down.  The
     RAIN BEATS on him.  He  doesn't  notice.  Under  his  arm  he
     carries a large cardboard box.

28   INT. RIGGS' TRAILER - SAME TIME                                 28

     Riggs enters, soaking wet.  Switches on the lamp.
     Depressing.  Jake  appears,  tail  a-thump.  Tongue   wagging
     doggishly.  Riggs reaches atop the refrigerator, grabs
     a bag of peanuts.
     Opens it, tosses it to the dog.

                         RIGGS
               Sam, every day ... in every way ...
               I'm getting better and better.

     Opens the box and  removes  its  contents.  Brand  new  color
     TELEVISION.  Plugs it in.  Switches it ON.  Sits down
     with a bottle of whiskey.  Drinks.  On the screen, the
     Grinch steals Christmas from the residents of Whoville.

29   ANOTHER ANGLE                                                   29

     Riggs opens a drawer beside him, and takes out a bottle
     of sleeping pills. Picks it  up.  As  he  does  --  the  sound
     of the TELEVISION FADES OUT -- silence, dead silence...
     As Riggs rolls the bottle in his fingers.  Slowly,
     thoughtfully, unscrews the cap ... dumps them on the table.
     Runs his  fingers  through  them.  CLICK...  CLICK...  Stares.
     Mesmerized.  RAIN BEATS on the window.

30   EXT. TRAILER                                               30

     The RAIN CONTINUES to hammer the lonely little pit  which
     Riggs calls home.

                                             CUT TO:

31   L.A.P.D. - MORNING                                         31

     A zoo.  A sign reads METRO ROBBERY/HOMICIDE.

     Roger Murtaugh sits at his desk, lost in thought.
     Behind him, McCASKEY, Class Three Detective.  He talks
     to Murtaugh:

                         McCASKEY
               See, you're behind the times,
               Sarge.  Guys in the Eighties
               aren't tough.  They're sensitive
               people.  They show emotions around
               women and shit like that.
                    (beat)
               I think I'm an Eighties man.

                         MURTAUGH
               How you figure?

                         McCASKEY
               Last night:  I cried in bed, so
               how's that?

                         MURTAUGH
               Were you with a  woman?
                         McCASKEY
               No, I was alone, why the fuck you
               think I was crying?

                         MURTAUGH
               Sounds like an Eighties man to me.

     Another detective enters.  Rail-thin, nose like a beak.
     His name is BURKE.

     Behind him in the door frame we see a fat cop pass by
     down the hall, walking backwards; a beat, and then he  is
     followed by four more cops singing the world's  shittiest
     rendition of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear."  It  sounds
     like pigs mating.

     Burke approaches Murtaugh:

                         BURKE
               Got some news on the Lloyd case,
               Rog.

                         MURTAUGH
               That was quick.

                         BURKE
               So was the autopsy.
                    (takes a deep
                     breath)
               You ready for this?  They're not
               calling it suicide.
 
                         MURTAUGH
               What?

                         BURKE
               Surprise, surprise.  First off,
               coroner found evidence she took
               barbiturates.

                         MURTAUGH
               Brilliant.  There was an open
               bottle on her table.

                         BURKE
               Right, right.  That's not the
               surprise.  Surprise is someone
               doctored  the  pills.
                    (beat)
               Every capsule was loaded with
               drain   cleaner.

                         MURTAUGH
               Jesus ...

                         BURKE
               If she hadn't jumped, she woulda
               been dead inside fifteen minutes.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (sighs)
               This case blows.

32   ANOTHER ANGLE                                             32

     ACROSS the room, a detective takes off his gun and
     slings the holster across his chair.  As he EXITS FRAME
     -- PAN to reveal:  Martin Riggs as he enters the squad
     room.  Shuffles from foot to foot, looking lost.  Lights
     a smoke.

33   ACROSS ROOM                                               33

     Murtaugh slings on a jacket.  Turns to go.  Notices
     Riggs.

34   MURTAUGH'S POV                                            34

     Riggs resembles a bag person.  Unshaven, limp dirty
     hair, grimy leather jacket.

35   BACK TO SCENE                                             35

     He frowns, says:

                         MURTAUGH
               McCaskey, if my wife calls, tell
               her late dinner.

                         BURKE
               Ho, Rog-  I'm not through yet.
               I'm supposed to tell you two more
               things.

                         MURTAUGH
               Shoot.

     He is still looking at Riggs, who is slowly wandering
     from desk to desk, smoking -- Stopping near the desk with
     the holstered gun.

                         BURKE
               First, condition of the sheets and
               mattress indicate someone was in
               bed with Amanda Lloyd just before
               she died.  That's A.

                         MURTAUGH
               What's B?

                         BURKE
               B is, I'm supposed to tell you
               you're breaking in a new partner
               on this.

     Now Murtaugh is eyeballing Riggs.  Cautious.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (distracted)
               I don't work partners.

                         BURKE
               You do now.  C.I.T. transfer, some
               burnout they want you to keep on
               a leash.

                         MURTAUGH
               Oh, perfect.  Can I trade in my
               life for a new one?

     At which point, across the room, Riggs removes the hol-
     stered gun and hefts it, curiously.  Suddenly all hell
     breaks loose:

                         MURTAUGH
               Gun !!

     He bolts like a cheetah.

     Cops dive for cover, a secretary shrieks, and Murtaugh
     goes plowing through the squad room like an express
     train, blowing people out of the way -- Cops grabbing
     for their holsters -- Riggs, meanwhile, looking around
     frantically, he's trying to find the guy with the gun
     who is, of course, himself.

     Murtaugh takes a flying leap      sails across
     the desk, going for  the  glory   And Riggs, in the
     blink of an eye,  simply  ducks   and flips Murtaugh
     neatly over one shoulder.  There  is a hideous crash
     of BREAKING GLASS and OVERTURNING FURNITURE.  Ouch...
     McCaskey, meanwhile, screams to Burke:

                         McCASKEY
               What the shit is going on?

     Burke sighs, shakes  his  head:

                         BURKE
     Roger just met his new partner.

36   INT. OFFICE                                             36

     Darkness.  A soft CLICK as a gun is cocked.  The barrel
     gleams faintly in the dim light.  A voice:

                         MAN (O.S.)
               There are three guns on you.

                         VISITOR
               Easy.  Take it easy.
                    (beat)
               I'm going to light a match.

     He does.   Holds it near his face.

                         MAN (O.S.)
               Thank you, Mr. Mendez.

     The lights come on.  Dazzling.  Mendez covers his eyes.
     Three men.  Seated in chairs.  Shirt sleeves and shoulder
     holsters.  The  LEADER  speaks.

                         LEADER
               If you'll follow me, please.

                         MENDEZ
               Who the hell are you?

                         LEADER
               That's hardly important.  If you
               like, you may call me Mr. Joshua.

                         MENDEZ
               Swell.

     They move toward a door in the rear wall.

                         JOSHUA (LEADER)
               I trust you're having a pleasant
               holiday season?

                         MENDEZ
                    (looks  at  him)
               Yeah.  It's a fucking joy, thank
               you.

37   INT. BACK OFFICE - SAME TIME                               37

     The door opens into a dimly-lit office.  Stained  carpet.
     Rotten wood.  A desk.

     Behind the desk sits a large, rugged man with eyes like
     chips of stone.  This is the GENERAL.

                         GENERAL
               Yes, Joshua... ?  Ah, Mr. Mendez.
               Please, have  a  seat.

     Joshua stands off to one side.  Mendez sits.

                         MENDEZ
                    (under his breath)
               Where'd you get him?  Psychos 'R.'
               Us?

                         GENERAL
               Hardly.

     Points to another merc.

                         MENDEZ
               I like the sunglasses.  Very
               Hollywood.

                         GENERAL
               Mr. Larch is unfortunately missing
               an eye.  For anonymity's sake, he
               chooses to forego wearing a patch.

                         MENDEZ
               Swell.  Blind people with guns.
               This is a class act.  Maybe we
               can run over to the V.A. and
               pick up a couple amputees.  
               Bargain rates after six.

                         GENERAL
               I don't find you funny.

                         MENDEZ
               I  don't find this goddamn setup
               funny.
                    (beat)
               You're using mercenaries, for
               Chrissake.  Tell me I'm wrong.

                         GENERAL
               No.  You're not wrong.

                         MENDEZ
               And I'm  supposed to trust these
               bozos?

                         GENERAL
               My people are loyal, Mr. Mendez.
               They are loyal  to  me.

                         MENDEZ
               Bullshit.

                         GENERAL
               Joshua.  Hold out your hand.

     Joshua steps up to the General and extends his arm.

                         GENERAL
               Do you smoke, Mr. Mendez?

                         MENDEZ
               Yeah.

                        GENERAL
               Give me  your lighter.

     Mendez frowns, cautiously hands a silver cigarette
     lighter to the General.
     Who promptly pulls an old G. Gordon Liddy maneuver:

     He holds the flame right under Joshua's hand.  Searing
     it.  Mendez looks on, a trifle pale.

     As for Joshua, he makes no sound at all.  Simply stands,
     trance-like.

                         GENERAL
               You wish to do business with us,
               yes?

                         MENDEZ
               Jesus ...

                         GENERAL
               Mr. Joshua is in a great deal of
               pain.  You wish to make a purchase,
               yes?

                         MENDEZ
               I ... yes.  Sure.  Jesus.

     The General nods, hands the lighter back to Mendez.

                         GENERAL
               Filthy habit, smoking.
                    (beat)
               The bulk of  the  heroin will
               arrive Friday  night.  We  will
               make delivery at that time.
               Please have the money ready,
               and no tricks. If  you  try  to
               cross us, I'll have Joshua cut
               out your eyes.
                    (beat)
               Merry Christmas.

38   OMITTED                                     38

39                                               39

40   EXT. UNMARKED POLICE  CAR  -  DAY           40

     Riggs and Murtaugh cruise through downtown Los Angeles.
     Riggs drives, while Murtaugh scowls.  There is an awk-
     ward  pause.

                         MURTAIJGH
               Turn right.
                    (beat)
               So.  They tell me you're a good
               cop.

                         RIGGS
               I try.

                         MURTAUGH
               Heard about your  little  stunt
               yesterday.  Pretty heroic stuff.
                    (as Riggs does
                     not reply)
               File says you worked for the
               Phoenix Project in Vietnam, that
               right?

                         RIGGS
               Yes.

                         MURTAUGH
               Assassin stuff?

                         RIGGS
               Maybe.

                         MURTAUGH
               And they gave you the
               Congressional Medal  of  Honor.

                         RIGGS
               It was a lean  year.

                         MURTAUGH
               It's over, you know.

                         RIGGS
               What is?

                         MURTAUGH
               The war.

                         RIGGS
               Yes.  I know.

                         MURTAUGH
               Just thought I'd remind you.
                    (beat)
               Check out your piece?
---------------------------------------------

     works the slide,  KA-CHIK
     Murtaugh.

                                                                 3 1.

_______________________________________________

     He reaches across the get Riggs' gun.  At which point
     Riggs' hand shoots out -- and stops him cold.

                         RIGGS
               Bad manners, man.

     Riggs removes the gun himself.  Steers with his knees.
     Drops the chambered bullet.  Slips out the magazine,
     Hands the gun to ------------

                         RIGGS
               Don't hurt yourself.

     Murtaugh hefts the weapon, turning it over in his hand:
     Beretta .9 millimeter.  Smooth, well-oiled.
     Accurized.  Murtaugh frowns.

                         MURTAUGH
               .9 millimeter  Beretta.  That's
               some serious shit.

                         RIGGS
               Military switched from Colt  to
               Beretta in 1985.  It's a better
               piece. Wide ejection  port,  no
               feed jams, no stovepipes.

                         MURTAUGH
               What's it take?

                         RIGGS
               Fifteen in the mag, one up  the
               pipe.  You carry a wheelgun?

                         MURTAUGH
               .38 Special.

                         RIGGS
               Lot of old-timers carry that.

     Murtaugh shoots him a look.  Replaces the gun.

                         MURTAUGH
               File says you're registered with
               Newark P.D. as a lethal weapon.

                         RIGGS
               File don't lie.  Look, friend,
               let's cut the shit.  We both
               know why I was transferred.
               Everyone thinks I'm suicidal, in
               which case I'm fucked and no one
               wants to work with me.  Or they
               think I'm faking to draw a psycho
               pension, in which case I'm fucked
               and no one wants to work with me.
               Basically,  I'm  fucked.

                         MURTAUGH
               Guess what?

                         RIGGS
               What?

                         MURTAUGH
               I don't want to work with you.

                         RIGGS
               Then don't.

                         MURTAUGH
               Ain't got no choice.  Damn.
               We're both fucked.

                    RIGGS
                  Terrific.

     As they speak, Riggs has pulled to a  stop  in  front  of  a
     large  downtown  bank  building.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (rubs  his  eyes)
               I'm very old ...
                    (sighs)
               ... God hates me, that's what
               it is.

                         RIGGS
               Hate him back.  Works for me.

     He lights a cigarette.

                                                CUT TO:

41   INT. BANK  BUILDING  -  DAY                            41

     Dick Lloyd's office:  everything  about  it  looks  starched
     and perfect. In  the  b.g.,  bank  employees  shuttle  between
     desks, building  and  toppling  empires.  DICK  LLOYD  paces
     back and forth. He is the  man  we  saw  earlier  in  Amanda's
     pliotograph, standing next to  Murtaugh.  Now  he  looks  like
     shit. He addresses Riggs  and  Murtaugh,  who  are  seated  in
     the  office.
                         LLOYD
               Murder ...  But  I  thought  ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Poisoned.  Even if she hadn't
               jumped ... she'd still be dead.

                         LLOYD
               Jesus.
                    (beat)
               Jesus,  I  can't  take -------.

     He sits, staring out the window.  A broken man.

                         MURTAUGH
               Dick, why did you call me
               yesterday?

                         LLOYD
                    (very  far  away)
               Called you...?  Yeah.  That's
               right ... I heard you were working
               out here ... I wanted  you  to  find
               her  for  me,  Roger.  Take  her

                         MURTAUGH
               Out of what?

                         LLOYD
               She did movies, Roger ... Naked
               movies ... Saw one of them......  saw
               my little baby ... smiling......  She
               did it ... with  a  woman.  She    was
               on top of  a  woman,  Roger-...!

                         MURTAUGH
               Easy, Dick.

     Lloyd turns, facing them.  Intense:

                         LLOYD
               I want a promise.
                    (beat)
               You owe me.  You know you do.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yes.  I know that.

                         LLOYD
               When you find who  did  it,  I  want
               you to kill them.  If it's more
               than one, I want you to kill all of
               them.  Make them squirm first, take
               your time ... and fucking kill them.

                         MURTAUGH
               I'm a police officer, Dick.

                         LLOYD
               Forget the law.  It's easy to do.
               You owe me.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (pause; then)
               We have to go now.

     Lloyd does not look up.  Riggs and Murtaugh head for the
     door.

                         LLOYD
               I know you can, Roger.  You kill
               them. You  do  that.

     The cops exit.  The door shuts.

42   EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY                              42

     Riggs and Murtaugh head ior the car.  Riggs takes out a
     pack of cigarettes.

                         MURTAUGH
               You gonna smoke in the car?

                         RIGGS
               Thinking about it.

                         MURTAUGH
               Terrific.

     He puts the top down.
     Riggs takes out a cigarette, starts to put it in his
     mouth.  Stops.

                         RIGGS
               Whoops.  Shit.

     He replaces it in the pack, takes another.  Murtaugh
     looks at him.

                         MURTAUGH
               What was wrong with that one?

     Riggs points to the tip of the replaced cigarette.  We
     notice two things:  a)  It looks like it's about fifty
     years old; and  b) there is a tiny red mark, circling the
     filter.

                         RIGGS
               This one is the last cigarette
               I'll ever smoke.
               Trick I learned from  my  dad.  I
               smoke all I want, but when I smoke
               this one ... I'm through.

                         MURTAUGH
               Brilliant.  Get in the car.

                         RIGGS
               Want me to drive?

                         MURTAUGH
               You're suicidal, remember?

                         RIGGS
               Anyone who drives in Los Angeles
               is suicidal.

     They get in.  Murtaugh heaves a sigh, stares bleakly out
     the window.  A moment, then Riggs says:

                         RIGGS
               He said you owed  him.  What  did
               he mean?

                         MURTAUGH
               We served together  in  '65.  He
               saved my life in the La Drang
               Valley.  Took a bayonet  in  the
               lung.

                         RIGGS
               That was nice of him.

                         MURTAUGH
               I thought so.

     The RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh  TURNS  it  UP.

                         DISPATCHER   (V.O.)
               All units and seven eight
               twenty-one, possible  jumper  at
               the corner of Santa  Monica  and
               La Cienega, seven  eight  twenty-
               one handle code two.

     Murtaugh keys the hand mike.

                         MURTAUGH
               Four King Sixty en route.

                         RIGGS
               This is great.  I love this job.

                         MURTAUGH
               Stow it.

43   EXT. CITY INTERSECTION - DAY                            43

     A building, ten stories high.  On the ledge, a lone man
     poised high above the street.  Beneath him, a crowd has
     gathered.  A police car.  A searchlight.  A crowd of
     office workers, rubber-necking to beat the band.  One or
     two kids yell, "Jump, jump."

     Murtaugh's car glides to the curb.  The doors burst open
     and the two partners emerge.  A PATROL COP approaches.

                         PATROL  COP
               Hey, Sarge, you wanna handle
               this?

                         MURTAUGH
               Where's the psychologist?
 
                         PATROL  COP
               Sitting in traffic.

                         MURTAUGH
               Swell.
                    (beat)
               Who's the  guy?

                         PATROL  COP
               Salesman name of MacCleary.  Left
               the office party.  Went upstairs
               and walked out on the ledge.

                         MURTAUGH
               Think he'll go?

                         PATROL  COP
               Seems serious enough.  Who knows?

     Riggs clears his throat.  Murtaugh turns.

                         RIGGS
               I can handle this.

                         MURTAUGH
               You qualified to talk to jumpers?

                         RIGGS
               I've done it before.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (reluctant;  then)
               Okay.  You're elected.
                    (as Riggs
                     turns to go)
               Hey.
                    (as Riggs stops)
               No guns.  No kung fu.  Just ...
               bring him in.

                         RIGGS
               Sure.  Bring him in.

                         MURTAUGH
               Right.

     Riggs moves off toward the building.  Murtaugh looks
     after him.  Was this a mistake ... ?

44   EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY                                         44

     Riggs appears on the roof.  There, about five yards away,
     stands the JUMPER.  Agitated.  Breathing hard.

     Below is ten stories of open space.  The wind blows.
     Riggs nods to the Jumper.

                         MacCLEARY (JUMPER)
               Go away.

                         RIGGS
               My name is Riggs.

                         MacCLEARY
               Fuck off.

                         RIGGS
               I can't do that.
                    (beat)
               What's your name?

                         MacCLEARY
               Look, I know all the psychology
               bullshit, it won't work.

                         RIGGS
               I'm not a psychologist.

                         MacCLEARY
               Yeah?  What are you?

                         RIGGS
               Homicide cop.

                         MacCLEARY
               You're early.  Hang on a couple
               minutes, you can go to work.

                         RIGGS
               At least tell me your name.  Look,
               I gotta fill out the little piece
               of paper.  Okay?

                         MacCLEARY
                    (swallows)
               Len.  Len MacCleary.

                         RIGGS
               Thanks.   'Preciate it.
                    (beat)
               That M -- C ... ?

                         MacCLEARY
               M -- A -- C, now get outta here.

     Riggs leans out farther, perches on the ledge.  Absolutely
     calm.

                         RIGGS
               Why  are  you  doing  this?

                         MacCLEARY
               None of your goddamn business.

                         RIGGS
               Fair enough.
                     (pause; then)
               I'm coming out.  Take it easy.

     Riggs stands, steps out onto the narrow ledge.  He seems
     unconcerned.

                         MacCLEARY
               Don't  come  near  me!

                         RIGGS
               Ssshhh.  Easy.  I'm just going to
               talk.

                         MacCLEARY
               Touch  me  and  I'll  jump.

                         RIGGS
               I understand.

45   EXT. BUILDING - DAY                                    45

     On the ground below, Roger Murtaugh reacts with disbelief.
     His partner is taking an insane risk.  Up above, Riggs
     pauses.  Around him the WIND BLOWS treacherously.

                         RIGGS
               You're not the first guy to think
               of this, you know.  Everyone's got
               problems.

                         MacCLEARY
               You know shit.

                         RIGGS
               Wrong.  You're wrong.
                    (beat)
               I almost tried this once.
               Seriously.  My wife.  Got killed
               in a car crash.  Only person I
               ever cared about.  I never had
               kids.

                         MacCLEARY
               You're breaking my heart.

     Riggs takes out his wallet, flashes it at MacCleary.

                         RIGGS
               This is her picture.

                         MacCLEARY
               Nice.  Fuck off.

                         RIGGS
               I'm trying to tell you I understand,
               you dope.

     He takes a step closer.

                         MacCLEARY
               Don't touch me.  I'm not doing
               anything wrong.

                         RIGGS
               I know that.  Not like you're
               murdering anyone.

                         MacCLEARY
               Right.  Only one hurt is me.

                         RIGGS
               Same way I look at it.  I'm gonna
               stand beside  you,  okay?

                         MacCLEARY
               No!
                    (beat)
               Dammit, keep away.

                         RIGGS
               Please.  This is scary stuff.
               Just ... let me stand next to you.

                         MacCLEARY
               Don't try nothing.

                         RIGGS
               I try something, we both go.

                         MacCLEARY
               Right.

     Riggs slowly steps up to the man.  Shudders.

                         RIGGS
               There.  Fuckin' cold,up here.
                    (beat)
               Helluva day for  both  of  us,  huh?
                    (looks  around  at
                     the sea of traffic
                     far below)
               Here we are.
                    (beat)
               God, this is really scary.  I'm
               scared.

                         MacCLEARY
               Me,  too.

                         RIGGS
               You wanna smoke?
                    (pulls out
                     cigarettes)
               Let's smoke, okay?

                         MacCLEARY
               Sure.

     Riggs offers a smoke.  MacCleary reaches for it.  And Riggs
     snaps a handcuff on his wrist.  Snaps the other end onto
     his own wrist.

                         MacCLEARY
               Hey ...

                         RIGGS
               Sorry.
                    (beat)
               See  this  key?

     He holds up the key to the cuffs.  Flings it out into
     space.

                         RIGGS
               We're  together  on  this.  You  can
               go if you  want.  But  you  take  me
               with  you.  Makes  you  a  murderer.

                         MacCLEARY
               You bastard.

                         RIGGS
               You'll be killing a cop.

     Silence.

                         RIGGS
               I'm going inside.  What say you
               come with me?

     He turns, starts to ease along the ledge.  MacCleary
     swallows hard, says:

                         MacCLEARY
               Fuck you, I'm jumping.

     And suddenly Riggs turns on him.  Eyes like steel.

                         RIGGS
               You wanna jump ... ?  You really
               want to ... ?
                    (long  pause;
                     then)
               Fine. Let's  do  it.

     He steps to the edge.

                        MacCLEARY
              Hey, what the fuck ...

                        RIGGS
              You asked for it.

                        MacCLEARY
              Hey, wait a minute ... !

     Riggs does something very  drastic.  He  jerks  them  both
     off the ledge.  Holy shit.  The crowd gasps.

                         RIGGS
               Geronimoooooo ...

     As down they plunge, all ten stories -- Tumbling and
     falling -- MacCleary shrieking like a lunatic ... And
     suddenly, BAM -- !  They land in a fireman's net.  Bounce
     a few times. Come to rest, safe  and  unharmed  ...  Riggs
     rolls over with a sour look on his face.  Cops surround
     them.  MacCleary is a trifle upset.

                         MacCLEARY
               Get him away from me!!  Cut me
               loose!!  Crazy fucker tried to
               kill me!!  Did you see that??  He
               tried to kill  me!!!

     And so on, screaming and ranting --  As  a  uniformed  cop
     cuts Riggs free with a set of clippers.  Riggs stands
     shakily. Steps away from  the  net.  And  there  is  Roger
     Murtaugh.  Visibly   upset.

     Did I say upset?  I meant enraged.  He grabs Riggs, slams
     him against the wall.  Tries to grab his collar.  Riggs'
     hand shoots out.  Lightning fast.  Stops Murtaugh's hand.
     Stops it cold.  They stare into each other's eyes.

                         RIGGS
               Don't ... touch me.

     Murtaugh will not back down.

                         MURTAUGH
               What the fuck did you just do???

                         RIGGS
               I controlled the jump.  You wanted
               him down.  He's down.

                         MURTAUGH
               C'mere.

     He yanks Riggs around the corner, away from the other
     cops.

                         MURTAUGH
               Okay, turkey, no bullshit.  Do you
               want  to  kill  yourself?

                         RIGGS
               Aw, for Chrissake ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Shut up.  Just yes or no, do you
               want to die?  Huh?  Yes or no?

                         RIGGS
               I got the job done.

                         MURTAUGH
               You're not answering the
               question!!!

                         RIGGS
                    (angry)
               What do you wanna hear, man?  You
               wanna hear that I got a bottle of
               pills in my room?  I do.  Every
               day I wake up, I look for a reason
               not to take them.  Doing the job,
               that's ... that's the reason.

     Murtaugh looks at him.  Nods.  A moment, then:

                         MURTAUGH
               You want to die.

                         RIGGS
               I'm not afraid of it.

                         MURTAUGH
               Here.
                    (unholsters
                     his gun)
               Pills are too slow.  Use a gun.
               Use my gun.  Go ahead, pal.

     A pause.   Riggs looks at the gun.

                         MURTAUGH
               Be my guest.

     He offers the gun to Riggs.

                         MURTAUGH
               Go ahead.  If you're serious.

     Riggs smiles, takes the gun without missing a beat.  Puts
     it to his head.  CLICK -- !  The hammer is cocked.
     Murtaugh and Riggs stare each other down.  Tense.  Reading
     each  other.

                         RIGGS
               You shouldn't tempt me, Roger.

                         MURTAUGH
               Put it in your mouth.  Bullet goes
               in your ear, might not kill you.

     Meanwhile, in the b.g., pedestrians are diving for cover.
     Murtaugh and Riggs are oblivious.  Riggs puts the gun
     under his chin.

                         RIGGS
               Under the chin's just as good.

     They stare at each other.  Riggs' finger begins to
     tighten on the trigger.  Turns white with pressure.
     It looks like he's going to do it.
     At the last second, Murtaugh jams his thumb in front of
     the hainmer, and CLICK
     Jesus ...
     The hainmer thuds against his thumb.

     Murtaugh grabs the gun.  Stares at Riggs, wild-eyed.

                         MURTAUGH
               Jesus.  You're not trying to draw
               a psycho pension.
                    (beat)
               You're really crazy ...

                         RIGGS
                    (smiles  coldly)
               So now you know.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.  Now I know.

46   INT. POLICE  LINEUP  -  DAY                                46

     The Police Psychologist we met earlier  is talking on the
     telephone:

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               You're asking me if he's stable
               and I'm telling you no.  We're
               talking about a man who carves
               notches in his gun barrel.  Ore
               for each kill.  He blew a man
               to Pieces yesterday.  Is this
               helping?

                                             INTERCUT:

47   ROGER MURTAUGH                                           47

     Standing at a pay phone, listening.  He nods:

                         MURTAUGH
               Terrific.  So you're saying I
               should worry.

                         PSYCHOLOGIST
               Are you kidding?  The guy's a time
               bomb.  When he goes... stand back.

                         MURTAUGH
               Thank you, Doctor.  You've been
               very helpful.

     He hangs up.  Rubs his eyes tiredly and says:

                         MURTAUGH
               I'm too old for this shit.

                                              CUT TO:

48   INT. MURTAUGH'S CAR - TRAVELING - DAY                    48

     Silence.  Murtaugh fumes.  Riggs keeps his mouth shut.
     Murtaugh takes his anger out on the road:  SLAMMING the
     BRAKES; SQUEALING around corners, etc.

     But he can't hold it 'in.  He explodes:

                         MURTAUGH
                    (pounding his fist
                     against the wheel)
               It's my  birthday,  damnit!  Fifty
               years old today!  Fifty goddamn
               years old!  Thirty years on the
               force!  Not a scratch on me!  Not
               a scar!  I got a wife!  Kids!
               House! Fishing  boat!  But  I  can
               kiss all that goodbye,  'cause  my
               new partner's got a death wish!
               My fuckin' life is over!

                         RIGGS
               Roger --

                         MURTAUGH
               Shut up!  Why you talkin' to me?!
               I'm not he're anymore!  I'm  gone!
               I'm dead!  You're gonna see to
               that!  You wanna die -- and you're
               gonna take me with you!

     Silence again.  Murtaugh gnashes his teeth.  Riggs  looks
     at him with a very serious expression.

                         RIGGS
               I didn't  know  that.

                         MURTAUGH
               Know what?!

                         RIGGS
               That today was your birthday.
                    (beat)
               Happy Birthday, Roger.  I mean
               that sincerely.

     Murtaugh looks taken aback by the genuine sound of  affec-
     tion in Riggs' voice.

                         RIGGS
               I just hope we stay alive long
               enough for me to buy you a present.

     Riggs says this with a straight face -- but there is
     a playful glint in his eye that Murtaugh doesn't miss.
     And he laughs out loud in spite of himself.  It breaks
     the tension, and Riggs  knows  it.

                         RIGGS
               Where we going?

                         MURTAUGH
               Beverly Hills.
                    (beat)
               Got an address on Amanda
               Hunsecker's meal ticket.  But
               remember ... this guy isn't a
               suspect yet.  We're gonna
               question him; not damage
               him.

     Riggs raises his hands -- as if to say, I'll be on my
     best behavior.  Murtaugh swings the car onto Sunset
     Blvd.

49   EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - TWILIGHT                      49

     The kind of house that I'll buy if this movie is a huge
     hit.  Chrome.  Glass.  Carved wood.  Plus an outdoor
     solarium:  A glass structure, like a greenhouse only
     there's a big swimming pool inside.  This is a really
     great place to have sex.

50   INT. SOLARIUM                                                50

     The swimming pool is covered by a vinyl tarpaulin.
     Surrounded by a jungle of plants.

51   AT POOLSIDE TABLE                                        51

     Sits a very rich person.  He is wearing an $800 designer
     ensemble.  Beside him, an elegantly-appointed shotgun
     leans against the table.  He is on the phone.

                         RICH GUY
               Listens asshole, you gotta tell
               me these things ... Yeah, we got
               a problem.  My margin is completely
               fucked up, and we got athletes
               snorting the shit and pitching
               over dead, how's that for a
               problem... ?  Yes, I'm holding
               two keys now.  Terrific, call
               me back.

                                              CUT TO:

52   EXT. WOODEN GATE - SAME TIME                              52

     Riggs and Murtaugh approach the gate.  Riggs tosses out
     a cigarette.  Suddenly --
     There is an ELECTRIC HUM and the gate glides softly open,
     admitting a red Honda scooter, a dashing blonde behind
     the wheel.  She ROARS off down the street.

     Riggs and Murtaugh exchange glances.
     The GATE CLICKS, starts to glide shut.

     The cops enter.

53   EXT. HOUSE WINDOW - SAME TIME                              53

     Riggs' face comes INTO FRAME, peering cautiously through
     a plate glass window.  He whistles softly.

                         RIGGS
               Take a look.

     Murtaugh steps to the window, looks in.

54   MURTAUGH'S POV - THROUGH THE WINDOW                       54

     Enough cocaine to service the third tier at Yankee
     Stadium.

     A BLONDE, BIKINI-CLAD WONDER sits on the couch, happily
     snorting.  She sees Murtaugh and waves hilariously.
     Makes come-hither gestures.

     Murtaugh scowls, turns to Riggs.

                         RIGGS
               I'm thinking probable cause.

                         MURTAUGH
               Jesus.  Maybe I should call for
               backup.

                         RIGGS
               What am I, chopped liver?

     Murtaugh looks at him.  Sighs.

                         MURTAUGH
               No killing.

                         RIGGS
               No killing.

     He grins cheesily-

56   EXT. SOLARIUM                                                  56

     Riggs and Murtaugh approach  the  frosted  glass  door.  They
     draw their guns.

                         MURTAUGH
               Nice and easy.

                         RIGGS
               Nice and easy.

     Murtaugh takes a deep breath.  Kicks open the door.

                         MURTAUGH
               Police.  Hold it right there.

57   INT. SOLARIUM                                                  57

     The rich guy does not hold it right there.  In fact, he
     has already snatched up the SHOTGUN.  He triggers a
     BLAST, BLOWS OUT GLASS  next  to  Murtaugh.  Murtaugh  dives,
     rolls, comes up in a combat crouch.  BAM --- The rich
     guy takes it in the shoulder.  Spins around.  The gun
     clatters to the ground.  Riggs and Murtaugh approach,
     guns drawn.  The rich guy writhes on the ground, clutch-
     ing his shoulder.  Murtaugh says to Riggs:

                         MURTAUGH
               See how easy that was?  Boom.
               Still alive.  Now we take the gun
               away ...
                    (he does)
               ... And we question him.  Know
               why we can question him?  Because
               I got him in the shoulder.  I
               didn't blow him up or jump off a
               building with him.

                         RIGGS
               No fair, the  building  guy  lived.

                         MURTAUGH
               Whatever.  The point is, no
               killing.

                         RIGGS
               No killing.

                         MURTAUGH
               Right.  Piece  of  cake.  I'm  very
               happy. Read  the  man  his  rights,
               I'll be over here being happy.

     Unfortunately ... as Murtaugh speaks, he does not  see  the
     man on the ground has a hideaway gun tucked into his
     waistband. As Murtaugh talks, oblivious ...  The  guy  takes
     out the gun with his good arm -- and  aims  dead  center-at
     Murtaugh's back.  Riggs, however, notices.  And springs
     into action. Before the rich guy can fire  ...  Riggs'  foot
     flashes out like a pile driver.  CRACK!  The guy flies
     backward. Lands on top  of  the  pool  tarpaulin.  Oops.  It
     promptly surrounds him in a sucking, vice-like grip.
     Murtaugh dives forward and extends his hand.  Too late.
     The vinyl surrounds the screaming rich guy, sucks him
     below the surface.  Smothers him.

     Drags him to the bottom.  Murtaugh looks on, wild-eyed.
     On the bottom of the pool is a vinyl tomb.  Murtaugh
     dives in. Swims to the  bottom.  Yanks,  and  strains,  but
     we all know it's no fucking use.  The  vinyl  stops  moving.
     Murtaugh stares... and then he gives  up.  Surfaces  at  the
     side of the pool, gasping and wheezing.  Riggs kneels
     down beside him.

                         RIGGS
               Oops.

     Murtaugh stares daggers at him.

                         MURTAUGH
               Have you ... ever...  met someone
               you didn't kill... ?

                         RIGGS
               Haven't killed you yet.

                         MURTAUGH
               Terrific, you want  a  little  gold
               star?
                    (lie pulls out
                     a soaked pack
                     of cigarettes)
               Shit.

58   EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - LATER                       58

     Behind Riggs and Murtaugh, crime scene cops scurry back
     and forth.  Flashing lights.  Cameras.  Murtaugh makes
     his way to the car.  Riggs beside him.  As they reach
     the car, Murtaugh  stops:

                         MURTAUGH
               Look, I' m sorry I said that shit
               back there.
                    (beat)
               You saved my life.  Thank you.

                         RIGGS
               I bet that hurt to say.

                         MURTAUGH
               You have no idea.

59   INT. MURTAUGH HOME - LATER THAT NIGHT                      59

     The two detectives come through the front door, shedding
     their jackets.  Young Carrie appears, nursing a Popsicle.

                         CARRIE
               Hi, Daddy.  Is that a crook?

                         MURTAUGH
               No, honey, this is Martin, my
               partner.
                    (scoops her up;
                     hugs her)
               Tell Martin what you think of
               crooks.

                         CARRIE
               Buttheads.
                    (giggles)
               They're buttheads.

                         RIGGS
               Kid's no dummy.

                         CARRIE
               Daddy, Mommy says you hate her
               cooking.

                         MURTAUGH
               Tell Mommy hate is a mild word.

60   INT. KITCHEN                                               60

     Trish is cooking as the two cops enter.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hi, honey.
                    (he  looks  in
                     the oven)
               We're having something brown... A
               largish brown object  ...

                         TRISH
               It's roast.

                         MURTAUGH
               Dammit, I wanted to guess.  Honeny,
               this is Martin, my new partner.
               He'll be joining us tonight, okay?

                         TRISH
               Sure.  Roast okay with you, Martin?

                         RIGGS
               Fine.

                         MURTAUGH
               How about brown, roast-like
               substance?

                         TRISH
               Roger, you're being an asshole.
                    (kisses  his  ear)
               Don't forget to compliment Rianne
               on her shoes.

                         MURTAUGH
               Got  it.  Drink,  Martin?

                         RIGGS
               Bourbon, if you have it.

     Murtaugh exits.  Riggs stands awkwardly as Trish  removes
     the roast  from  the  oven.

                         RIGGS
               My wife could burn water.

                         TRISH
               You're married?

                         RIGGS
               I was.  She's  dead  now.

                         TRISH
               Oh.  I'm sorry.

                         RIGGS
               No problem.

     He reaches for a stray piece of roast.  Trish slaps his
     hand.

                         TRISH
               Don't pick.-

     Riggs smiles.  A genuine smile, the first we've seen.

60A  INT. LIVING  ROOM  -  SAME                                   60A

     Murtaugh is fixing drinks as RIANNE enters.  We all
     heave a sigh.  She is strictly to perish for.

                         RIANNE
               Hello,   Father.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hello, daughter.  Nice shoes.

                         RIANNE
               Oh, Daddy, aren't they great?

                         MURTAUGH
               Absolutely.  How much they cost?

                         RIANNE
               A hundred and ten dollars.  Do
               you really like them?

                         MURTAUGH
               A hundred and --
                   (frowns)
               -- They're shoes.

                         RIANNE
               Right.

                         MURTAUGH
               You wear them on your feet.

                         RIANNE
               Right.

                         MURTAUGH
               And that's all they do ... ?  There's
               not, like a TV inside?

                         RIANNE
               Nope.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (shakes his head)
               I'm very old.

                                                  CUT TO:

61   INT. MURTAUGH'S DEN                                        61

     Young Nick Murtaugh is sitting in front of the TELE-
     VISION, watching a "Charley Brown Christmas" and color-
     ing a picture with a big box of crayons.  He stops.
     Frowns.  Looks up -- At Martin Riggs, who is peeking
     his head around the corner, watching with rapt fascina-
     tion.  Riggs chuckles, points to the screen:

                         RIGGS
               This is good.  I like this.

     Nick looks at him very strangely.  Okay, so the guy
     likes cartoons ...

62   INT. DINING ROOM - MEALTIME                                62

     Everyone is gathered, eating.
     Incredibly homey and domestic-looking.
     For Riggs, who eats ravenously, it is the first taste
     of warmth in many a long year.

62A  ACROSS THE TABLE                                          62A

     We notice something kind of neat:
     Rianne simply cannot take her eyes off Riggs.
     She stares at him, in a trance.  Her brother NICK nudges
     her in the ribs.  She pulls a face.

62B  MURTAUGH                                                  62B

     Has also noticed his daughter's attentions, and you can
     bet he's not all that happy about it.

63.  EXT. MURTAUGH'S HOIJSE - DRIVEWAY - BOAT - NIGHT           63

     Tirsh Murtaugh wheeling garbage pail to curbside.

                         TRISH
                    (sarcastically)
               That's okay, honey.  I'll take
               out the garbage.

     Boat.  Murtaugh's head appears sheepishly from within.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.  Thanks, honey.

     On board boat, Murtaugh is working on the engine.  Riggs
     sitting on driver's seat.

                         MURTAUGH
               Whaddaya think?

                         RIGGS
               You know anything about boats,
               Roger?

                         MURTAUGH
               Know how much they cost.

                         RIGGS
               I mean, can you sail this thing?

                         MURTAUGH
               What's  wrong  with  you?  This  ain't
               a sail boat.

                         RIGGS
                    (smiling)
               That's  what  I  thought.

                         MURTAUGH
               No trick  to  it.  That's  the  front.
               That's the back.  Water all around.
               Why you gotta make things so
               complicated?

                         RIGGS
               I don't.  That's just how they are.

     Murtaugh opens an ice chest, takes a beer for himself
     and tosses  one  to  Riggs.

                         MURTAUGH
               Oh, yeah.  You mean Amanda
               Hunsacker's    murder?

                         RIGGS
               Now, did I mention that?

                         MURTAUGH
               You don't have to.  I can read
               your mind.

     Riggs makes no reply.  He just looks at Murtaugh over
     the rim of  his  beer  can.

                         MURTAUGH
               I don't get you, Riggs.  What's the
               problem? We  got  one  dead  girl  and
               one dead  guy.  Dead  guy  killed  the
               dead girl and we killed the dead
               guy 'cause he wanted  us  to  be  dead
               guys.  Seems pretty easy to me.

     Riggs has wandered over to the instrument panel.  He in-
     spects the switches and gauges.

                         MURTAUGH
               Look, her sugar daddy was dealin'
               drugs.  She said somethin'... or
               did somethin'... or saw somethin'
               she shouldn't have, and he pitched
               her off the balcony into the sweet
               by-an'-by.
                    (beat)
               That's why he came  at  us  today
               with a shotgun.

                         RIGGS
               I don't  know.  Sounds  a  little
               too neat to me.

                         MURTAUGH
               Of course it's neat.  And what's
               wrong with  neat?  I  like  neat.

     Riggs flips a switch and the MOTOR ROARS to life.
     Murtaugh leaps up.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey!  Watch  what  you're  doin'!

     Murtaugh fumbles with the switches in a futile effort  to
     turn off the engine.  But Riggs knows exactly which
     switch to flip.

                         RIGGS
               Lookin' for this?

     He silences the engine.  Murtaugh glares at him.

                         MURTAUGH
               You asshole.

                         RIANNE
               Hi, Dad...

     Murtaugh jumps, startled by his daughter's arrival.
     Rianne and Riggs exchange a glance.

                         MURTAUGH
               What is  it,  Rianne?

                         RIANNE
               Mark wants to take me  out  to  a
               club tomorrow night.

                         MURTAUGH
               You're grounded -- you know that.

                         RIANNE
               Please, Daddy ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Which one is Mark, anyway?

                         RIANNE
               The blond one.

                         MURTAUGH
               Oh, yeah. The  one  with  pits  in
               his  face.

                         RIANNE
               Those are dimples.

                         MURTAUGH
               Those are pits.  When he smiles,
               I can see through his head.
                    (beat)
               The answer is no.  End of story.

                         RIGGS
               C'mon, Rog.  Have a heart.

     Murtaugh looks at Riggs -- not appreciative of his
     intervention.

                         MURTAUGH
               The girl was smoking  pot  in  the
               house.  She's grounded!

                        RIANNE
               Next time I'll just  take  a  beer
               instead.  Why can I have  a  beer
               and not  a joint?  It's not coke,
               you  know, Dad.

     Murtaugh  looks  down sheepishly at the can of beer in his
     hand.  Riggs  grins  to  himself.

                         MURTAUGH
               'Cause right now, beer's legal and
               grass ain't.  Right or wrong.

                         RIANNE
               Wrong.

                         RIGGS
               Right.

     She stalks off.  After a moment, Murtaugh looks over to
     Riggs.

                         MURTAUGH
               I've lost track... did we resolve
               anything  here  tonight?

     Riggs shakes his head, smiles and starts to climb off
     the boat.

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.  We resolved that your wife
               takes out  the  garbage.  Your
               daughter smokes pot, which is
               illegal but shouldn't be -- that
               you don't know from boats, and
               you got one hell of a family, guy.

     Walking towards truck together.

                         MURTAUGH
               Thanks.

                         RIGGS
               Enjoyed the meal.

                         MURTAUGH
               Bullshit, but  thanks  anyway.

     A pause.   Riggs stands there.  Then:

                         RIGGS
               You don't trust me at all, do you?

                         MURTAUGH
               Tell you what.  Make it through
               tomorrow without killing anybody.
               Especially  me.  Or  yourself.
               Then I'll start trusting you.

                         RIGGS
               Fair enough.

     He walks toward his truck.  Stops.

                         RIGGS
               I do it real good,  you  know.

                         MURTAUGH
               Do what?

                         RIGGS
               Kill people ... Only thing I ever
               did good.  When I was nineteen, I
               did a guy in Laos from a thousand
               yards out.
               Rifle shot in high wind.
                    (beat)
               Ten guys in the world coulda made
               that shot.  Huh.  Only thing I was
               ever good at.
                    (pause;  then)
               Well, see you tomorrow.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.  See  you  then.

     Riggs drives  away.  Murtaugh  watches  him.  Turns.  On  the
     way back inside, he flicks on the Christmas lights.

64   OMITTED                                                        64

65   EXT. SUNSET STRIP - NIGHT                                      65

     Martin Riggs cruises along in his battered pickup truck
     past all-night dives and porno houses.  The streets are
     nearly deserted.  Except for a young HOOKER on the cor-
     ner.  Real young, maybe seventeen.  Riggs sees her and
     pulls over to the curb.  The Hooker approaches.

                         HOOKER
               Hi, handsome.  Looking for
               something?

                         RIGGS
               Aren't  we  all?

                         HOOKER
                    (nods)
               Are you affiliated with any law
               enforcement organization?

                         RIGGS
                    (pause;  then)
               No. Get  in  the  car.

     She does.  Closes the door.

                         RIGGS
               How old are you?

                         HOOKER
               Twenty-two.

                         RIGGS
               Bullshit.

                         HOOKER
               Why, you like 'em young?

                         RIGGS
               Younger the better.  How old are
               you?

                         HOOKER
                    (almost shyly)
               Sixteen.

     Riggs nods.  Takes out a hundred-dollar bill and sets it
     in her  lap.

                         HOOKER
               Wow.
                    (beat)
               So, what do you want?

                         RIGGS
               I want you to come home and
               watch television with me.

     He drives away from the curb.

66   INT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT                                 66

     The house is dark and quiet at this hour.  Roger Murtaugh
     fixes a sandwich in the kitchen.  Rickles the CAT PURRS,
     rubs against his leg.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey.

     He kicks it aside.  Notices a package on the counter,
     together with a scribbled crayon note:

     HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERGEANT MURTAUGH

     The gift is a 99c special, right off the rack at Pic N'
     Save:  The TUFF N' READY Police Action Playset; Tiny
     plastic gun, made in Taiwan.  Tiny plastic badge.
     Murtaugh smiles.  Notices another package next to it.
     Frowns.  Its label reads:  ROGER MURTAUGH:  POLICE
     EVIDENCE.

67   INT. LIVING ROOM                                            67

     He opens the package. Two  things:  a  high  school  year-
     book; also a videocassette. Takes it,  slides  it  into  a
     VCR machine.  Turns on the television.

                                          TIME CUT  TO:

67A  INT./EXT. RIGGS' TRAILER - NIGHT                             67A

     The Hooker watches TV -- really enjoying the Three
     Stooges. Riggs stands apart  from  her.  He's  not  watch-
     ing TV; he's watching her watching TV.

     He wears a melancholy expression. The  world  is  full  of
     happy families like Murtaugh's, but he has to get by
     like this.

     His eyes shift to a photo of his wife.  He picks it up
     and views it sadly.

                         HOOKER
                    (turning to him)
               You're not having a very good
               time,  are  you?

     Riggs puts down the photo.

                         RIGGS
                    (sweetly)
               You don't know that.  Maybe this
               is how I look when I'm having a
               good time.  Maybe I'm having the
               best time of my life.

                         HOOKER
                    (after a beat)
               Are you?

     Riggs doesn't answer.

                         HOOKER
               I know... sing me something.

                         RIGGS
               I don't sing.

                         HOOKER
               Come on.  Sing me a song.

                         RIGGS
               I don't know any songs.

                         HOOKER
               Not even a Christmas song?
               Everybody knows a Christmas song.

     Riggs shrugs and makes a half-hearted attempt:

                         RIGGS
               Something through the snow,
               in a one-horse open sleigh ...

                         HOOKER
               Good.  That's   good.
                    (helps him out)
               Over the hills we go,
               laughing all the way.

                         RIGGS
               Something something ring,
               making something bright ...

                         HOOKER
               Oh, what fun it is to ride ...

                         RIGGS
               To grandma's house tonight!

     They know they got it wrong,  but  they're  pleased  with
     themselves just the same.  The Hooker hugs Riggs impul-
     sively.  Riggs looks uncomfortable.  He'd like to show
     her some platonic affection, but he knows that's
     impossible.

     He gently unwraps her arms from around his neck.

                         RIGGS
               I better take you back now.

68   SAME PLACE - LITTLE  BIT  LATER                                 68

     Murtaugh is in front of the TV. On  his  lap  is  a  high
     school yearbook.  Open to the middle.  He glances down,
     sees -- a photograph of Amanda Lloyd.  Senior picture.
     Smiling.  Young.  The girl most likely to.  He looks up
     up at the television.  On the screen Amanda Lloyd is
     writhing  in  ecstasy.  Smiling.  Murtaugh  continues  to
     watch.  Lights another cigarette.  There is a sad,
     faraway look on his face.

                                              CUT TO:

69   INT. HALLWAY                                                    69

     Very late now. Murtaugh walks down  the  hall  to  a  bedroom
     door.  Opens it a fraction.  Inside -- His daughter
     Rianne is asleep.

     A shaft of moonlight falls across the bed.  She is more
     beautiful than we've ever seen her.

     Murtaugh crosses to the bed, leans down, and kisses  her
     forehead.  She stirs in her sleep, smiles like a cat,
     and whispers:

                         RIANNIE
               ... Mark ...

     Murtaugh recoils. Stands up. We realize  that  up  until
     this moment, see, he thought she was maybe a virgin ...

70   INT. MURTAUGH'S BEDROOM                                    70

     He takes off his robe, drapes it on a chair.  Gets  into
     bed silently next to his sleeping wife.  Lies awake,
     staring up at the ceiling.  The RAIN BEATS on the window,
     throwing odd shadows across his face. He  drifts  toward
     sleep.  As he does, we ever so slowly ...

                                            CROSS FADE TO:

71   INT. MURTAUGH BEDROOM                                      71

     Sunlight streams through the windows, Murtaugh stirs
     groggily, forces open his eyes.  Staring him in the face
     is Martin Riggs' scruffy, early morning  face.  Murtaugh
     frowns.

                         MURTAUGH
               ... Martin...  ?

                         RIGGS
               Good morning, Roger.  I've been
               doing a little thinking.

     Murtaugh just stares at him.

                         RIGGS
               About the night Amanda Hunsak.er
               died.

     Murtaugh grimaces.

                         MURTAUGH
               Do you know what time it is ... ?

                         RIGGS
               Day time?

                         MURTAUGH
               I'll get dressed.

                                       CUT TO:

72   INT. MURTAUGH KITCHEN                            72

     In the kitchen Trish is singing something bluesy, fixing
     coffee.  At the table Nick is drinking milk.  Murtaugh
     sits.  Riggs takes off his shoulder holster, and with
     meticulous care drapes it delicately over the back of
     his chair.  Sits opposite Murtaugh.

                         RIGGS
               You're seriously using ketchup?

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.

                         RIGGS
               On eggs.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.
                    (beat)
               Who made the ketchup?

                         RIGGS
               Heinz.

                         MURTAUGH
               Who made the eggs?

     Riggs looks to Trish.
                         TRISH
                    (across the room)
               You two are so hilarious I could
               bust.

     Riggs leans forward.

                         RIGGS
               Roger.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.

                         RIGGS
               That hooker who witnessed the
               jump the other night.  What was
               her name?

                         MURTAUGH
               Dixie.

                         CARRIE
               What's a hooker?

                         MURTAUGH
               Shh, quiet, I'm combatting crime.

                         NICK
               A hooker is a ...

                         RIGGS
                    (interrupts)
               Right, and she's in Century City
               witnessing Amanda Hunsaker's suicide

                         MURTAUGH
               or murder --

                         RIGGS
               right, or murder, and my question
               is... what is she doing there?  I
               called Wilshire Vice, that's not
               her usual turf.

                         MURTAUGH
               Wow.
                    (beat)
               Wow.  That's really reaching.

                         RIGGS
               Cut me a break, it's a hunch, Roger.
               I'm having  a  hunch.

                         MURTAUGH
               You couldn't have it at home, you
               had to come here at 7:30 A.M. and
               have it.

                         RIGGS
               7:35, and yes, I thought you'd be
               excited.

                         MURTAUGH
               I'm thrilled.
                    (pause)
               Okay.

                         RIGGS
               Okay, what?

                         MURTAUGH
               Okay, go for it.  I'm listening.

                                       CUT TO:

73   INT. OUTDOOR FIRING PANGE - DAY                   73

     Riggs and Murtaugh stand on line at the range.  Around
     them the echoing BOOM of gunshots fills the morning air.
     They struggle to be heard over the tumult:

                         MURTAUGH
               We know someone was in bed with
               Amanda Lloyd the night she died.

                         RIGGS
               Right.   'Til now we assumed it was
               a man.

                         MURTAUGH
               Okay.  Let's say it was Dixie.

                         RIGGS
               Okay.  Disgusting,   but   okay:   Let's
               say  Dixie  slipped  the  drain  cleaner
               into the pills.

                         MURTAUGH
               Say someone paid her to do it.

                         RIGGS
               Sure.  She  thinks,   terrific,   Amanda
               swallows  a  couple  downers  and  boom,
               she's dead.  Then Dixie --

                         MURTAUGH
               If it was her --

                         RIGGS
               Right, right, then Dixie has
               plenty of time to spritz the place
               up, get out, whatever.

                         MURTAUGH
               Except Amanda jumps out the window.

                         RIGGS
               Or Dixie pushes her.  Either way

                         MURTAUGH
               Either way, she's gotta make a
               fast getaway, 'cause now the
               body's public.  She hauls ass
               downstairs.

                         RIGGS
               People are coming out to see what
               happened.

                         MURTAUGH
               Someone spots her.  She says 'shit.'

                         RIGGS
               Right.  She actually stops and
               says, 'Shit.'

                         MURTAUGH
               Or, 'Damn.'

                         RIGGS
               Or 'Golly, I've been spotted.'
               The point being --

                         MURTAUGH
               The point being, now she has to
               cover her ass.

                         RIGGS
               Right.  So she says, 'Officer,
               officer, I saw the whole thing.'

                         MURTAUGH
               Right.

                         RIGGS
               Right.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (sighs)
               That's pretty fucking thin.

                         RIGGS
               Very thin.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (smiles)
               Hell with it.  Thin's my middle
               name.

                         RIGGS
               Your wife's cooking, I'm not
               surprised.

                         MURTAUGH
               Would you lay off the cooking?

                         RIGGS
               Tell her that.

     Riggs steps to the line.  Draws the Beretta, fires off
     a full clip.  Three-shot rhythms, two in the chest, one
     in the head, two in the chest, one in the head.
     Removes the magazines lovingly snaps in a new one.

                         MURTAUGH
               You sleep with that thing under
               your pillow?

                         RIGGS
               I would if I slept.

                         MURTAUGH
               Here, stand back.

     Murtaugh steps to the red line.  Stretches.  Cracks his
     neck.  Shifts from foot to foot.  Finally steadies him-
     self.  A moment then:  He cross-draws with lightning
     swiftness.  -- BANG -- !  The REPORT is DEAFENING.  The
     target grows a neat third eye.  Perfect shot.  Dead
     center.  Murtaugh grins, holsters his gun.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey-hey.  Would'ja look at that?
               Pretty good for an old man.

     Riggs shrugs.  Draws.  FIRES.  He isn't even looking.

     Nonetheless. -- He puts a magnum round right through
     the hole made by Murtaugh's .38.  The hole gets .60
     inches wider.  Murtaugh scowls.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah, yeah.  Eat me.

     He stalks away, pissed off.

74   OMITTED                                                   74

75   EXT. WEST L.A. STREET - MORNING                           75

     Murtaugh's car glides up to the curb.  In front of a
     row of neat frame houses.  Old neighborhood.  Late model
     cars.  A LITTLE black KID playing on the sidewalk.

     The two cops get out, stride toward a  cottage  set  back
     from the street.  They pass the Little Kid who is playing
     with a plastic bucket and a headless  Star  Wars  figure.

                         RIGGS
               Hey, kid.  What'cha doing?

     The Kid grins, obviously pleased with himself.

                         LITTLE KID
               I put this on top and it fall
               down.

     He demonstrates.  He puts it  on  top.  It  falls  down.  He
     grins happily.  Riggs shakes his head.

                         RIGGS
               Good thinking.

     They keep walking.  Toward the cottage.

                         MURTAUGH
               Very thin.

                         RIGGS
               Probably nothing.

     They mount the steps to the walk.  As they do -- The
     HOUSE suddenly EXPLODES.  It  BLOWS  APART  concussively.
     There is a flash of light, a loud, flat BANG --!  And the
     thing tears to pieces.  Glass  blows  out.  Wood  sprays.
     Flying shrapnel.  A wall of  flame.  Riggs  hits  the  dirt,
     smothering the Little black Kid.  Murtaugh dives for cover
     behind a telephone pole. A piece  of  shrapnel  imbeds  it-
     self; right next to his head.  Carnage.  Noise.  The
     tumult slowly begins to  fade.  Echoes.  Flames  rage  to
     the sky.  Smoke rolls.  Beams collapse.  The cottage is
     no more.  Murtaugh climbs to his feet, dazed; stares at
     the rubble.  Looks over toward Riggs, who is getting
     up off the Kid.  The Kid is shaken, but unhurt.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hey.

     Riggs turns.

                         MURTAUGH
               You're on fire.

     Riggs looks. The back of his  coat  is  completely  ablaze.

                         RIGGS
               Shit.

     He takes it off, flings it aside.

     Goes up to Murtaugh-  Lights a cigarette.

                         RIGGS
               Probably nothing.

                         MURTAUGH
               Thin.  Very thin.

76   EXT. BURNED-OUT COTTAGE - LATER                            76

     Cops prowl through the gutted remains.  Charred and
     black. Nothing left.  A body goes by on a stretcher.
     MURTAUGH stops it.

                         MURTAUGH
               Ho.
                    (he  looks  under
                     the sheet)
               Jesus.

                         ATTENDANT
               We're hoping to find some teeth.
               in there.  Otherwise, could be
               anybody.  Black, white ... Could
               be a fuckin' bowl of soup, for
               all we --

                         MURTAUGH
               Okay, okay.

     The stretcher continues toward the waiting truck.
     Murtaugh looks off,  whispers:

                         MURTAUGH
               Bye-bye, Dixie.

77   ANOTHER ANGLE                                              77

     Martin Riggs is examining a twisted hunk of metal as
     Murtaugh walks up beside  him.

                         MURTAUGH
               What'cha got?

                         RIGGS
               Part of the  device.
                    (beat)
               Holy cow.

                         MURTAUGH
               What?

                         RIGGS
               Artwork.  This is goddamn artwork.

                         MURTAUGH
               Swell.  I'm glad you liked it.

                         RIGGS
               You don't understand.  This is real
               pro stuff.  Haven't seen this since ...
               well, since the war.

                         MURTAUGH
               Come again?

                         RIGGS
               C.I.A. used to hire mercs who used
               this same setup.  Mercury switches.

     Murtaugh frowns.  A PATROL COP taps him on the shoulder.

                         PATROL COP
               Sir, I think you'd better come
               with me.

     Riggs-and Murtaugh exchange glances.  They move off,
     across the street.

78   EXT. STREET - BACK OF FIRE  TRUCK                       78

     Riggs and Murtaugh stand by the rear of the truck.  A
     CONSTRUCTION CREW watches from behind, heavy equipment
     idling softly.  Next to them sits the little blackkid
     from earlier, coloring with crayons.  His mother
     hovers ...

                         COP
               Okay, here it is.  The little  kid
               says he saw someone working on
               the meter this morning.

                         MURTAUGH
               Where?

                         COP
               Across the street at  Dixie's.  He
               was playin' some kind of game,
               hidin' under the stairs.  Says  he
               saw the guy pretty good.

                         MURTAUGH
               Jesus.  This could be a break.

                         RIGGS
               You kidding? The kid's  six  years
               old.

                         COP
               If that.

                         MURTAUGH
               You call the gas company?

                         COP
               Sure did.  No one supposed to
               check that meter for at least
               another   month.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (nods)
               Let me handle this.

                         COP
               Be my guest.

                         RIGGS
               Wanna wear the chicken suit?  I got
               some clown makeup.

                         MURTAUGH
               Stow it.

     He crosses to the boy.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hi.  I'm Detective Murtaugh.  What's
               your name?

                         ALFRED (LITTLE KID)
               Alfred.

     He stares at Murtaugh with eyes like saucers.

                         MURTAUGH
               How old are you, Alfred?

                         ALFRED
               Six.

                         MURTAUGH
               Wow.  Six.
                    (beat)
               Bet you like the Gobots, huh?

     Alfred nods.

                         MURTAUGH
               Me, I'm a G.I. Joe man.

                         ALFRED
                    (points)
               Is that a real gun?

                         MURTAUGH
               Yes, it is.

                         ALFRED
               Do you kill people?

                         MURTAUGH
               No.  If a guy is hurting someone,
               I try to shoot him in the  arm  or
               something.  Just to stop him.

                         ALFRED
               Momma says policeman  shoot  black
               people.

     Murtaugh grimaces.  Alfred's mother looks away quickly.

                         MURTAUGH
               Alfred, this man you saw.  The meter
               man ... ?
                    (beat)
               You get a good look at him?

                         ALFRED
               I saw him.

                         MURTAUGH
               Great.  Listen, you ever watch
               'Starsky and  Hutch'?  'Cause  the
               police, sometimes they need help.
               They need police helpers.
               Detectives.
                    (he  takes  out
                     a plastic badge,
                     puts it on
                     Alfred's chest)
               If you want, you can be  a  junior
               detective.  If you want.

     The kid looks  at  him.  Distrust.

                         MURTAUGH
               Keep it, it's yours.  Official
               detective.

     Alfred nods, grins.

                         MURTAUGH
               The man at the meter.  Can you ...
               picture him in  your  head?  Think
               about what he looked like.  Got
               it ?

     Alfred nods.  Murtaugh picks up Alfred's box of crayons.
     Hands it to the little boy.

                         MURTAUGH
               I want you to draw him for me.

                         ALFRED
               I'm a good drawer.

                         MURTAUGH
               Try to draw the man.

    Riggs clears his throat.  Rolls his eyes.

                         RIGGS
               Oh, brother.  This is good.  I like
               this.

                         MURTAUGH
               Can it, Martin.

                         RIGGS
               We're gonna put out an A.P.B. on Big
               Bird.

                         MURTAUGH
               Very funny.

                         RIGGS
                    (laughs)
               Attention all units.  Large yellow
               bird.   Silly   voice.

                         MURTAUGH
               You're hilarious.  Alfred, draw the
               man, okay?

     Alfred nods, takes the crayons, and carefully selects a
     bunch of colors.  Lays them out like Da Vinci fixing his
     palette.  Riggs  shakes   his   head.

                         RIGGS
               Brilliant police work?  I think so.

                                               TIME CUT:

79   ANOTHER ANGLE                                          79

     Minutes have passed.

                         MURTAUGH
               Martin, have a look at this.

     Riggs crosses.  Alfred has finished his drawing, and
     guess what?  It's hilariously bad.  Like a six-year-old
     drew it or something.  Riggs rubs his eyes.

                         RIGGS
               Oh, my ...
                    (begins to
                     laugh)
               ... Oh, my...

     He laughs even harder now.  Murtaugh scowls,
     snatches the picture away.

                         MURTAUGH
               Terrific.  Very professional.

     Riggs is hooting.  Murtaugh shows the picture to Alfred.

                         ALFRED
               He laugh at my picture.

                         MURTAUGH
               Shhh.  Don't mind him.  He's
               crazy.

                         ALFRED
               I'm a good drawer.

                         MURTAUGH
               You bet.
                    (points)
               Alfred.  This is ... the man's arm,
               right?

                         ALFRED
               Yeah.

                         MURTAUGH
               Okay.  Now this mark.  Is this ...
               What is this?

                         ALFRED
               He had it on his arm.

     Riggs stops laughing.  Moves in closer.

                         RIGGS
               Whoa.  What was on his arm?

                         MURTAUGH
               Was it a birthmark?
                    (points to
                      his arm)
               Was it like this?

                         ALFRED
               No.  It  was   pained.

                         MURTAUGH
               Pained.

                         RIGGS
               Pained, pained.  What's he saying?

                         MURTAUGH
               Sssshh.
                    (beat)
               It was ... painted?

                         ALFRED
               Yeah.

                         MURTAUGH
               Like  a  tattoo?
                    (beat)
               Do you  watch  Popeye?  Was  it  a
               tattoo like Popeye has?

     Riggs rolls up his sleeve, exposes his Marine tattoo.
     You've seen the type:  A Tweety Bird with a machine gun,
     or some such.

                         RIGGS
               This is a tattoo.

     The boy's eyes go wide once again.  He points at Riggs' arm.

                         ALFRED
               It was that.

     The  cops  stop,  puzzled.

                         MURTAUGH
               It  was  that?  You  mean...  just
               like  that...?

                         ALFRED
               Yeah.  Man  had  the  same  thing.

                         RIGGS
               You're sure?

     Alfred  nods.  The  cops  exchange   glances:

                         RIGGS
               Special Forces tattoo ... ?

                         MURTAUGH
               Martin.

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.

                         MURTAUGH
               What the hell are we into here ... ?

80   EXT. CLIFFSIDE HOUSE - DAY                                    80

     A sprawling, expensive villa nestled on the side  of  a
     bluff overlooking the  ocean.  Terraces,  verandahs,
     gazebos.  Architecture that merits three syllables.  The
     ocean looks cheap by comparison.  A memorial service is
     in progress.  A group of people, mostly young, friends
     of Amanda Lloyd; all are dressed in  funeral  black.

81   NEARBY --                                                    81

     Martin Riggs is collapsed in a lawn  chair,  smoking and
     looking thoroughly out of place.  Seeing  the  girl, he
     frowns ... puffs on his cigarette, and rolls a  quarter
     over his knuckles like a  stage  magician.  Nimble,  trained
     fingers.  A thoroughly unconscious habit.

82   ANOTHER ANGLE                                                 82

     Dick Lloyd looks worse than ever.  He  stands,  staring
     out over the ocean -- as a hand comes out of nowhere ...
     grabs his shoulder, and spins him roughly around:  Face-
     to-face with Roger Murtaugh.  Eyes burning like cold fire.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hi, guy.

                         LLOYD
               Roger... What ... What's up, buddy?

                         MURTAUGH
               Not much.
                     (beat)
               Wanna tell me about it?

                         LLOYD
               Tell you about what?

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't bullshit me.  That's over.
                    (beat)
               Your daughter wasn't killed
               because of something she was into.
               She was killed because of something
               you're into.  Stop me if I'm wrong.

                         LLOYD
               I don't know what you're talking
               about.  Roger, I ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Keep your hands in front.

                         LLOYD
                    (stops;
                     startled)
               Hey.  Take it easy, man.

                         MURTAUGH
               Fuck easy.
                    (beat)
               When you called me the other day,
               you were gonna blow the whistle,
               weren't you?

                         LLOYD
               Blow the whistle on what?

                         MURTAUGH
               You tell me.  You were gonna spill
               your guts.  So they killed your
               daughter.  Tell me I'm wrong.

     Lloyd swallows hard, flustered.  He can't meet Murtaugh's
     eyes.

                         MURTAUGH
               Talk to me.

                         LLOYD
               Can't ... can't do that ...

                         MURTAUGH
               They killed your daughter.

                         LLOYD
               I...

                        MURTAUGH
               They paid off a hooker to poison
               your daughter.  Talk to me!

     Lloyd shoots a desperate glance across the lawn.  At his
     other daughter, Amanda's twin.

                         LLOYD
               Dammit,  Roger,   I've...   ve  o
               another daughter!

                         MURTAUH
               She'll be protected.
                    (beat)
               It's over, pal.

                         LLOYD
               Protected.  That's a laugh... You
               don't know these people.

                         MURTAUGH
               Acquaint me.

                                             TIME CUT:

83   INT. LLOYD'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER                        83

     The two men are inside now.  The sunlight filters in
     through a large picture window from the lawn.

     Lloyd is pacing back and forth.   He touches his stomach
     in the classic gesture of ulcer-carriers everywhere.
     Opens the fridge, removes a carton of milk.  There must
     be three cases of the stuff.  Drinks, turns to Murtaugh.
     A man at the  end  of  his  rope:

                         LLOYD
               It goes all the way back to the
               war.

                         MURTAUGH
               I'm   listening.

                         LLOYD
               I ended up working for a group
               called Air America.  C.I.A. front,
               secretly ran the entire war out of
               Laos.  I was part of a special
               unit called Shadow Company.  Mercs.
               Trained killers.  When Charley was
               bringing in heroin to finance the
               V.C. government, Shadow Company
               went in and burned it all down.  We
               killed everybody.  But we also ...
               formed  a  plan.

                         MURTAUGH
               Keep talking.

                         LLOYD
               Couple of years ago, Shadow Company
               got together again.  The  war  was
               over, but we still had a  list  of
               sources.  In Asia.

                         MURTAUGH
               And ... ?

                         LLOYD
               And we've been bringing it in ever
               since.

                         MURTAUGH
               Bringing what in?

                         LLOYD
               Think real hard.

                         MURTAUGH
               Heroin.

                         LLOYD
                    (nods)
               Two shipments a year.  Run by
               ex-C.I.A.  Soldiers, mercs.  No
               one knows.

                         MURTAUGH
               You son of  a  bitch.

     Lloyd does not reply.  A pause, then:

                         MURTAUGH
               If you were getting cold feet,
               why'd they kill  Amanda?  Why  not
               just  kill  you?

                         LLOYD
               They can't.  They need me.

                         MURTAUGH
               Why?

                         LLOYD
               My bank.  It's  the  front.  Makes
               everything look good on the tax
               report.

                         MURTAUGH
               The tax report ... ?

                         LLOYD
               This is big business, Roger.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (ice cold)
               Not any more.  I'm gonna burn
               it down.

                         LLOYD
               You can't.  It's  too  big.  These
               guys are trained killers.

                         MURTAUGH
               Tell me about the  next  shipment.

                         LLOYD
               No.  No way.

     Murtaugh grabs a framed picture of Amanda, slams it
     down on a wooden bul--cher block.  The GLASS SHATTERS.
     Lloyd stares.

                         MURTAUGH
               Tell me!!!

     Lloyd flinches.  Leans back, a dreamy look in his eyes.
     Speaks from very far away ...

                         LLOYD
                    (softly)
               Nothing ... wrong with the kids,
               Roger. We're  all  fucked  up.  Us
               old bastards ... We're killing them.

     And suddenly there is a gun in his hand.  Aimed at Murtaugh.

                         LLOYD
               Back off.

                         MURTAUGH
               Oh, swell.  Good move.

                         LLOYD
               I'm not kidding. I'm  in  too  far
               now.

     Murtaugh does not budge.  Lloyd cocks the hammer.

                         LLOYD
               The gun is silenced, Roger.

     Murtaugh stares him down.  Eyes  like  fire.

                         MURTAUGH
               What's it gonna be, buddy ... ?
               You gonna save my life, just so
               you can snuff me twenty years
               later...?

                         LLOYD
               Things are different now.

                         MURTAUGH
               I guess.

     A moment. Lloyd stares intently.  Finger  sweating  on  the
     trigger.

                         MURTAUGH
               If you can do it, do it.  I don't
               fucking care anymore.

     LLoyd blinks. Swallows.  Another  moment.  Finally  --  He
     lowers the gun.  Sighs.

                         LLOYD
               ... What do you want to know... ?

     Murtaugh relaxes visibly. And that's  when  two  things
     happen. The picture WINDOW  GLASS  suddenly  COLLAPSES.
     Falls TINKLING into a million shards. And  the  carton  of
     milk in Lloyd's hand pops, spurting milk all  over  the
     front of his black suit.  He frowns.  Stares at the
     dribbling milk. Blinks. And his eyes  snap  open  wide,  as
     blood seeps out of his shirt, spattering the floor.

                         LLOYD
               Roger -- !

     With his dying breath, he leaps in front  of  Murtaugh.
     Takes the SECOND BULLET. The one  meant  for  Murtaugh.
     It blows him into Roger, takes them both to the  floor  in
     a breath-crushing impact. More BULLETS  CHOP  the  kitchen.
     China PLATES BURST into a glassy spray.  Food spatters
     and gushes, staining the walls.  Murtaugh  rolls  free,
     then, a man possessed:  Screams out the window:

                         MURTAUGH
               Riggs!!!

84   EXT. LAWN                                                       84

     Murtaugh's voice is far away.  Riggs looks up from his
     lawn chair. Notices  two  things:  One:  Everything  seems
     normal. Nobody has heard the  shots.  Two:  The  glass  in
     the kitchen window... something strange, what the hell
     is it ... oh, yeah, it's  broken, someone broke the glass ...
     And Riggs is on his feet in the blink of an eye.

85   BACK INSIDE                                                      85

     Murtaugh is at the window.  Gun pointed.

                         MURTAUGH
               Riggs!!!

86   MURTAUGH'S POV                                                  86

     reveals a crowd of people, milling back and forth, he
     has no idea where the sniper is,  and  suddenly  BAM  --  !
     The wood blows out not two inches  from  his  head  and  he
     ducks, and meanwhile -- back outside ...

87   MARTIN RIGGS                                                     87

     He's on the move. He jogs ... trots ... runs ...  Noticing  a
     lone man in black, striding quickly across the lawn,
     striding into the crowd ... toward the edge of  the  bluff  ...
     Things happen fast now, pay attention, as -- The man
     turns, sees Riggs ... Riggs sees him... and the man is
     none other than Mr. Joshua.  Crew cut.  Sunglasses.
     Moving fast.

88   MURTAUGH                                                         88

     diving out the window.  Hits.  Rolls, comes up.  Scream-
     ing, waving at Riggs ...

89   RIGGS                                                            89

     Gun out ... moving fast,  shoving  through  the  crowd,  people
     screaming now, "Jesus, he's got a gun -- !" Running
     across the lawn,  Murtaugh  thirty  yards  behind,  moving,
     hard and fast,  both  guns  drawn,  pushing/shoving,  knock-
     ing people ass over teacups and meanwhile let us not
     forget --

90   JOSHUA                                                          90

     moving at a dead run, now, gun out ... at the edge of the
     cliff. People all  around  him,  confused,  I  mean  Jesus,
     what the hell is all  this  shooting  about,  and  Riggs  can't
     get a clear shot ... He's sweeping the  gun,  back  and  forth,
     bodies crossing in front of him... all the wrong bodies,
     Goddammit...!  Moving forward, shouting:

                         RIGGS
               Lie down!!!  Down!!!

     Murtaugh, springing hell bent  for  leather  --  and  folks,
     grab your hats ... because just then,  a  BELL  COBPA  HELI-
     COPTER crests the edge of the bluff.

     An explosion of sound...
     As it rises like an avenging angel ...
     Hovers, shattering the air with turbo-throb, sandblasting
     the hillside with a roto-wash of loose dirt, tables,
     chairs, everything that's not nailed down ...

     Screaming, chaos, frenzy.
     Three words that apply to this scene.

     And in the midst of all this -- Joshua steps onto the
     chopper and is hauled inside.
     No expression.
     The total professional.
     And then, my friends, it's bye-bye time.  The CHOPPER
     ROARS like a behemoth, tilts --
     slips over the side and plummets away ...

     Slick.  Very slick.
     Except Martin Riggs it not impressed.

     He's still running, you see ...
     Dives flat at the edge of the cliff, nearly flings
     himself over the damn edge ...
     GUN extended like it's part of his arm...
     Finger flat on the trigger ...
     Blowing SHOT after SHOT at the retreating chopper ...
     BAM-BAM-BAM        His face contorted in a rictus of
     animal concentration...

     And he wings the chopper, even.  POP
     spray of fiberglass, but nossir, no cigar...
     cause the damn chopper flies away.

     And Riggs dumps his magazine, stuffs in a new one ...
     and Jesus Christ he keeps FIRING.

     As Murtaugh walks up beside him.  Stares down.
     Gun held loose at his side.

     Riggs still FIRES, BAM-BAM-BAM
     doesn't know it yet ...
     Until his MAGAZINE CLICKS empty.

     He lies flat.
     Stares.
     People screaming, running away.
     Murtaugh standing over him, staring down at this animal
     with a gun, who even now refuses to  look  away  from  the
     retreating chopper, whose gun even now continues to
     follow its course out over the sea.

     Hands, clutching tlie barrel.
     Finally, they relax.
     Riggs shuts his eyes.
     Murtaugh stares.

---------------------------------------------------------------
                                             (CONTINUED)

and  a  silent

It's over,  but  he

                                                                 7 8
90     CONTINUED:  (2)                                         90
------------------------------------------------------------------

                         MURTAUGH
               You through?

     Riggs looks up at him.  His eyes look like a demon's.

                        RIGGS
               I haven't even started.

                                            CUT TO:

91   INT. HELICOPTER - SAME TIME                                91

     Joshua and his pilot are cruising over the surf at break-
     neck speed, the rotor stirring tiny geysers of water.
     Joshua speaks into a radio microphone.

                         JOSHUA
               Yes, sir ... Yes, sir, Mr. Lloyd
               is dead.  I'm afraid, however,
               that another problem exists.

92   INTERCUT - THE GENERAL                                     92

     In his van, speaking on mobile phone.

                         GENERAL
               Define.

                         JOSHUA
               Lloyd spoke to the cops, sir.

                         GENERAL
               Are the cops dead?

                         JOSHUA
               No, sir.  I missed.

     There is a significant pause.  Joshua licks his lips.
     Then:

                         GENERAL
               That's very disappointing.  The
               police may know everything.  The
               whole operation,  yes?

                         JOSHUA
               Yes.  Awaiting orders, sir.

                         GENERAL
               Joshua, I think it's time to turn
               up the heat.

93   EXT. VIEWSITE - NIGHT                                            93

     A black Camaro is parked at the  side  of  the  road.  The
     city twinkles beyond.

94   INT. CAR - SAME                                                  94

     Two teenagers, engaged in a first-rate makeout session.
     One of them is Roger Murtaugh's daughter Rianne.  The
     other is MARK, he of the hilarious dimples.  They are
     kissing when Rianne suddenly pulls away:

                         RIANNE
               Mark, I gotta get home.

                         MARK
               Would you quit worrying?  Your
               mom thinks you're asleep and
               your dad's busy shooting crooks.

                         RIANNE
               He said he'll shoot you if we
               have sex.

                         MARK
               Some things are worth dying for.

     He leans in and kisses her.  Passion, horniness.  Some-
     thing.  He runs a hand  inside  her  sweater.  She  starts  to
     resist.  Gives in.

                         RIANNE
               Wait.

     She takes out her gum and sticks it to the steering wheel.      *
     Leans over to kiss  him  again                                  *

94A  FACE                                                        94A *

     comes INTO  FRAME.  Right  outside  the  window.  Crewcut.      *
     Shirt and tie. No less than  Mr.  Joshua  himself,  as  we  --  *

                                              CUT TO:

95   EXT. THIRD STREET - NIGHT                                       95

     Martin Riggs walks slowly down the boulevard.  In one
     hand he carries a snapshot of Amanda Lloyd.  Male pros-
     titutes take one look at him and flee.

     He stops to light a cigarette.  As he does -- He notices
     a reflection in the silver lighter.

     Two pinpoints of light.  Moving.  He throws away the cig-
     arette. Spins, drawing his  gun.  HEADLIGHTS,  as  a  car
     comes barreling out of the darkness.  Bearing down on
     Riggs at fifty miles an  hour.  Riggs  FIRES.  The  WIND-
     SHIELD SPLINTERS.  No dice.  The car keeps coming.  Riggs
     FIRES again, sprints for cover -- As  a  mercenary  leans
     out of the car window with a pump SHOTGUN.  Triggers
     THREE BLASTS at Riggs. The first two  blow  out  chunks  of
     scenery. The third takes Riggs  in  the  chest.  Blows  him
     backward through a store window.  GLASS SHATTERS.  He hits
     the ground in a heap.  The CAR SHRIEKS off into the night,
     LAYING RUBBER.  The ECHO of gunfire slowly FADES on the
     wind...

96   INSIDE DARKENED STORE                                        96

     Riggs lies crumpled in a pool  of  broken  glass.  Murtaugh
     charges from across the street.  He throws himself down
     beside the dead Riggs.  Rips open Riggs' shirt revealing --
     A bulletproof vest.  Riggs opens his eyes.

                         RIGGS
               I'm pissed, Roger.  Now I'm pissed.

96A  EXT.  STORE                                           96A

     The cops exit and cross the street toward their car.

                         RIGGS
               Roger.  Quit looking so damn
               worried.  I'm   fine.

                         MURTAUGH
               Two inches higher, they would've
               got your head.

                         RIGGS
               Fuck that.  Two inches to the left,
               they would've got my smokes.

     He takes out a pack, lights one up.

                         RIGGS
               Oh, by the way:  Guy who shot me?

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.

                         RIGGS
               Same guy who shot Lloyd.

                         MURTAUGH
               Jesus ... You sure?

                         RIGGS
               I never forget an asshole.

                         MURTAUGH
                   (sighs)
               So okay, ace:  What  do  we  do  now?

                         RIGGS
               Give  up?  Flee?   Go far away?

                         MURTAUGH
               Hilarious.  What  do  we  really  do?

                         RIGGS
               What  else?  We  bury the fuckers.
               You know, we  solve  this,  we  could
               get famous, do shaving ads and shit.

                         MURTAUGH
               Do goddamn  Forest  Lawn  ads,  we're
               not careful.

                         RIGGS
               Heh.  Don't  be  a  killjoy.  It's
               Friday  night.  Let's  go  kick  ass.

                         MURTAUGH
               You just got shot, man.

                         RIGGS
               Exactly.

                         MURTAUGH
               What do you mean, exactly?

                         RIGGS
               Gives us the edge, Cochise.
                    (smiles)
               They think I'm dead, Roger.  I'm
               a corpse.  And  aren't  they  just
               gonna shit when I nail their
               butts ... ?

     They look at each other.  Suddenly the police
     RADIO SQUAWKS.  Murtaugh answers it.

                         DISPATCHER   (V.0.)
               Four King sixty,  meet  four  king
               ninety on  tach  two.

                         MURTAUGH
               King sixty, roger.

     He adjusts the frequency on the radio.

                         PATROL COP (V.0.)
               Four king ninety, four king sixty.
               Got a homicide, Mulholland Drive.

                         MURTAUGH
               Four king sixty, negative.
                    (beat)
               Give it to Burke.

                         PATROL COP (V.0.)
               Sorry, sixty.  Captain says give
               it to you.  Male Caucasian, age
               seventeen.

                         MURTAUGH
               Swell.  Did he have blond hair and
               big dimples?

     There is a long pause-.  Then:

                         PATROL COP (V.0.)
               How'd you know... ?

     Suddenly, Murtaugh goes completely pale.  So does Riggs.
     Murtaugh hits the gas ...

97   EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT

     Murtaugh's CAR SCREECHES to the curb.  Hops the sidewalk,
     jolts to a stop.  The two cops are out and running in a
     dead heat toward the front door. Murtaugh flings open
     the door. Stops. On the carpet beneath the mail  slot
     is a tiny envelope with SEASONS GREETINGS emblazoned
     across the front.  A note is attached with a paper clip.
     One side reads DETECTIVE ROGER MURTAUGH. On the other
     side is a message in block capitals.

               YOUR DAUGHTER LOOKS REALLY PRETTY NAKED

     Murtaugh tears open the envelope, afraid to breathe.
     Inside is a Polaroid snapshot. The audience may get a
     glimpse of it, or they may not.  Either way, the effect
     it has on Murtaugh is devastating.  He drops the snapshot
     like a live snake.  Backs away, stumbles into the wall.
     Shakes his head.

                         MURTAUGH
               Bastards ... bastards ...

     Riggs looks on, stunned.  The TELEPHONE RINGS.  RINGS
     again.

                         RIGGS
               Roger.

     Murtaugh looks up. Snaps out  of   it.  Down  the  hall,  his
     wife Trish moves to answer the    phone.

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't answer that!!

     He rushes down the hall, scoops up the receiver:

                         MURTAUGH
               Murtaugh.

     He listens intently, a look of pure dread on his face.
     Hangs up slowly, stares straight  ahead.  On  the  table,  a
     stuffed bear stares back impassively.  Trish Murtaugh
     looks on, terrified.

                         MURTAUGH
               They took my kid... Bastards took
               my kid ...

     Beside him, Riggs' face contorts into a look of sheer,
     brutal hatred ... Get ready for World War Three.

98   INT. MIDTOWN HOMICIDE - NIGHT                                 98

     McCaskey is seated next to a  bank  of  telephones,  smoking
     and reading a comic book. Behind him  the  fat  cop  we  saw
     earlier is conducting his choir in a thoroughly hideous
     version of "Deck the Halls."  The PHONE RINGS.

                         SINGING COPS
               'Don we now our gay apparel...'

                         McCASKEY
               McCaskey, Homicide -- just a
               moment, please -- Hey, will you
               guys for Chrissakes shut up?? ...
               Yes, can I help you?

99   INTERCUT - McCASKEY AND MR. JOSHUA                            99

     Joshua is on the other end.  Beside him the General
     looks on intently.

                         JOSHUA
               Hello, I'm calling from the
               K.T.L.A. News department.  We
               heard that Sergeant ... um, Riggs,
               is it ... ? had some trouble tonight,
               and ...

                         McCASKEY
                    (interrupting)
               Yes, Sergeant Riggs has been
               killed.  Shot through the chest
               by unknown assailants.

                         JOSHUA
               My God.  I'm sorry.

                         McCASKEY
               It's a bad day for all of us.  And
               what is your name, sir?

                         JOSHUA
               Goodbye.

     He hangs up.  Turns to the General.

                         JOSHUA
               Bingo.  Riggs is out of the
               picture.

                         GENERAL
                    (nods)
               I want Murtaugh taken alive.

                         JOSHUA
               He may not talk.

                         GENERAL
               We have his little girl.  He'll
               talk.

100  OMITTED                                                     100  *

101  INT. RIANNE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT                               101  *

     Trish Murtaugh looks like she could come apart at any       *
     moment.
     She walks around the bedroom, slowly.
     Touching things.
     Touching her daughter's possessions.

     Murtaugh enters.  They look at each other.
     He hands her the .22.

                         MURTAUGH
               Take this.  Until it's over, I
               don't want you to let it out of
               your sight.
     His wife nods.  Runs a hand through her hair.  Shifts
     from one foot to the other.

                         MURTAUGH
               They're not going to hurt her.
               If I do exactly what they say...
               they'll let her go.
                    (beat)
               She's coming home.

     A moment.  Then:

                         TRISH
               What about you  ...  ?

     Murtaugh says nothing.

102  INT.  LIVING  ROOM  -  SAME  TIME                        102

     Riggs has his shirt off, and is carefully removing
     slivers of glass from his shoulder.  Cigarette dangling
     from his lips.

     He hears a noise
     And spins, startled.

103  RIGGS' POV - SIX-YEAR-OLD CARRIE MURTAUGH             103

     Adorable in a blue nightgown, Rickles the cat cradled
     lovingly in her arms.

     Riggs relaxes.
     Smiles.
     Carrie walks  over  to  him.

                         RIGGS
               Hey, Missy.

                         CARRIE
               I  can't   sleep.

                         RIGGS
               Uh-oh.  Not good.

     He scoops her up.

                         RIGGS
               Who's your friend?

                         CARRIE
               Rickles the cat.

                         RIGGS
               Huh.  He is  a  cutie.

     Carrie looks  at  him  then.
     And she does a peculiar thing.
     Slowly, she reaches out ...
     Riggs looking on...
     And touches his back.  Runs her tiny hand over the knife
     scar beneath his shoulder.
     Fascinated by it.

                         CARRIE
               Ouch.

     Riggs looks at her.  Smiles, and whispers softly:

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.
                    (beat)
               Ouch...

     And he suddenly hugs the little girl for all he's  worth.
     Closes his eyes tight.

     In that moment, every single year catches up to Riggs,
     and he looks, for a moment, incredibly old, and so very,
     very tired ...

104  INT. LIVING ROOM  -  LATER                             104

     Carrie is asleep on the couch, snuggled beneath a knitted
     afghan.  Riggs and Murtaugh stand across the room, con-
     ferring in hushed tones.

                         RIGGS
               You know they're going to kill
               her.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yes.

                         RIGGS
               You want her back, you've got to
               take her  away  from  them.

                         MURTAUGH
               I know.

                         RIGGS
               Good.  We do this my way.
                    (beat)
               You shoot, you shoot to kill.  Get
               as many as you can.  Don't miss.

                         MURTAUGH
               I won't miss.

     A pause.  Riggs studies Murtaugh.  Then:

                         RIGGS
               We're gonna get bloody on this one.
                    (beat)
               You're going to have to trust me.

     Murtaugh stares at him for a moment.  Then, he finally
     speaks ...

                         MURTAUGH
               ... How... good are you... ?

                         RIGGS
               What?

                         MURTAUGH
               Are you... only crazy ... or are
               you... as good as you say you
               are... ?

     There  is  a  pause.   Then:

                         RIGGS
               No one can touch me.

                         MURTAUGH
               Good.  Kill every fucking one of
               them.  Okay ... ?

     At which point, my friends, a light flickers on behind
     Riggs' eyes.

     We see  grim  determination,  sure  ...
     But we also sense something else, oddly enough:
     Anticipation.
     Riggs is a machine ... and the machine is, well ...
     revving  up.  He  looks  at   Murtaugh:

                         RIGGS
               Get half.  I'll kill the other
               half.

     A moment passes between them. This  will  be  the  most
     devastating night of their lives.  They will probably
     die.

     A RINGING PHONE shatters the stillness.

                         RIGGS
               Here we go.

105  OMITTED                                                       105

106  INT. MARTIN RIGGS' TRAILER - DAY                              106

     The apartment is dark, illuminated only  by  a  tiny  lamp.
     Riggs crosses to the window, peers out through slatted
     blinds.  On TELEVISION a group of carolers sings "TIDINGS
     OF COMFORT AND JOY." Riggs  looks  at  the  wall  calendar:
     December 22.  The CLOCK TICKS.  The REFRIGERATOR HUMS.

     He goes to the closet.  Opens it.  A cloud of dust
     billows out. Reaches  in,  removes  a  weathered  cardboard
     box.  Sits in the center of the room, takes a shot of
     bourbon.

     Opens the box. Inside is  a  set  of  desert  fatigues.  He
     takes them out.  Underneath  a  wicked-looking  hunting
     knife. He takes that, too.  Holds  it  up  near  his  face,
     and it positively sparkles in the dim light ...

                                                 TIME  CUT:

107  ANOTHER ANGLE                                          107

     Riggs stands, fully dressed.  Colt .22 in an ankle
     holster.  Combat webbing.  Desert boots.

     Beretta .9 millimeter, riding the right-hand thigh.
     Scans his appearance in the mirror.
     Breathes:  in, out ... in, out...

     Glances at the photograph of his wife on the wall.
     Wedding gown.  White lace-and-satin ruffles.  Beautiful.

     His face is  craggy.  Weathered.  Covered  with  desert
     paint.  Surely he was never married ... not this demon...

                         RIGGS
               Forgive me.

     There is a KNOCK at the door.  Riggs spins.  Lightning
     quick.  Gun in hand.

                         VOICE (O.S.)
               Me.  Murtaugh.

                         RIGGS
               Come in slow.

     The door opens  and Roger Murtaugh enters, carrying a
     briefcase.  He  looks briefly at Riggs' combat get-up.
     Shrugs.  Sets the briefcase on the bed, opens it.  It
     is filled with round upon round of ammunition.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hollow points.  Armor piercing.

                         RIGGS
                    (nods)
               You weren't followed?

                         MURTAUGH
               No.

     Riggs begins scooping up handfuls of ammo.

108  INT. RIGGS' TRAILER - FEW MINUTES LATER                      108

     Murtaugh is hooking a wire in place under his collar.

                         MURTAUGH
               Testing, one, two, three...

                         RIGGS
               Fine.

     He straps on his hunting knife.

                         RIGGS
               It's twelve-thirty.  Let's move.

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't get too close.  They'll
               spot you.

     Riggs hoists a long-range sniper rifle.  Infra-red scope.

                         RIGGS
               Thousand yards okay ... ?

109  EXT. LOW DESERT - DAY                                  109

     The desert floor shimmers with stored heat, bathed in
     relentless sunlight.

     A lone car, plowing along toward the horizon.  Looking
     lost and utterly alone beneath the clear December sky.

110  INT. CAR - ROGER MURTAUGH                                    110

     Driving. Relentlessly onward, his face  locked  in  a  mask
     of contained fury.  Dust billows past the windows.  Wind.
     He keeps driving, straining his eyes ahead, focusing
     through the hundred-degree shimmer... Noticing, finally
     a series of shapes ... dim mirages... silhouettes maybe,
     possibly men... possibly the men...        The  mirage  resolves.

     Mercs.  Standing next to a black sedan.  Murtaugh
     stiffens. Leans forward,  punches  the  cigarette  lighter,
     and as he does -- he whispers into his hidden
     microphone.

                         MURTAUGH
               Split.

111  EXT. CAR - DAY

     It happens in the blink of an eye:  The  trunk  pops  open,
     and out rolls Martin Riggs.  Yanks a rope.  The trunk
     slams shut.  Riggs hits.  Rolls.  Comes up, combat-
     crouched, hunkers off at a dead heat.  He is clad 3'.n
     his desert fatigues.  Magnum sniper rifle slung over
     one shoulder.

112  EXT. MURTAUGH - DESERT                                       112

     Murtaugh rolls to a halt and steps from his car.

     Facing three armed mercs.  Murtaugh  simply  stands  there,
     reading the odds.  Scanning ...

                         MERC #1
               Murtaugh?

                         MURTAUGH
               Yes.
                    (beat)
               I'm alone.

                         MERC  #1
               Hands up.  Come with us.

                         MURTAUGH
               Show me the girl.

                         MERC  #1
               She's  not   here.

                         MURTAUGH
               Bullshit.  Let me see her.  Then
               I  come   quietly.

     The Merc nods.

113  VAN                                                              113

     comes AT US from across the desert.

114  INT. VAN                                                         114

     Inside, Rianne is gagged, helpless.  She looks terrified.
     Next to her, Mr. Joshua hblds a cocked pistol.  Merc #1
     leans in:

                         MERC #1
               He wants to see the girl.

115  BACK OUTSIDE                                                     115

     Murtaugh  waits.  Sweating.   Hands   in   pockets.   And   out
     comes Rianne, followed by the vicious Merc.  He holds a
     knife squarely at her throat.  Murtaugh's eyes fill with
     tears.  Relief that she's alive..

                         MERC  #1
               Simple exchange.  You come with
               us, the girl takes a walk.

                         MURTAUGH
               Let  her  go  now.

                         MERC  #1
               No.  Take your hands out of your
               pockets.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (shrugs)
               Sure thing, pal...

     He slowly raises his hands.  In his left hand, he
     clutches  a  shiny  metal   sphere.   A   grenade.   Murtaugh's
     grip is the only thing keeping it dead.  The Merc swears
     violently.

                         MURTAUGH
               This fucker's alive.
                    (beat)
               Let her go or we all die.

     And that's when Mr. Joshua steps out of the car.  Deadly
     calm.  All heads turn.  Crewcut-  Mirrored sunglasses.

                         MR. JOSHUA
               Take him.

                         MERC #1
               But sir ...

                         MR. JOSHUA
               He's bluffing, it's a dud.  He
               wouldn't risk killing his
               daughter.

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't push  me.

                         MR. JOSHUA
               Take him.

116  EXT. HILLTOP  - MEANWHILE                                  116

     Far away.  The car and the surrounding figures are tiny.
     A lone soldier crouches.  Riggs.  The rifle is on his
     shoulder.  His eye is glued to the scope.

117  INFRA-RED IMAGE SHOWS RIANNE AND HER CAPTOR                117

     Riggs' concentration is absolutely perfect.  Like a
     statue.  He licks a finger.  Raises it, testing the wind.

                         RIGGS
               Come on... Come on...

118  BACK WITH MURTAUGH                                         118

     As he and Joshua stare each other down.  Tense.  Tense.
     His hand clutches the grenade.  Merc #1 pushes the knife
     into Rianne's throat.

                         MERC #1
               Put the pin back in.  Do it.

     Murtaugh sweats.  Mr. Joshua begins to walk forward,
     gun extended.  Cool as ice.  Another step.  Smiling ...

119  ON  HILLTOP                                                119

     Riggs sits dead still, focusing through the sniper
     scope.

                         RIGGS
               Come on... Move away from the girl ...

120  MURTAUGH                                            120

     Joshua stops in front of Murtaugh.  Cocks the gun.

                         MR. JOSHUA
               Drop the fucking grenade.

                         MURTAUGH
               I do and we die.

                         MR. JOSHUA
               No.  I don't think so.

     He sights down the gun and pulls the trigger:  All hell
     breaks loose. Here's  what  happens:  BAM  --  !  The  bullet
     catches Murtaugh in the shoulder.  He drops the grenade.
     It rolls, and Mercs dive for cover.  The Merc holding
     Rianne takes a step back.  Bingo.

121  ON HILL                                                        121

     Riggs grunts.  FIRES.

122  BELOW                                                          122

     The Merc drops.  Joshua's head snaps around.  He stares
     off at the distance and hisses:

                         JOSHUA
               Riggs ... !

     Meanwhile, Murtaugh rolls, comes  up,  gun  in  hand.  FIRES,
     BAM

                         MURTAUGH
               Rianne, the car!

     Rianne bolts.  Meanwhile --

123  ON  HILLTOP                                                    123

     Riggs swivels the barrel, half an inch.  Grunts.  FIRES.

124  DOWN  BELOW                                                    124

     The black sedan's WINDSHIELD SPLINTERS.  The car rocks
     with the impact as the driver is killed instantly.

125  GRENADE                                                        125

     chooses that moment to EXPLODE, poof ... into a cloud of
     orange smoke.  A shower of confetti.

                         JOSHUA
               Dud!  It's a dud!

126  RIANNE                                                         126

     is running for the car as Joshua swivels  in  her  direction,
     lining up the UZI, FIRING a BURST --  Until  a  bullet  from
     Riggs parts his hair, sends him diving to  the  sand,  the
     Uzi sprouting flame -- As Rianne flings open  the  car  door,
     screams -- at the blood-spattered  corpse  which  rolls  off
     the steering wheel. BULLETS  BLAST  the  car.  METAL  POPS
     and BURSTS.  She jumps in.

127  MURTAUGH                                                       127

     is flat on the sand, FIRING like crazy, shot  after  shot  --
     As Rianne floors the gas, the CAR PEELING out  in  a'  storm
     of flying sand and dirt.  Door open.  One leg hanging
     out.  Plows into an atmed merc.  He flies up onto the
     hood, spins, still conscious, and takes  aim  through  the
     windshield, right at her ...

128  ON HILL                                                        128

     Riggs swivels, lightning quick.

                         RIGGS
               No.

     Grunts.  FIRES.

129  MERC ON HOOD                                                   129

     is blown off the car.

130  RIANNE                                                         130

     screams, the dead driver sprawled  against  one  shoulder,
     her foot nailed to the gas pedal ... as the car leaps
     like a kicked dog and careens off into the desert.

131  ON  HILLTOP                                                    131

     Riggs lines up for another shot -- And there is a soft
     CLICK -- !  He  whirls.  The  General  has  arrived.  Stand-
     ing at the top of the hill.  His M-16 is cocked and
     locked.

                         GENERAL
               You're not that fast, son.
                    (beat)
               Drop the rifle.

     He speaks into a walkie-talkie.

                         GENERAL
               I got Riggs.

132  ON DESERT FLOOR                                           132

     Murtaugh makes a break for it, FIRING blind -- Until the
     ground before him literally EXPLODES with GUNFIRE.  The
     earth is chopped to tatters.  Dirt flies.  He stops.
     Puffing for breath.  Raises his hands.  As the smoke
     clears, Mr. Joshua approaches like a deinon through fog.
     He is flanked by two mercs with Uzis-

                         JOSHUA
               A very nice try.
                    (speaks into
                     walkie-talkie)
               Kendo.  Get the girl.

133  ON  HILLTOP                                               133

     Riggs stands, hands over head.  The General studies him
     thoughtfully.

                         GENERAL
               Martin Riggs.  Your combat record
               is the stuff of legend.

                         RIGGS
               So is yours.  General Peter
               McAllister, commander of Shadow
               Company.

                         GENERAL
               I see we've heard of each other.

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.  It'll almost be a shame
               when I kill you.

                         GENERAL
                    (laughs)
               I don't think so, son.

134  DESERT FLOOR                                              134

     Mr. Joshua says to Murtaugh:

                         MR. JOSHUA
               You're about to have a fun evening.

                         MURTAUGH
               Go spit.

     Joshua slams him in the head with a karate blow.  He
     falls.

135  EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY                                      135

     Rianne is driving to save  her  life.  Screaming  at  the
     top of her lungs, the needle touching  90  as  she  strug-
     gles to shove the merc's dead body into the corner.
     Swerving.  Screaming.  At which point

     The sand explodes in front of her.

     She shrieks. A HOWL of  noise,  a  veritable  eruption  of
     sand and dirt, and it's one of  two  things,  it's  either
     aliens from space, descending -- or  it's  a  Bell  Cobra
     helicopter.

     Rianne swerves to a halt to  avoid  the  DRONING  CHOPPER,
     which hovers like a behemoth, ROTORS THROBBING, as
     Rianne stumbles from the car and collapses in a heap
     on the sand.

     Lost, alone, her tears inaudible  over  the  HIGH,  CHURN-
     ING WHINE as we

                                           FADE OUT.

                                          FADE IN:

136  INT. BASEMENT ROOM - NIGHT                                  136

     Riggs is naked.  He is manacled hand and foot.  Chained
     in a bathtub full of water.  Around him is a dingy con-
     crete basement.  Joshua  steps  forward.  Behind  him  is
     KENDO, an Oriental mercenary.  He is working on a mechan-
     ical device of some kind.  Connecting wires.  Riggs
     grunts.

                         JOSHUA
               Well, well.  Look who's back from
               the dead.

     Riggs struggles against  the  manacles,  slopping  water.

                         JOSHUA
               Please save your strength.  I
               believe you'll need it.

     Riggs stops moving.  Scowls at Joshua and says nothing.
     Joshua smiles.

                         JOSHUA
               You're just in time for a lot of
               pain.

                         RIGGS
               I'm thrilled.

                         JOSHUA
               Oh, you will be.  I daresay
               you'll be ... shocked.

     Kendo snickers in the corner.

                         RIGGS
               Who's the chin?

                         JOSHUA
               Shhh.  Don't make him mad.

                         RIGGS
               My mistake. Who's  the  pleasant
               Oriental psychopath?

                         JOSHUA
               His name is Kendo, and he has
               forgotten more about  dispensing
               pain than you will ever know.

                         RIGGS
               Terrific. Listen, guys,  can  we
               get some Mister Bubble in here ...

                        JOSHUA
               Please shut up.
                    (studies Riggs)
               My, my, look at all those scars.
                    (beat)
               See, Martin, we have a  problem.
               Since we have Murtaugh, we really
               don't even need you.  But I
               believe in being thorough.

     Across the room, Kendo throws a switch.  A mechanical
     HUMMING fills the room.

                         JOSHUA
               Our problem -- and yours, too
               is that we have some
               merchandise to deliver.  A rather
               large shipment, we're all very
               excited.  It would be unfortunate,
               however, if we showed up with the
               goods and found ourselves
               surrounded by fifty cops.

                         RIGGS
               That would be a shame.

                         JOSHUA
               Indeed.  So you see, Martin, it
               is essential that we find out
               how much the police know.

                         RIGGS
               We don't know shit.  You killed
               Lloyd before he could talk.

                         JOSHUA
               I wish I could believe you.
               Unfortunately, I don't.  So, if
               you'll be kind enough to tell
               us all you know, I will  kill
               you quickly.

                         RIGGS
               Such a deal, I should  worry.

                         JOSHUA
               Oh, indeed you  should.  See,
               Martin, you ------- talk to us ...

     He gestures to Kendo, who approaches.  He is carrying a
     very ominous device:  a sponge, attached to a portable
     dry-cell battery casing ... Joshua frowns at Riggs.

                         JOSHUA
               Do you vomit?

                         RIGGS
               Sometimes.

     Joshua nods.  Sighs.

                         JOSHUA
               Back before prison reform, the
               staff at Sing Sing invented a
               rather unusual form of punishment.
               It's know as the  hummingbird
               treatment.  Are you familiar?

                         RIGGS
               Please, no tickling.  I  hate
               tickling.

                         JOSHUA
               The 'patient' is chained naked
               in a bathtub full of water.  A
               bath is then administered using
               a battery powered sponge.  The
               pain is said to be so excruciating
               that after twenty minutes most
               men are either insane or dead.

     Riggs is silent.

                         JOSHUA
               I thought you'd  like it.  I can
               of course, kill you now.  Simply
               tell me what you know.

                         RIGGS
               Guess we're in for a long night.
               'Cause I don't know scratch.

                         JOSHUA
               We'll find out.  Kendo ... ?

     The Oriental moves forward.  He brandishes the sponge/
     battery hookup.  Dips it into a bucket of water.  Riggs
     is sweating.

                         JOSHUA
               Feel free to  scream.

                         RIGGS
               Haven't you guys...   heard of
               yuletide  cheer... ?

     Kendo hits Riggs with the sponge.  Riggs screams.  A
     high, lunatic scream.

     Thrashes in the water, splashing Kendo, whipping from
     side to side as the room spirals back and forth out of
     focus.  Kids, don't try this at home.  Kendo removes the
     device.  Riggs falls backward.  Thumps against the tub.
     Sucking air.  Moaning.

                         JOSHUA
               My goodness.  Now that was fun,
               wasn't it?

     Riggs looks at him.  Dripping hate.

                         RIGGS
               I'm going to kill both of you.

                         JOSHUA
                    (laughs)
               That's very funny.
                    (beat)
               About the shipment ... ?

                         RIGGS
               Fuck  yourself.

     Kendo dunks the battery..  Run it down Riggs' stomach.
     He screams again, as we mercifully ...

                                                       CUT TO:

137  OMITTED                                                     137

138  INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME                                 138

     No windows.  Hardwood floors.  A single chair in the
     center of the room.  Roger Murtaugh is strapped tightly
     to the chair.  His face looks like something his wife
     makes for dinner.  Black eyes.  Swollen jaw.  His shirt
     is off, exposing the gunshot wound in his arm.  The
     General stands facing him, flanked by three mercs.  They
     all wear holstered sidearms.

                         GENERAL
               The shipment, Mr. Murtaugh?

                         MURTAUGH
               Go spit.

                         GENERAL
                    (sighs)
               I hope you enjoy saying that as
               much as Mr. Larch enjoys punishing
               you for it.

     MR. LARCH, a big redneck with no discernible compassion,
     steps forward.  Pours a big handful of baking salt from a
     container.  Packs it into Roger Murtaugh's gunshot wound.
     Murtaugh groans.  Shouts.  Struggles.

     The General loolcs on without blinking.

                         MURTAUGH
               That's it ... if you guys think
               I'm sending you a Christmas card
               you're nuts.

     Larch cuffs him, hard.

                         GENERAL
                    (shakes his
                     head)
               This is going nowhere.  Mr.
               Larch ... ?

     Larch grins, leaves the room.  A pause.  Murtaugh sweats,
     glaring out from swollen eyelids.  The General nods,
     smiles.

139  INT. BASEMENT  -  BACK  WITH  RIGGS                             139

     as  he  groans  and  collapse  back into the tub.  Splash.
     Moans  feebly.  Blood  drips   from his nose.  Saliva drools
     from his limp mouth.  He looks half-dead, probably be-
     cause he is just that.  Kendo pulls away the battery
     sponge,  says  to  Joshua:

                         KENDO
               He knows shit.  We're safe.

                         JOSHUA
               You're sure?

                         KENDO
               Believe me, he'd have told us.

                         JOSHUA
               Fine.
                    (clucks in
                     disgust)
               Big, bad soldier ... my ass.
                    (beat)
               I'm going upstairs.  Deal with
               him.

                         KENDO
               Deal  with   him?

                         JOSHUA
               Yeah.
                    (stops at
                     the door)
               Fry  his  nuts.

     He exits.

                                            CUT TO:

140  INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME TIME                            140

     The General leans over Murtaugh.  Murtaugh sweats.

                         GENERAL
               Anytime, Roger.  Anytime.
                    (beat)
               See, the thing of it is ... We know
               where you live.
                    (frowns)
               In fact, Mr. Joshua has been known
               to exterminate entire families,
               when he gets in... one of his
               moods.  Oh, speaking of that --

     Larch re-enters the dingy back room.  This time he's  got
     Murtaugh's daughter Rianne.  She is clad only in a
     T-shirt and bikini briefs.

                         RIANNE
               Daddy ... please don't let them
               hurt me ... !

     Murtaugh goes nuts.  Struggles, wrenches, bangs the chair up
     and down against the floor.  No use.  He is completely help-
     less.  Snarls with rage:

                         MURTAUGH
               Bastards ... Untie me and I'll
               kill every one of you.

                         GENERAL
               Precisely why we would never
               think of untying you.

     Larch shoves Rianne into the corner.  She lands in a heap.
     Murtaugh is sweating buckets.  Eyes desperate.  The
     General leans in close:

                         GENEPAL
               If you know something, son, you
               better play ball, 'cause the stakes
               just went up ...

141  INT. BASEMENT - SAME TIME                              141

     Kendo switches on the battery again.  In the tub, Riggs'
     head lolls back and forth.  Listless.  Dead.  His eyes
     refuse to focus.  Kendo shows him the sponge.

                         RIGGS
                    (slurred)
               No ... Please ...

                         KENDO
               You die now, Sergeant Riggs.
               Very slow.

     Riggs  does  not  respond.  Stares  into  space.    Kendo   leans
     over the tub,  reaches  in  --  And  that's  when  we find out
     Riggs  has  been  faking.  His  eyes  focus.   No  longer hazed.
     He snaps his hand  forward  to  the  end  of  the  chain.  Grabs
     Kendo by the  hair.  In  the  blink  of  an  eye,  he  slams  the
     man's head down against the porcelain tub.  Kendo's   nose
     shatters.  The Oriental topples over into the tub.  The
     battery drops  to  the  floor.  Riggs  is  a  fucking  machine:
     he flips the chain around Kendo's neck and wrenches.
     Hard.  He goes limp.  Riggs is not through yet.  He
     begins to  heave  and  thrash,  thrusting  against  the  chains
     -- Maneuvering the corpse on top of him.  Shifting it.
     Moving Kendo's pants pocket within reach.  He reaches in.
     Slowly, carefully, brings out a shiny silver key ...

142  INT. DINGY BACK ROOM --  SAME TIME                    142

     A length of rope is pulled taut.  RIANNE's bound hands
     are stretched over her head.  Larch hooks the rope around
     a peg set into the wall.  She is helpless.  Murtaugh is
     out  of  his  mind.  Struggling  to  break  free.

                         GENERAL
               Good Lord.  Very wholesome-
               looking girl.  Yessirreee.

                         MURTAUGH
               Goddammit, I've told you
               everything!!!!

                         GENERAL
               We'll soon know, won't we?

     Larch approaches Rianne.  She squirms.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (beat)
               You touch her, you're dead.

                         GENERAL
               Oh, son, spare me.
                    (beat)
               It's over, Sergeant.  No heroes
               around to save you ...

     He picks up a baseball bat.  Tosses it to Larch.

                         GENERAL
               Mr. Larch... She's yours.

     Rianne  screams.  Murtaugh  shouts.  Strains.  The   chair
     thumps up and down, creating  an  insane,  staccato  rhythm.
     The  General  laughs.  Rianne  shrieks.  Harrowing.   Terri-
     ble. A scene out of Hell.  And  then  the  Devil  comes  in
     and kicks the  door  off  its  hinges.  Okay.  Okay.  Let's
     stop for a moment. First  off,  to  describe  fully  the
     mayhem which Riggs now creates would  not  do  it  justice.
     Here, however, are a few pointers:  He is not flashy.
     He is not Chuck Norris.  Rather, he is like a sledge-
     hammer hitting an egg. He  does  not  knock  people  down.
     He does not  injure  them.

     He simply  kills  them.  The  whole room.  Everyone   stand-
     ing. Except  for  --  the  General, who ducks out a side
     door and escapes ...  Riggs'  chain moves like a live thing.
     Snapping here.  Striking there.    Mercs try to  draw  their
     guns -- And suddenly their hands are shattered wrecks.  
     One merc draws a  bead  on  Rianne, almost gets off  a  shot,
     because Riggs is across the room.  Without missing a beat
     -- Riggs throws the chain. It  wraps  the  guy's  neck  and
     kills him instantly. Ouch ... He  goes  down,  FIRING  use-
     less ROUNDS  into  the  ceiling.  Plaster  rains.  Riggs
     spins, dives. Scoops  up  the  baseball  bat.  Comes  up
     beside an armed merc -- Swings the bat with hurricane
     force. A sickening  impact.  The  bat  breaks  in  half.
     Riggs spins, combat-ready.  Scans  the  room.  No  one  left
     to kill. Using only the  element  of  surprise,  he  has
     taken out an entire  room  in  hand-to-hand  combat.  He
     steps in front of Murtaugh  without  missing  a  beat.  Cuts
     him loose with  a  borrowed  knife.

                         RIGGS
               Work  your  circulation.

     Crosses to Rianne, cuts  her  free.  She  collapses  sobbing
     into his arms.

                         RIGGS
               Ssshhh-  No time.  Come on.

     He scoops up handguns,  throws  them  to  Murtaugh.  Takes
     for himself a pump shotgun, possibly  the  same  one  used
     against him earlier.  Murtaugh stares dumbfounded at the
     body count.

                         RIGGS
               They're all dead.  Let's get
               out of here.

143  EXT. HALLWAY -  SAME  TIME                             143

     The three of them.

     On the run, moving hard and  fast.  They  scramble  down  the
     hallway, Riggs in the lead, as -- a  merc  ducks  around  the
     corner, sees them.  Ducks back.  Riggs FIRES through the
     wall, BLAM -- !  A corpse falls into view.  They keep
     moving.  Downstairs.  A-round another corner.  Moving,
     moving.

     The three of them  keep  moving.  Rushing  headlong  toward
     a sign marked EXIT. They may actually make  it  ...  Or  not.
     For at that moment, Mr. Joshua looms  up  behind  them  and
     tosses something in their  direction.  Ducks  back  out  of
     sight. It's a live  grenade.  The  grenade  hits  the  floor.
     Clatters.  Riggs stops instantly.  He knows the sound.
     Spins. Dives. Scoops up  the  GRENDADE  and  chucks  it  with
     all his might. It bounces  downstairs  and  EXPLODES  at  the
     foot of the steps.

144  EXT. BUILDING - NIGHT                                          144

     Joshua skids to a halt next to a sedan.

     He slams the door and ROARS  off  down  Hollywood  Boulevard.
     The crowd parts like the Red Sea.  People are screaming.
     And suddenly, the doors burst open -- As Riggs, Murtaugh
     and Rianne come skidding out onto the sidewalk in hot
     pursuit.  Murtaugh shoves his daughter back as Joshua
     FIRES out the window of the car.  BULLETS lash the pave-
     ment.  The crowd shrieks.  The CAR SCREECHES away.

145  ANOTHER ANGLE                                                  145

     A beat cop comes running up,  and  Murtaugh  shoves  Rianne
     in his direction.  Flashes his badge.

                         MURTAUGH
               Get her out of here.

146  ANOTHER ANGLE - MURTAUGH AND RIGGS                             146

     go running after the car.  Side by side.  Beaten.  Bloody.
     Naked from the waist up.  Murtaugh FIRING his PISTOL.  Shot
     after blazing shot.

     Riggs unloading with the M-16 on three-shot mode, the
     muzzle flash blinding, the noise DEAFENING -- Until
     pedestrians swarm suddenly into the line of fire.
     Blocking them. Except  Murtaugh  won't  give  up.  He  runs
     after the car, shouting:

                         MURTAUGH
               Out of the way.  Move.

     His GUN CLICKS  empty.  He  tosses  it  aside.  Pulls  another
     from his waistband.  The  car.  Far  away.  FIRES  FOUR  more
     SHOTS.  Collapses in the street.  Nearly' unconscious.
     Crawls forward after the car, blood  streaming  from  his
     broken nose ... Going on sheer  guts.  Finally  gives  out.
     Slumps in a heap. Riggs kneels beside  him  as  a  police  CAR
     ROARS up to them, flashers  spinning.  Riggs  is  a  man  pos-
     sessed. We PANA-GLIDE  with  him  as  he  runs  forward.  M-16
     in one hand.  Badge in the other.

                         RIGGS
               Get an ambulance!!

     He takes off after the Joshua's car.  On foot.  Someone
     better tell this guy to lighten up.  The car is far ahead,
     racing onto a freeway on-ramp.  Riggs runs.  Sweat pours
     off him.  Seeing the car on the ramp, he changes direction.
     Starts running an intercept  course.  Leaps  out  into  the
     street -- Spins, as a TRUCK  BLARES  out  of  nowhere,  BRAKES
     SQUEALING, HORN  SHRIEKING.  Somersaults  over  the  hood.
     Lands.  Keeps  moving.  Barrels  across  the  street.   Faster
     now.  Even faster than before.  Feet pounding.  Gun
     swinging.  Dashing  out  onto  the  freeway  overpass.  Where,
     without stopping,  he  promptly  jumps  the  guardrail.  Drops
     through space ... And lands, thump -- !  Atop the big
     green freeway sign.  Swings like an acrobat.  Dangles
     from the sign, twenty feet above the ground.  Levels the
     M-16 one-handed, switches it to full auto.  Waits ...

147  BENEATH HIM                                                     147

     Joshua's CAR comes  SCREAMING  through  the  underpass,  doing
     eighty. Riggs unleashes  the  GUN.  It  BLAZES  with  cruel
     FIRE. STPAFES the back  of  the  car.  Sure  enough,  BLOWS
     out both TIRES -- Throwing the  VEHICLE  into  a  deadly  SKID
     -- Slewing across the freeway  --  STRIKING  the  GUARDRAIL
     at sixty-plus. It slides  for  a  full  hundred  yards,  send-
     ing up a shower of  sparks.  The  back  tires  disintegrate
     in a trail of burning rubber.  The CAR GRINDS to a halt.
     The door opens  and  Joshua  rolls  out.  Riggs  FIRES.  Kicks
     up a cloud of cement  near  the  merc.  Joshua  RETURNS  FIRE.

148  ANOTHER ANGLE                                                   148

     Big chunks of the.freeway SIGN BLOW  OUT  next  to  Riggs'
     .head.  He is showered with wooden debris.

     Riggs lowers the gun.  Lets go and drops twenty feet to
     the pavement.  Lands, rolls, comes up.  A CAR swerves
     around him.  CRASHES into the guardrail.  Riggs doesn't
     even look.  Instead, he begins to walk.  He is a fucking
     juggernaut.

149  UP AHEAD                                                    149

     Joshua turns, sees Riggs -- and stops.

                         JOSHUA
               Okay, you bastard, let's see
               who's better.

     They are separated by perhaps two hundred yards.  Joshua
     snaps his rifle to his shoulder. Eyes glued to  the  scope.
     Riggs swings his own rifle into position -- and  we've  got
     the showdown at the O.K. Corral. A  battle  of  wits.  Each
     one scanning through the scope.

     Looking for a clear shot, as CARS SWERVE around and
     between them. The crosshairs  sweep  the  freeway.  Perfect
     concentration.  Riggs.  Joshua.  Two soldiers.  And
     suddenly, the shot is there:  Joshua sights in on Riggs'
     position. Only problem is, Riggs' rifle  is  pointed  right
     at the CAMERA. He is sighted in  on  Joshua.  Simultaneous.
     They FIRE at the exact same moment.  TWO SHOTS.  Two
     distinct RIFLE CRACKS.  Riggs takes it in the shoulder.
     Blown backward.  Joshua goes down, winged.  Riggs.
     Joshua.  Each looks like shit.  They struggle to their
     feet ... And that's when a car backs up into Riggs at
     thirty miles an hour. Broadsides  him.  Sends  him  flying.

150  UP AHEAD                                                     150

     Joshua rushes up to a stalled car. Throws  open  the  door.
     Yanks out the driver, hops behind the  wheel.  ROARS  away.

                                               CUT TO:

151  EXT. BUILDING - SAME TIME                                    151

     An ambulance shudders to a halt and two ORDERLIES hop
     out.  Uniformed COPS are struggling to hold back the
     crowd.  One of the Orderlies rushes up.

                         ORDERLY
               Where is he, Officer?

                         COP
               Right over there.

     He points -- and suddenly frowns: There is  no  one  there.
     Murtaugh is gone.  Nowhere to be seen.

                                                       CUT TO:

152  EXT. BACK ALLEY - SAME TIME                                   152

     A sleek black VAN careens around the corner.

152A INT. VAN                                                      152A

     A MERC is driving, foot glued to the pedal.  THE GENERAL
     sits sweating in the back seat.

152B ANOTHER ANGLE                                                 152B

     The headlights flash wildly as the car roars down the
     alley.

     The General stares ahead, and suddenly ------- ...
     'Cause wouldn't you know it, there's ROGER MURTAUGH.
     Fifty yards away.  Standing in the middle of the street.

153  ANOTHER ANGLE                                                 153

     There is no reason for Murtaugh to be standing.  He is a
     walking testament to man's ability to bloody himself.
     And he's pissed... The Merc  sees  him,  snarls  --  punches
     the gas.  Murtaugh holds his ground.  He can barely stand.
     And then he does a peculiar thing:  He examines his hand.
     No question.  A definite tremble.  Scowls.  Stretches.
     Cracks his neck.

     Shifts from foot to foot, steadying himself.  He has one
     shot. The numbers are  falling,  it's  all  coming  down  --
     And he's ready.  The van comes barreling in.  Doing fifty.
     Now or never...

                         MURTAUGH
               No way you live.  No way.

     He cross-draws with lightning swiftness.  BAM.  The
     REPORT is DEAFENING.  The WINDSHIELD promptly SHATTERS.  
     And the Merc sprouts a neat third eye.  Perfect shot.
     Dead center.  The van swerves.  Murtaugh steps out of the
     way.  Deadly calm.  As the van careens past -- He salutes
     the General.  Watches, expressionless ... The CAR SLAMS
     into a telephone pole and rolls over.  GRINDING METAL.
     An ERUPTION of GLASS.  It continues to roll like some
     great beast, crumpling  and  folding  like  an  accordion...

     Comes to rest, upside down in a sea of glass ...

153A INT. VAN                                             153A

     The General is pinned beneath a crumpled door-frame,
     struggling to break free, as FLAMES lick upward from the
     ruptured gas tank...

     And then the General sees something which ruins his whole
     day.

     The Merc's corpse,  sprawled  over  the  steering  column...     *
     with a shiny metal GRENADE attached to his belt.                 *
     Flames dance around the grenade.                                 *

153C ANOTHER ANGLE                                                    153C *

     The General squirms, strains, yanks for all he's worth...        *
     Fingers reaching out for the grenade...........................  *
     Flames burning his outstretched hand...........................  *

     And it is, as they say, all she wrote.                           *
154  EXT. ROADWAY                                                     154

     Murtaugh is walking like a zombie.  Away from the VAN.
     Gun held loosely at his  side.  Suddenly  --  It  BLOWS  sky
     high.  A tower of fire.  Blows Murtaugh flat.  Knocks
     him ass over teacups.  ECHOES down the street.  Turns
     night into day for one  brief  instant.  And  then  --  Then
     something truly  incredible  happens.  For  the  first  time
     in nearly a century -- it begins to snow in Hollywood.
     Murtaugh looks up, a "What the hell ... ?" expression on
     his face.  Sure enough --

155  HEROIN                                                           155

     is sifting down on the night air, ten million dollars'
     worth... A cloud over the entire' street.  Swirling in
     the breeze.

156  MURTAUGH                                                    156

     gets slowly to his feet, checking for broken bones.  If
     it wasn't busted already, apparently it's okay now.  Time
     passes.  A hand rests on his shoulder.

157  MARTIN RIGGS                                                157

     Stands next to him.  Cops swarm behind them.  The heroin
     snow continues to fall.  The wreck burns.  Riggs looks at
     Murtaugh.  Murtaugh looks at Riggs.  The two most physi-
     cally abused men in film history.

                         MURTAUGH
               Well, shit.

                         RIGGS
               Try not to breathe, you'll see
               pink elephants.

                         MURTAUGH
               Joshua?

                         RIGGS
               Got away.

                         MURTAUGH
               We ... gotta find him.

                         RIGGS
               No dice.  First thing we gotta do
               is get you to a hospital.

                         MURTAUGH
               Uh-huh  First thing we gotta do
               is check on my house.
                    (beat)
               I got a bad feeling...

     He moves away.  Riggs starts to follow.  Goes to toss his
     cigarette in the gutter, and stops:  There is a tiny, red
     mark at the tip of the filter:  It is the cigarette.  The
     very last one ... He stares at it, a sudden glimmer in his
     eye.

                                             CUT TO:

158  EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT                                  158

     The Christmas lights shed a happy glow.  The lawn is
     still littered with toys.  Two uniformed COPS are watch-
     ing over the house, sitting in a police car across the
     street.  One of them munches on a sandwich.  The other
     is doing a crossword puzzle.  A car pulls up next to
     them.  The door opens -- out steps Mr. Joshua.

                         POLICE OFFICER
               Excuse me, sir, may I see some
               ID?

     Joshua takes an UZI from beneath  his  coat.  No  hesi-
     tation. BLOWS  them  apart.  Walks  forward,  gun  smoking.
     Crosses the lawn to the front door.  Kicks it to
     splinters.

159  EXT. CITY STREET - SAME TIME                                   159

     A police CAR PEELS around the corner.  Takes out a
     Salvation Army BUCKET, which POPS like a clay duck.
     Coins shower every which way.

160  INT. CAR                                                       160

     Murtaugh is driving like a  lunatic.  Beside  him,  Riggs
     holds a handkerchief to his gunshot wound.

161  INT. MURTAUGH HOME'- SAME TIME                                 161

     Joshua stalks down the hallway of Murtaugh's house.
     Stops in front of the bedroom door.  Holy Jesus ...   He
     kicks it open.  SPPAYS  the  interior  with  GUNFIRE.  Shreds
     the mattress, dices  the  pillows.  Trashes  everything  in
     sight:  Star Wars posters.  Stuffed animals.  Stereo.
     Empties an entire clip of  .9  millimeter  slugs.  Except
     the bed is empty. There  is  no  one  there.  Joshua  snarls.
     Turns.

162  SERIES OF SHOTS                                                162

     Kicks open another door.  TRIGGERS DESTRUCTION.  Plaster
     and wood fill the air in  a  cloud.  Room  to  room.  Search-
     ing. Growing more and more  enraged  --  because  there  is
     no one here to kill. He is blowing the  shit  out  of  an
     empty Santa Monica bungalow.  He bursts into the only
     room he hasn't visited.  Living room.  It too, is empty.
     There is a note, however.  Taped  to  the  Christmas  tree:
     Big letters.

     DEAR BADGUYS

     NO ONE HERE BUT US COPS.
     SORRY.

     -- THE GOODGUYS

     Joshua swears. Runs for the  door.  And  a  police  CAR
     drives through the front of the  house.  PLOWS  into  the
     living room, shearing boards  in  half,  BURSTING  WINDOWS,
     GRINDING to a hal-. in a sea of  glass.  Joshua  spins,
     triggering the UZI.-  STRAFES the car.  A withering FIRE.

     Empties an entire clip at  the  front  WINDSHIELD,  dicing
     it to SMITHEREENS. Waves the  gun  like  a  WAND,  STRAFING
     X patterns, FIRING all the while, completely EXTINGUISH-
     ING the car and all life within.  Stops.  Silence.
     Floating debris.  Joshua lowers the gun.  Breathing hard.

     Crosses  the room, his boots crunching through broken
     glass.   Yanks on the driver's door.  It falls loose with
     a metal  clang.

163  ANOTHER  ANGLE                                             163

     A cop's  nightstick has been jammed against the accel-
     erator pedal.  The car is empty.

     Joshua spins, startled
     Stares across the room

     At MARTIN RIGGS, who sits calmly  on  the  windowsill.

                         RIGGS
               Ho, ho, ho.

     He raises his gun and fires without blinking.
     Blows the gun out of Joshua's hands.
     Smiles a big shit-eating grin.

     Joshua turns and dives through the hole  in  the  wall
     Lands outside, comes up running, but  sorry,  no  dice
     because there stands Roger  Murtaugh.  Drawing  a  bead  on
     Joshua's running figure.

                         MURTAUGH
               Freeze, Joshua.

     Joshua stops dead. Turns,  growling  low  in  his  throat.
     A fire hydrant, sheared off by  the  runaway  car,  sprays
     water high into the nighttime  air.  The  wind  blows.
     Martin Riggs steps out of  the  house.  Pointing  the  .38
     Special like a finger of doom.  Strolls toward Mr.
     Joshua... the gun is rock  steady.  Riggs'  eyes  meet
     Murtaugh's, and he speaks with deadly purpose:

                         RIGGS
               I'll handle it.

     He steps up to Joshua.  Smiles.  And  then  he  does  some-
     thing very strange: he relaxes his  grip  on  the  gun  --
     And throws it away.  Faces Joshua.  Raises his arms, and
     carefully places them behind  his  head.  When  he  speaks,
     his voice drips menace:

                         RIGGS
               Come on, ace.
                    (beat)
               Try me.

     A moment. Then Joshua calmly plants  himself  in  front  of
     Riggs.  Around them, water showers down in a gentle cloud.
     SIRENS APPROACH in the near  distance.  Joshua  and  Riggs.
     Two soldiers.  Their eyes lock.  And you better hang onto
     your popcorn, boys and girls, because it's  about  to  get
     ugly.

                         JOSHUA
               Don't mind if I do.

     And so it begins.  They start to circle.

     Riggs and Joshua, perfect concentration,  round  and  round
     and never, never once does their focus break, because,
     baby, these guys are pros -- And  here's  something  funny:
     they aren't looking at each other's  eyes  at  all.  Rather
     -- They're watching each other's hands.

164  RIGGS                                                        164

     His fingers twitch. Flex.  Wrist  making  slow,  laborious-
     circles.

165  JOSHUA                                                       165

     Shifting from leg to leg, floating his balance.

166  MURTAUGH                                                     166

     looks on, sweating it out. He's  not  happy,  he  wants  to
     end it ... And yet he waits.

167  RIGGS AND JOSHUA                                             167

     All we see is their  eyes,  straining,  focusing,  scanning
     for an opening.

                         JOSHUA
               Concentrate, Martin... Don't give
               me an opening... Wouldn't want to
               do that ...

     Riggs shifts.  Blinks.  And:

168  JOSHUA                                                       168

     springs ... Foot coming out  like  a  shot,  Riggs  jerking
     back, inches -- meanwhile,  Riggs  --  countermove,  spins,
     tries a back kick, no dice ... Joshua no longer there,
     where is he ... ? Shit -- ! Comes up,  darts  a  punch  to
     Doesn't    L=
-----------------------------

                                                       (CONTINUED)

          Riggs' neck -- Riggs fields it, snap
          the lep-.  It comes ou@t of nowhere.

-------------------------------

     CRACK!  The sound of Riggs' rib breaking carries clearly.
     He grunts.  Thrusts, inviting a countermove ... Joshua
     counters -- And Riggs snags his hand, picture-fucking-
     perfect.  Breaks one of Joshua's fingers.  Ouch.  Backs
     off.  Joshua backs off.  The two of them.  Wounded, they
     circle.  Round two ...

169  MURTAUGH                                                      169

     Meanwhile, is raising his gun, pointing it at Joshua.
     Riggs' voice cuts like a knife:

                         RIGGS
               No. Roger.
                    (beat)
               No way.

     Murtaugh lowers the gun.  Stares, fascinated, at this
     contest between two consummate professionals.  In for the
     kill.  It is a dance of the forces.  Riggs is on fire.
     Leaps, avoiding a shot to the knee, spins, slams the
     knuckles of his hand into Joshua's nose.  Busts it.
     Joshua snarls, drops -- Catches Riggs' arm over one
     shoulder.  And, ladies and gentlemen... Riggs has just
     fucked up.  CRACK -- !  His arm breaks.  He screams with
     pain.  Screams with anger.  Tosses three shots at Joshua.
     SNAP.  SNAP.  SNAP.  RIBS, SPLINTERING.  Joshua hissing
     with pain.  Lets go.  Back off (Riggs).  Back off (Joshua).
     In pain, they circle.  Round three ...

                         JOSHUA
               That's it, Martin... your body
               wants to go into shock... but you
               won't let it, will you ... ?

                         RIGGS
               ...  Give it up ... Your breathing's
               shot  ...

                         JOSHUA
               so's your left arm...

                         RIGGS
               Life's tough that way ... Oh, by
               the way:  Fuck you.

     He launches himself at Joshua.  Joshua strikes, scores a
     minor point, breaking Riggs' collarbone, except Riggs
     doesn't care, nosirree Bob... 'Cause he just hit paydirt:
     Joshua's knee.  Boot-strikes, BAM -- !  Shearing the
     knee, maybe bursting the cap ... Joshua shrieks, but then
     again, so would you.  And he promptly jack-knives his
     fist right into Riggs' broken arm.  Three times.  Riggs
     bellows.  Refuses to quit.

     Slams his head into Joshua's busted nose.  Pop ...
     Does it again. Joshua, hammering the  broken  arm.  Pow.
     (Scream)  Pow.  (Scream) ... Until, son of a bitch... The
     pain is simply too intense... nothing human can withstand
     it, they fall away, staggering, wrenching to a shaky halt,
     facing one another, standoff ... Exhausted, limping, hardly
     able to speak...

170  POLICE CARS                                                  170

     Pulling up now, cops stumbling out, guns clearing  their
     holsters as Murtaugh waves frantically, screams:

                         MURTAUGH
               No guns.  Let it go!  Goddammit,
               let it go!!

171  RIGGS                                                        171

     spits, gazes straight at Joshua.  Joshua stares back.
     Two soldiers.  This close to collapsing.  Until, breaking
     the silence -- comes Murtaugh's voice:

                         MURTAUGH
               Martin.

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.

                            MURTAUGH
               -----------
               the motherfucker.

     A moment ... and then, my friends, Riggs does a peculiar
     thing:  He smiles then.  Damned if he doesn't.  And rises
     up ... Standing. Standing straight. There is no  way  he
     should be able to do this.  And then he speaks, and it's
     like the voice of doom, and all of a sudden we know that
     this guy is a fucking legend, we know why the V.C. en-
     forcers whispered his name at night in the foxholes ...
     He is Riggs.  And no one can touch him.  No one.

                         RIGGS
               Last chance.  Walk away.

                         JOSHUA
               Fuck yourself.

                         RIGGS
               Fine.  Die.

     He steps forward.  Stands.  Joshua springs -- thunders
     his foot into Riggs' hip, separating the bone at the
     joint ... And Riggs doesn't blink.  His hand comes out.
     Lightning quick.

     There is a sick-sounding CRACK -- And Joshua is dead
     before he hits the ground.  Riggs hovers over the
     corpse... breathing spastic, saliva dripping from his
     lips... takes a handkerchief, wipes his hand, and says:

                         RIGGS
               You lose.

     At which point, he collapses like a sack of grain.

172  MURTAUGH                                                         172

     is running forward, tears in his eyes by this time, falls
     to his knees, cradling Riggs in his arms, while the
     assembled cops look on in thoroughly stunned silence,
     what they have just seen is beyond their wildest
     imagining ...

173  ON GROUND                                                        173

     Riggs looks at Murtaugh.  Murtaugh looks at Riggs.

                         MURTAUGH
               Take it easy, Martin...

                         RIGGS
               ... Right.  Easy.  You bet ...

                         MURTAUGH
               Does it hurt ... ?

     Riggs  throws  him  a  look.

                         RIGGS
               What are you, an idiot?

                         MURTAUGH
               Sorry.

                         RIGGS
               S'all right.
                    (beat)
               I got good news and bad news.

                         MURTAUGH
               What's the good news?

                         RIGGS
               ... Good news is, I'm not dead...

                         MURTAUGH
               What's the bad news?

     Riggs grimaces in pain-

                         RIGGS
               ... Bad news is, I'm still alive ...

     He chuckles.  Groans.  Passes out.  The water RAINS
     steadily down.  The night wears on...

     CUT TO:

174  EXT. LONG BEACH BAR - DAY                                  174

     Christmas carolers sing outside at roadside.  A big
     banner screams MERRY CHRISTMAS to passing cars.  Christ-
     mas lights.  Tinsel.  Murtaugh and Riggs stand on the
     sidewalk, huddled against the chill.  Riggs stands,
     braced on one crutch.  Arm in a sling.  Their breath
     plumes out in front of them.

                         MURTAUGH
               So.

                         RIGGS
               So.

                         MURTAUGH
               There are worse things than a
               psych pension.

                         RIGGS
                    (shrugs)
               Probably.

                         MURTAUGH
               Guess I won't be seeing you
               around.

                         RIGGS
               Guess not.
                    (beat)
               The Department thinks I'm wild.
               I don't belong anymore.  Not
               here.

                         MURTAUGH
               Where do you belong?

                         RIGGS
               Who knows ... ?  Maybe I can get
               a job on a remake of Cobra.

                         MURTAUGH
               My son would come see you.

                         RIGGS
               He'd be the only one.

                         MURTAUGH
                    (a pause;
                     then)
               Riggs.

                         RIGGS
               Yeah.

                         MURTAUGH
               This ... is a bad old world,
               isn't it?

                         RIGGS
                    (sighs)
               Yeah.  Sometimes it really is.

                         MURTAUGH
               Hell.
                    (beat)
               I'm thinking of quitting.

                         RIGGS
               Don't  you  dare.

     Murtaugh looks at him.

                         RIGGS
               You're too old to change now,
               Colchise.

                         MURTAUGH
               Me?  Old... ?

                         RIGGS
               You just hang in there.

                         MURTAUGH
               Yeah.  You, too.

                         RIGGS
               Guess I'll say goodbye.

                         MURTAUGH
               Sure.  Come over for dinner
               sometime.

                         RIGGS
               No, thanks.

                         MURTAUGH
               Don't blame you.  I'm thinking
               of arresting my wife for cruelty
               to bacon.
                    (beat)
               Merry Christmas, Martin.

                         RIGGS
               Merry Christmas.

     He walks off down the street.  Murtaugh watches him go.
     Pause.  Turns up his collar against the chill, takes a
     few steps ... And a man steps in front of him.  The same
     Punk who Riggs beat the shit out of at the very beginning
     of the film.

                         PUNK
               Hey, old man, got any money?

     Murtaugh stops.  Stares.  Blinks.  And proceeds to kick
     the shit out of him.  A kick.  A punch.  The Punk lies
     on the sidewalk, semi-conscious.  Murtaugh scowls and
     says:

                         MURTAUGH
               I'm fifty.  That's not old,
               dickless.

175  EXT. CEMETERY - DUSK (SAME DAY)                            175

     RAIN pours down. Martin Riggs stands over a  lone  grave.
     There are dark hollows under his eyes. The wind  tugs  at
     his hair.  The tombstone reads:

     VICTORIA LYNN RIGGS

     BORN:  1953
     DIED:  1984

     He reaches beneath his overcoat and removes a bright
     green Christmas wreath, which he places atop the grave.
     Kisses his fingertips. Presses them to the  moist  earth.

                         RIGGS
               Merry Christmas.
                    (beat)
               I love you.

     The rains starts to fall.  Riggs is oblivious.

176  EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT                                 176

     Carpenters are at work, patching and repairing.  The
     Christmas lights still shine defiantly. A car pulls  up.

                                                       CUT TO:

177     FRONT  DOOR                                           177

     As a hand knocks softly:  The door opens -- and there
     stands young Rianne.  Adorable.  She looks up at the
     visitor... It is Martin Riggs.

                         RIANNE
               Hi.

                         RIGGS
               Hi.

     He hands something to her.  She takes it.  The bottle of
     pills.  It has a red ribbon tied around it.

                         RIGGS
               Give that to your dad.  It's a
               present.  Tell him I won't be
               needing them anymore.

     Rianne nods.

                         RIANNE
               Okay.  You wanna come in?  We're
               building.

     Riggs thinks it over.  Shakes his head:

                         RIGGS
               No, that's okay.
                    (beat)
               You have a Merry Christmas,
               Missy.

                         RIANNE
               Okay.

     Riggs turns to go.  Rianne stops him:

                         RIANNE
               They say you're the best.

     Beat.  He stops.  Turns and looks at her.

                         RIANNE
               Are you?

                         RIGGS
                    (big smile; wild wink)
               No one can touch me.

     Rianne blushes.

     Riggs begins to walk away, into the rain...

     Until Roger Murtaugh appears from inside the boat on the
     trailer hitch.

     He stands on deck and looks down at Riggs.

     Riggs stops.  They stand there in the rain for a moment.
     Then Murtaugh looks him square in the eye and says:

                         MURTAUGH
               Sucker, if you think I'm gonna cat
               the world's lousiest Christmas
               turkey all by my lonesome, you're
               nuts.

     Riggs nods.  A moment passes.  Then:

                         RIGGS
               I think your daughter kinda likes
               me.

                         MURTAUGH
               You touch her, I'll kill you.

                         RIGGS
               You'll try.

     He smiles.

     Murtaugh smiles.

     The rain falls, as they enter the house together, and
     we

                                                  FADE OUT.

THE END



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