The Game

ALAN BAER: Are you finished?

NICHOLAS: No. This is my lawyer, Samuel Sutherland. I thought you two should meet.

ALAN BAER: We met, this morning. I signed the termination contract for Baer/Grace. I accepted your settlement, Nicholas. you were right. I'm going sailing.

ALAN BAER: I could fight you on this.

NICHOLAS: You could. But, if I leave without your signature, this agreement begins to disintegrate; benefits shrink, options narrow, compensations shrivel.

NICHOLAS: It is so very inappropriate for you to mention my father. Or, did you think this, between us, was friendship? Just because you went fishing with my father, I should sit on my hands while you throw my money away?

ALAN BAER: Now, look...

NICHOLAS: I'll be done in a minute. You misspoke before. You're not "stepping down." I'm taking you out at the knees. The whole point is to prove that you're not deciding anything anymore. I'm firing you. Action's taken. Confidence restored. Stock goes up. I sell my shares.

ALAN BAER: There is no Baer/Grant Publishing without Alan Baer.

NICHOLAS: Remember Daniel Grant? Do they say, "without Daniel Grant, there is no Baer/Grant Publishing?" He's gone sailing, Alan. He's out there enjoying his golden years, probably wondering where you are.

NICHOLAS: You promised you'd meet projections, Alan. A dollar sixty per share you said. So, I don't think this is so surprising a visit.

ALAN BAER: Projections were far too optimistic.

NICHOLAS: Admittedly...

ALAN BAER: Our E.P.S. was one fifty last quarter. We're up eight cents per share.

NICHOLAS: But, the expectation was ten. And, in this case, expectation is everything.

ALAN BAER: Will you really hold me to it over pennies?

NICHOLAS: My stock's falling. Isn't yours? Those pennies are costing me millions.

ALAN BAER: The stock will turn.

NICHOLAS: It probably will. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it almost certainly will, in time. Why should I settle for that?

ALAN BAER: Because it's fair. Give me next quarter. If you still feel this way, vote your shares...

NICHOLAS: You're talking tomorrow. Today is what counts.

ALAN BAER: You intractable son-of-a-bitch. If your father could see you now...

NICHOLAS: What?

ALAN BAER: Your father was a friend. Goddamn it... I watched you grow up. How do you end up treating me like this?

NICHOLAS: Did you play recently?

BUSINESSMAN 2: Hm? No, about a year ago. I was working out of Los Angeles.

NICHOLAS: I've heard good things about their London branch. You have to admit, it sounds like some fantasy, role-playing nonsense.

BUSINESSMAN 2: You want to know what it is? What it's all about? John. Chapter nine. Verse twenty-five.

NICHOLAS: I, uh... haven't been to Sunday school in years...

BUSINESSMAN 2: "Whereas once I was blind, now I can see." Night, Nick. Best of luck.

NICHOLAS: I only mention it because I took the test this afternoon, down on Montgomery Street.

BUSINESSMAN 2: Did you? Kudos.

MAITRE D': You don't talk to me like that.

CHRISTINE: I apologized, I offered to help.

MAITRE D': Clean out your locker.

CHRISTINE: Fine, Dennis. Soon as I get my money for this week.

MAITRE D': I'll be right with you.

MAITRE D': Christine! Mister Van Orton is a valued customer...

CHRISTINE: Then, you kiss his ass.

CHRISTINE: I have to get to the airport...

NICHOLAS: Where are you going in such a hurry?

CHRISTINE: There's another gig starting in Saudi Arabia. I'm just a walk-on this time though. Bit-part.

NICHOLAS: What about dinner sometime, when you get back? Would that be... ?

CHRISTINE: Is this something you're interested in? I'm not really that person I was.

NICHOLAS: I realize. Maybe you could... tell me a little about yourself.

CHRISTINE: Like what... my favorite color... ?

NICHOLAS: Like... where are you from?

CHRISTINE: Originally, Connecticut.

NICHOLAS: Big family... small?

CHRISTINE: One brother, one sister.

NICHOLAS: Studied acting, I assume?

CHRISTINE: Julliard, yeah.

NICHOLAS: Single?

CHRISTINE: Yes.

NICHOLAS: Boyfriend?

CHRISTINE: No.

NICHOLAS: Underwear?

CHRISTINE: Always.

NICHOLAS: Hi. Didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

CHRISTINE: That's my fault. I get too worked up at these. I'm very method. You do know... that's not my name.

NICHOLAS: I didn't know what else to call you.

CHRISTINE: Claire.

NICHOLAS: Claire. Pleased to meet you.

NICHOLAS: Don't move, you bitch... !

CHRISTINE: I have to show you...

NICHOLAS: No!

CHRISTINE: Think about it! They followed you every step of the way. There was always a safety net. The taxi, there was a diver. At my house, the window was rigged... they shot at us with blanks...

NICHOLAS: That's not true...

CHRISTINE: It is. It's what you hired us for. Nobody touched your money. Nobody stole anything. They're waiting on the other side of that door with champagne... all your friends... it's a celebration...

NICHOLAS: No...

CHRISTINE: Open that door, you'll see. Your brother's there... Conrad. He's there. It's your birthday party...

NICHOLAS: Stop it!

CHRISTINE: Please, Nicholas, let me show you...

NICHOLAS: No! You take another step, I'll shoot! They're trying to kill me...

CHRISTINE: You're wrong. You're about to make the biggest mistake of your life. Put that gun down.

CHRISTINE: Listen very carefully, I'm telling the truth... this is the game. This was all the game.

NICHOLAS: Bullshit. They killed him. Feingold, Fisher, whoever... they shot him...

CHRISTINE: No, now wait... think about it. What did you see... ?

NICHOLAS: I saw them kill him!

CHRISTINE: What did you really see? This whole time... special effects, squibs, like in the movies. Please, you've got to believe me... He's got a gun, with real bullets!

NICHOLAS: Stop talking to them!

CHRISTINE: Okay... okay... I put it down. Now open that door. Mister Fisher's right on the other side of that door. He's an actor...

NICHOLAS: Stop talking...

CHRISTINE: Nicholas...

NICHOLAS: Shut up!

CHRISTINE: Let me show you...

CHRISTINE: He's got a gun. Everyone, he's got a real gun up here! Real situation! ... damn it...

NICHOLAS: What are you doing?

CHRISTINE: Nicholas, this is fake. It's all part of the game...

NICHOLAS: Fuck you.

NICHOLAS: What the fuck are you... ?

CHRISTINE: Where'd you get that gun?

NICHOLAS: It's mine...

CHRISTINE: We searched the house.

NICHOLAS: Guess you missed it.

CHRISTINE: Just... wait. Just wait! Okay... please, I'm not kidding anymore...

CHRISTINE: Where'd you get that... ?

NICHOLAS: ... what... ?

CHRISTINE: That gun. That... that's not automatic. The guard had an automatic...

CHRISTINE: They won't...

NICHOLAS: They will! You tell them if they don't come now, I will shoot you!

CHRISTINE: It could have been any asshole with a couple hundred million in the bank.

NICHOLAS: Call them, tell them to get the boss up here. Tell them I'll kill you...

CHRISTINE: What do you think you're doing?

NICHOLAS: You tell me... I want to know who's behind this. Who did this to me... how, why... ?

CHRISTINE: How deluded can you be? There's no why...

NICHOLAS: Who's responsible?!

CHRISTINE: It wasn't you. It wasn't personal...

NICHOLAS: You call them...

NICHOLAS: Get us out of here...

CHRISTINE: Nicholas...

NICHOLAS: Get us out!

CHRISTINE: What are you doing here?

NICHOLAS: I'm back from the dead.

CHRISTINE: Nicholas, okay... you're not about to shoot anyone...

CHRISTINE: Mm... I wouldn't worry about it.

NICHOLAS: What... what do you mean?

CHRISTINE: It's out of your hands.

CHRISTINE: Who is it?

NICHOLAS: What do you mean? I checked them myself. I made the calls...

CHRISTINE: Who is it?

NICHOLAS: What do we do?

CHRISTINE: It's just money. You should be glad you're alive.

NICHOLAS: It might be best if we didn't talk.

CHRISTINE: All I mean is... someone like you...

NICHOLAS: How many times have you done this? I'm interested.

CHRISTINE: What?

NICHOLAS: Scams, con games. How many?

CHRISTINE: I don't know. A lot.

NICHOLAS: Whatever kind of nickel-and-dime shit you did before, this is more than just me. Your friends raided pension plans, and payrolls... they took just over six-hundred million. You ruined people's lives.

CHRISTINE: My name's not Christine. It's not my real...

NICHOLAS: Who the fuck cares?

CHRISTINE: What did you say?

NICHOLAS: I didn't say anything.

CHRISTINE: Why else would they be willing to put you under... ?

NICHOLAS: Overseas operator? Please dial Allgemeine Bank, Zurich.

CHRISTINE: They don't care about you anymore. Alive or dead is the same, as long as they bury you deep enough.

CHRISTINE: It wasn't his fault. He thought it was his only way back. They fleeced him real good.

NICHOLAS: How? How could they have gotten anything?

CHRISTINE: They did the same to him as they did to you.

NICHOLAS: What are you talking about... ?

NICHOLAS: Who are "they?"

CHRISTINE: I don't know, nobody does. I'm an employee.

NICHOLAS: Then, what good are you?

CHRISTINE: I know things... like who you can trust. Like that your brother was in on it from the beginning.

NICHOLAS: That's a lie...

CHRISTINE: Yeah? I was your waitress on your birthday. Connie told you about C.R.S. that day, remember? I was already playing my part, before you started the game.

NICHOLAS: You can talk while I drive us to the police.

CHRISTINE: No cops. I've got a warrant out. Mail fraud. They'll take me in, but you won't be able to prove anything else.

CHRISTINE: What are you doing... ?

NICHOLAS: Get out.

CHRISTINE: I could've handed you to them. They find me now, I'm dead...

NICHOLAS: Get out of my car!

CHRISTINE: You don't have a choice. No one else is going to tell you what's going on.

NICHOLAS: What is this!?

CHRISTINE: God, wake up, it's a con!

NICHOLAS: No! I'm sick of this...

CHRISTINE: Nicholas...

CHRISTINE: They're watching.

NICHOLAS: Wha... ?

CHRISTINE: Not here! They can see.

NICHOLAS: Take the picture out.

CHRISTINE: What's wrong?

NICHOLAS: Take the picture out of the frame and show it to me.

CHRISTINE: I don't...

CHRISTINE: Want anything to drink?

NICHOLAS: You?

CHRISTINE: Yeah. First Communion. Aren't I a little angel?

NICHOLAS: Do you mind if I sit?

CHRISTINE: Sure. You alright? Is this still that contest you're in...

NICHOLAS: I'm tired. I'm sorry, I should go. I've been enough of a nuisance.

CHRISTINE: Let me go get some clothes on. We'll talk, okay? Be right back.

CHRISTINE: What is it?

NICHOLAS: Is this you?

CHRISTINE: Where'd you get this?

NICHOLAS: It was left in my hotel room, well, not really mine. You're saying it's not you?

CHRISTINE: I think I would remember. What makes you think it's me?

NICHOLAS: Well... the red bra.

CHRISTINE: Okay.

NICHOLAS: I thought...

CHRISTINE: Didn't think I'd ever see you again.

NICHOLAS: Come here...

CHRISTINE: What are you doing here?

NICHOLAS: Can we talk?

CHRISTINE: It's okay, dad.

CHRISTINE: I have a confession to make. Someone gave me six-hundred dollars to spill drinks on you, as a practical joke.

NICHOLAS: Seriously? What did they say?

CHRISTINE: They said five hundred. I said six. They said the man in the gray flannel suit. I think I said, you mean the attractive guy in the gray flannel suit?

NICHOLAS: Goodnight.

CHRISTINE: I don't think I've ever spent this much time with someone who didn't even ask my name.

NICHOLAS: The maitre d' called you Christine.

CHRISTINE: Right. Call me Christy.

NICHOLAS: Goodnight, Christy. It was nice meeting you.

CHRISTINE: Give me an address so I can send your shirt back.

NICHOLAS: Keep it.

NICHOLAS: I know the owner of Campton Place. I could talk to him in the morning.

CHRISTINE: Don't. It was a shitty job anyway. I overreacted.

NICHOLAS: A fresh shirt...

CHRISTINE: If this was my office, I wouldn't keep that closed.

NICHOLAS: I don't spend much time looking out the window. I'll call you a taxi.

CHRISTINE: Nice.

NICHOLAS: Hm? Oh, yes.

CHRISTINE: What exactly do you do?

NICHOLAS: Investment banking. Moving money from place to place.

CHRISTINE: Where are we going?

NICHOLAS: That tall, bright building. Near there.

CHRISTINE: We hang down here and drop. The garbage'll break our fall.

NICHOLAS: I think not.

CHRISTINE: That's classic.

NICHOLAS: Why... ?

CHRISTINE: Never did catch your name.

NICHOLAS: Nicholas. Nicholas Van Orton.

CHRISTINE: Nicholas Van Orton? What are you, a czar?

NICHOLAS: There goes a thousand dollars.

CHRISTINE: Your shoes cost a thousand dollars?

NICHOLAS: That one did.

CHRISTINE: ... two hundred dollars a toe.

NICHOLAS: You deserted me.

CHRISTINE: You're a grown man. I'm not responsible for you.

NICHOLAS: You're the one who started running.

CHRISTINE: Me? You're the one who... ! Shit!

NICHOLAS: Don't panic. When security gets here, we simply explain what happened...

CHRISTINE: They'll love that.

NICHOLAS: Yes... well...

NICHOLAS: This is C.R.S.

CHRISTINE: What's C.R.S.?

NICHOLAS: Consumer Recreation Services. It's their building. They...

CHRISTINE: I'll wait.

NICHOLAS: It's not like anyone could actually open it.

NICHOLAS: There's a ladder here.

CHRISTINE: My hero. Let's go.

NICHOLAS: I'll give you a boost.

CHRISTINE: You first.

NICHOLAS: This isn't an attempt to be gallant. If I don't lift you, how are you going to get there?

CHRISTINE: You pull me up.

NICHOLAS: It's much easier this way. Come on, step up...

CHRISTINE: No.

NICHOLAS: Please...

CHRISTINE: I'm not wearing underwear. Okay? There, I said it. Satisfied.

NICHOLAS: Oh. FIne.

NICHOLAS: Don't even think about it.

CHRISTINE: Why not?

NICHOLAS: Read what it says: "Warning, do not attempt to open. If elevator stops, use emergency... "

CHRISTINE: If there was one.

NICHOLAS: "... wait for help." Wait for help. I'm not opening a door that specifically warns me not to.

CHRISTINE: Are you suggesting we wait till someone finds us?

NICHOLAS: Long story. I found this key in the mouth of a wooden Harlequin.

CHRISTINE: Never mind.

CHRISTINE: Where'd you all go? Motherfucking frat boys. You better hide. Is your life so pathetic that this is something you're willing to pay for?

NICHOLAS: It was a gift... from my brother.

CHRISTINE: How thoughtful. The gift of inconvenience.

CHRISTINE: See you around.

NICHOLAS: Where are you going?

CHRISTINE: Home.

NICHOLAS: How do you know that's the way?

CHRISTINE: There's got to be a flashlight.

NICHOLAS: I don't understand why they're getting you involved.

NICHOLAS: I was trying to tell you... it's a game.

CHRISTINE: A game?

NICHOLAS: It's run by a company... they play elaborate pranks. Things like this. I'm really only now finding out myself.

CHRISTINE: What are you talking about?

NICHOLAS: The lights went out, one hundred people all ran away...

CHRISTINE: You mean, the guy who turned blue and wet himself... ?

NICHOLAS: I'm sorry, about this...

CHRISTINE: You should be.

NICHOLAS: You've got to be kidding.

CHRISTINE: What... is... happening... ?

CHRISTINE: Let's talk to whoever can get this over with...

NICHOLAS: Hold on... They want your driver's license number.

NICHOLAS: This is nuts.

CHRISTINE: What is your problem?

NICHOLAS: Ten minutes ago, I'm looking forward to a quiet dinner. I get a note...

NICHOLAS: Oh, God... !

CHRISTINE: Don't just stand there, get help!

NICHOLAS: This can't be real...

CHRISTINE: He's pissing his pants. Is that real enough for you? Call 911!

NICHOLAS: Alright... okay...

CHRISTINE: He's turning blue!

CHRISTINE: Do you know what to do?

NICHOLAS: I don't think he's breathing.

CHRISTINE: What's with him?

NICHOLAS: I don't know... he fell.

NICHOLAS: Excuse me, I need to explain...

CHRISTINE: Don't explain. Fuck off. Goodbye.

NICHOLAS: I'm not sure how this works. Do you have something for me... ? I got this note...

CHRISTINE: What are you babbling about, psycho?

NICHOLAS: I want to know what's going on. Are you part of this?

CHRISTINE: What's going on? I'm going on my second job this month, and now I'm going on unemployment.

NICHOLAS: Pardon me... Miss... ?

CHRISTINE: Oh, no... you.

NICHOLAS: Don't help me, just get more napkins. And soda water.

CHRISTINE: It was an accident.

NICHOLAS: Terrific. I now have a hundred dollar dry cleaning bill.

CHRISTINE: I said I was sorry...

CHRISTINE: I apologize, sir, I'm having a bad day...

NICHOLAS: A bad month. You did the exact same thing to me last week.

CHRISTINE: I'm so sorry.

NICHOLAS: Please, don't do that...

NICHOLAS: Really?

CONRAD: Yeah.

NICHOLAS: Split it?

CONRAD: Oh, God yes please. Thanks, man. I'll take you up on that.

NICHOLAS: Where's Christine? The waitress.

CONRAD: Yeah, yeah. She called a cab. Said something about catching a plane.

NICHOLAS: Did she?

NICHOLAS: What?

CONRAD: This... ? Oh, this is just... this is the bill.

NICHOLAS: You know... how'd you manage the gun? I mean...

CONRAD: Baby, they were all over the house with metal detectors. They switched your gun with a look-alike, rigged barrel, loaded with blanks. Pop-gun.

CONRAD: No! You're one of them. Of course, it makes perfect sense!

NICHOLAS: No, it doesn't! Those keys were put there. I didn't even know...

CONRAD: You're behind this, aren't you? You and your sick friends. Well, make it stop!

NICHOLAS: Listen to yourself. Why would I do anything like what you're describing?

CONRAD: Because you hate me. Because you had to be here, when mom died. Because you had to do it alone. Well, don't you think if I'd known... I'd've been here too. I'd have been here...

NICHOLAS: Stop this. It's not true...

CONRAD: I'm sorry, Christ, I'm sorry! How many more times do I have to say I'm sorry before you forgive me... ?

NICHOLAS: Stop it!

NICHOLAS: How did those... ?

CONRAD: You're part of it...

NICHOLAS: What? Connie...

NICHOLAS: The phone's dead.

CONRAD: Really?

NICHOLAS: Do you know how to change a tire?

CONRAD: No. Do you? Can't be too hard, can it? I don't think we should be here out in the open like this.

CONRAD: It's them. They did this.

NICHOLAS: It's a flat tire. That's all.

CONRAD: How do you know?

NICHOLAS: We're going to figure this out. Get a grip on yourself.

CONRAD: Okay... okay.

NICHOLAS: What are you doing?

CONRAD: They're methodical. They're nothing if they're not that.

NICHOLAS: Who?

CONRAD: C.R.S. Who do you think? Jesus H., thank your lucky charms. To think what I almost got you into.

NICHOLAS: Yeah, almost...

CONRAD: You dodged a bullet.

NICHOLAS: How do you mean, exactly?

CONRAD: They fuck you and they fuck you and they fuck you. And then, just when you think it's done, that's when the real fucking begins.

NICHOLAS: Slow down, take a breath...

CONRAD: It doesn't stop, Nick. I paid the bill, I gave 'em their money, but it all started again. They won't leave me alone...

NICHOLAS: What have they been doing to you?

CONRAD: Everything. I'm a goddamn human-pinata...

NICHOLAS: Calm down. Why would they keep playing after you paid?

CONRAD: You think I know? I paid them more to make it stop.

NICHOLAS: Tell me where we're going.

CONRAD: Just drive, man. It's fucking nuts!

NICHOLAS: What's this all about, Connie?

CONRAD: Shhhhhhh. Wait... wait...

CONRAD: I thought you'd like this. Best thing I ever did. If you don't want to do it, DON'T...

NICHOLAS: I'll call them, okay?

CONRAD: It doesn't matter...

NICHOLAS: I'm going to call.

CONRAD: Do it for YOU.

NICHOLAS: Okay, okay... okay? I just... you know I hate surprises.

CONRAD: I know...

CONRAD: Tell me you'll call.

NICHOLAS: Okay.

CONRAD: Will you?

NICHOLAS: I said I would...

CONRAD: But, will you?

NICHOLAS: Are you still on mediction?

CONRAD: Why would you say that?

CONRAD: Call that number.

NICHOLAS: "Consumer Recrreation Services." What, do they make golf clubs?

CONRAD: Trust me. Call that number.

NICHOLAS: Why?

CONRAD: They make your life fun. Their only guarantee is you will not be bored.

NICHOLAS: Fun?

CONRAD: You've heard of it. You've seen other people having it. They're an entertainment service, but more than that.

NICHOLAS: This isn't an escort service?

CONRAD: It's a profound life experience.

NICHOLAS: Like a stroke?

CONRAD: Call them. Trust me.

CONRAD: For you.

NICHOLAS: You shouldn't have.

NICHOLAS: You look good.

CONRAD: So do you. And to think I was worried...

NICHOLAS: About me?

CONRAD: How long's it been? Since mom died... four years? How are you?

NICHOLAS: Never better.

CONRAD: Elizabeth?

NICHOLAS: Divorced. Remarried to some pediatrician or gynecologist, or pediatric gynaecologist, in Sausalito.

CONRAD: Too bad, I liked her. So, you're all alone in the House of Pain?

NICHOLAS: I redecorated. What about you?

CONRAD: Nowhere in particular. Don't you keep track of my whereabouts anymore?

NICHOLAS: Connie... what brings you here? Is everything alright?

CONRAD: Yeah.

NICHOLAS: You need anything?

CONRAD: No.

NICHOLAS: Really?

CONRAD: I don't need anything from you. I was laying on a beach somewhere in Spain, naked, and, it hit me -- Nickie's birthday. So, here I am, four layovers, twenty-seven hours flying and one donkey ride later. Not necessarily in that order.

CONRAD: They gave me a free jacket at the door.

NICHOLAS: They'll be wanting it back.

CONRAD: Not after I'm done with it. Actually, I've been here. In grad-school I bought crystal-meth from the maitre d'.

NICHOLAS: Which grad-school?

CONRAD: Hey there, Nickie.

NICHOLAS: Conrad, what a surprise. Gesundheit.

CONRAD: Happy Birthday, man.

NICHOLAS: "Seymour Butts." I never get tired of that one.

CONRAD: That's why it's a classic. Come on, man... how 'bout a hug... ?

COUNSELOR: How much is it? A few thousand, at least. A Rolex like that... lucky for you they missed it.

NICHOLAS: Yes, very lucky.

COUNSELOR: We'll help with the police, if you want to bother. As far as money goes... can I make a suggestion? You say you were mugged?

NICHOLAS: Yes.

COUNSELOR: And, they didn't take that watch?

NICHOLAS: What happened was, I'm on vacation, alone... I was robbed, at gunpoint. They hit me and ran. Two men, a few blocks away. They took my wallet, money... all of it. So...

COUNSELOR: Robbed?

NICHOLAS: Yes.

COUNSELOR: Have you gone to the police?

NICHOLAS: I don't speak Spanish. All I need is to get back... just enough for that.

COUNSELOR: No money, no identification or passport. You are in a fix. What did happen to you?

NICHOLAS: Well, where to begin. It's complicated...

COUNSELOR: It always is.

ELIZABETH: We have to head out... just wanted to say goodbye.

NICHOLAS: You're going? Well, thanks again. Good to see you, Rachel... Thanks for coming, Mel. I'll get your car back. Right now it's, uh... at the zoo. Sorry.

ELIZABETH: Happy Birthday, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS: I'll call. I really will.

ELIZABETH: I know.

NICHOLAS: I'll explain someday.

ELIZABETH: I hope.

NICHOLAS: It's just a t.v. He's just an actor.

ELIZABETH: Yes.

NICHOLAS: The last few days, um... I've been thinking... had a lot of spare time. I want to tell you... I'm starting to understand why you left me. I've been resenting you for it, maybe, but ... I want to apologize, for all of it. For shutting you out, for not being there. I... Anyway, I hope you can forgive me.

ELIZABETH: There's nothing to forgive.

NICHOLAS: It would mean a lot to me... if you and I could be friends. If I could have you back in my life... in some small way. It would be important.

ELIZABETH: Of course, Nick...

NICHOLAS: I need your car, Elizabeth.

ELIZABETH: What happened to you, Nick? I mean, look at yourself...

NICHOLAS: I know, look at me, well... What happened? I don't know. I don't even really know. I have some things to try to take care of... I need the car a little while.

ELIZABETH: Of course you can have it if you need it. Can I get you something to eat?

NICHOLAS: Where?

FEINGOLD: I told you, they hired me over the phone. I never met anyone.

NICHOLAS: Where'd you pick up your checks?

FEINGOLD: It was a different floor then...

NICHOLAS: Guess!

FEINGOLD: Like, this way... sort of...

FEINGOLD: You don't need me...

NICHOLAS: Shut up. Cuff him to the rail.

NICHOLAS: Drive in.

FEINGOLD: What are you gonna do anyway? You won't get your money back.

NICHOLAS: I don't want money. I'm pulling back the curtain. I'm here to meet the wizard.

NICHOLAS: They know you... you worked for them. You can get me in.

FEINGOLD: No, I can't. I'm sorry and all, but...

NICHOLAS: Tell them the cops are after you... tell them you've got to talk to someone, I'm threatening to blow the whistle.

FEINGOLD: What whistle? There's no fucking whistle. This is fucking dangerous.

FEINGOLD: Goddamnit, why do they do that?

NICHOLAS: How do I find them? Their offices are empty.

FEINGOLD: They own the whole building. They just move from floor to floor.

FEINGOLD: Look, it was just a job. Nothing personal, ya know? I play my part, improvise a little. That's what I'm good at.

NICHOLAS: I'm tired of dealing with peons. I need to get to whoever's in charge.

FEINGOLD: Nobody knows, pal. Nobody gets the big picture... Jason, Tommy, cut it out!

NICHOLAS: Get rid of them.

FEINGOLD: Hey, everyone -- snack time! Here... here you go...

FEINGOLD: One guarantee. Payment's entirely at your brother's discretion and, as a gift, dependent on your satisfaction.

NICHOLAS: You mean, I don't like it, he doesn't pay?

FEINGOLD: It's never happened. We've never had an unsatisfied customer.

NICHOLAS: You mean, dissatisfied.

FEINGOLD: That's right -- you're a left-brain word fetishist.

FEINGOLD: Sorry to keep you waiting.

NICHOLAS: Don't worry. It's been terrific spending the entire day with your "crack team".

FEINGOLD: It's all down to this...

NICHOLAS: How long will these take?

FEINGOLD: An hour for those... maybe another for the physical.

NICHOLAS: Physical?

FEINGOLD: Cursory examination. Turn-your-head- and-cough sort of thing. You'll be out of here in no time.

FEINGOLD: I don't write the questions. I just review them.

NICHOLAS: What's all this for?

FEINGOLD: We want a sense of your overall capabilities, limitations, turn-ons, turn-offs...

NICHOLAS: No, I mean, what is it FOR? What are you selling?

FEINGOLD: Oh... it's a game.

NICHOLAS: A game?

FEINGOLD: Tailored specifically to each participant. Think of it as a great vacation, except you don't go to it, it comes to you.

NICHOLAS: What kind of vacation?

FEINGOLD: It's different every time.

NICHOLAS: Humor me with specifics.

FEINGOLD: We provide whatever's lacking.

NICHOLAS: And if nothing's lacking?

FEINGOLD: May I make two suggestions... ?

NICHOLAS: Do you really expect me to participate without knowing a single thing?

FEINGOLD: First, admit to yourself that it sounds intriguing. Second, you don't have to decide today. Take the silly tests, fill out the forms. One day, the game begins. You either love it or hate it. Decide then. We're like an experimental Book-of-the-Month- Club; drop out at any time with no further obligation. That was my sales pitch.

FEINGOLD: Your brother was a client with our London branch. We do a sort of informal scoring. His numbers were outstanding. Sure you're not hungry at all... ? Tung Hoy, best in Chinatown...

NICHOLAS: No, thank you.

FEINGOLD: You need to fill out those forms. Application, psych-tests: M.M.P.I. and T.A.T. For the financial questionnaire, don't answer anything you don't feel like. We'll run a T.R.W....

FEINGOLD: V-A-N... O-R-T-O-N... A gift from Conrad Van Orton. Interesting...

NICHOLAS: What is?

FEINGOLD: Jim Feingold, V.P., E.D.A. Engineering and Data Analysis.

NICHOLAS: I'm not quite sure how this works. My brother...

FEINGOLD: Oh, here we go...

GIRL: Isn't this what you like? They told me you had a thing for boats.

NICHOLAS: First they try to kill me, now you? Put your damn clothes back on.

GIRL: I've been so lonely.

NICHOLAS: I can't tell you how not interested I am.

GIRL: Don't be nervous. They said you'd be nervous.

NICHOLAS: Don't take another step.

NICHOLAS: You know, these fit... perfectly.

GIRL: They were my husband's. My late husband... may he rest in peace.

NICHOLAS: I need the police.

GIRL: Let's get you dried off first. I might have some clothes below.

HOTEL MANAGER: Show Mr. Van Orton to his room.

NICHOLAS: The key?

HOTEL MANAGER: Hm?

NICHOLAS: Is there a room key?

HOTEL MANAGER: Didn't I give you two?

NICHOLAS: No, you didn't...

HOTEL MANAGER: Ah, Mr. Van Orton. Here you go...

NICHOLAS: Have we met?

ILSA: Goodnight. See you home.

NICHOLAS: Goodnight. Where was she?

ILSA: Your mother thought he was a good man. He worked very hard. What I remember most was his manner was so... slight. It was easy to spend time in a room, and not realize he'd been there the whole time.

NICHOLAS: Was he morose, or...? I mean...

ILSA: No. What happened... no one expected it.

NICHOLAS: Sometimes I wonder how much of him there is in me.

ILSA: Not much, I think.

NICHOLAS: I'm just like him.

ILSA: You're not like him at all. I don't know exactly what's going on around here lately, but don't make me start worrying about you.

NICHOLAS: Did you worry about him?

ILSA: Nobody worried about your father.

ILSA: All the time I've known you, you've never once asked about him.

NICHOLAS: He came to my mind recently, that's all.

ILSA: What makes you ask?

NICHOLAS: I'm not sure.

ILSA: Mr. Van Orton... ?

NICHOLAS: Ilsa... you're alright?

ILSA: Yes. What do you mean? What's wrong?

NICHOLAS: Did the alarm go off? The house... they... you didn't see... ?

ILSA: I don't know what you're talking about. What's happened?

NICHOLAS: There's been a break in. Lock this door and stay here. Don't move a muscle.

ILSA: Is everything alright?

NICHOLAS: Fine.

ILSA: I've finished for the evening. Will you be needing anything else?

NICHOLAS: No, thank you. Goodnight.

ILSA: Goodnight then.

ILSA: You did? How is he?

NICHOLAS: Okay. I think he's into some sort of new personal improvement cult.

ILSA: Well... send my love, if you see him again.

ILSA: Dinner's in the oven.

NICHOLAS: Thank you. Goodnight.

NICHOLAS: Thank you.

ILSA: Have a nice day.

MANAGER: There were complaints by other guests, and damage to his room. We did the best we could to accommodate his behavior.

NICHOLAS: His behavior... ?

MANAGER: He couldn't, or refused to pay. We extended credit...

NICHOLAS: Look, where is he?!

MANAGER: There was an incident a few days ago... a nervous breakdown, they said. The police took him. They left this address, in case anyone...

NICHOLAS: Pleasure to meet you, I'd like to see my brother, thank you.

MANAGER: Your brother. Will you come with me?

NICHOLAS: What's this about?

MANAGER: It's a private matter, for you... I think you'll be more comfortable...

NICHOLAS: Where's my brother?

NICHOLAS: What's the trouble?

MANAGER: You're here for Conrad Van Orton? I'm the hotel manager...

NICHOLAS: "Under the Bleachers"... by Seymour Butts.

MARIA: Pardon me? I'm afraid I don't...

NICHOLAS: Cancel lunch. Make reservations at Campton Place for me and Mr. Butts.

NICHOLAS: I don't like her.

MARIA: I wouldn't mention the following, except he was very insistent. It's obviously some sort of prank...

NICHOLAS: What?

MARIA: A gentleman left a message requesting a lunch, but I assured him...

NICHOLAS: What gentleman, Maria?

MARIA: A Mister... Seymour Butts.

MARIA: Your ex-wife.

NICHOLAS: I know who she is. Take a message.

MARIA: Invitations: the Museum Gala.

NICHOLAS: No.

NICHOLAS: The Fitzwilliam Botanical Garden Annual Fundraiser.

NICHOLAS: No.

NICHOLAS: The Hinchberger wedding.

NICHOLAS: Let me think... Hordes of men in tuxedos. Everyone's droning. Ludwell's trying to break the ice by reciting an off-color limerick...

MARIA: I'll send your regrets. Honestly, why must I even bother?

NICHOLAS: Because, if you don't know about society, you don't have the satisfaction of avoiding it.

PLUMP GUY: Hey... !

NICHOLAS: Nice touch. Does the game use real bullets... ?

PLUMP GUY: Look... what I'm doing is none of your business...

NICHOLAS: Is Alan Baer "the Game?" Is that what this is?

PLUMP GUY: Friend... why don't you back off.

PLUMP GUY: What the fuck... ?!

NICHOLAS: Why are you following me?

PLUMP GUY: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just driving...

SUTHERLAND: Bravo, young man. you have to tell me what this was all about sometime. I want you to know... when it looked there for awhile like you were going slowly insane... I was fully prepared to have you committed to the finest mental-health facility available. I mean that sincerely, don't thank me.

NICHOLAS: You warm my heart.

SUTHERLAND: Illegal surveillance, reckless endangerment...

NICHOLAS: Attempted murder.

NICHOLAS: He hasn't called back.

SUTHERLAND: What about the house?

SUTHERLAND: Very well. If you tell me not to worry, I shan't.

NICHOLAS: Sam... Thank you.

NICHOLAS: Christ... I can't believe it... invisible ink?

SUTHERLAND: You're joking.

NICHOLAS: It's what they do. It's like... being toyed with by a bunch of... Depraved children.

NICHOLAS: Someone's playing hardball. It's complicated. Can I ask a favor?

SUTHERLAND: You know you can.

NICHOLAS: Find out about a company called C.R.S. Consumer Recreation Services.

SUTHERLAND: Sounds like they make tennis rackets. What do we know?

NICHOLAS: Just what I told you.

SUTHERLAND: Nothing else?

SUTHERLAND: How concerned should I be?

NICHOLAS: It was a misunderstanding.

SUTHERLAND: Nicholas...

NICHOLAS: That you've involved Conrad... is unforgivable. I am now your enemy.

SUTHERLAND: What's happened...

NICHOLAS: Follow me.

SUTHERLAND: Attractive...

NICHOLAS: Don't ask.

SUTHERLAND: I checked it personally.

NICHOLAS: I wasn't expecting you.

SUTHERLAND: Wanted to wish you luck. Not that you'll need it.

SUTHERLAND: Anything wrong... ?

NICHOLAS: Nothing. Nothing at all.