| Vault
Summary from official site, www.duesouth.com via Wayback Machine A simple trip to the bank leaves Fraser and Ray swimming in millions and gasping for air in a struggle against time. When a computer glitch pronounces Ray dead even the bank won't cash his checks. With Fraser in tow the two visit the bank in order to straighten out the situation. But the familiar face of one of the bank's cleaning staff tips off Fraser that more than just a computer has been corrupted. The cleaners stage a hold up and without hesitancy Fraser pulls Ray with him into the bank vault and shuts the door in an attempt to protect the bank's money. Their initial plans foiled, the robbers endeavour to drill through the thick metal door protecting the vault. Their agenda now includes disposing of everything in the vault, including it's two captives. In order to save the money and catch the crooks by surprise, Fraser breaks off a sprinkler head and the vault quickly begins to fill with water. Meanwhile, on the outside, Ray's sister Francesca has become a hostage. Her well-intentioned attempts to slow down the thieves progress may well include drowning her brother and his partner in the process. Not only do Ray and Fraser feel the pressure of the water rising, but the pressure of coming to terms with what might be their final assignment together. With seconds to go, Francesca's ploy is discovered and the vault door blows. The tidal wave of water floods the bank and makes a clean sweep of the criminals. Fraser meets his new boss, Inspector Meg Thatcher, who, apart from being damned attractive, seems intent on getting him fired. Story by Jeff King & Paul Haggis & Kathy Slevin
Regular Cast
Guest Stars
COOPER - David Crean
ASSISTANT BANK MANAGER - Marium Carvell
Unofficial Transcript Vault [Exterior shot of the sidewalk outside the Canadian consulate. A young boy is dripping ice cream on the sentry's boots. The sentry remains motionless and unresponsive as the church clock across the street begins to chime.] Boy: Four... three... two... one... [The boy drops the drippy ice cream cone on the sentry's boot and runs, then stops and turns around.] Boy: Hey, dummy! Your shift's over! Sentry: [no response] Boy: Hello! I'm committing a crime here! [walks back toward the motionless sentry waving his hands] Boy: Geez! What happened to the other guy? [Camera focuses on Const. Benton Fraser and another man standing in the window behind the unresponsive sentry.] Man: The man works twelve hour shifts, never moves a muscle. Fraser: Who is he? Man: I don't know, some yutz in a hat. [Fraser follows the man up the stairs inside the consulate] They flew him in from the academy while you were hospitalized. Say, how's the back? Bullet wound wasn't it? Fraser: Good as new. Thank you kindly, um...? Man: Ovitz. Fraser: Ovitz... Ovitz: Yeah, it's a nickname. Hers, respectfully and affectionately. [Then under his breath] Right, respectfully, my... [Fraser stops to inspect the contents of a box on the corner of Ovitz' desk.] Fraser: Superintendent Moffat. Did he... uh, did he retire? Ovitz: Promoted. The man spends seven years in that office, doesn't make one valuable contribution. One day he slaps a Mountie hat on a Mickey Mouse doll and... [snaps his fingers.] [The phone rings, Ovitz answers, listens a moment then hangs up.] She'll see you now. [Fraser turns toward the door.] Ovitz: Don't be nervous. Fraser: I'm not. Ovitz: Not to worry, I'm sure it's nothing. Fraser: What is? Ovitz: Your personnel files. She ordered them directly from Ottawa. But I'm sure that's standard procedure, right? I mean, you're the deputy, she's your new boss... Fraser: Of course, standard procedure. Ovitz: Your medical file, your time sheets... Fraser: Also standard. Ovitz: Sure. Wow, you sure have moved around a lot. Fraser: Excuse me... um... Ovitz: Ovitz. Fraser: ...Ovitz. You know, if there's certain information you've been privy to as part of your duties as the inspector's executive secretary, you have a responsibility to keep that information to yourself. Ovitz: Wow. You'll be fine. She's already eaten two file clerks for breakfast. [Fraser pauses at the door, turns and looks at Dief. Dief turns and runs down the stairs. Fraser turns and walks through the door into the office beyond.] [Ray Vecchio, his left arm in a sling, comes into the door to Lieut. Welsh's office, closing the door behind him.] Vecchio: I appreciate this, sir. I know you're busy, won't take a moment. Welsh: You're right. Disapproved. Vecchio: You've thought this over carefully, sir? Welsh: Uh huh. Yeah, for about three minutes. Vecchio: With all due respect sir, three minutes for an officer wounded in the line of duty, in defense of a fellow officer, I might add, seems to be... Welsh: The Mountie. Setting aside this penchant you and Constable Fraser have for shooting each other, uh, this bullet you describe here in this form... This is your handwriting, I assume? Vecchio: Of course it is, sir. Welsh: It's a truly remarkable piece of ammunition. You see here it says shoulder wound? Vecchio: Oh, yes, sir. Ripped right through the old lateral deltoid. Welsh: The truly startling thing? This bullet upon entering your shoulder appears to have taken a radical change in direction, traveling southward, piercing a lung and injuring several major organs. Now why do you suppose it did that, Detective? Vecchio: Nobody knows why these things happen, sir. A freak accident. Welsh: Uh huh, and a rather convenient one. 'Cause this wound would entitle you to extended leave benefits to the tune of, uh, oh... that's a lot of sunshine and margaritas, huh? Vecchio: Look, sir, I submitted the insurance form to the company. Now, if they approve it... Welsh: All right, then the insurance company and I might have to sit down and have a little chat. Because wound or no wound, you're back on the streets tomorrow. Vecchio: And that's your final decision, sir? Welsh: Oh, it is. [Ray turns toward the door] And Vecchio? This incident might fade from my mind completely if you were to stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours. Vecchio: Understood, sir. Welsh: Have a good day, Vecchio. Vecchio: You too, sir. [Ray turns and walks out of the office door.] [Camera shifts to a close-up of a hand-drawn diagram of a cartoon figure with arrows showing the path of the bullet.] Louis: Now this bullet... Huey: This magic bullet. [Huey holds up a bullet in a clear ziplock evidence bag.] Louis: ...entered here, took a sharp right, bounced off the collar bone, pierced the rib cage and took a U-turn at the pancreas. Vecchio: Stay out of my desk. [Ray grabs the diagram from Louis as he stalks back to his desk.] Huey: Ooooo... Louis: Tsk, tsk, tsk... temper, temper. [Ray sits down at his desk, as Elaine drops his mail onto the desk top.] Elaine: All bills. Welcome back! Vecchio: Any more good news, Elaine? Elaine: Your disability application? It's been denied. The insurance doctor said, "No man could sustain this kind of injury and live." Vecchio: And the good news, Elaine? Elaine: Uh, it could wait. Vecchio: Elaine! Elaine: They are burying you with full honors, Thursday at 3 o'clock. Don't be late. [The Riv is seen cruising down the streets of Chicago. Francesca is driving, Ray is in the front passenger seat and Fraser and Diefenbaker are in the back seat. The song "Leading Me On" by Colin James is blaring on the car radio.] Vecchio: Well, I'm a dead man, Fraser. Some yahoo down at City Hall read my insurance report and flagged my name in the central computer system. Look at this. Vecchio, Raymond, deceased. [Fraser shows the document to Dief sitting beside him in the back seat.] Vecchio: So then the city hall computer instructs the Federal and State computer to cancel my driver's registration, my driver's license and my Social Security card. So now, I'm being buried on Thursday and I can't even get my good suit out of the cleaners. WILL YOU SHUT THAT OFF! [Ray reaches over and switches off the radio.] Frannie: No, I'm driving, I should get to hear to whatever I want. [She turns the radio back on.] Vecchio: This is my car, okay? You've merely been given temporary dispensation to drive it; which means you can keep your butt in that seat, your hands on the wheel and your feet on the pedals and that's it! Frannie: Well, thank you, Your Eminence! I'll remember that the next time you need somebody to back up your phony insurance claim. Vecchio: Phony insurance claim! Let me tell you somethin', I have latent muscle damage which inhibits me from making three point turns. [Ray turns to Fraser in the back seat.] Can you believe this? I've been putting up with this... Why are you wearing that? Where's the brown uniform? Fraser: I just had my first interview with my new inspector. Vecchio: Went well, did it? Fraser: I'm on probation, Ray. Inspector Thatcher has reviewed my job performance and I gather she found my methods to be somewhat unorthodox. Vecchio: Is that how they punish Mounties in Canada? They make 'em dress like Americans? Fraser: It's not exactly an American uniform, and the brown one was somewhat antiquated. I'm told this is the current fashion. Frannie: I think it's kinda cute. Fraser: Thank you kindly, Francesca. Vecchio: Look, you just keep your eyes on the road and you [indicating Fraser] keep your eyes in your head. Frannie: [sigh] I wish I had a uniform. You know, when you wear a uniform, you're somebody. People respect you. Vecchio: Let me tell you somethin', Frannie. You're my sister, all right? But trust me, no matter what you wear, people will never respect you. All right, pull over. Frannie: No. Vecchio: I said, pull over. Frannie: No. Not until you show me some respect. Vecchio: Look, this is my car. I said pull over, now you pull over! [Francesca slams on the breaks and the Riv comes to a screeching halt.] [Ray picks himself off the floor, straightening his sling.] Vecchio: [sigh] Thank you. Frannie: You're quite welcome. Hey! Five minutes, or I'm comin' in after ya. Vecchio: Yeah yeah yeah! [Fraser is standing on the curb contemplating the fur lined hat that goes with his new uniform.] Vecchio: What is that, a dead animal? She can make you wear a dead animal on your head? Fraser: It's regulation. [They both check out Fraser's reflection in the store window.] Well? Vecchio: She's definitely punishing you. Fraser: She's my superior officer, Ray. She's not a field officer, mind you; but she's a very fine officer, a woman of considerable character. Vecchio: Fraser, this woman hates you. Fraser: I believe so, yes. Vecchio: OK, POLICE! MOVE ASIDE! [Ray flashes his badge at the line of people waiting outside the building.] POLICE! MOVE ASIDE! Fraser: Ray, Ray, Ray... [Grabbing Ray's arm.] Vecchio: Don't start with me, okay? This is a legitimate emergency situation, all right? Fraser: What is? [Ray holds up a piece of paper.] Fraser: Bulls tickets? Vecchio: Not just Bulls tickets-- Bulls season tickets. ALL RIGHT, POLICE! MOVE ASIDE! [Fraser follows Ray into the building. Ray shoves past the people waiting in line, waving his badge.] COME ON! BACK OFF! BACK OFF! LOOK OUT, BUDDY! POLICE, MOVE ASIDE! Man walking out of the bank: Yeah, yeah, yeah! Wow! Vecchio: [Turning to Fraser.] I am going to cash my last disability check. Then I'm going to renew my pass and then I'm going to have something to look forward to. Who says you can't take it with you? Fraser: [Turning to the people behind him.] I apologise for my friend. [The camera cuts to a man jogging down the street and a dark blue van pulling into the alley behind the bank.] Van Driver [Lenny]: [Speaking into a walkie talkie] We're in the alley, honey. [Camera cuts to a female customer standing at a teller's window.] Female Customer [Morgan]: [Speaking into a hidden microphone.]
Morgan: I will. Security Guard: [As Ray and Fraser walk through the door.] We're closing now. Vecchio: Oh no, you're not! [As he pushes past the security guard.] Security Guard: Hey! Fraser: I'm terribly sorry... [shaking the security guard's hand and reading his name tag.] Bob. We'll just be a minute. Thank you. Vecchio: CAN I GET A MANAGER HERE! [Waving his ATM card.] CAN I SEE A MANAGER? Female Teller [Laurie]: I'm sorry, sir, but the bank is closed. Vecchio: Oh no, it is not! It is not closed. See, it is open. Laurie: No, it is not, sir. Vecchio: Yes, it is, ma'am. Fraser: Ray, perhaps I can assist... Vecchio: Fraser, look, this is my bank, this is my account, I'll handle it, okay? Laurie: Can I have a manager here? Vecchio: Very good, Laurie! Way to take the initiative! Bank Manager: Can I help you, sir? Vecchio: Yes. Hi, my name is Raymond Vecchio. This is my bank and this was my ATM card. [Ray holds up his mangled ATM card.] Bank Manager: Ah! Well. It's a machine and occasionally we do have a problem or two. Let's take a look, shall we? Vecchio: Yes, let's. [Outside in the blue van.] Morgan: We've got fourteen minutes to be in and out. [Inside the bank manager's office.] Bank Manager: Vecchio, Raymond? Vecchio: Yeah, how many times do I have to tell ya? Bank Manager: Uh, account number? Vecchio: 99105. Bank Manager: Hmm. Well you do have a problem. The account's been frozen. Vecchio: What? Bank Manager: It can't be accessed. Vecchio: Yeah, well, I think it can. [Ray puts his badge down on the manager's desk.] Bank Manager: I'm afraid not. Unless you have a court order detective, I can't help you. The owner of this account is deceased. Vecchio: Deceased. [Camera cuts to Morgan, Lenny and two other men entering the bank dressed as janitors.] Security Guard: New team, huh, Vince? Lenny: Yeah, it's hard to find good help. [The four of them file past the security guard.] Vecchio: Okay. Now let me get this straight. I'm here, my money's here; but the computer says I'm not really here, so I can't have it. Bank Manager: I'm very sorry. I'll have to call head office and if you could just come back tomorrow... Vecchio: Hey, I'm a cop. I may not be alive tomorrow. Bank Manager: Well, according to this, you're not alive now. Fraser: Excuse me, Ray. Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Sir, I am fully willing to vouch for this man's veracity. Vecchio: See, a Canadian's vouching for me. Canadians do not lie. Fraser: Now, I think that's probably hyperbole, Ray. Vecchio: He's also a Mountie. If you cannot trust a Mountie, who can you trust? Fraser: Again, Ray, I'm not sure I'd go so far as... Vecchio: Yes, you would. Fraser: I would. Assistant Manager: Ten to three, Mr. Cooper. Mr. Cooper: Excuse me. Vecchio: Excuse you? I'm trying to do some business, here with you! [They follow Mr. Cooper out of his office.] Will you wait a second? Fraser: Look, Ray. Perhaps we should... Vecchio: I want my money! All right, I'll tell you what. I'll give you this check, you give me twelve hundred and forty-two dollars and we'll call the head office in the morning. Mr. Cooper: Mr. Vecchio, this is a secured area, if you would stand back please? Vecchio: Are you not going to give me a consideration here? All right, fine. Fine! I mean, who am I? Right? I'm just a cop, Right? Nobody important. I'm just a nameless, faceless working stiff who risks his life to protect your business and your family. Who may just happen to get his head blown off trying to find your stolen BMW. Are you listening to me? Is anybody listening to me? [While Ray has been ranting, Fraser has been looking around the bank and has apparently noticed something is not quite right about the cleaning crew.] Fraser: Ray, there's something we'd better discuss... Vecchio: Not now. Fraser! Assistant Manager: Mr. Cooper! We have five minutes. Morgan: FREEZE! [She and the other members of the cleaning crew have suddenly produced handguns.] This is a holdup! Okay, everyone, down on the floor! DOWN! [She suddenly recognises Fraser.] It's you! The Mountie! Vecchio: Friend of yours? Fraser: Ours. Last year, she robbed a brokerage firm. Vecchio: The one who shot you in the hat? Morgan: You made my life hell! Fraser: I'm terribly sorry. Vecchio: Don't apologise to her. Assistant Manager: Don't shoot! Don't shoot! [While Morgan is momentarily distracted by the woman, Fraser and Ray run into the vault and close the door.] Morgan: OPEN IT! OPEN IT! Mr. Cooper: I can't, it's got a time lock on it. Morgan: So! Disarm it! Mr. Cooper: I can't. No one can. Lenny: What time does it open? Mr. Cooper: Eight o'clock, tomorrow morning. Morgan: HE IS NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS! DO YOU HEAR THAT, MOUNTIE? Lenny: It's okay, baby, it's okay. We'll take care of the Mountie. Morgan: I dreamed about him, Lenny. Every night while I was in prison. I carved his face into my cell wall. With my FINGERNAILS! Lenny: Morgan, I got you out of there, didn't I? I'll get you out of this, okay? Crook #3: Forget it! It's impossible. That door is solid steel, two feet thick! Lenny: Harold! Harold: Combinations are easy enough. It's a time lock. There's no point in drilling a lock that can't be disabled. Lenny: Yeah, but there is a way, right? Harold: There's always a way. You drill the locking bolts, you stuff 'em with C-4 then you blow 'em. Morgan: Good! Pack it with the stuff. I want those bozos blown to kingdom come. [Inside the vault, Ray is pacing back and forth yelling into his cell phone. Fraser is down on his hands and knees examining the interior of the vault.] Vecchio: Hello! 9-1-1! Hello! I'm not receiving! Why aren't I receiving here? Fraser: Well, we're inside a vault, Ray. Vecchio: I know we're in a vault. Fraser: High carbon steel, I'd say eight to ten inches thick. There's no hollow spots in the walls. Its probably backed by solid concrete. Vecchio: All right. Check for ventilation. Fraser: Got it. Vecchio: A vent? Fraser: Yes. And we are in luck, Ray! It is completely sealed off. Vecchio: What? Fraser: Airtight. Obviously for security. Rest easy, Ray. The money is perfectly safe. Vecchio: Oh, well that's a relief, because for a moment there I was concerned that all these little Thomas Jeffersons were going to run out of oxygen! Fraser: Ray, there is no need for either sarcasm or panic. We're in a eight by ten foot room with a ten foot ceiling. That gives us roughly 800 cubic feet of air. It is now 3:15. The time lock isn't set to open until 8:00 A.M. So there is no danger of us suffocating for at least... You know, Ray, in situations like this the Inuit... Vecchio: Oh! We're gonna die! Fraser: We're not going to die, Ray. Vecchio: Oh, yes, we are, Fraser. We're gonna die protecting somebody else's money! Fraser: Ray, there is an inherent danger in all police work. Vecchio: No, Fraser. What there is, is an inherent danger working with you. Fraser: Well, you didn't have to do this. You could've thrown your hands in the air like a baby. Vecchio: That is what I was trying to do. I am not a baby! Fraser: No, Ray. I know you. You were attempting to protect this institution... Vecchio: No, I wasn't! Fraser: ...and its employees with your life. Vecchio: You see? That's where you get confused. I am not like you, Fraser. I don't throw myself in the line of fire so that some money-grubbing, backstabbing bank doesn't have to pay higher insurance premiums! Fraser: You don't really mean that. Vecchio: Oh yes, I do. Fraser: No, you don't Vecchio: Yes, I do. Fraser: I beg to differ. Vecchio: In my heart and soul... Fraser: I beg to differ. [BANG!] [Outside the vault the bank robbers are preparing to drill the locking bolts on the vault door.] Crook #3: Could you slow down a bit, Harold? I'm looking forward to relaxing in jail this weekend. Harold: I gotta drill eight holes through twelve inches of steel. Now, am I doing this or are you? Lenny: I'm gonna go check on the truck. Why don't you put this on the door. [Lenny hands him an under construction sign.] Crook #3: What am I, a messenger boy? Morgan: Go! [Camera cuts to Francesca waiting in the Riv, polishing her fingernails and talking on her cell phone.] Frannie: No, Ma, I can't go to the butcher's. Because I'm busy. Ma, it's always what you need and what Ray needs. What about what I need sometime? What do I need? How about being treated like a valuable, respected human being for a change? No, Ma! The butcher does not respect me. "Kiss me and I'll give you a pork round" does not constitute respect. Ma, I gotta go. Yeah, okay Ma, fine. Pork chops and veal. Yes! Milk fed! [She turns to Dief in the back seat.] You stay here. And don't touch the radio. [As soon as she leaves, Dief jumps out of the car window.] [Inside the bank vault.] Fraser: This is interesting, Ray. It's a 1986 Windsor-Creighton Protector 2000. Vecchio: Fraser, do you realize that we are going to die surrounded by millions of dollars? Fraser: Ray, do you realize that this door has eight cantilever deadbolts countersunk into two feet of high carbon steel? And in the ten years it's been in use, to my knowledge, it has never been breached. Vecchio: I believe the Greeks have a word for this: hubris. Fraser: Well, no, Ray, actually hubris is excessive pride or wanton insolence. Vecchio: What about pathos? Fraser: Well, pathos is a quality in an artistic representation which excites a feeling of pity or sadness. Vecchio: What about onomatopoeia? Fraser: Well, onomatopoeia is wherein a word imitates the sound or action of the thing it describes, i.e. woof, bow wow, ribbit. Vecchio: Irony? [Fraser gives him a dirty look.] Fraser: Now, the dead bolts are roughly four inches in diameter. If they're drilling that means they intend to fill the holes with some kind of high explosive and then blow the door off its hinges. No doubt they've already disabled the surveillance cameras, so there's no fear of the police showing up, until the alarm has been triggered. Vecchio: Which it won't be until the door is blown. Fraser: Which will be too late. Vecchio: Which means we'll probably die. Fraser: Oh, we're not gonna die, Ray. No doubt some foot patrol will chance upon our unhappy scene and notice that something is amiss. Vecchio: In Chicago? Fraser: That's a good point! Vecchio: Francesca! [Francesca is seen peeking through the blinds on the bank's front door] Frannie: Hey! Open up in there! Don't hide from me, I see you! Crook #3: We're closed! Frannie: What? Crook #3: Read the sign, lady! Frannie: Hey! Don't get smart with me, mister! Oh, oh what! So you're saying because I'm a woman I must be over-reacting? Crook # 3: Don't cause a scene, lady! Frannie: A scene? Oh, no, no, this is not a scene. Now if I were screaming and stamping my feet for instance, LIKE THIS! [Begins stomping her feet.] YES! THIS WOULD BE MAKING A SCENE! COME ON! WHAT, ARE YOU COVERING FOR HIM? HAS HE GOT SOME GIRL IN THERE? HE DOES, DOESN'T HE? THAT LOW-LIFE CRUMB IS IN THERE MAKING A DATE WITH SOME BANK TELLER. OH, THIS IS RICH! A GUY WITH A BAD HAIR CUT FLASHES A BADGE AND THE WOMEN ARE ALL OVER HIM. [Morgan approaches the door to find out what's going on.] Crook #3: Some broad thinks we have her brother in here. Frannie: Look, you tell Mr. Fancy Pants Detective, either he's out here in five minutes, or I'm wrapping that car around a tree! Morgan: Detective, huh? Frannie: Okay, where is he? [They open the door and as Francesca steps in they point their guns at her head.] [Morgan holds the phone out to Francesca.] Morgan: Talk. Frannie: I refuse to be used as a pawn to force my brother to forsake his duty. Morgan: If that door doesn't open in ten seconds... [She waves her gun.] Frannie: Gimme that. [Francesca grabs the phone.] [Inside the vault the phone is ringing.] Vecchio: Phone! Fraser: I was afraid of this. [Ray lunges for the phone. Fraser wrestles him away.] Fraser: No, Ray! Ray, no! Vecchio: What are you doing? Fraser: It's them. Vecchio: Of course it's them. Who else has the phone number to the vault? Fraser: Ray, they are going to try to talk to us. Convince us to open the door. Vecchio: We can open it? Fraser: Of course we can open it. The release lever is right here. It's standard equipment. Vecchio: You knew this and you didn't tell me? [He begins yanking on the release lever.] Fraser: Ray, would please just listen to me? This isn't about the loss of millions of dollars from some bank! This is about the average ordinary citizen who has placed their trust in an institution. We're here to guard that trust. Vecchio: Fraser, they'll get their money back through insurance. [The lever comes off in his hand.] Vecchio: It's broken. Fraser: It's not broken. I disabled it. Vecchio: What did you do that for? Fraser: In case one of us weakened. [Ray makes a lunge for the phone again. Fraser wrestles it out of his hand and rips the cord from the wall.] Vecchio: What are you doing? Fraser: It was Francesca. Vecchio: Of course it's Francesca! She's in the bank! [Outside, Morgan grabs the phone from Francesca.] Frannie: He... he hung up. I'm standing here with a gun to my head and he won't even come to the phone! Vecchio: They're gonna kill her, Fraser. Fraser: No, they're not, Ray. If they can't speak to you, then they can't tell you that they have Francesca. And if they can't tell you that they have Francesca, then they can't threaten you; rendering the point of a hostage moot. Vecchio: But I know that they have her. Fraser: They don't know that you know. You see? It's the only way to protect her. Vecchio: She's my sister. Fraser: She's also a very intelligent young woman. Capable of handling herself in any given situation. Vecchio: You really believe that? Fraser: Not at all. Vecchio: Good, me either. [Outside the vault.] Frannie: DO SOMETHING! Morgan: Lady, I can't threaten them if they won't pick up the phone! Frannie: So, keep dialing. What kind of bank robber are you? Morgan: LOOK! You either shut up and sit down or I'm gonna shoot you. Frannie: Yeah, like anyone would notice. [Morgan shoves her to the floor.] Morgan: DON'T JUST STAND THERE, DRILL! [Outside, Lenny has just finished checking the truck when he notices Diefenbaker watching him.] Lenny: GET OUT OF HERE! GIT! Dief: Woof! Lenny: GO ON! [Dief jumps back a few steps as Lenny walks away, leaving the back door of the van slightly open.] [Inside the bank.] Frannie: They're gonna kill us all you know. A last prayer... a single bullet to the head. Tomorrow? We'll be nothing but headlines. Yes! Headlines! And photographs! Oh! Dead bodies on a blood-soaked rug. Family members prostrate with grief. A reporter chronicles their last brave moments. [The assistant manager begins to cry.] Frannie: Oh, oh no, don't cry! Hey! Let's sing a marching song! [Inside the vault Fraser and Ray are discussing the situation, but we see only their feet.] Vecchio: Okay, so they have the drills, they have the explosives, and they have my sister. And we've got? What do we got, Fraser? Fraser: We have our wits, Ray. Vecchio: They have the drills, they have the explosives and they have my sister. So we've got? Fraser: Well, there's always Diefenbaker, he's ever alert to an emergency. [Camera cuts to the van outside. Diefenbaker is busy stealing the robber's junk food.] Lenny: I SAID STAY OUT OF HERE! GET OUT! [Inside the vault.] Fraser: In fact, I think he will go straight for the nearest available help. [Camera shows Diefenbaker running down the street past a fire truck, a group of marines, and a police officer issuing a traffic citation.] Vecchio: Okay, so they have the drills, they have the explosives and they have my sister. [Out in the lobby the camera pans across the faces of the hostages while Francesca rambles on.] Frannie: The first thing you have to watch out for is that Norwegian syndrome. Because you cannot identify with them in any way. But not that you would, because you are brave innocent hostages and they're unfeeling worms who should be stripped naked and hung upside down by their toes... but that's later. Okay, in the meantime, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Mr. Cooper: Excuse me. Who are you, anyway? [Camera cuts to Diefenbaker running down the street.] [Back inside the bank the drilling stops.] Morgan: You got it? Harold: I can't tell. I don't know how deep the deadbolts are. I need the specs for the door. [Inside the vault, Fraser is testing the door with a tuning fork.] Fraser: Now, I don't have the specifications for the door, Ray. But I've been making calculations based on its thickness, the depth of the existing hole and the reflection of the tonal input as it percusses against my tuning fork. Vecchio: Where the hell did you get a tuning fork? Fraser: That's not important, what is important is that I have managed to ascertain that the bolts are eight point three inches from the outside surface. [Outside the door, Morgan points her gun at Mr. Cooper.] Morgan: How far? Mr. Cooper: About eight inches. Harold: We're there, then. That's nineteen point one minutes a bolt... [Inside the vault.] Fraser: ...nineteen point one minutes per bolt to drill the remaining holes, another two minutes after that to set the charges and then another minute to prime them... [Outside the vault.] Harold: ...and a minute to prime them. [Inside the vault.] Fraser: Now that is one hundred and thirty minutes in total. The upshot of this, Ray, is that we need a plan. Vecchio: Well, there is a plan, Fraser, and it goes something like this: They drill the door. They blow the door. They shoot us with automatic weapons and we die. Fraser: Hmmm. What about a happier plan, Ray? One in which we surprise them, we disarm them and we rescue the hostages. Vecchio: And we do all of this with a tuning fork? Look, Fraser, if I had a choice between one of their plans and one of yours, I'd choose theirs. It's probably safer. [Out in the bank lobby, Francesca is still rambling.] Frannie: Sure we'll die painful grisly deaths, but it will be worth it, because finally our families will respect us. [Inside the vault Fraser is pacing back and forth, while Ray rests on the floor.] Fraser: You know, Ray, there's only one way to break out of here, rescue your sister and prevent this robbery. Vecchio: Yeah, how's that? Fraser: It'd be dangerous. You'd be risking your life. You'd have to trust me implicitly. Vecchio: Yeah? Well, I don't trust you at all. Fraser: You don't really mean that, do you? Vecchio: Oh, yes, I do. I mean, why should I trust you? In the last two years you've risked our lives twenty-two times. Fraser: Boy, I had no idea it'd been that many. Vecchio: Yeah, well it has. Fraser: I didn't realize you'd been counting. Vecchio: Well, I just felt that I should because you didn't seem to pay any attention to it. Fraser: I'm sorry if it upset you, Ray. Vecchio: I am not upset, I just wish you would ask me about it, let me know in advance. Fraser: How far in advance? Vecchio: I don't know, how about an hour? Fraser: What if we're in the middle of a crisis, Ray? Vecchio: Just ask me. Fraser: All right, I'm asking you. Vecchio: Well, I'll have to think about it. Fraser: Why? Vecchio: 'Cause I'll just have to think about it, okay? God, I'd just like to get some rest. [Camera cuts to Diefenbaker still running in search of help.] [Back in the bank lobby, Francesca whispers into Crook #3's ear.] Frannie: I know we've only known each other a short time, but for some reason I feel a deep kinship towards you and your cause and I know now that I want to dedicate my life to whatever your life is dedicated to. Crook #3: We're stealing money, lady. Frannie: Oh! Well I suppose that'll do. [Crook #3 points his gun at her and motions for her to sit down on the floor.] [Dief is still running.] [Inside the bank vault, Ray is still resting on the floor. Fraser is sitting next him tapping his hands on his knees, staring at Ray and waiting.] Vecchio: Okay! Okay! What is it? [Fraser opens his mouth to speak, but Ray interrupts.] Vecchio: No! No, don't tell me! Don't tell me. Just do it. Okay? Because if you tell me, two things are going to happen: one, I'm gonna know it's stupid, and two, you're gonna do it anyway. This way you can just do it and I won't know that it's stupid. Fraser: So you've given this some thought? Vecchio: Yes. Fraser: You're quite sure? Vecchio: Oh, I'm positive. Fraser: All right. [Fraser stands up, grabs the door lever and uses it to break the sprinkler head. Water begins pouring from the broken sprinkler.] Vecchio: HEY! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR? Fraser: Well, you said you didn't want to know. Vecchio: YEAH? WELL NOW I WANNA KNOW! Fraser: Well, I'm not sure that I should tell you. Vecchio: WELL TELL ME! Fraser: You're sure? Vecchio: YES! Fraser: All right, as I mentioned earlier, they have one hundred and thirty-seven minutes to open this vault. Now they resumed drilling exactly five minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago. That leaves them one hundred and thirty-one minutes and thirty seconds. Now, taking into account the dimensions of this room, the size of this sprinkler head and the rate of the flow of water, by the time they blow this door, this vault will be filled with water. They will be met by a virtual tidal wave. Vecchio: Where will we be in the mean time? Fraser: Floating. Vecchio: I realize that. Dead or alive? Fraser: Well, there should be sufficient air left. Vecchio: How much is sufficient? Fraser: About an inch, give or take. Vecchio: Oh, that much? Fraser: What? Vecchio: THAT MUCH? Fraser: Oh yeah, yeah. That is, providing they maintain a constant rate of drilling. [Out in the bank lobby, Francesca removes her jacket.] Frannie: It's now or never. Auf wiedersehen. [She walks toward the vault door.] Hey! You with the drill! [She rips open her blouse, revealing a bright red bustier.] Take me! [Harold stops drilling and removes his goggles to get a better look.] [Inside the vault, Ray waits with his coat over his head.] Vecchio: What if they stop drilling? [Diefenbaker has finally made it back to the consulate where the new constable is still standing guard duty. Two little boys are shooting spit wads at him while he stands at attention. Small white dots of paper cover one side of his face.] Dief: Woof, growl, woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! [There is no response from the sentry.] Smaller boy: Maybe he's stuffed. Dief: Woof, woof, woof! [Back inside the vault, Ray and Fraser stand soaking wet, watching the door.] Vecchio: The backup plan? [Out in the lobby, Harold resumes drilling while Lenny secures Francesca to a chair with duct tape.] Frannie: All right! So it was a desperate and foolish ploy. But someone has to stand up to you people. I'll sacrifice anything, you know. My life, my honor, even my body. Lenny: Look, I promise you, lady, nobody wants your body. Frannie: Well, you say that now, but later when you're tired and frustrated and the smell of sweat is in the air... Morgan: Are you done yet? Lenny: Will you shut up and stay put, please? Morgan: You should have had her tied up in the first place. [Francesca swivels around in her chair to face the other hostages.] Frannie: You see? I have them right where I want them. They think I'm nuts! [Obviously the other hostages think so too.] [Back inside the vault Ray sits up to his knees in water.] Vecchio: You know, I just can't shake this feeling that we're gonna die. [Camera pans down to reveal Fraser under water.] FRASER! [Fraser pops up out of the water, checks his watch and listens at the door.] Vecchio: How many was that? Fraser: Six, two more to go. All right we've lost seven minutes. And at six point two cubic inches per second, that will leave us approximately... Well, you know, Ray, there are worse things than dying. Vecchio: Name three. Fraser: How about two? Vecchio: All right. Fraser: Living without honor or dying without reason. Vecchio: Which one would this be? Fraser: Well, this wouldn't be either of those, actually. This would be more like... death in the line of duty. Vecchio: You know, I always thought duty was what you got paid to do. This is more like voluntary stupidity. Fraser: Well, I'm sure there are some people who think that's what good deeds are, Ray. Vecchio: Well, aren't they? Fraser: Well, I don't know. I've never thought about it. [Back at the consulate.] Dief: Woof, woof, woof! [The church clock begins to chime and the sentry suddenly comes to life.] Constable: Trouble? Dief: Woof! Woof! Constable: Canadian? Dief: Woof! Constable: Lead on! [Back at the bank, Crook #3 prepares the explosive for the vault door.] Crook #3: Get the detonator. [The constable is seen running down the street with Diefenbaker in the lead.] [Back in the vault, the water is now waist deep.] Vecchio: The point is, Fraser, you almost get yourself killed for some stupid cause every other day and you never stop to ask yourself what are you getting out of this. Is someone paying you to do this? Or am I just some crazed do-gooder? Or, is God telling you to do this? [Ray begins taking money out of one of the bags on the shelf.] Fraser: Ray! That is private property! Vecchio: I don't care! I'm getting my twelve hundred and forty-two bucks. All right? That is what I'm getting out of this. But what about you? Do you know what you're getting out of this? No, you don't, do you? Fraser: No, Ray, it is simply a responsibility I took on when I put on the uniform. Vecchio: Uniform? You don't even like that uniform! They took away the uniform that you liked. And did you say anything? No! Not a word! [Dief and the constable are seen running down the street. Suddenly, an armed robber backs out of a store in front of them. The constable disarms the robber, tosses the gun and money bag back to the startled store owner and continues running after Dief.] [Back in the bank, Harold pulls the drill away from the vault door.] Harold: We're done. Morgan: Blow it. [Out on the street, the constable pauses to help a group of preschool children cross the street.] [Francesca watches the robbers prepare to blow the vault door. She reaches out with her foot and pulls the cord behind her back and begins to rub it against the back of the chair.] Frannie: [To the other hostages:] Think of me fondly. [The hostages try to inch away from her.] [Back inside the vault, Ray and Fraser are now floating on their backs with their bare feet sticking up out of the water using bags of money as floatation devices.] Vecchio: Admit it, Fraser. You feel unappreciated. Can you do this for me? Can you do this one small thing for me? Can you admit that at least once in your perfect existence you've felt the need to put yourself before your duty? Because if you do that, I can float peacefully to my death. Fraser: Why, Ray? Vecchio: I just will, now humor me. Fraser: All right. Uh, occasionally, it's only very occasionally... Is this really necessary? Vecchio: Fraser, I am drowning on dry land. Fraser: All right, Ray, all right. Occasionally I do feel... what was it? Vecchio: Unappreciated. Fraser: Unappreciated. Occasionally I do feel unappreciated. Vecchio: You do? Fraser: Occasionally. Vecchio: Well, thank you! Good! Well, from now on, for the next minute or two, can you try to stick up for yourself more? Fraser: I will try, Ray. [Outside the vault door, Crook #3 has finished installing the explosives.] Crook #3: We're on. [Inside the vault, Ray and Fraser are treading water, their heads barely inches from the ceiling.] Vecchio: Well, at least they won't be gathered for nothing on Thursday. Hey, Benny! Fraser: Yes, Ray? Vecchio: My eulogy, I would have liked you to have delivered it. Fraser: Well, I'm honored, Ray. Vecchio: What would you have said? Fraser: Well, let's see. I think I would have said that you were a good friend and that you never failed me. Vecchio: I didn't, did I? Fraser: Never. Well, except for that one time. Vecchio: What time? Fraser: You know, Ray to discuss it in a situation like this really would be considered nitpicky. Vecchio: How did I fail you? Fraser: You didn't really fail me... I've almost forgotten about it. Vecchio: Well, ten seconds ago you didn't forget about it. You see, this is so like you. Here we are having a nice mano y mano and you have to ruin it by being honest. [Outside in the lobby, the door is primed and ready. The robbers have taken cover behind a partition.] Morgan: Do it. [Crook #3 depresses the button on the detonator and nothing happens.] Morgan: What now? [They stand up and look toward the door. Lenny, Harold and Crook #3 begin walking toward it when Morgan notices that the cord has been pulled behind Francesca's chair.] Frannie: What? [Behind her back we see that she has broken the cord in two and the bare wires are barely an inch apart.] Morgan: YOU! [She lunges toward Francesca causing her to flinch and the wires connect. The door explodes just as Lenny, Harold and Crook #3 reach it. They are thrown backwards onto the floor.] [Inside the vault.] Vecchio: What was that? Fraser: Our plan unfolding. [Outside the vault door, the robbers have picked themselves up off of the floor and are approaching the door.] Fraser: Ready? [They duck under the water, just as the door explodes outward.] [The three robbers are thrown backwards by the force of the rushing water, knocking them unconscious against a partition as Ray and Fraser slide to safety.] Frannie: [struggling to keep her feet out of the rushing water.] Forty-nine dollar shoes! [Morgan rushes for the front door. She reaches it at the same time as the constable. They collide and are both knocked unconscious.] Dief: Woof! Fraser: Good work, Ray! Vecchio: And you, Fraser! [Ray and Fraser are untying the hostages.] Vecchio: I thought I told you to stay in the car. Frannie: Yeah, that's gratitude. Vecchio: For what? Frannie: Thirty years of picking up socks, buying veal and kissing butchers. Vecchio: Excuse me? Frannie: And the next time I say five minutes, I mean five minutes! Clear? [Ray and Fraser are seen coming out of the bank. Fraser gazes down at the unconscious constable.] Vecchio: You see, Fraser, now this is how it's done. The criminals are inside and we are outside. Now, do you think you can remember that next time? Fraser: I'll try, Ray. Vecchio: Thank you. Is that a smile? Fraser: No. No, of course not. Of course not, although, I will admit to a certain satisfaction. Vecchio: It is a smile. Well, I'll be! Fraser: Be what, Ray? Vecchio: It's an expression. Fraser: It means nothing to me. [Later at the consulate, Fraser stands in front of Inspector Thatcher's desk. The camera pans upward from his feet to reveal that he is again wearing the brown uniform.] Fraser: With respect, ma'am, I have always considered myself to be a diligent officer who has conducted himself with loyalty and obedience. However, this uniform... I have worn this uniform with pride my entire career, as my father wore his and many before him. To me it is much more than just a... a piece of cloth. It is a tradition that links me to every officer who has ever worn it and acquitted himself with honor and integrity. While it is not the current fashion, I would be hard pressed to change it without feeling that I had, in some way, betrayed that tradition. And so, in that this uniform, while not in common usage, is still regulation issue; and in that at most postings the choice of uniform rests with the officer and not with the commander... Well, I--I would prefer... That is, if it's all the same... um... actually I don't much care... Ma'am, I will not change my uniform. Thatcher: You're fired. Fraser: Understood. End |