Air Force One
Andrew Marlow
FADE IN:
INT. C-130 HERCULES TURBO-PROP - NIGHT
Eighteen combat-ready special forces, wearing assault black,
jump packs and combat gear, stare down the deep end of a
greasy ramp into the night sky. Village lights flicker 19,000
feet below.
The STRIKE FORCE LEADER signals to his team.
Without a moment's hesitation, they dive into the darkness
and plummet toward earth.
EXT. MANSION - NIGHT
A military GUARD, old Soviet-style uniform, rounds the corner
of the large estate toting an AK-47.
A red laser dot appears briefly on his forehead and, after a
beat, the red dot seems to bleed. The Guard collapses dead.
Two other GUARDS are dispatched with single, silenced shots.
A Strike Team member at a junction box awaits a signal.
Through infra-red binoculars the strike Force Leader watches
his assault troops as they take positions.
STRIKE FORCE LEADER
(into headset/in
Russian)
GO!
On the estate - as the power goes out. The team on the
mansion's front porch pops the door and pours in.
INT. MANSION - NIGHT
FOLLOWING - the FIVE TEAM MEMBERS as they rush a stairway in
phalanx formation. They nearly knock over an old lady, who
in turn lets out a blood curdling scream.
UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR -
The team kicks open a door. Rushes into the room.
INT. BEDROOM -
Assault weapons pointed at the bed. The soldiers yank back
bedsheets to reveal IVAN STRAVANAVITCH, a middle-aged man
and his half-naked 18-year-old concubine.
SOLDIER
(in Russian)
Get up, now! Up!
The soldiers pull Stravanavitch to his feet and haul him out
of the room.
FOLLOWING - As they push down the hallway.
MANSION SECURITY GUARDS rally with haphazard gunfire.
Out come the strike force's flash-bang grenades. Exploding
everywhere, disorienting Stravanavitch's men.
EXT. FIELD - NIGHT
Signal flares burn as a helicopter descends on the position.
The Strike Team evacuates across the field and forces a
struggling Stravanavitch into the low-hovering copter.
The commandos swiftly board the craft as a handful of
Stravanavitch's guards break into the clearing. They open
fire.
And the mounted machine guns on the helicopter return.
One of the Strike Team members takes a bullet to the neck.
He's' pulled by his comrades into the chopper as it lifts
into the sky, its guns spitting lead...
STRIKE FORCE LEADER (V.0.)
Archangel, this is Restitution.
Archangel, this is Restitution. The package is wrapped.
Over.
VOICE (V.0. RADIO)
Roger, Restitution. We are standing
by for delivery.
FADE TO BLACK
The SOUNDS of a dinner banquet.
Forks clanking against plates and
the din of a hundred conversations,
broken by...
The DING, DING, DING of a SPOON tapping against a wine glass.
SUPER TITLE: "MOSCOW - THREE WEEKS LATER
FADE IN:
INT. BANQUET ROOM - NIGHT
Hundreds of men and women in formal evening wear sit at round
banquet tables. A HUSH falls over the guests as the DINGING
continues. All attention turns to the front table.
A rotund, silver haired-man in his late sixties rises and
sidles past U.S. and Russian flags up to the podium
microphone. He is STOLI PETROV, President of Russia.
PETROV
(in Russian)
Thank you for joining us this evening.
Petrov's harsh Russian issues through the room. But over it
we hear a young woman's voice translating.
TRANSLATOR (V.0.)
Tonight we are honored to have with
us a man of remarkable courage, who,
despite strong international
criticism...
AT THE FRONT TABLE -
A translator's words ring in the earpiece of a handsome man
in his mid-forties. Worry lines crease his forehead and the
touch of gray at his temples attest to three very difficult
years in office.
This man is JAMES MARSHALL, and he is the PRESIDENT of the
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. He busily makes last minute changes
to his speech.
TRANSLATOR
(V.0. earpiece)
Has chosen to join our fight against
tyranny in forging a new world
community. Ladies and gentlemen, I
give you the President of the United
States of America...
Mr. President.
Thunderous applause as Marshall rises and approaches the
podium.
At the back of the room, DOHERTY, a senior policy adviser
whispers to the President's Chief of Staff ED SHEPHERD...
DOHERTY
Maybe we should consider running him
for re-election instead of the U.S.
The applause dies as Marshall begins to speak.
MARSHALL
(in Russian with
subtitles)
Good evening and thank you. First I
would ask you to join me in a moment
of silence for the victims of the
Turkmenistan massacres.
The room remains silent a few beats. Most guests respectfully
bow their heads.
Marshall begins again, but this time in English. The young
woman translates simultaneously for the Russian audience.
MARSHALL
As you know, three weeks ago American
Special Forces, in cooperation with
the Russian Republican Army, secured
the arrest of Turkmenistan's self-
proclaimed dictator, General Ivan
Stravanavitch, whose brutal sadistic
reign had given new meaning to the
word horror. I am proud to say our
operation was a success.
Applause from the audience. Marshall turns the page on his
speech.
MARSHALL
And now, yesterday's biggest threat
to world peace... today awaits trial
for crimes against humanity.
During the applause, Marshall pulls a page from the speech,
folds it and slides it into his pocket. He removes his
glasses and looks out into the crowd. His tone becomes more
personal.
He's not reciting the speech anymore.
MARSHALL
What we did here was important. We
finally pulled our heads out of the
sand, we finally stood up to the
brutality and said "We've had enough.
Every time we ignore these atrocities--
the rapes, the death squads, the
genocides- every time we negotiate
with these, these thugs to keep them
out of gig country and away from gig
families, every time we do thiS.E.
we legitimize terror.
Terror is not a legitimate system of government. And to
those who commit the atrocities I say, we will no longer
tolerate, we will no longer negotiate, and we will no longer
be afraid. It's your turn to be afraid.
Applause rolls through the crowd.
EXT. MOSCOW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT
Sprawling terminals spread out to runways like tentacles.
ON THE TARMAC -
Bathed in floodlights, perched majestically on the runway,
dwarfing nearby commuter and military jets, stands...
AIR FORCE ONE
The President's own Boeing 747-200,
dubbed "the flying White House".
The distinctive royal blue stripe
over a thin gold line tapers to a
tail adorned with the American flag
and the Presidential Seal Secret
Service agents and Marines stand
guard at the aircraft's perimeter.
A RUSSIAN NEWS VAN emerges from the darkness and pulls to a
stop by a Secret Service barricade.
SPECIAL AGENT GIBBS greets the Russian news team that emerges.
GIBBS
Gentlemen, welcome to Air Force One.
Please present your equipment to Special Agent Walters for
inspection.
The news team's segment producer, a crusty old Russian named
KORSHUNOV raises his big bushy eyebrows.
KORSHUNOV
We've already been inspected.
GIBBS
Sir, this plane carries the President
of the United States.
Though we wish to extend your press service every courtesy,
you will comply with our security measures to the letter.
KORSHUNOV
Of course. I'm sorry.
Korshunov and the FIVE MEMBERS of his news crew present their
video cameras, sound equipment and supplies to Special Agent
WALTERS for inspection. Secret Service DOGS sniff through
the baggage.
GIBBS
Please place your thumbs on the ID
pad.
Korshunov puts his thumb on the ID pad of a portable computer.
The computer matches up his thumbprint with his dossier and
photograph. "CLEARED" flashes on the computer screen.
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
The President, walking with his entourage.
SHEPHERD
* CBS said they'll
give us four minutes. They thought
the Russian was a nice touch.
MARSHALL
I always wondered if my freshman
Russian class would come in handy.
DOHERTY
Sir, you threw out page two.
MARSHALL
Goddamn right I did. I asked for a
tough-as-nails speech and you gave
me diplomatic bullshit. What's the
point in having a speech if I have
to ad-lib?
DOHERTY
It was a good ad-lib, sir.
MARSHALL
Thanks. Wrote it last night.
The President exits the building and enters his limousine.
EXT. TARMAC - AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
Walters hands the bags back to the Russians.
WALTERS
Equipment checks out.
A striking woman in her early thirties descends Air Force
One's stairway. MARIA MITCHELL.
GIBBS
Gentlemen, this is Maria Mitchell.
Press Relations for the Presidential Flight Office. She'll
take you from here.
KORSHUNOV
Ms. Mitchell. So nice to finally
meet you in person.
MITCHELL
The President and I were delighted
that we could accommodate you. Now
if you're all cleared?
(Gibbs nods)
You can follow me then.
They ascend into the belly of Air Force One.
MITCHELL
* I'll be giving
you a brief tour, then during the
flight, two members of your crew
will be allowed out of the press
area at a time for filming. You
will have exactly ten minutes with
the President and twenty with the
crew...
EXT. STREETS OF MOSCOW, PRESIDENT'S MOTORCADE - NIGHT
Winding its way down narrow cobblestone streets onto a major
thoroughfare.
INT. PRESIDENTIAL LIMOUSINE - NIGHT
The limousine is packed with advisers, aides, military staff,
including LT. COL. PERKINS, the keeper of the NUCLEAR FOOTBALL
handcuffed to his wrist. In the b.g. on the limo's television
set, the LARRY KING SHOW indulges in its normal banter.
Marshall wearily rubs his temples as he stifles a yawn.
SHEPHERD
You wanna knock of f?
MARSHALL
No, no. I'm fine. What did the
Speaker say?
SHEPHERD
He and the NRA don't like the wording.
DOHERTY
Apparently taking uzis away from
sixth graders isn't as popular as we
thought it'd be. Representative
Taylor is working on a compromise.
MARSHALL
Put together a score sheet. I'll
make some calls.
SHEPHERD
With all due respect, sir, maybe you
should give them this one. Your
numbers are still pretty low and you
called in a lot of chips to nail
Stravanavitch.
MARSHALL
I might still have a few chips left.
SHEPHERD
* We could always
put you in a duck blind with a twelve
gauge. The second amendment types'll
love that.
MARSHALL
This is a crime bill, Shep. Killing
a couple ducks won't get it through
committee. Besides, Shep, I told
you... I don't shoot babies and I
don't kiss guns.
SHEPHERD
Other way around, sir.
MARSHALL
(realizing what he
said)
Right... Christ I'm tired. Do me a
favor and keep me away from the press.
Marshall's watch alarm beeps and he automatically reaches
into his breast pocket, pulls out a medicine vial and downs
two pills with a coffee chaser.
On the T.V.
LARRY KING (T.V.)
... and your reaction to the
President's trip to Moscow. Good or
bad?
Shepherd turns up the volume.
SHEPHERD
This is the part I wanted you to
see.
REP. DANFORTH (T.V.)
Criminal. One of our boys died in
Marshall's little publicity stunt
and for what? So we could claim
victory over another country's
problems instead of our own? And
now he's got the nerve to prance
around Moscow gloating, while that
poor boy's family is left to bury
him. If I were Marshall, I'd be
ashamed of myself.
LARRY KING
There you have it. Harsh words for
the President from Michael Danforth,
the Speaker of the House.
Marshall mutes the television. A quiet moment.
SHEPHERD
* My opinion.
We can't let him get away with that
kind of language.
Marshall considers. Then decides.
MARSHALL
It's bait. Don't take it.
SHEPHERD
Sir, the Speaker of the House attacked
this administration on national
television. You can't afford to
leave that hanging.
MARSHALL
(ignoring Shepherd)
Did we tape the Duke game?
AIDE
It's waiting on the plane. The ending
was pretty...
MARSHALL
(interrupting)
Please don't tell me. Just for once,
* let me be
surprised.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE, CORRIDOR, TRAVELING - NIGHT
Maria Mitchell escorts the Russians down the plane's length.
As they pass the galley, Maria motions up a set of stairs.
MITCHELL
Up on the upper deck is the cockpit
and the Mission Communication Center.
The MCC, as we call it, can place
clear and secure phone calls to
anywhere on earth. We're linked to
a network of military and civilian
satellites and ground stations. We
could run the country or run a war
from there if we had to.
KORSHUNOV
This is a remarkable aircraft.
MITCHELL
You don't know the half of it. Did
you know this entire plane is shielded
from radiation? We could fly through
a mushroom cloud completely unharmed
if necessary.
KORSHUNOV
A dubious distinction, no?
MITCHELL
I guess it depends on your
perspective.
They walk by several conference rooms, running down the
starboard side of the plane.
KORSHUNOV
And all these rooms here?
MITCHELL
Conference rooms, though some have
other functions. The one up front
doubles as an emergency medical
center.
Past the conference rooms, they walk by a small side room
where SECRETARIES work on computers, generating documents.
MITCHELL
As you can see, back here's more
like a regular plane. Security and
Secret Service take this cabin.
You'll be in the rear with the press
pool.
The REAR PRESS CABIN, just ahead of the rear galley and bank
of bathrooms. A handful of disgruntled reporters feign sleep.
MITCHELL
Here's a press kit. I'll let you
guys get comfortable and once we're
airborne I'll be able to schedule
the interviews.
KORSHUNOV
Thank you.
Mitchell exits forward. One of the reporters stirs and looks
up at the news team. He groans. Space is a premium back
here.
REPORTER
You fellas win some sort of fly-with-
POTUS contest?
KORSHUNOV
Potus? What is Potus?
REPORTER
P.O.T.U.S. President Of The United
States.
KORSHUNOV
Ah, no. We won nothing. We are
ITAR-TASS news service.
REPORTER
Right. Listen, this here... This is
my row. You'll have to sit over
there.
Korshunov trades looks with his news team.
EXT. MOSCOW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT
The President's motorcade pulls up in front of Air Force
One.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
The President and his entourage ascend from the lower deck
platform onto the main deck. COL. DANIEL AXELROD, Air Force
One's pilot, snaps off a salute as he passes.
COL. AXELROD
Welcome aboard, Mr. President.
MARSHALL
(returns salute)
Hey Danny. How's it look tonight?
COL. AXELROD
Glassy, sir. Care to take the wheel?
MARSHALL
You keep offering, one of these days
I'll take you up on it.
(to no one in
particular)
Rose and Alice back yet?
AIDE
No, Mr. President. The ballet ran
late. Their ETA is seventeen minutes.
Marshall nods as he pulls off his bow tie and enters his
stateroom. Shepherd follows two steps behind.
SHEPHERD
Mr. President?
Marshall halts Shepherd with a gesture.
MARSHALL
Thirty seconds.
Shepherd nods and waits by the door. Lt. Col. Perkins takes
a seat outside the Presidents stateroom and opens the latest
Tom Clancy thriller, using the nuclear football as a lap
desk.
INT. PRESIDENT'S STATEROOM - NIGHT
Marshall collapses on the couch, rubs his eyes, then closes
them. A moment of peace in a breakneck day.
The knock at the door jars him.
MARSHALL
Yes.
Shepherd enters.
SHEPHERD
Can I at least issue a press release
objecting to the Speaker's choice of
wording?
President Marshall picks up one of the many phones in his
office.
MARSHALL
I said it's not worth the fight.
(into phone)
Steward, please.
SHEPHERD
We'll just say it was in bad taste.
* MARSHALL
Forget it, Shep. The kid gave his life for his country and
the
Speaker's a bastard for turning him into a sound bite. I'll
take the heat. Understood?
SHEPHERD
You give me ulcers.
MARSHALL
That's my job.
A STEWARD enters the room.
STEWARD
Mr. President?
MARSHALL
Hey Mike. Could you get me a
Heineken?
SHEPHERD
No, wait. Get him one of the Russian
beers.
The steward nods and disappears from the room.
SHEPHERD
We've got those Russian news guys on
board and it'll look good in the
papers.
Marshall picks up a stack of policy reports. Thumbs through
them.
MARSHALL
C'mon Shep. I've been eating borscht
and drinking vodka for days. Isn't
that enough?
(off paper)
New home starts are down.
The steward arrives with the Russian beer. Marshall takes a
swig. He swallows hard. Piss-water. Marshall crosses to
his sink and pours the beer out. He hands the bottle to the
steward.
MARSHALL
Fill this with Heineken.
The steward nods...
STEWARD
Yes, Mr. President.
AND SLINKS AWAY WITH THE BOTTLE. MARSHALL CATCHES HIMSELF --
MARSHALL
I don't believe this. I'm playing
politics with a bottle of beer. A
goddamn bottle of beer. I've been
in office too long.
SHEPHERD
Look on the bright side... if the
polls don't change, you won't have
that problem, sir.
Marshall picks up the phone again.
MARSHALL
Yeah. Put the Duke game on in my
room.
INT. AFO'S MISSION COMMUNICATION CENTER - NIGHT
THREE Air Force SPECIALISTS man the elaborate communication
system occupying much of the upper deck. Top-of-the-line
computers, communication systems, video decks, and satellite
receivers.
AIR FORCE SPECIALIST
Yes, Mr. President.
He slides in a videotape and channels the feed to the *
president's stateroom.
INT. PRESIDENT'S STATEROOM - NIGHT
A monitor comes to life with a basketball game.
MARSHALL
(to Shepherd)
Defense and State Department in the
conference room in one hour. I want
to review the Iraq situation.
SHEPHERD
Yes, sir.
Shepherd exits as Marshall settles into his leather chair
and dives into work. He punches a button on the speakerphone.
MARSHALL
Get me the Housing Secretary...
EXT. AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
The Marine Guards snap to attention once again as the First
Lady's motorcade arrives.
ROSE MARSHALL, a self-assured woman with an aristocratic
gleam, alights from her limo. She takes a few steps, then
turns, tapping her foot impatiently.
ROSE
C'mon Alice, we're 20 minutes late.
Your father's gonna have a fit.
ALICE, the President's 13-year-old daughter, straggles out
of the car, rolling her eyes.
ALICE
It's not like he hasn't made us wait
a few times.
ROSE
Well, you aren't the President, dear.
ALICE
Yeah, no duh.
INT. MAIN DECK, AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
As the First Lady's entourage enters.
ROSE
Why don't you go say hi?
Again, Alice rolls her eyes.
ROSE
What is wrong with you tonight?
Come here.
Rose pulls Alice aside.
ROSE
You don't want to say hi to your
father?
ALICE
I'm sure he's busy.
ROSE
Don't you even want to ask?
Alice toes her foot into the carpet as she releases an
exasperated sigh. She is, in this moment, the patron saint
of know-it-all 13-year-old girls. Alice waves toward the
Presidential Suite.
ALICE
If I go over there to say hi to daddy
President, Mike's going to tell me
he's in a meeting and can't be
disturbed. Then when the plane starts
to taxi, he'll come out and say "Hey,
are you guys back? Did you enjoy
the ballet?" But he'll be on his
way to another meeting and won't
wait for an answer. Then you'll get
pissed at him and he'll get pissed
at you. It's like you guys rehearse
or something.
With the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, Alice
Collapses into one of the many leather chairs. It seems to
swallow her. JORY, a steward passes.
ALICE
Hey Joey, how `bout a cocoa, double
whip cream.
ROSE
Alice...
ALICE
Mom, just this once, give it a rest.
ROSE
You're jet-lagged. We'll talk about
this back...
ALICE
Back at The Fishbowl?
Alice eyes the swirl of Aides who are pretending to work
nearby.
But it's obvious that they're eavesdropping. Alice smiles
and waves at them dramatically.
ROSE
We'll talk at home.
(beat)
You know, most girls aren't as lucky
as you. For most girls seeing the
Bolshoi ballet would be the experience
of a lifetime.
ALICE
I know, Mom.
(sees the hurt in her
mom's eyes and softens)
It was great... really.
Rose nods, smiling a half-smile. After a thoughtful beat,
Alice gets up and crosses to the Presidential suite. She
exchanges words with the Aide standing outside the door and
comes back, covering her disappointment.
ALICE
He's in a meeting. He can't be
disturbed.
ROSE
I'm sorry, honey.
ALICE
No, it's okay. After all, he is the
President, right?
Joey the steward hands her her cocoa with a wink and a smile.
Her eyes light up at the mound of whip cream on top.
ALICE
When I write my memoirs I think I'll
devote an entire chapter to the cocoa
aboard Air Force One.
ROSE
Your father never means to be so...
ALICE
I know...
(beat)
But lotsa times I feel like it's me
versus the world. Some kid at school
teases me and the same day a plague
breaks out in Bangladesh. I mean it
doesn't take a genius to figure which
is more important.
ROSE
Some kids were teasing you?
ALICE
That's not really the point.
A quiet pause, then...
ROSE
You're right and I'll tell you a
secret. I know exactly how you feel.
ALICE
Big secret. You said the same thing
to Newsweek.
The plane jolts forward as it begins to taxi.
ALICE
We're taxiing. Ready. And... five...
four... three.. two... one... Cue
Daddy.
Alice points. And as if on cue, Marshall exits from his
office and checks his watch.
ALICE
Oooooh, I'm good.
MARSHALL
Hey, you guys back already?
Alice nods.
MARSHALL
How was...
(thinks, then remembers)
...the ballet?
ALICE
(theatrically)
It was the experience of a lifetime.
MARSHALL
How `bout a hug for the old man.
Alice rises and hugs her father. A White House PHOTOGRAPHER
snaps off a few shots for the papers. Alice makes a face at
them. A second later, Shepherd comes up the corridor,
breaking up the pair.
SHEPHERD
Mr. President... they're ready for
you in the conference room.
MARSHALL
Okay. Hey, pumpkin, you'll tell me
all about it later, right?
ALICE
Sure.
As Marshall moves toward the conference room, he bends and
gives Rose a quick peck on the cheek. It all reeks of
formality.
ROSE
May I speak to you for a moment?
MARSHALL
Can't it wait?
ROSE
No, Mr. President. It can't.
INT. PRESIDENT'S OFFICE.
Rose shuts the door behind them. As she starts to speak,
Marshall pulls her into a long passionate kiss. Rose pulls
away.
ROSE
Don't. I know spin control when I
feel it.
MARSHALL
Rose, I don't have time for this.
I've gotta go stop a war.
ROSE
For godsakes, Jim, slow down and
stop acting like the little dutch
boy. Not even you can plug all the
world's leaks. Don't you think it's
a sign you're pushing too hard when
your daughter sees more of you on
MTV news than in person.
MARSHALL
She's a big girl. She understands.
ROSE
How do you know she understands?
You haven't spent more than five
minutes with her, or me, in weeks.
MARSHALL
And when have I had five minutes?
When I wake up in the morning and
I'm already three hours behind
Schedule. What do you want me to
do, Rose, tell the G7 to fuck off
because I'm a family man?
(BEAT)
I'm sorry. That wasn't fair.
ROSE
No. It wasn't.
He takes her in his arms.
MARSHALL
You know what?
ROSE
What?
MARSHALL
I miss you. And I miss her.
ROSE
But that's the point, Jim. We're
right here.
MARSHALL
I wish it were that easy...
Long beat. He smiles at her, it's the same sweet smile that
won her heart, the same smile that got him elected. She
softens.
MARSHALL
I'll make it up to you, I promise.
ROSE
I should trust that promise? Because
you know the voters are still waiting
for that middle class tax cut.
MARSHALL
This promise isn't subject to
Congressional approval.
She smiles. The tension breaks.
ROSE
How did your speech go?
MARSHALL
Well, they aren't burning me in
effigy. That's always a good sign.
They kiss again, this time for real. But... a knock on the
door.
SHEPHERD (0.5.)
Mr. President.
Shepherd opens the door.
MARSHALL
Look on the bright side, hon. Shep
here thinks I'll be a one termer.
ROSE
Shall I ask the Chief of Staff to
schedule your daughter in?
SHEPHERD
She is scheduled. Her school play's
Tuesday night.
Rose rolls her eyes.
MARSHALL
The First Lady was making a joke,
Shep. I'll make some time, Rose. I
promise.
Marshall heads for his meeting.
EXT. COCKPIT - NIGHT
Col. Axelrod and his co-pilot LT. COL. ARTHUR INGRAHAMS are
at the wheel.
RUSSIAN AIR TRAFFIC (V.0)
(THICK ACCENT)
United States Air Force One, this is
tower. It's an honor to clear you
for immediate take-off on runway
three.
COL. AXELROD
Roger, Tower. And thank you for the
hospitality.
Axeirod eases up the throttle and the four GE-F103 Turbofan
engines spring to life.
EXT. RUNWAY - NIGHT
A picture perfect take-off as Air Force One slides through
the moonlight and skates upward on a sheet of air.
EXT. AIR FORCE ONE, FLYING - AN HOUR LATER
Airborne in the midnight sky.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE, GALLEY - NIGHT
Aircraft engines drone.
CLOSE ON - A coffee pot pouring piping joe into a mug
emblazoned with ubiguitou Presidential Seal. The mug is placed
on a tray with a half-dozen other mugs and passed to a STEW.
He carries the tray down the corridor past passenger cabins.
Drowsiness has overtaken the plane. Many of the passengers
and aides are asleep. CNN plays On T.V. sets, entertaining
the few night owls and news junkies.
CNN REPORTER (T.V.)
In an unusually aggressive speech,
the President characterized the
Stravanavitch regime as thugs whose
brutality will no longer be tolerated.
Meanwhile, in Turkmenistan,
Stravanavitch's ouster has sent the
country into turmoil. Tens of
thousands of refugees continue to
huddle in U.N. safe havens, as rival
Stravanavitch loyalists fight among
themselves for control. But at least
for the time being, the ethnic
cleansing has been stopped.
Toward the front of the plane, the steward enters the
conference room.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT
As the steward closes the door behind him, all background
noise disappears. We are in a sound shielded room. Even the
engines' drone cannot be heard.
The lights in the room are dim as MAJOR CALDWELL, a military
advisor, projects satellite photos of Iraqi military bases
onto a screen.
The steward serves coffee as unobtrusively as he can while
the meeting continues.
MAJOR CALDWELL
Our KH-ll's took this one at 0100
hours. What you see here is the
mobilization of two mechanized
brigades.
MARSHALL
They've gotta be joking.
DOHERTY
The Iraqi ambassador is claiming
it's just an exercise.
MARSHALL
An exercise in futility. Send the
Nimitz back in.
MAJOR CALDWELL
The northern border's gotten a bit
hairy. Their MiGs are playing tag
with our Tomcats and our boys are
just itching to engage.
MARSHALL
Tell our boys to cool their jets. I
don't need `em creating policy for
me.
We follow the steward as he slips out of the conference room
and back into the...
INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
with a few coffees left on his tray. One of them is scooped
up by Gibbs as he passes, his nose is buried in a fax.
INT. SECRET SERVICE CABIN - NIGHT
Gibbs leans in the cabin.
GIBBS
Hey Walters, you and Johnson come
here a second. Reykjavik just sent
the advance team report.
Special Agents Walters and JOHNSON rise and follow Gibbs
into an adjoining office.
INT. OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Gibbs closes the door behind the two agents. As Walters and
Johnson take their seats, Gibbs WITHDRAWS HIS WEAPON and...
SHOOTS each of the agents in THE BACK OF THE HEAD.
Silenced pistol. Blood all over the desk. Gibbs removes each
of the agent's weapons and slips them into his waistband. He
waits a few beats, takes a long sip of coffee, then exits
the office.
INT. SECRET SERVICE CABIN - NIGHT
As he passes through the cabin he takes a silent inventory.
Five other agents working, sleeping, on the phone.
INT. PRESS CABIN - NIGHT
Gibbs nods to Korshunov. Korshunov nods one of his men.
NEVSKY removes one of his videotapes, pops the front cover
exposing the tape. Across the face of the tape is a thin
strip of a rubbery substance. Nevsky pulls the strip up and
out, making a kind of fuse. He reaches for a pack of
matches... courtesy matches, sporting the Seal of the
President.
Nevsky nods and lights the fuse.
IN A RAPID SUCCESSION -
GIBBS tosses his two extra weapons to Korshunov's men, pivots
the corner and begins firing at his colleagues. The SECRET
SERVICE AGENTS try to get at their weapons, but Gibbs has
caught them completely off-guard.
Several silenced central nervous system shots (head and neck)
and the five agents slump back, their red blood cascading
down the creases of the fine Corinthian leather chairs.
Nevsky tosses the cassette up the corridor... smoke pours
out of it. Smoke screen.
BAZYLEV and ZEDECK catch the guns Gibbs tossed and hold them
on the reporters.
BAZYLEV
UP! GET UP NOW!
Bazylev grabs the stunned reporters, yanking them into the
aisle.
BAZYLEV
Walk in front of us. Go! Go! Go!
Human shields. A half dozen of them.
Behind the terrorists, one of the bathroom doors swings open.
A SECRET SERVICE AGENT emerges. Sees what's happening. Reaches
for his gun. ZEDECK fells him with a well placed unsilenced
GUN SHOT. SCREAMS ensue...
INT. FORWARD CABIN - NIGHT
A sleeping SECRET SERVICE AGENT bolts upright. HEARS MORE
SHOTS.
He springs up and moves toward the gunshots, his weapon drawn.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
SHOTS FIRED! SECURE BOY SCOUT!
(screaming out and
into his lapel mike)
SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!
INT. SECRET SERVICE CABIN - NIGHT
Bazylev and Zedeck lay down a suppressing fire outside the
door.
GIBBS
Come on! Quickly.
Korshunov, Nevsky and VLAD follow Gibbs into the Secret
Service office. Gibbs opens a locker and pulls out a stash
of MP5 automatic assault rifles and bullet-proof vests.
Korshunov raises his bushy eyebrows in delight.
GIBBS
The Secret Service believes in being
prepared for any eventuality.
INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
The Secret Service agent fights his way through the smoke to
a wall panel. Punches a red buttoned intercom.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE'S FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
A red light on the security panel lights up...
SECRET SERVICE AGENT (V.0.)
We have a code red, I repeat, code
red. Shots fired onboard.
Cot. AXELROD Cabin/Flight Deck: Code Red Acknowledged...
Shit.
LT. CCL. INGRAHAMS
(into headset
microphone)
Warsaw tower this is Air Force One.
Declaring Emergency.
Axelrod toggles his headset to secure line.
COL. AXELROD
Ranstein Air Base, this is Air Force
One Heavy. We have a code red. Shots
fired onboard, request priority
redirect. Please acknowledge.
INT. RAMSTEIN AIR BASE, AIR TRAFFIC CONTHOL TOWER - NIGHT
SUPER - "RAMSTEIN AIR BASE, GERMANY"
Hunched over a control terminal, the AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER
tracks Air Force One's radar image.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER
Fuck me. GO WAKE THE GENERAL. NOW!
The WATCH OFFICER springs into action, picking up a phone.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER
Air Force One Heavy, acknowledged.
You are on our scope. Please state
fuel remaining and souls onboard.
COL. AXELROD (RADIO)
Sixty seven souls onboard, we're
okay with fuel. Request secure
military escort with emergency medical
standing by.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER
Air Force One Heavy, acknowledged.
We are scrambling our fighters.
The controller hits a red button on his console. Sirens flare
up and klaxons wail across the base.
The controller looks down to his runways. In the light of
the moon he sees a half-dozen men rushing toward F-15 Eagles.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLLR
Call Berlin Tower. Not a plane lands
or takes off within two hundred miles!
Understood?
The once sleepy midnight control room cranks into full crisis
mode.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE, MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Pandemonium. GUNFIRE pops in the b.g. Air Force Specialists
try to get the word out.
AIR FORCE SPECIALIST
A.F. SPECIALIST #2
General Greely? No sir, Interrupt her. This is this
is Air Force One. We Air Force One with an have a
code red. Shots emergency call. have been fired.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT
The conference room door bursts open and TWO SECRET SERVICE
AGENTS, weapons drawn, enter the room and run to Marshall.
The once quiet room floods with light. The sounds of a
gunfight and a blanket of smoke sweeps into the cabin.
MARSHALL
What's going on?
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
We're under attack.
MARSHALL
Where's my family?
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
We're handling it, sir.
The agents lift Marshall to his feet, and practically carry
him from the room, leaving the other high ranking officials
to scramble for themselves in a cacophony of shouts.
MARSHALL
The launch codes! Who's protecting
the football?
FORWARD CORRIDOR -
Perkins, carrying the nuclear football, ducks and weaves his
way down the corridor into the fray. He takes a bullet to
the shoulder, which fells him.
NEAR THE FORWARD GALLEY -
Alice is nearly trampled by agents responding to the gunfire.
One agent grabs her and shoves her into a bathroom.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Don't open the door!
GUNFIRE pops all around her.
INT. CORRIDOR, REAR CABINS - NIGHT
Smoke, automatic weapons fire. Secret service agents battling
the terrorists. Aides, diplomats, crew and personnel caught
in the crossfire.
ZEDECK
Down! Everybody down.
A spray of weapons fire overhead and everyone hits the floor.
ZEDECK
STAY DOWN, PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND
YOUR HEAD AND YOU WILL NOT BE SHOT!
INT. AIR FORCE ONE, FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER (RADIO)
Air Force One Heavy, you are cleared for priority divert,
all runways are clear.
LT. COL. INGRAHAMS
Warsaw Tower has cleared local
airspace.
COL. AXELROD
Changing course heading to 276 point
five. Dropping to twenty thousand
feet.
Shots can be heard outside.
COL. AXELROD
Ingrahams, make sure that door's
locked.
LT. COL. INGRAHAMS
Yes sir.
Ingrahams locks the cockpit door.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
Air Force One banks into a curve and descends through broken
clouds.
INT. PRESIDENTIAL STATEROOM - NIGHT
The sounds of gunfire have reached the the nose of the plane.
Rose peers out to see what's the matter. An armed Secret
Service agent runs toward her.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Get back! Get back!
A spray of bullets mows him down. He collapses in the door
frame. Terrified, Rose tries to close the door, but the dead
agent is in the way.
INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
Filled with smoke and gunfire. The agents rush the President
behind a forward bulkhead.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
(into mike)
We have Boy Scout, traveling forward.
VOICE (OVER MIKE)
Negative... negative... they're up
here too.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Roger. We're going to the chute.
Marshall looks up the hallway toward his stateroom.
MARSHALL
(calling out)
ROSE! ALICE!
DOWN THE CORRIDOR -
Gibbs fires.
HITS - One of the Secret Service agents in the shoulder.
Blood blossoms through his clothes but he winces it off.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Come on, sir.
The Secret Service agents whisk the President to the front
stairwell. They pull up a floor panel, revealing stairs
descending toward the baggage deck.
INT. BATHROOM -
Alice, huddled atop the commode.
MARSHALL (O.S.)
Alice!
ALICE
Daddy...
Alice opens the door and rushes...
INTO THE CORRIDOR...
Tripping and falling over Joey, the steward. His dead eyes
swim in a pool of blood that was his face. Alice screams,
scrambling to her feet.
MID-PLANE CORRIDOR -
Perkins manages to push himself to his feet and stumbles
down the hall into the computer room. Terrorist SERGE spots
the nuclear football dangling from his wrist. He pursues.
INT. COMPUTER ROOM - NIGHT
Hysterical SECRETARIES feverishly dump classified documents
into a shredder, while Perkins struggles to open the black
leather briefcase handcuffed to his wrist.
Bullets tear up the doorknob lock arid SERGE kicks in the
door.
SERGE
Down! Everyone down!
The Fawn Halls hit the floor as gunfire sprays overhead. But
Perkins swings around brandishing his sidearm. He opens fire
on Serge, but the bullets smack harmlessly against the SWAT
vest.
Serge returns fire, ripping up Perkins who collapses over
the shredder, and with his last bit of strength, he dumps
out the briefcase.
Papers containing NUCLE WAR STRATEGIES and MISSILE LAUNCH
CODES slide into the hungry Shredding machine. Perkins manages
a slight smile before he keels over dead, his duty fulfilled.
The shredded remains of the nuclear football rain over his
head like tickertape at a hero's parade.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
The pale moon catches shiny streaks of metal that descend
through the broken clouds. The Squadron of F-15 Eagles drops
into formation around Air Force One.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Gun shots right Outside the cockpit door.
COT. CARLTON (RADIO)
Air Force One, this is Squadron
Commander Canton. You are now under
escort. All airspace has been cleared.
COL. AXELROD
This is Air Force One Heavy. I'm
coming in full throttle. ETA to
Ranstein eight minutes. We've got a
war here, sir.
INT. COCKPIT F-LB EAGLE - NIGHT
Encased in a helmet, mask, and visor, Carlton watches the
flashes of gunfire in the dark windows of the plane.
COt. CARLTON Copy. Delta Force has been mobilized.
COT. AXELROD (V.0.)
Roger that.
INT. LOWER DECK OF AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
Beneath the main cabin, the Secret Service agents run the
President through the forward baggage compartment and the
lower galley: a large room with compartments, storage freezers
and food preperation tables.
On the far side of the galley, the agents fling open a
hatchway and enter...
A NARROW GANGWAY - running between the lower galley and the
rear baggage hold, flanked on either side by the landing
gear bays.
They duck under wing supports until they come to a mesh
grating.
The uninjured agent lifts the grating revealing an ESCAPE
POD.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Get in!
Marshall freezes.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
Get in, sir.
A second later gunfire rips Up the agent's face. The new
volley sends Marshall under the cover of a wing strut. The
second agent takes Position and returns fire. He quells the
incoming volley for a moment.
MARSHALL
What about my family?
SECRET SERVICE AGENT #
I have a family, too, sir. Now get
in the fucking pod.
The firing begins again. Marshall struggles with the decision.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT #
Mr. President... MR. PRESIDENT! You
have to do this! The pod, on three.
Ready?
The agent shoves in a fresh clip...
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
One.
MARSHALL
But...
SECRET SERVICE AGENT
(cutting him off)
Two... THREE. GO!
The agent combat-rolls into the open and fires. He advances
down the gangway acting as a shield for the president,
shooting blindly. Marshall watches as he's hit repeatedly,
but it gives him the time he needs to dive for the pod.
REVERSE ANGLE - VLAD AND NEVSKY
behind the bulkhead. When the agent drops, Nevsky and Viad
rush down the gangway. They arrive at the closed pod just as
it begins to slide on its rails. They let loose dozens of
rounds from their MP55, but the bullets just plink off.
The pod-lock doors slide shut. The President is on his way
to safety.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
Small bay doors open in the belly of Air Force One, and a
human sized cannister drops from the bottom, its parachute
Opening instantly.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
A light flashes On the panel.
COT. AXELROD
(into mike)
Ramstein/Air Force One: Emergency
pod has been deployed. I repeat,
emergency pod has been deployed.
RANSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER
This is Ramstein. Acknowledged. We
are picking up the homing beacon and
deploying search and rescue.
COT. AXELROD
Copy Ramstein. We are dropping to
five thousand feet, beginning final
approach.
INT. BAGGAGE DECK GANGWAY - NIGHT
ALICE (O.S.)
Daddy? Dad?
Her voice comes closer, filled with choking fear and panic.
She rounds the corner and Nevsky catches her hair with a
vice-tight grip shoving his MP5 into the small of her back.
NEVSKY
Your father has left you behind.
INT. PRESIDENTIAL STATEROOM - NIGHT
Korshunov kicks open the door.
ROSE
NO!
Gunfire from ROSE, who holds the dead secret service agent's
weapon. She empties the clip at the doorway. Click, click.
No more bullets. Korshunov steps into the room, brandishing
his automatic, smiling. Rose backs against the wall and raises
her hands.
EXT. WHITE HOUSE LAWN - DAY
A Marine helicopte touches down on the greenway. Marines
salute and escort KATHERINE CHANDLER from the chopper'
interior to the South entrance of the White House. She is
the VICE PRESIDENT of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE, MISSION COMNUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Zedeck steps over the three dead Communications Specialists,
on his way to the cockpit door. Tries the door. It's locked.
He pounds on it.
ZEDECK
Open! Now!
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Through the cockpit window, the glowing landing lights of
Ramstein Base are visible in the distance, cutting a wedge
through the German towns and fields.
Zedeck's pounding continues.
COT. AXELROD
Ramatein, we are fifteen miles away
on final approach. I'm coming in
fast and will need every inch of
runway.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER (V.0.)
Copy, Air Force One. Wind is twelve knots from the east.
Tactical and emergency are in position.
EXT. RANSTEIN AIR FIELD - NIGHT
Rescue vehicle sirens gyre in the darkness. A team of black-
faced commandos unload from troop truck. Snipers take position
atop rescue vehicles, barracks, and the control tower.
High-powered rifles with infra-red scopes.
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Zedeck aims his MP5 at the flight door. Fires off a dozen
rounds. Nickel sized indentations blossom across the steel
surface.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Dull thuds of bullet impacts.
COT. AXELROD
Let's get this crate on the ground.
They're some real good men waiting to help us.
EXT. AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
The plane sprouts landing gear as it descends over the city.
Coming in fast and low.
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Gibbs shoves Zedeck aside. Produces a thumb-sized amount of
C-4.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Final approach... the landing strip not far at all.
COL. AXELROD
Almost there.
He raises his flaps. Air speed and altitude drop.
EXT. RAPISTEIN AIR FIELD - NIGHT
Spotters find Air Force One's navigation lights visible in
the sky, descending from the distant darkness. Followed by
the cluster of F-lSs.
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Gibbs rolls out the C-4 like a kid making a snake in pottery
class. He presses it along the door seal.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Altitude decreasing. 300 feet... 200 hundred feet...
The runway coming up to meet them.
EXT. RAMSTEIN AIR FIELD - NIGHT
As the entire airbase collectively holds its breath. Air
Force One's tires hover 50 feet above the ground... 40 feet...
30...
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Gibbs raises his pistol. Aims at the C-4. Fires. BAM!
INT. COCKPIT - NIGHT
A BLINDING FLASH. The door blows in.
EXT. RANSTEIN AIR FIELD - NIGHT
The wheels touchdown.
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Gibbs and Zedeck storm the cockpit.
RNT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Axeirod gropes at the plane's controls, trying to retain the
wheel. Gibbs dispatches Axeirod with one shot. Zedek is a
little messier with Ingrahams. But both pilot and co-pilot
slump over their controls.
EXT. RANSTEIN AIR FIELD - NIGHT
The taxiing Boeing 747 suddenly veers to the right cutting
across runways. Emergency vehicles give chase.
The plane bounces. Is airborne for a second. Touches down
again with a jolt.
INT. CORRIDOR - AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
Terrorists lead hostages to the conference room. Everyone is
bounced around, slamming against walls, spilling over chairs.
A MASTER SERGEANT seizes the opportunity and grabs for
Bazylev's gun, but Bazylev shoots him almost point blank.
BAZYLEV
Keep moving!
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Chaos. Gibbs tries to pull Axelrod off the controls.
GIBBS
Throttle up. Throttle up!
Zedek slams the throttle all the wa up. Spotlights and sirens
swirl outside the cockpit window.
EXT. RMMSTEIN FIELD - NIGHT
The Flying White House careens toward the barracks, then
edges toward a hangar. The jet engines strain to reach full
power.
INT. RAMSTEIN CONTROL TOWER - NIGHT
The controller stares down at the out-of-control plane.
RAMSTEIN A.B. CONTROLLER
Aw Fuck. We're losing it!
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Gibbs pulls Axeirod's body out of the pilot's seat. Looks
out the cockpit window and sees...
A C-141 STARLIFTER
in his path. A monstrous plane, every
bit as big as Air Force One. Gibbs
eases back on the wheel and the 747
sluggishly responds, its nose creeping
upward.
GIBBS
Come on.
Adjusts the flaps...
EXT. RAMSTEIN AIRFIELD - NIGHT
Air Force One closes in on the Starlifter. She's struggling
off
the ground like some injured bird. The straining metal defies
gravity.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - NIGHT
Gibbs senses that he's too close. He pulls way back on the
stick, risks stalling her out... but the bird responds.
EXT. RAMSTEIN FIELD - NIGHT
Air Force One barely clears the Starlifter, the edge of her
wing just missing the top of the C-141's tail.
The sharpshooters, the emergency crews, the commandos from
Delta Force... Nothing they can do but watch her rise out.
of sight.
INT. FLIGHT DECK - LATER
Gibbs and Zedeck. Gibbs checks over all the instruments.
GIBBS
Okay, 30,000 feet. Give me my heading.
ZEDECK
Bearing 110 point eight two.
Gibbs banks the plane into a curve, then activates the auto-
pilot.
GIBBS
Call me if something changes.
ZEDECK
That's it?
GIBBS
To fly a 747 you need to know three
things. How to take of f, how to
land, and how to engage the autopilot.
INT. AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
SERIES OF SHOTS--
The terrorists, from every corner of the plane, lead the
stunned survivors, hands on heads, to the central conference
room.
As Korshunov walks Rose up the corridor, he meets up with
Gibbs, descending from the upper deck.
KORSHUNOV
The rest of the secret service?
GIBBS
Dead.
KORSHUNOV
How many others killed?
GIBBS
Nine.
KORSHUNOV
Any of us?
Gibbs touches his bulletproof vest.
GIBBS
No damages.
ROSE
Where's my daughter?
GIBBS
She's alive, ma'am, for the time
being.
Rose allows herself a half-sob of relief.
ROSE
And my husband?
GIBBS
The secret service did their job,
ma'am. The President is safely off
the plane.
(to Korshunov)
But that still leaves us plenty to
bargain with.
Eyes filled with hatred... Rose SLAPS Gibbs face.
ROSE
Mr. Gibbs. You, of all people...
Gibbs doesn't react.
GIBBS
Follow me, ma'am.
INT. WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM - DAY
High-tech maps and communications systems line the walls,
surrounding an austere main conference table. Laptop computers
and secure telephones by every seat. Side tables. Tele-type
machines spitting out classified information.
VICE PRESIDENT CHANDLER analyzes the projected course of Air
Force One on the tactical vid-map.
V.P. CHANDLER
We should have the President secure
within minutes. Do we know who these
terrorists are or where they're going?
GENERAL NORTHWOOD, head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff...
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
General Greely says it looks like
the Middle East.
V.P. CHANDLER
Does your office have anything to
add, Mr. Dean?
National Security Advisor WALTER DEAN leans forward.
DEAN
The garners believe that, given the
scenario, there's an 86% chance that
we'll be dealing with a hostage situation and not an
assassination attempt. Not much else until there's more data.
V.P. CHANDLER
If we're dealing with an airborne
hostage situation what's our
procedure?
The Under-Secretary of Defense, THOMAS LEE, punches up a
scenario on the lap-top.
LEE
Our only policy assumes the plane is
on the ground. Our hands are
completely tied while they're in the
air.
V.P. CHANDLER
Okay, Gentlemen, we'll take no action
until we confirm that the president
is off the plane... Lee, go huddle
with the D.O.D. I want an options
paper on this in 20 minutes.
LEE
Twenty minutes?
V.P. CHANDLER
You heard me.
(points to an aide)
You. Congress and cabinet heads.
The aide nods and picks up a telephone.
AIR FORCE COLONEL
Madame Vice-President?
Chandler turns toward the door. The Colonel enters the room,
holding a black briefcase identical to Perkins'.
V.P. CHANDLER
Yes?
AIR FORCE COLONEL
National Command Authority. All
previous launch codes have been
cancelled. You're carrying the ball
now.
V.P. CHANDLER
Thank you, Colonel. Have a seat.
EXT. GERMAN FARMLAND - NIGHT
A HUEY, flanked by a pair of APACHES, skims the surface of
wheat fields at maximum velocity.
INT. HUEY COCKPIT - NIGHT
The pilot checks his instruments. He's honing in on a signal.
EXT. GERMAN FARKD - NIGHT
The swirling spotlights of the Apaches finally illuminate
the Seal of the President atop the EMERGENCY DEPLOYMENT POD.
The Huey drops in for a landing and a half dozen Army Rangers
in full combat gear deploy to the pod. They open it.
But.........
IT'S EMPTY.
INT. BAGGAGE DECK GANGWAY - NIGHT
Bruised and battered, some blood smeared across his tuxedo
shirt... PRESIDENT JAMES MARSHALL lowers himself from one of
the overhead wing struts.
He emerges into the bowels of Air Force one.
He stands quietly a moment, listening... for footsteps, for
gunfire. All quiet except for the whine of the jet engines.
He tak9s a moment to think. Considers his situation. His
eyes find the dead agent who risked his life so he could
make it to the pod. He trots down the gangway toward the
lower galley.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
Air Force One hovers atop billowy peaks. The smaller F-15s
cluster around her in a loose formation.
FIGHTER PILOT #1 (0.5. RADIO)
Sir, isn't there something we can do besides escort?
COL. CARLTON (O.S. RADIO)
Like what, son... shoot our own plane down?
FIGHTER PILOT #1
No sir. I just wish...
COL. CARLTON
Roger. We all wish... Now shut the
fuck up and escort.
INT. LOWER GALLEY - NIGHT
Marshall looks around for a weapon... half-full coffee pot,
stove, walk-in freezer, plates and silverware. Marshall picks
up a butcher knife.
INT. CORRIDOR, AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT
Nevsky and Bazylev guard the conference room door as Korshunov
and Vlad enter. Nevsky hands Korshunov a copy of the plane's
manifest.
NEVSKY
Every weapon and every person is
accounted for.
Korshunov nods and enters the room.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT
Korshunov surveys the hostages. Viad covers them at gunpoint.
Rose holds Alice, comforting her. shepherd, Doherty, Aides,
Advisors, Crew... Fifty of them huddle like sardines.
The plane's doctor administers to the wounded.
Korshunov stares down his captives.
KORSHUNOV
Fear will keep you alive. Any one
who is not afraid is bound to do
something foolish, and bound to die.
ROSE
What do you want with us?
KORSHUNOV
Cooperation. If you try to escape,
you will be met with automatic gunfire
and a barricade of your comrade's
bodies will prevent you from exiting.
Good day.
Korshunov exits, with Viad backing out behind him. Leaving
the hostages alone. The sound of the door locking.
A mournful beat. Everyone looks at each other and the dead
and wounded victims of this heinous act...
Hushed conversation breaks out all over the room.
DOHERTY
This can't be happening. You just
don't pull this shit with the United
States. You just don't.
MAJOR CALDWELL
Keep your heads.
Caldwell paces, looks around the room.
SHEPHERD
Mrs. Marshall, are you okay?
ROSE
We're alive.
SHEPHERD
That's all that matters. Thank god
the President got of f the plane.
ROSE
Yes... thank God.
(to caldwell)
You there... Caidwell, right? What's
on your mind? caldwell takes a beat,
then crosses to Rose and Shepherd.
MAJOR CALDWELL
(hushed)
I don't want to get anybody here
excited, but if we can get out of
this room, I can get us to safety.
SHEPHERD
We're thirty five thousand feet up.
MAJOR CALDWELL
Yes, sir, that's a problem, but if
we can somehow get to a lower
altitude, the rear loading ramp on
the baggage deck is equipped with
parachutes in case of an engine
failure. Now we can either wait for
a political resolution, or try to
resolve this thing ourselves.
DOHERTY
You're goddamn right we can resolve
this ourselves. We'll negotiate.
SHEPHERD
You know the President's policy.
DOHERTY
The President isn't here.
ROSE
Right now we are an enormous liability
to the United States. We can't just
sit and do nothing.
INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
The terrorists move toward the nose of the plane leaving
Nevsky to guard the conference room.
INT. BAGGAGE HOLD - NIGHT
President Marshall reaches the front stairway. Cautiously
climbs to the main cabin. As he reaches the top stairs, he
hears Russian conversation approaching. He ducks back into
the stairwell.
He can't see them, but he can hear them.
The terrorists pass within a few feet as they ascend to the
Mission Communications Center on the upper deck.
Marshall waits a few beats, listens to the silence. Then re-
mounts the stairs and almost runs into the back of...
VIAD
Standing guard, facing the opposite
direction.
Marshall FREEZES... looks past Viad down the corridor where
Nevsky guards the main conference room floor.
Unaware of Marshall, Viad reaches into his pocket and pulls
out a cigarette. Lights it. On the first puff he feels a
presence behind him.
VLAD slowly turns around...
Nothing there.
He smiles at his jittery nerves, turns back round.
REVERSE ANGLE -
Over Vlad's shoulder...
MARSHALL, flattened behind the edge of the galley divider.
He creeps away from Vlad toward the Presidential Suite...
stepping gingerly over dead secret service agents.
INT. MISSION COMMUNICATIONS CENTER -
* Korshunov pulls a handkerchef from his breast pocket
and wipes the blood from a telephone headset.
KORSHUNOV
Proceed.
Gibbs works the communications board, dialing in a series of
numbers. Telephone ringing...
INT. WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM - DAY
A map of Air Force One's flight trajectory is displayed on
the rear screen. Moscow to Berlin and back toward the Black
Sea.
The assembled brass listens as Korshunov's voice slithers
off the speaker phone.
KORSHUNOV (SPEAKER)
...the Chief of Staff, the First
Lady, and the First Daughter. Our
demands are simple. Arrange the
release of Ivan Stravanvitch. Once
our leader is returned to Turkuenistan
soil, Air Force One and it's occupants
will be allowed safe passage to
Switzerland. You have one hour before
we start killing hostages.
The phone clicks off. A silent beat in the room.
V.P. CHANDLER
Find that voice for me, I want to
know who we're dealing with. And get
President Petrov on the phone.
GENERAL CHARLES GREELY, head of the 87th Mechanized Air Wing,
the unit responsible for Air Force One, enters the room.
GENERAL GREELY
Madame Vice-President, we just got
word from Ramstein... The nod was
UntiL Chandler stands.
V.P. CHANDLER
Empty?
GENERAL GREELY
The President... he must still be
onboard.
V.P. CHANDLER
Play back that call.
TECHNICAL OFFICER
Yes, sir.
The Tech Officer indexes back on his computer.
KORSHUNOV (V.0. TAPE)
The plane is under our command, and
those we did not kill we hold as
hostages, including the Chief of
Staff, the First Lady, and the First
Daughter.
V.P. CHANDLER
but not the President. Not the
President.
A silent beat.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
He's dead then. They must have killed
him.
DEAN
We don't know that.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
Holding the president hostage is not
something that slips your mind when
you're making demands.
V.P. CHANDLER
And if he's dead? Do you really think
they'd risk telling us?
DEAN
There is a possibility we're
overlooking.
All eyes turn to Dean.
DEAN
When I ran Specops in `Nam, I ordered
the destruction of a V.C. munitions
dump. During insertion, the plane
was shot down and the entire team
was killed, or so we thought. Two
days later the dump
BLEW AND A WEEK AFTER THAT, THIS 19-
year-old kid, the pilot... he walks out of the jungle in
pretty bad shape. He survived the crash and finished the
mission... alone.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
Walter, if you have a point, make
it.
DEAN
That kid's name was Jim Marshall.
Most of the President's service record makes for dull reading
because most of what he did iarLZ ULirn. History remembers
him for what he did aflar he got back to the states -- the
protests, the rallies -- But he was a soldier once, a damn
fine one.
V.P. CHANDLER
So what are you saying?
DEAN
Maybe he's alive on that plane and
those bastards don't even know it.
V.P. CHANDLER
Mr. Dean, may I remind you that the
President is not 19 anymore.
INT. PRESIDENT'S STATEROOM - NIGHT
Marshall cautiously enters the room. Ready for action.
The room is empty, but it's been trashed by the firefight.
The sound of voices... coming from the Duke game which still
plays. Marshall hustles over to one of the secure phones.
It's dead. He tries the regular phone. Dead. Hangs it up in
disgust.
MARSHALL
Goddamnit.
He steps on some glass. It's a broken frame holding a
PHOTOGRAPH of Alice and Rose. He picks up the photo and lays
it on a table.
He thinks for a beat... glances around the room, searching...
Then he crosses to the closet, opens it and begins rifling
through his wardrobe.
INT. MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM.
Caldwell stands on the conference table. The hostages have
removed one of the ceiling panels. Air supply ducts and
bundles of wiring run through the ten-inch space between the
ceiling and the shielding plates.
MAJOR CALDWELL
This is a dead end.
Rose looks around the room. Hopeless. Her eyes land on the
carpet...
INT. CORRIDOR.
Marshall opens the stateroom door and slowly slides into the
corridor.
Vlad still faces the opposite direction.
Marshall creeps down the hallway, when...
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Marshall's watch alarm goes off.
Marshall dives for the nearest doorway. Vlad swings round to
see a figure slip into the senior staff cabin.
Vlad, unsure of what he saw., cautiously heads toward the
staff cabin. As he nears, he bends over a dead Secret Service
agent and pulls up the lifeless wrist revealing abeening
watch. It wasn't Marshall's after all. No matter. Vlad
continues to the staff Cabin.
INT. STAFF CABIN - NIGHT
Marshall frantically searches for something he can use as a
weapon. In the room: some video monitors, leather chairs and
phones. stainless steel cabinets run the length of one of
the walls.
Marshall throws the cabinet doors open, revealing...
A fully stocked MEDICAL CENTER... fold-down operating
table... high-intensity lights. Equipped to deal with any
medical emergency the president might encounter.
But too late. Vlad kicks the door open.
VLAD
Get on the floor, now!
Marshall yanks down the operating table, and it smashes into
Vlad, knocking him down. Marshall lunges with his knife, but
Vlad OPENS FIRE. A HALF DOZEN ROUNDS pump into Marshall's
belly. He's thrown back against the wall, then slumps to the
floor.
Vlad approaches the crumpled body. Leans down to examine his
victim. He cups his hand under the man's chin and lifts his
head. Recognizes him.
VIAD
(wonderment)
The President.
But Marshall's eyes flash open.
MARSHALL
That's right, asshole.
He springs, shoving the butcher knife under the flack jacket
and into Vlad's spleen. Vlad freezes, unsure of what just
happened.
Marshall is on his feet. Never letting go of the twisting
knife, he grabs Vlad by the back of the head and slams his
face against the mirror above the surgical scrub sink. The
mirror shatters and streams of blood erupt cn the terrorist's
face. The blood drips down into the white porcelain sink,
swirling into the drain.
Vlad elbows Marshall in the neck, stunning him momentarily.
He wipes the blood from his face, spins and hits Marshall
with a devastating right cross. Marshall reels back against
the wall, and Vlad follows, shoving the MP5 into Marshall's
throat. Marshall grabs the gun near the trigger...
* VLAD
Don't move or I'll blow your head off.
MARSHALL
I don't think so.
Marshall presses the saftey button on the gun with his
forefinger, then knees Vlad in the balls. Viad pulls the
trigger repeatedly as he goes down, but nothing happens.
Instead he comes up swinging his gun butt against Marshall's
face. Like a bat h
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