Lethal Penguin 2

By Nathan Cross

Revision 3 (27 November 2001)

EXT. THE CITY - DOWNTOWN - MID-DAY

The city streets are bustling with traffic. It is a little after mid-day, and the noon sun beats down on pedestrians and vehicles alike as we PAN ACROSS the city. A park near the city's centre offers one of the few respites of green in the urban sprawl. Children are playing, their shouts and laughter carrying over the honking and engine noise to one of the many cars that are slowly moving nearby. Inside this particular car are a man and a penguin.

INT. CAR - JON AND BOB

JON is in the driving seat, looking depressed. He sighs.

JON

Look at this traffic. It's days like this I wish this car had stripes down the side.

BOB

It's days like this I wish we had a helicopter.

JON

At this rate it's going to take us another hour to get to the station.

BOB

Why don't you just switch the siren on?

JON

Because we'd have to fill in a form to explain why we used it.

BOB

Yeah, so?

JON

'Because I couldn't stand sitting in a blimmin' traffic jam for another two hours' is not generally regarded as a good excuse. Oh, wait here we go...

BOB

It's about time...

JON edges the car forwards as the line of traffic begins to shuffle along the road, only to be forced to stop just in front of a stop light. JON sighs again.

JON

Tch.

A horn honks behind them, and the sound of a roaring engine and squealing tyres give the two men (well, man and penguin) mere moments of warning before a black four-door saloon tears past them, mounting the pavement to avoid the traffic ahead as terrified pedestrians dive out of its path. JON turns to BOB.

JON

You know what this means, don't you?

BOB AND JON (SIMULTANEOUSLY)

CAR CHASE!

BOB grabs the light from its resting place on the dashboard and leans out of his window to stick it onto the roof. JON slams his foot onto the accelerator, and after a second's wheelspin lifts a cloud of smoke onto the bonnet of the car behind, the siren begins to wail and the unmarked police car leaps into pursuit of the first car, forcing the pedestrians out of the way for a second time.

BOB

Woohoo!

The saloon swerves left, back onto the road, forcing cars to brake suddenly. The police car follows, fractionally slower, knocking over an old woman's shopping cart and narrowly missing the owner.

JON (SHOUTING)

Sorry!

BOB

You just missed a ten pointer there, Jon!

As the cars ahead begin to draw to a halt at an intersection, the runaway car swerves across the road to face the stationary oncoming traffic across the junction, crossing back again as it reaches the other side. The police car behind is a few seconds behind, and as it reaches the intersection vehicles are slowly beginning to move across its path.

JON

Uh oh...

BOB

Go for it, man, go for it!

JON closes his eyes and floors the accelerator. The other cars lurch and stop as the police car careens out in front of them, siren wailing, and continues after the first car. JON opens his eyes.

JON

Wow. That was unexpected.

BOB

They're headed for the freeway.

The fleeing car slaloms through traffic for a few seconds longer, drawing inexorably closer to the high-speed road out of the city. JON and BOB continue their dogged pursuit, even as the cars uninvolved in the chase are forced to halt and crash around them. Both cars mount the onramp.

JON

It's no good, we're not going to catch them, depite my total disregard for public safety.

BOB

Gimme your gun.

JON

Er...

BOB

I have a plan of such genius that Einstein would pat me congratulatorily on the back, if he weren't dead.

JON takes his revolver from under his jacket and hands it to his partner. BOB opens the sunroof and climbs out onto the roof of the car before drawing his own semi-automatic pistol. The fleeing car dodges around the last few remaining vehicles before accelerating with a squeal of melting rubber away from the city. The traffic begins to form a wall behind it, blocking the pursuing car's path.

BOB (SHOUTING)

Don't slow down!

JON

But we'll hit the cars!

BOB

I know!

JON fastens his seatbelt and presses himself as far back in his seat as

he can, slamming down the accelerator to push the car closer to its top

speed.

JON

On the bright side, if I don't survive I won't have to explain this to Captain O'Hara.

The police car crashes into the back of the queue of traffic. The front of the car, like the back of the car it hits, crumples like paper. The airbag in JON's steering wheel explodes, catching his head as he is thrown forward. BOB, meanwhile, has nothing to stop him as he is thrown forward. Extending his wings and sticking his beak in front of him, he glides over the traffic and along the freeway. As 'Flight of the Valkyries' begins to play, he begins to approach his still-fleeing target. Swooping down, he makes a near-perfect landing on the car's roof. Spinning a pistol in each hand, he grins evilly.

CUT TO inside of speeding car.

DRIVER

What was that?

PASSENGER

It's probably nothing.

BOB begins firing both pistols into the roof of the car. Bullets rain down onto the occupants, killing the driver and seriously wounding the passenger. The driver slumps forward onto the steering wheel, and the car begins to swerve wildly.

CUT TO BOB.

BOB backflips off the roof of the car, landing heavily on the concrete freeway. The car swerves a few more times before hitting a crash barrier and stopping. Heavy footsteps from behind cause BOB to turn around as JON half-jogs, half-limps towards him. JON bends over, trying to recover his breath, and surveys the situation. The passenger door of the car falls open and then off as the injured passenger attempts to crawl away from the crash.

JON

Hey, you didn't blow the car up, and you left a bad guy alive.

BOB

Oh, sorry.

BOB raises his semi-automatic pistol. The passenger puts up one hand. JON lunges towards BOB,

JON

NOOO..!

BOB fires at the wrecked car. The single bullet hits the fuel tank, and the car is flipped into the air by an almighty explosion. As the flames fill the screen, the title music starts and the credits roll.

INT. POLICE HQ - OPEN PLAN OFFICE

The Miscellaneous Crimes Department at the city's police headquarters is bustling with people, as ever. Dozens of police officers and civilian support staff mill around, many making the effort to look busy by carrying files and clipboards around, most not bothering to hide their laziness and carrying around cups of coffee. JON and BOB enter the open-plan office. JON is still moving stiffly, and a row of stitches above his right eye marks the entrance and removal of a piece of windshield. The two detectives head for their desks.

COP

Well look who it is! Can you boys get me some cheap flights to Miami?

JON

Ahaha. How amusing.

COP

You'll want to watch out for the captain. He's really gunning for you two.

The door to a small office across the room opens up, and CAPTAIN O'HARA emerges.

O'HARA

Murtaugh! Riggs! Get your worthless, no-good hides in here!

BOB opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a set of badly-burned animal skins.

O'HARA

And I don't mean the unsold produce from your moonlighting exploits!

INT. O'HARA'S OFFICE

O'HARA walks behind his desk and sits in his chair. BOB and JON enter the office, JON closing the door behind him. They stand before their commanding officer, awaiting the inevitable. They do not have to wait long.

O'HARA

What in god's name happened out there?

JON

Well, quite a lot of good charitable work, but also an unfortunate number of misguided acts of violence. We prefer to focus on the constructive aspects of religion, rather than the misappropriation of religious symbolism for the furthering of unworthy causes.

BOB

Busted a speeder.

O'HARA

No you didn't. 'Busted a speeder' implies that you arrested a motorist who was breaking the speed limit. What you two did was chase him halfway across the city, cause a pile-up on the freeway, execute the motorist, then blow up the already-disabled vehicle and the one remaining suspect.

BOB

It was a simple misunderstanding. See, Jon said...

JON

Hey, you're the one who fired the gun...

O'HARA

Remind me again what actual police procedure is. You may recall police procedure from your days in training, if either of you spent any time in police training, which, given the evidence presented to me, seems increasingly unlikely.

BOB

Er... Should we have shot the tyres out?

JON

Ooh! Ooh! I know! We're supposed to give them a ticket, right?

O'HARA slumps forward and puts his head in his hands. He sighs a deep, sad sigh before sitting back up and facing his subordinates. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, threatening.

O'HARA

I am going to give you two clowns one last chance. There's been a drive-by shooting downtown. You two are going to check it out, and find out who did it, and arrest them. You are not going to kill anyone. If you do kill anyone...

BOB opens his mouth to speak, but O'HARA continues talking, glaring at the penguin.

O'HARA

...Or seriously injure anyone, you will be busted down faster than you can guess the bad guy in an episode of Scooby Doo. Do I make myself clear?

BOB

Well...

JON grabs BOB's arm and begins pulling him towards the door.

JON

Yes. Yes, sir. Absolutely clear. We'll be going now. Come on, Bob, we've got work to do.

EXT. THE CITY - DOWNTOWN - AFTERNOON

Mid-afternoon in the city. We see a deprived inner-city area. Surrounded by large apartment blocks and even larger towers is a set of basketball courts. One of these courts is covered with white sheets, each one covering a body. An ice-cream van is standing nearby, riddled with bulletholes. Uniformed police officers are swarming all over the scene, stringing blue tape around the crime scene. A photographer is taking pictures of the ice-cream van from every possible angle. Another, unmarked, car stops alongside the numerous parked patrol cars. BOB and JON emerge from within and approach the most important-looking police officer.

JON

What happened here, officer?

OFFICER

Drive-by shooting. Bunch of kids playing basketball got wasted. Looks like a gang hit, but this ice-cream van was caught in the crossfire. Driver's dead.

BOB

Gang hit, huh? Any survivors? Witnesses?

OFFICER

Yeah, we've got a couple of the kids over there. You wanna talk to 'em?

BOB

Not really, no.

JON

But since that's our job, we'd better do it anyway.

The police officer leads the two detectives to the two young basketball players.

JON

I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh, and this is Detective Sergeant Riggs. Could you tell us what happened here?

KID #1

Like we told the other cops, it was a drive-by.

BOB

Could you tell us anything we couldn't work out from logical deduction?

KID #2

We was just playing some ball. That ice-cream van there stopped nearby, so we dropped out to buy some refreshments, y'know? We was just handing over some green when outta nowhere this other ice-cream van appears and starts spraying bullets everywhere.

KID #1

We ducked down behind the van, so we didn't get hit.

KID #2

Damn, I never want to hear 'Pop Goes The Weasel' again.

JON

Thanks for your time. We'll take care of things from here on in.

BOB and JON head back to their car.

BOB

So what now? Shall we just say these two did it and save on the paperwork?

JON

Tempting, but we're not a quarter into the film yet. I think we'd better talk to the company that owns this van.

BOB shrugs.

BOB

Okay. I've nothing better to do this afternoon anyway. What's the company called?

JON

(Glances at van) Smalltown Ice Company.

INT. SMALLTOWN ICE COMPANY

The Smalltown Ice Co works out of a fairly small, one-storey building that from the outside looks like a simple ice-cream parlour. BOB and JON stop their car outside and enter the building. A few people are sitting at the counter, eating ice-cream. A couple of tables sit empty at the windows. Behind the counter is a young woman dressed in a pastel pink uniform.

JON

Good afternoon...

SALLY

Hi, I'm Sally! How can I help you?

BOB

(Smirking) By taking off your...

JON grabs BOB's beak.

JON

He's Detective Sergeant Riggs, and I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh. I'm afraid there's been a bit of an accident with one of your vans.

BOB

(Struggling free) Less of an accident, more of a drive-by shooting.

SALLY

Oh my goodness! Who was driving?

JON

Just a nameless extra, no one to worry about. Could we talk to whoever's in charge?

SALLY

Of course. You'll want to talk to my grandfather. Come with me, I'll take you to him.

SALLY leads the two detectives through a back door, deeper into the building. They pass through a small factory set-up, where a small group of men and women perform miscellaneous tasks with frozen dairy produce, to an office with a window onto the factory floor. Inside is an old man. At first he looks quite sad, but smiles when he sees SALLY.

MR TIMSON

Hello, Sally! What is it?

SALLY

Grandfather, these two police officers are here to talk to you. They say something bad's happened.

MR TIMSON

Well, come in, gentlemen.

BOB and JON enter the office. SALLY leaves, returning to her job.

MR TIMSON

Why don't you sit down?

JON

Because we're being filmed in Supermarionation. I can dangle a couple of inches above the chair if you like?

BOB

F.A.B.

MR TIMSON

So what's happened?

BOB

Drive-by shooting. One of your vans got hit pretty bad. The driver's dead.

MR TIMSON

Oh my god, no.

MR TIMSON collapses into his chair.

MR TIMSON

My son, George. I thought he was just running late, even if it was by more than three hours.

BOB

(in a whiny voice) "Just a nameless extra, no one to worry about."

JON

(To BOB) Well how was I to know?

MR TIMSON

Who could possibly have done this?

JON

Er, we were hoping you could tell us. The vehicle used to perform the shooting was another ice-cream van.

BOB

Playing 'Pop Goes The Weasel.'

MR TIMSON

'Pop Goes The Weasel'? But there's only one company in town that plays that tune...

MR TIMSON dramatically spins his chair away from the detectives, a look of fear etched on his face.

MR TIMSON

...Whimsey's Frozen Dairy Products.

JON and BOB look at each other.

BOB

You know, I'm beginning to doubt the premise behind this case.

JON

Why would anyone want to kill your son?

MR TIMSON spins his chair back around to face his questioner.

MR TIMSON

It all started back in 1972. It was a long, hot summer that year, and the people wanted something to cool them down. They wanted ice cream. Jake Whimsey and I were friends from high school, and we decided that we could make a few bucks selling ice-cream. We made our own, to save on costs, and pooled our money to buy a used ice-cart to sell it from. Well, before you knew it...

BOB

So, you used to be friends but now you hate each other and are engaged in a bitter territorial feud over the sale of frozen dairy products?

MR TIMSON

Well, yeah. But my story would've sounded better.

BOB

I rather doubt it. (Turns to JON) Whimsey's?

JON

Why not, eh?

EXT. WHIMSEY'S FROZEN DAIRY PRODUCTS

Whimsey's is a huge complex surrounded by a two-metre high concrete wall, topped with barbed wire. Inside, the tops of warehouse-like buildings are visible. At the front of the complex is the only apparent entrance - a tall steel gate, wide enough to allow vehicles to enter when open. At the moment, the gate is firmly closed. BOB and JON's car draws up to it, stopping alongside an intercom device. JON winds his windows down and presses the only button on the intercom. It buzzes for a moment, then a barely audible voice responds.

VOICE

Who is it?

JON

I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh. I'd like to speak to Mr Whimsey, please.

VOICE

One moment please.

There is a pause. JON and BOB wait for the gate to open.

BOB

Any plans for how we're going to question him?

JON

Anything beyond 'Did your goons kill George Timson?' you mean?

BOB

Yes.

JON

No.

BOB

Ah.

There is another pause.

BOB

We could try good cop/bad cop.

JON

After last time? It would have worked if we'd decided beforehand who was going to be the good cop. Bad cop/bad cop just doesn't work.

BOB

He answered all our questions.

JON

When he recovered the ability to speak, yes.

The intercom buzzes again.

VOICE

You still there?

JON

Yes.

VOICE

You got a warrant?

JON

No.

VOICE

Then get lost.

The intercom goes dead. JON turns to BOB.

JON

I suppose we could go and get a warrant.

BOB

But we only want to talk to him, not search the place.

JON

A fair point. We don't need a warrant to talk to him. (Thinks for a moment.) Do we?

BOB

I don't think so, no.

JON and BOB get out of the car and head for the trunk. Opening it up, BOB takes out a hefty metal-cutting device. He closes the trunk and approaches the gate.

JON

You know, I think this could count as criminal damage.

BOB

(Pointing behind JON) Look! Philippa Forrester!

JON

(Turns) Where?

With two swift snips BOB cuts a bar in the gate loose. It clatters to the floor. JON turns back again.

BOB

Oh look. Their gate appears to be broken. We should probably go inside and check there are no intruders.

There is little activity inside the compound. A few dozen ice-cream vans stand idle in an impromptu parking lot, but there are no people walking around. A lot of noise is coming from the factory. The detectives approach, quickly finding a door. They enter.

INT. WHIMSEY'S GENERIC FACTORY

Inside, the factory contains all the generic equipment to be expected in such a place. Various people are working with unidentifiable machines, presumably producing ice-cream. Beside the door is a guard hut, inside of which is a guard. He emerges at once and confronts the police officers.

GUARD

Hey! Who the hell are you?

JON

I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh, and this is Detective Sergeant Riggs. We're here to see Mr Whimsey.

GUARD

Didn't I just tell you guys to get lost?

JON

We are. Perhaps you could give us directions to Mr Whimsey's office?

GUARD

Now you get out of here right now or...

BOB

Can you remember what the procedure is for dealing with someone impeding an investigation?

JON

Well, usually we get into a heated discussion as to the pros and cons of either beating them senseless or working out some clever way to remove them from the situation.

BOB

Then what?

JON

Generally we come to a compromise, in which our impediment is either beaten senseless or handcuffed to a moving vehicle. However, it seems to me that there is a faster method of reaching a decision, by way of using the same method we use for all complex dilemmas.

BOB

Of course!

BOB and JON each extend their right arm, fists clenched. They shake their fists once, twice, three times, finally opening their fists to reveal that while JON has chosen paper, BOB has chosen scissors.

JON

You win.

BOB

A senseless beating it is, then. (BOB takes a step toward the guard.)

GUARD

(Holding up his hands) Okay, okay! I'll take you to see the boss. But he's not gonna be happy...

INT. WHIMSEY'S OFFICE

JAKE WHIMSEY has the kind of office you'd expect from a high-flying corporate CEO. Tropical fish tank, expensive office furniture, non-descript art and sculptures... Just the sort of thing you probably wouldn't expect in the office of a high-ranking ice-cream vendor. (Or maybe you would. I don't know.)

There is a knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, the door is opened. JON pokes his head around it to survey the room. JAKE looks up from the document he is reading.

JAKE

Yes?

JON enters. BOB follows, closing the door behind him.

JON

He's Detective Sergeant Riggs, I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh. We'd like to talk to you about a murder.

JAKE

Do you have a warrant?

JON

Technically... (JON looks at BOB for assurance) ...we don't need a warrant to talk to you.

JAKE

Are you arresting me?

JON

Not as such, no.

JAKE

Then I don't have to talk to you, and you're trespassing. I could demand that you get off my property. (JAKE thinks for a moment, then grins.) But I'm a good citizen, always happy to aid the police in their investigations. Why don't you sit down?

JON

These trousers are rather heavily starched.

JAKE

So, what do you want to talk to me about?

BOB

A murder. Weren't you listening?

JON

Earlier today, an ice-cream vendor from your rival, Smalltown Ices, was gunned down in the street.

BOB

Well, in his van. But that was in the street.

JON

According to eye-witnesses...

BOB

Y'know, I've always wondered about that. You never hear about 'ear-witnesses' or 'nose-witnesses'...

JON

Hush. According to witnesses, the occupants of another ice-cream van were responsible for the shooting. A little digging revealed that the ice-cream van must belong to you.

JAKE

And why is that?

JON

Only your vans play 'Pop Goes The Weasel'.

JAKE

Our vans are equipped with industry-standard child-attractor devices. We get lots of tunes, we don't specify which ones we do or don't play. Why, just last week we got a dozen 'Old MacDonald's.

JON

But no other vans play 'Pop Goes The Weasel'.

JAKE

None? Anywhere? You think Joe Schmoe couldn't go out, buy a van and install a 'Weasel' onboard? You know what, this stinks of a set-up. A couple of lazy cops who couldn't be bothered to do their jobs properly decide to pin it all on the first ice-cream vendor they come across. (Jake stands up.) Well that dog don't hunt, mister! I'm an honest citizen, and a major contributor to the mayor's election campaign! I'll see to it that you boys are out of a job before the day is out!

JAKE picks up his phone and begins dialling.

JAKE

Is that the mayor's office? This is Jake Whimsey. I want to speak to him right now. Yes, it's important. What do you mean, he's not in? It's barely three o'clock! He's playing golf? And he didn't invite me? Damn it!

JAKE hangs up.

JAKE

The mayor's out. I'll get you fired later. Now get out of my office!

EXT. WHIMSEY'S FACTORY COMPOUND

BOB and JON are leaving the factory and crossing the compound, heading back for the main gate.

JON

That went well.

BOB

Apart from the 'aggravating someone who's friends with our boss' part, yeah.

JON

Perhaps he was bluffing.

BOB

We should have done good cop/bad cop.

JON

I've told you, it went horribly wrong last time. We're not doing that again.

BOB

Well, what do we do now?

JON

I don't know. We're out of leads.

BOB

I guess we should try using everything we're carrying on random pieces of scenery.

JON

Let's head back to the station and see if anyone got a licence plate number for that van.

BOB

Right-oh.

The detectives step through the hole in the gate and approach their car.

INT. POLICE HQ - MISCELLANEOUS CRIMES DEPT.

JON and BOB enter the bustling office.

JON

Typical. A whole bunch of witnesses and nobody bothered to write down the licence number.

BOB

It's especially annoying since it would've given the captain a reason not to fire us.

JON

I'm not getting fired this week. I've got one hell of a phone bill to pay, so one way or another we're going to crack this case.

BOB

So it's time for a bit of the old ultraviolence, then?

JON

No! We're under orders, remember? One maiming and it's all over. We're going to have to do this properly.

BOB

Erm... Can you remember what exactly 'doing it properly' entails?

JON

Um... I think it involves finding the good-hearted but foolishly-misguided girl that always attaches herself to a serious bad guy like this one.

BOB

But where do we start looking?

JON

How about at your desk?

Sitting at BOB's desk is an understatedly-dressed yet still astonishingly attractive young woman.

BOB

It's a plan, I suppose.

The detectives approach the woman.

BOB

Hi there. I'm Detective Sergeant Riggs. How can I help you?

WOMAN

One of the officers said you were the person I needed to talk to. It's about the shooting earlier today.

BOB

The ice-cream drive-by?

The woman nods.

WOMAN

My name's Jessica. I work for Jake Whimsey, at Whimsey's Frozen Dairy Products. I'm his secretary. I heard you talking to him earlier. I just wasn't sure whether... I...

BOB

This isn't exactly a comfortable environment, is it? Why don't we go talk somewhere else? In fact... (glances at watch) ...why don't we talk over dinner? I know this great Italian place not far from here.

JESSICA

That sounds great.

BOB and JESSICA leave.

JON

Hi! I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh, and I'm responsible for filling in the paperwork. Apparently. (Sits down and begins typing.)

INT. PIZZA HUT, ONLY WITH THE SIGNS OBSCURED DUE TO 'NEGOTIATION DIFFICULTIES'.

The restaurant is almost full. BOB and JESSICA sit opposite each other at a window table, a hot Hawaiian pizza sitting in neat slices on a plate before them. BOB is consuming slices with the aim of eating more pizza than JESSICA. JESSICA is still on her first slice, while BOB is on his third, judging by the uneaten crusts before him.

BOB

What's wrong? Don't you like it?

JESSICA

I'm not that hungry.

BOB

Things on your mind, hm?

JESSICA nods.

JESSICA

It's this whole murder business. I'm sure you're aware by now that this isn't the first incident.

BOB

It isn't?

JESSICA

There's been bad blood between Whimsey's and Smalltown Ices for as long as I've worked for Mr Whimsey.

BOB

Really? How bad?

JESSICA

Well, as I said, this isn't the first incident. There's been a lot of violence before; beatings, sabotage... This is the first time I've heard of someone being killed, though. But... (sniffs)

BOB

But what?

JESSICA

It won't be the last. (Tears begin trickling down her face.) I overheard Mr Whimsey on the phone after you'd left... He's planning to expand his operations, and that means getting Smalltown Ices out of the way. And he'll do whatever it takes.

BOB

I see.

JESSICA

He's setting something big up for tomorrow afternoon, about three o'clock. I'm not sure what it is, but it's big.

There is a brief, but uncomfortable, silence. Only one slice of pizza remains.

BOB

Are you going to eat that?

JESSICA finally smiles.

JESSICA

Knock yourself out.

BOB

Will I get to eat the pizza then?

JESSICA pushes the plate towards BOB. BOB takes the remaining slice and begins eating.

BOB

So where are you staying? I'll give you a lift home.

JESSICA

That's not necessary, really.

BOB

No, I insist. The city's a dangerous place, I couldn't possibly let you go home by yourself.

JESSICA

It's not that dangerous...

BOB

It must be - I live here.

JESSICA smiles again, and the two get up to leave.

EXT. POLICE HQ - THE NEXT MORNING

INT. POLICE HQ - MISCELLANEOUS CRIMES DEPT.

JON is sitting at his desk, his feet resting atop his computer monitor. His chair is tilted back as far as it will go. The detective is asleep, in spite of the other police officers around him who are not going out of their way to avoid waking him.

BOB enters, whistling. JON wakes up as BOB sits down, and glances at his watch.

JON

What time do you call this?

BOB

I call it... 'Enderigati'. Why?

JON

It's half nine in the morning.

BOB

And? I'm always in late, you know that.

JON

For one, you're usually in later than this. For two, you took the car last night and didn't come back.

BOB

So?

JON

You know full well I live half-an-hour's drive outside of the city. I had to sleep at my desk.

BOB

Well... think of the good impression it'll leave on the captain.

JON

Hmph... So did the lovely Jessica tell you anything? And more importantly, did she tell you anything relevant to the case?

BOB

As a matter of fact...

At that moment the door to Captain O'Hara's office opens. O'HARA emerges momentarily.

O'HARA

Murtaugh! Riggs! My office, NOW!

BOB

Ah, well, here we go again...

INT. O'HARA'S OFFICE

JON and BOB enter, and stand before the captain's desk.

O'HARA

I don't believe this. I really don't.

BOB

Great! Can we go?

O'HARA

I give you one simple little case, and you bozos somehow manage to screw it up.

JON

To be fair, sir, it wasn't as simple a case as it appeared on the surface...

O'HARA

A drive-by! That's all it was! One little drive-by shooting! A meter maid could have cracked it by now, but not you guys. Oh no. You have to break into an ice-cream factory and accuse a major contributor to the mayor's election campaign of conspiracy to commit murder! What the hell were you thinking?

JON

Well...

O'HARA

I don't want to hear it! You two are off the case! Period! Now get out of my office while I try to find somebody stupid enough to let me transfer you to their department!

JON and BOB open the door and leave. As he leaves, BOB suddenly thinks of something and turns back to the captain.

BOB

We didn't kill anyone.

O'HARA

GET OUT!

BOB leaves hurriedly.

INT. DOWNTOWN BAR

JON and BOB are sitting at the bar, each clutching a bottle of a generic 'American' 'beer', except for them being European, and lager. Neither looks particularly sober, and neither sounds particularly sober either.

BOB

(Slurring) You know what really gets me?

JON

How those 'musicians' on the Gap ads are obviously miming?

BOB

We went to all that trouble to avoid killing or injuring anyone, and we still get taken off the case.

JON

Well, to be fair, we did make a lot of accusations with nothing but circumstantial evidence to back us up.

BOB

But we're cops!

JON

Fair point.

They pause for a moment, reflecting on their impending unemployment and their beer.

JON

So what are we going to do now?

BOB

I'm thinking of joining a private security firm.

JON

You? A security guard?

BOB

More bodyguard.

JON

That reminds me, what did Jessica tell you?

BOB

Oh, just that Whimsey was planning for something big to go down at three o'clock this afternoon.

JON

Why didn't you say so earlier?

BOB

It didn't seem relevant.

JON looks at his watch.

JON

It's nearly three o'clock now! We'd better get to Smalltown Ices right away!

JON and BOB leave the bar.

INT. JON AND BOB'S CAR

The car is moving at speed through the city. JON is gripping the wheel tightly and staring ahead as though hypnotised by the road.

BOB

I still don't see why this is our problem. We're off the case; we should let somebody else deal with it.

JON

Why did you become a police officer, Bob?

BOB

I wanted to carry a gun and beat people up because they looked suspicious. You?

JON

I joined to serve the public trust, protect the innocent, and uphold the law. And something else that escapes me for the moment. But the point is, we're police officers. We have to uphold the law. And the law says no killing, unless we do it on behalf of the state and remember to fill in the relevant forms.

BOB

If I'd had one more beer, I'd be welling up at that speech.

EXT. SMALLTOWN ICE COMPANY

JON and BOB's car draws up outside the ice-cream parlour. They leave the car and cautiously approach the building.

BOB

What time is it?

JON

Er... Three fifteen.

BOB

We're probably too late. Let's just call the clean-up crew and get back to drinking our way to unemployment.

JON ignores him and enters the building. BOB sighs and follows him.

INT. SMALLTOWN ICE COMPANY

Everything is normal inside. A few of the tables are occupied, a couple sit at the counter. SALLY smiles when she sees the detectives.

SALLY

Hi! What brings you back here?

JON

Nothing's happened here, has it?

SALLY

Like what? I had an accident with some mint ice-cream a few minutes ago and had to change into a clean uniform, but...

JON

(To Bob) So much for your reliable source. Where's the 'something big' that's supposed to be 'going down'? Eh? Eh?

BOB shrugs.

BOB

She didn't say where it was going to happen. Maybe they're planning to hit somewhere else?

JON groans.

JON

(To Sally) Sorry. We'll be off now.

JON and BOB leave.

EXT. SMALLTOWN ICE COMPANY

JON and BOB head back towards their car.

JON

You are bloody hopeless, do you know that?

BOB

Hang on...

JON

No, I mean it. You are the most incompetent, self-serving, ambitionless slob of a penguin I have ever had to work with. Your witness interview technique is atrocious, and your general attitude to policing would make the average KGB man look like a village bobby.

At that moment, the sound of 'Pop Goes The Weasel' fills the air. JON and BOB turn to see a convoy of three ice-cream vans drives slowly down the street. As they pass the ice-cream parlour, men with machine guns appear at the serving hatches and spray the building with bullets. The windows shatter and cement dust begins to obscure their view. After a good fifteen seconds of continuous fire, the ice-cream vans drive off.

JON

Ahem.

JON and BOB get into their car and begin to pursue the ice-cream vans.

INT. THE CAR

The tyres squeal as JON stamps on the accelerator, pulling the car away from the kerb. BOB picks up the police radio and switches on.

BOB

This is Riggs! We're in pursuit of three ice-cream vans, they just shot up Smalltown Ice Company!

A distracted-sounding radio controller replies.

RADIO

Uh, say again?

BOB

Three ice-cream vans, headed down Ninth!

RADIO

And they just shot up an ice-cream company?

BOB

Yes!

RADIO

You nearly got me there, Bob. Now cut it out, we got serious work to do here.

BOB puts the radio down.

BOB

Looks like we're on our own.

JON

Tch.

The police car draws closer to the rear-most ice-cream van in the convoy. BOB draws his pistol.

BOB

Bring us alongside.

JON edges the car closer to the van, accelerating further and pulling the bonnet in line with the van's serving hatch. BOB climbs out of his window and onto the bonnet of the car. A shocked face emerges from the passenger window of the van, then ducks back inside.

JON

(Shouting) We're not supposed to kill anyone!

BOB mutters something under his breath and jumps through the still-open serving hatch. The man responsible for the shocked face emerges from his window again and points a pistol at JON.

JON

Gaah!

JON stamps on the brakes. His car screams to a halt, and the ice-cream van tears away.

INT. ICE-CREAM VAN

BOB crouches behind a stack of Flake boxes, pistol in hand, pondering his next action.

BOB

(Whispering to himself) I could kill 'em... I really should kill 'em...

BOB begins to stand up, but then changes his mind.

BOB

No, no. The captain said not to kill anyone. And it's about time I proved I've got what it takes to be a police officer. I'll wait it out. Yeah, that's a plan. I'll wait it out.

After a minute or so, the van stops. BOB hears the doors open, the other occupants get out, and slam the doors shut. BOB sighs with relief and puts his gun away. The rear doors then open. Two large men are standing outside. They look at BOB. BOB looks at them and grins.

BOB

You're under arrest?

EXT. POLICE HQ

JON draws up in his car, an anxious look on his face. He gets out and slowly ascends the steps towards the building. Before he can get halfway, a booming voice halts him in his tracks.

O'HARA

Murtaugh! What the hell are you doing back here?

JON

Uh, there's a problem, sir.

O'HARA

No kidding! You and Riggs have been transferred out of so many departments that there's no-one left I can dump you on! Now there's a problem!

JON

It's about the ice-cream case. An informant tipped Bob off about a shooting at Smalltown Ice Company. We got there just in time to see it happen.

O'HARA

So where's Riggs now?

JON

He jumped into the back of one of their vans, then I lost 'em. I've got my suspicions about where he is, but...

O'HARA

What the hell's that noise?

The sound of 'Pop Goes The Weasel' drifts along the street. JON turns to see an ice-cream van approaching the police station. He stands between the van and the captain and draws his revolver. The van draws nearer, pausing at the bottom of the steps. The rear doors burst open, and a black and white bundle is thrown out. The ice-cream van speeds away.

JON

Oh no...

JON and O'HARA rush down the steps to the bundle. It is an unconscious BOB. He has been severely beaten. His pistol remains holstered and unfired.

JON

Call an ambulance!

O'HARA rushes away.

JON

Bob... Speak to me, Bob...

INT. HOSPITAL - PRIVATE ROOM

BOB is lying in bed, swathed in bandages, with needles and wires attached to various parts of his body. An expensive-looking machine stands nearby, emitting a steady beeping tone. JON sits in a chair beside the bed.

JON

I shouldn't have let you jump into that van. You always do the really dangerous stuff, and I always end up stuck in the car. (Sighs.) I didn't mean what I said about you being incompetent, you know. You're self-serving, ambitionless, and a slob, but you're not incompetent. I'm sorry, Bob.

BOB coughs. His eyes slowly open.

BOB

Jon..?

JON

Right here, buddy.

BOB

I didn't kill anyone.

JON sniffs away a tear.

JON

Good work, Bob.

BOB

I.. (Coughs.) I found out where those vans went.

JON

Where was it?

BOB

They went back to their boss, Mr Timson.

JON

Of course! The man we least suspected!

BOB

Not really. They went back to Whimsey's, like we thought all along.

The door opens, and Captain O'HARA walks in carrying a large bunch of flowers.

O'HARA

Riggs? You awake?

BOB coughs again.

BOB

Yes, sir.

O'HARA

Good. How you feelin'?

BOB

Not bad, sir.

O'HARA pulls up another chair and sits down, placing the flowers on the end of BOB's bed.

JON

Bob found out where the vans went. It was Whimsey all along.

O'HARA

Just like you said...

O'HARA holds his head in his hands.

O'HARA

Oh, what have I done? If I hadn't ordered you not to hurt anyone, none of this would've happened... Well, I suppose it's probably not much help now, but I'm taking that order back. If you guys want to injure, torture, maim or kill a suspect in the course of your investigations, that's fine by me. Just make sure you fill out the paperwork, and I'll get it by. Oh, god, I'm so sorry...

O'HARA begins to sob, and gets up to leave.

O'HARA

Murtaugh, I'd like a word with you outside.

O'HARA leaves.

JON

(To Bob) I'll just be a minute, okay?

BOB

No rush.

JON follows the captain.

O'HARA

I take it you want to take care of whoever did this to Riggs?

JON

Natch.

O'HARA

Well, I'm behind you one hundred percent, no matter how many people you have to assault. You go do whatever it is you gotta do.

JON

Thanks, captain.

O'HARA walks off, wiping a tear from his eyes. JON looks thoughtful for a moment, and then re-enters BOB's room.

INT. EXPENSIVELY FURNISHED HOUSE - HALL

JAKE WHIMSEY arrives home. He closes the door behind him and throws his briefcase into one corner.

JAKE

Honey! I'm home!

JAKE looks into the lounge. It is empty, apart from the expensive furnishings. He walks to the end of the hall and into the kitchen. It, too, is empty, but JAKE is hungry. He walks across the room to his refrigerator and opens it to survey the contents. After careful consideration, he settles on a block of cheese and a packet of sliced ham. He turns to see JON in the opposite corner, sitting on the countertop. There is an audible click as JON pulls the hammer back on his revolver, which he has already aimed quite plainly at JAKE.

JON

You may remember me. I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh.

JAKE

Er... Yes. Is this about me getting you fired?

JON

I've not been fired. In fact, I've been given carte blanche to commit whatever acts of violence it takes to find out who's behind this ice-cream war crap.

JAKE

Ah.

JON

So, either you tell me everything you know, or I do something quite, quite horrible to you.

JAKE

Ah.

JON

No, not 'ah'. 'I confess, I'm the criminal mastermind', sure. But not 'ah'.

JAKE

Look, I don't know how I can convince you. I'm not a criminal mastermind. I'm not even a criminal servantmind. I'm not even a slightly-naughty unemployed-masses-mind. I just sell ice-cream.

JON

(Standing up) I guess we'll have to do this the hard way, then.

The front door opens. JON puts a finger to his lips, warning his prisoner to be silent. JAKE nods. Voices drift in from the hall.

MAN

It went great. We shot the whole place up, there was damn near nothing left. It'll take 'em weeks to rebuild, let alone hire replacement staff.

WOMAN

Oh, Jake, I really don't like all this violence. Does it have to be like this?

JAKE breaks his silence.

JAKE

(Whispers) My son...

JON glares at JAKE threateningly, and JAKE shuts up again. The voices slowly begin to get nearer.

JAKE JR

I suppose you'd like me to ask them nicely to shut up shop and get the hell out of town, huh? Well this is the real world, and in the real world bad things happen. I'm just making sure they happen to other people.

WOMAN

But it seems so wrong...

JAKE JR

Jessica, shut up. It's bad enough that I have to put up with my lily-livered dad, let alone you.

JESSICA

I'm sorry, Jake.

JAKE JR

I shoulda just kept you as a secretary. Dad always said it was a bad idea to mix business and pleasure.

At that moment JAKE JR and JESSICA enter the kitchen. JAKE JR looks at JAKE, surprised.

JAKE JR

Dad! I didn't know you were home.

JAKE looks scared stupid.

JAKE JR

Dad? What the hell's wrong with you?

JON

Ahem.

JAKE JR and JESSICA turn to face JON. JON raises a hand in greeting.

JON

I'm Detective Sergeant Murtaugh. You're nicked.

JAKE JR grabs JESSICA around the throat, draws a semi-automatic pistol from his jacket and holds it to his hostage's head.

JAKE JR

Drop the piece, copper, or the girl gets it.

JON

Oh, sure, that's a good plan. Drop my gun and then get shot. Real good plan.

JAKE JR

I mean it! Drop it or she's dead!

JAKE JR cocks the hammer on his pistol. JESSICA begins to cry.

JON

Oh, alright, I'll drop my gun.

JON throws his gun onto the kitchen counter beside him.

JON

Will you let the girl go now?

JAKE JR

No. But I'll shoot you instead of her.

JAKE JR aims his pistol at JON. Before he can fire, though, JAKE SR hits him in the head with a kettle. JAKE JR falls to the floor. He looks accusingly at his father, and then runs off, down the hall and out of the house. JON is a second behind him, having recovered his own weapon.

EXT. WHIMSEY'S HOUSE

JAKE JR runs towards his car parked in the street, diving over the bonnet to get to the driver's side. JON stops just outside the door and begins firing. Glass breaks, holes are punched in the car, but JAKE JR somehow manages to get it started and drive off. JON sighs and returns to the kitchen, reloading his revolver.

INT. WHIMSEY'S HOUSE - KITCHEN

JAKE SR helps JESSICA to a chair and gets her a glass of water. JON enters.

JON

Right. So your son is behind all this ice-cream war nonsense, then.

JAKE SR

I'm sorry, I didn't know anything...

JESSICA

Jake's behind it all. I told the other detective all about it last night. Where is he, anyway?

JON

Sergeant Riggs is in hospital.

JESSICA gasps.

JON

He was put there by some ambulance personnel, after they collected him from where Jake's goons dumped him outside the police station.

JAKE SR

I can see why you're upset. But I swear I didn't know anything about any of this. George Timson and I have had our differences over the years, but we'd never consider turning to violence.

JON

Where's your son headed?

JAKE SR

I... I don't know...

JESSICA

He'll be going back to the factory, I expect.

JON

Then I'm going to go get him.

JESSICA

No! You can't! He's got a private army there. You wouldn't stand a chance on your own.

JON

I've got no choice. They nearly killed my partner. Nobody does that and gets away with it. Nobody.

JON leaves.

EXT. WHIMSEY'S FROZEN DAIRY PRODUCTS

JON's car draws up outside the compound, away from the gates. He pops open the trunk, gets out and heads to the back of the car. As he begins to sort through the contents of the trunk, he hears a familiar voice.

BOB

I can't believe you weren't going to call me for this.

JON turns around, surprised.

JON

Bob! What are you doing out of hospital?

BOB

Well, I'm not entirely stupid, you know. I figured that sooner or later you'd end up here, and you know as well as I do that you can't take on an entire army by yourself. (Glances over JON's shoulder into the trunk.) Although it looks like you're going to have a bloody good go.

JON

You heard what the captain said, didn't you? 'If you guys want to injure, torture, maim or kill a suspect in the course of your investigations, that's fine by me.'

BOB

Time for a bit of the old ultraviolence?

JON

Let's go to work.

CUT TO view of gates from inside compound. JON and BOB walk into view. They are both wearing long, black duster coats and sunglasses. BOB reaches under his coat and pulls out a steel cutter. He pulls the starter cord, and the toothed disc roars into life, spinning faster and faster. BOB draws the blade across the bars of the gate, first low, then high. One by one the bars fall to the floor of the compound. BOB throws away the steel cutter, and the detectives enter the compound.

Almost at once the factory doors slam open, and a swarm of goons emerge, all wielding clubs, baseball bats and heavy-looking bits of metal. They stand in a long line before the detectives, daring them to try to pass.

LEAD GOON

So, you going to arrest us?

BOB and JON look at each other. They each sweep back their coats to reveal bandoliers carrying dozens of pistols and sub-machine guns. Drawing two pistols each, the detectives open fire on the goons, who begin to alternately run away screaming and fall over with gunshot wounds. The carnage continues for a full minute, with BOB picking off the slower runners with carefully-aimed shots. Finally, all is still, apart from a few of the injured trying to pull themselves away, moaning in pain. The detectives step over the bodies and head towards the factory.

INT. WHIMSEY'S GENERIC FACTORY

JON and BOB enter to find the guard standing alert and ready, pistol drawn and aimed.

GUARD

Throw down your weapons and place your hands behind your head!

JON

But we're the police...

GUARD

Do it now!

JON and BOB throw away their pistols and place their hands behind their heads. The guard takes out some handcuffs and approaches BOB. BOB headbutts the guard, who falls backward. JON takes his pistol as he goes down, quickly removing the clip and throwing both items in opposite directions. BOB noisily kicks the guard into unconsciousness. The sound of lots of footsteps draws close. JON draws a couple of sub-machine guns from under his coat.

JON

More goons coming in.

BOB

Good-oh.

BOB pulls a shotgun from under his own coat. The two police officers run deeper into the factory, splitting up and fanning around the huge vats of ice-cream. Within moments the sound of gunfire fills the air, as properly-armed goons begin to pour onto the factory floor. JON and BOB slaughter their way through the building, pausing only to throw aside empty guns and draw fresh ones.

WHIMSEY'S OFFICE

JAKE JR is crouched behind his desk, telephone in hand. Two goons with machine guns stand in front of the desk, watching the door. JAKE JR is frantic.

JAKE JR

Hello? Mr Mayor? It's Jake Whimsey Junior here. I've got a bit of a problem with a couple of police officers. Yes, I know you're not directly in control of the police, but in this case it'd be nice if you could make an exception. There's a couple of psycho cops in my factory, and they're wiping out my employees. No, they're shooting them. With guns. Yes, they're killing them. No, they haven't read anyone their rights. Yes, I know! Could you get some real cops down here, please? Like, now?

The door bursts open. There is a lengthy burst of gunfire. JAKE JR peeks over the edge of his desk. The goons are dead. JON is standing in the doorway. He enters, followed by BOB.

BOB

Jake Whimsey Junior, I presume.

JON

You're nicked, sonny.

JAKE JR

Get out of here now! I've already called the mayor - he'll have SWAT on your tail so fast it'll make your head spin!

BOB

You know, that's a remarkably overused metaphor.

JON

Is it a metaphor, or a simile? I can never remember which is which.

BOB

Hmm. Well, it's well-worn whichever it is.

JON

What were we doing again? (Thinks.) Oh yes, arresting the criminal mastermind. Unless you'd like to force us to kill you in self-defence?

JAKE JR shakes his head.

JON

A nice, sensible arrest it is, then.

EXT. WHIMSEY'S FROZEN DAIRY PRODUCTS

Dozens of police cars and a pair of SWAT vans arrive, sirens blaring. Police officers begin to fan out across the compound, pistols drawn in spite of the fact that everyone is obviously dead. The factory door opens, and JAKE JR emerges, hands cuffed behind his back, followed by JON and BOB. They hold up their badges to the other officers as they pass through the crowd. As they leave the compound, Captain O'HARA approaches them.

O'HARA

So this is the bad guy, huh? Nice work fellas, we'll take it from here.

JON and BOB mumble their thanks and return to their own car, leaving JAKE JR to be bundled into another car by some burly uniformed officers.

CUT TO an aerial view looking down the street, past the police cars. JON and BOB get into their car and drive off, into the sunset.

JON

Well, our work here is done.

BOB

Guess so. Pizza?

JON

Pepperoni?

BOB

Hawaiian?

JON sighs. There is a few seconds pause.

JON

You win. Hawaiian it is.