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 BLACK ON WHITE NOT RED ALL OVERa screenplaybyS. A. ScogginRegistered WGA and©2009sascoggin@gmail.com 
 
 1
EXTERIOR. WASHINGTON D.C: THE MALL. DAY.It is a cold spring day. A small but growing crowd isgathering about a roped off area, a semicircle about fiftyyards in diameter which borders the street. Police areeverywhere, on foot and on horseback.Within the semicircle is a platform with a podium. On oneside of the platform stands the red white and blue of theStars and Stripes and on the other the white, blue and redRussian flag. A color guard is preening on the lawn next toa small brass band which is warming up with several bars ofan unfamiliar martial air. A man in a dark suit and sunglasses passes in front ofthem. His head is on a swivel as he sees everything, yet noone seems to take notice of him. A thin twisted wire leadsfrom his lapel to a plug fitted into his ear.The man pauses a second to watch a television news crew. Heeyes the talent, a stunning blonde roughing out hercommentary.REPORTER As you can see behind me, security istight…She turns and checks behind her, then she scribbles on herclipboard.REPORTER…heavy security…in evidence here on theMall at the departure ceremony forRussian Premier Marat Kuptsov, who isheavily favored in the upcoming Russianpresidential election. Premier Kuptsovis a strong supporter of the Administration’s antiterrorist effortsin the Middle East. White House sourceshave told me that Premier Kuptsovexpects American approval in return forstronger Russian action against theChechnyan forces who are using some ofthe same terrorist tactics in the longand bloody conflict raging there…Phil,too long? What?She puts a hand to her ear, listening.
 
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INTERIOR. WASHINGTON, D.C.: HOTEL LOBBY. DAY.Elevator doors open and MARAT KUPTSOV exits. KUPTSOV istall and ruddy, with a thick bush of snow-white hair. He walks like one who is used to seizing command of the peopleand events around him. People stop what they are doing to watch him pass. The lobby is full of police. As he marchesthrough, he accumulates a convoy before and aft. Near thedoor, he stops and motions to two black men inplainclothes. RODNEY QUINTAL is a sleek, powerful man inhis late thirties. Though a boxer in his youth, his face isunmarked. He carries himself with the balance andconfidence of a champion fighter. MICHAEL JACKSON is in hisearly forties but looks older and worn, as if it were hethat had been the fighter.KUPTSOVOfficer Quintal! You have my backagain today?QUINTALYes, sir.KUPTSOVThat is my good fortune. Agent Jackson,I am remembering one or two quiteunreported factors that were underneathour strategic goals in 1979. I willtell you more about the Afghanunpleasantries… but this is not theplace for that. Later. Come and see mein Moscow.JACKSONYou are too kind, Mr. Premier.KUPTSOVKindness is not in it. You must writethe book of our war. If a Russian wereto, who would believe him? Ah – theygrow impatient. Ciao, my friends.He moves toward the door and is quickly engulfed bysecurity. JACKSON and QUINTAL follow, speaking quietly.
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