(GUY NOIR THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the quiet streets, on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions --- Guy Noir, Private Eye ---
(MUSIC)
GK: It was the week after Christmas and I was still in New York, working out of my room at the Self Storage Hotel on Tenth Avenue, getting by on little odd jobs like investigating people who'd been invited to dinner parties that Dr. Henry Kissinger had also been invited to and making sure that none of them would talk to him about things that happened a long time ago. Dr. Kissinger likes to stay current. Stay focused on the future. I was making a few calls about some people when I heard a knock on the door. (KNOCKS ON DOOR) --- Come on in, the door's unlocked. (DOOR OPEN) Yeah? (FOOTSTEPS. DOOR CLOSE) What can I do for you, sir?
AF: Mr. Noir, the name is Frank. Frank Allen. (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH) I'm an author. You may have read my book, Buying Tires and How To Tell Which Tires To Buy.
GK: Right.
AF: It was No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list for a long time. Weeks. Months.
GK: Congratulations.
AF: Perhaps you recognize me from my book jacket.
GK: By the time I get a book, sir, the jacket is only a memory.
AF: I understand.-----this may seem like an odd question, but---- would you mind if I use a pneumatic air wrench?
GK: No, go right ahead.
AF: I just find it relaxing.
GK: Perfectly okay.
AF: Some people don't care for it.
GK: Be my guest.
AF: Maybe it's a New York thing. Thanks. (PNEUMATIC AIR WRENCH. TWO LONG SFX AND ONE SHORT) Thanks. I feel better now. . . . My books aren't about jackets, frankly. They're about action. Books that hit the reader right in the head.
GK: I can see that. I guess that like many people I have a preconception about authors as tired neurotic men in ill-fitting navy blue suits with dandruff on the shoulders, but you're different-----
AF: Action. People are tired of sensitivity, they want action. That's the problem with you Democrats.
GK: You take me for a Democrat, sir?
AF: That hangdog look. The look of defeat. My books are about action. Making a difference. That's what I do. That's why my books sell like ---- like----- like what? What's the word I'm trying to think of?
GK: Hotcakes?
AF: Hotcakes. Right. Action! You Democrats are all about mood and setting and dialogue.
GK: What are you talking about?
AF: Talking about this scene right now. It's gone on too long. Time to cut to the chase. (BRIDGE)
GK: And the next thing I knew he grabbed me around the waist (SFX) and he leaped from the balcony (AF BOLD CRY) and grabbed hold of a chandelier and we swung together (SWINGING OF CHANDELIER ON CHAIN, AF/GK CRY DENOTING THE ARC OF THE SWING) through a glass window (SMASH OF GLASS) and onto a white horse---- (AF HEEYA, HORSE GALLOPS) and we rode and we rode and a fast train passed heading somewhere (STEAM ENGINE, RACING BY) and we rode into Central Park and around the reservoir and enormous fish like dolphins were leaping from the water (SFX) and we and stopped at the edge of the soccer field. (HORSE WHINNY, CHUFF)
AF: (TO HORSE) Easy----- whoa-----
GK: What's this all about, Mr. Allan? What's the point?
AF: So I could show you this. (CHAINSAW START) You probably never saw anybody use one of these in New York, have you----
GK: What are you doing?
AF: What does it look like I'm doing? (CHAINSAW CUTTING INTO TREE)
GK: But that's a healthy tree. An oak. Probably twenty, thirty years old.
AF: You can't make books without cutting trees. (TREE FALLS, CHAINSAW STOPS) That's what you tired Democrats need to learn. Action. You're a bunch of defeatists, sitting around talking about what needs to be done but it probably won't make much difference anyway. Watch this. (FIVE GUNSHOTS, FIVE GLASS BOTTLES BUST) Not bad shooting, huh? You people need to act! Move. Be decisive. (CLATTER OF STEEL)
GK: And suddenly I saw the glitter of steel as he tossed me a sword and no sooner had I grabbed it than ----- (SWORDFIGHT) he was after me like an enraged beast---- (AF CRY OF ATTACK, AND FLURRY OF SWORDPLAY) he came after me, thrusting, parrying, it was all I could do to hold him at bay ----- he backed me toward a tree (SWORDFIGHT) and I tripped on a root and fell and the point of his sword was on my neck ---- and then it was all over and (FOOTSTEPS) we were walking into a deep forest. (JUNGLE BIRDS, ANIMALS)
AF: I'm working on a new book, Noir----
GK: A sequel to Buying Tires?
AF: No, a novel. An adventure novel. But I need your help.
GK: I see. (MORE JUNGLE ANIMALS)
AF: I wrote the novel in a secret code so nobody could steal my ideas and now---- I can't remember how to decode it---- look----- BIQ SUATRO MEECH KWERTY NISK REMPLON NAMLEREP TRIXLY SWISK THEBBRILIP PO ENNER SKWILM. Five months of my life I spent on this and it's gibberish-----
GK: Is that why you brought me into this jungle, Mr. Allan?
TR: I was wondering the same thing. (STING)
GK: Who's that? Where are you?
TR: The name's Fox. Perhaps you've heard of me.
AF: Why you dirty rotten-----
TR: Save your breath, Allan. I've got you dead to rights. Take one step and you'll find out what a .358 Mannlicher Schlemmer can do. (GUN HAMMER CLICKS)
AF: You must've gone missing the day they handed out manners, mister. But it's never too late to learn----- (AF LUNGES)
GK: And he pulled out a hatchet and (AF TAKES A SWING) he cut a rope (CHOP) that released a palm tree that yanked a noose (BWANG) under the other man's left ankle (TR CRY OF SHOCK) and hoisted him up in the air (BOINNNGGGGG) so that he hung by one leg, head downward. (BOINGGGGGG)
AF: There. How d'ya like that turn of events?
TR (UPSIDE DOWN): Do as you wish, Mr. Frank. But your book is gone. You didn't misplace the code ----- ha! I went into your download menu, and I converted the parallel interfaces to hexadecimals. It's gone, I tell you. And you'll never get it back. (HE LAUGHS) (STING)
AF: Converted the parallel interfaces to hexadecimals? Then it's a simple matter of going into the serial interfaces and factoring the internal tab data. (STING) (BRIDGE)
GK: And he whipped out his laptop and (CLICKING KEYS) typed in a few expert commands and in less time than it takes to tell about it-----
AF: There. Got it back. Unscrambled my novel.
GK: Got it, huh?
AF: Here's the last sentence right here. "The sun set over the darkening sea and its last rays seemed to suggest to Earl Montrose that some fortuitous stroke of luck might yet lead him to the dark-haired woman he'd seen in the little club on 73rd, or perhaps 74th, somewhere in the 70s or 80s, the dark-haired woman he could never ever forget singing Gershwin, he thought, or another songwriter from the same era as Gershwin, of which there were so many, so very many, he thought and as usual, he was right."
GK: The End, huh?
AF: Right.
GK: I could maybe edit that for you a little.
AF: I'm not that kind of writer. (BRIDGE)
GK: We walked over to Broadway and down into the subway just as the No. 3 express pulled into the station (SUBWAY TRAIN APPROACH: DOOR OPEN, BING BONG.) We boarded the fourth car on the train, which was empty except for us and a short man at the other end.(STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS") DOORS CLOSE. TRAIN REV AND AWAY) We rode downtown and over to Brooklyn and Brighton Beach (SURF, CITY AMBIENCE THRU P. 10) where we walked along the sand (SEAGULLS) and suddenly he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pair of pliers but (UNFOLDING) was a folding fishing rod and reel ----- and he put a pretzel on the hook for bait and (CAST) (DISTANT SPLASH) a moment later he had a grouper on the line ---- (THRASHING, BEND OF POLE) actually four of them ----- and suddenly a man stepped out of the darkness-----
TR (KISSINGER): I like your style, Mr. Allen. You have a decisive way about you. You could be useful to me.
AF: Who're you?
TR (KISSINGER): You don't know?
AF: I have no idea.
TR (KISSINGER): The wiry hair, the black hornrim glasses, the voice---- I'm Henry Kissinger. Dr. Henry Kissinger.
AF: You don't sound like Henry Kissinger at all. (KISSINGER) Henry Kissinger sounds like this.
TR (KISSINGER): No he doesn't.
AF (KISSINGER): Yes, he does.
TR (KISSINGER): No, he sounds like this. He sounds exactly like me because I am him.
AF: You sound a little bit like Henry Kissinger but you're not the real Henry Kissinger, I know that. So who are you?
TR (KISSINGER): Very smart. Very very smart. Okay. I will remove my mask---- (RUBBER MASK IS PULLED OFF) (JULIA CHILD) See? It's moi. The French chef. Remember my remoulade sauce? (SHE SPEAKS FRENCH)
AF: That's not real French. I know French like the back of my hand and that's not it. You're not Julia Child.
TR (JULIA): Sacre bleu! Of course I'm Julia Child. Let me whip you up a (FRENCH NAME, LONG).
AF: Quit kidding around. Who are you?
TR (JULIA): Very well. (RUBBER MASK IS PULLED OFF) (BUSH) There. How's that? Recognize me now. Let me just get this dress off----- (RIPPING) ----
AF: It's the President. In an Air Force flight suit.
TR (BUSH): One and the same, Mr. Allan. You see that aircraft carrier offshore?
AF: Where the little red and green lights are flashing?
TR (BUSH): That's him, Jim. You and me, we're gonna get in this little rubber raft and paddle out there and we'll hop in an F-18 and I'm flying you to Guantanamo Bay for questioning.
AF: You can't do that, Mr. President. I'm an American citizen.
TR (BUSH): We'll see about that.
AF: The Supreme Court will have something to say about this.
TR (BUSH): That's what Al Gore was hoping for, too. (BRIDGE)
GK: I stood there on the shore as the rubber dinghy disappeared into the dark (SURF) and before too long I saw the jet lift off the flight deck (JET TAKEOFF) and I turned back toward Brooklyn.
TR: (RUSSIAN)
GK: He was sitting in a cab. I handed him a twenty and he drove me back to Manhattan about the time the sun was coming up. I had a lot of questions and I was too tired to think of answers. I made it back to the Self-Storage Hotel and crawled into bed and before I knew it, I was 25 years old and good-looking, and it was summer and there was a girl dancing the hula but that's a whole other story.
(MUSIC)
TR: A dark night in St. Paul, a city that keeps its secrets, and there on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building is a guy still trying to find the answers to life's questions, Guy Noir, Private Eye.
(MUSIC OUT)