1. FLEMING
by
Damian Stevenson
WARNER BROS. / APPIAN WAY

2. POV THROUGH CROSS HAIRS
A white dot moves in from frame-left and centers on frame-
right. Iris veins surround the dot to fill the frame.
A MAN enters the dot, walking from right to left, the sights
moving to the center-frame with him. He jumps to face us,
pointing a machine-gun and firing. The bullets spell:
FLEMING
Another burst of lead shreds the title. Revealing...
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
...a MAN and WOMAN making love.
He is LT. IAN FLEMING, 32, blue-grey eyes, handsome, lean and
muscular, with coldly cruel, sharply-edged features.
The bare-skinned bombshell beneath him is ANN O’NEILL, a
slender, silkily-sexy brunette in her twenties, with gentle
eyes that have warmth and intelligence and humor.
The RADIO is on, blasting American JAZZ.
SUPERIMPOSE: LONDON, 1940.
The urgent sound of TYPING suddenly makes itself known.
ANN
Oh, God. Not now. Can’t you
ignore it? Please.
Fleming lowers the radio volume and then cranes his neck to
read the message spewing forth from his ticker-tape machine:
...BATTERSEA AIR BASE... 05:30 HRS.. COTTON.
FLEMING
Sorry, darling, duty calls.
He goes over to a striking oil painting of ST. GEORGE SLAYING
THE DRAGON, takes it down and twirls open the wall safe
hidden behind it, reaches inside for his Colt .38.
ANN
How long will you be gone this
time?
Fleming squints his eye down the gun barrel, spins it.
FLEMING
Hard to say.
(CONTINUED)

3. 2.
CONTINUED:
He slots the .38 into a leather shoulder holster.
ANN
Will I see you tomorrow?
Fleming SLAMS the safe shut.
FLEMING
I never make plans that far ahead.
ANN
Goddamnit, Ian! It’s been six
months now, stop treating me like
one of your floozies!
FLEMING
(searching)
Where is it?
Ann nods at a bulky overnight bag. He goes to it and unzips
it, rifles through the wad of documents stashed inside.
ANN
Don’t I get anything?
Fleming scans the sheaf of press papers, all marked
“CONFIDENTIAL”, collects the useful ones and pockets them.
FLEMING
Rumor has it the P.M.’s going to
give France a week to surrender her
navy to us or else the RAF’s going
to bomb the boats in harbor,
whether there are French sailors on
board or not.
Ann finds her cigarettes, fishes out a Chelsea, reaches
across the bed for Fleming’s Ronson lighter and snaps it.
ANN
When does this information hit the
streets?
She gets out of bed and wraps a very sheer slip around her
naked frame, sashays over to her typewriter, excited.
FLEMING
In a week or so. You’re going to
have to sit on it until then.
Ann sags, deflated.
ANN
A week! Some scoop.

4. 3.
EXT. STREET CORNER - NIGHT
We cut to a shot of FLEMING at his window from the rain-
washed streets below then REVERSE POV to reveal...
...two trench-coated NAZIS loitering under a street lamp,
smoking, their faces partly obscured by umbrellas.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Fleming clocks the Germans, acts cool, keeps one eye on them
as he carefully re-hangs the painting of St. George.
ANN
Teddy proposed.
FLEMING
(scoffs)
Again?
ANN
Yes, again. He owns his own
newspaper, Ian. I’d be Lady
Rothermere.
Fleming dons his Royal Navy jacket, checking in a mirror to
ensure that the .38 pistol under his arm is not visible.
FLEMING
Is this about the Austrian girl?
ANN
Austrian girl, Swedish girl, German
girl... German!! Pig!
She goes to the drinks cabinet and refills her cocktail.
FLEMING
Will you stop? That was all before
I met you.
(under his breath)
Generally speaking...
He dashes for the door, swiping a hat off a hat-rack.
ANN
Wait! Ian!
But Fleming is already gone, the door sweeping shut behind
him as her drink CRASHES into it.
EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT
Fleming appears, his breath misty in the chill night air.
(CONTINUED)

5. 4.
CONTINUED:
He strides past an alleyway. His elongated shadow is thrown
onto the wall as he stalks past. A beat, then...
...two more silhouettes hit the bricks.
The Germans quicken their pace, making a CLATTER with their
boot-heels on the bumpy, cobblestone street.
CLOSE ON -- FLEMING, strolling fast, purposefully.
FLEMING
(muttering)
Six months!
He comes to a garage door, slots a key into the lock and
subtly leans in to see the two Nazis reflected back in the
key’s metal. He pivots his wrist, pulls open the door.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Miss me?
We now SEE what he sees: an exquisite Alfa Romeo 6C!
Next to it: a shabby but dependable two-seater Buick.
EXT. GARAGE - NIGHT
Silence. We’re watching from around a corner, from the two
NAZIS’ POV when suddenly...
The Buick peels out of the garage with Fleming at the wheel
and races off into the night with a loud, guttural ROAR.
The Germans scramble into a Mercedes and SCREECH off,
fishtailing, causing two passing motorists to collide.
Fleming careens onto and over a roundabout, narrowly avoiding
a sleek, new-looking Jaguar slowly circling the obstacle.
The Nazis follow Fleming’s path and BULLDOZE into the Jag,
RAMMING it hard, sending it spinning off wildly.
GERMAN SPY #1
(shooting)
Schnell! Schnell!
POP! POP! Ricocheting slugs SHATTER storefront windows.
A BOBBY, on patrol duty, swinging his truncheon, sees the
chase and TRILLS his whistle at an idling POLICE WAGON which
zooms across the road to him. He hops on the side.
The WAIL of POLICE SIRENS as COPPERS join the pursuit.

6. 5.
EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT
The city is war-ravaged, roads pocked with impact craters
beside charred buildings and shelled, derelict homes.
Fleming and the Nazis speed toward Tower Bridge which starts
to slowly scissor in half for a tall barge to pass.
Fleming FLOORS IT, rocketing up the rising bridge half, his
car wheels SKIDDING, eating road. CRACK!! A shower of
BULLETS splinter into his rear window, cobwebbing it.
He gets the torque necessary to propel the car over the
bridge gap and soars over the water, over the HORN-blaring
river barge, landing adroitly on the other side, sparks
flying, when... everything abruptly halts. FREEZE FRAME.
We HEAR the SOUND of CALYPSO MUSIC come over.
EXT. GOLDEN EYE, JAMAICA - EVENING
The island MUSIC swells as we PAN over the Caribbean Sea at
sunset, DRIFTING SLOWLY to a white marquee pitched on a grass
promontory jutting out above the sparkling water.
A lone FIGURE stands between the tent and the sea, on the
cliff’s edge, outlined by the setting sun. MOVING IN...
It is FLEMING, thoughtfully sipping a glass of Dom ‘29.
FLEMING
I must be the only man alive who
misses the war.
He’s older, still handsome, but his eyes seem more grey then
blue now and his face, seen in the dim of twilight, betrays a
certain inner weariness.
SUPERIMPOSE: JAMAICA, 1952.
We HEAR the SOUND of FOOTFALLS. Someone CALLS OUT.
VOICE (O.S.)
Ian! Ian, darling!
Fleming turns to see Ann stumbling his way, hoisting the hem
of her chic dress up as she negotiates the clifftop grass.
ANN
There you are, I’ve been looking
all over! I thought you’d done a
runner, you know, borrowed Coral’s
boat and took off for South
America.
(CONTINUED)

7. 6.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING
I tried. Outboard motor stalled.
Again.
ANN
Ha ha.
She thumps him playfully in the gut. He feels it.
INT. MARQUEE - NIGHT
The Calypso band is really hopping, forcing even the most
uptight BRITS to the dance floor. Amid the merry mayhem we
discover Fleming and Ann. Dancing the night away.
EXT. VERANDAH, GOLDEN EYE - NIGHT
CHINK! Two brandy snifters hit. PULL BACK TO REVEAL...
Fleming is having a nightcap with GRAHAM GREENE, 48, rail-
thin, dapper and urbane. The original lapsed Catholic.
FLEMING
Bottoms up!
GRAHAM
Cheers, old boy!
They are on the verandah of Golden Eye, Fleming’s modest
Jamaican hideaway, on a bluff overlooking the sea, under a
sky studded with pulsing, scintillating constellations.
A bikini-clad GIRL walks by dreamily on the beach below.
GRAHAM (cont’d)
Nice view.
Fleming sighs. Graham hums “Here Comes the Bride.”
GRAHAM (cont’d)
Twenty-four hours to go. Tick-
tock...
FLEMING
Why is it so hard? Commitment, I
mean.
GRAHAM
Who’s to really say? Maybe it’s
just you, Fleming. Everyone thinks
of changing the world but no one
ever thinks of changing himself.
(off Fleming’s look)
Write about your problem. That’s
what art’s for.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)

8. 7.
CONTINUED:
GRAHAM (cont'd)
Some problems a drink won’t solve.
Trust me, I know. Why do you think
I write?
He swirls his enormous brandy, quaffs.
FLEMING
Problem? What problem?
GRAHAM
Ha! The spy who never grew up.
That’s you! Still living in the
1940s.
Fleming looks at him, startled slightly by his X-ray vision.
FLEMING
Actually, I’ve been thinking about
my old Naval Intelligence days.
Perhaps enough time has passed for
me to put it all in perspective.
GRAHAM
You see!
FLEMING
I should bloody well tell what
happened, with some slight...
embellishments. The spy story to
end all spy stories. My exploits
minus the boring parts. Fast cars,
guns, gadgets and girls galore.
Graham mulls this.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Well? What do you think?
GRAHAM
Get writing!
Fleming seems thrilled by the endorsement. The glint in his
eye taking us BACK TO...
EXT. LONDON - 1940 - NIGHT
A loud CRUNCH OF METAL as Fleming’s car alights on the other
side of Tower Bridge, SPARKS flying, while BEHIND HIM...
...the Germans brace themselves to scale the now too wide gap
as the rising bridge half they are on becomes perpendicular,
forcing them to back down, tires BURNING, coming to a stop on
the embankment where numerous metropolitan POLICEMEN await.
COPPER #1
Hello, hello.

9. 8.
INT. BUICK - NIGHT
Fleming smiles slyly to himself, executes a graceful, almost
balletic U-turn and zooms off into the night.
EXT. BATTERSEA AIR BASE - DAWN
A stark sign reads “NO TRESPASSING, MINISTRY OF DEFENSE.”
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
The sign rests atop 20 ft high fencing garnished by curling
concertina wire. Lookout towers on each corner inhabited by
GUARDS. Tanks parked about amidst rows of idling RAF planes.
LOOKING DOWN, from afar, we spy TWO MEN flashing papers to
PERSONNEL at the guardhouse before entering the base.
INT. BATTERSEA AIR BASE - DAY
We FOLLOW BEHIND a PILOT and a MECHANIC as they briskly cross
the base, snapping salutes to uniformed PERSONNEL. A NEW
ANGLE reveals their faces now as they come to a row of
numbered plane hangars. The Mechanic is, of course, Fleming.
The Pilot is CPT. SYDNEY COTTON, 38, a flabby, florid
Australian ex-bush pilot who somehow radiates charisma.
FLEMING
Did you tell anyone what we’re
doing? Two Krauts tried following
me here.
COTTON
What? No, mate. How could I? I
don’t even know what we’re doing.
Other than stealing a plane.
FLEMING
Commandeering, we’re commandeering
a plane. This is it, Hangar 12.
He snaps opens his tool box and eyes an array of gizmos,
selects a probe peeler with a flat, upturned end.
He slots the peeler into the ID card reader and jostles it.
FLEMING (cont’d)
We’re headed south over the
channel, climbing 18,000 feet for
twenty-four miles ending 43 degrees
north and 23 degrees east of
Marseilles.
(CONTINUED)

10. 9.
CONTINUED:
COTTON
(does the math)
That’s cutting it close fuel-wise.
The lock SPRINGS open. They slip inside, passing under a
metal plaque embossed with the words “GROUND CREW ONLY!”
INT. HANGAR - DAY
RAF MECHANICS hammer and tinker away at planes which have
their engines open, parts exposed.
Fleming and Cotton stride confidently toward a sleek Mosquito
DH-98 recon craft. Fleming tries his best to suppress his
boyish glee upon beholding the sleek reconnaissance craft.
He methodically unrolls a coil of black electrical cord and
fires up an electromagnetically-powered nail gun, ATTACKS the
plane while Cotton pops the engine and checks the fuel.
COTTON
You’re gonna have to tell me how
you managed to charm that secretary
at the front gate.
The valves in the nail gun HISS as Fleming pauses.
FLEMING
Trade secret.
(nods at the wing)
Tighten those ailerons, we’re
flying above radar, remember.
That’s a ceiling of 20,000 feet.
COTTON
Aye, aye, skip...
Fleming resumes his loud riveting, DROWNING Cotton out.
EXT. AIRPLANE HANGAR - DAY
A curvaceous SECRETARY, 17, is marching angrily toward the
hangar with two young, very gung-ho armed SAS GUARDS.
SECRETARY
The mechanic said they were with
the 615th. I knew he was lying,
you could see it in his eyes.
(pauses, remembering)
Which were extremely blue. I’ve
never seen such blueness before!
(blushes)
The scoundrel!
(CONTINUED)

11. 10.
CONTINUED:
SAS #1
Don’t worry, luv, we’ll sort him
out.
(racks rifle)
Right Nigel?
Before SAS #2/NIGEL can respond the hangar’s twin doors SLAM
open and the Mosquito ROARS out, blowing the Secretary’s
skirt up and blinding the Soldiers with swirling dust.
Fleming cocks an eyebrow appreciatively at the disheveled
Girl as she fights the strong blast from the plane’s spinning
props, having to use both her hands to keep her skirt down.
The Soldiers level their rifles at the taxiing plane as...
...Cotton CRANKS the throttle and REACHES FOR THE SKY.
EXT. SOUTH OF FRANCE - IN THE AIR - DAY
The Mosquito soars over the sunny south of France, banking
into an elegant turn before swooping down to the coast.
INT. MOSQUITO DH-98 - IN THE AIR - DAY
Cotton grasps the control column between his knees to light a
hand-rolled cigarette while behind him...
...Fleming scans the skies for enemy planes and analyzes
marine maps, making mental notes of depths, bridges, power
lines, any other obstacles and anything unusual.
SUPERIMPOSE: ...43 18’ N, 5 23’ E... MEDITERRANEAN SEA,
5 MILES SOUTH OF MARSEILLES... FRANCE.
Cotton points down at a sleepy seaside fishing community.
COTTON
More tug-boats and trawlers. Five
minutes, Skip, then back we go!
Fleming is frantically rifling through sea charts.
FLEMING
Where did that bastard hide them?
Take us over the next crest!
Cotton jabs a gloved finger at the near-empty fuel gauge.
COTTON
Dicey, mate!
FLEMING
Do it!
(CONTINUED)

12. 11.
CONTINUED:
Cotton hesitates then tilts and snaps up over the ridge,
shooting down its verdant slopes to see dazzling white.
Sheer blankness. Literally, nothing.
A reflective matter other than the glassy seawater has
refracted back the sun creating a sheen of pure silver.
Fleming whips off his goggles and crinkles his eyes, reaching
for his “N.I.D”-engraved Bausch & Lomb binocs as the glare
beneath them ebbs enough to reveal what looks like a man-made
atoll planted in the lagoon, obscured by vast furls of cloth.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Put her in cruise!
Cotton kills the engine and drops alt. As the Mosquito
descends, the amorphous mass below coalesces into...
...THE FRENCH FLEET, partly camouflaged by massive swaths of
silk and rippling tarpaulin and even aluminum sheeting
mirroring back the sun to deceive aerial surveillance.
Fleming reacts, getting peeks between the screens at...
...mammoth cruisers like the famous ALGIERS with it’s
sophisticated torpedo bulkhead running from hull to armored-
deck; Richelieu class battleships STRASBOURG & DUNKERQUE;
destroyers MOGADOR and LE TIGRE. Mine sweepers.
Fleming pulls on a lever, causing an optical instrument to
coolly retract out toward his face. He presses his eye into
the sights then pauses, apparently unsatisfied.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Closer, man! Whites of their eyes!
Cotton tilts the wheel forward and they nose-dive.
Fleming inches a finger closer to a button and draws a bead
on the crew via the scopes. He brings a patch down over his
left eye, cupping it, making his right eye and the sights
into one. Then, slowly, almost painfully so, his fingertip
finds the trigger and gently brushes its edge.
He is utterly concentrated, oblivious to the G-forces
shuddering into his cheeks, the plane’s deafening ROAR.
SILENCE. We go ECU ON FLEMING’S IRIS then ADOPT HIS POV.
POV THROUGH SIGHTS.
French MARINERS appear in the cross-hairs hurtling for cover,
radioing to shore, manning artillery posts, etc.
Fleming delicately squeezes the trigger.
(CONTINUED)

13. 12.
CONTINUED:
We ZOOM ECU to the TRIGGER as it is depressed and CONTINUE
MOVING FAST AND LOW along a black cable snaking from under
the trigger to the plane’s left wing where we DISCOVER...
...subminiature Minox lenses installed in the flaps.
The camera motors stir to life, WHIRRING and CLICKING in a
furious flurry of fluttering shutter SOUNDS.
MINOX CAMERA’S POV
Herky-jerky black and white shots of the fleet unspool.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Smile you miserable sods!
Fleming keeps his finger on the remote shutter trigger while
Cotton bobs and weaves around the massive, towering steel
funnels of the gargantuan STRASBOURG.
Windmilling and snapping outrageous half turns before
rotating 360 degrees and ascending with a flourish.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE COMMANDANTE TESTE - ESTABLISHING - DAY
A ring of security dinghies circle the COMMANDANTE TESTE, a
heavily armed offensive seaplane tender capable of 20 knots
and purpose-built with five cranes, catapults and hangars
made to stow up to 26 sea and fighter planes.
There is a WHINE of hydraulics, a series of accelerating
pulleys and cables lurching into gear, as a small combat
seaplane is carefully lowered onto the water by crane.
INT. CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS, COMMANDANTE TESTE - DAY
CLOSE ON ADM. FRANCOIS DARLAN, 61, the legendary French war
hero. He has an interesting face, one etched with character
and experience.
SUPERIMPOSE: ADMIRAL FRANCOIS DARLAN, HEAD OF THE FORCE
D’ACTION NAVALE, FRENCH NAVY.
We ROAM ABOUT his cabin... The walls are festooned with war
notices, display cases housing medals, antique maps showing
France during the time of her empire with vast territories
spread across continents, and sepia photos of a handsome,
dashing young Darlan at the height of his fame in WW I.
Installed into the port wall is a MATRIX OF OXYGENATED TANKS
populated by rare and colorful aquatic species -- hydrobiidae
mollusks, Sockeye salmon, Siamese fighting fish, etc.
(CONTINUED)

14. 13.
CONTINUED:
NEW ANGLE, REVEALING:
Darlan’s advisors LFT. LAFAYETTE, 50s, and LFT. ANJOU, 30s.
Lafayette is Darlan’s consiglierie, a level-headed old pro,
lean and mean. Anjou is young and wiry, a bit of a weasel.
ADM. DARLAN
(gestures to tank)
Siamese fighting fish. Brave
creatures on the whole, but stupid.
He drops a small sharp-toothed fish into a tank where another
Siamese fighting fish resides. The creatures proceed to
viciously chomp each other to bloody shreds.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
Not unlike our dear friends England
and Germany.
Anjou laughs smugly.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
And then there is a different kind
of hunter...
He gestures to a baby thresher shark in a corner of the tank.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
A predator who lets the other two
fight while he waits... waits until
the survivor is so exhausted that
he cannot defend himself.
He watches as the shark begins to move in toward the tiring
Siamese fighting fish.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
Consider our friend the shark here
as ourselves.
The shark devours the Siamese whole. The tank is his.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
The indomitable power of patience.
Anjou doesn’t hesitate to flatter.
LFT. ANJOU
Brilliant!
Darlan flicks his eyes to Lafayette who’s face is neutral.
LAFAYETTE
What about Stalin? Roosevelt?
(CONTINUED)

15. 14.
CONTINUED:
ADM. DARLAN
What about them?
LAFAYETTE
Waiting until Germany and England
have destroyed each other could
take years. We may exceed the
range of their bombers for now, but
soon the others will have American
B-52s capable of circling half the
world without refueling.
A ship-to-shore line emits a shrill RING, shattering the
silence. Anjou’s beady eyes dart to the ringing phone, but
Darlan keeps his steely gaze on Lafayette, ignoring the call.
ADM. DARLAN
That is why, like the shark, we
must keep moving.
Darlan steps out onto a private deck, thinking, his hands
behind his back. Lafayette, persisting, follows him out -
LAFAYETTE
Still, it’s only a matter of time
before our position is pinpointed
by Churchill or Hitler. Or any
number of other enemies of France.
(beat)
We should present the ships to King
George.
ADM. DARLAN
Surrender them to a rival nation?
Why would I do that?
LAFAYETTE
Because that nation, and others,
would rather sink us than see our
vessels end up in Hitler’s hands.
ADM. DARLAN
The British! You’re worried about
them finding us? Those imbeciles
couldn’t locate Buckingham Palace!
Just then, the Mosquito BLASTS by, nearly slicing Darlan’s
head off. We ZOOM to Darlan’s face as he opens his mouth to
expel an ear-shattering SCREAM of rage.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
Open fire! Immediately!

16. 15.
EXT. FLIGHT DECK, COMMANDANTE TESTE - DAY
An incredible sight: A Hawker Tempest with retractable nose
is launched into the air by catapult, SHRIEKING as it takes
off, extending to full lethal length in mid-air.
A fast, heavily armed interceptor, the Hawker is a warplane
to be reckoned with. Black with menacing swirls of green.
A second Hawker scrambles, nose folded. The catapult pulley
attaches and the plane is FLUNG INTO FLIGHT.
EXT. SKY - DAY
The Hawkers twist and spin, arcing through the clouds.
INT. MOSQUITO - IN THE AIR - DAY
Fleming hauls up a brandy canteen kept warm by the engines,
pours himself out a fat capful when...
RATATATATATATATAT!!! Flak suddenly PINKS and ZINGS at them
from behind, cascading off the plane in showering sparks.
Fleming peers back to see the two Hawkers corkscrewing at
them, sending rounds of TRACER BULLETS into their tail.
FLEMING
Hawker Tempests at 6:00!
Cotton pulls on the wheel. Burning flak strafes past.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Take her up to two hundred feet!
Cotton strains, wrestling with the control column.
COTTON
I’m at full rudder, she won’t climb
any faster!
Fleming eyes the instrument panel, quickly calculates.
FLEMING
Reduce speed to 1,000!
More flak whips by, grazing the tail as Cotton soars.
Air currents HOWLING.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Climb 5,000, heading due west 4-5.
Wait for my word, then cut back...
(CONTINUED)

17. 16.
CONTINUED:
The Hawkers SCREECHING at them.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Steady.... wait for it... now!
Cotton jerks the wheel, turning them near vertical.
The Hawkers shoot past them in a THUNDEROUS blur.
Fleming engages the guns and fires off a warning volley as
they ascend even higher, soaring into the massive sun.
LONG SHOT
As the limited range Hawkers loop up and circle back to the
Teste, the Mosquito fast becoming a dot on the horizon.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. LONDON - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT
CRACK!!! Clustered EXPLOSIONS illuminate the sky, outlining
St. Paul’s, Big Ben and other ruptured London landmarks.
Comet-like INCENDIARY V1s (spheres of white phosphorus
blazing to extreme temperatures in flight) rain down hard on
the city, causing instant fires upon impact. KA-BOOM!!!
Amidst the terrible SOUNDS of the Blitz we HEAR a RADIO:
RADIO (V.O.)
There will be another bombing raid
on London tonight, the tenth night
in succession. Look out for bombs
if you live in Chelsea, Croydon,
Kew, Highgate, Mayfair, Soho...
A quick PAN OF THE CITY ends at a grandiose, unscathed old
building in Whitehall, Admiralty H.Q.
TILT DOWN to a man-hole grate and DROP DOWN IT... PLUMMETING
TO...
INT. ADMIRALTY BUNKER - NIGHT
...ancient Roman sewers fortified into a steel and concrete
bunker complex of subterranean rooms. Cold-eyed GURKHAS
(Indian assassins with curved daggers sheathed at their
sides) patrol the warren, man checkpoints and guard rooms.
The RADIO continues, sounding more distinct now as the BBC
ANNOUNCER is replaced with the familiar VOICE of CHURCHILL.
(CONTINUED)

18. 17.
CONTINUED:
RADIO
(voice of Churchill)
We must face the frightening
possibility that the French fleet,
when combined with the German and
Italian navies would outnumber even
our own massive Royal Navy.
DISCOVERING the source of the broadcast now, a transistor
radio wedged in the guardhouse at the main checkpoint.
The GUARD lowers the volume, causing a muffled BELLOWING
VOICE from the room next door to be made more apparent.
He motions his friend over. The two of them eavesdrop.
GUARD #1
Someone’s getting an earful.
PAN to the wall and keep going, PANNING THROUGH IT TO...
INT. WAR OFFICE - NIGHT
SHOTS OF THE FRENCH FLEET stamped “FOR YOUR EYES ONLY” lie
splayed across a Formica table surrounding a huge door-
stopper of a memo entitled “OPERATION ARMADA - STRATEGIC
ESTIMATE OF THE SITUATION” by Lt. Ian Lancaster Fleming.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
Fleming, clad in clean crisp naval whites, is standing to
attention before ADM. JOHN GODFREY, 52, CMD. HUGH “QUACKER”
DRAKE, 40s, and RAF HEAD, AIR CHIEF MARSHALL HILL, 55.
Godfrey’s brutal tongue-lashing of Fleming continues.
ADM. GODFREY
You’re lucky I don’t court-martial
you for this stunt. You and that
pilot crony of yours!
He dumps Fleming’s mega-memo onto his desk with a THUD.
SUPERIMPOSE: ADMIRAL JOHN GODFREY, DIRECTOR OF NAVAL
INTELLIGENCE DEPT. (N.I.D.), ROYAL NAVY.
FLEMING
I received a tip on the fleet’s
whereabouts, there wasn’t time to
go through the proper channels.
ADM. GODFREY
Balderdash! You could have alerted
someone. But you didn’t want
anyone else taking credit for your
discovery of the French fleet.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)

19. 18.
CONTINUED:
ADM. GODFREY (cont'd)
And what’s this I hear from
Scotland Yard about a car chase
across Tower Bridge?
FLEMING
The Waffen SS got wind that I was
close to the French fleet and
dispatched two agents to tail me.
ADM. GODFREY
They probably got hold of one of
your thousands of bloody memos!
He looks to Quacker for support.
QUACKER
According to Scotland Yard, the two
men they have in captivity are
refusing to speak. Who knows what
they were following you for? If
they were in fact following you.
FLEMING
It’s obvious what they were up to.
ADM. GODFREY
Is it?
FLEMING
All I propose is that we attempt to
purchase the French Navy’s favor
before we bomb it to smithereens.
When France falls, the Iberian
Peninsula is going to be wide open
for U-boats. We could put those
French vessels to work patrolling
the Atlantic seaway to protect our
merchant vessels. Would you rather
those ships in the hands of the
Germans?
ADM. GODFREY
Of course not! The idea had
occurred to us, Fleming. An offer
was already made to Darlan by His
Majesty, and it was resoundingly
rejected. Ergo, Monsieur Darlan
and his fleet went Bon Voyage!
FLEMING
But that offer wasn’t nearly
enough. It should have been more
like a million pounds, not a
hundred thousand. Better still,
two million. In gold.
(CONTINUED)

20. 19.
CONTINUED:
ADM. GODFREY
Is that all?
FLEMING
Well... an honorary dukedom might
appeal to Darlan’s ego. He is a
bona fide legend in France after
all. We could give him somewhere
like, oh, I don’t know... Wales.
ADM. GODFREY
(sarcastically)
Wales? Why not Scotland then?
DETONATIONS rattle the room. Loosed dirt sprinkles down.
QUACKER
(to Fleming)
There’s still a chance Darlan will
listen to reason and cede his
vessels to the Crown.
FLEMING
Unlikely, sir. Darlan’s what Freud
would call a “megalomaniac”,
consumed by his own delusions of
grandeur! He wants the world, and
intends to wait until we and
Germany have annihilated one
another. Then using his fleet, he
intends to rule over us all.
CHIEF HILL
How do you purport to be the expert
on all this?
FLEMING
I’ve been researching Darlan for
six months now. I probably know
more about him than anyone in the
department. Including you. Sir.
ADM. GODFREY
Thank you, Lieutenant, we’ll take
your suggestions under advisement.
Fleming straightens his spine, gives a half-hearted salute
and withdraws.
ADM. GODFREY (cont’d)
Oh, one more thing, Fleming.
Fleming pauses while exiting, turns back to face Godfrey.
(CONTINUED)

21. 20.
CONTINUED:
ADM. GODFREY (cont’d)
Station Nine wants to know how you
chaps managed to dodge Jerry’s
radar planes patrolling the
Channel.
FLEMING
We flew above the patrols.
ADM. GODFREY
But how? Without your camera
lenses frosting up from the extreme
altitude, I mean.
Fleming looks at him like it’s obvious.
FLEMING
I put the lenses by the wing flaps -
the heat from the engine fumes
prevented them from frosting over.
There’s a moment of quiet as the idea’s brilliance hangs in
the air and then Godfrey nods. Fleming turns and exits.
Godfrey looks interrogatively at Hill and Quacker as he packs
his tarnished pipe with tobacco, strikes a match and smokes.
ADM. GODFREY
What do you two think of him?
CHIEF HILL
I think he’s an insubordinate!
QUACKER
Agreed. He acts like the normal
rules don’t apply because he’s Val
Fleming’s son.
ADM. GODFREY
Did you see his test scores?
(opens file)
98 in French, 98 in Russian, 100 in
German. A’s in marksmanship, close
combat, cipher-work and
cryptography. “Displays great
aptitude in theoretical field-
work.” “Socially connected.”
CHIEF HILL
He sent me a memo with the idea of
sinking a great block of concrete
with men inside it into the Channel
to keep watch on the harbor through
periscopes. The man’s crazy.
(CONTINUED)

22. 21.
CONTINUED:
QUACKER
He’s notorious for his extravagant
schemes. No appreciation of
budgetary limits at all. He thinks
Room 39 is made of money.
Godfrey eyeballs Fleming’s photos of the French fleet.
ADM. GODFREY
And yet somehow this... upstart
managed to find the French fleet
before both your divisions and
M.I.5. Why is that, gentlemen?
Hill and Quacker, speechless, exchange embarrassed looks.
ADM. GODFREY (cont’d)
Dismissed!
INT. MISS BLYTHE’S CUBBY, ADMIRALTY BUNKER - NIGHT
Fleming visits MISS BLYTHE, 22, gorgeous, Godfrey’s hyper-
efficient secretary who greets him with a killer smile.
He finds a flirtatious perch on her desk.
MISS BLYTHE
Sorry about France, ma cherie.
Fleming leans in, smiling seductively.
FLEMING
There’ll be other opportunities.
The intercom squawks with Godfrey’s VOICE:
ADM. GODFREY (VIA INTERCOM)
Miss Blythe, kindly remind the
Lieutenant that all internal
memoranda should be of a readable
length, i.e. a page or two, not the
bloody “Forsythe Saga!”
He clicks off. With a wry grin, Fleming plants a kiss on the
back of her hand, and without another word sweeps out.
MISS BLYTHE
(watching him go)
Au revoir!
INT. ROOM 39, ADMIRALTY BUNKER - NIGHT
Busy, a sense of industry, like the newsroom of a great
newspaper. Twenty of the smartest young men and women in the
U.K. deciphering secret signals, recordings and maps.
(CONTINUED)

23. 22.
CONTINUED:
We PAN ACROSS the organized bustle, past a bespectacled young
WONK being reprimanded by his white-coated SUPERVISOR...
SUPERVISOR
May I remind you that the “I” in
N.I.D. stands for Intelligence!
Naval Intelligence Department!
...past a jumble of modular equipment racks, mimeographs,
computers the size of fridges, tape recorders with huge
rotating tape spools... our PAN of Room 39 ending on...
...FLEMING, tucked in a cramped cubicle, wearing enormous
headphones, translating a crackly GERMAN communique.
He writes “Mary had a little lamb” then stops, curses, hurls
his pen across his small desk in frustration. His eyes
alight upon a dog-eared copy of John Buchan’s “The 39 Steps.”
He gazes at the lurid cover art which shows a stockinged
femme fatale with lush, scarlet lips blowing on the
smoldering tip of a Tokarev TT-33 pistol. DISSOLVE TO...
INT. TINKERBELL’S CASINO - NIGHT
CLOSE ON A MARTINI. In a champagne goblet with a twist.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL...
Fleming, impeccably dressed as ever, having drinks with
Graham Greene in the bar of a swanky London casino, its
colorful walls festooned with scenes from “Peter Pan.”
Graham is ten years younger when we last saw him and looks
quite debonair in his expensive clothes and hipster haircut.
CIGARETTE GIRLS come and go. Rich LONDONERS frolic and
cavort. Gambling. Grooving to a lively JAZZ quartet.
Fleming knocks back his martini, signals for another.
GRAHAM
I say, steady on. We’re not at
Oxford anymore.
FLEMING
I never was. You’re thinking of my
brother Peter.
GRAHAM
Am I? Well, you certainly spent a
lot of time at the bars there.
FLEMING
That I don’t deny.
(CONTINUED)

24. 23.
CONTINUED:
GRAHAM
Hello. This should cheer you up.
He gestures to a gorgeous WAITRESS as she approaches with two
cocktails. She leans in close as she sets down the drinks,
smiling at Fleming who barely notices her. She leaves.
GRAHAM (cont’d)
(taken aback)
What’s gotten into you tonight?
Did something happen at work?
FLEMING
Nothing happened, no mission to
France, nothing. Worse, they’re
raising conscription to my age
while I’m stuck rotting behind a
desk. It’s embarrassing.
GRAHAM
If I were you I’d be happy to keep
both feet firmly on the ground. By
this time next month the whole of
France will be speaking German.
There suddenly comes a HUBBUB from the casino floor.
Fleming and Graham turn to see a gaggle of people they know
bounding their way. Amongst the revelers is...
...Ann, escorted by LORD TEDDY ROTEHRMERE, 32, Great
Britain’s third richest man. A real toff. Teddy slaps a wad
of money on roulette and... wins! Everybody CHEERS.
GRAHAM (cont’d)
I’m off, old boy.
FLEMING
Where are you going?
Graham brushes his finger against his nose and winks.
GRAHAM
Loose lips sink ships!
And like that, he’s gone.
Ann and Teddy appear, along with Fleming’s current steady
MONIQUE ALEXANDER, 19, on olive-skinned Greek beauty.
MONIQUE
(kissing him)
Miss me?
Fleming keeps his eyes on Ann, despite Monique’s plunging
black evening gown that leaves little to the imagination.
(CONTINUED)

25. 24.
CONTINUED:
LATER
Teddy is flirting with Monique over by the bar. Fleming is
alone with Ann in the booth. Fleming slowly runs his hand up
her slender, shapely thigh. She sidles up closer to him.
FLEMING
What would Teddy say?
She puts her hand back.
ANN
Screw him.
FLEMING
Must you talk about your career?
She cuts him a hard look.
ANN
Must you be such an arse?
His ears suddenly prick up. He grasps her hand. Tight.
ANN (cont’d)
Let go! You’re hurting me!
The BAND stops playing. We HEAR the AIR RADIO SIREN now.
Everyone herds out, wild panic spreading like wildfire.
Fleming takes Ann’s hand and leads her in the opposite
direction of the crowd, heading upstairs.
EXT. CASINO - NIGHT
Fleming and Ann climb down the fire escape ladder to the
pavement, hurrying past RAID WARDENS blasting WHISTLES.
INT. BUICK - MOVING - NIGHT
Fleming speeds against an exodus of vehicles. Panicked
DRIVERS crank HORNS, hollering: “YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!”
Ann is sprawled back against her seat, knuckles clenched.
ANN
We’re supposed to be headed out of
the city! Have you gone berserk?
Fleming looks up and curses, SLAMS a fist down on the wheel.
The speedometer scrapes 90. Ann shoots her eyes skyward.

26. 25.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
The heavens are littered with German aircraft, fighters,
bombers, F.W.s carrying 190F-8/U3 torpedo bombs, Stukas.
Chutes open and scores of bomblets tumble out.
EXT. THAMES - NIGHT
Fleming’s auto careens along the Thames embankment, flanked
by streaking rockets to the sides and overhead.
He veers sharply left, down an artificially lit road tunnel
as V-1s strike the ground above them and EXPLODE, making the
car sway.
Fleming rifles around in the back for a shabby brown jacket
which he thrusts into Ann’s arms.
ANN
What’s this?
FLEMING
A Wren jacket. Put it on.
He keeps a firm hold of the wheel as V-1s rain down above
like hellish hailstones, rocking the tunnel in seismic waves.
ANN
This ugly thing? You must be
joking. Which of your tarts does
it belong to?
FLEMING
You have to wear it otherwise they
won’t let us on board.
ANN
On board where?
EXT. THAMES EMBANKMENT - NIGHT
Fleming comes to a screeching halt beside a Navy post on the
river, climbs out and pulls a dazed Ann from the car.
She is staring dumbstruck at their destination:
THE H.M.S. PERSEUS, a Class P submarine surfaced on the
Thames near Admiralty H.Q. It is imposing, futuristic,
boasting a whopping 5”/25-caliber gun fixed to its nose.
CRAACK!! A V-1 lands nearby and rattles the ground.
(CONTINUED)

27. 26.
CONTINUED:
Another projectile SHRIEKS though the sky, BLASTING THROUGH
TWO BUILDINGS, sending glass shards, burning brick and hot
metal SIZZLING into the Thames. KRISSH!!!
FLEMING
Come on!
Fleming and Ann sprint pell-mell to the submarine, Ann
thrusting her arms into the Wren jacket as she runs.
INT. RAF MISSION CONTROL - NIGHT
SPOTTERS clear Spitfires and Hurricanes which through the
window we see shudder against powerful velocity, SCREECHING
off the tarmac to the sky.
INT. H.M.S. PERSEUS SUBMARINE - NIGHT
Fleming finishes reading a slip of paper as hurried CREWMEN
blur past. He looks up to face a young ENSIGN standing by.
FLEMING
Tell him I’m on my way.
Ann, not surprisingly, even in her ugly jacket is being ogled
by every young CREWMAN, causing quite a stir. She pulls her
coat closer as Fleming leads her down the tight sub corridor.
ANN
Is there somewhere I can work? I’d
like to get a jump on tomorrow’s
edition.
FLEMING
The Quartermaster’s cabin. You’ll
be safe there, he’s an old pal.
ANN
Where are you going?
FLEMING
France. Godfrey’s summoned me.
Looks like my mission might be on!
Ann reacts, not exactly thrilled to hear this.
EXT. SKY OVER LONDON - NIGHT
The Battle of Britain rages across the London night sky.
Roaring FIREBALLS rocket up from the ground as the city’s
anti-aircraft guns kick in, launching soccerball-sized BLASTS
of metal fragments at the Luftwaffe. KA-BOOM!!!
(CONTINUED)

28. 27.
CONTINUED:
Two GERMAN PILOTS in Fokkes, blinded by the blazing missiles,
plow into each other spectacularly. Spitfires thunder into
shot firing rounds of tracer bullets, DECIMATING the German
squadron.
INT. QUARTERMASTERS’S CABIN - H.M.S. PERSEUS - NIGHT
Ann is talking on a ship-to-shore line as she types.
ANN
...It now seems inevitable that the
Germans will gain possession of the
entire Channel coast...
The sub suddenly lurches from an underwater SHOCKWAVE. Ann
is thrown to the floor with her typewriter and other objects.
INT. CAPTAIN’S SUITE, H.M.S. PERSEUS - NIGHT
The SHUDDERING stops, allowing latex-gloved WORKERS to
continue with their task of stowing strips of gold sovereigns
into a deep, suction-sealed suitcase. PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
Fleming being briefed by Godfrey while shadowy GOVERNMENT
OFFICIALS and grim-faced MPs oversee, lurking in the b.g.
ADM. GODFREY
Two million pounds in gold along
with deeds to half of Cornwall and
an honorary dukedom. All outlined
in this contract.
He hands a smugly smiling Fleming a waterproof pouch bearing
the royal seal.
ADM. GODFREY (cont’d)
(shooting Fleming a look)
This is serious business, Fleming.
Flying during these conditions, the
chances of survival are slim.
He pauses to let this sink in.
ADM. GODFREY (cont’d)
There’s no easy path to France --
Lightning or Luftwaffe, take your
pick. Still as willing to
undertake this assignment now?
Without a moment’s hesitation...
FLEMING
When do we depart?
(CONTINUED)

29. 28.
CONTINUED:
One of the BANK OFFICIALS snaps the suitcase shut, nods to
Godfrey. The BANKERS and GOVERNMENT MEN shuffle out.
ADM. GODFREY
(to Hill)
Does the RAF have anything to add?
CHIEF HILL
Just one thing.
(to Fleming)
If we haven’t heard from you in
four days, France’s ships will be
considered enemy territory and
treated accordingly by my boys.
He gets in Fleming’s face and makes the SOUND of an
EXPLOSION. Fleming stares back, doesn’t break eye contact.
FLEMING
Four days is all I need.
INT. BARRACKS - NIGHT
Fleming, in a flying suit, sits at a desk taking notes while
Godfrey and RAF BRASS stand before a board of maps, photos
and documents, all under the heading “OPERATION ARMADA”.
Godfrey THWACKS his baton at a grainy photo of GEN. BOCK.
ADM. GODFREY
Recognize this ugly bastard?
FLEMING
General Feodor von Bock, Army Group
B Commander.
ADM. GODFREY
Correct. Bock’s one of the most
ruthless officers in the S.S. -- in
addition to being your main
competition for Darlan’s ships, so
look lively.
Fleming mulls this.
RAF OFFICIAL
“Armada” is a joint Anglo-French
Resistance Op, so a field agent
from F.R. will be accompanying you
to Spain in an Airspeed Envoy A6,
equipped to withstand lightning.
EXT. DARLAN FLOTILLA, CRETE - AERIAL POV - NIGHT
Darlan’s flotilla is anchored in a lagoon off Crete.

30. 29.
INT. GALLERY, COMMANDANTE TESTE - NIGHT
A fairly spacious kitchen area in the yacht’s forepeak.
Amidst the dangling butcher’s knives, cloves and onions we
DISCOVER Darlan and Lafayette having a secret confab.
LAFAYETTE
Meeting like this is absurd.
ADM. DARLAN
Someone has been informing England
of our movements. Someone from my
inner circle.
Lafayette knits his brow.
LAFAYETTE
Are you certain the leak is from
inside?
Darlan opens a porthole latch and gazes out ruefully.
ADM. DARLAN
I’ve spent more than half my life
at sea. There isn’t a port on the
planet I haven’t berthed in. And
after all my service, to be
betrayed in my very own quarters.
He sighs with regret. A genuinely world-weary lament.
LAFAYETTE
At least tell me who you suspect.
Darlan notices a whale surfacing, spouting moist air from its
blowhole. The whale dives. Darlan turns to confront
Lafayette. He runs his eyes over his old friend’s face.
ADM. DARLAN
Why don’t I just show you?
He opens a drawer and takes out a revolver, presses it into
Lafayette’s chest and fires it. There is a sharp REPORT and
then Lafayette’s body crumples to the ground, a surprised
expression on his lifeless face as he clutches his chest.
A door opens. Two stern-faced MARINES enter with Lft. Anjou.
Anjou tries to keep his beady eyes forward as Lafayette’s
corpse is hauled off, smearing the floor with purple gunk.
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
(to Marines)
Put him in the furnace. More
humane that way.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)

31. 30.
CONTINUED:
ADM. DARLAN (cont’d)
(to Anjou)
Lft. Anjou, you are in charge now.
LFT. ANJOU
Thank you, Admiral, and may I just
say what a tremendous opportun...
ADM. DARLAN
(cuts him off)
Find out where the leak is on this
ship or you will be joining your
predecessor in the boiler room!
He stomps off, leaving Anjou all alone with his promotion.
INT. SHUTTLE BUS - MOVING - NIGHT
Speeding through a forest with a MARINE at the wheel while
electricity cracks outside from the brewing electric STORM.
In the rear of the bus we find Fleming with Godfrey, Quacker
and Chief Hill, huddled around LORD SUFFOLK, 50s, who seems
younger than his age, jabbering excitedly with boyish glee.
He wears the right sleeve to his tweed suit pinned back. If
is wasn’t for that, we’d hardly notice he’s missing an arm,
given how adept and agile he is.
LORD SUFFOLK
There’s a subminiature radio
transmitter inside your boot-heel.
Godfrey seems more taken aback than Fleming.
ADM. GODFREY
But there’s no aerial!
LORD SUFFOLK
Let me tell you how it works..
Fleming holds up a hand.
FLEMING
(to Godfrey)
It’s quite fascinating, sir, the
principle works on...
ADM. GODFREY
Time is of the essence, that’s my
principle. Next!
Suffolk offers Fleming an open carton of cigarettes.
LORD SUFFOLK
Cigarette?
(CONTINUED)

32. 31.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING
I don’t usually smoke filtered.
LORD SUFFOLK
You do now.
He slits the cigarette paper with his fingernail, sending
tobacco spilling out, along with a miniature canister.
LORD SUFFOLK (cont’d)
Polish intelligence designed these
for couriers to conceal tightly
rolled microfilm across borders.
FLEMING
What will I be photographing?
ADM. GODFREY
Nothing. We modified the design.
(a rare smile)
Tell him, Professor.
LORD SUFFOLK
Instead of film each roll contains
cyanide. One bite and it’s over.
Fleming’s face.
FLEMING
What about weaponry?
ADM. GODFREY
You have your service pistol. What
else do you think you need?
FLEMING
Something more... discreet.
His words seem to stir Suffolk’s imagination.
LORD SUFFOLK
Such as?
FLEMING
Well... the sleeve gun that the
French are using, or a three-finger
push dagger...
ADM. GODFREY
This isn’t “Dick Tracy!” You’re on
a covert diplomatic mission. Got
it?
Fleming nods reluctantly, but Suffolk has definitely been
inspired.

33. 32.
EXT. SHUTTLE BUS - MOVING - NIGHT
The shuttle heads into a bank of foliage which suddenly
splits neatly in half as the camouflaged gate opens.
A pair of armed SENTRIES in green fatigues step forth from
the greenery like two chameleons moving in the jungle,
startling us slightly. They wave the shuttle on.
EXT. SECRET AIRSTRIP - NIGHT
The shuttle pulls up and everyone disembarks.
LORD SUFFOLK
One more little item. Not really
‘weaponry’ per se but I’d love to
get your feedback on it before I
show it to the higher-ups.
He hands Fleming a set of shoelaces with sturdy tips.
FLEMING
Uh, very nice. I don’t normally
carry spares but you never know...
LORD SUFFOLK
You never know is right!
He slips the tips off the laces revealing mini saw teeth.
LORD SUFFOLK (cont’d)
How’s that for cutting-edge?
Fleming’s eyes sparkle with delight.
ADM. GODFREY
Hate to break up this beautiful
friendship but we do have a mission
to get off the ground!
They march briskly past fields of TROOPS executing war games,
past barracks of TECHS and ENGINEERS developing the latest
explosive devices, fire blasters, booby traps and weapons.
QUACKER
French Resistance has arrived.
He nods to uniformed French MILITARY MEN emerging from an
armor-plated stretch limousine, striding toward them.
FLEMING
Can we trust this F.R. chap?
Godfrey, Quacker and Hill exchange sly looks.
(CONTINUED)

34. 33.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING (cont’d)
Am I missing something?
ADM. GODFREY
For once, yes, and I’m enjoying
every second of it! Chief Hill?
CHIEF HILL
Leftenant Astier has been working
with us for over a year now as part
of our joint operation with the
French, and has consistently
provided us with real information
about Darlan’s organization.
Member of L’Armee Secrète...
ADM. GODFREY
She’s also a crack-shot, from what
I hear.
Fleming does a double-take.
FLEMING
Did you say “she” sir?
ADM. GODFREY
Yes, that’s right.
Fleming is astounded.
FLEMING
A woman?!
WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.)
Your powers of observation do you
well, Mister...
Fleming turns to behold...
...LT. DENISE ASTIER, 24, tall and steely, as beautiful,
streamlined and formidable-looking as the French fleet.
Fleming tries to act indifferent but it’s obvious he is taken
by her exceptional beauty. She really is stunning.
FLEMING
Fleming, Lieutenant Ian Fleming.
Enchante.
DENISE
Leftenant Denise Astier. Pleased
to meet you.
Fleming notices her flying suit.
FLEMING
Are you training to be a pilot?
(CONTINUED)

35. 34.
CONTINUED:
Denise scowls.
DENISE
I’m a fully certified Paratrooper.
EXT. RUNWAY - AIRSPEED A6 - NIGHT
Fleming, Denise, et al stride toward a nimble A6 Envoy poised
majestically on the brightly lit strip surrounded by a FLIGHT
CREW frantically performing last-minute tests.
Black STORM CLOUDS squabble threateningly overhead.
FLEMING
Small craft. Nice and cozy.
DENISE
We may need a bigger plane -- for
your ego.
Cotton suddenly bounds into view and files in behind them,
burdened by an almost humorously-large radio backpack.
COTTON
Who’s she, mate? Your secretary?
Denise is about to retort when a female VOICE cries out.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Ian!
Fleming turns to see Ann standing there, flashing her press
photo ID to a rapidly swelling group of GUARDS.
FLEMING
(goes to her)
Ann? What are you doing here?
Quacker appears out of nowhere.
QUACKER
I’d like to know the same thing!
This location is supposed to be
classified, Fleming. You haven’t
even left the ground yet! Christ!
Ann intervenes, getting in between Fleming and Quacker.
ANN
Actually, I found out for myself.
(off Quacker’s look)
What? Can’t a girl be connected?
(gets nearer still)
Could we have a minute alone?
Please?
(CONTINUED)

36. 35.
CONTINUED:
QUACKER
Make it snappy.
He exits in a huff.
FLEMING
Now, Ann, what’s this all about?
ANN
I never thanked you for last night.
The submarine. You.. saved my life.
Fleming narrows his eyes at her.
FLEMING
What did you really come here for?
Ann feels her cheeks flush. She suddenly looks guilty.
ANN
Fine, fair cop. I want to know
what’s in France.
FLEMING
A lot of nervous Frenchmen.
ANN
What else?
FLEMING
Eiffel Tower, Lourdes. Ann, we’ve
been through this before, I --
ANN
Can’t tell me, it’s top secret. I
know. Well, I except a full
exclusive when you return.
He turns to go, annoyed.
ANN (cont’d)
At least when it’s been
declassified!
Fleming begins to stride away, Ann follows.
ANN (cont’d)
Alright! I came because I don’t
want you to go.
Fleming stops mid-stride and turns. Ann looks at him.
ANN (cont’d)
I love you. There, I said it.
Fleming is speechless. There is a sudden almighty THROTTLE
ROAR from the plane.
(CONTINUED)

37. 36.
CONTINUED:
He takes advantage of the conversation killer, leans in and
kisses Ann on the lips, nearly making her swoon.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
INT. AIRSPEED - NIGHT
Denise has been watching all this from inside the plane. She
looks away as Fleming turns his back on Ann and clambers into
the plane. A look of unadulterated excitement floods his
face the instant Ann can no longer see. Denise innocently
glances up at Fleming as he bounds down the aisle toward her.
FLEMING
Buckle up!
He sits down next to her in the cramped space and begins
exchanging his bootlaces for the ones Suffolk slipped him.
Cotton appears, notices Denise’s flight-suit and reacts.
COTTON
You training to be a pilot?
Denise closes her eyes in frustration.
INT. CONTROL TOWER - NIGHT
Godfrey, Hill, Quacker and COMMUNICATIONS TECHS look on.
PILOT (O.S.)
(from radio)
Hotel Charlie, this is Foxtrot 1.
Can I get a weather check? Over.
TECH
Storm bearing down north northwest.
Good to go. Over.
They watch the Airspeed gather speed down the runway and
ascend, SCREAMING as it plunges into the stratosphere.
INT. AIRSPEED A6 - IN THE AIR - NIGHT
Cotton is crouched in a corner searching for a signal on his
radio pack while Fleming peruses the beacon in his shoe and
Denise reads a dense, technical-looking dossier in French.
Fleming snaps his heel back into place, sits back, astounded.
DENISE
New toy?
(CONTINUED)

38. 37.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING
Toy? Britain happens to lead the
world in military technology.
DENISE
Does she? France has been using a
similar device for years -- an MCR-
1 receiver.
She unzips a small pouch and takes out cosmetics.
DENISE (cont’d)
I keep mine in my lipstick
She unscrews her rouge to reveal a micro-antenna.
FLEMING
That’s a shortwave radio, not a
long distance transmitter. Not up
to snuff. What else d’you have?
Denise twists open her mascara, revealing a gun barrel.
DENISE
4.5mm single-shot firing device.
She takes the end of her eyeliner pencil revealing miniature
electronic components embedded in the tip.
DENISE (cont’d)
(rummaging)
And one or two more other useful
items... You know, a girl has to
have a few secrets.
FLEMING
How resourceful.
He turns away and cracks open Black Mask magazine, its front
emblazoned with “NEW RAYMOND CHANDLER THRILLER!” over a
typically racy image of a voluptuous damsel-in-distress.
DENISE
Do you always work this hard?
FLEMING
Are you always this charming?
DENISE
Let me guess, your comic is about a
man rescuing a woman...
FLEMING
It’s not a comic.
(CONTINUED)

39. 38.
CONTINUED:
DENISE
Are you waiting for me to make a
mistake or get myself killed?
Fleming flashes her a smile.
FLEMING
Not with me to protect you.
Denise mutters to herself in French, returns to her file.
FLEMING (cont’d)
What are you reading?
DENISE
A fascinating dissertation on the
use of cyanide gas propelled by the
cheapest bulb-handled children’s
water pistol -- for covert
assassination.
Fleming raises an eyebrow.
FLEMING
May I?
She reluctantly hands him the file which he soon becomes
engrossed in. She eyeballs his magazine, reaches for it.
EXT. ENGLISH CHANNEL - NIGHT
The Airspeed flashes over the channel, a sleek figure against
the booming THUNDERSTORM, bearing south-southwest.
ZOOM to two SILVER BOLTS, FREEZE FRAME and CUT TO...
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM -NIGHT
...a CLOSE UP of TWIN LIGHTNING STRIKES, the emblem of the
Waffen SS, embroidered on a silver-grey officer’s lapel.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
The uniform belongs to GEN. BOCK, whom we recognize from
Godfrey’s photo. He heads a tactical table centered by a
strategy board of France. GERMAN OFFICERS gathered around.
SUPERIMPOSE: GENERAL FIELD MARSHAL FEDOR VON BOCK,
WEHRMACHT ARMY GROUP CENTER’S COMMANDER.
GERMAN OFFICER #1
Our Panzer divisions will reach
Meuse River at Dinant and from
there advance to Paris.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)

40. 39.
CONTINUED:
GERMAN OFFICER #1 (cont'd)
They should meet with limited
resistance.
GERMAN OFFICER #2
The French are more interested in
making love than war.
LAUGHTER. From all but BOCK who explodes in rage.
GEN. BOCK
Paris? Who cares about Paris? My
orders are clear: secure the
French Fleet. I need Darlan’s
location by 13:00 hours.
He turns and gives a sharp nod to a gorgeous female AIDE clad
in latex SS garb. She picks up an internal line and whispers
into it as the OFFICERS swap anxious looks. Who’s coming?
Bock turns to a screen. A projector CLATTERS, shooting jumpy
images of the FRENCH FLEET with German text running across
the bottom of the film laying out info about the vessels.
DING! Sliding steel doors split apart to reveal...
...CPT. SPEER, 20s, a very neatly-groomed, oddly pretty man
with big blue eyes and a wavy mop of golden hair.
He snaps his boot-heels together and salutes.
CPT. SPEER
Captain Speer reporting, General.
Bock looks him up and down.
GEN. BOCK
Come with me, Captain.
Bock leads Speer across the busy floor of an OPERATIONS
CENTER, past ANALYSTS decoding communiques, CARTOGRAPHERS re-
drawing maps of Europe, RADIO MEN, TRANSLATORS, etc.
GEN. BOCK (cont’d)
Some information has just come my
way from our people in England that
I’d like to share with you.
He ushers Speer into a private, bullet-proof glass room.
INT. ROOM - NIGHT
The STORM, seen through the window, rages silently in b.g.
(CONTINUED)

41. 40.
CONTINUED:
GEN. BOCK
British Naval Intelligence is
flying an operative into France
with an extravagant offer to
Admiral Darlan for his fleet.
CPT. SPEER
A fool’s errand, undoubtedly.
GEN. BOCK
Perhaps. Two million pounds in
gold can be awfully persuasive.
They’ll likely try to fly during
the storm to avoid our patrols.
As if on cue, a sheet of lightning flashes in the sky.
GEN. BOCK (cont’d)
Were he to survive the storm, this
Englishman might get to Darlan
before us.
CPT. SPEER
Tell me what I must do.
GEN. BOCK
Find out where the N.I.D. dropzone
is and eliminate their operative.
Speer snaps his heels together and struts off, past a narrow
oval window looking out and down over a black cloud mass.
Cutting now to an awesome EXTERIOR SHOT... Revealing...
EXT. BOCK’S AIRSHIP - NIGHT
...that all along we have been inside an airship! A mighty
LZ Zeppelin. There is a short, fiery blast from the
airship’s volcanic engines. Flames BELCH out toward us.
INT. AIRSPEED ENVOY - IN THE AIR - NIGHT
Fleming makes his way forward to the hatch, moving steadily
in the storm-tossed craft. With acute concentration, he
secures the case of gold into an auto-deployment drop device.
Denise and Cotton check equipment. Denise CRACKS gum.
FLEMING
Get ready for some chop!
The A6 shudders into the EYE OF THE STORM, a caterwauling
grey-black CYCLONE.
The Flight Officer addresses Fleming, Cotton and Denise.
(CONTINUED)

42. 41.
CONTINUED:
FLIGHT OFFICER
Weather’s easing a bit but it won’t
last. We don’t have the fuel to
loop back so it’s now or never!
Fleming’s eyes are flush with adrenaline. The F.O. hauls the
hatch open and Cotton is nearly blown back by the icy blast.
Fleming stands firm. Denise moves into position and checks
her jump helmet, pulls her chin strap tight.
The F.O. attaches the suitcase of gold to a harness.
FLIGHT OFFICER (cont’d)
Gold secured, go!
Fleming nods and the case is jettisoned. The case’s chute
deploys and a small, pulsing red blip is just glimpsed before
the cargo vanishes into the stormy grey vortex beyond.
The jump light turns GREEN. Cotton steps up and leaps out.
COTTON
Geronimo!
Thunder BOOMS as he plummets. Jump light goes back to red.
Fleming’s eyes are fixed on the jump light.
He pulls out a pendant from around his neck -- it looks like
a World War I bronze medal -- and kisses it for good luck
then carefully returns it to under his flight suit.
Denise observes Fleming’s little ritual with interest.
The jump light turns GREEN.
Fleming jumps out of the plane just as it is STRUCK BY
LIGHTNING. Strings of electricity crackle around the plane.
Fleming’s harness line tangles up as the plane veers sharply,
and he’s dragged through the sky against the side of the
plane. Anti-smash-bulbs spin. ALARMS sound. Denise
lunges for Fleming’s line and tries to untangle it, gets her
hand trapped between one line. The rope slashes her palm.
DENISE
(to Pilot)
His equipment’s caught!
Fleming’s helmet is torn off by the velocity and he can no
longer breath. His pack is sucked into one of the engines,
BLOWING IT OUT. Fumes and toxic vapors sting his eyes.
The plane SLAMS to the right, dipping savagely.
(CONTINUED)

43. 42.
CONTINUED:
WHOOSH! A burst of flame from one of the blown engines
shoots quickly over Fleming in a hellish backdraft.
Fleming RIPS back a patch on his suit, revealing a bowie
knife, its silver flint glimmering in the moonlight.
PILOT (VIA P.A.)
Losing altitude... Starboard engine
gone...
Denise and the flight officer try to haul Fleming inside but
the ropes are too taut, the wind velocity too powerful.
FLIGHT OFFICER
I have to cut his static line!
The cords tethering Fleming coil around the stem of the
propellers, pulling him in toward the gyrating blades.
DENISE
Hurry! He’ll be torn apart!
The F.O. smashes an emergency glass CASE and removes a
hatchet from within, grasps it with both hands. He brings the
axe crashing down as the plane BUCKLES, causing him to miss
all three of Fleming’s cords. Worse, the axe-handle is now
embedded in the fuselage. He pulls at it, but it’s caught.
OUTSIDE
Fleming lunges his knife down at the ropes.
He misses! The cords lash further around the rotor stem,
drawing him further towards the props. He raises the knife
as far back as he can and slashes. SNAP! Two strands gone!
The last frayed strap pulls him inches from the BLADES which
almost graze his face when there is a sharp TWANG! The twine
splits under the strain and...
FLEMING IS SUCKED AWAY, vanishing into the vortex.
INSIDE PLANE
Seeing this, Denise connects her chute, swiftly fastening the
clasps.
FLIGHT OFFICER
What are you doing? We’re way off
course!
DENISE
Out of my way!
She shoves him aside and finishes harnessing up.
(CONTINUED)

44. 43.
CONTINUED:
He grabs her from behind, but she flexes an arm and elbows
him sharply in the gut. He drops to his knees, winded.
Denise somersaults out of the plane.
FLEMING
Pulls hard at his jammed chute gear, trying to free a mangled
slider from the twisted grommet, as the snow-capped PYRENEES
suddenly appear from under the clouds, RUSHING UP FAST.
DENISE
Deftly steers her chute’s riser strappers to a clearing in
the thicket, sailing over the fir trees to a snowy plateau.
FLEMING tumbles through the HOWLING air as spiky treetops
start to materialize below him, white mountain landscape
beyond. He is moments from impact when... WHOOSH!
His canopy deploys and he is jerked violently skyward.
DENISE sails over the plateau toward a plunging canyon. Her
eyes widen. She eases up on the riser straps and makes a
running stop, SKIDDING, landing a mere inches from the ledge.
EXT. MOUNTAIN SLOPE, PYRENEES - NIGHT
Denise catches her breath, peering down at a jagged cluster
of frozen rocks beyond the ridge. A rogue gust of wind
suddenly catches her chute and lifts her up off the ground.
She hooks her legs around a boulder and quickly disconnects
her equipment, watches her chute sail over the frozen gorge.
Fleming descends, skidding to a perfect halt before Denise,
like he just dropped in. Paratrooper perfect. His flight
suit is torn and his face all bloodied, covered in abrasions.
DENISE
My god! Are you all right?
(touching his body)
Is anything broken?
FLEMING
Not sure. Keep searching.
She snatches her hand away. He gets to work burying his
parachute while Denise scales a small rock and surveys the
darkened Basque landscape at the foot of the Pyrenees.
DENISE
How far do you think we are from
the drop zone?
(CONTINUED)

45. 44.
CONTINUED:
Fleming takes an unusually thick coin from his pocket and
slides it apart to reveal a compass within. Next, he opens a
deck of playing cards and rifles through them.
DENISE (cont’d)
Now what are you doing?
Fleming selects a one-eyed Jack, peels back the face to
reveal a map of the area, holds the compass against it.
FLEMING
We’re about fifty miles or so south-
southwest of the dropzone. We got
lucky, the wind actually carried us
closer in mid-air.
(shuts compass)
Still, that’s quite a distance. If
we walk through the night at a
brisk pace we can get there by
dawn.
DENISE
And if we run?
Fleming arches a brow, intrigued by the gauntlet toss.
EXT. SKY - NIGHT
The storm has moved on, just a low, distant GRUMBLE now.
EXT. MEADOW - NIGHT
PAN from a CLOSE-UP of the suitcase of sovereigns to...
Cotton, burying his parachute. He hears a BUZZING, looks up
to see a light plane extending its landing gear.
COTTON
Frogs on time? That’s a first.
Whistling a war tune, he pats the ground with his shovel and
then hurries to the unmarked aircraft as it alights.
The plane’s door opens and a ladder slowly collapses out.
Six elite GERMAN SOLDIERS emerge followed by LT. JODL, late
20s, Speer’s deputy and lastly, Cpt. Speer himself.
CLOSE ON -- JODL
Big, strong, with tattooed SS lightning bolts on his neck and
a thick, jagged scar running down his left cheek. He smiles
a leering, rictus grin revealing a row of gold-capped teeth.
(CONTINUED)

46. 45.
CONTINUED:
Cotton freezes, fumbles for his gun. He manages to draw his
service revolver but -- too late -- the German Paratroopers
level their K-98 Mauser rifles at him.
GERMAN SPY #1
(shouts)
Halten Sie!
Cotton pales as Speer and his retinue grimly approach.
Jodl points at Cotton’s mini-shovel and laughs wickedly.
LT. JODL
(to Speer)
Hat ein Spaten zum graben!
SUPERIMPOSE: Look! He even brought his own shovel!
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
Cotton has nearly finished digging a hole in the ground.
He shivers from the cold. His eyes are bruised and puffy,
his skin flailed and splotched with horrid purple welts.
He is completely naked and has been electrocuted.
LT. JODL
He knows nothing.
CPT. SPEER
Very well. We are finished here.
Jodl unholsters his Luger, aiming at Cotton who spits
defiantly.
CUT TO:
EXT. FOREST - DAWN
BAM! Fleming and Denise hear the GUN BLAST and pause.
Silence. Just the SOUND of their labored breathing.
A twig SNAPS to the right of them. Fleming spins, his .38
drawn, to see two burly MEN standing there. Fleming levels
his gun. Denise runs to the two strangers and embraces them.
RENE is unkempt, big and husky. EDDY is thin and sinewy with
alert, eager eyes. Both men have a slightly wild, feral look
about them, like two wounded animals on the run.
(CONTINUED)

47. 46.
CONTINUED:
DENISE
(in French w/subtitles)
Rene, Eddy, where are the others?
What are you doing here?
RENE
Our plane was hijacked. Germans...
Fleming figures out the implications and charges off into the
woods, the Frenchmen and Denise shouting after him.
EXT. MEADOW - DAWN
Jodl holds open the suitcase of gold coins for Speer.
LT. JODL
Herr Bock will be pleased!
Speer, examining Cotton’s radio pack, doesn’t look nearly as
satisfied as his grinning henchmen.
CPT. SPEER
If this was the radio Operator, he
must have had a partner! Find him.
He slings the radio pack into Cotton’s grave and sends a
round into it from his Luger. ZOOM BACK TO REVEAL...
EXT. WOODS - DAY
...our POV belongs to Fleming, as Rene and Eddy hold him back
with assistance from Denise.
RENE
Stop! We’d be slaughtered!
DENISE
He’s right. You’ll have your
revenge when you secure the fleet.
Fleming, watches helplessly through a gap in the trees as
Speer, Jodl and retinue board the small plane and depart.
EXT. SPANISH COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
A TRUCK RIPS BY, revealing... a road sign stenciled “FRENCH-
SPANISH BORDER -- 24 KMS”. FOLLOW THE TRUCK...
INT. TRUCK - MOVING - DAY
Denise, driving, smoking a Gitane, turns and looks through a
peephole into the truck’s rear where we find...

48. 47.
INT. BACK OF TRUCK- MOVING - DAY
...a mini CONTROL ROOM. Fleming is speaking into a crackly
radio mic, while in one corner Rene disassembles and cleans a
folding Sniper’s rifle with telescopic sights.
Eddy, evidently the demolitions man, is delicately examining
a home-made explosives device with kid gloves.
FLEMING
(into radio)
Hello, Miss Blythe? Yes, I’m
alright. Put me through to Godfrey
will you.
INT. ADMIRALTY H.Q. - DAY
A relieved-looking Miss Blythe hands Godfrey a radio mic.
ADM. GODFREY
(into mic)
Fleming? Where the bloody hell are
you?
INT. TRUCK - MOVING - DAY
Fleming eyes a survey map of SPAIN tacked to a corkboard.
FLEMING
Approximately thirty miles East of
The Pyrenees, heading north
northwest. Should rendezvous with
Darlan at 13:00 hours G.M.T.
Godfrey’s VOICE crackles over the airwaves.
ADM. GODFREY (VIA RADIO)
Do you still have the gold? Over.
Fleming hesitates before answering. The line HISSES with
static. Fleming turns the radio dial but the signal is lost.
Eddy futzes with it while Fleming thinks, his mind racing.
Rene puts a lit cigarette in Fleming’s mouth.
RENE
Sorry about your friend, English.
FLEMING
We have to get that gold back. Can
you take me to General Bock?
Rene looks at him.
(CONTINUED)

49. 48.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING (cont’d)
Yes or no?
RENE
It would be suicide. We’re French
Resistance, not Japanese Kamikaze
pilots.
The Frenchmen share a laugh.
EDDY
How you would even find Bock?
FLEMING
That’s the easy part.
He nods out the window to Bock’s building-sized airship
clearly visible over the yonder tips of the Pyrenees.
RENE
He’s too heavily guarded. There’s
three of us. Four with the girl.
FLEMING
We have the element of surprise.
RENE
And stupidity. You want revenge on
your friend’s assassination, that’s
understandable. But my orders are
to drive you over the border into
France. That’s it. Sorry mate.
FLEMING
This isn’t personal. Bock’s ahead
of us, and he has our gold.
His ardent resolve is definitely having an impact on the two
warriors but they remain skittish, eyeballing him warily
while they confer, whispering to each other in French.
FLEMING (cont’d)
We have to try. If we don’t stop
him, he may get to Darlan first.
If that happens, the RAF will
destroy the French fleet, killing
every French sailor on board.
The RADIO suddenly bursts with life:
ADM. GODFREY (VIA RADIO)
Foxtrot 1, come in, over. S.B.S.
has identified the remains of First
Officer Cotton at the drop-point.
Confirm status of gold. Over.
Fleming looks at Rene. Well? Rene weighs the decision.
(CONTINUED)

50. 49.
CONTINUED:
ADM. GODFREY (VIA RADIO) (cont’d)
Confirm status of gold. Over.
Rene flicks off the radio.
RENE
Terrible reception around here.
EXT. PYRENEES - NIGHT
The sun is setting, flecking the sky with swirls of crimson.
The French Resistance truck snakes up a snow covered mountain
road. SLOWLY ZOOM BACK to a long shot revealing Bock’s
hulking airship moored in a valley over the next peak.
EXT. MOUNTAIN FORTRESS, PYRENEES - NIGHT
The lavish 18th Century winter estate is surrounded by high
stone walls and the grounds are patrolled by armed GUARDS
with dogs. We DRIFT DOWN to the courtyard where we discover
Bock’s airship anchored to the ground by heavy ballast ropes.
A Mercedes limo squeals to a stop. Bock emerges flanked by
BODYGUARDS, Speer and Jodl. Everyone acknowledges his
arrival. GUARDS snap salutes. STAFFERS genuflect.
GEN. BOCK
The 9th Army is the largest
division in The Third Reich and you
can’t find one British spy?
CPT. SPEER
It won’t be long, now.
GEN. BOCK
A British spy may very well be a
British assassin. Find him or I
find a new Captain.
EXT. CHECKPOINT, FORTRESS - NIGHT
Fleming and Denise approach two GUARDS. Fleming is carrying
a gas canister and Denise has tarted herself up.
FLEMING
Unser Auto ist defekter Abstieg,
können Sie kommen Hilfe?
SUPERIMPOSE: OUR CAR HAS BROKEN DOWN, CAN YOU HELP?
(CONTINUED)

51. 50.
CONTINUED:
The Guards eye Fleming and Denise warily, reluctantly nod and
follow them up the road. A wire loop drops down over the
first German’s head and hoists him up off the ground.
ABOVE THEM
Rene, crouched amidst tree branches, gives his noose a
murderous pull. The second Guard runs over but is jerked
back by an identical piano-wire noose wielded by Eddy who
sits beside Rene.
Fleming and Denise hop over the gate.
EXT. FORTRESS - NIGHT
Fleming and Denise zip past security lightbeams sweeping the
grounds. They look back at Rene and Eddy who don the guards’
hats and grab their rifles and then wave back to the SENTRY
in the watch-tower who can just make out their profiles
against his searchlight. Rene waves. The Sentry waves back.
The Sentry continues his spotlight sweep of the grounds.
Fleming and Denise quickly shin up ladder to a...
ROOFTOP
Fleming gets to work assembling the single-shot AR-7 Sniper
rifle. He cracks open a box of cartridges.
FLEMING
(nods downward)
Six-heures!
Denise looks down at a SENTRY below them going for his Luger,
quickly draws her silenced Tokarev and... PFFT! PFFT!
Two slugs land in the Guard’s temple. Double tap.
Denise trains her gun on the grounds, stands vigilant while
Fleming fixes the AR to a tripod mount which has a triangular
base with a jack at each leg for leveling the gun.
He kneels and pumps the levers, swiveling the high powered
rifle as he peers through its scopes, searching.
POV THROUGH CROSS-HAIRS
Our view turns to an illuminated section of the fortress, the
dining hall, favoring an ornate stained-glass window.

52. 51.
INT. DINING HALL, FORTRESS - NIGHT
A huge baronial room featuring Medieval Spanish tapestries,
gleaming suits of armor and a large lit stone fireplace.
Bock and retinue are finishing up a private meal while a
pretty young Spanish SERVANT GIRL clears away the plates.
GEN. BOCK
Tell me, Captain, what have you
learned about this elusive
Englishman?
CPT. SPEER
(opens dossier)
Ian Lancaster Fleming. Born London,
1908. Father died in the Great
War...
We HEAR a crack of glass and then something WHISTLES past
Bock’s head. Bock scrunches his face in befuddlement.
More glass TINKLES and then the head of Bodyguard #1 explodes
like a watermelon, splattering blood and bits of chipped bone
everywhere and on everyone like shrapnel.
Speer dives onto Bock, hurling him down protectively.
More glass POPS and another lead slug whizzes past.
GEN. BOCK
Get off me, you fool!
He shoves Speer away.
EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT
Fleming reloads, oblivious to the SOUND of a SIREN wailing,
SHOUTING and yelping DOBERMANS.
INT. DINING HALL, FORTRESS - NIGHT
Bock, crouched down, makes his way to the door. A BULLET
shatters a vase by his head. He curses, gets down.
Jodl grabs the Servant Girl and, using her as a shield,
blasts his Luger out a window, providing cover for Speer to
spirit Bock away. POP! A round catches Bodyguard #2’s
throat and rips it out. Jodl BLASTS away.
The Servant Girl bites his hand. He screams, releases her.
He SLAPS her face and throws her roughly to the ground.

53. 52.
EXT. FORTRESS CHECKPOINT - NIGHT
Rene and Eddy are rapidly shoving nails into pine cones.
RENE
Get in the truck!
Eddy exits as Rene finishes up with the nails and cones.
EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT
Fleming remains ice-cool, re-loads the single shot rifle.
DENISE
Bock’s getting away!
FLEMING’S POV THROUGH CROSS-HAIRS
The view oscillates between a SHOT OF BOCK absconding to a
SHOT OF JODL cocking his pistol at the Servant Girl.
INT. DINING HALL, FORTRESS - NIGHT
Jodl squeezes the trigger on his pistol when -- PFFT! -- he
suddenly sprouts a third eye. He collapses, dead.
EXT. FRONT GATE - NIGHT
Fleming sprints to the ladder with Denise as the SIREN WAILS.
The spotlight finds them as they hurtle for the truck which
Eddy is revving, backing up THROUGH THE GATE.
They leap into the truck which tears off down the winding
mountain road. Rene pumps his Remington shotgun and BLASTS a
plucky German GUARD shooting at them, sending a round of
pellets into his ass. The Nazi Soldier yelps in pain.
RENE
Hit a pig and made him squeal!
He sends another BLAST at an oncoming Nazi on a motorbike.
INT. TRUCK - MOVING - NIGHT
Fleming and Denise are in the rear of the truck, standing in
combat stance, BLASTING their handguns out the open doors at
two tenacious Nazis on scooters gaining on them. One of the
Goons locks a bead on Fleming, aims his pistol and BANG!
(CONTINUED)

54. 53.
CONTINUED:
Not a gun report but the BLOW-OUT of his tire when it rolls
over a pine cone spiked with nails. He loses control,
careening spectacularly off the road into a rock face.
KA-BOOM!! The other rider swerves and PLOUGHS INTO A TREE.
We STAY ON the wreckage as an S.S. troop vehicle screeches to
a halt, blocked. Speer, in the passenger seat, screams at
his minions to hurry up and clear the burning bike wreckage.
He gets out and does it himself, booting the debris away.
EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - NIGHT
The truck spurts up a hilly road flanked by clumps of firs.
INSIDE TRUCK
We HEAR the humming engines of Speer’s convoy approaches.
FLEMING
Left! Take the left!
The truck straightens out and scoots up a side road.
A long beat... followed by a collective exhale as the SOUND
of the chase fades away behind them. All is clear when...
...there suddenly comes a loud whooping SOUND overhead.
All eyes look up ominously as a Bell 47G helicopter rises up
over the frozen slopes in a blast of swirling snow.
The SOUND of its powerful turbines throbs in the air.
Eddy steps on it, speeding backwards down the side road.
Mortar bombs, hurled down, EXPLODE around them.
Eddy employs evasive maneuvers -- jinks right, jinks left --
as shells descend from the chopper. KA-BOOM!!!
FLEMING (cont’d)
Pull over, we’re sitting ducks!
Eddy brakes sharply and everyone gets out. Fleming just has
time to grab a grenade when the truck is levelled by a
MORTAR. Flames lick out and catch Eddy’s back. He screams.
Rene dives, dropping Eddy to the ground, smothering the
flames.
The Chopper banks toward them, its guns spitting streams of
lead, SHATTERING the icy ground at their feet as they dart
for cover, sending everyone scurrying up the frozen hillside.
(CONTINUED)

55. 54.
CONTINUED:
FLEMING (cont’d)
Split up!
Rene and Eddy bolt toward a towering rock cluster while
Denise shoots back at the hovering copter with her pistol.
Fleming tosses her his .38 then arms the grenade.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Keep firing!
Denise unloads two firearms now at the pesky copter.
Fleming feels the heft of the grenade, eyeballs the chopper
and makes a fast calculation before lobbing his projectile.
CLOSE ON THE GRENADE, as it describes an elegant trajectory
through the air and finds its mark spectacularly, CRASHING
through the chopper’s canopy before detonating. KA-BOOM!!!
The copter is VAPORIZED, sending flaming wreckage scattering
for miles.
DENISE
Good shot!
FLEMING
(more cautious)
Yes, but not exactly inconspicuous.
A vague black mass starts to take shape in the heavens above
them, slowly materializing through the billowing black smoke.
An entire FLEET OF GERMAN ARMY HELICOPTERS headed their way.
FLEMING (cont’d)
Come on!
They scurry down the slope, concealing themselves in the
undergrowth as the Flettners and Focke-Wulfs hover overhead.
CLOSE ON -- FLEMING AND DENISE
Flat on the ground, faces half-buried in frost-coated leaves.
Probing searchlights sweep the ground before the choppers.
DENISE
(nods at his medal)
What is that thing around your
neck?
FLEMING
It’s nothing.
DENISE
It must be something, you kissed it
before you jumped.
(CONTINUED)