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505. The Man Behind the Curtain
Written by: Lawrence Hertzog
Directed by: Rene Bonniere
Guest Starring: Roy Dupuis
Transcribed by: Christine
MR. JONES’ RESIDENCE
The camera pans from where we last saw Nikita standing outside the room in Mr. Jones’ house to the interior of the room. We see Mr. Jones (actor Edward Woodard) seated behind a desk, reading a book. He looks up and over to the door.
MR. JONES: At last we meet.
We now see Nikita’s face, which registers complete puzzlement. She slowly steps into the room.
NIKITA: And, you are…?
MR. JONES: Well, just call me the real Mr. Jones.
Nikita just stares at him, and he makes no effort to get up, doesn’t seem intrigued by her, doesn’t display much interest or emotion regarding her at all.
NIKITA: I need more than a name.
MR. JONES: Very well.
He tosses the book onto the desk and stands, addressing her.
MR. JONES: I’m the big cheese, the man behind the curtain.
As he walks slowly closer toward Nikita, we see he uses a cane, and is a bit crippled.
MR. JONES: King Tut. Whatever you want.
Nikita just frowns as he advances, absorbing the fact that she is finally face to face with her father. He stops before her, leaning on his cane.
MR. JONES: Now, if we have both finished gawking, perhaps it’s time we got down to some work.
He passes her, heading out of the office, but Nikita is not satisfied with what he’s told her.
NIKITA: I’d like some answers.
MR. JONES: No, I’m sorry. There’s no time.
As Nikita continues to frown at his refusal to placate her, he continues to his intended destination, which is the next room, where he goes to a big screen monitor and activates it. We see a grid of a city.
MR. JONES: Belgrade. There is a mission. In six hours time. You’ll be on it.
Nikita walks in the room. It’s like a den or living room. The monitor a big screen tv, probably 60”. Still frowning, Nikita goes over and looks at the screen, watching as he explains further.
MR. JONES: Black Moon has a safe house. Here.
He uses a pointer stick to touch an area on the screen.
MR. JONES: The object is to destroy it. Now the team will approach from the South and they will egress the same way.
As he speaks, the screen continually changes images, while he uses the pointer stick to outline the plan.
MR. JONES: It deviates from the optimum by seven minutes, which is just about the time you’ll require.
NIKITA: Time for what?
MR. JONES: (points to an area on the screen) There is a dead drop here; northeast corner of a churchyard, with a bench just there. You will retrieve the contents and then you will bring them to me tomorrow. Clear?
NIKITA: (incredulous) Clear? Nothing’s clear. Why am I here?
He starts walking past her again. Meanwhile, behind Nikita, the man who broke into her Section quarters, has stepped into the area.
MR. JONES: All in good time, hmm? All in good time. In the meantime, you’ll just have to trust me.
NIKITA: Can you give me one good reason why I should?
Mr. Jones just regards her with look of bemusement.
MR. JONES: Goodbye, Nikita.
He walks off, back into his office, where the young man hands him an item. Nikita remains rooted, fully dismissed, and seeming to contemplate this strange first encounter with her father. With one last sideways glance to Mr. Jones, she walks out.
NIKITA’S QUARTERS
Nikita sits in her room slouched in a chair behind the table. She’s quiet and contemplative. The doors open, revealing Walter. She looks over.
WALTER: Flash mission in fifteen.
NIKITA: Belgrade?
Walter is surprised by her knowledge of this.
WALTER: How did you know that? It was just posted.
Nikita looks away. Her mood is clearly downtrodden and confused by all that has transpired between her and her father.
NIKITA: I met my father.
This information surprises Walter. His jaw drops, and he enters the room.
WALTER: Where? At Centre?
NIKITA: He’s the head.
WALTER: (surprised) He’s Mr. Jones?
NIKITA: That’s right.
Walter is stunned. He sighs heavily, and begins pacing, as he contemplates this.
WALTER: Wh…what’d he do? What’d he say?
Nikita’s mood though is very unhappy. She just looks at Walter. She really has no answers.
WALTER: What did he want?
Nikita just shakes her head, staring off, not looking at Walter.
NIKITA: I don’t know. He’s all business.
WALTER: Hmm.
He steps over to the door again.
WALTER: That’s too bad.
He looks at Nikita, seeing her disappointment.
WALTER: Pattern briefing only. Fifteen.
Nikita just gives him a thumbs-up to indicate she heard him. As Walter exits the room, Nikita continues to sit and think. It’s clear she feels helpless and angry by the lack of progress she made with her father. As she glances about the room absently, she suddenly punches the chair arm with frustration.
MUNITIONS
Walter is packing cases to be used on the Belgrade mission, handing them to operatives. Nearby, O'Brien stands with Nikita. Her manner is still one of quiet frustration. She’s barely paying attention to him. He looks over his shoulder making sure nobody is within earshot. He’s working on a panel, not looking at her as he speaks.
O'BRIEN: I don’t get it. Black Moon has no connection with the Collective, and the egress route…
NIKITA: (unintelligible)… I know.
O'BRIEN: What the hell is going on?
It’s a rhetorical question that Nikita doesn’t answer. Instead, she changes the subject.
NIKITA: I need your help.
Now O'Brien looks up at her.
NIKITA: A seven-minute window during the mission. Can you cover me?
He searches her eyes and sees by her solemn demeanor that she’s serious.
O'BRIEN: Sure.
NIKITA: I’ll explain later.
She moves off, and as she does so, O'Brien says over his shoulder.
O'BRIEN: No explanation necessary
BELGRADE MISSION
It is daylight, and we see the exterior of a rundown area. A construction worker sits in a blue bulldozer, reading a newspaper, while in the distance Section operatives appear behind large shipping containers. Upon a closer look, we see that the nonchalant-appearing man in the dozer holds a gun in his right hand. The man notices movement out of the corner of his eye and looks over to see O'Brien step out from behind a container. He swings to her right, aiming his gun at O'Brien, however, a shot fires through the newspaper, killing the man. Nikita runs over, having fired the shot.
Back in Section, Quinn is monitoring the area.
QUINN: Watch the window.
Nikita looks up at the nearby building, seeing a hostile appear at the window. She fires, taking him out. He falls back, firing crazy rounds into the air from his automatic. Nikita now runs over to the building where O'Brien waits. He looks around the corner of the building, then quickly rounds it and rushes inside. Inside a hostile appears at the top of a stairway. O'Brien shoots first, and the dead man tumbles down the stairs.
Two Section operatives now rush up the stairs, while Nikita stays on the main floor of the abandoned interior and looks to her left. O'Brien in the meantime is scoping out the main area for hostiles. Nikita now works to establish that seven-minute window she needs.
NIKITA: Quinn. The schematic on our panels did not show a tunnel.
Back in Comm, Quinn is confused. She frowns.
QUINN: There isn’t one.
NIKITA: Well, I’m looking at an entrance.
There is no tunnel. Nikita is making it up to establish her seven-minute window. O'Brien walks over to Nikita.
In Comm, Quinn tries to find evidence of this supposed tunnel.
QUINN: Must be very recent.
NIKITA: It’s live. I’m gonna have to go dark.
QUINN (voice): For how long?
NIKITA: Estimate seven minutes.
In the meantime, O'Brien and Nikita are trading looks of understanding. This is the situation that Nikita wanted him to cover her on.
QUINN: Go.
O'Brien runs up the stairway that the other operatives went up, while Nikita dashes outside at a full run. She leaves the area, coming to a graveyard, still running fast as she crosses through a graveyard, past headstone after headstone. She stops, approaching the bench Mr. Jones briefed her about. Pulling out a scanner, she scans the bench area, coming to a stop just beneath its left-hand side. Crouching, she fishes beneath the bench and pulls out a small plastic-wrapped item. As she turns it over in her gloved hands, she hears car doors close. Glancing behind her, two men, one wearing a Russian-type winter hat, get out of a silver Audi, and begin walking toward her.
Nikita immediately moves away, still crouched, not wanting them to see her. They stop at the same bench she’d been at, noticing that she stands a few headstones away, with her hand resting on a headstone, as though she is visiting a deceased loved one. The man wearing the hat then kneels and feels beneath the bench, but comes up empty handed. He stands, looking around and specifically to where he’d just seen Nikita. She is gone.
Both men pull out their guns and hurry down the grave knoll back to their car, looking all around them as they do, trying to see where Nikita might be. They get to their car, where there driver waits.
HATTED MAN: There was a woman in black! Where did she go?
From the rear passenger seat behind the driver, Nikita appears, gun drawn. She shoots the man with the hat, gets out of car and shoots the other man. She opens the driver door, yanks out the driver, whom she has already killed, gets in and peels away.
MR. JONES’ RESIDENCE
Nikita walks down the hallway of the house, looking for Mr. Jones. She comes to an interior swimming pool area, which Michele is just exiting, wearing a white fluffy robe and carrying a glass of wine. We see Mr. Jones is in the area also, though fully dressed in a suit, standing at a table and looking through papers.
Michele meets up with Nikita in the hallway. These are two completely opposite women. One in a robe, used to a privileged life; the other dressed in black leather, used to struggling for survival. Michele stops.
MICHELE: Hello, Nikita.
Nikita doesn’t respond, just smiles politely. She’s there to speak to Mr. Jones, not Michele, who takes the hint and moves off. Mr. Jones now exits the pool area, stopping short when he sees Nikita waiting for him.
MR. JONES: You have something for me?
Nikita removes the plastic-wrapped item from her pocket and hands it over to him. Her manner is withdrawn, angry even.
MR. JONES: Excellent.
He can see that she is displeased. He regards her a moment.
MR. JONES: What’s wrong?
NIKITA: Drop was hot.
MR. JONES: (shrugs) Yes.
NIKITA: I could have been killed.
MR. JONES: (laughs shortly) How many hostiles were there? Three? Four?
As he speaks, he hobbles away from where she remains rooted, hands in her pockets.
NIKITA: Three.
She now begins following him down the hallway, sauntering slowly.
MR. JONES: Well, it’d be a trifle for someone of your ability. I’ll wager you didn’t even use the full seven minutes, hmm?
He stops and looks back at her, as if to confirm this. She doesn’t respond.
MR. JONES: Well, there you are.
Now he looks at the thin, gold rectangular bar that were wrapped in the plastic, as he enters his office.
MR. JONES: Do you know what this is?
NIKITA: It’s a shadow disk.
MR. JONES: So you know, unless this is read by synchronous drive, it self-destructs. However, if I am careful…
He slips a disk carefully into small exterior drive on his desk, then quickly pulls it out. He quickly taps some keys on his laptop, and pages of information start uploading.
MR. JONES: I have salvaged eight frames.
He turns his monitor around so she can see the eight pages that show up as staggered on the screen.
MR. JONES: What do you make of them?
NIKITA: Section encryption.
She sits in a chair before the desk, studying the monitor.
MR. JONES: Transferred to shadow disk and left in a dead drop controlled by the Collective.
NIKITA: (realization dawning) There’s a mole in Section.
MR. JONES: Yes.
NIKITA: Who?
MR. JONES: Well that is what you and I have to discover. However, even… even without the decryption, it is clear that this is Level Eight material.
Nikita is now more intrigued than angry, and she sits pondering this new information.
MR. JONES: I’ve eliminated everybody except O'Brien and Operations. Your assessment?
NIKITA: O'Brien’s not a traitor.
Mr. Jones calls up O'Brien’s personal data on his monitor, which we see alongside O'Brien’s imagine.
MR. JONES: Bahrain, July; Moldova, September. He was a sole survivor both times. Now the odds against that happening to a clean operative are very high.
Nikita mulls this over, still rejecting it.
NIKITA: I disagree. It’s Operations. Operations hates Centre. His motivation’s obvious.
In a Solomon-like decision, Mr. Jones decides on a course of action, which gives credence to Nikita’s opinion. He clasps his hands before him.
MR. JONES: All right. Investigate them both and report to me.
He looks down to his desk, dismissively.
NIKITA: Not yet.
He looks up.
NIKITA: We need to talk.
He has a bemused expression on his face.
They are now standing in his office. Nikita stands facing away from her father as she speaks.
NIKITA: Seven years ago, you had me framed for murder and brought into Section.
MR. JONES: Yes.
NIKITA: Why?
MR. JONES: I’ll call it genetics. It’s quite clear that you had the ability to succeed. You belonged in Section.
NIKITA: (angry) Nobody belongs in Section.
MR. JONES: Nobody wants to be in Section. There is a difference.
Nikita now turns to face him.
NIKITA: Why didn’t you contact me?
He begins hobbling over to his desk.
MR. JONES: Because it was important that you show me you had the ability and the desire to contact me.
NIKITA: So you were monitoring me the whole time.
He sits in his chair.
MR. JONES: Naturally.
NIKITA: And when I was in danger?
MR. JONES: I had one rule: no interference.
She is amazed by his lack of paternal emotions. Her hands the desk, she leans down, looking him in the face.
NIKITA: I am your daughter.
MR. JONES: (unmoved) It was important that you succeeded on your own.
She is upset and becoming more emotional.
MR. JONES: It was the only way.
NIKITA: The only way for what?
MR. JONES: For you to become what you were meant to be. You had to be strong and stand on your own feet.
She straightens, still maintaining eye contact.
NIKITA: And, my mother living on the streets, what’s your excuse for that?
MR. JONES: I could not intervene for security reasons.
NIKITA: How convenient.
MR. JONES: No, it wasn’t really convenient. It was painful.
NIKITA: Do you want me to tell you how much I admire your sacrifices?
MR. JONES: No. Just pout, because daddy never took you to the zoo.
As Nikita listens and watches him, tears begin falling freely down her face. This is a hard man, not your typical dad.
MR. JONES: We are not ordinary people, you and I. There are certain things we have to do.
Nikita looks down.
NIKITA: Why us?
MR. JONES: Because there’s no one else who can.
He stands, uncaring of her tears and ready to get back to business.
MR. JONES: Now… the Collective is the most dangerous threat that we have ever had to face. So… let’s stop this chattering, you go back to Section, and find the mole.
She immediately moves away to leave. His cane is resting in front of the desk by her.
MR. JONES: Would you mind passing me my cane, please?
Nikita stops. She’s full of anger and disappointment. She levels a look at him.
NIKITA: Stand on your own and be strong.
She walks out.
COLLECTIVE HEADQUARTERS
We see what appears to be a large, stark basement area. They have wall monitors and setups much like Section, but in much cruder surroundings. Several men mill about the area. A man – black – walks into the area, over to a man – white – who sits at a table before a laptop. The white man is redheaded, wears glasses and is slouched in the chair. He looks up when the black man approaches.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Another transmission on subchannel seven. Belgrade was an anomaly. Zero impact.
RED HEADED WHITE MAN: So our mysterious friend at Section One is still alive and well.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Yesterday we lost a dead drop in Belgrade. Now comes this message: Don’t worry, no problem. Aren’t you a bit suspicious?
The manner between these two men is clearly combative, especially on the black’s man’s side. The redhead looks up at his colleague with unconcern.
RED HEADED WHITE MAN: Well, the mole, whoever he is, has been very helpful.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: But now he’s been discovered.
RED HEADED WHITE MAN: The intel shows no sign of high level changes inside Section One.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: To be safe, we should cancel all missions, starting with Vilnius.
RED HEADED WHITE MAN: That’s NOT necessary.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: There’s a saying in my country: Only a fool tickles a dragon’s tail.
RED HEADED WHITE MAN: Well, I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.
The tension has built between the two men. Clearly they do not agree with the direction the Collective has taken in dealing with the mole. However, the redheaded man seems to have the upper hand. The black man is not ready to concede completely however.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Graff!
Graff, the redhead, stands quickly and angrily, standing face to face with the black man.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: The Collective is a coalition… that requires agreement.
Graff looks around, seeing the other men in the area are watching this battle of wills.
GRAFF: A compromise. We proceed with Vilnius. If we don’t hear from the mole, we cancel. If we do, we reevaluate in light of what he said.
The black man ponders this a moment.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Agreed.
Graff now sits back down, and the black man walks off.
WAR ROOM
Operations marches into the area, where Quinn, Nikita, O'Brien, and other operatives sit waiting to be debriefed. He activates the holo-screen.
OPERATIONS: Recent intel includes a number of indicators suggesting the Collective will become active in Vilnius.
QUINN: The likely target is this factory…
The holo-screen shows a grid of the factory interior and wall schematics.
QUINN: … built on loans from Western banks. It’s destruction would be a major embarrassment.
OPERATIONS: Level Two teams on close quarters standby. O'Brien, you’ll provide tactical support to Quinn. Details are on your panels. Team leaves in one hour.
He shuts down the screen and moves to head off, but Nikita stops him.
NIKITA: The profile is bad.
Everyone, but Nikita, gets up and leaves. She remains seated.
NIKITA: The Level Two team will be slaughtered.
OPERATIONS: That’s all we can spare. We’re active in two other sectors: Three and Five. Now get going.
He walks off.
OUTSIDE MICHAEL’S OFFICE
O'Brien, who now occupies Michael’s old office, is just about to enter, when Nikita, who is walking up a curving stairway just outside the office, calls to him.
NIKITA: O’Brien.
He stops, looking over to her. She is wearing a black leather top that has bands on the upper arms and a tight, black floor-length skirt ala Morticia Adams, and has difficulty walking up the stairs in it.
NIKITA: I was looking at your file this morning.
She stops at the landing, and he steps closer.
O'BRIEN: Yeah? What did you find?
He stands with arms crossed.
NIKITA: That you were a good cop, no family. Father died, mother’s still alive. You’ve done pretty well for yourself in Section. Couple of bumps here and there. Moldova… for instance.
O'BRIEN: Intel missed a support team. We expected ten hostiles; there were twenty.
NIKITA: You were lucky to get out.
O'BRIEN: I was a cop. Before that, I was a Marine. We don’t leave our buddies behind. Y’see, Section’s different. They told me to abort, so I did. But not a day goes by that I don’t think about it.
Nikita nods and begins to move slowly up the stairs again.
O'BRIEN: So why were you checking my file?
She stops and looks back to him.
NIKITA: Efficiency report to do.
O'BRIEN: Why life before Section?
She smiles coyly.
NIKITA: Maybe I was digging a little deeper.
O'BRIEN: Have dinner with me. Tonight. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
She doesn’t respond but starts walking up the stairs, still looking back at him. He goes to the office door, looking up at her with a grin.
MUNITIONS
Walter is working at a computer when Nikita saunters in, hands in her pockets.
WALTER: O'Brien told you he was ordered to pull out and leave the others?
NIKITA: Yeah.
He looks at his monitor, where evidently he has called up the mission report.
WALTER: No such order on the mission tape.
Nikita begins pacing.
NIKITA: Could the order have been given and not made it onto the tapes?
WALTER: It’s possible, but not likely.
Nikita ponders this.
NIKITA: Bahrain?
Walter calls up the Bahrain mission reports. He shakes his head.
WALTER: Same deal. O'Brien got lucky. The others got unlucky. You think he’s playing both sides?
NIKITA: I don’t know, but he didn’t seem to object to the Vilnius profile.
WALTER: What’s wrong with the profile?
NIKITA: Level Two team, Class A target. Sectors Three and Five are spread too thin.
Walter shakes his head.
WALTER: We don’t have teams in either sector.
This surprises Nikita, as it goes against what Operations told her. She walks over to Walter, who is verifying this on his computer.
NIKITA: Are you sure.
WALTER: Who told you otherwise?
NIKITA: Operations.
WALTER: He’s lying.
Nikita is stunned, now convinced that Operations is the mole.
MR. JONES RESIDENCE
Mr. Jones sits in his office, working. He looks up as Nikita walks in.
NIKITA: The Vilnius mission. It’s a trap. Operations is sending a deficient team. He says we’re thin in Sectors Three and Five. That’s not true.
MR. JONES: So… you think that he is the mole, hmm?
NIKITA: The logical conclusion.
MR. JONES: But, not the only conclusion. Suppose he feels that there is a mole in Section. What do you think his reaction might be?
Nikita thinks about this a moment.
NIKITA: Load the grid with disinformation. It’s possible, but we’re taking a risk.
MR. JONES: Yes, indeed. However, the mission will proceed. We will monitor it, and we will learn from it what we can.
Nikita sits on the edge of chair arm.
NIKITA: You said something before about me becoming what I was meant to be. What did you mean by that?
MR. JONES: Ah, yes, yes. Well, I somewhat premature. I shouldn’t have said it.
NIKITA: But you did.
MR. JONES: Yes, I did. It’s quite simple. I’m an old man. I will not be here forever.
Nikita interprets what he hasn’t said.
NIKITA: You think I’m gonna take over for you.
He doesn’t respond, but merely looks at her.
NIKITA: You think you can just pass this along like a family business?
MR. JONES: (shrugs) Why not?
NIKITA: For one thing, I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life here.
MR. JONES: (grins) Nikita, I… I think that as time goes by, you’ll come to realize that there is no alternative.
NIKITA: There’s always an alternative.
Just then a beeping interrupts.
MR. JONES: Ah. The mission’s starting. Let’s see if it reveals the mole.
VILNIUS MISSION
We see hostiles entering a building from three army trucks. In Comm, Quinn sits at her laptop, while O'Brien stands beside her, arms crossed as he monitors the mission.
O'BRIEN: Confirm hostile status.
QUINN: Still off the grid. I estimate another 30 seconds.
O'BRIEN: Plant security?
QUINN: I’m setting it now.
At Collective headquarters, they are also monitoring the mission. Graff stands before monitors, watching it go down.
GRAFF: Unit One inside the target. Unit Two standing by.
The black man walks up to Graff.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Still no word from our friend.
GRAFF: Well, you’re wrong. No. He sent us the profile. The Vilnius.
Graff goes over to a nearby table, his back to the black man.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Why wasn’t I informed?
GRAFF: (shrugs) Unh.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Small team, layered configuration. It’s too easy! It’s a trap.
Graff turns to face his colleague, who is suspicious and angry.
GRAFF: Huh. No. It’s a chance to destroy the plant and the Section team as well.
Graff again presents his back to the black man.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Not every fish is good just because it’s on a hook.
GRAFF: Your country has a proverb for every occasion, doesn’t it?
BLACK COLLEAGUE: I’m simply saying the risks…
Graff is now fed up. He goes to get in the black man’s face.
GRAFF: (raised voice) I understand! I understand. Suggest another compromise. Unit Two moves from target to defense. If it’s a trap, at least we’ll kill as many Section operatives as possible. Agreed?
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Agreed.
GRAFF: Fine.
Graff goes back to the table.
At the mission site, hostiles continue to converge inside the building. We see the Section operatives also.
O'BRIEN: Hostiles should be visible two o’clock.
Quinn sees the hostiles on her monitor.
QUINN: They’ve got company.
O'BRIEN: The Collective must have diverted their target team.
QUINN: They were expecting us.
Section is inside the building going after a team that is not there, while the Collective has sent in a team to go in after Section.
At Mr. Jones’ residence, he and Nikita watch the mission play out. The screen they view is divided in quarters, showing Comm, the mission, and two layouts of the building interior.
O'BRIEN VOICE: Set up defensive perimeter.
MR. JONES: O'Brien doesn’t seem too surprised.
At the mission site, the Section operatives now realize the enemy is behind them. They turn to face the oncoming hostiles, but the Section ops are shot down. Some ops get away, but the hostiles follow, and there are many hostiles.
O'BRIEN: Quinn, we need a show of force behind the hostiles.
QUINN: Insufficient personnel.
O'BRIEN: Request support from plant security.
In the meantime, at the mission site, the Section operatives continue to get mowed down. We see a new group of men enter the area.
QUINN: Plant security responding. It worked. Hostiles are withdrawing. Extract your team.
O'Brien just looks at the monitor. Most of his team is dead.
O'BRIEN: Yeah.
Back in Mr. Jones’ office, Nikita and he sit, viewing the aftermath of the failed mission.
COLLECTIVE HEADQUARTERS
Graff stands, hands on hips, while his black colleague stands behind him. Again, they are in disagreement and angry with each other.
GRAFF: It was a missed opportunity. We could have destroyed the plant!
BLACK COLLEAGUE: I’m still not convinced the mole is genuine.
GRAFF: Wh… what? He’s never misled us. Not once.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: There’s a saying in my country…
GRAFF: (hold up hands) Oh, please, please. Let it remain there.
They now face each other.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: You’re tired of my proverbs? I’m tired of your compromises!
Graff reaches into his bomber jacket and pulls out a small, round, silver-toned tin. He pulls out a white pill and sets it and the tin on the table.
GRAFF: All right. Then, let’s stop compromising.
The other men in the area walk up and surround them, watching this exchange.
GRAFF: Cyanide.
The black colleague looks at the white cyanide pill.
GRAFF: Next time we’ll rely on his intel completely. If it proves false, I’ll take the tablet. If not, you do!
He jabs his finger toward the black man for punctuation. The black man says nothing.
GRAFF: Agree to the test, or relinquish sole control to me immediately.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: This is madness.
Graff faces all the other men, addressing them.
GRAFF: From now on, you report to me. And, to me alone.
He sits at the table, dismissing everyone and considering the matter settled. The black man storms out.
MR. JONES’ RESIDENCE
Mr. Jones sits at his desk, and Nikita stands in front of it. He swivels his monitor around so she can see it.
MR. JONES: There’s a preliminary report coming through. Casualties high, the plant undamaged. Fortunately for us, the Collective didn’t trust the mole. Not completely, anyway.
NIKITA: They will after this.
MR. JONES: Yes, it is very likely, which means that we are in a very grave situation. We’re running out of time, Nikita. Focus on O'Brien, and that is an order!
He jabs his finger at her for effect. Nikita doesn’t say anything. She can’t.
OBRIEN’S LOFT
O'Brien lives in a large, open loft. The walls are brick. It has black leather furniture, no real décor, just a man’s pad. He and Nikita step out of an elevator.
O'BRIEN: Well, here we are.
NIKITA: Wow, it’s beautiful.
O'Brien takes her coat from her.
O'BRIEN: The restaurant was a hit.
Seductive music begins playing the background. Nikita steps further inside the area, while O'Brien sets her coat aside.
NIKITA: Maybe too much of a hit. I’m not gonna be able to eat for a week.
She smiles and O'Brien laughs.
Nikita stands, her purse still slung over her shoulder. O'Brien walks up to her, still wearing his coat. His manner toward her is unsure and nervous, though pleasant.
O'BRIEN: Hope you saved some room for coffee.
NIKITA: Yeah, that’ll be great.
O'BRIEN: Be right back.
When he leaves, Nikita removes a tube of lipstick from her purse, and carefully coats her lips. She puts the tube back in the purse.
NIKITA: I love the colors in here.
O'BRIEN: (voice) Thanks.
He returns to where she is standing, no longer wearing his coat. He has black leather pants on, and a black turtleneck with a white print. Nikita wears a black wraparound dress. She smiles coyly at him. His manner is still nervous.
O'BRIEN: It’ll be ready in a minute. Can we have a seat?
He indicates the nearby sitting area. Nikita goes and sits on a couch, while O'Brien sits on a chair opposite the couch she chose. A coffee table sits in between. Nikita sits back, setting her purse aside, and crossing her legs. She smiles across the distance at him with invitation, ruffling her hair. He returns her smile, but he’s clearly feeling awkward.
NIKITA: I won’t bite.
He gets up and goes to sit beside her.
O'BRIEN: You know, uh… to be honest, I feel a little awkward.
NIKITA: Well, it’s hard to have a social life in Section.
O'BRIEN: Nah, that’s not what I mean. I tell myself that Section’s like cop work. You know, I get the bad guy and then I go home, but… uh… truth is… to make life really worth living, I… uh…
Nikita is being coy, staring at him with interest, and now touching the back of his neck. She now touches his face, then outlines his lips with her fingers.
O'BRIEN: … I need to feel something.
Now she takes his face in her hands and leans into him, staring into his eyes, before deliberately kissing him, making sure she really plants her lips on his. She pushes him back, like she’s about to get into it, and he goes to reach for her waist, but suddenly he groans. She sits up, and he is passed out. She reaches to her lips and peels off a plastic coating that is on her lips, put there by the lipstick tube she’d used.
She takes out a scanner, holding it out and passing it about the room. It zeros in on a location beneath the tv. Nikita reaches in and pulls out three shadow disks.
Now she goes over to where O'Brien sits still passed out. She has her gun in her right hand, and slaps him across the face with her left, kicking at his feet. He groans and grimaces as he comes to, seeing the gun aimed at him.
O'BRIEN: You gonna make it quick?
NIKITA: First tell me why.
She shows him the disks.
NIKITA: Why!
O'BRIEN: A man wants to take care of his family. Even Section should be able to understand that.
NIKITA: What are you talking about?
O'BRIEN: You saw my report, checked my file. My mother’s an invalid. She’s got nothing.
Nikita is still not following him.
O'BRIEN: I hack into banks! I send her what she needs. Shadow disks don’t leave any tracks.
NIKITA: And, that’s all you use these for?
O'BRIEN: What else do you think I use them for?
NIKITA: Someone’s leaking intel to the Collective, O'Brien.
This gets his attention. He bolts upright from the couch, not about to be accused sitting down. Nikita keeps the gun in his face.
O'BRIEN: What do you think? Huh! You… more than anyone else should know it’s not my style to betray the people that I work with.
He steps away, and she lowers the gun, believing him.
MR. JONES’ RESIDENCE
Nikita stands before her father’s desk, reporting on what she has discovered about O'Brien.
NIKITA: He’s innocent.
MR. JONES: Hardly. He’s already admitted to unauthorized activities outside Section.
NIKITA: To take care of his sick mother! I will see that’s he’s disciplined. He’s not the mole.
MR. JONES: Why? Because he says so?
NIKITA: Because I believe him.
MR. JONES: Nikita, we already know that the Collective’s next strike will be the most ambitious yet. We cannot afford another mistake.
NIKITA: You told me to trust you. How can I, when you will not trust me?
MR. JONES: (small laugh) Yeah. All right. Point taken. I do so hope you’re right.
She just regards him soberly.
WAR ROOM
Operations activates the holo-screen, showing a map of their next mission. Walter, Quinn and O'Brien sit with other operatives listening.
OPERATIONS: The new refinery in Helsinki is a prime target and one we cannot allow the Collective to destroy.
QUINN: We’ll intercept on the perimeter. The configuration will be staggered. Further details are on your panels.
OPERATIONS: Any questions?
He deactivates the screen.
OPERATIONS: Pick up your equipment from Walter. Report to transport in half an hour.
He starts heading out, then suddenly stops. All the others have left, but when Operations turns to look behind him, he finds that Nikita, along with four operatives have walked up.
NIKITA: You’re under arrest.
OPERATIONS: Are you mad?
The four operatives start walking toward him to take him into custody.
OPERATIONS: Who authorized you to do this?
Mr. Jones walks in.
MR. JONES: I did.
The operatives go to take Operations by the arms, but he jerks out of the grip, incensed by their handling him.
MR. JONES: Hello, Paul.
OPERATIONS: (nods) I should have known. What’s the charge?
MR. JONES: Treason. Passing intel to the Collective.
OPERATIONS: As good as an excuse as any, but since when have you bothered with excuses?
MR. JONES: (snorts) Confine him!
The operatives again take hold of Operations. Again he jerks away from them, refusing to be led away. Instead he walks with them, not fighting his arrest.
Nikita watches with a poker face while he’s led away, while in Munitions, Walter watches with interest. O'Brien has also been present. Nikita walks over to him.
NIKITA: Profile’s been revised. Delay action to the Collective attacks at the refinery. Layout configurations, not staggered. Your panels in ten minutes.
Walter has been watching her. Now he turns back into his area. O'Brien is surprised by this newest twist. When he last saw her, she suspected him.
O'BRIEN: What’s this all about?
NIKITA: Well, if it’s not you, then it has to be Operations.
O'BRIEN: And the revised profile?
NIKITA: A little surprise for the Collective.
O'BRIEN: Assuming Operations gave them the original.
It’s clear he doesn’t like this in-house cat and mouse game, and he moves past her to leave.
NIKITA: Yes, of course.
He keeps walking.
NIKITA: Marco…
O'Brien doesn’t slow down at all, but calls back, without looking back.
O'BRIEN: You did what you had to do.
HELSINKI MISSION
We see the large refinery premises, then Section operations moving in, led by O'Brien. In Comm, Mr. Jones stands behind Quinn, calling the shots. Nikita stands nearby.
MR. JONES: Tell them to bring in three prisoners for questioning, and therefore… alive.
QUINN: (to O'Brien) Mr. Jones wants three live specimens at least.
O'BRIEN: Got it.
O'Brien and his men are in a holding pattern. From their location, they see hostiles in the distance.
O'BRIEN: We have visuals on the hostiles. Alpha Team, take left grid. Beta… let’s go.
They move out, following after O'Brien. We see the Alpha Team move into another area.
OPERATIVE: Alpha Team acquiring left grid.
O'Brien walks up a tall set of stairs, then rushes down an open catwalk. At the end of the catwalk is a screen that he ducks behind. He sees below a large group of incoming hostiles, aims his gun and takes one out. Gunfire is exchanged between the hostiles and Section ops. A Section op goes down. Meanwhile three other ops hurry to get closer to O'Brien, who cannot cover all the hostiles alone. It’s clear they are outnumbered.
O'BRIEN: Beta Team, defensive positions.
Another Section op gets mowed down. More and more hostiles converge on the area until it becomes nearly hopeless that Section can get out alive.
O'BRIEN: Quinn, status!
In Comm, Quinn, Mr. Jones and Nikita watch the mission.
QUINN: It’s a double embellopment.
O'BRIEN: I can see that! Where’s the gap?
She looks at her monitor and sees a small opening for escape, but the area is quickly being surrounded by hostiles.
QUINN: Four o’clock, but hurry.
O'Brien sees a hostile aiming for him, and he takes the hostile out.
O'BRIEN: How’s Alpha Team?
Quinn has no communication with the other team.
QUINN: Alpha Team is cut off.
Quinn frowns, looking up to Mr. Jones.
QUINN: They must have gotten our new profile.
He looks to the monitors with a grim face.
MR. JONES: How is that possible?
Back at the refinery, the Section ops are getting slaughtered.
O'BRIEN: Alpha Team, we need a report.
OPERATIVE TEAM: We’re pinned!
They are all clustered together, heavily surrounded, with no way out. One by one they are shot down.
Mr. Jones sees the futility of it all. He takes a seat beside Quinn.
MR. JONES: Quinn, bring them in.
QUINN: Abort. Repeat, abort.
Nikita puts on a comm unit. All they hear is the gunfire.
QUINN: O'Brien, acknowledge.
O'Brien is still crouched behind the screen, watching helplessly at the battle below. He fires off shots from his vantage point, but can’t hold out for long.
O'BRIEN: I hear ya. (then to his team) Beta Team, withdraw. Go, go!
The remaining Beta Team ops begin heading out, as O'Brien maintains his position to cover their safe retreat. The remaining team makes it out, but O'Brien is still in the thick of things.
O'BRIEN: Alpha Team, position.
We see the bodies of all the dead Alpha Team ops.
O'BRIEN: Alpha Team, position. Alpha Team, acknowledge!
In Comm, Quinn knows Alpha Team is dead, as do Mr. Jones and Nikita. Nikita comes closer to an overhead monitor, looking up at it to follow what is happening.
QUINN: O'Brien, Alpha Team is history. Your orders are to withdraw with Beta Team. O'Brien, acknowledge.
In the refinery, O'Brien sees more incoming hostiles. They also see him. O'Brien shoots first and takes one out.
Nikita steps up, wanting to assist in O'Brien’s escape.
NIKITA: O'Brien, this is Nikita, do you hear me?
O'BRIEN: Yeah, I hear you.
NIKITA: Pull out.
In the refinery the hostiles are setting charges everywhere.
O'BRIEN: Not this time.
He takes out two more hostiles.
NIKITA: O'Brien, pull out!
Now a hostile has climbed up to the catwalk. O'Brien sees him too late. He tries to get off a shot, but the hostile fires first. O'Brien cries out from the shot, and is slammed back. As he loses control, his body falls over the catwalk railing to the concrete below.
NIKITA: O'Brien?
The remaining hostiles run out, passing O'Brien’s dead body where it landed. A few seconds later, the charges detonate and the refinery explodes to smithereens.
In Comm, they watch the refinery explode, knowing they lost many operatives, as well as O'Brien.
QUINN: Beta Team reports three survivors. Alpha Team, none.
MR. JONES: The refinery?
QUINN: Destroyed.
Quinn and Nikita both yank off their comm units. Quinn stalks off, while Nikita hangs her head in stunned silence. Mr. Jones looks over to her.
MR. JONES: So, Paul is in custody, O'Brien has just been killed.
Nikita shakes her head, facing him.
NIKITA: Well, who is it then?
MR. JONES: Quite.
Neither one of them know. They are both quiet, both lost in thought.
COLLECTIVE HEADQUARTERS
The Collective members pour drinks in celebration of the latest success. They raise their glasses.
GRAFF: To victory!
The black colleague sits at the laptop, not drinking with the others. His computer beeps.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Incoming message.
He stands, walking over to Graff.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Somebody at Gate 3 requesting access.
GRAFF: Well, how did he get past the perimeter?
BLACK COLLEAGUE: I don’t know. He says he’s the mole.
GRAFF: Here?
Graff sets his drink aside, and looks back to his black colleague.
GRAFF: Access granted.
Graff then gestures for his men to take up their guns, as access permission is given. The men stand as a unit, heavily armed. They face a lit tunnel. At the far end of the tunnel, a figure appears. The figure sees the collection of men, and begins to slowly move through the tunnel toward them. The man’s face is hidden by shadows. As he advances, he slowly becomes more recognizable. When he reaches the men, we see that it is Michael. He is wearing a black overcoat and black leather gloves. His hair is shoulder length, with wavy bangs. He has a five o’clock shadow. Graff is stunned to see him.
GRAFF: Michael Samuelle.
MICHAEL: Yes.
Graff trades a look with his black colleague, who apparently does not recognize Michael.
GRAFF: For years, this man was Section’s best operative. I thought they… uh… cancelled you.
MICHAEL: They failed.
GRAFF: How did you get your information?
MICHAEL: I know them better than they know themselves. Protocols, procedures, contingencies; I helped create them.
The black colleague eyes Michael with mistrust.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: So… it’s all been guesswork. What you thought they’d do.
MICHAEL: Yes. My guesswork is better than your intel.
BLACK COLLEAGUE: Or perhaps Section sent you here to spy on us.
GRAFF: Section’s in a shambles. They’d never pay such a price to establish a mole. So…
Graff steps closer to Michael, trusting him and ready to accept him. He extends a hand to Michael.
GRAFF: You’re really here to join us.
Michael ignores Graff’s hand.
MICHAEL: There’s a condition.
GRAFF: Yes?
As he speaks, Michael looks from one to the other.
MICHAEL: There’s a Section operative named Nikita. She’s not to be harmed. If you want my help, that’s the price.
This is perfectly fine with Graff. He even appears surprised by the seemingly insignificant condition.
GRAFF: All right, Michael Samuelle. Nikita will live and Section will die.
He again extends his hand, and this time, Michael shakes it, sealing the deal.
MR. JONES’ RESIDENCE
Mr. Jones gets up from his desk. Nikita stands beside him, looking at a laptop monitor.
MR. JONES: Anything on the mission tapes?
Nikita moves to his just vacated chair and taps at his laptop, while he stands behind the chair.
NIKITA: Nothing useful.
MR. JONES: Yeah, I know. It was the same at the debrief.
NIKITA: Then we’re back to ground zero.
MR. JONES: Yes. When is a mole in Section not a mole in Section?
Nikita thinks about this.
NIKITA: A riddle?
MR. JONES: No, no, no, no, no. Just a new approach. I haven’t worked it out yet. I’ll get back to it tomorrow.
He moves away and looks over to her.
MR. JONES: I was sorry about O'Brien.
NIKITA: (sad) It wasn’t your fault.
MR. JONES: It seems a pity that we should spend so much of our time assessing degrees of hatred.
He has now moved back behind the chair she sits in. He rests his arms on it, his hands folded.
NIKITA: Mr. Jones?
MR. JONES: Hmm?
NIKITA: You disagreed with me about O'Brien, but you went along anyway. Why?
MR. JONES: Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you. We have to learn to trust each other. Think we ever shall?
NIKITA: We’ll have to see.
MR. JONES: Yes.
Nikita reaches out for her glove that lays on the desk.
MR. JONES: There is a restaurant nearby. Hungarian. Quite excellent. Would you care to accompany me?
NIKITA: I don’t see why not.
She has put on her gloves, and we now see that Mr. Jones’ cane rests against the desk beside her. She reaches for it, handing it to him.
MR. JONES: Thank you.
Nikita stands and moves off, while Mr. Jones smiles a moment before following after her.
The End.
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