{The car picks up speed along the city streets.}
INT. BURN WARD, CEDARS SINAI
HOSPITAL-DAY
{Alan Ross is propped up in his hospital bed in the burn ward populated by several other patients, visitors, and hospital staff. His upper body is bandaged as is part of his face and head.} {Numerous flower arrangements are spread out on the night stand and floor near his bed. Monk and Kagen stand on either side of his bed.}
MONK: That’s it?
ROSS (soft voiced):’Fraid so. He was young, about twenty-two or so, dressed in normal clothes (beat) you know, jeans and a sweatshirt.
MONK: Any logo on the sweat shirt?
ROSS: No, no it was plain.
KAGEN: And this kid was Arab?
{Ross hesitates.}
ROSS: He didn’t have an accent, but he was, well, brown-skinned and dark-haired.
KAGEN (to Monk): All the more reason to get to Odeh.
MONK: But he called you traitor?
ROSS: That’s right.
MONK: Are you of Arab extraction?
ROSS: No, nor am I Jewish.
{Monk says nothing, mulling over the information.}
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KODAMA AND MONK’S HOUSE,
STUDY-NIGHT
{In the comfortable and book-lined study, Kodama is sketching with a charcoal pencil on a freshly stretched and guached canvas on a easel. Monk sits and sips on Scotch from a tumbler. His face is a barometer of his intense concentration.}
KODAMA: Even if the attacker was Arab, that doesn’t mean he was operating on anybody’s orders. There’re plenty of people inflamed on all sides of this who are more than willing to act alone.
MONK: Sure, but the reality is I’ve got to talk to Odeh to satisfy myself.
KODAMA: What if he ducks you
MONK: Then how would you interpret that?
KODAMA: It doesn’t mean he’s guilty. It might mean despite Jabari vouching for you, he doesn’t want to in any way further jeopardize his organization. He’s doesn’t know you to be the big, sweet, voodoo daddy I love.
{She laughs and he grins.}
KODAMA (cont’d): But you’re right, you will have to have some face time with him.
{She continues working.}
MONK
{-is sullen then brightens.}
MONK: You got a sharp Number 2 pencil, baby?
KODAMA (stops sketching): What?
MONK (standing): Grab one and your sketch pad. We got a patient to see.
KODAMA (hand on hip): I am not your secretary.
{Monk has crossed to her, his arm around her waist.}
MONK: You’re a Renaissance woman, you know that?
{He points at the canvas.}
MONK (cont’d): And bring your glasses, baby. I want those lines crisp in this next drawing.
KODAMA: Kiss my ass.
INT. BURN WARD, CEDARS SINAI
HOSPITAL-NIGHT
{Kodama, wearing her glasses, sits next to Ross’s bed, doing a sketch of the man who threw a Molotov at him. She stops and holds it up for the vp of development to see.}
KODAMA: How this?
ROSS: A little more shallowness in the cheeks and the eyes wider.
C.U. OF DRAWING
{Kodama resumes working on the drawing.}
ROSS (cont’d): (to Monk) This is the second time I’ve done this. I described this guy to the police sketch artist the detectives who interviewed me sent this afternoon. (beat) They’ve got a head start on you, Ivan. I heard the younger one tell the older one they were going to check the drawing against the Homeland Security database. And canvas several Arab hangouts in the San Gabriel Valley a sheriff ’s friend was hooking them up with.
MONK: When you hesitated this afternoon in describing this cat, that just wasn’t about guessing at his ethnicity was it?
{Kodama stops sketching to look at Monk.}
ROSS
{-chews his lower lip.}
ROSS: It’s just an impression.
MONK: Come on, share.
ROSS: As you know, I come into contact with a lot of actors. Not so much across my desk but at the hot spots, the watering holes that come and go on the A list one must frequent to keep up appearances.
MONK: And a starlet or two you might stumble over.
ROSS: Sure there’s that.
KODAMA
{-makes a face.}
MONK: Are you saying you’ve seen this guy at one of those places?
ROSS: No, like I said, it’s only a feeling. (beat) The way he, handled himself reminded me, well, like he was auditioning, you know?
{Monk and Kodama exchange a look.}
INT. TAYLOR’S STEAKHOUSE-
NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
{The steakhouse is an old school beef and booze joint with a dark interior and decor that hasn’t been updated since the LBJ Administration. Under the din of the patrons, a basketball game plays on the TV at the end of the bar.}
{Monk and Kagen sit in a booth in the upstairs area, enjoying their heavy caloric intake.}
MONK
{-finishes chewing and swallows. He has a drink of water, then reaches over to extract a folded photograph out of his jacket’s inner pocket hanging on a hook. He unfolds the photograph and places it on the table.}
CU
{-of the photograph, an actor’s headshot. His hair is longer in the shot, but it’s the young man who tossed the Molotov at Ross. On the credit line of the photo it reads: ALEX TUCCO}
WIDEN
{-Kagen shows no reaction as he samples more of his whiskey.}
KAGEN: Good kid. He’s got a kind of De Niro-Pacino thing going for him.
MONK: And I bet he’s scared shitless, Walsh, wherever you got him stashed. I suppose your lawyer will argue in court that he never meant to set Ross afire. That like the other one you hired to chuck a Molotov at you, Tucco was supposed to miss. But Ross charged him when he was about to throw the Molotov and it shook him.
{Kagen calmly cuts a piece of his steak.}
KAGEN: That’s good, I’ll have to remember that.
{He eats.}
MONK: You like to gamble, Walsh, you once got a two picture deal in a poker game against a producer with a hand of trip kings.
KAGEN: I play the odds, Ivan.
MONK: Fake the attacks to build up interest in the property, and hire me to show you’re still a player. But how the hell did you think engineering all this bullshit was going to get you a deal, Walsh? Nearly killing someone is a hell of a way to entice future prospects.
{Kagen has another piece of his steak and cleans his pallet with another swig of whiskey. He then clears his throat.}
KAGEN: Nobody was ever going to make Bring Me the Head of Osama bin Laden, Ivan.
MONK (pointing): But the attacks and the aftermath would generate coverage, you’d be the controversial writer-director on people’s lips like you once were when you did One Deadly Night.