The Fugitive Transcripts

EXT. DOWNTOWN - CLARK CITY, KY - NIGHT

Past midnight.  A seedy, garish neighborhood of neon signs, cheap hotels, 
all-night liquor stores and placards advertising "torrid" dancing girls.  The 
street is filled with people as a jazz band GROANS a sleazy Dixieland version 
of "When the Saints Go Marching In" but the only saint in sight is RICHARD 
KIMBLE, America's most elusive fugitive, who walks these mean streets 
anxiously searching for something -- or someone.  

ANOTHER STREET

Hands in his pockets, he turns a corner and finds himself in an empty side 
street.  As he passes a closed pizza parlor, a VOICE from behind stops him.

				VOICE
		Hold it!  Right there!

Kimble turns around to see his worst nightmare approaching: two uniformed 
police officers.  He looks around nervously -- are they talking to him?  But 
there's no one else on the street.  The officers take him brusquely by the 
arms and lead him toward a nearby alley.  The older cop, OFFICER LYNCH, is 
clearly in charge.

				OFFICER LYNCH
			(to Kimble, off the alley)
		In there.

IN THE ALLEY

The officers force Kimble out of sight of the street and press him face first 
against a brick wall.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Get your hands up on the wall there.

Kimble obeys.  Lynch studies Kimble's stony face.  The younger officer pats 
Kimble down and pulls a small wallet out of Kimble's inside jacket pocket.  
The younger officer opens the wallet, then hands it to Lynch.  Lynch looks it 
over.

				OFFICER LYNCH
			(to Kimble)
		Says here your name's Paul Miller.  Is that 
		right?

				KIMBLE
		That's right.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Turn around, Mr. Miller.

Kimble lets go of the wall and turns to face the officers.  Lynch closes the 
wallet and breaks into a disarmingly broad smile.

				OFFICER LYNCH
			(reassuring)
		Just a routine check, Mr. Miller.

				KIMBLE
			(relieved)
		Thank you.

Instantly, the younger officer punches Kimble hard in the gut.  Lynch joins 
in, mercilessly pounding Kimble.  Kimble, his back to the wall, grimaces 
horribly.  The two officers beat the hell out of Kimble's torso.

IN THE STREET

A shapely brunette prostitute named CORA walks down the street.  As she 
passes the mouth of the alley, she hears the sounds of the struggle.  She 
pauses and peers in.  She sees the silhouettes of the three men.

IN THE ALLEY

Kimble drops to the ground, breathing hard, struggling to remain conscious, 
his lip bleeding badly.  He lies at the feet of the officers, next to Lynch's 
hat which has also fallen to the ground.  Lynch reaches down and picks up his 
hat.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		You hear me, Miller?  Get out of Clark City.  
		Quick and far.  And stay out.

Lynch throws Kimble's wallet down to him.  The two officers depart.

IN THE STREET

Cora, seeing the two officers approaching, ducks out of sight into a nearby 
doorway.  The officers pause in the mouth of the alley and scan the area to 
make sure that no one has seen them.  Then, they move on up the street.

IN THE ALLEY

Kimble lies on the ground, half-conscious, next to his wallet.  The near-
Olympian voice of the omniscient NARRATOR weighs in with a somber commentary:

				NARRATOR (v.o.)
		A man on the run comes to expect neither 
		justice nor mercy.  Every hand is against him, 
		every face turns away from his pain.  In such 
		moments, the thread of hope, of life itself, 
		stretches to the breaking point.

ON ANOTHER BLOCK

The two officers casually stroll down the sidewalk and approach a man in a 
FANCY SUIT.  We do not see the man's face at first, just his left arm and the 
back of his head.

				FANCY SUIT
		Well?  How did it go?

				OFFICER LYNCH
			(smiling)
		We gave him the word, Mr. Cramer.  He seemed 
		real impressed.

Pleased, FANCY SUIT reaches into his pocket with his left hand and pulls out 
some money.  Using only his left hand, he gives a few bills to each of the 
officers who quietly take their money and walk off.  

As they walk past him, FANCY SUIT turns to watch them go and we finally see 
his face: "Mr. Cramer" is none other than FRED JOHNSON, the mysterious one-
armed man that Kimble has long sought in connection with his wife's murder.  
Johnson is dressed -- far more stylishly than we have ever seen before -- in 
a natty suit and tie, with a pinned-up right sleeve neatly tailored for his 
missing arm.  He grins a malicious, satisfied grin.

IN THE ALLEY

Cora's feet approach Kimble's wallet which lies near his fingertips.  She 
reaches down and picks it up.  But Kimble abruptly grabs her arm and, 
gripping it tightly, uses it to pull himself to his feet.

				KIMBLE
		Thank you.

Kimble gets to his feet but staggers backward to the wall, dragging Cora with 
him.  She is a little terrified at his strength.  He leans against the wall, 
breathing heavily.

				CORA
		I hope you didn't think I was... tryin' to 
		steal it.

To reassure him, Cora puts the wallet in his hand.  She looks him over.  He's 
in bad shape.

				CORA
		Listen, mister, you better get to a hospital.

				KIMBLE
		No hospital.  I'll be all right.  I'll be all 
		right.

Cora steadies Kimble and gives him a shoulder to lean on.

				CORA
		Okay.  Come on.

She starts to lead him out of the alley.

								CUT TO:

INT. CORA'S ROOM - NIGHT

In her nice but not luxurious hotel room, Cora soaks a rag in a bowl of water 
and wrings it out.  With a cotton swab dangling from her lip, she turns to a 
nearby Kimble, lying in a chair, to wash some blood off his temple.

				CORA
		Boy, you're in bad shape.  What happened to 
		you?

				KIMBLE
		Didn't you see it?

				CORA
		Uh uh.  I just come by the alley and seen you 
		layin' there.

Cora touches the cotton swab to his wound.  Kimble flinches.

				CORA
		Oh oh, that's it.  That's the worst.

				KIMBLE
		What's your name?

				CORA
		Why?

				KIMBLE
		Someone does you a favor, you--

				CORA
			(firmly)
		I didn't help you, mister.  I don't even know 
		you.  You think I want the cops mad at me?

				KIMBLE
		I thought you didn't see anything.

				CORA
		As far as I'm concerned, you were hit by a car.  
		Now, hold still, I think it's still bleeding.

Cora touches the rag to his head but Kimble pulls her hand away.

				KIMBLE
			(insistent)
		Why do the police want me out of town?  Up 
		until two days ago I'd never been in Clark 
		City.

				CORA
			(amused, contemptuous)
		You hustlers are just too much.  You try to 
		muscle in on the action and then you yell when 
		you get pounded.  What were you doing?  Trying 
		to book some bets?  Start a crap game?  Shoot 
		some pool?  Look, all the gambling in this town 
		is run by one outfit and they pay the cops off 
		pretty good to keep it that way.

				KIMBLE
		But I'm not a gambler.  Why would they think I 
		was?

				CORA
		Okay, I believe you.  

Cora rises and walks off to pour a drink at a small bar against a far wall.

				CORA
		But they don't.

				KIMBLE
			(sits up)
		I'm looking for a man.  I saw him a couple of 
		days ago about two blocks from here.  I'm not 
		leaving town till I find him.

				CORA
			(brings Kimble the drink)
		Well, take my advice and forget your friend.

				KIMBLE
		He's no friend.

				CORA
			(sits opposite him)
		Well, maybe he's the one who got the cops on 
		you.

Kimble rejects the idea as he drinks his drink.

				KIMBLE
		He wouldn't go anywhere near the police.

				CORA
		Well, if I were you, I'd forget the whole 
		thing.  Get out of town like they said.

				KIMBLE
		I can't.  So who do I see to get this thing 
		straightened out?

				CORA
			(a big knowing smile)
		I'm sorry, mister, but the hospital just 
		closed up.

Cora rises, walks off, and pours herself a drink.  Kimble doesn't know quite 
what to make of her sudden silence.  He rises, slowly and painfully, and 
tries to walk a few steps.

				KIMBLE
			(off his injured body)
		Everything seems to be working all right.  

Kimble joins Cora at the bar.

				KIMBLE
		Thank you.

				CORA
		Haven't done anything that ten bucks won't 
		cover.

Kimble, -- realizing that this hooker doesn't have a heart of gold, just a 
heart for gold -- digs into his jacket pocket, finds a bill, and hands it to 
her.

				KIMBLE
		There y'are.

They look at one another for a moment.

				KIMBLE
		Thank you.

Kimble heads for the door and opens it.  He's halfway out when Cora's voice 
stops him.

				CORA
			(coolly)
		Hey, don't slam the door.

Kimble exits, quietly closing the door behind him.  Cora drinks her drink.

								CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - BUSINESS AREA - DAY

The next morning, Kimble buys a newspaper from a vending machine in front of 
COOPER'S DONUTS.  He discards the front section and goes straight to the back 
pages.  When he finds what he's looking for, he folds up the paper and moves 
on down the street.

A few doors down, Kimble pauses next to an off-duty CAB DRIVER who leans on 
the hood of his parked taxi, working a crossword puzzle.

				KIMBLE
		Hi.

				CAB DRIVER
		Yeah?

				KIMBLE
		If a guy wanted to get a bet down on a horse, 
		where would he go?

				CAB DRIVER
		Right over there.

The Cab Driver points to a nearby store called ELITE CLEANERS.

				CAB DRIVER
			(mispronouncing the name)
		E-light Cleaners.

				KIMBLE
			(smiling)
		You're an honest man.  Most cab drivers 
		would've taken me around the block.

				CAB DRIVER
		Hey, I make a living.

				KIMBLE
		Um, don't I have to say somebody sent me, like 
		"Mike sent me" -- something like that?

				CAB DRIVER
		Ah, well, what kind of "Mike sent you"?  You 
		walk in, you make a bet, you walk out, huh?

				KIMBLE
		Thanks.

Kimble walks over to the dry cleaning store and enters.

								CUT TO:

INT. ELITE CLEANERS - DAY

Kimble approaches the friendly DRY CLEANING MAN who stands behind a counter 
in the empty, nondescript store.

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		Yes, sir?

				KIMBLE
		They, uh, told me I could place a bet on a 
		horse here.

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		Well, they told you right.  
			(grabs a pad to write on)
		What horse?  What track?  What race?  Win, 
		place, show?

				KIMBLE
			(consults his newspaper)
		Uh, Toybox, the third, at Hollywood Park, uh, 
		to win.

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		Well, how much?

				KIMBLE
		I hope you don't mind a small bet.
			(pulls out a dollar bill)
		All I've got's a buck.

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		A buck on the nose?  Lifeblood of the business.
		You win, you tell your friends.  You lose, you 
		try again, right?

				KIMBLE
		Can I ask you something?

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		Don't see why not.

				KIMBLE
		Who runs the gambling in this town?

Abruptly, the friendly Dry Cleaning Man stops being friendly.  He tears up 
Kimble's ticket and walks off.

				DRY CLEANING MAN
		No gambling in this town.

The Dry Cleaning Man returns to his dry cleaning.  Kimble fingers his dollar 
bill thoughtfully for a moment and then exits the store. 

								CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - BUSINESS AREA - DAY

Back out on the street, Kimble approaches the Cab Driver who continues to 
work his crossword puzzle.

				CAB DRIVER
		Six letter word for beach.  Starts with an S.

				KIMBLE
		Strand.  

				CAB DRIVER
		Huh?

				KIMBLE
		S-T-R-A-N-D.

				CAB DRIVER
			(tries it)
		S-T-R... 
			(it fits; impressed)
		Huh!  Don't want a cab?

				KIMBLE
		Well, it depends.  Tryin' to find the guy who 
		runs the gambling in this town.

				CAB DRIVER
		Uh huh.  Why tell me?

				KIMBLE
		I never met a cab driver yet that didn't know 
		what was goin' on.

				CAB DRIVER
			(thinks Kimble's with the feds)
		Washington?

				KIMBLE
		Just a private fella with a private problem.

				CAB DRIVER
			(nods)
		Yeah, well, it'll cost ya, pal.  It's a ten 
		buck trip.  Uh, in advance.

				KIMBLE
		Everything in this town costs ten bucks?

Kimble pulls out a ten-spot and gives it to the Cab Driver who pockets it and 
then indicates a tall office building across the street.

				CAB DRIVER
		Over there.  In that building.  Place you 
		want's called Enright Investments.  Takes up 
		the whole sixth floor.  Mortgages, real estate, 
		insurance.  Guy you want's Oliver Enright.  
		Only you didn't hear it from me.

				KIMBLE
		What happened to the honest cab driver?

				CAB DRIVER
		You want information, you pay for it.  You want 
		free information, you ask a cop.

Kimble gets a little nervous at the mention of the word "cop."  The Cab 
Driver senses the tension and looks Kimble over carefully.

				CAB DRIVER
			(darkly)
		Only maybe you don't think that's such a good 
		idea.

				KIMBLE
		Thanks.

The Cab Driver watches with curiosity as Kimble abruptly walk off across the 
street in the direction of the office building.

								FADE OUT

FADE IN

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY

The elevator door opens.  Kimble emerges into the humdrum lobby and confronts 
a receptionist, the bespectacled MS. MORETTI who sits at a desk behind a 
divider.

				MS. MORETTI
		Morning.

				KIMBLE
		Morning.

				MS. MORETTI
		May I help you?

				KIMBLE
		Yes.  I'd like to see Mr. Enright.  My name is 
		Paul Miller.

				MS. MORETTI
		Are you expected, Mr. Miller?

				KIMBLE
		No.

				MS. MORETTI
		May I inquire as to the nature of your 
		business?

				KIMBLE
		It's personal.

				MS. MORETTI
		I see.  Is Mr. Enright acquainted with you, Mr. 
		Miller?

				KIMBLE
		No.

				MS. MORETTI
		Mr. Enright's a very busy man and I'm afraid 
		that seeing him just now is out of the 
		question.

				KIMBLE
		I'll wait.

				MS. MORETTI
		Oh, I-I'm afraid that's impossible.  Maybe if 
		you could write a letter stating the nature of 
		your business, maybe an appointment could be 
		made.

				KIMBLE
		You got a phone book?

Though taken aback at this abrupt request, Ms. Moretti opens a drawer, pulls 
out a small phone book, and hands it to Kimble.  She watches with interest as 
he thumbs through it.

				KIMBLE
			(reads from book)
		Enright.  Three-oh-five Martin Lane, is that 
		correct?

Kimble shuts the book and returns it to Ms. Moretti who smiles sardonically.

				MS. MORETTI
		Mr. Enright is not at home, Mr. Miller.

				KIMBLE
		I'll wait out in front until he is.

				MS. MORETTI
			(gives in)
		Uh, well, if you'll just have a seat, I'll see 
		what I can do.

Ms. Moretti punches a button on her intercom.  Kimble takes a seat in the 
lobby.  He thumbs distractedly through an old magazine, then puts it aside.  
After a moment or two, a handsome young man in a suit emerges from the depths 
of the office and confronts him.  This is Enright's assistant, RALPH.

				RALPH
		Hello, Mr. Miller.  Can I help you?

				KIMBLE
			(rises)
		Mr. Enright?

				RALPH
		No.

				KIMBLE
		I'll wait and talk to Mr. Enright.

Ralph unbuttons his jacket to reveal a holstered gun on his belt, startling 
Kimble.

				RALPH
		Please turn around, Mr. Miller.

Kimble reluctantly does so.  Ralph pats him down, pulls out Kimble's wallet, 
and checks his I.D.

				RALPH
		Thank you.  One moment, please.

Kimble watches Ralph disappear into Enright's office with his wallet.  After 
a moment, Ralph reappears at the office door.

				RALPH
		Mr. Miller?

Kimble joins Ralph at the door and they enter Enright's office.

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY

Ralph closes the door.  Kimble looks the undistinguished office over as 
OLIVER ENRIGHT, a graying but handsome man, sits at his desk studying 
Kimble's wallet.

				ENRIGHT
		My name's Enright.  What do you want?

Kimble glances at Ralph, clearly wanting to talk to Enright alone.

				ENRIGHT
		All right, Ralph.

Ralph gets the hint and exits.

				ENRIGHT
		Sit down.

Kimble sits in a chair opposite Enright who tosses his wallet back to him.

				ENRIGHT
		You have three minutes, Mr. Miller.

				KIMBLE
		At 12:20 last night, I was walking east on 
		Cambridge Avenue.  Two uniformed policemen 
		forced me into an alley and beat me up.  They 
		told me to get out of town.

				ENRIGHT
		They say why?

				KIMBLE
		No, but I understand it's happened before to 
		out-of-town gamblers.

				ENRIGHT
		Are you from, uh, out-of-town, Mr. Miller?

				KIMBLE
		Yes, sir.

				ENRIGHT
		What's your business here?

				KIMBLE
		I'm looking for somebody.

				ENRIGHT
		Then why come to me?  The sign on my door says 
		"real estate."  You have a complaint about 
		police brutality, you should be talking to 
		Police Chief Abbott.

				KIMBLE
		I'm not a voter and I don't pay taxes.  And I 
		have no visible means of support.  Now, I could 
		go to the police chief and he could listen to 
		me or he could not.  I could wind up in the 
		hospital or worse.

				ENRIGHT
		Still doesn't answer my question.  Why come to 
		me?

				KIMBLE
		I understand you have some influence with the 
		police.  I've been told this is a quiet town.  
		I'm a very quiet man.  I'd just like to stay 
		here until I find the man I'm looking for.

				ENRIGHT
		How do I know you're telling me the truth... 
		about the beating?

After a pause, Kimble rises and unbuttons his shirt.  Enright looks on in 
horror at Kimble's bruised torso.  He grabs a pen and puts it to a pad.

				ENRIGHT
		Where could I reach you, Mr. Miller?

				KIMBLE
			(buttoning his shirt)
		At the Clay Court Hotel.

Enright scribbles this down.

				ENRIGHT
			(abruptly)
		Goodbye, Mr. Miller.

As Kimble exits, Enright picks up the phone.

								CUT TO:

EXT. POLICE STATION - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

								CUT TO:

INT. POLICE STATION - POLICE CHIEF'S OFFICE - DAY

The phone rings.  CHIEF ABBOTT picks up.  We CUT BACK AND FORTH between 
Enright in his office and Chief Abbott in his.

				CHIEF ABBOTT
		Chief Abbott speaking.
			(beat)
		Oh, put him on.
			(beat)
		Morning, Mr. Enright.

				ENRIGHT
		The name Paul Miller mean anything to you, 
		John?  He was just in here.  From out of town.  
		He told me quite a story.

				CHIEF ABBOTT
		Oh?  What kind of story?
			(long pause)
		Well, now, that's the first I've heard of it, 
		Oliver.  Tell the truth, I find it hard to 
		believe.

				ENRIGHT
		So did I... till I saw the marks on him.  Now 
		if any of your boys have the idea that they can 
		run things on their own, somebody should set 
		them straight.  And soon.

				CHIEF ABBOTT
		I'll get on it right away.
			(beat)
		Yes, sir.

Chief Abbott hangs up and buzzes his intercom.  As he does, we see that 
someone else is in the room with him: Fred Johnson, still looking natty in 
his fancy suit, sits across from the Chief watching him with interest.

				VOICE ON INTERCOM
		Yes, Chief?

				CHIEF ABBOTT
		Call the Sixth Precinct.  Tell the captain that 
		two of his men are being charged with beating 
		up on a fella by the name of Paul Miller 
		sometime last night.  I wanna know who those 
		two men are.  And I want a full report of the 
		entire incident just as quick as he can make 
		it, understand?

				VOICE ON INTERCOM
		Right on it, Chief.

Abbott turns to Fred Johnson who, though unnerved by the news that his 
"incident" with Kimble is under investigation, keeps a poker face.

				CHIEF ABBOTT
		Ah, I'm sorry about the interruption, Cramer, 
		but I guess you know how your boss is when he 
		wants something done in a hurry.

Johnson rises, pulls a thick envelope from his jacket pocket, and places it 
on Abbott's desk.

				FRED JOHNSON
		You're right.  He pays pretty good.

Chief Abbott opens the envelope and takes out a fat wad of cash which he 
proceeds to count.

								CUT TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY

The phone RINGS.  Kimble emerges from the bathroom, drying his hands with a 
towel, and picks up.

				KIMBLE
		Hello?

				MS. MORETTI
		Mr. Miller?

				KIMBLE
		That's right.

				MS. MORETTI
		Mr. Enright wants to see you immediately.

Ms. Moretti hangs up.  Kimble wonders what he's getting into.

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY

Kimble and Enright stand in Enright's office.  Enright holds two black-and-
white photographs of uniformed police officers -- neither one of whom beat up 
Kimble.

				ENRIGHT
		These are the two men who assaulted you.  
			(hands photos to Kimble)
		I'll, uh, I'll need your identification.

Kimble glances at the photos and hands them back.

				KIMBLE
		They're not the men.

				ENRIGHT
		If you'd said they were, I'd have you out of 
		town in the next five minutes.  Sit down.

Both men sit.

				ENRIGHT
		The exact time you say you were beaten up these 
		men were investigating a complaint nearly a 
		mile away.  Now, go on over to City Hall.  See 
		Police Chief Abbott.  He'll give you 
		photographs of every man in the department.  

				KIMBLE
		I don't want to get even, Mr. Enright.  I just 
		want--

				ENRIGHT
		I don't care what you want!  I've got something 
		to protect too -- 
			(rises)
		-- a nice, smooth-running operation that draws 
		customers from three other states.  We let a 
		citizen shoot a little craps, get his money 
		down on a horse, find a nice girl to entertain 
		him.  It's that kind of a town, Mr. Miller.  In 
		fact, it's that kind of a world.  To satisfy 
		the reform elements we have to put the lid down 
		on every other type of crime.  That's why I 
		have to know about those two patrolmen.  They 
		didn't fill out a report.  That means it was 
		outside the department -- a personal grudge -- 
		and that I will not sit still for.  You going 
		to help me with this or not?

				KIMBLE
		No.  
			(rises)
		If I identify those men, they'll deny it. I 
		can't prove anything.  The only reason I came 
		to you is because I thought you wanted me out 
		of Clark City.  I was wrong.  Let's leave it at 
		that.

Kimble starts to leave.

				ENRIGHT
		You, uh, staying in town?

				KIMBLE
			(turns to Enright)
		I have to.  I told you why.

				ENRIGHT
		Got a job?

				KIMBLE
		No.

				ENRIGHT
		Need one?  

Kimble nods.

				ENRIGHT
			(smiles)
		Maybe... you'd like to join the police force?  
		Hm?

				KIMBLE
			(grins wryly)
		I don't think so.

				ENRIGHT
		All right, Mr. Miller.  We can always find an 
		opening for a man like you.

				KIMBLE
			(slowly realizes)
		I'm the bait, is that it, Mr. Enright?

				ENRIGHT
			(grinning)
		You've got the idea.
			(writes something on a pad)
		Now, if those two try again, maybe I can find 
		them.  Now, the pay is small...  
			(tears the sheet off the pad)
		...the job is honest.

Enright offers the sheet to Kimble.

								CUT TO:

INT. BAR - NIGHT

A sleazy dive where, to some tediously cheesy MUSIC, a torrid dancing girl in 
a skin-tight gold outfit dances atop the counter of the bar, shaking her 
feathered fans to the amusement of the bar patrons.  As she dances down the 
bar, we discover bartender Kimble polishing some glasses and enjoying the 
show.  A second bartender shouts over the music:

				BARTENDER
		Miller, go get us some more ice!

Kimble grabs an empty ice tub and disappears into the back.  Just as he does, 
Fred Johnson enters the bar through its swinging doors, cigarette in hand, 
and looks the joint over.  He walks confidently along the bar, scopes a 
pretty blonde, grabs a stool at the far end, and watches the torrid dancing 
girl dancing torridly.  He gives no sign that he's aware of Kimble's presence 
-- he's just out for an evening's entertainment.

Kimble emerges from the back with a tub full of ice.  Johnson, looking for a 
bartender, spots Kimble.  The dancing girl flirts with a customer.  Kimble, 
his back turned to the bar, fails to see a nervous Johnson duck out the 
swinging doors and disappear into the night.  Only after Johnson is gone does 
Kimble turn to the bar, emptying an ashtray, having just missed seeing his 
elusive quarry by mere seconds.

								FADE OUT

EXT. CLAY COURT HOTEL - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT

								CUT TO:

INT. CLAY COURT HOTEL - NIGHT

At the FRONT DESK, the DESK CLERK answers the switchboard.

				DESK CLERK
		Good evening.  Clay Court Hotel.
			(beat)
		I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a Mr. Miller in 
		211.  We've a Paul Miller in 208.  Shall I 
		try--?  Hello?  Hello?

But the caller has hung up.  The Desk Clerk pulls the switchboard plug and 
reads a newspaper.

								CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN - CLARK CITY - NIGHT

Garish neon signs, cheesy go-go MUSIC.  Fred Johnson rushes from the sidewalk 
to the street and flags down an oncoming police car. The car pulls to the 
curb.  Inside the car are the two officers who beat up Kimble for him.  
Johnson confronts Lynch who sits in the passenger seat.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		What's on your mind, Mr. Cramer?

				FRED JOHNSON
		My old friend.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Talkin' 'bout Miller?

				FRED JOHNSON
		Yeah.  He has a room at the hotel around the--

				OFFICER LYNCH
		We know where he's at.  Things have changed, 
		Mr. Cramer.  Turns out Miller's working for Mr. 
		Enright.

				FRED JOHNSON
		A lousy bartender!  Who cares what happens to 
		him?

				OFFICER LYNCH
		We do, Mr. Cramer.  See you 'round.

Lynch nods to the driver and the car pulls away, leaving Johnson standing 
helplessly on the sidewalk.

								CUT TO:

EXT. FUNERAL HOME - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

A sign out front reads: "A. L. HAMP FUNERAL HOME"

								CUT TO:

INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

The next morning, Fred Johnson meets with the cadaverous funeral parlor 
director and part-time hit man, A. L. HAMP who tidies up a casket. 

				FRED JOHNSON
		He said he wants it done quick.

				HAMP
		How quick?

				FRED JOHNSON
		Tonight if you can.

Like all paid assassins who run funeral parlors, Hamp is fluent in Latin:

				HAMP
		"Omnus [?] est a diablo."  
			(translates)
		"All haste is from the devil."

Hamp sits at a desk opposite Johnson.

				HAMP
		Obscure Latin proverb, Mr. Cramer.  All 
		right, tonight, if at all possible.

Johnson pulls a wad of cash from his inside jacket pocket, licks his thumb, 
peels off two bills, and floats them down to Hamp's desk.

				FRED JOHNSON
		Okay?

				HAMP
		What's Mr. Enright doing?  Cutting corners?  My 
		price doesn't change.  Five hundred dollars.  
		In advance.  Surprised at Mr. Enright.

Johnson forks over the necessary amount.  Hamp sweeps the money off the 
desktop and into a drawer, then rises and offers his hand to Johnson.

				HAMP
		Pleasure meeting you, sir.

Johnson gives him a left-handed handshake.

				HAMP
		Come back again, any time.

				FRED JOHNSON
		Yeah.  Sure.

Hamp watches Johnson exit, then picks up the piece of paper with his 
"assignment" on it, looks it over, takes out a match, lights it, sets fire to 
the paper, and places it in an ashtray to burn.

								CUT TO:

EXT./INT. HIT MONTAGE - NIGHT

A little after one A.M. the next morning, Hamp walks down a sidewalk carrying 
an ominous-looking instrument case.  He rounds a corner and enters a seedy 
building, an all-night burlesque theater.

On an upper floor he emerges from a stairwell and enters a men's room.

In the men's room, he checks to make sure it's unoccupied, places his case on 
the sink, then locks the door.  He removes his jacket and hangs it up.  
Unlocking the window, he crouches beside it. Not wanting to dirty his nice 
pants, he pulls some newspapers from the floor of a nearby stall, places them 
in front of the window and kneels on them.  Opening the window slightly, he 
peers out.

HAMP'S POV: across the street, the Clay Court Hotel.  

Hamp pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and looks it over.

On the paper is a drawing of the Clay Court indicating the exact location of 
both Room 208 and the bathroom for Room 208.

He folds up the paper and pockets it, then checks his pocket watch.

The watch reads twenty past one.

Hamp pockets the watch and keeps an eye on the hotel.

Kimble appears on the street below.

Hamp grins and watches as...

...Kimble enters the hotel.

Hamp rises, moves to his instrument case on the sink, and opens it.  Inside 
are the parts of a disassembled high-powered rifle which he takes out and 
begins to assemble.

Inside the hotel, Kimble confers with the Desk Clerk.

				KIMBLE
		Ring me at ten o'clock.

				DESK CLERK
		Sure thing, Mr. Miller.

				KIMBLE
		Good night.

				DESK CLERK
		Good night, Mr. Miller.

Kimble heads off for his room.  The Desk Clerk makes a note to ring Kimble.

In the men's room, Hamp attaches a huge silencer to his rifle, then begins to 
load a bullet.

In the hotel, Kimble arrives at his door and unlocks it.

In the men's room, Hamp finishes loading the rifle and moves to the window.

Entering his hotel room, Kimble removes his jacket and tosses it on the bed.  
Undoing his shirt cuffs, he heads into the bathroom.

From HAMP'S POV: the light goes on in Kimble's bathroom window.

At the men's room window, Hamp lines up his shot.

In his bathroom, Kimble dries his face at the sink.

At the men's room window, Hamp adjusts the gun site and squints into it.

From over Hamp's shoulder, we see the rifle lined up perfectly with Kimble.

Hamp's steady blue eye peers through the gun site at his target.

An unsuspecting Kimble at the sink.  We hear the GUNSHOT.  The image of 
Kimble SHATTERS like glass -- Hamp has accidentally shot not Kimble, but 
Kimble's reflection in the bathroom mirror. A bullet hole appears in the wall 
where the mirror used to be. 

A stunned Kimble, on the floor of the bathroom, looks from the bullet hole 
and shattered mirror to the bathroom window.

The bullet, he realizes, was meant for him.

								CUT TO:

INT. CORA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

Not long after.  A hand knocks on a door.  The door opens to reveal Cora's 
face.  She peers through the chained door at an intense Kimble.

				CORA
		What do you want?

				KIMBLE
		I've got to come in.  I've got to see you.

				CORA
		Got no time to see you.

Cora tries to shut the door but Kimble forces it in, grabs her, and presses 
her against a wall in her room.

				CORA
		Mister, you got no right bustin' in here like 
		this.  I don't know you.  I don't want to know 
		you.

				KIMBLE
		My name is Paul Miller.  I live at the Clay Court 
		Hotel.  And I want some answers.

				CORA
		I got no answers.  Now get out of here before I 
		start yellin' my head off.

				KIMBLE
		Go ahead and yell.  Yell now or in court.  It 
		makes no difference.

				CORA
		Court?

				KIMBLE
		That's right.

				CORA
		Why?

				KIMBLE
		As a witness.  Now you saw those two policemen.  
		And you're gonna stand up in court and testify 
		that you saw them.

				CORA
		I-I didn't see anyone in that alley but you.  I 
		don't know who you're talking about.

				KIMBLE
		Cora.  Now just listen to me.  I didn't want to 
		drag you into this.  But things have changed.  
		Now, someone's trying to kill me.  I've got to 
		know who they are and why.

				CORA
		I don't know.  It was dark.

				KIMBLE
		It was light enough.  There was enough light 
		from that street light.

				CORA
		I said I didn't know who you're talking about.  
		Now you can't prove differently and you know it.  
		So you get out of here.

				KIMBLE
		Now, there's someone else that wants those 
		answers.  They want the same answers as I do.  
		He doesn't know about you yet but he will.  His 
		name is Enright.

With that, Kimble walks out, leaving a shaken Cora behind.  She knows she's 
in real trouble now.  She shuts the door and, clutching her stomach, moves 
slowly and painfully to the center of the room.  

After a moment, her bedroom door opens behind her.  Emerging from the bedroom 
-- in full uniform, no less -- is none other than Officer Lynch, his gun belt 
in hand.  He straps it on as he approaches Cora.  Apparently, he's a regular 
john of hers.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Ought to shove you off a bridge.  How'd you 
		hook up with him in the first place?

				CORA
		He dropped his wallet.  I-I-I thought he was... 

Lynch sighs and looks unhappy.  Cora tries to reassure him, putting her hands 
lovingly on his chest.

				CORA
		Listen, there's no way that he can make me 
		talk.  You know that, Ted.

								CUT TO:

INT. BAR - DAY

The next afternoon, Fred Johnson, Cora, and Officer Lynch sit at a table in 
the bar where Kimble works.  The place is nearly empty.

				OFFICER LYNCH
			(off Johnson)
		Man's just tryin' to help you, Cora.

				CORA
		Why do you wanna help me?  Are you the guy that 
		he's looking for?

Johnson, his stump resting on the table beside Lynch's hat, nods quietly.

				CORA
			(to Lynch, off the bar)
		You must be out of your mind.  Miller works 
		here.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Relax.  His shift doesn't start till nine 
		tonight.

				CORA
		Listen, fellas, um, uh, can't you take care of 
		this thing yourself?  I mean, I-I don't like to 
		get mixed in, you know?

				FRED JOHNSON
		You already got mixed in.

				CORA
		But I didn't do anything.  I didn't say 
		anything.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Yes, you did, Cora.  You said one word.  Cops.

				CORA
		He thought I said that.  Really.  He thought I--

Cora stares at the two men, realizes they're not buying it.

				CORA
		I don't like to see anybody get hurt.

				OFFICER LYNCH
		Well, somebody's gonna get hurt.  Now, how will 
		you have it?  You or Miller?

That strikes a nerve. Cora stares at Johnson and makes a decision.

								CUT TO:

INT. BAR - NIGHT

Around nine o'clock. The torrid dancing girl is hard at work.  Cora sits at 
the bar drinking.  Kimble enters.  Cora spots him and rushes to him.

				CORA
		Hey, mister!

Kimble stops and they confer.

				CORA
		Ah, did-did you tell 'em about me yet?

				KIMBLE
		No.  I don't want to get you into trouble, Cora.

				CORA
		Trouble?  See, I could get killed.  Um, you 
		know, I think I got somethin' for ya.  A 
		girlfriend of mine knows this guy and, uh, it 
		was something that he said.  She thinks that he 
		may be the guy that you're looking for.

				KIMBLE
		What does he look like?

				CORA
		Well, he's, uh, dark, husky, and he's got one 
		arm.

Kimble tenses up.  

				KIMBLE
		Where is he?

				CORA
		I don't know but my girlfriend works in an 
		all-night hamburger joint.

				KIMBLE
		Where?

				CORA
		Can you get off work?

				KIMBLE
		Yeah.

				CORA
		I'll take you there.  My car's out back.

She grabs her purse and they both head out the door.

								CUT TO:

EXT. HAMBURGER JOINT - NIGHT

Minutes later. Cora's car pulls up.  Kimble's about to get out of the car.

				CORA
		Uh, wait a minute.  She doesn't want to be seen 
		talking to you.  Why don't you just go around 
		back?  There's a rear door in the alley.

Kimble nods and gets out, shuts the car door, and walks into the alley beside 
the hamburger joint.

								CUT TO:

EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT

Kimble enters the dark alley.

				FRED JOHNSON
		Hey, doc!

Fred Johnson appears from nowhere, SMASHING a huge metal trash can into 
Kimble's head. 
 
Kimble crashes to the ground.  

Johnson kicks Kimble savagely in the face.  With his good arm, Johnson hauls 
Kimble to his feet.  

Johnson punches Kimble's face with his stump. Then, with his left hand on the 
back of Kimble's neck and forcing his stump against Kimble's throat, Johnson 
tries to strangle Kimble.

For a long, agonizing moment, Kimble, his lip bleeding, desperately gasps for 
air.  With all his strength, he manages to push Johnson away.

Johnson stumbles backward against some stacked cardboard boxes.  Kimble 
rushes him but Johnson blocks a punch with his left hand, hits Kimble hard in 
the chest with his stump, then kicks him backward.

Kimble falls to the ground and hits his head against a packing crate, his 
hand resting on the garbage can lid beside him.  

Johnson charges at Kimble with a knife. 

Kimble grabs the garbage can lid and uses it to knock the knife from 
Johnson's hand and then to force him backward.

A stunned Johnson stumbles into a corner as a savage Kimble attacks him with 
a barrage of punches.  With a wicked two-handed blow to the head, Kimble 
finally knocks Johnson unconscious.

Kimble, breathing hard, slowly backs away from Johnson's inert body, sees the 
knife lying nearby and picks it up.  Kimble stares at it a long moment before 
looking down at Johnson.

								FADE OUT

EXT. POLICE STATION - ESTABLISHING SHOT - NIGHT

FADE IN on the well-lit front entrance of the station.

								CUT TO:

INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT

A few minutes later.  All is quiet in the station as SGT. WEBER, the desk 
sergeant hands some routine paperwork to OFFICER BILL.

				SGT. WEBER
		Why don't you check this against county file?

				OFFICER BILL
		Okay.

Officer Bill moves to a desk as the front doors burst suddenly open.  A 
disheveled Kimble drags an even more disheveled and half-conscious Fred 
Johnson up to Sgt. Weber.  Bill and another officer join them to see what all 
the excitement is about.

				KIMBLE
			(to Sgt. Weber, off Johnson)
		I want this man arrested.

				SGT. WEBER
			(to Kimble)
		What's your name?

A big moment for Kimble.  He tries to catch his breath.

				KIMBLE
		My name is... Richard Kimble.
			(off Johnson)
		He killed my wife three years ago.

				SGT. WEBER
		Well, that's a pretty serious charge, mister.
		You got something to back that up?

Kimble and Johnson stand together at the desk.  Johnson keeps his head down 
and says nothing.

				KIMBLE
		You contact Lieutenant Philip Gerard in 
		Stafford, Indiana.  He'll give you the details.

Sgt. Weber glances at the other officers, then looks at Johnson.

				SGT. WEBER
			(to Johnson)
		What's your name?

				FRED JOHNSON
		Steve Cramer.

				SGT. WEBER
			(to Johnson, off Kimble)
		What this fella say true?

Kimble looks from Johnson to the sergeant to Johnson again. But Johnson stays 
silent.  Sgt. Weber picks up a phone and dials.  He stares at the two men 
before him, not sure what to make of it all.

				SGT. WEBER
			(into the phone)
		Yeah, this is Weber at the Third Precinct.  
		Let me speak to Captain Gilbert.

								CUT TO:

INT. JAIL CELL BLOCK - DAY

The next morning, Kimble stands at the sink in his cell splashing water on 
his face.  He rubs his neck and dries himself with a towel.  He hears some 
noise behind him and turns.  Officer Bill enters the cell block and unlocks 
Kimble's cell door.

				OFFICER BILL
		Let's go, Doctor.

				KIMBLE
			(grabs his coat)
		Where's Lieutenant Gerard?

				OFFICER BILL
			(shrugs)
		Sergeant said something about somebody we're 
		supposed to meet.

Kimble takes a last look as his cell and he and Officer Bill exit the cell
block.

								CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD - DAY

A black-and-white police car rolls down a road outside of town.  In the back 
seat of the car, Kimble and Fred Johnson sit handcuffed together.  Johnson 
looks like he's asleep.  Kimble turns to Officer Bill, sitting beside him. 

				KIMBLE
		Where are we going?

				OFFICER BILL
		Now, don't go getting all excited, Doctor.  
		You'll have all the answers soon enough.

								CUT TO:

EXT. ESTATE - DAY

The police car pulls off the road and goes through the large iron gates of a 
swanky, luxurious private estate.

The car travels along the long, winding driveway and stops in front of a huge 
mansion.  Officer Bill gets out and opens the door so that Kimble and Johnson 
may climb out of the car.  

A confused Kimble looks up at the mansion and wonders what's going on.  The 
car drives off as a servant greets Officer Bill, Kimble, and Johnson on the 
front steps.  The servant opens the front door and everyone enters.

								CUT TO:

INT. ESTATE - DAY

Downstairs, in the ritzy, stylish basement, Enright sits, listening to the 
sound of the front door upstairs SLAMMING shut.  He looks tense, his hand to 
his mouth.  The servant leads Officer Bill, Kimble, and Johnson down some 
stairs, through a door, and into the basement proper.  Officer Bill shuts the 
door behind everyone as Kimble and Johnson are led to a couple of seats near 
the center of the room.

The servant approaches a man in a wheelchair who sits under a huge array of 
blue lamps, getting some sort of ultraviolet light treatment.  The lamps BUZZ 
mightily until a timer bell RINGS and the servant shuts off the power.  Then, 
the servant wheels the man around to face Kimble, Johnson, Enright, and 
Officer Bill.

The wheelchair-bound man is an elderly Italian gangster named VICTOR LUCHEK. 
He wears sunglasses as protection against the lamps.

				LUCHEK
		You're Kimble, huh?  I read about you.  You 
		know me?

Kimble stares at him and shakes his head.

				KIMBLE
		I don't think so.

				LUCHEK
			(smiles)
		I'm Victor Luchek.

Kimble looks uncertain.

				LUCHEK
			(laughs)
		You think old Vic is dead, huh?  Lots of people 
		think this.  Victor Luchek, the big shot, how 
		he's just an old man stuck away in a hick town.
			(to Officer Bill, off the handcuffs)
		Take them things off his hands.

The servant wheels Luchek a few feet away so that Officer Bill may uncuff 
Kimble and Johnson.

				LUCHEK
			(to Johnson)
		You, punk, come here.

Johnson rises and joins Luchek.

				LUCHEK
		You make a lot of trouble for me, punk.  Come 
		to a nice, quiet town.  Hook up with the outfit 
		and everything is hunky dory, huh?  Only you 
		gotta step out of line.  Try to get a man 
		killed.  Maybe louse up what takes me ten years 
		to get going.  Maybe we stick your feet in a 
		barrel of cement.  Drop you in the river.

				FRED JOHNSON
		He was after me.

				LUCHEK
		So you run.  Let him catch you someplace else, 
		not in Clark City.

				FRED JOHNSON
		I'm sick of running.  For the first time, I'm--

				LUCHEK
		Sit down, punk.

Johnson takes a seat, away from Kimble. The servant wheels Luchek over to 
Enright. Luchek takes off his sunglasses.

				LUCHEK
		What's a matter, Ollie?  Maybe you lose your 
		touch, huh?  This hot-headed punk shows up in 
		town, running a vendetta.  Ain't enough you 
		let him stick around.  No.  You gotta go on 
		sticking him on the payroll.  Maybe the old 
		man, he'd like to know why, if it ain't too 
		much trouble.

				ENRIGHT
			(confidentially)
		I owed the man something, Vic.  Four years ago 
		in a Detroit bar, he stopped a drunk from 
		putting a knife through me.  Few months ago, I, 
		uh, I meet him on the street.  He's broke, 
		needs a job.  I figured I owed him that much.

				LUCHEK
		A punk like that you don't give the time of day 
		to, no matter what you owe him.
			(beat)
		No more mistakes, Ollie.

Enright looks properly apologetic. Luchek has himself wheeled back to Kimble.

				LUCHEK
		Dr. Kimble, you wanna knock off this punk is up 
		to you but--

				KIMBLE
		No, I want him alive, Mr. Luchek.  He's my only 
		chance to clear myself.

				LUCHEK
		But he don't want you alive.  Either way, we 
		don't want your kind of trouble.  So get killed 
		in some other town, Dr. Kimble.  Here, we got 
		no use for victims either.

				KIMBLE
		I was hoping you'd turn him over to the Indiana 
		police.

				LUCHEK
		You ask too much.  I don't give even a yellow 
		dog to the police.

Kimble looks down, disappointed.

				LUCHEK
			(sardonic, off Enright)
		Maybe Mr. Enright, he will do this thing for 
		you.  Mr. Enright is the big shot.

Enright looks unhappy.  Luchek smiles.  The servant wheels Luchek to a nearby 
elevator.  Enright, Kimble, Johnson, and Officer Bill watch as Luchek and the 
servant enter the elevator and disappear.

								CUT TO:

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

Some time later.  Enright's car pulls into the parking lot outside his office 
building.  His assistant Ralph greets him, calling over an Enright EMPLOYEE 
to take care of the car.  Officer Bill, Kimble, Johnson and Enright emerge 
from the car and stand in the lot with Ralph while the employee drives the 
car away.

				ENRIGHT
		I'll handle this, Bill.

				OFFICER BILL
		Right.

Officer Bill departs.

				ENRIGHT
			(to Johnson)
		Now, I, uh, I tried to give you a break and 
		you get me into this kind of trouble.  Anybody 
		else did what you did, I'd kill him. 

Kimble and Johnson exchange nervous glances.

				ENRIGHT 
			(to Ralph)
		Get your car.

Ralph leaves to get his car.

				ENRIGHT
			(to Johnson)
		You, uh, saved my life once.  All right.  
			(off Kimble)
		I'll give you twenty-four hours start on this 
		man.  With luck, that'll save your life.  And, 
		uh, we're even.

Ralph pulls up in his car and gets out as Enright takes out his wallet and 
hands some money to Johnson.

				ENRIGHT
			(to Johnson)
		Here's two weeks' pay.  Now, you get into that 
		car.  You get out of town.  Don't ever show up 
		around here again.

Johnson looks at Enright, then pointedly at Kimble, and hurries to the car.  
Kimble makes a move to stop him but Enright intervenes.

				ENRIGHT
			(to Kimble)
		You stay here.

Johnson's car pulls away and Kimble can only stand by and watch helplessly.  
Enright and Ralph escort a frustrated Kimble into the building as Johnson's
car disappears from view, heading north.  

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY

Enright, Ralph, and Kimble emerge from the elevator and approach Ms. Moretti.

				MS. MORETTI
			(hands him his messages)
		Mr. Enright.

				ENRIGHT
			(takes his messages)
		Thank you.

Enright shuffles through his messages as if it were just another day at the 
office. After an awkward pause, and a glance at Ralph, Kimble wonders aloud:

				KIMBLE
			(to Enright)
		Can I leave now?

				ENRIGHT
		You, uh, you a man of your word, Kimble?

				KIMBLE
		I like to think so.

				ENRIGHT
		All right.  Give me your word you won't leave 
		Clark City before noon tomorrow.  Hm?

				KIMBLE
			(reluctant)
		All right.

				ENRIGHT
		You, uh, you leave before then, I'll have the 
		state police pick you up before you've gone ten 
		miles.  That'll put you back on death row.  
		Clear enough?

				KIMBLE
		Clear enough.

				ENRIGHT
		Goodbye, Mr. Kimble.  Wish I could say it was a 
		pleasure to know you.

Enright and Ralph head for Enright's office as Kimble boards the elevator.

								CUT TO:

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

Moments later. Kimble rushes out of the building into the parking lot and 
moves to Enright's car, parked by the side of the building.  He jumps in, 
starts it up, and drives away.  The parking lot employee is too slow to stop 
him.

				EMPLOYEE
		Hey!  Hey!

Kimble SQUEALS out and speeds north.

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - SIXTH FLOOR - DAY

Enright pours a glass of water at his desk.  Ralph peers out the window.

				RALPH
		Mr. Enright.

				ENRIGHT
		Mm hmm?

				RALPH
		You just lost yourself a car.

				ENRIGHT
		Kimble?

				RALPH
		Yeah.

				ENRIGHT
		That's, ah, too bad...

Enright sips his water, picks up the phone, pops a pill in his mouth.

				ENRIGHT
		...for him.

								CUT TO:

EXT. CHASE SEQUENCE - OUTSIDE CLARK CITY - DAY

Ralph's car, driven by Johnson, speeds down the road.

Inside the car, Johnson whistles nonchalantly. 

His speedometer reads a little over forty miles per hour.

Enright's car, driven by Kimble, tears along the same road.

At the wheel, an intense Kimble checks his speedometer: he's pushing eighty.

Kimble looks ahead intently.

Kimble's car takes a sharp turn too quickly.  The tires SQUEAL.

Another sharp curve and he leaves the road completely for a moment.

Johnson, still whistling, idly checks his rear view mirror at the sound of 
SQUEALING tires behind him.  He turns to look out the rear window.

JOHNSON'S POV: Enright's car in hot pursuit.

Kimble, at the wheel, sees he's been spotted.

Johnson turns his attention to the road ahead and picks up speed.

Johnson takes a hairpin turn, followed closely by Kimble.

Farther north, a motorcycle cop pulls up beside a parked patrol car.  
Standing by the car is a PATROLMAN who greets the motorcycle cop.

				PATROLMAN
		What do you say, [?], how things goin'?

The policemen turn their attention to the voice of the DISPATCHER coming over 
their radios.

				DISPATCHER
		Attention all units.  Intercept blue, four-door 
		sedan, license 88W701, believed northbound on 
		Route 30 between Clark City and [Glen Brook?].  
		Driver's description: male, Caucasian; age 35; 
		height, six feet; eyes, brown...

				PATROLMAN
		Let's move into position.

The policemen move to set up a roadblock.

Johnson's car speeds along.

Johnson looks back to see if Kimble is gaining on him.

Johnson's car takes a tight turn and nearly skids off the road, kicking up a 
cloud of dirt.

Kimble's car, not far behind, kicks up a similar cloud.

An increasingly terrified Johnson looks back at Kimble.

Kimble senses he's closing in.

Johnson looks unhappy.

Johnson's car approaches the road block; the cops wave him down.

As Johnson pulls to a stop, the Patrolman hurries to him.

				PATROLMAN
		Registration, driver's license.

Johnson points to Kimble's car behind him. The Patrolman recognizes Kimble's 
car from the Dispatcher's description.

				PATROLMAN
			(to the other cops)
		That's him up there!

The cops let Johnson through and move to intercept Kimble.  Johnson drives 
off.

Kimble sees the police vehicles blocking the road and hits the brakes.  

Desperately, Kimble tries to turn the car around.  But, in doing so, the car 
leaves the road and the rear tires end up in some roadside sand.  The police 
move in on him.

Kimble guns the engine but the car won't go.  Kimble peers out of the window 
to see...

...the rear tire spinning uselessly in the sand.

Guns drawn, the police surround Kimble's car.

				PATROLMAN
			(to the other cops, off Kimble)
		Yeah, that's him all right.
			(to Kimble)
		Quite a ride you had.

Kimble looks dejected.  The police have finally caught up with him after all 
these years.

				PATROLMAN
		Well, let's see if we can give you a thrill on 
		the way back.

				KIMBLE
			(confused)
		Where are we going?

				PATROLMAN
		Mr. Enright wants to see you as soon as 
		possible.  He said you stole his car.  The way 
		you were traveling, you could have wrecked the 
		car and then you'd've been in real trouble, Mr. 
		Miller.

Kimble suddenly realizes they are not arresting Richard Kimble for interstate 
flight -- they're arresting Paul Miller for a slightly lesser charge...

				KIMBLE
		I'm being arrested for stealing a car?

				PATROLMAN
		Come on.  Let's go.

The Patrolman helps pull Kimble's car from the sand and, with the police 
escorting him, Kimble drives south, back to Clark City.

								FADE OUT

FADE IN

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING SHOT - DAY

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT'S OFFICE - DAY

Later that day, an angry Enright confronts a subdued Kimble.

				ENRIGHT
		I was close, Kimble.  I was that close to 
		turning you in.  That's what you did to me.  
		You almost turned me into an informer.  You 
		gave me your word and you broke it.

				KIMBLE
		I had to.

				ENRIGHT
		You give me your word, you keep it.  What kind 
		of a world would it be if everybody went around 
		lying?  All right.  You got death row waiting 
		for you.  That's just a minor annoyance 
		compared to the trouble you'll be in if I ever 
		see you again.  Now you get out of this town 
		and you stay out.

Kimble exits quietly.

								CUT TO:

INT. ENRIGHT INVESTMENTS LOBBY - DAY

Kimble leaves Enright's office, walks past Ms. Moretti's desk, and heads for 
the elevator as the Omniscient Narrator chimes in with a few choice words:

				NARRATOR (v.o.)
		A man on the run must never stop.  After every 
		fall he must get up, push on toward the same 
		elusive goal, a goal so close at times as to be 
		only a heartbreak away.

Kimble rings for the elevator and takes a last look around at Enright 
Investments.  The elevator doors open and he boards.  The doors close on him 
as we 

								FADE OUT