MAURICE - [to Richie] Cod liver oil will make you like new.
 

 
RICHIE - She ran off with a Texas software manufacturer.
 

 
RICHIE - Who's there?
 

 
RICHIE - Robert? Carlos? You up?
 

 
[Insert - business card:

The name 'Martin Hyde' embellished by an ornate crest, a black dragon spitting flames.]
 

 
HYDE - It's about a murder.
 

RICHIE - [pacing] But he's an Immortal! Why didn't he try to take my head?

MacLEOD - He'll take it if he can, someday.
 

 
MacLEOD - Or an older Immortal like me.
 

 
COP - [into radio] The plates match. [beat] It's him.
 

 
RICHIE - Man . . . I gotta get out of here! [He starts backing toward the door.]

MacLEOD - Richie . . . Wait!
 

[Establishing the cold grey exterior, as over this we hear--]

BARDAU - [O.S.] All right. Turn to your left.

[Camera pans across a lineup of suspects: five men, fairly close in age to Richie, some shuffling nervously, dressed in similar scruffy clothes, all holding numbers before their chests, until camera stops on Richie.]

[Second from the end, he is number four. He looks tight and exhausted, as the entire group of suspects turns to face the left, holding that profile for a beat, then we hear:]

BARDAU - [O.S.] [over intercom] Face front.

[As the suspects all turn to face the front, we pull back to find we are inside a dimly lit viewing room, behind a two-way mirror where two women sit, examining the suspects.]

[Closer on Veronique Bardau as she reaches a hand to cover the microphone before her and turns to face the attendant's wife, somber, dressed in black, her eyes locked on Richie.]

WIFE - [bitter] That's him . . . Number four.
 

 
COP - [flat] You get to see a cell.
 

 
BARDAU - Your friend is up to his ass in alligators, MacLeod.
 

 
BARDAU - And throw himself on the mercy of the court.
 

 
RICHIE - [trying to buck up] Great. Get me a ball gme and some decent burgers, a guy could get used to it.

[MacLeod smiles at Richie's spirit and turns to the Guard.]

MacLEOD - Could we have a moment? [The Guard shrugs and moves away. MacLeod turns to Richie.] Hyde came by.
 

 
BARDAU - We all like to think our friends are innocent.

MacLEOD - But not everyone can prove it.

BARDAU - And you can?

MacLEOD - I'll be in touch.
 

 
MacLEOD - He's here or he's coming. [re the animal heads or the guns] He'd feel right at home.
 

 
MacLEOD - Tell him it's from Duncan MacLeod. [beat] I'm an old friend.
 

[Richie sits behind the table as Maurice enters carrying a paper bag. Maurice speaks up loud enough for the Guard to hear.]

MAURICE - So I've discussed your case with my partners in the law firm and we believe you have an excellent chance if you plead insanity.

RICHIE - [incredulous] What are you talking about?

MAURICE - [sotto voce] I had to tell them I was your lawyer to get in here. [re bag] I've brought you your lunch.

[Richie opens the bag and takes out a hamburger and fries. He bites into it.]

MAURICE - It's cold . . . They went through everything. [beat, with scorn] They thought I'd hide a machine gun in the pomme frites.

[Maurice watches the Guard watch them. He responds in a loud voice.]

MAURICE - Yes, I understand . . . You are hostile because you are a middle child.

RICHIE - You're some piece of work, Maurice. [beat] Thanks for lunch.

MAURICE - Duncan says you're a good guy and that's good enough for me.

RICHIE - When I get out of here, I'll owe you one.

MAURICE - Maurice doesn't need repayment for an act of friendship . . . However, one hand does wash the other. [beat] I understand you haven't hired a lawyer yet.

RICHIE - I'm innocent, Maurice. Mac's going to get me out of this.

MAURICE - Of course he will. [withdraws a card from his pocket and puts it on the table] But just in case, my sister's son Henri is a brilliant young lawyer. [beat] He's having a little trouble getting his career started. He's only had one client. [beat] A case like yours . . . his name in the newspapers representing the Butcher of Marseille . . .

RICHIE - Is that what they're calling me?

MAURICE - Journalists are pigs.

RICHIE - I'll think about it. [slips the card into his pocket]

MAURICE - You won't be sorry.

[The Guard points to his watch, signaling that the meeting is at an end.]

MAURICE - I think it's time. [beat] And don't worry. If MacLeod says he'll get you out of here, he will, no matter what the newspapers are saying. [rises]

RICHIE - Goodbye, Maurice.

MAURICE - If by chance things don't turn out as we all know they will . . . There's a convict at Fleury . . . His name is Big George. [beat] Don't tell him you know me or my nephew.

RICHIE - Let me guess . . . Henri's first client.

[Maurice nods.]
 

[Hyde is taking target practice when he is approached by the Clerk who took MacLeod's note. Hyde frowns.]

HYDE - What is it?

CLERK - A note for you, sir.

HYDE - From who? I gave strict orders nobody was to know I was here.

CLERK - I'm sorry, sir. It's from a Mr. MacLeod.

[Hyde considers a beat.]

HYDE - I'll take it.

[He takes the envelope and shuts the door. He opens the envelope. Insert of Hyde's business card. MacLeod's handwriting: The rooftop. 1:30.]

[Resume Hyde as he crumples the card. He fires away. Close on the target as it is obliterated in a hail of gunfire. Hyde smiles to himself.]

[Bardau is at her desk, working. The door opens and a cop pokes his head through.]

COP - Line four, Inspector. It's MacLeod. [apologetic] He says it's urgent.

[He exits as Bardau grudgingly picks up the phone.]

BARDAU - [into phone] When are you going to stop this?

[MacLeod inside a phone booth, speaking into the phone.]

MacLEOD - Come to the roof of the Gun and Hunt Club in twenty minutes.

BARDAU - Why?

MacLEOD - I'll have your murderer.

BARDAU - If I come, you'd better deliver.

MacLEOD - [beat] Don't be late.

[He hangs up, looks at his watch -- then leaves.]

[Resume Bardau. She slams the receiver down, irritated, looks at the phone -- maybe she won't come.]
 
 

 
[They hear the door of the roof being broken open.]

MacLEOD - I wonder who that could be.
 

 
MacLEOD - I think my friend would appreciate getting out now.
 

 
MacLEOD - No, Segur! [He surges forward, cheated -- but Segur pulls him back.] Why? You know I want him!
 

[MacLeod looks over the Seine as the dawn breaks. His face is grim -- he knows Segur isn't coming back. He lifts the bottle, slowly uncorks it and takes a light swallow.]

MacLEOD - You were right, Segur. It's the best. [Then he corks it again, with finality.] But I hate to drink alone. [He drops the bottle in his bag, then strides away.]
 

 
MacLEOD - This is the best damn Cognac in France. When I come back, we'll drink it together.