MacLEOD - [to Richie] Can we talk for a minute?

[Richie looks up. MacLeod beckons to him.]

RICHIE - Now?

MacLEOD - Now.

[MacLeod goes straight for the door. Richie follows.]

RICHIE - Be right back, Pete. There's a couple'a cold ones in the fridge if you wanna help kill the pain . . .

PETE - Thanks, Richie, I just might.
 

[There are still people milling around. A brightly lit Ferris wheel turns in the B.G. and sounds of laughter and screaming from rides are a sharp contrast to MacLeod's steely expression as he and Richie enter the Midway.]

RICHIE - I hope my bike's still there.

[They pass a carnival game with a small crowd around it. It's one of those "Test Your Strength" things with the wooden mallet and bell at the top of a pole. A huge man manages to ring the bell as they approach. The Operator hands him a black velvet painting of a clown.]

Strength Game Operator - Another winner! [pointing at MacLeod] You, sir! You try!

MacLEOD - No thanks.

RICHIE - [suddenly sees something important] I'll give it a shot.

MacLEOD - Some other time.

RICHIE - [sotto voce, to MacLeod] In the crowd . . . I see one of 'em.

[Sure enough, Denny Ponance, one of the tough men that flanked Richie at the Shooting Gallery before, dressed as a Carnival Employee now, is looking on. Richie takes the mallet from the Operator. Ponance observes him with sudden interest.]

Strength Game Operator - All you need to do is ring the bell!

[Richie tests the weight of the mallet in his hands, glancing surreptitiously back at Ponance.]

RICHIE - Well . . . Let's see if I can do something with this.
 

 
RICHIE - You're lying. You're one of them.

[MacLeod steps between them. He grabs Ponance by the arm and pulls his coat up to reveal a tattoo. It's about the same size and color . . . but it's definitely an anchor, not a Watcher symbol.

PONANCE - One of who?

MacLEOD - [shakes his head] Richie . . . [beat] This can't be him.

PONANCE - Who the hell am I supposed to be?

RICHIE - I know what I saw, Mac! He's-- [sees the tattoo and lets the mallet drop away]
 

[A handful of police guard convicted murderess Lisa Halle as she's escorted into a prison van. She's in her late twenties, tall, beautiful -- but with the cold eyes of a killer. The guard leads her to a seat. Lisa has handcuffs on one wrist. The guard snaps the open handcuff closed around a metal bar, attaching her to the van.]

GUARD - You won't find any more rich husbands to kill. [smiling] Not where you're going.

LISA - [notices a set of keys on his hip, then looks him straight in the eye] I'm not so bad. In fact, I can be very nice to my friends.

[She motions him closer with her index finger. Almost transfixed by her eyes, he does, cautiously.]

LISA - [sexy] Closer . . .

[Like an idiot, he goes closer, but she's just sexy enough to make it believable . . . She reaches up, touching the side of his face gently, kisses him on the lips. Her free hand reaches for the keys he carries. He grabs her hand.]

GUARD - I'm not carrying your keys.

LISA - [smiles, moves her hand to his face again] Then you don't have anything I want. [She rips into his cheek with her fingernails, slashing his face. He screams, jumping back, glaring at a second guard who's just entered the van to take his station. The first guard slams the door shut from the outside and, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding face, angrily waves the van on. As it pulls away, he shakes his head at his own stupidity.]
 

[On Lisa, who looks ahead with curiosity as the van begins to slow. Up ahead, there is a serious car crash. An injured man lies on the road beside one of the cars. Smoke seems to be coming from the cars. Both cars are totaled. Another victim emerges from behind the wreckage, frantic, runs to the doors of the van, banging.]

VICTIM - [through glass] Help us! My wife's trapped in the car!

POLICE DRIVER - [speaks into his radio] This is 117 Hotel, there has been an accident. The road is blocked. Send an ambulance--

[The victim bangs again, looking desperate.]

VICTIM - [through glass] A fire extinguisher! Hurry!

[The car is smoking. There is a real danger of fire. The driver knows he's breaking a cardinal rule, but he's convinced that the victim is in earnest. He looks back at the second guard, who nods in agreement. The driver retrieves an extinguisher from a holder behind the driver's seat and goes to the door.]

LISA - [still chained to her seat] What the hell is happening?

VICTIM - [through glass] Hurry, please! My wife!

[With a cautious nod to the second guard, the driver opens the door and the victim steps in, but instead of taking the fire extinguisher, the victim sprays mace in the driver's face. The driver screams, dropping the extinguisher and reaching for his eyes. The victim pulls him by the coat out of the way, sending him flying onto the road, blinded for the moment. The second guard is trapped in the back now.]

LISA - [baffled, shouting outside] Hey, you! What's going on?

[The "injured man" has jumped to his feet, bolt cutters already in hand. He races to the back of the van, where the "victim" is already working at forcing the door open with a machine tool. Inside, the second guard, armed with a nightstick, glances back to Lisa and nervously readies himself for a fight. The "victim" succeeds in breaking the lock. He looks at the "injured man" and on cue, they burst inside the van. The second guard makes an attempt to stop them, swinging his stick at the first attacker, but the second catches him in the head with the bolt cutters, knocking him unconscious, then turns them to the task of freeing Lisa.]

LISA - Who the hell are you?

[Her rescuers don't speak a word to her, concentrating instead on the chain attaching her to the van. Once that is cut through, Lisa extends her hands so that he can free her from the manacles, but instead of cutting them, her rescuer simply uses them as a hand hold to drag her outside the van, where they practically toss her into the back seat of a getaway car.]
 

 
MacLEOD - Why is that?

PETE - My mom went where the work was.
 

 
PETE - [a wry look] Cool. I knew there was a reason I liked you.

[Pete leads them to a battered old trailer. There doesn't seem to be anybody around, and the Carnival hasn't even started for the day.]

PETE - This is it. I didn't go in.
 

[The room is naturally austere, except for a small cabint, bed, wooden chair and obligatory Bible. MacLeod is in the doorway, talking to Brother Andre, a dimunitive, Wally Cox type.]

MacLEOD - Brother Andre, my name's Duncan MacLeod. I asked the Sexton if I could meet the bell ringer . . .

BROTHER ANDRE - [excited] Me? No one's ever asked for me before.
 

 
MacLEOD - You didn't tell the police.

BROTHER ANDRE - That's the outside world, Mr. MacLeod. If it leaves us alone, we leave it alone. [confidentially] But I admit--
 

 
HORTON - We've thrown men at MacLeod, we've thrown guns . . . He always survives. [beat] But everybody has a weakness. [beat] You just have to use the right weapon.
 

 
ALPHONSO - If you have 80,000 dollars.
 

 
ALPHONSO - Maybe there are two or three in all of Paris.

MacLEOD - And you know who owns them?

ALPHONSO - We offer the country's finest service.

MacLEOD - I'd be very interested in knowing if one had sold recently.
 

 
PETE - [looks at one of the bullets] Blanks.

HORTON - Of course.