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AIRMAN MORRISON: I'm really sorry, Sir.
39TH POLICE PRECINCT - PHILADELPHIA - NIGHT
A tough lock-up, worse than an inner city high school.
FRANK'S MERC - NIGHT
It slows to a stop. Glancing around, Frank takes the IV
bottle down from the rearview mirror post, places it into
briefcase.
39TH PRECINCT HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
Frank steps into the glass-walled communications room.
SERGEANT APRIL MCCARTHY, an Afro-American
bombshell, is on duty reading USA TODAY. Frank crosses
to a computer desk, sits with extreme difficulty.
APRIL:
Hey -- who let you out? D'dja get my get well
card?
FRANK
: I gotta run a check on a name.
APRIL: You taking my job?
FRANK
: I don't want to overburden you.
As he starts pressing computer keys:
APRIL: If you're using PoliceNet, they're temporarily not
taking any new entries.
FRANK:
I'm using the FBI SearchNet.
APRIL:
Them too. All transmissions have been rerouted
to Langley until noon tomorrow.
FRANK: Painfully turns to her. His gut hurts.
