The characters, plotlines, quotes, etc. included here are owned by Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, all rights reserved. The following transcript is in no way a substitute for the show "The X-Files" and is merely meant as a homage. This transcript is not authorized or endorsed by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, or Fox Entertainment. It was painstakingly typed out by Libby and DrWeesh, and made available for your personal enjoyment by me, DrWeesh from my website, InsideTheX.


(We open with a black and white film with several different segments: a street parade with people carrying American flags, soldiers wading ashore from landing vehicle, JFK, moon landing, Churchill, Gandhi. While this montage is playing, a commentary is provided by JIMMY.)

JIMMY (VO): Heroes. Once in a a great while they come along when we need them most. Like President Churchill who won World War II, and Gandhi the peaceful leader of the Indians or as we know them, Native Americans.

(Classroom, pan across a desk where a youngster is writing in an exercise book: "When I grow up", Then the camera pans to show the classroom. The view changes from B&W to colour.)

JIMMY (VO): The thing about heroes is you can never tell where the next one is gonna come from.


(Pan to teacher, sat at her desk, and young girl standing by the desk and addressing the class.)

JIMMY (VO): And you don't always recognize them at first sight.

GIRL: When I grow up I want to be a singer just like Dolly Parton. I want to be rich and famous and have big - (gestures the obvious with her hands).

(Fast cut. Now a young boy stands in the same place.)

BOY: When I grow up I want to be the star quarterback with the Redskins and be rich and famous.

(Cut to another young girl.)

GIRL 2: - rich and famous.

(Cut to another young boy.)

BOY 2: Famous and, um, -

(Cut to another young boy wearing a brown suit and tie.)

BOY 3: When I grow up I want to be a career bureaucrat with the Federal Government. I want to help as many people as I can and work hard to spread democracy throughout the world.

(A special legend appears on the screen.)



(Cow shed. Man walking between cows, sounds of mooing then tapping sounds. Man walks to end of cowshed and there is a young boy with a computer perched on top of a large bale of hay.)

MAN: Ringo, you're supposed to be milking. I told you - typing is for secretaries, that damn-fool toy is going on the junk pile.

(RINGO stands up - he's wearing dungarees and has thick black framed glasses and very short hair.)

RINGO: Let me tell you something about this damn-fool toy, Dad. This damn-fool toy is gonna change everything. From the way people do business to the way we communicate. This damn-fool toy is the future. And you know what else - by the year 2000 when I've made millions of dollars off this damn-fool toy we'll all eat food pills like on Star Trek and we won't need cows anymore.

(Another legend appears.)



(Cut to shot of a group of High School students wearing their school's football team jackets, walking past a campus building)

(Somebody small grabs the leading student from behind round the neck.)

ASSAILANT: Say it! Aaargh!

(They both fall to the ground. The assailant is a bespectacled individual wearing a black leather jacket.)


STUDENT: The Cutlass 442 is faster than the Belvedere GTX, all right!

ASSAILANT: Damn straight. Some captain of the football team you are.

(The assailant gets up and then so does the student.)

STUDENT: You're a shrimp. You'll always be a shrimp, shrimp! What do you have to say about that?

(The assailant shakes his head and walks round the student.)

ASSAILANT: I think big, see. Bigger than you. I'm gonna do big things and then I'm gonna write about them. People will hang on my every word. Yeah. I'll be a crusading publisher and make the world a better place. Like - like - like Hugh Hefner. Yeah.

(He glances over at two girls chatting by the fence then turns back.)

(A third legend appears.)


(Screen splits into three vertical sections, with photos of then-FROHIKE, then-LANGLY and then-BYERS.)

JIMMY (VO): Three heroes.

(The photos change to show now-FROHIKE, now-LANGLY and now-BYERS.)

JIMMY (VO): Three separate paths leading to one shared destiny.

(The photos change to film footage, the breeze blowing LANGLY's locks, the camera angle then moving back and up showing the three in very heroic poses. The backgrounds are red, white and blue.)

JIMMY (VO): To change the world. To make history. Today's the day it happens.



(The Lone Gunmen's VW draws up outside the building.)

JIMMY (VO): You gotta figure. People never see history coming. It kind of just sneaks up on you.

(BYERS gets out of the VW.)

JIMMY (VO): Like when the Chinese bombed Pearl Harbour. You're living your life then - boom! You're swept up in it.

(BYERS approaches the steps leading into the building.)

(Cut to a machine. It is producing censored copies of documents.)

(BYERS enters a room that has a chain link fence running floor to ceiling down the middle of it. He approaches a desk where a man sits operating the stamping machine. BYERS signs the register. The CLERK looks at him and sneers.)

CLERK: You again.

(BYERS nods slightly.)

CLERK: Look, you can save yourself a trip down here. The answer's always gonna be "no".

BYERS: You don't even know the question.

CLERK: Let me guess. "Can I have the CIA files on Oswald. Can I have the FBI files on Martin Luther King."

(BYERS looks impassively at the CLERK.)

CLERK: "Can I have the missing 18 minutes of the Nixon tapes."

BYERS: It's called the Freedom of Information Office. So why isn't the information free?

CLERK: Mr. Byers. As you can see I'm a very busy man.

BYERS: Well I won't take up any more of your time.

(He takes a piece of paper out from his jacket pocket.)

BYERS: Just give me this (he unfolds the paper and drops it on the counter) and I'll be on my way.

(The CLERK peruses the paper.)

CLERK: Unbelievable. One of your FoI requests actually went through.

(BYERS looks somewhat smug.)

BYERS: I got the email this morning.

(The CLERK lifts up a heavy sealed cardboard box onto the counter.)

CLERK: Looks like you hit the jackpot.

BYERS: That's - mine?

(BYERS quickly completes the register.)


(Cut to Lone Gunmen offices. FROHIKE is feeding a sheet of paper into a shredder.)

FROHIKE: So, we're clear on this, uh? One more time?

(He's collected the shredded paper onto a piece of cardboard, which he shows to JIMMY.)

FROHIKE: Our new shredder policy. Let's hear it.

JIMMY: Paper, si. Coffee filters, no.

(FROHIKE takes JIMMY's hand and places the piece of cardboard on it.)

FROHIKE: I'm watching you.

(FROHIKE walks off towards LANGLY who's sat at a computer.)

FROHIKE: Thanks for the help, Baron.

(He kicks LANGLY's chair.)

LANGLY: Prince. I made Crown Prince six hours ago. I'm almost King.

(Computer monitor shows a Civilisation-type computer game - castle, moat, forest.)

JIMMY: You make those little guys shoot at each other?

LANGLY: That's not the point, Jimmy. This game isn't about violence, it's about empire building. I spent two solid weeks creating this medieval civilization from the ground up.

FROHIKE: Yet you're still a thirty-two year old virgin.

(FROHIKE looks at JIMMY.)

FROHIKE: The irony.

(The door buzzer sounds. JIMMY checks the monitor. He opens the door and BYERS falls in clutching the very heavy cardboard box which he drops on the floor.)

JIMMY: Woah. Woah.

(JIMMY picks the box up.)

JIMMY: You gotta pick it up with your legs.

(BYERS struggles to his feet and closes the door. JIMMY drops the box onto the table where FROHIKE is sitting.)

JIMMY: What's in the box?

BYERS: Vindication.

FROHIKE. It's from that pinhead Clerk down at the Freedom of Information office.

LANGLY: That guy actually coughed up the goods?

BYERS: There's supposed to be every file we've ever requested from the government. Maybe the system does work.

(FROHIKE has got the box open. He and BYERS stare in dismay at the contents. BYERS grabs and pulls out from the box a large concrete block.)

FROHIKE. Oh, yeah. You gotta love that civil servant sense of humour.

LANGLY: I keep telling you, Byers. The FoI is a complete waste of time. You gotta spy, use subterfuge.

(JIMMY has picked up a sheet of paper that was in the bottom of the box.)

LANGLY (concentrating on his monitor): Like the Bishop of Orange is trying right now. Busted, you Byzantine hack.

JIMMY: There's something else in here.

(He holds it up, most of the contents on the sheet have been blacked out.)

FROHIKE: Yeah, it's junk. Would you clean this up and don't try to put the cinder block through the shredder.

FROHIKE: (to BYERS) Hey, cheer up, buddy.

JIMMY: You know, guys, not every line of this is crossed off. I see some numbers, a name -

FROHIKE: It's junk. Shred it.

LANGLY: Here we go. The coronation of King Langly. Two full weeks of alliance building and backstabbing and now finally I get to reap the benefits.

JIMMY: Funny name. Stan Mizer.

(FROHIKE reacts to the name. He looks over and sees JIMMY put the paper into the shredder. He shouts "No!" and attempts to get to the shredder, Everything is in slo-mo. He launches himself towards the machine, falls, slides along the floor, grabs the plug and pulls it. LANGLY's computer powers down. LANGLY starts to hyperventilate.)

(Cut to shredder, which is still working, as the paper finally disappears.)

(Cut to LANGLY who cries out in rage and hits his head on the keyboard.)

(Later. Cut to FROHIKE working on the shredded paper on a light box, he's placing the bits between two sheets of clear plastic.)

JIMMY: So - uh - this guy Mizer -

(FROHIKE points a finger at him in a "shut up" manner.)

(FROHIKE puts the plastic sheets with the bits in between in a scanner and then sits at a computer. He using software which is reconstructing the document. Very cool.)

JIMMY: Can I talk now?

(The other three look at him and then back at the computer screen.)

JIMMY: This guy Mizer. Who was he?

BYERS: Stan Mizer. He was an inventor.

LANGLY: Or not. Depends on who you ask.

BYERS: Legend has it he perfected a car that ran on water.

FROHIKE: Legend nothing. He did it. I saw it. I rode in it.

BYERS: No-one knows what happened to the car. It disappeared and Mizer refused to talk about it. He died in - uh - oh, what? The mid-70s?

FROHIKE. Mmmm. I know somebody threatened him. Big Oil most likely. They'd do anything to protect their interests.

JIMMY: So, what did the car look like?

FROHIKE: The 1959 Studebaker Lark.

(JIMMY grimaces.)

JIMMY: Tail fins?

FROHIKE: No tail fins. Why?

JIMMY: I dunno. What colour was it.

FROHIKE: Seafoam green. (turns to JIMMY) What the hell does it matter what colour it was? Do you understand what we're talking about here? A car that ran on water. Not gasoline. Same horsepower but zero pollution and an endless supply of energy. Can't you see how that would have changed the world?

JIMMY: I definitely see how it would suck if we all had to drive green Studebaker Larks.

(Angry, FROHIKE goes for JIMMY but LANGLY and BYERS holds him back.)

BYERS: Uh - Frohike.

FROHIKE: We just had proof that the government kept a file on Stan Mizer and maybe a clue as to what happened to the car and this idiot shredded it!

BYERS: You wouldn't have even known about it if it hadn't been for Jimmy.

(FROHIKE is eased back down onto his chair. The computer is beeping and the monitor shows: "Displayed constructed document?")

BYERS: They've censored nearly everything.

FROHIKE: Look at this. Pallet 62/67221. What do you think?

LANGLY: Looks like some kind of shipping number. Guess I could check it out. (He goes off to another computer)

BYERS: You also have what seems to be someone's initials: J T.

JIMMY: So how do you think that wound up in here, anyway?

BYERS: A fluke, I assume. It stuck to the bottom of the cinder block.

FROHIKE: No. No fluke. Fate. That car is still out there somewhere. I know it. And we're gonna find it. No matter how hard they try to stop us.

(Fade to black)


(Night. A silver sports car draws up into parking bay next to another vehicle. YVES gets out.)

YVES: This is a bit dramatic. Couldn't we have simply spoken over the phone?

MAN: Actually I find that face to face yields better results. I want to know what you have for me.

YVES: Nothing yet. Soon, hopefully. (Pause) Well, so much for face to face.

(YVES goes to get back in her car.)

MAN: Do you ever think about dinosaurs?

YVES: No. Can't say that I do.

MAN: It's amazing, to think that our entire world's economy is based on them, you know?

YVES: As in the last one hundred million years their remains have been geologically transformed into crude oil? I suppose that's true.

MAN: Actually, when I say dinosaurs I'm referring to the oil companies. As in, though huge and lumbering, we have sharp teeth.

YVES: As I said, I have nothing yet. If I do, you'll be the first to hear.

(YVES gets into her car and starts the engine.)


(Cut to view through telephoto lens of house and a fence that has a tag on it: Mizer. FROHIKE is taking photographs. )

FROHIKE: Ah, well, the last name's still up. Stan's daughter, Shelly, lives here now. Perhaps she won't remember me.

BYERS: What do you mean.

FROHIKE: I came here in the mid-eighties. She wouldn't let me look at her old man's files. I maybe got a little carried away when the cops came.

(BYERS is looking at him a bit suspiciously.)

FROHIKE: I started yelling at her. She probably won't remember.

(Cut to FROHIKE ringing the front door bell. There's no answer.)

FROHIKE: I don't like it. It's too quiet. I think we're being watched.

(The two look around. A dressed as a mailman is approaching. He pushes open the wooden garden gates and, in slo-mo, pulls his shoulder bag round in front of him. He lifts the cover and puts his hand inside the bag as FROHIKE watches with increasing alarm. Just then the front door is opened by a young woman and FROHIKE pushes BYERS in through the front door and BYERS cannons into the young woman who cries out in alarm. FROHIKE slams the door shut and yells through the letter box.)

FROHIKE: We're on to you, you son of a bitch!

(Just then a couple of envelopes are pushed through the letter box. BYERS glares at FROHIKE who is sat on the floor. BYERS goes over and picks up the letters and whispers "FROHIKE!" at him.)

(BYERS hands the letters to the woman, SHELLY MIZER.)

BYERS: I'm very sorry.

(SHELLY snatches the letters from BYERS and then looks at FROHIKE.)

SHELLY: Oh no. You! Get out of here!

FROHIKE: Just hold it before you call the cops again.

SHELLY: That's a good idea.

(SHELLY goes off and starts telephoning. FROHIKE rushes after her, with a copy of the document.)

FROHIKE: Would you just look at this? It's a government document that mentions your father.

SHELLY: (On phone) I'd like to report a breaking and entering. (She waits on the phone and eventually sighs) Yeah, I'll hold.

FROHIKE: Your father was a great man. To me he was Prometheus trying to bring fire to mortals and I'm going to ensure that his work sees the light of day, no matter what. Now, are you gonna help me?

(SHELLY snatches the paper from FROHIKE. She looks at it and then back at FROHIKE. She is still holding the phone as she ponders FROHIKE's request.)


(Cut to The Lone Gunmen offices. LANGLY is working on a laptop, JIMMY is looking at the piece of paper. LANGLY yells.)

LANGLY: Dahhhhh! That's it, man. I left it all in the field. There's no record of this pallet 62/67221 anywhere. I cracked into every data cache I can think of - DOD, Department of Energy, oil and car companies, government warehouses, that number just isn't out there.

JIMMY: Did you try the internet?

(LANGLY looks at JIMMY.)

LANGLY: Yes. I even tried the internet.

(LANGLY rubs his eyes in exhaustion.)

JIMMY: Here's what I don't get. FROHIKE's really, really into this car, and then this thing shows up about the car. That seems pretty lucky.

LANGLY: Yeah, it's lucky.

(Suddenly LANGLY stands up and grabs the paper.)

LANGLY: There's no FoI stamp on this thing. Every last damn scrap of paper in that office gets a stamp.

(JIMMY doesn't know what to say.)

LANGLY: Jimmy! It's a plant.


(Cut to a reinforced glass panelled door, reading: Records Room R-126. We see through the glass the CLERK and YVES talking together. YVES seems to be chatting him up and he seems to be quite enthralled by her. Someone is watching them from outside the door. YVES leans over the counter and whispers something in the CLERK's ear. YVES walks towards the door and the watcher moves away. YVES leaves the room and walks down the corridor. The watcher comes into view - it's FAST, the man she was talking to earlier. )

(Cut to the CLERK's office. He's sitting there with a contented look and the lipstick remains from a kiss on his face. FAST enters and goes over to the counter.)

FAST: There was a young woman who was just here. What did she want?

(The CLERK appears a little nervous.)

CLERK: What's it to you?

FAST: She was looking for a car. And I would appreciate if you could tell me everything you know about it.

CLERK: Look, I didn't see a ring on her finger. So whoever you are, I don't have to tell you anything.

(FAST just smiles back at him.)

(Later LANGLY and JIMMY are walking down a corridor towards the CLERK's office.)

LANGLY: That government monkey tells us where this came from or we kick his ass. Agreed?

(They have entered the office and walk towards the counter. The camera pans to the counter where the CLERK has his head on the top by the machine which is busy stamping his necktie.)

JIMMY: Oh, man!

(LANGLY covers his mouth with his hand and runs fast out of the office. Cut to the CLERK - the machine is repeatedly pulling on his tie - his eyes are open but he is clearly dead.)

(Fade to black.)


(SHELLY's basement. It is filled with stacks of documents on shelves and tables.)

SHELLY: Personally, I think you're as nuts as he was, but, how about it?

(SHELLY followed by BYERS and FROHIKE descend the stairs. FROHIKE stands and looks around. BYERS starts looking through the papers.)

FROHIKE: These are your father's files?

SHELLY: His files, his grocery receipts, his giant ball of tinfoil. Knock yourselves out.

(She starts up the stairs.)

FROHIKE: And you're sure you don't recognize the initials J.T.?

(SHELLY looks briefly at him and continues up the stairs. BYERS and FROHIKE continue looking round the basement which we see is much larger than at first sight.)

BYERS: Good grief.

FROHIKE: Hey, man. To me this is, this is Valhalla. This is a journey into the brain of a genius.

(BYERS' cellphone rings.)

BYERS: Byers. (Listening on phone) Who got murdered?

(Cut to CLERK's office where a murder investigation is going on.)

LANGLY: The Clerk at the FoI. And I think I know who did it.


LANGLY: Well, three guesses. She wears Ferrari red lipstick and she uses an anagram to sign her name.

(Cut to BYERS)

BYERS: Yves? (FROHIKE looks up.) You're saying Yves murdered the FoI Clerk?

(FROHIKE sits down with a crash.)

(Cut to LANGLY.)

LANGLY: The last name in the log book is Leroy W de Shevala. Re-arrange the letters and it spells -

BYERS (VO): Lee Harvey Oswald.

(Cut to BYERS)

BYERS: Or Yves Adele Harlow.

LANGLY (VO): Yeah. I think she's after what we're after.

(Cut to LANGLY)

LANGLY: Only she's one step ahead of us. (He sees a Sheriff approaching.) Gotta go.

(Cut to BYERS and FROHIKE, who is still struggling where he fell.)

FROHIKE: Hey, Yves is as devious as they come, but I don't buy her as a killer.

BYERS: Neither do I. Nonetheless she was there. And someone murdered that man. I wasn't over-reacting, we are onto something big. We gotta watch our butts. Give me a hand here.

(SHELLY has come back down into the basement.)

SHELLY: What are you doing?

(FROHIKE who is still stuck looks over to a small framed painting on a low shelf.)

FROHIKE: Hey, hold on a second.

SHELLY: You having fun?

FROHIKE: Shelly. What's that?

SHELLY: It's Dad's water-powered car. The day I painted this was probably the last time I saw it.

(She hands it to him and FROHIKE puts it on a desk and turns on a lamp. It's a child's painting, probably about kindergarten age. FROHIKE points to something.)

FROHIKE: See that watermark? This was the back of a sheet of photopaper.

SHELLY: I guess. I used to paint on anything I could find.

(FROHIKE is taking off the backing. He takes out the painting and turns it over. It's a photograph of two men, one in mechanic's overalls, the other in jacket and tie and wearing a hat.)

FROHIKE: That's your Dad.

(He points to the mechanic.)

FROHIKE: Who's that man?

SHELLY. Mr. Guthrie. That was Dad's best friend. I used to play with his son about a million years ago.

(FROHIKE is looking at the photograph through a magnifier. It shows "GUTHRIE" on the mechanic's name tag and then pans to the left to show the initials "J.T." )

FROHIKE: Byers. I think we just found J.T.


(Cut to the VW travelling down a country road. It passes a blue road sign saying: 14 BARD ND.)

(BYERS in the passenger seat checks the side mirror.)

BYERS: No-one following at the moment.

(FROHIKE who is driving is doing likewise.)

BYERS: How are we doing?

(LANGLY is in the back working on a laptop.)

LANGLY: Almost there.

(The laptop shows their position on a map.)

LANGLY: Guthrie's pile will be on your left in seven miles.

(View of the rest of the inside of the VW. Also there are SHELLY and JIMMY.)

SHELLY: So how did you know my Dad? You said he gave you a ride?

FROHIKE: It was 1962. I was a kid and I loved cars. Drew pictures of them. Dreamed about them. My Pop and I were at this diner outside of Pontiac and I noticed your Dad. He takes his water glass, opens up the hood of his car and pours the water right into his carburettor. It was the damnedest thing. He took my Pop and me for a ride, oh, and that engine purred. Smooth as silk. That afternoon was magical.

(SHELLY and JIMMY are enjoying this piece of nostalgia. Suddenly there's a bang and the VW starts to veer off the road. FROHIKE is struggling to control the vehicle.)

FROHIKE: Hold on. Crap, someone's shooting at us.

(An alarm starts sounding. LANGLY is shouting. Eventually the VW comes to a halt. SHELLY gets up.)

FROHIKE: Shelly! Don't go out there!

(SHELLY gets out and looks at the vehicle - the passenger side rear tire is flat. She seems exasperated by the reactions of the others.)

SHELLY: You guys want to see where your gunshot came from?

(The rest climb out.)

SHELLY: So, get a jack.

(The others look somewhat embarrassed. We see LANGLY is wearing a Motorhead t-shirt.)

LANGLY: Um, we left our jack at home. To make room for the night vision goggles.

JIMMY: All right. Here's what we're gonna do. Byers, see that piece of log over there? Grab that. Simple physics, guys. The passenger side is higher so the center of gravity has shifted to the driver's side. Won't be that hard for me to lift the passenger side just enough so that Byers can slide the log under the axle. Instant jack.

(BYERS and FROHIKE exchange a look and BYERS goes over the get the log. JIMMY warms up his arms and shoulders by doing windmill exercises, then waist turns. He spits on each hand then crouches down, his back against the vehicle and grabs hold of the wheel-arch. He braces and starts to lift the vehicle. It gets enough height to raise the damaged tire off the ground. He lifts a bit further - and the VW topples over on to its side. It rolls over and down into a water-filled gully, landing on its side. They all stand and stare. BYERS throws the log down onto the ground.)


(A "Drake" recovery vehicle is towing the VW into a yard. The guys and SHELLY climb out, and the tow truck moves off. )

BYERS: Uh, Langly, stay here with Jimmy. Keep a look out.

LANGLY: What! Why do I get to babysit Gigantor?

FROHIKE: And try to keep him from knocking the earth out of its orbit.

(There's a sound of a cow mooing.)


JIMMY: It's just a cow.

LANGLY: It's not just a cow, it's a nightmare I thought I'd escaped.

(Behind LANGLY and JIMMY a man slides open a barn door and comes out into the yard. LANGLY spots him.)

LANGLY: OK, whatever it takes, we gotta get these people on our side. Do *not* say anything stupid.

MAN: Howdy.

(He shakes LANGLY's and then JIMMY's hands.)

MAN: It's good to see you.

LANGLY: Yes, sir. Good to see you too.

MAN: So, is there anything I should tell you boys. Anything you need to know about J.T.

(LANGLY looks in surprise at JIMMY who smiles and raises his eyebrows.)

LANGLY: Absolutely. Anything you can tell us would be much appreciated.

(LANGLY has the piece of paper. The man turns and starts walking away. LANGLY follows him.)

MAN: Well -

JIMMY: Hold up.

(The man turns back.)

JIMMY: Something's screwy. How did you know we were coming?

MAN: Uh, you're not the boys who are here for J.T.?

LANGLY: Yeah. Yeah, we're the boys.

JIMMY: No. No, wait. I'm confused.

MAN: (angry) Look, are you or are you not here for J.T. because I don't take too kindly to trespassers.

LANGLY: Yeah, yeah. We're here for J.T.

MAN: You are?

(LANGLY nods.)

MAN: You're the experts from the State Extension Office.

LANGLY: (After a pause) Yeah. That's me.

MAN: Well, good then. Could we please get on with his rectal palpation?

(The man walks off. LANGLY stands there, JIMMY looks at him in dismay.)

(Cut to a gloved hand and arm with lubricant being put on it. Pan up - the hand and arm are LANGLY's. He's nervous.)

MAN: Right. Now J.T. is a mite sensitive - so take it easy.

(J.T. moos. LANGLY is almost hyperventilating. JIMMY looks disgusted.)

MAN: Get on with it. I haven't got all day.

(LANGLY is obviously not liking this at all.)

MAN: Here.

(He holds J.T.'s tail just at the right angle so we can't see where LANGLY's putting his hand. LANGLY, grimacing with disgust, begins the procedure. J.T. is vocally expressing displeasure.)

MAN: So, what do you think? Seminal vesiculitis?

LANGLY: C- c- could be.

(J.T. is definitely not happy.)

MAN: (to JIMMY) Hey you, get up front and help me calm J.T. down.

JIMMY: Is this one of those new genetic cow breeds? She's got that one gigantic udder.

(The man tut-tuts at JIMMY who's got a little too close the J.T.)

MAN: J.T. is a bull, not a cow. You grab him there and he's gonna kick your friend right through that wall.

(The man walks over to the side of the shed.)

LANGLY: (Really not enjoying it) Oh, sweet lord, take me now.

(The man is now holding a double barrelled shotgun. JIMMY raises his hands.)

MAN: So who are you boys really, 'cos you don't know a damn thing about livestock. Are you from a collections agency?

(JIMMY with both hands raised shakes his head. LANGLY with his free hand raised shakes his head. At this point SHELLY and FROHIKE enter the shed.)

SHELLY: Jason?

(The man looks at her.)

SHELLY: Jason Guthrie.

MAN: My god. Shelly Mizer?

(Cut to later, outside. JIMMY is pouring water over LANGLY's hand and arm. LANGLY yells.)

LANGLY: Again. Hit me.

(JASON GUTHRIE is looking at the piece of paper BYERS is showing him.)

JASON: J.T. Those are my Dad's initials.

JIMMY: You call your bull Dad?

MAN: I call my bull J.T. in honour of my Dad. We bought him the same week that Dad passed away. (to SHELLY) It was two months back.

SHELLY: I'm sorry.

BYERS: Mr. Guthrie, anything you can tell us about your father and his friend, Mr. Mizer, or this document, anything at all.

MAN: Well, if Dad initialed it and it's got a pallet number, then I assume it's some sort of Air Force materials invoice. (to FROHIKE) You said 1962?

FROHIKE: Yeah. Yes, that's when I figured it was.

JASON: Well Dad was already stationed at Biznot in '62. Biznot Air Base, just down the road here. It's mostly shut down now but Dad was quartermaster for the space wing.

FROHIKE: Missile command?

(JASON nods.)


LANGLY: A lot of Cold War paperwork didn't make it on to the computers. Explains why I couldn't track down the pallet number.

BYERS: We need to pay a covert visit to that airbase. Take a look at their files.

LANGLY: Yeah, except none of us exactly look like G.I. Joe.

BYERS: (Smiles) I wouldn't say none of us do.


(Night. An exterior view of the military base. Large hangars and other buildings.)

(Cut to inside one of the buildings. A man in an Air Force dress uniform is walking down a corridor. It's JIMMY. He throws a salute to the cleaner who looks at him rather oddly. He continues down the corridor. He stops and checks back to the cleaner who goes into a room.)

(Cut to office. JIMMY bursts in. It's dark but JIMMY has a flashlight. He closes the door and starts looking around.)

(Cut to a shot of the lower half of someone wearing fatigues and boots - walking down a corridor.)

(Back in the office, JIMMY is checking out a filing cabinet. He takes out a stack of files.)

(Cut back to the person walking down the corridor, getting nearer.)

(JIMMY switches on a desk lamp and settles down on the floor to look at the files.)

(Person still walking down the corridor. We see it's an MP. He shines his flashlight at an office that's been broken into.)

(JIMMY searches his pockets and takes out the piece of paper. He's checking it against a document in one of the files as the door opens. The document is the same.)

JIMMY: Bingo!

MP: Freeze! Face down on the floor!

(JIMMY winces.)

MP: Come on, buddy.

(JIMMY stretches face down on the floor. He's still holding the document from the file.)

MP: That's government property. Turn that loose.

JIMMY: Sorry, buddy. No can ...

(He grabs the MP's legs and sends him tumbling to the ground. A fight ensues in which the MP throws JIMMY against the filing cabinet. The MP grabs at the document but JIMMY reaches out for it as well and the document is torn in two. JIMMY then wrestles the MP to the ground, pulling his arms behind his back. In the struggle, JIMMY grabs the MP's beret and it comes off in his hand revealing the MP's long, black, wavy hair.)

YVES: (talking in a deep voice) You really are an oaf, you know that?

(YVES pulls out a dental plate similar to the type FROHIKE used in an earlier episode.)

YVES: I suppose half a document's better than none.

(She puts half of the torn document inside her jacket. She kicks JIMMY who ends up on the floor against the filing cabinet.)

(Fade to black.)



FROHIKE: It is an Air Force material invoice dated April 4th, 1962.

FROHIKE: Pallet weight, 2185 pounds.

BYERS: Sounds like the weight of a 1962 Studebaker Lark.

FROHIKE: But it doesn't say where it wound up. Guess that's on the other half.

(They turn to look at YVES.)

LANGLY: Well I vote we call the cops on her.

YVES: For doing what, exactly?

(LANGLY gets up and goes over to her.)

LANGLY: Murder. What do you think? That dead Freedom of Information Clerk that Jimmy and I found. The one you paid a little visit to.

(This seems to be news to YVES.)

YVES: What are you saying? That he's dead!

JIMMY: You didn't know?

YVES: Must have been the guy who hired me to find the car.

FROHIKE: Who is this guy you're working for? What's his story?

YVES: His names is Henry Fast. He's with the petroleum industry. Apparently he wants the car badly enough to kill for it. And I'm not working for him, I only took his money. But I guess he knows that now.

BYERS: The murdered Clerk gave me this censored version of the invoice. He gave you one too?

YVES: He was a wonderful source of information.

BYERS: You had him give me this. In a box with a cinder block, why?

FROHIKE: She knew about my interest in the car. She gave us her lead to see where we'd run with it. So that we'd do all the work and she'd take all the profit.

LANGLY: As usual. Except not this time.

YVES: Oh, no? You forget - I already know where the car is.

(She places her hand on her chest then pulls out the other half of the torn document. She walks over to the table.)

YVES: I don't mind sharing. There's enough billions to go round on this one. As well as danger.

(FROHIKE puts the two halves together. JASON GUTHRIE comes in.)

JASON: Regular meeting in here.

FROHIKE: This is it. (FROHIKE points to the document) Storage room 4, Silo C.

JIMMY: Silo? It wound up on a farm?

JASON: Could be an ICBM silo at Biznot air base.

FROHIKE: As Quartermaster, your father shipped the greatest invention of our lifetime into the most secure spot on earth.

BYERS: The bottom of a nuclear missile silo.

12:04 AM

(Cut to the barn. J.T. still not happy.)

JASON: Quiet there, J.T.

(Shot of feet - polished ordinary shoes, dark trousers - walking across straw-covered floor.)

JASON: I was starting to think you weren't coming.

(JASON looks up - it's the man who hired YVES, FAST.)

JASON: I figured it was smarter to wait until everyone was asleep.

FAST: You don't look very happy. (He takes a document, likely a bank draft or cheque, from his inside coat pocket.) But you should know that you're doing the right thing.

(He hands the paper to JASON.)

FAST: That'll save the old homestead.


(Day. The VW drives into the GUTHRIE yard. FROHIKE is driving, he toots the horn several times. LANGLY, BYERS and JIMMY - still putting on his trousers - come out of the house. FROHIKE goes over to them, holding a newspaper.)

FROHIKE: Come on! Come on! We gotta go, we gotta get to the silo!

(LANGLY and BYERS have reached him, JIMMY has fallen over.)

LANGLY: Why, what's the hurry.


(The headline on the newspaper - Minot Progress Gazette - reads:

End of an era
Silos to be demolished today

BYERS: They're being blown up? Today? As in today?

FROHIKE: Today, as in get in the damn van!

(The four, including JIMMY who's almost got his trousers on, pile into the VW.)

(Cut to road, marching feet, military band.)

11:42 AM

(A Marching Band is processing through the base. Engineers are preparing explosives. There's a crowd of people sitting in a stand, including JIMMY and YVES who's watching something through binoculars. They both look very anxious. YVES checks her watch. Camera pans to outside view of one of the silos.)

(Fade to interior of the silo. Ropes hang down from a metal railing. )

BYERS: Storage rooms are on the lower left.

(FROHIKE is shown in a harness. He has a helmet with a light attached.)

FROHIKE: Easy, boys, these walls are wired to blow.

LANGLY: How low can you go?

(We see all three Gunmen in harnesses as they abseil down to the floor of the silo. They have torches on their helmets illuminating their descent into the darkness.)

BYERS: (Into his microphone) How are we doing for time?

(Cut to YVES and JIMMY.)

YVES: Not good. Hurry it up.

(Through YVES' binoculars we can see two engineers by the top of the silo, arranging wiring.)

(Cut back to silo. The Gunmen are walking through the silo, they have flashlights as well as their helmet lights.)

LANGLY: This place is like a maze.

BYERS: So pick your poison.

FROHIKE: This way.

(They look around some more.)

FROHIKE: Hey guys.

(FROHIKE cleans off the dust on a large metal door. SILO STORAGE is painted on the doors in large letters.)

FROHIKE: This is it.

(They slide open the doors.)

(We cut back to JIMMY and YVES, who is anxiously looking at her watch. The engineers start walking away from the silo and a siren sounds. YVES looks through her binoculars towards the road and sees a flat-bed truck driving off loaded with an old car partially covered by a tarpaulin. She focuses on the driver - it's FAST, the man who hired her. He sees her watching and smiles. YVES and JIMMY leave their seats.)

YVES: Gentlemen. Get out of there.

(Cut to the Gunmen in the silo.)

YVES: (VO) Do you hear me? Get out of there, now.

BYERS: Yves? Yves, you're breaking up.

(Cut to YVES.)

YVES: There's nothing down there. Fast has the car. Do you hear me?

(Cut back to silo. YVES' voice is broken up.)

FROHIKE: This has got to be it.

(They go over to a very large packing case.)

(Cut to above ground. Siren sounds again. The crowd starts counting down, "Ten, nine" etc. The engineers are running.)

(Cut to silo. Shot from inside the packing crate as the Gunmen open it and walk in. Inside the crate is a cinder block.)

(Cut to YVES.)

YVES: Frohike!

(Cut to Lone Gunmen, realizing they've been had.)

(Cut to above ground. The first silo explodes, then a second, then a third. JIMMY and YVES look on in horror. More explosions. The crowd is cheering and applauding.)

YVES: (Annoyed) Sh-

(Fade to black.)


(It's night. A figure is using a pickaxe on a large area of stony rubble. Then picking up and throwing large lumps of concrete.)

YVES: (VO) That concrete you're trying to dig through is nine feet thick.

JIMMY: It doesn't matter.

(JIMMY is crying. He goes back to using the pickaxe. YVES is leaning up against her car.)

YVES: It's reinforced with hardened steel. It's designed to withstand a nuclear blast.

JIMMY: It doesn't matter. You pound anything long enough, it'll give.

YVES: Jimmy stop. It's pointless.

JIMMY: I love those guys.

(Suddenly YVES notices something in the distance. Through the fog walk three weary figures. YVES recognizes them and smiles. She turns to JIMMY.)

YVES: Jimmy.

(JIMMY is still tackling the rubble.)

YVES: Jimmy!

(He turns and sees YVES and the three figures. He realizes who they are and he breaks into a very broad grin.)

JIMMY: Oh, man!

(He rushes forward and grabs the three Gunmen in a bear hug. They quickly break free from his grasp.)

LANGLY: All right, already!

FROHIKE: Don't make me sorry I lived.

JIMMY: How did you get out?

BYERS: We crawled through a ventilation shaft. It surfaced about, uh, half a mile that way.

LANGLY: Underneath a Porta-John

JIMMY: Guys! This is wonderful!

FROHIKE: Yeah. Whoop-de-doo. We didn't get the car. (To YVES) Where did your oil company creep take it, anyway?

YVES: You think if I knew that, I'd be standing here?

FROHIKE: Yeah. But what I want to know is, how did he find out where it was?


(Cut back to GUTHRIE house. GUTHRIE is sat a table. He has the bank draft in front of him.)

JASON: I took it to the bank this morning to deposit it. Then I grabbed it right back from the teller's hand. I couldn't help thinking I was doing something terrible. If anyone should get this it's you Shelly. It's for your Dad's invention. I'm just sorry it's not more.

SHELLY: (to the Gunmen) You three almost got yourselves killed today. I had no idea you'd go so far for this.

FROHIKE: I'd do it again in a minute.

(The other two nod in agreement.)

SHELLY: Then I guess I have a confession to make. Before you go and do something even stupider. (Pause) My father's car is here.

BYERS: Here, where?

LANGLY: Here, here?

(Cut to the barn. A tarpaulin is pulled off a vehicle. FROHIKE touches it lovingly.)

SHELLY: Looked around this morning and found it here.

FROHIKE: Well, this is it. I remember this attachment on the carburettor. This extra hose.

BYERS: What is it doing out here?

JASON: I thought it was junk. It's been sitting here for twenty, thirty years. I wanted to have it hauled away but Dad wouldn't let anyone touch it.

JIMMY: Uh, wait. If this is the real water-powered car then what did the oil company guy drive off with.

YVES: A decoy, apparently. (to SHELLY) Your father put a decoy in the silo.

SHELLY: (to JASON) Your Dad made a vow to my Dad - to hide this car and never tell anyone about it.

FROHIKE: This is it. It's wonderful.

SHELLY: And now we have to destroy it.

FROHIKE: What the hell are you talking about!

SHELLY: It's what my father really wanted. Only he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew the world shouldn't have this.

LANGLY: Why not?

BYERS: Why on earth shouldn't there be a cheap solution alternative to gasoline?

YVES: Think what it would do for the global economy.

SHELLY: It would send it through the roof.

BYERS: Precisely!

SHELLY: Lead to a huge development boom throughout the world.

FROHIKE: Damn straight!

SHELLY: It would mean more people driving cars, more people building places for people to go in those cars. More people, more consumption, more trees cut down, more roads laid in, and what do you pave roads with, by the way? Oil. The same oil you use to lubricate a water-powered car. The same oil that goes into all the plastics that make the tail-lights, the bumpers, the tires, just about everything else on the planet these days. And we'd have four hundred million cars on the road instead of two hundred million. Doesn't sound like utopia to me.

BYERS: I think you're overstating it.

SHELLY: It wouldn't happen overnight, but it would happen. And my father couldn't bear to be responsible for that.

(A man enters the barn. It's FAST.)

FAST: You're forgetting something. We're running out of oil. This invention is what's going to keep us from going back to horse-drawn carriages.

FROHIKE: You don't want to destroy the car?

FAST: Absolutely not. I want to give it to the world. And make billions off of it. Unfortunately there are a lot of witnesses.

(He pulls out a gun. They all raise their hands.)

YVES: That's your plan? You actually believe you're going to shoot every last one of us.

FAST: Well, for what it's worth, you're the only one I'm going to enjoy.

(JIMMY makes a leap and grabs a certain part of J.T.'s anatomy. J.T. kicks back, kicking FAST out through the side of the barn. YVES looks admiringly at JIMMY. JIMMY grins. The rest gather round J.T., FROHIKE checking out J.T.'s undercarriage. JIMMY looks over at JASON who grins back at him.)

(Cut to medics carrying FAST out on a gurney. FAST is in pain. JIMMY grins at YVES who gives him a "Oh, no" raised eyebrows look and gets in her car.)

JIMMY (VO): So that's how history is made. Not the kind of history in reading books or Peter Graves tells you on TV.

(The ambulance drives off.)

JIMMY (VO): I'm talking history no-one even knows about.

(JASON and SHELLY are walking, JASON takes hold of SHELLY's hand.)

JIMMY (VO): Except it happened.

(Close up of JASON's and SHELLY's clasped hands. Then we see them smiling and laughing.)

JIMMY (VO): It changed the world by not changing the world, if you follow me. And sometimes maybe not changing the world is a good thing.


(In the barn, the Gunmen are working on the car.)

JIMMY (VO): And what about that water-powered car? Obviously you don't have one in your driveway so you know it didn't wind up in Detroit, but it didn't get destroyed either.

(FROHIKE unscrews the top of a pipe and pours water into it.)

JIMMY (VO): It's still out there, waiting for a day when smart people of integrity get together ...

(Cut to outside the barn. BYERS slides open the doors.)

JIMMY (VO): ... and figure out a way to use it for the benefit of all mankind.

(FROHIKE is driving the car out.)

JIMMY (VO): Kind of like the atom bomb. It's because three heroes knew when not to act.

(FROHIKE is driving the car, grinning from ear to ear.)

JIMMY (VO): But for one shining moment, one brief afternoon, it was magical.

(Now we are looking down from a roof into the yard: FROHIKE is driving the car round in circles while LANGLY, BYERS and JIMMY follow in delight.)

(Fade to black.)


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