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"You want me to drive, Smitty?" the cabby said.
"No. Just stay here." The gray-suited man turned to Schweid. "I'm Mr. Smith."
"Well, I'm really glad to " But before he
could extend his hand, Schweid was cut off by Smith.
"You should know this," Smith said. "Bindle and Marmelstein are planning to steal your screenplay. They've already tried to sell it to me."
"My assassin movie?" asked Schweid.
"Right," Smith said. "According to them, they've got it tied up tight."
"I'll burn it before I let it be stolen," Schweid said.
"That's just what I want you to do," Smith said. "I want you to go inside your house and erase that screenplay from your computer. Wipe the tapes clean. And there'll be a check for you in the mail tomorrow."
"I knew it was too good to be true," Schweid said. "I just knew that movie would never be made. I'm going to destroy the screenplay right now. And all that other stuff I've got in my machine."
"Good," said Smith.
Schweid started out of the cab. "It didn't have a chance," he said. "I knew that."
The cabdriver said, "What do you mean? It didn't have a chance?"
"It was just too farfetched and too unbelievable," Schweid said. "A superkiller working for the government. No one would buy that."
"I guess you're right," said Remo Williams as Schweid left the cab and walked toward his house.
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After he had gone inside, Remo turned around from the driver's seat and said to Smith, "Suppose he doesn't wipe his tapes clean?"
"It doesn't matter," Smith said. "I already did. There's nothing left on them. And he just didn't have any idea of what the information was. He's harmless."
"Good," said Remo. "Where to?"
"Let's go see Bindle and Marmelstein," Smith said.
Hank Bindle and Bruce Marmelstein smiled in unison as Mr. Smith walked into the office, followed by a dark-haired young man in a black t-shirt and chinos.
"Mr. Smith, I presume," said Marmelstein, extending a hand in greeting.
"I want Schweid's screenplays," Smith said coldly.
"Which one?" said Marmelstein.
"All of them."
"You're going to produce them all?" asked Bindle.
"Yes," said Smith. "I want my creative people to read them over first. Then the three of us will have a meeting to discuss them. And the price."
"Okay," said Marmelstein. "We'll give a meeting." He pointed to Remo. "Who's he?"
"He's my creative people," said Smith. "Do something creative."
Remo creatively broke Marmelstein's marble desk top in half.
The two partners handed Smith a packet of screenplays.
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"They're all in here," Bindle said. "Every one of them."
Smith glanced through them to make sure the one he wanted was there. He saw the title: Loves of an Assassin.
"Did you two read these?" Smith asked.
"Actually, no," said Bindle.
"Why not?" asked Smith.
"Actually, we don't read," said Marmelstein.
"Good," said Remo. "Then actually you don't die."
Smith turned toward the door and Remo followed him.
Bindle called out: "Mr. Smith. When you see that Hamlet script, you're going to love it. And we can do it for you. Every step of the way. We Can give you the greatest Hamlet of all time."
"With tits," said Marmelstein.