Ray: So, fancy meeting you here.

Claire: Do I know you?

Ray: Oh, you want to play it like that, do you?

Claire: What are you talking about?

Ray: San Diego, last year, Lincoln's Bar & Grill in the Gaslamp Quarter. You had misplaced your keys, and to our mutual surprise, they showed up that very evening on the coffee table of my 23rd-floor corner suite in the Harbor Drive Marriott.



Claire: No, I'm sorry, I don't remember that.















Ray: Um... Glancing up with renewed confidence Oh, here we go: The Bahamas, two years ago, the Clubhouse Restaurant on Andros Island. You had misplaced your passport, and, surprise, surprise: it turned up the very next morning in my waterside bungalow on top of the headboard of my four-poster bed.

Claire: Um... I'm sorry, but...

Ray: I can't believe you're playing it like this.

Claire: Look, the only reason I haven't called security, is because you are an extremely handsome man in a top-notch Armani suit and I love your English accent. Otherwise you would already be rotting in a Dubai prison cell!

Ray: Can one rot that quickly around here?

Claire: Oh, you know what I mean, smart aleck: You'll begin the rotting process, okay? Now, leave me alone!

Ray: Well, that's an interesting approach.

Claire: Interesting, huh?

Ray: Yeah, because the only reason that I haven't slapped you across the face a la Rhett Butler for this unconvincing claim of amnesia on your part is because the feeling is mutual.

Claire: Aha. So you think I'm an extremely handsome man, too, do you?

Ray: Oh, you know what I mean, smart aleck.

Claire: You should just be thanking your creator right now that you are a smooth-tongued Adonis. Otherwise, I would strictly be: "Off with his head."

Ray: So, what, are we just going to stand here all day in the middle of a stuffy (though admittedly excellently catered) party and engage in increasingly sultry sexual innuendo, or are we going to find some plausible pretense for departing this sleepy seaside terrace at once for the intoxicating shelter of my latest conveniently located bachelor pad?

Claire: Well, if you put it that way...

Ray: Yes?

Claire: I think I may have just misplaced my plane ticket for my return flight to New York tomorrow morning, so I may be needing your help after all.

Ray: I thought so.

Claire: Mind you, I still don't remember you from Adam.

Ray: Of course not, my dear, of course not!



Ray: So, you really don't remember me from Andros Island?

Claire: Give it a rest, would you?

Ray: What if I could tell you exactly what you had for dinner that night at the Commodore Restaurant in the hotel's second floor lounge!

Claire: Enough, already.

Ray: You started with the house salad, no onions...

Claire: Taxi!

Ray: ...followed by the Beef carpaccio with sun dried tomato tartare...

Claire: All right, now you're embarrassing me.

Ray, triumphantly: And you finished with the tiramisu because the restaurant was out of the cannoli that we had BOTH originally ordered!

Claire: Ha! Gotcha! YOU finished with the tiramisu -- I finally settled on the Butterscotch Budino!

Ray: Oh, so you admit to the Bahamas rendezvous after all, then!



Claire: Shut up and get in the cab.

Ray, to self while entering taxi: Yes! Ooh, I am so good!!!!




Ray: Well, look who's shopping at the Farmer's Market!

Claire: Excuse me?

Ray: Dubai 2004. You lost your plane ticket and it finally turned up in my seaside bungalow.













Claire: Look, I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong person.

Ray: Oh, so you want to play it like THAT, do you?

Claire: I don't know what you're talking about.

Ray suddenly sighs, commences whispering: Look, ahem, I hope you don't mind me departing from the script like this, but I'm getting a little tired of this complicated do-si-do of ours every time that we rendezvous!

Claire, with sudden urgency: Shh! Quiet!

Ray: Why can't we both just be like Old School undercover agents and greet each other with a simple one-line password, such as, "The eagle flies south in winter" or "The cherry trees blossomed early this year"?

Claire: Oh, very well: What have you got?

Ray: My boss, Dick Garsik, at Enormatron is getting ready to unveil some new hair product at the corporate board meeting next Thursday in Dallas.

Claire: So?

Ray: So... the word is that it's going to knock your employer, Giganto-Tech, right out of the corporate water!

Claire: So then, as an ethical corporate undercover agent, I suppose I'd better notify my boss, Howard Tully, about this at once!

Ray, glibly: True, true. We've both learned a lot about ethics from our mutual past stints at the CIA.



Ray: Mind you, a pair of slightly calculating undercover agents (as opposed to two pedantically moral ones) could make a fortune in this case by playing one or t'other of their employers for a fool.

Claire: Oh, look at these tomatoes.

Ray: What? Tomatoes? I'm talking about an unbeatable corporate scam here that we both could pull off together!

Claire, whispering angrily: Quiet, Ray. We're here under the pretext of shopping, remember? with light-hearted, louder voice Oh, honey, look at these huge heirloom tomatoes! Excuse me, sir, are these Brandywines?

Ray, whispering, as Claire holds a particularly large tomato before her eyes in an attitude of intense professional curiosity: Look, they don't yet have the formula for this hair product of theirs, but I think I know where it is.

Claire, whispering: Oh, really? aloud Oh, look at these so-called "personal size" watermelons. How convenient is THAT!

Ray, finally playing along: Um, yes. You know, honey, they say that if you hold a watermelon like a baby and slap it on the bottom, it should sound like you're hitting a jug of water.

Claire, whispering angrily again: What the hell are you talking about, Ray?

Ray, whispering defensively: What? I'm helping you create a plausible back story in the minds of any potentially suspicious onlookers.

Claire, still whispering: Can't you come up with anything better than that? "Slap it on the bottom," indeed! Anyway, who has this almighty hair formula that you're talking about and how do we find them? aloud Excuse me, ma'am, are these hydroponic blueberries on sale here or does the two-for-one deal only apply to field-grown?

Ray, whispering: Great: She complains about MY supposedly implausible dialogue, and then she asks the girl at the cash register if the blueberries are hydroponic?! Please!

Claire, whispering: Shut up and tell me who's got the formula, Ray. aloud Excuse me, miss: do you think these would make good PIE cherries?

Ray, whispering: It seems there's a dissolute Harvard dropout down in Rio by the name of Randy Partiz who came up with the anti-balding formula for his college thesis -- the one that he never got around to turning in to his professor.

Claire, whispering: Yes, continue.

Ray, whispering: When he realized that his thesis formula was worth a mint, he patented the idea, took a loan on his future expected royalty windfall, and moved to a penthouse apartment on Copacabana Beach with the self-professed goal of "partying 24/7" while arbitrating an immensely profitable bidding war between all the major international players in the cosmetic industry.

Claire, whispering: So, what are we waiting for then? aloud Now, that's what I call fresh! Look at these bright-yellow flower petals on these summer squash! whispering We've got a plane to catch for Rio, my friend. Ha ha!

Ray, suddenly forgetting to whisper: Yes! That's what I'm talking about now! then, realizing his faux pas Ahem, I mean, these are PRECISELY the kind of zucchini that I like, too, my darling: all... all ripe... and... and stuff.





Claire: Remind me again why we brought our vaguely Indian computer geek with us down here to the Cidade Maravilhosa?













Ray: Relax, Claire. He's here to write a computer program that will let us export images from our patent holder's penthouse photocopier -- you know, for when you break in there and root around for the formula.

Claire: Why can't I just walk out with the formula after I find it, like an ordinary thief?

Ray: Because the Enormatron stockholders meeting is tonight at 8:00 P.M. Eastern Standard Time.

Claire: So?

Ray: So, we need to electronically forward the formula to rival Giganto-tech before 8:00, so that your boss will think that he's foiled my boss --

Claire: Yes?

Ray: Whereas actually we will have only pretended to foil my boss, while in reality we will have double-crossed your boss, who will then hold his own press conference, at which he'll make a posthumous fool of himself by unveiling a product to which he doesn't even own the rights yet!

Claire: Right. And this is going to make money for us how, exactly?

Ray, sighing: I was afraid you'd ask that question. Look, it's complicated, okay? Suffice it to say that the last time I wrote this entire thing out in flow-chart form on a note pad (last night on the plane, to be exact), we came away with a minimum of 35 million big ones.

Claire, looking up: Oh, great. Here comes Mister "Dress Down Fridays" to join us. Why does that dude always dress like a grade-A bum?

Ray: Now, darling, he's a computer geek, remember? They're SUPPOSED to dress like that. Indeed, I'm not sure I would have hired the dude if he had come to his job interview wearing anything close to the "appropriate attire."

Sanji: Ah, pleased to have been meeting you.

Ray: Oh, Sanji, please, sit down. We're about to order some authentic chiaroscurro cuisine.

Claire: That's Churrascaria cuisine, Ray, not chiaroscurro: This is a restaurant, not an artist colony.

Sanji: Ah, yes: Portuguese barbecue, reminiscent of the fireside roasts of the hardy Brazilian gaucho of days go by.

Ray: See, Claire, Sanji is not just another Johnny One-Note from the online world.

Claire: So, where did you learn so much about Brazilian cuisine, Sanji?

Sanji: Sanji create Web page for this very restaurant chain. Speaking of which, I recommend the all-you-can-eat buffet for just 38 reals.

Ray: Hmm....

Sanji: Complete with salad bar and three different meats, including veal.

Ray: First things first, Sanji. Have you hacked into the photocopier in the penthouse suite of that dissolute Harvard dropout yet?

Sanji: Sanji has done so, sahib.

Claire: Sahib?

Ray: So Claire will be able to use the copier to send us a picture of the formula once she finds it up there?

Sanji: It was all very easy, sahib: I just did a module linking hack on the copier company's server and routed the output via a dual RAM port on my option board back at our 4-star bungalow on Sugarloaf Mountain.

Ray: Great. Well, I suppose we'd better order dinner then. We can't pull off the biggest corporate heist of the season on an empty stomach! Waiter! Yo, waiter!

Sanji: Suave ne nave, Sahib. Allow me.

Ray: Well, excuuuuuse me. Looks like Sanji must have created a website for a Portuguese language school at some point in his storied past. (You've been holding out on us, Sanji, old boy!)

Sanji: Escute! E ai, camarero!

Ray, with sudden air of vindication: See, Claire: NOW maybe you can understand why I hired somebody who dresses like a total pig! Humph!

Sanji: Nós estamos prontos para requisitar agora!

Ray: Just listen to that. If you ask me, he's more than earned the right to wear his shirt out!



Claire: Ray, do you read me, over?

Ray: Loud and clear, sweetheart. Have you got the bogus card key?













Claire: Yes, I'm inserting it into the slot right now.



Ray, aside to Sanji: She's in!

Claire: Wow, now, THIS is stylish!

Ray: What is it, Claire?

Claire: There's a fireplace with granite surround, a white shag carpet, a computer nook AND a breakfast nook, and two giant curvilinear entertainment centers complete with dedicated gaming consoles!

Ray: Okay, Robin Leach. Pick your jaw back up off the floor and look for the formula, already.

Claire: Oh, very well, I'm looking.

Ray: Are you ready on your end, Sanji?

Sanji: All systems go, sahib: She just has to copy the formula on the penthouse copying machine, and it will automatically send a copy to the urgent attention of big-shot Howard Tully at Giganto-Tech HQ, number one, Hot Air Terminus, Dallas, Texas.

Ray: Good.

Sanji: Just in time for that gentleman to hold a press conference in which he can tell the world that his multinational corporation (and not Enormatron, thank you very much) has come up with a cure for baldness.

Ray: Claire, how are you doing?

Claire: I'm still looking.

Ray: The dude could come back any minute now, so hurry up, would ya?

Claire: I'm going as fast as I can. Oh, where can it be?!

Ray: Have you checked on the coffee table? (Surely there's a coffee table up there.)

Claire: There's three, as a matter of fact, in this spacious living area alone -- each of them carbon fiber babies, by the look of it.

Ray: I thought so.

Claire: But why would he leave the formula in plain sight on a... coffee table, albeit a ridiculously expensive one?

Ray: Claire?

Claire: Well, I'll be: It is sitting right here as plain as day on coffee table number one. How did you know?

Ray: That's why they pay me the big bucks, darling.

Claire: What, because you have a habit of making incredibly lucky guesses, do you mean?

Ray: You know what they say: chance favors the prepared mind.

Claire: Now then, where is this special photocopier that will instantly send this vital information to Enormatron for me?

Ray: No, we're sending the information to Giganto-Tech, Claire, not Enormatron.

Claire: What?

Ray: Yeah, we're outsmarting Enormatron.

Claire: I thought we were outsmarting Giganto-Tech?

Ray: No, we are pretending to DOUBLE-CROSS Giganto-Tech, whereas we're actually TRIPLE-crossing Enormatron!

Claire: Whatever. I just hope there's money at the end of this ridiculously convoluted scheme.

Ray: Find that copier, quick!

Claire: I'm looking. Why don't you ask Sanji where it's located?

Ray: Sanji?

Sanji: I don't know, Sahib. It is just in the apartment somewhere.

Claire: Sanji, do you have any idea how big this apartment is? I am in the hall of the mountain king up here, for goodness' sakes!

Ray: Oh, no: I see Partiz returning from his nightly debauch, as drunken as a Brazilian skunk! Find that photocopier, Claire, quick!

Claire: Wow! Would you look at this gorgeous view of Guanbara Bay?!

Ray: Claire, please! This is no time to be admiring the view!

Claire: Relax, Ray: because believe it or not, the photocopier is actually out here on the veranda.

Ray: Yes! Now, hurry! The dude is stumbling into the apartment building elevator!

Claire: Let's see now, I'll just place the formula on the platen thingie and...

Ray: Hurry!

Claire: Hit "copy"!

Ray: And? And?

Claire: Oh, rats! It says it's "warming up"! Damn these energy-saver appliances! At the end of the day, they're just plain deadly!

Ray: Claire, the elevator door is opening on the 23rd floor.

Claire: Come on, warm up, you stupid copier!

Ray: Oh, no, the dude has just discovered that somebody worked the lock. He's mad -- though fortunately too drunk to seek any immediate vengeance.

Claire: It's finally ready. I'm hitting "go"!

Sanji: She sent it!

Ray: Now, get out of there, Claire, by any and all means necessary!

Claire: But how?

Ray: I don't know: Lie if you have to?!

Partiz, slurring: Who the... 'eck are you?

Claire, in sudden confusion: Uh, ahem, room service, your honor.

Partiz: Room service?

Claire: I mean, hotel security: We had some complaints about noise coming from this apartment.

Partiz: But that's impossible: I have been out of my apartment for the last four hours.

Claire: Of course, sir: Just a routine investigation on my part. I can see you are fully innocent of all charges and I shall now report that fact to the front desk, where I'll also warn them to get their facts right the next time before they decide to bother distinguished guests such as yourself with important formulas.

Partiz: What's that?

Claire: Will there be anything else, sir?

Partiz: What the --

Claire: Okay, then, I'll just nudge your lumbering drunken frame out of the doorway here and then be on my way...

Paritz: But --

Claire: Phew! I'm out. Best of all, he's so drunk, he probably won't even remember our encounter tomorrow morning.

Ray, indignantly: Some Mr. Nobel Prize HE turned out to be.

Claire: I'm on my way back to Papa Bear.

Ray: What? I mean, that's right, baby bear: We have the porridge ready for you.

Claire: Baby bear? I'm Mama Bear, remember? Sanji is Baby Bear.

Ray: Whatever. Just get back here so that we can arrange travel to our next fabulous 5-star destination.

Claire: Meaning...?

Ray: Meaning, of course, the Geneva, Switzerland, headquarters of Giganto-Tech Inc., where we will sell the formula to your boss, Howard Tully, for a price that will keep both of us in carbon fiber coffee tables for the rest of our natural born lives!!!





Lawyer: Vat you have given us here is zee formula for baby food.

Ray and Claire: WHAT?!

Lawyer: Sweet potato puree, to be exact.













Claire: We've been triple-crossed.

Ray: Make that quadruple-crossed the way I'm crunching the numbers now.

Lawyer: Come, gentlemen, let us leave these two wretches in the air of haughty disdain that they so richly merit from us. On three, gentlemen, on three, now: 1, 2, 3 ...

Corporate trio: HUMPH!

Ray: Okay, we'll cut the price in half.



Claire: Yeah, that's right: That can't be any ORDINARY baby food since it comes from the mind of a world-class chemist.

Ray: Nobel-prize material, gentlemen, we assure you.





Fade to Ray and Claire sitting on their suitcases in nearby lobby. Concierge from upstairs hotel approaches pair push champagne cart.

Concierge: Monsieur le Ray, Madame la Claire...?

Claire: Yes?



Ray: And yes?

Concierge: Ziss is courtesy of Monisuer Howard Tully, who zay he pay a certain Sanji to, how you zay, double-cross you.

Ray: WHAT?!

Concierge: Oh, monsieur, I only repeat zee message in broken English, I know nothing of ziss affair myself.

Claire: Well, how do you like that?













Concierge: Und, now, I vill pour your each a fluted glassful of champagneeeee....



Concierge: Und then bid you both...



Concierge: zee, how do you zay, adieus...

Ray: No, YOU say 'adieu'.

Concierge: I beg zee gentleman's pardons.

Claire: He means that "adieu" is a French word in the first place, so it's inappropriate for you as an apparent Swiss citizen to say -- Oh, never mind: but just leave the bottle, will you? It's the least that triple-crosser Howard Scully can do for us now!

Ray: Uh, that's a quadruple-crosser, I think, sweet'ums.





Ray: Well, what now.



Claire: I guess there's nothing left for us but to admit that we love each other deeply notwithstanding our professional paranoia and then to use our remaining cash (if any) to shuffle off to yet another four-star location where we can mastermind a real PROFITABLE affair this time, keeping it lucratively simple, please, Ray.

Ray: Honey, I mapped this thing all out on the plane, and by rights, we should have 35 million right now.

Claire: Whatever. Let's trundle out front to get a cab to the airport.

Ray: Right.

Claire: Meanwhile, we'd better start up our traditional banter so that, if nothing else, we'll confuse the living bejesus out of anybody that might be trying to tail us.

Ray: Right. I'll go first then, shall I?

Claire: That's what the script says, old boy.



Ray, as if suddenly coming to life: So, fancy meeting you here.

Claire: Do I know you?

Ray: Oh, you want to play it like that, do you?

Claire: What are you talking about?

Ray: San Diego, last year, Lincoln's Bar & Grill in the Gaslamp Quarter. You had misplaced your keys, and to our mutual surprise, they showed up that very evening on the coffee table of my 23rd-floor corner suite in the Harbor Drive Marriott....



voices fading in again briefly under soundtrack:

Ray: No, wait a minute: The Bahamas, two years ago, the Clubhouse Restaurant on Andros Island!