DARKNESS.  As the MAIN TITLES BEGIN, the theater thrums with
            a subsonic HISS which mounts in all the rattling power of
            THX, and we...

            BURN IN, BRIGHT LIVING COLOR:

            EXT. STRATOSPHERE - DAY

            The glory of stratospheric dawn.  The engines of a silver
            Lockheed U-2F rasp upon the trace oxygen here at 72,500 feet. 
            Scattered cloud formations hang over the blue brilliance of
            sea far, far below.  In the haze, the looming edge of land.

            SUPER: FLIGHT G-3101. OCTOBER 14TH, 1962. OVER CUBA.

            The spy plane's CAMERA DOORS whine open.  The glassy eye of
            the 36-inch camera focuses.  And then with a
            BANGBANGBANGBANG, its high-speed motor kicks in, shutter
            flying.

                                                           MATCH CUT TO:

            INT. O'DONNELL BEDROOM - DAY

            A simple CAMERA, snapping away furiously in the hands of a
            giggling MARK O'DONNELL, 4.  He's straddling and in the face
            of his dad, KENNY O'DONNELL, 30's, tough, Boston-Irish, with
            a prodigious case of morning hair.  Kenny awakens, red-eyed.

                                HELEN (O.S.)
                      Mark, get off your father!

            Kenny sits up to the morning bedlam of the O'Donnell house.

            KIDS screech, doors bang all over.  Kenny pushes Mark over,
            rolls out of bed, snatches up the corners of the blanket and
            hoists Mark over his shoulder in a screaming, kicking bundle.

            INT. O'DONNELL HALLWAY - DAY

            Kenny, with Mark in the bundle on his shoulder, meets his
            wife HELEN going the other way in the hall with LITTLE HELEN,
            1, in her arms.

                                KENNY
                      Hi, hon.

            They kiss in passing.  Daughter KATHY, 12, races by in angry
            pursuit of her twin, KEVIN, 12.

                                HELEN
                      Don't forget, Mrs. Higgins wants to talk
                      to you this afternoon about Kevin.  You
                      need to do something about this.

                                KENNY
                      Kids are supposed to get detention.

            Kenny dumps the bundle with Mark in a big pile of dirty
            laundry.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. MCCOY AIR FORCE BASE - FLORIDA - DAY

            A pair of massive FILM CANISTERS unlock and drop from the
            belly of the U-2.  TECHNICIANS secure them in orange carrying
            cases, lock them under key, fast and proficient.  They whisk
            them out from under the spy plane.

            The Technicians run for an idling Jeep.  They sling the cases
            into the rear of the vehicle which in turn accelerates away
            hard, curving across the runway for another waiting plane.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            INT. O'DONNELL KITCHEN - DAY

            A kitchen out of the late 1950's.  Kenny drinks coffee, ties
            a tie, rifles through a briefcase at the kitchen table.  The
            horde of kids, ages 2-14, breakfast on an array of period
            food.  Kenny grills the kids while he goes over papers.

                                KENNY
                      Secretary of Defense...

                                KEVIN
                      Dean Rusk!

                                KENNY
                      Wrong, and you get to wax my car.

            KENNY JR. smirk at Kevin.

                                KENNY JR.
                      Rusk is State, moron.  Robert McNamara.

                                HELEN
                      Got time for pancakes?

                                KENNY
                      Nope.  Attorney General?

            A PHONE RINGS as the kids cry out en masse.

                                KIDS
                          (chorus)
                      Too easy!  Bobby, Bobby Kennedy!

            Kenny glances up at the wall.  There are two phones, side by
            side.  One RED, one BLACK.  It's the black one ringing. 
            Helen answers.  Kenny goes back to his papers.

                                KENNY
                      All right, wise guys, Assistant
                      Secretary of State for Latin America...

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. STEUART BUILDING - DAY

            A U.S. Navy truck lurches to a stop in front of the run-down,
            brick-faced seven-story Steuart Building on 5th and K.  Rear
            doors BANG open, and out hop two MARINE GUARDS, side arms
            drawn, film canisters in a carrying case between them.

            SUPER:  NATIONAL PHOTOGRAPHIC INTERPRETATION CENTER
            (NPIC), WASHINGTON D.C.

            As the Marines approach the building, front doors SLAM open.

            INT. OPERATIONS OFFICE, NPIC - DAY

            A bespectacled OPERATIONS MANAGER hands a clipboard to one of
            the big Marine Guards who in turn hands him a set of keys. 
            The Manager unlocks the film cases.  PHOTO INTERPRETERS swoop
            in, whisk away the contents: SPOOLS OF FILM.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. O'DONNELL RESIDENCE - DAY

            A black Lincoln pulls away from the modest white house on a
            tidy Washington D.C. residential street.

            EXT. WASHINGTON D.C., AERIAL - DAY

            The car threads its way through the Washington traffic, past
            the big administrative buildings, down tree-lined avenues,
            takes a turn into a gate.  As the car stops at the gate, the
            CAMERA flies past, revealing it's the gate to the WHITE
            HOUSE.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            INT. NPIC - DAY

            CLOSE ON the five-thousand rolls of film spewing through
            processing equipment, its streaking passage leading us
            straight through the development machinery to:

            A SERIES OF VARIOUS SHOTS:

            Photo Interpreters power up light tables, stereoscopic
            viewers, zip across the floor in wheeled chairs.

            Flying switches, flickering lights, humming motors.  It's an
            eerie dance of technological black magic.

            Another pair of Interpreters loom out of the darkness, side
            by side, ghostly looking, their glasses reflecting the glare
            of the light table, like magicians staring into a crystal
            ball.

            IMAGES FILL THE SCREEN

            Aerial shots, flashing by.  Cuban countryside from 72,500
            feet.  A MAGNIFYING GLASS swings down on its arm in front of
            us, magnifying the carpet of trees... and a row of six canvas
            covered OBJECTS among them.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. WHITE HOUSE - WEST WING - DAY

            Kenny, in business suit and tie, trots up the steps, and a
            MARINE GUARD snaps the door open for him.

            INT. WEST WING - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny, briefcase in hand, weaves his way through the empty,
            ornate hallways of the West Wing.  Past magnificent doorways,
            early American furniture, paintings.  He finally reaches a
            doorway, goes through into:

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            A long, narrow affair, window at the back looking out into
            the Rose Garden.  Kenny dumps his briefcase on the desk,
            shucks off his coat, removes a folder from his briefcase,
            turns and heads back out...

            INT. WEST WING HALLS - CONTINUOUS

            And into the warren of offices and halls that is the working
            White House.  He takes a right, passes the doors to the Oval
            Office right next to his office, goes down a long, straight
            hall, into...

            INT. MANSION - CONTINUOUS

            The formal main building, the executive mansion.  He passes
            the busts of Presidents past, turns left into an elevator. 
            The doors close.

            INT. 3RD FLOOR - FAMILY QUARTERS - DAY

            The doors open.  Kenny strides out onto a DIFFERENT FLOOR,
            the third.  He heads down the long, posh hall of the family
            quarters.  Fine furnishings, art.  The living White House.

            He approaches the double doors at the end of the hall guarded
            by a cluster of SECRET SERVICE AGENTS.  An agent opens one of
            the doors.

                                KENNY
                      Morning, Floyd.

                                SECRET SERVICE AGENT
                      Good morning, Mr. O'Donnell.

            INT. PRESIDENT'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny enters the elegant bedroom.  The figure alone at a side
            table by the window, drinks coffee, breakfast still spread
            out before him, Washington Post obscuring his face.

                                KENNY
                      Top o' the morning, Mr. President.

            The figure lowers the paper.

            It is PRESIDENT JOHN F. KENNEDY.  He's wearing boxers and a
            tank top.  Unshaven.  Bed-head.

            Kenny O'Donnell, former ward-pol and long-time Kennedy man,
            is his Chief of Staff...

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Morning, Kenny.  You see this goddamn
                      Capehart stuff?

            The President rattles the paper.  Kenny collapses in the
            chair opposite the President, sprawls, comfortable.

                                KENNY
                      Bayh's going to lose, but it's good
                      groundwork for us for '64.

            Kenny steals a piece of buttered toast off the President's
            plate.  The President spares him a glance.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I was eating that.

                                KENNY
                      No you weren't.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                          (scanning the paper)
                      I was, you bastard.

            Kenny takes a defiant bite.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      So what've we got today?

                                KENNY
                      Today, for your information, is Pulaski
                      Day.  We're going to Buffalo...

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            INT. HOTEL LOBBY - DAY

            SUPERIMPOSE: BUFFALO, NEW YORK

            A luxury hotel crowded with LOCAL POLS: the Democratic
            machine of Buffalo.  Beyond the open floor-to-ceiling
            windows, a CROWD.  The Pulaski Day Parade, a glimpse of '69s
            Americana.  High School bands blare Sousa.  The scene is
            deafening, boisterous.  Pols trail Kenny as he crosses the
            room: fast, tough, on-the-go.

                                POL #1
                      We're putting up Potowski next time. 
                      Will you guys come out for him?  

                                KENNY
                      Who else you got?

                                POL #2
                      There's Richardson.  Good kid.

                                KENNY
                      Got the touch?

                                POL #2
                      Yeah.  Still moldable, too.

                                KENNY
                      Everyone likes a good kid...

            And like that, a congressional candidate is made...  Kenny
            accelerates, leaving the Pols behind.  Suddenly, outside the
            windows, the crowd swells forward with a collective ROAR.

                                CROWD
                      MR. PRESIDENT!  PRESIDENT KENNEDY!

            EXT. HOTEL - DAY

            Kenny heads down the steps with New York Times Washington
            Bureau Chief, SCOTTY RESTON. Anonymous, they weave their way
            through the crowd for a police car on a side street.

                                RESTON
                      How's my favorite President?

                                KENNY
                      Busy.  But you've got his heart.

                                RESTON
                      I want an hour with him.

                                KENNY
                      I said his heart, not his attention.

                                RESTON
                      Three weeks before midterm elections? 
                      You need me.

                                KENNY
                      Well.  There is a new civil rights
                      initiative he wants to talk about.

                                RESTON
                      I'm doing a piece on Skybolt.  I hear
                      Macmillan's meeting with him in Nassau.

            Kenny just sighs as they make their way up to the police car. 
            A Secret Service Agent opens the door for him, another is
            behind the wheel.

                                KENNY
                      We're giving the Brits Polaris instead. 
                      But a story'll just aggravate things.

            Scotty stares at Kenny, determined.  Kenny looks away.  And
            his eye catches a tall, willowy BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.  She is
            talking, excited, embarrassed, to two more SECRET SERVICE
            AGENTS.  What they're saying is lost in the noise.

            Scotty follows Kenny's gaze.  Then the two men share a look,
            a silent understanding.  Kenny glances at the Secret Service
            guy holding the car door, tilts his head at the woman.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      Not today.  He's got tight schedule.

            The Agent nods, heads for the other Agents and the Beautiful
            Woman.  Scotty acts like nothing has happened.

                                RESTON
                      Pretending there isn't a problem won't
                      fix it.  He can clear the air on Anglo
                      American relations.

                                KENNY
                      Forget it, Scotty.

                                RESTON
                      Let him talk to me, he makes Macmillan
                      look good, I print it, the British
                      public likes it, Macmillan owes you.

            The formula's exactly what Kenny wants to hear.  He pretends
            to consider, pretends to cave as he gets in the car.

                                KENNY
                      All right, you're in.  Half hour.

            Reston's won.  But so has Kenny, and he's made Scotty feel
            tough in the bargain.  People like Kenny.

            INT. POLICE CAR - DAY

            In the back seat, Kenny stares out the window at the parade
            goers.  The Secret Service Agents leave the Woman. 
            Disappointed, the Woman turns and vanishes into the crowd. 
            It's an eerie moment.  Something troubles Kenny, and he
            glances up at the sky.  A premonition.  But it's a clear,
            clear blue.  A day like this, all is right with the world...

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            INT. NPIC - NIGHT

            Six Interpreters huddle around IMAGES on a light table.  One
            of them shoulders his way into the group and THUMPS a black
            BINDER on the table.  There are grim nods of agreement.

            The book is open to a PICTURE of an SS-4 BALLISTIC MISSILE. 
            A photo from Moscow Mayday parade.  An icon of the nuclear
            age escorted like some devil-god to a holocaust...

            END MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE

            EXT. THE WHITE HOUSE - DAY

            The White House casts long shadows this gorgeous October
            morning.  Blue sky; the first flash of color in the trees.

            SUPER: TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16TH, 1962.  DAY 1.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Briefcase and coat in hand, Kenny enters his office - and
            finds THREE MEN.  Standing there.  Thin-haired, bespectacled,
            academic-looking MCGEORGE BUNDY, 43, the National Security
            Advisor.  The two men in the background: PHOTO INTERPRETERS.

            Kenny hangs up his coat, sees the Interpreters' large black
            display cases.  And suddenly the world is slightly off
            kilter.

                                KENNY
                      Hey, Mac.  You're up bright and early.

                                BUNDY
                      No, Ken.  I need to see him now...

            INT. WHITE HOUSE - RESIDENTIAL FLOOR - DAY

            Kenny emerges from the elevator with Bundy.  They head down
            the long, posh 3rd floor hall, the Presidential Detail
            guarding the doors at the end.  But the familiar route feels
            strange, and lasting an eternity.  Kenny eyes the package
            under Bundy's arm, its TOP SECRET stamp visible.

                                KENNY
                      Morning, Floyd.

                                SECRET SERVICE AGENT
                      Good morning, Mr. O'Donnell.  Mr. Bundy.

            The Agent opens the door.  Bundy pauses, Kenny with him.

                                KENNY
                      What's it about?

                                BUNDY
                      Cuba.

            Bundy is tense.  But Kenny relaxes.

                                KENNY
                      Just Cuba?  Okay, I got work to do, see
                      you guys downstairs.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny's office is a raging beehive of activity.  Kenny works
            the phone as ASSISTANTS come and go with files.

                                KENNY
                          (to phone, scary calm)
                      Listen to me, you worthless piece of
                      disloyal shit.  You will pull Daly's man
                      on the circuit.  You owe your goddamn
                      job to this administration.
                          (beat, listening)
                      There is a word you need to learn.  It
                      is the only word in politics.  Loyalty. 
                      LOYALTY you motherfucking piece of shit!

            As Kenny THROWS the phone down at the receiver, and the
            PRIVATE DOOR to the Oval Office suddenly opens.  Kenny
            glances up.  President Kennedy stands there in the doorway. 
            Kenny thinks he's reacting to the tirade.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      What're you looking at?  This isn't the
                      blessed order of St. Mary the Meek.

            Kenny stops.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      Excuse us.

            The Assistants leave, shutting the door after them.  Kenny
            rises.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I think you should come in here.

            Kenny starts for the door.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      Still think Cuba isn't important?

                                KENNY
                      Not as far as the election goes.

            The President lets Kenny by into...

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            WE ENTER from a different angle than we usually enter in
            movies: through the side door.  The President's ornate desk
            sits on the right, windows looking out on the Rose Garden
            behind it.  Kenny's gaze swivels to:

            THE OTHER END OF THE ROOM where the Interpreters, their
            crewcut chief, ARTHUR LUNDAHL, 50's, and Bundy stare at him. 
            They're surrounded by PRESENTATION BOARDS propped up around
            the fireplace.  The President's rocking chair and sofas.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      You used to look down a bomb sight for a
                      living, Ken.  What do you see?

            In eerie silence, as all eyes follow him, Kenny makes his way
            among the presentation boards with the U-2 imagery, stops in
            front of the picture of the six canvas-covered objects.  It
            unleashes a wave of memories.

                                KENNY
                      We hit a Nazi buzz bomb field in '45. 
                          (beat, incredulous)
                      It looks like a rocket base...

            He puts his hand out to touch the image, then turns and looks
            to the President, knowing what they must be.

                                BUNDY
                      On Sunday morning, one of our U-2s took
                      these pictures.  The Soviets are putting
                      medium range ballistic missiles into
                      Cuba.

            Shock.  Silence.  Kenny glances to the other men.

                                LUNDAHL
                      They appear to be the SS-4: range of a
                      thousand miles, three-megaton nuclear
                      warhead.

                                KENNY
                      Jesus Christ in Heaven...

            INT. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR'S CENTER - DAY

            A bank of WHITE HOUSE OPERATORS work the switchboard, fingers
            flying, voices overlapping in a babble of:

                                VARIOUS OPERATORS
                      Please hold for the White House...Mr.
                      O'Donnell for Secretary McNamara...
                      White House Operator... please hold...

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - DAY

            Kenny carries the phone with him as he paces hard from his
            desk to his window.

                                KENNY
                      The principals are assembling in an
                      hour.  See you then.

            Kenny hangs up.  The President enters.  A beat.  And in that
            beat, there's a void.  The two men are off their emotional
            stride, trying to grope their way out of shock.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Where's Bobby?

            Kenny nods, acknowledging the feeling

                                KENNY
                      Should be here any minute.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Good.

            And we glimpse the chemistry of these guys by Bobby's
            absence.  It's like they're missing their third wheel.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      Good.

                                BOBBY (O.S.)
                      Where the hell are you?

            The President and Kenny hear him out in the hall.  And the
            tension goes out of them instantly.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      In here!

            They turn to the door as BOBBY KENNEDY, 37, the President's
            younger brother/Attorney General, enters.  Bobby shuts the
            door behind him, falls into Kenny's chair, and clearly
            grappling with his own disbelief, is hushed.

                                BOBBY
                      Jesus Christ, guys.  What the hell's
                      Khruschev thinking?

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Did you have any indication of this from
                      Georgi?  Any possible warning or sense
                      of motivation?

                                BOBBY
                          (shaking his head)
                      Complete snowjob.  And then we went out
                      and told the country they weren't
                      putting missiles into Cuba.
                          (beat)
                      By the way, you realize we just lost the
                      midterms.

                                KENNY
                      Who gives a shit about the midterms now? 
                      The Soviets are putting nuclear weapons
                      ninety miles away from us.

                                BOBBY
                      You mean there's something more
                      important than votes?  Didn't think I'd
                      live to see the day, Ken.

            The President paces away, grim.

                                KENNY
                      Jesus.  I feel like we've caught the Jap
                      carriers steaming for Pearl Harbor.

            INT. WEST WING HALLWAY - DAY

            The President strides down the plush hallway, Bobby and Kenny
            flanking him.  Unconsciously, all three men assume the same
            gait: confident, powerful, no longer disoriented.

            And before our eyes, the three men's game faces appear, and
            they become the hard-ass leaders of the United States. 
            Secret Service Agents throw open the massive double doors to
            the Cabinet Room.

            INT. CABINET ROOM - CONTINUOUS

            And they enter.  The group of men at the long, ornate
            Roosevelt-era table, rise as one.

                                GROUP
                      Good morning, Mr. President.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Good morning, gentlemen.

            And the doors close on the eighteen men of EXCOM: The
            Executive Committee of the National Security Council.  They
            are the legendary "Best and Brightest."

            The President makes his way down the line: shakes hands with
            Secretary of State DEAN RUSK, 53, distinguished, with a soft,
            Georgian accent, a distant reserve.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      Dean, good morning.

                                RUSK
                      Mr. President.

            The President leans past him, grasps the hand of the
            Secretary of Defense ROBERT MCNAMARA, 46, a gifted managerial
            genius... the price of which is a cold, hard personality.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Bob.  Bet you had a late night.

                                MCNAMARA
                      Sleep is for the weak, Mr. President.

            OFF TO THE SIDE, Kenny greets Vice President LYNDON JOHNSON,
            54, and ADLAI STEVENSON, 62, Representative to the U.N.,
            intellectual, well-spoken.

                                KENNY
                      Lyndon.  Adlai.

            The silver-haired war hero and politically savvy Chairman of
            The Joint Chiefs of Staff, GENERAL MAXWELL TAYLOR, 50s,
            shakes the President's hand.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Max.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      McCone's been notified and is coming
                      back from the West coast.  Carter's
                      here, though.

            He gestures to GENERAL MARSHALL CARTER, Deputy Chief of
            Operations for the CIA.  Carter nods to the President.

            THE CAMERA PANS OVER THE OTHERS.

            DOUGLAS DILLON, ex-banker, Secretary of the Treasury.

            ROSWELL GILPATRIC, studious Deputy Secretary of Defense.

            PAUL NITZE, 55, the detail-driven facts man, Assistant
            Secretary of Defense.

            GEORGE BALL, 50s, Undersecretary of State.  Eloquent, a man
            of conscience.

            U. ALEXIS JOHNSON, Deputy Under Secretary of State.

            EDWARD MARTIN, Assistant Secretary of State for Latin
            America.

            LLEWELLYN THOMPSON, laid back, rumpled Soviet Affairs
            Advisor.

            DON WILSON, Deputy Director of the USIA.

            The President sits down at the center of the table, Rusk and
            McNamara to either side, and the others resume their seats. 
            Bobby takes one of the over-stuffed chairs at the table.

            Kenny finds one along the wall behind the President, under
            the windows to the Rose Garden to TED SORENSEN, 30s, the
            President's legal counsel and speech writer.  They greet each
            other coolly.

                                KENNY
                      Ted.

                                SORENSEN
                      Kenny.

            The room falls silent.  The President looks across the table
            to GENERAL CARTER.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Okay.  Let's have it.

                                GENERAL CARTER
                      Arthur Lundahl heads our photographic
                      interpretation division at CIA.  I'll
                      let him and his boys take you through
                      what we've got.  Arthur?

            Lundahl, standing at the end of the room with briefing
            boards, steps forward with a pointer.

                                LUNDAHL
                      Gentlemen, as most of you now know a U-2
                      over Cuba on Sunday morning took a
                      series of disturbing photographs.

            SWINGING THE POINTER AT A BOARD SMASH CUTS US TO:

            EXT. MISSILE SITE - LOS PALACIOS, CUBA - DAY

            The sweltering Cuban countryside.  Shouting SOVIET ROCKET
            TROOPS, stripped to the waist, glistening with sweat, machete
            a clearing under scattered, limp palm trees.

                                LUNDAHL (V.O.)
                      Our analysis at NPIC indicates the
                      Soviet Union has followed its
                      conventional weapons build-up in Cuba
                      with the introduction of surface-to
                      surface medium-range ballistic missiles,
                      or MRBMs.  Our official estimate at this
                      time is that this missile system is the
                      SS-4 Sandal.  We do not believe these
                      missiles are as yet operational.

            A bulldozer TEARS through the undergrowth.  FILLING THE
            SCREEN.  A 70-foot long MISSILE TRANSPORTER creeps along in
            the bulldozer's wake like a vast hearse with its shrouded
            cargo.

            INT. CABINET ROOM - DAY

            Lundahl raps his second board: a map of the United States,
            Cuba visible in the lower corner.  An ARC is drawn clearly
            across the U.S., encompassing the entire Southeast.

                                LUNDAHL
                      IRONBARK reports the SS-4 can deliver a
                      3-megaton nuclear weapon 1000 miles.  So
                      far we have identified 32 missiles
                      served by around 3400 men, undoubtedly
                      all Soviet personnel.  Our cities and
                      military installations in the Southeast,
                      as far north as Washington, are in range
                      of these weapons, and in the event of a
                      launch, would only have five minutes of
                      warning.

                                GENERAL CARTER
                      Five minutes, gentlemen.  Five minutes.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      In those five minutes they could kill 80
                      million Americans and destroy a
                      significant number of our bomber bases,
                      degrading our retaliatory options.  The
                      Joint Chiefs' consensus is that this is
                      a massively destabilizing move,
                      upsetting the nuclear balance.

            The President stares at Lundahl, and beating out each word.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Arthur.  Are. You. Sure?

            Lundahl looks around the room.  Everyone is hanging.

                                LUNDAHL
                      Yes, Mr. President.  These are nuclear
                      missiles.

            The men come to grips with their own fears, own anger.

                                BOBBY
                      How long until they're operational?

                                LUNDAHL
                      General Taylor can answer that question
                      better than I can.

            General Taylor drops a memo on the table WHICH BECOMES:

            EXT. FIELD TABLE - MISSILE SITE, CUBA - DAY

            SCHEMATICS slapped down on a camp table.  A group of Soviet
            site ENGINEERS point and gesture as they study their ground
            from a shaded hillock.  CLEARING CREWS and SURVEYORS work and
            sweat in the distance.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR (V.O.)
                      GMAIC estimates ten to fourteen days. 
                      However, a crash program to ready the
                      missiles could cut that time.



            INT. CABINET ROOM - DAY

            Taylor sees the grim looks all around.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      I have to stress that there may be more
                      missiles that we don't know about.  We
                      need more U-2 coverage.

            Kenny lets out his breath.  He catches Bobby's eye.  This is
            unbelievable.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Is there any indication - anything at
                      all - that suggests they intend to use
                      these missiles in some sort of first
                      strike?

                                GENERAL CARTER
                      Not at present, sir.  But I think the
                      prudent answer is we don't know.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Do we have any sort of intelligence from
                      CIA on what Khruschev is thinking?

                                GENERAL CARTER
                      No, Mr. President.  We don't.  We just
                      don't know what's happening inside the
                      Kremlin at that level.

                                BOBBY
                      They lied to us.  Two weeks ago Dobrynin
                      told me to my face Khurschev had no
                      intention of putting missiles into Cuba. 
                      They said themselves, this is our
                      backyard.

            There's angry agreement.  The President cuts it off.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Gentlemen, I want first reactions. 
                      Assuming for a moment Khruschev has not
                      gone off the deep end and intends to
                      start World War Three, what are we
                      looking at?

            Rusk glances to his team at the end of the table.  Ball,
            Johnson, Martin, Thompson and Stevenson.

                                RUSK
                      Mr. President, I believe my team is in
                      agreement.  If we permit the
                      introduction of nuclear missiles to a
                      Soviet satellite nation in our
                      hemisphere, the diplomatic consequences
                      will be too terrible to contemplate. 
                      The Russians are trying to show the
                      world they can do whatever they want,
                      wherever they want, and we're powerless
                      to stop them.  If they succeed...

                                BOBBY
                      It will be Munich all over again.

                                RUSK
                      Appeasement only makes the aggressor
                      more aggressive.  Confidence in our
                      security commitments around the world
                      will falter, allies will become unsure
                      in the face of Soviet pressure, and the
                      Soviets will be emboldened to push us
                      even harder.  We must remove the
                      missiles one way or another.  It seems
                      to me the options are either to build up
                      the crisis 'til they give in, or we hit
                      them.  An air strike.

            There's silence at the table.  Some nods.  Understanding.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Bob?

                                MCNAMARA
                      We've worked up several military
                      scenarios.  Before I ask General Taylor
                      to lead us through the various options,
                      I'd like for us to adopt a rule. 
                      If we are going to strike, we must agree
                      now that we will do it before the
                      missiles become operational.  Because
                      once they are, I don't think we can
                      guarantee getting them all before at
                      least some are launched.

            And there it is.  The clock is running.

                                BUNDY
                      Sir.  We need to consider... if we
                      decide to act, there's a good chance
                      we'll end up in a general war.

            The room falls silent.  The President leans back in his
            chair, studying the circle of men around the table, weighing
            them.

            Kenny and the others watch him in silence.  A long, dramatic
            pause.  A course that will change history is about to be
            chosen.  The President leans forward, folds his hands on the
            table.  Fated.  Grave.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      It's clear we cannot permit Soviet
                      nuclear missiles in Cuba.  We must get
                      those missiles out.

            EXT. THE ROSE GARDEN - DAY

            Kenny and Bobby follow the President down a path through the
            Rose Garden.  The shock of the morning has worn off.  The
            President stops, looks at them.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I don't think it's going to matter what
                      Khruschev's intentions are.  I tell you,
                      right now... I don't see any way around
                      hitting them.

            A long moment of silence as they move along again.

                                KENNY
                      If we hit 'em, kill a lot of Russians,
                      they'll move against Berlin.  They
                      attack Berlin, that's NATO... and we're
                      at war.

            The guys stop again.  The autumn day is bright, warm, alive. 
            The air, the distant city sounds derail the relentless train
            of logic for a beat.  And in their faces we see that all
            three men, for the first time, feel the enormity of war, its
            shadow over everything.  It's only a couple of steps away. 
            Steps that they're seriously contemplating.

                                BOBBY
                      Damned if we do, but if we don't, we're
                      in a war for sure somewhere else in six
                      months.

            Pained, the President turns away.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      No choice.  This is going to cost lives
                      any way we go.  Do nothing, and it could
                      be 80 million  of ours.  We have to get
                      rid of those missiles.

                                KENNY
                      There've got to be alternatives to just
                      going out and bombing them.

                                BOBBY
                      He's right, Jack.  Taylor is saying we
                      may have some time.  We've got to use
                      it.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      So if there are alternatives that make
                      sense - and I'm not saying there are -
                      we need 'em.  Need 'em fast.

                                BOBBY
                      What about the allies?  Congress?  I
                      think we may need to start letting key
                      people know.  And they're all scattered
                      across the country for the campaign. 
                      We're going to need to get the U.N.
                      staff in and warmed up.  Jesus... I
                      don't even know if we've got secure
                      communications with half our embassies
                      since that the Soviets got that
                      cryptographer of ours.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      We can't worry about everything right
                      now.  We've got to figure out what we're
                      going to do before we worry about how we
                      do it.

                                KENNY
                      The other thing is...

                                BOBBY
                      ... I know.  CIA and the military fucked
                      us on the Bay of Pigs.

                                KENNY
                      They're going to be pressing for a
                      military solution soon.  We can't afford
                      to let them ram their agenda down our
                      throats.  We need to come with options
                      other than air strikes so we have some
                      sort of choice here.

                                BOBBY
                      We got a bunch of smart guys.  We lock
                      'em up together in there, kick 'em in
                      the ass til they come up with options.

            Kenny and the President look at him.  Bobby nods.

                                BOBBY (CONT'D)
                      I'll do it.

                                KENNY
                          (to the President)
                      It's too politicized with you in there,
                      anyway.  They need to be able to stick
                      their necks out.

                                BOBBY
                      It'll be the principals, a couple of the
                      key guys from each department: the
                      Executive Committee of the National
                      Security Council.  We'll call it EXCOM.

            Kenny snorts a laugh.  Bobby shoots him a cross look.

                                KENNY
                      EXCOM.  Has a ring to it.  Like F-Troop.

            The President stops.  Bobby and Kenny stop, too.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Okay.  Kenny and I only show for the
                      meetings you call us into.  Impress us. 
                      And do it fast.
                          (to Kenny)
                      You're in charge of keeping this quiet. 
                      If word gets out before we know what
                      we're going to do, there'll be panic. 
                      And it'll ruin any chance of surprise if
                      we decide to hit them.

                                KENNY
                      Then we need to do a few things right
                      away.  No Pierre.  He knows, the press
                      knows. 
                      You're going to have to keep up your
                      schedule - your movements are followed
                      too closely.  And we need to get these
                      guys out of the White House.  George
                      Ball's got a conference room at State.
                          (to Bobby)
                      Reconvene over there this afternoon,
                      come back here tonight.

            Bobby nods.

                                BOBBY
                      I think we should bring in Dean Acheson. 
                      He was fighting Soviets while we were
                      still working the wards in Boston.

            The President nods his approval.  Looks at Kenny.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Find him, Kenny.  We're going to need
                      all the help we can get.

            INT. WEST WING - HALL OUTSIDE PRESS OFFICE - DAY

            Kenny moves hard and fast through the twisting warren of
            hallways and tiny offices which is the West Wing.  Suddenly,
            Scotty Reston pops out of a doorway behind Kenny.

                                RESTON
                      Hey, Kenny!  Who died?

            Kenny glances over his shoulder at Scotty who points to a
            window.  A beat, then Kenny returns to look out the window. 
            Outside, the West Wing Drive is FILLED WITH LIMOUSINES.

            A flash of dismay, but Kenny covers fast.

                                KENNY
                      Way it's going, the Democratic Party. 
                      DNC strategy session.  If you can call
                      it that.

            Scotty chuckles.  Kenny moves off, leading him away.  Kenny's
            assistant runs up behind him, holding out a slip of paper.

                                ASSISTANT
                      Sir?

            Kenny tries to look him away.

                                RESTON
                      It's Tuesday.  You said to call.  When
                      do I get my 45 minutes?

                                KENNY
                      Tell you what.  We're in Connecticut
                      tomorrow for Ribicoff.  I'll get you up
                      front with him during the flight.

                                RESTON
                      Deal.

                                ASSISTANT
                      Sir.

            Kenny turns, harsh

                                KENNY
                      What is it?

            The Assistant eyes Scotty, holds his tongue.  Kenny takes the
            slips.

                                ASSISTANT
                      The number you asked for.

                                KENNY
                      I ask for a lot of 'em.  Whose is it?

                                ASSISTANT
                      Dean Acheson's, sir.

            That shuts Kenny up.  Reston eyes the slip, then looks to
            Kenny's face.  And he knows something isn't right here.

                                KENNY
                      Gotta go, Scotty.  See you tomorrow.

            INT. TREASURY BUILDING GARAGE - NIGHT

            A car jolts to a stop.  The CAMERA PANS up over the sagging
            suspension, the government plates, the hood ornament
            revealing half of EXCOM inside.  Kenny stands nearby waiting
            for them.

            The doors open, and out they pile like a bunch of clowns:
            Bobby, McNamara, Rusk, Ball, Martin, Dioptric, Sorensen,
            Stevenson, and Nitze.  They're sitting in each others' laps,
            banging their heads on the roof, joking, but tense.

                                BOBBY
                      Screw secrecy.  You try having that fat
                      ass sit on your lap all the way from
                      Foggy Bottom.

                                MCNAMARA
                      You were excited.  I say no more.

            The gang falls in behind Kenny, trails him out of the garage.

            INT. TUNNEL TO WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

            A steel door unlocks, swings open, and Kenny marches at the
            head of the wedge of men into a long tunnel.  It's the
            infamous old passage from the Treasury to the White House. 
            Kenny and Bobby get a little ahead of the others.

                                BOBBY
                      Everybody agrees the diplomatic route is
                      out.  It's too slow, and they'll have
                      the missiles finished.

            Kenny looks at him.  Then there's only one alternative.  The
            CAMERA wipes through the ceiling to:

            EXT. WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

            GROUND LEVEL.  Where the brilliantly-lit flag flutters over
            the spotlit White House: their destination.

            INT. CABINET ROOM - NIGHT

            GENERAL WALTER 'CAM' SWEENEY, head of Tactical Air Command,
            stands at the head of the table with a presentation board. 
            The men of EXCOM gather around Sweeney in their rumpled
            shirts, nursing coffee and cigarettes.

                                GENERAL SWEENEY
                      We have 850 planes assembling at
                      Homestead, Eglin, Opa Locka, MacDill,
                      Patrick, Pensacola and Key West.

                                                           SMASH CUT TO:

            EXT. HOMESTEAD AFB - FLORIDA - NIGHT

            An F-100 Super Sabre stands under lights on a taxiway.  The
            CAMERA DESCENDS FROM ITS OVERHEAD SHOT, discovering the
            aircraft's sleek cockpit, menacing tiger-jaw paint job, the
            four 20mm cannons on its nose.

                                GENERAL SWEENEY (V.O.)
                      Due to the tropical foliage, the OPLAN
                      calls for high-explosive and napalm
                      loadouts for our ground attack sorties.

            PULL BACK TO REVEAL:

            The FLIGHT LINE where a full strike wing stands beyond this
            plane, pylons laden with weapons, GROUND CREW servicing them.

            INT. CABINET ROOM - CONTINUOUS

            Other EXCOM members draw near the board, its order of battle,
            strike maps.  They're grim, but fascinated.  Empowering. 
            Intoxicating.  Sexy.  Kenny sees it in the faces, even the
            President's.  Adlai does too, is upset.

                                ADLAI
                      I still think there are diplomatic
                      approaches we haven't considered yet.

            Kenny looks at Adlai.  The others around the room,
            embarrassed, don't respond.  The group has moved on and
            Stevenson hasn't.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      We have high confidence in the expanded
                      air strike option.
                          (beat)
                      The problem, Mr. President, is that it's
                      a short-term solution.  Khruschev can
                      send more missiles next month.  The
                      Chiefs and I believe we should follow up
                      the air strikes with the full version of
                      OPLAN 316.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      An invasion...

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      Yes, sir.  We can be sure we get all the
                      missiles, and we remove Castro so this
                      can never happen again.

            Kenny looks around the room at the men, the murmurs of
            general agreement, senses the consensus building and is
            agitated.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Is this the Chiefs' recommendation?

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      Yes, sir.  Our best option is to
                      commence the strikes before the missiles
                      are operational.  The invasion happens
                      eight days later.

            The President leans back in his chair, turns to the man at
            the far end of the table: DEAN ACHESON, 60s, former Secretary
            of State.  He sits silent, like some revered oracle, the
            architect of the American Cold War strategy of containment.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Dean.  What do you think?

            Acheson arches an eyebrow, and when he speaks, his voice
            resonates throughout the room, powerful, smooth, hypnotic.

                                ACHESON
                      Mr. President, you have rightly
                      dismissed the diplomatic option.  The
                      Soviet will only tie you down in
                      negotiation, and leave us short of our
                      goal, the removal of the missiles. 
                      Negotiating will do nothing more than
                      give them time to make the missiles
                      operational, complicating the necessary
                      military task we have at hand.

            Everyone in the room listens to him with rapt attention, his
            presence overshadowing the room, oracular:

                                ACHESON (CONT'D)
                      For the last fifteen years, I have
                      fought here at this table along side
                      your predecessors in the struggle
                      against the Soviet.  Gentlemen, I do not
                      wish to seem melodramatic, but I do wish
                      to impress upon you one observation with
                      all conceivable sincerity.  A lesson I
                      have learned with bitter tears and great
                      sacrifice.
                          (beat)
                      The Soviet understands only one
                      language: action.  It respects only one
                      word: force.

            Kenny stares at the old man.  Acheson's gaze finds his
            through the cigarette smoke.  Acheson's eyes travel to the
            President.

                                ACHESON (CONT'D)
                      I concur with General Taylor.  I
                      recommend, sir, air strikes followed by
                      invasion, perhaps preceded by an
                      ultimatum to dismantle the missiles if
                      military necessity permits.

            Taylor nods, vindicated.  The others murmur their approval. 
            Bobby, at the table in front of Kenny and to his left, trades
            a dire look with Kenny.  This is happening too fast.  Bobby
            holds his head, looks about at the others, deeply distressed.

            The President sinks back in his chair, staring at Acheson.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Then it appears we have three options. 
                      Number one.  A surgical air strike
                      against the missiles themselves.  Two, a
                      larger air strike against their air
                      defenses along with the missiles.

            Kenny eyes Bobby.  Bobby is writing something.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      And three, invasion.

            Bobby looks over his shoulder at Kenny, and REACHES BACK to
            him with a folded NOTE.  Kenny takes it, opens it.

            It reads NOW I KNOW WHO TOJO FELT PLANNING PEARL HARBOR.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      We're certainly going to do number one;
                      we're going to take out these missiles,
                      so it seems to me we don't have to wait
                      very long.  We ought to at least be
                      making those preparations.

            Kenny gives Bobby a curt nod.  Bobby tilts his head at the
            President: pass the note on to him.  Kenny rises, slips the
            note in front of the President.

            The President unfolds the note, and we HOLD ON IT and his
            reaction as in the b.g., out of focus, Taylor speaks:

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      Yes, sir, we're preparing to implement
                      all three options, though I must stress
                      again, sir, there are risks to the
                      strikes without the follow-on invasion.

            Bundy clears his throat.  Speaks from somewhere down the
            table.

                                BUNDY
                      You want to be clear, Mr. President,
                      that we have definitely decided against
                      a political track.

            The President folds the note away, glances at Bobby.  A beat,
            the President looks from Bobby to Acheson.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Dean, how does this play out?

                                ACHESON
                      Your first step, sir, will be to demand
                      that the Soviet withdraw the missiles
                      within 12 to 24 hours.  They will
                      refuse.  When they do, you will order
                      the strikes, followed by the invasion. 
                      They will resist, but will be overrun. 
                      They will retaliate against a target
                      somewhere else in the world, most likely
                      Berlin.  We will honor our treaty
                      commitments and resist them there,
                      defeating them per our plans.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Those plans call for the use of nuclear
                      weapons.
                          (beat)
                      And what is the next step?

            Acheson sits back in his chair, smooths his moustache.  A
            dramatic beat, and then his ominous pronouncement rings out:

                                ACHESON
                      Hopefully cooler heads will prevail
                      before we reach the next step.

            A chill runs down Kenny's spine.  He looks in shock to the
            President.  The President remains calm.  But in place of the
            fated look the President has had, there's a hesitation.

            INT. WEST WING HALLS - NIGHT

            Acheson strides down the hall, Taylor, Sweeney, Carter and
            Bundy swept along behind him.  Bundy is on the defensive, the
            others grim.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      If McNamara'd get off the fence...

                                BUNDY
                      We have time.

                                GENERAL CARTER
                      Goddamn it, it's obvious.  It's the only
                      option.  That asshole, Stevenson.  We
                      can't let this drag out or we lose our
                      shot.

                                BUNDY
                      Bombing them...

                                ACHESON
                      Remember that the Kennedys' father was
                      one of the architects of Munich.  The
                      General is right.  There is only one
                      responsible choice here.

            Bundy just nods.  Taylor grabs a door ahead for Acheson.

                                ACHESON (CONT'D)
                      Let's pray appeasement doesn't run in
                      families.  I fear weakness does.

            And the men head into a stairwell going down.

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

            Grimacing in pain.  He opens a pill bottle, takes two pills
            out.  He takes a whiskey in a shot glass from Kenny.

            RESUME

            Kenny finishes pouring him and Bobby a couple of more shots,
            discreetly turning a blind eye to the President's pain.

            The President returns from his desk, shirt untucked,
            disheveled, back stiff.  He eases into his rocking chair. 
            Bobby lies sprawled on the couch.  Kenny sits down.  They all
            look at each other.  A beat, something like shock.

                                KENNY
                      Jesus Christ Almighty...

            They burst out laughing.  An absurd, tension draining moment. 
            They shoot their drinks, Kenny refills.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      Call me Irish, but I don't believe in
                      cooler heads prevailing.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Acheson's scenario is unacceptable.  And
                      he has more experience than anyone.

                                KENNY
                      There is no expert on this subject, no
                      wise old man.

            The President stares Kenny in the face, understanding.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      The thing is, Acheson's right.  Talk
                      alone won't accomplish anything.

            Kenny considers the President, his face straight as he says:

                                KENNY
                      Then let's bomb the shit out of them.
                      Everyone wants to, even you, even me.
                          (there's a point)
                      It sure would feel good.

            The President sees what Kenny's saying: it'd be an emotional
            response, not necessarily the intelligent one.

                                BOBBY
                      Jack, I'm as conniving as they come, but
                      a sneak attack is just wrong.

                                KENNY
                      He's right.  And things are happening
                      too fast.  It smells like the Bay of
                      Pigs all over again.

            Bobby picks up some reconnaissance photos on the coffee
            table.

                                BOBBY
                      As if dealing with the Russians wasn't
                      hard enough, we gotta worry about our
                      own house.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Tonight, listening to Taylor and
                      Acheson, I kept seeing Burke and Dulles
                      telling me all I had to do was sign on
                      the dotted line.  The invasion would
                      succeed.  Castro would be gone.  Just
                      like that.  Easy.

            The President is rendered mute by a wave of pain.  Kenny and
            Bobby aver their eyes.  When it passes, the President is
            hushed, grave.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      There's something...immoral about
                      abandoning your own judgement.

            Kenny nods, moved.  The President reaches out for the
            reconnaissance photos Bobby's flipping through.  Bobby hands
            them to him.  The President looks them over.  And when he
            speaks, there's humility.  And resolve.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      We can't let things get ahead of
                      themselves.  We've got to control what
                      happens. 
                      We're going to do what we have to make
                      this come out right.  EXCOM is our first
                      weapon.
                          (beat)
                      We'll resort to others as we need 'em.

            EXT. AIRPORT - BRIDGEPOINT, CONNECTICUT - DAY

            SUPER: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17TH.  DAY 2

            A LONG SHOT of an ENORMOUS CROWD thronging a bunting-trimmed
            platform.  The President, barely recognizable at the
            distance, and a cluster of political VIPS wave from it,
            smiling.

            Kenny steps INTO FRAME, back here at the fringes of the
            crowd.

                                THE PRESIDENT (O.S.)
                      Doesn't anybody in Connecticut have to
                      work today?

            The crowd goes nuts.  Kenny paces, checks his watch,
            impatient to be done with the necessary diversion.  Kenny
            gazes off to his right and spots Scotty Reston, along with
            half the White House press corps suckered along.  Scotty
            catches Kenny's look.

            Kenny turns away, but Scotty comes weaving over.  The
            President continues on, but all we hear is Scotty and Kenny.

                                RESTON
                      Kenny!  What happened?  They didn't let
                      me up front, said the President was on
                      the phone the whole time.

                                KENNY
                      He was.

                                RESTON
                      Yeah?  Who was he talking to?  Acheson? 
                      Come on, O'Donnell, everyone's wondering
                      what's going on.  What's Acheson doing
                      in town?  And don't give me some
                      bullshit about DNC think tanks. 
                      Acheson's Mr. Cold War.

                                KENNY
                      Why don't you ask him yourself?  You can
                      have him on the way home.

                                RESTON
                      I'm giving you a chance here: talk to
                      me.  You can influence how this thing
                      unfolds.

            But Kenny stands there, mute.  Reston just shakes his head,
            knowing for sure something's up.  He turns and heads back for
            the press corps.

			EXT. STAIRS TO AIR FORCE ONE - DAY

            Kenny and the President climb the stairs to the Presidential
            plane, the crowd cheering him.  He gives a final wave.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Let's get out of here.

                                KENNY
                      Cheer up, you've neutralized the entire
                      White House Press Corps for a day.

            INT. GEORGE BALL'S CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

            EXCOM meets in George Ball's small conference room at the
            State Department.  Bobby, in shirtsleeves, paces at the head
            of the table, very, very alone.  All eyes are on him.

                                BOBBY
                      No.  No.  No.  There is more than one
                      option here.  If one isn't occurring to
                      us, it's because we haven't thought hard
                      enough.

            McNamara squirms.  The others react in frustration.  CIA
            chief JOHN MCCONE, sharp, tough, conservative, is harsh.

                                MCCONE
                      Sometimes there is only one right
                      choice, and you thank God when it's
                      clear.

                                BOBBY
                      You're talking about a sneak attack! 
                      How'll that make us look?  Big country
                      blasting a little one into the stone
                      age.  We'll be real favorites around the
                      world.

                                ACHESON
                      Bobby, that's naive.  This is the real
                      world, you know that better than
                      anybody.  Your argument is ridiculous.

                                MCCONE
                      You weren't so ethically particular when
                      we were talking about options for
                      removing Castro over at CIA.

            And there's nothing Bobby can say to that.  He props himself
            up on the table, stares at it as if there's an answer in its
            shiny surface somewhere.  There is only the reflection of his
            own face.

                                BOBBY
                      I can't let my brother go down in
                      History like a villain, like a Tojo,
                      ordering another Pearl Harbor.

            McCone, Acheson, and Taylor share a look.  The last
            resistance to airstrikes is crumbling.  Finally, Bobby looks
            up at McNamara.

                                BOBBY (CONT'D)
                      Bob.  If we go ahead with these air
                      strikes...
                          (beat)
                      There's got to be something else.  Give
                      it to me.  I don't care how crazy,
                      inadequate or stupid it sounds.  
                          (beat, pleading)
                      Give it to me.

            McNamara suffers under the gaze of everyone at the table,
            weighing the situation out.  And finally he ventures.

                                MCNAMARA
                      Six months ago we gamed out a scenario. 
                      It's slow.  It doesn't get rid of the
                      missiles.  There are a lot of drawbacks.
                          (beat)
                      The scenario was for a blockade of Cuba.

            SUPER: THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18TH.  DAY 3

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - DAY

            Kenny enters the office from his side door in the middle of a
            debate.  Military uniforms dominate the room: General Taylor,
            General Sweeney, and a host of briefing officers.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      The situation is worse than we thought. 
                      We count 40 missiles now, longer range
                      IRBMs.  They can hit every city in the
                      continental U.S.

            The President stares out the window at the Rose Garden, his
            back to Air Force Chief of Staff GENERAL CURTIS LEMAY, 60. 
            Beetle-browed, arrogant, the archetypal Cold War general. 
            Yet there is something about him, his intelligence perhaps,
            that suggests he's playing a role he knows and believes in.

            The only other civilians in the room are Bobby, Bundy and
            McNamara.  The pressure from the military is almost physical.

                                LEMAY
                      Mr. President, as of this moment my
                      planes are ready to carry out the air
                      strikes.  All you have to do is give me
                      the word, sir, and my boys will get
                      those Red bastards.

            The President continues staring out the window.  Kenny eases
            over to the desk, leans on it, arms folded, interposing
            himself between the President and the soldiers.  Bobby joins
            him, side-by-side.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      How long until the army is ready?

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      We've just begun the mobilization under
                      cover of a pre-arranged exercise, sir. 
                      We're looking at another week and a
                      half, Mr. President.

                                LEMAY
                      But you can begin the strikes, now.  The
                      plans call for an eight-day air
                      campaign.  It'd light a fire under the
                      army's ass to get in place.

            That makes the President turn around, stare at LeMay.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      General LeMay, do you truly believe
                      that's our best course of action?

                                LEMAY
                      Mr. President, I believe it is the only
                      course of action.  American is in
                      danger.  Those missiles are a threat to
                      our bomber bases and the safety of our
                      nuclear deterrent.  Without our
                      deterrent, there's nothing to keep the
                      enemy from choosing general nuclear war. 
                      It's our duty, our responsibility to the
                      American people to take out those
                      missiles and return stability to the
                      strategic situation.  The Big Red Dog is
                      digging in our back yard, and we're
                      justified in shooting him.

            Taylor steps in softly, smoothly: good cop to LeMay's bad.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      Sir, we have a rapidly closing window of
                      opportunity where we can prevent those
                      missiles from ever becoming operational. 
                      The other options...

            He spares a look at McNamara, who watches the fireworks, arms
            folded, serious.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR (CONT'D)
                      ...do not guarantee the end result we
                      can guarantee.  However, the more time
                      that goes by, the less reliable the
                      choice we can offer you becomes.

            The President, partially defused, looks from Taylor to
            McNamara.  LeMay steps forward, softer now, sincere.

                                LEMAY
                      Mr. President, the motto I chose for SAC
                      is 'Peace is our Profession.'  God
                      forbid we find ourselves in a nuclear
                      exchange.  But if launched, those
                      missiles in Cuba would kill a lot of
                      Americans.  That's why I'm being such a
                      pain in the ass about destroying them. 
                      Destroying them immediately.  Hell, even
                      Mac agrees.

            Bundy is uncomfortable.  Everyone turns to him.  He nods. 
            Kenny realizes he's been co-opted by the military.  McNamara
            does too, lets out a deep breath.  The President eyes Bundy,
            then paces out from behind his desk, walks up to LeMay.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      General, what will the Soviets do when
                      we attack?

                                LEMAY
                      Nothing.

            Kenny, Bobby and the President look at each other, unable to
            believe what they just heard.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Nothing?

                                LEMAY
                      Nothing.  Because the only alternative
                      open to them is one they can't choose.

            His pronouncement hangs there in the air: ominous, dangerous.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Those aren't just missiles we'll be
                      destroying.  We kill Soviet soldiers,
                      and they will respond.  How would we
                      respond if they killed ours?  No, they
                      will do something, General, I promise
                      you that.  And I believe it'll be
                      Berlin.

            INT. WEST WING HALLWAY - DAY

            LeMay walk out of the Oval Office with Taylor, Carter and
            their staffers.

                                LEMAY
                      Those goddamn Kennedys are going to
                      destroy this country if we don't do
                      something about this.

            There are dark looks on the faces of the other officers. 
            They agree.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - DAY

            As the meeting next door disperses, the President rummages
            through Kenny's jacket which hangs on Kenny's chair.  Kenny,
            bemused, holds out the package of cigarettes the President is
            looking for.

                                KENNY
                      I was hoping LeMay pushed you.  I
                      wouldn't mind going a few rounds with
                      him.

            The President glances up, takes the proffered smokes.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      We knew it was coming.  I tell you,
                      Kenny, these brass hats have one big
                      advantage.  We do what they want us to,
                      none of us will be alive to tell 'em
                      they were wrong.

            Bobby, Rusk and Sorensen enter from the hall.

                                SORENSEN
                      Mr. President, Gromyko should be on his
                      way by now.

                                RUSK
                      We need to go over what you're going to
                      say.

                                BOBBY
                      There's still no sign they know that we
                      know about the missiles.  Been a lot of
                      cloud cover; probably think we aren't
                      getting any good product.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      We keep 'em in the dark as long as we
                      can.  But I sure as hell am going to
                      test him.

            INT. WEST WING HALL - DAY

            Kenny comes out of the bathroom, and is buttonholed by the
            crewcut, bullet-headed Press Secretary, PIERRE SALINGER, in
            the crowded, busy hallway.

                                SALINGER
                      Kenny, I'm getting funny questions from
                      the guys in the press office.  As Press
                      Secretary, I need to know.  What's going
                      on?

            Kenny wheels back into his office.  It's filled with people. 
            But he bends confidentially to Pierre's ear.

                                KENNY
                      They're planning to shave you bald next
                      time you fall asleep on the bus.
                          (off Pierre's get-serious look)
                      Sorry, Pierre, Gromyko just arrived.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - DAY

            The Press Corps throngs Kenny's tiny office, pushing and
            shoving for a vantage at the side door to the Oval Office,
            waiting for the Gromyko photo-op.  Kenny stands shoulder-to
            shoulder with Reston and Sorensen near the door.

                                RESTON
                      Are they going to discuss the military
                      exercises going on in Florida?

            Kenny doesn't even blink, but Sorensen does a poorer job at
            hiding his reaction.

                                KENNY
                      Come on, Scotty.  This meeting's been on
                      the books for months.  It's just a
                      friendly talk on U.S.-Soviet relations.

            Fortunately, the conversation is cut short as a dozen
            FLASHBULBS suddenly go off on a dozen cameras as the
            reporters crush in on the Oval Office, and Reston is swept
            forward.

            KENNY'S POV:

            over the reporters.  The President, unsmiling, enters the
            room beside Soviet Foreign Minister, ANDREI GROMYKO.  Gromyko
            pauses for the photos: grim, dark haired, saturnine.

            RESUME

            Kenny reacts.  At last, the face of the enemy.

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

            The CAMERA picks up the darkened windows: the meeting has
            gone long.  The CAMERA MOVES PAST Kenny and Sorensen standing
            in the doorway to Kenny's office, FINDS the President in his
            chair across from Gromyko on the sofa.  Rusk, Ambassador
            ANATOLY DOBRINYN, and two INTERPRETERS around them.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      So that there should be no
                      misunderstanding, the position of the
                      United States, which has been made clear
                      by the Attorney General to Ambassador
                      Dobrynin here, I shall read a sentence
                      from my own statement to the press dated
                      September 13th.
                          (beat, reading)
                      Should missiles or offensive weapons be
                      placed in Cuba, it would present the
                      gravest threat to U.S. national
                      security.

            The President stares at Gromyko as the translator finishes
            translating.  Gromyko sits there, enigmatic, cold,
            unreadable.  The translator finishes, and Gromyko stops him
            with a gesture so he can answer in his own accented English.

                                GROMYKO
                      Mr. President, this will never be done. 
                      You need not be concerned.

            The President hides his fury masterfully, and gazing over his
            glasses, asks:

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      So I do not misunderstand you: there are
                      no offensive weapons in Cuba.

            A beat.  And Gromyko's response is flat, sure, steady:

                                GROMYKO
                      No, Mr. President.  We have sent
                      defensive weapons only to Cuba.

            Kenny's blazing eyes could drill holes in the back of
            Gromyko's head.  His gaze swings to the PRESIDENT'S DESK.

            BENEATH THE DESK sit the BRIEFING BOARDS with the evidence.

            INT. WEST WING HALLWAY - NIGHT

            Kenny emerges from his office.  The Soviet delegation
            disappears down the hallway with Rusk.  Kenny turns as Bobby,
            haggard, comes up from the other direction.

            Bobby gestures to the vanishing delegation, now being
            HARANGUED OC by the press.

                                BOBBY
                      What happened?

            The President comes out of the next door down the hall, the
            Oval Office.  He turns and sees Kenny and Bobby.  He's livid.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Lying bastard.  Lied to my face.

                                BOBBY
                      We're split down the middle.  If I held
                      a vote I think airstrike would beat
                      blockade by a vote or two.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I want a consensus, Bobby.  Consensus. 
                      Either air strike or blockade. 
                      Something everyone'll stand by even if
                      they don't like it.  I need it by
                      Saturday.  Make it happen.

                                BOBBY
                      What if I can't?

                                KENNY
                      We go into this split, the Russians will
                      know it.  And they'll use it against us.

            The prospect disturbs the three men.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Have you cancelled Chicago and the rest
                      of the weekend yet?

                                KENNY
                      You don't show for Chicago, everyone'll
                      know there's something going on.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I don't care.  Cancel it.

                                KENNY
                      No way.

            The President spins on him, unsure he heard correctly.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      I'm not calling and cancelling on Daly. 
                      You call and cancel on Daly.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      You're scared to cancel on Daly.

                                KENNY
                      Damn right I'm scared.

            The President pauses, looks at Bobby.  Bobby shakes his head:
            don't look at me.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Well, I'm not.

                                BOBBY
                      Then you'll call, right?

            INT. HALLWAY - SHERATON-BLACKSTONE HOTEL - NIGHT

            SUPER: FRIDAY, OCTOBER 19TH.  DAY 4

            THEN SUPER: CHICAGO

            Kenny threads his way through the host of SECRET SERVICE
            AGENTS and ADVANCE MAN cramming the hallway on the floor of
            the hotel they've taken over.  From one of the rooms emerges
            Salinger.

                                SALINGER
                      Kenny, all right.  What's going on here? 
                      There's rumors going around an exercise
                      in the southeast is related to Cuba. 
                      I'm the Press Secretary.  I can't do my
                      job if I don't know what's going on.  So
                      what's going on?

                                KENNY
                      What are you telling them?

                                SALINGER
                      The truth: I don't know.

                                KENNY
                          (deadly serious)
                      Tell 'em you've looked into it, and all
                      it is is an exercise.  And Pierre --
                          (beat, loaded)
                      The President may have a cold tomorrow.

            Kenny stares at him, and the light dawns on Pierre. 
            Something big is going on and he's been cut out of it.  He
            stalks off.

                                SALINGER
                      Damn it, Kenny.  Goddamn it!

            INT. RECEPTION HALL - SHERATON-BLACKSTONE - NIGHT

            A big 100-dollar-a-plate dinner is in full swing to a dinner
            band's tunes.  The President and Chicago MAYOR RICHARD DALY
            make the rounds among the fund raising CROWD.  Kenny follows
            them at a respectful distance, greeting old cronies.

            Suddenly a MESSENGER hustles over to Kenny, hands him a note. 
            Kenny makes eye contact with the President, nods and leaves.

            INT. HOTEL ELEVATORS - NIGHT

            Kenny waits at the elevator.  Scotty saunters up behind him. 
            He sizes Kenny up, clears his throat.  Kenny turns around.

                                RESTON
                      There are major rail disruptions in the
                      South, two airborne divisions are on
                      alert.  That exercise is an invasion.

                                KENNY
                      Well, you know how Bobby has it in for
                      the State of Mississippi.

                                RESTON
                      This is about Cuba.

            Kenny freezes, then explodes.

                                KENNY
                      Cuba?  You're fucking crazy.  We are not
                      invading Cuba.  Nobody gives a rat's ass
                      about Cuba.  Not now, not ever. 
                      If you print something like that, all
                      you're going to do is inflame the
                      situation.  Nobody talks to assholes who
                      inflame situations.  Assholes like that
                      can find themselves cut out of the loop.

            Reston is taken aback.  Stung silence for a beat.  Kenny's
            response is far louder than any "yes."  Now Kenny realizes
            it.

                                RESTON
                      You've never threatened me before.

            And Kenny looks away, upset, but when he turns back to
            Reston, all that's there is his poker face.  The elevator
            arrives.

                                RESTON (CONT'D)
                      All right.  I'm not going to print
                      anything until I have another source. 
                      But I promise you, I'll get one.

            Kenny boards the elevator.  The doors shut on Scotty.

            INT. ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny closes his eyes, sags against the wall, hating himself.

            INT. KENNY'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny enters his hotel room.  An Assistant waits with the
            phone, hands it straight to Kenny.

                                KENNY
                          (to Assistant)
                      Tell Pierre I need to talk to him.
                          (to phone)
                      Bobby?

            INT. OUTER ROOM - GEORGE BALL'S OFFICE - NIGHT

            EXCOM files past Bobby out of George Ball's conference room.

                                BOBBY
                      Bring him back.

            EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHERATON-BLACKSTONE HOTEL - DAY

            SUPER: SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20TH.  DAY 5

            The President emerges from the hotel, a HAT on his head.  The
            Press and a CROWD surge forward, crying out for the
            President's attention.  Kenny slides into the limo first as
            the President waves to the crowd.

            Salinger waits on the sidewalk, and after the limo pulls
            away, the Press pushes in on him.  Pierre's face is pale -
            he's just been told everything.

                                SALINGER
                      The President has a cold.  He is
                      cancelling the remainder of this trip
                      and is returning to Washington on the
                      advice of his doctor.

            INT. WHITE HOUSE MANSION - OVAL ROOM - DAY

            The White House Oval ROOM: opulent, filled with priceless art
            and furniture, but cramped.  EXCOM members crowd around the
            center coffee table and the President.  Kenny stands behind
            him with Bobby.  Rusk rises from his seat, formal.

                                RUSK
                      Mr. President, our deliberations have
                      led us to the conclusion that, for the
                      moment, a blockade of offensive weapons
                      to Cuba is our best option.  But we'll
                      still need a strong showing of support
                      from the Organization of American States
                      to give us an umbrella of legitimacy.

            At long last... Kenny looks at Bobby, relieved.  They've
            bought time to find a settlement.  Bobby smiles a small
            smile: what were you so worried about?

                                MCNAMARA
                      A blockade is technically an act of war,
                      therefore we recommend calling the
                      action a quarantine.

            McNamara folder in hand, opens it, SMASH CUTTING US TO:

            EXT. ATLANTIC OCEAN - DAY

            A SOVIET FREIGHTER churning its way south.

                                MCNAMARA (V.O.)
                      There are between 20 and 30 Soviet ships
                      underway to Cuba at this time.

            The CAMERA races along its side, discovering TARPULINED
            OBJECTS on deck, and on its stack, the RED HAMMER AND SICKLE.

                                MCNAMARA (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                      800 miles out, the navy will stop them,
                      board, and any vessels containing
                      weapons will be turned back.

                                                                 CUT TO:

            The Destroyer U.S.S. JOHN R. PIERCE putting out to sea,
            SAILORS racing over its deck, through hatches to its 5-inch
            gun turrets.  The ship races by, AMERICAN FLAG streaming from
            its stern distaff, FILLING THE SCREEN, WIPING TO:

            INT. WHITE HOUSE MANSION - OVAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

            The President.  He listens, looks over the briefing papers as
            McNamara continues.  Everyone watches the President.

                                MCNAMARA
                      A quarantine prevents more missiles from
                      reaching Cuba, but it doesn't remove the
                      ones already there.  It gives the
                      Soviets a chance to pull back without
                      war.  If they refuse to remove the
                      missiles before they're operational, we
                      retain the option to strike or invade.

                                BOBBY
                      We believe that a surprise attack would
                      be counter to what the United States
                      stands for.  We believe that an attack
                      leaves us no room for maneuver, and the
                      inevitable Soviet response will force us
                      into a war we do not want.  A war that,
                      this time, will really end all war.

                                MCCONE
                      Mr. President, there are still those of
                      us who believe we should proceed with
                      the strikes.  With the blockade, we lose
                      strategic surprise and we run the risk
                      of a first strike if the Soviets decide
                      they have to use the missiles or lose
                      them.

            The President gazes from one expectant face to another.  But
            he himself remains unreadable.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Quarantine or air strike.

            Adlai clears his throat.  Everyone looks over at him.  He
            stares down at his clasped hands for a beat.  He's anguished
            about what he's going to say.

                                ADLAI
                      There is a third option.  With either
                      course we undertake the risk of nuclear
                      war.  It seems to me maybe one of us in
                      here should be a coward.

            He smiles weakly, but gets no response from anyone.

                                ADLAI (CONT'D)
                      So I guess I'll be.  Our third choice is
                      to cut a deal.  We trade Guantanamo and
                      our missiles in Turkey, get them to pull
                      their missiles out.  We employ a back
                      channel, attribute the idea to U Thant. 
                      U Thant then raises it at the U.N.

            Adlai looks for support around the room, but meets only stony
            gazes.  From McCone and General Taylor, contempt.  Dead
            silence for a long, long beat.

            Kenny's heart goes out to Stevenson as he watches the man
            commit political suicide.  Even Sorensen, standing behind
            him, unconsciously moves away.  At last the President speaks.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I don't think that's possible, Adlai.
                          (beat, to the room)
                      I will be asking the networks for air
                      time Monday night.  I have not yet made
                      my final decision.  We will announce our
                      course of action then.  I want to thank
                      you all for your advice, gentlemen.

            EXT. TRUMAN BALCONY - DAY

            Kenny, Bobby, and the President lean on the railing of the
            Truman Balcony, stare out at the city.

                                BOBBY
                      Goddman Stevenson.  Jesus.  Peace at any
                      price.  You'd think nobody learned
                      anything from World War Two.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Somebody had to say it.  I respect Adlai
                      for having the guts to risk looking like
                      an appeaser.

                                BOBBY
                      We have to pull him.  He's not going to
                      be able to handle the Soviets in front
                      of the U.N.  Zorin will eat him alive.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      We've got bigger problems right now.

                                KENNY
                      We have to try the blockades.  It
                      probably won't work.  It may just be
                      delaying the inevitable.  But we can't
                      just go to war without trying not to.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I don't know.  I don't know.

            He stares out at the Ellipse where a little-league football
            game sweeps across the grass, the shouts and screams of the
            CHILDREN, so alive, floating to them on the wind.

            EXT. PATIO - JIM ROWE'S HOUSE - NIGHT

            A crowded D.C. party spills out of Jim Rowe's house onto his
            patio.  Kenny steps INTO FRAME.  He looks at the PARTYGOERS,
            the Washington social set.  He stands out, oppressed by the
            knowledge he's unable to share.  He takes a stiff drink.

            Suddenly out of the house totters Adlai, highball in hand. 
            Glassy-eyed, he grins at Kenny and joins him.

                                ADLAI
                      Just can't get away from you guys. 
                      Escaping for a night on the town, eh?

                                KENNY
                      As the town's most popular playboy, the
                      President felt my presence would be
                      sorely missed.  So in the interests of
                      National Security...

            Kenny shrugs.  Adlai takes a long drink, closes his eyes.

                                ADLAI
                      Gotta keep up appearances.  Of course, I
                      don't care anymore.  I'm a political
                      dead man.  You ever seen a man cut his
                      own throat like I did today?

            Kenny has no answer to that.  He looks down, pained for
            Adlai.

                                ADLAI (CONT'D)
                      Well, it's all right.
                          (beat)
                      I came to tell you, just talked to a
                      friend.  Reston and Frankel have the
                      story.  It's going to run tomorrow.

            INT. BEDROOM - JIM ROWE'S HOUSE - LATER

            Kenny, shut in the bedroom, paces on the phone.

                                KENNY
                      We're not going to make it to Monday. 
                      I'll try to lean on Reston, but you're
                      going to have to call Orville Dryfoos. 
                      This is the sort of decision the
                      publisher makes himself.

			INT. ORVILLE DRYFOOS' KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

            New York Times publisher ORVILLE DRYFOOS sits at his kitchen
            table in his underwear, still half-asleep, phone to his ear.

                                DRYFOOS
                      Yes, sir, I understand.  But we held on
                      Bay of Pigs and it was the biggest
                      mistake of my life.  What makes this any
                      different?

            INT. PRESIDENT'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

            The President, on the phone, stops pacing by his bedside
            table and exhales.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I'm asking you to hold the story until I
                      can present our course of action on
                      Monday night.

            INT. ORVILLE DRYFOOS' KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

                                DRYFOOS
                      All right.  But I need a reason to give
                      my boys.  They're going to be screaming
                      for my head on a plate.

            INT. PRESIDENT'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Orville.  I want you to tell them this:
                      they'll be saving lives.  Maybe even
                      including their own.

            INT. ORVILLE DRYFOOS' KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

            At that, Dryfoos sits up.  Serious.  All resistance gone.

                                DRYFOOS
                      Yes, Mr. President.

            INT. ST. STEPHEN'S CHURCH - DAY

            SUPER: SUNDAY, OCTOBER 21ST.  DAY 6

            AVE MARIA soars over the communion meditation at a crowded
            Sunday mass.  Kenny, in a pew, glances off to his left.

            The President sits nearby, head bowed.  But Kenny knows he's
            not thinking about the mass.  And when the President at last
            lifts his head, Kenny sees the calm poise.

            The President has made up his mind...

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - DAY

            Bobby barges into Kenny's office.  Kenny, knowing his unique
            entry, doesn't bother to look up.

                                KENNY
                      Acheson called, DeGaulle's with us;
                      haven't heard from anyone else yet.

            Kenny finally looks up.  Bobby's grim.  And an icicle forms
            in Kenny's gut as Bobby relays.

                                BOBBY
                      He wants to talk to LeMay again.

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - DAY

            Kenny, Bobby, McNamara, Rusk, Bundy and half of EXCOM stand
            to the side of the room.  General Sweeney and LeMay stand in
            front of the President's desk.

            The President, bowed in the window, is care-worn, a thousand
            years old.  The shadow, the composition of the SHOT tells us
            all.  It's down to what's in the heart of one man.  Kenny is
            deeply moved at his friend's Gethsemane.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Cam, can you guarantee me you'll get all
                      the missiles?

            Sweeney glances at LeMay.  LeMay's stern, frozen look wills
            him to say, very simply, "yes."

            But then the President turns around, looks Sweeney in the
            eye.  It would make Machiavelli himself tell the truth.

                                GENERAL SWEENEY
                      Sir, I can guarantee we'll get all the
                      missiles we know about.

            The President holds Sweeney in his gaze.  Thank you.

                                LEMAY
                      Mr. President, we can get better than
                      ninety percent of them.

            The President doesn't respond to LeMay's last-ditch appeal. 
            Ninety-percent isn't good enough with nuclear weapons.  He
            moves to his desk, signs a paper, hands it to General
            Sweeney.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      As of seven o'clock Monday night, all
                      United States armed forces world wide
                      will stand up to DEFCON 3.

            EXT. BARKSDALE AFB - SUNSET

            SUPER: MONDAY, OCTOBER 22ND.  DAY 7

            A DEAFENING WHINE.  And INTO FRAME yawns the enormous
            spinning mouth of a B-52 bomber jet engine.  It closes on us,
            sucking us in like a maelstrom, but at the last second the
            CAMERA SLIPSTREAMS OVER IT --

            -- carrying us over the aircraft's wing.  The CAMERA pivots
            and the vast war machine crawls away underneath joining --

            -- a long LINE of identical behemoths, in single file inching
            down a taxi way which vanishes into the distance.  As the
            plane's immense vertical tail WIPES OUR VIEW:

            EXT. MISSILE SILO - NIGHT

            The CAMERA races toward a spotlighted concrete emplacement,
            over the immense BLAST DOOR which is sliding open, and DOWN --

            INT. MISSILE SILO - CONTINUOUS

            -- into the depths of a missile silo.  The CAMERA speeds down
            the side of the Titan missile, through CLOUDS of steaming
            liquid hydrogen, past FUELING HOSES which clamp one by one to
            the rocket's side, past GANTRY ARMS pulling away.  The CAMERA
            hurtles all the way to the bottom, SMASHING THROUGH THE FLOOR
            TO:

            EXT. CARRIBEAN SEA - NIGHT

            The dark ocean, whitecaps whipping luminous around the
            aircraft carrier, U.S.S. ESSEX and her escorts.  Running
            lights flash red and green.

            The carrier's SIREN begins a lonely, eerie WOOP WOOP WOOP
            WOOP like some immense creature which has lost its mind.  The
            ship FILLS THE SCREEN, CUTTING US INTO:

            INT. WEST WING - CONTINUOUS

            The doors to the Cabinet room.  A beat.  Then they SWING
            WIDE.  The President emerges, livid fury on his face, leaving
            chaos behind: the Congressional briefing.  Kenny comes out a
            beat later, catches up with him.

                                KENNY
                      You'd worry that something was wrong if
                      Congress offered you unconditional
                      support.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      They want this fucking job, they can
                      have it.  It's no great joy to me.

            The President exhales, getting control.

                                THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
                      The elected representatives of the
                      people have spoken...
                          (beat; determined)
                      Now let's tell the people...

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

            Kenny stands there in the doorway, arms folded.  As we PULL
            AWAY FROM HIM, we REVEAL the three NETWORK T.V. CAMERAS
            staring straight at us.  Their red lights go on as one, and
            we swing around REVERSING TO:

            The President at his desk: telegenic, powerful.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Good evening, my fellow citizens.  This
                      Government, as promised, has maintained
                      the closest surveillance of the Soviet
                      military build-up on the island of
                      Cuba...

            EXT. BARKSDALE AFB - NIGHT

            The first B-52 trundles to a stop at the end of the runway. 
            It begins to throttle-up, the ROAR of its engine mounting...

                                THE PRESIDENT (V.O.)
                      ...unmistakable evidence has now
                      established the fact that a series of
                      missile sites is in preparation on that
                      imprisoned island.  The purpose of these
                      bases can be none other than to proved a
                      nuclear strike capability against the
                      Western Hemisphere...

            -- AND DROWNING OUT the President's speech as the plane
            lurches forward, down the runway into the night.

            EXT. MISSILE SILO - NIGHT

            The Titan solo door GRINDS OPEN.  And the missile inside
            begins to rise into the white bath of the crossed spotlights.

                                THE PRESIDENT (V.O.)
                      Therefore, in the defense of our own
                      security and under the authority of the
                      Constitution, I have directed that the
                      following initial steps be taken. 
                      First, to halt this offensive build-up,
                      a strict quarantine --

            EXT. CARRIBEAN SEA - NIGHT

            The President's words conjure the ESSEX battlegroup, its
            destroyers plunging through heavy seas, lit up in the night.

                                THE PRESIDENT (V.O.)
                      -- on all offensive military equipment
                      under shipment to Cuba is being
                      initiated.  All ships of any kind bound
                      for Cuba, if found to contain cargoes of
                      offensive weapons, will be turned back. 
                      Second: I have directed the continued
                      and increased close surveillance of Cuba
                      and its military build-up.  Should these
                      offensive military preparations
                      continue, further action will be
                      justified --

            EXT. OVER THE FLORIDA STRAITS - NIGHT

            A flight of F-4 PHANTOMS drops INTO FRAME, lights flashing.

                                THE PRESIDENT (V.O.)
                      -- I have directed the Armed Forces to
                      prepare for any eventualities.

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

            A beat.  And the President looks up from his notes.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      And third: it shall be the policy of
                      this nation to regard any nuclear
                      missile launched from Cuba against any
                      nation in the Western Hemisphere as an
                      attack by the Soviet Union on the United
                      States, requiring a full retaliatory
                      response upon the Soviet Union...

            The chilling words hang there in the air.  BLEEDING IN: the
            rising and falling WOOP WOOP WOOP WOOP which becomes --

            EXT. CARRIBEAN SEA - NIGHT

            -- the voice of the Essex battlegroup: sparkling, alive, a
            constellation of lights scattered across the sea.  One by one
            the escort ships answer the carrier's SIREN with their own
            wailing cries, an alien chorus among the ships, disappearing
            and reappearing in the swells.  The communication crescendos
            to its fever pitch --

            -- and then the battlegroup goes to blackout.  Like a dying
            universe, the answering sirens cut off, the life-lights wink
            out, and an appalling darkness falls across the sea...

            FADE OUT

            BLACKNESS, LIKE BEFORE A CURTAIN RISES.  And then a
            flickering: a FLUORESCENT LIGHT COMES ON.

            INT. BATHROOM - WEST WING - DAY

            SUPER: TUESDAY, OCTOBER 23RD.  DAY 8

            Kenny, stripped to the waist, Sorensen and Bundy shave in
            nearby sinks.  Bobby barges in.

                                BOBBY
                      We're getting the Soviet response.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

            Specks of shaving cream still on his face, Kenny paces, reads
            the inky carbon as Bobby, Bundy and Sorensen read copies.

                                KENNY
                      This is all rhetoric.
                          (realizing)
                      They don't know how to respond yet.

            Kenny looks up.  The President enters from the Oval Office.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      So now you're Khurschev.  What do you
                      do?

            INT. CABINET ROOM - DAY

            Kenny, arms folded, stands behind the President, the rest of
            EXCOM is looking at him.

                                KENNY
                      -- run the blockade.  They'll run the
                      blockade.

            ADMIRAL GEORGE ANDERSON, 50s, dapper, the Chief of Naval
            Operations, nods from the far end of the table.

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON
                      Which is exactly what they appear to be
                      preparing to do, Mr. President.  We're
                      tracking 26 ships inbound to Cuba. 
                      There's no sign they're changing course. 
                      The closest ships, the Gagarin and the
                      Kimovsk, will make the quarantine line
                      by this time tomorrow.

                                MCNAMARA
                      We're concerned about the possibility of
                      an incident with an innocent cargo
                      carrier.  If it turns ugly, the Russians
                      could use an ugly incident and bad world
                      opinion as leverage to force us to
                      remove the quarantine.

                                MCCONE
                      Or they could use it as an excuse to
                      escalate.

                                BOBBY
                      Admiral Anderson, if the ships do not
                      stop, what exactly are our rules of
                      engagement?

            Anderson signals A BRIEFING OFFICER who hits the lights and
            an overhead projector which SMASH CUTS TO:

            INT. BRIDGE - U.S.S. JOHN R. PIERCE - DAY

            The bridge of the U.S.S. John Pierce, a Gearing class
            destroyer.  A RADIO OPERATOR addresses a mike in Russian.

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON (V.O.)
                      Russian-speakers have been transferred
                      to all of our ships.  Once the
                      quarantine takes effect in the morning,
                      our ships will attempt to make radio
                      contact with the approaching vessels. 
                      They will be ordered to reduce speed and
                      prepare for inspection.

            INT. WEAPONS' LOCKER - U.S.S. PIERCE - DAY

            MARINES in flak jackets grab M-16s off a rack, race by.

            EXT. U.S.S. PIERCE - AFT DECK - DAY

            A ship's boat full of Marines lowers away, hits the water,
            engine spraying as it launches forward - in dress rehearsal.

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON (V.O.)
                      An inspection party will then board and
                      search the ship.  If weapons are found,
                      the ship will be ordered to leave the
                      quarantine area or be towed into port
                      upon refusal.

            INT. CABINET ROOM - DAY

            All eyes are on Admiral Anderson's overhead projections. 
            Bobby, restless, gets up, begins pacing.

                                BOBBY
                      What happens if the ship doesn't stop
                      for inspection or want to be towed?

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON
                      A warning shot will be fired across its
                      bow.

            Bobby stops, stares directly at the Admiral.

                                BOBBY
                      And what happens if the ship ignores the
                      warning shot?

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON
                      Then we fire at its rudder, disable it,
                      and carry out the inspection.

            Kenny looks at the President who remains unmoved, unreadable.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      There will be no shooting without my
                      explicit orders.  Is that understood?

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON
                      Yes, sir.

            The President glances at McNamara.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Well, Admiral, it looks like it's up to
                      the Navy.

                                ADMIRAL ANDERSON
                      The Navy won't let you down, sir.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      General, have we developed any more
                      information on the missiles?

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      They are continuing to proceed with the
                      development.  We're commencing low-level
                      photography runs this morning.

                                MCCONE
                      The pictures will be used to firm up our
                      estimates of the missiles' readiness and
                      develop target packages for strikes
                      should you order them.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      Our guy running this show is the best. 
                      Commander Bill Ecker of the Navy's VFP
                      62, the Fightin' Photo.  Something of a
                      character, but the highest efficiency
                      ratings we've ever had.

            He pushes Ecker's personnel file across the table, and as the
            President opens it, on ECKER'S PHOTO, we SMASH CUT TO:

            INT. READY ROOM - KEY WEST NAVAL AIR STATION - DAY

            The man himself, COMMANDER BILL ECKER, 30s, playing cards,
            smoking cigars with his wingman, LIEUTENANT BRUCE WILHEMY and
            the PILOTS of VFP-62, the 'Fightin' Photo.'  They lounge,
            tinker with equipment.  Their ready room is filled with pin
            ups, movie posters, and all things photographic.

                                ECKER
                      75 millimeter, I'm listening.  On the
                      big screen there's nothing like it.

            The other pilots heckle him, but are muted by Taylor.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR (V.O.)
                      To protect our pilots, we're prepared to
                      retaliate against any SAM site or anti
                      aircraft battery that opens fire.

                                WILHEMY
                      Watch out, Hollywood.  There's a new
                      epic director in town!

            INT. CABINET ROOM - DAY

            EXCOM listens in sober silence.

                                GENERAL TAYLOR
                      We have a flight of Thunderchiefs able
                      to respond within minutes of an attack
                      on our planes.

            Kenny catches the President's eye.  Kenny glances at the
            door.  Step outside, I need to talk to you.

            INT. OVAL OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            The President and Kenny stand in front of the President's
            desk.  All the doors are shut.  Weak sunlight filters into
            the hushed room as if to a confessional.

                                KENNY
                      I don't like what's happening.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      In the morning I'm taking charge of the
                      blockade from the situation room. 
                      McNamara'll set up shop in the flag plot
                      at the Pentagon, keep an eye on things
                      there.

                                KENNY
                      All right.  'Cause you get armed
                      boarders climbing into Soviet ships,
                      shots being fired across bows...

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I know, I know...

                                KENNY
                      What about these low-level flights? 
                      They're starting in what?  An hour?  Do
                      you realize what you're letting yourself
                      in for?

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      We need those flights.  We have to know
                      when those missiles become operational,
                      because when they do, we need to destroy
                      them.

                                KENNY
                      Fair enough.  But Castro's on alert and
                      we're flying attack planes over their
                      sites, on the deck.  There's no way for
                      them to know they're carrying cameras,
                      not bombs.  They're going to be shot at,
                      plain and simple.

            Kenny's right, and the President looks away in frustration.

                                KENNY (CONT'D)
                      I'm your political advisor, and I'm
                      giving you political analysis here. 
                      This is a setup.  The Chiefs want to go
                      in.  It's the only way they can redeem
                      themselves for the Bay of Pigs.  They
                      have to go in, and they have to do it
                      right.  It's that simple. 

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      I'm gonna protect those pilots.

            Thep President stares intently at Kenny.  Kenny glances at
            the door, his voice hushed.  He hesitates.

                                KENNY
                      They're boxing us in with these rules of
                      engagement.  If you agree to 'em, and
                      one of our planes gets knocked down or
                      one of the ships won't stop for
                      inspection, the Chiefs will have us by
                      the balls and will force us to start
                      shooting.  They want a war, and they're
                      arranging things to get one.  If you
                      don't want one, we have to do something
                      about it.

            The President understands.  He shakes his head, paces away.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      How does a man get to a place where he
                      can say, 'throw those lives away,' so
                      easily?

                                KENNY
                      Maybe it's harder for them to say it
                      than they let on. 
                      At the very least, they believe it's in
                      our best interest.  And at the end of
                      the day, they may end up being right.

            The President turns away, considers.  Then turns back.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Triple check everything the Chiefs say
                      to us with the guys who actually have to
                      do it.  No one's to know about this but
                      Bobby.  I need redundant control over
                      what happens out there.  And if things
                      aren't as advertised, you're going to
                      make sure they come out the way I want
                      them to come out, starting with this low
                      level flight thing.

            Jesus Christ...Kenny is daunted.  For a beat he just stares.

                                KENNY
                      That's going to be tough.  You know how
                      these guys are about their chains of
                      command...

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      Any problems, you remind them those
                      chains of commands end at one place. 
                      Me.

            INT. WEST WING HALLS - DAY

            Kenny and the President head for the Cabinet Room.  Rusk
            comes out before they get there.

                                RUSK
                      Mr. President. The OAS meeting starts in
                      an hour.  I haven't prepared at all.  We
                      can't expect --

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      -- we need this one, Dean.  The
                      quarantine's legal if we get a mandate,
                      otherwise it's an act of war in the eyes
                      of the world.  Get me that vote.  Make
                      it unanimous.

                                RUSK
                      Mr. President, The Organization of
                      American States hasn't had a unanimous
                      vote since --

            The President moves for the Cabinet Room.

                                THE PRESIDENT
                      -- unanimous, Dean.

            Kenny slaps the dismayed Rusk on the back, heads off down a
            hall away from the Cabinet Room.

            INT. WHITE HOUSE SWITCHBOARD - DAY

            Kenny opens the door to the White House switchboard room.  A
            half-dozen OPERATORS work their lines, making connections on
            the old-fashioned switchboard.  Unnoticed, he sizes them up,
            their skill.  They're all courteous, pretty, professional.

            The CAMERA PANS down the line... and stops on a middle-aged
            matron at the end - the sternest, most scary of them all. 
            Her name is MARGARET.

                                MARGARET
                      White House Operator.  Yes sir.
                          (beat, harsh, booming)
                      Speaker McCormack, hold for the Vice
                      President.

            Her voice is so severe, so smoker-gravelled, it makes the
            blood run cold.  This is the woman Kenny's looking for.

                                KENNY
                      Ma'am, would you mind helping me out
                      with a few special calls?

            INT. READY ROOM - KEY WEST NAS - DAY

            Ecker, Wilhemy and their Pilots are in angry debate.

                                ECKER
                      Orson Welles is a hack.  Now you want to
                      talk about a director, you talk about
                      David Lean...

                                WILHEMY
                      Welles is a G-d.  Lean's the hack.

                                ECKER
                      Bullshit, Bruce, nobody but Lean is
                      making decent movies these days.
                          (to Young Pilot)
                      Get that fixed yet?

            Nearby, a YOUNG PILOT tinkers with a $300,000 spy camera.

                                YOUNG PILOT
                      Uhhh... yup.  Think so.

            Suddenly, the door opens and a pale DUTY SERGEANT enters.

                                DUTY SERGEANT
                      Sir...telephone, sir.

            INT. DUTY OFFICE - DAY

            Ecker enters, marches over to the phone.  All the SOLDIERS in
            the room stare at him.  Ecker wiggles his cigar to a corner
            of his mouth, picks up, styling.

                                ECKER
                      VFP-62, Fightin' Photo, here.  But what
                      we really want to do is direct.

                                                       INTERCUT CALL TO:

            INT. WHITE HOUSE SWITCHBOARD - CONTINUOUS

            Margaret works her magic.

                                MARGARET
                      This is the White House Operator.  Hold
                      for the President.

            INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Ecker blinks, becomes a mild lamb.

                                ECKER
                      Oh shit.

            INT. WHITE HOUSE SWITCHBOARD - CONTINUOUS

                                MARGARET
                      Honey, you don't know what shit is.

            BEGIN INTERCUT

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Kenny, sitting on his desk, taps his fingers, looks at the
            phone.  He's kept Ecker on hold long enough - and picks up.

                                KENNY
                      Commander, my name is Ken O'Donnell. 
                      Special Assistant to the President.

                                                       INTERCUT CALL TO:

            INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Ecker exhales.  It's not the President, but Ecker is so
            shaken up it might as well be.

                                ECKER
                      Yes, sir.

                                KENNY (O.S.)
                      The President has instructed me to pass
                      along an order to you.
                          (beat)
                      You are not to get shot down.

            Did he hear right?

                                ECKER
                      Uh... we'll do our best, sir.

            INT. KENNY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

                                KENNY
                      I don't think you understand me
                      correctly.  You are not to get shot down
                      under any circumstances.  Whatever
                      happens up there, you were not shot at. 
                      Mechanical failures are fine; crashing
                      into mountains, fine.  But you and your
                      men are not to be shot at, fired at,
                      launched upon.

            INT. DUTY OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

            Ecker sits down in a chair, sobered.

                                ECKER
                      Excuse me, sir, what's going on her