Original Written Content Copyright 2001 P. Breen
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  Later that day, Mac telephones Frank's house from a drugstore. "Good morning nigger" he says to Frank. "Hello trash," is Frank's reply. "Watch your mouth," scolds Mac. Frank is impatient. "Now look man, you're going to push your luck just a little too far. Where's my lady?" Mac cackles, "Not yet Savage. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have missed. I just wanted you to know that I'm smarter than you are." Frank explodes, "If this is just another call so you can jerk off, baby, forget it." Mac hisses through clenched teeth. "You're going to listen to me pig. Cause it's your job. And I'm a taxpayer. Hello?" Frank slams the phone down and hangs up on Mac.

The murderer is infuriated. "You black bastard! Son of a bitch!" He quiets down when he sees he's attracting attention. He dials again. Savage picks up the phone. "One more trick like that, you're going to end up with a dead blackbird." Savage is in no mood for games. "Stop wasting my goddamned time. I'm sick of your jive-assed bullshit." Mac cuts him off. "I'm going to kill you Savage. Do you hear me? I'm going to blow your slimy guts out. Now listen. Carefully. I've only got time to tell you once. I'm on my way to kill the most important person next to you. Are you ready? Another date - April 22 1972. And savage - she's real good for a nigger. Bye bye."

Savage screams, "Argh - MAC!" He begins to pace nervously. "Think!" he yells aloud. "Mac. M-A-C." A light bulb flashes (perhaps for the first time in the movie). "Milton Alexander Crowder!" Frank grabs the phone and dials the station. "This is Savage get me research. I've got a priority job for you. I need answers right away. I want you to check up the murder trial of Milton Alexander Crowder. He was arrested in the Fall of '71 convicted April 22 1972. Need to know his status. Now I need you to take all of the victims in this Mac murder series, run them through the computer at the courthouse. See if they don't tie in with this Crowder trial - push it will you?"

We are treated to several shots of whirring reel-to-reel tapes and other fancy computer equipment from 1973. A disembodied robotic voice announces, "Milton Alexander Crowder. Sentenced to the electric chair. Died three months ago of natural causes while in prison. Crowder had three children. Two daughters married and living out of the city. Son named Hector age 27. He has an arrest record, two assaults, and various misdemeanors. Never did time on any of these charges. Eight of the victims in the Mac murder series were involved in the trial. The only remaining resident involved in the trial is Judge Kelly."

Upon realizing that Judge Kelly is Mac's next victim Savage rushes to his cute little car and speeds away. As usual, he's behind Mac. At the judge's house (which happens to be the mansion featured in Asylum of Satan), Mac ties the judge to a chair. "You bald-headed bastard. You killed my old man, didn't you? You know he didn't deserve to die." The bloody, beaten judge stutters, "All I did was try his case and follow the law." Mac puts the barrel of the gun to the judge's face. "But you killed him anyway, didn't you?" Desperation wells in the judge's eyes. "I had nothing to do with his death. No one did. He died of natural causes while in prison." Mac rubs the gun against his lips. "But you locked him up. You killed him anyway. You sentenced him and put him there to die."

Elsewhere, Savage is still racing down highways and byways to save the judge. He's driving so fast that he actually misses the turnoff that leads to the mansion and has to back up. Mac continues his torturous pre-death speech to the judge. "You have to be punished so you don't send other men to their deaths. I only got one person left - that smelly pig Savage. I got all the jurors and that stupid lawyer who was supposed to help my dad - now I'm gonna get you!"

Finally, Savage arrives at the mansion. Mac hears Savage's screeching wheels and hastily hides behind the door. He warns the judge to keep quiet. Frank enters the home. The judge hollers, "Savage look out!" Mac shoots the judge dead. The blast knocks the chair over. Savage takes cover and shouts, "Hold it, Mac: just drop it." Mac fires at Savage and crashes through a nearby window. Savage inspects the dead body of the judge, then runs out to apprehend Mac. The two exchange shots on the lawn. Savage manages to cut off Mac's escape route with a daring leap. Both men lose their guns. They circle each other. Savage strikes a defensive pose as Mac whips out his switchblade.

Mac tries to stab Savage, but Frank kicks the blade from his hand, knocking Mac down in the process. The crazed killer rises and charges. Frank delivers swift, crushing blows to Mac's chest and face. A bloody mess, Mac struggles to stand up. As he rights himself, he covertly picks up his lost blade. Frank walks over and scruffs Mac. Mac seizes the opportunity and thrusts the knife deep into Frank's side. Savage goes down. Instead of finishing off Frank right then and there, Mac bolts into the woods, laughing triumphantly. Savage's injury prevents him from pursuing the madman. He snarls at his own defeat.

The Chief at police headquarters is not the least bit moved by Frank's injury (and although Frank is wearing the same shirt, there is no trace of blood or knife damage). "If you followed procedure when you went to the judge's house, we'd be rid of this bastard by now. But oh no, you always have to do things your way don't you?" The Chief looks Frank straight in the eye. "I'm ready to take that badge and shove it up your ass. But the Mayor wants you on this case. He likes you for some reason. Must be the votes. Don't get me wrong, Savage: this is still my police department and I'll run it as I see fit. You or your partner here pull one more stunt like this and out you go." Savage defends Marty. "Wilson didn't have anything to do with it." The Chief replies, "He hasn't been any gem either. This is your last warning, both of you." Savage storms off in a huff. Wilson lags behind to offer a profound parting thought. "Frank Savage is the best detective you've got. Nobody wants this killer more than he does, Sir."

Frank and Marty drive off in their patrol car. Marty senses tension. "Hey Frank, after all this is over, why don't you take a leave? Might do you good to get away for a little while." Frank draws his lips taut. "The leave I'm thinking about isn't going to be a short one." Marty frowns. "Why? 'Cause of what the chief said?" Savage shakes his head. "I'm just tired of all the jive that goes along with this job. You try to help people out, they end up messing with you - it's not worth it. You know something, Marty -- sometimes I really believe it's a white man's police force. Then there's you, Marty. You got soul. I don't know how to tell you this, but I really do believe you're black." Marty thanks him for the compliment, and the two exchange warm smiles.

An announcement from the police radio interrupts their interracial male bonding. "Detective 23: We have a 1030 at the old factory on Bishop lane. Possible sniper." Franks shouts, "Push it Marty, sounds like our old friend Mac is back!" They speed off to the scene.

At the abandoned factory, police are already engaged in a heated gun battle with an unseen sniper. The assailant strikes down one policeman just as Frank and Marty arrive. Frank leaps out of the car and yells to the officers, "You guys give me some cover. I'm going around back to get his ass. Marty: get that bullhorn! Keep his attention." Dodging bullets, Savage snakes toward the building. Using the bullhorn, Marty tells the gunman to step out and put down his weapon. The sniper ignores the command and continues firing at the officers. Savage creeps inside from the back, and makes his way through the first level of the factory. Marty tries negotiating one last time. "If you don't come out we're coming in after you and you won't have a chance." Marty begins to count down from ten.

When Marty reaches 'five,' the gunman decides to leave. He turns around to see Savage standing on the level beneath him. Before the gunman can draw his weapon, Savage fires upon the man. The sniper's body is dead before it hits the ground. Frank hears a noise behind him. He spins around and shoots several times. He is out of bullets. Good thing, too, because had the gun been armed, Savage would have KILLED his white soul brother Marty. "Dammit Frank!" hollers Marty.

Outside, ambulances arrive to cart away the slain officers. Lieutenant Creason confronts Savage. "I just got here what the hell happened?" Frank explains, "Some punk trying to get his rocks off." Creason is fuming. "You killed him!" Frank proudly admits, "Sure I killed him!" Creason is outraged. "You wasted that man!" Frank reasons, "Any man who points a gun at me is asking to have his head blown off." Bob Creason is flustered. "Well I'm going to have to explain this one to the chief, only this time I don't think it can be explained." Savage remains belligerent. "Well that's your goddamned problem." Incensed, Creason yells, "I'm going to give you something that's both our goddamned problem. I just got another note from Mac. Now you get your ass to headquarters. And don't you even breathe unless I tell you to. And before you leave, clean up this goddamned mess!"

(CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO CHARLES KISSINGER GIVE SAVAGE WHAT-FOR. REAL MEDIA: 52 KB)

MUCH later that night, Savage and Wilson make an appearance at Bob Creason's office. The first thing Frank requests is a bottle of booze. He invites the other detectives to join him, but they respectfully decline. "What time is he supposed to call?" asks Marty. "One a.m.," says Frank as he swigs from the bottle. Bob adds, "He said he wants to make a deal with you now." Frank tells his superior, "Listen Bob, let me handle this." Creason tries to be firm. "We gotta go by the book, Frank." Savage insists, "Look, just let me handle it. When it's over, if you don't like it, you can have my badge." The conversation in interrupted by the sound of the telephone. Bob warns, "Don't blow it." Pensively, Frank picks up the receiver.

"Savage? You want your pretty little blackbird back? It's going to cost you." Frank says, "I'm listening." Mac chuckles. "Good for you cop. You're not as stupid as I thought. Here's what I want, nigger. Or I'm going take your lady friend here and cut her all four ways. You understand me?" Coldly, Savage replies, "Yeah, I understand." Mac wears an ear-to-ear Cheshire grin. "I'm proud of you blackie. Now listen and listen good. I want a private plane and pilot ready to take me wherever I want to go in two hours. Make sure that plane has enough fuel to take me wherever I want to go." Frank draws in a deep breath. "OK. Now where is she?" Mac blathers, "No no no .. not yet. Not until I'm in the airplane. Then I'll tell you where she is." Frank says, "Now you listen to me you punk. She better be alive, you hear me? Or you won't be able to run far and fast enough!" Mac assures him, "She's OK. Just no more slipups. Remember - you kill me, and you'll never find her. You got that nigger boy?" Frank pauses, then mutters softly, "It's your game baby." Pleased with himself, Mac states, "Three o'clock. You be in that tower where I can see you and talk to you."

Frank slams down the phone. "He wants a private plane and a pilot in two hours or he'll kill her." Savage gallops out of the office. Marty runs after him. Creason shouts, "I can't authorize that. Frank! Wait a minute!"

The detectives speed off to Bowman Field, a private airstrip. They park in front of the main control tower. Frank affectionately tells Marty, "I want you to stay out of this." Wilson flashes a reassuring smile. "No way, baby. We're partners." Frank asks, "You sure? Somebody might get hurt?" Wilson asserts, "I'm sure." Frank pushes the door open. "OK. I'm going up in that tower. Keep the engine running."

Savage enters the tower. He ascends the long, winding staircase that leads to the control room. Once there, he looks out at the field through a pair of binoculars. He spies Mac riding in on his bicycle by the main gate. An air traffic controller announces through a speaker, "Proceed to the blue and white aircraft on the runway directly ahead of you." Mac peddles his bike to the airplane and jumps aboard. He grabs the pilot's headset and addresses Savage. "You've been a good nigger. I'm really proud of you." In the tower, Frank grabs the microphone. "Where is she?" he demands. "You know Savage, after due consideration, I've decided not to tell you!" Savage bolts down the tower stairs.

Mac realizes that Frank is on his way to stop the plane, so he whips out his pistol and orders the pilot to take off. Savage leaps into the patrol car. Marty races off toward the runway. With sirens blaring, they trail the plane. They make numerous passes at the aircraft, trying to head it off before it reaches full speed. They manage to outrun the small plane, blocking its path. The plane skids to a halt. Mac vaults out and races toward the main gate.

Savage exits the car and shoots at the maniac. Mac returns fire. Frank whips out some type of small machine gun. He aims at Mac, but the gun sticks. Marty rushes forward with his firearm. He has a clear shot at the madman and he doesn't want to lose it. As he goes to fire, his crummy gun also jams. "Get down Marty!" implores Frank. Mac fires at Marty then continues running. Wilson goes down. Frank rushes over to help his bleeding partner, but Marty mutters, "Go on Frank, get him!" Savage nods. He leaves his injured friend and pursues Mac down the field.

Meanwhile, Mac hides under a plane to reload his weapon. When he hears Savage approach, he ducks inside the private plane. Savage sees him, but hesitates (so as not to wreck the plane?). In the confusion, Mac makes a daring sprint for the main gate. Savage opens fire. He completely misses Mac. Instead, Frank hits a stack of fuel drums, which explode violently into flames.

He follows Mac through a field and down a set of train tracks that lead to Mac's dilapidated shack. As Mac reaches his crusty home, he pulls out his weapon. It appears as if he plans to take out Savage's lady as revenge against Frank for foiling his plane ride. Frank shoots at the skinny psycho, hitting him several times in the legs with machine gun fire. Mac drags himself up his front steps. Frank pulls out his shiny silver pistol and walks toward the house. Mac manages to stand. He limps to the doorway.

"Don't do it, Mac! Don't hurt her! Don't make me blow your goddamned brains out!" screeches Frank. Mac manages to fire a single shot at Frank's lady. Savage empties his pistol into Mack's body. The killer finally collapses, but he's not dead yet. Frank casually swaggers over to the choking, sputtering fiend. "You sick son of a bitch," hisses Savage. "It's your game, baby."

Savage enters the shack and rushes to his lady's side. He removes her gag and unties her hands. She hugs him and weeps. "It's all over," he says as he strokes her hair. "I was so afraid," she murmers.

With arms wrapped around each other, the reunited couple strolls back to the airport. The field is now alive with police cars, fire engines, and ambulances. He returns his machine gun and checks on Marty. "You alright?" he asks his injured friend. "I'm alright, man. You alright?" Marty whispers from the stretcher. Frank smiles. "Don't worry about me, partner." He lays his shiny silver gun on Marty's chest. "Take care, you hear?" Marty nods weakly, then is rolled into a waiting ambulance.

Hand in hand, the lovebirds head back to Frank's patrol car. "Let's take us a long vacation somewhere? What do you say?" Frank suggests. " I'd like that, Frank," replies his lady. "Goddammit!!" snorts Savage as he goes to start the car. "What's the matter, honey?" his lady asks.

"Marty's got the keys!"

END


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