[INT. TROPICANA HOTEL-CASINO - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[The Baccarat table. Busy, hundred dollar bills being played.]

LOUDSPEAKER: Mr. Corleone; Mr. Freddie Corleone, telephone please.

PIT BOSS: Not here.

[VIEW ON THE CRAP TABLES]

[The play is fast; pit boss presiding; but no sign of Fredo.]

LOUDSPEAKER: Telephone for Mr. Corleone.

[ANOTHER PART OF THE CASINO]

[We see Neri, ominous, presiding over the entire store. He picks up a pit telephone.]

NERI: He's backstage. *and hangs up disgustedly*

[INT. TROPICANA BACKSTAGE AREA - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[Fredo is entertaining two showgirls done up in feathers and what-have-you.]

FREDO: C'mon, you got fifteen minutes before the finale! I want to show you a trick with feathers.
STAGEHAND: Phone for you.

FREDO: Don't go away; wait a minute.

[He takes the phone; we can catch a VIEW of the show going on from the wings.]

FREDO: *on the phone* Yeah. Okay. Who? Mikey? But... Si... si, caposco. *in Sicilian* Sure... how much? I understand. Jesus, three million... I won't let you down. Sure.

[He hangs up thoughtfully.]

ONE OF THE GIRLS: Freddie; we still got twelve minutes before the finale!

FREDO: Yeah... some other time.

[EXT. NEW YORK BAR - DAY]

[There is a light rain. Pentangeli steps out of his car; points to Willy Cicci.]

PENTANGELI: Wait in the car.

[He walks up the street, to the bar, where he is greeted by the tall, handsome Carmine Rosato. They shake hands. Pentangeli looks in his hand.]

[CLOSE VIEW]

[Rosato has put a crisp one hundred dollar bill in his hand, folded sharply in two.]
PENTANGELI: What's this?

ROSATO: That's a lucky C note for our new deal.

[He puts his arm around Pentangeli, and they walk into the bar.]

[INT. THE BAR - DAY]

[The bar is fairly empty; and very dark. Pentangeli and Rosato step up to the bar; the bartender momentarily stops polishing glasses to pour a couple of drinks.]

ROSATO: We were all real happy about your decision, Frankie; you're not goin' to regret it.

[He holds up the glass.]

PENTANGELI: I don't like the C-note. I take it like an insult.

[Suddenly, a garrote is thrown around Pentangeli's throat; and he is forcefully yanked back into the shadows, all the way into a wooden telephone booth.]

[CLOSE VIEW]

[The folded hundred dollar bill resting on the bar.]

[MED. CLOSE - THE PHONE BOOTH]

[We see only Pentangeli's feet and legs, struggling. We HEAR the terrible sounds of a man being strangled.]
[CLOSE ON ROSATO]

[Calm, and then he sees something that disturbs him.]

ROSATO: Shit, your friend the cop!

[Suddenly, the side door opens, and a shaft of sunlight cuts through the darkness.]

COP: Everything all right in there, Ritchie? The door was open.

[CLOSE ON THE PHONE BOOTH]

[Pentangeli's feet stop moving.]

RITCHIE: Just cleaning up. *strained voice* You okay?

COP: Is that something on the floor?

ROSATO: Take him!

VOICE: Okay.

RITCHIE: Not here; not a cop, not here!

[Two figures race through the shadows and race through the doors.]

COP: *shouting to his partner, in uniform* Stutz! Watch out, Stutz!

[EXT. THE BAR - DAY]

[We see that a patrol car had stopped for its routine visit. STUTZ, the second patrolman, is just stepping out of his car; Pentangeli's bodyguard, seeing the commotion, leaps out. Three men, including Rosato, rush out. There is gunfire; Cicci is wounded.]

[MED. CLOSE]

[The patrolmen is grazed across the face; trying to stop the flow of blood with his hand.]

[NEW VIEW]

[The three assailants jump into the car and drive off.]

[INT. THE BAR - DAY]

[The stricken Pentangeli comes back to life. He can barely move his lips.]

PENTANGELI: The bastard. The dirty bastard, he gave me a C-note. He gave me a C-note.

[He sees the patrolman leaning over him.]

[EXT. PATROL CAR - DAY]

[The Sergeant is on the car radio.]

SERGEANT: Frankie Pentangeli murder attempt. Patrolman Stutz shot. Sahara Lounge - Utica Avenue and Claredon Road. White Cadillac three or four men took off from scene. Need ambulance; Stutz is bad. Taking Pentangeli into custody...

[INT. ROTH'S SUITE IN HAVANA - MED. CLOSE VIEW ON ROTH - DAY]

[His wizened face, pale. Right now, though, his eyes have a sparkle as he watches three million dollars in cold cash being counted on a card table in front of him.]

[His brother Sam is present, and the sandy-haired Courier, a little nervous; the one who had left from the Tropicana with the Corleone skim-money. Also Johnny Ola. The money is evidently all there; Roth picks up a packet; probably a hundred thousand dollars, and throws it over to the Courier.]

ROTH: Make it fast; I don't want to chance him being seen.

COURIER *frightened*: What about the arrangements? How can I be sure about the arrangements?

OLA: Relax. You're under our protection; the Corleone family will never find you.

[Ola leads the Courier to the adjoining room where two smartly dressed Military *Cuban* Police are standing, and a civilian. The Courier sees them, looks back to Ola. One of the police steps forward, placing the Courier under arrest; handcuffing him.]

COURIER: Hey, what's this?

[The other takes the packet of money, and hands it to the civilian, who places it in the briefcase he carries. The other officer kneels down and fastens leg manacles.]

COURIER: The arrangements... YOU BASTARDS! What...

[The Captain strikes him expertly across the side of his head with his pistol. Ola closes the door on this scene.]

[EXT. THE HAVANA CAPRI - DAY]

[Fredo Corleone steps out of a car, squints up at the sunshine and palm trees. He is holding on tightly to a small satchel, which he won't let the bellman carry along with his other things.]

[INT. MICHAEL'S SUITE - MED. CLOSE VIEW - DAY]

[Michael and Fredo in a brother's embrace; they kiss each other. Fredo is still in his jacket, holding the satchel.]

FREDO: Mikey. How are you?

[He glances up at Bussetta, who doesn't say a word. Fredo extends his hand.]

FREDO: Hiya, Freddie Corleone.

MICHAEL: Mio fratello.

[Then Bussetta offers his hand back to Fredo.]

FREDO *taking off his jacket*: What a trip, Jesus Christ, the whole time I'm thinking what if someone knew what I got in here.

[He undoes the combination of the briefcase starts taking out cash. Then he stops, remembering that there's a stranger in the room.]

FREDO: Oh, 'scuse me.

MICHAEL: It's all right. He stays with me all the time.

FREDO: Oh. Mikey, what's up? I'm totally in the dark.

MICHAEL: We're making an investment in Havana.

FREDO: Great, Havana's great. Lots of activity in Havana! Anybody I know here. Five-Angels? Anybody?

MICHAEL: Johnny Ola... Hyman Roth.

FREDO: I never met them.

MICHAEL: Pentangeli's dead. He was ambushed by the Rosato Brothers. *pause* Didn't you know that?

FREDO: No. No, I didn't. Who tells me anything? I been kept in the dark so long, I'm getting used to it.

MICHAEL: I want you to help me, Fredo.

FREDO: That's what I'm here for.

MICHAEL: Tonight I want to relax with you. The Senator from Nevada is here with some people from Washington. I want to show them a good time in Havana.

FREDO: Count on me; that's my specialty.

MICHAEL: I'd like to come along. There's been a lot of strain, and I've been cooped up in this room for three days.

FREDO: Me and you, great! Gimme an hour to wash my face and do my research and we'll have these Washington suckers right where you want 'em. *then a thought strikes him* Poor Frankie Five-Angels. He always wanted to die in bed...with a broad.

[INT. ROTH'S SUITE - MED. VIEW - DAY]

[Michael stands at Roth's door carrying the briefcase that Fredo had brought. A hotel DOCTOR takes Hyman Roth's blood pressure, while his wife waits nervously.]

DOCTOR *Spanish*: You must not exert yourself; I will write out a prescription and come back tomorrow.

HOTEL MAN: He's going to write a prescription.

ROTH: I want my own doctor; fly him in from Miami. I don't trust a doctor who can't speak English.

[The doctor is shown out. Roth gestures to the hotel man, who also leaves. Then he looks to his wife.]

ROTH: Honey, go down to the casino?

TERRI: If you feel better...

ROTH: I do. Play the Bingo game.

[They kiss, and she leaves. Also Bussetta and Ola remain.]

ROTH: My sixth sense tells me you have a bag full of money in your hand.

[Ola locks the door; Michael nods, and opens the bag, spilling its contents on the card table.]

MICHAEL: This doubles my investment.

ROTH: Still no word of your courier? We'll find him. But at least this will satisfy our friends here. You've been invited to the New Year reception at the Presidential Home. I understand your brother is here as well; I hope he'll come.

MICHAEL: Six million dollars in cash is a high price for a piece of a country in the middle of a revolution.

[Roth looks patiently at Michael, as though he were a child who hadn't minded the lesson that he had been taught over and over again.]

ROTH: You're a careful kid, and that's good. But look. An international dispatch on the wire service. American journalism, not propaganda. The government troops have all but eliminated the rebels. All but their radio station.

MICHAEL I've read it; I'm pleased that the government is doing so well. As a heavy investor, I'm pleased. How did the doctor find you?

ROTH: Terrible. I'd give twice this amount to take a piss without it hurting.

MICHAEL: Who had Frankie Pantangeli killed?

ROTH *taken a bit off-balance*: Why...the Rosato Brothers.

MICHAEL: I know that; but who gave the go ahead.

[Roth glances to Ola; he is not a fool; he realizes Michael
has begun to suspect him.]

MICHAEL: I know it wasn't me...so that leaves you.

ROTH: There was this kid that I grew up with; he was a couple years younger than me, and sort of looked up to me, you know. We did our first work together, worked our way out of the street. Things were good and we made the most of it. During prohibition, we ran molasses up to Canada and made a fortune; your father too. I guess as much as anyone, I loved him and trusted him. Later on he had an idea to make a city out of a desert stop-over for G.I.'s on the way to the West Coast. That kid's name was Moe Greene, and the city he invented was Las Vegas. This was a great man; a man with vision and guts; and there isn't even a plaque or a signpost or a statue of him in that town. Someone put a bullet through his eye; no one knows who gave the order. When I heard about it I wasn't angry. I knew Moe; I knew he was headstrong, and talking loud, and saying stupid things. So when he turned up dead, I let it go, and said to myself: this is the business we've chosen. I never asked, who gave the go ahead because it had nothing to do with business.

[He regards Michael silently a moment.]

ROTH *continuing*: There's three million dollars on that table. I'm going to lie down, maybe take a nap. When I wake up, if it's still there, I'll know I have a partner. If it's gone, then I'll know I don't.

[The old man turns, and moves in his slippers, toward his bedroom.]

[INT. THE CORRIDOR - DAY]

[Michael closes the door, and moves down the hallway. He is followed by Bussetta, who had waited in the corridor.]

MICHAEL *Sicilian*: How sick do you think the old man is?

BUSSETTA *Sicilian*: He'll live longer than me.

[INT. TROPICOR NIGHT CLUB - VIEW ON THE SHOW - NIGHT]

[A Havana extravaganza, with tall, beautiful showgirls done up in flamboyant, 'South-of-the-Border' Carmen Miranda costumes; the lead singer is a six foot blonde doing "Rum and Coca Cola" in that style. Her name is YOLANDA.]

[MED. VIEW]

[At a large round table, located in an obvious VIP section of the high, tropically draped room with living ferns and other tropical planting with artificial stars.]

[Michael rises, to be introduced by Fredo to some conservative looking Senatorial types, including Senator Pat Geary of Nevada. We notice Bussetta standing nearby.]

FREDO: Does everyone know everyone, or nobody knows nobody. Here, my brother, Michael Corleone... well, you know Senator Geary.

[Geary warmly shakes Michael's hand.]

SENATOR GEARY: Good to see you, Mike; I'm glad we can spend this time together.

FREDO: This is Senator Payton from Florida; Judge DeMalco from New York... Senator Ream... Mr. Questadt from California, he's a lawyer with the Price-Control Administration. And Fred Corngold of U T&T.

[They all make themselves comfortable. A waiter with a tray of drinks appears.]

FREDO: Gentlemen... your pleasure? Cuba Libres, Pina Coladas, you name it.

SENATOR GEARY: I'll take a Yolanda.

[Laughter.]

FREDO: Later, later. All those girls look like they're on stilts!

[The various tropical drinks are distributed.]

SENATOR GEARY: To a night in Havana!

[They all join in.]

FREDO *aside to Michael* Jeeze, it's great you came along, Mike... You know, we've never spent a night out on the town together. I always thought you looked down on me for liking a good time.

MICHAEL: I never looked down on you, Fredo. You don't look down at a brother.

[INT. THE CASINO - NIGHT]

[By now the group has made its way into the casino. Some of them are crowded around the crap table; Senator Geary is with the enormous and beautiful Yolanda, who barely speaks English. There are other girls with some of the men; not with Michael, who gambles dollars while talking to Corngold.]

CORNGOLD: Our information is that Castro is dead. There are maybe a few hundred die-hards in the Sierra Muestra; but government troops are going to clean them out any day.

[Johnny Ola approaches Michael.]

OLA: Mike, can I talk to you.

[Michael follows Ola toward the Baccarat table; a watchful Bussetta moves, a distance away, with them.]

OLA: Listen, this Senator from Florida already has a hundred grand worth of markers on the table.

[We can see Senator Ream at the table, making thousand dollar bets on the Bank.]

OLA: They asked him to sign paper to take down the markers; but he got mad; told them to wait until he was finished.

MICHAEL: Let him gamble.

OLA: Okay. You know he doesn't have that kind of money.

FREDO: Mike said let him gamble.

[Fredo puts his arm around his brother; he is high with the first attention Mike has ever given him, as though finally he is being taken seriously; as though his brother needs him.]

FREDO: Mike, I got something special up my sleeve for these boys. You ever hear of "Superman?" And I don't mean the comic book.

MICHAEL: No.

FREDO: Wait'll you see!

[INT. HAVANA BAR - NIGHT]

[Our group are in a large Havana bar; the walls totally covered with hundreds of fifths of different types of rum and other liquor. A couple of the girls from the show are out with the men; Yolanda herself is giving them a private song and dance. Fredo is a little loaded, and especially attentive to Michael this night.]

FREDO: Mikey, why would they ever hit poor old Frankie Five-Angels? I loved that ole sonuvabitch. I remember when he was just a 'button,' when we were kids. We used to put bedsheets on our heads, you know, like we were ghosts. An' ole Frankie come peek into our room, we'd jump up, and he'd always pretend like he was really scared. You remember?

MICHAEL: It was hard to have him killed.

FREDO: You? What do you mean you, I thought...

MICHAEL: It was Frankie tried to have me hit.

FREDO: No. I mean, are you sure?

MICHAEL: You know otherwise, Freddie?

FREDO: Me? NO, no, I don't know anything. Fellas! You're all falling asleep. We got to see Superman.

[CLOSE ON MICHAEL]

[A growing feeling about his brother.]

[EXT. GARISH HAVANA STREET - NIGHT]

[The street is lit with tons of neon signs; it is alive with people; some roving bands of musicians. Everywhere are little boys running around, begging for money. And in doorways and windows are silent, dark-skinned women.]

SENATOR REAM: *pushing away from the palm outstretched little hands of the boys* Goddamn beggers. Goddamn city of beggars and pimps and whores. And we bend over backwards to support them with the goddamn sugar quota.

FREDO: *to Geary* What's eating him?

SENATOR GEARY: He lost a quarter million dollars at the casino.

SENATOR REAM: ...goddamn city of whores...

SENATOR GEARY: He gave them a bad check.

[INT. 'SUPERMAN SHOW' - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[A large room with a succession of platforms arranged step-like around a circular area which becomes a stage. There are a hundred or so people, practically all men, tourists and business men, standing on the different levels, forming the audience.]

[In the center of the stage is a thick, telephone type pole, to which is tied a young Cuban girl, in a flimsy white sacrificial slip. A small band, mostly drummers, play some Latin music.]

[MED. VIEW]

[Fredo's party standing on the ramp, looking down at the spectacle. They're a little woozy from the drinks and late hour. Michael is with them, but now we sense he is using this time, with all exhausted and drunk, to come to some important conclusions.]

QUESTADT: Why do we have to stand?

FREDO: Everyone stands. But it's worth it, watch!

[VIEW ON THE ARENA]

[Now two high priestesses, scantily clad, bring in a tall and muscular Cuban, done up in chains and loin cloth, as though he were a captured slave. This is SUPERMAN]

[VIEW ACROSS THE MEN TO THE STAGE]

FREDO: That's him; that's Superman!

[Some preliminary pornographic proceedings go on, as the priestesses lead the slave to the virgin tied to the post. The music is percussive and wild.]

[MED. VIEW ON THE MEN]

SENATOR GEARY: Oh my god. I don't believe it.

QUESTADT: It's got to be fake.

FREDO: That's why they call him Superman. Johnny Ola told me about this; I didn't believe it.

[CLOSE on Michael turning away. Not because of the spectacle which he finds disgusting, but at what his brother is saying.]

FREDO *O.S.*: ... but seeing is believing. Ole Johnny knows all the places. I tol' you... can you believe it?

[If Michael would ever allow himself to cry, it would be now.]

FREDO: *continuing* The old man Roth, would never come; but Johnny knows these places like the back of his hand...

[INT. MICHAEL'S SUITE - MED. VIEW - MORNING]

[Michael is alone in his bedroom; it seems as though he hasn't slept very much, but sits by his window, looking out at the city. He is troubled and tired.]

[His radio is on:]

RADIO *Spanish*: "This is Rebel Radio: Rebel troops of Column Four 'Jose Marti' took the town of Baire yesterday at 8:30 p.m. The enemy has retreated..."

[EXT. CUBAN STREET - MORNING]

[This street in Havana is like a Caribbean tourist city with no indication of the revolution in progress. Michael walks along the street, alone, past the Cubans on their way to work; past the American ladies who have gotten up early for their shopping spree.]

RADIO *Spanish*: *continuing* ... An important military action is developing along a 35-kilometer stretch of the Central Highway. Numerous enemy garrisons are left with two alternatives, surrender or annihilation...

[One full block away, Bussetta rides in the front seat of the dark Mercury, driving slowly, giving Michael his privacy, but never letting him out of Bussetta's sight.]

[CLOSE ON MICHAEL watching.]

[MICHAEL'S VIEW]

[Shopkeepers happily luring the tourists into their shops in broken English. Havana is prosperous.]

RADIO: *continuing* ... Victories in war depend on a minimum on weapons and to a maximum on morale...

[VIEW ON MICHAEL]

[Glances back to the dark car following him. In a moment, it pulls up to him, and he gets into the back seat.

[EXT. AMERICAN MILITARY MISSION - VIEW ON MICHAEL - DAY]

[Standing by his car, looking through the cyclone fencing that borders this military training camp operated by the American Army near the city.]

RADIO: ... War is not a simple question of rifles, bullets, guns and planes...

[CLOSER VIEW INTO THE CAMP]

[EXT. HAVANA STREET - DAY]

[A street singer, followed by a guitarist sings Jose Marti's words of "Guantanamera." It is solemn, as though it is a song of protest, a song of the revolution. Nearby, in a restaurant, Michael has lunch with Fredo.]

MICHAEL: How is your wife, Fredo...your marriage?

FREDO: *eating* You know her; drives me crazy, one minute she's a popsicle, the next she's all vinegar. Sometimes I think... I think - I should a married someone, like you did. To have kids, to have a family.

[Michael turns, distracted for a moment at something the singer has sung.]

MICHAEL: "Yo soy un hombre sincero..." I am a sincere man, From the land of the palms...

FREDO: What's that?

MICHAEL: The song. Are you sincere with me, Fredo?

FREDO: Sincere. What are you talking about, of course I'm sincere with you, Mike.

MICHAEL: Then I'm going to confide in you; trust you with something.

FREDO *Sicilian*: Mike, are you crazy, I'm your brother.

MICHAEL: Tonight we've been invited to a reception at the Presidential Palace; to bring in the New Year. You and I will go in a special car that's being sent. They'll have cocktails... then dinner, and a reception with the President. When it's over, it will be suggested that you take Questadt and his friends from Washington to spend the night with some women. I'll go home alone in the car; and before I reach the hotel, I'll be assassinated.

FREDO: ...Who?

MICHAEL: The same man who tried in Nevada... Hyman Roth, not Pentangeli.

FREDO: But, you told me yourself...

MICHAEL: It was never Pentangeli... I've always known that. It was Roth all along. He talks to me as a son; as his successor, but the old man thinks he'll live forever.

FREDO: What do you want me to do?

MICHAEL: To go tonight, with me, as though we know nothing. I've already made my move.

FREDO: What is it? Can I help?

MICHAEL: The old man will never bring in the New Year.

[Fredo realizes what he means; looks immediately to Bussetta, who had been sitting near the door and the musicians. He is gone.]

[INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - MOVING VIEW ON BUSSETTA - NIGHT]

[The first time ever away from Michael, moving toward us quickly. He stops, knocks on the door of Roth's suite. Then quickly for a man his size, he moves without noise to the adjoining door, opens it with a key, and disappears inside.]

[A moment elapses on the empty corridor, and then a roused Johnny Ola, opens the first door. He steps out into the corridor, to see who had knocked. Confused, he is about to return inside, when Bussetta easily breaks his neck in two from behind.]

[INT. THE SUITE - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[As Bussetta quietly pulls the limp body of Johnny Ola, his head bent at an impossible angle, and lays it at the foot of the couch.]

[EXT. PRESIDENTIAL PALACE - NIGHT]

[Guards who are regular troops patrol the Palace in twos, carrying machine weapons.]

[Now an elite officer, checks the identification of the various cars carrying dignitaries, as they are driven up to the Palace. The one being inspected at the moment contains Fredo and Michael. We can see the beautifully dressed people on their way to the reception, and sense the cheerful mood of this New Year's Eve.]

[INT. THE SUITE - NIGHT]

[Bussetta bends over Ola's body, tying the wrists and knees with electrical extensions. He then easily carries the body to the small balcony which all the rooms have.]

[EXT. THE BALCONY - NIGHT]

[Bussetta swings the body over the side of the balcony railing; tying the extension cord to the railing, and suspending the body so that it is invisible both from the inside and out during the night.]

[INT. PRESIDENTIAL PALACE - VIEW ON THE MAIN FOYER - NIGHT]

[The PRESIDENT, his WIFE and six oldest CHILDREN great formally the many beautifully and affluently dressed guests. He speaks to them in Spanish, as one by one they file to him. Michael and Fredo are presented in a group with several other Americans, including several of the American businessmen with interests in Cuba.]

[EXT. STREETS OF HAVANA - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[The excitement of the night is beginning to build; people are out in the streets; poor people, but they are enthusiastic and lively.]

[NEW VIEW]

[Traffic stops, as an ambulance speeds its way to a hospital; SIREN going.]

[INT. THE SUITE - NIGHT]

[Bussetta delicately picks up a small satin cushion that had fallen from the couch, and replaces it as though nothing had happened. Slowly he cracks the door open which adjoins Roth's bedroom. There is a slight commotion; whispered voices.]

[BUSSETTA'S VIEW]

[Terri, Mrs. Roth, is crying. A group of men lift Hyman Roth's frail body onto a stretcher.]

[CLOSE ON BUSSETTA]

[Realizes that this is the man he is to kill.]

[CLOSER VIEW ON ROTH]

[He is alive; breathing hard with his mouth dry and open. The doctor examines him, and then gives instructions to the orderly who carries him out, presumably to the ambulance. Bussetta closes the door on this VIEW.]

[INT. PRESIDENTIAL PALACE - NIGHT]

[An orchestra plays for the guests, as an army of waiters serve champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Michael relaxes with Senator Geary, Major Leon, and several of the Americans.]

QUESTADT: The embargo on arms shipments from the U.S. to your government, was just a necessary public relations move... Only last month, your air force received a major shipment of rockets...

[Michael glances at his watch; Fredo concentrates on this.]

SENATOR GEARY: We believe in non-intervention... but the agreement stipulates that our forces may be withdrawn... but as you've seen, we have not withdrawn them.

CORNGOLD: And my guess is that President Eisenhower won't pull out while we have over three billion invested over here.

MICHAEL: Fredo. Where are you going?

FREDO: Nowhere, Mike. I wanted to get a refill. How about you?

[EXT. HAVANA HOSPITAL - MED. VIEW - NIGHT]

[The ambulance makes its way up to the emergency section of the hospital. The orderlies quickly carry the old man inside. His wife and the doctor, and several of his men, follow in another car.]

[THE VIEW ALTERS]

[And we see Bussetta waiting in the shadows.]

[EXT. HAVANA STREETS - NIGHT]

[The growing crowds of Cubans begin their celebration.]

[NEW VIEW]

[A Cuban military detachment speeds along in the night, motorcyclists clear a path through the celebrants.]

[INT. PRESIDENTIAL PALACE - FULL VIEW - NIGHT]

[A full sitdown dinner is being served the guests. Michael sits at a table at dinner with several of the distinguished Cubans, and some of the American businessmen.]

QUESTADT: What's kept Mr. Roth?

[Fredo looks up at Michael. In the back of the room, we notice the detachment of military moving quickly through the reception room on their way to the President's private quarters. Michael notices it as well.]