Onto today's joint from LEGS, where the story takes a bit of a breather, when private eye Carrie Love and black ops Interpol agent Felina Bella Donna meet with 'B' at her safe house, and plot how to take down demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer ... and insane CIA spook The Bagger ...
INT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT
Edgar leads Carrie and Felina down a long, long corridor.
This place is amazing.
And the government pays for it?
Of course not, darling.
B has a great cover. He's rolling in it.
Don't tell me -- he's a lawyer?
I'm afraid it's worse.
He's an agent.
INT. B'S DEN - NIGHT
Very manly, very aristocrat. Coat of arms, the works.
Straight out of Masterpiece Theatre.
B, (55), a tanned, Brit Bob Evans type,
rushes to greet Felina. Beaming. They hug.
Felina, darling. Such a pleasure.
You look divine, as usual.
It's been too long, B.
When was the last time I saw you --
that thing in Oklahoma City?
Felina. How could you forget the fun we had in Brentwood.
Of course, the double murder -- the football player.
B turns his attention to Carrie. Drinks her in.
Ah-ha. And this must be the detective, Miss Carrie Love.
He takes her hand. Kisses it, elegant.
You make me blush. Felina warned me about you.
Your reputation is only exceeded by your charm.
And your charm is only exceeded by your -- legs.
EXT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT
A mini-skirted pair of legs slide out the rear of a limo.
EXT. QUEENS ROAD - NIGHT
Valentine's car roars by the limo. The gams SHOOT back in.
INSIDE THE CAR
a WOMAN lays on the lap of a grey-haired SUIT.
INT./EXT. - VALENTINE’S CAR - CONTINUOUS
Valentine punches the gas. Climbs a winding road uphill.
INT. B'S DEN - NIGHT
A fireplace crackles. Edgar pours champagne.
Carrie and Felina sit on the sofa in matching black leather catsuits.
Well, this would normally be the scene
where I fill you in on the villain's back story,
his motivation -- fill in all the holes in the plot.
Exposition, if you will.
Carrie's eyes shine.
But I'm afraid I can’t do that, my dear.
I don't know what the fuck is going on.
It's safer if he doesn't know anything.
He's here for safety, support --
and really cool weapons.
At your service.
Not to mention really severe evening wear.
Don't get me wrong, it's a fab Gautier knock-off --
but it feels like a lead suit.
That's because it is.
From what Felina has told me
about your date for the evening,
this would seem to fit the dress code.
And now it's a double date.
B’s eyes dart a question.
Klaus Speer -- and the Bagger.
His champagne glass flies out of hand. CRASH.
Yeah, the hit man. You know him?
B turns white. Felina looks at Carrie.
He was responsible for the Twentieth Century’s Greatest Hits --
but other people always got the credit.
Lee Harvey Oswald, Sirhan Sirhan, James Earl Ray --
EXT. KLAUS’ ESTATE - POOL - NIGHT
Klaus lies on a chaise poolside. Drugged. Dead to the world.
A large packing of gauze at this crotch swells his waistband.
The Bagger holds up his prize in the moonlight.
And you wanted to be a stewardess.
Makes a nice coin purse.
Rub it and it becomes a steamer trunk.
He pops it in his mouth. Chews.