Friday, April 1, 2011
Till Death Do Us Part
Happy Friday, crime slicksters. Are you ready for the weak-end? Then why not get the party started and take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 10 of NOWHERE GIRL, undercover CIA agent Shag Holiday discovers that his ex, stripper Cherry Nation is handcuffed to a suitcase nuke. Meanwhile, Cherry contacts the Al Qaeda sleeper cell, and arranges to 'make a deal,' only to get interrupted by Homeland Security agent April Street ...
INT. SHAG'S BUNGALOW - KITCHEN - NIGHT
Shag sits at the table with his snack.
Takes a pull on his longneck.
Punches another number on his cell.
INT. CIA HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
A maze of dimly lit cubicles and workstations.
Despite the hour, the joint is abuzz
with OPERATIVES and TECHNICIANS.
A BLONDE OPERATIVE (25) takes the call at her desk.
Crosses her long, amazing legs. Leans back.
Holiday? What’s up? I thought you were --
I need you to check surveillance at LAX.
Something went down tonight,
and I need to know what happened.
Comin’ right up.
She WHEELS AROUND to a bank of nearby monitors.
Fingers CLACK-CLACK-CLACK across her keyboard.
The screens SPRING TO LIFE,
showing images at the airport.
Do you have any intel? Airline?
Not sure. Flight was going to Vegas.
The subject was supposed to be on it.
Who’s the subject?
The bipolar ex.
Don’t remind me.
Lark PUNCHES IN more information.
A list of airline flights and passenger manifests
FLY ACROSS her computer screen.
Here we go -- Cherry Nation, Sky Blue,
flight to Vegas, departing at gate 115 at 9PM.
She WHIRLS AROUND in her chair,
goes back to the monitors.
Okay, let’s go back to say, 8:30.
Lark PUNCHES IT in.
Shows the airport bar.
The windows EXPLODING with GUN FIRE.
Oh, yeah -- that’s right.
I was briefed about this.
Jesus, I need more coffee.
What the fuck happened?
Nothing much. A suitcase nuke
that was meant for an Al Qaeda sleeper cell
was mistakenly given to the wrong person.
Do they say WHO?
Was supposed to be an undercover operative
from Homeland Security --
but they’re really C-6,
that’s just a cover.
They were acting as the broker
between the supplier and the cell.
What the fuck is 'C-6?'
It’s a new black ops unit.
That’s all I know.
You didn’t hear it from me.
Shag stands. Starts pacing.
Cherry said someone gave her
a briefcase by mistake.
SHE HAS THE NUKE.
FUCK. When did you last talk with her?
Just now. Shit.
Let me give you her cell number,
you can triangulate her position.
We’re supposed to back away
from this one, Shag.
She’s my EX.
And I’m WATCHING HER KIDS.
Give me the number.
Till death do us part, huh?
INT. SUV - MOVING - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
April drives the car slowly on the right-hand side,
checks the hand-held PDA.
They’re right near here --
INT. JUMBO’S CLOWN ROOM - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Cherry pays the BARTENDER (40), an ex-stripper.
Keep the change.
Stripper Bartender ambles away,
goes behind the bar.
I’m gonna call the guy.
Then we’re gonna see the guy.
Get the money.
And then I can finally get this thing
off my wrist. It’s fucking killing me.
She pulls out a piece of paper.
Her cell. PUNCHES a number.
Wish me luck.
(into the phone)
INT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Hamad, Kamal and the rest sit and watch
DEAL OR NO DEAL on a huge plasma-screen.
It’s ridiculous. Greedy Americans.
There is no GAME.
Look at number twenty-seven.
She looks Persian.
Kamal’s phone RINGS.
He gets it. Listens.
No, this is Cherry Nation.
What is Cherry -- Nation?
I’M Cherry Nation.
And I have your briefcase.
It’s the girl with the package.
Where are you?
I’m on my way to see you.
You have the money?
She doesn’t know who Avi is.
This smells funny.
I don’t like it.
(eyes on the TV)
Not to worry.
If it goes wrong, we kill her.
Then we go visit Avi.
You still there?
You have the address?
Yeah, I’m on my way.
She hangs up.
The reality of all of this
is finally sinking in.
Peeler puts his hand on top of Cherry’s.
You okay? You look -- scared to death.
Of course I’m fucking scared to death.
Thanks for doing this with me.
You know, you’re not such a --
The front door BANGS OPEN.
In walks April.
I’m a FEDERAL OFFICER --