Thursday, March 1, 2012
Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to 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 34 of BABY HEISTER, as the cops start closing in on the location of Kelsey and the gang's safe house, trouble is brewing in paradise when Atlas and Helmut try a double cross, with deadly results ...
INT. ABANDONED GROCERY STORE - DAY
A beehive of activity.
Cops sit at desks, work the phones.
A red-faced IRISH COP (50’s)
marks addresses on the big map.
Flint stands with Darryl Rooker
in a corner by the coffee machine.
He takes a sip from his cup. Makes a face.
Tastes like liquid ass.
No luck yet, huh?
It’s a real bitch.
Going door to door.
Big fucking area, you know?
We get anything else from Frick and Fuck?
Nah. They’re all lawyered up.
A SHORT, ROUND OFFICER (20’s) walks up to them.
Excited. Holding a piece of paper.
Waves it in the air.
SHORT, ROUND OFFICER
Hey, Cole. I think I’ve got something.
Costello. Still trying to make detective?
Listen to this. I found a building
that’s owned by what looks like
a shell company in the Cayman Islands.
What makes you think it’s a shell company?
Most of the other buildings
are owned by local businesses,
a few from out of state,
but The Cayman Islands?
I mean, what the fuck?
A lot shady businesses
have off-shore accounts there.
Away from the prying eyes of Uncle Sam.
Exactly. And if you wanted to
maintain some kind of hideout,
you know -- almost untraceable.
Good job, Costello.
(takes the piece of paper, to Darryl)
C’mon. Let’s go check it out.
This pans out, looks like someone’s
gonna get their gold shield.
INT. SHITTY HOTEL SUITE - DAY
A threadbare room, complete with
the requisite threadbare furniture.
Shitty painting of a ship at sea.
Doc stands in the middle of room.
Kelsey and Jo look at the environs with distaste.
The bare mattress on the bed.
I know it’s not The Ritz.
But it’s only temporary.
But there’s six of us --
Oh, there’s plenty of rooms, don’t worry.
A car engine ROARS next door.
Those assholes are trying a CROSS.
INT. DOC’S LOFT - DAY
Jack Cotton’s truck sits in the elevator,
Atlas behind the wheel.
Helmut closes the gate, gun in hand.
Doc RACES over.
What the fuck do you think you’re DOING?
Getting too hot in here, pops.
And besides, why do the job
when we can take your stash?
(waves the gun)
Take one more step and it’s
boom, boom, boom, out go the lights.
Kelsey and Jo appear behind Doc.
You fucking ASSHOLE.
You’ll never get away with this.
You just signed your death warrant.
Atlas reaches over, FLIPS the switch.
The gears start GRINDING
as the elevator starts going down.
See ya in the funny papers, old man.
As soon as he’s out of sight.
Doc RACES over to the electrical panel.
Starts FLIPPING switches.
THE METAL SHUTTERS
Start coming down over the windows.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Looks at Kelsey and Jo.
Don’t worry. I’ve got ‘em trapped.
Doc grabs the master power lever,
THROWS it down. The lights go OFF.
And, down below --
the elevator stops GRINDING.
Simon comes out of the bathroom. Puzzled.
The power went off.
Zorba the Greek and Hitler
tried to take off with the stash.
But Doc cut the power, and now
they’re stuck half-way
down the elevator shaft.
It’s as good as gone.
What do you mean?
There’s no way to get it back.
What are we gonna DO?
That was our life SAVINGS.
We cut the cable
and serve ‘em up to the cops.
The noise will bring ‘em in.
The four of us do the bank job,
then get the fuck out of Dodge.
INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT - DAY
The platform sits immobile in the darkness.
Atlas and Helmut look over the railing down below.
What the fuck are we gonna DO?
We could climb down the cables --
But what about the money?
We can’t carry it,
the fucking bags are too big.
We throw ‘em down.
No, I mean outta here.
It’s too much for us to CARRY.
How you doin’ down there?
What does HE want?
I’d like to say
it’s been nice knowing you,
but I’m a TERRIBLE liar.
Time to CUT THE UMBILICAL CORD.
A cable SNAPS.
One of the four corners LURCHES down.
Atlas and Helmet start to slide toward it.
GRAB onto the car.
What the fuck are you DOING?
It’s your golden parachute.
Another cable SNAPS.
The car starts PLUMMETING DOWN.
The car PLUNGES down like a rock.
HITS the bottom. BANG.
INT. DOC’S LOFT - ELEVATOR LANDING - CONTINUOUS
Doc holds a giant pair of bolt-cutters.
Except you just got the SHAFT.