Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Beat The Clock
Happy Tuesday, 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 29 of NOWHERE GIRL, Bel Air Security officer Renny Quick has a little run-in with the Al Qaeda sleeper cell hiding out in the Hollywood Hills mansion they're hiding in. Meanwhile, the shit hits the fan when renegade stripper Cherry Nation gets curious and opens the suitcase nuke ... and accidentally starts the timer ...
INT. MANSION - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Renny sits on the couch
next to Rich Husband.
The two guards stand behind them
with weapons pointed at their heads.
Kamal stands nearby,
hands clasped behind him.
Hamad holds Rich’s cell phone.
SMASHES it. STOMPS on it, CRACK.
You called private security!
After I specifically told you
not to FUCK AROUND.
Do you know what we do
to people who don’t FOLLOW ORDERS?
I’m sorry, I guess I -- panicked.
Hamad pulls out a REVOLVER
with a silencer.
No, wait, wait, wait!
I’ve got a shitload of money upstairs!
In my safe! You can have it! All of it!
There’s a couple hundred thousand.
It’s behind the mirror on the dresser
in the master bedroom.
Kamal walks over.
Hands him a piece of paper and a pen.
If you would kindly
give us the combination.
Rich scribbles it down.
Relieved. Kamal takes it.
Nods at Hamad.
Hamad raises his gun, takes aim --
WAIT, I thought --
And SHOOTS Rich in the forehead -- THWIP.
Rich’s body SLUMPS over. Dead.
Renny’s eyes dart madly,
Not to worry, my big, strapping
American emergency services worker.
We still need hostages --
who know how to behave.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - FRONT DRIVE - NIGHT
Cherry and Peeler walk up
the long driveway in the moonlight.
The lights of the city twinkle below
in the distance.
I think I’m gonna pee my pants.
How’s your leg?
It’s really starting to hurt.
I’m really looking forward to
getting a chance to sit down for a second.
How’s your arm?
It’s throbbing like a motherfucker.
Look, why don’t we take a breather
before we go in, plot our strategy.
She leads him over
to the garage, which is open.
They sit on the hood of a sleek Rolls.
Cherry rubs her wrist.
Ohmigod is that good.
She puts the briefcase on her lap.
Fiddles with the clasp.
What are you doing?
Didn’t you tell me the guy said
you’d die if you opened it?
Yeah, he did --
Cherry closes her eyes.
Winces. FLIPS IT OPEN.
But he was LYING.
Ha, I KNEW it.
So THAT’S what a suitcase nuke looks like.
Looks like any other bomb to me.
And you’ve seen a lot of bombs --
In the movies, silly, on TV.
She examines the interior.
Points at a small clock.
This must be the timer.
Cherry, I really don’t think
you should fuck around with that.
It’s been a really long night,
and I really don’t feel like
getting blown up.
Chill, dude. I’m not gonna --
Her nose twitches --
and she SNEEZES.
Which causes her finger to
JERK against the side of the clock,
and SPIN a small knob.
NO -- NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!
INSIDE THE BRIEFCASE
A small, red LCD screen reads
ENGAGE IN: 15:00 --
with the numbers reeling backwards.
What the FUCK are we gonna do NOW?
We got fifteen minutes to figure it out.
Let’s get the fuck IN THERE --