Def Traffic Jam

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In Chapter 59 of BABY HEISTER, as dirty cop Flint Cole and robbery gang leader Doc Hazard make their way to Flint's hideout with the stolen loot, robbery-homicide chief Darryl Rooker tracks their location ...


INT. FLINT’S CROWN VIC - MOVING - DAY
Flint Drives.
Cigarette dangling on his lip.

Doc stares out the passenger-side
window. Sullen.

FLINT
After all this time,
we’re finally partners.
Life sure is strange, huh?

DOC
It’ll be a cold day in Wassilla
when we become partners.

Flint sees his exit.
Hits the turn signal.

Starts making the turn
onto the off-ramp.

DOC
Don’t take Lincoln.
You’ll get stuck in traffic.
Ocean Avenue’s better.

FLINT
This is more direct.
Just sit back and
leave the driving to us.

EXT. FREEWAY OFF RAMP - LINCOLN AVENUE - DAY
Flint’s Crown Vic turns off the ramp,
heads south on Lincoln.
Gets immediately caught in traffic.

IN THE CAR
Doc smiles. Shakes his head.

DOC
Good one, partner.

FLINT
Shut the fuck up.

DOC
What’s the hurry?
It’s not like we have
twenty million in the back seat.

Flint glares at him.
His phone RINGS. He picks up.

FLINT
This is Cole --

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. TASK FORCE HEADQUARTERS - CONTINUOUS
Darryl Rooker sits at his desk on the phone.
Costello stands next to him. Fists clenched.

DARRYL
Any news? You see them yet?

FLINT
I’m right behind ‘em,
but there’s too much traffic.
Gonna stay in pursuit until
they get off the freeway.

Darryl turns, looks at --

ANOTHER COP SITTING AT A NEARBY DESK
Wearing headphones, listening on
electronic tracking equipment.
He nods. Gives a thumbs-up.

DARRYL
Grimaces in the phone.

DARRYL
Okay, just don’t lose sight of them.

FLINT
You got it.
I’ll call you back
when I get the fuckers.

They both CLICK their phones shut.

A STERN-LOOKING FBI AGENT
In a sharp suit appears
next to Headphone Cop.

STERN-LOOKING FBI AGENT
We cool?

HEADPHONE COP
Ice-cold.

Darryl comes into frame. Anxious.

DARRYL
But that wasn’t long enough to --

STERN-LOOKING FBI AGENT
Not with your antiquated
piece-of-shit call-tracing.

But with OUR state-of-the-art
satellite def-jam, we can
triangulate his exact location
through his cell phone.
(to Headphones)
And the winner IS?

HEADPHONE COP
(reading the screen)
They’re on Lincoln Avenue
in Santa Monica, heading south --
(smiles)
And it looks like
they’re stuck in traffic.

DARRYL
(to Costello)
Send as many units as we’ve got.
We’re finally gonna GET this fucker.