Codename: Nefertiti! - Part 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Look out Celopatra Jones and Foxy Brown, there's a new chick in town. This sister is six feet of chocolate dynamite and not to be played with. Quiana thought she had retired from the spy game but when her brother goes missing, she becomes a nightmare for the ones who took him and will stop at nothing to bring him home.

Submitted: February 09, 2014

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Submitted: February 09, 2014



Codename: Nefertiti!

Hong Kong – the 1970’s


On a small island, off the Coast of Hong Kong Island in the new territories, lies the most beautiful and exclusive resort and casino in the world, known as the Golden Temple. Only the richest individuals in the world can fly into a private airfield at the resort to gamble, and for the right price, every guest’s particular desires can be fulfilled; the Golden Temple, the place where dreams come true…


Two men scale the rocky peaks to the top of a mountain plateau and stretch out in a patch of tall grass. Slowly they edge their way up to the lip of the plateau and peer over the side; the blonde haired man pulls out a pair of binoculars from his backpack and puts them up to his eyes and begins to focus in on the fields beneath them. The fields come into focus, and there is no mistaking the crop below, poppies. The blond haired man passes the binoculars to his partner, and the black man takes a moment to look at the poppy fields.

“Well that is it the proof we’re looking for, heroin. Get the camera, we’ll need photos of the operation to bust this thing wide open.” The black man says to his partner as he lowers the binoculars.

The blond haired man pulls a 35mm camera out of his backpack and quickly starts snapping shots of the poppy fields and facilities adjacent to it. Suddenly and without warning a small two-man helicopter flies up over the ridge and swoops down on the two men. The men scramble to try and climb back down the mountain but run into a jeep with four armed uniformed men, who jump out and surround them. The helicopter circles above as the two men stop and raise their hands in surrender; the helicopter pilot looks down and sees one of the armed men from the Jeep, strike the blonde haired man in the gut with the butt of his machine gun. The blonde haired man doubles over and drops to the ground; the other armed men move in to grab the black man, their backpacks and pick up the blonde haired man and put them into the back of the Jeep and drives down the mountain road.


The Inner City, U.S.A.

The sound of the Koto playing in the background is soothing to the ear as the blind artisan, who is sitting at the edge of a mat plays. There is a dark skinned man standing at the edge of a bamboo mat; light beads of sweat follow the creases in his face and down the sides and back of his head since there is no hair to act as break on his neck. He takes his index finger and smooth’s his long sliver mustache and goatee; he is splendidly attired in a pure white Gi made of the finest silks and gold trim and the black silk sash that is drawn around his waist shines like crystal in the light. He steps onto the mat as his student steps onto the mat from the other side; they bow to each other and immediately assume fighting stances. As the music plays they engage in a dangerous dance of striking fists and feet, darting in and out from each other. Each strike is met with an imposing block and counter, and it seems for a time as if no one is getting the better of the other, when the master drops low and sweeps his student off her feet and as she lands on her back, he leaps into the air in the Flying Crane position and tries to land on her, but she moves out of the way, just barely missing his knee strike. Quickly she rolls to her feet and runs to the wall behind her and up the side of it, spring boarding over her Master’s head in an effort to take him from behind but when she lands, she finds a sidekick waiting for her which sends her flying across the room.

Slowly she gets to her feet and dusts herself off as the master approaches her; they bow and she says; “Thank you Master AC for another enlightening lesson.”

“Your karate skills are as sharp as ever, Quiana Carter, but there is still much for you to learn.” Master AC tells her. It is strange; his voice seems to be moving 5 seconds ahead of his lips.

“See you next week?” She asks him.

“But of course.”

Master AC bows again and then leaves the private dojo, taking the blind artisan with him. Quiana walks over to a bench and picks up a terry-clothe towel and begins to blot the sweat from her face and neck, her dark skin has a glow to it that makes her even more attractive; she hears slow clapping from behind her and turns to see a big man standing off to the side. Standing well over six feet, he is wearing a black suit of no particular brand with a plain white shirt, plain black tie and his eyes are covered with a pair of dark sunglasses, which is fashioned, to look like Ray Bans. Apart from his graying slicked back hair and mustache of a much darker shade, there is nothing distinctive about his appearance, which is exactly the look he is trying for, but the fact that there is nothing distinctive about his appearance tells her one thing; he is C.I.A. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Grant Aldermen and Quiana is not even going to ask how you got into her urban, contemporary home!” Quiana snaps at him.

“I have an assignment for you, Nefertiti.” The he says.

“Look Grant, if Quiana has said it once Quiana has said it three times; Quiana, codenamed: Nefertiti is out the game! Quiana don't work for the C.I.A. anymore!”

“I know we did not part under the best of circumstances, but we need you Nefertiti… now more than ever.” Grant argues while taking his sunglasses off and revealing a smaller pair of dark shades that he is still wearing underneath.

Quiana undoes her Gi top and lets it drop to the floor as she continues to wipe the sweat from her firm, statuesque body; Grant tries to act unimpressed by the view but fails; she turns back to the bench and picks up a silk kimono and slips it on, tying a simple knot around her waist. Then she unties the black dragon bandanna from around her head, allowing her ten-inch Afro to expand to its full length as she gently fluffs it with her Afro comb, which she pulls out from inside her Afro.

“Now why would Quiana get back into bed with you jive turkeys?”

“Look Nefertiti you were the best agent I ever had, and this is a bad one, we've lost two agents, they were set-up, and frankly I do not know whom I can trust within the Agency. I brought this file if you just take a look I think you will change your mind.” Grant says, extending the file to her.

Quiana cocks her head and then turns to take the file from Grant. She opens the folder and reads through the documents but stops when she sees the photos of the agents who were taken hostage.

“This can not be right, this is my little brother James, James Carter! He is working for you?”

“James, codenamed: Pooky, joined the agency right after you left. He wanted to be like you, and he had the right skill set. Although he was never on your level, but he is in trouble now and if you will not do it for your country, or for me… then do it for him.”


Quiana flashes back to a time when James and her were just a couple of kids growing up on the mean streets of the Inner City, trying to look out for each other and keeping it real after their mother had died during the Inner City riots of ‘63.

(“James you are Quiana's little brother and Quiana promised Momma that she would always look out for you, but you can not follow her everywhere, and you can not do everything that Quiana does, you have got to trust her on this, Quiana knows what's best for you.”

“Sure sis, I trust you. It is just that you are so hip, and fly, I just want to be cool like you.” James tells her.

Quiana smiles and pulls James in for a big hug…)


“James NO!” Quiana cries out tearfully.

“So Nefertiti, are you in or are you out?” Grant asks her. “I'll supply you with whatever you need.”

“Just when Quiana thought she was out, you suckers pull her back in! Okay Quiana’s back in the game, Grant, but Quiana does not trust you guys at the Agency, so she'll be puttting my own team together. She'll tell you if she needs something from you!"

“Have it your way.”

“I always do, now split!”

Grant frowns as he puts his sunglasses back on and leaves Quiana alone with the file; she sits down on the bench and continues reading. After a short while she puts the file down and picks up a bottle of grape Crush, she slams it down in two or three gulps and wipes her wet lips with the back of her hand and then puts the empty bottle down and picks up the phone sitting on a small table next to the bench.

“Yeah it’s Quiana. What are you doing? Quiana need your help on something; how soon can you get here? Cool, Quiana will fill you in when you arrive.” Quiana hangs up the phone.


Quiana leans back on the couch, watching Sanford and Son on her color TV; Redd Foxx has her in stitches and it helps take her mind off James, if only for a little while. When the commercial break comes on, Quiana gets up and walks into the kitchen and makes herself some Jiffy Pop popcorn. A pair of eyes is following her from the living room window as she stands in front of the kitchen stove popping her popcorn. When the tinfoil bag is about to burst, she pulls the pan off the stove and carefully opens up the foil bubble and pulls a couple of kernels from the bag with her fingers and pops them into her mouth. Happy with the finished product, she returns to the living room, and the couch, she pulls a saltshaker out of her Afro and sprinkles her popcorn, before returning it to its hiding place. She is about to get comfortable but gets back up almost immediately when she realizes she has forgotten her grape Crush.

As she goes back into the kitchen, a pair of hands quietly open the window and a man starts to climb into the living room, but before he can get inside, Quiana jerks him through the window and flips him through the air, with a loud ‘Kiai’ and into a bookcase against the wall. For his size, Quiana is able to throw him with easy, but the heavy set black man never loses his big brimmed hat; stunned but operating off reflex, the man aims his pearl handled .45 revolvers at Quiana, who is straddling his chest with her silk kimono wide open.

The man tries to act unimpressed by the view but fails; as she looks down at the man and says; “Geoffrey Braddock, codename: Dead Shot! What the hell are you doing sneaking in my urban contemporary window; why didn’t you just use the front door?”

“I wanted to see if you still had it; looks like you’ve lost a step, girl.” Geoffrey tells her, gesturing with his twin pistols named ‘Porky and Bess’.

“You think so? She replies, gesturing with a knife, between his legs. Geoffrey fells the knife-edge on his Johnson and smiles.

“(Bleep) well get off me girl; you ain’t that light.” He tells her.

Quiana slips off Geoffrey’s chest, and he gets back to his feet and holsters his guns under his leather waistcoat and then straightens the brim of his hat, brushes off his bellbottoms, fluffs the sides of his short Afro and slicks down his handle bar mustache, as Quiana looks at her smashed bookcase while hiding her knife in her Afro.

“Oh, and you will be paying for this.” She says, still looking at the bookcase while tying her kimono.

“I was surprised to get your call girl, it’s been a long time; what two years?” He asks while sizing her up with his eyes.

“Three; remember Havana?”

“Oh yeah, Havana…”


Geoffrey flashes back to the last days in Havana, when gunfire and cannon shelling by the local military pinned them down.


(“There’s too many of them Nefertiti!” Dead Shot shouts, while returning fire with his .45’s. “We’re not going to make it; I’ll hold them off for as long as I can and you can make a run for it. No point both of us getting caught…” Geoffrey turns around, when he doesn’t get an answer and looks for Quiana, but she is gone. “What the (Bleep)? Ain’t this about some (Bleep).” Geoffrey goes back to shooting.)


“Yeah, Havana.” Geoffrey says to himself.


“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” A silky voice asks.

Both Quiana and Geoffrey look up and see a woman in a tight fitting red leather motorcycle suit and helmet standing before them and the platform boots she is wearing gives her height; when the woman takes off the helmet, her corn-rolled, raven braids fall past her shoulders and to her hips. The red lipstick on her lips stands out against her fair skin.

Quiana smiles and says; “Brittany Glenann, codename: White Chocolate. Great; everyone’s here; now we can get started.”

“White Chocolate, (Bleep) you're looking good girl, how long's it been?” Geoffrey asks while sizing Brittany up with his eyes.

“It had to be four years ago in Saigon, that was the last time we worked together.” Brittany tells him as she buffs and files her 2” inch nails with a pocket file; her nails are painted red to match the color of her lipstick.

“Oh yeah, Saigon…”


Geoffrey flashes back to the last days in Saigon, when gunfire and cannon shelling by the local military pinned them down.


(“There’s too many of them White Chocolate!” Dead Shot shouts, while returning fire with his .45’s. “We’re not going to make it; I’ll hold them off for as long as I can and you can make a run for it. No point both of us getting caught…” Geoffrey turns around, when he doesn’t get an answer and looks for Brittany, but she is gone. “What the (Bleep)? Ain’t this about some (Bleep).” Geoffrey goes back to shooting.)


“Yeah, Saigon.” Geoffrey says to himself.


Quiana has everyone gather around the kitchen table as she tosses the file Grant had given her on the tabletop.

“So, what's up?" Britney asks, between smacks of her gum.

“The Big Man gave Quiana this file.” Quiana says.

“The Big Man! This is a C.I.A. gig; I thought you were out the game?” Brittany says.

“(Bleep) I thought we all were.” Geoffrey adds.

Brittany looks at Geoffrey and says; “You still got that ‘Profanity chip’ implanted in your throat?”

“(Bleep) yeah, they installed it for the Vatican mission. The (Bleep) thing got (Bleep) fused to my vocal cords; I can’t say what I really want to say without it being censored. (Bleep) Doctors can’t get the (Bleep) thing out!”

Brittany shakes her head, smiling and says; “The things we did for our country, but in your case that was probably an improvement.”

“(Bleep) you!”

“Can we focus here?” Quiana says, trying to bring everyone’s attention back to the table.

“It seems the C.I.A. lost two of their operatives in Hong Kong. They were there to gather Intel on this man, Donald Lasanka, AKA ‘Dragon Eye’.” Quiana begins, passing a grainy photo of a man climbing out of a car to Brittany and Geoffrey.

“Wait I know this (Bleep); he's a Slavic-Croatian born refugee from Michigan. This cat is the biggest drug lord and weapons dealer in the Pacific Rim; he has contacts everywhere and his hands in everything. They call him ‘Dragon Eye’ on account of a glass eye he wears that has an image of a red dragon painted on it.” Geoffrey says to Quiana.

“A glass eye, huh?”

“Yeah, I heard he lost his real eye to some (Bleep) Chinese Triad that tried to muscle him out of business; they (Bleep) took his eye, but he took all their tongues…”

“Well I’m not one to talk, but I heard he carved it out with a spoon, when he was in some Russian gulag, just to prove he was the baddest dude there. He ran that gulag for 3 years until he escaped.” Brittany counters.

“This is one bad dude, why are we (Bleep) with him, shouldn't the C.I.A. clean up their own mess?" Geoffrey questions.

“I agree with Geoffrey, The Big Man’s burned all of us at one point or another, why go out of the way to help him or the C.I.A.?" Brittany nods and gives Geoffrey a ‘high-five’ slap on his open palm.

“It's James…”

“Your little brother James? He kinda fine, what’s he got to do with this?” Brittany asks.

“He's working for The Big Man, he's one of the agents that was captured.”

“(Bleep) little James is an agent? Well kiss my big black (Bleep), never would've figured on that.”

“Quiana promised Momma she would look out for him, and that’s what Quiana's going to do.”

“Well I can dig it.” Geoffrey tells her. “Count me in.”

“Me too; so what's the action, Nefertiti?” Brittany asks.

“This file says ‘Dragon Eye’ owns a fancy resort on an island just off of Hong Kong; the Golden Temple, we’ll start there…” Quiana’s blood starts to boil. “Quiana’s going to find this ‘Dragon Eye’ and make him tell us where James is even if Quiana has to tear that whole damn island apart with her bare hands!” Quiana swears.

“Subtle, I like it.” Brittany tells her. “But I heard the Golden Temple is a private resort: you need a special invitation just to get on the island, not to mention a lot of Benjamin’s to cover the expenses there."

“The Big Man said he would get me whatever we need so that won’t be a problem; Quiana thinks we would use Secret Cover Number: 69.” Quiana suggests.

Geoffrey smiles; “The swimsuit photo shoot for Jet Magazine! I like that one. What about the equipment, we’re not going to get any help from the local government that’s for (bleep) sure. Is The Big Man going to hook us up?”

“The less he knows about what we’re doing, the better. Quiana’s got a contact over there that can set us up once we arrive.” Quiana answers.

“When do we jet?" Brittany asks while blowing on her nails.

“Quiana went ahead and booked us on TWA direct to Hong Kong, first class of course. We leave tonight.”

Both Geoffrey and Brittany smile at each other and then at Quiana.




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