Dramatis Personae
(in order of appearance)
Dr. Howard COMPTON, remarkably cheerful coroner. Male, mid 50s, London accent.
Inspector ISKANDAR Meshkia, Scotland Yard detective troubled by poor sleep. Male, late 30s, strong Turkish accent.
Dr. ERNEST Wilde, University of London adjunct botanist. Male, early 30s, Northern English accent.
Richard PRYCE, grower of rare orchids. Male, early 40s, posh British accent.
Henry CARLTON, Ernest’s army buddy. Male, early 30s, London accent.
Two or three CULTISTS, all male; accents and age can vary.
Eloise “ELLIE” Westmont, intrepid lady detective. Female, mid 20s, posh British accent.
KURT Cross, her long-suffering assistant and face of the operation. Male, early 30s, New York accent.
Constable John TAYLOR, cog in the machine. Male, early 20s, London accent.
Chief Superintendent Winston PEMBROKE, Sr., Iskandar’s superior and keeper of a certain sort of peace. Male, early 60s, English accent with audible mustache.
William “WILL” Grey, bartender who regrets several of his life choices. Male, late 20s, London accent.
NIGEL Blackthorne, a man who has read too many tomes of forbidden knowledge. Male, early 30s, posh British accent.
The memory of HALIME, Iskandar’s young daughter, now deceased. Female, seven years old, could speak with an English or Turkish accent.
Mrs. JUDITH Rosenfeld, Iskandar’s landlady. Female, late 40s, slight Yiddish accent.
Scene 1: Int. London hospital – Day
MUSIC: OPENING THEME.
It’s early in the morning, and the hospital is quiet. A telephone rings in the background, followed by sparse conversation. A stretcher on squeaky wheels goes by, followed by the footsteps of two nurses.
ISKANDAR descends a flight of stairs from the main floor, and the background noise recedes. His hard-soled shoes echo against the steps.
A large door opens and closes. The space is empty, cavernous.
COMPTON:
(Cheerfully)
Ah, Inspector! Thank you for coming in.
I hope my call didn’t wake you.
How are you?
ISKANDAR:
(Professional, even a little cold. COMPTON’s demeanor, in the presence of death, unnerves him.)
I’m well, thank you.
Is there something wrong? Your message sounded urgent.
COMPTON:
Oh, I’m splendid, myself. It’s our friend here.
The late professor.
He turns the wheel that opens the mortuary drawer and pulls it open. The mechanism is oiled, but it’s heavy.
ISKANDAR:
What happened?
COMPTON:
Well, Inspector, it’s just the most bizarre thing.
(He walks a few steps away to a table.)
It seems our friend here drowned in seawater. His lungs were full of the stuff.
ISKANDAR:
Seawater?
COMPTON:
I do mean seawater, not just salt water. Look, here.
(He shakes a glass jar of water)
You can see the debris, a little bit of plant matter—I’d be willing to bet that it came from London Harbor, though at the moment I haven’t had a chance to test that theory.
ISKANDAR:
He was miles from the harbor, and his clothes were dry.
Do you know the time of death?
COMPTON:
I’d say around nine o’clock. Ten hours or so before I got to him.
And he drowned, no question about that.
ISKANDAR:
The proprietor didn’t mention anyone coming or going that night.
COMPTON:
Your guess is as good as mine, Inspector.
Far from the harbor, no sign of a struggle, no way to drown himself that I can think of—and yet here we are.
(He puts the jar down, and the water sloshes.)
I’ll let you know if I find anything else.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
(He hesitates. He used to be warm, friendly—people used to like him. He considers making some sort of conversation, but the moment passes.)
COMPTON:
Be safe out there, Inspector. I always tell the constables—I don’t want you to be the next one on my table.
He pushes the drawer closed, tucking RAGNARSSON’s body away. The door closes and latches with a heavy thump.
Scene 2: Int. University of London greenhouse – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
ERNEST arrives at the greenhouse after his afternoon classes. He turns on a squeaky faucet and fills a metal can with water.
He yawns. His schedule is too busy, and his morning tea just isn’t doing the trick.
While the water runs, he tears open an envelope.
RAGNARSSON:
(Narrating)
Doctor Wilde:
I understand that this letter comes to you without much explanation, but I must be brief.
I fear that your life and your work, like mine, are in danger.
ERNEST turns off the faucet. He unfolds the letter, paper crinkling.
RAGNARSSON:
(Narrating)
Over the last several months, a group of individuals have taken an interest in my research and have been following my movements and impeding my progress.
I now have reason to believe that they may threaten my life.
ERNEST picks up the watering can, and the water sloshes as he carries it with one hand while holding the letter with the other. Multitasking is how he gets through the day.
RAGNARSSON:
(Narrating)
As disparate as our fields of study are, I know now that your research and mine are connected, and so you are also in the same danger.
Be cautious, and guard your findings carefully.
Adjusting the letter, ERNEST sets about watering plants in the greenhouse.
RAGNARSSON:
(Narrating)
I apologize for the lack of detail. I can only ask you to trust me.
When I am more certain of my safety, I will send another letter, and I will explain everything.
ERNEST continues watering the plants.
RAGNARSSON:
(Narrating)
Be safe, and best of luck.
Emundr Ragnarsson, Oxford University.
ERNEST:
(To himself)
Ragnarsson, Ragnarsson…
Where have I heard that name before?
He empties the watering can and returns it to the shelf.
The door opens.
PRYCE:
(Off mike)
Dr. Wilde?
ERNEST:
Yes?
He shoves the letter into a pocket.
PRYCE:
(Approaching)
Richard Pryce. We spoke on the telephone yesterday.
ERNEST:
Yes, of course. Come in.
Is that the specimen? No, set it down there, away from the other plants.
PRYCE:
It’s really a shame. My orchids are prize-winning.
ERNEST:
You said you keep it in a greenhouse?
PRYCE sets a flowerpot down on a table.
PRYCE:
That’s right.
ERNEST:
(Pausing, examining the plant. He speaks more to himself than to PRYCE.)
The damage is consistent with the others I’ve seen, though this is the first one from an isolated environment.
Dry leaves fall off the plant and crumble to the tabletop.
ERNEST:
(Remembering PRYCE is there)
If you look here, the roots are black, as well as the ovule, right there, going up through the flower.
And the leaves are already gray and crumbling, almost like ash.
I’d have to take a look under the scope, but I’m quite certain it’s the same blight.
PRYCE:
Do you know what causes it?
ERNEST:
Unfortunately, no. Not yet. I haven’t been able to isolate a source.
Is this the only plant that’s affected?
PRYCE:
Yes, the only one.
ERNEST:
Strange. Even in winter temperatures, it tends to spread rather quickly.
PRYCE:
(Nervously; he’s here for an unspoken reason, and he’s worried about being found out)
Do you…do you think it’s sabotage?
My orchids are prize-winning.
ERNEST:
Sabotage?
I…don’t think so. But the mechanism by which it spreads is still unclear.
ERNEST walks away from the table to rummage around in a tool drawer.
PRYCE:
(Pressing for more information)
When did you say you first saw this disease?
ERNEST:
(Off mike)
Two weeks ago, maybe three? A farmer in Norfolk lost a whole field of winter wheat.
(Continuing to rummage)
Ah! Here we are.
PRYCE:
Norfolk. Interesting.
ERNEST:
(Returning to the table)
The roots looked just like your, er, orchid, there.
I’ll have to keep it quarantined, at least until I know how to prevent the spread.
PRYCE:
(Trying to sound casual)
And…what was his name? The farmer?
ERNEST:
(Brief pause)
I’m afraid I don’t remember.
He sets about snipping leaves from the plant with a pair of clippers.
ERNEST:
You’ll probably start seeing signs in your other plants. Remove them from the greenhouse and place them in a metal rubbish bin with a lid. Be sure to keep them away from the lawn.
PRYCE:
Will that stop it from spreading?
ERNEST:
To be honest, I’m not sure yet.
But it can’t hurt.
PRYCE:
(With relief barely concealed by contempt)
With all due respect, Dr. Wilde, it sounds like you don’t know very much about this disease at all.
I was told you were the expert.
ERNEST:
I’m afraid both are true, Mr. Pryce.
I’m hopeful that your specimen will shed some new light on the subject. Thank you for bringing it in.
PRYCE:
Of course. Do let me know if you learn anything—anything at all.
ERNEST:
I will. Good day, sir.
PRYCE leaves the laboratory, swinging open a heavy door.
PRYCE:
(Off mike)
Pardon me.
CARLTON:
(Off mike)
After you, please.
The door closes.
CARLTON:
Wilde! You’re still here.
ERNEST:
Oh, Carlton.
What are you doing here?
CARLTON:
I’ve come to rescue you from your drudgery.
Did you forget? Again?
ERNEST:
Is it that late already?
CARLTON produces a pocket watch and flips it open.
CARLTON:
Six thirty-five and a half. It’s past that late.
ERNEST:
Pryce was late for his appointment, then.
The pocket watch snaps shut.
CARLTON:
So! Shall we?
ERNEST:
I’m so sorry. I’ve got to take this specimen up to the lab—
CARLTON:
(Speaking over him)
The war’s over, you know. Your leafy green patients won’t expire if you take an evening off.
ERNEST:
I know, I know, but I really need to work—
CARLTON:
(Interrupting)
No, not today.
He grabs ERNEST’s coat, with a sound of heavy fabric, and kicks open the laboratory door.
CARLTON:
Here’s your coat, and here’s the door—
ERNEST:
Wait—
CARLTON:
You’ve left me high and dry twice this month already. You’re going to have a drink, and you’re going to enjoy yourself. First round’s on me.
ERNEST:
All right, all right.
Let me put this somewhere safe.
ERNEST picks up the infected orchid and places it in a metal bucket. He sweeps the dried leaves into a container.
CARLTON:
Thank you for coming to your senses.
ERNEST puts his coat on, disturbing the letter in his pocket.
ERNEST:
Say, Carlton, have you ever heard of a Professor Ragnarsson? From Oxford?
CARLTON:
Was he the fellow in the paper this morning?
ERNEST:
(When was the last time he had the chance to read the paper?)
I don’t know. Could be.
CARLTON:
I think that was the name. Poor bastard up and died here in London last week. The police are looking for witnesses.
ERNEST:
(A beat. It’s probably a coincidence.)
Oh.
CARLTON:
You didn’t know him, did you?
ERNEST:
(Considering and deciding against mentioning the letter)
No, not at all.
CARLTON:
We’ll drink in his honor. Come on.
The laboratory door opens and closes.
Scene 3: Ext. London street – Night
ERNEST and CARLTON are returning from the pub, mildly intoxicated. As is to be expected, a soft rain has begun to fall, and their footsteps occasionally splash in puddles. A horse-drawn carriage goes by in the distance, followed by a car. Muffled voices call out to one another.
CARLTON:
Tell it to me straight, Wilde.
How bad is it? Mass starvation? Riots in the streets?
ERNEST:
Oh, no, nothing like that.
(Rethinking)
Well, maybe. But not anytime soon. So far, it’s only been a couple of cases.
My only concern is how fast it spreads.
CARLTON:
Well, you’ll let me know, won’t you? I’ll stock up on beer.
ERNEST:
Though I suppose Ragnarsson was worried about it.
CARLTON:
Ragnarsson? The dead archaeologist?
ERNEST:
He sent me a letter. Before he died, I suppose.
CARLTON:
He had some interest in nasty plant diseases?
ERNEST:
I don’t know. Could have been a mistake.
(Aided by the alcohol, he begins a scientific analysis.)
But he took the time to write to me by name, so I think that hypothesis can be safely discarded.
CARLTON:
Here we go.
ERNEST:
So, one theory is that he dug up some evidence that the blight has appeared before. Preserved plants, maybe, or writing about it. I don’t know.
CARLTON:
You know I don’t know the first thing about archaeology.
ERNEST:
(Pressing forward without acknowledging him)
Or he was planning a dig, but the area had been affected by blight. I haven’t found a pattern yet, so it could be anywhere.
Water drips from a gutter. CARLTON makes a disgruntled noise as it falls on his head. Three sets of footsteps approach.
ERNEST:
But why would he contact me, personally, and not the university?
CARLTON:
Well, who’s going to take the time out of his day to write back? You, or some tenured professor?
ERNEST:
I have enough to do already. I should just drop it.
CARLTON:
I think that’s a healthy decision.
ERNEST and CARLTON are now face to face with the CULTISTS. For a moment, everyone stands still. The rain continues.
CULTIST 1:
Are you Dr. Wilde?
ERNEST:
Pardon?
CULTIST 1:
Are you Dr. Wilde?
CARLTON:
Not this late, he isn’t. What do you want?
CULTIST 2:
Turn out your pockets.
ERNEST:
Look, I—I don’t want any trouble.
The CULTISTS come closer.
CARLTON:
Now, hold on—
ERNEST:
(Rummaging in his pockets)
I don’t carry a lot of money. See?
CULTIST 1:
Hold his arms.
The CULTISTS seize ERNEST and CARLTON. Shoes scrape against wet pavement, and the sound of a blow is muffled by a heavy coat.
CARLTON:
Oi!
ERNEST’s keys drop to the ground. Paper—the letter and several seed packets—rustle as the CULTISTS go through his pockets.
ERNEST:
Be careful with those!
CULTIST 2:
That’s everything.
The CULTISTS drop ERNEST and CARLTON, who fall to the ground, and run away, their footsteps receding.
CARLTON:
What the hell was that?
ERNEST gets to his feet, brushing dirt from his hands. He collects his keys from the street.
ERNEST:
They didn’t even take any money.
CARLTON:
You all right, there?
ERNEST:
I’m fine.
They took some seeds. And Ragnarsson’s letter.
Scene 4: Int. Sunset Investigations office – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
We find KURT and ELLIE at the office early the next morning, mid-argument.
ELLIE:
—calls us, and then that very same night he turns up dead?
That can’t be a coincidence.
She drops a newspaper onto KURT’s desk.
KURT:
Maybe not. Fine. But what does that mean for us, then?
ELLIE:
It means we have to get to the bottom of this.
KURT:
Does it, though?
ELLIE:
Of course it does!
The professor asked for our help. Clearly, he needed it.
KURT:
Assuming that he didn’t just pass away at nearly sixty, as people sometimes do, let’s say you’re right.
What does that mean for us, then?
ELLIE:
We can find out what happened. It’s what we do.
KURT:
That’s not what I meant.
ELLIE:
Then what is it?
KURT:
I’m talking about the people he said were coming after him.
What are we going to do when they come after us?
ELLIE:
We’ll be careful.
KURT:
The professor was being careful.
ELLIE:
We’ll just have to be more careful than he was.
It’s the right thing to do, Kurt.
It’s also our professional reputation on the line.
ELLIE leaves the desk, the sound of her heels receding. She begins shuffling through papers and moving objects around on another desk.
KURT:
I don’t disagree with you, but isn’t this something the police should handle?
ELLIE:
(Off mike)
Clearly, they’re not handling it.
KURT:
(Shouting after her as she leaves the room)
It’s only been a couple days.
ELLIE’s shoes continue to make sound as she gathers her things in another room.
ELLIE:
I’m going to investigate.
You can stay here if you want.
KURT:
(Exasperated sigh)
ELLIE comes back into the room and drops a bag on KURT’s desk.
KURT:
Where are you even going?
ELLIE:
Oxford first, I suppose.
The professor said this all had something to do with his work.
KURT:
I’m just worried something might happen to you.
I really don’t want to hunt for a job again.
ELLIE:
Then come with me.
This is your job.
KURT:
I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?
ELLIE:
No.
You can carry my camera.
A rapid knock sounds from the office door.
KURT:
Who could that be, this early?
ELLIE moves the bag from the table and drops it on the floor. She crosses the room and opens the door.
ELLIE:
Good morning.
ISKANDAR:
Good morning, Miss.
Detective Chief Inspector Iskandar Meshkia, with the Metropolitan Police. I’m looking for Sunset Investigations?
ELLIE:
You’ve found it. Please, come in. Let me take your coat.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
ISKANDAR and ELLIE cross the room to KURT’s desk.
ELLIE:
Mr. Cross, this is Inspector Meshkia, from the Met.
This is Kurt Cross, the private investigator.
Can I offer you something to drink, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
(He desperately wants coffee, but assumes a British office would only have tea.)
No, thank you. I’ll only be here a moment.
I just need to ask a few questions in regards to an active investigation.
KURT tries to make his desk presentable, gathering up papers and placing pencils into a mug. ISKANDAR is very good-looking, and KURT has suddenly noticed.
KURT:
(Clearing throat, affecting a harsher accent)
Have a seat, officer.
What can I do for you?
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
I’m sure you’re aware that Professor Emundr Ragnarsson of Oxford has died in London under unusual circumstances. The name of your organization has come up in my investigation.
Did you have any contact with him recently?
ISKANDAR pulls out the offered chair. ELLIE also pulls up a nearby chair and sits down to take notes.
KURT:
We did.
The professor called this office on Thursday afternoon. He was interested in our—in my services.
Um, this is Miss Westmont, my secretary. She’ll be taking notes.
ISKANDAR:
Of course.
Did Professor Ragnarsson explain why he needed a private investigator?
KURT:
(Settling into character)
He said he’d been followed around Oxford—the university and his home—for several months.
He didn’t know who these people tailing him were. Wanted me to find out for him.
ISKANDAR:
Did he believe these people meant him harm?
KURT:
Not in so many words, but he was worried. For good reason, apparently.
Do you think someone popped him off, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.
Did he tell you anything else?
KURT:
He offered us a large sum of money, and wanted to meet that evening.
ISKANDAR:
Yes, the money.
I found the name of your organization on a cheque among the professor’s effects.
KURT:
(Fading out of character to his natural speaking voice)
We were supposed to meet at the Cross and Coin. It’s a little place downtown—um, in the City. He never showed.
ISKANDAR:
And the telephone call was the only contact you had with Professor Ragnarsson?
KURT:
That’s right.
ISKANDAR:
And when you spoke, did he say anything at all that might indicate he believed his life was in danger?
KURT:
No, not really.
He was in a hurry. He promised he’d explain when we met, but, well, you know the rest.
ISKANDAR:
I see.
KURT:
He did say that these mysterious people had broken into his apartment the night before.
ISKANDAR:
In Oxford?
KURT:
I’d assume so. He didn’t specify.
I’m afraid he was very brief.
The chair scrapes against the floor as ISKANDAR gets to his feet.
ISKANDAR:
You’ve been very helpful, Mr., ah, Cross.
If there’s anything else you can think of, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
He takes his own notebook from his pocket, scratches out some telephone numbers, and tears the sheet out.
ISKANDAR:
This is the telephone number for my office, and this is for the building where I live.
ELLIE:
(Brightly)
You know, Inspector, Mr. Cross has contracted as a police consultant before. He also has some personal experience with the clientele at the Cross and Coin.
His connections could be invaluable to you in this case.
ISKANDAR:
I…suppose I could look into it.
You’re familiar with the Cross and Coin?
Would you happen to know someone with the initial “N” who might have known the professor?
KURT:
“N”?
Ah. Unfortunately, yes.
I’m told that he sometimes met with a guy by the name of Nigel Blackthorne. Ring any bells?
ISKANDAR:
Blackthorne.
I don’t believe I’m familiar.
KURT:
He’s a bit of a local character.
ELLIE:
Mr. Cross is being rather polite.
Personally, I would be surprised if Mr. Blackthorne would speak to a police officer.
He has some…eccentric ideas about our government.
ISKANDAR:
I’m not sure I understand.
KURT:
Oh, you know. He believes Parliament has been replaced by fish people, or some such.
ISKANDAR:
(Baffled, but concerned. He knows a conspiracy theory when he sees one.)
Fish…people?
KURT:
Don’t think about it too hard.
I’m sure old Nigel has a number of theories concerning the professor’s death.
The trouble is sorting out the real information from the rest.
ISKANDAR:
And you have some experience in this?
KURT:
I’d say a fair amount.
ISKANDAR:
In that case, I could find out about a consulting contract. It’s not something I’m familiar with.
KURT stands, pushing his chair back.
KURT:
That sounds perfect. We’ll see you this evening at the Cross and Coin, and we’d be happy to stop by Scotland Yard for the paperwork at your convenience.
They shake hands.
ISKANDAR:
I appreciate your help.
Good day, Mr. Cross, Miss Westmont.
ELLIE:
Let me get your coat.
ELLIE walks ISKANDAR to the door.
ELLIE:
Thank you so much for stopping by, Inspector.
I hope Mr. Cross can be of further help to you.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
He leaves, and ELLIE shuts the door behind him.
ELLIE:
Well! I think that went swimmingly.
KURT:
You do know that, technically, we’ve never done police consulting before.
ELLIE crosses the room to KURT’s desk again.
ELLIE:
I think we can manage.
But even if we don’t get the contract, we have another lead.
Nigel Blackthorne.
KURT:
(With a groan)
Did I just volunteer to talk to Nigel?
ELLIE:
(Cheerfully)
You sure did.
Nigel aside, I couldn’t help but notice how eager you are to pursue this case all of a sudden.
KURT:
What? Consulting means we’ll get paid.
Also, now we know the professor’s money is real.
ELLIE:
(Friendly ribbing)
I’m sure that’s the only reason.
Nothing at all to do with the inspector’s piercing green eyes.
KURT:
Oh, you noticed?
ELLIE:
(Laughing)
He’s a little old for me, but I certainly noticed you noticing.
KURT:
(Sigh)
You make my working conditions very difficult, you know that?
ELLIE:
Oh, come off it. You’ve never had it so good.
KURT:
I hate that you’re right.
ELLIE:
Well, looks like our Oxford trip is postponed for the moment. I need to buy some more film, and then we can go to the City.
Bring everything.
KURT:
Yes, ma’am.
Scene 5: Int. Scotland Yard – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
The music fades out, replaced by the sound of typewriters and the murmur of conversation. Someone rushes by, hard-soled shoes on a hard floor. Someone else drops a stack of papers. In the distance, a telephone rings.
TAYLOR:
(Fading in)
Can you describe these men?
ERNEST:
About my height, I suppose, give or take an inch.
It was dark. They were wearing hats and scarves.
TAYLOR’s pen scratches on his notepad.
ERNEST:
But one of them had ginger hair. I’m fairly sure.
TAYLOR:
And what did they take from you?
ERNEST:
Several packets of seeds that I had in my coat, and a letter.
They left my pocketbook and my keys.
TAYLOR:
Seeds? Are they…valuable in any way?
ERNEST:
No, not at all. Common wildflowers and fodder plants, mostly.
Trifolium repens, I think, and Lolium giganteum.
TAYLOR:
I’m sorry?
ERNEST:
White clover and ryegrass.
There might have been some others. I’d have to check my notes.
TAYLOR closes his notebook and sets the pen on a table.
TAYLOR:
If they didn’t take anything of value, I’m sorry to say, this likely isn’t worth pursuing.
ERNEST:
But they knew my name.
And I wasn’t far from my flat. They might know where I live.
TAYLOR:
You’re certain you didn’t recognize any of them?
ERNEST:
No, not in the slightest.
But their faces were covered, like I said.
TAYLOR:
To be honest with you, Dr. Wilde, I think this was just a mean-spirited prank.
ERNEST:
I don’t know anyone who would want to do something like that.
TAYLOR:
What exactly are you expecting us to do?
It’s unlikely we can recover your seeds, and you said yourself they’re not costly to replace.
ERNEST:
I’m not worried about that.
The letter they took. I received it yesterday from that Oxford professor who died—Ragnarsson. It must have been posted just before his death.
TAYLOR leans back in his chair, and the leather creaks.
TAYLOR:
(Skeptically)
You…think that letter has something to do with this?
ERNEST:
I was hoping you could tell me.
TAYLOR:
(Indulging him)
What did this letter say?
ERNEST:
That his life was in danger, and someone was after his work.
And mine, as well, though I’m still not sure how they’re connected.
He was an archaeologist, correct?
TAYLOR:
I believe so.
ERNEST:
So I receive this letter, this warning, and almost immediately after, a group of strange men accosts me and steals it?
In addition to the seeds, which are related to my work?
TAYLOR:
Well, I can direct you to the inspector in charge of the professor’s case. He might be able to help you.
ERNEST:
(Somewhat mollified)
I’d appreciate that.
TAYLOR:
Come with me.
They both stand, scraping chairs against the floor. The background noise grows louder as they walk through the office, and then diminishes.
ISKANDAR sits at a nearby desk, taking careful notes and filling out forms.
TAYLOR:
Inspector. Sorry to interrupt.
ISKANDAR:
Not at all.
He places his pen on the desk and stands.
TAYLOR:
Dr. Wilde, this is Inspector Meshkia.
Dr. Wilde’s from the university. He says he received a letter from Professor Ragnarsson.
ERNEST and ISKANDAR shake hands.
ISKANDAR:
Any information you have would be helpful, Dr. Wilde.
Please, sit down.
ISKANDAR and ERNEST take their seats.
ERNEST:
I’m afraid I don’t have the letter any more. Those men took it when they attacked me.
ISKANDAR:
What men?
TAYLOR:
Dr. Wilde was accosted on his way home last night.
They took some seed packets and this letter, but not his pocketbook.
ISKANDAR turns a page in his notebook and writes something down.
ISKANDAR:
Do you remember what was in this letter?
ERNEST:
He said I was in danger because of my work.
He said the same people who were after him would be after me. I received it the same day the paper announced his death.
ISKANDAR:
(To TAYLOR)
Thank you, Constable. I won’t keep you.
(To ERNEST)
Did you work with Professor Ragnarsson?
ERNEST:
Not at all. I’m from the University of London, not Oxford. And I’m a botanist.
ISKANDAR:
Is there something in particular that you’re researching?
ERNEST:
There’s a new blight affecting plants, mostly in the North.
It spreads quickly and doesn’t slow down in the cold.
But I’ve also seen an affected specimen from a local greenhouse.
ISKANDAR:
And this is what concerned Professor Ragnarsson, in his letter?
ERNEST:
He didn’t mention it in particular, but he wrote to me, not the department.
ISKANDAR:
You don’t have any other projects?
ERNEST:
Not at the moment.
Well, other than my teaching assignments. And the maintenance of the lab.
ISKANDAR takes more notes.
ERNEST:
You don’t know why he wrote me, either.
ISKANDAR:
I don’t.
But the investigation is ongoing. As more details come to light, I hope things will become clearer.
ERNEST:
Well, then, what about me?
Those men who attacked me are still out there.
ISKANDAR:
I know. I’m sorry. I can send an officer to escort you home and search the area.
Would that make you feel safer?
ERNEST:
I suppose so.
ERNEST gets up. ISKANDAR turns another page.
ISKANDAR:
(Gravely)
Dr. Wilde.
ERNEST:
Yes?
ISKANDAR:
This…blight. What exactly does it do?
To the plant, I mean.
ERNEST:
It spreads from the roots and kills it. Turns it black and then dries it out to a consistency almost like ash.
It’s like nothing I’ve seen before.
ISKANDAR:
What has been affected?
Flowers? Food crops?
ERNEST:
Anything, as far as I can tell.
This fellow brought in a greenhouse orchid, and a farmer lost an entire field.
I’ve seen a couple of trees, as well.
ISKANDAR:
I see.
He stands.
ISKANDAR:
I would like to be able to contact you about your work at a later time, Dr. Wilde, if that is all right with you.
ERNEST:
I suppose so.
Does this have something to do with Professor Ragnarsson?
ISKANDAR:
No. Well, not yet.
If the blight is as dangerous as you say, I’m more concerned with security and safety as we get closer to the growing season.
ERNEST:
Oh. Right, then.
Here, I’ll give you the department’s number.
ISKANDAR tears a sheet out of his notebook, and ERNEST writes the number on it and hands it back.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you. I will be in touch.
Another phone rings in the distance. Footsteps approach the desk.
PEMBROKE:
Meshkia! There you are. I need to speak with you.
ISKANDAR:
Of course, sir.
(To ERNEST)
Dr. Wilde, if you speak to Constable Taylor again, he will find someone to accompany you home.
ERNEST:
Right. Thanks.
Leaving ERNEST behind, ISKANDAR follows PEMBROKE to his office. The background noise grows louder.
A door opens and then closes, muffling the sound.
PEMBROKE:
I’m told that you’re still working on the body in the hotel.
ISKANDAR:
That’s correct, sir.
PEMBROKE:
Now, my understanding was that the poor chap died of pneumonia.
ISKANDAR:
Pneumonia, sir?
PEMBROKE:
Unfortunate, but it does happen. Especially in winter.
ISKANDAR:
I’m not sure I follow, sir.
PEMBROKE:
(Speaking slowly)
Is there a reason why you’re still spending department resources on this?
ISKANDAR:
Dr. Compton told me that Professor Ragnarsson drowned in seawater.
Sir.
PEMBROKE:
Yes, so I’ve heard.
It might have appeared that way, but that’s quite impossible, isn’t it?
ISKANDAR:
I am working under the assumption that someone did that to him, sir, and carried away the evidence, though I’m not sure yet as to how.
I found footprints under his window.
PEMBROKE drops a sheaf of papers on his desk.
PEMBROKE:
I have other assignments for you, Meshkia. If I were you, I wouldn’t spend any more time on this one.
Do you understand me?
ISKANDAR:
I…
(He thinks of protesting, but decides against it, a habit he’s gotten into lately.)
I understand, sir.
PEMBROKE:
Splendid. Your English really has improved by leaps and bounds since you started here, hasn’t it?
You’re dismissed.
ISKANDAR:
(A pause)
Thank you, sir.
The door opens again, and the sound of the office resumes.
Scene 6: Int. The Cross and Coin – Night
We cut to that evening, with another winter rain falling on the pavement. ISKANDAR opens the door to the Cross and Coin, which opens with the sound of a wooden chime. The door shuts behind him, cutting off the sound of the rain.
Inside, the sound of clinking glass and conversation fills the space.
KURT:
(Off mike)
Inspector! There you are.
(Approaching)
I thought you might not be coming.
ISKANDAR:
I was held up. So sorry to keep you waiting.
KURT:
No trouble at all.
Um. Is everything all right? Can I buy you a drink? You look like you might need one.
ISKANDAR:
No, thank you. I’m fine.
ELLIE:
Mr. Blackthorne isn’t here yet.
KURT:
Well, he is banned for the rest of his life.
Or until Will relents, whichever comes first.
ISKANDAR:
I thought you said he would be here.
Do you know where to find him?
KURT:
I don’t, but he’ll be around in a bit to preach his message by the door.
A night or two of that, and Will lets him back in.
ISKANDAR:
His message?
About fish people in the government?
KURT:
Yep.
ELLIE:
Yes, that’s the same face I made when he told me.
ISKANDAR:
Has he amassed any sort of following?
KURT:
Oh, no, nothing like that. Like I said, he’s just a local character. Completely harmless.
Well, mostly harmless.
ELLIE:
Apparently, he’s been known to harass the dishwasher here.
Hence the lifetime ban.
ISKANDAR:
That is concerning.
KURT:
Don’t take him too seriously.
The door opens again with its chime.
KURT:
Well. Speak of the devil.
WILL:
(Off mike)
Blackthorne. Out.
The door closes.
KURT:
Shall we?
As KURT, ELLIE, and ISKANDAR cross the bar, the background noise grows louder. The door chimes once more.
Scene 7: Ext. London street – Night
The sound of rain resumes, and the door shuts.
KURT:
Nigel! How are you doing?
NIGEL:
I have seen better days, but then, so has the world.
I don’t believe we’ve met.
KURT:
It’s been a while. Name’s Kurt Cross.
This is Miss Eloise Westmont and (with careful pronunciation) Inspector Iskandar Meshkia.
NIGEL:
Westmont, you say?
Oh, that is an old name, steeped in magick.
ELLIE:
Thank you. I think.
KURT:
I was wondering if you’d seen Professor Ragnarsson around lately.
NIGEL:
Oh, you haven’t heard?
He’s dead, I’m afraid. The curse of the island finally caught up to him.
ISKANDAR:
What do you mean?
NIGEL:
The Deep has claimed him.
Mark my words: it will soon be revealed that his death was closely tied to the sea and its foul inhabitants.
ISKANDAR:
Who told you that?
That information isn’t public.
NIGEL:
(Contemplative hum)
Yes, indeed.
I should not speak of it here. If you wish to learn the truth, follow me.
The rain continues. Four sets of shoes (three men’s, one with heels), mark out a furtive rhythm on the pavement.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
An empire, I’ve learned, is a fragile thing.
An automobile passes by.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
The longer it lasts, the more cracks form in its foundation.
NIGEL:
(Stage whisper)
Make sure we’re not followed.
KURT:
It’s dark. I don’t see anyone.
A roll of thunder, followed by a dog barking in the distance.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
And then anything can cause it to shatter.
War, famine, disease…
NIGEL:
This way.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Even an idea.
The rain grows louder.
NIGEL:
Here we are.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
My home was like an old man—his health failing, his children all gone, his glory long forgotten.
He was so easily convinced that things could be like he remembered.
NIGEL turns a heavy key in a lock, and a door opens with a loud creak.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Britain has all the arrogance of youth; a young man who believes he will never die.
NIGEL:
Quickly, now. You never know whom—or what—might be watching.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
After everything, I swore I would be more vigilant.
KURT:
Nice place you have.
NIGEL:
Upstairs. Quickly.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
But what good have any of my oaths come to?
Scene 8: Int. Central London flat – Night
NIGEL, KURT, ELLIE, and ISKANDAR ascend the steps to the flat. The corridor is narrow and richly carpeted, and the stairs creak. It’s an old building, and not well-maintained. Voices sound flat throughout.
NIGEL:
I tried to warn the professor, I truly did, but he would hear none of it.
I hope that you will be more receptive.
ELLIE:
What happened to him?
NIGEL:
He trespassed against the Deep, and its children came for him.
ISKANDAR:
(Sigh)
He drowned.
The coroner told me that his lungs were full of seawater. I haven’t had a chance to find out where it came from.
KURT:
You could have mentioned that earlier.
ISKANDAR:
I apologize.
It has been an…interesting few days.
Dr. Compton claimed the water in the professor’s lungs came from London Harbor, but he has not verified it yet.
NIGEL:
Ah! I know that spell.
The door to the flat creaks loudly as it opens.
NIGEL:
I pity Professor Ragnarsson. It would not be a pleasant way to die.
ELLIE:
Oh, what a lovely library.
KURT:
(Aside to ELLIE)
Organization looks a little…creative.
NIGEL leaves the group to cross the room.
ISKANDAR:
You know what did this to him?
NIGEL:
(Off mike)
It’s a favorite among the fish folk.
KURT:
Wait, did you say a spell? As in magic?
With the floorboards creaking threateningly, the rest of the group walks into the room away from the door.
NIGEL drops a heavy book onto a table covered in papers. He begins turning pages.
NIGEL:
But of course.
This is the Cthaat Aquadingen.
KURT:
Bless you.
NIGEL:
(A pause as he gives KURT a withering glare)
This is not the time for humor, my good sir.
KURT:
Apologies.
As they talk, ELLIE steps away to browse the shelves.
ISKANDAR:
Please, continue.
NIGEL:
This book is the most comprehensive and complete study of the denizens of the Deep that exists in English.
ISKANDAR:
This is English?
KURT:
Looks medieval. You know, Chaucer, the Canterbury Tales?
ISKANDAR:
I’m afraid I’m not familiar.
NIGEL:
Very good, Mr. Cross. This is a copy of a fourteenth-century manuscript.
ISKANDAR:
And this book has something to do with the professor’s death?
NIGEL:
Everything, I’m afraid.
ISKANDAR:
Anything you could tell us would be helpful.
NIGEL:
You said that Ragnarsson drowned in seawater, correct?
ISKANDAR:
As far as the coroner could tell.
But he was miles from the harbor, and there were no containers of water near him.
NIGEL:
That could only be the result of this particular incantation.
Spiritus abyssi. The Breath of the Deep.
KURT:
With respect to the late professor, holding his head underwater and then taking him elsewhere sounds much easier.
NIGEL:
Not at all. This spell can be performed at a distance, provided the victim is within view, and there would be no need to subdue him.
Emundr was in quite good health, especially for his age.
ISKANDAR:
I saw no signs of a struggle.
NIGEL:
Precisely.
It is quick and almost undetectable.
KURT:
So you’re saying anyone could do this?
Or anyone who has a copy of this book?
NIGEL:
Not at all. It would take years of study to be able to perform it correctly.
I still have yet to master it, and I seek only to counter it, not cast it myself.
KURT:
Right, of course.
NIGEL:
A pity I was too late for the professor.
ISKANDAR:
Let us say for the moment that this…incantation was what caused Professor Ragnarsson’s death.
Why would he have been a target?
ELLIE walks around in the background, her heels tapping against the floor and the boards creaking under her weight.
NIGEL:
Because he went to the island in the North Sea and breached the doors of the temple of the fish folk.
I warned him, again and again I warned him, but he would not listen.
KURT:
And that’s all in your book?
NIGEL:
Your skepticism is duly noted, sir, and it is not appreciated.
I brought you here because I thought you wanted to learn the truth.
ISKANDAR:
Please excuse my friend. This is all very new to us.
When was it that the professor went to this island?
NIGEL:
It would have been the spring of 1921. In May, I believe.
If I had known where he was going and what he would find there, I would have warned him away, but alas, I did not.
KURT:
(Aside to ISKANDAR)
You don’t seriously believe all this, do you?
ISKANDAR:
(Aside to KURT)
He believes it.
Can you follow my lead?
KURT:
(Aside to ISKANDAR)
Yeah. Sure.
ISKANDAR:
Please continue, Mr. Blackthorne.
NIGEL:
That was dear Emundr’s last field expedition.
He removed two artifacts from the temple—I believe that is what attracted the Deep’s ire.
Did you find them among his effects?
ISKANDAR:
I don’t believe so.
Ah, I did find this, though.
He rummages through his pockets and produces a photograph.
ISKANDAR:
The constable at the scene took this photograph of a document found with the body.
Can you read it? Do you recognize the alphabet?
NIGEL:
Alas, I do not. It’s not a script used by the fish folk.
KURT:
Good to know.
There’s a number there—seven, nine, five. Does that mean anything to you?
NIGEL:
Not at the moment, but I can consult my books on numerology.
ISKANDAR:
So the professor went to this place, this island.
Do you know where it is?
NIGEL:
He would not disclose the location, even to me.
ISKANDAR:
And on this expedition, he removed two objects of…archaeological significance.
You believe that the site was occupied, and the occupants took offense?
NIGEL:
Yes, indeed.
They placed him under a curse, and throughout the following months he complained of paranoia and malaise.
He could not obtain the funding for a return trip. His luck, it seems, finally ran out, and the curse took his life.
ISKANDAR:
By means of this magic spell.
NIGEL:
Yes. The fish folk are cunning, and they have had millennia of practice hiding themselves among us.
I fear your search for the perpetrator may be in vain.
ISKANDAR:
That may be so, but I am obligated to try.
Is there anything else you know that might help me, Mr. Blackthorne?
NIGEL:
I have given you the means by which the professor was murdered. It is my honor to be of assistance.
As for additional help, I have only a warning. Be wary, Inspector. Your investigations will be observed by the Deep.
I will continue my studies and find what I can to help you.
ISKANDAR:
I trust you will telephone the police if you recall anything that might be helpful.
NIGEL:
Good luck.
Remember: their eyes are everywhere.
Scene 9: Ext. London street – Night
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
KURT, ELLIE, and ISKANDAR emerge from the building. The rain continues, softer now. It’s late, and the sounds of traffic have stopped.
KURT:
Well, that was…what’s the opposite of ‘enlightening’?
I’m sorry. I really thought he would be a little more coherent.
ELLIE:
I thought it was quite enlightening.
KURT:
How do you figure?
ELLIE:
Well, we learned about the professor’s field expedition. He did say that people were stalking him because of his work.
ISKANDAR:
That’s true.
ELLIE:
So, I think a trip to Oxford is in order.
KURT:
See anything on the shelves?
ELLIE:
Not much. A few titles I recognize—The Key of Solomon, The Golden Bough—my grandfather used to collect occult volumes.
I did find this, though.
She snaps open a clutch.
ELLIE:
A business card.
ISKANDAR:
Milton’s Rare Books.
Ragnarsson had the same card in his briefcase.
ELLIE:
Someone at the bookshop might have seen him recently. It could be another lead.
KURT:
Oh, good. This was my plan all along.
Oxford tomorrow, then? If we leave early, we can stop by Milton’s in the evening when we get back.
ELLIE:
First thing in the morning.
We can pick you up, Inspector.
ISKANDAR:
I’m afraid tomorrow morning—
Thunder rolls in the distance.
KURT:
We could go ourselves, but I’d really like a badge to open doors for us.
Or whatever it is you guys have.
ELLIE:
A warrant card.
ISKANDAR:
(Heavy sigh)
I won’t be able to accompany you to Oxford tomorrow because my superiors are discouraging me from pursuing this case.
ELLIE:
What? Why?
A man got murdered, and the police don’t want it investigated?
ISKANDAR:
There appears to be an official position developing, which is that Professor Ragnarsson was struck by a sudden bout of pneumonia.
KURT:
Maybe old Nigel’s right. The fish people really are suppressing the truth.
I kid, I kid.
ISKANDAR:
I disagree with the official position, and I worry that the professor’s death may indicate that others might be at risk.
I don’t have enough information.
So, officially, I am performing my duties as instructed.
Unofficially, I am choosing to trust you, Mr. Cross.
ELLIE:
Sunset Investigations is known for discretion, Inspector. You have nothing to fear from us.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
I will ensure that you are both paid for your time, but there may be some delays.
KURT:
Understandable. We’ll work out the details later.
ELLIE:
We’d still like you to come with us to Oxford, though. Unofficially.
ISKANDAR:
I will let you know as soon as I can.
KURT:
In the meantime, we can go to that bookshop and have a look around.
ELLIE:
It’s on the South Bank.
With any luck, someone there will have seen the professor recently.
Scene 10: Ext. The dream of a garden outside of Istanbul – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
A longer bridge, to indicate time has passed.
ISKANDAR dreams of his home in Turkey, of the expansive garden he used to keep. Wind rushes through trees heavy with fruit and stirs the earth. He turns the dirt with a trowel.
ISKANDAR:
Here we are. Last one.
A tulip bulb drops into the hole, and he covers it with the trowel. Water sloshes in a metal can.
ISKANDAR:
Do you need help?
HALIME:
No, Baba.
ISKANDAR:
My strong girl.
Water pours on the ground.
HALIME:
When will they sprout?
ISKANDAR:
Just a few weeks. We have to be patient.
HALIME:
You forgot one, Baba.
ISKANDAR:
What’s this?
A drone begins, quietly at first.
The wind grows stronger, now howling through desert sand. In the distance, a horse screams in pain.
HALIME:
(Coughing)
Around them, the garden desiccates and crumbles, dry leaves cast about in the wind.
HALIME:
(Coughing growing worse)
ISKANDAR:
Oh, Halime.
I’m so sorry.
The wind continues to howl. The drone reaches a crescendo, and then abruptly stops.
Scene 11: Int. London tenement – Day
ISKANDAR wakes with a start, breathing heavily.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I dream in English now, more often than not.
Getting his breathing under control, he puts his feet on the floor. The boards creak.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I tell myself it’s a good thing. It means I’m finally achieving something close to fluency.
He turns on a squeaky faucet, and water runs into the sink.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
But language seems to be the one last thing that I will lose.
He splashes water on his face and turns the faucet off. The sound of drawers opening and clothing being moved follows as he dresses.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I was afraid of Nigel Blackthorne’s conspiracies.
Shadowy figures controlling the government, a race of people described as not quite human.
The floorboards creak as he walks across the flat.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
These are rather like the ideas I did not notice, not until I returned from Arabia to find my neighbors gone.
He places a kettle of water on the stove.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
But, for now, it appears that there is only Blackthorne, alone and mad, surrounded by his books.
He turns on the stove, lights a match, and ignites the gas.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Hoping against hope that one day, he’ll be proven right, and all this will have been worth it.
He opens a cupboard and removes canisters of coffee and sugar, placing them on the counter.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
A magic spell didn’t kill Professor Ragnarsson.
But I think Blackthorne is right about one thing: someone did.
Using a spoon, he adds coffee and sugar to the water on the stove.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
It’s obvious. To the private investigator, to the coroner, even to Blackthorne.
He walks away from the stove.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Even to Ragnarsson himself.
Was this what he was afraid of?
He finds his coat hanging from the back of a chair and goes through the pockets.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I have to go to Oxford. I need to know what happened that made him feel he was in danger. I need to know if anyone was indeed following him.
He shakes out his coat and puts it on.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
And I need to talk to that botanist. It might be nothing, but if famine is coming—
The water boils. He walks back to the stove and turns off the gas.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I need to tell someone.
He moves things around in the cupboard, finding a metal vacuum flask (Thermos). He sets it on the counter and pours the coffee in.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I don’t understand why I’m being removed from this case, and I’m not in any position to ask.
He screws on the lid and goes to put on his shoes.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Well. It’s not like I have much else to do.
The door opens with a creak. He closes it behind him and locks it.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Maybe I have nothing to worry about. Pneumonia killed the professor, and the blight will clear up before spring.
As he descends the rickety stairs, JUDITH is ascending them.
ISKANDAR:
Good morning, Mrs. Rosenfeld.
JUDITH:
Good morning, Inspector.
Her footsteps continue upstairs, and ISKANDAR reaches the landing and opens the exterior door.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
But I have to know.
Scene 12: Int. University of London laboratory – Day
ERNEST has returned to his duties at the lab. He removes the potted orchid from its metal canister. Dry leaves fall from the plant.
ERNEST:
Could be worse, I suppose.
He drags a metal chair up to the table and fiddles with a microscope.
ERNEST:
Right, then, my friend, or what’s left of you.
Let’s see what you have for me.
A knock sounds on the laboratory door.
ERNEST:
It’s open.
The door opens.
ISKANDAR:
Dr. Wilde?
I hope I’m not intruding.
ERNEST:
No, not at all.
What time is it?
ISKANDAR:
A little after six o’clock.
ERNEST:
Already?
What can I do for you, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
I wanted to ask if you were all right.
Have you seen the men who attacked you again?
ERNEST:
Not yet.
I’m getting along. One of my samples has wandered off somewhere, but that’s not exactly unusual. A student probably moved it.
ISKANDAR:
What kind of sample?
ERNEST:
The flowers from this orchid. Someone brought it in just after Professor Ragnarsson died—or, was found, I suppose.
The rest of it is just as useful, so…
He pulls out another chair, scraping it against the floor.
ERNEST:
Here, sit down.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you.
ERNEST:
I’m just worried it hasn’t been properly contained. Leave it to an undergraduate to infect a whole greenhouse.
ISKANDAR:
This was a blighted sample?
ERNEST:
It certainly looked like it.
The microscope is a formality, but at this stage, I have to document everything.
ISKANDAR:
Is there anything more you can tell me about it?
ERNEST:
You can look at my notes if you want. I have some of them here.
He pushes a stack of loose paper across the table.
ERNEST:
Essentially, the plant dehydrates, then the cellular structure breaks down entirely, and it crumbles to dust.
ISKANDAR:
You mentioned that.
Like ash, you said.
ERNEST:
By all accounts, the plant is destroyed too quickly for the disease to spread, but here we are.
ISKANDAR turns the pages of notes.
ISKANDAR:
The disease should die with the plant.
ERNEST:
Precisely. Are you a gardener, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
I was. A number of years ago.
ERNEST:
Then you have some idea of how utterly bizarre this is.
ISKANDAR:
How widely do you expect it to spread?
ERNEST:
To be completely honest, I have no idea.
It could claim another crop tomorrow, or it could vanish just as quickly as it appeared.
I don’t know. No one knows.
ISKANDAR:
And now you have a sample missing?
Do you think it was stolen?
ERNEST:
I didn’t until you said that.
ISKANDAR:
You said you’ve had property stolen recently. Including the letter from the late professor.
ERNEST:
Right. Seeds, too, out of my pockets.
I have to say, I’m surprised to see you, Inspector. I figured you lot had better things to do.
That’s what the constable said, anyway.
ISKANDAR:
I don’t want to alarm you, Dr. Wilde, but if you cannot find the missing sample, it may have been taken from this laboratory deliberately.
ERNEST:
Well, now I’m alarmed.
ISKANDAR:
I—yes, that’s understandable.
ERNEST:
Because it sounds like you’re implying that someone might be trying to spread the blight. On purpose.
ISKANDAR:
I want to be clear. I don’t know if that’s what happened.
I only want to be prepared for the possibility.
ERNEST:
Why? Why would someone do that?
ISKANDAR:
I’m not certain. At the moment, I want to find out what became of the professor, and what it has to do with you.
ERNEST:
Right.
ISKANDAR:
I hope you can help me find out. The official investigation is…
It’s coming to a close, but I’m following up on some leads at the University of Oxford soon. Would you be able to accompany me as a consultant?
ERNEST:
I, er, I suppose so. When?
ISKANDAR:
Saturday morning?
ERNEST:
Right. I could do that.
ISKANDAR:
In the meantime, is there anything else I can do for you to help ensure your safety?
ERNEST:
Wait. You said the official investigation was ending.
ISKANDAR:
Yes.
ERNEST:
So you’re here, what? On your own?
ISKANDAR:
(Sigh)
Yes.
ERNEST:
Oh. Good.
What does that mean for me, then?
ISKANDAR:
It will take a bit of time before you’re able to be paid for your consulting work, and aside from myself, you would be unlikely to receive any more assistance from the Metropolitan Police in the matter of the recent attack.
ERNEST:
Oh, is that all?
ISKANDAR:
For the moment, yes.
ERNEST slumps back in his chair, dragging his hands over his face.
ERNEST:
This is not how I expected this evening would go.
ISKANDAR:
I’m sorry. I was also hoping for a different outcome.
ERNEST:
(With a dawning realization)
You said I’ll be paid?
ISKANDAR:
Standard consulting rates.
Even if I have to pay them myself.
ERNEST:
All right then. I’ll do it.
For science.
And for next month’s rent.
MUSIC: OUTRO.
Back to Episode 1: The Books of the Dead
You made it to the end! I hope you enjoyed. Now we’ve met all four of our intrepid investigators, and the plot thickens.
Space Whales Press 
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