Dramatis Personae
(in order of appearance)
Dr. ERNEST Wilde, a man of reason caught up in an unreasonable set of circumstances. Male, early 30s, Northern English accent.
FREYDÍS Emundrsdóttir, a woman with questions. Female, late 20s, slight Icelandic accent.
KURT Cross, an actor and detective perpetually unlucky in love. Male, early 30s, New York accent.
Detective Chief Inspector ISKANDAR Meshkia, a stranger in a strange land. Male, late 30s, strong Turkish accent.
William “WILL” Grey, bartender and host to several of London’s strangest characters. Male, late 20s, London accent.
Eloise “ELLIE” Westmont, private investigator, photographer, picker of locks, and actress in her own right. Female, mid 20s, posh English accent.
NIGEL Blackthorne, established ranter on a particular street corner. Male, early 30s, posh British accent.
Constable John TAYLOR, a useful tool for an unseen force. Male, early 20s, London accent.
Scene 1: Int. University of London laboratory – Day
MUSIC: OPENING THEME.
We begin with a key turning in a lock and the ominous creak of a heavy door opening. A drone begins, quietly, in the background. As the door opens, the displaced air stirs the dry leaves on the concrete floor of the laboratory.
ERNEST:
(In shock)
What—
The drone grows somewhat louder, and the crumbling leaves come to a stop.
ERNEST:
(To no one in particular)
What happened?
As he enters the lab, dry leaves crunch underfoot. The drone fades out.
ERNEST:
Doctor Swann is going kill me.
Or worse, have me sacked.
I thought I’d quarantined all the affected specimens.
Another footstep or two, picking his way around the detritus. The door swings shut behind him.
ERNEST:
Oh. There you are.
Didn’t I leave you in my office?
He picks up the ceramic pot, and it scrapes against its saucer.
ERNEST:
(With grim acceptance bordering on dissociation)
Right. Not like I have a thousand other things to do today.
He crosses the room, stirring more dead leaves, and picks up a broom.
ERNEST:
Better make sure I get it all.
I guess I won’t run out of specimens anytime soon.
He sweeps the concrete floor, gathering dry plant matter and dust.
ERNEST:
It spread faster than I thought it could.
Maybe it’s the closed environment?
A metal chair scrapes against the floor as ERNEST pulls it out to sweep around it.
ERNEST:
Or maybe the orchid had a more virulent strain?
God, I hope not. It’s been what, sixty hours since I was here?
Someone must have moved it.
(Sniffle, clearing throat)
Oh, God, should I be worried about breathing this stuff in?
He continues sweeping.
A knock, loud and insistent, sounds at the door.
ERNEST:
Hold on. Don’t open the door.
He sets the broom down and crosses the now bare floor to wash his hands. The faucet squeaks, and water runs.
FREYDÍS:
(Through the door)
I’m looking for Dr. Ernest Wilde.
ERNEST:
(Half-shouting over the water)
Well, you’ve found him. I’ll be there in a moment.
He turns off the water.
FREYDÍS:
(Through the door)
Are you all right?
ERNEST:
(Brief pause, considering the question)
Not sure yet.
Bit of a containment breach. I’d rather you not get any specimens on you.
FREYDÍS:
(Through the door)
…specimens?
ERNEST crosses to the laboratory door and opens it slightly.
ERNEST:
Oh. Hello.
Don’t stand too close.
FREYDÍS:
What happened?
She backs away. ERNEST exits the laboratory and lets the door shut.
ERNEST:
A diseased specimen escaped quarantine.
It’s probably all over my clothes now, and I’d rather not spread it to you and the rest of the world.
FREYDÍS:
Escaped?
Aren’t you a botanist? How does a plant escape?
ERNEST:
Someone moves it, I’d assume.
FREYDÍS:
I suppose that makes sense.
ERNEST:
Sorry about all this. Is there something I can do for you?
FREYDÍS:
I wanted to ask you some questions about my father.
If you’re busy, I can come back another time.
ERNEST:
I don’t think I know much more than you do, but I’ll tell you what I can.
Would you mind waiting downstairs? I have a change of clothes in the office.
Can’t be too careful, you know.
FREYDÍS:
I’m not in a hurry. I’m only waiting on the coroner.
ERNEST:
Thanks. I’ll meet you down there.
Scene 2: Int. University of London corridor – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
ERNEST jogs down a flight of stairs. A door swings shut in the distance.
ERNEST:
Sorry about all that. Thanks for waiting.
What did you want to know?
FREYDÍS:
I suppose I’ll start with the obvious.
Inspector Meshkia is a police officer, and Mr. Cross is a private investigator, according to public record, but you’re a botanist.
ERNEST:
I am.
FREYDÍS:
Since you’re not a detective, why are you investigating my father’s death?
ERNEST:
Because before he died, your father sent me a letter.
He said the same people who were following him about would be coming after me.
Since then, I’ve been accosted in the street by a group of strange men, and an infected plant has been moved out of containment without my knowledge and allowed to infect the entire laboratory.
So maybe he was right.
FREYDÍS:
But he was a historian.
Did you collaborate on a project? A dig, maybe?
ERNEST:
(A mirthless chuckle)
I’m very flattered that you’d think a tenured Oxford professor would take someone like me along for a dig, but no.
I’d barely heard of him before the letter arrived. I have no idea how he heard about me.
FREYDÍS:
I talked to one of his colleagues at the university. Dietrich.
He told me about what my father had been working on since I’d left—the manuscript and the island. And that everything went wrong once they got there.
ERNEST:
And everything there was dead.
FREYDÍS:
What do you mean?
ERNEST:
There wasn’t any plant life on the island. Dietrich said everything from the trees to the lichens—
“There is nothing green that remains.”
FREYDÍS:
I’m afraid you’ve lost me.
ERNEST:
It’s the blight. It has to be.
FREYDÍS:
What blight?
ERNEST:
The blight that just swept through my laboratory.
I’ve been tracking it for weeks. If Professor Ragnarsson was looking into it, my name would have come up sooner or later.
FREYDÍS:
And you think this same disease killed all the vegetation on the island?
ERNEST:
Why else would Ragnarsson look for a botanist? This botanist, in particular?
FREYDÍS:
You might be right.
But the soil is very thin that far north. And there’s hardly any sun for half the year.
ERNEST:
Look, it’s just a theory, but it’s the best I’ve got for now.
It’s better than Nigel Blackthorne’s fish people, anyway.
FREYDÍS:
Who is Nigel Blackthorne?
ERNEST:
A friend of your father’s.
Well, “friend” might be too strong of a word.
I haven’t met him myself, but he’s been described to me. Vividly.
FREYDÍS:
What does he have to do with this?
ERNEST:
Honestly? Probably nothing.
He’s got some crackpot ideas about a secret society of fish people secretly controlling the government, and he thinks your father found one of their strongholds on that island.
I’ve been assured he’s harmless. Just a bit eccentric. He hangs around a place called the Cross and Coin, in the city.
FREYDÍS:
Fish people?
ERNEST:
Yes. I know.
FREYDÍS:
Oh.
(Changing the subject)
So, say you’re right. The disease you’re studying is the same that my father saw on his island.
Do you think someone spread it intentionally? In your lab, or on the island?
ERNEST:
Normally, I’d say no.
I have a very particular system, and the students don’t like to follow it. But with everything else that’s happened?
FREYDÍS:
That’s not a ‘yes.’
ERNEST:
I know.
FREYDÍS:
Why would someone contaminate your laboratory?
ERNEST:
I wish I could say. People have told me that this blight could lead to a famine, but I don’t think any of the lab assistants are trying to starve the populace.
FREYDÍS:
Is it that serious?
ERNEST:
Not yet, but I suppose it could be, with how fast it spread to all my specimens.
Especially since I don’t know how it spreads.
Maybe this outbreak will be the thing that tells me.
Scene 3: Int. Sunset Investigations office – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
The music fades and becomes the tinny sound of a record player on the other side of the room. This continues throughout the scene.
Big Ben tolls in the distance: six o’clock. KURT opens the office blinds noisily, for dramatic effect.
KURT:
(Narrating; affecting his harshest detective accent)
The sun sets on London with the tolling of the bell. It’s a gray city, a city with no heroes and no villains, and I’m one of the guys stuck in the middle with the rest of them.
(Narrating in his normal voice)
“No heroes” is good. Not sure if I like “gray city.” And “tolling of the bell” is terrible.
I should write this stuff down.
He steps away from the window to open a desk drawer and rifle through it for scratch paper.
There is a knock on the office door.
KURT:
It’s open.
The office door opens, admitting ISKANDAR.
ISKANDAR:
Oh, good, you’re still here.
I was worried I’d miss you.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
A pale winter sun sets on the gray city of London, and the best-looking man I’ve ever met walks into my office.
(Narrating, normal voice)
“Best-looking?” Ugh.
This is why I didn’t get into playwriting.
He closes the drawer and sits in the desk chair.
KURT:
(Affecting nonchalance)
You’ll find I’m here most of the time.
What can I do for you, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
I wanted to apologize. I’m still at odds with my department, and the consulting fees aren’t forthcoming quite yet.
If you need to be paid earlier, I can make some arrangements.
KURT:
We’re fine for the moment, but I appreciate it.
ISKANDAR:
I also wanted to ask you about the bookshop. Milton’s.
You said you went there a few days ago.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
He cuts quite the figure: tall, dark, and handsome, with those green eyes that look right into your soul.
Despite the brief flash of color he brings to this gray city, there’s always a particular melancholy air about him. It seems London—his adopted home, just as it is for me—only plays him the blues.
ISKANDAR:
I only bring it up because of the other professor. The potential arson.
Hale, if I remember correctly.
KURT:
Yeah. He had a card in his office.
Honestly? It’s a small place to have all these Oxford types as customers, but having seen the stuff he keeps in the back, I’m not all that surprised.
He had a few of the kinds of things old Nigel is fond of, but other than that, it was very normal. Cozy, even.
ISKANDAR:
Have you heard anything from Mr. Blackthorne recently?
KURT:
No, nothing new. Why?
Sit down, make yourself comfortable. You can put your coat on the rack there.
ISKANDAR goes to do as instructed, taking off his heavy coat and shaking it out.
ISKANDAR:
His name keeps coming up. That’s all.
The chair opposite the desk scrapes as he pulls it out and sits down.
ISKANDAR:
I know you think he’s harmless. Everyone does. But his ideas…they’re not new.
The part about the fish, maybe, but not the rest.
He can do a lot of harm if he gets a few people to agree with him.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
This isn’t the first time he’s said this about Nigel. He worries at it, like an old scab you can’t leave alone.
It’s a clue to where he came from, like the wedding band on his hand despite no mention of a wife.
I want to ask, but a man’s got to have his secrets. I know that better than most.
(Speaking normally)
Well, so far, the only person he’s convinced is himself, so I think we’re safe for now.
Maybe if he were saying something a little more plausible, but fish people?
ISKANDAR:
He must have gotten the idea from somewhere.
KURT:
You think so?
I always figured he made it all up himself. He’s really one of a kind.
ISKANDAR:
I’m sure he’d be willing to tell us, if we asked.
KURT:
Please tell me that’s not why you came here.
It’s been a long enough day without having to talk to Nigel.
ISKANDAR:
Well, no, it wasn’t.
But since you didn’t find anything of note at Milton’s, we find ourselves short on leads.
KURT:
(With a groan, though he’s instantly persuaded)
Fine, if you insist.
Will you at least buy me a drink while we’re there?
ISKANDAR:
(A pause; he’s not sure of the ethics of buying someone else alcohol in his lapsed state)
I suppose I could.
But if it’s too much trouble, I can go myself. Mr. Blackthorne was not particularly dissuaded by the warrant card last time.
KURT:
No, I’ll go with you.
(Narrating in detective voice)
It wouldn’t be the worst date I’ve ever had. It wouldn’t even be my worst date at the Cross and Coin.
That particular low point will be hard to beat.
ISKANDAR:
Ah, one other thing.
The professor’s daughter, Freydís. She came to Scotland Yard yesterday.
KURT:
Did she? What did she want?
ISKANDAR:
She had questions. I don’t blame her.
I’m afraid I didn’t have many answers to give.
KURT:
I’m sure this isn’t easy for her.
ISKANDAR:
She’s going to take the professor’s body home to Iceland.
In the meantime, I think she’s going to be looking for answers to her questions elsewhere, and I’m worried she might run into the same trouble her father did.
KURT:
Do you know where she’s staying? Ellie and I can check in on her, keep an eye on things.
ISKANDAR:
I’m afraid I don’t.
KURT:
We’ll find her.
(He stands up, stretches.)
Well, Nigel Blackthorne waits for no man, or at least no man who isn’t also a fish, so we should probably get going if we don’t want to miss him.
Scene 4: Int. The Cross and Coin – Night
The door opens with its wooden chime, allowing in the sound of moderate rain. When the door shuts, the outside noise is replaced by the interior chatter of patrons and clinking of glasses.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
The Cross and Coin.
It’s almost as old as the city, quite possibly haunted, and a gathering place for artists, actors, writers, non-practicing intellectuals, and queer folks of every type.
Nigel Blackthorne is none of these, except strange in the general sense, but he, too, finds something of a home here.
Even though he’s not allowed inside anymore.
WILL:
(Off mike)
Kurt Cross!
KURT:
Will, good to see you again.
You seen our old friend Nigel lately?
WILL:
He’ll be here. Just like every night.
Why are you so interested in him lately?
KURT:
It’s for a case.
WILL:
Oh, no.
Don’t tell me he’s gotten someone else hurt. I told Samuel I’d help him with the police, but he said no.
KURT:
Don’t worry. He’s just a witness.
Sort of. It’s complicated.
WILL:
At least there’s that.
Can I get you gentlemen anything?
KURT:
Whiskey on the rocks for me, and then whatever he’s having.
ISKANDAR:
Coffee, if you have it. Black.
WILL:
I think I have some around here somewhere. Samuel will find it.
ISKANDAR:
Much appreciated.
And make it strong, if you please.
WILL:
Sure.
It’ll be out in a few minutes.
WILL walks away, gathering glasses as he goes.
KURT:
You have a long night ahead of you, Inspector? Do you know something I don’t?
ISKANDAR:
Nothing in particular.
English coffee is too watery. No offense meant.
KURT:
None taken. I’m not English.
ISKANDAR:
Is American coffee any different?
KURT:
Not really.
(Extremely tentative flirting)
You said you’d make it for me the right way. I’m going to hold you to that.
ISKANDAR:
Blackthorne is here.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
Nigel always has the worst timing. It’s like magic.
It might be almost enough to make me believe.
Scene 5: Ext. City of London street – Night
The door to the Cross and Coin opens again, the chime ringing with a hollow sound. Rain falls on the pavement.
NIGEL:
(Off mike; approaching)
—two objects of ritual significance from the island. If you could show them to me, Miss Ragnarsson, I’m certain I could scry the nature of the curse—
FREYDÍS:
(Cutting him off)
I told you, my father didn’t send me anything.
NIGEL:
Are you certain? Any mysterious packages without a sender’s address?
Where else might he have sent them but to you, his only daughter?
The door to the tavern closes.
FREYDÍS:
I don’t know. You would know better than I would.
You had spoken to him in the past three years.
NIGEL:
Your father kept secrets, Miss Ragnarsson.
FREYDÍS:
My name isn’t—
(Thinking better of it)
Never mind.
I know he kept secrets. Especially from me.
You said you knew what happened to him.
NIGEL:
I do.
But I need more information. I cannot determine the precise bewitchment that was used without something from the island.
FREYDÍS:
What are you talking about?
NIGEL:
Your father uncovered something the Deep Ones wanted to keep obscured, Miss Ragnarsson, and their vengeance is as inexorable as the rising tide.
Did they tell you he drowned? His lungs filled with seawater as he stood on dry land.
FREYDÍS:
They did.
So, can you explain it or not?
NIGEL:
A curse was placed upon him before he left the island—a terrible geas that followed him all the way to London.
You are wise to wear a protection charm. You are of his blood; you may be affected.
KURT:
Everything all right here?
FREYDÍS:
I was just leaving. I’m wasting my time.
NIGEL:
I’m only trying to warn you, Miss Ragnarsson.
KURT:
Come on, man. Leave her alone.
FREYDÍS walks away at a brisk pace. An automobile passes, and ISKANDAR jogs to catch up with her.
ISKANDAR:
Are you all right?
FREYDÍS:
I’m fine.
What are you doing here, Inspector?
ISKANDAR:
I might ask you the same question.
FREYDÍS:
I’m doing your job.
Separating facts from speculation.
ISKANDAR:
I see you’ve found the speculation.
FREYDÍS:
I guess I have.
ISKANDAR:
I know you want things to proceed more quickly. So do I.
But you’re a young woman with a family. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk.
FREYDÍS:
You say that, and this Blackthorne says it too.
What exactly is the danger?
ISKANDAR:
If I knew, I would tell you.
FREYDÍS:
No one knows.
Except for Blackthorne, apparently. He’s certainly confident.
ISKANDAR:
Yes. That’s the problem.
FREYDÍS:
He really wants to get his hands on something my father brought back.
I don’t even know what he’s talking about.
ISKANDAR:
It’s late. May I walk you to the train station?
FREYDÍS:
No, thank you. I’ll be fine on my own.
Good night, Inspector.
The sound of the rain grows louder.
KURT:
(Narrating in detective voice)
A cold, gray rain falls on a gray city with a cold heart.
It’s a shame—I don’t think I’m getting that whiskey.
(Narrating in normal voice)
Coldhearted gray city?
No, that’s worse.
Footsteps on the wet pavement as ISKANDAR storms over.
ISKANDAR:
What is it, precisely, that you think you’re doing?
NIGEL:
(Clearing throat)
I was trying to convey an important warning, until you frightened her off.
ISKANDAR:
Warn her about what?
You stand out here, night after night, you harass a young woman who has just lost her father, you attack the Cross and Coin’s staff—
NIGEL:
(Speaking over him)
I’ve already given you the knowledge you need, Inspector.
It’s no fault of mine that you refuse to believe.
ISKANDAR:
No. You insult me and you belittle yourself with this nonsense.
KURT:
(Placating)
I don’t think you’re going to get anything useful out of him tonight, Inspector.
ISKANDAR:
What happened to Professor Ragnarsson, Mr. Blackthorne?
NIGEL:
You know as well as I do what became of him.
ISKANDAR:
Don’t test me.
You can answer my questions now, or I’ll have you testify under oath.
NIGEL:
They’ll never allow it.
The Metropolitan Police isn’t free of their influence.
ISKANDAR:
You and I both know that isn’t true.
NIGEL:
You sound very confident, Inspector.
How can you be sure, when you refuse to see what is in front of you?
KURT:
(Placating)
Listen, Nigel, you’ve gotta understand that all of this doesn’t make sense to the average person.
They can’t just list someone’s cause of death as “a curse.”
ISKANDAR:
Mr. Blackthorne, are you going to tell me exactly what you mean by “fish people,” or am I going to have to guess?
NIGEL:
What do you mean?
ISKANDAR:
Is it Catholics? Jews? German immigrants?
NIGEL:
What are you talking about?
ISKANDAR:
This isn’t a game, Mr. Blackthorne.
These things you say have consequences.
NIGEL:
The Deep Ones aren’t human, Inspector, though they have their human allies.
You should do some reading of your own. Milton’s Rare Books, on the South Bank, has a number of pertinent volumes.
ISKANDAR:
Milton’s.
NIGEL:
Tell him I sent you. He’ll find you what you need.
KURT:
I’ve been there. Nice place. Surprisingly normal.
ISKANDAR:
And what does Mr. Milton recommend?
NIGEL:
I started with the Cthaat Aquadingen, though that’s exceedingly difficult to find these days.
They don’t want their secrets getting out.
KURT:
Don’t you have a copy?
NIGEL:
I do.
I’d rather it not leave my possession. You’re welcome to come by my home again, if you would like to peruse it.
ISKANDAR:
(With the dawning realization that Nigel is being completely serious)
I don’t think that will be necessary.
NIGEL:
Are you certain?
The more you delve into this case, Inspector, the more you’ll attract their attention. I would hate to see something terrible befall you.
KURT:
We know where to find you.
NIGEL:
Alas, I can only give a warning.
It’s your choice whether to heed it or not. As it is Miss Ragnarsson’s choice.
ISKANDAR:
(Defeated)
Good night, Mr. Blackthorne.
NIGEL:
Farewell, Inspector.
Until next we meet.
ISKANDAR’s footsteps recede. The rain increases.
KURT:
(Aside)
Definitely not getting that whiskey.
(Calling after him)
Inspector! Where are you going?
ISKANDAR:
To bed.
It’s late, and I have a lot to do tomorrow.
KURT catches up, splashing through a puddle.
KURT:
How far is your place? I can walk with you.
ISKANDAR:
That’s all right. It isn’t nearby, and I’ve taken enough of your time.
KURT:
I don’t mind.
(Clearing throat)
Besides, I’m consulting, remember?
ISKANDAR:
He believes it, doesn’t he?
KURT:
Nigel?
Yeah, that’s the going theory. He really does mean fish people.
ISKANDAR:
You’ve met Milton.
He’s encouraging this?
KURT:
I wouldn’t say encouraging.
I think he sees it as a hobby. A little strange, but harmless. And Nigel’s a paying customer.
ISKANDAR:
Nigel attacked someone.
KURT:
Nigel was very drunk. And now he’s banned from the Cross and Coin, hopefully for a very long time.
He can shout at people on the street all he wants.
ISKANDAR:
He doesn’t know anything.
KURT:
No. Not anything useful, or, you know, relevant to the world most of us live in.
ISKANDAR:
You’re right.
It’s time to leave Blackthorne alone.
KURT:
We’ll find something else.
ISKANDAR:
I have one more lead. The professor’s assistant, Miss Indrani.
She’s moved to Edinburgh, but I can’t seem to find her.
KURT:
Oh, perfect.
Ellie and I can drive up there and ask around. You’re welcome to come, of course.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you, but I’ve had quite enough driving to last me a while.
KURT:
(A little dejected)
All right. Let us know, though, will you?
If there’s anything I can do to help, all you gotta do is ask.
Scene 6: Int. Sunset Investigations office – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
The following evening, KURT and ELLIE reconvene in the office. ELLIE is organizing files, tapping papers into neat stacks.
ELLIE:
Well, did you tell him that?
KURT:
I did.
I think he finally got it, but I’m not sure.
ELLIE:
I just don’t think Nigel is going to be any more help.
Not that he was a lot of help to start with.
KURT:
No, I agree.
Honestly, I think he knows less than someone who never actually met the professor.
ELLIE:
True.
KURT:
But he was just so insistent.
ELLIE:
You’ve said that’s just how Nigel is.
KURT:
No, not him—Iskandar.
I feel like I’m saying his name wrong. Was that wrong?
ELLIE:
It sounded fine to me.
KURT:
(Sigh)
He’s got this idea that all the fish people stuff is a cover for some kind of…I don’t know. That Nigel believes they’re real people, and all the occult stuff is like a, like a code or something.
ELLIE:
A code for what?
KURT:
I don’t know. He didn’t explain it to me.
ELLIE:
(Gently)
Isn’t this just the other side of Nigel’s coin, so to speak?
There really isn’t anything to indicate that Nigel has any deeper motivations. Or that he’s capable of them.
KURT:
Yeah. I guess you’re right.
Anyway. We should check on the professor’s daughter. Make sure she’s okay after all of that.
ELLIE:
You said his assistant went to Edinburgh, right? We should follow up with her, too.
I just feel like we’re going in circles.
KURT:
You and me both.
A knock sounds on the office door.
ELLIE:
I’ll get it.
Her fashionable shoes click across the floorboards, and the door opens.
ELLIE:
Professor!
Good to see you again.
ERNEST:
(Awkward; he’s been in the lab for days and hasn’t had a conversation with anyone for a while)
Hello.
Er, is this a bad time?
KURT:
(Off mike)
Not at all. Come in, come in.
The door closes, and ERNEST and ELLIE walk back over to the desk.
KURT:
What can we do for you, doc?
ERNEST:
I tried to come by sooner, but I had to cover a lecture. And there was the outbreak in the lab.
I tried to call the inspector, too. Left a message with—I guess she was his landlady?
ELLIE:
Outbreak? What happened?
ERNEST:
Right. That’s what I wanted to tell you.
I think I know why Professor Ragnarsson wrote to me.
KURT:
That’s good news!
Or maybe not. “Outbreak” sounds bad.
ELLIE:
Here, sit down.
Can I get you some tea?
ERNEST pulls out the chair and slumps into it.
ERNEST:
No, that’s all right.
It’s rather late. I won’t sleep.
KURT:
Let’s start from the beginning.
Why did the professor write to you?
ERNEST:
For the past several weeks I’ve been studying a new agricultural blight. It’s been popping up all over the country almost at random, and it spreads like a fire—I’m still not sure how, yet.
In any case, right now I’m the person who knows the most about it. Which isn’t much.
KURT:
You think Ragnarsson was interested in it?
ERNEST:
I think he saw it before.
On the island. The dig site. All the vegetation was dead.
“There is nothing green that remains.”
KURT:
I remember.
The other one, Dietrich, mentioned it.
ERNEST:
Of course, I can’t be sure without seeing some samples from the dig, but after seeing what happened in the lab, I think it’s the best explanation.
ELLIE:
Professor Ragnarsson thought your expertise would help him somehow.
ERNEST:
I haven’t been much help to anyone lately.
Certainly not in the lab.
KURT:
What happened?
ERNEST:
Someone moved an infected specimen. The blight spread practically overnight.
Every green thing in that lab is dead.
ELLIE:
I’m so sorry.
ERNEST:
(Sigh; rubbing hands on face)
Honestly, I’m too busy to feel bad about it. It’s just another thing to do.
Professor Ragnarsson’s daughter came by while I was cleaning up. That’s when it all…came together, I guess.
KURT:
You look like you could use a drink.
ERNEST:
You’re not wrong.
KURT:
Well, unfortunately the closest spot is the Cross and Coin.
You can tell us all about the plants there. Just don’t make eye contact with Nigel.
Scene 7: Ext. City of London street – Night
Sound of a passing automobile on wet pavement, and a group of footsteps. A dog barks in the distance, and a horse makes its way across the street.
ELLIE:
So much for avoiding Mr. Blackthorne.
He’s already here.
KURT:
It’s early for him.
Not to worry; Will’s about to chase him off, I’m sure.
ELLIE:
There are other pubs, you know.
I’m beginning to think you just enjoy his antics.
KURT:
Listen, you’ve got to find joy in the little things.
ERNEST:
You know, from your description, I think I imagined something different.
ELLIE:
Different how?
ERNEST:
Not sure. He looks very normal.
NIGEL:
(Off mike)
Mr. Cross!
KURT:
Oh, no.
ELLIE:
You have no one to blame but yourself.
NIGEL:
(Off mike)
You’ve returned.
You’ve returned to seek the truth.
Another passing automobile. KURT steps onto the curb, followed by ERNEST and ELLIE.
KURT:
Hello, Nigel.
NIGEL:
It is very good to see you, my friend.
ELLIE:
(Aside to KURT)
Oh, look, you’ve made a friend.
KURT:
Good to see you, too. Glad you’re still kicking.
NIGEL:
Ah, yes. I fear my time may be limited.
ERNEST:
Why’s that?
KURT:
(Suppressing a groan)
Well, we’ve all got limited time. You probably want to stop blocking the door. Will’s going to be upset.
NIGEL:
Yours is a face I haven’t seen before.
ERNEST:
Um. Hello.
KURT:
(Interrupting)
’ve told Dr. Wilde here everything about your fish people. Really fascinating stuff. He’s a scientist.
But now I owe him a drink, and since we’re all mortal—
TAYLOR:
(Off mike)
Nigel Blackthorne?
Running footsteps approaching.
KURT:
Evening, constable.
TAYLOR:
Nigel Blackthorne, you’re under arrest.
NIGEL:
Yes, I have foreseen this.
Tell me the charges laid against me, good sir.
KURT:
Wait, is this about the kid who washes dishes? Samuel?
Handcuffs close around NIGEL’s wrists.
TAYLOR:
You’re under arrest for the murder of Professor Emundr Ragnarsson.
MUSIC: OUTRO.
Back to Episode 4: Lost Daughters
Forward to Episode 6: The Birth of the World to Come
We are hurtling toward the conclusion of Act One! Two more episodes before we are ready to depart London for further investigating. Thanks for reading.
Space Whales Press 
2 thoughts on “The Well Below the Valley, Episode 5: And There Is Nothing Green That Remains”