Part 39 "The Detective"

PART 39: THE DETECTIVE

Transcript made by Jack

CWs: assault, sounds of injury, sounds of drowning, memory issues, mentions of war death

(BEGIN Part 39.)

 

(The sounds of a city: pedestrian conversations, cars driving by, occasional laughter. A slow piano melody begins. Footsteps continue. Something splashes onto the road.)

 

JOHN: Careful. A man is dumping something. From a bucket, to our right. It must’ve snowed last night, while you were sleeping. (A small pause.) Are you ignoring me? 

 

ARTHUR (distracted): Eh? (Coming to himself.) No. No, no. Not… purposefully. Sorry. 

 

JOHN: You’re still upset. About… Oscar. 

 

ARTHUR: No, I… I-I mean, yes, I. I regret having to leave him at the hospital last night, without saying anything.

 

JOHN: He was unconscious. You said goodbye before leaving the farm.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, I-I just… I wish… (He sighs.) I-I wish things were different. That I didn’t have to sever ties with him just because –

 

JOHN (surprised): You barely know him, Arthur.

 

ARTHUR: It’s not about that. It’s about… feeling normal. Like I could have a normal friendship again. One without… 

 

JOHN: Without having to cater to me.

 

ARTHUR: I just… I wish there was a way… we could both get what we want. 

 

JOHN: What is it you want? What is it that Oscar offered?

 

ARTHUR: It’s very… human to socialize. It’s perhaps one of the most defining characteristics of being a human. It’s not about Oscar, necessarily, I… (He sighs.) Don’t you wish for more than me? Don’t you wish you could talk to other people?

 

JOHN: Of course I do. I wish for a great number of things, but my… frustrations around what Oscar signified don’t end at him being someone you call a friend. They exist because I wasn’t given agency. I was completely left out of the relationship. It was no longer about… us, with this new person. It became you and Oscar. And I was there as an incidental. Trapped. Listening in without being able to change the subject or speak. Or be heard by anyone but yourself. (Arthur sighs.) And you chose to ignore me half the time. 

 

ARTHUR (vaguely exasperated): I chose to ignore you because you were trying to kill the man.

 

JOHN: You ignored me long before that. I recognize what I’ve done. I’m sorry for trying to kill Oscar. (In the background, a car engine sputters.)

 

ARTHUR: And lying about it –

 

JOHN: I still have a lot to learn. (Arthur scoffs.) I admit that. (He sighs.) Having time now… last night, things were… heated. In the rain. There was a lot on our plate. The way you confronted me… I realize, now. Being the one to pull you back, at Larson’s, it made me feel… capable. Of anything. It made me feel like I had… my darker, more sinister past under control. Like I fully understood what it meant to have compassion. To be human. But I heard you last night. And I understand what you… meant. When you said that I am… like a child.

 

ARTHUR: Look, I-I meant to say that –

 

JOHN (cutting him off): I know what you meant to say. And I agree that I am still growing. Just as you are. I felt isolated, Arthur. Having Oscar around… made me feel isolated. 

 

ARTHUR: I’m sorry.

 

JOHN: And I’m sorry Oscar’s friendship was the cost to alleviate that feeling. 

 

ARTHUR: I know. There was no other way. It’s why I didn’t… fight you on it. Maybe… eventually. We’ll find a path forward. 

 

JOHN: A way to separate us?

 

ARTHUR: Y-Yes, yes. 

 

(A long pause.)

 

JOHN (quickly, amidst Arthur’s sigh): I’m glad Marie wasn’t awake last night when we came in.

 

ARTHUR: Or this morning! Though I suppose –

 

JOHN: She’s already out for the day.

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Look, we’re fine. I’ve just been thinking, this morning, honestly. It-It’s the one place I’m still alone.

 

JOHN: I understand that. I had plenty of time last night to think while you slept.

 

ARTHUR (teasing): Hey! True. (He chuckles.) At least we’re in this together. It’s easier to understand the frustrations when you can empathize easily and believe me, I can empathize with you.

 

JOHN: And I with you. We have that. We do understand each other… for better or worse. So what were you thinking about?

 

ARTHUR: You first. While I was asleep?

 

JOHN: Well, I was thinking about… Scratch, or rather, the woman who seemed to control him. I don’t know who she was, Arthur, but… (A dark piano melody begins.) I’m concerned. About what we’ve unleashed. 

 

ARTHUR: Yes. I agree, and it’s something to be mindful of, for sure, but when –

 

JOHN: Oh. Right here. Right, yeah.

 

ARTHUR: Oh! Thanks. Uh, yes, but when we have a moment, we can sit down and properly study the book. We now know that Scratch was indeed a Forgotten One. Despite having reunited the fragments, we at least have a better idea of who’s behind it.

 

JOHN: Right, though… she is placated for now.

 

ARTHUR: Maybe we don’t want to poke the bear. Perhaps… that’s the last we’ve seen of her, after all.

 

JOHN: We can hope. W-What about you? What were you thinking about?

 

ARTHUR (eagerly): This meeting! Detective Noel. He said on the phone this morning he had already found something about the Order of the Fallen Star.

 

JOHN: Yes, but what’s to mull over? Until we learn what he’s found…

 

ARTHUR: R-Right, I just… (He sighs.) I guess having already come so close to Larson, through the Butcher, I’m curious about what kind of action Noel will take if we spill everything about Larson. Additionally… 

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: Well, Noel knows so much about me. In such a short amount of time, I really… spilled my guts to him.

 

JOHN: Mhm. 

 

ARTHUR: W-Well, I don’t know, I’m worried that he’s looked into me, maybe. There are some things, including what I’ve told him, that could land me in hot water if he’s not as trustworthy as I believed.

 

JOHN: I tried to tell you.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, but… was that because of what you were feeling? The prickling of isolation? Or were you actually trying to protect us?

 

JOHN (uncertain): I… I, I don’t know. Let’s just hear what he’s learned and find this Order. We have where the Freemasons meet, thanks to… (Quieter.) Oscar.

 

ARTHUR (brightly): Yeah! And we have the ring to show membership. So long as he’s found, at the very least, some things we can ask about during one of these Freemason meetings, then… we have our way in. 

 

JOHN: Right. (More forcefully.) Right! 

 

ARTHUR (chuckling at himself): Oh, sorry! I thought you were agreeing.

 

JOHN: No, but I do. Either way, it’s just along this street.

 

(A quick-paced piano melody begins to play.)

 

ARTHUR: A diner, yes?

 

JOHN: Yes. And you’re right, either way. Whatever Scratch is, or was, he’s in the past. For now. The Order of the Fallen Star. That’s what we need to be after.

 

ARTHUR: And then…?

 

JOHN: And then…

 

ARTHUR: And then, and then I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

 

JOHN: Okay.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. 

 

JOHN: Here. The door handle is… yes. (Arthur grunts, pushes open the door. Inside are the sounds of a diner: clattering cutlery, quiet conversations.) It’s a sunny diner facing the street. The counter is decorated with paper trees and angels. (Arthur huffs a laugh.) Detective Noel is sitting in a booth facing us, just ahead. (Arthur walks.) And… remember, Arthur. Whoever this man is or claims to be, however helpful he wants to be, please keep him at arm’s length. For my sake. Here.

 

ARTHUR: Detective Noel.

 

NOEL: Morning. (Arthur slides into the booth.) I’m glad you called. (The clattering of ceramic and a gulp.) You okay?

 

(Arthur sighs. Something begins to echo in the background.)

 

JOHN: Arthur.

 

NOEL: Hey. Talk to me. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, say something.

 

(A brief audio distortion. The echo stops.) 

 

ARTHUR: Detective Noel, I have a voice inside my head that is the fractured soul of an alien entity. And it describes everything I’m seeing because I am blind. Possibly because of some magical aura. 

 

JOHN (shocked): Arthur. 

 

NOEL: Oh. And what is this… entity’s name?

 

ARTHUR: John. 

 

(A gentle piano melody begins.)

 

NOEL: John?

 

ARTHUR: Yes.

 

JOHN (taken aback): Arthur.

 

NOEL: Alright, then.

 

ARTHUR: Look, I-I know you think I’m crazy. (Sound of footsteps.) Y-Y-You think I’m… (Ceramic clatters, a drink is poured.) Thank you. (Footsteps fade. At a whisper.) You think I-I don’t know, that I-I’m making this up, or – or –

 

NOEL (interrupting): Hey! Hold on, now. I didn’t say any of that. (He relaxes.)

 

JOHN: He’s… smiling. 

 

NOEL: Relax. (Chuckling to himself.) I-I swear… oh. When we met yesterday, I didn’t think I’d meet you. 

 

ARTHUR (confused): Meet me?

 

NOEL: Yeah, you could say… I’ve been waiting for you. 

 

JOHN (confused): What?

 

ARTHUR: I… what are you talking about?

 

NOEL: Milk? Sugar?

 

ARTHUR: No, no. What are you talking about, Noel?

 

NOEL: Look, I believe you, Arthur. I do. I’ve seen things that… well. Frankly, you and only you would believe. (Clothing shifts.) You and I share a great number of truths. Realities, you… went into great detail about yesterday when we spoke.

 

ARTHUR: You’ve… encountered…?

 

NOEL: To put it lightly, yeah. But, of all the strange and unusual things I’ve experienced in my long life… I have to say, so far, a voice in your head is new.

 

ARTHUR (awkwardly): Yes. Well. 

 

NOEL: So. Has it been difficult?

 

ARTHUR: To… say the least. It’s like there’s another person with me, always. Sometimes we’re in unison, but other times –

 

NOEL: Well, I appreciate the perspective, but… with respect. I was asking John. 

 

(A slow piano melody begins.)

 

JOHN (at a loss): W… What?

 

ARTHUR: Oh. I…

 

NOEL: Presumably, John can hear me.

 

JOHN: I can.

 

ARTHUR: He… I can. 

 

NOEL: So. Has it been difficult?

 

JOHN (slowly): I… feel at times like a prisoner.

 

ARTHUR (repeating): I feel at times like a prisoner.

 

JOHN: Voiceless. 

 

ARTHUR: Voiceless.

 

JOHN: Unheard.

 

ARTHUR: Unheard.

 

NOEL: I can understand that. Very much so. Who are you? 

 

JOHN: I am… (Noel drinks his coffee.) A fractured piece of an… entity that exists beyond this reality.

 

ARTHUR: He… I am a fractured piece of an entity that exists beyond this reality. 

 

NOEL: How did you end up inside Mr Lester, here?

 

JOHN: I was trapped in a book that he… 

 

ARTHUR: I was trapped in a book that he…

 

JOHN (while Arthur is speaking): Unwittingly opened.

 

ARTHUR: Unwittingly opened.

 

JOHN: We were bound together afterwards, and…

 

ARTHUR: We were bound together afterwards, and…

 

JOHN: Through it, he lost his sight.

 

ARTHUR: Through it, he lost his sight. 

 

JOHN: This is…

 

NOEL: That’s quite the predicament. How does it feel to be here? On this plane?

 

JOHN: Strange.

 

ARTHUR: Strange.

 

NOEL: I bet. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, I… I don’t know what to make of this. (Uncertainly.) It… feels… bizarre. 

 

ARTHUR: He says it feels bizarre. I suppose to be heard for the first time in…

 

NOEL: Months?

 

ARTHUR: Yes. (Noel chuckles.) Months. (Noel takes a sip.)

 

JOHN: Noel, I appreciate you wanting to speak with me. But how do you know so much about us?

 

ARTHUR: He appreciates you wanting to speak with him, but he’s asking how you know so much about us. And I’m curious as well.

 

JOHN: He’s pursed his lips, as if thinking.

 

NOEL: Uh… I looked you up. Validated what you told me yesterday. When I got back to the office. Arthur Lester, Arkham PI, along with a partner, Peter Yang. Unless my records are wrong.

 

ARTHUR: No, he went by – that’s, that’s Parker. 

 

NOEL: Eh. Made some calls to Arkham. Seems like some people are looking for you there. For more than one reason.

 

ARTHUR: Noel… listen, I-I…

 

JOHN (upset): Fuck. 

 

NOEL: Your life, your partner… you really flew the coop.

 

ARTHUR (flustered): U-Understand, that –

 

NOEL: Now, look. What you’re dealing with? I suppose this… Order of the Fallen Star? This voice in your head? It’s important. (He sighs.) More important than anything us mere mortals are dealing with.

 

JOHN: He… seems conflicted. 

 

ARTHUR: How do you know?

 

NOEL: I just… I just do. And I’m going to help you. 

 

ARTHUR: Why?

 

NOEL: I told someone I would. I promised someone I would. Someone who helped me. 

 

(Approaching footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Who…

 

(Someone pours a drink.)

 

NOEL: Thanks, love.

 

ARTHUR (to the server): Yes, yes. 

 

(Footsteps fade.)

 

NOEL: Look, I know you have a million questions. I do, too. For you and John. But for now, let me help you with what I can. Which… admittedly, isn’t much. This Order, well. It’s… there isn’t much on it.

 

ARTHUR: Yes. We… gathered that much.

 

JOHN: But it’s why we’re here.

 

ARTHUR: John says it’s why we’re here.

 

NOEL: Where have you been staying?

 

ARTHUR: Uh, a landlady, above a grocer… uh. 411 East, uhm.

 

JOHN: 83rd Street.

 

ARTHUR: 83rd Street. Thanks, John. (Noel hums to himself.) The Order?

 

NOEL: Look, there’s nothing on it. Kind of the point of societies like this, but I did find a name. Eh, at least, I think it’s a name.

 

JOHN: A name? What name?

 

ARTHUR: John asks, what name?

 

NOEL: Charon. 

 

ARTHUR: Charon? 

 

JOHN: That’s it?

 

ARTHUR (chuckling): I-I don’t think that’s very helpful.

 

NOEL: There’s more, relax. (A quick piano melody begins.) I’m not sure who he is or what he is, but we started a file a few months back. It seems like whenever there’s been transportation of illegal goods, ones that especially need to fly below our eyeline, Charon was involved.

 

ARTHUR: So wait. I-Is this an organization in itself? O-Or…

 

NOEL: Yeah, we’re not sure. But it’s how you find your way into whatever you need. Last year, it was the mayoral candidates’ alcohol-fueled parties, this year…

 

ARTHUR: Wait, wait. Wait. With a ‘C-H’? Charon? Like… he who carries the souls of those who have been given funeral rites across the River Styx?

 

NOEL: The Ferryman, yes.

 

ARTHUR: Oh.

 

NOEL: Which is why I’m inclined to think it’s a name, rather than an organization. One person. 

 

JOHN: What makes you think otherwise?

 

ARTHUR: John asks, why aren’t you sure it’s a name?

 

NOEL: If it is only one person, then they’re extremely well connected. We’re talking about almost everything, from money to people. Some willing and some not. Charon has been tenuously connected to almost every trafficking bust that we’ve made in the last two years, which I’m ashamed to admit is not very many. That’s not counting booze, which is a whole different thing.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. So, Charon is our best hope at getting into the Order of the Fallen Star. But that’s not even a guarantee. We don’t know reliably that Charon is working with them.

 

NOEL: Yeah, well, this one is a little shaky, but we intercepted one of Charon’s rendezvous three months ago. Purely by chance. An off duty cop knocked on the wrong door for an unrelated domestic disturbance and wound up dead, but Charon left the place, and we managed to seize a number of items, some of which were branded. With this symbol. (The shifting of paper.) 

 

JOHN: The symbol on this paper, Arthur…!

 

NOEL: My hopes is that it belongs to – 

 

ARTHUR: This… medallion…?

 

JOHN: Yes, Arthur! It’s the same as the one on the medallion from Larson’s. (The bag rustles.) 

 

ARTHUR: It’s their symbol, alright.

 

NOEL: I had a hunch when I came across it last night. I wanted to show it to you in case… so that means Charon is connected to the Order. But it still means tracking him down may be an issue.

 

ARTHUR: With someone or some organization that prevalent in this city, I’m… I’m sure I can use their name to turn over some rocks at the Freemasons.

 

NOEL: The Freemasons?

 

JOHN: That’s our current plan.

 

ARTHUR: That’s our plan.

 

JOHN: To infiltrate the Freemasons and hope some of the more established members to also be part of the Order.

 

ARTHUR: At the Freemasons, we’re hoping to find some members of the Order.

 

NOEL: You have a way into the Freemasons?

 

ARTHUR: My, uh, father is a member. We have his ring, and –

 

NOEL: Well, fuck, I think you may have solved your problem about finding Charon.

 

JOHN (confused): How?

 

ARTHUR: John says, how?

 

NOEL: Aldrich Ward. (Faroe’s Song begins to play.) Look, we’ve had our eye on him for a long time. He’s an extremely wealthy, well-connected member of the Freemasons, and in his spare time, owner of DB Imports. The largest import and export company in New York. And on the East Coast, just after MGC Holdings. 

 

JOHN: What are you saying?

 

ARTHUR: Meaning?

 

NOEL: If Aldrich isn’t Charon himself… then he’s at least in bed with him. Or helping shadow run the organization.

 

JOHN: He’s our way to Charon!

 

ARTHUR: He’s a Freemason?

 

NOEL (can you believe this): He’s their god damn treasurer. He’s got an office at their building and everything. Beyond this connection, he’s been linked to all the booze that flowed during Prohibition. He made a ton of money.

 

JOHN: If he’s guilty, why haven’t you taken him in?

 

ARTHUR: John asks, if he’s guilty, then…?

 

NOEL: Why is he free? Because these Freemasons are all connected to the powers that run this city. You have no idea, the mayor is a fucking Freemason, along with the commissioner, the country treasurer’s office…

 

ARTHUR: Surely not all Freemasons are guilty?

 

JOHN (realizing): Daniel.

 

NOEL: No. No, no. Look. They’re just people. Greedy, dirty people, some dirtier than the rest… the law can’t touch ‘em. But you can! You got nothing to lose here, kid.

 

JOHN: An office, you say?

 

ARTHUR: He has an office?

 

NOEL: The Freemasons building. When he’s not doing his 9 to 5 at DB, he’s at the Lodge. 

 

JOHN: Oscar wrote ‘23rd Street & 6th Avenue’. 

 

ARTHUR: On 23rd Street? 

 

NOEL: Yeah.

 

ARTHUR: Uh, a friend gave us the location. 

 

NOEL: The same friend who gave you the ring?

 

JOHN (downtrodden): No.

 

ARTHUR: Okay, okay. I-If Aldrich Ward… has an office, i-in the Freemasons building –

 

NOEL: The Grand Lodge. That’s what they call it. 

 

ARTHUR: O-Oh.

 

NOEL: You should know that, if you’re heading in.

 

ARTHUR: Right. If he has an office there –

 

JOHN: We’ll speak directly to him.

 

NOEL: Eh, you know what? Maybe I shouldn’t hear any more. I don’t want to be in any deeper than I need to be. (He grunts and gets out the booth.)

 

JOHN: He’s leaving the booth. 

 

ARTHUR: O-Oh – !

 

NOEL: I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I just got places to be. Look, you get him to tell you whatever he can, and then you call me. It’s… Saturday, so no doubt he’s there. (He begins to walk off.)

 

ARTHUR (calling out): Noel, Noel.

 

NOEL: Yeah?

 

ARTHUR: What… how is the, uh. The Butcher?

 

NOEL (approaching): Mr. Collins? Heh. Real stiff upper lip type. Hasn’t said a damn thing. 

 

ARTHUR: Really?

 

NOEL: We already had lawyers calling all through the night, trying to get him out again. Claiming a bunch of bullshit charges. Don’t sweat it. None of it will hold up, he’s dead to rights.

 

ARTHUR: Lawyers?

 

NOEL: Yeah. They were all calling on behalf of some –

 

ARTHUR (vindictively): Larson. 

 

NOEL: Yeah. 

 

ARTHUR: He’s part of the Order, Noel. (Seriously.) A real and true monster. Stay away from him. 

 

NOEL: Noted. Anyway. Good luck. Aldrich is a real piece of shit. 

 

JOHN: Thank you.

 

ARTHUR: John says, thank you. And thank you from me, too. 

 

NOEL: Hey, thank you two. For two years, I… 

 

ARTHUR (curious): Two years…?

 

NOEL (sighing): Nevermind. Look, we’ll talk later. Promise. (He begins to walk. At a distance.) See you later, doll. (The diner door opens and shuts.)

 

ARTHUR (thoughtfully): Well.

 

JOHN: Well.

 

ARTHUR: How did that feel?

 

JOHN: That… felt… good, Arthur. Thank you. 

 

ARTHUR: Come on. Let’s get a taxi and get to the Grand Lodge. I feel like getting some fucking answers from a rich prick named Aldrich. (Coins clatter on the counter. A serious beat plays in the background. They exit the diner. Outside, the sounds of the street  - cars and muted conversation.)

 

JOHN: Agreed. When we get there… do we pretend we’re Daniel? Or someone else? 

 

ARTHUR: What do you mean?

 

JOHN: We have the ring, but Daniel’s a member, not you. If you plan to pretend to be Daniel, they may know he’s in hospital. 

 

ARTHUR: Right. Right. Well, we could just not say who we are.

 

JOHN: I doubt a secretive society will just let anyone wander in off the street, ring or otherwise.

 

ARTHUR: Oh, I mean, what are the odds that the front door person or Aldrich’s secretary would know Daniel?

 

JOHN: That’s the question.

 

ARTHUR: Right. Well. Maybe we just say we’re Daniel’s son? Admit he lent us the ring because we’re considering membership?

 

JOHN: Hm.

 

ARTHUR: Thoughts?

 

JOHN: That may be the best option. We don’t know much about the Freemasons and even less about Daniel and how he’s lived these past few years. It may be setting us up for failure.

 

ARTHUR: Alright, agreed. We’ll play it honest.

 

JOHN: Mostly honest. A taxi is slowing down. (An engine grows louder.)

 

ARTHUR (calling out): Taxi! (He opens the door and climbs in. The door shuts.) 23rd Street and 6th Avenue. Thank you. 

 

JOHN: So how do you plan on getting Aldrich to tell us about Charon? (A pause.) Arthur?

 

(Faroe’s Song starts to play.)

 

ARTHUR: Do you recall how I told you, previous to meeting Oscar, how I… would try and catch him in a lie?

 

JOHN: Yes?

 

ARTHUR: How doing so allowed me to size him up, so to speak?

 

JOHN: Yes, let him lead the conversation.

 

ARTHUR: Do you also recall what I said about… Parker’s method?

 

JOHN: Intimidating… physically? Breaking objects and things like that?

 

ARTHUR: Exactly. 

 

JOHN: What are you getting at?

 

ARTHUR (distastefully): This Aldrich Ward… he doesn’t sound like the kind I care to catch in a lie. (A quick-paced piano melody begins to play.) Look, there’s no pulling punches now. The Order is within our sights, and I’m not going to play games with some corrupt aristocrat who undoubtedly will refuse to share what we need to know without some serious coercion.

 

JOHN: Listen, Arthur, I agree! And frankly, I’m excited at the prospect of getting what we need from Ward, but… isn’t it a bit riskier? He could call the police, or…?

 

ARTHUR: This is a man who works above the law. You heard Noel. He’s not going to call anyone.

 

JOHN: Well, I hope you’re right.

 

ARTHUR (seriously): I know I am.

 

JOHN: We’re here. It’s… twenty-five cents.

 

ARTHUR: Oh. (His bag rustles, coins jingle.) Here. Thank you. (The door opens and shuts. The taxi drives off.)

 

JOHN: It looks like the building is on the north-east corner. It’s… tall. (A delicate piano melody plays.) Brown and white stone, reaching towards the sky. There’s an entrance here, on 23rd Street. 

 

ARTHUR: Okay. 

 

(They walk.)

 

JOHN: Here, here. (They open the door. Footsteps echo.) We’re in a hallway with rounded ceilings. Elevators lay to the right. Four of them. There are stairs at the end of the hallway that turn right as well, and head up.

 

ARTHUR (voice echoing): Is there anyone here?

 

JOHN: No, it seems… quiet.

 

ARTHUR: Alright, well, uh. The stairs, I suppose. (They walk.)

 

JOHN: Here. (They start to climb.) Turn. Everything is very ornate. The banister is black wood, topped with… gold. The floor is marble, and…

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Well, there’s a sigil here. A Freemasons symbol, and written around it, it says… ‘Let there be light’. 

 

ARTHUR (thoughtfully): Heh.

 

JOHN: A lot of Egyptian iconography and images scattered through some of the depictions on the walls.

 

ARTHUR (puzzled): Egyptian?

 

JOHN: There are also pictures here of grand masters. 

 

ARTHUR (scoffing): What’s on this floor? Eh, the second floor?

 

JOHN: The elevators, again, and, uh… (Surprised.) Oh! There’s a directory.

 

ARTHUR: Perfect! Uh, we’re looking for the treasurer. I doubt Ward’s name would be here directly, so look for something related. Finances, or… records, perhaps, eh –

 

JOHN: I’m looking.

 

(A long pause.) 

 

ARTHUR: It’s… quiet. Eerily so.

 

JOHN: There didn’t seem to be anyone watching the door. It seems like anyone can walk in off the street.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, but we won’t get a meeting with Aldrich without Daniel’s ring. Regardless of how easy it may have been to enter the building.

 

JOHN: Executive offices?

 

ARTHUR: Bingo.

 

JOHN: 17th floor. Elevators to your right.

 

ARTHUR: Excellent. (They walk.)

 

JOHN: The button is… lower. There. (Arthur presses the button. Something clangs below.) Someone’s entered from the street. The floor below us.

 

ARTHUR (to himself): Come on.

 

JOHN: The fewer people that see us, the better.

 

ARTHUR (to himself): Come on.

 

JOHN: Especially if Aldrich needs some strong convincing.

 

ARTHUR (frustrated): I know! (He presses the button again.) Come on! Come on… 

 

JOHN: They’re coming up the stairs! (The bell dings. The doors roll open.)

ARTHUR: Come on…

 

(Echoing footsteps steadily approach.)

 

JOHN: Now! The doors are open. Seventeen. Higher. Higher! There! (The doors roll shut.) The doors are closed. (They both sigh.) You mention this was… Parker’s approach to dealing with –

 

ARTHUR: Yes.

 

JOHN: Yeah. (A short pause. Awkwardly.) Have you… before?

 

(Whimsical music starts to play.)

 

ARTHUR: Have I what?

 

JOHN: You know. Gotten into it.

 

ARTHUR (completely lost): What?

 

JOHN: Have you beaten someone up? Have you… gotten into a scrap?

 

ARTHUR (are you serious): Are you asking if I’ve ever been in a fight?

 

JOHN: I suppose.

 

ARTHUR (at a loss): We literally fought the Butcher on the train. (Exasperated.) We defeated monstrous creatures of the –

 

JOHN: Yes, but those were all together. I mean, before me.

 

ARTHUR: What are you implying? That you… you aided me in some way that –

 

JOHN: No. (Awkwardly.) Just that… well, I helped with many of the, uh.

 

ARTHUR: H-Hold on! (Riled.) Y-You think you aided me so much so, that when I had my eyesight back, I was a worse fighter than I am now?

 

JOHN: Not necessarily.

 

ARTHUR (noises of confusion): I’m baffled.

 

JOHN: I mean, without my ability to call out certain moments, to pinpoint a weakness in a combatant that we’re facing…

 

ARTHUR: You think I couldn’t do that if I could just see again?

 

JOHN (plainly): Well. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.

 

ARTHUR: What on Earth… 

 

(A long pause.)

 

JOHN: So, have you?

 

ARTHUR (done): Make an educated guess.

 

(The bell rings. The elevator doors roll open.)

 

JOHN: Offices are to the right. 

 

ARTHUR: Here?

 

JOHN: Yes. There are a number of portraits on the wall, here, similar to the lobby.

 

ARTHUR: For what?

 

JOHN (reading): ‘Grand Lodge Award for Distinguished Achievement…’

 

ARTHUR: Okay?

 

JOHN: They seem like a varied group. At least, in age. There’s a door to the executive offices along the same wall, just a bit further down.

 

ARTHUR: Perfect. Okay, well. Might as well put this ring on. (The bag rustles.) Look, it may not mean much in the end, but at least it will give us a few ounces of credibility. I see no reason to think that he would avoid seeing us. There’s no suspicion –

 

JOHN: Aldrich Ward.

 

(A slow piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Yes?

 

JOHN: N-No, he’s here, I-I mean, on the wall. His picture.

 

ARTHUR (surprised): Oh!

 

JOHN: A distinguished member. 

 

ARTHUR: How does he look?

 

JOHN: Bitter.

 

ARTHUR: Yeah, I can imagine. Well, that’s useful. We know who we’re looking for, now.

 

JOHN: Yes. A-Anyway. The door to the executive offices.

 

(They walk.)

 

ARTHUR: Right. 

 

(The sound of an impact. Both Arthur and another man make noises of surprise.)

 

JOHN: Someone’s come out at the same time!

 

STANGER: Sorry!

 

ARTHUR: Sorry. So – No, I’m…

 

STANGER: Can I help you?

 

JOHN: It’s not him. 

 

ARTHUR: Oh, no, I’m… I’m here to visit with the, um. The treasurer.

 

SECRETARY: I’m the treasurer’s secretary. What… business do you have with him?

 

JOHN: Damn it.

 

ARTHUR: Well, I’m-I’m looking to speak… with him. O-On a rather p-personal matter.

 

SECRETARY: Oh, I’m sorry. Only lodge members are allowed up here. Really, you shouldn’t be…

 

ARTHUR: Well… (He sighs.) Truth be told, my father is a member. Uh, see?

 

JOHN: He’s looking at the ring.

 

SECRETARY (thoughtfully): Oh… huh.

 

ARTHUR: It’s a meeting on behalf of him. Or… for him, rather, he and Mr. Ward are friends. Oh, my father is in hospital right now, after an accident, and, uhm. Well, as I said, it’s a – it’s a personal matter.

 

JOHN: He’s eyeing you up and down. A raised eyebrow.

 

SECRETARY: Is, uh. Mr. Ward aware of this meeting?

 

ARTHUR: No, no, a-as I said… well, the accident was sudden. Look, I-I really just want to speak with… Aldrich.

 

JOHN: He’s relenting.

 

SECRETARY: Mr. Ward is out for the moment, but he should be returning very shortly. Afterwards, I-I’ll speak with him and, and see about possibly meeting with you briefly.

 

JOHN: I suppose that’s enough.

 

ARTHUR: Thank you, uh…?

 

SECRETARY: Uh! What is your name?

 

ARTHUR: Saltzman. Arthur Saltzman. 

 

SECRETARY: Very well. Wait out here, please.

 

ARTHUR: Can I not wait in the offices?

 

SECRETARY: No. As I said –

 

JOHN: Fuck.

 

ARTHUR (primly): Right. Yes. Okay. Thank you.

 

SECRETARY: Thank you. (The door opens and shuts. Footsteps echo slightly.)

 

JOHN: He’s gone back inside.

 

ARTHUR: Damn it.

 

JOHN: What was he coming out for, just to turn around and head back in?

 

ARTHUR: Who knows? Maybe he planned to take an early lunch while the boss was still away. Uh, it doesn’t matter. Look. (He sighs.) That may very well get us into the office, but I’m not keen to wait around all day. I’m wondering if there’s an angle here that we didn’t foresee.

 

JOHN: Which is?

 

(Faroe’s Song begins to play.)

 

ARTHUR: Well, if we can get into his office, while he’s out… maybe there’s some documentation on Charon. Something that would allow us to stay completely out of this entirely.

 

JOHN: I’m all for different approaches, but even if that’s true… wouldn’t it still be better to speak directly to Ward?

 

ARTHUR (sighing): True. 

 

JOHN: Ultimately, if he refuses to see us, I think that’s the right call. Better than nothing. (Steadily more distracted.) But until then, I think we’re… (Footsteps echo.)

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Someone is down the hall.

 

ARTHUR: Okay?

 

JOHN: I think it’s… Aldrich Ward! He’s reading a paper and… (A door creaks open and shut.)

 

ARTHUR: And?

 

JOHN: He’s just entered the men’s room.

 

ARTHUR: Well, alright, then. (They start to walk.)

 

JOHN: What are you doing?

 

ARTHUR: Getting answers.  (The door opens and shuts. Water trickles from a faucet.)

 

JOHN: He’s standing before a washbasin. The one farthest right on the counter of three. He’s looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie. The newspaper folded under his arm. He’s an angry-looking man in a brown suit and a thick mustache and black hair combed to the side. He hasn’t noticed us. (Arthur grunts. A faint click.) You’re locking the door? Wh… (In realization.) Oh.

 

ARTHUR (approaching): Aldrich… Ward.

 

JOHN: He’s stopped adjusting his tie and turned to you.

 

ALDRICH WARD (snidely): I am sorry, do we… know each other? 

 

ARTHUR: No. 

 

ALDRICH WARD: Okay. Right. 

 

JOHN: He’s gone back to his reflection with a dismissive look. 

 

ARTHUR: But you know someone I need to find.

 

ALDRICH WARD: Who might that be? (He adjusts his tie.) 

 

ARTHUR: Charon.

 

JOHN: He’s stopped fixing his tie. He’s turned to you, a menacing look in his eye.

 

ALDRICH WARD (closer): Listen here, boy. I don’t know who you think you are, but that’ll be the last time you utter that name to me, or I’ll have your tongue cut out and sewn to –

 

(Thrilling horror music plays as glass shatters. Ward makes noises of pain.)

 

JOHN: You smashed his head into the mirror!

 

ARTHUR: Shut your fucking mouth!

 

JOHN: Oh my God, Arthur, he’s bleeding from his forehead!

 

ARTHUR (threatening): Now, you listen to me, you slimy piece of shit. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Charon right fucking now. (He pants briefly. Glass clinks.) Or I’m going to cut your nose off with this piece of broken glass.

 

JOHN: Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur! 

 

ALDRICH WARD (affronted): Oh, my God, man! Do you not know who I am?

 

ARTHUR: I know exactly who you are! 

 

ALDRICH WARD: You’re a dead man!

 

(A sound of a dull impact. Ward makes renewed noises of pain.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, your heel broke his bottom teeth! 

 

ARTHUR (shouting): Tell me!

 

ALDRICH WARD (pained): Alright, alright… fuck.

 

ARTHUR: Tell me everything about Charon and the Order of the Fallen Star right fucking now!

 

ALDRICH WARD (terrified): H-How… how do you know… about…

 

JOHN: Arthur, his eyes have grown wide. He knows about the Order!

 

ALDRICH WARD: Charon is –

 

ARTHUR: Fuck Charon. Tell me about the Order.

 

ALDRICH WARD: No.

 

ARTHUR: Tell me about the Order of the Fallen Star!

 

ALDRICH WARD: Lord, no, I d – ! I-I can’t… if I did, I’d… (Something scrapes along the floor. Ward makes noises of agony.)

 

JOHN: What are you… where are you dragging him?

 

ARTHUR: The Order! (Water splashes. Ward is repeatedly dunk underneath the water, choking.)

 

JOHN: The toilet bowl is turning red with the blood from his forehead and mouth! (Arthur continues.) Arthur!

 

ALDRICH WARD (breathing hard): They’ll kill me! They’ll kill me! 

 

ARTHUR: I’ll fucking kill you!

 

ALDRICH WARD (giving in): Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay!

 

ARTHUR (growling): Tell me everything!

 

ALDRICH WARD: The Order of the Fallen Star is… it’s… fuck. 

 

ARTHUR: Talk! (He pants heavily.)

 

ALDRICH WARD: My God, man, you’ve broke my teeth!

 

ARTHUR: I will break all of them. Where do they meet?

 

ALDRICH WARD: A-A factory, i-in Red Hook!

 

ARTHUR: Where, exactly?

 

ALDRICH WARD: T-The Grain Terminal!

 

ARTHUR: When? When do they meet?

 

ALDRICH WARD: I, I thought you knew! That’s why… 

 

ARTHUR (demanding): When?

 

ALDRICH WARD (appeasing): T-Tonight! Tonight. Ten o’clock. Two days after the new moon… every month. We meet tonight. When it, when it waxes.

 

ARTHUR: God damn it.

 

JOHN (shocked): Tonight? 

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Okay. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, perhaps we should leave. He’s bleeding a lot.

 

ARTHUR: He could tell us more.

 

JOHN: And any second, someone could start banging on the door.

 

ALDRICH WARD (begging): Please, please…

 

ARTHUR: This is our only shot. Finding out everything he knows could be the difference between life and death. Fuck if someone sees.

 

(John sighs. Arthur continues to breathe raggedly.)

 

JOHN (sighing in frustration): Fine!

 

ARTHUR: What else? (Ward makes a noise of fear.)

 

ALDRICH WARD: What do you mean, what else!?

 

ARTHUR (demanding): How do you arrive? Is there a passcode, or a phrase? Who are the other members? 

 

ALDRICH WARD (terrified): There are no phrases, not – nothing like that! I-I-It’s invitation only! Very secretive. M-Most of us don’t even know one another, we wear masks, a-a-and my…

 

ARTHUR: Where is your mask?

 

ALDRICH WARD: At home, across town! I don’t… (He splutters.)

 

ARTHUR: What else? Tell me everything.

 

ALDRICH WARD: Tonight, tonight is special! I-I don’t know what for, but so – something big is happening tonight! A-A-Also we’ve been told, e-e-everyone w-will be there!

 

JOHN: Arthur, that’s plenty! 

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Listen to me. If you go tonight, I will kill you. You understand me? I don’t care who you are, or what connections you think you have, I will kill you and everyone you love. (Aggressively.) You stay the fuck away from the Order tonight.

 

ALDRICH WARD: Fine, fine! Christ! I told you what you want! Leave – (A crunching thud of impact and the splashing of water.)

 

JOHN: You knocked him out.

 

ARTHUR: Good. (He spits.) Fucking cultists. (He walks.) How do I look?

 

JOHN: You don’t have any blood on you.

 

ARTHUR: Good, good. Let’s go. We have what we need. 

 

JOHN: Do we?

 

ARTHUR: Yes. We have where and when. Tonight. Let’s go. (He walks.)

 

JOHN: The door, it’s locked. (A metallic ‘click’ and the door swings open. Arthur walks out.)

 

ARTHUR: Anyone?

 

JOHN: No. No one is here. (The door shuts.) Quickly, the elevator. 

 

(He walks. A sad piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: I may have gone a little overboard.

 

JOHN: Aldrich Ward deserved it. There’s no doubt in my mind.

 

ARTHUR: Cultists and organizations like this, they’ve always just…

 

JOHN: Here. The button is… (A click.) Excellent.

 

ARTHUR (to the elevator): Come on. 

 

JOHN: If his secretary comes out…

 

ARTHUR: He won’t, he won’t! This elevator will… 

 

JOHN: Any second now. (More clicks.) There! (The elevator dings and rolls open.)

 

PERCIVAL: Will?

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Who?

 

PERCIVAL: Will Henley? Is that you? (He clears his throat.)

 

ARTHUR: Oh.

 

(A whimsical tune begins to play.)

 

JOHN (very done): Jesus fucking Christ.

 

ARTHUR: Percival!

 

PERCIVAL: Yes, my good boy! Well, I’ll say, I – I didn’t know you were a Mason as well. Look at that! 

 

JOHN: The elevator is closing. (Percival coughs.)

 

ARTHUR: I really must get on the –

 

PERCIVAL: Nonsense, my boy. I’m dying to hear the end of your story.

 

ARTHUR: Story? 

 

JOHN: Arthur!

 

PERCIVAL: Yes, Charlie, and, well. You can’t leave a man hanging.

 

JOHN: Arthur, we need to leave. 

 

ARTHUR (hurried): P-Percival, I am so sorry, I… I really need to –

 

PERCIVAL: Say, you look like a hound that’s just been around the track, my good man. (The elevator rolls shut.) What the devil is wrong?

 

JOHN: The elevator is closed, Arthur. He’s blocking the way. Knock him out!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

PERCIVAL: What?

 

ARTHUR: No, nothing, no! Um. (John grunts.)

 

PERCIVAL: No?

 

JOHN: Well, then, do something, Arthur! He’s blocking the elevator and Aldrich Ward could be coming out of the bathroom any minute, bloody and beaten!

 

ARTHUR: Look, Percival, I-I can’t recall how the story ends. Excuse me, I –

 

PERCIVAL: What nonsense is that? (Arthur flusters.) At least give this poor man an ending, will you?

 

JOHN (annoyed): Arthur.

 

PERCIVAL: I will not let you depart without an answer.

 

ARTHUR (flustered): Fine, fine! Yes. Please, please… uh. But accompany me down to the lobby. I’ll tell you on the lift. Okay?

 

PERCIVAL: Oh, I, well, really… I have business on this floor.

 

JOHN: Oh, for fuck’s sake.

 

ARTHUR: Please.

 

PERCIVAL: Very well, very well. Back to the lobby. (A click.)

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN (to the elevator): Come on. Come on! (Percival makes a noise. The elevator dings.) Here! (The doors roll open. They step in.)

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Right. 

 

PERCIVAL: Why, you look quite relieved.

 

ARTHUR: I-I just… I don’t want to be late for another appointment.

 

PERCIVAL: The lobby it is. (Two clicks. The elevator begins to move.)

 

JOHN: We’re moving.

 

PERCIVAL: So! Your story helped me so on the train. I found myself turning it over and over. Curious for an ending. You spoke of a lone man. Mat was his name. Trudging through the wilds… he arrives at a cabin, his ultimate decision, and one he presumed empty when an old friend is there. Charlie, but… he says he cannot stay. G-Go on, tell me. What happens? Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Right. Well… uh. His friend… Charlie. Says that he can’t stay there. That… he has a-a woman. Moll, is her name, with him, and she’s taking care of him. Fed him, fixed his broken leg. That she… saved him, this Charlie. 

 

PERCIVAL: Yes, and?

 

ARTHUR (sighing): And so Mat leaves. (A sad piano melody begins.) He leaves. Lost. His goal… was this, uh, cabin, for so long, so, so long, a-and now… he’s wandering. Alone, in the icy wilderness, without a goal. He has nothing. Uh. Everything he’s worked for, everything he’s had his sights on… this, this cabin, everything he had planned for… this, this was his finish line. And now it’s… gone. He’s… aimless. (Wind blows.) A-And so, he comes to a little snowbank, where he can get some shelter from the wind. And he makes a, a small fire. He eats a little and lays down in the snow, and… (Arthur sighs.) Overhead, the interlacing branches whispered. Between them, he could see the far, impersonal glances of the stars. Past him, flowed the wind. 

 

But, ah, he has trouble making this… a passable shelter. He… He can’t seem to keep the fire alight, and the heat, and his blanket won’t stop the biting cold. The… pale light of the fire seemed to escape him, to… radiate far through the night. There was nothing to keep it here. The room in which he slept was the universe. His bedfellows, the trees, and their ranks for miles… the mountains on the horizon’s rim… the infinitely distant stars. He was no more than a mote, fallen from a sunbeam. A speck of dust, waiting to be obliterated, or swept away. 

 

JOHN: Arthur. 

 

PERCIVAL (whispering): How sad.

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Yes, but… then… she arrives. 

 

PERCIVAL: She?

 

ARTHUR: The, the woman. Moll, that Charlie had with him. She followed Mat out.

 

PERCIVAL: Why?

 

ARTHUR: She puts fresh boughs on the fire, she brings food and… he asks her where Charlie is, and she says… he didn’t need her. She has a little kettle boiling and he asks why she came and she says to take care of him. And as he drinks the tea, he warms up and he realizes that the shelter she’s fixed… the branches she’s moved and the fire that she’s brought new life to, they… they no longer escape. The heat and the light no longer leaves to the illimitable universe above. It’s now reflected from the lowest branches of the trees overhead. The stirring wind went past… no longer dipped into their hollow. 

 

He can no longer see the stars. And then she took her fur robe, wrapped it around him, and he nestled her warm body. Her coming had driven out the world. It was as though she brought with her a habitation. A haven. A home. And in this home, the man was no longer lonely. He slept in her arms, safely and… securely. 

 

(The elevator dings. The doors roll open.)

 

PERCIVAL: Huh, well! I should say that’s quite the tale, there.

 

JOHN: What does it mean?

 

PERCIVAL: Reminds me of my mother. I gave her quite the time, growing up, but… if she didn’t make our house feel like a home every moment she could. 

 

ARTHUR (sharp inhale): Yes, well. 

 

PERCIVAL: Yes, yes, yes. Well, thank you for the ending, William. I appreciate it very much. My wife was equally enthralled by the tale, I’m sure she will be quite fond of the, uh… ending’s lesson. Nevertheless, I must ride back up. It was wonderful to see you again, my friend.

 

ARTHUR: You too, Percival.

 

PERCIVAL: Take care.

 

ARTHUR: Yes. (A click. The elevator doors roll shut.) Yes. Take care. 

 

JOHN: That’s… quite the story.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, well, it’s… it’s just a story.

 

JOHN: Why did it stick in your mind?

 

ARTHUR: I, I don’t know. I read it years ago. But… certain lines, and, um… (Sharp inhale.) Look, w-we need to move.

 

JOHN: Right. The street is straight ahead. 

 

(He walks.)

 

ARTHUR: Alright. Alright. (He pushes the door open. Outside are the sounds of the city: cars, quiet conversation, and footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Where to now? (The doors shut.)

 

ARTHUR: We need to… (He sighs.) Leave. I-It’s not until 10 PM tonight. We have time, and we need to… well, tell Noel.

 

JOHN (confused): Who?

 

(A slow piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Noel. Detective Noel. 

 

JOHN: Who is Detective Noel?

 

ARTHUR (crestfallen): John. You were doing so well, what…?

 

JOHN: What? Uh –

 

ARTHUR: We just met him!

 

JOHN (awkwardly): Right.

 

ARTHUR: He spoke with you.

 

JOHN: Right.

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. 

 

JOHN (at a loss): I… I know. I-I-I…

 

ARTHUR: It’s fine, let’s –

 

JOHN: I knew that, I-I just… 

 

ARTHUR: And… well.

 

JOHN: Yes, we should tell Noel.

 

ARTHUR: Let’s just… get into a taxi. Head back to Marie’s, for now.

 

JOHN: Okay. 

 

ARTHUR (calling out): Taxi!

 

(A taxi drives up.)

 

JOHN: Here. 

 

(They enter the taxi.)

 

ARTHUR: 411 East 83rd Street, please. 

 

JOHN (cautiously): I know I’m not… fine, Arthur. I’m…

 

ARTHUR: Look, we don’t have a solution. We don’t know what’s wrong, it’s… it’s what it is, for now. Until we can… I don’t know. Speak with someone, o-or I… I don’t know.

 

JOHN: You’re right. I just… I’m s-sorry.

 

ARTHUR: Don’t be. Look, we have… the Order. (A slow piano melody begins.) That’s what’s in our sights. Right?

 

JOHN: Right. Right.

 

ARTHUR: It hides in plain sight. (To himself, repeating.) It hides in plain sight. Hides in plain sight…

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: Well, that’s what Matthew said, remember? About the Order of the Fallen Star.

 

JOHN: Right.

 

ARTHUR: A grain terminal. In plain sight indeed, but. (He sighs.)

 

JOHN: What’s on your mind?

 

ARTHUR: Well, it’s time to figure out what our plan is.

 

JOHN: What do you mean?

 

ARTHUR: Look, we have the location of the Order. We even have when they meet. We’ve been working towards this goal, finding the Order of the Fallen Star, but to what end? To stop them, right?

 

JOHN: Well, uh.

 

ARTHUR: How do we plan on bringing down something as big as this? I mean, we’re talking about an organization that has connections to the Freemasons, illegal trade, and who knows what else. An organization that has slipped between the cracks for how many years?

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: I don’t mean to throw this… all on you, but. In the car, when you asked me to trust you… you talked about stopping Larson. And I’m not pretending that you know what to do here necessarily, but. I guess I’m realizing now: we’ve come this far. We need to have something more concrete to bring them down. Or do we think it’s as simple as just killing Larson?

 

JOHN: Arthur, look, I-I’ve been thinking about this for a bit, now. The Order of the Fallen Star is clearly a powerful and connected organization. 

 

ARTHUR: Right.

 

JOHN: I have to imagine that they… look, what do we think this ‘Fallen Star’ is? 

 

ARTHUR (not following): I don’t know. What is a Freemason? It’s just a name, isn’t it?

 

JOHN: Maybe. Maybe not. I have a suspicion that maybe there is a literal fallen star. An object that potentially possesses a great deal of power.

 

ARTHUR: Okay?

 

JOHN: Cults like this don’t just pop up from nowhere. Perhaps this is what set Larson on his path many years ago. Perhaps something else did, but… what’s clear is that there is an otherworldly, perhaps even alien presence surrounding the Order. And we need to consider its cause.

 

ARTHUR: So you think this ‘fallen star’ is what birthed this cult?

 

JOHN: Very much so. O-Or, I mean… I’m making an educated guess.

 

ARTHUR: Right. Well, it’s a lot to leave up to chance.

 

JOHN: Is it chance, though? Think about it. Beneath Larson’s estate, the halls with the Three Soldiers, and Matthew…

 

ARTHUR: Those halls were dedicated to something called the Black Stone. Matthew said the Order of the Fallen Star was in New York, not Addison. Remember?

 

JOHN: Yes, of course, but… maybe it’s simply relocated. Moved to a place where more people can easily get to it. 

 

ARTHUR: Maybe. I’m, I’m not convinced of that.

 

JOHN: Regardless, if there is a fallen star… wouldn’t that be the source of their power? And if we take it…

 

ARTHUR: Take it? We don’t even know if it exists, let alone… (He sighs.) Let alone what it could do.

 

JOHN (aggressively): Just hear me out! If we take it, they have no reason to exist. 

 

ARTHUR: John, I’m willing to follow you so far, at least in making guesses about what this cult could be about, but. This is quite the leap away from what we know.

 

JOHN: Like we haven’t made larger leaps.

 

ARTHUR: No, of course.

 

JOHN: You’ve connected the dots more tenuously than this. Scratch was –

 

ARTHUR: Scratch was a lot of things we didn’t see coming.

 

JOHN: Right, but I followed you through. All your assertions, until we were proved otherwise.

 

ARTHUR: With a healthy dose of skepticism. Unless there are things I don’t know, I can’t walk into what could turn into a pretty deadly situation – 

 

JOHN (ominously): Maybe there are.

 

ARTHUR: Are what? Things I don’t know?

 

JOHN: Look. I know it seems quite the… ask for your trust, right now. Perhaps… faith is the better word.

 

ARTHUR: John, I…

 

JOHN: After last night, I don’t… know that it is. 

 

ARTHUR: What are you trying to –

 

JOHN: I feel… confident. That there is an… object. Whether it’s the fallen star or something else entirely, that’s bringing this Order power… if we take it, leave with it… I believe they will cease to be.

 

ARTHUR: How? What am I supposed to –

 

JOHN: Perhaps it’s from my time as King. Perhaps a memory returning. Can we call it that? 

 

ARTHUR: I suppose so.

 

JOHN (implicitly): Trust me. (Arthur sighs.) One more time.

 

ARTHUR: We’re here in New York because I do. 

 

(A melancholy piano melody plays.)

 

JOHN: Well, then – (He cuts himself off.) Just a little further. Please. 

 

ARTHUR: Alright. 

 

JOHN: We’re here. Uh, fifteen cents. (Change jingles.)

 

ARTHUR: Thank you. (They exit the cab to the sounds of the city. The cab drives off.) So, if we do manage to take this… object, then what? Leave town? 

 

JOHN: I don’t know. I-I think stopping Larson is still part of it. But I… don’t think he would be the same threat if we have the object first.

 

ARTHUR: Okay, i-it’s a bit bare bones, but we’ve worked with much less. We infiltrate the cult, find the object, take it… kill Larson… and leave. 

 

JOHN (surprised): Leave town?

 

ARTHUR: Yes, I suppose. I suppose we can leave New York entirely after that. There’s nothing for us here.

 

JOHN: Daniel?

 

ARTHUR: Yes! (Uncertainly.) But, I mean, you know. We can come back, visit again. Maybe. 

 

JOHN: So do we head back to Arkham, then?

 

ARTHUR: No, no. I-I suppose not.

 

JOHN: So where?

 

ARTHUR: I… (He sighs.) I don’t know just yet. 

 

JOHN: Okay.

 

ARTHUR: But, but if this is… if tonight, we leave… we should say our farewells to Marie. 

 

JOHN: Right. Well, let’s hope she’s home. The steps are here.

 

ARTHUR: Yeah. (They walk.)

 

JOHN (taken aback): Oh! Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: The house! It… no longer has the aura. The dark shadow I saw when we first approached. 

 

ARTHUR (softly): Oh. 

 

JOHN: I suppose Scratch is really gone. 

 

ARTHUR: I suppose so. (He opens the door with a grunt. A clock ticks inside. Calling out, slightly echoing.) Marie? 

 

MARIE: In here.

 

ARTHUR: Oh! Afternoon. (He approaches.)

 

MARIE: Afternoon. 

 

ARTHUR: You’re having your tea? Is it, uh –

 

MARIE: Would you like to sit?

 

ARTHUR: Sure, sure. (Marie sips tea.) Why not? How is, um… Hattie?

 

MARIE: She’s doing fine. (She pours a cup of tea.) A little worse for wear, but she’ll be alright, thanks to you.

 

ARTHUR: It was nothing, really. I –

 

MARIE: Oscar doesn’t seem to think so.

 

ARTHUR (sighing, cautiously): Oscar is, uh…?

 

MARIE: I visited him in the hospital as well. He told me what you did. 

 

ARTHUR: What I…?

 

JOHN (uh-oh): How much of what we did?

 

MARIE: He was sparse with the details, including those that led to him… losing his arm.

 

ARTHUR (stammering): Uh, I, look, I… I wish I could explain, truly, but.

 

MARIE: My sister is alive, Parker. That is what I asked for and that is what you accomplished. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Family is important, Parker. I would do anything for family. 

 

ARTHUR: I know. (She sips tea.) I know.

 

(Ceramic clatters.)

 

MARIE (briskly): Now, how much do I owe you? 

 

ARTHUR (lost): Owe me? 

 

MARIE: For your… investigative services? 

 

ARTHUR: Oh, no, Marie, really, it’s-it’s not –

 

MARIE (sternly): Quiet, now. How much?

 

JOHN: Arthur, if we’re leaving, money would be helpful. (Marie sips tea.)

 

ARTHUR: Uh, I-I-I don’t know. Whatever you can spare, honestly.

 

MARIE (thoughtfully): Heh. 

 

(She walks off. At a distance, something clicks. Marie begins to rummage.) 

 

JOHN: She’s looking around in a drawer by the fireplace.

 

ARTHUR: But honestly, Marie, this isn’t… necessary.

 

MARIE: Codswallop! I won’t hear of it. (Arthur sighs.) You performed a duty and, eh… (Faintly.) And, eh… 

 

JOHN: She’s drifted off. 

 

MARIE: Would you take something of value over money? 

 

ARTHUR: Sure, of course. If it would be preferred. 

 

MARIE: Very well. (She shuts the drawer and returns.) Here. (A soft clicking noise.)

 

JOHN: She’s handed you a… locket. A gold locket. (Marie sits and drinks her tea.) 

 

ARTHUR: Oh, Marie, this… this is far too –

 

MARIE: My boy, Hattie is worth far more than any trinket. Besides, it isn’t going anywhere, sitting in that dusty drawer.

 

ARTHUR: But surely this has sentimental value, I…

 

MARIE (exuberantly): Of course it does! Too much to sell, but too little to wear. Besides, there is no one to pass along these things to, eh? (Sadly.) Eh.

 

JOHN: She’s drifted off again. (The locket clicks.) The locket opens in the middle, and… (A sad piano melody begins.) Oh. There are two small portraits here. A man and… a boy. 

 

MARIE: That’s… Albert, there. On the left. And on the right, my… my son.

 

JOHN: Her son.

 

ARTHUR (kindly): He’s very handsome.

 

MARIE: He’s dead, now. The war, of course. Did you see some action? 

 

ARTHUR: No, no, I was… too young when it started.

 

JOHN: She’s studying your face. 

 

MARIE: My son… he was nothing like you. Very different sort. Different than me, even. He used to say that I gave him the strong bits of his personality. I know what he meant, though. (More emotionally.) He meant that I was too tough on him.

 

ARTHUR: I’m sure he, uh…

 

MARIE: I loved him. Dearly. He would often tell me to be more… neighborly. To be more friendly is what he meant. (Wistfully.) Eh. 

 

JOHN: Her eyes have drifted down to her lap. She’s holding a handkerchief.

 

MARIE: You are done, here? You are leaving?

 

ARTHUR (sighing): I am, yes. How did –

 

MARIE: Oscar mentioned your… father and you spoke. I suppose you’ve made your amends and whatnot. 

 

ARTHUR (awkwardly): Ah… in a… yes, yes. I-I have. 

 

MARIE: I’m glad for it. Where are you off to, now? Home?

 

ARTHUR: No, no, I-I don’t think I’m ready to return to Arkham just yet.

 

MARIE: I assumed England.

 

ARTHUR (surprised): Oh! Well… no, I-I –

 

MARIE: It’s fine either way, I understand it. My boy was the same in that way. Always aching to leave one place or another. That was half the appeal of the war. You’ve paid for the week. Did you –

 

ARTHUR: No. No, no, no. This, this… is more than enough. (Coins jingle.) Please, keep whatever is left. Please. (He sighs.) 

 

MARIE: He would always make a mess out there, my boy. Dirty shoes worn right through to the seams. Knees black as if he were crawling down chimneys… who knew what that boy would get up to? (A gentle piano melody begins.) But when he would come in, in the late afternoon light, the orange filling the front hall… he would always remark, ‘The light!’ He loved it. (Happily.) A boy talking about the sun! Can you imagine? The strange look he’d get. (She laughs.) Mostly from me. He’d say, ‘Mama? The sun is just as pretty today as it was yesterday!’ 

 

(Theatrically.) And I’d say something silly to staunch his excitement about taking off his muddy shoes or picking up his ratty coat! And he’d just stand there. (She shifts with a grunt.) Right there. Bathed in the golden glow. (A soft pause.) I… love the light, now. (She sniffs sadly.) Sometimes I… feel him in it. (She sniffs again, emotional.) 

 

You know, if you… if you… eh, ever wanted to, eh… write, or… well, you know. I often think about my boy. Frederick. And what he would say, and… well, maybe he’s right. Maybe I… need a little… (Arthur sighs.) Well. I… I don’t want to be a burden.

 

ARTHUR: Marie, I…

 

MARIE (indignantly): Well, it’s not an obligation! You don’t… I mean, look, if you think that I’m some –

 

ARTHUR: Marie. I’d love to. I’d be honored to write you.

 

MARIE: Well. Good. I’d really love that. (A pause.)  Well, here I am, yammering on! I’m sure you have things to see before leaving.

 

ARTHUR: No. No, i-in fact… I-I’m going to use the phone at the grocer, but. I don’t have anywhere to be until later. I’d love to spend some time, Marie, together. 

 

MARIE: I’d… I’d like that. Of course, I’d have to cancel my evening plans –

 

ARTHUR: Oh, w-well, you don’t have to –

 

MARIE: No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine. (A whimsical tune plays.) I’d prefer your company to the endless prattling over dinner out with the visiting Mr. Chapman. 

 

ARTHUR: Well! (He gets up.) I’ll just use the phone. I-It shouldn’t take long. (He walks off.)

 

MARIE: Yes. Then when you’re back, I’ll telephone and leave a message at Seymour’s hotel.

 

ARTHUR: Excellent. 

 

JOHN: Thank you, Marie.

 

ARTHUR: Thank you, Marie. For giving me a place to stay. 

 

MARIE: You’re a good man. (Arthur opens the door to outside. Marie calls out.) Oh! Oh, Parker!

 

ARTHUR: Yes?

 

MARIE: I nearly forgot! When I was in hospital with Oscar, he wanted me to give you something! It’s by the door there!

 

ARTHUR: Oh!

 

JOHN: There’s a letter here. It’s unaddressed.

 

ARTHUR: This letter?

 

MARIE: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Thank you. (Paper ruffles.)

 

JOHN: It’s in a plain envelope.

 

ARTHUR: Should we open it?

 

JOHN: Outside.

 

ARTHUR: Thank you, I’ll be right back!

 

JOHN: A letter from Oscar? Do you think he – (Surprised.) Oh! 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Hey there, hey! (He chuckles.)

 

JOHN: Noel!

 

ARTHUR: Noel!

 

NOEL: I was just about to, um…

 

ARTHUR: Oh, o-one second. (He shuts Marie’s door.) 

 

JOHN: We were on our way to telephone you.

 

ARTHUR: We were about to telephone you. (The paper ruffles.)

 

NOEL: Good timing, I suppose.

 

JOHN: What’s the matter?

 

ARTHUR: John says, ‘what’s up?’

 

NOEL (nervously): Eh.

 

JOHN: He’s walking on the sidewalk, pacing, almost. In a small circle.

 

NOEL: Let’s talk. We should talk.

 

JOHN: He’s started to walk down the street. (They walk off.)

 

ARTHUR: Sure. Sure.

 

JOHN: He looks nervous. Uncomfortable. 

 

ARTHUR: What’s… going on? What is it that –

 

NOEL (awkwardly): Nothing. Well – look. Let’s-Let’s sit. Here. There’s a stoop, here. Here. Here.

 

JOHN: Yes, here. 

 

ARTHUR: You’re nervous. (They sit. Quietly. ) What do you know about the Order?

 

NOEL (sighing): The Order?

 

ARTHUR: Yes.

 

NOEL: No, no. This has nothing to do with the Order. What did you find out?

 

(A slow piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Oh, well. Where they’re meeting, and when. Tonight, in fact. Ten o’clock.

 

NOEL: Tonight, tonight. Okay. Okay, excellent.

 

JOHN: But we need masks.

 

ARTHUR: Y-Yes, but John says we need masks. It’s in Red Hook. A grain terminal.

 

NOEL (sarcastically): Of course, always masks. Okay. Look, we’ll find a place, a quiet place to hide, and we’ll wait, and we’ll watch, and we’ll… knock out two members before they arrive and take their place. That’ll get us in. 

 

JOHN: He seems… distracted. 

 

ARTHUR: Tell me what’s going on. Why are you here, if not about the Order? What aren’t you telling us?

 

NOEL (sighing): Look. Kid. I… 

 

JOHN (annoyed): You’re wasting our time, Noel!

 

ARTHUR: Look, if you’re not going to be straight with us, after all we’ve done – (He stands.) 

 

NOEL (weary): Hold on, just… hey. Just, sit down, please. Please. (Arthur sighs and sits.) Look. I never had to talk about any of this, okay? This part of my life… I buried. I never had to… recall certain things. Never had to go back.

 

ARTHUR (directly): Cut the cryptic shit, Noel. We need to know what’s going on. Tell us what is going on.

 

JOHN: Everything.

 

NOEL (sighing): I knew you were coming. (An ominous tune begins.) Two years, I waited. Because it was two years ago… I left the Dreamlands.

 

(A quick-paced piano melody begins.)

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: The… Dreamlands?

 

NOEL (sighing): My real name… is Charlie Dowd. I grew up in a little place called Harper’s Hill, along with my best friend, Noel Finley. We were both policemen, until the war started. He… didn’t come back. I did. They never found his body. I-I couldn’t… go home, after all of it, it felt too familiar, so I found my way to… Arkham. I found a spot with a partner, who had ties to the law, and together we opened a PI business.

 

ARTHUR: Really?

 

NOEL: Yes. At 13 Mosby Avenue. 

 

(Rising suspenseful music.)

 

ARTHUR: Wait, wait.

 

NOEL: My partner’s name was Roland Cummings. 

 

JOHN: Roland Cummings?

 

ARTHUR (shocked): Roland?

 

NOEL: You took over my old office. 

 

JOHN: But – how did you – I, I don’t understand. 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Just, just. Wait. There’s more. (He sighs) After Roland and I started taking cases, sometimes finding people who had come back from the war claiming to be MIA soldiers, you know, changelings, we stumbled upon one case that… well, let’s just say touched into these ‘magics’ you spoke of yesterday. (A soft piano melody begins.) That case opened our eyes to a whole world of things we could barely comprehend. And together, Roland and I, we became somewhat specialized, dealing with cases that touched this otherworldly stuff.

 

Then… couple months later, things got really interesting. A mutual acquaintance of ours heard of an artifact, something very old and very powerful, being unearthed in Egypt. Unsure of what it could mean for the world, I went and left Roland behind for many, many months. While I was there, I joined an expeditionary team to unearth what amounted to… a great find. But that’s besides the point, right now. (He sighs wearily.) 

 

Look, within that excavation, they found a stone. This was… almost a year and a half since I had first arrived in Egypt, I was ingrained, you know, entrenched in the goings-on there. So when I stole the box that contained a stone, I knew I would be killed if they ever found me.

 

ARTHUR: Is that why you took Noel’s name?

 

NOEL: Partly, but that’s not the full story. I sent the stone home first. I never looked at it or touched it, I sent it straight to the office. However, when I finally did get home, I learned that Roland had been missing and presumed dead for quite a while. (A pause.) That’s when he came for me.

 

JOHN: He?

 

ARTHUR: Who?

 

NOEL: The King in Yellow. 

 

(A horror sting. John gasps in fear.)

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Look, the King in Yellow is this… is this Great Old One who reigns over the Dreamlands, he is… a master manipulator and liar. (In disgust.) He whispers in your ear, he infects your thoughts, your dreams… t-this great deceiver, this inhuman being, this bringer of madness. Sorry, sorry, I-I get a little carried away.

 

ARTHUR: It’s… It’s alright. Continue. Continue, please. 

 

NOEL: This King. He has considerable power. Even here, in our realm. The ability to interact with the dead, whisper into people’s ears, usually those who have touched the alien world, you know, those whose minds have already encountered otherworldly horrors, you know. And he can even inhabit the dreams of those who he chooses to seek out. And he sought me out. At first, in dreams. And then… he took me to the Dreamlands.

 

JOHN (aggressively): Arthur, do not tell Noel who I am.

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Yes. The Dreamlands.

 

NOEL: He couldn’t manipulate me into telling him what he wanted. Too used to the horrors of the world, I suppose. So he tortured me there for what felt like… years. I think time moves differently there, though, I… I didn’t age the same way for those years, I…

 

JOHN (frantic): He will not help us if he knows the truth! He cannot know!

 

ARTHUR: What… What did he want?

 

NOEL: He asked me questions about Roland. Who he was working for, what he’d been doing, where they planned to be. Of course, I-I didn’t know anything. I was away. But didn’t stop him from asking. He thought up cruel, unusual forms of torture… would change the landscapes of the Dreamlands to reflect places from my memories: my apartment, Egypt, a prison cell. H-He would change his appearance to take on the physical presence of people I had known. He was a master manipulator.

 

ARTHUR: But you never told him anything?

 

NOEL: I wouldn’t. Not even the small bits I knew. Not even when he pulled out Roland himself. 

 

ARTHUR: Roland?

 

JOHN: Roland was alive in the Dreamlands!

 

NOEL: At first I thought it was another mask the King wore. He had pulled off so many clever characters that tricked me, but… but this. (He sighs.) This was the real Roland. He was trapped in the Dreamlands. A prisoner of the King like me, but moreso. No longer part of our world. That’s when I knew he had died. At least, on this plane of existence.

 

ARTHUR: Y-You can die here but be alive in the Dreamlands?

 

NOEL: In a manner of speaking. Roland… in his time dealing with the occult must’ve anchored himself in the Dreamlands, somehow. So when he died here, he had a place to be –

 

ARTHUR: So he could come back, back to this world.

 

NOEL: Not anymore. When it became clear to the King that Roland would never tell him what he needed to know, he turned to me. And I guess my pitch wasn’t convincing enough, because he killed what existed of Roland in the Dreamlands as well. (A sad piano melody begins.) Then the King, I suppose, gave up on trying to fish information from me and decided to let me stew. For a long time. 

 

JOHN: The prison pits.

 

ARTHUR: Where?

 

NOEL: The prison pits. (Arthur sighs.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, listen to me. And do not repeat this to Noel. I did not do this. This was after I was trapped in the book. Was that… what the King was looking for? Is that why he tortured Roland? And Noel? For the book?

 

ARTHUR: And you never knew what the King was looking for?

 

NOEL: It was something important to him. Very important. (He sighs.) 

 

JOHN: The King must have known Roland was connected to my book somehow. Through 58 Pelican Lane. Roland must have been there in some manifestation, so when the King was separated from his other half, he sought out Roland. And anyone Roland was connected to.

 

ARTHUR: But you’re here! How did you escape? (Noel snorts.) 

 

JOHN: A smile is creeping on Noel’s face.

 

NOEL: Our mutual friend. Lorick. 

 

ARTHUR: Lorick?

 

JOHN (in realization): The cana!

 

ARTHUR (happily): You were the one he helped escape! 

 

NOEL: He told me he was your friend. And that I would encounter you. A man without sight, holding the lighter that my partner once possessed. With a familiar voice in his head.

 

JOHN: Does he know I’m the King?

 

ARTHUR (surprised): My lighter?

 

NOEL: This too shall pass. That lighter was famously my partner Roland’s. He must’ve left it behind before shuffling off this mortal coil.

 

ARTHUR: That’s right. Your voice… does the name ‘Adam Fry’ mean anything to you?

 

NOEL: It’s one of the many characters the King would take on to manipulate me. (Arthur sighs.) He sounded just like my childhood best friend.

 

ARTHUR: It seems like the King takes many voices to sell his characters. The more authentic, the better, I suppose.

 

JOHN: Adam Fry was the King using Noel’s mannerisms. Just like he did with Frank Underhill! That’s what you recognized his voice from.

 

NOEL: The cana also told me that I would have to help this strange, interesting character that I would meet one day. One fateful day. (He chuckles.) Fuck. (He sighs light-heartedly.) And on a god-damn Saturday, too.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, sorry about that.

 

NOEL (sighing): So that’s the whole story. For the past two years, since escaping, I’ve managed to take on my old friend Noel’s persona and get a job as him here in New York. Some days it’s easier to forget where I’ve come from. Other days… not so much. 

 

ARTHUR: You said… You said we had a few mutual friends.

 

JOHN: Who was he talking about?

 

NOEL: Eh, that sounds stupid, now. But after what the cana said, I had thought for a moment, before speaking with you and John, that maybe… just maybe… it was… Roland in there with you.

 

ARTHUR: Oh.

 

NOEL: It’s… not. (Meekly.) Is it?

 

ARTHUR (sighing): No. No, I-I’m… I’m sorry to say it isn’t. 

 

NOEL: Fair enough. Fractured soul of an entity. Would’ve been a small world, I suppose. (He grunts and stands.)

 

JOHN: He’s standing up.

 

NOEL: Well, I suppose that’s it. That’s the whole thing. 

 

ARTHUR: I-I can’t believe it.

 

NOEL: Heh. Me neither, some nights. Some nights I wake up in the cold sweat, thinking I’m back in those pits.

 

ARTHUR: I can imagine. It would be easier to just… leave this behind. I can do this on my own, Noel, I-I truly believe that.

 

NOEL (sighing): I know you can, kid. But I made a promise. I’ll swing by tonight, pick you up. You said it goes down at ten?

 

ARTHUR: Yes.

 

NOEL: I’ll pick you up at 8:45, okay? We’ll head up to Red Hook. Get us some masks. And two tickets inside. It ends tonight, kid. (He begins to walk.)

 

ARTHUR: Thank you, Noel.

 

NOEL: Now, I gotta go walk this off. Take care. Both of you.  (He walks off. Arthur sighs.)

 

JOHN: Noel. Or… Dowd. That’s who the cana let out. (A long pause.) Are you okay?

 

ARTHUR (in horror): The King tortured him for years. He lost years of his life. All because the King was trying to find you.

 

JOHN: The King would’ve done anything.

 

ARTHUR: But now you’re back, and there’s no… repercussions? He’s just disappeared from my head, never to be seen again?

 

JOHN: I don’t know. 

 

ARTHUR (sighing):  That man has been through almost as much as us.

 

JOHN: It sounded like it.

 

ARTHUR: Lost his partner, lost years. And now we’re roping him back in. After he’s just gotten out. 

 

JOHN: He wants to help.

 

ARTHUR: He has no choice. 

 

JOHN: We do. 

 

ARTHUR: Do we? (A long pause.) England.

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: That’s where I want to go, when all this is done. I want to go back to England. I haven’t been there since I was… seventeen. (He sighs.) I want to go home. 

 

JOHN (gently): Okay. Tonight. We get the fallen star, and we head straight to the docks, and we take the first boat home. 

 

ARTHUR: Agreed. 

 

(A click, followed by static.)

(END Part 39.)