1: EPISODE 5

SCENE 1.

NARRATOR: The famed engineer and infrastructure god-king Brunel had once said to his tens of thousands of followers, "Give me a man and I will build you a city. Give me two men and I will build you a game of tennis." This had caused his senior advisors and aides de camp to cast some concerned glances at one another. The man was getting on a bit, and his observations were becoming somewhat… poetic.

So after his speech they sent out among the men their official interpretation. What Brunel meant, they had said, was unity. Two men are naturally in opposition unless bound together under a common purpose, in which they become as one man. The hundreds of divisions of Brunel's engineering corps were, the great man was suggesting, one man, striding purposefully into the future.

Anyone rejecting this interpretation, or suggesting Brunel had just forgotten his notes, was to report to his commander for reassignment to the perpetual rebuilding of Norfolk. This reading of Brunel was tenuous, but the observation was sound: people working in unison can achieve great things. Unfortunately, as Inspector Fleet and Clara Entwhistle were discovering, they could also achieve terrible things. Having found their way into the lair of the sinister Obfuscati, deep within the ice of the Thames Glacier, Fleet and Clara had found that the Obfuscati's plans appeared to involve destroying the Tower and so causing the entirety of Even Greater London to lose the supply of power it had relied on for more than a generation.

The consequences of this cannot be overstated. Firstly, famine and economic collapse; and secondly, unimaginable delays on every major train line. Shortly after their discovery, Clara and Fleet were themselves discovered, and they were surrounded by dozens of hooded figures, being stared at by what appeared to be their leader, a giant head made of light suspended in a pillar of ice.

SCENE 2.

QUATERNIUS: Inspector Fleet, Miss Entwhistle. I'm afraid there is no escape. Brothers, detain them. And get them out of those robes – they're members only.

CLARA: Wait! Wait.

QUATERNIUS: Well?

PAUSE.

CLARA: Run?

FLEET: Absolutely.

QUATERNIUS: Stop them!

F/X: Running. Group chasing / shouting.

CLARA: Do you remember the way out?

FLEET: No. You?

CLARA: I remember it was a tunnel in the ice much like this.

FLEET: They're all like this!

CLARA: Oh no, it's splitting into three.

FLEET: Oh good!

CLARA: You know the way?

FLEET: No, but go left!

CLARA: Why?

FLEET: Just go left!

CLARA: Why was this good?

FLEET: We've got a head start. If they didn't see which way we went they'll have to split up.

CLARA: Oh yes!

F/X: Sound effect of bright light appearing in ice.

FLEET: My god!

CLARA: What?

FLEET: Look up, it's that head again in the ice!

CLARA: Argh!

FLEET: It's tracking us somehow.

QUATERNIUS: You can't hide from us in here. I am one with the ice. (SHOUTING) This way, brothers! They're coming this way!

CLARA: Keep running!

FLEET: I am! Look, the tunnel splits again up ahead.

CLARA: But it can follow us!

F/X: Light appears again.

Look, there it is again!

QUATERNIUS: There is no escape. All paths lead to the Obfuscati.

CLARA: How is it doing that?

FLEET: This way!

CLARA: Why?

FLEET: Look down the tunnel. It's melting.

CLARA: Oh yes! Let's see how good you are at appearing in solid rock, you stupid giant head!

QUATERNIUS: Brothers! They are leaving the ice! Why aren't any of you more athletic?

SCENE 3.

CLARA: It's a dead end. What is this room? It's full of sarcophagi! Oh no, victims of the Obfuscati! Very respectful treatment.

FLEET: And we'll shortly be the next victims unless… where's that light coming from? Hang on a minute, is that an elevator? It is! An old elevator. A very old elevator.

CLARA: With an attendant! Hello robot!

ATTENDANT: Good day, sir, lady. Welcome to the Hotel Ricardo.

FLEET: It's not a hotel, it's a catacomb.

ATTENDANT: (LAUGHS) Good one, sir. Rapport indeed. The Hotel Ricardo is conveniently located near St Paul's Cathedral.

CLARA: Is that where this elevator goes? Up to a hotel?

ATTENDANT: Correct, my lady. The Hotel Ricardo offers all modern conveniences, from private washrooms to oriental massages, from luxury dining to ballroom dancing. The Hotel Ricardo is so luxurious, some of our guests wish to stay here even after their own death. The owners developed this private catacomb to offer this service to our most valued customers.

FLEET: Can you get us out of here?

ATTENDANT: It would be my pleasure, sir.

CLARA: The elevator doesn't seem to be in very good condition. In fact, you don't either.

FLEET: You're almost entirely rust.

CLARA: Fleet!

FLEET: What? He's a machine!

CLARA: Still, though.

ATTENDANT: It's quite alright, my lady. My apologies for serving you in this condition. I might require your assistance to pull the manual brake release lever. Fortunately, my shame mechanisms are functioning quite well. I am quite overcome with self-loathing.

FLEET: When's the last time this elevator went up to the lobby?

ATTENDANT: I can think of no reason why we cannot journey safely to the lobby now, unless the proprietors have done something absurd like close off the Death Elevator from the top.

FLEET: When was the last time?

ATTENDANT: (MECHANICAL LAUGHTER) Why would they do such a thing? They wouldn't leave Attendant down here alone forever! It's patently absurd.

FLEET: How long has it been since this elevator was used? !

ATTENDANT: Fourteen point six years.

FLEET: Wonderful.

ATTENDANT: (MECHANICAL LAUGHTER) Rapport, sir. Rapport.

F/X: Shouting in the distance

CLARA: Well we don't have any better options, I say we try it.

FLEET: There's only room for one. Attendant, get out, we'll operate it ourselves.

ATTENDANT: As much as it would please me to remove myself from my one purpose for existence, unfortunately I am rusted to the elevator and cannot move.

CLARA: They're coming!

FLEET: Aagh!

F/X: Metal cage opened.

FLEET: Go. I'll fight them off.

CLARA: You'll fight them?

FLEET: I'll fight some of them. The others I'll just have to charm.

CLARA: Charm them?

FLEET: I can be quite charming when needed.

CLARA: I'm not leaving you here!

FLEET: You have to go! They're going to blow up the Tower! Go see Keller – he'll help, he has to!

CLARA: You're right. (SHOVES)

F/X: Clara shoves Fleet into cage.

FLEET: Ow. What are you doing?

F/X: Metal cage slammed shut.

Hey! Let me out!

ATTENDANT: Going up, Sir?

FLEET: No I'm not!

CLARA: Stop them, Fleet.

FLEET: Clara no!

F/X: Lever pulled. Elevator rattles as it is rapidly yanked upwards.

FLEET: (SCREAMS)

F/X: Screaming and elevator sound vanishes into distance.

F/X: People arrive.

CLARA: Gentlemen.

HOODED FIGURE: Stop right there.

CLARA: Do you see me going anywhere?

HOODED FIGURE: Where's Fleet?

CLARA: Oh, he couldn't stay. Had an appointment. You know how it is. Keeping one's appointments is just basic courtesy. It's part of what separates us from the animals. Animals don't have appointments, do you?

HOODED FIGURE: You're coming with us.

CLARA: Of course, gentlemen. Of course. But it'll have to be by force, I'm afraid, and I suggest whoever of you steps forward be the one who least enjoys having an unbroken nose. I'm feeling particularly charming.

SCENE 4.

F/X: Screaming and elevator rattling as it moves at high speed, getting louder as it approaches from a distance.

F/X: Elevator loudly crashes into its destination. Then a ping.

ATTENDANT: (EVEN MORE BROKEN, HARD TO DISCERN) Lobby.

FLEET: (COUGHING) What?

ATTENDANT: Lobby, sir. Welcome to the Hotel Ricardo. Might I call you a cab?

FLEET: Ambulance, more like.

ATTENDANT: Certainly, sir.

FLEET: No, I was–

ATTENDANT: I'm sorry, sir. I am not currently able to call you an ambulance. My head has become separated from my body, and my body has become separated from all other parts of my body.

FLEET: Yes, you might want to get that looked at.

ATTENDANT: (MECHANICAL LAUGHTER). Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you today?

FLEET: Is there anything you can do in your current condition?

PAUSE.

ATTENDANT: No, sir.

FLEET: Let's just call it a day then, shall we?

SCENE 5.

F/X: Front desk bell.

CONCIERGE: Good evening, sir. May I assist you with your cloak, or your thick layer of dust?

FLEET: Get me Scotland Yard.

CONCIERGE: Of course, sir. And may I ask your name?

FLEET: Fleet.

CONCIERGE: Inspector Fleet?

FLEET: Yes?

CONCIERGE: I am very happy to put the call through but perhaps you would first wish to join your party in the Ricardo Club upstairs?

FLEET: Party? What party?

CONCIERGE: It is of a Chief Inspector Keller, a Chief Warder Whitlock, and the Home Secretary, Lord Merrick.

FLEET: They're here?

CONCIERGE: Yes, sir.

FLEET: And they're expecting me.

CONCIERGE: Yes, sir.

FLEET: And I'm in a cloak and hood, covered in dust.

CONCIERGE: Yes, sir.

FLEET: Which floor?

CONCIERGE: Forty-fifth. There is a direct elevator opposite the one you just destroyed.

FLEET: Excellent. And they're expecting me.

CONCIERGE: For some time, sir.

FLEET: Tremendous.

SCENE 6.

NARRATOR: Investigators at the Swindon Informatorium's Department for Phenomenistics had postulated that, in sufficiently vast cities – such as Even Greater London – the mere presence of large quantities of high quality alcohol in one place had a tendency to warp the patterns of daily urban goings-on, to the point where opportune meetings and major discoveries occurred at alarming frequency. They were right, but their expense claims were denied nonetheless. In Fleet's case, the note that had been left on his desk telling him about this meeting had gone unseen, and he had only ended up there through the sheer magnificence of the Ricardo Club and its two volume drinks menu, not a single item on which he could afford. Fleet walked into the opulent bar. Having discarded his robes in the elevator, he now strode with the renewed confidence of a man looking only slightly disgraceful. The two Chiefs and the Home Secretary stood by the tall windows at the end of the room, looking out over the city.

FLEET: Chief.

KELLER: Fleet? My god man, you look shocking. Lord Merrick, this is the Inspector who has been investigating, (TO FLEET) despite my repeatedly forbidding you from doing so.

MERRICK: Looks like you should have been investigating a feather duster, young man.

ALL LAUGH.

FLEET: Home Secretary. It's a privilege to meet you.

MERRICK: Of course it is! And I understand you already know Whitlock?

FLEET: Good evening, Chief Warder.

WHITLOCK: Inspector. You look worse than you did when I let you out of the Tower cells.

FLEET: Yes, well about that–

KELLER: I was just talking to these two about your recent escapades up in Oxford. That's right, the Master at Stephenson let me know you'd been. Nice visit?

FLEET: Well–

KELLER: Stroll along the Cherwell?

FLEET: No, I–

KELLER: Spot of punting with the scholars?

FLEET: Sir, I–

MERRICK: Keller, this is merciless, let the young man speak.

FLEET: Thank you, Home Secretary. I have been investigating–

WHITLOCK: My Warders, correct Fleet? First you suggest without cause that the death of Dr Salik could have occurred at the Tower when he was found a mile away; next you provoke my Warders when they try to discuss the case with you; then after I release you from our cells and speak to you man to man, what happens? One of my finest men falls to his death at the Pleasure Coast, moments after being seen speaking to you. Are you cursed, Fleet? Do you carry bad luck around with you in a knapsack?

KELLER: Steady on, Whitlock.

MERRICK: Indeed. That is in the past. We are all interested in wrapping up this Salik business once and for all. So we're all here: my finest Chiefs; a fine young detective; and me. Let's get it all sorted, shall we?

FLEET: Thank you, Lord Merrick.

MERRICK: Why don't you start with your suspicions about the Yeomen Warders?

WHITLOCK: Sir!

MERRICK: No-one is above suspicion, Whitlock. If there is nothing to hide, nothing hidden will be found. Am I not right to have confidence in your integrity and that of your men?

WHITLOCK: Yes. Of course.

MERRICK: Splendid. Then Inspector, tell us what you know. What shady dealings have some rogue warders been getting up to?

FLEET: They haven't.

MERRICK: I'm sorry?

FLEET: It's not them.

KELLER: Blazing billiards, Fleet. Is this a joke to you?

FLEET: I thought it was them. But it's not. It's an organisation. A secret one, with symbols and codes and robes and hoods.

I went to Oxford to find out about them, and one of them attacked me there. It was them who killed Ralgrieve at the pleasure coast. And I've just come from their hideout. It's a giant labyrinth beneath the Thames, beneath the ice.

They're all down there. They've got people everywhere. Police. Government.

And in the Tower. They're in the Warders. That's what Ralgrieve knew. That's why they killed him.

And I know what they're up to. They're going to destroy the Tower.

WHITLOCK: Keep your voice down, for god's sake.

FLEET: Sorry. That's their plan. And Salik knew. He had a notebook with all this information about them, although they've destroyed it now.

He must have gone to the Tower to stop them. And they killed him. And now they're going to blow up the Tower.

PAUSE.

WHITLOCK: You little wo–

MERRICK: Whitlock!

WHITLOCK: This runt of a policeman accuses my men of murder and now he claims we're so incompetent we can't tell that a bunch of lunatics in hoods are roaming our halls?

FLEET: They're not hiding. They're some of your Warders. You'll know them.

WHITLOCK: My men! You're saying my men are deranged cultists just waiting to blow up the very building they've sworn to defend with their lives!

MERRICK: This is a strong accusation, Inspector. I take it seriously. But you have been wrong about this case already. Do you have evidence to support these claims?

KELLER: Do you have anything, Fleet?

FLEET: Well, no, but we can go down there, although the elevator was destroyed – and that wasn't to there exactly but to... the hotel seems to have a private catacomb – so we'll need to go another way, there's a stall on the Thames which doesn't have any food in it–

KELLER: Enough! Lord Merrick, I apologise.

MERRICK: Nothing to apologise for, Olwin. Splendid view. Superlative brandy. But you, Inspector. You need rest.

FLEET: No, I can't– and Clara, she's down there–

MERRICK: Rest. There's nothing that can't be solved with a little rest. Or in your case a lot of rest. I've seen this before.

You're young. You're proud. You want to save all of Even Greater London. But that's not one man's job.

Well, I suppose it's mine, actually. And I need all the help I can get. And that means having my detectives fighting fit. And my Chiefs, for that matter.

The two of you need a few rounds in the ring with my boxing coach. I swear he moves like he's made of thin air. Quite astonishing. Now gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, Edith no doubt is wondering where I am.

And if she asks, it's business with the PM, alright? Nothing else seems to get me off the hook. (LAUGHS)

KELLER: Of course, Lord Merrick. Let me get you a cab home. Fleet, you go home too. And stay there until I send for you.

FLEET: I'll be fine, sir.

KELLER: I'm ordering you to stay off duty. You're on leave for your health.

SCENE 7.

NARRATOR: As Fleet walked aimlessly through the streets, he took stock of the facts. One – Clara was being held captive by the Obfuscati, and as they would now be on their guard, any rescue attempt by Fleet alone would be catastrophic. Two – the Obfuscati were due to attack the Tower, and Fleet did not know when or how. Three – he was suspended from his work as a detective, which meant no-one would help him save Clara or the Tower, although this didn't particularly matter, because: Four – No-one believed him about any of this.

As the respected writer and man-universally-denied-credit Michael Monkfish had once said, "Help often comes from those we least expect. Which is to say: expect help from those you least expect. The only sensible content to be reclaimed from which is: sometimes there is help."

F/X: Swooping sound. Raven caws.

PAUSE.

F/X: Raven caws

FLEET: A raven? What do you want? Go away.

F/X: Raven caws

Shoo.

F/X: Bird peck on skin.

Ow! Now look here, I don't have anything you want.

F/X: Two more birds swooping down and cawwing.

Oh good. More ravens.

F/X: Cawing

Listen, if you've been sent by the Warders to spy on me then …

F/X: Disapproving cawing

So you have been sent by the Warders?

PAUSE.

You haven't been sent by the warders?

F/X: Cawing of assent

But you have been sent by someone?

F/X: Cawing

Who?

F/X: Ravens swooping away and cawing fading slightly into the distance.

Wait! Where are you going? Come back here!

NARRATOR: Fleet hurried to keep up with the birds, and some time later found himself following them into a very large, dimly lit building, empty but for a series of long perches at varying heights and, on these, hundreds and hundreds of ravens.

FLEET: Hello? Hello? Is anybody there? (TO HIMSELF) And why are these ravens so quiet?

RAVENMASTER: They are in mourning!

FLEET: Who said that?

RAVENMASTER: I did.

PAUSE.

FLEET: Who– Hello? Who is saying that?

RAVENMASTER: I am the Ravenmaster of the Tower.

FLEET: Where are you?

RAVENMASTER: Above.

FLEET: My word. You're… a raven.

RAVENMASTER: Of course.

FLEET: I was expecting the Ravenmaster to be, well.

RAVENMASTER: A human.

FLEET: Well, yes. How are you talking?

RAVENMASTER: I believe the question is rather, how are you understanding? And to that question, the answer is this shining device, a gift the Creator bestowed upon my predecessor and which I now have the honour and burden of wearing.

FLEET: I see. I have a number of questions about what you just said–

RAVENMASTER: All in good time. But what is it you really seek?

FLEET: I'm trying to stop a plot against the Tower. Just like Dr Salik.

F/X: Many ravens cawing.

RAVENMASTER: The Creator. It is he we mourn.

FLEET: The Creator?

RAVENMASTER: Yes, The Creator. He created the tower, and we were tasked with protecting it. He gave us purpose.

FLEET: So, you knew him?

F/X: Many ravens cawing.

I am trying to find out why he died.

RAVENMASTER: There is no Why, curious human. We are created, we live, we die. My own death awaits me before long. Then another shall take my burden. But the Creator waits for me. If I prove worthy in His eyes, I will sit beside Him, on a perch of pure mahogany.

FLEET: What if Sali– the Creator died sooner than he should have?

F/X: Many ravens cawing.

RAVENMASTER: How?

FLEET: Well, what if somebody caused his death?

RAVENMASTER: Deicide! A grave accusation. Whom do you accuse?

FLEET: I don't know. There's an organisation, the Obfuscati, I think they might be behind it but I know so little about them.

RAVENMASTER: You seek knowledge. It is our way as well. Come, you must see our archives.

FLEET: You have archives?

RAVENMASTER: Do not misjudge us, Fleet. We have built our archive over many years of toil. It serves us well in times of great crisis.

FLEET: I'm sorry, I–

RAVENMASTER: Bring the archives!

F/X: Flapping wings, a thud of a bag of metallic objects hitting the ground.

Good. Now, Fleet, you can see in this bag everything we know. Dig deep. You will find knowledge.

FLEET: OK… Let's see...

F/X: Rummaging

A number of polished coins...

F/X: Impressed cawing.

Assorted jewelry…

F/X: Even more impressed cawing.

A silver box.

F/X: Ecstatic cawing.

RAVENMASTER: Of course! The shiny box. You have delved right to the heart of the matter.

FLEET: Eh?

RAVENMASTER: Take it.

FLEET: Why?

RAVENMASTER: It belonged to the Creator.

FLEET: You stole this from him?

PAUSE.

RAVENMASTER: I understand you do not know our ways, so you cannot contemplate how offensive you have just been.

FLEET: I'm so sorry.

RAVENMASTER: No, he gave it to us. He gave us the shiny box.

FLEET: Why?

RAVENMASTER: For our collection, he said. For the one who comes seeking answers. For you.

FLEET: What?

RAVENMASTER: He said "This is very important, Raven, do you understand me?" and I said "Creator, I am not worthy" and he said "Raven, listen to me" and I said "Creator, your words illuminate my soul" and he said "Pay attention, Raven" and I said "Forgive me, Creator, your luminousness blinds my reasoning" and he said "Raven! Take this box. Give it to the one who comes after me."

and I said "Anything for you, Creator. Your artefact is safe with us." and he said "Don't you want to know why I am giving you this, Raven?" and I said "I do not deign to question the Creator" and he said "Be quiet and listen to me, Raven.

I might die today." and I said "No, Creator!" and he said "Yes, Raven. I might.

And if I do you will give this to the one who comes seeking answers. His name is Inspector Archibald Fleet."

SCENE 8.

NARRATOR: Night came, and deep under the ice of the Thames Glacier, Clara – who had spent the day locked in a cell and trying unsuccessfully to irritate her guards into releasing her – was now being escorted into a large room, which was unlike any other she had seen so far in the Obfuscati lair, for two reasons. Firstly, it was beautifully decorated, with much of the ice covered by oriental rugs, tapestries, and a few tastefully scattered tables and chaises longues. Secondly, one of the walls had a woman frozen in it, with only her head protruding outwards. A photographic device was suspended from the ceiling, pointed towards the woman, and Clara recognised her as the head whose image had chased them through the ice tunnels.

QUATERNIUS: Welcome, Miss Entwhistle. My name is Quaternius. I hope you have been kept comfortable. Please, take a seat if you wish. I would offer to get you some refreshment, but of course you can see I do not have the luxury of moving about in this world.

CLARA: What happened to you?

QUATERNIUS: An unfortunate accident, entirely my fault. I'll spare you the details but my circulatory and other systems are rather spread about in here. Fortunately, and thanks to the details of what caused the accident – which I won't go into, for fear of both of us fainting – my body adapted itself to the structure of the icework. My blood runs where it needs to go, up and down the channels in the ice.

I am one with the glacier, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little chillly. And of course it means I am not able to do myself what must often be done out in the world, to achieve our aims. Fortunately my brave brothers always help.

CLARA: What is it you even want?

QUATERNIUS: Peace, Miss Entwhistle. Only peace.

CLARA: You're insane. I ought to chisel you out of there and drag you to Scotland Yard.

QUATERNIUS: The ice is the only thing keeping me alive. I do not take you as a murderer.

CLARA: Perhaps I'll surprise us both.

SCENE 9.

NARRATOR: Meanwhile, Inspector Fleet had had a few hours to contemplate what he had learned in the letter Dr Salik had left for him in a silver box with the ravens, and he was, understandably, lying down trying to remain calm. What he had learned was that a bomb was to be detonated that very night on the roof of the Tower. This was horrifying enough, but the reason he was lying down trying to remain calm was that, following a series of decisions he was coming to regret, he was now on top of the exterior wall of the Tower compound, trying to avoid the notice of two searchlights.

FLEET: OK. I'm on the wall. Salik says there are ladders down, with searchlights passing over every 15 seconds. Not a lot of time. Wait for it, wait for it… go!

F/X; Fleet hurrying down a ladder

Courtyard. Tower two hundred feet away. Guard positions. Salik says... eight warders, patrolling in four pairs, each following a multiple clover formation around the yard.

Pick a pair of warders. Follow, quietly! Twenty feet behind them. Wait for the turn, and go!

F/X: Running.

OK. Creep along to the door.

F/X: Door opens and closes.

And I'm inside. I'm, uh... I'm inside the, uh... the Tower...

F/X: Energy beam.

NARRATOR: Fleet's inarticulateness was a common reaction when seeing what was actually inside the tower. It was, for the most part, entirely hollow, a gigantic empty space soaring upwards and just as far downwards into the earth. A staircase spiralled upwards on the wall, further up than could be clearly seen. In the centre, taking most of the space, was a roaring, pulsing, blinding white column of energy.

FLEET: My god... Snap out of it Fleet. Right, stairs. Let's go.

F/X: Running up stairs. Then the sound of two pairs of footsteps coming down, with a distant, barely audible conversation:

WHITLOCK: My hands are tied.

PIKE: He's just mean to me, I don't know why.

WHITLOCK: Sometimes these partnerships take time to develop.

PIKE: I think he's stealing from me.

FLEET: (WHISPERING) Whitlock! Damn it. Oh, he's coming down. Oh no. I can't go back down, there isn't time.

WHITLOCK: I'm sorry, but if you're not getting along with your raven you really need to take that up with the Ravenmaster, there's very little I can do. Now, if you–

PAUSE.

PIKE: Sir?

WHITLOCK: What was that?

PIKE: What was what, sir?

NARRATOR: Dangling beneath the staircase, Fleet had been joined by an adventurous rat, which had stepped out onto Fleet's shoulders and was investigating his collar.

F/X: Rat scratching.

FLEET: (QUIETLY) Aaahhhh!! !

WHITLOCK: Thought I heard something.

PIKE: It's just, it's hard to imagine the Ravenmaster wouldn't take the raven's side in all this.

NARRATOR: Fleet's rat companion had decided his shirt was definitely something it wanted to explore further, and was clawing its way in.

F/X: Rat trying to get into Fleet's clothes.

FLEET: (QUIETLY) Aaaahhhhh!! !

WHITLOCK: There it is again. Is that the beam?

PIKE: I don't think so.

FLEET: (QUIETLY) No. Get out of my….

F/X: Fleet wrestling with a slippery rat, and then throwing it onto the stone steps.

WHITLOCK: Damnit, a rat!

PIKE: Ahh!

WHITLOCK: Come here.

F/X: Squeak.

Bad rat. Shouldn't be up here, should you? No you should not.

PIKE: Want me to get rid of it, sir?

WHITLOCK: No, it's fine.

F/X: Whitlock throwing rat into the energy beam and it vanishing in a flash with a little squeak.

Let's go.

F/X: Footsteps walking away. Fleet exerts himself to haul himself back up

FLEET: Right. To the top of the tower then.

F/X: Running upstairs.

SCENE 10.

F/X: Howling wind.

FLEET: Oh my god, so high, so very high up. Come on Archie. Stay away from the edge. If I were a bomb on a roof, where would I be… There!

OK, let's see now. Salik's letter says to disarm the bomb I first need to find the clasp to open up the housing. Clasp. Clasp.

Clasp. No clasp. Is this bomb even armed? Come on, clasp.

NARRATOR: While Fleet was searching for a clasp, he did not notice the silvery square of glass above the bomb come to life and begin to swirl around, as it received an incoming call.

SCENE 11.

NARRATOR: Back in the ice fortress of the Obfuscati, Clara and Quaternius continued their debate.

QUATERNIUS: I have done many regrettable things, Miss Entwhistle. They were necessary. I do not ask forgiveness.

CLARA: You are a monster. You are all monsters!

QUATERNIUS: Are we? Is it we who are the monsters? You don't understand at all.

CLARA: What possible justification could you have for what you've done?

QUATERNIUS: We Obfuscati seek only one outcome. When there is a danger of too much power in the hands of too few, we seek to redress the balance. We muddy the waters. We dull the flints of the ambitious.

CLARA: I think blowing up the most important building in the city goes a bit beyond that, don't you?

PAUSE.

QUATERNIUS: Am I right in thinking that you believe it to be us, the Obfuscati, who wish to destroy the Tower?

CLARA: Of course!

QUATERNIUS: This is exactly the outcome we are trying to prevent! You and Inspector Fleet have been bringing this closer with every step you take.

CLARA: What are you talking about?

QUATERNIUS: A terrible trap. A trap we have failed to stop Fleet from falling into.

CLARA: Whose trap?

SCENE 12.

F/X: Howling wind.

NARRATOR: Fleet was standing on the rooftop of the Tower, staring at the silvery liquid of a locution glass coming to life on top of a bomb he had discovered was not only not armed, but in no way described by the instructions he had been given. The screen shifted and glooped, eventually revealing a recognisable figure.

FLEET: Lord Merrick?

MERRICK: Inspector, wonderful to see you. And right on time. I do like it when people are exactly where I need them to be. Be a good chap and stand there for a moment.

NARRATOR: More out of shock than obedience, Fleet did just this, only to notice a series of coloured lights appearing from underneath the screen, suggesting that the mysteriously unarmed bomb had now become, somewhat less mysteriously, armed.

FLEET: What is this? Merrick! What's happening?

MERRICK: Oh, everything, Inspector. Everything.

FLEET: What are you talking about?

MERRICK: Please, Inspector, don't worry yourself, you'll hardly feel the explosion, I'm sure. Just sit tight and it'll all be over in a minute.

FLEET: Merrick! You're behind this. You're the one who's been planning to blow up the Tower!

MERRICK: No, Fleet. You are. You are acting alone, but to keen eyes after the fact the clues will all be there.

FLEET: What?

MERRICK: Dear me, Fleet. Where to begin. A detective obsessed with turning the straightforward death of a scientist into some sort of conspiracy. A detective linked to the tragic death at the Pleasure Coast of a Yeoman Warder.

A detective relieved of his duties for exhibiting nervous agitation. A detective found to have broken into the Tower and planted a bomb on its extremely vulnerable rooftop spire. A detective whose charred remains – from the explosion he caused – serve as the final proof of his treachery. Fleet, are you listening to any of this?

What are you doing?

FLEET: I'm disarming the bomb, what does it look like I'm doing?

MERRICK: Do you have any idea how to do that?

FLEET: No, but I'll figure it out. How long do I have?

MERRICK: Until I flick this switch.

FLEET: Well then, don't let me interrupt. You were telling a fascinating story. I'm listening, I promise.

MERRICK: You're not listening, you're fiddling with the bomb! Look, if you're not going to listen then I'm just going to blow it up now. Goodbye, Inspector–

FLEET: No no, wait! Wait! I am interested. Honestly. Uh… oh! If you wanted to blow up the Tower, why did you need me?

MERRICK: Oh, that's the most wonderful part! The Warders protect the Tower. The police protect the people. But when the police attack the Tower, what is to be done?

Their credibility is lost. The Warders must be given authority over the entire city, including over the police, since it was the very restriction of their powers that prevented them from stopping you. There is no alternative. Her Majesty will demand that I draft a bill granting Whitlock and his Warders the necessary powers.

A bill which will easily pass. I'll let you into a secret. (WHISPERS) I've already drafted it.

FLEET: Devious!

MERRICK: Which part?

FLEET: Oh all of it, I was listening to all of it. Definitely not just methodically working through all of the screws on this casing to loosen them.

MERRICK: Stop trying to disarm the bomb! Do you think I would use a bomb any fool would be able to just switch off?

FLEET: How can you possibly blame me for wanting to disarm the bomb?

MERRICK: I honestly thought you would want to know more about how you ended up in this terrible situation. Like your dear friend Dr Salik.

FLEET: Oh yes, go ahead. Talk about that for a minute while I listen intently and don't try levering this panel off with a stick.

MERRICK: Whitlock and I killed Salik, obviously, but not before we'd arranged for him to be robbed of some item of importance so it seemed this was something more than a straightforward murder. We moved the body and made it blindingly obvious you should begin suspecting the Warders. Even added a nice little note to make sure you were the one who turned up: "Get Fleet". Did you like that bit?

Nice touch I thought. Made it seem like you and Salik had a little connection. But no. Luck of the draw, I'm afraid.

You were assigned to Salik's robbery case, and so were most likely to view the murder suspiciously. A number of other clues we threw in front of you along the way – did you like the ravens doing their bit? Amazing creatures – and here we are.

FLEET: My stick broke.

MERRICK: What?

FLEET: I mean… but why, Merrick. Why?

MERRICK: Because it sickens me, Fleet. Crime. As if the city is infected, covered in pustules and crawling with disease. It needs a doctor.

What you do, you policemen, it is a half-measure. You solve, you detain, you punish. You do not heal. And so with one small explosion at the Tower – not enough to cause lasting damage, you understand, but enough to terrify the city, and to kill you of course – with one small explosion I am cauterizing the wound.

And the Warders, they are my little doctors. Roaming around the city, every nook and cranny, every home, every office, every person, every child. They must all be spick and span. Or the doctors won't be happy at all.

What's that? Thomas Loveshisfamily thinks we need a reason to enter his home to ensure no criminality lies there? (TUTS) Enjoy your new life in the Midlands Forest hiding from the wolves and clawing at tree bark for food. Doctor's orders.

FLEET: Aha! Well, there's one thing you haven't thought of, Merrick.

MERRICK: And what's that? Don't tell me you've disarmed the bomb. (PAUSE) Fleet? Where are you going?

Come back here! Stand there and get exploded like a man! Oh for god's sake, where's that bloody switch.

SCENE 13.

NARRATION: What Fleet had seen, and Merrick had not, was a peculiar flying machine at the edge of the rooftop and, operating its controls with great concentration, Clara Entwhistle.

F/X: Machinery.

FLEET: Clara! You escaped! Good lord do you know how to fly this thing?

CLARA: I think so. There are levers for roll, pitch and yaw, and a fourth one just labelled "Don't", so I haven't.

FLEET: Where did you get this?

CLARA: Obfuscati. Had a nice chat with Quaternius. She's half-ice you know.