Andrew & The Vanishing Verkoff (x)

[As we were, pilgrims.]

Sinister Woman: Nigel Verkoff.

Andrew: Who?

Sinister Woman: You have no idea who I'm talking about?

Andrew: You're talking about something?

Sinister Woman: Heh. Nice plan. Acting stupid. Getting me so frustrated I let slip the details. I learned to control my temper a long time ago... Theo.

Andrew: [not quite so cocky] No one calls me that any more.

Sinister Woman: I know. And I know why, "Maddog". Now, I can get you out of this cell and take you to the person you've been looking for, or I can leave you hear to rot.

Andrew: Unlikely. Deaths in custody keep the cells surprisingly clean.

Sinister Woman: Your choice, Andrew.

[She turns and strides out. Andrew puts on his sock puppet.]

Andrew: "Don't risk it." Ah, what do YOU know? "More thank you, duckface!"

[Andrew snatches off the sock.]

Andrew: If I was the person who knew what they were doing, I'd be really hoping I knew what I was doing right now. [beat] Ah, what the hell?

[He leaps to his feet and runs out of the cell after her. Outside, Gabby is waiting with the sinister woman. They follow her out of the station.]

Gabby: You took your time!

Andrew: It's my time; I can take as much as I like. And a bit of courtesy, Gabrielle. I have only been on this case thirteen hours and I've got you to the head of a massive conspiracy claiming to know where your boyfriend is. [shouts] Let's see the Blue Heelers here be THAT efficient.

Sinister Woman: Shut up before they arrest you again.

Andrew: You haven't explained how you got us off in the first place.

Sinister Woman: No, I haven't, have I.

Gabby: [sotto] Who is she?

Andrew: [sotto] Potentially your mother in law.

Gabby: [sotto] What?!

Sinister Woman: Yes, but you can call me Christie if you like.

Gabby: Um, OK. [sotto] She's clever.

Andrew: [sotto] I know. Worrying, isn't it?

[They follow her out of the police station and towards a waiting limo. It is not long after dawn. They climb inside - the interior is partitioned off so they are effectively in a little room in the back on their own. Once inside, the limo drives off. Gabby puts on her seat belt, Andrew does not. A long pause.]

Andrew: [huffs] Well. This plain sucks.

Gabby: It's a nice limo.

Andrew: I'm not talking about the limo! I was supposed to work out the answers, track the villains to their lair - they weren't supposed to appear of nowhere and then drive us to the secret base! This isn't the science of deduction, it's being spoon-fed exposition - you'd never find Miss Franny Fischer in this sort of mess. Miss Marple, possibly, but not Miss Fischer.

Gabby: We're going to find Nigel. Isn't that good?

Andrew: Oh, I'm sure he'll weep with joy to see ME again. He'll really appreciate all the trouble I've gone to, really make an effort to thank me. If I'm lucky, he might even get my name right! Yeah, that makes up for everything!

Gabby: At least he's alive. [worried] He is alive, isn't he?

Andrew: Why take us to a shallow grave in a limousine? No, the bastard's probably alive. Held at the pleasure of these freaks, who also have US prisoner too now! Sweet Zarathustra! The only way this could possibly be worse is if they all turned out to be fans of that Hebrew soap opera...

Gabby: Soap opera?

Andrew: You know. It's huge. Short story collections everywhere.

Gabby: Eh?

Andrew: What's the name of it... Oh yeah. The Bible.

Gabby: You mean, Christianity?

Andrew: I know. This would NEVER happen with Bhuddists.

Gabby: I dunno. You ever see When Zen Bhuddists attack? There was this old monk and he asks a guy "if a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?" and the guy said "how could a tree fall in a forest without anyone hearing it? Are you sure this tree fell at all?" and the old monk totally lost his shit and punched the guy in the balls.

Andrew: Ah. Well, there is one rule that covers all humanity, regardless of their religion.

Gabby: What's that?

Andrew: No one likes a smartarse.

Gabby: You're the exception that proves the rule?

Andrew: [bashful] Shucks.

Gabby: Was being sarcastic.

Andrew: Pah, if I turned down compliments just because they were sarcastic, I'd have a very low sense of self-esteem!

[The limo is travelling out of urban areas into a more industrial area of disused warehouses and the like. It pulls up outside one. Christie Sinister Woman emerges and a goon opens the door, allowing Andrew and Gabby to emerge. Andrew looks around disdainfully.]

Andrew: This is barely the other side out of town! I could have walked here!

Gabby: You, you, you! [to Christie] Now what?

Christie: You follow me.

Andrew: [annoyed] Hmph. I could have deduced my way here eventually. It's a fluke we didn't pass this place on the way to Fox Studios...

[They follow Christie inside the warehouse. It is cleared out bar a medical unit in the middle of the chamber, where an unconscious and bandaged Nigel lies on a bed. Gabby stops short as she sees the extent of his injuries.]

Christie: Don't worry. He's quite alive.

Andrew: And today just gets better and better... [louder] As medical wards go, this is a bit drafty and unhygenic, isn't it?

Christie: Not as much as you'd think. And its cost effective.

Andrew: [nods] Oh, well that makes it PERFECTLY all right!

Christie: [smiles] Knew you'd see it that way.

[Andrew glares at her.]

Andrew: Why can't you just get annoyed and flustered like ordinary people?

Christie: [sweetly] You tell me, detective.

Gabby: Ahem! Excuse me? What happened to him?

[They regard the lifeless Nigel for a moment.]

Andrew: Karma, presumably.

[Christie arches an eyebrow.]

Christie: Is that what you think?

Andrew: Magnus did this to him because of what he did to Magnus because of what Magnus did to him, et cetera et freaking cetera et freaking tu brute! An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves the whole world blind. And, you know, toothless.

Gabby: I can't believe you're so heartless!

Andrew: Nigel has a few bruises. Magnus is dead.

Gabby: But uou know what he was like!

Andrew: I know what someone said he was like. When was that ever good enough reason for people to die? [points] The guy who caused all this crap, drove his best friends to turn against him, and probably deserves every single injury he recieved if not more. Your boyfriend, Gabby, as requested.

[Gabby glares at him, then turns to Christie.]

Gabby: Is he in a coma or something?

Christie: Not quite. He's deeply unconscious, yes, thanks to some emergency sedation. He should be fully conscious in another day or so. [calls] Miguel, get the lady a chair or something beside the bed?

[One of the goons nods and wanders off.]

Gabby: Should I talk to him or something?

Christie: If you like.

Gabby: Can he hear me?

Christie: If you shout loud enough, but don't expect much of a conversation.

[The goon puts a chair beside the bed. Gabby sits down beside Nigel, slightly self-conscious. Andrew follows Christie as she turns to a medic checking the heart monitors and other gizmos.]

Christie: Any changes?

Medic: He's drifting in and out of consciousness, a bit ahead of schedule but his recovery is progressing normally.

Andrew: You're sure? He doesn't look too good.

Christie: We've done what we can for him.

Andrew: And what's that?

Medic: Topped everything up, flooded his system with as many nutrients, vitamins and minerals as we dare. Twice the recommended dose and painkillers and antibiotics into his bloodsystem along with a few pints of blood. Reset the bones in his left arm, a little bit of surgery to the burns and welts on his back. He should be up and about in a week or so, though given all the drug treatment I doubt he'll remember any of it.

Andrew: [distasteful] Very thorough.

Christie: He's not missing anything. There are better memories to have.

Andrew: And where's the fun if we can't pick or choose?

Christie: You tell me.

Andrew: And I thought this was the bit where you told me the whole story now we grown-ups have been left alone to chit-chat.

Christie: [grins] "We"? Who's "we", paleface?

Andrew: See, that'd only be funny if you were Native American, not a New Zealander.

Christie: You're just annoyed I can outbanter you.

Andrew: Can you? Oh, are you going to start soon?

Christie: Hah!

[They head back to the offices at the back of the warehouse.]

Christie: I thought you would have deduced it all out by yourself.

Andrew: [scowls] No you didn't. You were watching me from the start. Either Simone or some other goon as soon as Gabby asked for help. A tree-frog could have predicted what we'd do, who we'd see and what we'd find out. That's why you didn't get involved until after we caught Simone, after we found out more than you were planning. If Simone was less of a self-hating psychotic, I would never have - where is Simone, anyway?

Christie: On her way to Christchurch by now, probably.

Andrew: [mutters] I hope there's a good airport chemist, coz she is gonna need it.

Christie: You're being too hard on yourself.

Andrew: And you're not being to hard on yourself enough.

[They enter the office.]

Christie: I had very good reasons to leave Nigel with the Yangs.

Andrew: No doubt. Young unwed mother, middle of the recession, desperate... got that already! But I'm still confused as to the bit about waiting fifteen years before teaming up with someone dedicated to murdering your son and then helping him with the torture, humiliation and planned murder.

[She indicates he sit. He doesn't. So she does.]

Christie: It's a long story. And mostly dull.

Andrew: Then tell it in an interesting and exciting way, you owe me that much.

Christie: All right.

[Flashback. A much younger and flustered Christie is working in an office.]

Christie: [vo] After Nigel was born and with the Yangs, I found work in an office. I managed to make enough to scrape by, get some evening classes under my name.

[A more proffesional, power-suited Christie enters the office. Much bowing and scraping as she walks to a desk reading through reports.]

Christie: [vo] I climbed the ladder. It wasn't exactly my dream career, but I didn't have a dream career to start with. It paid the bills and didn't bore me stupid. I kept an eye on what was happening with my son.

[On the train, Christie is reading a newspaper with a photo of Nigel and the headline "NOT MY FAULT THE SCHOOL'S FLAMMABLE!" SAYS VERKOFF. Back to the office.]

Andrew: You must have been so proud.

Christie: Pretty much.

Andrew: [surprised] ...seriously?

Christie: He had a world of opportunities I could never have given him. And he took them, every last one. He's famous and reasonably successful.

Andrew: At least until you did the whole K-Mart nun mannequin bomb scare?

Christie: It was David Jones.

Andrew: What does that matter? Your son is social poison at the moment. He might recover from his injuries but right now PeeWee Herman could get engaged to Osama Bin Laden and get a more sympathetic write up in the tabloids.

Christie: All things must pass.

Andrew: Said the man swallowing the watermelon. So, you let Magnus destroy Nigel's career because you're confident he can start another one?

Christie: Not exactly.

[Back to the flashbacks. Christie is talking to other workers.]

Christie: [vo] Our company is kind of like the Goodies. Do anything, anytime but no giant kittens. The sort of people Magnus would turn to when he needs to organize a death trap stunt. I knew who he was, of course, and I knew he was going to kill my son.

[Christie broods over an image of Magnus on the computer.]

Andrew: You could have turned him down.

Christie: And he'd have hired someone else. He was like that, the late and unlamented Magnus.

Andrew: [cautiously] Did you kill him?

Christie: No. But I would have.

Andrew: And you seem so nice!

Christie: Do you have children?

Andrew: You know I don't.

Christie: Then you don't know what you're capable of when they're in danger.

Andrew: You know, speaking, as we were, about children, it struck me that Magnus seemed to target a friend of mine the same time she spontaneously got pregnant...

Christie: [smiles] You think we were responsible?

Andrew: Weren't you?

Christie: No, actually. We TOLD Magnus we'd swapped her contraceptives for fertility tablets, but believe you me, Andrew. A woman would know if she was on fertility drugs. It was, as they say, a happy accident.

Andrew: And her GP never told her about the triplets?

Christie: What makes you think she didn't know?

Andrew: I was at the birth. She was a tad surprised.

Christie: She was "a tad" in denial. Take it from someone who knows about childbirth.

Andrew: So you didn't have anything to do with it at all?

Christie: Nope. She made her own choices. Isn't that what you wanted to hear? Or are you disappointed you deducted wrongly?

Andrew: [ignoring that] What about the others? Was what happened to them convenient accidents?

Christie: Jason is hardly suffering! And we didn't have to do anything to Dave - he's a lot stronger than people give him credit for. I saw your little panic attack, thinking he was going to kill himself.

Andrew: Yeah. Then again, you tend to do weird things when you lose the girl you love and your best friend disappears.

Christie: You speak from experience? Oh yes. Jadi. Well, you can't win them all...

Andrew: What happened to him?

Christie: Something that happened to you. But I can confirm his parents know about it and he is, if not well, than perfectly safe. Out of my hands. Where we we?

Andrew: Something that happened to me? That could be anything?

Christie: [not listening] Ah yes. Me and Magnus...

[Flashbacks. Sinister Woman Christie is discussing things with Magnus and Simone.]

Christie: [vo] Magnus was insane, of course. Not nasty or evil but totally bug-eyed fruit-looped the-furniture-is-giggling-behind-my-back insane. I convinced him to take a long term approach to his revenge, stretched out the assignment for two years of being very well paid and Nigel being kept safe.

Andrew: [vo] But the time ran out.

[DJ explodes. Nigel runs out a back door and smack into Magnus and his goons.]

Christie: [vo] Yes. The plan we ended up with was the least moronic and least harmful plan. Magnus would have used an atom bomb in Circular Quay without someone to keep his feet on the ground. Nigel escaped with a few small injuries...

[Magnus beats the crap out of Nigel. Christie watches on, hands bunched up, forcing herself not to get involved. Nigel is dragged into the limo.]

Christie: [trying not to sound concerned] Sir, if you keep this up, he might die before we get there.

Magnus: I’m taking no chances.

[Nigel is dragged to the Jekkatatve.]

Christie: [vo] Magnus wanted to dump Nigel into the maze and flood it with radiation, poetic justice. Of course, if we'd actually got some proper isoptopes, we'd all have died of contamination before even opening the door. By now the assignment was less doing what Magnus said but stopping him killing himself.

Andrew: You failed at that last bit.

Christie: I know. The original plan was quite different.

[Christie grabs Nigel and shoves him through the hatch into the maze. She jabs him with a syringe as she does so and he yelps in pain.]

Nigel: AGH! Did you just stab me or something? What did she just do to me?

Magnus: Oh, nothing, nothing. Compared to what I’m going to do to you.

Nigel: [grins sickly] You SO want to shag me, don’t you?

[Back to the office.]

Christie: I'd injected Nigel with a very powerful sedative. The idea was Magnus would switch on the "radiation" - in reality some flashing lights - and watch Nigel collapse and apparently die. We'd leave, Nigel would eventually wake up, find his own way home and by then Magnus would be convinced he was dead and find something else to do.

Andrew: What happened?

Christie: To be honest? [shrugs] We were just sick of the guy.

[Christie and the others exchange looks. One closes the hatch, sealing both Nigel and Magnus inside the maze as the lights start to flash.]

Christie: [vo] At the time, I thought it would help - he'd see Nigel "die" in front of him and then be so desperate to cure himself of radiation he'd flee the country again. But things didn't go the way they should have...

[Nigel shoves Magnus aside and heads off into the maze.]

Christie: Nigel didn't give up. He kept looking for the exit until the drug finally took hold. Another few seconds and he'd have escaped anyway. He fought to stay alive, Andrew. My son, refusing to waste a second of his time on giving up... he didn't give into despair. He's proud of his life, Andrew. How many people can say that?

Andrew: Well, not Magnus for a start.

Christie: Oh yes. Well, we honestly had no idea that Magnus had a weak heart. The stress and hysteria killed him quicker than any radiation would have.

[Magnus convulses in terror, clutches his chest and collapses. Not far away, Nigel topples unconscious to the ground. The door opens and Christie enters, crouching down beside him and stroking his bruised face.]

Christie: [vo] Awkward, as you can imagine.

[Nigel is being carried away. Some of the goons are tidying up the area. Magnus' body is left where it fell. The lights are turned off.]

Christie: I had Nigel taken here for medical attention, and meanwhile we faked up Magnus finishing business with us before wandering off into the night... Our business is hardly going to do well if our clients drop dead, is it?

Andrew: I weep with sympathy. You didn't tell any of his nearest and dearest.

Christie: No. His family... his adopted family... are rushing about Tokyo at the moment getting ready for his sister's wedding. He had no one else particularly close to him, at least no one who would panic about his disappearance for a few more weeks.

Andrew: Apart from his girlfriend.

Christie: Yes. Though I doubt she would have thought as much if Simone hadn't tried to ruin everything by warning them.

Andrew: I think she would.

Christie: [smiles] Yes, she probably would. She's very faithful, very... loyal.

Andrew: [impatient] Which is more than he deserves. What happens now?

Christie: You leave, Andrew. There's nothing left for you here. Case closed, as they say. Nigel will remain here for a few more days, Gabby is welcome to stay beside him if she wishes and she probably will. Then they can both go home.

Andrew: And that's it? Nigel and his mother together for the first time in sixteen years and he doesn't even get to say a word to you?

Christie: He doesn't know who I am, Andrew. We've never met before as far as he is concerned. He has his own mother, a mother who loves him dearly along with the rest of the Yangs. I am just the woman who made him feel alone and outsider.

Andrew: You had a good reason, apparently.

Christie: Nigel's not an idiot. He would have realized that by now. He's got his own life, one without me and I've known about that for the last sixteen years.

Andrew: But you still meddle in his life whenever you want?

Christie: I am his mother. It's what we do.

Andrew: I've heard it said.

Christie: Perhaps that should be your next case, Andrew. Find your own family?

Andrew: They're better off without me. [sighs] Oh. Gotcha. Yeah. All right, I get the idea. Maybe it IS best Nigel never knows about you. It's not like I'm ever going to get so utterly frustrated with red tape at a tax office one day I'll unthinkingly spill the beans...

Christie: Yeah, what are the odd of THAT happening?

Andrew: Exactly. I'll just call for a lift and get out of your hair. [takes out his mobile] You know, I should have worked out you were Nigel's mother from the start.

Christie: Oh?

Andrew: Yeah. Well, beauty and intelligence always skip a generation, don't they?

[Christie rolls her eyes.]

[Out in the warehouse, Gabby sits beside Nigel, holding his hand. Nigel blinks awake and peers groggily up at her. She smiles. He smiles back, goes cross-eyed and loses consciousness again. Gabby smiles.]

Gabby: [strokes his hair] It's OK, babe. I'll be here when you wake up.

[Andrew approaches.]

Andrew: Probably be a few days before that. He's still full of enough tranquilizers to take down a herd of stampeding rhinoceri on anabolic steroids.

Gabby: I can wait. It's not like I'm going to miss school.

Andrew: Good point. Anyway, I have got to get going. [claps hands together] My first case solved! Only two attempts on my life, one false imprisonment and quite possibly a few AVOs being filed as we speak - but that's a success in anyone's language!

Gabby: You're going to stay being a detective, then?

Andrew: Dunno. Depends if I get another case. And I'd need a faithful sidekick to make sure I don't look like some mad hermit who does this for kicks - that's an image I find really hard to dispell, what with it being completely accurate and all... I could set up my own business! My own hollistic detective agency! Beeblebrox PI! You wouldn't be interested in helping me solve crimes and uphold truth, justice and the Australian way, would you?

Gabby: [without hesitation] No way.

Andrew: You never know. It might be a bit less dangerous, bit more fun, a hell of a lot less convoluted...

Gabby: Don't want to.

Andrew: Fair enough, but I'm teling you - you're a natural.

Gabby: I'm not scared. But I don't want to work with you. You're a jerk.

[Andrew raises his eyebrows.]

Andrew: And you'd know, given your experience of them.

Gabby: It's true.

Andrew: Yeah... You know, I did just find your beloved for you, nearly getting myself arrested and killed in the process!

Gabby: Yeah, I know.

Andrew: So a bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss!

Gabby: I am grateful.

Andrew: [nods] Good.

Gabby: But I still think you're a jerk.

Andrew: [folds arms] Do you now? Why?

Gabby: You've been doing this as ego trip. You never cared about whether we'd find Nigel all right, just that you got to show off. You don't give a shit if he's alive or not! You hated him at school, pulled all those pranks... He could have died at that warehouse for all you care!

Andrew: Ahem? I never promised to care about him. Just to find him.

Gabby: I know. So, yeah, you're a great detective. You're still a jerk. And I don't want to spend any more time with you. Comprehende?

Andrew: You know, I think I liked you better when you were stupid and hysterical.

Gabby: And that's why Nigel's better than you. [looks away] Sorry. But it's true.

[Andrew puts a comforting arm around her.]

Andrew: Gabs. I've only known you a day. I think I can survive your disapproval. I'll leave you with your cruel, sadistic, selfish, oversexed, immoral parasite of a boyfriend who got himself entirely into this mess by being a total arsehole. I'm sure life with him will be like English weather... bright in patches.

[Andrew doffs an invisible hat and walks away.]

[Christie watches him go. In the next office along an overweight Aboriginal man in dreadlocks sits in a wheelchair, reading a magazine. Sitting next to him, drinking a cup of tea is a thin blond man in dark glasses.]

Steve: Successful victory. Nine letters, something ON something UER something D.

Bertram: "Conquered."

[The wheelchair bound man fills in the crossword.]

Steve: Why do I have to be the one to do the writing?

Bertram: Because you're crap at doing anything else.

Steve: You do know, Bert, that it os only my paraplegia preventing me from kicking you to death right here and now?

Bertram: [reassuring him] Oh yeah, course I do. Next clue?

Steve: Tactful subtlety. D something something C something ET something something N.

[Christie enters.]

Christie & Bertram: "Discretion".

Steve: Christ. Why didn't you two just let me die at the bottom of that hill?

Bertram: Don't ask me, Steve. [indicates Christie] She's the boss.

Steve: And she's crap at it.

Christie: Oh, go for a jog or something.

Steve: Wow. Bipedial humor. What a novelty. So, the girlfriend and that derro have been sorted out?

Christie: Yep. Long night. And it would have been helpful if you hadn't told Simone to try and kill him, Stevie.

Steve: Meh. Not my fault she took the suggestion seriously. Heh. I liked Simone.

Christie: We know how much you "liked" her.

Bertram: And where she got that yeast infection from.

Steve: [clears throat] It'll give the girl some character. Can we get going now?

Christie: [nods] Soon.

Steve: We've done all we can. Two years, woman, we've been working with that Russian lunatic on this bizarre Bond film plot! The boy's well on the road to recovery, he's got his latest shag to keep him company, the others can sort out the rest of the details...

Bertram: You don't want to spend more time with your son, then?

Steve: Oh, yeah. Watching him fill his bedpan, real quality time there. Last time I saw him he was shitting in his nappy. We missed nothing, I tell you. And that git out there better take more care in future, because I'm not wasting another moment of my time pulling him out of the next revenge plot he gets caught in! Two years!

Christie: Look on the bright side, Steve. You skipped fourteen years in between.

Steve: [shrugs] I suppose so.

[Bertram gets up and looks out the window at Nigel and Gabby.]

Bertram: Little Norman Graceland's done pretty well for himself, all things considered. Pity we couldn't say goodbye.

Steve: She'd never let him go twice. Weak, that's your trouble, Chris.

Christie: You should get out more, Davros. Live a little.

Steve: Oi! Just because that mistake of DNA out there likes that stupid show doesn't mean you are allowed to refer to it in my presence. Besides - look. Both arms, both eyes and still able to sexually pleasure every woman in Boganville for a weak!

Christie: Yes, you're awesome, we love you.

[She shoves an apple in his mouth, shutting him up. She looks at Nigel sadly.]

Bertram: Well, that looks like the end of that story. All's well and that bollocks... [to Christie] Happy?

Christie: Ecstatic. [sighs] It could have gone better.

Bertram: And it could have gone a lot worse.

Christie: I dreamed of seeing him again.

Bertram: There'll be other dreams.

Christie: Here endeth the lesson. What are we doing next?

[Steve spits out the apple.]

Steve: Something picked at random, this time? Two years, Chris! Two fucking years!

[Bertram picks up a manila folder.]

Bertram: This came in on Friday afternoon. Euroglobe Industries wants our help.

Christie: Oh? Something easier? Or harder?

Steve: [retches] I hate granny smiths. You ARE aware of this, right?

Bertram: [flipping through files] One of the chief executives wants his daughter relocated to Australia. Something halfway between witness protection and a tax dodge, by the look of it. Got to be sorted out before the next financial year.

[Bertram hands photos of a blonde girl to the others.]

Steve: Let's hope it's not as much trouble as the last one.

Christie: [smiles] We can take it. What's the girl's name?

Bertram: "Evelyn Markson".

[A thoughtful pause.]

Steve: I would so do her. How do you think she'd feel about a hunk in a wheelchair?

[Bertram and Christie sigh.]

Bertram: Why do we put up with him?

Christie: Coz no one else will.

[They wheel Steve out of the office.]

Steve: I'm serious! Look at that body. And she doesn't need to know I'm married!

Christie: [loudly] Into the future, Mr. Gracelands, into the future.

Steve: That's another thing! I want my maiden name back, you bitches...

[On the other side of the road is a battered orange-red ute. Harry sits in the driver seat, feet up on the wheel, reading a Simpsons comic. Andrew approaches, rubbing his eyes and looking tired.]

Andrew: Thanks for picking me up.

Harry: No wucking forries, dude.

[Andrew gets into the passenger seat.]

Harry: You look shattered, man.

Andrew: Long night, tough case.

Harry: You want me to drop you home?

Andrew: Yeah... [frowns] Ah, bollocks.

Harry: What?

Andrew: My place got torched yesterday. Lots of smoke damage and burnt walls... it'll take ages to get the feng shei right again.

Harry: Nasty. Still, you solved the mystery, that can pay for repairs?

Andrew: Pro bono.

Harry: [nods understandingly] What does that mean?

Andrew: I was too cheap to ask for money.

Harry: Aw. You know, if you need another case, my aunt's still possessed.

Andrew: Demon or disco?

Harry: Bit of both, if I'm honest. Ever since she found that ouiji board and said she contacted the spirit of Christie Allen...

Andrew: [frowns] Christie Allen isn't dead!

Harry: Try telling HER that! Andrew, we're talking bed-shaking, tourette's syndrome, incontinence, acne. Dude, if this ain't supernatural, it's the worst menopause in the family since great granda Mertle found that whipper-snipper...

Andrew: [winces] Ooh. I remember you telling me about that.

Harry: And I think she's been taking my ritalin.

Andrew: Why do you have ritalin anyway?

Harry: Cheaper than ecstasy.

Andrew: [laughs] All right, Harry. As I've got Oldfield's Tubular Bells as a ringtone on my mobile, I'll take the case.

Harry: Seriously?

Andrew: Hell yeah. After all, I don't believe in the supernatural, so how can I lose?

[Harry thinks about that for a while.]

Harry: And I thought things'd be simpler after high school.

[Harry starts up the ute and drives off into the sunrise.]

Andrew: [vo] You know, Harry, maybe you SHOULD be taking ritalin after all.

[Cut to a crude animated end credit sequence. Through the gloom, Andrew peers out a venetion blind as he smokes a cigarette. Unfortunately, the blinds catch fires and he frantically struggles to put out the blaze as whistles and bass wail....]

- to be concluded...