Housekeeping

The following takes place following: Unfit for Office

Master Devlin: Josiah, have you made any progress with a vaccine?

Master Trelawny: Steven, my boy. Yes, I have. We now have an effective vaccine against the super flu. But there are some interesting findings. David Platt, assumed patient zero, did not actually die from the flu. He ingested a significant quantity of plutonium — we’re not sure how — and died of acute radiation poisoning. As for the super flu, it’s hard to tell. Mr Platt was infected with many things — from AIDS to gypsy syphilis.

Master Devlin: Interesting. Do you reckon the radiation might have created a mutated flu?

Master Trelawny: Maybe… who knows. I’ll never be able to check. Mr Platt's body is now complete radioactive mush. Anyway, we have large batches of vaccine ready to be deployed.

Mr Konrad: It’s ready? How many trials have there been?

Master Trelawny: There haven’t been many trials so far, but it’s based off the existing flu vaccines we already have. I’m quite certain it is safe and effective. Within tolerable limits, of course...

Mr Konrad: We may have some trouble getting Waldonians to take it, of course. We are a distrustful people.

Master Trelawny: Yes, that will be a problem, which is exactly why I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to vaccinate the population... discreetly.

Master Devlin: You mean vaccinating them without their knowledge?

Master Trelawny: Precisely.

Mr Konrad: Forgive me, but that seems highly unethical...

Master Trelawny: It’s the most effective way to get maximum coverage. People can’t refuse what they don’t know about.

Mr Konrad: I find this quite astonishing... Mayor Travers was wanting to execute infected people. Now your solution is to drug them without consent.

Master Devlin: What would you suggest, Mr Konrad?

Mr Konrad: Perhaps just offer it to people? Be open and transparent, rather than trying to trick or compel them into taking it... Master Trelawny gives Master Devlin a curious look, as if Mr Konrad is speaking some kind of foreign language.

Master Devlin: Josiah, do we still have that Microwave Emitter?

Master Trelawny: It’s in the basement. What are you thinking?

Master Devlin: Well, we have a couple of options. We put the vaccine into the water supply and use the microwave emitter to turn the vaccine into a gas to mass vaccinate the population... or we do as Mr Konrad suggests and allow people to have a choice.

Master Trelawny: Well, the former would certainly be my vote. Mr Konrad’s idea lacks efficiency and is frankly overly sentimental, with all due respect, of course.

Master Devlin: Very well. Well, I suppose we should at least try to go with Mr Konrad’s suggestion... for now. Josiah, how quickly can we roll these out into a vaccine program?

Master Trelawny: We can start right away making the preparations and open vaccination centres.

Master Devlin: Mr Konrad, is this something you can assist with — the logistics of this vaccination program?

Mr Konrad: Yes... I suppose I’d better...

Master Devlin: Very well. You stay with Master Trelawny. I will go see how our Mayor is doing...

****

The Master returns to the mayor's office.

Master Devlin: Mr Boothe, how is the mayor doing?

Mr Boothe: A bit woozy, sir, but calm at least.

Master Devlin: I see. Is he aware of what’s going on?

Mr Boothe: Doesn’t appear to be, no, sir.

Master Devlin: Good. Let’s keep it that way. At least he can’t accuse us of starting a coup or something. If the vaccination programme goes well, the mayor will claim full credit for it anyway.

Mr Boothe: Very good, sir. You should know — his wife is in with him.

Master Devlin: Very well. I’ll speak to her, but make sure no one else comes in.

Mr Boothe: Yes, sir.

The Master enters the office. Mayuri is cradling Travers in her arms. He has an ice pack on his head in place of the toupee.

Master Devlin: Mayuri, my dear.

Mayuri: Senpai! Thank goodness you're here. Travers-san is poorly! I heard something was wrong, so I came straight here...

Master Devlin: Do not panic, my dear. We have your husband under control — though we had to sedate him.

Mayuri: Why? What happened to him?

Master Devlin: He had an episode. Just the stress of the job, I expect. He started acting out of turn.

Mayuri: Oh… but he’s hurt too... The poor thing...

Travers opens his eyes briefly.

Travers: Must’ve fallen down some stairs again… I’m alright, quite alright.

Master Devlin: I think, given the circumstances, it would be best if you didn’t go back to the cottage tonight and stayed here instead. We need to keep Travers away from the media until he’s better. They won’t be so understanding — they’ll try to use his current condition to attack him politically. It’s best we keep an eye on him.

The Master gently pats Travers’ slimy, bald scalp.

Master Devlin: In fact, it’s best we keep him sedated for another week or two.

Mayuri: I see... Well, whatever you think is best, Senpai. I trust your judgement.

Master Devlin: Excellent. Also, I have some good news — we now have a vaccine for the flu, ready to go. I’d like you to take yours as soon as possible.

Mayuri: Oh, that’s wonderful! Of course, that will be quite a relief...

Master Devlin: Indeed. Well, I’m just going to head upstairs and prepare the mayoral residence for you. You stay here with your husband...

Mayuri: Okay! Tu tu ru~!

Master Devlin: Yes... quite.

****

The Master heads upstairs. Given that Travers and Mayuri had still been living in the cottage at the Council grounds, he was naturally hoping to find a clean and neatly made bedroom — but of course, he wasn’t at all surprised to find that wasn’t the case. Not with Travers.

Instead, he stepped into a den of debauchery. Evidence of drug-fueled sex parties was everywhere.

Master Devlin: Sweet merciful crap...

He scanned the room, trying to decide where to begin tidying up. A toilet flushed in the en-suite.

A nude, intoxicated Chantelle stumbled out, a trace of white powder on her nose.

Chantelle: Damn, what’s with all the hollerin’, yo? …Oh hey, sugar. What’s playin’?

Master Devlin: What are you doing here?

Chantelle: Me and my girl Ping Ling were partying with the mayor… Shit got wild...

She glanced at the clock.

Chantelle: Damn. Guess we overslept.

Master Devlin: You need to leave. Now. The mayor’s wife is coming to stay here tonight.

Chantelle: Sheeiit… a’ight, a’ight. Just let me— Ping? Yo, Ping! Where you at??

She looked around the room, then pulled back a sheet. The nude Asian girl was slumped over the bed, her body limp.

Chantelle: Yo, Ping… come on, wake up… Ping! We gotta go… Ping?? Oh shit! She cold! Masta Devlin… I think she dead…

Master Devlin: Oh dear.

Chantelle: Shit shit shit… Come on, girl. Don’t do this to me!

Ed emerged from the bathroom in a dressing gown. Invisible to Chantelle, he crouched beside Ping Ling’s body and examined her.

Ed: She’s dead, Jim. Overdose most likely.

Master Devlin: Fuck...

Chantelle began to sob, holding Ping’s lifeless hand.

Chantelle: Poor Ping Ling… She...

Master Devlin: Alright. Sit tight...

****

The Master runs down the stairs back to the office.

Master Devlin: Mr Boothe, I could use your assistance, please. Apologies, Mayuri — the suite upstairs isn’t quite ready yet. It’s in need of… deep cleaning. Just stay here, we’ll have it spotless in no time.

Mayuri: I’ll come and help you! I’d be happy to—

Master Devlin: NO! ...ahem. No thank you, my dear. It’s quite alright. You look after your husband. Okay?

Mayuri: Oh… okay...

Master Devlin: Mr Boothe?

Mr Boothe gives a slight nod. The two men head upstairs.

****

Back upstairs, Mr Boothe is standing solemnly with his hat in his hands as the Master explains the situation. Chantelle is still quietly weeping in the corner.

Master Devlin: …So we need to discreetly deal with this problem. I understand you have some experience in this area, Mr Boothe? Or perhaps know someone who does?

Mr Boothe: Why do you say that, sir? I’m not in the business of dealing with dead bodies. I'm just a driver — occasional messenger. Body disposal ain't in my job description.

Master Devlin: But surely you must know someone who knows someone who can attend to this little problem?

Mr Boothe: I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea about the kind of associations I keep, sir.

Master Devlin: You work for Harris Travers! The biggest crook around. Are you telling me you know no one who can handle this?

Mr Boothe: Mayor Travers may be crooked, but he ain’t in the habit of murderin’ people, sir.

Master Devlin: No, but he knows people. He’s a sleazy lawyer. I’d have thought he’d know a fixer.

Mr Boothe: Not to my knowledge, sir.

The Master’s eyes drift to the floor. He notices an expensive-looking leather briefcase wedged between the bed and the nightstand. He picks it up. "Harris John Travers" is embossed on the lid in gold. He opens it — hoping for cash, maybe an address book. But inside: only shredded newspaper.

The Master sighs.

Master Devlin: Alright…

He pulls a wad of notes from his coat and presses it into Chantelle’s hand.

Master Devlin: On you go then. Slip out quietly through the back and don’t let the mayor’s wife see you. We’ll take care of Ping.

Chantelle: A’ight but… Ping… she sent money back to her folks in China. What about them? They oughta know. Can’t we just call the cops? It was an accident.

Master Devlin: I’m afraid that’s out of the question. You supplied the drugs, Chantelle. You’d be looking at manslaughter.

Chantelle: I know, but—

Master Devlin: And I’m here to protect the mayor. If this gets out, he’s finished. And you’ll be out of a job, Mr Boothe.

Mr Boothe: Understood, sir.

Master Devlin: Now go, Chantelle. Quickly.

Chantelle pulls on her clothes and collects her things. She pauses at the door.

Master Devlin: Chantelle.

Chantelle: Yeah?

Master Devlin: You were never here.

She nods once, then slips away.

Master Devlin turns back to Boothe.

Master Devlin: You seem uncomfortable, Mr Boothe. Do you wish to leave too?

Mr Boothe: I would prefer to. I won’t say anything, sir — but I’ve enough dead girls in my head without helpin’ bury another.

Master Devlin: What do you mean? Oh… the witch trials, yes?

Mr Boothe: Yes, sir. A moment of madness.

Master Devlin: Very well. I may know someone who can help. Go and keep an eye on Mrs Travers while I make some calls.

Mr Boothe: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

A short while later... A knock at the service door.

A pale, tired-looking man steps inside — grey hair clipped close, dressed in workman’s clothes. No introductions. He walks past Devlin and glances briefly at the body on the bed.

He kneels beside Ping’s still form and checks her pulse out of habit. He unzips a thick nylon bag without comment and begins his work.

Fixer: Need the rug pulled, too?

Master Devlin: Yes. Everything she touched.

Two more quiet men arrive — younger, similarly dressed. In practiced silence, they strip the room: carpet, mattress, bedsheets, drapes. A faint scent of chemicals begins to replace the old one.

Fixer: Who’s paying?

Master Devlin hands him a thick envelope.

Fixer: Good. Pleasure doin’ business.

He nods, then disappears with the others — Ping zipped away, the room left looking fresh and unremarkable.

Back downstairs, the Master enters the office. He waves Mr Boothe over and leans in.

Master Devlin (quietly): Mr Boothe — mission accomplished.

Then, to Mayuri:

Master Devlin: Well, my dear, the room is all cleaned and ready for you. I need to go and see Mr Konrad, but Mr Boothe will help you settle in. Oh, and Mr Boothe — give Travers another sedative, would you?

Mr Boothe: Yes, sir.

Season 6 continues in Are We The Baddies?