The Amelia Project - Episode 46 - The Man With Many Faces

Episode Date: December 10, 2021

With Hemi Yeroham, Erin King, Jordan Cobb, Torgny G. Aanderaa, Ben Noble, Marissa Tandon and Graham Rowat Written by Philip Thorne Music and sound design by Fredrik Baden Story editing by Oystein Brager Edited by Philip Thorne  Directed by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager Sound recording by Dominic Hargreaves Graphic design by Anders Pedersen Production assistance by Maty Parzival For full credits see our website.  The Amelia Project is an audio fiction series. We recommend starting at the beginning. Congratulations. You’ve reached the content warning. The Amelia Project is about death, mishaps, mayhem and misfortune. And cocoa. If you’re not comfortable with this, stop listening. Now.  The Amelia Project is part of the Fable & Folly Network.  Website: ameliapodcast.com Transcripts: ameliapodcast.com/transcripts Patreon: www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Twitter: @amelia_podcast Instagram: @ameliapodcast Tumblr: @ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Because the Skip app saves you so much time by delivering stuff like your favorite cool treats, groceries, and bevies, you get more time to have the best summer ever. Like riding roller coasters. Learning to water ski. Applying sunscreen to your dad's back. Yep, definitely the best summer ever. Squeeze more summer out of summer with skip did somebody say skip cold tapes a gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone you know life on the base means uh well it's close to six months without light that does things to people that study that Hello Experience Cold Tapes, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts.

Hello, dear Amelia listeners. Today's episode is dedicated to my father, who is celebrating his 70th birthday this weekend. As a Belgian-born fan of the Tintin comics, we figure his death should be taken straight out of the pages of a Tintin adventure. So, we will recreate the scene from The Temple of the Sun, in which Captain Haddock runs down a snowy mountain, stumbles, rolls down the mountain at great speed, amassing snow around him,

so he's encased in a snowball. The snowball rolls faster and faster, gets bigger and bigger, until eventually it plummets over the edge of the mountain. In terms of a reappearance, we'll bring him back as the host of a bed and breakfast in Sardinia, from where he will also act as a consultant for vintage cars in period dramas. Happy birthday. In today's episode, it's time to go back to Kozlowski and CIA agents Mia Fox and Jackie Williams. The episode follows directly on from when we last left them at the end of The Man With No Heartbeat. Enjoy. So what exactly are you offering? Knowledge. You mean knowledge about the Amelia Project?

That too. Well, we need something concrete. Do you know where the rest about the Amelia Project? That too. Well, we need something concrete. Do you know where the rest of the team is? No. Well, then you're not going to be much use to us. But they need me. They do? Yes. They might just find a new surgeon.

No, they need me. You're saying you think they'll come looking for you? I am sure of it. You can lead us to them? Yes. How? First things first. What?

Before I can find them, there are some technicalities to contend with. What are you doing? Here. What is that? An autopsy report. What? It's mostly completed. What?

We just have to fill in a few dates and then you can give it to your colleagues from MI5. You just happen to have a completed autopsy report on you? It is protocol. Um... Everyone working for Amelia has to be able to fake their own deaths within minutes. We carry personalized death certification on us at all times. Give it here. What happens if anyone contacts... Walter Gervich?

Walter will confirm the report. He's a real doctor? He is a pathologist at St. Thomas' Hospital. You're kidding. No. You must be paying him handsomely. No. No.

He owes us. What does he owe you? His identity. Do you have other pathologists working for you? That means you do? We have people in pathology labs, police departments, and prisons across the United Kingdom and beyond. We want to know about all of them. And I will tell you.

Once you give MI5 the autopsy reports. What do you think, Mia? He's asking us to break the law. I am offering to tell you everything I know. I can give you our contacts. I can take you to my lab. I can find the others. Why should we trust you?

I just told you about Walter. That is a start, is it not? It's not enough. We need more. We need to know you're trustworthy. What do you want? Your story. There's always time for a story.

So you agree? I can tell you a story. See these tattoos? They're hard to ignore. There is a story for each one. I knew it. What's up with the Katy Perry lyrics? Why the Loch Ness Monster?

Those are hieroglyphics on your arm, right? A story is best told from the beginning. And what's the beginning? I will tell you how I came to the Amelia Project by Philip Thorne and Osein Braga with music and sound direction by Frederik Baden. Episode 46 The Man With Many Faces Shit! It's them. Back in the bag.

Ah, seriously? How many times in a day do I have to do this? Ow! I'm sorry! What are you thinking? Shh. Thank God. We were afraid you'd already taken him to the autopsy.

What? What's up? We found something. Something odd. What did you find? Well, come on, spit it out. We found a match on his fingerprint. He's had a prior conviction?

No. But the Home Office collected biometrics of everyone applying for residency in the UK. He emigrated from Poland, I assume? I mean, with a name like Kozlowski. Well, apparently, his real name is Yukari Watanabe. Yukari Watanabe. Yukari? Japanese? According to the Home Office, we're dealing with a 32-year-old woman from Osaka.

What? Yep. How long has she... he... she... been in the UK? Miss Watanabe's visa application was rejected two months ago. Must be a mistake. Well, that's what we're here to find out. We need to retake his print and double check. Even when you think it's all over, this case never ceases to surprise. It's not over. There's a lead here and we're going to get to the bottom of it. Done?

Um, yes. We'll take him to the pathologists and get that autopsy report. Keep us updated about the prints. Come on, Cole. Yukari Watanabe? What's that all about? Well? If they had checked the others, they would have encountered even greater confusion.

What do you mean? Left or right? Sorry? Left hand or right? Um, left? Thumb, Peter Hudson, a surfing instructor from Melbourne. Index finger, Steffi Fuchs, an accountant from Vienna. Middle finger, Alfonso Arguedas, a chef from La Paz.

Ring finger, Richard Maxwell, an army veteran from Flint, Michigan. Little finger, Beat Bosinga, a drummer from Zurich. You're... you're saying... Right hand? Go on. Thumb, Yukari Watanabe, a barista from Osaka. Index finger, Zhang Chonggun, a software developer from Nanjing. Middle finger, Veslemoy Hansen, a librarian from Oslo. Ring finger, Gaiad Froehlich, a lorry driver from Hamburg.

Little finger, Sean Watts, an antique dealer from Toronto. You have ten different fingerprints? And matching biometric passports for each one. Do these people know you're walking around with their fingerprints? They gave them to me, yes. In return for... There is a different story behind each one of them. Do you want me to start with you, Kari?

No. We wanted to hear your story. Where you're from. How you ended up as a surgeon for the Amelia Project. Are you even a real doctor? Yes. Your credentials? For eight years, I was joint director of the Ankakushu Clinic in Istanbul. The... Ankakushu.

The most prestigious plastic surgery clinic in the world. Really? In Istanbul? They were always trying to lure us away. London, Los Angeles, Buenos Aires. But why move? Our client sought us out from all over the globe. And Behram and I loved life by the Bosphorus.

Behram? My husband. Oh. Where's he? That is part of the story. Please sit. Are you sitting comfortably? Comfortable enough. Then let me begin.

I met Behram at the University of Marmaris. We were the top medical students of the entire school. But we had more in common than outsmarting our teachers. We bonded over a shared fascination. A fascination for the human face. I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single countenance, as if held in a mould.

I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful it was. I have seen an old face much lined with and a smooth face in which all things were craven. I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the reality beneath. Ah. Behrem and I spend hours by the sea, drinking sweet tea, reading and talking. Prior to medicine, I had studied poetry. Behram had studied psychology.

I recited Shakespeare, Khalil Gibran and Badr Shah Kiral Sayyab to him. He told me about Freud, Jung and Erickson. al-Sayyab to him. He told me about Freud, Jung, and Erickson. But eventually, our conversations always circled back to the same topic. The architecture of the human face. Why the face? Just what our teachers said. They wanted us to study the heart, the lungs, the brain. Facial surgery? Aesthetic facial surgery? That was a discipline considered unworthy for students of our caliber. Lucrative, but trivial. Yet for Behram and I, there could be nothing more profound. And why is that?

When you meet someone, do you know how long it takes for them to form an impression of you? I've heard it's 30 seconds, something like that. A tenth of a second. Huh. A tenth of a second to gauge your character based on what? Your face? The curvature of your mouth, the size of your pupils, the slant of your eyebrows, the density of your lashes, the height of your cheekbones, the symmetry of your lips, the slope of your forehead, the

prominence of your lower jaw. You're talking about first impressions. I'm talking about a deep, immediate, instinctive, and indelible impression that fundamentally determines how others relate to you. Okay. So you graduated from Marmaris and set up a clinic in Istanbul. Anka... Anka Kuşu.

The first clinic of its kind. You invented new surgical techniques? That too, but the thing that really set us apart was our approach to consultations. How so? Instead of asking clients how they wanted to look after their surgery, we asked them how they wanted to be perceived.

What do you mean? You walk into a room full of people. What effect does your presence create? Do you want to be noticed? Left in peace? Liked? Respected? Feared? Loved? We asked our clients to articulate, in as much detail as possible, the impression they wished to create when they entered that room. We then analyzed their physiognomy and determined the changes needed to achieve the desired effect.

And your clients had no say in how you remodeled their face? If you wanted to be treated by us, that was the deal. Why would anyone agree to that? It was difficult at first. We scared most of our initial clients away. I bet. But a few agreed to our terms, and once their bandages came off, they found their lives completely transformed.

You mean they were satisfied? Their new faces did exactly what they wanted them to do. Let them stand out, or blend in, or make friends, or garner trust, or commandeer respect, or get them elected to public office. Get elected to public office? No. We helped a bright young politician going into a televised debate. His boyish features meant the electorate didn't see him as a leader. We placed some subtle wrinkles on

his forehead and gave him a discreet eyebrow transplant. His appearance instantly gained in gravitas. It made a difference? He is now the Prime Minister of... oh I'm not at liberty to say. Huh. We helped a spy who wanted to move around public spaces without being noticed. We removed all easily identifiable features and gave him a face you would be hard-pressed to remember. We helped a drug boss awaiting trial. We removed his scars, softened his features, and brought out his smile. By the time he faced the jury, he looked like a mild-mannered

primary school teacher and received a sentence of under six months. We helped an investigative journalist who wanted a warm demeanor that would put interviewees at ease and encourage them to confide in her. Like it or not, your face has a greater impact on your life than your upbringing, talent or education. Every human interaction starts with a first impression and every interaction, no matter how small, bears the potential for conflict, romance, interest or indifference. The accumulation of all these impressions over weeks, months and years shapes the trajectory of your life.

Behram and I used our scalpels to cut away preconceptions and carve out new possibilities. To operate on a person's face is to fundamentally re-angle their relationship to the world. Well, shit, that's depressing. So, Uncle Kasusu was a success. Our waiting list stretched three years into the future. We took on an assistant, but we still could not keep up with the demand. Anka Kusu had become a sensation.

So, Behram and I decided to celebrate. How? By getting married. Oh, I thought... Is that legal in Turkey? It is not. So, Behram and I conceived our own ceremony. A ritual that would be unique to us.

And what was that? Have you ever lost yourself in the eyes of another? That would be unique to us. And what was that? Have you ever lost yourself in the eyes of another? Have you ever been so consumed by a person that you want to devour their soul and become one with them? Then you have never laughed. Um... Hmm. Then you have never laughed. When I looked into Behram's eyes, I wanted to see what he sees and feel what he feels. I wanted to know everything about him. Okay.

Behram told me he felt the same way about me. Okay. Behram told me he felt the same way about me. Okay. So, as a wedding gift, I gave him the most personal thing I own. And what is that? My face. Jesus Christ! And Behram gave me his. You're serious?

Now we could experience the world through each other's eyes. Uh, that's... What was it like being Behram? Everything was different. Every interaction was an adventure. For the first time in my life, I was mugged. The boy behind the bar, who used to ignore me, smiled and gave me his number. I was approached for directions and asked to keep an eye on strangers' coats. After just one day of living with Behram's face,

I understood him better than after almost two decades of friendship. But I didn't just learn about Behrem. I also learned about Atalaslan. Atalaslan, who's that? My original identity. Oh. Only by stepping outside yourself do you see who you really are. I saw myself enter rooms. I observed myself with clients, colleagues and friends. I saw myself laugh and cry. I saw myself get drunk. I made love to myself.

I saw myself orgasm. Not really you. Behram. Behram with your face. We lost track. Wait, you mean... Behram, Atul, Atul, Behram. As the years went by, the distinction became increasingly meaningless. Your identities had blended. We had become one. Just as you had intended. Yes. But then, something unexpected happened. Oh? On his fortieth birthday, we hired a boat and sailed the Bosphorus to the Black Sea.

We lay on our backs and gazed at the stars. Just the two of us, the night and the sea. Ah, it was beautiful. When I think of Behram today, I think of that night. I think it was the last time we were truly together. Why? What happened? He started...slipping away. How do you mean? I couldn't pinpoint it, but something changed.

His taste in literature, his jokes, the way he made love. Hmm. It is common for a man turning 40 to make changes. I tried not to worry. But as the months went by, I noticed that it wasn't just his habits. His memories too were changing. When I talked about our days in Marmaris, he misremembered. And then it hit me. I was looking at a familiar face, but the person beneath was no longer the same. You mean he...

He had passed on his face once again. And who was wearing his face? I do not know. Did you confront the imposter wearing Behram his face? I do not know. Did you confront the imposter wearing Beckham's face? Uh, I mean, your face. No. Why not?

I took it as a sign that it was time for me to move on to... To change your identity? Yes. But I couldn't just destroy the face that meant so much to me. The face that had belonged to my lover and become my own. So? So I decided to give it to someone else. To who? My assistant.

He was ready to move up. He would take over my face and run on Kakushu. In return, I would take my assistant's face and start over as a young man. Wow. I had spent my previous youth in libraries and lecture halls, reading, writing, revising. My second youth was dedicated to pleasure and promiscuity. I learned how to party, how to win and break hearts. Four months of excess in which I experienced more excitement and emotion than in the previous

four decades. Just four months? After that, I was ready for something new. What's that? Old age. Seriously? I had done enough partying to last a lifetime. Yes, but... I was ready for some tranquility and reflection.

And I was curious to see the world as an 80-year-old. You went through with it? Of course. It wasn't hard to find an octogenarian who wanted my young face. Right. How did you enjoy old age? I liked having people open doors for me and carry my groceries. There was a lot I could get away with. Shoplifting, dodging the train fare. Nobody dared make a fuss. How long did you stay in the 80 year old skin? After a few months I had had enough.

The way people talked to me made my blood boil like I was a small child. So patronizing. Old age was not for me. You swapped faces again? Adopting new identities became an addiction. And adopting new identities became an addiction. I wanted to experience the world through as many faces as possible. And you found enough people to trade with. There is always someone who needs a new face. I gave the octogenarian's face to a criminal who was on the run from Interpol. Really?

It allowed him to withdraw quietly to the safety of a nursing home. What about you? I became the target of an international manhunt. Quite the experience. They finally tracked me down in Amsterdam and threw me into jail. Jail? From there, I swapped faces with one of the wardens. What? Why would the warden want to swap faces with you? He said he would rather be in prison than confront his wife.

I took over his face and domestic troubles, and he took my cell. I got to experience going through a divorce, which was interesting. Hmm. From there, I switched places with a successful investment banker who wanted to leave behind the world of finance. Then I took over the identity of a disfigured war hero. How long did you keep this up? I have seen the world from behind more than a hundred different faces.

Jesus. And do you still do it? Change faces? No. Why not? What changed? I met Kozlowski. Of course. This is so fucked up. Tell us about Kozlovsky. The real Kozlovsky. Pyotr Kozlovsky was a rogue surgeon from Gdansk. He was suspended for his unconventional methods and performing unnecessary and negligent operations. He should have been put behind bars for a very long time, but... Yes? The day before he was due to appear in court, he was hit by a tram. Huh.

The Polish tabloids were awash with speculation. Was it an accident or was it suicide? It was neither. He faked his death? The Amelia Project faked his death. Oh. Odd. He doesn't really sound like the Amelia type. Well, that depends on how unusual his practices were, I guess. He was a maverick? No. Oh. But the Amelia Project was so desperate for a new surgeon, they omitted to vet him properly. So wait, they lost their previous surgeon? Oh, I believe he's still serving time in Canada. Canada? The Amelia Project was in Canada? Canada? The Amelia Project was in Canada?

Let us save the history of Amelia for another time. It is a subject that will take many hours to unpack. Suffice to say, the Amelia Project had recently fled to London and needed a new surgeon. They faked Kozlowski's death and brought him to their new base above the Rising Phoenix pub in Hampstead, which is where I met him one night, sat at the bar nursing his tenth pint. I bought him another and another and another. The bell rang for last orders. I took him to a bench on Hampstead Heath and opened a bottle of vodka. He spilled his heart out to me. He told you about the Amelia project? He told me he could not comply with their outlandish demands. He told me he had failed every case they had given him. They realized

he was not up to the task, but had already entrusted him with their secrets. He was terrified of what they would do to him. He needed to escape. But how do you escape the masters of escape? You switched faces with him? Yes. And the Amelia Project didn't notice? They noticed that Kozlowski's skills improved overnight. I am the best surgeon they have ever had.

My abilities made them the number one death-faking agency in the world. And for my part, well, it was like coming home. I had lived more lives than I could remember. My thirst for experience had been quenched. I did not feel the need to interact with another human ever again. The Amelia Project let me retire to a safe and secret lab where I could keep busy with a constant stream of interesting challenges. I have never felt the need to move on since. I'm at peace with myself. But the Amelia Project isn't aware of your real identity. The Amelia Project isn't aware of your real identity. No.

I have given you something that not even the Amelia Project knows. There. Is that proof enough that you can trust me? You will tell us all of Amelia's secrets? Yes. You will bring them out of hiding Yes Hand over that autopsy report You agree to fake my death?

Yes Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first the credits. This episode was written by Philip Thorne with story editing by Ostein Breger and quotations from Khalil Gibran. It was directed by Philip Thorne and Ostein Breger with music and sound design by Frederick Barden and audio engineering by Dominic Hargreaves. It featured Hemi Yeroham as Kozlovsky, Jordan Cobb

as Jackie Williams, Aaron King as Mia Fox, Benjamin Noble as Agent Haynes and Torgny G. Ondero as Agent Cole. Coming up, Marissa Tandon and Graham Rowat as agents in the Istanbul office. Graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Marty Patsival. Thank you to our wonderful patrons and as always a heartfelt shout out to our super patrons Sophia Anderson, Kate Sukiyasu, Sophie Leveso, Jem Fiddick, Orban, Asant, Rushab Shukla, Amelie and Alison, Stephanie Weidenhiller, Chloe Lefferman, Elizabeth Curry, Mince and such, Raphael Eduardo Vifas-Ferrastaki and J.K. Robbins.

If you'd like to become a patron, we'd be ever so grateful. It helps us keep telling stories and drinking cocoa, and we simply couldn't do this without listener support. You can also check out our merch, including brand new designs and our classic Christmas designs too. Merch, info on how to support the show, transcripts, artwork, cast info and more

over at ameliapodcast.com. We'll be back on the 24th of December with our Christmas special, but now the epilogue. of December with our Christmas special, but now, the epilogue. Well, they engage in all sorts of semi-legal activity. That's more like it. Anka Kushu, you say? Mm-hmm. Here in Istanbul?

Yep. Huh. I've been stationed here for a decade, and I've never heard of it. Sure it's in Istanbul? That's what she says. Who's asking? Someone from the London office. Let me see.

Mia Fox. She also wants us to check this name. Otil Aslan? I'll run it through the system. Otil Aslan. Nope. No matches. Apparently he received a doctorate in medicine from the University of Marmaris, founded the Ankakusu Clinic in Istanbul with someone called Behrem? Don't have a surname for him, just Behrim.

Wait, wait, wait. Did you say the University of Marmaris? Yep. What did he study? Sunbathing? Yep, thought so. Here. No Faculty of Medicine in Marmaris. Oh. Um... Well, that's odd. So...

What should I tell Agent Fox? You can tell her she's been given bad information. The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish. Hey Dad, I've got a question for you, and it makes me really frustrated. Mikey, the stars are wrong. We jumped two and a half times farther than we were supposed to. He's not a robot, right? He's an AI.

They used you, yes, but they used me worse. I want to go home. How many minutes are in a while? Ask Your Father is available anywhere you get podcasts. How many minutes are in a while?