The Amelia Project - Episode 51 - Walter

Episode Date: March 11, 2022

“Does that name mean anything to you? Think Haines, think!” Episode 51, Season 4.  With Tomi "Tomix" Zandshtein, Torgny G. Aanderaa, Benjamin Noble, Julia Morizawa, Samantha Lawson, Dominic Hargreaves and Andrei Zayats. Written and edited by Philip Thorne Story editing by Oystein Brager Directed by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager Sound design by Dominic Hargreaves Music by Fredrik Baden 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. The Amelia Project is part of the Fable & Folly Network.  Website: ameliapodcast.com  Transcripts: ameliapodcast.com/transcripts   Twitter: @amelia_podcast  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Summer's here, and you can now get almost anything you need delivered with Uber Eats. What do we mean by almost? You can't get a well-groomed lawn delivered, but you can get chicken parmesan delivered. Sunshine? No. Some wine? Yes. Get almost, almost anything delivered with Uber Eats. Order now. Alcohol in select markets. See app for details.

Cold tapes. A gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone. You know, life on the base means, well, it's close to six months without light. That does things to people that study that he was doing to watch us and then set off us like mice around this special little experiment how many people are on this space 16 on this one someone amongst them is our killer experience cold tapes the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts. Hello, Pip here, introducing you to our new episode,

which is dedicated to Stefanie Weitenhiller, who wants to fake her death by drowning in a huge barrel of hot chocolate. A fake death we would most happily provide. We catch up today with Cole and Haynes who think the Amelia case has hit a brick wall. Enjoy the show. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck fuck. I'm not doing this. There's no other option, Cole.

This case is dead as a dodo. Or rather, dead as Kozlowski. He's about to be cremated. I still can't believe he died on us. I know. The stories he could have told us. We could ask Northcote for an extension. We've already done that.

Three times. She's not going to give us any more time than she already has. Just a few more days. There must be something we can find. Cole. I know a cul-de-sac when I see one. But... All our leads have either disappeared or died.

Come on. Time to end it. So. Come on. Time to end it. Oh. So, what do you reckon is next for you, then? Yeah, I'll probably be put back on domestic terrorism with Dougie. You? Drugs, I guess. Yeah. Well, it's been quite the ride. I mean, I'll probably still see you around the ride. I mean,

I'll probably still see you around the building and, you know, we could still meet for coffee, you know, now and then. If you want, or tea. Or not, I mean, it's up to you. Yeah, here we are.

Northcott's office. You knock? You knock. Okay, I'll knock. One, two, three. Stop. What? Give me the file. Hey, hey, hey, hey. What are you doing? I put everything in the right order. Don't mess it up. You'll make Northcott haters even more than she already does, if that's even possible. The autopsy report. Where's Koslovsky's autopsy report? Last page.

Cole, we've been over everything a dozen times. Got it. There was always something bugging me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. What? The name. What name? On the autopsy report.

Piotr Koslowski? No. The name of the pathologist. Walter Gervich? Uh-huh. Does that name mean anything to you? Um... Think, Amnes, think!

I don't know. Not really. Does it mean anything to you? I, uh... I need to check something. Hey! Where are you going? Back to the office.

Come with me. The Amelia Project. Created by Philip Thorne and Ostein Braga, with music and sound direction by Frederick Barden. Design by Dominic Hargreaves. Episode 51. Walter. The old tapes. Steve.

Remember this one? The guy who escaped the gas explosion? Yeah. That was ages ago. You didn't blow up that building? Jesus fucking Christ, of course not. So you didn't want to disappear? Fuck no!

Hmm. Right, let's go forward a bit. Alvina? Fine, and you? Good. Listen, I need Walter from the morgue to send over a body ASAP. No. No. No specific requirements.

The first one he has available. Scrabble tonight? You heard that, right? Okay. See you then. Bye. Play it again. Alvina? Fine. And you? Good.

Listen. I need Walter from the morgue to send over a body ASAP. I need Walter from the morgue. Yes. It's one mention of a Walter several years ago. There are others. Okay. Here, others. Okay. It's taken me

three hours to fix the engine, and now the replacement corpse in the trunk has started to smell, so I have to go all the way back to Walter to get another one. There is again, right? And remember the one with all the reject? Sure. Uh-huh.

I think you just killed him. Oh. Hmm. Well. Rightio. That's that sorted, then. Good timing, actually. Kozlowski needs a replacement corpse for the Lansbury disappearance,

and Walter at the morgue can't get one till tomorrow. Good. Shall we bring him straight to the basement, then? Ha! Ha! Yes! You know, that's a very good point, Alvina. Ah! Hey, on the upside, the journey across the Atlantic was a riot. I invited Walter from the morgue.

He was hanging from the chandeliers, downing mojitos and singing wrecking ball. Well, we must be able to find him on some of the more recent ones, too. They've even invited Walter from the morgue. He's doing suppositories in the corner and I was not going to ask what was in them. There he is again. Walter washed his hands in the embalming fluid so I told him to get my phone out and call you. He's holding it to my ear, bless him. Amelia, do you have any soap?

Nice work, Cole. But it could just be a coincidence. I mean, they don't mention a surname, do they? Just Walter. They have a Walter in charge of corpses, and Kozlowski's autopsy was conducted by a Walter. It's not a coincidence. So you think...

You think the autopsy report was faked? You think Kozlowski isn't really dead? It's possible. Right. Change of plan. We're not going to Northcott. Not yet. She said she wants the file on her desk by six, right? That gives us two hours and twenty minutes.

Yes. So we're going to St Thomas Hospital? No time. Toss me the phone. I'll call the head of forensics. Alright. No time. Toss me the phone. I'll call the head of forensics. All right. Ringing. Good. Good. Spencer? Hi. Haynes here.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Good. Here's the thing. We've got questions about a report that came in yesterday. I was hoping to speak to the pathologist who conducted the autopsy. Yes, I've got the name right here. It's Walter Gervich. I don't care. This is important. No, I can't wait until tomorrow. Well, then you'd better give me his personal number, hadn't you? Oh, well, come on. Chop, chop. This is an order. Pen.

Here. Okay. Pen. Oh, uh, uh, uh. Here. Okay. Okay. Thanks, Spencer. Apparently, Walter only works night shifts, but I've got his personal number. What are you going to say? Shh. It's ringing.

Don't you think we should discuss a plan? Walter? Yes, hello. Henry Hicks speaking. What are you doing? I'm the new explosives expert for Amelia. What? Yeah, well, they've been keeping a low profile since the, you know. Anyway, they want us to collaborate on the Sugden disappearance. Oh, you haven't heard about that? I guess I better update you then. No, no, of course not. Of course.

Yes, I understand. The code word? Um, yes. That would be... Cocoa. Bubbles. Fluffclico. Maltesers. No, no, of course.

Can't be too careful. Speaking of which, I'm not sure this line is secure. Could we meet face to face? Yes. Yes. That's an option. Or we could... Yes, of's an option. Or we could... Yes, of course...

Hello? Hello? He hung up? Yes. Did he suggest a meeting place? Yes. Oh, thank God. Where? Covent Garden.

Where in Covent Garden? Just Covent Garden. Covent Garden is Where in Covent Garden? Just Covent Garden. Covent Garden is huge! Yep. So what do we do? Oh, go to Covent Garden and look for a Walter Gervage. Ready, Cole? Ready.

Right. Here we are. Covent Garden. What now? Watch the crowd. There must be over a thousand people here. We have to think. What does an undercover employee of the Amelia Project look like? That's just easy. Could be

anyone. Could be that gent with a three-piece suit. Or that punk with a purple mohawk. Look. That guy over by the ice cream stand. The one with the Pink Floyd t-shirt? No. The one with the denim jacket drinking from a thermos.

Yeah? What about him? Could be Coco. Or coffee. Or tea. I mean, what about that toddler over there? He's got a cup. Sippy cup. Ah, very funny. You've got a better idea. Oh.

Who suggests meeting at Covent Garden without a location? That's bonkers. He probably thought I'd been briefed and would know what he looks like. Or maybe he'd have a regular meeting place around here. What do you think? It's one of the busiest squares in London. I could call him again. I don't want to make him suspicious.

I could call from my number. We could try to spot someone answering a call. Good idea. Here's the number. Right. Let's see. Right. Okay.

He's calling. Almost everyone has their phones out I think it might actually be easier to spot somebody without a phone fuck good juggler though can you juggle Carl? what? Dougie can when we were stationed down in Cornwall

we worked on a passing routine. Got pretty good, actually. We were in Port Isaac waiting for a dinghy smuggling homemade weapons into the UK. Turned out to be a scam, but it gave us plenty of time to juggle. Under the lake, behind the back. Hey. Yeah? See that bloke on a bench?

By the Starbucks? Er, what bench? You mean the tan bloke with his arm around a girl? No. Or the old guy smoking a cigar? Or... Ohhhh. You spotted him.

What the fuck? Right. A red and white t-shirt, glasses and a fucking bobble hat? You think that's our man? Walter. Wally. You think? Let's go over and talk to him.

Let's. Hello. You spotted me. Well done. Henry Hicks? Yes. And this is my assistant, Charlie Cook. You must be Walter. You can call me Wal Wal. Or Waldo. That's my nickname in the US. Either works.

Right. You, uh, always dress like that? Whenever I'm not at work. Do you like this place? Covent Garden? It's a bit, uh, busy. It's a great place to people watch. And then every now and then someone spots me and smiles.

I like that. Strange hobby. More than a hobby, an obsession, really. When I visit a city, I always go straight to the busiest place. Times Square in New York, Las Ramblas in Barcelona, Potsdamer Platz in Berlin, Piazza San Marco in Venice. Those are the places I avoid. Why? I prefer to, you know, get off the beaten track, see something real.

You're not looking properly. Excuse me? If you learn how to observe crowds, it's the squares, piazzas, train stations, and shopping malls that are the most interesting. train stations, and shopping malls that are the most interesting. Take Covent Garden. The sprawl of tourists, pickpockets, jugglers, fire breathers, bankers, beggars, opera goers, and ice cream sellers. There are a hundred stories happening right here, and we can zero in on any one of them. I was just saying to Charlie, the juggler is quite something. That juggler's an obvious one.

But have you noticed the toddler doing ballet moves by the arcades while her parents are staring at their phones? She's quite the prodigy. Or that businessman outside the Apple store? He's wearing his suit jacket inside out. And look, that woman carrying skis under her arm. Where could she be going? See that girl filming herself?

She ought to watch her step. She's about to step into a big heap of duck. Oh, totally. I wonder what the living statue and magician are arguing about. Looks heated. Oh, and what on earth is that bearded bloke eating?

That's the biggest pretzel I've ever seen. Haha. There's someone throwing paper airplanes from the balcony of the opera house. You see, once you focus, you can spot all sorts of things. Sometimes I arrive at the crack of dawn when the street cleaners are hosing down the cobbles in their fluorescent vests. I watch the shopkeepers roll up the shutters and the squirt comes to life.

Playing children, arguing parents, stressed tourists, stoned students. I stay late into the evening when the elegant crowds spill out of the opera house. Eventually, it's just me and a few drunks again. Over the course of 24 hours, I experience so many stories. Comedy, tragedy, farce, love stories. There's always time for a story. I see you've had the induction. Speaking of which, what's your story, Walter?

How did you come to the Emilia Project? I thought we had business to discuss. Let's get to know each other a bit first. Very well, but do you mind if we walk and talk? We could take a stroll around the market. Shouldn't we go somewhere a bit more secluded? A crowd affords the best anonymity. Very well. As a student in Jerusalem, I spotted a faded sticker above a urinal in a club.

It showed a cup with steam rising from it. I thought it was a coffee brand or something. Then I noticed the steam formed the shape of a phoenix, and there was a ring of Morse code around it. Now, I've always loved puzzles, so I took a picture of the image, and the next day figured it out. The Morse code spelled out a telephone number. I rang it and reached a voicemail offering the Amelia Project services. I thought it was a hoax but I stored the number in my phone anyway just in case. Then a few years later I rang the number

again, this time hoping against all odds it was real. I was so surprised when just half an hour later there was a knock on my door. Batuach? Hello? Ifraim Khan? Please, call me Effie. You are? Amelia, from the Emilio Project. Holy shit! You did call us, from the Emilio Project. Holy shit! You did call us, didn't you?

Yes, but that was half an hour ago. I didn't expect you to be this quick. Luckily, I happen to be in your corner of the world. Good timing, actually. I was about to fly home when my colleague from London called and told me about your request. I made you miss your flight? Oh, I'm so sorry. No. I fly my own plane. You do?

That's what brought me here. The Tel Aviv International Air Show. But enough about me. What's with this place? Scusi? There are posters of Where's Waldo everywhere. Oh, yes. Do you like them? You've got a Where's Waldo coffee mug, a Where's Waldo laptop case, a Where's Waldo pen holder, there's a half-finished Where's Waldo jigsaw puzzle on your desk next to the... What's that in the Petri dish? Eyeballs. I'm dissecting eyeballs.

Right. There's a Where's Waldo screensaver on your computer, a Where's Waldo mouse pad, a... Is that a Where's Waldo cover for your microscope? a Where's Waldo mouse pad, a Is that a Where's Waldo cover for your microscope? And all the Where's Waldo books in what seems like a dozen different languages on your bookshelf. Waldo, Wally, Willie, Valdi, Ketty, Hugo, Jura, Valoo, Holger. He's a global phenomenon, you know. What's his name in Hebrew? Effie.

Your name? Yes. So you feel an affinity to the character of Waldo? Waldo is my life. Oh. What's wrong? Sorry, it's just... When my colleague told me about an urgent call from the Techion in Haifa, I was expecting a scientist or something. I... I don't mean to be rude, but we are a very exclusive service, and if I'd known the nature of your research... I am a scientist. Specialized in what? Pop culture?

Children's books? Neuroscience. Really? Yes. I... I find that hard to believe. Why's that? Your office is a frickin' shrine to Where's Waldo! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. It's perfectly possible to be both a neuroscientist and a Where's Waldo fanboy, I suppose.

I'm just surprised. That's okay. But you see, Where's Waldo is what brought me here. Explain. My parents gave me my first Waldo book when I was six, and it was love at first sight. Why? What attracted you to it? I don't know. Something about the crowds and chaos and color. My parents worked in the Shook, you see. That's the marketplace. They had a fruit and vegetable stall there.

I basically grew up on the Shook, always surrounded by thousands of people. I used to find being alone really scary. I would lie awake at night, terrified of the silence and solitude, counting the hours until the world woke up and the streets filled with noise and cars and chatter again. But the Waldo books cured my fear of solitude. Whenever I felt anxious, I opened a Waldo book and lost myself in the wonderful depth and detail of those crowds. You must have become quite the expert at spotting Waldo. Yes! And once I'd found Waldo, Wenda, Whitebeard, and Wolfstale on every page,

I gave the books to my friends and watched as they searched. I noticed their eyes twitched and how the twitching got faster as they found Waldo. What I was observing were micro-secades, though I didn't know that at the time, of course. Huh. So the books instilled in you a fascination for the process of cognitive perception, which led you to become a neuroscientist.

Exactly! For my PhD, I conducted an experiment in which I gave participants scenes from a Where's Waldo book, then measured their eye movements as they scanned the pages. I was able to analyze the function of saccades, vengeance, and vestibulocular movement in visual search. You're fixating too much. Sorry? You're trying to find Waldo on the beach, aren't you? I- You have to stop fixating and allow your eyes to settle into a slow tracking movement. Like this? Better. It takes a lot of practice for the eyes to perform a smooth pursuit movement in the absence of a moving target, but once you achieve this, your capacity for visual search

increases dramatically. Found him! Between the Punch and Judy box and the man sunbathing. Bravo! What's Punch and Judy? Ah, never mind. You know that because of this scene, Where's Waldo is on the American Library Association's list of top 100 banned books? Really? Why? There's a picture of a woman lying on her towel topless. They covered her up in 1997, but this poster is taken from the original. Well, Effie, I'll gladly concede that I underestimated both you and Where's Waldo.

But I still don't understand why you need to disappear. Two nights ago I was visited by a Russian businessman. He was wearing this flashy silk cravat with black and yellow stripes. Said his name was Mikhail. That's all I've got. No surname, just Mikhail. He said he was a big admirer of my work and wanted to fund it. That's nice. How the hell did he know about my work, though? It hasn't been published in any scientific journals. My research is in its infancy. Outside of a few colleagues here at Haifa, nobody knows who I am or what I'm doing. Did you ask how he found out about you?

I did. And what did he say? I have eyes everywhere. Ominous. He said he could give me a research facility in Moscow. I just needed to board his private jet and he'd provide me with all the resources I could dream of. But you mistrusted him. You suspected he had hidden motives?

There was nothing hidden about them. Oh? What did he want? I want more eyes. Excuse me? He wanted me to collaborate with a robotics engineer also working in Moscow. A robotics engineer? To develop a machine that can see as well as a human and easily identify targets. Wow.

What did you say? I said I needed time to consider. I will come back in three days, he said. That's tomorrow. Yep. And what have you decided? I want nothing to do with this man or his army of perceptive robots. I would have enough time to know where this is going.

And what do you think he'll do if you decline? I'd rather not find out. Hmm. You know, Effie, our services should only ever be used as a last resort. This sounds more like a case for the police. You don't understand who I'm dealing with. A man with a private jet and unlimited funds who dabbles in world-changing technology for personal pleasure,

and you want me to call the police? You've got a point. So you'll help me disappear? Are you sure you want to give everything up and start afresh? You won't be able to continue your research. I have a restless spirit, just like Waldo. I'll put my possessions in a backpack and I'm ready for new adventures. Could you set me up with a new life in England?

The weather is terrible and the food is even worse. It's the home of Martin Hanford. Who? The author of the WALL-E books. You mean Waldo. It's WALL-E in the original. Well, seeing as I'm about to fly back to London, setting you up in England is the easiest option.

Perfect! Any thoughts on your new identity? Well. Yes? I mean... Oh, oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, you are not suggesting we bring you back as... Why not? I've studied him for so long that slipping into his skin would feel natural. Ugh, we can't bring you back as a fictional character. Why not? Fictional characters are a lot of trouble. But any new identity I adopt would be a fiction anyway, wouldn't it? So why not Waldo? Copyright issues.

Oh. Copyright muzzle-gag. However, while you can't actually be Waldo, there's nothing to stop you from dressing like Waldo. If you want to spend your leisure time wearing a stripy shirt, horn-rimmed glasses, and a bobble hat, sitting in airports and public

squares, then that's your prerogative, I suppose. And can I be called Wally? We're getting close to copyright infringement. Walter. Okay, then. Walter! I like it! You'll need a job. I might have something for you.

No? What's that? Are you squeamish? Well, I spent my studies dissecting eyeballs, so... Good. How would you like to be head of corpses? That's a job. At the Amelia Project, it is. Wait, you mean... Wait. You mean I'd be working for you? If you work for us, your disappearance is on the house.

And if I don't? It will set you back 80 grand. I... I'd take the job. I don't know. Unless you have a trust fund or something, of course. I just assume... No, no, no. I do not have the money. Then what's there to think about? Well, the whole reason I'm doing this is to escape

the employ of one shady character. Now it seems the only way I can do that is by working for another. It's a world full of irony. Well, I want to fly home tomorrow. I need a decision now. I realize I might have come off a bit blunt. I'm out of practice doing these interviews. You'll like my colleagues, I promise.

They're very lovely, and we have an unlimited supply of cocoa. Cocoa? And Maltesers. Maltesers? See? Not really that shady at all. The job is to deal with corpses, you said? They're discreet procurement and transportation. You'll bring corpses to our lab, then, once our surgeon has worked his magic, to wherever our client wants to be found washed up, stabbed, shot, trampled on, or incinerated. Oh, and you'll also spend two nights a week in the pathology lab at St. Thomas Hospital. Um, that's not my field. Oh, we don't need a real pathologist, just somebody who can deal with the requisite paperwork. It's all fake? Of course. But in a real hospital? The administrator owes us. Don't worry. He'll only assign you a select few cases, those relating to us.

You'll work discreetly and on your own. Night shifts. I, um... Hmm... Oy vey. You said you wanted excitement. It doesn't get any more exciting than forging autopsy reports and hiding corpses in caves, chimneys, and bank vaults. It sounds dangerous. An interesting life can always use a little seduction, confidence, ambition, and danger.

Right. So, which should it be? Russian robots or Coco and corpses? Well, I trust you more than I trust Mikhail. So we have a deal? We have a deal. Good choice. You won't regret it. And look, I have something here to seal the deal.

Oh, what's that? Bove Clicquot. I always carry a mini bottle in my handbag. You do? You never know when the occasion might call for it. Have you got glasses? No, I've got a Where's Waldo coffee mug and one clean Petri dish. That'll do. Here, you can have the Waldo mug.

There we go. Cheers! L'chaim! Now, we need to figure out how to get you safely to my plane. Mikhal has eyes everywhere, you said? There's been a man following

me around for the past two days. He appears the minute I step out of the institute. I can feel him behind me on the bus, in the cinema, in the queue at the Schupersal. Hmm. We just need to get you to my plane and I can fly you discreetly out of the country. Where's your plane? Still in Tel Aviv. I took the bus to get here. Oh, that bus station? Very confusing. The Tel Aviv Central Bus Station? It's the most

confusing place in Israel. Seems like it was designed by Escher on hard drugs. You know, it was actually designed that way so people would have difficulty finding the exits and spend more time in the shops. Then years of haphazard reconstruction made it even more confusing until it became the sprawling mess it is today. We used to call it the White Elephant. Anyway, I think it's the perfect place for you to disappear. Hmm. In that maze, you'll shake off your followers in no time. Yes, but I'll get lost myself. Last time I walked the concrete corridors for hours

and somehow ended up in an abandoned area taken over by bats. Anyway, I doubt they'll let me travel to Tel Aviv. My disappearance has to take place in Haifa. Very well. Let me think. Very well. Let me think. I'll need a bit more champagne. You were raised in the Shook, you said? You're still familiar with it? Not like the back of my hand. When is the Shook at its busiest?

Friday, when everyone shops for Shabbat. Excellent. Tomorrow morning, you will head to the Shook. You'll flip from stall to stall. Left, right, U-turn, weaving in and out of the masses. Like in a Wally scene! You immerse yourself in the bustle, always choosing the busiest alleys, never using the direct route. You pick up pace, then break into a sprint, duck, roll under one of the stalls, emerge from the other side, and continue to run. Run, run, run. Run like your life depends on it.

Where did he go fuck he's disappeared he can't be far you go that way car I'll look over here right go go go Excuse me. Excuse me. Fuck. Excuse me! Excuse me! Get out of my way! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck Fuck Fuck

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Can I help you mate? No you Can't fucking help me Just piss off

Okay okay You need to see someone mate Oh Cole Where is Cole? Cole? Nah, me neither. He tricked us.

We shouldn't have followed him into this labyrinth. Anyway, where the fuck are you? What do you mean, by the postcard stand? I can see at least ten different... See? I walked into the fucking postcard stand. You're going to have to be more specific. A Pillock Theatre shop? Pollock Theatre?

What the fuck is a Pollock Theatre? A WH Smith's? That's better. Okay, okay. Meet you on the balcony above the WH Smiths. Oh, oh my God. Oh God. Oh God.

Oh my God. God, come on, come on.. God. Come on. Come on. Oh god. Oh god, this is so fucking easy. Oh god. Come on.

Come on. Come on. Oh god. Come on. Oh my god. You made it. How many fucking steps was that? It was worth it. For the view. The view?

Fucking hell, Cole. We just suffered the biggest kick in the bollocks since... Shut up, Haynes. We have to look. What? It's pointless. We're never going to spot him again in that crowd. We have to focus. Oh, yeah.

You're sounding like him. Yeah. Binoculars? Where did you get those from? These are opera glasses from that gift shop. Oh, plasticky tourist shit. You got ripped off. Well, it's better than nothing.

Now, please, Haynes, concentrate. You look left, I look right. Okay. Okay. After this, I'm going to need the stiffest of stiff drinks. Okay? I'm going to need a fucking pint of gin. Shush. I can't believe we screwed this up.

This is embarrassing, Cole. We don't deserve our badges. This is the most pathetic cock-up. Haynes! Haynes! What, you found him? No. Then what? Look over there.

Okay. By the Prédomanger. Okay. Oh, no way. That's Mia and Jackie. And Kozlowski. Not dead. Kozlowski isn't... Oh, bloody hell. What are Mia and Jackie doing wandering around central London with Kozlowski?

I don't know. We have to follow them. Quick. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first the credits. This episode was written and edited by Philip Thorne, with story editing by Einstein Breger, sound design by Dominic Hargreaves, and music by Frederickik Barden.

Walter was played by Tommy Zahnstein, also known as Tomix. Tomix is an Israeli cartoonist who has created a special Spot Walter image for this episode. We'll be posting that for Patrons and may put it up in our webshop in the coming days too. You can also check out Tomix's work on most social media under Tomix Comics. The episode also featured Torgny G. Ondero as Cole, Benjamin Noble as Haynes, Julia Morizawa as Amelia, Dominic Hargreaves as the man in the crowd, and Samantha Lawson as the postcard seller. Graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Marty Patsival.

Thank you to our patrons who fund the making of this show and a special shout out to our super patrons Angel Acevedo, Sophia Anderson, Jem Fiddick, Alban, Sant, Amelie and Alison, Stefanie Weidenhiller, Mintz and such, Rafael Eduardo Vifas-Ferrastaki

and JK Robbins. Thank you. For merchandise, transcripts and ways to support the show, visit ameliapodcast.com. And now, the epilogue. Mikhail, it's Boris. I have some bad news. I lost track of Efi in Chultalpyot. He disappeared. Vanished into thin air. I've checked with all of our eyes in Haifa and beyond.

Nobody in Israel has seen him. Yes. Yes. He can't have done this on his own. Somebody must have helped him. I don't know who. Yes, I will find out. Oh, and Mikhail, about that job as head of security... I understand.

Of course, you must get your revenge, Mikhail. Of course. Goodbye. Have a nice... The Fable & Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish. The first thing you need to know about the Vegas Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast where fiction producers flourish. sitting at the top of it. This is not by accident. For millennia, the country Vega calls home has been carefully honing the skills of its state-contracted killers, and these so-called holy warriors have gotten real good at taking down the world's worst criminals, or as they would call it, cleansing. 400 kills into her career, Vega is the most decorated hunter there has ever been, and likely would have stayed that way if it had not been for him.

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