Part 22: Episode Eleven: The Angel of Death

Ready?

As I'll ever be.





Geez, this place is swanky.

Yeah. I've never actually stayed here before. Mostly it's used by people who are here for conferences or business meetings or things like that.

Well, don't let that get to you. You have to feel like you belong here. Jimmy Lee Banksten goes to places like this all the time.

Right.



Let's get some service around here!

Good. Maybe a little less loud.



I'd like a room for the night, my good man.

My good man? No, no. And drop the southern drawl, really, you're not doing a very convincing job of it.

"We have a vacancy in Room 204, on the second floor. All our rooms are very clean and nicely furnished, with telephones and queen-sized beds," says the desk clerk. "That will be $100.00, please."

You hand the clerk $100.00. He asks you to fill out the registration card. You do, under the name of Jimmy Lee Banksten.

"Thank you very much, sir. Here are your keys. I hope you enjoy your stay!"

After you fill out the register, the desk clerk says, "Just take the elevator to the second floor. Your room is to the right."



Okay. So now we meet up with Sweet Cheeks. Check the bar.

Ha ha.

Hey, it's appropriate for her role. Just go up to the bar and order something and act casual.



A beer, please.



Oh, Whitey, it's so good to see you. It's been such a long, long time!

Come on, Cheeks, let's sit at that table over there.

(Good work, Marie.)

(Thanks, Mr. Banksten. Hee hee. This is kind of fun!)

(I guess, but be careful. These men are playing for keeps here, and I don't want to have to fish you out of the river.)

(It'll be fine as long as you're here to look out for me, Precious. Anyway, this place is kind of romantic!)

(This is not exactly the first date I would have chosen.)



Quiet, guys. The Walrus is on his way over with your beer.

"Here you are, sir," says the bartender. "That'll be five dollars, please."

You slip a marked hundred from your wallet and hand it to the bartender.

"Thank you, sir," he says. "I'll be right back with your change."



You know, I think this whole hotel is a TARDIS.

What?

Not only is it bigger on the inside than the outside, I think I see some time travellers there from the 1970s. Yow.



Can you see what they're doing?

They're talking with the bartender. Maybe they're trying to figure out how to get to the Crimean War.



The fools! That's the way to the Battle of Hastings!



There's a Dalek back there and-

Shut up.

What?

Not you. The door says Employees Only, but I bet that's where the game is. Barging in there isn't going to get me Bains, though.

So play it cool. Find out what the bartender knows.



Speaking of, here he comes again.




Woody, I'd like you to meet Jimmy Lee Banksten, but everyone I know calls him 'Whitey.' Whitey's a dear, old friend that I haven't seen for over a year.

She then excuses herself to powder her (already heavily-powdered) nose.



The bartender asks you what you do for a living. "I'm presently unemployed; just taking it easy, you know. Enjoying life, and looking for a good time," you tell him.

"I just finished doing a little time for embezzlement and haven't had a chance to land a job yet," you tell Woody. Acting surprised at your slip, you lower your voice and say, "but I'd sure appreciate your keeping that information under your hat, ok?" Woody assures you that you can trust him.

Subtle, Whitey. Real subtle. Next time just wear a little nametag saying "I am a criminal".



Sweet Cheeks returns. Even after the drinks, and your conversation with the bartender, Woody Roberts is tight-lipped about any back room gambling.



"Say, Sweet Cheeks," you say loudly. "How'd you like to go to Vegas with me for the weekend?" Sweet Cheeks acts quite excited as she accepts your offer.

BY THE WAY, MR. BARTENDER, HOW ABOUT THAT ILLEGAL GAMBLING? I SURE DO LOVE ME SOME ILLEGAL GAMBLING!



Okay, so he doesn't want to talk to you. Let me offer you a suggestion as to how to deal with this.



Sweet Cheeks and I are going to duck out of here in a minute. Thanks for keeping quiet about... you know.



In a suddenly soft voice, the bartender asks, "Whitey, exactly what are you looking for in the way of a good time?"

"Just about anything," you tell him, "but women, gambling, and money top the list."

"Well, Whitey," Woody whispers, "there IS a little card game in our back room that is available by invitation only. It's pretty serious; it'll cost ya two hundred just to get into the game."

He continues, "If you think you can handle it, come back a little later with the two hundred, and I'll see what I can do for ya." With your heart pounding, you offer him your thanks, and assure him you'll be right back after you finish with Sweet Cheeks.

Man, I'm not sure if you should come back in ten minutes to retain realism, or an hour to fit your character.

Ha ha ha.



Women, gambling, and money. Honestly.

It worked, didn't it?

Yes, because as we have previously established, you are the luckiest bastard alive.



Oh, come on. Asking him to keep a secret for me was a great move. Nothing makes people trust you faster.

Yeah, it would have been, if you'd done it with more subtlety than a backhoe made out of bicycle horns.

S... uh, Whitey, are you okay?

Yes, everything's fine.



HEY, MARIE, YOUR BOYFRIEND IS A BUFFOON!

...what was that?

Did that work? I can't believe that worked.

Me neither!

Precious, what exactly is going on here?



Just a symptom of the protagonism. Don't worry about him. Let's focus on the job in front of us.

If you say so. We can talk about it later.



Yeah, he spilled his guts to me after some expert interrogation.

Ha.

Do you have enough money to carry you through a gambling session, Big Boy?

Yeah, Morgan set me up.

Good luck, Sonny!



That reminds me, I need to call Morgan and report in.

Aren't you worried about the phone?



There's no way they tapped every single phone in the whole hotel. We just picked up a random room; they didn't even know I was here for the gambling before I went to the bar, and they haven't had time to get in here since Woody found out about that.

I guess that makes sense.

Lieutenant Morgan. Who's speaking, please?

It's me.

Hello, Mr. Banksten. Why don't you send Sweet Cheeks Marie back to the station by cab?

Of course.

Try to get behind the scenes in the Hotel. Your backup personnel will be arriving later this evening. Good luck...



I'd like a taxi company, please.




The Hotel Delphoria, please.

OK, we have a car on the way. Thank you!



Alright, Precious. Be careful, now. I want you to live to see our second date.

You and me both, Marie. See you soon.

Sorry, Sonny.

It's better this way. She'll be out of danger.

Give her a few minute to get clear before you go poking the hornet's nest. Maybe watch some TV or something?



Maybe not.

I guess they figured people would find other ways to entertain themselves?

...Sonny. I just realized something.

What?

I figured out where all the night in Lytton went. They're storing it in the hotel! Look at that window!

...

You can get these guys for Grand Theft Chronology!

Oh, come on.



So... I've thought of another problem with this plan.

What's that, Sonny?



I don't really know how to play cards.

...what? You couldn't mention this earlier?



I didn't think of it! I was kind of distracted! Besides, I still would have had to do this, wouldn't I?

I suppose. Let's see. I'm not the greatest player either, but that might not matter. Here, let's talk to the bartender again.

"So, you want to try your luck," says Woody. "Come on, Whitey. Follow me."



OK. When he gets you in, just relax and let me handle it, like when we drive.

Are you sure?



Trust me. We don't have to win, you just have to avoid embarrassing yourself. Everybody loves someone who loses gradually at cards.



A panel in the door slides open. Woody whispers through the opening, "I've got a new player for you."



Uh...

Don't worry, Whitey. That's why you have the trick cane.



Woody tells you, "Ok, Whitey! Have a good time!"

Did he touch you in all the right places? Was it everything you dreamed it would be?

And you're the one I get to rely on to keep me alive. This is just ducky.



I guess you're sitting with the 70s crew. Try not to talk about your strange future world. You wouldn't want to confuse the poor fellows.

Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Jimmy Lee Banksten. May I join you?



"I'm Otto, and to your left is Gene."




At least this new guy is in the right decade. Do you recognize any of these people?

(Not one.)

Otto introduces you to the newcomer, "Frank, this is Mr. Banksten. He's going to join us for a few hands. Mr. Banksten, meet Frank.



Likewise.



I knew that's what I should have called it!

(Called what?)

Never mind. Just relax.



(Crap. What do I do?)

Like I said, relax. Just let yourself go. I'll handle this.



You're... doing a great job so far, I see.

It's been a while, okay? Anyway, I need to lull them into a false sense of security.



See? It'll be fine. Just relax... drift away...



...that's not good...

We're okay. Don't worry.



See, back up again.



Have to know when to get out sometimes.



Now you bastards will see what's what. I...



It certainly is, sir.

...oh. No fair!

(Remember the mission.)

"If you'd like to come back later tonight, we'll be playing a more private game with considerably higher stakes."

"Be sure to give Woody the password 'Frank sent you!' He'll let you in for free, and you'll gain admission to our private room."

"If everything works out well," says Frank, "perhaps we can talk a little business afterwards."

Thank you, sir. I think I'll do that.



Hot damn! Told you it would work.

Thank you. I wonder who "Frank" is?

Probably a lieutenant of some kind. Working your way up the ranks is the right way to go.



Now what?

Report in. We could get them on the card game right now, but we need more information if we want to nail it to Bains. And I want them for murder, not gambling violations.



Sounds like a plan. Sonny...

Yeah?

Thank you for trusting me back there. I know you haven't exactly been enjoying my company, but I've been having a good time.



I guess I have too. A bit. Just lay off the lousy jokes once in a while.

No promises.



It's a beautiful night out there in my city. And we're close now. I can feel it. We've almost got that bastard.

And what will you do when you find him?

I'll arrest him, of course. What else would I do?

Just checking. He's done some... pretty heavy bad stuff to you and yours.

He has. And he'll answer for it in front of everyone.




"Hey, Sonny! How's it going?" says the lead detective. "I'm sure glad we found your room! I'd hate to have someone call the cops on us for breaking and entering!"

Hah!

"We're ready whenever you are, 'Whitey'!" he concludes."

I hear you have a package for me to carry tonight?

"Ok, Sonny, here's your voice transmitter. I've tested it thoroughly to make sure works properly."



"We'll monitor your voice transmitter at all times. We're anxiously waiting to assist you in any arrests."




Looks good, Sonny.

"Take a look at this," says Angland. "We just received a fax from Chicago that includes the mug shots of one Jessie Bains."

Although the fax is rather fuzzy, you have the feeling that you've seen this face before.

Alright, boys. I'm going downstairs to join a high-stakes poker game with some of our friends. If I sniff out Bains, I'll give you a whistle and let you know where I am. Until then, lay low and try not to run up the room service charges.



Back to the lion's den.

We going to be okay?

Yeah, especially with the extra funds.




The panel opens once again. Woody explains to the mysterious person behind the door, "I've brought a player for the big game in the back room."

"Come over here, please, Whitey," says Woody. "I have to frisk you again. It's just a formality, you understand, sir.




Twice in one night! You lucky dog.

...



This time Woody says he'll escort you to the card room.



"Gentlemen," announces Woody, "welcome back Mr. Jimmy Lee Banksten."




Hello again, Mr. Banksten. I believe you know everyone here.

This time, you look carefully at Frank as he shuffles the cards. Cold chills race down your spine and a blast of adrenalin surges through your body as you realize he exactly matches the description of Jessie Bains!



Good evening. Frank.



I got this, buddy. Same as last time. I can't promise a win, but I'll lose slowly enough to keep his interest.



(I wonder if I could slip away to...)

No, don't try it. He'll know something's up. Play along; you'll have a chance later.



God damn, but I am having the worst luck today.



Alright, that's a bit more like it.



Damn, just when I was turning it around again.

Whitey (if I may call you that), I understand you may be looking for work?

Woody has loose lips, eh? Yeah, I might be in the job market right now. Keeping my options open.

Very good! I like your style. How would you like to join me in my suite for a drink, Whitey? I've a business proposition to discuss with you.

That sounds absolutely perfect.

Great! Follow me.





Goddamn these stairs, anyway.

You're not the one climbing the things!

Yeah, but I'm trying to help navigate them, and they're so sticky, and... never mind. Just keep after him.



Why doesn't he just take the elevator?

Because he doesn't want to go into the front lobby where everyone can see him. Come on, that one's obvious.




Right. Now's your chance, before you follow him into his room.




Well, Mr. Banksten, I have a little proposition for you that I know you'll love.

I'm interested.

Just then, the telephone rings in the next room.

Fix yourself a drink while I answer the phone.




How long do you think it'll take for them to get here?

Not long, I hope. It's all I can do not to punch this guy right in his smug face.




Bains draws his gun and aims it directly at you!

Hold it right there, PIG! It seems one of our card-playing comrades recognizes your ugly mug from a minor misunderstanding he had with the heat a while back. You're about to find out just how much I hate cops!

Oh, shit. Down!

Just then, a knock on the door diverts Bains' attention!



Sonny, I think he just got a shot off. Are you okay?

Fine! Busy!










Bains is taken down in the barrage of gunfire.

In the twinkling of an eye, the shootout is over. Sprawled unconcious on the carpet with a near-fatal belly wound, lies Jessie Bains, "the Death Angel!"

Oh, wow. You just shot the bad guy.

Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.


Next time, on Police Quest: Victory!

It's finally over.