Authors: Anthony Horowitz
Mindgame (10 page)
A pause
.
FARQUHAR: Yes, what?
A pause
.
STYLER: I want to.
FARQUHAR: You want to kill her!
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR: How do you want to kill her?
STYLER: I don't know.
FARQUHAR: But you do want to kill her? You have the urge?
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR: Well think about how you want to do it. What would you enjoy?
STYLER is confused. He is a man who is beginning to lose his identity
.
Your mother died with a knife driven into the side of her throat.
STYLER: (
Still absorbing the truth
.) I could do that.
FARQUHAR: You could do that. You could have done that. But you can't do that now because we don't have a knife.
PLIMPTON: (
To STYLER
.) He's twisting you!
FARQUHAR: (
To PLIMPTON
.) Shut up!
PLIMPTON: (
To STYLER
.) Pleaseâ¦
FARQUHAR: We do have a scalpelâ¦
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: No. You're right. Too messy for a first time. And the bladeâ¦too small. I'd recommend a gun for a beginner. But alas, we have no gun. What does that leave us? There are various drugs but⦠(
Pause
.) Wait a minute. Wait a minute. We have fire.
PLIMPTON: Jesus, save meâ¦
FARQUHAR: Fire. What do you say to fire? It's easy. It's dramatic. It's painful. Maybe that would be the way to do it. You can always close your eyes if it's too intense. (
Pause
.) Mark?
STYLER nods
.
PLIMPTON: Godâ¦
FRQUHAR: Let me see.
FARQUHAR goes over to the desk and rummages in the drawers
.
Hereâ¦
FARQUHAR produces a can of lighter fuel. He hands it to STYLER
.
Go for it, Mark. (
Pause
.) Go onâ¦
STYLER hesitates, then sprays lighter fuel all over PLIMPTON. She screams and writhes in the chair
.
Listen to her. Imagine if Quentin Tarantino were here. Just imagine it. He'd love this. He wouldn't need to option your book anymore. He could just film this, right here and now. And you know what? People would say it was a masterpiece. Just think Hannibal Lector, Mark. They'd love you.
The stream of petrol ends. PLIMPTON is moaning, writhing. FARQUHAR goes to the desk and takes out the lighter on its chain
.
So now we come to the moment of truth.
STYLER takes the lighter
.
You can do it. You want to do it.
PLIMPTON: No. Don't listen to him. He's twisting your mind. He's the devil, Mark. He's the devil. He's the devil. He's the devil. Please. I told you. I told you â he'll break you down. He'll destroy you. I told youâ¦
STYLER: Shut the fuck up!
A pause
.
I want to do it. (
To FARQUHAR
.) Because I want to be like you.
FARQUHAR: Then do it.
STYLER strikes the lighter and advances on PLIMPTON, with the chain stretching out
.
PLIMPTON: Please, please. Please don't do this. You're not like him. You can't do this. You can't do this.
STYLER reaches the end of the chain. And he's not near enough to reach PLIMPTON. He stands there, a couple of metres short, faintly ridiculous, the lighter in his hand
.
FARQUHAR: Ah.
STYLER: It won't reach.
FARQUHAR: Clumsy. Slightly ludicrous, really.
PLIMPTON sobs with a mixture of horror and relief
.
STYLER: Weâ¦
FARQUHAR: What?
STYLER: We can move her.
FARQUHAR: Lift her up?
STYLER: We can do it together.
FARQUHAR: Together. Alright. You take that sideâ¦
FARQUHAR and STYLER each take one side of the chair and lift up PLIMPTON. She screams and tries to bite STYLER
.
Watch her teeth!
They put her down
.
She's like a woman possessed, damnit. Saint Joan meeting the flames. (
To STYLER
.) Do you want to get it over with?
Once again STYLER picks up the lighter and approaches. This time he can reach. PLIMPTON closes her eyes
.
This is going to be interesting.
STYLER clicks the lighter. It doesn't light. He clicks it again. Nothing. A pause
.
(
Irritated
.) What is it?
STYLER: It's out of fuel.
FARQUHAR: There's the fuel in the can.
STYLER: I used it all.
FARQUHAR: Is it my imagination or have we just taken a downward spiral into farce?
STYLER: I'm sorry. (
Pause
.) I still want to do it.
FARQUHAR: I think the moment has passed, really.
STYLER: Please.
FARQUHAR: Well, we'll have to consider another method.
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR: You could strangle her.
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: I strangled two, maybe three of my victims. I forget the exact number.
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: Wait a minuteâ¦
FARQUHAR goes over to the desk and picks up the plastic Marks & Spencer bag. He takes the box of tissues out of the bag and hands the bag to STYLER
.
Use this.
STYLER looks puzzled
.
FARQUHAR: Use it to smother her.
STYLER: Smother her? With that?
FARQUHAR: Yes.
STYLER: It's Marks & Spencer.
FARQUHAR: That guarantees the quality. Put it over her head. She won't be able to breathe.
STYLER: I could do that.
FARQUHAR: Then do it.
PLIMPTON: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR gives STYLER the bag
.
FARQUHAR: This is getting tedious. Just do it and then let's go.
STYLER takes the bag and advances on PLIMPTON
.
PLIMPTON: Mr Stylerâ¦you can't do this. I'll tell you why you can't do this. Because whatever he says, you're not like
him. You know what you're doing so it's impossible for you toâ¦
As quick as a flash, STYLER whips the bag over PLIMPTON's head and holds it there. The bag cuts out any sound. Tied to the chair, PLIMPTON can barely struggle. But her legs kick more. Meanwhile, FARQUHAR gives advice
.
FARQUHAR: That's right. Trap the ends and keep the air out but don't squeeze her throat. This is death by smothering, a Jacobean device frequently seen on stage. Much loved. It's also the method, incidentally, by which Lee Marvin was killed in Stanley Donen's 1963 classic,
Charade
.
Suddenly PLIMPTON slumps and her legs stop moving. Even then, STYLER doesn't relax his grip. Not until FARQUHAR comes over to him and lays a hand on his arm. And suddenly we become aware that FARQUHAR has changed character again. He is gentler now, rational, sympathetic
.
You've done it.
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR: How did it feel?
STYLER: It feltâ¦
FARQUHAR: Tell me!
STYLER: (
Sobbing
.) It felt horrible!
FARQUHAR: Do you feel remorse?
STYLER shakes his head, unable to speak
.
Do you feel guilt? (
Pause
.) You feel disgust?
STYLER nods
.
You wanted to be Easterman. (
Pause
.) You wanted to be Easterman.
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR: And now you have become Easterman.
STYLER nods. Then realises
.
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: Ssshâ¦!
STYLER: I'm not Easterman.
FARQUHAR: You are Easterman. But you don't want to be.
STYLER: No!
FARQUHAR: It's alright now. We've moved back to the periphery. We're in status nascendi. It's alright.
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: You are Easterman. You were always Easterman. But what we've explored a little more today is why you were Easterman.
A pause
.
STYLER: What are you talking about?
FARQUHAR: (
Gently
.) Eastermanâ¦
STYLER: I'm Styler!
FARQUHAR: You were Styler. That's the name you chose. (
A smile
.) All Styler, no substance. He's gone now.
STYLER: I'm a writer.
FARQUHAR: We have no more time now.
STYLER: What are you doing?
FARQUHAR: That's enough.
STYLER: This is a trick. You're trying to trick me.
âDR FARQUHAR' whips the bag off âNURSE PLIMPTON's' head. She is alive. And she too has changed character. From now
on she is a business-like woman, brittle and serious. Unhappy with what has taken place
.
It would seem that DR FARQUHAR is actually Karel Ennis
.
NURSE PLIMPTON is actually Dr Farquhar
.
And STYLER is actually Easterman
.
FARQUHAR: Tell him, Dr Farquhar.
PLIMPTON: Go back to your room, Easterman. That's enough for today.
A pause
.
STYLER: (
To FARQUHAR
.) Dr Farquhar?
FARQUHAR: (
Indicating PLIMPTON
.) This is Dr Farquhar.
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: (
To PLIMPTON
.) Help him.
PLIMPTON: I'm Dr Farquhar.
STYLER: (
To FARQUHAR
.) So who are you? Who are you telling me� Who are you?
FARQUHAR: I'm Karel Ennis. You know that. I'm your therapist.
STYLER: (
Close to tears again
.) No. You're doing this to me. You're both doing this to me.
PLIMPTON: (
To FARQUHAR
.) Could you please let me out of this chair. I'd like to go and wash.
FARQUHAR: I'm sorryâ¦
FARQUHAR picks up the scalpel and uses it to cut PLIMPTON free. STYLER can only watch as she crosses to the desk and picks up the box of tissues, using one to wipe her face. Then she crosses the room to the door and opens it. Once again it is unlocked. But this time it leads into a small bathroom with white tiles and a
sink. During what follows, she washes and changes. We see her some of the timeâ¦
STYLER: What have you done to me?
FARQUHAR: You know where we've been travelling. You know what we talked about. The shifting anguish of responsibility.
STYLER: No. No. No. No. No. (
Pressing his fingers to his head
.) You're trying to take away who I am. I am Mark Styler. I'm a writer.
FARQUHAR: You tried to kill Nurse Plimpton.
STYLER: (
With difficulty
.) I did itâ¦because I was afraid of you.
FARQUHAR: You did it because you wanted to.
STYLER: No. I have written about murder. I have writtenâ¦
A pause. FARQUHAR sees there is only one way forward
.
FARQUHAR: It's over. You haven't written. There are no books.
STYLER: You had it. You lent it to Borson.
FARQUHAR: You came here in a red BMW. Where is the BMW?
STYLER: It's outside. It's by the main door.
FARQUHAR: Show me.
STYLER crosses to the window. The entire view has gone by now. A high brick wall surrounds the place
.
STYLER: It's gone!
FARQUHAR: No. It was never there. You never drove to Suffolk. We're not in Suffolk. This is Vauxhall. This is the middle of London.
STYLER: But Fairfieldsâ¦
FARQUHAR: That's what you like to call it. But there are no fields. You haven't seen a field for thirty years.
STYLER: This is a trick!
FARQUHAR picks a sheet of paper off the desk. It is the âletter' that STYLER showed FARQUHAR when he first arrived
.
FARQUHAR: This is a copy of the letter you sent me. You showed it to me. You said it was the letter that you wrote to Dr Farquhar.
STYLER: Yes.
FARQUHAR turns it round and now we see that it's a blank sheet of paper
.
FARQUHAR: It's a blank sheet of paper.
STYLER: But you read it!
FARQUHAR: No. How could I? You read it to me.
STYLER: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR: Your tape recorder. The tape recorder you used when you were asking me questionsâ¦
FARQUHAR turns it round to show that it is broken, hollow, with no inner workings
.
It has no tape. It has no batteries. It has no components. It's a shell. Just like Styler.
STYLER: You're saying that I'm mad and you're sane but that's not true. That's not true. It's the other way round. You've taken over the asylum and you're doing this to me, both of you. You're doing this to me because you think you can get away with it. But I know who I am. I know what I am. I knowâ¦what I seeâ¦
STYLER sinks into a chair
.
FARQUHAR: (
Gently
.) âHe does not think there is anything the matter with him because one of the things that is the matter with him is that he does not think there is anything the matter with him.'
PLIMPTON walks back into the room. She has wiped off all the blood make-up and is now smartly dressed as the head of Fairfields. And by now it is her portrait that dominates the room, behind the desk
.
PLIMPTON: He's still here?
FARQUHAR: We're having a little trouble winding down.
PLIMPTON: I'm not surprised. These sessions of yours, Karel, the psychodrama. It's getting out of hand.
FARQUHAR: So you've said.
PLIMPTON: I sometimes wonder what it is exactly that you're trying to achieve. Look at him, for heaven's sake! Sometimes I think your patients end up sicker than they were before you startedâ¦
FARQUHAR: â¦which is something you know perfectly well Moreno was accused of throughout his lifeâ¦
PLIMPTON: Yes!
FARQUHAR: â¦and which he cheerfully acknowledged! (
Quoting
.) âI give them a small dose of insanity under conditions of controlâ¦'
STYLER: You're trying to make me mad.
FARQUHAR: âYou cannot control your emotions until you have fully experienced them.'
PLIMPTON: Yes, yes, yes. But it's the nature of the experience that I'm questioning. And from my own perspective, as head of this establishment and your boss
â which perhaps I should remind you â I'm beginning to find these sessionsâ¦well, frankly humiliating.
