"Diplomatic Immunity"


Adrian Paul (Duncan MacLeod)
Elizabeth Gracen(Amanda)
Peter Wingfield (Methos)
Jim Byrnes as Joe Dawson


Jasper Britton
Anita Dobson
Ed Bishop
Alexis Denisof

Written by James Thorpe
Directed by Richard Martin
Production No. 97604-110
Full Credits

Table of Contents:

BackBack to the Index Page

Teaser Back to Top

London, 1969

Swinson and a woman are driving down a back road, Beatles-esque music playing. The woman hands Swinson a glass of champagne.

Swinson: "Champagne! Thank you." He takes a sip. "So we were at the [Pheasantry] about a year ago. Terrible place, surrounded by these awful pop stars all the time. Rodney comes up to me and says, 'I'd like you to meet my lovely new wife.' So Gerald spots us and he thinks we've come together so he says, 'Glad to see you two patched it up.'" The woman giggles, and they drive on. After a moment, Swinson glances down. "I think we've nearly finished the bottle, haven't we? Doesn't matter." He laughs, jerking his thumb backwards. "There's more in the boot." He laughs again. "A whole case." He taps his cheek, still keeping his eyes on the road. "Give me one more, one more little kiss."

She kisses his cheek and he wriggles happily. "Ooh." He laughs and keeps driving.

As they're driving along, Wille Kingsley suddenly steps out in front of the car. It's too late for Swinson to do anything, and he hits him, sending Willie tumbling over the pavement. Molly Ivers runs up after him, carrying a picnic basket and a box. Swinson and woman get out of the car.

Molly: "No! Oh, my God." She flings herself to the ground beside Willie. "No, please, God, no! Willie . . ." [see Notes]

Swinson wipes his hand over his face, and takes a step forward: "I didn't even see him!"

Molly, still cradling Willie's head: "You've killed me darling Willie. Why didn't you look where you was going?"

Swinson: "He came out of nowhere?" He turns away, his hands to his head in distress.

Molly: "Now I'm all alone in the world. No husband, no insurance."

Swinson, distracted: "Yes."

Molly: "And the kids. The poor little dears will be begging in the streets to scrape for food."

Swinson, spreading his hands: "I wasn't even going that fast!"

Molly: "The bloody hell! You killed the only man I ever loved!" She turns back to Willie, whimpering, "Willie," then says, louder, "You know, I'm sure that's going to be good enough for the police."

Swinson turns back: "Police!"

Molly: "Straight on. You're a murderer, ain't you."

Swinson, dithering as he reaches for his checkbook: "Well, uh, obviously, uh . . ." He takes out his pen, opening the checkbook. "I know that, uh, money could never take the place of a loved one."

Molly: "What do you think you're doing, there?"

Swinson bends down: "What's your name?"

Molly turns back to Willie: "Molly. Molly Ivers."

Swinson, writing it down: "Molly Ivers." He goes on, still writing. "Well, you see, Molly, I would really much rather that the police were not involved. Eh?" He holds out the checkbook.

Molly turns and looks at it: "You're putting me on." She glances at the check again. "For a man like me darling Willie that's an insult, that is."

Swinson straightens, putting the checkbook away: "Yes. Yes, yes, quite correct, of course." He looks at the woman. "I'm sorry. I should never even have suggested such a thing." He turns and walks back toward his car.

Molly looks over her shoulder and speaks up, stopping him: "Now, if you could see your way to adding another zero on there, then . . ."

Swinson glances at his companion again, then turns to Molly: "That's a lot of money!"

Molly: "Yeah, you're right. Proper thing, you know, let the police handle it and make the whole mess public, like." Swinson dives for his checkbook again. "A bloke such as yourself is probably used to seeing your name plastered all over the papers." Molly glances at the woman. "And I'm sure your daughter in the car."

Swinson writes out another check: "Yes. Um, here. Take it." Molly takes the check. "So. No police, then."

Molly: "No need to now, sir. Be a proper funeral for me Willie."

Swinson, backing up: "Very good, very good." He gestures hastily for his companion to follow. "Come on, get in the car."

Molly, calling after him: "God bless you, sir."

Swinson, getting in: "Yes."

Molly: "I thank you from the bottom of me heart."

Swinson: "Yes, thank you."

Molly: "And my little ones thank you, too!"

Swinson, as they drive away: "Don't look. Just, don't look." They drive off, leaving Molly alone in the middle of the road with Willie.

Molly watches the car drive off, and as it does Willie jerks up, coming back to life. He opens his eyes to see the check that Molly is holding in front of his nose.

Wille, his eyes widening: "Oh." He laughs delightedly. "Oh, my God." He takes the check, and gropes for Molly's hand. "Oh, well done, my darling."

Molly, smugly: "All in a day's."

Willie, shaking his finger: "Just drop the false modestly right now, okay?"

Molly, happy: "I was good, wasn't I?"

Willie, reaching for her: "You're the best." He kisses her heartily, making her squeal in delight. "And you're going to get better." Molly laughs.

Act One Back to Top

Present Day

U. S. Consulate, Paris

Consulate General Edward Banner [see Notes] is shaking the hand of a man in uniform.

Edward: "I look forward to meeting her, General." The General bows and walks off, and Edward looks at his watch, moving off after him even as Duncan MacLeod walks up behind him.

Duncan: "Calling it a day, Edward?"

Edward turns, giving a little laugh: "Afraid so, Duncan. One more boring speech and I'll fall asleep standing up."

Duncan laughs, clapping him on the shoulder: "Well, it's all part of the job of the Consulate General, what?" They walk to the stairs together.

Edward, as they walk down the stairs: "Between you and me, it's the worst part. Back-slapping, small talk, flattering the wives of foreign dignitaries. Not quite the battle I thought I'd be fighting for world peace when I joined the diplomatic corps." They stop at the bottom of the stairs. "Still, it's good to see a friendly face. We should meet up for lunch, Duncan. Next week, maybe?"

Duncan: "Yeah, I'd like that." He smiles. "Sooner, if you like." Edward smiles back, and they shake hands.

Outside, Duncan is walking down the street when he senses another immortal. He looks around, and walks around the corner to see a car standing in the street, and an older Molly Ivers kneeling on the asphalt, weeping over Willie's supine corpse while the driver of the car looks on.

Molly, sobbing: "Oh, my God! My husband! You've killed my husband!"

Duncan stares, then takes off his sunglasses and makes a wry face, muttering: "I don't believe it." He starts forward. Molly continues weeping over Willie's body as Duncan approaches the driver of the car. "It's all right, sir. He's not dead."

Molly, indignant: "What do you mean, he's not dead?! Course he's dead." Wailing. "Look at him!"

Duncan, crooning sympathetically as he steps around and grabs Willie's lapels: "Oh, he'll be fine." He picks Willie up, shaking him.

Molly, fiercely, as she pushes Willie down: "Put him down! He's dead, I tell you."

Duncan: "He's fine."

Molly: "Let him be!"

They continue to tug on the body, Duncan pulling up while Molly pushes down, squabbling the whole time, Molly still trying to sob while arguing with Duncan.

Duncan: "He'll be all right."

Molly: "Let him be!"

Willie finally revives, gasping.

Duncan, to Molly: "See?" He looks at the driver. "It's all right, sir. Get back in your car. I'll deal with this from here."

While the driver reaches for his door, Duncan heaves Willie to his feet, Molly watching angrily.

Molly: "Hey, I'm calling the police!"

Duncan, still supporting Willie: "Go ahead." Molly puts her hands on her hips, miffed. Duncan turns Willie to face him, putting a broad grin on his face as Willie sees him.

Willie: "Oh, no."

Duncan, patting his face and falling into his Scottish accent: "Oh, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Willie looks at Molly: "Tell me he didn't pay?"

Molly looks down, nodding grudgingly.

Willie, as Duncan hustles him down the street: "[Dammit] MacLeod, you always were too noble for my own good." [see Notes] Behind them, Molly bends down quickly to gather her dropped things, then trots to catch up. The driver is still standing in the street, watching them leave. Willie is going on. "What did you stick your big nose in for? I mean, what is it, every time you pop out of the woodwork . . ." He looks at Molly as she catches up. "Here, Molly, this is MacLeod. MacLeod, Molly."

Molly and Duncan shake hands, Molly still talking: "Who?"

The three of them walk off, all talking at once. [Sorry, folks. I tried to sort out this conversation, but after a billion tries I just gave up. It's really just a second of squabbling, then we get the flashback. --Jinjifore]

Flashback London, 1836 Back to Top

Duncan is walking through a wooded place, looking around as he senses another immortal. He glances over to an open field, and sees Smythe and another man walking towards a third man, who's standing by the lake. Willie is approaching in the distance. Duncan walks toward them the first man is saying to Smythe, "The last will and testament, sir, was left on the desk early this morning." They all meet at the lake, gathering around the third man, who has a doctor's bag on the grass beside him. Smythe's friend is carrying a wooden case, and he steps aside with it as they meet Willie.

Willie, spotting Duncan: "Ah, my good friend MacLeod. Lovely day to die, wouldn't you say?"

Duncan walks quickly past Smythe, tipping his hat and smiling: "A moment with your opponent, sir."

Willie, as Duncan walks up to him: "If you don't mind, this is a personal matter."

Duncan: "What are you up to now, Willie?"

Willie: "Well, what does it look like?"

Duncan, glancing at Smythe: "Do you no think you have an unfair advantage?"

Willie, feigning puzzlement: "We should both have pistols."

Duncan makes an exasperated noise, then grabs his arm and pulls him away: "May I remind you, you're an immortal, he's not."

Willie: "Piffle. He challenged me." Smythe glares impatiently. Willie continues. "And, if you really want to know, I have no intention of killing him. I want to lose. So, come on, trust me, mate."

Duncan looks from Smythe to Willie: "Well, I'll tell you one thing, 'mate.' You kill him, it won't be your last duel today."

Willie nods knowingly: "Understood." He steps a little closer, and his voice hardens, losing its light tone. "And understand this, MacLeod. This matter doesn't concern you. You interfere at your own peril."

Duncan nods, as Smythe's second speaks.

Second: "Gentleman, if you will gather your weapons, please."

Willie smiles and slaps Duncan's arm, saying expansively: "Grand. Absolutely grand. You shall be my second."

Duncan, bowing: "Oh, an honor, sir." He goes to join Smythe's second while Willie and Smythe approach each other.

Second, walking up with the pistol case: "Pistols, gentlemen."

Duncan stands between Smythe and Willie.

Willie, aside to Duncan: "We have the honor of the count."

Duncan: "Very well." He addresses Smythe hopefully. "Is there any chance of a reconciliation?"

Smythe, with pompous indignation: "My honor has been besmirched. I shall have satisfaction."

Duncan clears his throat: "Very well, then. Prepare yourselves, gentlemen." He steps aside and Smythe's second moves up, carrying the pistol case.

Second: "You have first choice of the weapon, sir." Willie picks up one of the pistols. The second offers the box to Smythe. "And your weapon, sir." Smythe picks it up. Willie and Smythe regard one another, pistols ready. The second goes on. "Now, gentleman, if you'll about face." They turn back to back.

Duncan: "On the count of ten. One. Two. Three." Willie and Smythe pace away from each other, keeping time with Duncan's counting. "Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten."

They turn around, and Willie fires, missing Smythe completely, shooting off the second's hat instead. Willie puts his hand to his mouth in distress, then, turns to Smythe. Smythe levels his pistol, and Willie spreads his arms, thrusting his breast out for the fatal shot. Smythe fires, and Willie staggers back, choking. He brings his hand to his chest, staring at the blood on his fingers, then looks at Smythe, his face slack with shock. He staggers over to Duncan, thrusting the pistol at him. Duncan takes it while Smythe stares, dumbfounded. Finally, Willie falls backward, clutching his chest, and dies while Duncan stands, grimacing almost in embarassment. The doctor kneels beside Willie for a moment, then stands without a word and leaves.

Smythe removes his hat: "Many a man I've seen face death. But none so nobly as your friend."

Duncan: "Aye, there aren't--there weren't many like him." He looks down at Willie, who's smiling blissfully. Smythe bows and leaves.

Later, Willie revives, still lying in the field. He looks around, and spots Duncan sitting under a tree, Willie's hat propped on his knee. Duncan smiles and wiggles his fingers, and Willie waves back, getting up. He walks over to Duncan, taking off his coat.

Willie: "Good of you to wait, MacLeod."

Duncan, dryly: "Oh, I wouldn't have missed this for the world." Willie laughs, walking on past him, and Duncan turns his head to follow him, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

Willie glances back: "Huh? Oh. First things first." He walks over to another tree, and picks up a pair of travelling bags.

Duncan groans: "Oh. Unbelievable."

Willie walks back to him: "It is amazing what a man will do for one hundred thousand pounds."

Duncan looks at him smiling but wary: "I beg your pardon?"

Willie starts taking off his shirt: "My illustrious opponent Smythe and I are partners."

Duncan: "Were partners."

Willie: "Oh, yeah. Sorry." He laughs, wriggling out of the bloodstained shirt. "Correct. Were partners." He reaches in his bag for a clean shirt. "We had a little trading company, and lo and behold if Smythe didn't discover a wee hole in the coffers."

Duncan, considering: "A hundred thousand pounds, perhaps?"

Willie, pointing to them both as he shrugs the new shirt on: "There, now, what have I been saying all this time about you and me? Great minds, and all that?" He continues. "So, Smythe confronted me, and you know, being an honest man by nature--" Duncan laughs derisively. Willie grins at him, but goes on. "I found myself in the uneviable position of having to tell the truth. Be of good cheer, man. Smythe's an upper-class bore. By killing me, he's restored his honor. And at a hundred thousand pounds I think he got off quite cheaply." He looks at Duncan, tucking in his shirt and vest. "So what's the problem, huh? He's happy. I'm happy."

Duncan, smiling: "You're a thief and an embezzler."

Willie looks at him sharply, saying evenly: "It's a good thing you're a friend, MacLeod." He finishes buttoning his vest. "Anyway, it's getting late. I must be off."

Duncan gets up: "Where are you going?"

Willie: "Catching a ship to the Americas. Greener pastures, and all that, you know."

Duncan: "And, it'd be rather unfortunate if you bumped into Smythe."

Willie: "Yeah, yeah. That, too." He steps forward, holding out his hand. "Well, thanks for everything." Duncan holds out his hat. "Oh." Willie takes the hat and puts it on jauntily, then shakes hands with Duncan.

Duncan, wryly: "Don't mention it."

Willie slaps his shoulder, and leaves.

Present Day Back to Top

At the barge, Molly is taking a jacket out of the box she was carrying, smiling as she shakes it out. Willie is talking to Duncan.

Willie: "Isn't this the setup." He steps out onto the deck from below, looking around admiringly.

Duncan, following him with a bottle of champagne in a cooler: "It's home."

Willie: "Hah! Home? Home and a slow getaway vehicle all in one. Aren't you the sly one?"

Duncan, laughing: "You haven't changed a bit, Willie."

Willie: "Thank you." He holds out his arms to Molly as they cross the deck, and she helps him slip into the fresh jacket. He turns with a happy sigh as Duncan sets the champagne down.

Willie: "No crystal?"

Duncan: "Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was going to find your dead body in the street." He slips back into his Scottish brogue. "Otherwise I would have been more prepared for the celebration."

Molly, to Willie: "Don't be ungracious, love."

Duncan, to Molly: "What did you ever do to deserve him?"

Molly, as she puts her arms around Willie: "Picked his pocket."

Duncan turns: "You're kidding."

Willie grins, hugging Molly to him in his turn: "That's my girl."

Molly: "Twenty-nine years ago."

Willie: "And you picked the leather right out from under my nose."

Molly, looking up at him: "Said I was the best you ever saw."

Willie: "That you were, dearie. And you stole my heart right along with my wallet."

Duncan pops the cork on the bottle: "Champagne, anyone?"

Willie watches him pour: "See what I mean, my darling? The man's generous to a fault."

Duncan looks up, saying warningly: "No. Not this time."

Willie, innocent: "I haven't even asked you yet."

Duncan looks at him warily as he hands out the glasses.

Molly: "Thank you."

Willie: "Strictly a loan." He clinks his glass with Molly's.

Molly, beseechingly: "Willie . . ."

Willie: "All right, all right. Forget the money." He takes a sip of champagne. "You wouldn't mind putting us up here for a few days, would you?"

Duncan, smiling hesitantly: "You want to stay here."

Willie: "Well, you know, it is a bit spartan for my tastes, you know, and we would be a bit cramped, I suppose, but I'm sure we could manage."

Duncan, nodding: "You think so."

Willie: "Yeah! What's a little snoring between friends. And you've got plenty of hot water, have you." He points to Molly, who's looking more embarassed by the minute. "She takes long showers, this one. And breakfast. Still addicted to those bangers in the morning." Duncan looks over the water, smiling, shaking his head as he figures out a way to stop him. "Difficult commodity to find in Paris, of course, but I'm sure you'll manage." Willie sighs wistfully. "Grilled tomatoes. Lots of coffee. Plenty of fresh coffee." Molly is looking up at Willie pleadingly, but looks back as Duncan slaps his wallet on the table.

Molly: "No, we couldn't."

Duncan holds up the wallet: "No, you couldn't, but he could." He holds out the wallet.

Willie, reaching for it: "If you insist."

Duncan draws it back: "Oh, I insist." He looks at Willie. "Just a loan."

Willie's face falls, but he nods casually: "Oh, well, yeah."

Duncan starts counting out bills: "That enough?" It clearly isn't, and Duncan counts out some more, holding it out. He and Willie stare at each other, smiling, until Willie finally snatches the money from his hand. Molly laughs, and Willie waves the money under her nose.

Molly: "Oh, stop!"

Willie: "Anything for an old friend, eh?" He and Molly drink their champagne, Molly laughing.

On a small side street, Edward pulls up in a Mercedes, parking at the curb. Unseen by him, his son Steve is lurking nearby. He watches as Edward gets out, and fades back as Edward helps a woman out of the car.

Edward: "Here you are, my dear." He locks the car and triggers the alarm, then takes her arm and begins to lead her inside. "I hope you don't mind parking around the back. He gestures at the ivy-covered walls, talking as they walk in. Steve waits, listening, while they draw further away. "Oh, look at this. These vines remind me of my garden at the consulate. You've never seen it have you? I'll get you out there sometime . . ." They walk off together, Edward still talking, and Steve moves out from his place of concealment. He takes a set of keys from his pocket and disarms the car, then gets in and drives away. Once he's gone a little distance, he takes a vial from his pocket and taps a line of coke onto his steering hand, preparing to sniff it even as he's driving.

Molly and Willie are walking along, Willie tucking his wallet into his jacket while Molly looks up at him reproachfully.

Molly: "Did you have to put the touch on MacLeod like that? We've already got loads."

Willie, defensive: "You saw it, the man threw the money at me." Molly makes a doubtful noise, and Willie smiles. "Anyway, besides, it's good to keep your hand in." He looks up as he sees Steve's car lurch into the street, nearly hitting a car going the other way. The driver of the other car leans out, shaking a fist.

Driver: "Hey! What, are you crazy?"

As he drives on, Molly glances back, seeing Willie staring at the scene. She whips her head to look at the car, then back to Willie.

Molly, firm: "Uh-oh. No." Willie nods quickly. "No!" She rushes to him, waggling her finger. "Absolutely not." She pushes past Willie, but he takes her arms.

Willie, pleading over her protests: "Oh, come on, [?]. Just one." He holds up an illustrative finger. "Just one."

Molly is shaking her head: "No no no. Can't we just go to the Riveria, as planned?"

Willie, nodding eagerly: "Yeah. And I'll buy you a string bikini for the beach."

Molly, knocking his hands away: "You will not!" She breaks away, smoothing at her dress. "I haven't the figure for that anymore."

Willie, crooning as he puts his arms around her: "You have in my eyes. To me you'll always be the sweet young lass . . ."

Molly smiles, giving in: "Keep talking."

Willie laughs. Up the street, Steve has gotten past the other car and is coming on down the street.

Molly: "All right. Just one more." She holds up a finger, and Willie bats at it with his own.

Willie, whispering mockingly: "Just one."

They have a brief duel with the fingers, Molly hissing: "Will you stop it!" They kiss quickly, Molly jerks her head at the street. "Go."

Willie darts off toward the street, and Molly watches him, shaking her head and smiling. As Steve barrels along the street, Willie steps out in front of him and lets himself get hit by the car. He smashes into the windshield, then rolls out into the street. As Steve gets out, dazed, Molly, on cue, shrieks and runs out into the street.

Molly: "Oh, my God no!" She falls to her knees beside Willie, sobbing loudly. "Willie! Oh, my husband! He's dead!" Steve watches her, still a little dazed. Molly looks at him. "You killed him!"

Steve, flatly: "Where did he come from?"

Molly points at his car: "Fancy car, isn't it, for a young bloke to be driving."

Steve backs away, still speaking as if distracted: "No. It's not my car."

Molly: "It's probably stolen, is it?" She sobs some more. "We'll have to call the police. They'll have to be told."

Steve looks at her for a moment, then his mouth tightens and he starts taking in his surroundings. He looks around the street, at the empty windows and balconys.

Molly is going on, oblivious: "Not that it matters to somebody like you, you're probably loaded with money. And we haven't got any." There's a pile of broken concrete bricks on the street. Steve goes over and picks one up. "And I've got kids as well. Oh, Willie, what are we going to do?" Steve walks toward her, slowly. "We'll have to call the police. They'll have to be told." She leans over, sobbing, and Steve raises his arm. "You could easily write us a check . . ." Steve brings the brick down, smashing her in the back of the head. She falls over Willie's body, blood running down her neck. Steve walks back to the car, still carrying the brick, and gets in. As he starts the car, Willie revives.

Willie, feeling Molly lying on him: "So, pet, how'd we do, eh?" He twists his head, squinting up as Steve roars off. He tries again. "Molly. Hm?" He realizes something is wrong, and gets up, catching Molly as she rolls off him. "God! Oh." He grabs for her, looking up as Steve squeals around the corner, the license plate clearly visible for a moment. Willie turns back to Molly, pulling her up frantically. "Come on, wake up. Wake up!" He pats her face, repeating almost hysterically, "Wake up, wake up." He seizes her arm, feeling for her pulse, and only then realizes the truth. He clutches her to him, sobbing, "Please, no." He rocks her to him, sobbing. "No, no, no."

Act Two Back to Top

At the barge, Willie is standing on deck, talking to Duncan.

Willie: "Are you crazy? I can't go to the cops." He paces around. "I mean, come on, wake up. You think they'll give a damn about a small-time crook with a dead girlfriend--" His voice breaks on the last word, and he slumps down, burying his head in his hands, then pressing his fist to his mouth. Duncan looks at him sympathetically, saying nothing. Willie looks up. "She was my life, MacLeod. Twenty-nine years. Not long by our standards. But they were sure as hell the best years of this rotten scoundrel's life." Duncan looks away, and Willie looks out over the water. "She didn't deserve to die that way."

Duncan: "No, she didn't."

Willie looks down, saying pleadingly: "Please, help me." Duncan looks at him, stepping around to stand beside him. "I--I can't do it by myself."

Duncan puts a hand on his shoulder: "You got it."

Willie straightens up: "I got part of the license plate. A couple of numbers, a letter."

Duncan: "Willie, whatever we find out, we let the law deal with."

Willie stands up: "To hell with the law! I've lived five hundred years without the law, I don't need it now."

Duncan: "If we find out who killed Molly--"

Willie: "I kill him."

Duncan, exasperated: "No, Willie." He looks at Willie sternly. "We do it my way or you're on your own."

Willie stares at him for a moment: "You're a hard bastard, MacLeod."

Duncan smiles a little: "It's your choice."

Willie considers, then nods grudgingly: "All right, all right." He looks at Duncan. "For Molly. We'll try it your way." Duncan walks off, satisfied, and Willie watches him go. But when Duncan's out of earshot, he adds, "For now."

At the police station, Duncan comes out and meets Willie on the street.

Willie, as they walk off to the car together: "When did you get so friendly with the cops?"

Duncan: "Since I didn't make a career out of being a criminal.

Willie: "Oh, yeah, okay, okay." He leans on the hood of Duncan's Range Rover. "So give. Who owns it?"

Duncan turns and looks at him, hesitating: "It's not who, it's what." He walks around to open the car.

Willie: "Run that by me one more time?"

Duncan: "The car's owned by the American Embassy."

Willie: "Well that's no good, is it. It could be any one of a hundred people."

Duncan looks at him, then heads for his door again: "Come one. I might know somebody that could narrow it down." He gets in, and Willie joins him.

At the Embassy, Duncan and Willie get out and walk to the gate.

Willie is saying: "No, I was born a scoundrel and I'll die one. I couldn't help myself if I tried."

Duncan, annoyed: "Oh, spare me, Willie. Try conning somebody else."

Willie looks at him and chuckles: "You always could see through me, MacLeod. Okay, I'm not making any excuses for my life. I've had dozens of chances to change it."

Duncan: "So why don't you? I've seen other people do it. You can, too."

Willie: "Why should I?"

Duncan, taking a deep breath: "Because it killed Molly."

Willie stops him, putting a hand on his arm and saying firmly: "No. The life didn't kill Molly. The bastard in that car killed Molly." Duncan says nothing, and Willie looks away, staring at the Embassy. "Molly loved the life, same as I do." He looks down, then back at Duncan. "You know what it's like, when you look a mark in the eyes, and you know you've got him." He curls a finger into the front of Duncan's shirt, smiling. "You know he's hooked in so deep you know the only way he can go is straight into your pocket." He lets him go.

Duncan, not impressed: "And then he goes home to his wife and tries to explain why he's lost a year's pay." Willie makes a face. "Or a college education for his kids. And don't tell me you only go for those people that deserve it. Or can afford it." He touches Willie's arm. "You're not that careful." He walks away.

Inside Edward's office, Duncan and Willie are listening to Edward speak.

Edward: "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Kingsley, but I'm not sure what I can do, Duncan."

Duncan, taking out a notepad: "Um, I have a partial number of a license plate from a car from this embassy." He tears off a sheet and hands it over.

Willie, low and angry: "And whoever drove that car is a murdering bastard."

Edward looks at him doubtfully.

Duncan, politely: "Could you look up the number for us?"

Edward looks at the paper: "I don't need to."

Duncan, a little startled: "Why?"

Edward: "This plate's from my car."

Duncan, puzzled: "Your car?"

Willie, cold: "You." Edward says nothing, his expression almost smug.

Duncan, to Willie: "Hold on." He turns to Edward. "Does anybody else have access to your car?"

Willie, interrupting even as Edward draws breath to answer: "Where were you yesterday at four o'clock."

Duncan gestures for Willie to lay off: "Willie, hold on."

Willie ignores him, leaning forward to confront Edward: "I'm waiting for an answer. Where were you?"

Duncan, his voice rising: "I said, 'hold on.'" Under his desk, Edward presses a hidden button.

Willie, going on as if Duncan hadn't spoken: "Bashing innocent women on the head!"

Duncan: "Willie, stop it!"

Edward, to Willie: "My personal schedule is none of your affair, sir."

Willie: "Damn you." He surges up from his chair. "Murdering bastard!"

Duncan restrains him, throwing his arms around him and pulling him towards the door: "I said I warned you, Willie."

A security man comes in, and Edward rises from behind his desk.

Willie, as he's being dragged out by Duncan: "Looky here. Calling out his goon squad. Is that the action of an innocent man?"

Duncan, to Edward even as he's still struggling to hold Willie: "I'm sorry about this Edward, but there has to be a good explanation."

Edward: "I'm sure there is, Duncan, but now you'll have to excuse me." He waves them away, and the security guard ushers them out.

Willie, as he bundled through the door: "I'm sorry if I seem a little upset, but murder puts me in a foul mood!"

When they're gone, Edward looks down at the paper in his hand, thoughtful, then crumples it angrily in his fist.

Outside, Duncan is trying to calm Willie down as they walk away.

Duncan, urgently: "We don't know anything for sure yet. All we have is a number and a partial plate."

Willie shakes him off: "Well, this is all I need." He stops suddenly, and looks off to the side. "What have we got here." Duncan follows him over to where the Mercedes is sitting, parked half in a garage. "MacLeod. This is it. But there's no--no dents."

Duncan bends down and feels under the bumper: "It's been hammered out recently."

Willie thumps the car with his fist: "I knew it!" He gets up, furious, and starts back for the house.

Duncan grabs him, twisting his arm up behind him: "Oh, nonononono."

Willie, gesturing at the house: "Friend or no friend. I'm going to string that bastard up by the short hairs. Let me go!"

Duncan: "I said I would handle it, I meant it." He starts walking him back, pressed up close behind Willie, still holding him.

Willie: "Okay. Okay. I'll just stand there, hm? I won't say a word. Quiet as a church mouse!" He struggles again, but Duncan holds him easily.

Duncan, calm: "What you will do, is you will go back to the barge and you will wait for me there."

Willie, nearly spitting in frustration: "But the--!"

Duncan: "No buts."

Willie: "But--"

Duncan, firm: "Case closed." He gives him a gentle shake. "Understood?"

Willie finally nods, and shakes loose as Duncan releases him. He turns and glares, still angry, but then he moves off. Duncan turns and looks back at the house.

Duncan and Edward are walking along through the woods.

Edward, calm: "Are you accusing me of murder, Duncan?"

Duncan, gently: "No one's accusing anybody." He pauses. "But what would you do, Edward? There's an eyewitness report, the plates match, there's even new body work on the car."

Edward nods: "I see. And if I could provide an alibi for that afternoon?"

Duncan looks at him: "That would help."

Edward sighs and puts his hands in his pockets: "Did you know that I have a chance at the Ambassadorship?"

Duncan, dutifully if not exactly sincerely: "Congratulations."

Edward: "After years of standing in someone else's shadows." He makes a face, hesitating before admitting, "I was with a woman, Duncan."

Duncan looks at him: "Woman?"

Edward: "Mistress." He sighs, explaining, "In three days, I come before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Any hint of scandal, I won't get their confirmation. I'll give you her number. You can call her if you like."

Duncan looks at him, then starts walking again: "Yeah, but someone killed Molly. Someone using your car."

Edward looks away, his face worried.

Later, Steve comes into his father's office.

Steve, heading right for the liquor table: "You wanted me?"

Edward: "The spare key. To the Mercedes."

Steve, pouring a drink: "What about it?"

Edward: "I can't find it."

Steve: "So?"

Edward: "Did you borrow it?"

Steve picks up his drink, walking to a chair: "You mean did I steal it?"

Edward: "Steve . . ."

Steve: "Same old crap. Something's gone, I took it. Money's missing, I stole it. Can't cut me any slack, can you. Not for one [damn] second."

Edward, more sternly: "Steve, did you borrow the car yesterday."

Steve sits down, dusting his hands together. He looks up at Edward, his expression cold.

Steve, levelly: "How the hell could I? You used it to visit your whore." Edward leans back, closing his eyes. He puts a hand to his mouth as Steve goes on bitterly, "Yeah, I know. Everybody knows except Mom." He looks at Edward. "So, don't try and lecture me."

Edward, gentle but firm: "Son. Did you kill anybody? If you did, I have to know."

Steve, getting up again: "You have to know everything, don't you? Who I see, what I do, when I take a leak." He turns to him. "Never give me a second to breathe."

Edward: "Did you kill that woman?"

Steve turns away, then back: "No." He makes a "see?" face. "There. Happy?" He turns to leave, but stops as Edward speaks again.

Edward, nearly in tears: "You didn't take a rock and bash her skull in?"

Steve, over his shoulder, his voice breaking: "Get off my back!"

Edward, quiet: "Is my son a cold-blooded murderer?"

Steve turns back, smiling meanly, cold again: "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Poor Edward. Such a nice man. Shame his son never turned out. I hear he stole a car. Why, he even does drugs. Shameful."

Edward slaps the desk: "Enough! Get out of my sight."

Steve nods, then turns to go again. But he stops.

Steve, gently, almost affectionately: "Dad . . ."

Edward: "I said, get out."

Steve, not looking at him, the affectionate note gone now: "Doesn't matter whether I killed her or not." He walks out, saying, "Thanks to you, Daddy, I have diplomatic immunity."

When he's gone, Edward leans back, looking out the window as he begins to cry quietly.

At the barge, Willie is waiting at the top of the ramp as Duncan drives up and gets out of his car.

Willie, impatient: "Well? Come on!"

Duncan, walking to the ramp: "Edward's innocent."

Willie, shortly: "Just like that?"

Duncan, patient: "He has an alibi."

Willie: "Why, because he told you he did? How do you know he didn't set it up?"

Duncan, evenly but firm: "I believe him."

Willie: "I don't." He starts to push past Duncan, but Duncan stops him. Willie turns, shaking a finger. "Not everyone is blessed with your code of ethics, or honor, or whatever the hell you call it."

Duncan: "We will find the truth."

Willie: "Back off, MacLeod. We already have." He leaves.

Act Three Back to Top

Driving a plumber's van, Willie pulls up to the gates of the Embassy. A guard comes up, and Willie leans out, smiling.

Willie: "Plumbing emergency."

Guard, not impressed: "First I heard about it."

Willie: "Well, it's only just happened. Toilet, second floor master." He lowers his voice. "Not very pretty, I understand." He gestures at the closed gate. "Would you mind?"

Guard, looking the van over: "Yeah." He turns back to his station. "I got to check first."

Willie, laughing nervously: "Well, it's your call, but you-know-who's not going to be happy about you-know-what." The guard doesn't answer, just reaches for the phone, keeping his back to Willie. Willie slips out of the van, sneaks up and clobbers him with a monkey wrench.

Still armed with his plumber's disguise, including wrench, Willie walks up to the front door and raps on the glass. After a moment, a butler appears.

[Note: the following exchange is entirely in French, with subtitles. Don't ask me why. Maybe someone took pity on my aunguish. :) Anyway, I just copied the subtitles. --Jinjifore]

Butler: "[Can I help you, sir?]"

Willie: "[On the contrary, I'm here to help you.]"

Butler, frowning: "[I beg your pardon?]"

Willie: "[Plumbing emergency on the second floor.]"

The Butler looks past Willie, his expression suspicious: "[Just one moment, sir.]"

He turns away. As soon as his back is turned, Willie lunges forward and knocks him out with the wrench.

In another part of the house, Edward is talking on the phone.

Edward: "Thanks, Duncan. We'll keep our eyes open." He hangs up, just as Willie bursts in, waving a gun. He points the gun around the room, checking for guards, then levels it on Edward.

Edward: "No, don't. Mr. Kingsley, you don't understand. You've got this all wrong." He holds out his hands, pleading. "It's not what it seems." Behind Willie, a security man slips in, and aims his gun at Willie's back. Edward goes on. "Please, you don't know the whole story. Don't . . ." The guard fires. Willie flinches, but doesn't move, gasping a little as he smiles at Edward. Then the gun goes slack in his hand and he falls down, dead. The guard walks up, keeping his gun on him as he reaches out with his foot and presses down on Willie's gun hand. Edward falls down in his chair, stunned and shaken.

The next day, Duncan is waiting in the hall. He gets up and paces, then turns as the butler, now sporting a bandage (and speaking perfect English), walks up to him.

Butler: "Consulate General Banner will be with you shortly."

Duncan: "Thank you."

The butler leaves, and behind Duncan another door opens and Steve walks in. He sees Duncan and abruptly changes directions, trying to leave before he's spotted, but Duncan is already turning around.

Duncan, sounding pleased: "Steve? Hi, there!"

Steve, laughing feebly: "Oh, yeah. Hi, Duncan." He gestures at the door. "Uh, I'll see you later."

Duncan, calling him back: "Well, I heard you had a little bit of excitement yesterday."

Steve, uncomfortable: "Uh, yeah. Some lunatic got shot." He heads for another door. "I got to go."

Duncan: "What's your hurry?"

Steve: "Well, I got to get ready. I'm leaving. Dad's sending me home, so I got to pack, get my--I got things to do." He heads for the door again.

Duncan, frowning: "What's he sending you home for?"

Steve, smiling unconvincingly: "Oh, you know the old man. He gets something in his head." He reaches for the door. "I got to go, really. I got to go."

Duncan: "Good to see you, Steve."

Steve nods: "Yeah."

Duncan: "I'll see you soon."

Steve: "See you." He leaves. Duncan turns back, frowning to himself.

Duncan finds Edward in his office, having a drink.

Duncan: "A little early for that, isn't it?"

Edward: "Is it?"

Duncan paces to the window: "I saw Steve in the hall. He looked a little . . . strung out."

Edward: "Understandable, I suppose. His father was almost murdered yesterday."

He takes another sip of his drink.

Duncan: "Tell me, Edward. Why are you sending him home?"

Edward, still not looking at him: "You know why, don't you?"

Duncan, softly: "Yes."

In the gardens, the two men continue the conversation.

Edward: "I've always tried to do the right thing. The life of a career diplomat, not as glamorous as it sounds. Always travelling, different country every few years. It's been hard on us all, but especially hard on Steve."

Nearby, Willie heaves himself up onto the roof of an outbuilding, dragging himself up. He kneels down under cover of the sheltering branches, and reaches into a bag beside him, pulling out a rifle and a scope.

Edward is still explaining to Duncan: "Steve borrowed the Embassy car that day to go buy drugs. He knew he wouldn't be stopped and searched." Duncan looks away, and Edward goes on. "You see, I can't help feeling that somehow I was behind the wheel myself."

Duncan, gently: "You can't prepare him for life and protect him from it at the same time. He's twenty-four years old, Edward, and the only person that's responsible for Steve's actions is Steve."

On the roof, Willie is finishing putting the rifle together.

Edward: "I can't do what you want."

Duncan, pacing around: "I'm not asking you to do it because I want it. It's because it's right, it's just."

Edward: "Easier said than done, Duncan."

Duncan: "I never said it was going to be easy."

Edward, as Willie prepares to aim: "How can I send my son to prison when I have the power just to send him home?"

Willie cocks the gun, and at that moment he and Duncan sense each other. Duncan looks around, and Willie raises the gun.

Duncan, as Willie lines up Edward through the scope: "Willie."

Edward: "What?"

Duncan, taking his arm: "Get inside." The scope follows them as Duncan urges Edward along.

Edward: "What's going on? What are you doing?"

Duncan, trying to spot Willie and shield Edward: "Get inside, now!" He keeps looking around, but doesn't see Willie. He pushes Edward ahead. "Go! Go!"

Edward stops, turning back to look at Duncan, putting himself right in Willie's sights: "What? What's going on?"

Willie fires. Edward falls, a bullet through his chest. Duncan rushes to him.

Duncan, lifting his head: "Edward. Edward, it's okay."

Edward, choking: "Duncan . . . Please, look out for my son."

Duncan: "Edward. Edward!" But Edward chokes again, and dies. Duncan lays his head back down, then looks up for Willie, but he's gone. He turns back to Edward. He reaches out to close Edward's eyes, then sits back slowly, still kneeling Edward's body.

Act Four Back to Top

At the barge, Willie and Duncan are standing inside, talking.

Willie is saying: "I won't apologize for killing him. But I am sorry I hurt you."

Duncan is staring out a porthole, not looking at Willie: "You came all this way to tell me that?" Sarcastic. "How considerate."

Willie considers a moment: "We've been friends a long time. Let's put this behind us, move on." Duncan swallows tightly, but doesn't turn back, and doesn't answer. Willie sighs. "And I thought you were a bigger man than that."

Duncan turns away from the window, his jaw tight with anger: "You killed the wrong person."

Willie, exasperated: "Oh, you're crazy . . ."

Duncan, louder: "You murdered an innocent man!"

Willie, waving his hand: "You're a broken record!"

Duncan, stalks toward him: "And you're a damn fool! Edward didn't kill Molly!"

Willie, nodding: "Oh, yeah? Then who did?"

Duncan, almost shouting: "He wasn't even driving the car!"

Willie: "Well, it wasn't driving itself, was it?"

Duncan's temper finally snaps, and he turns, grabbing Willie's shirt, shaking him and shouting in his face: "His son Steve was driving it, damn you!"

Willie, deadly quiet: "What are you talking about?"

Duncan releases him with one last push, and walks off: "He was looking for drugs. He knew a diplomatic car wouldn't be searched. The only thing the man you murdered was guilty of was protecting his son."

Willie nods: "And that little puke killed my Molly."

Duncan, seeing where this is headed now: "His father's dead. The family's repaid its debt."

Willie: "Not good enough, mate."

Duncan, warning him: "Oh, it has to be, mate, because if you go after Steve I *have* to come after you."

Willie: "Granted, you'll try. Nothing else you could do, no one else you could be. That's your code, MacLeod." He pauses, and finishes tightly, "But I've got a code of my own." He leaves.

Duncan stands for a moment, his mouth pursed in anger. He looks over at the chest against the wall, then walks to it and opens it. His katana is lying on top of the other things, still wrapped and sheathed. After a second, Duncan picks it up and draws the blade. He looks at it for a moment, then shuts the chest and walks away, holding the blade in his hands.

At the Consulate, Steve is just reaching into a drawer, pulling out a vial and starting to tap coke onto his hand. He drops the vial as the door opens and looks up to see Duncan. Steve looks terrible, unshaven and with swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

Duncan glances away, then comes in, shutting the door: "Allergies?"

Steve, his voice shaking even on the short syllable: "H-hey." He licks quickly at the spot of powder still on his hand.

Duncan paces in, holding his coat over his hands: "I'm sorry about your father, Steve."

Steve crumples up a handkerchief, sticking it in his pocket: "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Duncan, gently: "Sit down." He puts his coat on a chair.

Steve, moving toward the door: "I got to--I got to go."

Duncan, still calm and gentle, but not a tone to argue with: "I said sit."

Steve turns back, then walks quickly to a chair and sits, coughing.

Duncan waits a second, then speaks quietly: "Her name was Molly." Steve glances up, puzzled. Duncan goes on. "Molly Ivers. She was born in Cornwall, 1946, a year after the war. You know, her mom used to say a child born in celebration would live a long and merry life." Duncan pauses, and looks at Steve, who's listening, not sure why he's being told. "She loved dancing. And dark ales."

Steve, trying to be diffident: "Yeah."

Duncan: "And chocolates."

Steve nods: "Yeah, so?"

Duncan: "So you killed her."

Steve stands up: "Get out!"

Duncan: "I just thought you'd like to know her name."

Steve spreads his hands: "I-I'll call security."

Duncan: "You can call whoever you wish. But one way or another, you're going to pay for killing Molly."

Steve turns away: "Leave me alone."

Duncan starts walking foward: "You didn't mean to kill her, did you, Steve? You got scared. Your father died to save your life." He bows his head. "It was his gift to you. Don't throw it away."

Steve: "You know, I don't have to listen to this."

Duncan: "No, you don't." He glances at him. "But you have to live with it." Steve looks at him, but before he says anything Duncan senses another immortal.

He looks around.

Steve: "What? What's wrong?"

Duncan heads for the door: "If you want to keep breathing, lock the door." He gets his coat. "And open it to no one." He leaves.

On the lawn, Duncan walks rapidly to meet Willie, who's approaching with his sword drawn.

Duncan: "This is a very bad idea."

Willie, still walking forward, determined: "Only if you try to stop me, MacLeod."

Duncan draws his sword, and faces him. They fight. It's never really much of a contest, Duncan blocking Willie handily with his hands and arms as well as with the sword, fighting him defensively until he neatly snatches the sword from Willie's hand. Willie falls back, the hilt of Duncan's sword pressed against his chest, restraining him.

Willie finally fetches up against a tree, and closes his eyes: "Go ahead, mate."

Duncan: "We were mates." He nods slightly. "That's why you live." He pauses. "As long as the boy lives."

Willie shakes his head, saying angrily: "God damn you, MacLeod, who are you to say who lives or dies?!"

Duncan presses harder: "Exactly." He waits, and finally Willie nods, agreeing. "If I hear of the premature death of Stever Banner, I will come for you."

Willie nods: "Understood." Duncan withdraws, taking the sword away. Willie pushes himself away from the tree. "Bravo. Well done. I would have done the same for you, you know." Duncan turns back slowly, his expression dark and also disbelieving. Willie goes on, getting cheerier by the minute as he strides forward, smiling. "So, now that's all out of the way--" He holds out his hand. "Put her there, huh?" Duncan looks at him stonily. "Oh, come on, pal. No hard feelings, huh?"

Duncan glances down at his hand, then turns and walks away, leaving Willie standing alone, the smile fading from his face. Duncan walks off without looking back, wrapping up his sword again as Willie stands alone, watching him go.

Tag Back to Top

Back at the Consulate, Duncan is talking to Steve again.

Steve: "You can't do anything to me, so why don't you just leave."

Duncan: "What I could do to you isn't half of what you're doing to yourself." Steve paces quickly to the other end of the room. "Now turn yourself in, Steve."

Steve laughs: "Right."

Duncan, more urgently: "How much guilt can you handle? Molly's dead, your father's dead. How much coke will it take to bury them?"

Steve, turning and shouting at him: "Shut up!"

Duncan: "Why? You can't handle any of this yourself. Nobody could." Steve sits down, leaning his head tiredly on his arm. "If you want any type of life at all, you have to facet this." Duncan gets up to kneel down by Steve's chair. "I'll even help you with a lawyer, Steve. I'll be there for you." Steve moans, and pushes himself to his feet.

Steve, roughly: "Get out."

Duncan stands up: "One more chance, Steve."

Steve: "For what? Prison?"

Duncan: "Redemption."

Steve just laughs shortly, and moves away to sink down in another chair. Duncan walks out, leaving Steve sitting alone in the room, the doors shutting on the scene.

Notes Back to Top

This week on "Guess the Name," we have a feeble guess at Edward and Steve's last name based on our bi-lingual butler's and Duncan's different pronunciations. The butler makes it sound like "Bonner," but from Duncan it sounds like "Banner." Call me prejudiced, but I'm going to go with what our bonny hero says and name the guys Banner. Also, I'm arbitrarily giving the man in the teaser the honor of getting the extra name (Swinson) from the final credits.

For some reason, my local station has, after six years, suddenly decided to start editing the language. Either that, or two "damns" are just their particular quota. I've put the edited words in brackets, because I'm just relying on context and feeble (very feeble) lip-reading skills to fill in.

To my inexpert ear, it sounds to me like Willie has a Scottish accent, but I'm not sure what name to put on Molly's. For ease of reading, I replaced her dropped "h"s, so my apologies for messing with the dialect.

Next week, "Patient Number 7"


These pages are written by Jinjifore and are translated into HTML and maintained by Ian.

Disclaimer: All the dialogue, characters, situations, and darn near everything else belong to a bunch of fine and talented folks at Rysher Entertainment and Panzer/Davis, and in particular the dialogue belongs to the credited writer of this episode. Me, I just wrote the rest down in my own words, which belong to me, but the episode itself was made by the aforementioned people and is owned by them. This humble synopsis isn't meant to infringe on their rights, and I'm sure as heck not making any money from doing these.

Everything not belonging to Rysher, et al, ©Copyright 1997 by Jinjifore

Feel free to copy and distribute as long as this copyright notice and disclaimer are included, except where local bandwidth laws apply.

Also, check out Ian's home page.

Celtic clip art courtesy of the Celtic Art Web Page.
Last Rev: HCB [ 11 Dec 97 ]