Abominable Dr. Phibes, The (1971) Movie Script

Good morning, sir.
It's a damn strange business, Tom.
A man literally shredded to death
right in the heart of London.
That's the last one.
Bats appearing out of nowhere...
I don't know, it just doesn't make sense.
Nasty-Iooking little blighters, aren't they?
Seen them in Mandalay.
Suck your throat dry, they would.
Well, that's where they belong,
in the tropics, not here.
All right, take them off to the laboratory.
And have them checked for rabies.
- Now, Morgan...
- Yes, sir?
- Where the hell are you?
- Up here.
I want you to question the butler again.
There may be something he overlooked.
Very good, sir.
Remember when you were
in Scotland last week?
There was another surgeon who died.
A Dr Thornton.
- What about him?
- It's how he died. This reminded me of it.
He was stung... to death by bees
in his library.
Bees in his library?
That's right. The place
must've been swarming with 'em.
I've got the file on my desk.
You should've seen his face. The whole
flesh was a mass of... well, boils.
- Boils?
- All over. Stings, I suppose.
I wonder if there is a connection.
Well, I'll go through the file.
God knows what we've got.
Two doctors, both dead...
Oh, don't take him out like that:
At least cover his face up.
What's left of it.
Good God.
Nobody told me this was a masked affair.
For me?
How very elegant.
But, my dear fellow...
it's beautiful.
I say, jolly fine party, what?
Don't believe we've met.
My name's Hargreaves. Dr Hargreaves.
I'm a psychiatrist, actually.
Head shrinker.
I say, would you mind?
Some fancy catch.
Much obliged.
Now, point me towards the ladies.
Thank you.
I say, is that you, Freda?
This mask is jolly tight.
Absolutely not.
We're short-staffed as it is,
and you want more men to charge off
on one of your half-baked theories?
- Medical men die every day.
- I'm aware of that, sir.
They're flesh and blood, like you and I.
I'm aware of that too. I've seen
rather a lot of their flesh and blood lately.
And another thing -
suppose the press get hold of this?
Don't talk to me about the press, Trout.
Keep your ideas to yourself on that one.
Mention this to the press and they'd
whip up a panic story overnight.
There'd be an uproar.
- It was not my intention.
- It's certainly not mine.
I want no statements.
Can you imagine what they'd make
of bats, bees and... and what?
- Frogs.
- Exactly.
Why don't you go
and reread Aesop's Fables?
Perhaps you'll come up
with a more pertinent theory. That's all.
Three men have died,
all in the medical profession.
- Does that not suggest...
- No, it damn well doesn't.
Some very strange people
practise medicine these days.
- Dr Longstreet?
- Agh...
- Mrs Frawley.
- I'm off.
- You're what?
- Off.
Oh, yes. Yes.
Sure you don't mind me
having the evening off?
No, no. I shall rather enjoy it.
I mean, have a good time.
- I've got you some cold brawn.
- Oh, that sounds delicious.
I won't be back late.
I'll be back before midnight.
You don't have to hurry -
you won't turn into a pumpkin.
I don't know, though.
Mrs Frawley:
Dr Longstreet, we are naughty, aren't we?
Haven't touched our supper, have we?
- And what is this?
- This? Well, it's...
Oh, I see what you mean. It's a new thing
on the market. It keeps out draughts.
I'm... I'm Dr Longstreet, you know.
Who's this?
- How did it go, Harry?
- It didn't.
It came to a grinding halt.
All he's worried about is the press.
They've been on, of course.
I've killed it, don't worry.
I'm sitting on the lab reports.
I don't care what the old man says, Tom.
There is a definite pattern here.
- Is there anything in there?
- It's correspondence, family...
- What does it tell us?
- They have one thing in common.
If you say they all died mysteriously,
I'll kill you.
- Vesalius.
- What?
Dr Vesalius.
- Funny name. Who the hell's he?
- They all worked for him.
And, judging by this,
were fairly close associates.
Good. What else?
After 24 hours diligent research,
that is all you have discovered?
Well, do we have an address for this man?
An address...
Damn it all, Tom, where does he live?
- He's through here, sir.
- Thank you very much.
Father? Father,
there's someone to see you.
Inspector Trout.
- From Scotland Yard.
- Detective inspector.
Good evening, sir.
I'm sorry to intrude like this,
but it is a very urgent matter.
I thought you might be
of some assistance to us, sir.
Three men...
Three men in your profession
have all died in the past week
in most unusual circumstances.
Inspector, men in my profession
die every day.
- You have your foot on my pliers.
- I'm sorry.
Do the names Hargreaves, Thornton
and Dunwoody mean anything to you, sir?
- It's hard to believe.
- I'm sure of that, sir.
But can you think of anything at all that
would relate to the killing of these men?
- Nothing. Nothing.
Only last week I was talking to Thornton.
Yes, he is.
It's for you.
Thank you.
Hello. Trout.
I see. Where's that?
Yes, all right. Ten minutes.
Did you know Dr Longstreet?
You heard a what?
Well, a violin or a cello or something.
At half past two in the morning, woman? :
In the street? :
Yes. I told you. Don't keep on at me.
I'm sorry.
Like I said, I heard it.
Then there was this car door banging.
I couldn't get off to sleep,
so I came down to find some aspirins.
The door was open a bit
and as I looked through, there he was.
- And then I rang for you lot.
- And that's all?
Well, that's enough for one night.
I mean, look at him.
All white and everything.
There's nothing, except this.
And, uh, that.
Ah, now...
Do you recognise this, madam?
Uh-uh. Fingerprints.
No. It's not mine.
And it's certainly not his.
That's all for now. We'll come back
in the morning and take a full statement.
- Thank you, Mrs?
- Frawley.
He was a nice man.
Good to me, in his own sort of way.
Yeah... You were his...
Whoever did it must've been a real pro.
He's as dry as a bone.
That is his bone. Poor devil - I bet
he was conscious when it happened.
- Do you think it's the same...
- I don't think any more, Tom.
This is the object in question, sir.
- Dear me, you've broken it.
- What, sir?
It's incredible the amount
of vandalism these days.
I make something like this,
a thing of beauty...
- You did make it?
- Of course.
- I wished to establish that, sir.
- That's my mark on the back.
Can you tell me a little bit about it, sir?
Yes, certainly.
It's one of a very unusual set.
- A set? There's more than one?
- Of course. It's a set.
- How many in the set, sir?
- Ten.
- Ten? :
- Ten.
Were they all the same?
Of course not. Would you want
ten amulets looking exactly the same?
Each had a different symbol.
I see. Well, who ordered the set?
- It was a lady.
- A woman, eh?
No. A lady.
I remember the occasion well. She came
in, gave me a set of working drawings,
she paid half the cost
there and then in cash,
and the other half later.
She was delighted with them -
as well she might be.
That's beautiful craftsmanship, you know.
Could I take another look at it?
One more question, if I might, sir.
What did she look like?
She was a tall... attractive... young lady.
She didn't speak much, as I remember.
- But she was...
- Smart, sir?
Ah. Yes, sir.
Can you tell me anything else about her?
No, I don't think so. Aren't you going
to write down "fashionable"?
- I think I can remember that.
- Oh, good.
No, she didn't stay very long. And then
there was the money to be counted.
Thank you, sir. I'm sorry to take up
so much of your valuable time.
Reasonably valuable, yes.
- Good day, sir.
- Good day, Inspector Pike.
- Trout, sir.
- Yes, of course.
Oh, by the way... Psst, psst...
That sign, that mark on the amulet...
I don't know whether this is of any
assistance, but it is, I believe, Hebrew.
Thank you very much, sir.
This is it, sir.
It's a Hebrew symbol for blood.
- Oh, I see.
- Part of the G'tach.
- The what, sir?
- The G'tach.
The ten curses visited
upon the Pharaohs before Exodus.
- Here, I'll show you.
- Thank you, sir.
They were all ancient maledictions.
Solemn curses, anathemas,
wished upon the Pharaohs
for keeping the Israelites in bondage.
Ah, here it is.
But all this would just be myth,
of course, sir?
- Oh, I think not.
- No?
No. There is little doubt
that the plagues did occur -
though so distant now as to seem a myth.
I see. What form
would the curses take, sir?
Oh, such as the curse of boils, of bats...
- Frogs?
- Frogs, yes. And the curse of blood...
I see, sir, yes...
These ten curses -
would they follow any particular order?
That is a point Talmudic scholars
have debated for generations.
But there is no doubt that the classical
tradition is the curse of boils,
bats, frogs, the curse of blood,
the curse of rats,
hail, of beasts, the locusts of course...
the death of the first-born,
and then, finally, of darkness.
- Darkness, Rabbi?
- Yes.
The final curse upon the land.
To end for ever the sleep of man.
My love...
sweet queen and noble wife,
I alone remain
to bring delivery of your pain.
Severed, my darling,
too quickly from this life
of fires drawn and of memories met.
I shall hold our two hearts again
in single time.
I have prepared a little mathematical
equation for you, Inspector.
These files represent
all of the surgical cases
on which I have served
over a decade - some 1200.
As you know, modern surgery
is all a matter of teamwork,
sometimes involving a dozen or more
people - interns, residents, specialists...
Quite so, sir.
Now, ruling out all the cases
that are over five years old -
the year that Dr Dunwoody, our bat victim,
resumed his practice in London -
that leaves us 37 cases on which I worked
with any two of the four now-dead men.
A scant dozen with three...
but only one...
just one case...
where I worked with all of them.
"Victoria Regina Phi-bes."
I think they called it Phibes.
"Victoria Regina Phibes.
Born November 27th, 1893,
married, no children.
Diagnosis: immediate radical resection."
- Well, what happened?
- We were too late.
Nine killed you.
Nine shall die,
and be returned your loss.
Nine times nine.
Nine killed you.
Nine shall die.
Nine eternities in doom!
- Very attractive.
- Quite beautiful.
A strange presence, even in death.
- And the husband?
- Dr Anton Phibes.
He was in Switzerland. We cabled him.
But, as he raced back, his car went off
the cliff and he was burned to death.
Are you quite sure of that, sir?
I know it must be
a tempting theory for you,
but they were interred at the same time
in the family vault just outside London.
- Were they fond of each other?
- They seemed so. Completely devoted.
Of course, you realise
what your equation proves.
Some madman has condemned
the whole surgical team for her death.
Everybody in this list here -
including yourself.
Obviously you'll put the remaining people
involved under police protection.
Although, heaven knows, from what?
From the G'tach, sir -
if you know what that is.
Isn't that the... curse of the Pharaohs?
That's right, sir. Someone
is using these ancient biblical curses
to kill everyone associated
with the Phibes operation.
But the husband's dead, there's
no children, so who are we looking for? :
There's a young lady in trouble, Benson.
See if you can help her out.
Hello, what have we got here?
Ah. Needing some help, miss?
Hail, rats, beast, locusts - take your pick.
Or there's death of the first-born,
and darkness.
- Darkness?
- Yes, darkness.
- Coffee.
- Thank you.
On this list of Vesalius',
five people are in danger.
- There's Hedgepath, Kitaj...
- It's pronounced "Kit-eye".
...Whitcombe, the woman Nurse Allen
and Vesalius himself.
I've located everybody else, but so far we
can't find... Kitaj. We think he's in Europe.
What about the Phibes estate
in Switzerland?
The insurance and bank accounts
were closed after his death.
- So his money's still over there?
- No.
Two years ago
the bulk of it was transferred here.
- To whose account?
- I don't know.
But later it was withdrawn
by a woman, in cash.
In fact, the whole estate
was transferred into her name.
A woman.
- Tall, attractive, hardly speaks a word?
- Right.
Now I'm very interested in her.
It's a quarter to three
There's no one in the place
Except you and me
So set 'em up, Joe
I've got a little story
I think you ought to know
We're drinking, my friend
To the end of a brief episode
So make it one for my baby
And another one...
For the road
Over here, Inspector.
We found him beside the road, sir.
He's in shock.
You won't get much out of him, poor devil.
- Well, what happened to him?
- Well...
- I see. Is that the car?
- Yes, sir.
We traced the owner.
A man called Hedgepath.
- Dr Hedgepath?
- What's all this?
He's in the back, sir.
It's frozen solid.
A curse of hail.
In the bloody middle of nowhere:
Take a look at this, sir.
He worked it off the motor.
He brought the internal temperature
down to at least 100 below zero.
- Mercifully, he didn't feel much, sir.
- Like hell he didn't.
- Check.
- Huh? Oh.
Well done. Go up to bed.
It's not mate, father.
You can still move.
Oh, well, we'll finish tomorrow, Lem.
Up you go.
- You wouldn't like to hear some...
- I'm not very good company tonight.
I must play to you tomorrow. Old Darrow
put me onto it. It's a super piece.
You know, the chap at the music shop.
I always thought he was a bore,
but what a fantastic memory he's got.
Get him talking
about the great organists...
Bridges, Drew and Phibes,
he knew 'em all.
Anyway, 'night, Dad.
Good night.
Mr Darrow.
Mr Darrow, did you know this man?
Excuse me, Mr Darrow?
Did you know this man?
Yes, but did you know him?
- God knows what the old chap meant.
- He couldn't tell you anything else?
He kept insisting in his strange way
that Phibes has been his patron for years.
And still is.
- He didn't tell you what he looks like?
- Oh, he's blind as a...
Well, he can hardly see at all.
There's something I very much want
to have a look at. May I use your phone?
- What do you expect to find here?
- We've drawn a blank everywhere else.
Fools. Fools:
They'll have the worms soon enough.
What happened
to the Phibes estate?
That's complicated, sir.
It seems he had money invested
all over Europe. We're still investigating.
- Where did he get all those degrees?
- That I can tell you.
He took a degree in music
in Germany at Heidel...
- And another one in Paris at the...
- Sorbonne?
Yes. Now that was a PhD in theology.
Theology? That rather neatly explains
his knowledge of the Old Testament.
The G'tach, sir.
Open up, please.
Does anyone ever visit this place?
Well, someone has.
Are you sure that...
Well, here he is. Anton Phibes.
Right next to his wife.
Let's take a look.
-Notice that smell.
- Roses?
- More like formaldehyde.
- Mind your fingers.
There. Ashes. Anton Phibes.
Now are you satisfied?
Well, I'm not sure that I am really, sir.
Think. All this proves is that somebody
was incinerated in that car crash.
- The Swiss police told us that.
- Exactly.
But suppose that somebody
was not Phibes at all, but his chauffeur.
- And Phibes is back in London?
- Just like the old man told you.
She was not incinerated.
Let's have a look at her.
My love, my sweet queen...
my noble wife,
severed too quickly, too cruelly
from this life.
I remain and suffer
to bring delivery of your pain,
of fires drawn and of memories met.
Soon we shall hold our two
precious hearts in single time.
This one here, Kitaj,
or however you pronounce it...
Schenley's on his way down there?
Crow: I've been looking for you.
This is most unsettling. Thank God
the press haven't picked up on it.
- We've managed to withhold most...
- But if the press do get hold of this...
- We'd have a disaster on our hands.
- What the hell d'you think we've got now?
If we're not careful,
there'll be questions in the House.
This whole thing's a political time bomb.
We're all of us as vulnerable as hell.
Especially me.
- My men are working as hard as they can.
- Not hard enough: Come with me.
- And you... What's your name?
- Trout, sir.
Trout. Why are you standing there?
Where's your jacket?
Get out there: There's a madman out there
and I want him brought in: Now:
- All right, Harry?
- OK.
- OK, Dr Kitaj, brakes on.
- Brakes on.
- Throttle closed.
- Throttle closed.
- Switches off.
- Switches off.
- Throttle set.
- Throttle set.
- Contact.
- Contact.
- You should've driven faster:
- Faster? :
- I got there before the locals.
- Yeah, but after the crash.
I was going over 90mph. I thought
the damn thing was going to explode.
- Whose car is it, by the way?
- God knows.
I got the call about Kitaj
and got the fastest car I could see.
But it is one of ours?
It must be.
There's a police book in the front.
Needs a good service now, though.
A couple of the oil seals have gone.
- Hey, you: What's-your-name, Pike:
- Trout, sir.
Why has my car been moved?
- Is it your car, sir?
- Of course it is:
It's not to be moved at all,
not even pushed. Understand?
- Perfectly, sir.
- The engine's not run in yet.
Have we located this fellow Kitaj yet?
Pronounced "Kit-eye", sir.
Well, I wanted to talk to you about him.
You see...
I'll expect your report in the morning.
I can't wait now.
I say, any more news
on this fellow Pheebes?
Phibes, sir.
Are you in the habit
of contradicting your superiors, Bream?
We are onto him, sir.
Where are you concentrating the search?
Where was he last seen?
- Highgate, sir.
- Highgate. Good. Whereabouts?
- The cemetery, sir.
- The cemetery?
- Yes, sir. That's where he's buried.
- Good. Well done, Perch.
- And this nurse?
- Nurse Allen. I've got men at the hospital.
- Vesalius?
- He's covered too.
- That just leaves that fellow...
- Dr Whitcombe.
We're taking him to the country
for a few days, if he'll come.
If he'll come?
I appreciate your concern, Sergeant,
but I owe it to my patients
to be back in London within the week.
Of course, Doctor. I guarantee we'll
have you back within a few days.
Inspector Trout, sir.
I must say,
I feel rather like a head of state:
Right, now careful, son.
Easy does it. I think it's a left-hand thread.
Yes, it is.
- Shh.
It's coming...
Gentlemen, can't we have
a little quiet in this club?
It's brass
He's cast the thing in bloody brass:
It appears to have been fired
by a catapult, sir.
Oh, brilliant.
Where can we find
two better hemispheres...
without sharp north,
without declining west?
My face in thine eye,
thine in mine appears...
and true, plain hearts...
do in the faces rest.
Within 24 hours my work will be finished.
And then, my precious jewel,
I will join you in your setting.
We shall be reunited for ever
in a secluded corner
of the great Elysian field...
of the beautiful beyond.
70 men are on this case, trying to find
a man who, according to you, is buried.
- One of Trout's theories, sir.
- Theories? Trout's practice concerns me:
- I'm talking about you.
- Sir?
It seems that with immaculate precision
you've been arriving on the scene
just after the victim's death.
This time, due no doubt
to an organisational oversight,
you arrived before the crime.
But, as I've come to expect, that made
little difference. It was still committed.
A brass unicorn has been catapulted
across a London street
and impaled an eminent surgeon.
Words fail me, gentlemen.
- Excuse me.
- Where are you off to now?
- The lavatory.
- Highly appropriate.
- Evening, Constable. Everything normal?
- Nothing to report, sir.
The whole place is completely sealed.
It's as simple as that.
"Simplicity" isn't exactly the word I'd use
in dealing with this man, Inspector.
I've got half the Yard, plus some of the
local boys, and a small mobile unit here.
I've got cars all round the place,
and, of course, some plain-clothes men.
So, unless he drops in on us
from above in a balloon -
which I wouldn't put past him -
she should be safe.
Supposing... he's in the building already?
I hope he is. Cos if he's in,
he can't get out and we've got him.
After all, he has killed seven people
in the last 14 days.
- Dr Vesalius.
- Ah.
What are you doing here? You're not
involved in this charade, I hope?
I am afraid I am, Nurse.
These men have told me
I must not leave the hospital.
- For your own...
- Why me? Just what is going on here?
Please, go to your room.
We'll have your supper sent up.
- I've already eaten. Now...
- Inspector Trout is doing his best.
Please, you must go to your room
and stay there for at least 24 hours.
Don't say a word, please.
I know just what your feelings are.
The police have reason to believe...
What do the police
have reason to believe, Doctor?
Do you remember assisting me
in an operation four years ago?
In connection with that, the police
believe a man is going to try to kill you.
- Kill me? :
- Yes. Within a few hours.
I'm sorry.
I don't know how you expect me
to sleep with this going on.
I suggest you take a sleeping pill.
- Good night.
- Good night
There is one aspect of this situation
we have not yet explored.
Oh, don't worry, sir.
Sooner or later he'll get stopped
by the oldest snag of all: human error.
- Human error won't stop him.
- Why? What do you mean?
He's had years to hide,
to plot this damnable thing.
He's compelling himself to follow exactly
the classic death pattern of the G'tach.
It's a psychic force that holds the man
together, this maniacal precision.
If we could just throw it off,
interrupt the cycle...
then he might be stopped -
by his own inflexible standards.
Three curses left.
Of course, the thought does occur,
if you'll pardon the liberty,
that it could be your turn tonight.
I've considered that.
I have a feeling that I'll be last.
After all, I was chief surgeon on the case.
If he keeps to the pattern,
it should be the darkness for you.
Though heaven knows what that could be.
Have you considered
the death of the first-born, sir?
The fact that my older brother is dead
should surely exclude me
from that particular curse.
Well, I am going to remain by your side
until we apprehend this man.
- Thank you.
- Not at all, sir. It...
What about your first-born? :
Schenley: Take the doctor home, put a
guard on his house and report back here.
The sergeant will take you, sir.
The back door was hanging off.
Lock had been forced.
A struggle upstairs, by the look of it.
The lad's been taken all right.
Stay here with Vesalius.
I'll get back to Trout.
Poor little devil.
- The boy's gone.
- Oh, no: Any sign of Phibes?
None at all.
We'll check Nurse Allen
and get over there.
- How's he taking it?
- Vesalius? You can imagine.
Open it. Slowly.
Soon, Victoria, soon...
but one world to possess,
there to love and sleep again...
in our own eternal paradise.
We're doing everything we can, sir.
Perhaps a brandy might help.
There must've been some way
I could have prevented this.
Who's there?
Nine killed her.
Nine shall die.
Is that you, Phibes?
Phibes? Phibes?
Eight have died.
Soon to be nine.
Nine eternities in doom.
Phibes, I must see you.
Where are you, Phibes? I must speak...
Phibes, where is my son? :
The organ plays till midnight.
The large house in Maldine Square.
Come alone.
I'm going alone.
Perhaps he'll trade my life for my son's.
If you think you can reason with him,
you're as mad as he is: We're coming too.
Your men's presence there could
only accelerate the death of my son:
Sorry, I cannot allow you to go alone.
- My son's life is at stake:
- We'll take every precaution,
but I cannot allow you to go alone.
I am prepared to use force if necessary:
I'm sorry, but you are my responsibility.
All right, Trout.
I'll do whatever you say.
At least there's time
to make a telephone call, I hope.
If you're quick, sir, yes.
Your brandy.
I'm sorry too, Trout.
Good evening, Dr Vesalius.
I have come for my son.
He will die at midnight.
If you must take a life, take mine.
I will have killed nine times in my life,
Dr Vesalius.
How many murders
can be attributed to you?
- None. I did not kill your wife.
- No?
I tried to save her.
With a knife in your hand?
Doctor, I have no faith in your profession.
I was told after my crash
that I would never speak again.
The doctors were, of course, wrong.
For, as you see and can hear, I have used
my knowledge of music and acoustics
to re-create my voice.
You don't have to remind me
of your ingenuity, Dr Phibes.
Where, where is my son?
May I give you one final reminder,
Dr Vesalius?
You will see your son
under circumstances
which may bring back memories to you.
- What is it you want?
- The skill of your hands, Doctor.
I am giving your son
the same chance that my wife had.
You need not be alarmed.
He has already been anaesthetised.
Your wife, no, Phibes.
But you I will kill.
But you can't, Doctor.
I am already dead.
Your son needs you.
Are you receiving me, Vesalius?
That is an x-ray of your son's ribcage.
You will see from it that a tiny key
has been lodged close to his heart.
It will unlock the halter around
your son's neck and will free the trolley.
If you are wondering
why you need to free the operating table,
then I suggest
you look above his head, Doctor.
In a few moments,
acid will be released into that tube.
It will creep down...
slowly, inexorably.
It will take six minutes
to reach the outlet over his face.
Exactly six minutes, Doctor.
Please hurry.
For God's sake:
Don't cry upon God, Dr Vesalius.
He is on my side!
He led me, showed me the way
in my quest for vengeance.
Not God, Doctor. Look to yourself.
Those hands,
those skilled hands of yours.
You can be his only salvation.
Look above your son, Doctor.
Vulnavia, my work is nearly finished.
Go now, destroy all I have created.
Work faster, Doctor.
The acid is descending.
My wife existed only six minutes
on the operating table,
and then she was dead.
- You murdered her.
- No
Murdered her!
But he will have what she did not.
a second chance.
Perhaps your hands will shake
and he too will die under your knife.
A few remaining minutes are all you have.
Because, when the acid reaches him,
he will have a face like mine.
Follow me, men.
- Vesalius: Is the boy all right?
- Yes.
Turn that damn thing off!
- We'll need an ambulance for Lem.
- What about?
Right, you two get downstairs
and bring that boy up here.
The rest of you, keep searching the
house. We have got to find Phibes.
Where the hell is he? :
- Where the devil did this come from?
- What comes up must go down.
No, don't touch it, sir.
Much better leave it to us.
You never know, it could be a trap.
He's gone. Vanished.
That's bloody impossible.
That still leaves the final curse.
Well, he'll be working on it.
Wherever he is.