From the Pen of Gertrude Reece

(writer's room)
Gertie: I have never placed myself so completely at the mercy of another human being in my entire life. My fate is in your hands. So hold out your hands.
Betty: Rendezvous in Rabat: A play for radio from the pen of Gertrude Reece.
Gertie: Seven months hard labor, Betty. Seven months of calls I didn't take, and messages I didn't write down, and food orders I didn't phone in correctly.
Betty: Is that why my sandwich from the Buttery today was a whole wheat on rye?
Gertie: This has been a great sacrifice on my part, Betty, but this story sprang from my soul, and if we don't tell it now, somebody else will.
Betty: Rendezvous in Rabat. Cast of characters. . .Scot Sherwood?
Gertie: Hmm. I modeled a character on our own Scott Sherwood, but as you can see I spelled Scot with just one "T."
Betty: Oh. No one will break that code. But why our Scott? I mean, S-C-O-T-T?
Gertie: Well, remember when he lost his job as manager here, and we thought he'd left us forever?
Betty: Ah, those were the days.
Gertie: Well, if he hadn't come back here to work as an actor, where do you think he would have gone? A soldier of fortune like Scott, an adventurer. I mean, Cairo, Peking, Madrid, Rabat!
Betty: Rabat?
Gertie: Oh yes, it's in French North Africa. Just a short flight from Spain. It's where the real intrigue is these days. An international pressure cooker, baking in the desert sun. And that's where Scott would have gone. To Scot's Cafe Mirage, the last hope for some, the last stop for others, the last chance for all.

(Scot's Cafe Mirage)
Ricotti: Franz. Le compris. S'il vous plaît
Franz: Yes, Mr. Ricotti?
Ricotti: How much do I owe you?
Franz: Oh, Mr. Ricotti, your money's no good here.
Ricotti: Oh, well thank you very much.
Franz: No, I mean the boss says your money's no good here or anywhere. Mr. Scot says it's counterfeit, phony baloney. Your francs are fishy. I didn't think that Maurice Chevalier was the President of France.
Ricotti: I am totally outraged!
Franz: Me too. This might have been my tip. You'll have to talk with Mr. Scot
Ricotti: Ask him to join me.
Franz: You know Mr. Scot doesn't sit with the patrons.
Ricotti: Oh, too good for us is he?
Franz: No, I just think he doesn't want to pay the cover charge.

(next table)
Martine: How could you throw me over for that woman?
Jeff: You mean the refugee from Prague?
Martine: That piece of Czechoslovakian danish, that puffed-up pastry, that over-stuffed strudel, that personal open-faced pie.
Jeff: Personal open-faced pie?
Martine: Little tart.
Jeff: Can I get anything for you?
Martine: Diphtheria, rickets, hoof-and-mouth disease. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Ask Monsieur Scot to join me.
Jeff: Mr. Scot does not sit with the clientele. (exits)
Martine: I won't stand for that. Obviously, he did.

(next table)
Peugeot: In the rest of the world, fashionable society is concerned with making a grand entrance. In Rabat, it seems as if the emphasis is on making one's exit.
Lillie: I must have the documents that only you can provide, Major Peugeot. Oh, to leave this place at last and fly to Lisbon. From Lisbon to Montreal, from Montreal to the Caribbean, and from the Caribbean to New York and freedom.
Peugeot: I believe the documents permit you to fly directly from Montreal to New York.
Lillie: I know, but I've always wanted to visit the Caribbean.
Peugeot: Ah, well in that case, for a small handling fee of say two thousand francs, I think I can facilitate the matter.
Lillie: Oh, but Monsieur, I do not have two thousand francs.
Peugeot: Oh, but I must have something, for the handling. You see, business affairs, a man of my position--
Lillie: It is not your position in this affair that worries me, Monsieur.
Peugeot: Ah, well. It's after eleven, it's late. Why don't we discuss this in the morning in my office, say three a.m.
Lillie: Monsieur!
Peugeot: Or you could try gambling on the generosity of Mr. Scot.
Scot: (enters) Quite a crowd tonight. (to Jeff) No more credit for this fellow. He made his mint selling Swiss bouillon to the Nazis and the French Resistance could have used that chicken broth.
Jeff: Well, chicken broth does build up the resistance.
Scot: How's the casino doing tonight?
Jeff: Well, somebody won at roulette. They bet the same amount on both red and black, and they lost on black but they won on red.
Scot: You let them break even?
Jeff: I know, I take full responsibility.
Scot: That's all right, Jeff. Make a note to change some of the red numbers to maroon.
Jeff: It's as good as done. (exits)
Franz: (enters) Ricotti tried to pass some of those counterfeit francs again. But I spotted them.
Scot: They always slip up somewhere. Liberty, equality, fraternity. If he'd only remembered to print the money in French. Tell Ricotti I'll see him in my office. CJ, give that to the first Nazi who tries to break a deutschmark. (exits)
Lillie: Willkommen, Ciao, and Konichiwa, to our Axis clientele. Bienvenue and allo, allo, to our Allies. A yodel of neutrality to the Swiss.
Samantha: Yodel-odel-a-ee-hoo
Lillie: And welcome one and all to Scot's Cafe Mirage
Samantha: Where Europe's elite, who face defeat, retreat to eat.
Lillie: Drinks are two for one till the liberation of France. And remember my friend Samantha and I are more than willing--to take your musical requests.
Samantha: Unless, you want us to sing that song. We don't do that song.
Lillie: Otherwise, welcome to the best combination restaurant and broadcasting station east of Radio City, New York.

(radio studio/casino)
Jeff: This concludes the latest official news report from the Ministry of Propaganda for the Third Reich. And now we bring you Brahms' Lullaby. All German music, all the time. We're clear for another hour, Scot.
Scot: Then let's play ball.
Jeff: Faites vos jeux, madames messieurs, faites vos jeux. Et maintenant, les jeux sont faites, les jeux sont faites. Dix neuf rouge, dix neuf rouge.
Scot: Trying to gamble your way out of Rabat, eh Lillie?
Lillie: Better than facing the sure thing of Major Peugeot. But what do you care, Mr. Scot? Playing both sides of the coin in this war and pocketing the change, what do you care about anything or anyone.
Scot: Lillie, you've got a chip on your shoulder.
Lillie: It's just determination, Scot.
Scot: No, I mean . . .(produces a chip). . . you've got a chip on your shoulder. Bet fifteen. Did you hear what I said? Bet fifteen.
Lillie: Fifteen!
Jeff: Les jeux sont faites, les jeux sont faites. Fifteen, quinze, quinze.
Lillie: Ooh! I won, I won.
Scot: Now, leave it on fifteen. Fifteen again.
Jeff: Les jeux son faites, les jeux sont faites. Encore quinze, quinze encore.
Lillie: Ooh! I won, I won! Thank you Mr. Scot, you have saved me.
Scot: Now, cash in your chips and don't came back.
Lillie: Cash 'em in? Are you kidding, I've got a system going here! Let it all ride on fifteen! Come on fifteen!
Peugeot: Thank you so much for your assistance. You know, Scotty, I'm beginning to suspect that you're not the cool customer you'd have us think.
Scot: Well, it pays to let someone win every once in a while, Peugeot. It gives the other suckers false hope.
Peugeot: Your patently perfidious protests are perceptively pallid to perceive.

(writer's room)
Betty: Generally, Gertie, we try to avoid writing dialogue for our cast that's impossible to pronounce.
Gertie: Oh really?
Betty: Yes, that type of torturous tongue twisting tends to be tantamount to terrifying, and intimidating to our troop. I mean. . . go on.
Gertie: Well, Scot meets with the oily Mr. Ricotti in his office at the cafe. . .

(Scot's office)
Ricotti: You play checkers alone.
Scot: The mental stimulation relaxes me. The game is eternally and forever new. A medieval struggle for power. A weak king alone in his castle, surrounded, protected, defended by his checkers. What's your move Ricotti? I'm afraid you owe this cafe some money.
Ricotti: Well, let's see, I had three martinis and a tuna salad on white toast.
Scot: I was more concerned about the 60,000 francs you lost at the roulette table.
Ricotti: I could wash dishes.
Scot: Sorry.
Ricotti: Okay, here is what I can offer to nullify my debt.
Scot: What is it?
Ricotti: Documents, of no use to me, but priceless to you.
Scot: For once you interest me, Ricotti.
Ricotti: Scot, these papers when countersigned by a licensed radio broadcaster grant diplomatic status to any news reporter who bears them allowing free passage between any national boundary without question.
Scot: Let me see those. . .I'd know Al Jolson's signature anywhere. These are those broadcasting visas, the. . .the. . .
Ricotti: Letters of Transmit. So, my debt is settled.
Scot: Do you know what these documents are worth to any radio people who find themselves stranded in Rabat?
Ricotti: Scot, with your signature on them, they're two free passages to freedom.

(Scot's Cafe Mirage)
Victor: Yes, how long a wait for a table for two?
Jeff: Refugee or non-refugee?
Roberta: We're fine with either.
Victor: Actually, if you have a booth that would be greatly appreciated.
Jeff: I don't have a Booth anymore. Although I often wish I did. Well, let me take your name and a bribe.
Victor: Victor. Victor Comstock.

(writer's room)
Betty: Victor Comstock?
Gertie: Well, I mean, wouldn't it be wonderful if Victor had somehow survived that terrible explosion and if he were still alive somewhere overseas fighting for democracy.
Betty: How could you know. . .
Gertie: Beg your pardon?
Betty: How much that would mean to me.
Gertie: Then, um, it's okay, Betty?
Betty: Oh, it's all right, Gertie. Read on.
Gertie: Well, there's Victor, enemy to the Nazis, leader of the resistance, and thought to be dead but suddenly popping up from the underground, with Roberta at his side.

(Scot's Cafe Mirage)
Roberta: Victor, you shouldn't be here.
Victor: According to the obituaries, I shouldn't be anywhere.
Samantha: Miss Roberta! The last time I saw you was--
Roberta: Pittsburgh! And Samantha, what are you doing here in Rabat?
Samantha: I came here with Mr. . . Oh my gosh! Victor!
Roberta: No, no, this happens to be Victor's identical--
Samantha: Oh, it couldn't be his identical brother, or cousin, or anything. Victor once told me he had no living relatives.
Roberta: Yes, well, this is Victor's identical. . .friend.
Victor: Yes, and my name is Victor as well.
Samantha: Oh. Well that explains everything. Pardon my piano. I'm like a gypsy violinist that strolls from table to table. Only, I don't play the violin. So I stroll from table to table with my piano. Can I play something for you, Miss Roberta?
Roberta: Oh yes. One of those old songs we used to sing back at WENN.
Samantha: Oh sure!
Roberta: Sing that song that Grace Cavendish sang for us once. It makes me think of better times, and Pittsburgh.
Samantha: Oh, a lot of water has gone under the bridge since then. The Allegheny, the Monongahela, the Ohio. . .
Roberta: Sing that song, Roberta.
Samantha: (singing) Remember you, remember me, and all those dreams come true that never came to be. The foggy lights of distant nights now shine so clearly. And I can hear your voice as if you're mine and near me. Wha--
Scot: (enters) Samantha! What the heck are you thinking singing that song? I told you no more blues songs, only hoop-de-doo songs. I never want to hear-- Hello, Roberta.
Roberta: Scot, it's been a long time.
Scot: Three months if it's been a week.
Roberta: I'm sure you'd like to meet the man you told us you knew so well. Victor Comstock.
Scot: Victor? (looks around) Victor?
Victor: I'm Victor Comstock. Who's this?
Roberta: Scot Sherwood.
Victor: Who's Scot Sherwood?
Peugeot: Victor Comstock. Welcome to French North Africa. In light of your reported demise we're not only flattered, but quite frankly, astounded to see you here at all.
Victor: People made a much bigger deal of my death than was necessary.
Peugeot: And not only have you risen like a lazarus, but you have brought an accompanying angel.
Scot: You got that right, Peugeot.
Peugeot: I see you've already met Scot, the guiding light of neutrality and opportunism that illuminates our evenings here in Rabat.
Roberta: Yes, Scot and I are old friends. We go back to Pittsburgh.
Scot: Not anymore I don't.
Victor: Mr. Sherwood, would you care to join us?
Peugeot: Oh, Scot won't mingle with us mere mortals.
Scot: Sure, I'll join you.
Peugeot: Well, miracles abound here this evening. Scot sits with the patrons, Victor Comstock has risen for the dead. The German commandant will be eager to speak with you. I expect him at any moment.
Roberta: Victor, I know you shouldn't have come here.
(Commandant rrrRaus enters with Nazi buglers)
Peugeot: Here's Commandant rrrRauss now. Beneath that cold blooded exterior, lies a lot more exterior. . . Commandant rrrRauss, allow me to introduce you to Miss rrrRoberta.
(rrrRauss kisses her hand and clicks his heels)
Peugeot: Mr. Scot you already know.
Scot: No kisses, just heels, please.
Peugeot: And this is that American patriot, Victor Comstock. I think you'll want to have a word with him.
Rauss: I have tried to ensure that your stay vith us is endless, Herr Comstock. That is not only my vish--

(writer's room)
Gertie: (continues as rrrRaus) --but it is also a directive from the German High Command. You are never to leave this city alive!
Betty: Strong stuff, Gertrude Reece.
Gertie: Ach, a writer can't flinch--at reality, Betty. Meanwhile, Martine Hilaire, who was looking for a table for two, has found herself a barstool for three.

(Scot's Cafe Mirage)
Martine: Bartender, bartender. Drinks for everybody. But, serve them all to me.
Jeff: Martine Hilaire, you've had too much to drink already.
Martine: Why, you're no fun, you old swizzle stick in the mud. You won't keep me company, ol' Scotty Dog won't sit for me. I'm switching sides. I'm gonna team up with some men who appreciate a real woman. What about it guys? Let's sing a song all of you Nazis love. (sings) London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. . .
Jeff: Martine, you disgrace France.
Victor: Commandant, I lived through the Blitz, and I'm not going to stand for this. (sings) Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques. . .
Martine: They're changing my tune!
(rrrRaus exits)
Peugeot: Now you've made the Commandant angry. He's not beautiful when he's angry.
Scot: I'm afraid I have some cafe business to deal with. It's a pleasure to see both of you. Roberta. . . (to Franz) Franz, give them both a free appetizer with their meal.
Franz: Understood completely.
Samantha: Miss Roberta, I just heard that Scot has two letters of transmit. They will let you go out of the country with. . . whoever you want to go out with.
Roberta: I must talk to Scot in private.
Samantha: You will find him in the marketplace at 10 each morning. He likes to have a sno-cone before the midday sun reaches high noon.

(marketplace)
Merchant: I promise you, until you have walked a mile in these shoes--
Roberta: No thank you, I'm sure they're very nice, but no, thank you. . .
Jeff: My beautiful friend, you can take this bedspread home for three easy payments of thirty seven francs.
Roberta: I'm just looking, thanks.
Jeff: I'll throw in this potato slicer. It does crinkle cut, waffle slices, julienne style, whoosh- whoosh.
Scot: Hey, the lady said she was just looking. My father taught me always judge a city by its sno-cones. I came to Rabat for its frozen waters. (hands sno-cone to Jeff) I'll be back for that. Hey, wasn't that my head waiter?
Roberta: Rumor has it that you have two letters of transmit.
Scot: Rumors are a dime a dozen in Rabat.
Roberta: How much do you want for them?
Franz: One hundred francs for the salt and the pepper shaker.
Scot: I'm saving them for myself and a traveling companion.
Franz: All right, fifty francs.
Roberta: Sell me just one Scot.
Franz: Oh really, I hate to split the set.
Scot: You don't have to buy one, Roberta. They're for the two of us.
Roberta: What about Victor?
Scot: Victor. You and I were hitting it off just fine in Pittsburgh. Then suddenly you turn on me, I'm exiled to Africa and Victor's the Rock of Gibraltar. What happened?
Roberta: Scot, when you and I were getting together back in the states I had no idea that Victor was still alive. I must stand by him.
Scot: Then why stop at one visa, take them both.
Franz: They really are meant to go together.
Roberta: Then you'd be stranded here. It's not fair.
Franz: All right, ten francs for the lot, and I'm taking a beating on the deal.
Roberta: I don't know what's right. You decide, Scot.
Franz: What do you say, Scot?
Scot: There's an airport in Kinetra, forty kilometers to the north. Meet me there at midnight and bring Victor with you, I'll give you my decision then.
Roberta: All right. God bless you, Scot. (exits)
Victor: (enters) How much do you want for one letter of transmit?
Scot: Victor. I thought you were a street merchant, nice disguise.
Victor: Lousy disguise, I'm supposed to be a Nazi officer. How much for one letter?
Scot: You mean you'd ditch Roberta?
Victor: Don't be crazy, Sherwood. I want the visa for her. I'd rather she's safe with you than living on my borrowed time. Listen, there's an airport in Kinetra.
Scot: I've heard of it.
Victor: Meet me there at midnight. I'll bring Roberta and all the money I can muster, you bring the letters.
Franz: I'll bring the cake.

(writer's room)
Betty: Well, what does Scot decide to do?
Gertie: That's hard to say.
Betty: Gertrude Reece, you mean you haven't decided for yourself?
Gertie: Well, I thought when Scot and Roberta meet at the airport. . .

(airport)
Scot: Roberta, I've decided what the right thing is. I'm not getting on that plane. The world needs Victor speaking out for freedom. He's on board now.
Roberta: Oh Scot. . . Scot, I don't want to leave you here alone.
Scot: I won't be alone, Roberta. I'll have my memories, and my pride. . .and of course, I'll have you.
Roberta: What?
Scot: Sure, I filled out those visas for Victor and Lillie, the singer at my cafe.
Roberta: Victor wouldn't leave me for another woman.
Scot: I know that, but by the time he and Lillie get out of that mail sack I tied them in, they'll be a lot better friends.
Roberta: Oh, no.
Peugeot: (enters) Scot, dear fellow, I gather you are allowing Victor and Lillie to escape without proper handling by me.
Roberta: Victor is being held on that plane against his will, and probably against Lillie. Call the control tower and stop it.
Scot: (pulls a gun) Don't touch that phone, rrrRauss. Say one word and I'll shoot.
(rrrRaus turns, gun in hand. Both fire. rrrRaus falls, then Scot.)
Roberta: No, no. . . Oh, Major Peugeot.
Peugeot: There, there, my dear. I'll help you. I think this tragedy will be the beginning of a beautiful, beautiful--

(writer's room)
Betty: No, no, Gertie, that can't the right ending.
Hilary: (enters) I agree. I was just coming in to say goodnight, and I couldn't help overhearing some of your story.
Gertie: Don't you like it, Hilary?
Hilary: Gertie, I'm surprised to say that I can see it all quite vividly. . . especially the ending.

(airport)
Jeff: Oh, darling, I've been such a fool.
Martine: Say it again, pumpkin head. Say those words I've been longing to hear.
Jeff: I've been such a total asinine imbecile.
Martine: Oh, my love, keep telling me that over and over, forever and ever.
Jeff: I filled out the visas, darling, just the way you told me.
Martine: Then that Czechoslovakian woman is on the plane, bound for where, darling? Freedom?
Jeff: No, Tokyo. I got her a job operating a one wheel rickshaw.
Martine: Oh my love, now I know that you really care. And now I can use the other visa for myself.
Jeff: But--but--what of me, darling?
Martine: I promise to think of you as a head waiter for as long as I live.

(writer's room)
Gertie: Nope. I don't think that's the right ending. Of course, I did consider something a little more daring.
Betty: Ooh, what's that?
Hilary: Pray, tell.

(airport)
Victor: I hope we're doing the right thing.
Scot: She's on that plane, Victor. She'll soon be out of harm's way.
Victor: Neither one of us should have an unfair advantage over the other. Let's give Roberta time and space to decide between us.
Scot: I gave the other visa to kindly Franz Eldridge. He'll make a good chaperon.
Franz: (enters with the salt and pepper shakers) Did you decide which one you want?
Scot: Franz! Franz, you're supposed to be on that plane with Roberta.
Franz: I sold my ticket to Major Peugeot for one thousand francs. Look, Maurice Chevalier was elected president.
Victor: She's on that plane with that rascal Peugeot!
Scot: We've got to make a U-turn on the road to Morocco and get back to U.S. one just as fast as a tramped steamer will take us.
Victor: Working together for a common goal, a common cause, a common struggle.
Scot: There's nothing common about that lady, Victor.
Victor: But what if neither one of us gets her?
Scot: Well, we'll always have Pittsburgh.

(writer's room)
Betty: I'm sorry, but I am certain that Roberta would not fly off leaving both those men in North Africa.
Gertie: Well, how would you end it, Roberta--Betty?
Hilary: Since you're obviously the role model here.
Betty: I think, that if Roberta could fly off into the horizon with either gentleman, her name would be, Mrs. Roberta. . . um. . . yep. . . (types, removes paper, folds it and almost hands it to Gertie) Ah, on second thought, Gertie, if you're going to write for radio, you really ought to come up with your own ending. Give it another day. And on that note, goodnight, ladies! (exits)
Hilary: She's not as clever as she thinks. I was counting; she typed eight letters in that typewriter. There are eight letters in "Comstock." She still misses Victor, poor thing.
Gertie: There're eight letters in "Sherwood" as well.
Hilary: Oh, cripes.