06x06 - Murdoch and the Cloud of Doom

[bunniefuu]

Mayor Clarkson.

Detective Murdoch.

So good of you to join us. Please, come in.

My apologies for the dramatics, but this is something I'd rather keep under our hats.

The mayor has received a rather alarming package.

From whom?

That's what we need to find out.

The sender chose to remain anonymous, for reasons you'll soon understand.

(Murdoch): He's k*lled it.

What kind of disturbed mind would do such a thing?

What's even more disturbing is the note that accompanied it.

Please, read it.

"My cloud of doom comes with advice.

One hundred thousand is my price.

A lack of funds will seal my plan.

Today a mongrel, tomorrow man."

Right. Do we know who delivered this package?

A street boy, an urchin. The desk clerk will have the details.

Has anyone else touched this film? Celluloid is quite impressionable.

We may still be able to raise fingermarks.

Excuse me, Detective, are you telling me this is possible?

The film appears to be authentic.

I was hoping you'd talk some sense into Chief Constable Giles and tell me this is an elaborate prank.

As Chief Constable, I'm entrusted with the protection of the citizenry.

It's not a task I take lightly.

Mayor Clarkson, there are a number of gases that are known to be deadly.

Some have been around for centuries.

We have to take this thr*at seriously.

If there's even a hint that the lives of the citizens are at risk, we must be seen to be taking firm action.

If word gets out, the city will be in a panic.

No one will hear of this.

You have my word.

If we elect to dismiss this thr*at, a man's life may be at risk.

Sirs, if I may...

"Today a mongrel, tomorrow man."

I believe the thr*at is intended for the general public, not just one man.

We're looking for a boy.

Five-foot-two, red hair, last seen at the corner of Portland and Wellington.

George, Henry, I want you to examine every frame of that film, looking for fingermarks. And also, review the film itself looking for reflections, shadows, anything that might help us find the location.

Sir, might I request that Higgins be the one to review the moving picture?

He has a very sharp eye, and that way I could help the lads look for the street urchin.

Why?

Well, as you know, sir, I am a dog owner myself, and...

What are you trying to tell me, George?

Sir, I think the contents of the moving picture would not sit well with me.

George!

All right, I'm sorry, sir. Henry, let's get to work.

(door opening) Murdoch.

Have you seen this?

Mary Knowles is about to get the long drop.

Well, yes, sir. She did m*rder her father, sir.

A sweet old clergyman. sh*t him right between the eyes.

Didn't even express a word of remorse.

There's definitely something in the air, Murdoch.

A woman being hanged, some crazy nutcase gassing dogs...

He may not be that crazy, sir.

You think that gas is as deadly as it seems?

I don't know.

But I may know someone who can tell us.

(bubbling)

Hello?

Dr. Prasad?

Dr. Sanjay Prasad?

Detective Murdoch.

I hope I may be of some service.

Gases tend to be most effective in enclosed spaces... underground mines, bunkers, that sort of thing... so effective that last year at the Hague Convention a declaration was put forth banning asphyxiating gases from warfare.

Which was rendered all but useless when the United States and Great Britain refused to sign it.

Mm.

But this is outdoors.

Which speaks to its potency.

Which speaks very loudly to its potency.

Right. Thank you for your help, Doctor.

I'll be in touch.

Detective.

If this moving picture is real, this man has created a whole new compound with a capacity for destruction the likes of which we have never seen.

What about his voice?

Did he have an accent, or a stutter perhaps?

He didn't say much.

I guess he was Canadian.

It's hard to tell.

Was it was deep or thin?

The tenor of a young man, or old?

Was the man who gave you he package tall?

Was he short? Fat? Dapper?

Look at me when I'm talking to you, lad.

Sir, there's something you should know...

Oh, these little guttersnipes, they like to shut down in front of coppers, Murdoch.

Sometimes you have to show them the light.

That would be a stroke of good fortune, sir... seeing the light.

Are you getting fresh with me, sunshine?

Sir, the boy is blind.

Since I was wee, sir. Measles.

Right, then.

Carry on, Murdoch.

How horrible. Do you know what he used?

We are attempting to find that out.

I'm consulting with Dr. Sanjay Prasad on the matter.

I know him by reputation, of course.

What did say about the moving picture?

He had much the same reaction as I did.

We are dealing with an unknown quantity, and any attempt to assess that quantity is paralyzed by our lack of evidence.

All we have is a moving picture of someone gassing a lone animal.

Not an animal, William; a dog.

Hm?

Dogs have become a symbol of companionship in civilized societies.

The m*rder of a dog requires the same cold-bloodedness as k*lling humans.

Yet dogs are put down every day.

In the name of science or mercy, perhaps, but not to illicit money.

This man is callous and calculated.

You can't afford to be anything less than keen.

It's hard to tell where he is, sir. He's positioned the camera such that we only really see a 50-foot radius of his view.

It gives us no point of reference on the horizon, sir.

It could be an alley, it could be an abandoned lot.

Leaving us nowhere.

Not quite.

Sir, look at this shadow.

It runs along the ground and up the wall here.

Now, at first we figured it was just a large pole or a post, but this orb-shaped thing at the top threw us a bit.

I took the liberty of drawing the image, sir, but, uh, we could find no structure to match its dimensions.

A tower, perhaps?

I highly doubt that, George. What kind of tower would have a cantilevered bulge at the top?

Well, I don't know sir.

But I think it has some aesthetic appeal.

Perhaps the orb at the top is some sort of viewing area.

George, if such a tower existed in Toronto, I'm sure we would know about it.

Yes, I suppose.

Without the orb, and given that the shaft comes to a point, what does that look like to you?

A church steeple?

Yes.

And now let's say the orb is a completely separate object altogether.

Um, Henry, roll the film forward, please.

Right. Now roll it back.

You see? The orb is moving.

Well, I'll be.

Gentlemen, what's round and moves in the sky?

See clear across Lake Ontario to the Great Falls and beyond! Reduce your peers to the size of ants! Sir, you can create memories that will last a lifetime!

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

Mr. O'Malley is it?

How often do your balloons go up?

Once an hour on the hour.

And how long have you been at this location?

Two weeks.

Are all of your flights tethered?

Ever since I took the children up from Bishop Strachan.

How high does the balloon rise?

Just over a thousand feet.

Enough so that you can see clear to Rochester!

What exactly are we doing, sir?

Again, George, we are using the azimuth and elevation of the sun to plot the balloon's shadow across the city.

Now... 280.2. Right, then.

Hold the string at precisely 23 degrees, George.

Sir, may I switch hands? It's surprisingly difficult to hold one's arm aloft for a sustained period.

Just a moment, George.

The balloon's shadow goes straight past St. Alban's Anglican Church.

Oh, really?

My Aunt Primrose goes to that church. It's quite nice. Mind you, the reverend is a bit of a...

George, are you holding the string at precisely 23 degrees?

Oh, uh... yes, sir, 23 exactly.

Left behind by our friend in the mask, I suppose?

So it would seem, George.

(squish! )

Sir.

What is it, George?

Look around you, sir.

This is where the mongrel lay.

Yes. The canister was placed here. This is where the cloud was released.

Why would he remove the body?

I suppose the more complex the life form, the more it could tell us.

This man doesn't want to give away any of his secrets.

Mm. I guess we'll have to rely on more primitive life forms.

How do you mean?

The gas k*lled everything in its path.

You see this weed?

The tissue has broken down, draining it of life and colour.

And yet we are 50 feet from the canister.

Have you seen this type of destruction before?

It's a common reaction to a number of poisonous gases.

What's peculiar about this case is the size of the canister relative to the area of destruction.

Mm-hmm.

Any gas spreading with the same density in a three-dimensional space will be diminished to the cube of the distance from its the source.

Precisely. Which means a gas that has X potency at 10 feet will have 1/8 X potency at 20 feet, 1/27 X potency at 30 feet.

Until, at 100 feet from the source, it will be diminished to one thousandth of its original density.

And yet, at 100 feet...

This gas maintains its destructive properties.

But just a few inches further... and these weeds show no sign of necrosis.

Perhaps there was a shift in the wind.

Or this could be the boundary of the compound's effectiveness.

The question is: what are its components?

How is it working?

Well, unfortunately, a few crumpled-up weeds won't tell us much.

As you suggest, we'd do better to examine more complex life forms.

Yes.

If this is going to become commonplace, I'll need a more-appropriately sized scalpel.

Is this your first rodent post-mortem?

In a professional capacity, yes.

It appears as though the lungs have ruptured.

This creature suffocated, and, by the looks of it, quite violently.

This gas must have fatally interacted with the proteins in the lungs.

We found affected rodents over 100 feet apart.

I've never seen anything like it.

This is something new, a hybrid of sorts.

So, how does one find a gas that is not yet known to exist?

Gases are compounds of existing elements.

If we were able to isolate even one of the components...

We would have a better chance of determining the others.

Yes, but we need to find something this man touched before the chemicals turned into a gaseous state.

Right, George, could you please switch off the light?

(device whining softly) - Remarkable.

The filter blocks out all visible light but allows ultraviolet light to pass through.

Which is exposing trace phosphors on the glove.

Now, sodium hypochlorite fluoresces like this.

Could common bleach be one of the components?

Oh, sir, common bleach can cause plenty of damage.

I was once trying to remove a stain from the seat of my trousers...

I'd sat in a rhubarb pie that my Aunt Hyacinth baked for my...

Ooh. It's not the bleach that's the vexation here; it's the gaseous compound that it has helped create.

So, what compound, when combined with common bleach, will create our so-called doom cloud?- Sir.

It's the mayor's office, sir. You've been summoned.

Thank you for joining us, Detective.

The situation has been elevated.

Our blind urchin has delivered another message from our miscreant in the mask. Read it aloud.

"The urchin knows the point of pay.

The information he'll relay.

Should my demands not be employed, then Cabbagetown will be destroyed."

Respectfully, Mr. Mayor, are we really going to give in to some pompous lunatic with a flair for playground rhymes?

The safety of the city is paramount. We evacuate.

Evacuate Cabbagetown?

Do you realize what that entails?

Hundreds of homes, boarding houses, six churches, two schools, and the women's prison.

And my own bloody station house.

I'm sure, Inspector, that you'd prefer an empty station house to a full mortuary.

Evacuation's out of the question.

It will throw the city into chaos.

Murdoch, what say you to all of this?

The damage left behind at his test site was worse than we had anticipated.

Exactly why we should take action.

Then every option should be on the table... including giving in to the ransom.

With respect, Mr. Mayor, you'll be opening the floodgates to every crackpot this side of the Atlantic.

Thank you, Inspector. I'll take your words into consideration.

I'm sure you will.

Good day.

Margaret.

Thomas. You called for me?

Yes, yes, yes. Come in. Have a seat.

How are the children?

Uh, fine. Is something wrong?

I got to thinking: when was the last time you took the boys to visit Aunt Lizzy at the Falls?

It's been a while since they've been on the Maid Of The Mist.

They've always enjoyed that.

What brought this up?

I overheard Higgins talking about it.

Apparently the weather's going to be lovely.

(She sighs.) Are you sure everything's all right?

Everything's fine.

Give your sister a call.

The money is to be dropped in a fountain near the corner of King and Tecumseth at precisely 4pm.

He said he'll be watching, sir.

And he told me to tell you that if he sees any coppers, the deal's off.

(chain jingling)

Is someone else here, sir?

Uh, yes, Riley.

I'd like you to meet Dr. Sanjay Prasad.

Hello, Riley.

Hello. - Riley, if you recall, last time we met, I asked you to engage your other senses in the event that you meet the masked man again.

Yes, sir. And I did, sir.

Very good.

In that case, Dr. Prasad has a few questions for you.

Were you able to detect an odour from this man, even a faint one?

Yes, sir.

Good. We have reason to believe he's working with some very powerful chemicals.

I have a few ideas, but I need your help to narrow them down.

(coughing) Too smoky.

Too pungent. No.

These aren't even close.

It was much sweeter, like... rotten fruit.

During the Civil w*r, a New York school teacher, John Doughty, proposed the use of chlorine gas.

But it was deemed too inhumane for warfare and never heard from again.

It was said to smell of pineapple and peppers.

Then our man has found a way to recreate it.

Not just recreate, but intensify its properties by a thousand.

And I'm not yet sure how he has done it.

But he's used chlorine gas as its base.

Precisely. And one of the two major components of chlorine gas is bleach.

And what's the other?

Ammonia, or formula NH3, sometimes listed as hydrogen nitride.

Ammonia and chlorine?

There was a rather large order that came down here last week.

Never seen the gentleman before, so I tried to make small talk, but he didn't take to it.

Did he give you a name?

No.

He was tall, dark hair, American, if I recall.

Said he was using the canisters to make fertilizer of some kind.

Ah, here we are.

A dozen 124-pound XP canisters of ammonia NH3, delivered to 83 Bleecker Street. Is that correct?

Oh, yes. It was a whale of a job.

Took me three trips.

That's a lot of fertilizer, especially for a city dweller.

Sir.

Ammonia and bleach bottles. There's dozens of them.

This is empty.

They're all empty.

We're too late.

The innards of a timepiece, sir?

Yes, George, one that's been modified.

He seems to have been working on some sort of time-release mechanism.

Sir, do you think he's really succeeded in building this... doom cloud?

I don't know, George. Just keep looking.

What do you make of all this, Dr. Prasad?

We have a dozen ammonia and 20 canisters of bleach, all empty. But what's more curious is what must have been inside here.

This canister was pressurized, which means the mystery compound is itself a gas.

And when combined with the other ingredients, creates a doom cloud.

Right.

You can't see it, and you can't smell it, but it'll k*ll you. Incinerate you is what I heard, leaving nothing but bones.

Gentlemen!

Our prayers have been answered! On loan from Station 10, the Fire Department have generously offered us some of their most modern technology.

Should the cloud of doom make its way to Station 4, we will be prepared. Behold... the breathing masks!

Looks like ghoul masks. You really think these'll work?

It smells like wet dog.

Higgins.

And there's only five of them.

Well, we'll have to share, I suppose, if it comes to that.

Is there supposed to be a cr*ck in this?

A cr*ck?

Look, we have nothing to worry about.

Do you honestly think that the cloud of doom could stand a chance against this?

(knocking on door)

Julia.

Is it true that Cabbagetown is in danger?

I wouldn't pay much attention to what the constables are saying.

It wasn't the constables who brought it to my attention.

Ah.

Why didn't you tell me?

We don't yet know if the thr*at is real.

But it could be.

It's too early to make that assessment.

Julia... everything will be fine.

Sir?

You've been summoned again.

Ah, Detective Murdoch.

Come in.

Would you like a pull, detective?

No, thank you.

(Mayor chuckles.) A man of integrity.

That's why I called you here in the first place.

Mayor Clarkson, if I may, though your job may seem impossible at the moment, the people of this city need you. Their fate is in your hands.

We have the money.

You do?

I've spoken with the treasury department.

They've emptied the coffers.

One hundred thousand dollars.

While negotiating with vermin is a displeasing pill to swallow...

I will not endanger the citizens of Toronto.

A wise decision.

And you're the man to orchestrate the drop-off.

You must do everything in your power to unmask this man in the process.

Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Detective.

And Godspeed.

Oh, and that fate of the city you mentioned?

It's in your hands now.

The money is to be put in an unmarked oilskin bag and placed in the fountain at King and Tecumseth.

I want all constables to maintain constant visual contact with the drop-off point.

Any communications that you wish to make will be handled via the call boxes that we have designated.

Now, the man in question will be picking up the package at 4pm.

It is imperative that you are not recognized.

If he sees anything suspicious, we will be placing the city at extreme risk.

What do you think?

Pick it up! We're not leaving a hundred thousand dollars lying around on the street all night.

He didn't show?

What's his game, Murdoch?

I don't know, sir. We did what he asked.

Our men were invisible, the money was there.

Why would he turn his back on his own plan?

I think... we could both use a drink.

Whoa! Here's comes trouble!

Come here, Bobby! Daddy!

John.

Father.

We're going to Aunt Lizzy's today, taking the Maid of the Mist.

Why don't you come?

I would love to, Bobby, but your father has got a lot of work to do.

But what about the doom cloud?

Oh, I wouldn't believe everything you hear, John.

Besides, if there was a cloud of doom, it would be no match for...

The Mask of Glory!

Raaaa!

You see, this breathing mask will keep your old man as right as rain.

All right, John, here's a few pennies.

Constable Burns will take you for some sweets.

Thank you, Father.

Be good.

Bye, Dad.

Bye-bye.

Sir, you do know that a mask designed to filter out smoke is likely to be ineffective against...

Of course I bloody know, Murdoch.

But let's keep that between ourselves.

No need to enlighten the constables.

Detective Murdoch.

There's a telephone call in your office, right away sir.

Detective Murdoch.

Man: [I said no police.]

We did exactly as you asked.

There were no officers present, and every penny was delivered.

[I saw. The deal was no police.]

[My price is now one million.]

[You have eight hour.]

(Man hangs up.)

A million dollars?! Impossible!

Even if we wanted to, we couldn't float enough bonds to cover the cost!

What happened, Brackenreid?

How did he find out we were watching him?

I don't know, sir.

Our constables were in plain clothes.

They maintained a discreet distance from the drop-off.

We were careful.

Ha! Not careful enough.

Maybe someone in the constabulary is working with the fiend.

You mean someone from Station House n°4?!

Gentlemen, I don't think this is about money.

Not about money? He's asking for a million dollars!

Exactly. He knows the city couldn't possibly pay that.

He seems determined to carry out his thr*at.

To what end?

We're not the only city he can hold hostage.

He wants to make an example of us.

Of course.

My God. He could hold the whole world to ransom.

(whispering)

Gentlemen.

It appears that we've just located the cloud of doom.

Hidden in plain sight. Brilliant.

You say a child spotted this?

Bloody lucky he didn't start mucking around with it.

(ticking)

Can we disable the timer?

The valve is electrically controlled, but the power is keeping the valve shut.

Any attempt to interrupt the circuit will allow the valve to spring open.

Can we manually close the valve?

Not without releasing at least some of the gas.

We'd likely all be dead before we succeeded.

Look, the canister is pressurized to 200 pounds per square inch.

If we were to put this in a sealed drum... and drop it to a depth where the pressure would be equalized...

The gas would never be released.

Right.

Gentlemen... let's go.

Jackson.

Be careful, lads.

Seems we're attracting a bit of a crowd, sir.

Right, George, keep them back. I don't want to take any chances.

Yes, sir.

(Brackenreid): Bloody hell!

(ticking)

It's fine. It's fine. The canister hasn't been breached.

Just get it on the wagon, Jackson.

Carefully.

Whew! (cork popping)

To the bravest coppers this side of the 49th parallel!

Hear, hear!

Cheers!

Where's Detective Murdoch? He should be enjoying his triumph.

He's not usually one for praise, Mr. Mayor.

Or drinking.

Rubbish!

Cheers, lads!

Not joining us, Detective?

I fear the festivities might be somewhat premature.

The canister has been safely sunk to the bottom of Lake Ontario.

One of them.

How do you mean?

The lethal gas is comprised of ammonia, bleach, and a third component: compound X.

I've done the calculations five times.

The gas man procured enough materials to create 25,000 cubic feet of this deadly mixture.

And how large was your canister?

Two thousand five hundred cubic feet.

There may be as many as nine other canisters out there.

It seems that the fate of the city is back in your hands, Mr. Mayor.

When do you believe these might go off?

We have less than six hours.

Gentlemen, we have no choice.

We must evacuate the city.

The evacuation area is Gerrard to Queen, Parliament to the Don River.

You've each been assigned a section within the boundaries to make sure the public leave.

Crabtree, you're Section A; Wilton to Sydenham, with Sackville as your western boundary; Jackson, you're Section B, Sackville to Sumach.

What is it, Higgins?

I'm just wondering about the women's prison, sir.

What, you can't handle a few slappers?

It's not that, sir.

I'm just wondering if we should give priority to the civilians.

Higgins has a good point, sir.

I mean, one of them is scheduled to be hanged tomorrow.

It seems a bit counter-productive.

This is not the time for armchair philosophy.

Now, you've all got your areas. Get on with it.

Crabtree, a word. You might want to check that your medical kit is up to scratch, if you know what I'm saying.

It is, sir. I checked it this morning.

Dr. Grace might want to check it herself.

She's in the morgue now, but won't be for long.

Thank you, sir.

George. What a surprise.

I was hoping I would find you here. So, you're off, then, are you?

Yes. I've been stationed outside the evacuation zone.

They're setting up an emergency medical shelter. And you?

I'll be supervising the evacuation.

Do you have your gas mask?

Yes, of course.

There's plenty. One for everybody, spares to boot.

All top-notch quality.

How fortunate.

Yes.

So, this is it.

This is it.

Everything's going to be fine, isn't it?

Everything's going to be fine.

I'd best be off.

I'll... I'll see you on the other side, Emily.

Mmhmm.

(door opening)

Your attention please!

This is an emergency! Do not panic!

We need everybody to leave their homes immediately!

(knocking on door)

Hello, William.

Julia. There's an emergency medical area just outside of the evacuation zone.

They could use your help.

And you intend to remain?

Well, yes. It's my duty. Now, you haven't much time.

If you're staying, I'm staying.

We may not be husband and wife, William, but I refuse to abandon you.

(people shouting) (baby crying)

(horse neighing)

Artie! Artie!

Here we go, sir.

Come along. One foot in front of the other.

Oh, no, no, no! I can't!

Have you seen my little boy?

Artie!

Sir, we have to keep going.

If you stay here, you could be dead in a couple of hours.

Aww, I survived the rebellion, I can survive this.

(boy crying) Artie!

(man): Ha!

Young man. Here, come with me.

Be sure to do the top.

We can't be too careful.

Ah. Do you really think this is going to work?

I don't know.

But someone has to stay back in case there's a phone call.

(footsteps)

Henry.

What are you doing here?

The trace on your telephone call, sir.

I'm sorry it took so long, but all the lines were tied up.

I had to go to the exchange in person.

I'm afraid it won't be much help, anyways, though.

You didn't get an address?

Well I did, sir, but it wasn't a residence.

The call came from a public telephone at the Junction Exchange.

The Junction Exchange?

That's right beside the chemical plant.

That's it!

Julia, have a look at the work order from the chemical plant and the ransom note.

Baskerville font. It's fairly common.

Yes, perhaps. But look at the lowercase "t".

There's a distinct flaw.

Now look at the word "destroyed".

The "t" is identical.

That's right.

What are the chances of two typewriters having the exact same flaw?

I must say, my heart is pounding.

Russell Boyes? Toronto Constabulary! Open up!

(dog whining) Do you hear that?

It sounds like someone crying.

Julia.

That's the dog from the moving picture.

And he's very much alive.

Hmm.

Uh...

Sit.

He's well-trained.

Very well-trained.

Lie down.

Play dead.

My God.

It's a trick.

The whole thing was a trick.

He couldn't hurt a town; he couldn't even harm the dog!

Then why go through such an elaborate plan?

I think I know why.

(Brackenreid): Mary Knowles is about to get the long drop.

He wants us out of Cabbagetown.

Move along, now! Let's go. Let's go!

(Man): Come on, move it.

Let's go.

Come on.

Everyone leave! Now!

Put the canister down! Slowly!

This is your final warning!

(yelling and screaming)

Put this on!

Everyone stop!

Arrest that man!

There is no cloud of doom!

The effect is created using harmless liquid fog!!

This was all an elaborate ruse to spare your fiancée the noose.

Isn't that right, Russell Boyes?

(Mary crying)

They can never keep us apart.

I love you.

It's all right, Russell.

It's all right.

(cop): Get in the wagon.

(gate buzzer)

It was clever, I'll admit that.

You were a student of chemistry.

You simulated the effects of gas, using bleach to k*ll the plants.

You suffocated rats in a sack and scattered them about.

You used pineapple extract to create the odour, fooling even an expert like Dr. Prasad.

I couldn't just do nothing and let her die.

You turned a city upside-down to save a woman who m*rder*d her own father!

It's not that simple.

He did things to her.

That doesn't justify m*rder.

No, it does not. But she does regret what she did, in spite of what the press reported.

Never once did she defend her actions at trial.

How could she?

How could she speak of things that no one should hear?

And even if she did, who would believe her?

Mary Knowles may have suffered unjustly, but that doesn't excuse your actions.

Be that as it may, it was all worth it.

How can you say that?

I had to show her that I loved her.

She needed to know that. I owed it to her to let her know that.

Wouldn't you do the same, Detective?

So, you think she has a case for a retrial?

A stay of execution at the very least while she undergoes a psychological examination.

If the poor woman suffered trauma at the hands of her father, she should be encouraged to explain her actions in that light.

But do you think she would speak of it?

I don't know. But we must try.

Would you be willing to pay a visit to the law courts with me?

However, time is of the essence, I'm afraid.

To spare a young woman's life?