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Agent Nightingale's Mighty Authority is one of the Collectibles found in Alan Wake. It is one of Doctor Emil Hartman's recordings.

Transcript[]

Robert Nightingale: --not buying that. I was tailing Wheeler, and this is the only place he could've gone. That means Wake is probably there too!

Emil Hartman: Agent Nightingale, this is private property, and I will not allow you to disturb my patients.

Robert Nightingale: Yeah? I can get a warrant. How would your fragile little patients like that?

Emil Hartman: Ha ha ha ha! Oh, I'm thoroughly intimidated by your mighty authority now, agent.

Robert Nightingale: Listen, you smug snob, how would you like it if I busted through this gate and knocked you around a little?

Emil Hartman: Agent Nightingale, first of all, I'm recording this conversation, so you might want to watch what you say. Secondly, you're not dealing with a hick now. I know the law, and if you can get a judge to grant a warrant, I'll be glad to cooperate -- but you won't get one. Be advised that any further communications with me are to be made through my lawyer.

Robert Nightingale: I don't believe this...

Emil Hartman: Good day, agent.

Location[]

On the room in front of the office where Barry Wheeler is locked, at the Cauldron Lake Lodge.

Notes[]

HARTMAN: -- don't think that can be arranged right now. I'm afraid we're a little understaffed today, so I'm very busy. You really should make an appointment.

NIGHTINGALE: I have reason to believe there's a fugitive from justice on your premises.

HARTMAN: That's utterly ridiculous. Agent, you're not coming in.

NIGHTINGALE: Listen, Hartman, you'd better cooperate here. I'm a federal agent.

HARTMAN: I'm well aware of that. Your reputation reached me long before you did.

NIGHTINGALE: What's that supposed to mean?

HARTMAN: It means. Agent Nightingale, that you have demonstrated an unfortunate tendency to wave your gun around and go about your duties under the influence of alcohol. Did you really think no one would notice?

NIGHTINGALE: You son of a bitch.

HARTMAN: Agent, I deal with substance abusers daily. You're a classic addict - unable to get through the day without drinking, yet living in obvious denial of your condition. You should seek help.

NIGHTINGALE: Go to hell!

HARTMAN: What's your crutch, agent: A discreet hip flask, perhaps? Do you tell yourself it's nothing? Here's an illuminating little experiment: does the thought of pouring it all out on the ground make you a little panicky? What a cliché...

NIGHTINGALE: Shut. Up.

HARTMAN: As you wish. Good day.

(There's a very long pause. Agent Nightingale breathes heavily and apparently attempts to collect himself. Then he sounds the buzzer repeatedly.)

HARTMAN: Agent, this is completely unacceptable. I realize that your time isn't spent on anything constructive, but I have patients that need my help - patients that are actually willing to work through their problems.

NIGHTINGALE: We're not done yet, Hartman. I don't give a rat's ass about your patients. Is Alan Wake in there?

HARTMAN: No. I told you that already. Why do you persist with this line of inquiry?

NIGHTINGALE: I'm not buying that. I was tailing Wheeler, and this is the only place he could've gone. That means Wake is probably here too.

HARTMAN: Agent Nightingale, this is private property, and I will not allow you to disturb my patients.

NIGHTINGALE: Yeah? I can get a warrant. How would your fragile little patients like that?

(Hartman laughs.)

HARTMAN: Oh, I'm thoroughly intimidated by your mighty authority now, agent.

NIGHTINGALE: Listen, you smug snob, how would you like it if I busted through this gate and knocked you around a little?

HARTMAN: Agent Nightingale, first of all, I'm recording this conversation, so you might want to watch what you say. Secondly, you're not dealing with a hick now. I know the law, and if you can get a judge to grant a warrant, I'll be glad to cooperate - but you won't get one. Be advised that any further communications with me are to be made through my lawyer.

NIGHTINGALE: I don't believe this...

HARTMAN: Good day, agent.

(Agent Nightingale enters his car, followed by a scream of frustration and heavy thumps accompanied by the car's horn. Agent Nightingale then starts his car and drives away. Presumably he has forgotten that his tape recorder is on. He occasionally talks to himself, but the recorder can't pick up the words over the car's engine. Recording ends when the tape runs out.)

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