The Scoop Offices
Fleet Street
Thursday Afternoon
January 29th, 1925

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 1):

Raising his eyebrows at his companions, Walter walks to the indicated door and raps sharply.

Tommy shrugged, used to the demands of the newsroom deadline. He leafed through a copy of the days paper, chuckling kindly at some of the stories.
"I like this!". he muttered absently.
Far from the 'Times it reminded him of the small-time gossip rag he'd worked for as a kid. They'd been good days.

If Mahoney emerged he would gladly introduce himself. "Mr Mahoney? A pleasure to meet you. Tommy Cotton, New York Times. Allow me to introduce my companions - Walter Brandon and Millicent O'Connor.".

"Come on in, come on in," he said, clearing papers and folders that were stacked on chairs to make room for them to sit down.

"Mickey Mahoney," he said, shaking their hands.

"Have a seat, have a seat. Kensington wired, said you'd be in, 'e did. Also told me about Jackson. Shame, innit? Good bloke if I ever met one. Good at diggin' all kindsa rubbish out too. So, what brings ya ta London?"

Mahoney sat behind his desk and surveyed them over steepled hands. He was a tough looking Irishman in his early forties.

  Millicent walked in with the others carrying a small bag and looked around. She herself had never been in a newspaper office but it looked pretty busy. She gave Tommy a nudge. "Bet it feels like home doesn't it? I sure hope this fellow is cooperative."

   Soon they were in Mahoney's office. Millicent shook the man's hand and said; "Pleased to meet you; it's a fine paper you have here and it's kind of you to take time out of your schedule for us. And I'm glad you brought up Mr. Elias for he is the reason why we are here. We are looking into his death as well as his activities, part of which have led us here to England; and we were hoping very much you could help us with that."

  Before he could say anything, Millicent reached into the bag she brought and pulled out a bottle of fine Irish whiskey and gave Mr. Mahoney a smile, handing him the bottle. "A little gift for ye, after all, we can't expect a fine Irishman such as yourself to do all that talking without something to wet your whistle now or later, your choice."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:37, Wed 16 Mar 2016.

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 4):

Walter nodded from the doorway as his associates made themselves at home. He leaned against the wall and tipped his hat back.

"Heya, Mahoney, pleased to meet you."

Mahoney chuckled at the compliment. "Aye, a fine paper," he said, the emphasis making it clear that he found the compliment amusing.

He grinned at the offer of the whiskey and took the bottle. [Language unknown: "Arest inurca fo"] he said to Millicent, tipping his hat to her.

"I see no reason not to have a drink, but it won't be needed to get me to talk," he said to them, pulling out a few glasses. He opened the bottle right there, and poured himself a measure as well as one for each of them without asking whether they wanted one or not.

"Pleased to meet ya as well," he said to Walter.

He took a long drink, finishing what he had poured himself, and poured another, though he didn't drink it immediately, leaving it to sit. "Jackson was a good bloke, as I said earlier. We'd go out for a pint most times he was passin' thru here. First met him when he came here to write a book a few years ago. Witch Cults of England. A good yarn, that was. Anyhow, last time he was in town he seemed in a rush. He promised me a story about an evil cult operating outta London, if ye can believe it."
This message was last updated by the player at 14:46, Wed 16 Mar 2016.

Tommy drew up a chair, taking the offered glass and clinking it cheerily against Mahoneys. "Cheers Mickey.".
He sat back to listen to the irishmans story.

"That ain't so hard to believe. Jackson did like to explore the occasional mystery of the occult didn't he? Hell, that's why we are here.".
Tommy grew more serious.
"We figured his death has something to do with whatever he was working on. The problem is, what exactly was he chasing up? That's what we hoped you could tell us more about.
We think it was something to do with the Carlyle expedition, and the way he was killed ... you probably saw the stories.
So a cult in London? None of us will laugh at that idea.

Question is why didn't he finish the story? And why did he leave London in a rush?".

An cult operating out of London though? On the Mauretania he'd managed to persuade himself the Juju house was somehow a one off. He glanced at 'Bo-he'd been there too, and felt a chill run down his spine.

Mahoney shrugged. "I don't rightly know. He didn't gimme a name, he jus' said they were well connected. I let him go through me archives. He seemed particularly interested in one article, let me see if I can find it," he said in his sing-song Irish accent.

Mahoney got up to go over to a filing cabinet, but turned over his shoulder to ask, "What's this about how he was killed, now? I don't know much about tha'. All Kensington said was that 'e'd been murdered." He listened to any response as he fumbled through what seemed to be an only somewhat disorganized filing cabinet.

Millicent gave a quirky smile;[Language unknown: "Beai sallic thaatilin, ou ven nttadi i." ]
She accepted a glass and took a sip, nodding her approval. "My, that's good stuff, I certainly know how to pick em."

 She sat back and listened as Mahoney began his tale eyes widening as he mentioned the cult. Tommy seemed to react to the information too. Not surprising since he had been one of those who experienced that JuJu cult she had read about in the reports. God, she hoped that whatever this turned out to be was not like that one.

 "Mr. Mahoney," Millicent asked, "I'm curious, what was your reaction when Jackson mentioned the cult. Did you believe him at all or think he had one too many pints? Tales like that are certainly one for the pulps. I myself thought it was all a bunch of hooey when I first heard about it."

 She said nothing about Jackson's death feeling it was not her tale to tell; after all, she hadn't been there to give the details of the event.

Tommy held himself silent to allow Mahoney to answer Millicent's question. Was he one of those guys who believed in the conspiracies he wrote about? Or a cynical hack who new how to push people's buttons?
If Jackson had trusted him the former would be most likely, but he studied the Irishman's response carefully.

"There were a few murders actually. Six, no Seven including Jackson. That's how I got involved.".
He began to scribble an image in his notebook as he spoke.
"Gory stuff. All had ritualistic signs, and,", He turned his page around to show the mark he'd drawn. "This symbol was carved in to each body.".
http://s105.photobucket.com/us...zpsecc5fa0c.jpg.html

He grimaced. "Its old news now in New York though. Seems to have stopped, the police obviously put alot of men on it. We're just tying up loose ends and seeing London while we are at it.".
Until they knew Mahoney better he thought it best to downplay things slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was give Mahoney a new conspiracy to publish. At least not yet.

He raised an eyebrow as Mickey rummaged through his files. "Any luck with that story?".

Bo sips silently at his whiskey, content to let his companions take the lead with the reporter. He raises his glass to Millicent when she looks his way to salute her choice in liquor.

A cult in London? Bad business that. Maybe Scotland Yard had already run it to earth and it would be no more to his little band than grist for the mill, nothing they'd need to take a hand in.

He shivers slightly and drains the remainder of his glass.

"My reaction? I thought he was a right nutter, but I thought it would definitely sell. So I told him I'd pay him fifteen pounds for the story. Same offer stands for any of you if you can finish it up," he said.

He turned around and presented them with a clipping. "Ah, here it is."

Tommy took the offered paper, his eyes darting across the page. Mahoney hadn't blinked at the New York cult image, and the story didn't mention anything that resonated beyond murder, and that was a world wide occurrence. He was reassured at least that whatever had been going on at the JuJu house wasn't also rearing its head here. Hopefully.

He passed the clipping to his friends and looked back to Mahoney.
"There are murders all the time though right? Surely bodies of unknown foreigners are dredged up after a mugging often enough. What makes this one particularly special...or the others over the last few years?".

It made sense why a sensationalist rag like the scoop would try and make news of it, but why would Elias dig out this story? As far as he could tell there were five facts in the piece and he noted them down carefully.
A foreigner.
The Thames.
The 24th victim over 3 years.
A beating.
A stabbing.

No, six facts. The reward was increasing.

Instead of hurrying to other questions he paused to see what the others made of it.

"Well, no symbols carved into victims like yours, I s'pose. Well, they're all Egyptians specifically. Not just any foreigners. They've all gotten beaten to death quite harshly, and then stabbed through the heart. In that order. That doesn't just turn up all the time, y'know," he said.

When Tommy hands him the clipping, Walter glances over it. He looks at Mahoney and fires off a series of questions.

"Twenty-four dead Egyptians, eh? All beaten to death and stabbed post-mortem and then all dumped in the Thames, right? When was the first? When was this one? How many more have there been and when was the most recent?

"Oh, and if we finish the story, we'll expect the reward on top of your fifteen pounds, okay?"

He grins at the journalist.

"Well, they weren't all dumped in the Thames," he said. Mahoney seemed neither rattled nor concerned by Walter's sudden change in disposition. He took it as a matter of course, going on in his sing song accent.

"When I said beaten to death, I meant it more as a turn o' phrase. Stabbed in the 'eart, I think is the theory o' how they were killed, though in some it mighta been tha other way 'round," he said.

"The first, well, let me see...I don't remember rightly. Some three years ago. This one in the article was just a couple days before tha new year this year. Since then, there haven't been any mar that I know 'f, other than tha one found yesterday," he said, pouring out another whiskey for himself and anyone else if they asked.

"As fer tha reward, if ye can do it, yer welcome to tha whole thing."

Tommy smiled at Bo's sudden enthusiasm. "Good questions my friend, we'll make a reporter of you yet!".

So the murders did have common threads. Egyptians beaten and stabbed through the heart. It still somehow felt less ominous than the killings in New York. That might have been naive hope or some simple relief that he wasn't Egyptian. Either way the reporter preferred to feel that way than to face the dark dread of the Juju house again.

Tommy allowed himself to be poured another drink. He'd found it always helped to follow an interviewee's lead when investigating. To get on their level.

"So you said another body was found yesterday?".
This message was last edited by the player at 08:19, Mon 21 Mar 2016.

"Aye," he replied.

 Millicent perused the article and gave a slight grimace, then handed it back to Mahoney. She took another swig of her drink and gave the man a look of skepticism.

 "3 years and no one has even come close to finding out anything? Either the Yard is a bunch of lazy sods or no one really cares that it's happening to these poor Egyptian fellows. I bet if it were an Englishman, especially one of the important ones, they'd get there asses in gear right quick to solve it. I bet they would pin it on some some poor sap too just to keep people quiet."

 Millicent accepted a refill and drank again, enjoying the liquid going down her throat.

 "And no one, no one at all has even tried to claim any bit of that money; with a wild tale or actual piece of factual information to follow? That's a good chunk of booze money, surely someone wanted to get in on that action."

He grinned at her. "Most times, I'd say ye were right, but the bloke that was the Chief Inspector got killed behind this. He came up floatin' the same way. Maybe he was gettin' close."

"Oh, folk's 'ave tried to claim it. Mostly its just nonsense, though. Somebody even tol' me that the fog was killin' people. The things people will say. Look, I know this paper has a rep'ya'tation, but that don' mean I'll believe jus' anythin'.'

 Millicent did a double take at the man.

  "What a minute, you're telling me that one of there own got whacked by these lunatics, but still it goes on with no end in sight?" She whistled, "these folk must be dammned good at this; how long ago was the Inspector's death? Are there any ideas where these crimes are happening, evidence and the like?"   

"The last Chief Inspector was knocked off in late December, I think. That's when Barrington got bumped up. As for evidence, I'm sure if it was sufficient they'da nabbed tha killer," he said.

"But I thought you were here about Jackson's death?"

The reporter had listened with interest at Milly and Mahoney's exchange. The apparent murder of an English inspector...well that was news. And the cops still hadn't solved it?

"Yeah, you're right. We came to England to pursue what Jackson was working on, to figure out if that had something to do with his death.
If what you're saying is that he was working on these murders, well then, this case gets mighty interesting to us. And knowing Jackson's previous work, mysterious cults are exactly the kind of thing he would have pursued.".

He finished his drink, leaning forward with interest.
"Out of interest, who is funding the official reward? Whoever they are, sounds like they and Jackson had a common interest.

But I wonder, why did he focus on this case?".
He glanced to Bo and Millicent leaving the rest of the question unsaid.
What did it have to do with the Carlyle expedition? Hadn't Elias' notes said something about checking the Egyptian itinerary?

"There's somethin' you lot ain't tellin' me, I know that for sure. If Jackson was killed in tha States, why're you all in merry England lookin' into his death? Did tha police there not solve it?" he asked.

He gave Thomas a curious look when he asked where the reward was from. Was the American daft? "As far as tha reward, that's funded by The Scoop, just like the article says. We got an interest in folks not bein' murdered. Folks say we print a whole heap o' rubbish, but people snatch it up all the same. Turns a pretty penny you might say. And the promise of a reward sells more papers and has folks lookin' out, and if we publish the story first, we sell more papers on it and our reputation grows."

  "Well Mr. Mahoney," Millicent said; "The New York Coppers did solve it to their satisfaction, but not ours. The ones that did that foul little deed were taken care of, but it seems the why they did it is still unsolved. Which is why my dear Mr. Mahoney, is why we are sitting in your fine office, sharing this fine whiskey, looking for answers to Jackson's prior dealings and investigations. We have the feeling he made someone unhappy with him; who, we unfortunately do not know yet."

 Milly paused to finish off her drink, then continued. "If there is anything more you can tell us on this lead, we and the family of Mr. Elias would be most grateful. Tell me, since it seems it is Egyptians that are targeted by these fiends, Would you know of any place in the city they frequent or gather in numbers? A club, bar, embassy? Surely people of Egyptian descent are not too common here in London." 

"I get ya.". Tommy nodded as Mickey confirmed both mentioned rewards were funded by the Scoop. Nothing suspicious there then.
"You must have had some more plausible suggestions than killer fog?". He chuckled at the idea, imagining it stemmed from some drunk getting lost in fog one night.

Pausing to listen as Milly asked about the Egyptians he admired the tall ceilings of Mahoney's office. He'd like to run a place like this himself one day.

"Well, if there's anythin' ta be done about Jackson's death, I'd be glad to try. He was a good bloke," he said.

"There's more than a few Egyptians around, mostly doing menial work here and there. Not sure I can tell Egyptians from other sorts of Arabs, but I know there's an Egyptian joint in Soho where they congregate. I've been there once, a while back. Good food. The place is called the Blue Pyramid. Don't know why, cause it isn't blue and isn't a pyramid, but that's the name."

"As for more plausible suggestions, I haven't had any, or they'd have the reward and the police'd have the killer by now."

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 28):

"Well, thanks for the information, Mahoney. We'll be around when we dig something up. And thanks for the drink."

"Any time," he said cordially. "And we owe our thanks to Miss O'Connor for the whiskey. Before you leave, if I manage to find anything that might help in this whole mess, how can I get in touch with you?" he asked.

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 30):

Bo supplies their hotel address.

With a tip of his hat Tommy shook Mahoney's hand and made his way out with the others.
He kept his eyes open as usual while they walked back through the bank of busy journalist desks, before the trio emerged back on the Fleet Street, busy with the thrum of London traffic.

"Well that was interesting.".
He glanced at his watch and grinned conspiratorially.
"Anyone else thirsty? Have heard Soho is a lovely place, and pretty sure it's on the way back to the hotel... We might even accidentally walk by this blue pyramid place...if we're lucky".

ooc-Tommy will hold back on any chat on what we learned until we are a little away from the scoop offices, and after a few glances over the shoulder to check no cheeky upcoming reporter has decided to tail them

"Sure. Nice day for a stroll," Bo replies.

After a few blocks, he says, "Just to be clear, we're walking by this Blue Pyramid. We're not going in."

 Millicent gave Mr. Mahoney a gracious smile. "Thank you kindly and for your time and information. I hope it will bear fruit. Maybe if were lucky, ol Tommy here with even get a couple of pics for you."

 Saying her goodbyes, Millicent joined the others outside and nodded her head enthusiastically when Tommy mentioned the stroll.

"Sounds like a good idea, I wouldn't mind a little stroll. Maybe if this place looks ok, we can't check it out later. I'd be curious about what spirits these Egyptian fellows serve." 

In reply to Millicent O'Connor (msg # 34):

"Well, if they're good Mohammedans, they shouldn't be drinking alcohol at all."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:32, Thu 07 Apr 2016.

Walter, Millicent, and Tommy continued chatting as they would as they took their leisurely walk through Soho. Eventually, they were able to find their way to where the Blue Pyramid was located, walking right past it. It was a well decorated locale that stood out from the different buildings that stood beside it. Inside, a strange but entrancing music could be heard.

Walking alongside his friends Tommy mused on what they had learned.
"Mahoney seems a likable enough guy. The Scoop'll sensationalize things, but the key facts that Jackson was investigating are there, and strange facts at that. Why would someone kill Egyptians? And what the hell does that have to do with the Carlyle expedition?".

He looked to Bo.
"Jackson was here on the trail of Roger Carlyle right? Sure, that expedition went on to Egypt, but that's a tenuous link. Maybe he was just looking in to any story with Egyptian connections.".

The reporter shrugged.
"Whatever his reasons, those killings have continued since Carlyle and co left merry England. Maybe its all a red herring.".

Enjoying their stroll under the gentle caress of the winter sun the trio made their way to Soho. Occasionally he would pause, impressed at some building that had stood for centuries, or to chuckle to dodge some darting street scamp, until a shout from Millicent spotted the Blue Pyramid.

Lingering back (or walking by a suitable distance) he paused with the others, casting his eyes over the club. Was it open? Were other clients heading in or out? If so, what did they look like?

 Millicent listened to Thomas talk.

  "Isn't Egypt near Africa? I mean, they have all that old history, Gods, strange religion, and whatever. I wouldn't put it past those strange folk to practice that weird ritual stuff in more civilized areas if they got the chance and make it look like common killings. After all, from what I read, didn't those negro folk do the same in New York to innocent folk?" A look of distaste came across her face and she made the sign of the cross. "I'm telling you, you just can't trust those that don't believe in God."

Millicent took in the club as they strolled by. It certainly looked like a fancy exotic joint; kind of like saying, look at me, come inside if you dare.

  "My it does stick out and wants to be seen, no hidden place this like like some in America I could tell you about," Millicent said. She looked at her watch. "If it's like any other club I have visited, nothing much will be happening until much later. Perhaps we should make plans to come back later more suitably dressed and looking for a little fun."

 She then give a little shrug, "Unless you all feel like snooping around the building while it's a bit dead to scope out the neighborhood."   

Bo looks at Tommy. "Who says it has anything to do with Carlyle? Jackson looked into anything hinky that caught his attention. Maybe we should push on to Egypt, like Carlyle did."


"Oh, I dunno, Miss O'Connor, One of the most trustworthy men I ever knew was a black man in Africa, Simon Ibaka. Carried me two miles when I took an arrow to my knee. Saved my life, even though it put an end to my days as an adventurer for a while. He wasn't a Christian even, just a good fellow. Better'n a lotta dagoes that go to Mass every Sunday."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:49, Mon 11 Apr 2016.

The Blue Pyramid certainly appeared to be open. It was not the busiest time of day, but someone did enter, looking to be of foreign descent. When the doors open, it looked rather dark inside but there was a strange and exotic music coming out, and the smell of smoke emerged, light, floral and fragrant.

---

There were plenty of restaurants along the street with windows facing the Blue Pyramid, but none with outdoor seating. It's just too bloody cold for that.