Moretti idly pushed his food around his plate with his fork, unable to muster the appetite to eat. Glancing around to make certain no one else was in earshot, he spoke quietly, "We set up the best ambush we could given the circumstances. We were able to catch al-Sayed by surprise, but couldn't take him down before he...did what he did to Miss O'Connor."

He shook his head regretfully. Putting his fork down, he reached for his coffee. "There's nothing that would tie what happened to anyone here. It looks like a burglary that was interrupted. Like the shopkeeper surprised some thugs who broke in, got himself beaten to death."

Even as he said it, Moretti recognized one of the things that was haunting him. He'd done his fair share of murder at the behest of Joe the Boss, but such orders usually involved pulling a trigger. Quick. Clean. Impersonal. He'd never killed anyone with his bare hands before.

Regardless, we monsters are good at covering our tracks.


Moretti frowned. "They definitely prove that al-Sayed was part of the Brotherhood." Looking to Leo, he said, "I know you've also read Life as a God, sir. Some of the symbols on the clothing and articles we gathered coincides with those described by Montgomery Crompton. There's no mistaking it."

He sighed. "But some of the other items we found...I honestly don't know what they mean. Tommy mentioned a piece of parchment. It's written in Egyptian Hieroglyphics. I suspect whatever the text is is important, given that it was carefully concealed with al-Sayed's Brotherhood accoutrements. Maybe Rosalie can make sense of it."

"Also the mirror..." His voice trailed off. For a noticeable moment, Moretti was silent. Blinking, he said, "Besides its unusual shape, the frame featured faces that looked inhuman...melted. But when Miss O'Connor removed it from the wall, she found markings engraved on the back. Cuneiform. I copied them into my notebook."

He slowly turned his coffee cup in his hands. "No one's going to give much thought to al-Sayed's shop being unexpectedly closed for a day. But when it stays closed, I expect people will come to investigate. Especially other members of the Brotherhood. As Tommy said, Zubaida indicated that the cult has a gathering place outside the city. If we keep watch, it might be that we could tail them. Find out where other members live. Even learn the location of their...place of worship." He shrugged. "It was an idea we had discussed last night."

Draining his coffee, he returned his attention to Leo. "I can gather what we collected. Maybe bring it to your room, sir? So that everyone can examine what was found."

Bishop listened carefully. He would have liked the chance to search the shop himself. Give the trying circumstances it seemed possible something had been over looked. Thinking about the story, Bishop thought of the possibilities of things being traced back to them and other than Cotton's date it seemed likely enough to be dismissed, but far less likely to be dismissed by any other devotees of the Black Pharaoh.

The mirror sounded as if it was almost certainly connected to the cult. "Did you take the mirror as well?"

Moretti shook his head. "No. It was too large. Too unwieldy. Even as late as it was, I thought carrying it all the way back to the Savoy might attract unwanted curiosity."

Bishop wondered if the mirror would prove dangerous."Perhaps we could find a way to get back in there and destroy it. Clearly this man has some dark gift. Even burning down the shop might be on the table?"

Even as he spoke he knew how he must sound. It was probably just a mirror. But something about the way Vincent had spoken about it caused Bishop to feel it was something more.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:47, Sun 18 Sept 2016.

Although he didn't feel at liberty to discuss it openly, contemplating the mirror further was the last thing Moretti wished to do. At least for now. He felt certain that once the others had discussed the matter further, if they felt he had erred by not taking the mirror, or destroying it, a way to correct the mistake would present itself. But at the moment, his nerves were too raw to consider the situation deeply.

Craving a cigarette, he pushed away from the table. Standing, he said to Leo, "If you'll excuse me sir, I'm going to step outside for a moment. I'll return to my room shortly. Just call when everyone is ready to see what we discovered."

He glanced at O'Connor. Although she had absolved him of blame last night, he still felt a pang of guilt over what had happened to her at the spice shop. "I'm glad you're up and about, Miss O'Connor."

Giving Bo a nod, he patted Cotton on the shoulder as he departed. As far as he was concerned, the reporter was family. Just as in New York, he'd shown remarkable courage last night.

Tapping a Modiano out of his cigarette case, he made his way to the nearest courtyard, suddenly eager to see the morning sky.

"I'd like to see everything you all wrote down after breakfast," Rosalie noted.  The Egyptian angle had her curious and she itched to see what translations the symbols might hold.  But her empty stomach took precedence just then.  "I definitely don't think we should let this brotherhood business drop.  It's far too close to what we found in New York."

She threw Vincent a worried look as he left, exchanging a glance with her uncle soon after.  It looked like Leo was going to have his hands full with all the therapy he was going to have to provide.

Wordlessly, Bo leaves the table and goes after Vince, catching up to him in the courtyard. He shakes out his own cigarette from the pack and lights both from a single match.

"How ya doing, Vince?"

Millicent looked at Stanley with a bit of surprise.

 "Really? How horrible that you had to experience this too. It's good to hear that I'll be alright but I hope it doesn't take too long."

 She went silent for a moment, than spoke, "If these two attacks were similar, does that mean others we encounter may try the same thing again?" She gave a slight shudder at that.

  When talking about the mirror, Millicent spoke up.

"That might not be a bad idea, there is definitely something weird with it. When I looked into it, it was showing me....well me, but a different me, both an older and younger one somehow with different clothes. I'll tell you, it gave me more than a bit of the heebie-jeebies."

Moretti accepted the light with a grin. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Shaking his head, he took a drag on his cigarette, exhaling slowly.

"I was going to tell you I was fine, but you know me too well. You'd figure I was lying," he said. Taking another draw, he added, "You remember that crazy Cajun moonshiner, lived south of New Orleans? What was his name...Lejeune? Didn't have any front teeth, but he sure could run a still. What I wouldn't give for a jar of his liquid magic right about now."

He looked down at the ground. Part of him wanted to talk about the mirror. The problem was he didn't know how. But what he'd seen within it wasn't the only thing that was beleaguering him.

"I never beat anyone to death, Bo," he said, "You, better than most, know the kinds of things I've done. But I never had to do that. Take someone's life away with my bare hands. I'm not saying the coglione didn't have it coming, but...I don't know, pointing a gun's a hell of a lot easier."

"But it's not just that. Last night, when I heard Zubaida talk about how afraid she was, how someone she loved was taken from her, I thought going into that spice shop and getting answers was the right thing to do. Especially if it was another group like those assassini from the Juju House. You know, find out who they were, get some justice for the innocents they'd murdered, the people they left grieving."

He tapped the ash from his cigarette. "But now, I think I handled it wrong. Not because of what happened to al-Sayed, but...working for Joe, it's different. You go in some place you know there might be trouble, everyone with you is the same. You're all a bunch of no account thugs who work for the family. Guys that'll all do some pretty bad things before they end up in a box on Hart Island, the world a better place for them being gone. Raised in Harlem, die in Harlem. It's what you agreed to when you joined in, signed your life away."

He looked at Bo, his expression remorseful. "Tommy and Miss O'Connor, they're not like me, Bo. They're good people. You and I both know O'Connor's had her hands in some shady business, but not the sort of monstrous things I've done. And here, sure she's working for Carlyle, but in the end, she's just trying to get answers like everyone else. And Tommy...he's shown the kind of loyalty you can't get from your own blood. Ready to risk it all to find out what happened to Jackson."

"By pushing my way into that shop last night, I put them both in harm's way. And look what happened. Al-Sayed did something to Miss O'Connor I can't even explain. I should have brought everyone back here, handed it all over to Bishop. Let him decide how it needed to be handled. Either that, or go it alone."

He smiled humorlessly. "And then there's the mirror that I left behind, intact."

He took another drag, his eyes distant. "I'm starting to think it was a mistake, me coming to England. In New York, I know the game. Maybe I should've hung back. Not been so stupid to believe I could contribute anything useful over here. Getting people to sell you liquor is one thing. This is something different. If I'd stayed behind...or if I go back, I could use Joe's resources to make certain all the Bloody Tongue people were hunted down and exterminated. The boss wouldn't have any problem giving a little to that cause. And I wouldn't get anyone hurt...anyone that didn't have it coming, anyway."

He took a last pull on his Modiano and crushed it out on his heel. Managing a smile, he said, "Damn. Enough about me, huh? So, Rosalie and Stanley? Bishop's a lucky bastardo. Hell, I've had a crush on Rosalie since I was ten." He nodded. "Stanley's smart enough to recognize his good fortune. He'll do right by her. She deserves a good man."

Bo is silent as Vince spills his guts, hoping that letting him get it all his chest is the right call. When he starts talking about Stan and Rosalie, he grins back.

"Yeah, looks like Stan got the big prize this time. Good for him. And good for Rosalie if it ends up that way. Hell, we've all been a little in love with her all these years. Maybe more than a little, hey?"

He crushes out his butt and lights another fag.

"As for you, paisan, you better not run out on me. I can't watch everybody's back by myself and Stan's gonna be protecting Rosalie first from now on and himself last, if I know the big lug.

"As for last night, I  ain't gonna second guess your call. You got us some good information with your break-in. If you'd brought the others home first, the spice merchant would have been home before you got back or gotten home before you were done tossing the place.

"And you were protecting the others when you went after the guy. If he'd put you out of action, instead of Milly... We'd probably be wondering where all three of you were this morning, and going down to the London morgue to arrange for shipping your bodies home. You did right, Vincenzo, you did good."

He grinds out another butt with his heel.

"We're in a war now, old friend, just like all the guys who went to France in '17. Most of them were just ordinary people too, maybe even good people, I don't know. And they all went where they had to go and did what they had to do and took the same chances as everybody else. And some of them didn't make it.

"Leo, Tommy, Milly, Rosalie, they're here and none of them got drafted. Maybe none of us're gonna be sailing home, but I believe we're on the side of the angels and we got to give it all we got.

"Okay? You okay?"

When Bo spoke of Rosalie, Moretti smiled and nodded in agreement, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Yeah," he said, "Maybe more than a little."

He listened closely as Bo talked, grateful for his friend's encouragement and wisdom. Bo was one of the few people in his life that Moretti could always count on.

"I'm okay. Really. Thanks for helping me see it straight, Bo. I guess, looking back on it this morning...I just felt responsible for it all, you know? I didn't want to be the reason that people I cared about got hurt. I've just got to remember, we all went into this thing with our eyes open."

He clapped Bo on the shoulder. "Besides, I gotta stick around to help keep you out of trouble, huh? But I tell you one thing. Before we leave this miserable country, you and I, we're going to look up Derby Sabini, make him tell us where we can find some real food around here. Panelle. Arancini. Pesto alla trapanese. Pasta alla Norma. We're gonna have one decent meal before we put London behind us. We'll even drag Tommy along. Give the kid a culinary education."

He pointed up with his thumb. "I'm going to head upstairs. Get everything ready for people to look at."

"Thanks again, Bo. You're a real friend."

Looking between Tommy and Millicent, she asked in a quiet voice, "Did anyone notice you go in or come out?  Any sort of alarm raised?  I'm wondering if this man's death might have been noticed last night.  It would be risky going back there this morning if this was a public shop.  He might have customers or co-workers."

Leo listened to the conversation of those around and nodded at Vincent's suggestion. Gathering everything somewhere private would be a good next step. He nodded at Rosalie's question, but gestured toward the exit. "Let's head upstairs and continue our conversation there. It seems we have some more clues to examine, further plans for investigation to make, and some connections between here and New York to discuss."

Leo made his way over to the waiter that had handled their table and had the bill for the meal charged to his room.

Tommy nodded to Vincent as he slipped away followed by 'Bo. Glad for a moment to think of simpler times he tucked into his breakfast proper, surprised to realize how hungry he was.

With a mouthful of bacon and egg he shook his head at Rosalie's question before gulping it down. "Nope. I dont think anyone saw us and there was no alarm. Although...". He looked apologetically to Millicent. "...it aint Milly's fault but she did make a hell of a noise. We might have gotten lucky; the Brit's built with good hard stone. Maybe the sound was muffled or the neighbors slept through it. Still, I don't think any of the three of us should be seen by the place for a while.".

Sweeping up some rogue ketchup with a wedge of toast he continued.
"I do think it would do no harm for someone else to check in on Wardour Street soon though.". The reporter nodded toward Bishop. "Do you fancy a morning walk over there big guy?
Either the alarm was raised last night, which means we need to know someone saw or heard us. And more importantly, the cops are on the lookout...probably for a stunning redhead and her dashing dark haired companion.

Or we got away with it. Which means," he glanced at his watch " the store should have only opened recently and people will assume Twefik is out on an errand or something. No one is going to start to worry until later today or maybe tomorrow if the store stays closed.". He paused to emphasize his point.
"Unless the people who check the place out are cultists. Then it'd do no harm to see who is overly interested and for us to follow 'em. I doubt they'd tip of the police either.".

Tommy shrugged. "Basically, eyes on the place this morning would be a good thing. Right?".

Bo slides into his chair, picking up knife and fork: "Vince is going upstairs to get the stuff ready for inspection." He slices up his eggs and raises a forkful just as--


Bo's shoulders slump, but he shovels in a couple mouthfuls of egg, washing it down with gulps of coffee, still warm in his cup. As the others rise to follow his uncle, Walter slaps a rasher of bacon between two pieces of toast. Wrapping his sandwich in a linen napkin, he shoves the package into one pocket and a pear in the other.

He hurries for the elevator.

Moretti was waiting at the door to Leo's room when he and the rest of the group arrived.

When everyone entered, Moretti put the skullcap, robe, and scepters on a table, then handed the inverted ankh on the chain to Leo, knowing that the symbol would be immediately familiar to him.

Opening his notebook to the page with the transcribed cuneiform, he set it out on the desk, alongside the unfolded piece of parchment.

That done, he moved to an out of the way corner and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed while the others examined what had been taken.

Rosalie examined all of the items, but paid special attention to the drawings in Vincent's notebook.  She looked at it from all angles, a bit puzzled over the writing and style.  Eventually, she shook her head and put it down so that everyone else could have a look.  "Very curious."


20:50, Today: Rosalie Elias rolled 78 using 1d100 with rolls of 78.  Occult (27).
20:49, Today: Rosalie Elias rolled 4 using 1d100 with rolls of 4.  Archaeology (21).
20:47, Today: Rosalie Elias rolled 97 using 1d100 with rolls of 97.  Egyptian Hieroglyphics (41).

Rosalie's attempt to read the hieroglyphics on the scroll was not successful, as she realized it would take her a more careful and considered study to master what was before her. She was confident with time that she could unlock its meaning, as she recognized certain familiar patterns.

The markings in Vincent's notebook, she readily identified as Cuneiform.

She leaned over the scroll briefly before addressing the others.  "I'm fairly certain the Cuneiform is Sumerian, though there is little chance of translating it without the resources of a good library.  The scroll, as well.  The glyphs are too varied to form a reasonable translation without reference materials.  Perfectly printed text would be easier, but so much of the writing is subjective to the author's style that it can easily be misinterpreted." 

Slurping down the dregs of his coffee Tommy cleaned his hands on a napkin and stood to follow the others. He walked alongside Bishop incase the PI had any response to his suggestions before, and thought idly about Zubaida.

Bishop thought over the idea of returning to the place.It would have been better to do so last night but their might still be time.

"If we are going to do it we had better do it now." Bishop said.

"We should bring a bag that we can carry anything back in, needs to be big enough for the item." Bishop suggested.

In reply to Stanley Bishop (msg # 45):

Bo sits in an armchair, finishing his sandwich, the pear on a side-table.

"I vote against going near the place, Stan. You don't want to be one of those mooks that gets arrested because he goes back to the scene of the crime. Or worse, stirs up some interest in the lodge brothers. At least let the place cool off a couple of days.

"Besides, Vince probably got everything worth getting. The mirror? Let Rosalie figure out the inscription and we'll see if that tells us what the dingus is."

Holding the napkin under his chin, he takes a big bite of the pear.

Leo took the inverted Ankh and frowned for a few moments as he looked over the item. "Yes, this is quite familiar. For those that haven't read Life as a God, this is one of the symbols of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharoah as described by the author. The Brotherhood's initiation rites include rituals of both orgiastic and murderous varieties. The Brotherhood has quite a few shockingly disgusting rituals that it apparently performs. In addition to the inverted ankh, there is also a spiked club that is apparenlty important to the rituals of this particular cult."

Leo paused a moment and considered. "The cult is said to have been brought back to England in 1805. They seek to wipe out the rule of man for the rule of what they call the true gods. Apparently one of the things they do is ritually sacrifice humans using the spiked club - it apparently has a bronze spike they use to pierce the heart of their victim."

He looked around at the others. "I do think the idea of keeping an eye on the place today makes some sense, though it shouldn't be any of those that were there yesterday, just in case it comes to questioning of whereabouts and things of that nature. And I agree with Stanley that time is of the essence. However, I'm with Walter in that trying to remove the mirror is too great a risk for very questionable reward. We have the inscription. And the mirror isn't likely to be removed except by any of his fellow members."

"I hear you Bo. I have the same concerns. But I want to get
A look at the place." Bishop replied.

"It could be the police are already there. It could be his friends are already there. Could be no one has stumbled over us body. As he was our best lead might be worth staking it out and tailing any one who stops by but leaves without calling the cops." Bishop further explained.

Moretti cleared his throat.

"We got in through the back door," he said, "The room behind the shop proper was a storeroom. It held crates and packages of spices...stock for the store. There wasn't anything remarkable there or in the public area of the shop. Up front there were spices for sale. A cash register. Nothing of note behind the counter. We searched for an entrance to a basement. Never found anything."

"The living area upstairs was where the mirror was, along with the desk that held the hidden drawer, where most of these items came from. Aside from it, the desk's contents were mostly ordinary business correspondence. The rest of the room's contents were unexceptional, items and furnishings that you'd expect to find in a residence of this type."

"There were three other rooms on the upper floor: a bedroom, a washroom, and a small kitchen. The chest in the bedroom only held clothing. I checked the other two rooms before I left. Didn't find anything of interest."

"The mirror was the only unusual item we didn't take."

He sighed. "If someone goes in the public area of the shop, it won't take long for them to find al-Sayed."

"In the end, watching the place and tailing anyone noteworthy will likely be the only way to locate other members of the Brotherhood. I'm not afraid of taking part in the watch. The streets were empty when I left the place, but it would still probably best if I took the graveyard shift, just on the off-hand chance someone in the neighborhood noticed me. Given their penchant for making people vanish, I'd bet that the cult will try to keep the death hidden if they're the ones who discover it."

He glanced over at Cotton. "Whoever's keeping an eye on the place needs to pay attention if a van pulls up in front of it. Like Mr. Cotton mentioned downstairs, Zubaida said that the cult uses one to transport the faithful once a month."