Continued from Chapter 2.3: Night at the Foundation [01/31/1925] - msg #176

The phone rang twice, and an anxious sounding Avery answered the phone, "Yes?"

It wasn't like Avery, who normally had a polite but almost stoic disposition in his delivery of information.

Moretti frowned upon hearing the valet's voice, sensing the anxiety in the man's tone. "Avery? This is Vincent Moretti. I had called to see if you had heard anything further from Leo or the others. Is everything alright?"

He sounded a bit relieved. "You all just phoned not long ago, sir...I haven't heard from anyone since the last time you rang. The last word from Dr. Elias is what I've told Rosalie. Do you have an update I should provide the others in case they call?"

"Yes, Avery," Moretti answered, "Let them know that our errand is completed and that we have proceeded to the Blue Pyramid. Miss Elias and Mr. Cotton should be waiting for them in the hired car, two blocks away from the restaurant."

Remaining concise, he provided Avery the same instructions he had given Cotton for the safe house, both the phone number and the password. "There was some intimation in what we found that those we are investigating have become aware of some members of the group. I think it best, at the end of the night, that everyone gather at a location where they won't be easily found.'

He took down the message, not questioning the unusual instructions with respect to the safe house.

"Very good, sir. I will remain here until notified to meet at said location. You noted that Miss Elias and Mr. Cotton will be in one of the hired cars near that restaurant. What will your own whereabouts be?" he asked.

Moretti hesitated. "I'm going to investigate a location within a short distance of the Pyramid. The residence of someone associated with the Penhew Foundation. It should not take long, but I might not have returned prior to the others' arrival."

"Do you wish to provide me an address in case it should be necessary to contact you before you've finished with that errand?" he asked.

"I honestly anticipate my visit there to be brief, Avery, but it's probably wise for you to have the information, just in case," Moretti answered. Pulling the guard's wallet from his coat pocket, he dictated the address to the valet.

Avery noted the information down.

"Very good sir," he said. "I shall look forward to your next communication."

Moretti hung up and called the Sabinis. After giving the password, he identified himself, explaining that he and a group of associates, seven in all, were in need of a safe house to use for possibly two or three days. He was quick to thank them profusely, explaining that some of the individuals that required protection were family members of his. After taking down the address he was given, he indicated that the group was separated, so it remained possible that one of them might call for the address later. He assured the person he spoke with that the caller would provide his name and the agreed upon password.

Once done, he hung up, delivered the address to Cotton, then ventured off into the night, pulling up his collar and thrusting his hands in his pockets as he ventured though the darkened streets to the watchman's residence.

While Vincent had visited London on a handful of occasions on business, that alone didn't give him an intimate knowledge of what some might call a confusing city. He was generally oriented in the right direction, and stopping and asking for directions at a couple of pubs managed to find him to the right address. Between getting directions and getting turned around a couple of times, it took about fifteen in total to get there, but he knew the return journey could be done in half that time.

The address was that of an old four story walkup that housed a number of what appeared from the outside to be small flats. The central stairwell was exposed to the cold night air, and the unit itself was on the third floor of the building. He easily took the stairs, and found himself at the door. Given the late hour, it was unsurprising that the building was quiet.

He tried his keys one by one, and finally one did the job, leaving him on the inside of a small, dark apartment.

Moretti took a deep, settling breath and paused to listen for any sounds within the dark space.

10:27, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 75 using 1d100 with rolls of 75.  Listen - Listen 25%.

Hearing nothing, he switched on his flashlight, sweeping the area around him, taking in the details of the room, alert for anything unusual. With his right hand, he drew the revolver from his waistband.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

There were no unusual sounds that he could make out. As he swept out the flashlight, he saw the general lay of the unit, which was as small as he imagined from the outside. On the whole it was a little bit messy, though the floor was clear for walking on. The room he was immediately in had a small unmade bed with a simple mattress, sufficient for one person to sleep on but tight for more.

There was a small sitting area, with a couple of comfortable chairs and a small coffee table on which there was a plate with a few crumbs on it and an empty mug with a small remained of black liquid.

There was a writing table on the opposing wall, with scattered papers, a few coins, and other assorted objects there. It looked like it was just used as a convenient place to deposit things that may not have properly belonged anywhere else. There was a narrow wardrobe present in the room as well.

Walking into the kitchen, he observed that the place was as messy as the rest of the unit, with used pans and dishes piled up in the sink, and some laying on the counters. There were a few cabinets there as well.  He carefully opened the adjoining door to find an empty washroom. All in all that seemed to mark the bounds of the small unit.

---

OOC:
This is what might today be called a 'studio apartment' or an 'efficiency,' for reference. It's a small living space where the bedroom doubles as the living room, with a kitchen in the back, and an adjoining door for what might be a washroom.

I went ahead and described the obvious to you, so that you can tell me what you're looking for.

A twinge of familiarity struck Moretti as he studied the small space. His own flat in New York was larger, consisting of two rooms instead of one, but in terms of character, they were close to identical. The discarded dishes and papers. The vacancy. The loneliness. Henry David Thoreau's words from Walden came immediately to mind: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

Finding a switch, he turned on the lights. Cautiousness that he recognized as bordering on paranoia led him to keep his weapon drawn. He remained unsettled, the memories of the monstrous artwork in Gavigan's study and the pain in his flank gnawing at him in different ways. Stepping quietly over to the wardrobe, he opened the door and peered inside, examining the contents within.

Opening the wardrobe, Vincent found that it was full of clothing, from guard's uniforms to every day clothing items, in addition to coats and formal wear. Below where items were hung, there was a set of drawers.

Out of habit, Moretti reached through the garments, tapping the back of the wardrobe with fingertips, testing to see if anything might be hidden there.

Crouching, he slid the drawers open one at a time, carefully surveying the contents of each.

The back of the wardrobe revealed nothing. In one of the drawers, he found a folded silk robe and a black skullcap embroidered with inverted ankhs.

Moretti picked up the garments, rolled them into a tight bundle, and tucked them into a coat pocket. He frowned at the mixture of emotions he felt, gratified to know that his suspicions had been justified, but angered that the watchman had forced his hand, compelled him to show himself as the assassino that he was.

How much easier things were when you were surrounded by those who shared in your corruption.

He glanced over at the chairs, then moved to the bed, lifting the mattress to see if anything was concealed beneath it, or tucked into the frame. Then he looked under the bed itself.

That done, he moved to the writing table, examining the assortment of objects scattered on its surface.

Spot Hidden, please.

16:17, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 44 using 1d100 with rolls of 44.  Spot Hidden - Spot Hidden 60%.

Vincent finds an assortment of papers on the desk, most of them seeming to be receipts for purchase of various mundane items and household necessaries. One that stands out among them is a calendar showing the month of February. The first of February was circled.

OOC:

Luck: 30

23:18, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Vincent Moretti, rolled 30 using 1d100 with rolls of 30.  Luck 75.

Moretti tore the calendar page off and folded it, tucking it in his pants pocket. More evidence that the ritual would take place tomorrow. In the pit of his stomach, he felt certain that the mirror would be found wherever it was being held, at the location of the mysterious Misr House. If only he'd had the forethought to take it when they'd discovered it at the spice shop.

He took another slow walk through the flat, looking for anything he might have missed.

16:37, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 4 using 1d100 with rolls of 4.  Spot Hidden - Spot. Hidden 60%.

Returning to the front door, he looked back into the apartment and addressed the silence. "Me and you, we both watch over what belongs to bad people. Keeping ill gotten gains safe. I just happened to get lucky tonight. That's the only difference."

His peace said, he stepped back out into the hallway, locking the door behind him.

OOC:
Vincent doesn't find anything else of interest in his search of the premises.