The next few days were rotten for flying, with heavy rains or low clouds socking in Croydon of Lympne Aerodrome. Still, that gave everyone time to mind their affairs.

Officially, the travellers (Ralph Fulty, Cynthia Holloway, Major Storm,
Howard Lampton, Phil Webley, Francis Simmonds and imran Singh) had already left weeks earlier, bound for New York aboard the liner SS Arcadia. In reality, none had gone. And now Phil, Howard, Storm, and Francis were all gone, killed by the cultists or other depraved parties like Miles Shipley and his monstrous mother.

Detective Sergeant Darlington bid his comrades adieu, and passed along that Barrington had been unable to locate anyone matching Tewfik's description. Nor did Mr. Singh turn up. Prof. Fulty travelled to Ireland under a false name, there to book passage to America and his warm, cozy office at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee.

It was not unexpected, but try as he might, Alexander was unable to obtain the materials to make new passports and travel documents under assumed names for his new companions. He would have more luck in his accustomed stomping grounds of Cairo, assuredly.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 1):

"Well, sir," said Perkins to his boss. "I reckon I would like to stay with you, keep you out of trouble, if that's all right. Nasty business with Billy's death and all. I'm keen to track the rest of these buggers to the ends of the Earth, if it comes to that.

"Now. CSM Jones is willing to follow you as well, and he's a fine chap what knows his duty. But between you and I, sir, truth to tell he's getting a little long in the tooth to be travelling so far and so hard, if you know what I mean. And that's not even knowin' where we're going to end up. Egypt? Kenya? Australia? China?"

Lympne Aerodrome

Karlheiz looked up at the sky. Since Dr. Weston convinced him to stop with the drinking, he'd been feeling much better.

"Damnable clouds! Acht, well, at least ve are haffink more time for preparations, ya?

"Zo, mine friend. We take zee Vimy, ya? Should vee be taking zee Brisfit as well? Range is not a problem, Vimy is flying 320 miles, Brisfit is flying 369 miles. Could be useful. Vill having to be removing guns, und storing in fuselage until getting to Egypt and getting new permits."

They had the proper papers for the Brisfit's twin Vickers and twin Lewis guns (due to the possibility of opening an air route into Africa), but only for the UK and her possessions. (The portable Lewis gun as well.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:34, Fri 19 July 2013.

JM smiled at KH.  He shook his head at the weather and bundled himself up further.  "It's jolly old England for you.  When it's not raining it's misting or snowing.  I'm surprised they grow anything here but mold."

He considered KH's proposal.  "Are you comfortable flying either the Vimy or the Brisfit?  Having the Brisfit in Egypt would be helpful if we have to scout or even bomb or strafe someone."

The Count put his hand on Mr Perkins shoulder;

"As always I would be extremely grateful for your assistance."

"I think CSM Jones may be better served staying in London as our liaison here. He can take up my offer of a suite of rooms above the shop and keep the mail-order side of things ticking over. I think we will only open to appointment and Ms Sarah Evens would probably help."

He stopped while he thought how he would explain this to his friend.

"One last thing can you try to locate some of that Zeppelin ammunition they developed during the war, the explosive stuff if you can or the armour piercing and some incendiary ? See if you can get some mills bombs as many as can be secured. Lastly I remember Army and Navy trying to sell sets of that German snipers armour  we will have to pick some up."

He sat back in his chair running through an expanded list in his head.

George was glad the Count had agreed to his accompanying him to Egypt. He knew he would agree but it was good to hear it. He sat back in his seat on the terrace of the town house and rested his ginger beer on his leg.

He thought for minute as to who of his contacts would be able to help. There were several members of the Royal Army Ordnance Corps and the Royal Logistic Corps, both serving and retired. He got up and retrieved a copy of the List of Changes in British War Material that dealt with ammunition. He needed to know exactly what he was asking for after several minutes he had a list of the .303 ammunition he was looking for;

W Mark I Armour Piercing
NCZ (VII.B) Mark III.z Incendiary
R Mark III Explosive

They would need some more magazines for the Lewis gun a pretty easy thing to pick up.

While the boys are playing with their toys, Cynthia will swing by the registrar's office to see if she can pull up the records for the Penhew foundation, Tefwik's Emporium, and other records on Gavigan or Tefwik, to see what other holdings they have. She's looking especially for holdings or links to Egypt.

She'll also drive by Tefwik's Emporium (not getting out of the taxi) just to see if it's still standing and appears to be open.

(This isn't a secret trip; anyone who isn't otherwise busy is welcome to come with her. But it doesn't promise to be very exciting.)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:48, Mon 22 July 2013.

The Count refilled his glass from the sideboard in the parlour before rejoining Mr Perkins on the terrace. He retook his seat and took a slip of the mastícă it was to be savoured as this was the last bottle he had and there would be little chance he could restock.

The taste brought back many memory's as it was traditional to use mastícă to toast during weddings, christenings and funerals in his home country. He tried to remember the last time he had drunk the spirit in Romania, it must have been his grandmothers eightieth birthday celebrations. The taste of anise lingered on the pallet as he spoke to Mr Perkins;

"Lets arrange to meet the officers at the In & Out. I think both the commanding officers of the Ordnance and the Logistics corps are members, but they will probably be a last resort. The others we can meet at one of the more discreet pubs."

"I will also use any of the members of the scientific community on our mailing list to see if they may have been involved with testing and evaluation during the war or know someone who was. Professor Bates will be my first port of call I am sure he can point us in the right direction for our enquiries."

"It would seem that we will only have a couple of days before we must depart so lets make a list of the most likely individuals and make haste with our enquiries."

He went to the study for paper and a pencil.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Wed 24 July 2013.

JM stepped in from the terrace where he'd been watching the sunset in a rare clear moment in the English weather.  Drink in hand he approached Perkins and the Count.  "The ammunition will be helpful and KH and I will see to provisioning the planes with necessary spare parts and charts.  I think we can rely on Alexander to supply us with expeditionary materials once we reach Egypt.  All of us, the ladies in particular may want to procure rugged field clothing and gear.  Still, my chief concern is that there may be information yet untranslated in some of the materials we have seized from the cultists or Gavigan.  Do you think we can even prioritize what might be best addressed?  Alexander may be able to help us.  He might even telegraph ahead to determine some of the itinerary of the Carlyle expedition."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 9):

"Yah, I should be liking having 2 planes. Is shame cannot communicate mit wireless while in flight! I have heard was done recently."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 9):

The Count turned to Mr Falcon;

"If you could try any contacts that you have within the Royal Flying Corps for the ammunition it would be most appreciated. There would probably be a good chance of some floating around various hangers from the war, considering that was who it was manufactured for."

"I agree that Alexander is probably the best placed to procure expedition supplies I am sure that keeping any equipment weights down is in our best interest.I have a tailor on Savile Row who will be able to outfit us in suitable attire for our journey if anyone is interested."

"Finally Mr Falcon raises a good point in regard to the recovered material. What do we take with us and what do we leave behind ? The more exotic books and scowls should come with us, but what of the sceptres, mirror etc... I am happy for them to stay in my vault while we are in residence but maybe once we are gone several safety deposit boxes spread over different banks maybe in order ? Unless anyone has a better idea ?"

At the mention of his name Alexander looks up from what he's been reading at a nearby table, eyes tired and a odd look on his face.

He blinks several times as he catches up with what is being said and nods at the mention that he could help with outfitting everyone once they arrived in Cairo.

"I shall send a telegram tomorrow morning about the Carlyle expedition's itinerary and of course my stores and equipment are at your disposal."

Then seemingly distracted, he returns his attention to a collection of papers sitting before him on the table.

"Excuse me....I...yes....."

During the day, Cynthia and company went past Tewfik's. She noted that it looked closed but not boarded up, with a week's worth of grime from the London air coating its windows.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine anything further about Gavigan's potential holdings in Egypt. She guessed that much of what he had used to be Penhew's via the Foundation's holdings that had passed to him via probate, and none of that was in Egypt or Africa.

JM nods to KH.  "You know, we could look into getting a pair of short range sets in each of our aircraft.  It would truly be an advantage, especially if we hit foul weather or one of the aircraft suffers a problem."  He claps the burly German on the shoulder.  "Good idea."

At the Count's suggestions JM nods as well. "I'm sure I can scrounge something up.  I do have a license for arming the Brisfit overseas.  I could surely buy surplus ammunition and the idea of using it overseas will be the absolute truth."  He bows slightly. "You are most gracious with your suggestion of a tailor Count.  I will certainly take advantage of the fact.  I have my uniforms from the War but nothing in the civilian line that would do."

OOC: I think that KH and JM will have some work to do getting the aircraft ready as well as scrounging for ammo as well as possible wireless sets.

Alexander knows when to admit defeat, so pushing back his chair with a sigh, he gets up and joins the others.

"I'm sorry, but the papyrus is beyond me, in fact today has just been one of those days. I have been distracted to say the least."

A cigarette is tapped on his expensive silver case, which is then offered about freely.

"Perhaps I shall have better luck at a later date, and if not, it will be a simple matter to have it translated in Cairo."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 14):

Unfortunately, Perkins had no luck locating the desired ammunition.

"Advantage? Ya, I can be sseing that. A receiver alone would cost between £30 and £200... very expensive! And operators need to be trained or have developed an interest. I have no idea how much a transmitter would weigh. All-in-all, a difficult proposition."

JM shakes his head.  "Three hundred pounds?  We'll just have to use hand signals and flashing lights.  We will want to get heavy duty air filters and seal up the interior of both aircraft.  I remember that the desert dust plays Hob with any kind of engine."

He takes a cigarette from Alexander with a grateful nod.  "Do you have any connections in Cairo that might help source ammunition for the machine guns on the aircraft Captain?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 18):

"Normal ammunitions will be no problem in Egypt, though I am unsure about the special type that you are asking for. I can certainly try once we get there, but I suggest first that I call in at the Royal armoury at Woolwich, I'm sure if anyone can help it will be them. I still have good standing here from my war time experiences and the fact that I was a political officer in Sudan."

Alexander smiles wearily.

"It's been a long day."

With the brief stab at research done, Cynthia will stop by the house to see if Molly is available. A new wardrobe is in order, and somehow Cairo fashion has never quite kept up.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 20):

It didn't take long for Cynthia to convince Molly to go shopping.  SHe was always ready to shop for various bits of things and this time she would be happy to have Cynthia go with her.  Molly would need Cynthia's expertise in clothing also to help shop more "conservatively".

With a grin on her face, Molly turned to Cynthia.  "What a marvelous idea you have to go shopping.  Do you have a particular shop in mind to start at?  If I have to wear more dresses this time, I am afraid that I shall be coming back with a number of parcels."

JM nods. "Ideally we should be able to get what we need here in England.  The rounds will be more common certainly although perhaps more tightly controlled."  He grinned; "Perhaps with our mutual efforts we might persuade the authorities to trust us with it."  At the mention of the hour JM sighed.  "Indeed.  I think that KH and I will stay in the city for the night rather than return to the airfield.  I still have the house I rented as a safe place available."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 22):

"Perhaps it would make sense if I was to stay with you tonight. It means that we can make an early start" replies Alexander.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:39, Sun 28 July 2013.

JM bowed. "It would be an honor to have you lodge with us captain.  The accommodations are a bit rude but it is quiet and safe."

The Count escorted those not staying to the door when the time to leave arrived. They made plans to stay in touch in regards to the preparations for their journey and to meet again for more in-depth plans.

The Count and Mr Perkins still had many hours ahead of them and would be working into the small hours writing letters and making a detailed list of possible contacts. This list expediently expanded with more names and a vast amount of information for the old names. It was a working document full of leads, possible lines of inquiry and the resulting disappointments.

The document had been full of names with the vast majority being acquaintances of Mr Perkins, several were retired and serving members of the armed services all of which had subsequently been crossed off. Then there were his old friends in Birmingham several of which who were on the more shady side of things again these names over time were all crossed off as well. Finally there were the names from the London book trade a veritable whose who of the shop contacts and again these names were all proven to be dead ends.

It was a completely unexpected lead that lead to the ammunition being secured at the last moment. The Count paid a visit to a very old client who had patronised the shop from it inception by the previous owner. Professor Andrew Bates was a professor at the University of London and had a large and varied collection of early scientific books and manuscripts. Professor Bates told the Count early on that he doubted he could be of help, most of his colleagues were still sworn to secrecy due to the nature of their work. Never the less he would endeavour to shake something out of the attic. They spent the rest of the afternoon finishing off a bottle of fine port the Count had brought so the trip was not a total loss.

He had completely forgotten of the meeting when later in the week a rather cryptic letter arrived in the first post. Over the course of the week the Count was able to devote less and less time to the search so Mr Perkins had taken over the bulk of the inquires while the Count secured the artefacts they had acquired in various safety deposit boxes in London.

His discussions with the Countess also came to a head with a furious two days for the shop staff to close the deal and make arrangements for sales and what not.

The letter contained a key and a short note on expensive hand made card with directions to a lock up garage in Southwark. On arrival that same day the Count and Mr Perkins had travelled armed and expecting trouble. The alley where the garage was located looked deserted and as cautious as they could be they opened the door.

Inside where several wooden crates with Royal Flying Cops stencilling indicating they had found what they were looking for. The boxes had recently been moved to the garage as none of the surrounding dust had been moved when they had been place on the floor. Within five minutes the boxes were in the back of the delivery van and the Count and Mr Perkins were on their way back over he river.

It was many months later the Count learned the boxes had been supplied by a scientist who had been heavily involved in the armament R&D for the war office. Why they had sat in his garden shed since the war he never received an answer to.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 24):

The cottage near Lympne Aerodrome was not unpleasant. The weather was mostly clear, and warm for early April. They could easily see across the dark ocean from the escarpment above the port of Dover.

In the hangar were parked the aircraft, fully fuelled with petrol and ready for flight. The guns were hidden, but could be attached in the field with some effort.

The air was full of the smells of petrol, engine lubricant and fabric dope for repairing and strengthening the wings and fuselage of the aircraft. Karlheinz spread maps over the lower wing of the Brisfit.

"All right, mien friends. What exactly is our route to Cairo? We haff a range of perhaps 420 miles for both aircraft."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 26):

Leaning over the map Alexander points at Paris

"Perhaps there first and you could then ask where they suggest, leapfrogging from aerodrome to aerodrome. Perhaps Basle across to Genoa and then down Italy?"

The Egyptian straightens up, ignoring the urge to smoke and looks about the hanger, where he'd spent all morning getting acquainted with the plane and the two pilots.

He liked both men, for at the end of the day they had shared similar lives full of danger and excitement. Both of which it seemed would be filling his life from now on.

An oily hand scratched the back of his neck and then his attention was drawn back to the map.

"Greece then Turkey? Or will you fly across the Med?" he asks of both men.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 27):

"Land. As much as possible. I was in zee Imperial Navy, I haff no fear of undt water crossink. While zee Vimy is haffink 2 engines and can fly on vun, zee Brisfit is haffing one but cannot fly on zero engines, ya?"

He sighed, looking at the smaller biplane and the larger biplane, then shook his head.

"I am hating to go back on my earlier suggestion, but zee Vimy is best flown mit undt pilot and copilot. Zee Bristol requires another pilot. Three pilots is perhaps necessary."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 28):

"Why bring the Bristol then?" replies Alexander, adding "Otherwise do you know another pilot who would fly it to Cairo for you?"

"There would be some value in having a second aircraft. Plus, it is a combat aeroplane. Zat may come in handy. On zee downside, our ability to cross large stretches of open water will be restricted mit zee one engine having. Undt vee could be needing undt extra pilot."

He blew on the cup of tea that he'd made. He found himself drinking a lot more, now he had stopped drinking with Dr. Weston's help.

JM nodded at KH's comment about the Brisfit.  "A combat or scouting aircraft would be of great potential value in Egypt and the surrounding territories.  The deserts are vast and the aircraft could be used to save hazardous overland travel if we need to scout out a particular location." He considers the options of flying to Cairo.  "We could hire a pilot to fly her to Cairo.  I know plenty of good men who would be willing to do so.  Or we could break her down and ship her on a direct steamer to Alexandria and the Canal.  She would likely arrive almost as quickly as we might."

He pointed to the map.  "I say we travel along the northern part of the Mediterranean.  Even with two engines we should avoid long ocean crossings where possible."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 31):

"Sounds like an excellent plan" replied Alexander

"When can we leave?"

JM glances at KH and then back to Alexander.  "We could leave within a day.  The aircraft are ready.  I have a friend in mind, Roger Bedford from the War.  He's a tough, reliable man with some experience flying in the eastern Mediterranean.  He might help fly one of the aircraft for us."

"Also, some of the material we found, scrolls are in Arabic.  Perhaps together we might decipher some of it?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 33):

"Well that's settled then," and Alexander gives both men a warm smile. "I can start on the parchments whilst in the air, I can't see there being a problem with translation, unless they are hard to read due to age. If their contents make no sense I or my wife will be able to find someone to help at the University or Museum in Cairo."

They heard the sound of a train whistle as the 9:15 from London to Dover pulled into the nearby station at Westenhangar. Karlheinz was already there with the flatbed Ford Model-T to meet it.

Within ten minutes, Karlheinz had Bedfored beside him in the cab and driving onto the grass airstrip. Karlheinz helped Bedford with his bags, then stepped away to light a smoke.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:41, Thu 08 Aug 2013.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 35):

He'd got a way in the nick of time. He liked to travel light, with just a little duffle bag with a few personals, and the like. Bedford was absolutely stoked that he could help his old friend out.  He'd spent most of the winter here in grey old England, besides a few short trips of passengers and mail deliveries across the straight.  Inside he'd been kind of pining to head back south to Rabat.  He had that feeling for a spot of mint tea in Ahmed's Teahouse.  When the call came from John-Marc he was absolutely delighted.

"Oh, my good chap.  So glad to see you in good health again.  Hope everything's been goin' well for ya. You can't believe how relieved I am to have a good excuse to head to warmer climes.  So whose aboard with me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:07, Wed 07 Aug 2013.

JM stepped out of the hangar as the truck pulled up.  He was dressed in greasy coveralls.  Wiping his hands one a greasy rag he trotted to the truck.  "Robert you old scoundrel!  It's good to see you.  I'm glad you agreed to help ferry one of my aircraft to Egypt."  He wrapped the other man in a bear hug.  "Although I'm sure you're escaping some jealous husband."

"We've got a gaggle of civilians with us on sort of an archeological expedition.  You may know Dr. Weston who is part of the crew."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:09, Wed 07 Aug 2013.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 37):

Roger scowled a little, though anybody's fool would know he was playing, before letting out a good belly laugh.  "None my luck, good friend.  Would love to tell the tale, but it'd be a tall one, my good friend.  Hope I run into better luck down in old Cairo, ya know, like. I'm totally glad to meet the need.  It's always good to make new acquaintances too, as ya know."

He lit up a cigarette, as the two stood on the airstrip.  "Has everybody got their things in order? We ready to leave asap?"

Whilst the two men talk, Alexander comes out and stands nearby with Karlheinz, so that he can be introduced when convenient.

"So, did you ever think you'd end up working here in England?" he asks of the German pilot.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:44, Wed 07 Aug 2013.

"You mean, had vee von or had vee lost?" he joked.

"Not really. I was expecting to go back home, or continuing serving in zee Imperial German Navy or Reichsmarine. But I guess I liked flying too much, even if the war gives me nightmares."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 40):

"Either" laughs Alexander in reply.

"Where is home exactly?" he adds, a look of concern at the mention of nightmares.

JM shares a hearty laugh.  The thought of his good friend back with them already raising his spirits.  He leaned forward with a light and then lit one for himself.  "You could always make yourself that kind of luck.  I don't doubt that there will be more than a few ladies that might appreciate a fresh face or two in Cairo."

At the question he waved toward the open hangar where two aircraft stood ready.  "We have my old Brisfit and a Vimy fully converted for passenger traffic.  Both are fully overhauled and ready for the trip and I've secured spare parts aboard the Vimy for the trip.  We leave tomorrow morning at dawn."

Seeing KH and Alexander nearby he motioned toward them and waved them over. "Robert, this is Karlheinz Bergman my friend, mechanic and copilot.  This gentleman is Alexander Mahfouz from Cairo.  He is well educated and well connected and has offered to aid us in our investigations." JM nods to Robert. "Gentlemen, this is Robert Bedford an old friend from the War and a crack pilot."

"Pleased to meet you Mr Bedford. Have you been to Egypt before?" Alexander shakes the man's hand warmly.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 42):

Karlhienz also shook his hand, smiling. For once, the rumpled mechanic was clean shaved and didn't smell of schnapps.

"Hallo. I am pleased to be meeting you," he said, with a thick German accent.

10 o'clock in the morning
Clear and sunny

The week had been a strange one. Some of the investigators had looked into getting quantities of ammunition. They had an idea that whatever they'd be facing, it would take whatever strength they could muster.

But Cynthia had had a very strange week of a different kind. She tried to read the scrolls in French and Latin, but they were very obscure and obviously the products of diseased minds. She was unable to make heads nor tails from them. Africa's Dark Sects was a different matter. It was of recent authorship, so it was eminently understandable. But what was inside was fantastic, the result of a man of science and learning trying, and perhaps failing, to document that which was perhaps best left within the jungles of darkest Africa. Indeed, for perhaps a day after she completed her studies, she was in little more than a stupour, her will sapped by a strange lethargy. Many hot baths and sloe gin fizzes later, she was somewhat herself.

The ledgers (from the Penhew Institute and Al Misr House) were long and pretty straightforward to John-Marc. There were entries for shipments to and from ports around the world, on every continent. The entries that stuck out were of ones that matched the addresses on the shipping crates: Darwin, Australia and Shang Hai, China. JM was able to read the scrolls in Arabic, they were religious texts in praise of the Dark Pharaoh and the Bloated Woman.

Alexander, Count Bathony and Mr. Perkins spent their time reading some of the scrolls, these seemed to be of little value.

The statues! Ah, the statues. Molly and Cynthia had photographed them, and JM had taken a look at them. One was a small bluestone 16" statuette of a fat flabby winged man with tentacles growing from his face. All three felt a curious tingle when they touched it, but no harm came and the felling immediately faded.  It was odd, but nothing compared to the other statue. It was a corroded brass statue of some perverted fertility figure, a bloated woman.

Soon, the adventurers were arriving at the airfield, driven from London by Darragh in Dr. Weston's Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. It was a pleasant enough ride, all things considered. Their baggage had arrived earlier, to be loaded onto the planes.

As the car pulled up on the grass, they saw JM, Alex and Karlheinz talking to a solid-looking chap with a dashing moustache. He was dressed as a pilot, obviously the friend JM had engaged to help ferry the Brisfit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:52, Thu 08 Aug 2013.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 43):

Shaking the man with a firm shake, he answered, "Why yes, I've been to Cairo and Alexandria, on my way to the Mideastern Front.  It was a pleasant enough place.  Certainly a lot more exotic than the grey old motherland."

Soon the car pulls in, and Roger looks over to see the others, "Oh, you're friends. Didn't have any plans as to whose flying with who?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Thu 08 Aug 2013.

JM glances over at the car. "We'll put the civilians in the Vimy unless one of them wants to fly with you Robert."  He glances up at the wind sock and then the clear sky.  "An excellent day for flying.  A good omen."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 46):

"Do you play ze chess?

"Ven vee vere in zee Zeppelin, some of zee baskets vere spearated. Ve vould play chess undt communicate with small chalkboards. Big enough for couple of words. Can alzo giff zee simple kommands, like bearing, direction undt altitude, if a course change is made. Vee vill be close enough to be readink zem, but vee can use zee binoculars to zee zem better, ya?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 47):

"I'd be happy to fly with Robert if he doesn't mind....Just until our first stop. I've never been in a small plane before."

Alexander looks rather excited at the prospect.

JM nods.  "The ride will be far more exciting in the Brisfit Alexander.  Just make sure you are very warmly dressed.  I have a few spare flight suits, helmets and goggles for you if you'd like."

"Alrighty then, the morning.  Whatever we decide I do not mind.  And certainly Karl, I wouldn't mind trying out playing chess by binoculars!"

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 51):

"Is gut, ya. I haff undt travel chess board. Vee can be picking up anozzer in... Vere are ve goink? Paris?"

He looked up at the wind sock, which showed a slight head wind, and then at the arriving town car.

"Act, gut! See others haf arrived. Ve can get in zee air macht schnell... very quickly."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 52):

Getting out of the car, Dr. Weston pulled ot of the boot the bags he intended to carry onto the airplane. His carry-on baggage, if you will.

Walking over to the Vimy, he introduced himself to Roger. "I am Doctor Phillip Weston. Jolly pleased to make your acquaintance, sir!"

He was a portly white-bearded man, more towards old age than middle aged, but healthy and with a keen eye. The Doctor was dressed in fine travelling clothes.

Looking over the gentlemen as he approached, he shook his hand, "And pleased to make your acquaintance too, chap."  He took hold of the man's bags to load them into the Vimy, "I hope that the trip will be pleasurable to you, though I can't promise anything, I must say.  Ya just never know what the skies will throw at us.  Though to be sure, everything seems quite pleasant at the moment."

Things seemed quite curious to Roger.  He'd been a little surprised when out of the blue, he'd received the call from John-Marc, but then it was mighty interesting to see his travelling companions, and for all the places in the world to be flying them, it was Cairo.  Curiouser, and curiouser.

The Count surveyed the airfield as they drove towards the plane. He had not left England since his rather hurried arrival only a couple of years ago. As he exited the vehicle he had a strange sense of foreboding and as he looked across the car to Mr Perkins he couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same.

Their luggage consisted of two steamer trunks, two leather gun cases and another leather cartridge magazine, a large book truck and the Counts carpet bag. The majority of it was the Counts he had spent a very relaxing day with Mr Falcon as they shopped at Gieves & Hawkes Henry and Poole & Co for appropriate attire for the tropics. Mostly consisting of cotton and linen suits, silk shirts etc. He had ended the day at Firmin & Sons having a British tropical uniform tailored and then next door at Bates for a couple of Panama hats, one was a extra wide Fedora and the other a Planter style. He was also able to succour a pith helmet from the same maker.

He looked the planes over from the side of the car as he help Mr Perkins with their luggage, it would all go in the cargo area of the plane except for the Counts carpet bag.

Cynthia has had to pack her trunk for the first time in quite a while. While she understands the concept, she can't seem to fit everything in one trunk as Anna or Mr. Singh had been able to, which resulted in an awful crisis of fitting everything in two trunks or throwing it out (well, shipping it back home). Clothes, guns, books, make-up, fineries, and so on quickly fill up. Away with the coats and wellingtons for London.

But she does arrive at the air field, perhaps slightly delayed, wearing layers. Stockings under a cotton skirt, blouse, chemise, sweater, hiking boots with double socks, all under a comfortable cloak. From her experience, air flight can be cold, but Italy and Egypt will be warm. Best to permit easy transitions, where feasible. However, a cold flight will be perfect for keeping her small, portable liquor cabinet chilled, as well as the picnic lunch of sandwiches and fruit. The cards and books she brought should be fairly resistant to the temperature, regardless, as long as it isn't too bumpy.

Fortunately Cynthia wasn't expected to CARRY all her luggage.

Molly went through the check list one more time.

Camera and equipment - checked
Reporting equipment - checked
dresses - (sadly) checked
suits - (gladly) checked
fancy and frilly women's underwear and stockings - (guilty pleasure) checked
various shoes and jewelry - checked
new hats - (carefully) checked
Money hidden in various places on her body - checked

Molly smiled and looked around.  She had sent a missive off to her uncle to say she was on the trail again and would see him when she could.  She also had sent a small "human interest" article to him about her meeting with the fabulous Gertrude Bell.

Yes, she was ready to go off again on another part of the adventure.  With a smile she closed her door and waited as the cabby finished putting her luggage in the vehicle.  It didn't take long for the cab to get her to her destination.  It was one that she had used before so knew that he wouldn't talk.  Of course a healthy tip never hurt and with his cocky nod she knew that he had gotten the message.

She tipped her hat as the cab took off to stop the dust from getting into her face and turned to meet the others.  Molly was glad that it was 1925.  The hemlines of skirts had gone up and allowed more movement which was what Molly liked.  Today she wore a skirt that was JUST above her knees and looked like a layers of pleats. Molly also wore a white blouse which had just enough of a ruffled neckline to show around the V of her jacket.  The piping on her jacket drew attention to the ruffles in a most delightful way.  She wore more sensible shoes which consisted of a one inch heel and her Choche hat topped her head, allowing her finger waves to peep out.  She had a matching sweater on her arm and a lap robe in case it got chilly.

"Good morning everybody.  I was worried for a little bit that I'd be late but see that I'm not.  Cynthia, my dear, did I say that I totally enjoyed our romp in the stores the other day?  I couldn't have done it without you."

The drive out to the aerodrome had been a nearly silent affair. Neither the Count or himself seem to need to converse about the upcoming trip, he was looking forward to it but the destination may unfold to be a nightmare. Funny how nightmares seem to be in the land of the living now.

He had witnessed several strange things in his time, there was the ghost in the manor they were selling the contents of, the staircase final that would burst into flames in his family home. Lastly he had seen a solitary figure when he was in no man's land one night waiting for a target. It was picking over dead corpses before it bloody took flight of all things. Thank god he was heavily camouflaged as he did want to see that thing close up whatever it was.

All those things did not come close to what he had witnessed recently though, he gave a shudder and took a deep breath. When he looked up he saw the Count looking at him from across the car roof, he gave a slight nod as he went to get their luggage.

He had a small section of one of the steamer trunks where he had stowed his clothes and personnel items. A small shoulder bag for several necessaries for the plane journey and his leather bound case for his two pryse revolvers. He wore his Browning automatic in its usual shoulder holster, but the revolvers were new.

He had acquired them from the London Armoury gun shop where the Count was a frequent customer. They had sat undisturbed in the display case for as long as the Count could remember, something of a antique collectable oddity. Far too powerful for even occasional target use they were a life saver against tigers, elephants or drugged tribesman. Or nightmares come to life he thought to himself as he grasped the handle on their case.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 57):

"Of course, it pays to be prepared. And unlike some people, we don't have military uniforms we can use as casual, formal, and evening wear. I also purchased some Mothersill's seasick remedy. I've not tried it, but if Italy's skies are as bad as their roads, you're welcome to take a few."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 59):

Molly smiled at Cynthia.  "That is great.  I will admit that with the men flying, sometimes they leave my stomach a turn behind them.  Normally it's not a problem but sometimes.  What does she use for air sickness?"

JM greeted each of the passengers as they arrived at the field.  He worked with Robert and KH to carefully stow the luggage such that the aircraft was well balanced and nothing would shift about in flight.  As well he had a short discussion with a pair of men who drove up in a small lorry which resulted in several small boxes loaded aboard marked with the name of a local pub.  He walked over to Robert with a small satchel. "Sandwiches, water and something a bit stronger to drink Robert.  There is extra for your passenger as well and I've loaded food for those in the Vimy." He handed over a large oilskin map case.  "Charts for the trip at least as far as Paris.  We can get the rest of the charts there.  I didn't want to order up the whole set here in case anyone came sniffing about our trail."

He called out to his old comrade.  "Karlheinz, can you start getting the passengers aboard and settled?  We'll want to leave at the top of the hour."

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 60):

"I'm not certain. The package doesn't list the ingredients, just what it does not contain. No cocaine, morphine, opium, or chloral coal tar. I thought we could try it out, since we expect to be flying so much."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 62):

Molly nodded.  "This flight might test how truthful their advertising is.  We'll hope it won't be a "buyer beware" type of incidence."  Molly smiled at Cynthia and waited for the guys to help them get on board the plane.  She wasn't sure which one they were to take otherwise she'd be on it already.

Alexander gets changed into the appropriate flying gear and then does everything that Roger Bedford tells him. He's hoping to at some stage on the trip have a go behind the stick.

He's grinning like a schoolboy.

Looking with approval at the supplies from the "local", the County Members (down the street from the BP filling station) Karlheinz helped get everyone settled.


The two aircraft were parked at the end of the grass runway. It being a beautiful early spring day, the local aero racer club was doing some practice laps of the airfield. Old surplus aircraft zoomed by at treetop altitude, flown by daredevils who, like Robert, had found peacetime not exciting enough for their blood.




Planes were taking, off, landing, and taxiing to and from the hangars. The airport staff laid out ground signals to manage the busy traffic. The same staff would take messages for JM's hangar, and pass them along to Det. Sergeant Darlington. Darlington owed the investigators, because of them he was moving up in the Met. CID and sure to make Detective Inspector one day, rather soon.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 65):

Darlington had arrived by motor car as the last details were being arranged. He sauntered over, tipped his bowler hat at the ladies.

"Blimey! Oi, yew lot 'arf a noice trip naow, yeah? Oi'll look arfter fings 'ere, dawn't yew worry about nuffink.

"Oi wish Oi could go with you, but I got a career what needs lookin' arfter 'ere, right? Ga'wan, kill some bugga's fer me!"

He shook hands with everyone, wishing them a safe and quick trip.

In reply to Albert Darlington (msg # 66):

The Count shook the Detective's hand;

"I shall, look you up on my return. Good day to you Detective and thank you for all your help."

He then entered the plane taking the first available seat next to Mr Perkins. He closed his eyes for a minute as he went over the hectic last week. The Countess deal had finally come to it's conclusion with the sale and most of the receipts concluded.

He had an emotional parting with his good friend Sarah Evens who had insisted on accompanying him to wherever he was going. It was only after many hours of reassuring that he would be in complete safety and would write every day that she was sated.

JM made certain that not only were they supplied with thermos' of sweet, hot tea but dark bottles of beer and soft drinks packed in ice.  As well he had brought along a good selection of wine and harder liquor knowing that such things were often less available in the Muslim lands.  Not nearly as heavily suited as Robert or Alexander as he would be flying in the enclosed comfort of the Vimy, JM performed a thorough check of both aircraft before strolling over to the tower to file their flight plan and discuss the weather with the field captain.

Once everything is set he walks over to the Brisfit.  "We'll stay at about 10,000 feet once we get up and over the Channel.  Weather is good so just stay on my wing.  Just like old time Robert?"

"Yeah, mate," Looking out across the blue skies, an unusual sight here in England, but a pleasant sight none-the-less, especially for flying.  "Ready when you are, my good friend," He turned to speak to Alex who would be his copassenger for this leg of the flight, "Hope you enjoy the experience.  I will do my best to make it a pleasure.  Help yaself to the snacks, my good man.  Aint got no hostess here to take care of ya, like, ya know."

Grasping the Brisfit's propeller, Karlhienz called out "Kontakt!" The motor roared to life, spitting out blue petrol smoke that was quickly whipped to the rear.

When it appeared that the guys were busy talking plane details, Molly got into the plane herself as elegantly as she could in a dress.  She sat down and waited for the men to get the plane rolling along and onto the next adventure.  She wasn't going to stay outside while they did that because, while they say women talk forever, she knew that men could out talk women on certain subjects...vehicles and sports were at the top of the list.

She smiled and nodded at the others when she sat down and settled in for a wait.

Everyone finished loading their baggage in the Vimy Commercial. There was a large upward-swinging cargo door into the tail section of the fuselage, separated from the passenger compartment by a bulkhead. This bulkhead had cupboards for light luggage. At the front of passenger compartment was a forward bulkhead, with airspeed and altimeter gauges for passenger reference. The open cockpit was above the nose and had dual controls. It could be reached by a cramped crawlway from below that led to the forward bulkhead. The upward-swinging passenger door was on the port side in front of the propellers, and there was a roof hatch at the rear fuselage.


Once the motor was started, Bedford taxied the Brisfit to the flight line. It was heavily-laden with an extra petrol tank for extra range, but that was mounted above the upper wing so it didn't affect the balance too badly. With a roar of the engine they were rolling down the grass runway, gaining speed, then finally lifting into the air.

As this happened, Karlheinz walked back to the Vimy Commercial. He repeated the same procedure with the propellers ("Kontakt!") and once the engines were started he edged carefully past the whirring port propeller into the passenger door. Climbing up into the cockpit, he got settled in. They slowly taxied to the flight line, then lumbered down the grass strip and into the cloud-speckled blue sky.

Shortly they were joined by Roger and Alex in the Brisfit flying in formation on their starboard wing. They both banked slowly towards the southwest, passing by the white chalk cliffs of Dover and the grimy port city crouched at its feet. Out over the wind-tossed water of the Channel, climbing up to 10,000 feet altitude. Small boats etched tiny wakes behind, larger steamers trailed black plumes of coal smoke as they forged through the waves. It grew cold for those in the cockpits, despite the brilliant sun.


The Pas-de-Calais lay ahead in the distance. Next stop, Paris!
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:27, Tue 20 Aug 2013.

It seems that half of the passengers brought alcohol, but sandwiches are far scarcer. Alas, somehow, Cynthia will survive. Drinking, cards, little pastries and fresh fruit, Cynthia chatters about how delightful it will be to spend a few days in Paris, and the weather is perfect for it, all the places they should go and how much it will cost to ship purchases back home.

Meanwhile....despite his warm clothes, Alexander is freezing and wondering what drives people to do this for a living.

Then after he is discreetly sick for the second time he tries to focus on the fact that Egypt is drawing ever closer.

Having learned from her last encounter with the guys piloting, had brought along bags for when things didn't settle well.  With a smile she had split her stash with Alexander Hussein Mahfouz before takeoff.  "Here.  This will help a bit.  Plus have a peppermint.  It helps.  Or it helps me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:02, Thu 22 Aug 2013.

Within a half hour, they were passing over the coast, south of Calais.

Turning inland, they would make le Bourget, where Paris's airport was located, in an hour and a half at most.

Time for Cynthia's Paris Planning Session! Cynthia will happily discuss any plans for Paris with whoever is willing to discuss (or just trapped in a tiny airplane cabin) with her; Chanel, Louvre, House of Worth, fashion play in the evening, Doucet, Le Dôme for dinner, Chanel, oh did I mention that already? And of course a hair dresser, perhaps Le Rotonde if we have time, oh and a stage show, of course - we would be derelict if we missed the Theatre of Fance ...

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 77):

The Count leabned over to Ms Holloway so she could hear him over the engines;

"Hôtel de Crillon, Hôtel du Louvre or the Ritz Paris. Which is your preference, we may as well treat ourselves."

JM quickly settled into the routine of flying.  The noise and the wash of cold air were exhilarating.  He craved the freedom of the skies and was glad to be leaving behind the death and conspiracy of London behind.  At least until they reached Egypt they should have smooth sailing and a peaceful trip absent mechanical or weather troubles.  He smiled over to KH and called out.  "It's grand to be in the air on a long trip!  We can use the opportunity to scout out how to set up our flying business in the area."

The air was whipping by as the Brisfit flew along.  Glad to be in the air, though this style of plane didn't lend well to any sort of verbal communication.  But at least the weather was pleasant enough, and it would not be long before they would be landing in Paris.  He looked back occasionally at his flying companion, hoping that Alex was baring up, wondering how much experience the man may have had in such aerial contraptions.  It certainly was nice to not be being shot at, of which he'd certainly had enough troublesome, death-defying situations for a lifetime.

Mostly once settled into flying, he'd give his attention to the dials and to the vista before them, and thought about what kind of a route they may come up with once on the ground.

"Hôtel Ritz, of course! Oh, I'll hardly even want to leave my bed."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 81):

"Indeed, the choice is made."

He sat back in  his seat and gave Mr Perkins a smile. He would of course spend the time looking over the book stores of the left bank and Latin quarter. Also he would take time to research some more on what they are up against at the larger libraries.  Le Louvre of course, but if time permits the Collège de France and the Université Sorbonne, both of which have large sections devoted to Egyptology and active courses and field work on the subject.

As the plane circled to land Mr Perkins again tensed his hands on the arm rests until his knuckles grew white. His first plane ride had not been as enjoyable as he had hoped and he was eager for it to end.

He had wanted to look over his notes on the establishments they had standing orders with in Paris, but was unable to bring himself to do it. So he just sat with his eyes closed for the majority of the journey. He knew they would spend a couple of days looking through the second hand book stores and maybe calling on a couple of prominent collectors, but drawing up a list would have to wait.

Shakespeare and Company would be their first visit and Mr Perkins was eager to meet the proprietress Ms Sylvia Beach who had corresponded with on numerous of occasions.

Molly nodded.  "I can certainly understand that Cynthia but just think of what you would be missing.  How long will we be here?  We will need to plan out the best utilization of our time.  Of course that planning can be done swallowed up by the soft sheets and comforters of a Ritz bed...couch.  I meant couch."

Molly smiled at the group and went back to thinking on what to write next.

"I can assure you, with the promise of crepes under the Eiffel tower, followed by a tour of the catacombs and dinner over opera, I will somehow find the motivation to rise. I think I will be able to endure it."

Paris-le Bourget airport, 1925.

The planes landed at le Bourget, Paris' busy airfield out in the countryside.

They were quickly and efficiently ushered through customs, no doubt a feature of aviation to come!

Other planes roared overhead, taxied for takeoff or came in to land.

Motor taxis and a tram waited to take passengers into the city.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 86):

Eyeing the planes where they were parked in the hangar, Karlhienz said, "I shall be staying here tonight."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 87):

"Let's find lodging in the city, by all means. But doing so under our own names, or that of those known to us could cause problems. Not that I ascribe too much to these criminals, but your experience at the Park hotel in London was less than satisfying. The one advantage is, hopefully, no one is looking for us actively."

He stretched, although the flight had been quick and efficient he was still getting on in years.

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg # 88):

"Ms Holloway has named her preference as the Hôtel Ritz, a very fine choice. If we are all staying together that is ? How long do we intend to stay in Paris ?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:27, Fri 30 Aug 2013.

Alexander climbs out of the small plane and drops to the ground visibly shaken, though he approaches his pilot with a smile

"Roger I would like to say that I enjoyed that, but I must be honest and say that I shall stick with camels in the future. If you do not mind I will take a place on the Vimy for the next leg of our journey"

Alexander laughs

"You have my undying respect though and if you would permit me, I would like to shout you dinner tonight in way of thanks....Now I wonder where we will be staying?" and the Anglo Egyptian excuses himself and heads over to the others as they begin to disembark

"Ah...A pleasant flight I hope? Did any of you make arrangements with a hotel before leaving? I've not been here before so was relying on you good people for suggestions."

"Well I've been thinking about the length of stay, and given all of our priorities, I would say we should plan for at least five nights. If we're pushing, we could probably compress it down to three, but we may miss some critical research opportunities."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 89):

Molly smiled as they landed.  "The Ritz is indeed a fine choice and I will be happy to be there.  As for how long we are staying?  I would imagine one or two days perhaps?  One cannot due justice to the native cuisine and shops in less than that and we are to make it look like we're not up to anything, correct."

"Five nights!" exclaims Alexander slightly louder than he'd intended "Oh...." He scratches the stubble on his chin, embarrassed at his outburst.

"I cancelled my Orient Express ticket, which would have had me back with my family rather quicker than our jaunt looks to do now. I had better send a telegram...."



Alexander brightens at Molly's mention of two days

"The Ritz? As long as you promise not to tell my wife as she'll murder me for not arranging to meet her here...."

JM lingers to check the airplane and see that it is properly placed in a covered hangar.  "I had thought of staying in the city Karlheinz.  There is work to do on the aircraft which can be done during the day but the pleasures of the city call.  Our time in Egypt stands to be quite harsh and it might be best to enjoy the City of Light while we can."

Later he joins the others.  "I think two to three days is as much time as we should tarry in the City.  I'm eager to get to our destination for time is surely not in our favor.  Still, there is some maintenance that can be done on the aircraft as the longer flight will have worked the engines enough that minor adjustments will be beneficial for the rest of the trip."  He smiled at Molly. "The Ritz?  I have heard that is a magnificent place.  As well I have been eager to visit some of the newer clubs that feature American jazz.  I would love to share an evening with you and the others."

"Slightly longer would suit myself and Mr Perkins and give us both a chance to combine forces on the research, as it were."

JM considers and glances at Molly.  "If there is information to be gained then the time would be well spent.  Still, from the campaigns in the desert during the War I've learned that time is something that one can ill afford to gift to the foe."

Mr Perkins added;

"Unless someone let something slip I don't think they expect us in Egypt. In saying that one can never be to sure in these things."

The Count looked around at the others;

"Well it looks like we have that settled then. We should be able to find taxis somewhere around here."

He craned his head looking for a likely location for taxi stand.

JM frowns.  "We may not be expected but the longer we give the foe to brew whatever devilry they work the worse for all."  He shrugged.  "Still, a few days in Paris cannot hurt too badly.  Let me see that Karlheinz is settled and I will join you in the cab."

He walked over to KH and grabbed his bag.  "Can I persuade you to come stay in the Ritz with us?  There should be entertainment in the evenings."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 99):

Then I believe it is settled?  We shall stay at least a few days.  If nothing else we will make it look like we are on vacation before going further.  Hmmm.  Now to figure out what name.....What about Sandy Rivers."

She put her hands behind her head and struck a pose.  "Do I look like a Sandy Rivers?"

JM gave Molly a careful look over as she posed.  "You could be a Sandy Rivers but I think you need more risque outfit."

As Alexander headed off to join the others, Roger proceeded to make sure the plane got its proper attention as far as hangering, then hopped out and stretched himself a little, before heading over to where the others were.

Overhearing mention of the Ritz and of nightclubs, he perked up a little, after being a little mesmerised from the flight, "My man Falcon! You know, my body's crying out for a mattress and a clean set of linens, but you know, I'm always game for a prowl on the town.  Where were we thinkin' of crashin', Alex?" He turned to him, remembering his offer to shout him a dinner, which he certainly wasn't goin' to miss out on.  He was always a little strapped for cash in his line of work.

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 102):

"Well by the sounds of it the Ritz.... I shall be happy to extend my offer of dinner to a room there as well. It's the least I can do after being such a dreary passenger. Have you been to Paris before? I haven't, so I would welcome someone showing me the sights between parties and shopping...."

Alexander, whilst talking, locates his overnight bag and checks that his documents are safe and sound.

"Did someone mention a taxi?"

The man looked tempted.

"I don't know, someone should watch over the planes, ya? And preferably not alone. You remember what happened to Mr. Lampton's servant, Francis.

"Besides... too much temptation to drink."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 94):

"The Ritz, eh? Splendid place. Been there before the war. Fabulous, just fabulous."

They'd been travelling for a few hours at most. It was a splendid early spring afternoon. This was one of the busiest airports in the world, and planes were taking off and landing every hour or so.

A few Peugeot motor taxis were pulled up in front of the terminal buildings, ready to take fares into the city. Behind them on the flight line, a plane was revving up for takeoff.

"Well, so Karlheinz was up for staying.  Does it seem good he stay here alone?  I'm kind of itching for a night on the town.  Not been to Paris since the War, ya know."

JM nods sympathetically to Karlheinz.  "I think we are safe here in Paris as no one can know where we are or even that we are continuing to chase our way to Egypt.  We can hire a watchman and spend a bit of extra coin to get extra security." He put his arm around KH.  "It's a chance to relax with friends Karlheinz.  I understand the drinking issue and I'll stay dry with you.  We can have some fun without getting drunk."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:58, Mon 02 Sept 2013.

Molly looked up at John-Marc and arched an eyebrow at him.  "Really?  Well this is daytime sir.  More risque is reserved for night wear."

She then smiled and pulled out her notebook and started to make a few notes in it.

JM laughed with Molly at her sally on the subject of outfits. "Ah, but this is Paris after all and even the daytime outfits should be more bold."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 110):

Molly chuckled as she closed her notebook and put it back away.  "Did you hear that Cynthia?  We have our first goal.  Evidently I need a more risque outfit to prance around Paris in even during daylight hours.  Otherwise I won't live up to the name of Sandy.  Would you care to accompany me?  Hmmm.  I wonder if the hotel has a clothier on staff."

The young man brightened.

"All right, that is gut!

"Let us go into the city."
This message was last updated by the GM at 08:40, Mon 02 Sept 2013.

A taxi driver with an elaborate mustache opened the door on his cab, as did the next one in line. Sizing up the investigators and hearing their English, he said, "mesdames et messieurs, may we take you into the city?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:58, Mon 02 Sept 2013.

Cynthia chuckles, "Sandy Rivers, en route to the Nile? Should I be Dame Lake? Of course, it only works with the proper accent.

"I'm sure the Hotel has a clothier, but I think that there are some things which are best done on one's own. Remember, we have special requirements on our clothes! It's worth taking the time to ensure we're getting only the highest quality tailoring available."

Cynthia considers grabbing out two trunks, but decides it's better to just bring one, then fill up a second once she's out on the town.

Cynthia addresses the cabbie, "À l'hôtel Ritz, s'il vous plaît, mais prendre la route panoramique."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 114):

It was Molly's turn to chuckle at Cynthia's words.  "Oh I don't think that I want to tell the Ritz that they don't have the "highest quality tailoring available"...unless it is to get a discount on the bill of course.  But you are right.  We shall go venture forth into the land of sheer cloth and beautiful accents.  You shall take the lead Dame Lake and I shall follow since you know the language and I don't. I shall just smile sweetly and exclaim in glee at the wonderful products."

Molly pointed out which luggage was hers and followed Cynthia and she planned to do.  She also hoped that panoramique meant taking the scenic route.

They were helped into a couple taxis, then were whisked away past farmers' fields surrounding the airport towards Paris. The road was of finest quality, improved immensely during the war. Some bridges they crossed were older stone, some newer steel. Passing by innumerable suburban towns, the buildings grew closer together, motor cars became more frequent and horse-drawn wagons less so, and they encountered more people along what rapidly became city streets. But the buildings did not get significantly taller, due to the strain larger structures put on the city's ancient and fragile sub-strata. Liek most modern cities, the air became sootier the further they penetrated the city's precincts.

Finally, the arrived at the magnificent Hôtel Ritz Paris. This edifice was no doubt the most luxurious hotel in the world. The hotel overlooked the Place Vendôme, a city square featuring a statue of Napoleon Bonaparte mounted on a horse, atop a tall pedestal. Erected a century ago to commemorate the battle of Austerlitz, the statue was torn down by order of the Paris Commune but later replaced. Shiny automobiles and taxicabs lined the front, liveried bellhops and porters passed bags in and out of the doors. Those who had never been here before were no doubt amazed at the finery, those who had knew there was nothing else like it in the world.

Above and behind the hotel, across the River Seine, stood Monsieur Eiffels' grand tower. It was true, you could see that phallic structure anywhere in Paris, or so it seemed. The taxis let them out by the main entrance, accepting a few francs for their trouble. Porters and bellhops swarmed them, carrying their luggage inside.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:50, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

The Anglo-Egyptian follows his luggage inside and approaches the main desk in order to secure rooms for himself and his companions.

He plans to wash, then relax for a while before having lunch at the hotel. Then an afternoon of sight seeing perhaps, before dinner with any of his companions free to do so, before presumably being dragged out on the town...

Molly took in the sights of the town as they drove to the hotel and was already thinking of different stories to send back.  She really wanted to storm into the infamous Bar Cambon which was male only instead of patiently in the Ladies Waiting Room for the men to finish drinking.  Yes the ladies could be served liquor in there but it seemed such a waste not to mingle when drinking.  You'd have thought that in Paris, of all places, such would be allowed.  On the other hand, the smoke from the bar was reputed to be so thick that it resembled a steam room.  But she wasn't Molly.  she was Sandy and she doubted that Sandy would have brazened into the male domain with a smile on her face and a camera in hand.  Mungo yes...Sandy no.

The Count helped Mr Perkins load their luggage into the waiting taxi before taking a seat next to his friend. He spent the majority of the early part of the trip making notes for their up coming research, but stopped as they entered the city proper.

France and Paris in particular was the first stop on his journey from his homeland where if felt reasonably safe. He had arrived at the end of spring and spent two wonderful months roaming the museums, parks and libraries of the city. He had thought of making it his new home but the attraction of London won out in the end.

Once they were secured in the hotel lobby The Count approached the main desk and enquired after a suite for himself and Mr Perkins. So they would lunch with the others and then to other business.

"Doctor Weston I intend to undertake some research this afternoon and would humbly ask your assistance in the endeavour."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

Mr Perkins had begun his list on the plane and had finished it off just as they were entering the city. He placed his notepad back into his bag as the city sped by. Last time he had been in Paris he was in uniform and away from the trenches so his memories of the place were a little hazy.

As he exited the taxi he tried to mask his reaction to the opulence before him. He also tried to keep his mouth closed as he entered the lobby letting the Count make the preparations.

He would help the Count in the afternoon in the libraries with the research and the other days would be spent looking for stock for the London shop.

Mr Perkins moves closer to Mr Falcon and then in a hushed voice asks;

"Was it our intention to stop in Rome as well ?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

Cynthia follows along with Molly. She catches Molly's eyes on the men's lounge and smirks, but keeps her wicked thoughts to herself.

With that, she hurries up to the room, pausing only long enough to change clothes, as well as, perhaps, to enjoy the view and the smell of the sheets, and to sample of the little fruit basket left out, and oh! look at that bath tub! I do need a bath ...

Eventually, she completes her preparations and seeks out Molly, to invite her out. No agenda yet, certainly in a city like Paris, the ladies will be able to complete their 'research' as they go.

JM clasps Karlheinz in a friendly fashion around the shoulders.  "Good, good.  I'm glad to have my old comrade with me here."  He arranged for the aircraft to be closely guarded and then helped the others load gear and luggage into the taxis.  JM watched the approaching city with interest.  He had visited it a number of times on war time pass but that had been a number of years ago.  Now he marveled at the exuberance of the post war city.

When they arrived at the hotel he was startled at first by the luxury of the place.  Squaring his shoulders he smiled at KH and headed into the hotel.  He glanced over at George and shook his head.  "We should stop for fuel and perhaps to spend the night but I do not expect us to linger in Rome." KH frowns.  "That is unless there is something in Vatican archives that might be of interest."

As the group gathered in the lobby he called out.  "Let's meet for lunch in the lobby after we are all settled in." He winces a bit at the cost of a suite for himself and KH but convinces himself that they deserve a fling.  When the reached their room he laughed.  "Well, the delay galls me perhaps but luxury like this is a decent reward."

"That was my initial reasoning if nothing surfaces in our inquiries here. I don't have means for access, but the Count has a knack for such things."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 119):

"I should be glad to help you out with any research, Count.

Rooms at the Ritz were an exorbitant £10 a night.

"Yes, John-Marc, rather pricey indeed! But as long as we're not going to be doing this all the time. My clientele was the poor and indigent, not the wealthy of society."

JM considers the idea of gathering information inside the Vatican.  "George, I've heard that the Catholic church is notoriously reluctant to share information.  I would think they would be even more hesitant to give out knowledge of what could be considered the blackest of witchcraft.  Do you think the Count has the connections to pull something out of them?"

He nods sympathetically at Dr. Weston. "And I'm a poor flier living on a budget.  Most of what I make goes toward upkeep for the airplanes.  If it weren't for Karlheinz' genius with repairs I would not be able to manage to keep both airplanes flying.  But it is worth living high once in a while."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 125):

Mr Perkins stared at Mr Falcon for a second than said;

"Give him the opportunity and I bet you a bottle of 25 year old scotch he gets in."

Molly followed Cynthia and walked up to register with all the confidence of the having done so many times before.  She was escorted to their rooms and looked around.  Once the doors were closed from peeping staff eyes, she kicked off her shoes and ran from one location to another in the suite with an excited expression.

"Oh this was indeed a good decision to stay here."  She calmly took some of the stationary that was in the drawer of the writing desk and purloined it for her journals quicker than a child could grab some holiday candy.  Her words of "look at this" were heard popping up all over the suite as she investigated their quarters.

She waited for Cynthia to refresh with a bath if she so chose and then followed suite herself.  Finally she emerged with a new outfit on, her hat in her hand, ready to go out on the town.

"Gentlemen?  I do believe us women are ready to explore the town.  I also remember offers of carrying packages. Are you ready or do you think you need to refresh yourselves also?"

It was apparent from her words and body language that she thought it would be a good idea if they did change clothes before departing for shopping.

Already changed Alexander sits in the Lobby, watching visitors come and go, whilst waiting for the others to come down for lunch.

He'd sent a telegram to his wife at the first opportunity, mentioning that he would be delayed.

Presents....He would have to buy presents.

He smiled briefly, thinking that two of his companions would more than likely be delighted in helping him pick out something for his wife.

A rumbling came from his stomach.

Time to eat.....

I imagine Cynthia finishes her preparations before Molly, as she's operating without the 'hey, look at this!' stage of moving in. When Molly is prepared, Cynthia is already dressed and has eaten some light fare.

The Count freshen up as best as he could. He donned a new suit and one of his new panama hats. He took a seat in their suite and compared notes with Mr Perkins as to their respective itineraries for the afternoon.

His first stop with the Doctor was the Bibliothèque de la Sorbonne, only two universities in France offered a post graduate course in Egyptology and the Sorbonne was one of them. He expected this would be their only stop today as the library was vast and the manuscript section would be their primary focus.

As the group assembled back in the foyer the Count said;

"Ladies and Gentleman sorry but you will have to excuse Mr Perkins and myself from joining you for lunch. Our time here is short and I do not think I will find any useful information, but I have to try. Have a good day."

He quickly checked his bi-fold for the correct readers card and with his notebook and a larger folio notebook under his arm he hailed a cab for himself and the good Doctor.

Mr Perkins could not contain his amazement at the hotel or the suite any more and let out a long whistle once the bellhop had left.

"You royalty sure know how to live, this place is the size of my family home."

He quickly washed and freshen up, but did not change his suit. He intended to first go to Shakespeare & Company as the owner, Sylvia Beach was expecting him for lunch.

As they entered the lobby he went straight into the bar and purchased a very good bottle of French red, putting it on the room bill. The Count had made their apologies so with a wave to the assembled group Mr Perkins made for a taxi stand for the ride to his lunch appointment.

He had the standard list of occult and religious texts that they always purchased as well as the standing order list for clients and lastly the wish list for both parties. He was sure that Ms Beach would be able to help with finding some of the stock or know of someone who could.

JM laughes at Perkin's wager and shakes his hand. "I will take the wager George.  I must say that I will not be sorry to lose that bet if it comes to it."

As the rooms are arranged he heads upstairs with KH.  JM spends his time looking about with great interest, his astonishment ill disguised.  He cleans up quickly washing face and hands of the grime of flying and brushes his hair before donning a casual suit.  "Come on, let's go get dinner and watch the women shop. It should be an epic comparable to the siege of Troy."

He heads downstairs to meet the others.  "I am sorry to miss you Count, Mr. Perkins.  I hope that you have success with your investigations.  Karlheinz and I will sacrifice ourselves to escort the ladies and carry packages.  Perhaps we might arrange to meet again before dinner?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 132):

"Yes of course. Lets say the bar at the hotel, off the lobby."

"Each of us to our personal addictions. Best of luck on your quest, Count."

Then, to herself, "'Sylvia Beach'. I should have used that one. It fits our water theme perfectly ..."

Molly looked at Beverly and picked up some grapes to much on while waiting to depart.  "Do you have any preference Beverly where we start our shopping at?""

She was quite pleased with the water themed names.  It would make a good story to tell one day.

"There are two ways to go about this. One is to make an agenda, plotting out each location and event, and doing your best to stick to it. The second is to go where the interesting things are, and choose what you find when you get there. For lunch, I recommend the second.

"I also recommend comfortable walking shoes."

Alexander, refreshed after a light lunch of moules marinieres, is ready to see something of the city.

"Perhaps you ladies would be able to help me?....I wish to buy my wife some presents. Money will of course not be a question in this case...."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Sun 08 Sept 2013.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 137):

Molly had to agree with Cynthia's assessment of the best method to their plan of action.  Then Alexander said the magic words..."Money will not be a problem."  She brightened up, made sure she had shoes she knew she could 'walk til she dropped' on and then quickly hugged Alexander.

"My dear sir, you have made my day.  How can I refuse to help you out when you ask so delightfully?."  The hug didn't last long and was totally appropriate.  "I think Beverly that we should scrap our agenda and rescue our dear benefactor.  Perhaps our course of action should be to get the present for his wife and then we shall see what is available for us.  Since we are to help him, I'm sure we will find something."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:57, Sun 08 Sept 2013.

"Excellent. I need to find something for 'Dr. Lake', as well. He does love me so, I need to remember to show my gratitude."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 139):

"A plan has been formulated and approved.  Let us gather what we need and start the search.  I'm sure you will find something for Mr. Lake.  He'll hold it in high regard, if for no other reason, because it came from you."

Molly picks up her fashionable handbag and perches a coordinating hat on top of her hair.  She goes to the door and patiently waits.

Once they settled in, the Count, Mr. Perkins and Dr. Weston immediately decamped in a Renault taxi for more academic parts of the city.

After an exquisite (and expensive) lunch, the others flagged a another Pugeot for their own excursion into Paris.

JM laughs enjoying the banter as he holds open the door to a Puegot cab.  "Please ladies, gentlemen, let us see the sights and spend our money."

For the next five days and nights in the City of Light, the sights they saw, and their hard-earned money they did spend!

Those doing research found that their time wasn't wasted, when it came to their own materials. But they found the most arcane works were unavailable. Perkins was able to locate more stock for the shop without much trouble. Karlheinz took in some shows and reviews as his meagre budget allowed.

Those five days, they flew by! But now it's time for us to fly. We could spend one more day ... no, no we have the wellbeing of the universe to consider. We can visit Paris again on the way back.

JM considered the aircraft as he stood in the rented hangar waiting for the others to arrive in a couple of hours.  A strong pot of coffee was brewing as he and KH prepared the craft.  "That wasn't a bad visit although I do hope we won't rue the times spent.  Let's double check the fuel and oil as well as the belts before the others get here."

Alexander arrives by cab, rested and raring to go. His wallet is far lighter than when he arrived, thanks to his companion's adroit spending of his money on presents for his wife and children.

"John-Marc! We are ready to depart?"

He indicates the many parcels, hat boxes and dress bags appearing from the taxi's interior.

"I'm afraid our weight will be that bit heavier...."

Molly gave Alexander a "don't exaggerate" look but smiled while doing so.  "Heavier?  Why would you say that?  Oh yes, I know.  It's because we all put on weight from the excellent food we've recently had.  It was so delicious wasn't it."

She patted Alexander's arm in sympathy to his plight.  "We told you that you needed more than one present for your wife.  You've been gone long enough you had to make up for it.  It will be worth the effort."

She then watched the last of her own packages being loaded into the plane and smiled.  All was well, for the moment, with the day.

Karl spread out the aeronautical maps on the lower wing of the Brisfit.

"I bought some supplies like a pair of chessboards, and chalkboards for communicating between planes.

"OK. We have almost a thousand miles range. We can make Marseilles-Toulon if we fly due south, then turn southwest and overfly Corsica on our way to Rome. We fly down the coast of Italy, we have enough fuel to make Naples."

The Count helped unload their luggage from the taxi and made sure it was loaded on to the plane. He was eager to depart their research had been rather fruitless, but not a total loss with the materials they already possessed starting to look clearer.

Mr Perkins had been much more successful with a large number of tea chests returning to London. Nothing unique or overly rare, but some fine pieces nevertheless.

"Chalkboards, very good idea Karlheinz.  We even used signal flags and lights when needed."  He smiled;  "You'll have to spot me at least a pawn if you want to play chess however." 

JM examined the aerial charts with KH in great detail.  "I've not flown in the south of France or Italy much but this route seem very doable.  I'm a bit nervous about too long of a flight over water with the Brisfit as it has only the one engine. However the engine is sound and we have the second plane to signal rescuers if something goes wrong.  Let's be sure we have the frequencies of the coastal rescue stations in the event something goes wrong."

As the others approached he greeted them individually. "Welcome back, welcome back from the sophisticated luxuries of Paris.  I'd expect things to be less comfortable as we proceed." He motioned to the plane.  "Let Karlheinz and I help stow the luggage Alexander.  We've got to be very conscious of the center of gravity on the aircraft to avoid inducing control issues, especially as we burn off fuel."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 150):

"Ya, I vas thinking of that. If zere is zee engine failure, we can perhaps tow zee smaller aircraft behind the larger one. Getting zee line attached mit safety while in flight can be difficult, but not impossible. One would haff to approach from above und use a line mit undt drogue parachute."

He helped John-Marc load the aircraft so that they were balanced correctly.

The day Mr Perkins had been dreading arrived. He was certainly not looking forward to the plane flight and this one was much longer.

He waited by the plane and went over his notes. His endeavourers to find stock for the shop had been very successful. Ms Sylvia Beach had after a wonderful lunch pointed him towards several obscure book shops around the left bank and had even supplied several from her own stock.

His most fruitful discovery had been a tiny shop across the square from Notre Dame cathedral. He would have missed it completely if he had not tripped on a cobble stone while admiring the structure. A small sign in French and Latin had been attached to  the entrance way to an alley. The shop it lead to was small and very cluttered, when Mr Perkins told the old man what he was after he scurried off and it sounded like he went up stairs.

He returned with several volumes their covers made of old velum and the pages yellow and cracked. The old man then grabbed his arm and dragged him upstairs he indicated several large trunks and kept pointing to the cathedral. They seemed to be part of a provincial church library and dealt nearly exclusively with demonology and witch craft. They were not overly rare, but there was still a market for them. The haggling was short and Mr Perkins though he may have started to high but the deal was done.

He entered the plane and found a seat and buckled himself in closing his eyes.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:31, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

JM nodded to Karlheinz. "A line and drogue?  That's an excellent idea.  Let's go ahead and rig that up now.  We'll need to mount the hook on the upper wing away from the propeller just in case.  If we get the engine restarted we don't want to foul the prop in the line." 

Once they were done he looked about at the passengers. "Is everyone ready for the next leg?  I have a picnic lunch, water, wine and beer for the trip."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 153):

They mounted the ring on top of the Brisfit's upper wing, to keep it away from the propeller. As for the Vimy, it had a roof hatch in the rear fuselage, as well as a port side cargo door. A line with drogue chute attached fed through a downward-swinging arm from a hand-cranked reel was mounted on brackets inside the port cargo door. The portside passenger door being immediately in front of the propeller and the rear roof hatch too high to be of use or else in danger of fouling the tail plane.

This work was the simple matter of a half-hour, and most of that time was locating the components. Karlheinz spent the time procuring 2 large "night landing" parachute flares, one for each plane.

The flight could take upwards of 10-12 hours in total, wind depending. Although they could easily make pit stops along the way in Marseilles and Toulon, there was a long stretch over water to the northern tip of Corsica, then another over water stretch to Rome and then down the coast to Napoli (Naples).
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:24, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 154):

"I suppose I can accompany our Robert in the Brisfit. It would be an honour and a pleasure!"

He began pulling on cold-weather clothing in preparation.

Once the modifications were made, the passengers and crew boarded their respective planes. Karlheinz again assisted in starting the motors. The two machines were soon roaring into the sky.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 156):

As they flew, Dr. Weston leaned forward so his mouth was near Bedford's ear.

"So that was a jolly good time! What did you get up to? I took in some shows, but I confess I made some inquiries of my colleagues at the Sorbonne and at the Charenton Lunatic Asylum! It seems a few days ago all bedlam broke loose, so to speak. All the patients were agitated for a three day period, some became catatonic! Do you recall having bad dreams beginning about the 1st of the month and continuing to the 3rd?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 07:36, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

Alexander reclined comfortably in his seat, not missing the smaller plane at all. Reaching into his suit pocket he removed a jewellery case, opened it, and admired the necklace within.

Expensive? Yes, but worth every Franc. Unbeknowest to his travelling companions it was to be his wedding anniversary not long after they arrived in Cairo.

Then looking out of the window he began to reminisce....

Bless the gentlemen, but Cynthia enjoyed the opportunity to drink and shop with more progressive company. Those in the party who cared for it were welcome to come along for shopping until after 8, then eating, drinking, and dancing. In fact, the music options of Paris were so overwhelming, Cynthia nearly ran out of time to see the stage show she had insisted as cause for staying in Paris in the first place! But a frantic taxi ride through the city and a nicely sum of money secured seats for herself, Molly, and their companions.

Now Cynthia had to face perhaps a greater challenge; hours and hours in a bumpy aeroplane, with her stomach already doing back flips. The hair of the dog, sal volatile, and aspirin were already working their magic, but hopefully they'd be sufficient to match the good Captain Falcon's flying. At least Cynthia could depend on being off her aching feet for a long while.

JM grinned at KH and worked diligently to prepare both aircraft.  He made a last check of everything and then let the Brisfit lead them off to the south and the sea.

Not having any recollection of strange dreams in the past week, Bedford couldn't give a response. Otherwise, it was a pleasant enough flight.

The two planes climbed over the snow-covered mountains of the Massif Central, then soared down the far side. They passed ancient villages and medieval farms connected by dirt roads, more modern towns connected by macadam strips. Wide swaths of desolate mountainside and valleys carpeted with green forest.

Hours later, they made Marseilles. There was a small underused airstrip. Most of the flights out of Marseilles were flying boats and seaplanes of different types, parked in the harbour. One massive plane, a massive Felixstowe Aeromarine 75, came in for a landing as they flew over, throwing up a wake as it touched down on water as it flashed past steamers tied up at the harbour wharfs and fishing boats bobbing in the bay.

They landed without incident, everyone climbed out to stretch their legs.

Dr. Weston awoke from his doze, and after they landed climbed out of the Brisfit's rear cockpit.

Yawning and stretching, he wandered over to the other plane.

"I must go find a loo, forthwith! Everyone else will be doing the same, I expect.

"But I have a thought... I visited an old colleague of mine, he's a doctor at the Charenton Lunatic Asylum. He related that the patients there suffered amazing and terrifying nightmares on the night of the 1st of April.. They got worse for the next 2 nights, in that time three inmates became catatonic, one killed herself on the 3rd. Then the dreams completely vanished by the 4th. I had no unpleasantries whilst asleep this week, but I was wondering if any of you experienced something similar?"

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg # 162):

The young German stretched and yawned in response, then shook his head.

"Nein, I was not haffing any such dreams zee nights in question.

"Say, did you see that large seaplane? Such a beauty! I miss flying them, as I learned in zee Imperial Navy."

"The ones who were catatonic - did they awaken?"

If no one else is doing anything more interesting, Cynthia will head out and get some tea for her head and stomach. A bouncing airplane certainly didn't help her atttitude much, and while the Riviera is perfect, she has little patience for anything more than a nap on the beach.

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg # 162):

Molly was looking out the window when Dr. Weston asked his questions.  She nodded her head and in an almost timid voice answered him.

"Mine started on April 1st.  I almost had convinced myself it was just an April Fool's joke...or hoped it was.  Perhaps it was because of what happened at al Misr House or just something I ate, as Mr. Scrooge would say.  It only lasted three nights but by the third night..."

Molly shuddered at the memory and swallowed hard before turning troubled eyes to the group.  "I would tell you more but I have no wish to change my residence to a "lunatic" asylum.  It was...it was very realistic."

Molly took a deep breath and finished what was left in her drink in one shot.  She held up her empty glass and looked at whomever held the bottle a clear indication she wanted a refill.  She then looked over at Doctor Weston with an arched eyebrow.  "Don't take too long in the facilities Doctor.  At this rate I'll be the next in line and if you're like other males, a little airing out time might be nice."  She grinned and winked at the Doctor, trying to pull off her usual care free attitude although those who had traveled with her before knew that she was still a little shaken up from recalling the nightmares.

Mr Perkins addressed the group once Molly had finished;

"It is the damndest thing, but I too have been suffering from the nightmares you describe. I just assumed it was something to do with the war brought on with my Brothers death, but they are as you said so not he normal nightmares."

He felt he was not being clear so trailed off. He joined the Doctor in his search for a lavatory.

JM watches with admiration as the flying boat lands and taxis up to the ramp.  "Now that is a fine craft Karlheinz.  They are excellent passenger craft but given we're headed to the desert they are of little use.  Someday I would like to learn to fly one though, perhaps if we expand."

As the others disembarked he called out. "Don't wander far ladies and gentlemen.  We'll fuel up, check the engines and aircraft and then head out.  If someone wants to gather up a picnic basket or two for the next leg of the flight that would be welcome so that Karlheinz and I can focus on the craft."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 167):

Karlheinz laughed.

"Ya, true. Lots of sand in Egypt. But everyzing worth zeeing is along the zere is zee River Nile, ya? Everyzing worth zeeing ist along zere."
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:18, Wed 25 Sept 2013.

The Count watched as Mr Perkins walked off with Dr Weston;

"I too have suffered from the same nightmares. This cannot be a coincidence it must be to do with the cult."

He stayed close to the plane, finding a patch of shade until it was time to leave.

In response to the question on the dreams, JM frowned; "I had some upsetting dreams around that time but don't remember much of them.  When they occurred I put them down to recurring nightmares about the War."


JM nodded in agreement with his friend.  "That's true.  You could operate a flying boat or at least a smaller one along the river most of the length.  I wanted the flexibility of flying into Palestine and the Levant as well as further up river to Sudan and Ethiopia."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Tue 24 Sept 2013.

Sitting down next to the Count, Alexander offers him his cigarette case and asks

"What are these dreams that everyone is talking about?"

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 171):

The Count politely declines the offer of a cigarette and says;

"It would seem that on or about the first of April we seemed to have all shared the same dream an odd thing of mud, ooze and stone. I think it may have something to do with the cult."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 172):

Grateful for a chance to smoke a pipe, Dr. Weston filled and lit a bowl of tobacco.

"Hmm. Indeed. It seems our friend from Egypt did not have any notable dreams. But neither did I or Karlhienz. Others had it to some extent. The lunatics in Paris did as well.

"You know, in the excitement of leaving Paris I forgot to mention that I met the American author, Ernst Hemmingway, in the Ritz hotel's Small Bar, last night. Over a nightcap, he also mentioned having unpleasant dreams a few days ago. I wonder how it's all related. Perhaps, yes, there was some kind of perturbation of the collective subconscious? I shall have to think on it some more."

"What? You think that they can influence your very dreams?" replies Alexander incredulously.



"Hemmingway? I have never heard of him, is he involved in this too?"

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 174):

Dr. Weston fished in his carry-bag and pulled out a book, titled In Our Time.

"Ah! This Ernest chap gave me a copy of the Paris edition of his second (or third, depending on how you counted it) book. Short stories so far, I think. He's planning on starting his first book soon, a non-fiction work about bullfighting. Fell in love with the sport, he has been to Pamplona in Spain a couple times and is planning on taking his wife there again in June for more research on the topic.

"Handsome fellow, very manly, worked as a reporter and is a veteran of the war. I somehow believe he's a sensitive soul as well, perhaps these qualities made him more receptive in some unknown sense to whatever disturbed some of us in London and others in Paris?

"Whichever, such a mass phenomenon bears further study. It would upset the science of psychotherapy as we know it!"

He looked down at the book in his hand. "Well, the fellow signed it. Once I finish it, would anyone like to have it? I don't imagine it would fit into my library at home."

"Firstly, I wasn't aware that the insane were now called 'sensitive'. All of the insane people I've met weren't even aware of the country they were in, and seemed quite insensitive to the nature of their environment.

"Secondly, I wasn't aware journalists were lumped in with them." She winks at Molly.

"I think perhaps that, after staring at portraits of rocky and wet mountains, and speaking and dealing with such beastly people every day, it's no wonder we had the same troubling dreams. Anything further is superstitious flip-flop."

Dr. Weston laughed, delighted.

"I think that's something of a logical fallacy, my dear! Many of the lunatics had bad dreams, but not everyone who had bad dreams is a lunatic. (Although for journalists, who can say?) For example, the Count and Mr. Perkins had much the same dreams that you did.

"Some say the insane have insights the sane do not, although my area of expertise was the criminally insane and not neurotic artists, so my patients were as a rule beastly and not given to dreams or creativity of any kind. Facts are facts, miss. Very rarely, they align with what we think of as superstition and the supernatural, although most of the time they do not. I shall ask my colleagues further abroad. Perhaps when we get to Napoli this evening?"

Molly looked over at the Doctor.  "I would like the book when you are finished doctor.  I'm sure that there is room in my library for another one.  I do not think it is surprising if the cult is behind it somehow.  If they use drugs the smoke from certain drugs, if what some of my sources tell me, can cause dreams and illusions.  What is interesting to me is that we all seemed to have the same one.  I do not mind talking about it as much since others have seen it also.  At least if they deem me crazy I'm in the most delightful company.  I believe that is what separates us from those in any institution.  They do not share the nightmare.  We do.  Why were we chosen?  Was it by accident?  Was it done on purpose?"

Molly chuckled and held out her hands in a apologetic manner.  "Forgive my barrage of questions.  Sometimes I can't help it.  My uncle would say it is an "occupational hazard"."

The Count scratched his chin before he replied;

"If the cult were able to pull dragons into reality, a little dream would be an easy task to enter. Could it be by our association with the cult we have a tangible link to what ever they were worshipping. It does not explain the asylum though..."

The Count trailed off as he seem to be thinking about something.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

JM listened to the conversation, the mention of Hemmingway catching his attention as he had heard of the up and coming author.  When the Count spoke up JM nodded.  "I would say that the cult definitely has power and reaching into our dreams would be the least of what they could do.  Something terrible must have happened to spread so widely.  The only good thing is that it is spread so widely is that it was not directed at us."

He moved next to Molly.  "After you are done I would like to read the book. I promise to return it to you when I'm done."

Alexander tries to hide his concern at this uncomfortable news of cult made dreams, then smiling he asks of Jean-Marc

"So how is the plane? Will we be here for long?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 180):

Molly looked up at John-Marc and nodded.  "Of course you can read it.  If you wish to read it before me then go ahead.  My schedule doesn't always allow me huge blocks of reading time."

She was glad that John-Marc asked about the book.  It was a good diversion and while part of her would like to figure out how everybody could have the same dreams at the same time, it was also very disconcerting.  A drink.  Yes that's it.  She needed another drink.

Molly looked at her empty glass and then up at John-Marc again.  "Did I hear you offer to do refills?"  She hadn't of course but she also knew that being the type of man that he was, she doubted that John-Marc would leave her with an empty glass for long.

"A tangible link to them? I do rather think not. I'll share no part of their works or their spirit. Targeted, perhaps, with chemicals and paintings, but I refuse to accept that they're anything but dead."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 183):

"I have a feeling these were not the only chaps that were part of the cult. If there's one place I can think of that worships the Dark Pharaoh, it will be Egypt! In "Life as a God", the mad Englishman wrote of participating in forbidden rites there, before returning to England. I shan't be surprised to find more of their foul brethren waiting for us."

He nodded to Molly as he handed over the slender book written by Hemingway. "Here you go, my dear. I am finished it already. Take it in good reading."

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg # 184):

Molly took the book and nodded her head at Dr. Weston.  "Thank you sir.  I shall indeed read it.  Perhaps only during daylight hours since reading at night, lately, hasn't been as enjoyable as it used to be."

JM smiled in response to Molly's offer.  "Thank you miss Mungo, I appreciate your generosity.  I would not dare interrupt your enjoyment of the book.  When you are done I would gladly read it and perhaps compare notes with you."  Seeing her glance at her empty glass JM hastened to bring out a battered silver flask.  He poured a full two fingers of an amber liquid in her glass. "Forgive me for leaving you dry miss Mungo.  I'm failing at my gallantry it seems.  But the whiskey is quite good.  I have water unless you would prefer it neat."

He listened to her talk with Dr. Weston.  "If you desire someone to sit up and talk with I would be happy to help miss Mungo.  Perhaps we might talk books?"

To Alexander he nods. "The aircraft are ready to depart as soon as everyone is aboard.  The sooner we leave for Egypt the better in my mind."

Karlhienz squinted up at the sky, then looked at the wind sock.

"It is goot that we have refuelled, ya? Ve haff zee range to make it over zee water, but I think it could be more a matter of how much light we haff left. Mit und head wind our range is reduced."

Once the planes were ready and all their luggage had been loaded, the Count entered and took a seat. He had several trade catalogues he perused as the other entered.

Mr Perkins left it to the very last moment before entering the plane and taking his seat. He was breathing steadily and had his eyes closed as he sat back. This was the pose he maintained for the rest of the flight.

Looking at the small plane, and then to the Vimy Commercial, Dr. Weston said, "I think I'll fly in the big one for this leg of the trip. I want to get some reading done."

JM nodded.  "You are more than welcome to fly in more comfort Doctor.  We owe you certainly for helping Karkheinz."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 191):

The Doctor smiled as he climbed into the larger aircraft, valise in hand. "That was my pleasure. You've all seen some pretty horrifying things of late, not just in the War."
This message was last updated by the GM at 08:02, Sun 06 Oct 2013.

JM frowned and nodded with a glance forward toward KH.  "We appreciate your speaking and working with us without judging us insane.  I must specifically thank you for helping my good friend Karlheinz."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 193):

He got seated as the doors were closed.

"You are most welcome. If I were to reveal what I've seen, like the remains of the dragon, my own colleagues would judge me insane."

JM checked that all were secure and that the cargo and other items were lashed down.  "Certainly Doctor, we all have our secrets that can only be shared amongst ourselves."  He headed forward.  "Ready to go Karlheinz?  Let's get airborne and head to Rome."

With a smile Alexander leans from his seat and addresses all those with him in the passenger area of the plane.

"I would be happy to teach any of those willing some basic Arabic phrases and terms whilst we travel. How does that sound?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 195):

"Ya? And why do I haff to be the one to pull on the propeller?"

He grumbled good-naturedly as he started the engines.

The planes took off, circling Marseilles, then headed out over the Mediterranean.

Over the next couple hours they flew over the ocean. Somewhere close to Corsica, about 20 miles out, the sky around them grew dark with billowing clouds. A few drops speckled the windscreens of the Brisfit and the Commercial, then a heavy rain began pelting both planes. Robert, John-Marc and Karlhienz grew wet as water streamed into the cockpits.

JM laughed at KH's comment. "Because you have the accent."  He continued to chuckle.  "Actually you have the right touch with the engines, always have."

As they flew JM shifted into heavy oilskins, hood and face mask to ward off the rain as best he could.  "Now is the time for a new fangled enclosed cock pit don't you think Karlheinz!?"

Glad to have a slight change of topic, even for a little bit, Molly was glad to take up Alexander on his offer.  "That sounds like a wonderful idea sir.  I'll leave it up to you to figure out what would be the best phrases for us to learn."

Sometime later...

"So repeat after me...Sabā il kẖayr."

Alexander is pleased with the replies.

"Very good. So in response to Good morning you may reply ṣabā in noor. We like to combine sweet words with our good mornings, so noor, which is light, can be changed with Jasmine or perhaps  lwarad which is roses.

Here are some notes that I made whilst we were in Paris."

And he passes out sheets of paper, containing useful words, phrases and numbers to each of his companions.

"At the end of the day I would not worry too much, as I or one of my employees will always be with you. Though I would recommend learning the numbers as they are slightly different from your own."

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 201):

"Thank you Sir.  I will try my best and will look forward to more lessons."

Molly took the paper and practiced saying the words.  Her accent was atrocious but she tried as hard as she could.  It got a little better the more she tried and she felt like she was back in school again where repetition was the key to remembering.  For the rest of the flight she could be heard muttering the words and numbers.

Cynthia takes notes and practices play conversations with Molly, asking Alexander for the word for 'book' or 'dancer', and making up a few more words to fill in gaps.

For that leg of the flight, Dr. Weston read the book given to him by the American. He eventually fell asleep, unable to finish it. Overall, he was thankful not to be in the open Brisfit cockpit.

Struggling, Karlhienz pulled on the oiled rain clothes.

"Damn this cloud-burst!

"Of course! That Aeronautica 75 we saw would be perfect for this weather. Too bad no one thought to make them an offer. Not that we have the money, of course, but perhaps this plane might have been collateral."

The spell of rain was thankfully brief as they passed over Corsica.

After, they flew away from the sun, into the evening sky. The blue Mediterranean was ahead, beneath them. the cloudburst and rain had delayed them, it was getting late when they made landfall just south of Rome. They could see the great city off to the distance on their left.

Landing in Rome as evening fell after a lonely flight was a little miserable, but he certainly wasn't one to let it get him down.  He quickly disembarked from the plane, and hopped out to join the others.

"What are plans for this evening?  I can imagine after our little time in Paris, we might want to just spend the night and move along in the morning?"

JM nodded to KH over the roar of the wind in the open cockpit.  "It doesn't rain nearly as much in Egypt so the open cockpit is not such a liability.  Still, that Aeronautic is a sweet lady.  And get this old girl has given us good service."  He brings the plane in to land at Rome, circling the city a bit to allow the passengers a good view of the holy city from the air.

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 207):

Disembarking from the Commercial, Dr. Weston replied, "I quite agree! I daresay I'm just a simple doctor. Can't afford to stay at the Ritz more than a couple times a year. Let's find something affordable.

"As well, I'd like to call upon a colleague here who also runs a sanitarium. Determine if the patients were any difficulty a few nights ago around the first."

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg # 209):

Molly stepped out of the plane when she could and looked around.  "I believe that a quiet night sounds like just the thing."

JM stands and stretches as the engines shudder to a stop.  "Let's get them both under cover tonight if we can Karlheinz.  We have more over water flights so a day of maintenance on the engines and controls would be wise.  I don't intend to give the group a week to wander about this time.  We'd best make time and get to Egypt."

The Count disembarked from the plane and shielding his eyes looked around the airfield.

"If the chance for an extra day should arise I would like to call on the Vatican archives. I may be able to gain access on my families name, maybe."

He thought for a moment and added;

"I am unsure if the archives will hold any additional information and to access it may take more time than we have."

"So maybe we could just spend a day for maintenance on the planes, and if anybody has things to inquire into that can be done in a day, then let them do that.  But otherwise, maybe we should plan on leaving on the next day."

Rome Ciampino Airport

As the sun began to set, Karlheinz wandered off to the airfield's offices. He found them, and beside the door was a poster of Italy's Prime Minster, Benito Mussolini, as the head of the Partito Nazionale Fascista (National Fascist Party)


The youngest man ever to assume the post in 1922, Mussolini (or, "Il Duce", as he was known throughout Italy) had assumed all but dictatorial powers by January of 1925. By and large, Italians seemed comfortable with this development, as it brought a turbulent period of socialist agitation and political anarchy to a halt. Still, many wondered what the future would hold for this charismatic yet power-hungry and ambitious man.

Glancing at the poster, eyes narrowing, Karlhienz spat on the dusty concrete and entered. Inside the office, Karlheinz found three office clerks in grey paramilitary style uniforms, yet still possessing the typical Italian avoidance of doing anything quickly or efficiently. He finally arranged hangar space as rain began pattering down on the airfield.

Returning, he reported that hangar rental was taken care of. "It iss done. This "Duce" fellow... I gather he intends to transform Italy by adding brutal German efficiency. I cannot help but think this will somehow end badly."

Once at the bottom of the stairs Mr Perkins put his hands on his knees and lowered his head, breathing in deeply. It was several seconds until he stood upright again and looked around.

He listen to the discussions to do with the time they had available, but had nothing of his own to add. He would also like a peak at the archives just to lay his eyes on the miles of shelving and the cavernous catacombs where they were kept. This was unlikely as he had no connections in Rome and his name certainly held no weight. Still any delay to again getting on that plane was a good thing in his book.

JM nodded in agreement with Roger.  "We can take a day to tinker with the airplanes but no more.  Count, that should let you check the archives I hope.  I think that Karlheinz and I will stay with the airplanes tonight, Roger as well if he wants."

When KH returned JM frowned.  "I've heard a bit about this Mussolini character; seems a bit of a clown.  Trying to mix German efficiency with Italian... pasta would just give you schnitzel with tomato sauce I think.  It can't end well."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 216):

"Thank you Mr Falcon I will try my best and we can only hope. Should we find transport into the city ?"

The Count look for the obvious signs of a taxi stand or train station.

Dr Weston piped up, "So if it seems good, then maybe I'll make my enquiries into the local sanitarium.  I certainly get my feelings about the whole episodes of early April. Would anybody like to accompany me?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 216):

"I'd be happy to hang out with the planes, don't mind the pun.  It was certainly a pretty rough flight the last leg, especially on my lonesome.  Wonder if there's a way to catch a hot bath round these parts though."

OOC - Suddenly my male pictures started working! :)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

Accompanying her, Alexander nods in agreement.

"I shall be happy to get going as soon as possible."



Alexander assists the Count in looking for transport.

"Best to arrange a cab then Count.  Just try to be back around sunrise tomorrow so we can get an early start."  Turning back to KH and Roger he shook his head. "There is probably a small hotel right outside the airfield where we could get a shower or bath.  I don't want to stray too far."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 221):

Not coincidentally, there were taxi drivers available who also knew of affordable lodgings nearby.

The Count looked around the collective group and said;

"I will be lodging at a hotel close to the Vatican so I can get an early start if I am to gain access to the archive. If anyone would like to accompany me they are most welcome."

Once everyone who is travelling into Rome is in the taxi the Count asks the driver

"Albergo Plaza Roma, per favore."

The cabbie doffed his hat.

"Si Signore! I-a bring you to-a the hotel, andiamo!"

He started the engine to his gleaming Fiat taxi, then started loading bags into the boot.

"Dr. Weston, I would love to accompany you. Do I dress as I would for a visit to a sanitarium in England?"

Molly perked up at the visit to the archives.  She wasn't sure if she would actually be looking at the same thing the others would but to just "be" there would be a wonderful thing.

"I too would love to go there.  I'll even be on Sunday best behavior, as my Uncle would say."

JM watched as the others departed for down town.  He turned back to KH and Roger.  "Well, now to work.  Still, I think I would prefer a meal and part of a bottle of wine.  I think I saw a small restaurant nearby.  Let's go get something to eat before we start to work on the planes."

In the Taxi

"I am happy to have an early night and return to the plane whenever suits the rest of you. I think I shall find myself a nice cafe and complete some correspondences that I have been putting off, if that is okay with everyone?"

Alexander smiles a little wearily after the trip.

"I must say that I'm starving."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 225):

"Glad to have your company, Miss Holloway.  And, yes, I'm not a fashion expert, but I imagine anything that is comfortable would do just well."

A certain older, fatherly kind of tone can be heard in the good Doctor's speech.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 227):

"Oh yes, smashing! We should be able to find something to fill a grumbling tum.  And they have pretty good wine here in old Italy for a mean price?  Though don't want to cause old Karl any troubles, do we?" Roger smiles a little mischievously. He's on adventure again. It's been oh too long.

KarlHeinz nodded. "Happy to get to work on the planes now.

"Would you like me to be finding some lodgings nearby? It is getting dark, so that we should not be finding it later?"

The Albergo Plaza Roma hotel in Rome was every bit as luxurious as the Ritz, or if it wasn't, there was little way to tell. One thing that was different was that the staff (and many other working Romans) favoured uniforms of some kind or another. As well, there were posters and murals dedicated to il Duce here and there. Not overwhelming, but noticeable.

Alternative (and more modest) arrangements were made for those wanting to stay closer to the airport. The Pensione Mingarelli was a family-run boarding house offering several clean, if small, provate rooms. It offered breakfast, lunch and dinner. Just down the cobbled street was a cafe that served strong Italian style coffee and had a nice selection of local wines.

The exchange rate in 1925 was about 120 Italian Lire to £1, or 40 Lire to 1 US dollar. Mussolini had tried to fix the Life at L90 in 1922 to £1 in what was called the "Battle of the Lire", but by 1925 inflation was spiralling out of control. The pensione is L120 a night, the Albergo Plaza Roma is L450 a night.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:55, Sat 19 Oct 2013.

Once they had arrived at their suite and tipped the staff. the Count left Mr Perkins with the luggage as he sat at the desk in the small parlour and wrote two letters. One to Cardinal Archivist Francis Aidan Gasquet an English Benedictine monk and one to Prefect Mariano Ugolini.

Both letters contained a brief introduction of himself and some of the nature of his inquiry. He also mention the two letters of introduction he held. He stamped the page with his signet ring and also sealed both envelopes with the same ring. He made a time for when he would be at the archives front desk in the morning and hoped to see them then.

He accompanied Mr Perkins to the front desk to have them hand delivered tonight and then led him to the bar and hotel restaurant where they spent the rest of the evening.

Molly knew that rest was what she needed.  With that in mind, she went to the closet hotel that was recommended and spent the night trying to catch up on it.

JM smiled in memory of good times as Roger spoke up. "Let's try the Pensione Mingarelli.  It is close by and inexpensive.  We can eat and drink just a bit, you can't have a meal here in Italy without a glass of wine or two.  Then we can come back and work a bit and spend the night in the rooms nearby?  How does that sound to you two?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 235):

A broad smile shined across Roger's face as John-Marc made his proposal, "That sounds absolutely fantastic, my dear brother.  Just like the good old times.  I'm actually quite looking forward to trying some seriously strong Italian coffee.  It will be interesting to compare it to the brews I've tasted in Morocco."

At the Albergo Plaza Roma hotel, Alexander settles in to a large bath, full to the brim with piping hot water, sighing contently.

There'd been a pleasant dinner and now through the open door he could see the massive bed waiting for him.

Perfect.

Until the plane was ready he would relax, drink coffee, smoke cigars and possibly write some letters. He was looking forward to Cairo and seeing his family once more.....

All thoughts of cultists, murders and fantastical beasts were pushed far, far away.

JM led Roger and Karlheinz down the road a bit to the Pensione and cafe.  He arranged for a set of rooms for the night as well as a leisurely dinner and coffee at the cafe across the street.

"Let's go then.  A good dinner and coffee will help keep me motivated."

Molly settled in for the night and tried to get some sleep.  While she had her notebook under her pillow, to give her inspiration for writing you know, she didn't start a story for her Uncle.  She did something that she seldom did before early hours in the morning...she slept.  How well she would sleep was yet to be determined but she was going to give it her best try to get a good sleep.

Room, bath, change of clothes, the calm dinner with friends.

After the last of the coffee and biscuits, Cynthia starts to get itchy feet. "Molly, I don't know about you, but I've been sitting in a cramped plane all day and I'm not quite ready to sit in lay in bed for the rest of it. I'm thinking perhaps now is a good time to break in those new boots I bought in Paris. Would you like to join me for a walking tour of the city at night?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 240):

Molly had flung herself onto the bed and sighed happily but then heard Cynthia's request.  She slowly opened up one eye and looked at Cynthia.  "Hmm?  You know something Cynthia?  I think you would fit into my circle of friends back home quite nicely.  You have it in you to be quite the party girl."

Molly thought about it for a minute and then smiled.  "Give me one hour to recharge and then I'll go with you."

The night was warm, and the Italian coffee, wine and food was superb. Maintenance on the planes was completed quickly, the group near the airport retired to the cafe near their lodgings for some late night relaxing.

At the suggestion of a handsome taxi driver (Enzo) who also offered to be a guide, the ladies were directed to the Trevi Fountain, the nearby column of Marcus Arelius and the incredible marble church of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Couples were walking arm-in-arm, groups of young men talked in streetside cafes. By the time they were done, it was close to midnight.

The only thing that somehow sapped the magic mood of the Eternal City were the art-deco posters of Mussolini that were hung all over the place. As well, uniforms of all kinds seemed to be in vogue. The Italians seemed to ignore the fascist trappings infecting their surroundings, but perhaps it affected them more because they were foreigners, seeing it with new eyes.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:50, Fri 25 Oct 2013.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 242):

At the cafe near the pensione, Karlkheinz sipped his strong Italian-style coffee, espresso as it was called. He glanced at the poster of il Duce emblazoned across the side of the 2-story post office across the street.

He scowled, but didn't say anything.

"Roger, I shall fly the Brisfit from now on, ya? Vhat is our course?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:09, Sat 26 Oct 2013.

"Of course, Molly. Whenever you're ready."

Having finished her light dinner, Cynthia returns to the hotel with the group. She pulls out her clothes for the walk, then pulls off her shoes and outer wear and lays down, just for a minute, waiting for Molly to come get her ... Just a minute ... zzzz ...

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 243):

Sipping on the Italian coffee, he talked, "I'm not sure.  Do you remember what we'd decided on the charts?  We're here in Rome now.  Do we want to make it across the Sea, or do we want to head further east first this side before jumping on over to Egypt?"

The Count retired for the evening somewhat early so he could go over his notes. He was going to be at the entrance to the archives early so wanted a good nights sleep. He spent the rest of his time seeing to his correspondence a much harder task then he had envision.

JM had moved from the wine to the coffee with the others.  The satisfaction of a good day of flying and working on the planes filled him with happiness that the good food perfected. "I'd say we fly down the coast of Italy and step across to Greece.  Athens would be a good overnight spot and then across the Aegean to Turkey and the Levant."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 247):

Looking at the charts, Karlheinz nodded in agreement.

"Ya, my friend. Ist gut.

"Say, what have we here?"

It was getting late, most Italians seemed to be getting to bed. It had been a long day, but the planes were almost ready to go, having required no major repairs.

Ambling up the street came three young men led an older fellow. They wore black shirts, grey trousers that were tucked into black leather boots just below the knees and a black fez. At their leather belts were sheathed long knives. They ambled up the cobbled street, stopping outside the post office. Glancing over at the cafe, they continued on up the street.

Angelo, the cafe owner, asked if the travellers wanted anything further or would be returning to their lodgings?

JM watched the four men walk up the street.  He avoided eye contact being unwilling to provoke a response from what looked to be fascist thugs.  Shaking his head to the owner he paid out the bill and a gratuity and stood.  "Let's get back to the hangar gents.  I'm tired and I don't like the look of the company that just ambled by."

They returned to the airport after supper to find that it was mostly closed down for the night. A not-impressed night watchman (in an impressive uniform) let them into the rented hangar where they worked a little before conceding it was hopeless to go on.

Still, there was little else they needed to do. A few minutes work would be enough to get them aloft.

The next morning, they awoke to heavy rains. Those lodging near the airport witnessed streams running down the cobbled streets. In the heart of the city, Romans rushed about under umbrellas or folded newspapers. Overhead the sky was dark grey with rainclouds.

The Count rose early and after his morning routine met Mr Perkins at the door to their suite to descend for a hurried breakfast. He had dressed in a dark conservative three-piece suit and had forgone his usual personal adornment.

Once finished both the Count and Mr Perkins haled a taxi for the short journey to the small nondescript door to the archive on the right side of St Peters Basilica. He was nervous and even though he had been to the archive before with his father he had never been inside.

He huddled under the umbrella as Mr Perkins paid the driver they then made plans for the Count to met him at a small cafe across the street. Turning the Count climbed the small steps to the archive and opened the door.


He was greeted by a small white stucco room with a small table and a single chair on which sat a Vatican Primate. He had a large ledger in front of him and did not look up as the Count entered.

"Good morning, I am Count Sigismund Bathony. I believe I am expected."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:42, Wed 30 Oct 2013.

When the morning came JM stared up at the falling rain.  "Well, at least we're not flying in that."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 253):

"Ya, ist correct. We could, but it does not seem worth the risk. Let us have some breakfast here in the pensione."

He sat in the dining room and sipped some of the strong Italian coffee known as espresso. It was addictive stuff! It sure would keep him awake on long flights.

Mr Perkins had been awakened by the rain in the night. A light sleeper since the war he could not recall when he again dosed off. He glanced out one of the large windows in their suite as he waited for the Count. They descended in silence to breakfast and it was only at the door to the Archive that they spoke to make plans to meet.

Mr Perkins took a seat in the window of the cafe directly across the road from the entrance. He ordered a coffee and some bruschetta and olives. He had taken a copy of the English language paper from the hotel and place a couple of books on his table.




He would throw a glance at the door every few minutes but this lessened as the hour wore on.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 252):

After a moment, the balding Primate closed the ledger and looked up. He said in Italian-accented English, "si, Conti Bathony. I am aware of this. I am Archbishop Molnado. My secretary, Father Savio, will be back momentarily. He shall provide all the assistance you require." A steam heater hissed in the corner, driving out the spring chill brought about by the heavy downpour. It was perhaps the only semi-modern accoutrement in the ancient cell, save for an electric lamp. The Archbishop went back to his ledger.

On cue, a young scholarly-looking man in a long black Jesuit cassock (long-sleeved black robe with white clerical collar) entered the room. "Buongiorno, Conti. my name is Father Savio. What may I do for you?"

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 256):

"Buon giorno Father Salvio it is good to meet you. As I said in my letter I wish to gain access to the archive on a matter of great urgency to myself and the church."

The Count then goes into great detail on the nature of his problem and the cult in general.

"So Father Salvio as you can see my need is great. Do you think the archive may contain the information I require."

Cynthia awoke, ready to take on the night! That was a very restful nap, but what time was it? 8? Perfect. Oh, 8am. Well ... there shall be other nights in the future. The rest was clearly needed, and she'll have no regrets, as long as Molly didn't go out and have a night of fun without her. The minx.

Cynthia gets dressed, tights, cotton skirt, blouse, sweater, overcoat, hat, boots. Her wardrobe is a hodge-podge of New York, London, and Paris, selected for cold and hot, dry and wet, formal and filthy, all light enough to fit in a tiny bucket of an aeroplane. But Cynthia chose the challenging life for herself, so she has no right to complain, and frankly, these suede boots are adorable with anything.

Dressed and washed up, she goes downstairs to the cafe, to see who else is awake and to await Dr. Weston. She looks for an Egyptian newspaper, but failing that, snags one in French, and sits to enjoy coffee and fresh fruit.

JM followed Karlheinz to the little dining room and took a cup of the pungent, steaming coffee as well.  He ordered a plate of bread, cheese and whatever else could be arranged and laid it out on the table to share.  "I find myself willing to wile away the day watching the rain and enjoying the coffee.  I wonder how the rest of our party is finding Rome."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 258):

The good doctor came down to meet up with Cynthia, "Good morning.  Hope you had a well enough sleep."  He called for a coffee to start the day and a portion of fresh fruit to enjoy. "Today could be quite interesting! It will certainly be interesting to see if anything had happened here in the asylum that would coincide with my recent discovery of trouble early this month."

Molly woke up and stretched....and stopped.  After she sniffed a couple of times to make sure her foggy brain was correct she smiled.  Coffee...the fuel that makes the morning happen.

She dressed in her travelling clothes but chose to leave her hat on the bed next to her packed bags.  She had been tired enough last night not to even unpack yet.

Like a zombie walking towards a victim, Molly went straight for the coffee and after taking a couple of sips, turned around to face everybody else.

"Good morning everybody.  My body is kicking into gear again after that much needed rest so what is on today's agenda?  Cynthia!  I am soooo sorry that my hour nap turned into an all nighter.  You should have jostled me awake.  My deepest apologies."

She then finished off her cup post haste, and after refilling it, went to sit down, snagging some bread and cheese on the way.  She was used to the snag and sit routine for that is what her uncle usually did at the office.  You could accomplish so much more in so little time if you could master that technique.

Alexander had woken early and found a taxi, heading over to see how the pilots and their charges were doing. He'd made sure that a note for his other companions explaining his whereabouts was left with the front desk of the hotel.

Finding the hangar deserted he made himself comfortable, listening to the rain hitting the roof.

Dr. Weston's meeting with his colleague at the Pazzarella Hospital on the Via Lata was rather early, but this understandable as Dr. Giovanni Dellupo said (over the telephone) things were very unsettled after some mass incident of a week or so earlier.

When he arrived by taxi, his old friend could only spare a few moments from his hectic schedule. The story was the same as in France; around the 5th of April most of the patients became agitated, many had vivid dreams of the "walking mountain" rising from the ocean. There was much delerium and raving, a few of the catatonic patients actually became conscious, awoken from their sleep, and some of those commenced to try and injure themselves and the staff.

At ten o'clock, Giovanni apologised profusely and said it was time for Dr. Weston to leave.

"I thank you for coming, my friend! But truly, we are very busy. Things have calmed down but there's so much for me to do, I am so sorry I can't devote more time! Come back soon, I will have Magdalena cook some of her pasta for you, we'll drink some wine, it will be like old times, yes?"

---

At the pensione Mingarelli, the pilots (Roger, Karlheinz and John-Marc) ate a leisurely breakfast. There was a knock on the door.

It was Americo, a handsome young wiry man in his early 20's. He was from the rural part of Italy, apparently working for a time in his uncle's pensione. His English was poor and thickly accented, but he could make himself be understood. He took his cap off his head and held it in both hands, revealing thick curly black hair hanging over dark eyes.

"Scusi, Signores? There is-a problema? I-a go to the cafe. Get bread, yes? I see my cousin Francisco Battaglia across the street. In Post Office. He's-a the Black Shirt? You know? No good fascisti. There are many fascisti there, ten, twelve. He call-a me over, so I go. He says they are-a looking for three foreign men staying in the pensione. He says these foreigners, they are pederasti! Looking to buy-a Italian boy from filthy Gypsies. That is crazy! I say you-a gonna be here all day, I come and warn you.

"They gonna come in ten minutes. You go now! I show you back way. Down alley!"

---

At the hotel, Cynthia was able to find an English language paper. She was able to obtain a French-language paper, Le Progrès Egyptien, which she she could read. There didn't seem to be much of interest other than left-wing political opinion, but she did see an article about how, earlier in the month, several villages in French Polynesia were wiped out in a mysterious tidal wave that struck late on night and left no survivors.

At around 9am, the immaculately-suited concierge came up to the table where Cynthia and Molly were waiting. He was holding a yellow envelope and politely excused his interrupting of their repast. " Pardonatemi, Signoras. I have an urgent telegram from London for Conti Bathony. You checked in with him, do you kindly know of his whereabouts or when he might return?"

---

As there was no convenient cafe inside the Holy See, Perkins had to content himself with pretending to buy stamps at the Vatican Post Office just down the street from the closest entrance to the Library and the Archives, behind St. Peter's Basilica. The Archives were part of the Vatican Library, a truly massive structure with over 35,000 volumes in the selected catalogue alone, and the inventory of the Secret Archive was kept on 1,300 parchment volumes.

There was little traffic in the lane on this rainy weekday. The few faithful who had made the pilgrimage to the heart of the Catholic church would much rather see the magnificent Basilica and not be wandering down the lane behind it in the Vatican's administrative, lodging and quarters blocks. A pair of Swiss Guards in ceremonial dress and carrying halberds wandered down towards the barracks just inside the Porto di S. Anna (which led out into the city to the Via di Porta Angelica). Mainly, there were some Catholic priests and officials in their black and grey cassocks and capes. Ordinary Italians weren't absent either; the Holy City needed deliverymen, handymen and craftsmen to function, like any secular city.

About two hours after Bathony entered the Archives, Perkins spotted a horse-drawn delivery wagon clattering down the lane that led from the Porta di St. Anna past the Swiss Guard barracks. It looked like a typical delivery wagon, probably given a quick check by the Swiss Guard at the gate and then passed through. The wagon stopped outside the Archive entrance, and a group of four men climbed out and glanced around, furtive and unsure. They looked like street toughs, probably Sicilian, wearing caps low against the rain. Their rough moustachioed faces were thick with stubble, shabby coats long enough to conceal weapons of some kind. One knocked at the door, and it was immediately opened. Looking around, the men began entering the door to the archives, trying not to look too suspicious. Perkins was about 2 blocks away from the entrance, to the right was an open areas with trees and a cobbled courtyard where a delivery truck was parked, to the left were the towers at the rear of St. Peter's Basilica.

---

Out at the Aeroporto di Ciampino, Alexander waited in the cold hangar as rain drummed on the tin roof. It seemed odd the structure was deserted at this time of the morning, there should at least be a watchman to keep it secure. As he pondered this, he smelled smoke. Looking around, he saw tendrils of smoke beginning to seep from around the wood door to the rear offices. He knew that inside was a wood-burning stove that the watchman would have lit for warmth and to boil water for tea or coffee.

---

Father Salvio led the Count deeper and deeper through the galleries and winding passages of the Archives. Doors led off into different parts of the stacks, revealing books, documents, scrolls and other reading materials in hundreds of languages. Once they passed an ancient monk in a brown robe tied with a white rope silently pushing a cart laden with worm-eaten volumes. They stopped in one section obviously devoted to all aspects of the occult.

After a couple hours of poring through the volumes, Bathony could tell that while all manner of heresy and blasphemy were detailed, anything relating to the corrupt Mythos worshipped by the cultists of the Bloody Tongue and the Brotherhood of the Black Pharoah. Father Salvio admitted he was not experienced with the part of the archive housing the most blasphemous materials. It was said there were deeper vaults that kept volumes of writing so horrifying that the Church denied their very existence, keeping them in the lowest level. Only a few of the most trusted archivists knew of their location and possessed the means to access them.

"I must get the archivist's assistant to show us. He will have the key. Please wait here."

In a few moments, Salvio returned with another monk, different than the one they'd seen before, yet equally ancient. The silent monk led them to a tiny winding stairwell that descended deep into the earth beneath the Vatican and Rome. They ended up in a series of small stone-lined subterranian corridors lined with metal-bound wood doors. The air was cool and dry, and Monk lit an oil lamp as he them into the labyrinth under the Archive and Library. It looked like there were some electric lights although only the main corridors were wired as such. Bathony thought he might be able to navigate back, if need be, but wasn't 100% sure.

Finally, after snaking their way down narrow side passages, they arrived at a thick metal-shod door into a cell-like room. The small window was barred. Their guide produced a thick iron key and, turning it in the lock, opened the door with a squeal of hinges. He stepped aside and motioned for them to enter, and Father Savio, after making the sign of the cross and breathing a silent prayer, did so. As Bathony was about to enter he noted a glint of silver around the right wrist of the monk. He was holding something down by his side. It was a silver wrist chain. And attached to that chain was an inverted ankh, also made of silver.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:01, Sat 02 Nov 2013.

Standing, Alexander picks up his walking cane from where he'd left it leaning against a bench.

That's odd he thinks, casting a quick glance around the hanger and trying to remember if he'd seen any fire extinguishers about.

Maybe it's a blocked flue.

"Hello?"

Might score myself a brew if I'm lucky.

The Count was nearly struck dumb by the shear size and scale of the archive. Not in his wildest dreams did he think it would be so vast. He tried to make a mental note of their path and his surroundings just so he could accurately describe it in his journal and in his correspondence to his friends.

His interest was at a peak as they descended into the very bowels of the earth for answers and while his search so far had been fruitless he had seen and touched volumes that to the outside world were only rumour and myth. These books and manuscripts were first-hand accounts of history, the very narratives that would create a saint had they been of miracles. Instead they dealt with foul acts and deeds, the very stuff of nightmares.

As the Count caught sight of the symbol of the cult in the centre of Catholic worship on earth he asked the archivist's assistant in Latin;

"Ubi mores sunt mei post te Sir bonum, hoc est tuum post proprius."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Where are my manners after you good Sir, this is after all your speciality.

---

It is a set up, and the Count is in danger.

Mr Perkins thought to himself as he set off at a brisk pace towards the entrance. He tried not to draw any attention to himself as he tried to cover the distance as fast as possible.

Cynthia responded to Molly, "No harm, no foul. We're on holiday, and sometimes the body gives subtle - or not so subtle hints that that means sleeping now and again."

Cynthia receives the telegram. "We'll make sure he gets it, don't worry." She gives the messenger a small tip before he goes. She then turns to her two companions, "I'd be surprised if the Count returns before supper. If it's urgent, do you suppose we should open it? After all, whoever sent it knows he's traveling and doing so with us."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 267):

Molly nodded at Cynthia.  "Of course we should open it.  It was delivered therefore it is fair game."

Molly didn't hold much in store of privacy otherwise how else could she get her stories?  Besides this could be important and she had sleep so now was ready to go.  Well she would be after she put her hat on.

JM looked up curiously as the young man entered. His expression turned to concern and anger as the man continued with his story.  He stood and extended his hand.  "I'm John-Marc, thank you for your warning mister..."  He wonders at the veracity of the account, suddenly fearing a ruse to get them to scurry off.  "I have just a bit of kit to gather if we want to avoid being arrested as perverts."  He steps to the window and looks out around the curtain to see if can discern activity in the cafe or post office.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 269):

Indeed, there were 2 thuggish-looking blackshirts gathered just outside the Post Office, trying to keep under the overhang and out of the rain. Another entered the Post Office as they talked.

The young man nodded and put his cap back on. "You see them? I go get my brother, Alfio. We help you with your bags!"

Trusting he was being taken seriously now, he left to get his brother, and returned almost instantly with another young man, clearly related.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 267):

"Signora, I am deeply sorry but the telegram is for the Conti! It is private. I shall be glad to keep it at the desk for his return?"

Molly, sensing that this was important information, quickly made up something about how Cynthia was the Conti's dearest sister-in-law and so it would be all right to leave the telegram. The Concierge, mollified, left the telgram on a silver plate and departed to attend to his duties.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 264):

Fires in hangars that typically had all manner of flammables inside were serious business. Consequently, there was a good array of equipment to deal with the situation. There was a brass fire extinguisher of the water type (used by holding it upside down) on the wall near the office, and a bucket of sand. On one wall was a fire hose.

There was, however, no answer to his call. In an instant the white smoke from the office area became thicker and instead of seeping began streaming out from the gap at the top of the door.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 265):

The Monk shook his head and covered his eyes in a clear "See no evil" gesture.

He then set down the lamp and pointed with his left hand at the doorway to the cell, keeping his right hand down by his side.

Inside the tiny room, Father Salvio said, "excuse me? May I have some light? It's awfully dark in here."

The Monk nodded and extended the lamp for Bathony to take hold of.

In reply to George Perkins (msg # 266):

Perkins made his way through the rain towards the Archway that held the Secret Archive entrance. That arch was also a side door to an entrance to the Library, so it wasn't too difficult to make it look like he had another destination.

As he approached, most of the men had disappeared through the Archive door but one remained outside as lookout. He eyed Perkins as the man approached down the lane. Perkins could either continue as if going towards the main Library door or cut to the right across the park, and come up along the Library's wall out of his line of sight.

Alexander runs for the alarm, flicking the lever before grabbing the nearest extinguisher and heading towards the smoking door.

Quickly familiarising himself with the operation of the gadget, he then opens the door to the office standing to one side to avoid any sudden outrush of smoke.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 275):

The alarm bell started to ring. Alex read that to activate the extinguisher a lead plug needed to be removed to allow the chemicals to mix. Once that was done he opened the door to the office.

Inside was, as expected, a great deal of white smoke (from burning wood). One wall and the roof was on fire in most places, dropping sparks that had set additional fires. What he assumed was the lifeless body of the night watchman was slumped in a chair near the stove. The fire was beginning to spread now to the main area of the hangar.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 276):

Emptying the Fire extinguisher on the fire, Alexander then heads back into the hangar and begins pulling the water hose out with the intention of using that.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 270):

Watching as John-Marc exchanged greetings with the young man, he listened as he told them about the potential threat.  He could only assume at this time that the trouble wasn't anything to do with what his friends had been telling him about what happened back in England.  It must just be the trouble that Italy had been in recent years.

Grabbing his few things, he set to follow the men.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 277):

Alexander stopped, realising that maybe Mario isn't actually dead?

Alexander carried on towards the hose, if the flames get to the planes and fuel we'll all be dead.

Plus Jean-Marc would probably kill him too….

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 274):

Mr Perkins only looked out the side of his eye as he approached the library entrance when past he pulls his automatic pistol if the thug has his back to him. If he had the advantage Mr Perkins would pistol whip the gentleman and drag him into the archive.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 273):

"Of course Father."

The Count took the lamp in his left hand and kept his cane in his right. He moved to the doorway. The Count kept the other monk in his sight line the entire time.

The Count was ready for a strike should it come from the frail monk.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Sat 02 Nov 2013.

Outside, the thug kept Perkins in the corner of his eye as he passed, but it was obvious he was more interested in keeping an eye on the Swiss Guard barracks further down the lane and the guard post at the gate to the via Porta del Angelo. His eyes shifted away from Perkins as the man walked past.

Keeper's Note: Perkins has partial surprise and strikes first. A gun butt is a Small Club, 25% to-hit.

Down inside the Secret Archive's basement, the monk looked at Bathony, as if waiting for the man to continue. After a pause, he started to enter the cell past Bathony. The old man wasn't strong but he was blindingly quick and as he passed Bathony, he suddenly grabbed him and attempted to bodily throw him into the cell! The "silent" monk yelled out something in Italian, obviously urging someone to come to his aid.

Keeper's Note: His DEX is 16, greater than Bathony's, and so he strikes first. He has successfully Grappled him. If Bathony doesn't counter-grapple or otherwise subdue him, he will gain control of Bathony next Combat Round.

JM frowned and turned back to the others.  "There are Blackshirts gathered for certain.  Let's get out of here." He looked to the young man. "Go ahead, get your brother, we will be down in a few minutes."  JM settled the bill with the owners of the little pensione with a few words of broken Italian.  Montreal had a large Italian contingent and he'd learned a fair bit growing up.

Following the others he came back downstairs with his scant bag packed after a few minutes.  He had his pistol shoved in a coat pocket out of sight.  A hat covered his head and he looked grim.  "Ok, ready?"

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 283):

The Count struck the monk in the side of his head with his fist. If suitably disabled he would bundle him into the cell and take his inverted cult symbol.

As he moved the monk forward he asked Father Salvio;

"The cult has infiltrated the archive. Grab what we need and lets depart.".

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 283):

Mr Perkins fumbled his strike as his foot caught on a paving stone. He tried to recover by pointing his Fabrique Nationale automatic at the local tough.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:12, Sun 03 Nov 2013.

Cynthia sat back in her chair, sipping her capuccino, as the rain pitter-pattered against the hotel cafe's window. She rested her hand on the sealed telegram. For the past week, things have been so perfect, and now she was warm, well-fed, surrounded by friends. Everything was right in the world. Right now the Count was deep in his books, his one apparent love.

Then this damned telegram. It would almost certainly ruin this good run. It would bring some sort of foul trouble to the Count's mind. It's so tempting just to put it off ... let the Count enjoy a few more days of happy peace.

But it's better to face trouble head-on, and Cynthia could break it to the count gently.

She opens the telegram.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 287):

Molly straightened up when Cynthia broke the seal.  This was the exciting part...the anticipation of what should be kept secret but really wasn't.

"There you go.  That was nice and simple wasn't it?  So what does it say?"

Molly leaned over to see, and to grasp the telegram in case Cynthia was having second thoughts about reading it, and smiled sweetly at Cynthia.

As the monk grabbed him, Bathony dropped his cane and struck out with his fist. The cultist tried to bring up his spiked club (the signature weapon of the Dark Brotherhood) to block but Bathony struck past it to deal him a mighty blow to the head, sending him sprawling and motionless.

A confused and concerned Father Salvio came up behind him. "What's happening? Who was shouting? Cultists? What cult, what do you mean?" He took the lamp as Bathony dragged the man into the cell. Holding the lamp up, they could see the room was bare except for some empty wooden shelves containing crates. Salvio, not sure if Bathony was telling the truth but understanding there was something wrong going on. "That's brother Casimiro! Why would he attack you? Did he go mad?"

Outside, the thug drew a sap from beneath his shaggy coat but stopped when Perkins drew his automatic first. He raised his hands in surrender.

---

At the hotel, the ladies opened the telegram as Weston pondered what he'd learned. The images that the patients dreamed, as well as his friends, reminded him of what he'd read in the tomes they took from the cultists. He wondered if perhaps there was more information to be found in those worm-eaten dusty tomes?

As for the telegram, it would probably be a better idea to open it in privacy, and not in the cafe. It said:

SENDER BHS&M SOLICITORS LONDON
TO CT BATHONY ALBERGO PLAZA ROMA

ATTEMPTED BURGLARY PRIVATE RESIDENCE LAST NIGHT IMPOSTERS SOUGHT BANK DEPOSIT BOXES THIS MORNING STOP ALL EFFORTS UNSUCCESSFUL BUSINESS RECORDS SAFE POLICE NOTIFIED FULL STOP

---

Quickly, Americo sought out his brother Alfio and the two led the men out the back of the Pensione. As they were leaving, a pretty young woman in tears came up to them. She and Americo spoke quickly in Italian "Tony, non lasciarmi!" "Per favore, devo aiutare questi uomini. Non ti preoccupare, Maria, tornerò da voi, tenere la mia bicicletta sicuro!"  and they parted at the rear gate. As they left, they could see her taking a very nice racing bicycle that was leaning against the rear garden wall and rolling it into a shed. They could hear someone pounding on the house's front door.

Meanwhile, the two brothers helped the pilots sprint with their baggage across the lane, into an adjoining rear walled garden, then down other twisting and turning cobbled and dirt lanes and streets, past buildings and trees, through a fence across a small paddock containing a milk cow.

Five minutes later, it was clear they'd escaped pursuit, at least for the mean time. Americo seemed to be in great shape and was barely winded at all. "Curse fascisti! Some time, I wish leave Italy. Like parents. Move Brasil, come back to Italy. Is mistake.

"So, where we go now? Aeroporto?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:11, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 288):

Keeping his automatic close to the side of his body he motioned for the thug to drop his weapon and walk into the archive reception room. He held the man at gun point unsure how to proceed.

He motioned with his left hand* for the keys to the truck parked outside.

*He twists his hand if starting the ignition.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 289):

The Count worked as fast as possible. He removed the unconscious monks robes, his silver ankh and the club donning them as he went. He tried to explain for Father Salvio indicating the empty shelves as he worked;

"Some of your Archivists have been following the teachings of the cult from the books I was seeking."

As he locked the door, he continued;

"We must leave and try not to run into the reinforcements the monk was calling can you help ? Blow out the light if they find us."

He retrieved his cane and made his was to the exit.

JM moved along quickly behind the two brothers.  The hurriedly spoken Italian proved difficult to follow but he could just manage to grab the gist of the conversation.  He was definitely panting by the time the made their way clear of the Pensione and possible pursuit.  As he paused to catch his breath he looked at the two young men.  "Thank you for helping.  We should go ahead to the Aeroporto and join our friend there." Still panting a bit he asked; "Why are you risking trouble with the Facists Americo to help us?" For now he wouldn't reveal his knowledge of Italian.

The thug outside shrugged When Perkins pointed to the truck. He and the others had come in the horse-drawn wagon that was standing nearby.

Far below ground, Bathony found nothing unusual under the monk's robes. "Brother Casimiro" was wearing little other than underwear and the silver inverted Ankh.  The robes were not well-fitting, as Bathony was well-dressed as usual. There was a satisfying "clunk" as the massive iron key turned in the solid door. It was clear that where they trapped down here, they would have little chance to escape.

Father Salvio tried to prevent Bathony from removing the man's robes, but stopped when it seemed the man was serious.

"What are you doing? A cult? Here in the Vatican?"  Stammered Father Salvio. "I don't know, it sounds so preposterous! But... that Ankh. Brother Salvio spent many years as a missionary in Africa. Kenya, I believe." He still didn't look convinced, but the occult symbol was hard to explain away or deny.

They quickly made their way to the bottom of the stairs up. It seemed a lot shorter, that the monk had led them on a deliberately circuitous route! As they started up, Bathony could hear at least a couple people descending.

---

On the outskirts of Rome, the small group continued to walk down an unpaved lane. Americo responded, "this way, I know friend with wagon. Can get aeroporto. Is five miles.

"Italia she is no good now. I think go other country. Maybe some day. Soon, I enter race for bicicletta. Alfio and me, we use money, see Europa! Then, is safe, I come, marry my Maria. I don't know where go. Not Italia, far away."

Soon, they were at a nearby farm. Alfio left to talk to the owner of a milk wagon that could transport them safely to the vicinity of the airport.

JM listened quietly as the young man explained himself.  "There is a large Italian population in Montreal in Canada where I am from.  You should move there perhaps.  I would gladly put in a good word with the authorities."  He switched languages; "Ho qualche sangue italiano da parte di mia nonna. Si sarebbe benvenuto a Montreal."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 294):

The young man brightened at John-Marc's suggestion as the wagon came up, Alfio at the reins.

"Si! I will think about it! I have relatives there. In Montreal. Maybe I see you there one day!"

Keeper's Note: wow, that was the first coherent translation I've ever gotten using an online translator. Usually, if it goes from English to some other language, then back, it ends up just gibberish.

The Count tried to allay the Fathers fears;

"Father, please as you have seen with your own eyes there are people here who wish to do me harm just for the research I wished to undertake. We had the same trouble in London.

He realised he was not that convincing, but they had no time. At the bottom of the stairs he froze, in a whisper he told the Father;

"We must convince these men we are members of the cult. Tell them in Italian the man they seek is in the cell and keep moving I will show them the symbol as we ascend. Do not meet their eyes"

Just before they started the climb up the Count lowered the level of light coming from their lamp to just enough to see.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:36, Tue 05 Nov 2013.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 296):

The priest nodded nervously, what else was he supposed to do?

The stairwell was narrow and circular. They met the other party halfway as they were coming down. It looked like there were a pair of them, both large criminal types with cheap clothing soaked from the rain, with large moustaches and wearing caps. They didn't have weapons visible but both seemed to keep 1 hand in their pocket.

When they began to pass, Salvio mumbled something in Italian. Whatever he said, they seemed to be buying it. They squeezed past the pair and continued down without a word.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 289):

Cynthia reads through the telegram.

"Well this is serious news. Perhaps we should consider sending the items somewhere. I'm sure father could find somewhere secure, although I'm wondering if there's anywhere that is truly safe. When were we supposed to meet up at the airport to fly out? "