Arrangements turned out to be fairly smooth to arrange. In the morning a coded message was sent to London via diplomatic cable, courtesy of Alexander's connections in the British and Egyptian governments. It was delivered to CSM Jones, and a reply was returned in hours. The Basara brothers, Egyptians and members of the mosque in Woking, agreed to shepherd the occult materials they'd collected to Berlin, where the Commercial would pick them up.

Then, as John-Marc was getting ready to meet Karlheinz and Selim at where the Commercial was being field hangared, they received another coded telegram, this time from their friend Roger Bedford! He was stranded in Cyprus.

Roger was an old friend of John-Marc's, a fellow Great War RAF vet they'd hired to help ferry down their second aeroplane, a Bistol F2 "Brisfit" fighter, bought as war surplus and fully armed. This was in addition to the Vickers Vimy Commercial aircraft that served as the main transport for the group. Cultists in Rome set fire to the hangar where the aircraft were being stored, and the Brisfit was unfit to fly. The rest of the group pressed on ahead in the Commercial as Roger had volunteered to meet up in the fighter when possible.

During his fuel stop in Cyprus, British authorities had suspected the armed plane was en route to fight in the Balkans, and impounded it. As it happened, Cyprus was on the way. After several hours of flight from south of Cairo and over the Mediterranean, the Commercial arrived in Nicosia and the RAF field there.

Roger saw the large commercial plane that was owned by his Canadian friend, JM, and JM's German partner, KH, circling to land on the hot dry field. It touched down, then the massive 2-engined biplane taxied over. The Brisfit would have to remain on Cyprus, but Roger was free to go. He was on the plane and saying hello to John-Marc and Karlheinz, lickety-split.

They finished that leg in Istanbul. The next night was spent in Vienna, Austria. From there, it was a short hop to Tempelhof airfield in Berlin. Haji and Faruk, two former Egyptian army officers, were waiting for them at the customs warehouse. The morning was sunny and warm, for Germany.

Haji, the older one, said, "Allah bless you and has seen your safe arrival. We are glad to pass along these accursed items. We can continue on to our beloved Egypt with you, or return back to London, should that be your wish."

---

In Cairo, Alexander kept the others busy. They were able to visit museums and galleries, incognito. As well, there were beaches at Alexandria, and sports and dinner at the nearby club. Alexander wasn't in favour of visiting the dealer just yet, while their companions were travelling, as events might prove to move too quickly. The others would be back within days. In the mean time, he continued to make enquiries of his own.

They were staying on his estate on an island in the middle of the Nile. This exclusive enclave in the middle of the city was the site of other mansions, embassies, sports clubs, parks, museums. His estate guards were either native veterans of the King's African Rifles, or Bedouin. They seemed competent and alert. Alexander's wife, Marjyan, was a delight to Molly and Cynthia, and seemed the equal of her husband in all ways. The daughter of a wealthy Coptic Christian family with extensive government connections, she'd been educated in England, excelled at sports and was a superb shot.

Molly thoroughly enjoyed the hospitality of Marjyan and hoped, since she was such a good shot, that she could get in some time shooting.  She needed all the practice that she could get.  She felt that she was constantly expressing how delighted she was and how much she was enjoying the trip.  At the end of each night she would write in her diary, not mentioning names, about places she had gone to and seen.  Her memoirs would certainly have to be printed up at some time.

The Count was glad to be able to see the sights of Cairo and it's surrounds. It was somewhat of a change to visit museums and such and not make straight for the staff door or inquires desk to ask after some curator or researcher. He especially enjoyed the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Tahrir Square. The building itself was amazing and he and Mr Perkins had spent a whole day inside.

If they happened to pass a book or manuscript shop as they moved around the city he could not help himself browsing. He was of course on the lookout for occult books especially in English, but would buy those in other languages as well.

The Count dressed very conservatively during these forays into the city, also leaving his customary accessories behind. He was always armed with his revolvers and automatic having learned a very painful lesson at the Vatican archive.

The rest of the time he smoked and read in a paved courtyard next to a small fountain in Alexander's garden, underneath an ancient sycamore fig and several old olive trees. Mr Perkins spent a day on the practical side of things surround by maps and lists before also began to relax with the Count and the others.

Zamalek Island was situated in the Nile River between urban Cairo in the east and Giza to the east. Indeed, they could see the city of Giza on the western shore, but the Pyramids were still 15 miles away, not close enough to see. Alexander had them brought there via chauffeured motorcar with a (discretely armed) escort. There was actually a tramline out to the pyramids of Giza but this was discontinued after a road was opened in 1913.)

Tourism would eventually become big business here, and work was just starting on clearing the sand from the Sphinx and only the head and shoulders were visible. The first work crews were present. Kept away from the pyramids and sphinx itself, hawkers touted their authentic mysteries of the ancient orient. (Statuettes, papyrus scrolls, funeral jars, and of course mummies suitable for grinding up into pigment for painting or just as conversation pieces.)


(Circa 1925; the handful of hawkers are present but out of the frame of the picture.)

Back in Cairo, Gezirat Boulaq (Boulaq Island, the older name for Gezirat Zamalek) offered more diversions. The island had been home to Egyptian royalty and the grand palaces had been converted to hotels and government offices and official residences. But there was also the world-famous Gezireh Sporting Club which had horse racing and polo, swimming, tennis and cricket. There was also the Cairo Opera House.

---

Tempelhof Airport, circa 1925:


This message was last edited by the GM at 06:12, Wed 19 Feb 2014.

Cynthia works hard to avoid a week of relaxation and sleep, but it's very difficult. Her days she spends studying what she can about the local traditions and beliefs, and especially about Kenya and central Africa. Her evenings with Molly and Marjyan are at least laid back, but she still tries to collect what she can on Marjyan's travels in the area, and peruses Alexander's bookshelves for more nuggets.

Sports, however, are a luxury she permits herself; shooting, sailing, tennis. And she takes every opportunity to acclimate herself to the local climate; not a mean feat for a New York girl.

John-Marc, Karlheinz and Roger spent a day on maintenance, then started back. The first leg of the flight was from Berlin to Sofia, Bulgaria. Next day was Sofia to Heraklion, Crete. After a last night, then were past the Mediterranean and heading to the hidden airfield at the tobacco plantation south of Cairo.

The plane was hangared in a tobacco shed, then the passengers and crew were transported back to the island of Gezirah Boulaq. The whole diversion had taken about a week. Now they had all the occult materials and artefacts, safe and sound. To top it off, they had Roger and the two Basara brothers.

On the minus side, the Brisfit was still in the hands of the RAF on Cyprus, and it might be returned at some point. The machineguns and ammunition it was carrying was also impounded.

To bring home Roger, John-Marc, Karlheinz, the Basara brothers and their cargo, Alexander sent his boat, a sail-powered felucca. The wooden saiboat had 2 lateen-rigged sails and was a common transport and fishing vessel on protected waters like the Nile and the Red Sea. They made good time down the river. The felluca docked at his warehouse to the south of Cairo, then they were brought by his open Bentley touring car through the city. Crossing a bridge over the Nile onto Gizireh Boulaq, they drove past sculpted gardens, marble mansions and parks with fountains.

Regarding the more modest sailing vessel, Alexander explained the motor yacht that he'd used to transport them from Sollum belonged not to him, but to a wealthy friend, and it had since been returned. The new arrivals were in time for a late breakfast before the heat of the day got really going.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:35, Wed 12 Feb 2014.

JM had sent several telegrams to his old friends in the RAF to try to get the Brisfit out of purgatory but knew that it would not be a quick process. As they arrived at Alexander's mansion he called out in greeting to their comrades. "We brought the articles back successfully from London as well as the Basara brothers.  Have you had any luck with leads during our absence?"  As he spoke he went up to Molly and smiled.  "It is good to see you again miss Mungo."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 7):

Molly smiled at John-Marc.  "It's good to see everybody made it safely back, John-Marc.  I'm afraid that I was terribly lax in the research department but I believe that Cynthia was following up on some of the leads.  I chose instead to see if I could improve my shooting skills.  Since I've been hanging around you flyboys, it seems they are in need of improving."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 7):

"I must take responsibility for the lapse in research. I felt it was best to start with enquiries through my contacts, not expose you to discovery, yet.

"The next step is to visit this curio shop in Cairo. Once that happens, we must be prepared for anything, yes?"

"It was probably best to keep a low profile here until we were all back together.  The foe are dangerous and only by sticking together can we stay safe." He smiled at Molly.  "You'll have to show me your shooting prowess sometime Molly."

"I would say we move to check out this store immediately Alexander."

"It was not time wasted. We are in a foreign nation, one I think only Alexander has any familiarity with. I spent quite a few hours pouring over maps and encyclopedias, not to mention just baking under the sun. I suspect the sun and I shall have a long and troubled relationship over this trip. Regardless, now that we have all of our resources returned, we should press forward."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 11):

Molly looked over at Cynthia and nodded.  "As always, Cynthia has the right of it.  I did not mean to imply that our time was wasted, but merely that I wasted a bit of it being the tourist.  Although knowledge is never a waste of time."

She then looked at John-Marc and shook her head ruefully.  "If I were to show you my so called prowess with a gun, you had best be behind me.  I think it is the safer place to be.  It is a shame that I cannot just talk to the bullets and convince them to hit what I am aiming at.  I am pretty good at convincing people...just not bullets."

"Bullets are very stubborn like that."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 13):

Molly looked at Cynthis and nodded sagely.  "Quite right.  I am glad that one of us is good with weapons although the larger they are, or should I say longer they are, the better I am.  The pistols and such are more difficult to handle I think."

As they waited for the plane and Mr Falcon to return Mr Perkins busied himself checking all there equipment and weapons had arrived intact. He took out the Lewis gun and striped it down for maintenance and a clean before reassembling the machine gun and checking its function.

He pored over the manual he had found at the Army & Navy store in Westminster and unpacked the three extra magazine they had brought. Each was packed in wax paper and covered in grease which he spent a day cleaning off.

Once he had read over his guide book and studied the maps they had brought he was somewhat at a loose end. Mr Perkins spent the rest of the free time in the company of the Count and the others. In between day trips to the various cultural institutions he joined the Count in the paved courtyard reading and smoking.

JM chuckled.  "I'm sure your shooting isn't quite that bad Molly but I'll stand behind you if it comes to that."  He took a deep breath and looked about at his comrades.  "It sounds like then we are all of a mind to investigate this shop.  Should we all troop in at once or perhaps send one or two in at a time and conduct our inquiries more discretely?"

They had brought several hundred rounds of various types in .303 calibre with them from England. They had 3 magazines, which could load 47 cartridges each.

JM checked the condition of his twin pistols, added a lead sap and a large pocket knife.

Roger had been quite jolly to meet with his old chum, John-Marc, and the rest of their associates, and the former RAF pilot had spent a great deal of time in catching up with the others and their explorations to date.  He was heartily grateful to have been released from his temporary detainment on Cyprus and was keen to join the others, though he was reluctant to leave the Brisfit behind.

He looked forward to Cairo, hoping that it would not be all research and that he would get a chance to soak up the atmosphere, particularlyt he Gezireh Sporting Club for the athletic pleasures it provided.   He was less enthusiastic about knocking about the various museums in the city, but he was ready to do his duty and accompany the others on their excursions throughout Cairo.

He grinned at the idea of all of them trooping into the curio shop like a flock of geese.  "I'm for the more discreet approach, J.M.," Roger said.  "We needn't all go in at once, I'd think."

"We all need not enter the store to be sure, but several groups of western tourists in this area would not be out of place. Therefore all those who which to go should be able to. No that we are all gathered again should we not undertake this visits at the earliest opportunity ?"

"The shop of Faraz Najir is on the street of the Jackals. This is in the Old City, a warren of streets and alleys. My man Salim can guide you."

He showed them the letter from Faraz Najir to the group.

"I think I may have a few more leads. I have not identified this "agent" of Carlyle's that is spoken of in the letter. But I have a contact at the Cairo Bulletin that is familiar with the Carlyle expedition, he might even know where it went. He says that there have been several more expeditions sent by the Penhew Foundation in the last six years, at least one or two per year.

"Finish up, then I will send for a car. It will take you across the Great Nile Bridge into Cairo, then through the city Old City, and the street of Jackals."

Keeper's Note: This letter is in the Clues thread. You would be well advised to have a look at it now.

"Do we know anything of this Mr. Najir? Do you suppose he is open to a visit by women? I know it is sometimes an issue in Moslem countries."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 22):

"Street of Jackals?  It doesn't sound the most pleasant. Are the streets named after who settled there earlier?"

Molly was curious to the name as well as to which curios were for sale.

Molly read the letter and shook her head.  "It is hard to say, of course, but it really does look like an attempt to fleece us of currency.  These are reputable people?  I don't mean of their professions but of the men themselves.  Honor amongst thieves and all that."

JM laughed in response to Roger's comment.  "Yes, we'd look like a fine flock of geese trooping in all together Roger."  He gave a slight nod to the Count.  "I think that the idea to pose as several independent groups might be the best idea.  We had best keep nearby though and the sooner we can go the better."

Recalling the letter he shook his head.  "It would be good to identify the agent Alexander but even better if we could determine where the Carlyle expedition actually went.  It could save a good deal of effort."  JM frowned.  "The Penhew Foundation continued to send expeditions?  But why?  Alexander, see if you contact knows why the Foundation would continue to send so many people here."

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

"Why indeed the Penhew Foundation would continue to send expeditions is a good question! They have been expertly covering their tracks but I am confident that, given enough time, we can find out their destination.

"My reporter contact is Nigel Wassif. We go to the same clubs, you know."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Wed 19 Feb 2014.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 25):

"Oh! Nige is a dear. He's helped me with publicity for the orphans' charity.

"About a tenth of the population of Cairo are foreign-born, with many Europeans. I daresay you won't find too much trouble going in a group, that is how most Europeans travel. Sadly, anti-European feelings were stirred up by the nationalists in order to rabble-rouse the people, which worked all too well."

Roger smiled broadly.  "Then if we don't all look out of place, by all means, we can pile in the car."  He frowned and stroked his chin.  "This agent of Carlyle's could be an important lead, if we could locate him.  Perhaps Mr. Najir has further information, a contact or something."

"Well then, I suppose I'm ready to go visit "Nige". This is a beautiful house, but the Penhew business has been like a mouse scratching at the back of my brain. The sooner we get back on the trail, the ... well, not happier, but less fidgety I'll be."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 28):

Alexander nodded his assent.

"First, I shall have Salim take you to the Street of Jackals in Old Cairo. No doubt named for the beasts who settled there, and not the jackal-headed god named Annuibs." He winked at Molly. "You are a newspaperwoman, yes? You should have a lot to talk about with Nigel. I shall call him, perhaps an afternoon meeting at the Cairo Bulletin would be possible."

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 29):

Alexander's man Salim took this as his cue. "Very good, effendi.

"My friends, the Bentley is being readied. Who shall be joining us?"
This message was last updated by the player at 04:49, Thu 20 Feb 2014.

Molly chuckled at Alexander's statement about Annubis.  "Yes I have family in the newspaper business.  I thought we were to be more under cover though so should I confess to that?  I would like to meet him either way."

"I would like to meet this curios seller. I've been sitting on my hands for too long, and I have a nagging suspicion my bankroll may be called upon."

"Yes I would like to see this street and the shop. I will collect my things and asked Mr Perkins if he will accompany us."

Salim brought the Bentley around to the estate's front driveway. JM, Cynthia, Molly, Roger, the Count and Perkins were going along. That was about the limit the large touring car could handle comfortably.

"Are you wanting me to wait nearby with Basara brothers as backup?"

He checked his Luger pistol, a souvenir of his service days in the Imperial German Navy. He tucked a spare magazine into his coat pocket.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 34):

Salim placed an Enfield rifle in the boot of the car, and a Webley pistol in his robe.

"What weapons shall we prepare with? Would you like me to get robes for you so that all of you look more Egyptian?"

Nodding his head, Roger said in response to Karlheinz, "That's a good idea.  It would be best if you didn't draw too much attention to yourself, but it would be good to have you three on hand should anything untoward happen."

He rubbed his chin at Salim's request.  "I'll feel rather foolish, but yes, I'll take a robe."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 37):

"I shall have robes and headgear for the men. After the rule of the Ottomans, European dress is common with the tarboosh (fez) for the upper classes with most others wearing a gallibaya robe or thobe. Women wear different robes and can wear a hijab or the niqab (full veil) as well.

"If you wish, I can fetch a fair amount of military weapons through my contacts in the Egyptian army. Maybe not one of those tanks or a water-cooled Vickers machinegun but let me know if you have some thoughts."

Indeed, such clothing seemed to be fairly universal, although European fashions were quite common, at least with the upper classes.

Keeper Edit: Added some female clothing choices.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:24, Mon 24 Feb 2014.

"I'm not a fan of bundling up women like forgotten furniture, but the hajib is quite a blessing in these circumstances. Not to mention, it keeps me from taking on the lobster's hue. I think I'd like to maintain that attire.

"As for weapons, I imagine this is a crowded street. Something smaller we can use easily in a crowd would be ideal, yes? I don't imagine a rifle will work very well."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 39):

Molly chuckled.  "I always thought it was more like bundling them up like a curtain.  You are right in regards to it hiding a lot of things.  I'm afraid that it will probably have to be revolvers.  Definitely stay behind me then if I have to shoot. Blades could also be had and in a pinch, the good old sap."  Molly coughed when she mentioned the sap.  She had seen it used quite effectively and she didn't plan on playing fair if she got in a fight because well...they shouldn't pick on women in the first place.

"KH, definitely stay nearby with the brothers as a back-up.  We'll want you to have the heavier weapons in the boot of the car in case of a problem.  I'd suggest a few shotguns as well as rifles."  He patted his pistols.  "I intend to bring my brace of pistols.  The robe will do well to keep them concealed."

"I would suggest pistols, knives and such for zee frauliens undt herren. Do not worry, the Basara brothers and I shall be following in zee Peugot motor car mit zee Lewis gun, rifles and mills bombs."

He began directing the 2 Egyptian brothers in loading up one of Alexander's other vehicles.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:40, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 42):

Haji smiled as he placed 3 rifles in the boot of the other car. "Do not fear. We shall protect you." He was wearing a white gellabiya robe with turban on his head.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

"I think your plan for back-up is a good one KH.  Let's go ahead and see what we can find."  He looked to the two women.  "Would you care to change ladies?  We can pack the weapons and ready the cars while you prepare."

In reply to Haji Basara (msg # 43):

Like Haji, his older brother Faruk was armed with a Mauser C96 pistol. This weapon was practically ubiquitous in this part of the world, thousands being made locally. He loaded it by pushing a clip of cartridges down into the magazine through the top port.


This message was last edited by the player at 06:18, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

"I believe it is time, Cynthia, to once more go undercover.  At least a temporary one.  Let us go change once more and see how well we can blend in shall we?"

"Of course. Gentlemen? I trust you'll be ready to address any threats that come our way."

With that, Cynthia heads back to her room to change.

Molly followed Cynthia up the stairs and started to look through what she might wear.  Soon she was pulling out her clothing to show Cynthia to see if it would be acceptable.  For a brief moment the pressure of what they were doing was pushed back.  Then Mungo came out to play and give her opinions.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 48):

Although she was wearing a European summer style, Marjyan assisted the ladies in choosing something more Egyptian to wear.

"Do you wish for the full face veil, the niqab? Or just the head scarf, the hajib?"

Tony

"A full face veil, I think. While that may be slightly less common here in Cairo, it's certainly more common than pale skin and freckles."

JM nodded to Cynthia and Molly.  "We'll do our best to keep everyone safe.  We'll have plenty of firepower certainly."

The Count looked at the offered robes:

"Are we all to go in such disguises or could we still have a small party of tourists ?"


OOC: Sorry if this was covered in game. I am on very limited internet and can't easily read back.

"The women are going in robes, headscarves and veils. My wife is fitting them now.

"For the men, I believe JM, Roger and KH are all going in mufti, that is, local civilian dress. I will be dressed like a Bedouin in gellabiya and kufiya (kheffiya). You and Mr. Perkins can choose between khaki tourist dress and pith helmet, European suit with tarboosh (fez) or lower-class Egyptian dress such as gellabiya and turban or kufiya."

Keeper's Note: The image of a pith helmet or "sun helmet" seems somewhat silly to us now but was almost universal European headgear in the tropics in those days.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 53):

"Excellent. I hope what I am wearing may suffice for a tourist out in the big city ?"



The Count is dressed in a blue cotton three piece suit, silk shirt finished off with one of his panama hats.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 53):

"Right you are. I have something similar to what you describe, including the pith helmet. As for weapons I will take my FN Model 1910, it is small and very concealable and I think the Count has his revolvers."

"Give me a second and I shall change."

Mr Perkins is back in a short space of time wearing a cotton khaki tropical dress uniform and helmet.

JM went with Alexander and changed into suitable clothing.

The two parties set out by motor vehicle across the Great Nile Bridge, separating Gezirat Boulaq (the island holding many mansions like Alexander's, the opera house, the Gezira sporting club, embassies and palaces) from the city. Once off the island, the boulevards were wide with narrow cross-streets. Dust was everywhere, along with soot and the smell of dung and automobiles.

And the people were everywhere, leading camels, oxen, donkeys, carts, wagons. A few driving lorries and automobiles. As this was still spring and the real heat was not yet upon them, dress for both men and women was a little colourful than the white robes worn during the summer. Heads were covered by skull caps, turbans, tarbooshes, the hijab and niqab.

Children ran alongside the open touring car as they cautiously made their way through the city, calling out to them. Those that spoke Arabic knew they asked for sweets, for money, for any kind of gifts. The children kept up as long as they could before dropping back. They also passed an enormous number of beggars sitting in the shade of the buildings and on the corners, of all ages and sexes. Crying in Arabic, "Alms for the love of Allah!"

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 57):

While driving, Salim turned to address Roger.

"Sir, we will stop at the government house on Maidan Tahrir. "Liberation Square". My master has given me papers to give to you, Roger, sir. A passport, with your picture but someone else's name. A genuine document. You must be registered or else risk being deported.

"Just a formality."

From his seat in the rear of the vehicle the Count watched the city pass by in fascination. He had for many years wished to visit the Land of the Pharaohs. He read on the history of the country voluminously and had amassed a sizeable library on the subject in London. With the decline in the interest of Egypt and the Pharaohs after the Victorian period there were many fine works including manuscripts available for rather reasonable prices, especially for someone in the trade.

His own research on the witch cults of Western and Eastern Europe had curiously thrown up several connections with the Middle East and he was finally here.

He waived at the children as they followed the car, but did not continue the sweet giving tradition the effects of the exercise were evident when they came across the older beggars.

Mr Perkins felt very much like he old self even in such a foreign country. Donning military uniform, however sanitised made him feel somewhat more relaxed. He wore no other military items apart from the uniform itself and would not look out of place in Cairo.

He took the seat next to the driver and was glad of his cotton uniform as they drove through the city.

JM felt immediately at home on the crowded, busy streets of Cairo as he recalled his time in the service just after the Great War.  He spoke enough Arabic, although of an accent of the Levant rather than Egypt to understand the children as they begged. "A dynamic, busy city built on the outskirts of the realms of Pharaoh.  It's so much nicer now in the spring before the heat comes in."

The city hadn't changed much from his time serving in eastern Egypt and the Levant during the Great War, or his tour after in Iraq with the RAF. Not far to the south was the City of the Dead, the vast necropolis on the outskirts on the desert. Perhaps the Count could feel it pulling him towards its dusty tombs and population of shunned outcasts? Here in the city and along the Nile there was some greenery, mainly palm trees and manicured hedges.

They arrived in Tahrir Square, an immense plaza with a fountain in the centre. Bordering the square were notable buildings like the Egyptian Museum, the Nile Hotel and other upscale establishments, the palm-shaded campus of the American University at Cairo, and the massive Omar Makram Mosque.

The two cars parked a distance apart, to avoid arousing suspicion. Roger was escorted by Salim into the main government office building. Soon, they emerged, having paid bribes to register Roger's alias as a visitor to Egypt so he wouldn't be deported if picked up by police.

Passing from Tahrir square to the nearby park of Azbakiya gardens, they passed more hotels, the Cairo Opera House, and the Coptic Cathedral around the octagonal plaza. As well, the newspaper building where Alexander's friend Nigel worked.

Cairo/Khedival Opera House

Finally, they navigated through the narrow streets of the Old City to arrive at the Street of Jackals, just up from the Street of Jackals and down from the Street of Potters. It was too small for automobiles, so they parked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:02, Sat 08 Mar 2014.

Salim studied the narrow Street of Jackals.

It was wide enough to admit an oxcart or two in passing, but due to the throngs of people the car and the lorry could barely fit.

The buildings leaned in towards each other over the street, with opposing wrought-iron or plaster balconies a couple yards apart at most. The air was thick with the stench of charcoal and cooking meat, leavened by the scent of spices and herbs from the shops lining the street. There was a more pungent odour of dung from the laden donkeys led by boys and camels led by Bedouin with their faces hidden. As always, the beggars cried out from the corners and along the building walls.

It was just short of midday, yet the Street of Jackals was somehow shrouded in shadow, redolent with ancient mysteries.

"A thousand pardons. I should have realised there would be no way to take the motor car and the lorry in there. We shall need to proceed on foot or devise another plan."

"Well Molly, shall we?" Cynthia offers her hand.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 64):

Molly smiled at Cynthia and took her hand.  "We shall.  Once more on solid ground we go forth in search of the truth."  Molly paused for a moment and then grinned.  "I must remember that.  It would be a good line in a story wouldn't it."

The Count exits the vehicle and straightens his suit before looking at the general melee of people and animals around them. He nods his head at Mr Perkins as he steps into the road and wordlessly falls in beside him as they make their way towards the shop of Faraz Najir with Salim leading the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:56, Sun 09 Mar 2014.

JM is excited to be back in Cairo and eagerly takes in the sights, the sounds and even the smells.  He breathes deeply as they drive and his eyes are shining with excitement.  When they finally stop he nods and dismounts.  "There is more danger on foot but at least we won't garner attention with the cars.  Let's go."  He will head with the others down the crowded streets toward the shop.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 65):

"An excellent line."

Cynthia takes her time leaving the car, then will lead the way to the store, pushing her way through the crowd, while trying to avoid the thick knots around tables and store entrances.

The group naturally fell into a loose formation with Salim in the lead, followed by the Count and Perkins, then the women. JM and Roger brought up the rear.

After they left, the Basara brothers (faces hidden under their kufiyas) casually took up position near the touring car. They were observing if anyone suspicious was following the group or taking an interest in the parked car. KH stayed with the Renault lorry, pretending to be asleep and face hidden under his kufiya, rifles at his feet on the floorboards.

In the Street of Jackals, the group wended its way forward. Beggars and children accosted the Count and Perkins, as they were obviously European of dress. The smell of charcoal and cooking grew strong, as did the beasts of burden they passed. Salim seemed to be consulting a map in his head as they passed by sellers of oriental carpets and furniture, wall hangings and various spurious "antiques".

They arrived at where Salim believed was their destination, the shop of Faraz al-Najir. But there was only rubble and ruin there, a hole where once a building had stood, then been ravaged by fire and collapsed. There was even the faint smell of burned wood and bits of charcoal among the mound of mud and plaster debris.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 69):

"Allah preserve me! This is the location, I swear. Oh, a thousand curses, it is gone, all gone now."

He seemed visibly distraught that the building was gone, clenching his fists and glaring at the rubble as if it were some kind of a personal affront.

In reply to Salim bin Kabina (msg # 70):

Molly could smell the faint smell of burned wood.  "I believe you.  This looks like it could have been a recent development.  You can still smell burnt wood.  Perhaps gentle feelers could be sent out to see if anybody knows what happened?  Or if anybody was injured?"

Th Count gave the ruin a quick look before saying under his breath:

"We should keep moving so as to not raise suspicion. I will try one of the other shops for information."

He then crossed the road and entered one of the shops to ask about the fire and the shops owner.

The smell seemed to recede as they waited. Perhaps the ever-present smoke had made it seem like the fire was recent... or something very strange had happened there. For one, upon closer examination it was clear the fire happened a fair time ago, at least several years! Further, the fire had been weirdly specific and limited. The building had been completely gutted but, oddly, the fire had not spread to the surrounding structures on either side or behind, some of whom shared side or rear walls.

Locals, passing the rubble, invoked the name of Allah, most beneficient and merciful, and some made signs to ward off the evil eye.

Inside the shop was the overpowering scent of cinnamon. The spike dealer, an old man with white beard, sized up the Count. "Sir, how many this humble merchant be of service?"

"Cloves and pepper my good man."

The Count absentmindedly twiddled his thumbs as the shop keeper moved to find the ingredients of his order.

"Strange sight across the road, was anyone hurt ?"

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 74):

The merchant shook his head, making the sign of the evil eye. "Fire came one night. Five. Perhaps six years. It is a cursed place, now."

This timeline would put the fire around or some time just after the departure of the Carlyle expedition.

Roger felt a bit queer being the recipient of a forged passport, but he went along with the plan, not wishing to be deported or to be mixed up in further official business.  He tucked his papers into an inner pocket, grateful for the consideration.

Trailing the Count, he followed Bathony into the shop and heard the man's reply.  "Five or six years ago?  Odd that the flames didn't consume the surrounding buildings."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 76):

The shopkeeper looked at Roger, then stood up and hurried out the back door. A few seconds later, a younger man entered the rear of the shop and took up a seat on the recently-vacated stool. He looked at the Count and Roger and said something in Arabic.

JM followed along with the others, his eyes busy watching behind and around them as they moved through the crowded streets.  When they reached the site of the shop he shook his head.  From the reaction of the locals and oddity of the way it had burned it was apparent that this was not natural.  He copied the locals and made a sign of warding as well, muttering a similar call to Allah in Arabic.

Moving to the side he began browsing through the wares outside a nearby shop as Roger and the Count went into the shop of the spice merchant.  He tried to stay close enough to hear the conversation if possible.

Cynthia also considers the destruction for a moment before heeding the Count's warning and moving on to a nearby stall, looking through wares for a souvenir to purchase and bring back home.

The Count felt that their investigations were at an end, at least with this witness. He moved to the door and looked for their guide. He then decided not to force the issue and left nodding to Mr Perkins who was standing a few feet away.

"Mr Bedford, shall we."

He looked for a book seller or antiques store, the larger the better.

Molly kept her open in case she heard anything she could understand, which was a little doubtful, but then noticed some head coverings in a stall next to where Cynthia was looking.

Look at these colors.  Aren't they fantastic?  I think I need to get a couple more.  How about you Cynthia?

Salim met the Count and Roger outside.

"My apologies, Count. What happened when you inquired about the burned place?"

Salim chose another establishment a few doors down from the pile of rubble that marked Najif's shop.

He guided them towards a shop with both Turkish rugs and antique (albeit likely sham) Egyptian artefacts on tables inside and outside. Unlike European shops, many establishments in Egypt were narrow and had fronts that could roll up or be opened to provide some cooling in the furnace-like heat.

A bearded middle-aged man sat in the shade of the awning, fanning himself and smoking a hookah pipe.

Roger watched the charade with some puzzlement.  He opened his mouth to speak, but then the Count exited the shop, so Roger trailed behind him.

"Bit of a dud, that," he said in response to Salim.  "I made some remark about how odd it was that the other buildings hadn't burned, and the older chap ducked out the back of the shop, and a younger bloke came back in and started speaking in Arabic.  I don't quite know what to think of it, but apparently the locals don't wish to talk about the subject."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 84):

He stopped at the door.

"I will wait here.

"Mister John-Marc, he should translate."

"Thank you Salim."

The Count walked into the interior of the shop and studied the wares before him with his hands behind his back. He waited for the owner to approach him after giving him a customary nod as he entered.

Mr Perkins followed the small group as they left the shop. Lingering just long enough to watch the younger man for a second longer as they moved off. He looked back down the road and tried to spy the original owner of the shop to see if he was off to warn someone.

Once they had stopped outside a new establishment he busied himself studying the artifacts on the table outside. All the while he would keep an eye up and down the road.

JM listened to the story of the happenings in the store and shook his head.  "I don't like that the older man departed.  I would guess that they've gone to warn someone that there is interest in the shop.  I say we get out of here before someone comes back and identifies us." 

He followed the Count and Roger toward the store. "I can translate a bit for you Count.  What would you like?  It might be worth asking if Najif survived the fire?  There might be more to learn."

"Yes indeed Mr Falcon I was gong to open with that very question. This time though with several Egyptian pounds to sweeten the answer."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 86):

The proprietor made his way over. He didn't speak English, although JM believed he was saying something about his fine wares. Finest rugs in all of Cairo! Of course, all made by children, because as anyone knew only their small fingers possessed the dexterity to make such fine knots.

The Count looked over the merchants wares before selecting a large carpet and beginning the bargaining process. He uses Mr falcons skill with the language to slowly whittle the seller down to an acceptable price for both parties.

As the Count was gathering the funds for the transaction he turns to Mr falcon:

"Tell him I will pay double if he tells us where we might find the proprietor of the burned shop."

He then shows the man a gold sovereign.

JM struggles to remember his Arabic, especially with the rapid and flowery language of the haggling merchant.  He manages for the most part and translates the gist of what both the Count and the merchant are saying.  Finally at the end he asks the merchant.  [Arabic] "The esteemed gentleman wishes to know what happened to the owner of the burnt shop.  He is willing to pay in gold for a casual whisper of the events."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 92):

The old man kept gesturing at the rugs. "Fine! Fine workmanship! Not like the wares of that cursed place! You would not have been happy, there."

JM struggled with the accent and the speed at which the man spoke.  [Arabic] "How did those of that accursed place draw down the disfavor of Allah?"

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

This time, JM caught a little more as his Arabic came back to him. "Allah cursed the man who owned that shop. He dealt with those who consort with demons and efrit. He has paid the price. And, his prices were so high for such pitifully made wares! Not like this rug. Two Egyptian Pounds, and this price will leave me destitute in the streets, much like Faraz Najir."

[Arabic] "Your wares are indeed fine and your piety and devotion to Allah is notable.  Let me speak to the master of your wares. Two pounds though..."

JM turned to the Count and made a show of speaking to him urgently and quietly in English out of earshot of the shopkeeper.  "I'm having trouble making out the Arabic but we might get some information out of him if we buy a rug.  Argue with me a bit and let me continue."

"Of course."

The Count made a good show of the feigned argument with Mr Falcon. He looked over the rug and felt the wool.

"Mr Falcon see if we might find where the owner is likely to frequent."

Mr Perkins continued to watch the road for signs of less desirable folk as he looked over the trinkets and fakes. He kept his eye out for anything authentic, but was more interested in the road.

He stayed close to the rug shop and the Count as he moved around the outside display.

Cynthia is continuing to keep her low profile. It's best to avoid associating herself unnecessarily with the rest of the group at this point, so she wanders the market, picking through things. Fortunately her foresight in Paris gave her plenty of well-needed practice at shopping!

JM was actually enjoying the byplay with the shopkeeper and the Count.  "The man made some remark about the man consorting with demons and being destitute in the street.  I'll see if I can find more about that."

Returning to the merchant, JM shook his head. [Arabic] "My master likes your wares but shipping such a large rug home to France, no matter how handsome would be difficult.  He is willing to offer two pounds for this rug and a smaller throw rug that matches it."  He prodded at some of the other wares. [Arabic]  "If one consorts with demons I would hope that the community of the believers would cast out such a fiend.  Did the Faithful burn down the accursed shop and drive Faraz Najir out onto the streets?  Where does he lurk and what does he look like?  My friend is a hot tempered man and even though he is an infidel hates such evil.  He should be kicked and flogged for his sins."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 100):

The seller's name was Mahmoud, and presumably he wasn't too interested in talking about the thrice-cursed Faraz Najir.

"Some say that Allah took the life of that dog in the fire, along with that of his wife and children. But he lives, and Mahmoud has seen his face. It is hideously scarred by the fire. I know not where he lives now and Mahmoud is not interested, no.

"But that is not important! If you are not happy with these rugs, fine as they are, perhaps you would be interested in some lamps? Yes?"

JM relayed the information to the Count and others as though he were reluctantly explaining a bad bargain. "Do you wish me to press on the location of this man.  They seem rightfully reluctant to speak more of him.  I could try to actually buy more and talk to him as we pay."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 102):

"I think that may be the path he is leading us down. Do you need a lamp ?"

The Count had no need for rugs or lamps but he had decide on rugs that would not look out of place in his home. If he was to make it back to England in one piece.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Fri 28 Mar 2014.

Some children came up to those waiting in the street (Roger, Molly, Cynthia, Salim). They begged for money and sweets.

One urchin, about 12 and thin as a rail, looked like he was paying more attention than the others to what the outsiders were looking at. He spoke fairly fluent English. "I can tell that you are really foreigners. And you watch the ruin of the shop of Faraz Najir. If you are wishing to find, him I can be of help!

"I am called Mahmoud."

Cynthia kneels down in front of Mahmoud. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mahmoud. How do you know so much about the shop?"

JM nodded to the Count. "Let me ask about the lamps and we can buy one as well as a rug.  They could be gifts to our host or sent back to England as souvenirs.  I really don't need them but they would make interesting conversation pieces."

The ragged urchin grinned.

"Mahmoud knows everything about street of Jackals! And rest of Cairo!"

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 107):

"These are nothing but thieves, meant to distract you! Take caution!"

Frowning, Salim started dispersing the crowd of children by a series of none-too-gentle cuffs and shoves. Perhaps the odd kick. He yelled something in Arabic, and started for Mahmoud.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 105):

Out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia noticed something odd. One of the children (not Mahmoud but a younger boy) seemed to be standing a little too close to Roger but not where he could easily be noticed. Although, it was hard to see how his pocket might be picked, considering that Roger was wearing an Egyptian thobe.

"Mahmoud, tell your friend to give back whatever he took and back away," Cynthia snaps. "Mahmoud, I do believe you, against my better judgment. So tell your friends to go harass some other tourist, and I will deal with you."

"I will pay you if you find this man and lead him to me; a princely sum of four egyptian pounds. That's more than I expect you'll find pickpocketing me. If you cannot find him, I will pay you 50 piastre for your honesty. However, if you try to mislead me, I will speak to my friends, and they will correct your thieving ways according to your own customs. Is this fair?"

JM shakes his head and points to the rug they have been examining.  "We will take that one even though the price is ruinous."  He hands the price in Egyptian pounds to the man.  "May Allah bless you for your wisdom and keep your family safe."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 110):

The boy chirped, unhappily, "I promise, pretty lady, this is not my doing!" Yelling and cursing in Arabic, he fell upon the pickpocket that had been in the process of cutting a slit through Roger's thobe to allow his hand to slip in and steal from him.

In the commotion, the other children scattered before Salim's wrath. Another, older boy, perhaps in his late teens, sidled close. He, too, spoke English. "You cannot trust that dog to guide you. He is a notorious cutpurse and thief. See how he distracted you, to allow his friends to rob you? You may expect more from him, or worse, if you heed his treacherous advice.

"I, Hakim, swear by God and His only prophet, Mohammed, that I am trustworthy and honest. For that sum, I will take you, safely, to where Faraz Najir now dwells and maintains his custom." Like most lower-class Egyptians, Hakim was dressed in a white thobe, white turban and sandals. His beard was sparsely growing in.

---

Away from the street, inside the shop, the money proved to be too tempting to pass up. The old man said to JM, "Faraz is still alive, may Allah forgive his sins. I do not know his current address, but he still sells worthless trinkets and overpriced items to the gullible and Allah-forsaken. I do not know his exact address, but all merchants such as he must register with the police. There is a station nearby, on the Street of Potters. Go there, I believe they will have record of him.

"Now, I shall ready your items that you may take them at your pleasure. Thank you, come again!"

JM bowed deeply and passed a couple of extra pounds in thanks to the merchant. "May Allah be merciful and bless you and your family sir.  We thank you for the information as well as the fine goods that you have sold us."  He bowed again and stepped back to the Count. "The man from the shop, Faraz Najir is alive and making a living by selling trinkets.  He should be registered with the police which should pin point his location."  JM smiled.  "As well we own a rug and a lamp."

The Count nodded at Mr Falcon as he relayed the information he had received;

"It could still be a problem. I would suspect the police will be suspicious of anyone who asks about this chap. Especially if the cult had something to do with burning down his store. We must be very careful as to how we approach this.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 112):

Cynthia addresses both boys, "trust is built on history, and I have none with either of you. I will pay as I promised, for finding him. This evening I will sup in a nearby restaurant. Tell him I have business to transact, if he would be willing to be my guest for the evening. When he arrives, I will pay the boy who accompanies him, or by whatever other means you prefer."

She turns to Salim, "Where would be a good place to meet? Somewhere we can speak quietly, with quality food? Close by, but safe."

Molly was content to let Cynthia take the lead in all of this.  She was much better at it since Molly could get distracted with everything around her.  She tried to stay alert though and on the lookout for trouble but Molly knew that trouble could find her in a heartbeat.

Mr Perkins kept watch on the groups of urchins now surrounding the ladies, especially the two they seemed to be talking to. He again scanned the street to see if anyone else was taking an interest.

Once the Count and Mr Falcon exited the store he followed at a discrete distance while looking at the trinkets on display.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 113):

The shopkeep gave them the lamp and the large rug. "It has been my pleasure."

"Hakim knows of a place, it is down that alley there. I shall bring this merchant to you, that you may speak to him."

He pointed where he was intending they should wait.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 115):

Mahmoud shook his head.

"He will not come near here any more, pretty lady." NMahmoud leaned in close to whisper, "but he says his evening prayers after work at the al Hussein Mosque. He refreshes himself afterwards at Fishawi's coffee house with some mint tea and smokes the hookah pipe. I shall meet you there and point him out?"

He looked nervously at Hakim. "There is nothing in that alleyway save for thieves who will rob you!"

Salim had heard enough. He roughly shooed both boys away. "A thousand pardons, I regret letting such filth speak to you, madames and sir."

Mahmoud disappeared into the crowd. Hakim retreated to the mouth of the alley that he indicated held a coffee house where they could wait.

JM nodded to the Count. "I agree that we are best to leave the police out of this issue."  He glanced to where the women were speaking with a group of street urchins.  "Perhaps they have better luck that us in finding the whereabouts of this man."

He approached Molly and Cynthia.  "We found that the man we seek still lives and sells his wares on the street.  The police may have a record of him but asking questions there may draw more attention than we desire.  Have you had any luck?"

"Thank you, Salim. One of them is clearly a thief, but somehow I'm inclined to believe one is telling the truth. Tell me, of the two which is the location I'm liable to be skewered and robbed; Fishawi's hookah and coffee, or the dark, garbage-strewn alley off of the Street of Jackals?"

The boys approach; "We may have a lead. It's a long shot, but some people it seems are better motivated by cash than superstition."

JM nods.  "What are your leads Cynthia?  Do those small boys you were with have some idea where to find our man?"

Salim nodded as the men approached.

"Indeed. I have heard of this Mosque, it is on the Street of Potters, here in the Old City. That alley would seem to lead into the mouth of hell itself, if Madame were to ask Salim's opinion."

Cynthia turns to the gentlemen rejoined; "one of the urchins is familiar with our man. We should expect him at Fishawi's coffee house later this evening. I also expect the boy to return for his payment. If his advice plays true, we may want to consider hiring him. Salim, you are a respectable guide, but much of what we are searching for is far from respectable."

The Count withdraws his leather cigar case from his inside lapel pocket. Taking a de H. Upmann Monarcas cigar he uses his cigar cutter on his watch chain to snip the end off as he watches the alleyway entrance.

A long match seems to appear in his hand as his strikes it against a nearby wall and lights his cigar.

Through a large expanding cloud of smoke he offers the case to those standing nearby:

"It would seem we have averted an incident by not trusting this first ruffian. As to the second it would seem his information is both believable and subtle. Is the coffee shop to be our next destination ?"

One last look along the road and at anyone taking to much of an interest in their activities and Mr Perkins returned to the small group.

"It would seem our group has not caused as much of a stir as I feared."

He declined the Counts offer of a cigar, instead removing his pipe and expertly stuffing and lighting it in a matter of seconds. Mr Perkins listened to the Counts assessment before adding:

"Well lets make that decision back at the cars, we may be pushing our luck discussing it here."

"Yes, to the cars. We have a few hours, regardless." With that, Cynthia will lead the way back to the cars.

Molly followed the rest to the cars, trying to keep in the middle of the pack for safety.

They arrived back at the car without incident, other than a camel spitting at Roger.

"I think I should mention I am not familiar with Fishawi's coffee house. But it seems ridiculous it's made up, why would Mahmoud do so? I presume he will meet us there after the time of evening prayers.

"May I suggest we also visit the police station? We need not choose one over the other."

JM took a cigarette from the Count with a nod of thanks. "We should definitely visit the police and see what can be gleaned.  We have time before our rendezvous with the urchin."

"I still do not think asking the police will do anything but alert the wrong people that someone is asking about the fire. I may be being overtly cautious but my experience at the archive has convinced me that the cult could be anywhere. Especially in its home country."

"If the cafe and mosque do not bear fruit then the police might be our only option."

"My master did say you had trouble of this sort in England. Very well, get in the car, we shall travel to the Street of Potters at the el Hussein Mosque."

He opened the door, then nodded at Faruk to show they were going to be leaving.

JM nodded slowly as the Count explained his thoughts on the situation. "Perhaps we could word our request to be focused more on the man himself we seek and not on the unnatural fire.  We could ask about him in reference to the goods he sells as if we were seeking to do business with him.  That might not raise attention."

"Perhaps someone such as myself, an Egyptian or Bedouin, could ask?"

JM replied.  "That would be better Salim if you could ask the questions."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 138):

Salim nodded his assent.

"As God wills. Should anyone wonder why I wish to know, Bedouin like myself come across artefacts lost in the deserts that have been uncovered in time. Truly, nothing is hidden from He who created the universe, praise Allah."

The two vehicles started off, weaving their way through the midday traffic of the Old City. The sights, sounds and especially smells were jarring and exotic for many of the travellers, JM excluded.

He had been stationed to the east, near the Canal, during the Great War. He'd made it into the city to visit its clubs many times before his unit staged further into the Levant, and into the Old City a couple times to shop for trinkets. Nothing had changed, save that the roads were no longer choked by Army lorries or soldiers wearing khaki uniforms.

The drive to the Street of Potters took the better part of an hour. It was past salat (Dhuhr - noon prayers) at the nearby al Hussein mosque, but the Asr (afternoon) prayers would start in an hour or so.



The mosque was surrounded by souks and coffee houses, for it was also close to the Khan el-Khallil bazaar, one of the largest markets in the city.

JM took in the sights and sounds of the city as found memories came back to him of visits with comrades.  He found the exotic sights and sounds to be stimulating and enjoyable.  Looking about the square he motioned to one side.  "Let's park out of the way of the main traffic to the side and then go find our target."

"You are wanting me to stay and guard the automobile again?

"Just tell us where it is when you find zee coffee house, ya?"

He nodded to the Basara brothers.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:38, Thu 17 Apr 2014.

JM nodded and clasped KH on the shoulder.  "If you would keep it safe mein camarade that would be quite good."

"It's probably some sort of trap," Roger said as he climbed out of the auto.  "This really is a completely different world," he said quietly, scanning the area, trying to avoid looking completely like a tourist.

"Well do you recommend we not go? A coffee house seems the least threatening thing we've encountered so far on this adventure."

They were in a crowded side-street just off the market, a block from the Mosque.

Karlheinz eyed the milling crowds, beasts such as camels, goats, donkeys, and horses, animal-drawn wagons of two and four-wheeled varieties, and a fair number of lorries and cars inching along.

"Ya. Definitely. Well, be cautious. Do not allow yourself to be drawn away?

"Let us go now. The Basara brothers can watch the motor car and lorry. Find the coffee house. If you find it, do not enter. Come back here immediately, und we will make a plan. Regardless, all regroup here in... 45 minutes?"

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 146):

Molly listened the plans.  "How far away is that coffee house suppose to be?  45 minutes to just go there and back?  Wouldn't that be more suspicious?"

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 147):

He gestured at the surrounding market.

"A thousand pardons, for as I have said, I do not know where this coffee house is located. I assume your friend does not, either.

"I believe we will need at least 45 minutes to search one of the largest markets in Cairo to find it. Perhaps even an hour? Only God can say. I assume we will be splitting up to search. Once we find it, we must regroup, yes?"

In reply to Salim bin Kabina (msg # 148):

"Agreed, that sounds the most sensible plan. Any preference as to who goes with whom ?"

JM nods to KH.  "We'll be careful for sure.  Even if there are no cultists in the crowd we are at risk from thieves both stealthy and violent."  He looks about.  "The women should not go alone.  I say we split into pairs and return in an hour regardless of results."  He smiled.  "I'll go with miss Fuller."

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

"You take one group, I'll go with another? One clockwise, the other anti-clockwise. Around the mosque."
This message was last updated by the GM at 20:12, Tue 22 Apr 2014.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 151):

Salim looked around.

"I regret I do not know this area better. In truth, it is perhaps because the mosque of al-Hussein is of the Shia sect. While I am a Sunni."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:12, Tue 22 Apr 2014.

"Pairs, eh?"  Roger paused for a second, looking around the teeming market, weighing the possibilities.  "Twos or threes, sure.  We don't want to draw unnecessary attention.  Salim, shall we pair up?"  He looked at Cynthia and shrugged his shoulders.  "I didn't like the looks of either one of those street urchins.  It's likely they're both thieves, so keep a sharp lookout."

Molly smiled as John-Marc said he'd pair up with her.  "You heard it everybody.  He can't back out now.  Which way are we going JM?"  Mungo has now decided that it is much cooler, and shorter, to call John-Marc JM.

The Count turned to Miss Holloway and gave a slight bowl and a click of his heals:

"It would seem my good lady you have drawn a short straw and Mr Perkins and myself will have to suffice as your escort. Unless of course you wish to accompany one of the other groups ? Mr Perkins and myself do seem to be somewhat attractive to danger these last few weeks."

Mr Perkins scanned the crowd as they stood by the cars:

"Yes, yes that is all well and good but let us move away from the cars Count."

It was hard to weigh if Mr Perkins exasperation was comical or serious.

"If it's a mugging encounter, the worst we should expect is to part with our purses and perhaps a bruise for our trouble. It hardly compares to what Gavigan would have taken from us."

Cynthia smiles at Sigismund and offers her hand, "it would be my pleasure, Count Bathony."

With that, she will walk with her gentlemen into the crowd.

Thanks to God, they did not need to search the entire sprawling market.

The Bazaar of Khan el-Khallil was an incredible maze of streets and plazas. In fact, it was one of the most common first stop for tourists to Cairo, and foreigners were not an uncommon sight. Many side streets and alleys had awnings or covers to ward off the harsh sun. The vast market, like most of its kind, was divided into quarters. There was a shoemaker's bazaar, a goldsmith's bazaar, coppersmith's bazaar, and of course carpet bazaar.

Although the outermost stalls were dedicated to hawking souvenirs and junk to tourists, a little ways in were shops of a whole other class. European goods sold to wealthy locals, quality local goods sold to wealthy foreigners. The languages and people varied from Turks to Arabs from the Levant to Morocco, but most merchants were Armenians, Greeks and Jews.

The coffee house they sought was in a fifth quarter, of sorts, between the main bazaar and the Sayyida el Hussein (el-Hussein Mosque). It was the quarter of booksellers. The number of establishments that sold printed material, new and old, and the texts they contained were staggering. Many were religious texts, scrolls and manuscripts dedicated to the Mohammedian faith, but not all.

They had 2 square blocks to search. Blocks with dozens of booksellers, shot through with covered alleys and immeasurable nooks. But in just under the hour, they located Fishawi's coffee house. The rich smells of coffee and pungently sweet tobacco filled the street in front. The group met back at the vehicles to plan their next move.

Narrator's Note: You have located the coffee shop, and are now all back at the car.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:06, Sun 27 Apr 2014.

JM nods to KH.  "Two or three groups, no smaller than a pair certainly Karlheinz.  I'll work clockwise with miss Fuller.  We'll be back in an hour regardless." He smiled at Molly as she applied a shortening of his name. "Come on then miss Fuller, clockwise it is."  As they walked through the square amid the sounds, sights and smells of the Orient and the Levant, JM pointed out some of the vendors and what they were selling as well as the traditions and meanings of what they saw.  His eyes however roved over the surroundings as they walked.

Finally when they returned he counted heads and nodded.  "All back I see, good.  The coffee shop is over in the book sellers quarter which is appropriate I think.  Miss Holloway, you had the most contact with our urchins; what is our next step in contacting our target do you think?"

The Count could not help himself and was late back at the car having spent several extra minutes checking out the book shops and stalls in the book sellers quarter. There was not enough time to do a proper search and the Count left for the cars very frustrated.

"We expect Najir himself to be friendly, and we're close enough to the temple we should be able to recognize when they let out. I think it best that I go to the coffeehouse with one man in attendance. If Mahmoud is hoping for his payment, he'll expect to see me there and perhaps he can save me from asking the wait staff to point the bookseller out. However, we are still at risk of a trap, or other difficulties. It may be best that everyone else spread out, to keep an eye for trouble. Perhaps in pairs again, since that seemed to work well."

Molly was glad when they came back after finding the coffee shop.  All the smells were an assault to her nose and in the heat it was a wonder how anybody got anything done.  The only time coffee should be that strong was the morning after and only if you were forced to wake up and not sleep it off.

She smiled though and nodded with Cynthia's thinking.  "I do believe you are right Cynthia.  The couples seem to be more expected and less threatening when roaming about.  Pairs it should be.  JM?  Are you tired of my company and prefer somebody elses or should be sally forth into investigative mode again as a pair."

"Count Bathony, I think your skills would be best used meeting with the book dealer with me."

"Yes of course I quite understand."

The Count waited by the cars for the return to the coffee shop.

A small figure padded up, materialising through the crowd. It was the erstwhile beggar and guide to Cairo's Old City. How he arrived at the market by the Mosque so quickly, and found them, was something of a mystery.

"Ah! Sirs and ladies. I am glad you found the coffee house. Before we meet with Fajir, we must discuss a fair payment, yes? Two pounds, Sterling. Else I will run and warn him never to show his face again."

"Merciful Allah! I do not know how this urchin found us. By the beard of the Prophet, I should like to find out."

Their Bedouin minder glowered and thrust his hand inside his robe. True, he lacked his scimitar at the moment, but he did still possessed a wicked knife sheathed at his belt.

"Salim, please! This boy has proven himself ingenious and is only coming for what is owed him."

Cynthia kneels down before the boy. "Mahmoud, thank you for your help so far, but you understand, we have not yet even seen that our man is here.  Stay near us. I will pay for your food; as much as you care to eat. When he arrives and we've finished our meeting, you and I will settle debts. If this is deception it is very well played and I will pay as much as your stomach can hold. If you are honest, you will see me the entire time and be sure when your job is finished. Is this agreeable?"

JM glanced at Molly and chuckled.  "No Miss Fuller, I can't imagine ever tiring of your company.  I would be pleased to mill about the square to provide cover for Miss Holloway and the Count."  When the boy approached he leaned in and whispered to Cynthia; "Offer him half now and the other half later.  We'd best engage his services as well as his greed in our favor."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 167):

"A thousand pardons."

Salim backed off, as bidden.

A naturally charming and wise lad, Mahmoud didn't press his advantage and instead assumed an angelic and eager manner.

"Yes. I will take you now to Fishawi's Coffee house. Fajir will not be there until after prayers. I should very much like something to eat. I am so very, very hungry."
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:04, Tue 06 May 2014.

Molly chuckled at Mahmoud's innocent look.  "That boy could grow up to be a great actor with that face.  He'll go far."

"Thank you, Mahmoud."

Cynthia, already knowing the way has been checked out as clear, follows along towards the coffeehouse, accompanied by the good Count. She avoids making small-talk, all too aware of unseen ears.

Mr Perkin's eyes the boy suspiciously, before following the Count and Ms Holloway at a distance. He lights his pipe and strolls through the square in a nonchalant way as to not draw attention to himself. Stopping to buy a paper from the vendor he sits in a separate coffee house at an outside table with a clear view of the Count.

Mahmoud led them back through the streets and alleys of the market. Their route was indirect, switching back and forth. He looked back at Cynthia.

"I am making it difficult for someone to follow us. For that is how I knew where to find you; I was waiting at the coffee house and then followed you back to meet the others. Do not worry, no one followed you then other than me, and no one follows us now."

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 174):

Qawha al-Fishawi, or Fishaw's coffee house, was reached through a small tree-shaded square off an alley. The smells of coffee and smoke permeated the hot afternoon.

The count made a quick scan of the outside of the coffee shop before suggesting:

"A seat outside Ms Holloway I think. Lets not make the Arab gentlemen inside uncomfortable."

He pulled out a seat of a table for the lady.

"Mahmoud could you check whether our friend is here ? Mint tea all around I believe."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 176):

The outside was drab and unannounced. There was no seating in the alley or square.

Tables and chairs would be inside, likely tables and chairs in an open building surrounding an inner courtyard.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:12, Wed 07 May 2014.

The boy looked nervous as he eyed the waiter, and the women in the party, who were garbed as locals.

"Faraz will not be here until after prayers, as is his custom.

"Sir, I should have warned you... there are no Egyptian women allowed in places like this. Any such woman is assumed to be a prostitute. Tourists are different."


OOC: If I'm not mistaken, Cynthia and Molly were dressed as Egyptian women in order to be less conspicuous?

"Ah... of course Mahmoud... Ms Holloway are you suitably attired underneath ?"

The Count blushed a bright red after the question.

Mr Perkin's found a suitable vantage point to the entrance to the alley way and began to scan his paper.

Cynthia arches an eyebrow and smirks at the Count's discomfort.

"Yes. A little casual, but passable for a tourist. I should find a place to change." Cynthia scans the area for anywhere a lady can escape prying eyes for a few minutes.

In reply to George Perkins (msg # 180):

George found a shaded spot in the covered square with a good view down the alley to the front entrance of the coffee house. Dressed as he was, he attracted a few curious gazes from the local merchants (largely scroll sellers) who set up stalls there.

The boy looked around. "I think I can find a place with some privacy for you? A side alley with no prying eyes."

JM smiles at Molly and makes a sweeping motion with his hands. "Shall we stroll the square Miss Mungo?  We can shop and keep an eye on Miss Holloway and the Count."  He headed through the stalls to where he could see the pair.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 183):

Cynthia looks to the Count for his thoughts on Mahmoud's offer.

Molly nodded at JM and took his arm.  "By all means JM.  Let us see what we can see and make sure it is Miss Holloway and the Count.  There must be some trinket that we can buy to make it look official."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 185):

"By all means Mahmoud, please lead the way."

The Count had his right hand on his Colt New Service revolver in his pocket. In his left hand he carried his ever present walking cane.

"After you Ms Holloway."

He gave her a reassuring smile as he followed close behind.

JM nodded and led Molly over to a stall that sold small pieces of jewelry.  "They have some very nice ear rings Molly."  He'd relaxed his form of address now that they were off on their own. "They are a bit Oriental; sort of 1,001 Nights but still amusing."  He glanced over and saw the Count and Cynthia head toward the alley.  "What's up?  Are they headed into the alleyway?"

The boy bade them wait for a moment.

"I shall find a place, then return."

He departed and then after only a few minutes, returned.

"This way. A merchant has allowed you to use his stall to change your clothing. I explained you are foreigners and are not used to the heat. Is the other lady coming?"

Mahmud led them to a side alley out of sight of the market, then a short ways to a stall with a table piled high with womens' clothing. The owner was an older woman, perhaps in her 60's. She smiled and indicated her stall, which had blankets hanging to preserve some privacy. She also held out her hand for some kind of consideration, after all, you don't get something for nothing.

Cynthia follows along, keeping an eye out for trouble, but trusting Bathony has her back. She hands a few coins to the shopkeeper then slips into a stall and changes clothes. She didn't bring a handbag or anything, but they can be rolled up and held on to for the moment.

She emerges a few minutes later in a light skrit and blouse; no hat or sunglasses, but the bright noon is passed. She thanks the woman and rejoins the Count.

"I believe we are ready to proceed."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 190):

Noting the woman's scowl as Cynthia left, the boy stopped her.

"Pretty lady, I think perhaps you should look at her wares and considering buying something? As consideration for her letting you borrow her stall."

Cynthia smiles at Mahmoud, "Quite the attentive guide."

She'll find a floppy hat to hide her from the sun and perhaps a light, long-sleeved tunic, to avoid bursting into flames.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 188):

Molly quickly took the earrings and smiled as she held them up to her ears.  She took over to where JM was looking and arched an eyebrow.  "Oh John-Marc you are correct.  These are wonderful.  Please buy them for me?"

Taking it for granted that he would, Molly took a couple of steps towards the ally  as she kept tilting her head to pretend to see how the earrings would look.  She actually did like the earrings but she wanted to make sure that Cynthia was alright.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 192):

The old woman smiled then. There were no sun hats but she was able to find a cotton long-sleeved tunic.

They returned to the square, much to the relief of Molly. It was time to enter the coffee house. The front door beckoned.

The Count strode froward and entered the coffee house. He would have usually let Ms Holloway enter first, but partially due to local custom and as a safety precaution he takes the lead.

As he enters he takes a quick look around the room and the people present on the proviso of looking for a table. The Count then finds a set that gives him a clear view of the front and back of the room and pulls out a chair for Ms Holloway.

"Tea Ms Holloway ?"

"Why thank you, Count Bathony." Cynthia sits and awaits service, keeping an eye on Mahmoud to ensure he is not harassed. She gets comfortable in her chair, perhaps luxuriating a bit too much in the knowledge that there are half a dozen people watching every direction in order to keep her safe.

JM laughed but put down a few coins to buy the ear rings after a short patter of bargaining.  "Of course Molly, it is my pleasure."  He handed the jewelry to her and then stepped to the side to keep watch on her.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 195):

The layout of the coffee house was pretty typical. It was of a hollow square around an open courtyard containing a shade tree and benches. That is, sitting in the tables on one side you could see across to the other through the middle, as there were no interior walls.

Decoration was of exquisitely geometrical tile work on the floor, with more geometric inlaid filigree Arab script along the walls. Lights were electrical but switched off in the light of day. There were coffee urns steeping their brews and tea kettles boiling over charcoal stoves, and of course ornate hookah pipes releasing sweet-smelling tobacco to mix with the other orders. Dozens of men were inside, Arab-looking booksellers and merchants by the look of them, talking, smoking and drinking.

It was possible to sit near the front door and see across the open-walled courtyard towards the rear, although line-of-sight was blocked somewhat by the central tree. A waiter in a dinner jacked hurried over to serve the Europeans. Some of the men at the nearby tables looked up at the Count and Cynthia when they entered, but quickly went back to their own business.

"Sir and madame, would you like something to drink?"

Outside, Perkins tried to stay awake in the late afternoon heat that penetrated the shade of the square. Molly and JM were pleased to note the Count and Cynthia (no longer in mufti) appear from the area of the stall and then enter the coffee house.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 198):

Mahmud looked at Cynthia with hopeful eyes.

"I should like some lamb kebap? Please?"

"Yes, tea, please. Earl Grey or perhaps jasmine? Also a lamb kebap and some sweet cakes for the boy."

Cynthia is still happy to let the Count lead the way, although if he seems to hesitate, she will find a seat somewhere a little secluded, where they can discuss business with the bookseller without upsetting any of their neighbors.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 200):

"Mint tea, please."

"So Mahmud is our friend in attendance ?"

The Count checked his pocket watch as the boy replied.

Molly smiled at JM and put on her new earrings.  With a cheeky "Thank you." she shook her head to show them off, making sure to keep Cynthia still in view.  "You know what JM?  I think we should go and celebrate my new jewelry.  How about sharing a kabob and some tea?"

From behind his paper Mr Perkin's continued to watch the entrance to the coffee shop and it's approaches. The heat was astonishing and more then once he removed his handkerchief to mop his brow.

He looked for a place he could sit and still be in the shade, maybe another coffee shop.

JM admired the look of the new ear rings.  "They do look lovely on you Molly."  He glanced over at the coffee shop as well, noting Cynthia and the Count heading inside.  "Why yes, a bit of a snack would be nice.  Do you want to head into the coffee shop?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 204):

Molly grinned at JM.  "Lead on."  She knew that he'd pick a spot that they could still see Cynthia and company at.  In the meantime she managed to snag a new set of earrings out of the deal and some food with an interesting guy.  It wasn't a bad deal so far.

JM nodded and then turned and led the way to the coffee house.  "Well then, let's try the local cuisine."  He headed toward the entrance and stood waiting for a waiter.  As he waited he kept Molly close to him and looked about at the patrons.

The boy shook his head and smiled at the thought of food.

"No sir. Once prayers are completed at the Mosque, he will attend for an evening coffee. They should be starting any time now."

On queue, voices began calling from the minarets of the nearby al-Hussein Mosque. It was the adhan, the Shia version of the Moslem call to prayer (different than the Sunni version). JM knew the words by heart after his time in Cairo, the Levant and Iraq:

"Allahu Akbar!
"Allahu Akbar!"

(God is great)
(God is great)

"Ash-hadu an-lā ilāha illā allāh!"

(I bear witness there is no God but God)

"Ash-hadu anna Muḥhammadan-Rasulullāh!"

(I bear witness that Muhammed is the true messenger of God)

"Hayya ʿala ṣ-ṣsalāt!"

(Hasten to worship!)

"Hayya ʿala 'l-falāḥ!"

(Hasten to prosperity)

"Allahu Akbar!

(God is great)

"Lā ilāha illā-Allāh!

(There is no God but God)

This sing-song call continued, echoing from minaret to minaret to mosque all across the immense and ancient city. Shopkeeprs all through the market square began closing up, either to hurry to mosque or pray some place private.

Inside the coffee house, some patrons left, but most stayed. These were obviously Armenians and other Christians, Hindoos or others of the non-Islamic faith, or perhaps atheists. Perkins was able to find a shaded spot as the afternoon wore on, and he could fortunately still keep the front door of the coffee house under surveillance. Arabs in both traditional and European clothing streamed out of the coffee shop's front door, and both men and women passed by his seat heading in the direction of the muezzin's call and the al Hussein mosque.

A waiter brought their drinks and food. It seemed there was sufficient staff to accommodate the remaining customers during the times of prayer. Another waiter met Molly and JM and sat them down where they wished, as there was an abundance of tables.

The Count thanked the waiter as their food and drinks arrived;

"Ms Holloway how do you suggest we approach this man, what should our angle be ? I was thinking that we could start by enquiring after some obscure book, start flashing around some cash and then brooch the subject of our mutual "friends" ?

He turned to their little guide;

"Mahmud how do you think we can interest this man ?"

JM turned to listen as the call to prayer echoed through the city.  He remained standing, watching and listening until the echo of the calls ceased.  He turned back to Molly and motioned toward the great mosque. "That is the call to prayer, the Shia rather than the Sunni version.  Most of the locals, the devout will head to the mosque now for prayers.  Let's get a seat outside where we can still see the Count and Cynthia and have that tea and lamb."

When the waiter approaches, JM asks him in English for a seat and then follows to sit down.  There was no point right now in letting on that he spoke Arabic.  "Tea and lamb kebobs if you would please," he asked the waiter.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 210):

Molly nodded her agreement to JM's plan and listened to the calling of the faithful.  "There is a type of beauty to their chanting don't you agree?  Especially so when they do it in unison."

She followed JM to their seat and looked around with interest.

"The wail of the caller is a defining part of this culture and the cities of the middle east."  JM looked about.  "I certainly enjoyed my time in this part of the world.  One day I would like to come back and set up a small airline in the area of northern Africa."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 209):

"Count, I think perhaps you are correct. We don't know what his state is, after the loss of his shop and the murder of his previous clients. That he's here tells us he's still established as a merchant at least. But we may have to ease into the topic. His letter tells us he was friendly to Carlyle, or at least Carlyle's account book. Some feeling out, is probably the best first step."

The Count took a sip of his mint tea as he nodded at Ms Holloway's assessment. Sitting back in his chair he was happy just to be in the shade. He removed his last cigar, lit it and took a relaxed pose as he held it in his right hand.

He watched the customers as he inhaled the smoke savouring the rough taste of it.

Mr Perkin's must have read his paper a hundred time he finally folded it and from his shaded position just watched the world pass by. It was at these times his mind almost always wandered to thoughts and memories of his brother.

The Adhan could sound like either a wail or a chant to western ears, but as well a kind of melodious song. Much like a hymn, not unlike Ave Maria or psalms put to music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmzPrEvv6R0

After some time, the call to prayer ended.

Food and drinks appeared. Mahmud tucked in, gobbling down tender lamb cooked with spices, practically falling off the wood skewer.

Outside, the square became quite deserted. The desolate emptiness after the bustle of the crowd seemed almost unnerving, eerie. Despite this the square was still bright with the late afternoon sun, although it was sinking in the west now.

Cynthia scoots the sweet cakes over to Mahmoud.

"Count Bathony, I wonder when we might next get an opportunity to eat. Perhaps we should enjoy a few nibbles of our own while we're waiting."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 217):

"Please go right a head Ms Holloway. I am fine with my tea at the moment."

Stuffing his pipe Mr Perkins only noticed the lack of pedestrians once he had lit it. He causally looked around the square, but dismissed it as just a Egyptian custom due to the heat of the day.

Some food was ordered. The reduced wait staff was able to serve the reduced customers.

Outside, the sun sank below the horizon.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 217):

The little urchin noisily devoured his kababs and rice, slurping at tea. Grease smeared his fingers, chin and left cheek. When he was sated he looked at the shadows gathering in the inner courtyard.

"Miss Cynthia, this prayer is known as the time of Maghrib. When the last light fades from the sky, it will be over. Then it will be the time of Isha. After then, Faraz Najir, the cursed one, he will come."

JM called over the waiter and ordered a meal of kebabs for himself and Molly as well.

Cynthia orders some kebabs, and she will make sure there is always at least a little food on Mahmoud's plate.

"Mahmoud, why is he cursed? Can you tell us what he does now?"

The boy shrugged, unsure. He kept wolfing the food down.

"Allah be praised, he was hurt in the fire but survived. The fire claimed his business and his family. It is said he tends a small bookshop somewhere in the market. I don't know which one, I am sorry."

The food (cooked elswhere and then fetched to the coffee house.

Outside, the shadows grew longer as the sun sank below the horizon. It became darker in the canyons of the city streets and narrow alleys. Prayer continued, and would until the last light of the sun was gone. This close to the equator, that would be a few short minutes indeed, compared to more northern climes like England or much of the United States.

The square and alleys were quite deserted now.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 225):

Molly watched what was going on and nibbled on the food that JM had ordered.

Mr Perkins retreated deeper into the shadows if he was able. He lit his pipe again and reclined against a wall watching the square and alleyway.

In reply to Mahmud (msg # 224):

The Count muled over the information they had on this man. It sounded like a simple arson perpetrated by the cult in retaliation for some slight. His own personal history also had a similar dark episode and once they had fled his home country he had travelled throughout Europe snuffing out the perpetrators.

He removed his last cigar from its case and lit it with a long match. Inhaling deeply he could feel the photograph of his sister in his lapel pocket.

He was two coffees ahead of everyone else, but the thick Turkish beverage was his favourite.

JM explained the food and the manner of eating it to Molly even as he watched the surrounding area.  "This is very tasty and along with the hot, strong coffee is very bracing."

"I'm wondering if his loss may not drive him from any willingness to work with the subject again. We may need to have a backup plan to compel him, should he be hostile to digging up his past. I doubt he would have kept the offensive books in that case, so we would need his cooperation. I wonder if he might be motivated by vengeance? Safety perhaps?"

The sunset and twilight at this latitude was short-lived.

Outside, the square was now mainly in darkness. It was still hot despite the absence of the sun's rays. Perkins observed people were beginning to return from prayer at the mosque or other places. A few men returned to the coffee shop after prayers, stalls reopened and lamps were lit, casting flickering light. One man was very noticeable. He was covered from head to foot in dark robes and turban. Even his face was covered except for the eyes. A shadow among shadows. He entered the coffee house's front entrance from the alley.

Inside the coffee house, it was also very warm, but fans hanging from the ceiling pushed the air around. Those inside noticed the dark robed man enter as well. He took a seat away from everyone else, facing the tiled wall. A waiter came over to deliver his hot tea and he began to pull from the mouthpiece of the hookah pipe.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 230):

The Count took another sip as he watched the shadows grow in the late afternoon.

"Money, Ms Holloway as always it will be money or nothing. If a wad of notes or the odd gold coin cannot persuade our book seller then nothing will. Lets us hope he does not bleed us dry."

When the heavily garbed man arrived the Count did not pay him any then the most casual of glances, lest they scare off the man.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 232):

The boy's hand stole forward and tugged on Cynthia's sleeve. He looked towards the robed man and then at his companions.

"That is him! Faraz Najir. Please please, pay me what you promised!"

Mahmud seemed a little frightened of the man.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:28, Fri 30 May 2014.

JM could not help but notice the heavily covered man as he entered but rather than stare, leaned forward to regale Molly with a tale of flying to Switzerland during the War to acquire chocolate with which to bribe the local farmers for food.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 234):

Molly liked JM's stories and made a mental note to ask him to repeat it some time when she REALLY could listen better.  She didn't notice the big man coming in but she had caught the boys reaction to something.  She giggled and let her body posture indicate that she was listening to JM but also tried to keep an eye on Cynthia's table.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 231):

"Right, well Ms Holloway shall we start the negotiations ?"

He rises from his seat and offers his hand to Ms Holloway.

JM continued his animated story adding in the part about the two goats that were used to smuggle several bottle of schnapps across the Swiss border.  He kept an eye on the Count and Cynthia as he spoke.

It is just then that Bahadir shambled carelessly in, the frisk of his unkempt roseate beard and hair making him appear like a seaweed washed ashore in a storm that had been lacking in destructive professionalism towards the beaches that suffered it.

He chants a short, gruff "Bismillah!" under his breath, weary.

Cynthia leans in close to Mahmoud, "I have never seen the man before. I do not yet know he is truly who he claims, rather than some random merchant, or perhaps a conspirator of yours. You will be paid, we aren't leaving the shop until that."

Cynthia accepts the Count's hand and stands, letting him lead the way.

The Count led Ms Holloway across the square and stood next to the merchants table.

"Ah.. excuse me Sir... I believe you may be able to help me and my companion. May I sit ?"

The boy looked rather annoyed, but nodded. He tagged along with Cythia and the Count.

In reply to George Perkins (msg # 227):

Outside, it had grown dark in the square, lit only by lamps on the few open merchant stalls. He noted a robed figure enter the square, looking around casually. It was Salim, with his Bedouin kufiya wrapped around his face desert-style to conceal his features. He wandered over to the man, and whispered, "Have our companions met with Najir the merchant yet, or has that jackal pup Mahmoud cheated them? If he has, I should like to spill his blood for the sand to drink, Insh'Allah."

His hand strayed to the wickedly curved knife thrust through the sash of his thobe.

On the table was a coffee pot and service, plus a hookah pipe. The fragrance of apple tobacco wafted from the top stem.

The man paused, mouthpiece halfway to his lips. If there were any doubts this was their man, they dissipated with one look at his horribly burned and scarred face. He thrust his free hand under his Berber-style djellaba robe and his eyes narrowed.

"Please. How may Faraz Najor, slave of Allah, be of assistance to Europeans such as yourselves?"

The Count was familiar with the man's movements, but did not react to his going for a weapon.

"We seek several books and information."

The Count went on;

"We are seeking copies of the Pyramidographia by John Greaves, A Description of the East and Some other Countries by Richard Pococke, Voyage d'Egypte et de Nubie by Frederic Louis Norden or Telliamed by Benoît de Maillet. We were told you maybe able to help us ?"

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 238):

Fishawi's coffee house in the quarter of Cario's sprawling Khan el Khalili bazaar closest  to the Sayyidna el Hussien (el Hussien mosque). This part was known as the "bookseller's quarter, and it had countless establishments selling tomes, books and scrolls from all across the Orient and Christendom. Consequently, many of the sellers were a cosmopolitan breed: fellow Turks, Arabs from the Levant and Persia (now called Iran) rest of the Muslim world, Armenians, a handful of Africans, and many, many Jews from Palestine, Transjordan and further afield.

Fishaw's coffee house was built around a courtyard with a shade tree. It being dark and warm night, the clean white tile-floored rooms were lit by lamps, candles and a few electric lights.

He was unsure who he was supposed to meet here. The time was right, evening prayers having been concluded at the nearby mosque (which he did not attend as it was shia in nature). There were a handful of Egyptian men sitting and drinking coffee, smoking the hookah pipe. By their European suits and Turkish tarbooshes (an Ottoman legacy) he surmised they were prosperous booksellers. There were also less prosperous Egyptians in thobes and tarbooshes. Two different European couples had entered. One couple were content to sip drinks and eat some food, the other sought the attention of a robed man sitting alone near the rear of the coffee house. The presence of women inside the male establishment was unusual but they were Europeans, and therefore not likely to be prostitutes.

A young waiter approached Bahadir and asked if he would like coffee or tea, and perhaps a pipe?

OOC: Make a Spot Hidden roll, and post results to the Dice Roll thread.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:08, Wed 04 June 2014.

In reply to Salim bin Kabina (msg # 242):

"It looks as if our man may have just entered the coffee shop so let us hope all is well and the information we seek will be fourth coming."

"It has been a long day and I to am eager for it to end."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 245):

Bahadir gradually acquires ease and composure. It took him a brisker walk to get here than he had undertaken in about seven months or so. The last time such a jog, for jog his mode of perambulation had been to get here (with cartographic thanks to his research protege who brought him here,but chose not to stay), befell him was to board a last homewards-bound train from Ankara. Bahadir rarely failed to be the laziest mortal in his immediate radius. He had leant back in his chair and put down his musty volumes, purchased even during scurrying over, and closed his eyes in Mediterranean languor, only to be perturbed by the waiter. Only then did he look around to take in the scene and milieu. He stood up and pat-checked his south pocket, feeling for the air that had settled there in the course of the past fifteen mercantile minutes.

Money and the bibliophile. Strange marriage!

"Just a pipe, In'shallah. Keep it simple" he solicits in Arabic.

Salim nodded. "You keep watch on the door, my friend. I will make sure no one accosts us from the other direction."

He took a post in easy sight of Perkins where he could watch the other man's back, and vice versa.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 247):

"Bismallah, I trust you will enjoy yourself, good sir."

The waiter brought over a pipe, filled it with strong Turkish tobacco (not hashish) and lit it using a "Lucifer". "I shall return with tea." Such was the custom of hospitality.

Distracted by the waiter, it was only out of the corner of his eye that Bahadir noticed the robed Egyptian man talking to the European couple had a badly burned and scarred face.

Pausing to think the man drew from the pipe, then exhaled. He covered his face again with his scarf. "A thousand pardons, where are my manners? I should not subject a gentleman such as yourself with my hideous appearance. Yes. I think I may be of assistance. Come by my shop tomorrow. And whom shall I be expecting?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:51, Wed 04 June 2014.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 249):

Bahadir tilted his head politely at the waiter, and muttered happily as he let the smoke of his first puff fade. He would've directly buried himself in his newly acquired tome had the charred, swarthy visage of the robed man not obtruded itself upon his attention. He recalled certain cryptic references to the person he was supposed to meet.

He half-rose from his seat, and saw again through rings of blue smoke the Europeans in conference with the man, and lingered in indecision.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:55, Wed 04 June 2014.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 251):

This looked to be the very same individual about who he'd been informed, best as he could tell. The conversation he was having seemed peaceful enough, formal-seeming, although he couldn't understand the words from across the coffee house. More Egyptian men entered, now that prayer was done.

There were, of course, no Egyptian women present. For such in a place such as this would have been taken for prostitutes and escorted out. If anyone thought that way about the European women (who were nonetheless garnering covert looks from the Egyptian men) who could say? Common wisdom among the Egyptian men, even the educated ones, was that European women simply didn't care.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 252):

The swiftest operation is the least... well. He hoped speaking to this fellow won't be painful. He looked innocuous, mellow. The ladies he didn't mind, he'd known many Europeans in his life, and was perfectly alright with them. Half his research career had been tailored around European academics.

And now to get this affair over with. He had lots else to do.

He used his time-tested tact of hovering just within range of the intended. He thought he couldn't quite see the man's eyes, but neared the table gently in a beeline to the man's view.

The Count waited for Ms Holloway to add anything else before he pressed the man further. He caught the other gentleman standing close to the table and gave him a look as to say "some other time".

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 253):

The man acknowledged Bahadir's presence with a nod as he waited for the Count's reply. In the meanwhile he drew from the pipe and offered it to Bathiny.

JM tensed a bit as the stranger rose from his seat and approached the table where the Count and Cynthia were speaking with their contact.  He didn't move yet but tapped Molly with his toe and nodded his head toward the other table.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 256):

Molly sipped her beverage and allowed herself to peek over the top of the cup to see what was going on.  While she didn't have a weapon per se, throwing something hot into somebody's face had always worked for her before so she had it handy just in case a distraction was needed.

"No, that will be excellent. We may take some time to complete our business. What is the best time to avoid interfering with other customers?"

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 255):

His look flitting between the robed man and the couple, and Bathony's look indicating what it did, he began pretending to look for the waiter again. But he couldn't help turning the situation over in his mind, and wove around the spot incessantly, in a half-vagrantly way.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 255):

The Count accepted the man's offer of the pipe and took a long draw, having taken a seat.

"Sometime in the morning. We shall be able to locate some of these works for you, insh'Allah. Do you know the location of my shop?"

A wary look entered his eyes as he looked from Cynthia and the Count to Bahadir, then back. "Is this fellow with you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:03, Sat 07 June 2014.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 261):

The Count returned the man's pipe;

"We do not know the address of your shop, a colleague suggested you maybe able to help us."

The Count looked at the man indicated by Najir and shock his head;

"I don't believe so, he seems to be looking for a waiter."

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 261):

Bahadir gazes directly at the robed man, hearing him, and smiles inscrutably, a hasty, makeshift imitation of the Aegean archaic smiles which work well only on classical busts, and not naturally grave and rugged visages like his-"Allah willing, I believe you're the person I'm looking for, if not whom, by the beard of Pir Rustam-ud-din, you remind me of!" he addresses in Arabic.

" And no, I'm not with janaab. Sorry I interrupt. But I came to meet him too!" he clarifies in English, indicating Bathony and Cynthia.

"Do you mind if I sit down... Faraz... Najir?" he inquires, a sudden glint of rage in his eyes, directed towards the robed man.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:34, Sat 07 June 2014.

The man focused on Bahadir, then shifted his gaze back to the Count. He was somewhat indecisive about what to do next. Clearly, this was a man who lived in a lot of fear, and dreaded the past. Najir stood up and faced Bahadir.

"I swear by the Prophet, blessings of Allah be upon him, that I know you not! Who are you, what do you want with me? Are you another assassin come to kill me?" His right hand darted back under his djellabiya, no doubt to grasp some weapon.

OOC: I try to use italics to indicate a foreign language. In this case, Arabic. If it's not obvious in context I'll specify.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 264):

"I'm worse or better than that, Najir, depending on how you conduct yourself. Let there be honour between us, and we can speak freely and truthfully, In'shallah. I choose to overlook your Jurm (crimes). I trust to Allah-e-Insaf (God's justice), and need not bear aggression in my heart. After your Jalan(burning), you are left to Truth itself, I believe!"

His voice is firm, unwavering, yet reassuring that he won't be harsh to Najir, believing he may already have suffered much. There is something almost patronising and sympathetic in his approach now.

The Count sat back in his seat and placed his right hand into his trouser pocket. He felt the familiar outline of his Colt New Service revolver hand grip. The Count turned his head and made eye contact with Ms Holloway and tried to astatine her demeanour.

He quickly gives a glance across to Mr Falcon.

Cynthia's brow furrows as Sahin interrupts, but she holds her tongue. Even not understanding the language, the tone of voice makes it clear there's some previous business here. She listens carefully to see what she can divine of it.

/



Having forgotten about the Count and Miss Holloway, Faraz's attention was focused on the man standing beside him.

"Truth? Yes indeed. I have felt Allah's justice. He took my wife, my sons and daughters. But the Creator of the universe, He who is most beneficent and merciful, spared me for his purposes. Perhaps you can tell me why you've come? At least, after these fine people have left. For, I do not know if they know Arabic or not."

His Arabic was, naturally, Egyptian.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 07:47, Tue 10 June 2014.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 268):

Bahadir shakes his head and makes a 'tsk tsk' sound of pity. He feels a sort of guilt at having struck, somehow, at the man's gravest wounds, which he hardly intended.

He continues in English- "I came to you for a few little answers, no more, Faraz, I assure you. And yes, by all means, I see no reason to interrupt your conversation. After you're done talking, yes..."

He does the 'jee huzoor' to all of them, the customary gesture of Persian respect, bowing slightly and waving an open palm near his forehead, and turning slowly to return to his table.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 269):

The man looked somewhat comforted by Bahadir's response, and he nodded. "As you wish."

He looked at the Count and Cynthia. "Forgive me the interruption, I don't think you've given me your names?"

The Count eyed the man as he returned to his seat and place both his hands back onto their own table

"Of course I am Baron von der Pahlen, I am so glad that you are able to help us."

Bahadir returns and plants himself solidly at his table, never batting an eyelid, and determined not to let Najir slip away. Having a fine idea of the 'mummy peddler' junto of which the underbellies of Cairo and Luxor reeked, he knew he had to watch out. And of course, Europeans were their common targets, or even dupes. He worried that the two in conversation would likely pay princely sums for a 5000 year old vase crafted and 'aged,' in Faraz's own backyard, perhaps, by extensive sunning and dipping in unwholesome oils. Rarely did they yield real pieces, which he could scry from afar by habit and manner of presentation.

"The baroness. It's a pleasure. Tell me, do you know that man? He seems like he is causing you some distress."

He waved away her concern.

"Baron, Baroness. My apologies for the disturbance. It is... nothing. Relating to religion. I doubt what he says will be of interest to you, as Christians. No doubt he wishes to discuss the words of the Prophet, a thousand blessings be upon his name. Have you heard of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh? A pack of infidels, I would call them jackals if it didn't tarnish the name of a noble beast."

Faraz looked intently at them, gauging their reactions.

Keeper's note: If you lie, make a Fast Talk check. If you're evasive no roll is needed, but he may still be able to tell you are not being truthful.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 274):

The Count sat back in his chair and twiddled the end of this moustache;

"Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh you say..."

He looks as if he is trying to recall some obscure reference.

"Would this brotherhood be a modern occurrence or from antiquity ?"

Eyes narrowing, Faraz frowned.

"They have always had this name, going back to antiquity."

He sat, frowning, looking back and forth between the Count and Cynthia.

He turns to Ms Holloway:

"You are the researcher my dear are you familiar with this group ?"

The Count turns back to Faraz.

Cynthia peers over her shoulder, "I have heard something of them... and I am surprised you would speak freely of them in public. I wouldn't care to share my thoughts, good or ill, with unknown listeners nearby, and I am surprised that you would."

He was starting to look annoyed. "That is for me to judge, is it not? Why and how do you know of them? And your husband does not? One does not read about them in the bloody paper or a novel. These are not men to be trifled with, yet you do not speak your mind. Perhaps our discussion is over if you do not wish to speak the truth."

Faraz stood up.

Bahadir can't restrain his curiosity, though. He cranes his neck this way and that, training his earlobes receptively in hopes of overhearing a few words, perchance. All he hears though, is the useless banter of others present.

Cynthia leans in closer, speaking barely over a whisper. "I have read of them, and I do not care for their methods or their ideals. If what I read is true, they deserve nothing less than to be locked away for the rest of their days. And if what I read is true, they do not take well to people, including wandering Europeans, speaking ill of them in public coffee houses, so I would prefer not to discuss this again."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Thu 12 June 2014.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 281):

It was apparent that this man was more than a little deranged.

Clearly, he somehow thought the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh was of grave importance yet insisted in bringing their names up in conversation with strangers. Whatever they thought he was going to do or say, her words didn't seem to have a positive effect. Perhaps due to his mania, or her tone. He looked to be barely containing his anger as he fought to maintain control.

"I will not lectured to by a foreign... woman(!) about what I may or may not discuss! If that is your wish on the matter, then we needn't talk at all. I hope Allah guides you wisely in finding someone who can fulfil your desires. You should be able to find someone here, in the Bookseller's quarter of the bazaaer. Good evening, Baroness. Baron."

He turned and with exaggerated care began making his way over towards Bahadir's table.

The Count gave an exasperated snort of derision towards the man before producing a coin from his jacket pocket. He rapped it three times on the table and then held it up between his middle and index finger letting the late afternoon sun glint off the gold:

"I think we have much to discus my friend."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 283):

The glint of gold seemed to calm the man. He stopped, turned around, and sat back at the table. He pointedly ignored Cynthia. "How do you say, that is more like it? Such things as I think you wish to discuss cost me much. As you can see. How much is it worth to you to continue to talk?"

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 284):

"Well lets see what you know of this brotherhood and their activities in your great country and I will see what it is worth to me."

He held the gold sovereign against the table with his middle finger as Faraz began to talk.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 282):

Bahadir was brightening up as Faraz headed in his direction, but saw the man dragged back by the lure of the gold circlet.

He shook his head and sighed. Ah,avarice. That old bane!

The man shook his head. "I am not performing for your pleasure, for you to throw some coins. Now, I'm going to talk with my friend over there. If you are serious, then when I'm done you can honour my request, and I will honour yours."

This time he stood up with an air of resolution, and, with a bow, turned and walked over to Bahadir's table.

"Salaam aleykum."


Keeper's Note: OK, time to give Bahadir a shot!

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 287):

Bahadir was looking away towards an approaching waiter, when he was startled that Najir had turned and come to him.

" As'salaam, janaab! I hope your day goes well?"

It'd do well to chat him up. Was he not THE Faraz Najir? Antiquities would want to hear what they could of him, and a nice story taken up there would please the Director, otherwise laconic and snappy.

Cynthia leans close to her companion, "I'm sorry. I was hoping some honesty would win his loyalty. It seems I underestimated."

Faraz sat, and signalled the waiter for some tea.

"Every day is a blessing. I follow the words of the Prophet, a thousand blessings be upon his name, and trust in God. Just dealing with some... tourists. They wish to buy some books, which is my exclusive trade now. I did not think they spoke plainly enough. I do not think you will have that problem, my friend, as you seem to know me. The question is, do you know me as I am know, or do you know me before?"

Keeper's Note: italics indicate speaking in Arabic. And non-spoken italics for thoughts are fine!

The Count leaned back as he placed the coin back into his pocket;

"I do not think our friend is completely sane. Let us see if he returns otherwise we can get his address from our little guide and visit him tomorrow."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 291):

Molly took both of JM's hands and leaned in as if telling him a big secret.  In a low voice she calmly said "Did you see that guy leave their table?  He didn't look too pleased."

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 290):

"Aye,trust to Mohammad, praise be!"

Fondness creeps over Bahadir's face at the very mention of books.

"Then I am pleased, by the grace of Yusuf. Qitab(Books)is indeed a noble trade, and it's a pity if some people can't make sense of their worth," he shakes his head sternly.

Bahadir realises that the query dyad the fellow asks is a tough one. He knows him plainly as a thief, or atleast an ex-thief. But he ponders how best to answer it in order to yield favourable results.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:25, Sat 14 June 2014.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 293):

The burned man inclined his head in agreement. "Blessed be God, most beneficent, and blessed is His prophet. As the Quaran says, "truly the ink of the scholar is more valuable to he who created the universe than the blood of the martyrs."

"I have much to atone for, my friend. For I used to be a thief, rather, I bought and sold that which thieves have stolen from my own people, the people of Egypt. For this I did not lose a hand, but my family and my shop. Allah is indeed merciful. He has allowed me to rebuild much of what I have lost. But I no longer feed like a jackal upon the theft of treasures and trinkets of the past. I deal only with that which is in books, that has been recorded by the faithful and the learned."

A waiter brought a tea serving and he poured for both of them.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 294):

Yes, and I have learnt, janaab, that true piety and atonement as yours appears to me is greater in the eyes of Allah than the combined cries of every holy pir or mullah against the penitent. Allah ordains that one should forgive the past, and not mar a man's way to salvation

He passes forth a gentle cup of tea towards Najir, nudging in his amiability.

"Books you speak of, In'shallah. Holy tomes, I presume? Anything of poetry or revelations of the past that you have, and are willing to show me?"

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 295):

Faraz named some fairly pedestrian Islamic scholars of shia Islam, but he seemed more interested in the poets and writers of the fantastic.

"The authors I favour are the great poets like al-Mutanabbi but also Andaulsians like ibn Khafaja and Abu al-Hasan al-Shustari. I am also drawn to the fiction of the scholar ibn al-Nafis, the Al-Risalah al-Kamiliyyah fil Sira al-Nabawiyyah (The Treatise of Kamil on the Prophet's Biography). It speaks of many things, but especially the end of times, which I have seen in my dreams lately.

"Shaitan himself will rise from the desert and under the ocean, and the mountains will tremble beneath his foul step. For does it not say in the 81st Surah, "When the sun no longer shines, when the stars drop from the sky and the mountains are blown away, when camels great with young are left untended and the wild beasts come together, when the seas are set on fire and men's souls are reunited, when...the record of men's deeds are laid open, and Heaven is stripped bare, when Hell burns fiercely and Paradise approaches; then each soul shall understand what it has done."

"My friend, when you saw me, and pronounced my name, you burned inside with anger. I have done much wrong in the past. Have I wronged you, somehow? I know not your name, even!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:47, Sat 14 June 2014.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 296):

He was delighted to find someone so well up on his al-Nafis, and adds happily- "And when this passes, and Insaaniyat(humanity) is submerged, we shall not have even our shadows left to lose, as quoth Daqiqi.

You have not wronged me, friend. But I believe, in your poverty, out of desperation, you have wronged Egypt herself. I am Bahadir Sahin. Pleased to meet you, janaab. You will be surprised to learn, perhaps, that a dream has sent me to you. Not mine, but my aunt's."

Poetry gave good historical pointers, he knew. The history of this man was surely topsy-turvy.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:23, Sat 14 June 2014.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 297):

The man laughed uncomfortably. <Aqua>"Ha ha ha... Bahadir, my friend. Your aunt has been having such dreams herself? In the past, I would have thought such a thing was madness. That was before the Black Brotherhood brought Hell into my life. Or perhaps I brought Hell, and they were the instruments. Have your heard of these demons?"</Aqua>

He seemed intent on Bahadir's answer.


Keeper's Note: Oops, tried to edit my post and things went a little wonky.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:55, Sat 14 June 2014.

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 298):

Bahadir brought pious shades of alarm into his face.

"Ya allah! You mean demons, monstrosities in the Riyasat-e-Khuda(God's Realm)?In this our very own land? In the Al-Qaira(Cairo), which is His own? No, Faraz, may I call you by name? I have not. Who are these defilers?"

Suspicions of reaching another mummy-peddling gang creep in his mind.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 299):

Faraz waved his hand in a manner that indicated he didn't mind the familiar use of his name. He then looked furtively around to make sure no one was listening, a measure he neglected to take earlier when speaking with the Count and Cynthia.

"A wicked, evil gang. Not a gang, but a blasphemous cult! They have been around a long time, since the time of the Pharaohs. They are not the thieves, not directly, but they are the ones that pay the tomb robbers and the grave robbers to steal in the name of their ancient master. They are mainly Egyptian, but some Europeans and others have been corrupted as befits their baser nature. But I should not talk of them here. No, it was foolish to do so. We should speak later."

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 300):

"Friend Faraz, yes! We should talk elsewhere. We MUST! It is by the grace of Allah that I've found you! May we go somewhere now where we can talk safely? Where, if you don't mind, is your dwelling? You may safely come to my lodgings, I guarantee you won't be hassled by any official intervention!"

Bahadir sits up straight in alarm,forgetting his tea. He wouldn't miss this. Forget the dreams and all. This might be real. He knew that Najir, with his past notoriety, had surely seen corners which the higher-ups of officialdom know there are, but pretend to overlook.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 301):

His terrible visage became grave as he agreed.

"I agree. We must talk. But not here. Not tonight. And such a topic is too dangerous to be discussed anywhere but at a holy place. Tomorrow, after mid-morning prayer, go to the nearby Sayiddna al-Hussein. Ask the imams there, I will be waiting."

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 302):

" I will do as you ask, my friend," says Bahadir respectfully bowing his head,as he does to all learned men.

In reply to Bahadir Sahin (msg # 303):

"Bismallah, we shall talk tomorrow, then. I bid you a good night."

He stood and returned the bow. Faraz then made his way back to his former table. He surveyed the Count and Cynthia with his ruined visage. "Pardon me. I wish to finish my pipe in peace. I'm sorry if you thought I can give you something I can't, but are we finished or must I find another table?"

In reply to Faraz Najir (msg # 304):

After waiting a moment, Faraz asked Count Bathony and Miss Holloway, "a thousand pardons, are you going to move? I wish to return to my seat, if our business is done."

With out another word to the man the Count stood and offered a hand to Ms Holloway before making his way out of the cafe and back to the street. He spied Mr Perkins in the shadows and gave him a wave.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 306):

Seemingly out of nowhere they heard a voicce, "you met him, yes? I saw it! Pay me! Please, you promised!"

The urchin had held up his end of the bargain, he naturally expected them to keep up theirs.