In reply to Mah'mud (msg # 90):

"Why thank you Mah'mud very reassuring to have you on the job." Mr Perkins folded his paper again and took another swig from his canteen as he remained in the shade.

The Count followed the other down the stairs and out into the street. He placed his hat back on his head and took a position at the rear as they made their way back to the cars.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 91):

"Quoi? D'accord. Allonz-y"

Wearily, still only half awake, he followed JM down the stairs.

Cynthia follows down, letting John-Marc take the lead. As they approach the car, Cynthia pulls Mah'mud aside. "Mah'mud, I hate to put your tiny immortal soul at risk, but... do you think you would be able to acquire a small amount of opium? I hope not to use it, but... well, everyone has their price. We can meet at the coffee shop by the antiquities professor we were at yesterday. Is that alright?" She hands over a small amount of money.

With that business done, she joins Besart in the back. Hopefully keeping the French speakers on either side will insulate him from any signs of misdirection.

"It's good we caught up with you when we did. There are investigations going on. It would be unfortunate if you were the target of them. But we should be able to get you cleaned up and to safety before any unwanted attention settles on you."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 95):

The street urchin nodded, took the money, and then left. He melted in the crowd and was gone in less than ten steps.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 95):

Getting in the back, Besart nodded, dumbly.

"Do what you will. My life is an unending horror. If you think you can help, I welcome it. But I do not think you are from the Embassy, yes?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 95):

Nigel seemed to be taking in the scene. He smoothly asked Cynthia, also in French, "right, we shouldn't go back to the Embassy. Instead, I know of a small apartment where we may keep this man safe. It's not far from the Ezbekiah Gardens, in the European quarter. He shall be unobtrusive there while we attend him."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Sat 22 Aug 2015.

"No, I suppose that was obvious. Tell us what happened. What did you find?"

Cynthia gives a nod of assent to Nigel regarding the apartment.

JM nodded, speaking also in heavily accented French. "No we are not from the embassy but are here to see to your health and safety."

Nigel waved at Mah'mud, and Perkins, signalling them that they were about to leave.

Besart looked around as he was led to the vehicles.

"What? No. I am not about to tell you anything here, not in the street. If you are not from the Embassy, who are you? Why do you want to know?"

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 101):

Materialising from the crowd after a few minutes, Mah'mud met them at the vehicles. He slipped a small cloth-wrapped packet to Cynthia. "Opium. And a hashish ball. Is this what you wanted?"

Cynthia accepts the ball, "oh Mah'mud, you are a little angel of... terrible things. That's good though. Thank you." Cynthia slips the ball in her pocket and gets comfortable next to Besart. Once she's sure the doors are closed and no one outside can hear, she'll begin.

"We are friends of the late Mr. Carlyle. We know he was targeted by powerful forces. And we know they are pursuing you as well, because of what you found. You're fortunate to have survived this long, but your luck won't last forever. We want to help, but we need to know more about what you found. In exchange, we can arrange for your safety. That's not an option you can expect anywhere else. What did you recover? Where did it go?"

JM motions toward the car.  "Certainly M. Besart, this is not a safe place to talk about such things.  It would be best to go somewhere, eat and drink and speak in more privacy."

Following behind the group the Count watched the man in front as they made their way to the car. He saw Mr Perkins sitting in the shade and gave the man a nod of greeting as they approached indicating they had found their man.

Mr Perkins raises his folded paper as a form of greeting as he rises from his seat in the shade. As the group gets closer he asks; "All good I trust. All very quiet here." He straightens out his jacket and checks his pocket watch and finally puts away his pipe having somewhat over indulged in the strong tobacco.

With Nigel's guidance, the vehicles wend their way back to the European quarter by the Ezbekiah Gardens in central Cairo. Nigel directed them to park on a tree-shaded boulevard that could have been in Italy or France, save for the baking heat and blazing sun.

They brought Besart into one of the apartments. Those who wished to waited outside. With some coaxing, and opium, Besart began to tell his story.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 108):

Besard rambled along, in French and English. He sometimes lapsed into reverie of his childhood, occasionally breaking down altogether.

Finally, they were able to piece together the following statement.

“A lawyer contacted me. I agreed to act as purchasing agent for Mr. Roger Carlyle of the United States, who was represented to me as a wealthy American. On written instructions from Mr. Carlyle, I purchased certain artifacts from Faraz Najir, an antiquities dealer, and illegally shipped them out of Egypt to Sir Aubrey Penhew in London. I know the artifacts were ancient, but nothing more.

“When the Carlyle Expedition came to Egypt, I arranged for all their equipment and permits. Their main site was at Dhashur, in the area of the Bent Pyramid.

“One day at Dhashur, Jack Brady came to me and told me that Carlyle, Hypatia Masters, Sir Aubrey, and Dr. Huston had entered the Bent Pyramid and then vanished. Brady was excited and suspected foul play, since the diggers already had fled the site and work had cnme to a stand-still. We did not know what to do, so we drank.

“The next morning, Carlyle and the others reappeared. They were excited by some tremendous find, but what it was, they would not say, nor did I learn, for Sir Aubrey was a fiend for secrecy. All of them had changed in some inexplicable way, and a way not for the better; I did not ask further.

“That evening, an old Egyptian woman visited me. She said that her son had been one of the diggers. She said the diggers had fled because Carlyle and the others had consorted with an ancient evil, the Messenger of the Black Wind. She said that she could recognize that the souls of all the Europeans but Brady and myself were lost. If I wanted proof, I should go to the Collapsed Pyramid at Meidum at the time when the moon is slimmest—the night before the dark of the moon. God help me, I went!

“I took one of the trucks, pretending to leave for a night in the pleasure quarter of Cairo. But instead I drove the twenty miles south to Meidum, and secreted myself where she advised. There in the midnight blackness I saw Carlyle and the others disport themselves in obscene rituals with a hundred madmen. The very desert came alive, crawling and undulating toward the ruins of the pyramid. To my horror, the stone ruins themselves became a skeletal, bulging-eyed thing!

“Strange creatures emerged from the sands, grasped the dancing celebrants, and, one by one, tore out their throats, killing all until only the Europeans (and one other robed celebrant) remained.

“Something more loomed out of the sand, the size of an elephant but with five separate shaggy heads. Then I realized what it was—but it is madness to speak it! I saw it rise and in a great ravening swallow as one all the torn corpses and their hideous murderers, leaving alive only five pcople amidst the stench of the blood-soaked sands.

“I fainted. When I recovered. I wandered into the desert. There further horrors awaited me. Stumbling up a rise before dawn, I saw beyond hundreds of dark sphinxes, rank upon rank drawn up and waiting for the hour of madness when they will spring to devour the world! I fainted again, and this time I left the world for many months.

“A man found me; for two years he and his mother cared for me—me, a man mindless and returned, I came back to Cairo. But I began to dream! Only hashish helps now, or opium if it can be found, My supply is low again, and my life is intolerable without it. Will you gentlemen please contribute some more? Only strong drugs keep me from insanity. Everything, gentlemen, everything is lost, There is no hope for any of us. Everywhere they wait.

"Perhaps you will join me in a pipe?”

Cynthia listens intently. This is the first time she's seriously considered that Carlyle might not be the victim, but rather the perpetrator, and the idea is not comforting.

"Dr. Huston... I don't think I'm familiar with that name. What can you tell me about him?

"And who was the other celebrant who was spared? Was it an African woman?"

JM listened quietly, translating the French for those that did not speak the language.  He shudders at the story but dares to ask one question.  "Which five were spared in the end when the five headed creature swallowed all?  Also, what artifacts did you purchase and send to London?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Sat 29 Aug 2015.

Besart answered, hesitantly, in a mixture of French and English, "I do not know who the fifth person was. I believe it was a woman. They were clothed in flowing white robes, no hint of skin visible... but it was a shorter person, yes? And slender. Perhaps a slender man. But a woman, I think.

"Dr. Huston, I know, was a noted psychiatrist from New York. He was Roger Carlyle's analyst. It seemed to me the poor boy was lost, and Dr. Huston was guiding him to nefarious ends. Manipulating him. He and that filthy negresse, M'Weru, of course!"

Suddenly, Cynthia did in fact recall the name Dr. Huston. He was of the Jungian school. There had been some kind of scandal from not long before the expedition departed. It was rumoured he had had an affair, both were married. His wife committed suicide when word got out. Then his lover also took her own life. Dr. Huston had largely withdrawn from his practice by the time the expedition sailed. Carlyle himself had been a frequent item in the Manhattan gossip sheets and had lived a wasted and dissolute lifestyle until his recovery under Dr. Huston's psychiactric care.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Mon 07 Sept 2015.

"And the artifact? What was the artifact?"

JM translated the scattered French for the others as Besart spoke.  "Who is this other person, this M'Weru?  Did they meet her here in Egypt?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 113):

"Artefacts? Yes. A bust of a pharaoh, a tambour with mystical symbols and a circle that was the crown of the Black Pharaoh and the key to his triumph over death."

These sounded rather like the artefacts that Faraz Najir had stolen from the cult leader Omar Shakti.

"M'Weru? From Kenya. She came from Kenya. First to New York, where she met and seduced Carlyle and brought his circle of friends under her control. Then to London, and finally here to Cairo."
This message was last updated by the player at 19:25, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

"And you handed them off to Carlyle. Most likely, they're still in their possession.

"The crown, how do you mean it let the king triumph over death? It made him unaging? Impervious to harm? Or something else altogether?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:25, Fri 11 Sept 2015.