"Will we be able to rally our allies from Dashur? If not, we will need to do that here before we go--or agree we're ready for the tremendous loss of life we will face in a direct assault with our small numbers."

"It's only 40 kilometers away from here.  It's not worth the plane flight.  I do know of a couple of other fliers who are in country.  They are Americans but don't hold that against them.  I can vouch for their bravery and trustworthiness and they may be up for a bit of adventure."

"And do they carry weapons? I'm sorry, you said they're Americans. Yes, any help we can get. I wouldn't be opposed to hiring mercenaries if we can get them quickly, as well as pulling fighters from the mosque. They carry this debt more than we do."

JM chuckled.  "They are Americans.  They will be armed to the teeth."  He considered their options.  "The Imans of the mosque should be eager for vengeance against the evil doers.  Perhaps Alexander and I can talk to them immediately."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 52):

Alexander packed up the Mirror of Gal, in order to bring it back from the Egyptian Museum of Cairo to his estate on Gezirat Boulaq island, west across the Old Nike Bridge.

JM, Cynthia and Cound Bathony borrowed Alexander's Renault touring car to make the 7 mile trip out to the bar where Roger Bedford and Karlheinz were drinking with one of JM's American friends, a Great War veteran and pilot named Matt. Unbeknownst to JM, Matt's partner (another American named Bob) had decided to dissolve the partnership when their business ran into mechanical difficulties. Bob then fled Cairo with what little funds they possessed and Matt was reassessing his life choices, along with his remaining partner, Andres "Chalky" White.

The bar was run by quite the pair. Pierre was a Frenchman who'd served in the Armée de l'Air (although not as a pilot) while he was assisted by Mehmet, a Turk who was a former naval aviator in the now-former Ottoman Empire. As such they were reasonably popular with pilots from the nearby RAF Heliopolis and Almaza Airport.

Currently, Matt and Chalky were drinking with two Europeans, a Brit named Roger and a German named Karlheinz. Roger had served in the RAF as a combat pilot, Karlheinz as a Zeppelin crewman in the Imperial German Navy.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 53):

Roger signalled the barkeep, a middle-aged Turk named Mehmet.

"Hey there, old fellow. Another round for these good chaps! Gin and tonic for me."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 54):

"Ya. One beer for me. They I am done. I haff to be able to operate the motorcycle on the way back, ya?"

Karlheinz didn't want to mention that his therapy with Dr. West was having results and he felt the urge to drink himself to stupour much less often. The fact they borrowed Alexander's Triummph and sidecar was a convenient excuse!

"Sure thing sport." Says Chalky, sipping his beer. "You'll 'ave to come out to the aerodrome next week if you get a chance, I'm about to change the big end bearings on the Liberty 400 Matt got us. She's sweeter than a shearer's daughter."

He took a long drag on his cigarette and looked at the mirror behind the bar. The image that looked back at him was of a middle aged man, short and stocky, with a smiling face and cheerful blue eyes. He was wearing a cotton suit and had his hair fashionably slicked back. The hand holding the beer had scarred knuckles from stubborn engine bolts, bar room brawls and was tanned from the desert sun. He was relaxed and sublimely indifferent to social class. He had another sip.

He grinned at the German, no animus at all in their conversation. The shared experiences of The Great War bound them all, willing or not, with ties stronger than steel. If one of them felt jittery the others just let it slide.

He had no idea he was about to experience another hell.

In reply to Andrew 'Chalky' White (msg # 56):

"Cheers blue." Matt says raising his glass. He'd picked up a bit of Chalky's venacular and made it his own although it sounds strange with a New Orleans twang added. Lounging back in his chair, the tall, black man seems oblivious to the heat. He is wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a grubby white t-shirt, his face cracked with a wide grin. "Once Chalky's got the bloody thing working I can take you all for a little ride in it. Hey Chalky, there's an idea. I could fly it low over those big pyramids, charge some suckers to look out of the windows at it."

In reply to Matthew 'Matt' Clancy (msg # 57):

Night had long fallen and it was around 11 PM, still warm but cooling off from the day. The Renault pulled up in front of a weathered building (with outbuildings) on the main paved and palm-tree-lined highway to Suez parallel to the the main rail line. There were no other lights in sight other than the building which was sporting a not-quite weathered sign ("Frenchy's") This was agricultural country and the farmers needed to be up at dawn, the surrounding fields were pitch-dark. RAF Heliopolis was a couple miles further down the highway but not in sight.

There was a motorcycle with side car parked in front, likely Alexander's Triumph. There were a couple bicycles leaning against the wall. A few RAF ORs ("Other Ranks" ie. Enlisted) having a pint inside staggered out and began to mount up and wobbily ride away.

OOC: Matt and Chalky are based within a mile of Frenchy's. Depending on their preference for travel their conveyance(s) will be parked outside, or tied up as the case may be!

Cynthia follows behind the men, wearing her hajib again for easy travel, but also to conceal the concern wearing her down. This mission is a fool's errand, and whomever John-Marc's friends are, what she is asking will most likely end in their deaths. She is in an unusually non-chatty mood.

Matt wanders out to the battered old army truck and clambers up into the drivers seat he calls out to everyone "Anyone of you guys need a ride? Plenty of room in the back, it's a bit greasy though."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 58):

Still sitting in the bar, Karlheinz said to Chalky, "if I may say, you should stay until our friends arrive. Zey are looking for some help in certain... matters that have brought us to Cairo. And beyond, into Africa."

Chalky looks intrigued.

"Certain matters sport? Sounds like it's right up our alley!"

Chalky looks over to Matt and whistles loudly, loud enough in fact to kill all conversation for a moment.

"Cooeee Matt! Can you come 'ere a minute?!"

In reply to Andrew 'Chalky' White (msg # 62):

Across the table, Roger nodded at Chalky. "Quite right, old sport! I can say one thing is you will not be bored."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 63):

The German grinned ruefully at his bandaged left arm, which was in a sling. "That is the truth, my friend."

In reply to Roger Bedford (msg # 63):

Out in front of the building, the Renault pulled up in a cloud of dust. They could see in the light of the car's headlamps there was an old army lorry parked there, along with Alexander's motorbike with sidecar.

Matt saw a pair of headlights on the Cairo-Suez highway, coming from the city. It pulled off, heading towards the bar. A new=looking (if dusty) Renault touring car stopped in the parking lot and a woman in a hijab climbed out of the passenger side.

OOC: There, everyone should be in the same general place at the same time. I'll let JM and Bathony post.

Matt saunters across to Chalky, "What's up, buddy?"

Chalky pokes his thumb at Karlhienz and says "there's some people who may need our help. It looks like they've run into some rough stuff."

In reply to Andrew 'Chalky' White (msg # 67):

"Rough stuff eh? Well rough stuff is the name of our game." Turning his attention to Karlheinz Matt continues "So what's the bother? Our rates are negotiable but the deeper the brown stuff the higher the charge." He flashes a large grin as he says it.

The Count stepped out from the vehicle and as the other alighted he lit up a cigar as he looked the place over. "I think this is the place..." He will follow the rest of the group in after checking in both directions along the road outside.

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George jumped out of the car and with his hand on his hips looks the place over. "Yes this looks like the one." he replies to the Count. Rubbing his hands together as he enters the establishment he adds "I will get the drinks in."

George makes his way to the bar, turning back to count those in his party. "Four bottles of stout or your best bitter, don't spouse you serve pints ?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.


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This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Mon 05 Nov 2018.

JM stepped out and stretched.  He grinned as the RAF men staggered off.  "This is just the kind of place my friends would frequent.  It may be a bit run down but the company and the beer will be good." He looked around once more and stepped inside.  The place was dimly lit but there was no mistaking two familiar figures.  "Matt!  Matt Clancy!"  JM switched to an exaggerated Southern USA accent.  "As I live and breath, it's Matt Clancy."  JM headed across the bar and held out one hand and the raised the other to give the man a bear hug. "You're a sight for sore eyes Matt.  I'd figure you'd be in a Greek jail somewhere by now."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 71):

Reciprocating the handshake and hug Matt replies "Bloody Greeks ain't built no jail that could hold me, even if they could catch me in the first place. What in the hells are you doin' in a place like this? I didn't figure you'd be down in the low rent with us."

JM took his friend by the arm and half turned away. "I'm with the crew at the bar.  We're on the trail of some strange stuff... weird... violent and can use some help.  I heard you were here and might be looking for some work."  He nodded over to Karlheinz.  "I see you met my mechanic already."