Lampton orders a brandy to top off his meal, rather than a dessert. He asks the waiter to send over the manager, or the owner, if he is available.

When that individual appears, Howard provides him with a card (the one bearing his New York address). He tells the man that he is planning a large party for a group of business associates and thinks that an Oriental theme would be smashing. He asks if there are additio0nal, larger rooms available upstairs that might be engaged for a private party of twenty-five or more. If so, he would like to see them.

Outside the Club:

Deciding to call it a night, Phil stood up, stretching the cold out of his joints. He could enter the club, but was unsure how he would be received inside. Instead, he wandered over to Charing Cross and attempted to hail a taxi to take him back to the Park Lane. One stopped after a few minutes and the driver got out to open the rear door. He hesitated when surveying the ragged figure, then said, "Evenin'! Where to, Guv'?"


Inside the Club:

Ahmad, the waiter, took their orders.

Cynthia peeked inside the kitchen door, and none of the cooks or waitstaff seemed to notice her. After the horror she'd heard about at the Ju-Ju house, she was prepared for anything. Ahead in the kitchen was the food preparation area with counters, coal-burning ovens, stoves and a large ice chest for perishables, all surprisingly clean if not modern. She could see her waiter, Ahmad, busily preparing more baklava into squares and slicing up various fruit with a large knife. Off to the left inside the kitchen was a pantry. She couldn't see any other doors or a stairwell but something could be the pantry.

She made it to the WC safely. The toilet's state of cleanliness hadn't improved since Darlington and Falcon visited an hour or two earlier and almost made her doubt the existence of a kind and loving God. At least the chain was still attached to the overhead tank! The electric bulb worked so there was light.

Inside the dining area, the waiter approached the table with more baklava for Darlington and the others, a brandy for Lampton, another round of drinks for the others and a plate with figs, sliced apple, melon and pomegranates for Imran.

If this were the old days fresh fruit in England in March would have been nigh-unattainable. (Canned fruit or fruit preserves would have been the best available substitute.) Due to the modern convenience of steam-powered freighters, trains and refrigeration, produce grown in North Africa could be shipped to Europe and England and served in a week or less. (Produce grown by United Fruit Company in Central America under the watchful eye of US Marines would instead go to the USA.)

The waiter took Lampton's message to the club owner "Abdul Nuwisha", nodded, then retired. "He is a very busy man but I will be happy to pass along the message, yes!"

Keeper's Note: The BP Club map has been updated a little. Also, a description of the building has been added. Scroll down to the bottom.

link to a message in this game
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:28, Mon 17 Oct 2011.

Inside the Club:

About a half-hour later, a fat sweating Arab man with short oiled hair and a trimmed moustache came to the table. He wore a clean white linen suit and red tarboosh (fez) on his head.

He looked for Howard, smiled, and asked, "I am Mr. Abdul Nuwisha, owner of this establishment. Pleased to make your acquaintance, effendi."

The group apart from Falcon and Lampton heard his full name as "Abdul Nuwisha", and indeed this was what was recorded in the notes of the police investigation. However, the Arabic-speakers (Falcon and Lampton) understood this was most likely merely his last name, "Abd al-Nawisha". "Abdul" was not a proper first name in Arabic but a modifier meaning roughly "the servant of", in this case, "the drinker" or "the imbiber", not inappropriate for a club owner. He likely had another first name.

Smiling, Al-Nawisha took Lampton's card. "We here at the Blue Pyramid would love to host any gathering. I regret the upper floor holds only flats! I should think that the main dining room would suffice for an exotic evening among the sensuous pleasures of the Orient! Belly dancers are extra." He named a price in pounds that Lampton converted to dollars in his head that came out as seeming reasonable to him. Dr. Weston thought it was dirt cheap, Darlington thought it was bloomin' 'ighway robbery considering the neighborhood.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:35, Sun 16 Oct 2011.

"I was really looking for a private banquet room, but please give me your card and I will be in touch," Howard says to Mr. Al-Nawisha with a polite smile.

Cynthia tries the door on the office. Finding it locked, she enters the WC, without touching anything or even locking the door. After standing perfectly still for fifteen minutes, she pushes the door open with her foot and emerges, smiling and fresh. She rejoins the group, and waits for the manager to leave, all smiles and pleasantries.

Abdul Nawisha shrugged apologetically as he fished a card out from the breast pocket of his suit.

"Effendi, I assure you that renting this club will fulfill all your deepest desires. Please call me if you want for anything!"

He bowed, then left.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #92):

Coming out of the bathroom Cynthia dodged around a sweaty cook lugging a coal scuttle in through the alley door. As there was no cellar (they knew of) fuel for the ovens had to be shuttled into the kitchen by hand from where it was stored the locked bin in the rear alley.

She returned to the table, having discovered a little more about the layout of the club. Nothing seemed out of place; there was no cellar, and an upper floor of flats with no inside access to the main floor.

Soon enough, it was midnight.

Rahman's message had said that Aiyesha wanted to speak to the investigators in the rear alley. She would meet them there with her "teacher".

Outside in the Rear Alley:

There was no sign of Phil outside, front, back or side.

Those who braved the outside found Aiyesha waiting by the staircase behind the club, bundled against the foggy dampness. Beside her was a bespectacled, thin, Arab man, also bundled up and in a hat.

The man said, "salaam aleykum."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:58, Mon 17 Oct 2011.

As they leave the club, Singh speaks quietly to his employer, "I think it unwise for you to risk the dangers of a back alley, Miss Holloway. Let me get a taxi and you and I can wait for the others."

In the alley, Howard responds, "Aleykum salaam." He lets Darlington take the lead.

Cynthia's features quickly turn dark, then soften, as she recognizes the concern in Mr. Singh's voice. She considers his words carefully before she speaks.

"I will wait around the corner in the taxi. Should I hear anything out of sorts, I can bring the car around, to help our friends make a good getaway. Or if my presence is otherwise required, I can be quickly summoned. Is this a reasonable compromise?

"Unless you think me at risk waiting in the car, I think perhaps our companions will be in more need of your trusty service than I shall."

"I think you show great courage, Miss, tempered by great wisdom," Singh says, impressed yet again by this young woman Fate has bound him to, "It shall be as you say."

He secures a cab and stations it at the entrance to the alley. After handing Miss Cynthia into the conveyance, he hastens after the others, but stops befor he enters the side alley, so that he can still see the hack. His hand is on his revolver.

And Miss Cynthia waits patiently in the car, trying for all the world to hide her irritation (while searching eagerly for signs that Phil is safe -- not that she'd ever admit it to him).

In front of the Club

Imran darted out to Charing Cross to hail a taxi. The first couple were full, but after a frustrating few minutes the third was willing to wait in front of the alley.

After settling the bill, sorting out their coats and hats, the others exited the front of the club and waited somewhat impatiently as the hour crept up to, then past midnight. Finally, Imram arrived with the taxi.

Parking in front of the alley, the cabbie held the door for Cynthia, accepting the instructions with an attitude that suggested as long as the meter was running he would wait as long as you liked. The engine idled, a little roughly.

It was about five past midnight when those who were going in back of the BP Club finally departed down the side alley. Imran stopped and waited where the rear alley joined the side alley, peering in the gloom where the meeting was taking place and back to the waiting cab. It wasn't quite pitch black as there were some dim lights, but there was plenty of gloom and shadow. He could barely see the others where they were talking to the man and young woman waiting for them.

Inside the taxi, Cynthia felt the engine start to idle roughly. "Cor blimey!" exclaimed the driver, revving a little so it doesn't stall. "Sorry ma'am, always 'appens this in the damp, it does!"

The bouncer who was stationed outside in the cold looked curiously at the taxi and then away, perhaps noting that the men in their party had departed down the alley, no doubt to relieve themselves before the ride home.

     |    |
     |    |_____________________________
     |        W   D T A      Rear       |
     |   I ____J_H__[[[[________ Alley__|
     |    |Off.| |    |    |
     |    |____l |____l    |
     | S  |_WC_l_l____ Kit.|
     | i  |           |    |
     | d  E B         |    |
     | e  E           |_  _|
     |    |                |
     | A  |            [ R |
     | l  |  Tables    [Bar|
     | l  |            [___|
     | e  |            |   |
     | y  |            l P |
     |    |            |___|
     |    |            |   |
     |    |  B         l P |
_____|    |__|==|______|___|
     ______     B
    [ C    ] Taxi
    [______]

      Litchfield St.


_____    ___________________
     |__|

[[[[ = Bottom of rear wooden stairs.


A = Aiyesha
T = Aiyesha/Rahman's "Teacher"

I = Imran
C = Cynthia
H = Howard
J = John-Marc
D = Darlington (?)
W = Weston (?)
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:17, Mon 17 Oct 2011.

Once outside in the alleyway, the cold night air seems to have sobered Darlington up no end, his stumbling and slurring replaced by sharp and clear mannerisms.

He approaches the pair waiting in the alleyway, holding a hand up to the rest of the group to indicate for them to keep a safe distance.

"Good evenin', lady and gentleman. The Blue Pyramid is a fine establishment, dontcha fink? But I find it a bit stuffy, and too noisey ta talk. Out 'ere we can talk freely, right? Is there somefink you wanna tell us?"

In reply to Albert Darlington (msg #101):

Rear and Side Alley:

Howard held back as Darlington stepped forward. They couldn't see Phil around, either, but he could be hiding somewhere in the shadows. Behind them where the rear alley joined the side alley, Imran couldn't see much up the darkened side alley but at least the slap of shoe leather on cobbles would give anyone away were they to approach from that direction.

The "teacher" with Aiyesha seemed about in his forties with glasses and a neatly-trimmed beard, his hair and other features were difficult to tell in the darkness due to the hat on his head and muffler around his neck.

His voice was cultured and clearly of an upper-class education at an English university.

"Quite a nice establishment; I believe that Abd al-Nawisha does the best he can but he is at the mercy of a band of foul infidel thugs. I will be as concise as I can. I am Imam Al-Nasir Muhammad. The dancers here are forbidden by the club owner to marry so Aiyesha's husband, Rashid Ka'im Basara, posed as a dissolute wastrel so that he may frequent the club as her suitor without suspicion. I disapproved of the deceit but understood. Rashid went missing last month from the club. The police seem to have given up looking for the missing, so Aiyesha asked me for help. How I despaired because I am a teacher and priest, not a detective! I believe you were sent by God to help us."

Taking this as her cue, Aiyesha spoke, "The infidel snake Tewfik al-Sayyid befriends a man or seduces a woman at the club. Always someone addicted to drink or drugs, someone who won't be missed. Then, four times so far over the six months I have worked here he arrived accompanied by a half a dozen fellows, Caucasians, Orientals (Egyptians, Indians). They arrive at midnight. They soon depart in al-Sayyid's lorry and turn north on Charing Cross, I know not where they go! My employer, Mr. al-Nawisha, doesn't interfere in their business and so far none of the staff have gone missing, but they grow bolder, more careless, as if they are above God's punishment."

"Three times I did not know those missing and I am ashamed I did not come forward, but the fourth time they took my darling Rashid! Perhaps he is still alive? Kind sir, can you help us?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:17, Tue 18 Oct 2011.

Darlington listens to the pair and nods in his most sympathetic manner. When they have finished he tells them that he is a Detective of the Metropolitan Police and he is investigating the case.

He promises to look into Rashid's disappearance immediately and will do all he can to ensure he returns safe and well.

He warns them that Tewfik is a dangerous suspect in the case, and if he finds out that they have spoken to the police their life may be in danger, so this must all stay secret. Darlington asks when Tewfik is next expected at the club

In reply to Albert Darlington (msg #103):

"Thank God you are a policeman! I am glad," she said with relief.

"It has been about a month so Tewfik may return soon, I suppose. I do not know how I may be kept safe, I must continue to work to support my mother alone, now Rashid has gone missing."

Darlington takes Aiyesha's hand in a surprsingly compassionate and gentle gesture and says softly, "If you must work in this place, be careful. Don't say a word 'bout all this. If you are ever in any bovver then call on me and I'll be 'ere in a flash to protect ya. If ya see this Twefik bloke in the club call me on this number straight away. I promise I will find your 'usband."

With that he motions for the group to leave the alleyway swiftly, making sure that nobody from the club sees their conversation with the pair.

He says to the gathered party in a hushed tone, "Right then, I reckon we just got 'anded a big fat juciy lead in the Soho Slayer case. Are you blokes gonna back me up on this? Your mate Ellias seemed very interested in whatever is goin' on 'ere. If you weant in, I suggest we meet tomorrow morning and discuss our plan."

"Quite right, Detective," Howard murmurs, "Come round to the Park Lane Hotel tomorrow morning. We can talk then."

Singh nods silently and returns to Miss Cynthia's taxi. He holds the door for Dr Weston and Mr Lampton, then flags another for Mr Falcon and himself.

In reply to Albert Darlington (msg #105):

Before Darlington and the group left, Aiyesha and her Imam exchanged contact information. Barrington was the main point of contact for the police (and therefore Darlington) as they already knew. Information about the group was withheld, at least for the mean time.

For their part, either one could be reached by leaving a message during daylight hours at a pay telephone kiosk in the Woking exchange. Care of "Abdul", they would get it soon enough.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:35, Thu 20 Oct 2011.

Cynthia gives Mr. Singh's arm a squeeze.

"Do you think we should wait for Phil? There's a slayer on the loose, and I've not seen any sign of him."

"I'm certain that, if he wanted to be seen, he would make his presence known to us. He may be planning to stay here tonight and get information from the beggars. He knows what he's doing, I'm sure. He is very resourceful."

Cynthia is not happy, but without a better course of action, consents. (But if he doesn't turn up by breakfast, there will be hell to pay!)

Shepherded by Imran out of the alley, the investigators made it to Litchfield alive. They left Aiyesha and her Imam, hopefully they would see them again soon. It was getting a little late and so they quickly found another taxi cruising Soho for fares to take them back to the hotel. Phil would have to fend for himself, something he was obviously capable of doing.

The fog made the city seem pitch-dark, even along Piccadilly. Traffic was light but slowed a little due to the lack of visibility.

Transitional Post

Whoever hasn't posted yet to close out this RP may do so now. Then resume posting in the "London" thread.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:51, Thu 20 Oct 2011.