Many, many hours and three flights later (one had been diverted due to a terrorist hijacking and hostage situation on the tarmac at Bogota) you arrive at JFK and finally meet Robert in the flesh. From there it's a short hour and a quarter hop to Portland, ME, and only about 2 and a half hours later than expected.
Stepping out of the terminal the chill hits hard after the tropical warmth of Cuba - it's barely 10 degrees celcius (50 F) and expected to drop to freezing that night.
This message was last updated by the GM at 04:26, Sat 15 Oct 2016.

"About time you showed up!" a familiar voice yelled from a large SUV outside the terminal.
"Get in, it's freezing out there!"

"Isn't this weather just sublime?  I'll take this over the blasted heat of the south any day.  How you dealt with Cuba is beyond me.  Never did like working in those countries."

Generally I find it easier to take off clothes than put them on. Makes the surroundings more pleasent too.

Melissa Messervy, now wrapped up in a thick coat and winter trousers, stepped out into the Portland air and smiled.

This felt more like home. Wheeling her suitcase, she quickly walked over to the SUV.

"Can you open the boot please?" she asked, forgetting that was not the term for the luggage area of a vehicle in American English.

Once everyone was in, Jack drove to the cheap motel where he'd arranged accommodation.
"Antonio and I checked out Boston while you were getting a tan down in Cuba. Spoke to the police and surviving band members, their roadies and hotel staff, even a few groupies still hanging about."
"Everyone says basically the same thing. Black-clad roughs burst into the hotel hallway via a service stairwell after blowing the fire door. They used 9mm uzis, and killed six hotel employees in the service stairwell. Four of the bands security and two friends of the group were killed in their rooms and out in the hallway, while one off duty police officer was killed when they made their getaway in a stolen van, which later turned up abandoned and burnt out in Lawrence, Massachusetts. The attack was estimated to have taken just three minutes, with the main hallway assault taking just over 55 seconds.
"No prints were found and besides the copious amounts of brass and the doors broken in with a sledge hammer, no other traces were left."
"Fiora's husband, guitarist Richard Kalmer, and five others were injured and are still in hospital. Two are still critical with one of them not expected to live."
"The FBI is looking into left-wing hate groups as possible culprits due to Fiora's conservative leanings, but that trail is going nowhere."
"The attackers were brutal. One of the security had surrendered when it looked suicidal to keep fighting. One laughed as they shot him in the back of the head on the way out."
As he finished speaking he pulled into the motel carpark.
"Go get some sleep and we'll talk about what you've found over dinner."

"Right, well, seems as if we have our work cut out for us.  Listen, I understand I'm new and I'm not looking to step on anyone's toes right out the gate.  You lead, I follow.  Yes yes?"

"Ja, uansett," responded the extremely bleary eyed Karl. The long journey hadn't done him much good, especially having started out hung over.
"Sleep, then snakke."
Already half asleep, Karl headed directly for bed, thankful Jack and Antonio had already completed the motel registration for them.

Before heading for bed, Melissa asked Jack one question.

"Have they got any information off the casings at all? Like manufacturer? If someone bought that much ammo, it might have been logged somewhere and may give us a clue".

Michael found the cold air refreshing after being cooped up in airliners all day.  He grabbed his bag from the back of the truck and waited for Jack to provide him with a room key.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Sun 16 Oct 2016.