Inevitably, the next morning arrived, giving everyone a chance to rest though it was questionable what quality of rest they managed to find given the nature of the errands they contemplated and the things they had heard since this whole matter had begun. Asim arrived early. Apparently, it had not been difficult to find a European living in the Old City, as there were not many. A series of inquiries had pointed him to a the location of the particular Dutchman in question, and Asim had found him in a filthy condition, passed out in a drunken stupor.

He was able to lead McNeil, Rosalie, and Fredde along with any others interested in speaking with the Dutchman to find him again. The man was sprawled on a poor mattress comprised of a pile of old rugs that lays on the floor of a cramped room that he, as per Asim, rents in the back of the shop of a rug seller. He seemed to be of average height and certainly plump, with an unhealthily bloated appearance. He was
unshaven, and wore a tiny pair of spectacles perched on his nose. His clothes seemed not to have been recently laundered, and he and his room smelled of perspiration and body odor and the smell of someone who has had too much to drink the night before. A few empty bottles of alcohol lay on the floor nearby.

He looked up with surprise as they barged into his room, with Asim at the head, his expression going from fear to consternation to indignation and then to friendliness as he first saw the physically imposing figure of Asim coming through the door, and then the group of Europeans behind him.

“What do you wa—how dare y—oh…Oh, hello there!” His first assertions were dedicated to Asim, but the latter were to Rosalie and the others.

Asim moved out of the way and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, letting his employers do the talking.

Although he’d forsworn further drinking until his current employment was at an end, McNeil had anticipated Vanheuvelen‘s condition, based on what he’d learned regarding the circumstances of the man’s dismissal. Stepping forward, he crouched down in front of the archaeologist, offering him his flask.

”Hair of the dog?” he asked. ”My name is Dominic McNeil, Dr. Vanheuvelen. This is Ms. Fredde ten Boom, one of my associates, and Ms. Rosalie Elias, our employer. We were hoping to speak with you about some of your experiences here in Egypt.”

"Ah, yes," he said, accepting the flask eagerly, shamelessly drinking from it before responding further.

"That hits the spot. Thank you. McNeil was it? English and Dutch eh! Bloody good to see some Europeans around here. A man can feel isolated at times. Well met, ladies, yes." He nodded at each of them. He seemed nervous and excitable, speaking fluent English with only a slight Dutch accent.

"Experiences in Egypt, oh, I do have quite a few at that. Not a doctor though, not just yet. All my experience is hard earned out here in the field - but of that, I can share a lot. What is it that you wish to learn? And how did you find me here?" His second question sounded a bit more suspicious, as if he just realized the strange circumstance of the meeting. He took another sip of McNeil's flask, only grudgingly offering it back to McNeil.

Fredde snorts as she enters the room, hit by the wall of stink like a physical blow. Her hand instinctively goes to cover her nose and mouth for a moment. Then she loses her temper.

She stalks two steps to loom over Vanheuvelen, shaking a finger at him.

"Kijk naar jezelf, je wentelend in je eigen vuil als een zwijn. Je zou wat respect voor jezelf moeten hebben. Je bent een professionele man. Handel als iemand in godsnaam."

She's Afrikaans rather than Dutch, but she's seen enough of Africa, its people and its ways to know that natives of any sort lose respect for all Europeans when they associate with one who shows lax habits. Besides, the Eliases need this man's knowledge.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Thu 12 Sept 2019.

He cowered a bit at her admonishment and looked abashed, before straightening up a bit and pointedly avoided looking at her, choosing instead to look at Dominic and Rosalie, though he looked as if he wondered if they knew Dutch.

Leo lingered in the doorway after the others had entered, observing the man and his mannerisms rather than immediately interacting directly with him.


The physician raised an eyebrow at Fredde's apparent anger, but didn't intervene or comment.

He smiled nervously at Leo as he entered the room, and took out a handkerchief to dab at the sweat that was beginning to accumulate on his brow. Something about the press of people descending upon him unexpectedly seemed to be making him nervous.

"That is to say, I'll be happy to tell you what you'd like to know, if you'd only speak it out."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:22, Thu 12 Sept 2019.

”Keep it,” McNeil said, indicating the flask.

”Mr. Vanheuvelen, I assure you, we’re only here to ask a few questions. There’s no need to feel alarmed. The gentleman who just stepped in is Dr. Leonardo Elias. Another of my employers.”

“We’re trying to learn more about the work of the Penhew Foundation. It’s my understanding that you worked with them recently, on the Clive Expedition. We were hoping you could share your experiences on that dig with us.”

He held up an appeasing hand. ”Please understand, we’re somewhat skeptical about some of the Foundation’s work, so you should feel free to be candid. Anything you tell us will be held in strictest confidence.”

"The strictest," Rosalie reiterated with a twinge of pity for the man.  She tried to convey her empathy for his situation.  He'd been fired, after all, and though that might have been of his own doing, she was still sorry for him.  "We understand that they found something interesting."

Leo tried to observe how the man spoke and tried to determine if he was being honest and forthcoming. Unfortunately, the mental state of either the man or the physician caused Leo difficulty in his assessment.

OOC: Failed Psychology roll.


21:28, Today: Dr. Leonardo Elias rolled 92 using 1d100 with rolls of 92.  Psychology (78).

"Oh, indeed we did!" he said, removing a few books from a chair and placed them in a stack on the floor, offering up a place to sit. Aside from the chair and the books, the Dutchman’s tiny room contained only a cot, a crude table, an oil lamp, and a couple of wine-bottle candles.

"I don't know much about the Penhew Foundation itself, though. I attached himself to the Clive Expedition when they arrived in Cairo. I stayed with them during their work at Giza, and I was there when the tomb with the female mummy was discovered," he said excitedly, taking another nip from the flask..

"You see, we discovered a secret chamber in Menhaura’s pyramid, the smallest one of the three at Giza, which contained the unprepared but preserved remains of an unknown Egyptian queen. No hieroglyphs identified the body, but the marvelous funerary trappings convinced Dr. Clive that here rested a great ruler. We made preparations for the removal of the casket and the mummy were in conjunction with the Egyptian authorities, as is standard procedure. The only thing we took out of the chamber was was an ornate gold coffer containing papyrus scrolls. But Dr. Clive said they were totally illegible. Of course, I'm sure you've heard, but the mummy, the sarcophagus, and even the police guards went missing abruptly a few days later. The strangest bloody thing I've ever heard of."

OOC:

Sorry for the delay, I just moved (across town, not interstate, but still an ordeal)
This message was last updated by the player at 15:17, Wed 18 Sept 2019.

Leaning her back against the door, Fredde rolls a cigarette and lights up, never taking her eyes from Vanheuvelen.

Since Fredde elected to lean, Rosalie took the offered seat, smoothing her skirt down as she sat.  Her hands rested on the clutch in her lap.  "Even the guards?  Disappeared?"  She threw the others a worried glance before her attention shifted back to the Dutchman.  "Who else would have known about the discovery besides those in the expedition and representatives of the Egyptian government?  Workers?  Was the press informed?  Was anyone or group suspected in the theft?"

He seemed a bit flabbergasted by the array of questions that Rosalie peppered him with, so naturally, he took another nip from the flask.

"Well, you see...three nights after our discovery we heard terrible screams from inside the pyramid, but by the time we went to investigate...No one knows how the thieves so quickly removed an alabaster sarcophagus weighing several tons; it would have taken our expedition several days, yet from the time of the hideous cry to the time that we entered the pyramid no more than twenty minutes had passed."

He sighed.

"As far as who else knew, I can't think of anyone. They Clive Expedition was very secretive, as are many expeditions, but I think more than most I have worked with. They kept everything between ourselves and the necessary authorities. The police came and they looked at the footprints with great scrutiny, but found none other than those of the expedition members and the authorities. I know little more of that matter, as I was dismissed shortly afterward."

He paused, considering. "Are you all on an expedition yourselves?"

”Of a kind,” McNeil told him, ”We’re retracing the steps of another researcher.”

He considered the information quietly for a moment. Although he didn’t verbalize his conviction, McNeil was certain that the sarcophagus remained in the possession of the Penhew Foundation, just a portion of the organization that was kept well hidden from the rest of the world.

”What an unsettling series of events. Mr. Vanheuvelen, I know you said the queen’s identity was unknown. After the find, before you departed the expedition, did you hear any theories regarding her identity? Were any clues uncovered that provided a hint of who she was? I know you mentioned the box with the papyri. Was there anything else...unusual that was found in the burial chamber?”

"Well, if you are looking for some help, I could be of an assistance in your field work. I have always wanted to be part of a famous expedition," he said, straightening his posture some and putting a cap on the flask. He set it down, though it wasn't out of reach.

"If there was any theory as to the ruler's identity, they didn't discuss it in front of me. I'm not an academic, you see, just a field archaeologist. All my experience is the practical sort. As for what they found there, I would say nothing that you wouldn't expect. The usual funerary trappings that you'd expect. You know, if you want to meet with Clive and his people, I could help set that up..."
This message was last updated by the player at 21:30, Tue 24 Sept 2019.

McNeil glanced over his shoulder at the others, then returned his attention to Vanheuvelen. ”A meeting with Dr. Clive might prove quite enlightening. Tell me, did you work with him closely while you were with the dig? Was he passionate about the expedition?”

"Oh yes, he was very passionate about this matter. And I worked very closely with him. I mean, there's a certain distance that the Penhew Foundation people keep from their hired help, of course, but it's only natural. They are a prestigious foundation, after all. So yes, I worked closely with him, but they weren't the sort to share information freely. I think they were very concerned that if they spread the information too far, that someone else would beat them to the discovery, and with good reason! It was stolen right from underneath us!"

Leo continued to observe the meeting and keep an ear out for anything that might be happening elsewhere.

Dominic seemed to be making progress, so the physician didn't feel the need to step in.

"Wouldn't the means of your departure from the expeditionary team make it difficult for you to set up a meeting?"  Rosalie finally asked.  She wasn't sure why the man had been fired, but such events usually involved the burning of metaphorical bridges.  "Are you still on good terms with them despite no longer being involved with them?"

"I don't suppose they would be eager to rehire me, if that's what you're asking, but I'm on good terms with everyone on the expedition on a personal level," he said.

"I didn't burn bridges - nothing went wrong on account of my conduct. It just did not work well with Clive's personal work ethic - he runs a tight ship. Tighter than I'm accustomed to. If anyone should be angry at them it should be me, for being abandoned here in Egypt with limited resources...but they have no cause to be angry with me."

Struck by a sense of cautiousness, McNeil suggested, “Perhaps we could meet with Dr. Clive and his associates somewhere here in the city, one evening when they can afford a pause in their efforts.”

“Mr. Vanheuvelen, I know that finding the queen is clearly a great success for the expedition. But tell me, prior to the discovery, did Dr. Clive or any of the other staff ever discuss with you what they hoped to uncover? Did they ever speak of the reason they had chosen to dig where they did? Any historical accounts or folklore that pointed to a possible find of importance, or that identified the site itself as notable?”

OOC:

Dominic, give me a Persuade roll, please.

12:36, Today: Dominic McNeil rolled 32 using 1d100 with rolls of 32.  Persuade - Persuade 62%

"I think that finding the queen was a great success yes, but losing it as much as wiped it away. But Dr. Clive is single minded. Good luck getting him to leave his expedition. I don't know what is next steps are, but I think it unlikely he will visit the city to meet you unless he is changing course."

He paused a moment to consider McNeil's questions.

"The people who came from the Penhew Foundation tended mostly to keep their own counsel, sharing information on a need-to-know basis with other help they have hired, though in a camp one does on occasion hear things unintentionally just passing by."

"I believe Gardner had some kind of a theory that he sold Clive on about a series of undiscovered underground passageways, maybe a complex beneath the Great Sphinx. What he based this on, I cannot say, but it is perhaps what lead us to this discovery. More than that, I don't rightly know.
This message was last updated by the player at 19:19, Mon 14 Oct 2019.

McNeil raised his eyebrows. ”Well, were they to actually find these passages, such a discovery would certainly be monumental. I can understand why Dr. Clive would be inclined to be secretive. Please be assured, Mr. Vanheuvelen, we have no interest in intruding on the Foundation’s work. We only want to know how their research intersected with the interests of the gentleman we are looking into.”

“Could I beg your patience for just a moment?”

He stepped over to Leo and Rosalie. Speaking softly, he said, ”I’m not certain how much information we could glean from a meeting with Dr. Clive. I anticipate that he will continue to be fairly tight lipped about the Foundation’s activities. However, if the two of you feel that such a discussion would be fruitful, I thought we might offer a small payment to Mr. Vanheuvelen for successfully setting it up. But I didn’t want to offer anything without speaking with you first.”

As the others confer, Fredde finishes her cigarette. She crosses her arms and stares at VanHeuvelen.

"My instinct is to decline the offer for a meeting.  The poor thing looks like he can barely stand," Rosalie said quietly.  "Good terms or no, I would hesitate in sending him anywhere on our behalf.  If his work ethic was at odds with Dr. Clive, I doubt the man will wish to see Vanheuvelen again.  I think your instinct is likely correct, Mr. McNeil."  She looked to Leo for his opinion.  "Uncle?"

Leo thought for a few moments, then nodded. "I trust Rosalie's instincts as well as yours, Dominic. Nothing I've heard makes me think other than you two."

They left Janwillen Vanheuvelen generally as they found him, though his spirits seem to have been lifted through the act of conversation, and perhaps the literal offering of spirits. He seemed disappointed that he had been declined a role in another expedition or to be made useful in the world of archaeology again, but bade them farewell with as much grace and dignity as a drunk could muster.

The next day came earlier than expected, and fitful sleep found them, but the time came eventually for their guide to lead them to the Al Hussain Mosque, where they had been told to expect Faraz Najir. Wearing traditional clothing they had acquired at the market the day before so as to appear less out of place at least at a casual glance, they entered the mosque separately, the men and women splitting up at first.

Najir it turns out, had not lied, and when he spied them, he beckoned to a stairway. It lead up and into a large common community room, a space largely reserved for families with young children when the fathers and mothers needed to be together. They did receive some strange looks, as no children were in evidence, but generally were left alone by the others present.

"Do you remember the story I told you, Ustaaz? Of the prince Minkhaf?" he asked Dominic.


OOC:

Please note that given Tiny's player's departure from the game, for in character purposes he is going to stay in the hotel having taken ill until I figure out a...fittingly Lovecraftian way to write him out of the story.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:50, Fri 25 Oct 2019.

McNeil nodded, giving the merchant a knowing smile. ”I do recall it, yes. It was...very helpful and instructive.”

He drew out a small bag and handed it to the merchant, keeping his manner nonchalant, doing as much as possible to prevent the exchange from drawing attention.

Najir received what he did, and with a practiced grace, quickly inspected what he was provided and nodded, tucking it into a satchel that he wore over his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment and said, "Allahu Akbar" with a sigh, before opening them again.

"You want to know something about the Black Pharaoh...there is no need to speak around the matter...I will tell you what I know. Ask, but please speak in a quiet voice." His eyes darted around a bit, looking at the other people in the room and then back to McNeil, Rosalie, Fredde, Leo, and Harry.
This message was last updated by the player at 04:11, Wed 30 Oct 2019.

McNeil kept his voice low, but taking the merchant at his word, spoke directly to the matter at hand. ”I have it on good authority that at one time, you came into possession of some artifacts associated with this Black Pharaoh. And that you corresponded with a potential buyer regarding them. But, from what I’ve gathered, it ended badly. Your former shop was destroyed. I would like to know the story of what occurred. You needn’t concern yourself about anything that is...fantastic in your account. I promise, I am prepared to believe you.”

"Mostly, this began when Warren Besart, a Frenchman who lives in the old city and who served as an agent for an American named Roger Carlyle, contacted me to arrange a meeting. Carlyle sought information about the reign of the Black Pharaoh, a figure of myth and ill omen from the Fourth Dynasty. I told him what I knew and kept him coming back for more, and knowing him to be a wealthy man, I sought about to...acquire some items from someone who I knew possessed them. There was an ancient scroll that detailed the entrance to a hidden room in an unnamed pyramid where the Black Pharaoh was supposedly entombed. There was a bust of the Black Pharaoh. Also there was a small drum bearing odd symbols, and a strange circlet with a large zircon which was said to be the crown of the Black Pharaoh - supposedly the key to his triumph over death."

He looked around another time, before continuing.

"With Carlyle's agreement, I sold these items to Besart. You see...I thought it all superstition and strange interests. But there are still people who worship the Black Pharaoh, and the man I stole the items from...Omar Shakil...I am convinced that he is very highly ranked in their group of worshipers. He sent some kind of strange demon to burn my shop, a thing of fire, I am convinced of it. I barely escaped with my life, but I carry these burns on my face to this day."

As Faraz Najir began answering questions, Leo observed the man and tried to pick up anything that seemed out of place in his demeanor or responses.

OOC:
10:40, Today: Secret Roll: Dr. Leonardo Elias rolled 8 using 1d100 with rolls of 8.  Psychology (78).

 

The quiet chatter around the room continued unabated, their own conversation seeming to simply fall in place as one of many, though the only one conducted in English.

OOC:

PM

Warren Besart. Omar Shakil. McNeil silently committed the names to memory. His mind began to race with questions,  but he focused on a single inquiry at a time. ”This unnamed pyramid where the Black Pharaoh was said to be entombed. Did you ever learn anything with regard to its location? Might it have been somewhere in the vicinity of the Sphinx?”

As the two men confer, Fredde turns her back to them, letting her eyes drift over the room and its other occupants. She itches for a cigarette but knows such a blaphemous act would draw attention, if not wrath. So she keeps her hands under the hooded robe Rosalie had found for her and absorbs her surroundings.

He shook his head. "I know only little of that; I attempted to eavesdrop on a meeting between Besart and Carlyle, but was not successful. Still, I heard that Carlyle and his expedition were to be at Dahshur as the main site of their activities, where there are several pyramids - I do not know which it was. If you can find Warren Besart, I believe the Frenchman knows many things, but I think he too may be afraid...I saw him once by chance on the Street of Scorpions but a week ago, and when he chanced to make eye contact with me, he turned about and disappeared into a throng of people. I have tried to look around for him - in the Old City, it is not hard to find a European man - but he is a hard man to find. But he knows more. He went with Carlyle on his expedition as well, and made local arrangements. But something has scared him."

McNeil nodded. Clearly, locating Besart was a matter of high priority. ”Omar Shakil. What can you tell me about him? Is he still here in Cairo? Aside from his possession of the artifacts you procured, what makes you so certain that he a person of high rank among the worshippers of the Black Pharaoh?”

"Of Shakil, I know little more other than that the number of artifacts that he had...were significant. These items, they are not easily come about in a flea market, and I do not believe they are given out so easily. I admit to flaws in how I once lived my life...in the purloining of such valuable items, but I was good at it, and good at providing the things that people wanted if they were not well guarded. Shakil was overconfident that no one would dare it, and he had so many - more than I have ever seen. This is a...secretive group, you see, that he is in. Even knowing about them is dangerous, let alone attempting to sell their artifacts. Dangerous, but lucrative - a trade I am no longer in. Even this...the trade of information is quite dangerous."

"I have a source that I trust who took me into confidence about Shakil. Apparently, the principals of the Carlyle Expedition had dinner several times with him several times, as have other expeditions sponsored by the Penhew Foundation. Shakil is a wealthy cotton plantation owner and not in the trade of archaeology, but somehow seems to be a local connection to these groups," Price added, recalling his meeting with Nigel Wasif at the Cairo Bulletin.

McNeil silently absorbed the information. Shakil, it seemed, was out in plain sight, but behind what amounted to very thick walls. He seriously doubted that the plantation owner was simply a wealthy collector. Najir was likely correct that what had later befallen his store was the result of Shakil’s handiwork.

”Your shop. What precisely happened to it following this transaction with Besart? It sounds as though you were lucky to have escaped with your life.”

"It sounds like foolishness to speak it aloud, but I swear that it is true. My shop was attacked by a being made of pure fire that came from the sky. It was a demon with the figure like a man within the flames that was hard to perceive, but so wrapped in flames that I could not tell much more. I was blessed to flee with my life. Perhaps the same sort of tragedy has visited Besart, though he was not scarred as I was."

”I don’t wish to keep you here any longer than necessary,” McNeil said, mindful of the merchant’s nervousness. His decision to abstain from alcohol had left his nerves raw, the filter that kept him numb to the world and its tragedies gone. ”Roger Carlyle. I know that you corresponded with him. Did you ever have any dealings with him in person? Him or any of the other members of the Carlyle Expedition?”

He shook his head in the negative, and continued to glance around the place timidly as they spoke.

"My dealings were mainly with Besart. I met Carlyle maybe once or twice in passing, but it was very quick and we spoke few words, polite conversation. Everything of any meaning passed through the Frenchman. He was an..." He fumbled for the word. "Agent. He was their agent here locally. They may have used others, but he was the only one that I met. If Carlyle had a need...they would speak to me. Of the others, I know their names only from the newspapers."

He patted the envelope that McNeil had handed to him not long before that.

"I thank you for this, but I think we have spoken for as much length here as I care to. I have told you all I know about this, at some risk to myself, though you have compensated me for that much - but if there is more, I cannot think of it. And our meeting here may draw some eyes and create some talk. Be watchful for a few days. And talk to Besart. What I know is but a pittance compared to what he must know." With that, he rose to his feet, and did his best to surreptitiously leave the room.

OOC:

Of course, if anyone has any further questions for him, you can stop him, but unless accosted, Najir is eager to leave.

Leo didn't have any further questions for the man, but thought it wise to heed his warning. He leaned closer to the others. "We will look out of place here. Shall we go somewhere less conspicuous to discuss and plan?"

"A capital idea, Dr. Elias," Harry said, gesturing for the others to stand up as he did. Faraz Najir hadn't moved too quickly, but was evidently leaving their gathering now.

They filed out of the building in Najir's wake. The community room was beginning to clear out in anticipation of the next call to prayer, and they were able to move out among the crowd, though they slipped out of the mosque rather than following Najir into the prayer hall.

Down the street, Harry spotted a tea shop where they could gather that seemed to be empty of patrons for the moment, likely on account of them all being at the mosque for the prayer time. The owner still seemed to be there, and Harry found a table for them in the far corner of the small shop, ordering a pot of tea and cups for the lot of them, taking a sip of his and waiting for the owner to depart.

"Avery makes a mean cup of Earl Gray, but this tea here is nothing to sneeze at. So, what're our next steps?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:23, Thu 21 Nov 2019.

”Based on what Najir told us, I would say that locating and speaking with Warren Besart should be one of the priorities,” McNeil offered, “I think he might be able to shed some light on the Carlyle Expedition and their motives. He may also possess some valuable insight into the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh.”

“Visiting with Omar Shakil also has the potential to yield some key information.” He shrugged. ”Breaking into the man’s home and getting a look at his records and collections would likely be even better, but there would certainly be danger involved. I have a feeling you would have sufficient social standing to secure an interview with him, sir.” He nodded to Leo. ”Perhaps a social call could also serve to obtain a clear idea of the layout of his home, for those who might try to obtain information through less...ah, traditional means later on..”

He drew some tobacco and papers from his jacket, suddenly thankful that his hands had something to occupy them. ”At some point, I’d like to do some research on this idea of tunnels existing beneath the Sphinx. It might be that the folklore surrounding those accounts could provide a clearer idea about what the Penhew Foundation might be seeking.”

Leo took a sip of tea, grateful for what seemed like a respite. Even though they weren't in immediate danger, the constant feeling out being of place didn't help. Avoiding attracting undue attention helps, but just being a group of European descent likely made them somewhat noteworthy.

His attention went over to Dominic as the man offered his thoughts. "Yes, Besart seems like he should be our primary focus." He thought about Shakil for a moment, then nodded. "I will try to arrange a meeting with Mister Shakil. I agree that a social call would seem a good first step."

The physician rubbed his chin in thought. "In addition to researching the tunnels, I'd also like to get a look at what remains of Najir's ruined shop."

Fredde gulps down the strong, hot tea. She disliked being in the mosque. It hadn't seemed like a place for a white woman to be.

"Where's the entrance to these tunnels?"

The guide had promised to wait outside nearby while they met with Najir in the mosque, and had found his way into the tea shop when the party did. He didn't participate in the conversation, but did chime in when Dr. Elias mentioned an interest in seeing Najir's old shop.

"I can take you to the place if you wish - Najir's old shop; it is not far from here, maybe a few blocks away."

Leo nodded, though looked around for any dissenting opinions. "I'd like a quick look, though is there a way to do so without being obvious? The shop may be watched by people we'd rather not meet."

He looked over the group, scratching his beard as he smiled, considering.

"These two, pull their veils a bit down lower to hide more of the face, and follow behind, heads a bit lower. I will walk in the front, and ustaaz here can follow me so they will see the bearded men coming first," he pointed to Dominic.

Looking at Leo and Harry, he frowned a bit. "For you two...there is little to be done. The clothing you have purchased is good. It will help you avoid the most notice, but if they look closely they will see your faces. If you had beards perhaps...some of your features could be hidden. While you are here, perhaps it is good for you to consider this if you wish to blend a bit more. But for today, I think you have done the most. The best thing is to be quick. I will speak as if you are interested in purchasing or renting the place. Most people avoid it, believing it to be cursed by demons, so it may actually be most believable that I am trying to sell it to a white man."

He grinned at the suggestion that he would present himself as attempting to bamboozle the group.

"It is a crowded street, and it will be busy, except for around Najir's old shop which sits empty now. If you do what you came to do quickly, and we leave quickly, then I think you can avoid notice."

McNeil nodded in silent agreement with Asim’s proposal. Rubbing his jaw, he recalled recently having toyed with the idea of shaving his beard off. He was suddenly glad he had resisted the impulse.

"Should I also try to grow a beard, as well?" Rosalie joked.  "It would certainly be cooler than this getup."  She'd removed her headscarf to give herself some air as she fanned her face.  Cairo in February wasn't sweltering, but it was still a bit uncomfortable to be wearing long sleeves and a long skirt.

"Uncle, if you'd like me to go along on your social call, I'd be more than willing.  Of course, I could also assist Mr. McNeil with his research.  It is up to the two of you to decide where you think I'd be better placed."

Fredde wore the gown and headscarf without too much discomfort, though she disliked how they restricted her freedom of movement.

"Like Ro says, set me down anywhere you think I'll be the most use."

Leo nodded at Rosalie's suggestion. "Yes, please join me on the social call. He may wonder why I'm in Cairo, and one possible explanation is that I decided to accompany you here. We can determine if it's better to all stick together or split up once we've taken a quick look at Najir's old place."

The physician gestured in the direction they seemed destined to go and nodded to Asim. "This sounds like as good a plan as any. Let's go."

McNeil fell in step behind the doctor and his niece. Glancing over at Harry Price, he said, ”I think I’m better off sticking with libraries and dust covered books. Probably safer for all involved. It’s been years since I was civilized enough to make a respectable showing at any sort of social call.”

“On the other hand, I imagine such a visit would fall right into your realm of expertise,” he told the solicitor.

"The meeting with Shakil? Let's talk more about that when we're in the comfort of our hotel, my friend. There's a little tidbit that I held back in Najir's company that may determine whether or not that's a wise idea," he said to Dominic.

Leo raised an eyebrow as Harry spoke. "Sounds good, Mister Price. Let's head back there after we get our peek at Najir's shop."

Once more, Asim lead their small procession into the Old City, weaving into narrow alleys that were redolent of aromatic secrets, the scents of strange spices and perfumes mingling with that of foreign foods and sweat and dirt as they found themselves before a site that all seemed to avoid, a wide open area cleared around it. Those that even came close could be heard invoking the name of Allah and moving quickly to clear from around it.

The spot where Asim lead them was a burned-out hole in the ground. Some trace elements of what was presumably a structure remain, though the whole area is blackened and soot covered, even the very earth on the floor which is effectively a large and wide hole about three feet deep.

"Best we are here not too long. I am not sure what there is to see...but this is it. It is said that some five or six years back, a demon burned this place to the ground." Asim didn't act as if he believed any such thing, but for all of his bravado, he seemed to edge back a bit from the perimeter of the area and studied their faces for the first indication that they wished to be taken back to the hotel.

OOC:

It is clear even from a casual inspection that there is nothing here but rubble and refuse.

As they walked by, Leo tried to casually reconstruct what had happened in his mind's eye.

He did respond to Asim's comment. "Hm, that long ago, eh? Interesting that it hasn't been fixed up since."

"Nobody of any respect wants anything to do with this place, and even those willing to roll the dice with the place are wary of what others will think of them. Blasphemers are not well looked upon." He shrugged.

Leo nodded at the response, then kept casually moving along behind their guide. He had seen what he'd come to see.

OOC:
13:38, Today: Dr. Leonardo Elias rolled 40 using 1d100 with rolls of 40.  Sanity (67).

When they had regrouped at the hotel and Asim had taken a break, Price arranged a rather secluded corner of the hotel's bar for them to get a table around. There weren't many takers at the bar at this time of day, giving them a wide berth for their conversation.

"Yesterday I had a chance to meet with a local newspaperman, Nigel Wasif. During the course of our conversation, we each laid our cards on the table. Amboy threw caution to the wind and told the whole tale of Gavigan, but it turned out to work for the best. It was the type of reveal that seemed to gain Mr. Wasif's trust. He told us about Omar Shakil, and that he was involved with the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh."

He let that sink in for a moment.

"I thought that given the events that took place in the English countryside, that we may wish to think more carefully on the prospect of visiting the country estate of a wealthy cult-related figure. It feels all too familiar. We're strangers in a strange land here, Dr. Elias. There's no Lieutenant Poole and Constable Hawkins and a cavalry of bobbies to come to our rescue."

Leo's eyebrows rose as he heard what Price had to say. "Hm, yes, that does sound familiar and your warning is well taken. Perhaps in that case we should focus on Besart first?"

Leo cared about the well-being of his friends and family, though the importance of getting to the bottom of this mystery was worth some risk. But not poorly considered and ill-advised risks that were unlikely to yield positive results.

He nodded.

"Wasif did also mention that someone or the other on the Clive Expedition might have been connected to the Brotherhood, so there's an element of risk there, though he doesn't have proof other than some meetings they had with this Omar Shakil. That makes Besart the lowest risk prospect to start with. Does anyone have any ideas as to how we can locate a skittish and cagey Frenchman?"

”We could, of course, involve Asim in the search for Besart, though I anticipate that he may only be able to come up with hints and rumors. Clues that would require further investigation. It sounds as though Besart, unlike Vanheuvelen, is putting forth considerable effort to remain hidden”

McNeil crossed his arms. ”I had planned to pay another visit to the Egyptian Museum soon. I’m confident that Dr. Kafour, my friend that is on the staff there, would allow me access to their library to research the question of the tunnels beneath the Sphinx. But I could inquire about Besart with him. Since he was closely connected to the Carlyle Expedition, Dr. Kafour might know something of what became of him afterward.”

“I have a hunch that Besart is still using his expertise to scratch out a living here in Cairo. My thought would be that he could be arranging sales of antiquities...or similar items of value on the black market. If anyone is feeling brave, perhaps Asim could point us toward a saloon in the Old City where such transactions are frequently made.”

Leo frowned at Price's response. It seemed there were potential enemies everywhere. He wasn't certain which was worse, actual enemies or that they now felt like they could be anywhere.

"Starting with the museum seems a wise move. Relatively low risk."

Rosalie was frowning, lost in thought for a moment as Harry's warning drew up memories of all those that they'd lost to such terrible circumstances.  Her family was shrinking, condensed now to only a bare handful, and she felt such emptiness at that loss.  Still, as a practical woman, she knew she couldn't fully throw herself into grief.  Not yet.

She sighed. "As Najir said he'd been looking for the man for some time without any luck, I doubt we'd do much better by simply scouring the old city blindly.  Perhaps Asim could make inquiries for us in the Old City to see if anyone has noticed the Frenchman about.  To better hone in on his location, we do need more information about the man, either gathered from those that knew him and might know his habits, or from articles on the expedition that might mention him and his role.  Do you think Vanheuvelen might know more about him?"