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.