The Scoop Offices
Fleet Street
Thursday Afternoon
January 29th, 1925

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 1):

Raising his eyebrows at his companions, Walter walks to the indicated door and raps sharply.

Tommy shrugged, used to the demands of the newsroom deadline. He leafed through a copy of the days paper, chuckling kindly at some of the stories.
"I like this!". he muttered absently.
Far from the 'Times it reminded him of the small-time gossip rag he'd worked for as a kid. They'd been good days.

If Mahoney emerged he would gladly introduce himself. "Mr Mahoney? A pleasure to meet you. Tommy Cotton, New York Times. Allow me to introduce my companions - Walter Brandon and Millicent O'Connor.".

"Come on in, come on in," he said, clearing papers and folders that were stacked on chairs to make room for them to sit down.

"Mickey Mahoney," he said, shaking their hands.

"Have a seat, have a seat. Kensington wired, said you'd be in, 'e did. Also told me about Jackson. Shame, innit? Good bloke if I ever met one. Good at diggin' all kindsa rubbish out too. So, what brings ya ta London?"

Mahoney sat behind his desk and surveyed them over steepled hands. He was a tough looking Irishman in his early forties.

  Millicent walked in with the others carrying a small bag and looked around. She herself had never been in a newspaper office but it looked pretty busy. She gave Tommy a nudge. "Bet it feels like home doesn't it? I sure hope this fellow is cooperative."

   Soon they were in Mahoney's office. Millicent shook the man's hand and said; "Pleased to meet you; it's a fine paper you have here and it's kind of you to take time out of your schedule for us. And I'm glad you brought up Mr. Elias for he is the reason why we are here. We are looking into his death as well as his activities, part of which have led us here to England; and we were hoping very much you could help us with that."

  Before he could say anything, Millicent reached into the bag she brought and pulled out a bottle of fine Irish whiskey and gave Mr. Mahoney a smile, handing him the bottle. "A little gift for ye, after all, we can't expect a fine Irishman such as yourself to do all that talking without something to wet your whistle now or later, your choice."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:37, Wed 16 Mar 2016.

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 4):

Walter nodded from the doorway as his associates made themselves at home. He leaned against the wall and tipped his hat back.

"Heya, Mahoney, pleased to meet you."

Mahoney chuckled at the compliment. "Aye, a fine paper," he said, the emphasis making it clear that he found the compliment amusing.

He grinned at the offer of the whiskey and took the bottle. [Language unknown: "Era rutionast the"] he said to Millicent, tipping his hat to her.

"I see no reason not to have a drink, but it won't be needed to get me to talk," he said to them, pulling out a few glasses. He opened the bottle right there, and poured himself a measure as well as one for each of them without asking whether they wanted one or not.

"Pleased to meet ya as well," he said to Walter.

He took a long drink, finishing what he had poured himself, and poured another, though he didn't drink it immediately, leaving it to sit. "Jackson was a good bloke, as I said earlier. We'd go out for a pint most times he was passin' thru here. First met him when he came here to write a book a few years ago. Witch Cults of England. A good yarn, that was. Anyhow, last time he was in town he seemed in a rush. He promised me a story about an evil cult operating outta London, if ye can believe it."
This message was last updated by the player at 14:46, Wed 16 Mar 2016.

Tommy drew up a chair, taking the offered glass and clinking it cheerily against Mahoneys. "Cheers Mickey.".
He sat back to listen to the irishmans story.

"That ain't so hard to believe. Jackson did like to explore the occasional mystery of the occult didn't he? Hell, that's why we are here.".
Tommy grew more serious.
"We figured his death has something to do with whatever he was working on. The problem is, what exactly was he chasing up? That's what we hoped you could tell us more about.
We think it was something to do with the Carlyle expedition, and the way he was killed ... you probably saw the stories.
So a cult in London? None of us will laugh at that idea.

Question is why didn't he finish the story? And why did he leave London in a rush?".

An cult operating out of London though? On the Mauretania he'd managed to persuade himself the Juju house was somehow a one off. He glanced at 'Bo-he'd been there too, and felt a chill run down his spine.

Mahoney shrugged. "I don't rightly know. He didn't gimme a name, he jus' said they were well connected. I let him go through me archives. He seemed particularly interested in one article, let me see if I can find it," he said in his sing-song Irish accent.

Mahoney got up to go over to a filing cabinet, but turned over his shoulder to ask, "What's this about how he was killed, now? I don't know much about tha'. All Kensington said was that 'e'd been murdered." He listened to any response as he fumbled through what seemed to be an only somewhat disorganized filing cabinet.

Millicent gave a quirky smile;[Language unknown: "Arnd ainstrica romillive, allnd kordi tisanc u." ]
She accepted a glass and took a sip, nodding her approval. "My, that's good stuff, I certainly know how to pick em."

 She sat back and listened as Mahoney began his tale eyes widening as he mentioned the cult. Tommy seemed to react to the information too. Not surprising since he had been one of those who experienced that JuJu cult she had read about in the reports. God, she hoped that whatever this turned out to be was not like that one.

 "Mr. Mahoney," Millicent asked, "I'm curious, what was your reaction when Jackson mentioned the cult. Did you believe him at all or think he had one too many pints? Tales like that are certainly one for the pulps. I myself thought it was all a bunch of hooey when I first heard about it."

 She said nothing about Jackson's death feeling it was not her tale to tell; after all, she hadn't been there to give the details of the event.

Tommy held himself silent to allow Mahoney to answer Millicent's question. Was he one of those guys who believed in the conspiracies he wrote about? Or a cynical hack who new how to push people's buttons?
If Jackson had trusted him the former would be most likely, but he studied the Irishman's response carefully.

"There were a few murders actually. Six, no Seven including Jackson. That's how I got involved.".
He began to scribble an image in his notebook as he spoke.
"Gory stuff. All had ritualistic signs, and,", He turned his page around to show the mark he'd drawn. "This symbol was carved in to each body.".
http://s105.photobucket.com/us...zpsecc5fa0c.jpg.html

He grimaced. "Its old news now in New York though. Seems to have stopped, the police obviously put alot of men on it. We're just tying up loose ends and seeing London while we are at it.".
Until they knew Mahoney better he thought it best to downplay things slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was give Mahoney a new conspiracy to publish. At least not yet.

He raised an eyebrow as Mickey rummaged through his files. "Any luck with that story?".

Bo sips silently at his whiskey, content to let his companions take the lead with the reporter. He raises his glass to Millicent when she looks his way to salute her choice in liquor.

A cult in London? Bad business that. Maybe Scotland Yard had already run it to earth and it would be no more to his little band than grist for the mill, nothing they'd need to take a hand in.

He shivers slightly and drains the remainder of his glass.

"My reaction? I thought he was a right nutter, but I thought it would definitely sell. So I told him I'd pay him fifteen pounds for the story. Same offer stands for any of you if you can finish it up," he said.

He turned around and presented them with a clipping. "Ah, here it is."

Tommy took the offered paper, his eyes darting across the page. Mahoney hadn't blinked at the New York cult image, and the story didn't mention anything that resonated beyond murder, and that was a world wide occurrence. He was reassured at least that whatever had been going on at the JuJu house wasn't also rearing its head here. Hopefully.

He passed the clipping to his friends and looked back to Mahoney.
"There are murders all the time though right? Surely bodies of unknown foreigners are dredged up after a mugging often enough. What makes this one particularly special...or the others over the last few years?".

It made sense why a sensationalist rag like the scoop would try and make news of it, but why would Elias dig out this story? As far as he could tell there were five facts in the piece and he noted them down carefully.
A foreigner.
The Thames.
The 24th victim over 3 years.
A beating.
A stabbing.

No, six facts. The reward was increasing.

Instead of hurrying to other questions he paused to see what the others made of it.

"Well, no symbols carved into victims like yours, I s'pose. Well, they're all Egyptians specifically. Not just any foreigners. They've all gotten beaten to death quite harshly, and then stabbed through the heart. In that order. That doesn't just turn up all the time, y'know," he said.