She certainly did look afraid. "No, I don't know anyone else. He is reporter, yes? Maybe if he writes the story police will know where to look. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go." She stood up and left them, making her way quickly for the door.

Tommy had been listening with interest, entranced by Zubaida. She seemed to him at that infatuated moment so brave...and he couldn't help but notice that even in her less provocative clothing she was awfully curvy. But he was a reporter with a job to do. Time to hunt some facts.
As she stood to leave he stood to assist her, hurrying to clarify.
"You said you don't see the people...but do you know anything more about them? Are they all men? Can you say if they were Egyptian, or were English men amongst them?". He began to scribble down notes on any answers she gave.
His brow furrowed.
"The owners of the Blue Pyramid must know about it too right? Do you think they are involved? Or is the Pyramid just the meeting place for another group?".

"All men," she said quickly and quietly before hurrying away from them.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:57, Tue 28 June 2016.

Moretti was quiet for a long moment after the dancer departed. Taking another drink of beer, he said, "We need to drop by this spice shop. Have a look around. Maybe talk to the owner. See if anything unusual grabs our attention. It's late. It'll have to wait until tomorrow."

He reached into his jacket, retrieving a package of Modianos. He took one of the cigarettes, lighting it with a match. "But before we get too deep into this, I think we need to give serious thought to contacting Barrington at Scotland Yard and letting him know what we've learned. This isn't New York. Barrington's predecessor that was looking into these murders was killed. The police here are genuinely invested in seeing the people responsible for these crimes stopped."

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke."Barrington even said he was on the edge of taking Jackson's theory about the Brotherhood seriously. I think he'd listen to what we have to say."

Tommy nodded at Moretti's surmise.
"I think you are right, lets hope Leo agrees.

I've no doubt I could get a story like this published - hell even the Scoop would jump on those nuggets. But I dont think that will help Zubaida. The Egyptian community have stayed quiet about this thing, and that means they are scared.".
He glanced toward the door she had vanished into the night from, sighing with admiration.
"She's brave, but if we publish what she told us...if there is any truth in it...someone is going to wind up dead.".

His voice lowered conspiratorially.
"'Problem is we think Jackson already told Barrington about the 'Black Pharaoh' though right? Why hasn't he hit that lead harder? Maybe that means we need to dig this a little deeper before we talk to him.".

Tommy took a long drink of his beer. Thinking about cults made him feel darkly sober.
"We should probably get back to the others.".

  Millicent watched the woman leave, well looks like they weren't going to get anything more from her and poor Tommy wasn't going to get a date.

  "Do you think she'll be ok," she asked with some concern. "If anyone suspected her of prying, they might try to silence her. And Tommy's right, going to the cops with this will probably get someone killed."

 She gave a sigh, holding her head for a moment; "Boy, we're in a real pickle aren't we. We have this knowledge and don't know what the hell do do with it. If we meddle, WE might be the ones to get something bad to happen to us. If we go to the Yard, someone innocent might die. But if we do nothing, people will continue to disappear and die. Whatever we do, death seems to be inevitable. God, if I didn't need a clear head, I would get plastered right about now."

Taking another draw on his cigarette, Moretti shrugged. "Truth is, Mr. Cotton, I think he didn't look at the Brotherhood angle hard because he didn't believe it. Not at first, anyway. Barrington thought Jackson was sincere, honest, despite what he heard from other quarters."

"See, it's not hard for us to buy in to the idea of a cult, based on what we saw in New York. But it's not an easy sell to the guy on the street. Honestly, a hundreds year old secret society sacrificing people right under everyone's noses? Come on. No one wants to believe that."

He exhales slowly."Barrington didn't say what angles he tried first, but he had to be thinking gangland." Moretti smiled self consciously. "With the way the murders were done, he was probably assuming it was some outfit within the Egyptian community. A group that gives protection, demands tribute. Punishes those who don't fall in line. That's a lot easier to swallow than the Brotherhood of the Black Pharoah."

"It also has to do with the man himself. I've dealt with plenty of cops in New York. You get a sense of who's willing to bend the rules, look the other way on things, and who isn't. Barrington does things strictly by the book. He's the kind of policeman who always has one eye on the courtroom. Always thinking about how he's going to make his case against the guy he's chasing. He doesn't cut corners or ignore procedure."

He took another drag. "Guy like that, he's going to eliminate all the obvious possibilities before he considers anything outlandish. But now, everything he's tried has come up dry and he's still got a stack of unsolved murders, including one of a police inspector. He's at that point where he's willing to listen to a few weird theories. Like a cult."

He blew out a lazy stream of smoke, suddenly aware that the weariness of the day had found him. "Still, we'll have to be careful how we talk to him. If we do. Like Miss O'Connor pointed out, we have to consider all the angles. Last thing we want to do is get someone else killed."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:35, Wed 29 June 2016.

The reporter nodded agreement.
"Maybe you're right Moretti. I guess I'm just wary after New York.

What do you say; we head back to the hotel? We've got a tale to tell the others for sure.
Maybe walk down Wardour Street on the way. Get the lay of the land and all that.".

 Millicent nodded in agreement ad she finished off her drink. "Sounds good to me, I could use some fresh air. Pubs are dandy and all, but after a while the air just gets to you," waving her hand in front of her to show her point.

  "Oh, Mr. Moretti, if you do think of talking to Barrington about this, I hope he believes you and doesn't decide to lock you up for intoxication or worse. That's all we need on top of everything else."

Moretti shrugged into his long coat. He grinned. "I have it on fairly good authority that intoxication is pretty minor as British offenses go. The police offer bail pretty quickly and you usually end up with a fine. I've got the cash on hand to handle both. Wouldn't want Leo to pay for my legal missteps."

He took a last draw on his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the table. "Besides, London jail's bound to be better than Welfare Island."

Although he was trying to sound flippant, Moretti did not feel the confidence he was trying to exude. If they involved Barrington, presuming the Inspector was willing to seriously consider what they had heard from Zubaida, the fact remained that they would be handing partial control of their efforts to an outsider. And to Moretti, that would always feel wrong.

"But that's assuming the others feel that's a sound course. Regardless, I think we need to have a look at the spice shop first."

He nodded at Cotton's suggestion of a walk. At home, walks had always proven better than whiskey or aspirin at clearing his head. Perhaps the streets of London would offer comparable comfort.

Tommy heaved himself up from his seat, holding the door for Millicent before following her and Vincent into the cold dark evening.

Here in the heart of Soho the lights and sounds of late night revelry bathed the streets, with various gentlemen coming and going about their business. They ducked in and out of view into the narrow London alleys that met the main thoroughfare, perhaps heading home or to indulge in the darker seductions Soho was famed for.

The reporter tugged his jacket collar closer as a chill swept down his spine. Peering at the road names he continued the conversation from the pub. "I think we decided to get involved in this mess the moment we decided to come to London. Jackson thought the Pharaoh was important, so we should too right? Although", he mused for a moment "Jackson also didn't think it was important enough to stay in London and figure out either. He went to Egypt quickly enough right?
But he didn't meet the lovely Zubaida.".

Spying a friendly looking walker he flagged the man down.
"Which way to Wardour Street buddy?".

Moretti quietly took in the sights of Soho, appreciating the unique sights the neighborhood offered, even as he sensed that, beneath the surface, the place held many similarities with the streets he called home.

He grinned at Cotton. "This Zubaida has really gotten under your skin, hasn't she? I almost feel obligated to look into this for that reason alone. It may be my best opportunity to become a godparent."

He pulled his gloves on, one at a time. "But, you're right. It does seem that Jackson didn't pursue the Brotherhood. It's almost as though he felt that his report to Scotland Yard was enough. Maybe he was just too focused on the Carlyle Expedition to devote his energies elsewhere."

He frowned, pausing to look up at the night sky. "I have to admit, part of my concern may just be due to the way I think. My business, you're always looking for angles. Connections and weaknesses. It just seems...well, incredible that Jackson found evidence of an ancient cult here in London, even as he was chasing the legends of another one in Africa."

"Not to sound foreboding or anything, but speaking professionally, on more than one occasion it's proven unhealthy, for myself and my associates, to overlook those kinds of coincidences. It may not always be obvious, but there's usually a reason such similarities exist."

 Millicent listened to the 2 men talk as they walked the darkened streets. Normally she would not be caught dead this late at night out here, but she felt safe enough with her 2 companions.

  "It make you wonder doesn't it, what in the world is in Africa that would make someone leave this mystery? Jeepers, wasn't ritualistic cult murders interesting enough for the man?" Milly shook her head in doubt; "Obviously not and it makes me both curious and not really wanting to find out what this other cult really is. God help us, New York, London, Africa, where in the world will the next one be, cause it sounds like they're all over the place from what we keep finding out."

  A look of horror came across her. "Oh God, you don't think there's one in Ireland do you?"

As they walked down an empty Ardour Street, they came upon a small, neat, two-story building. There was a spice shop on the ground floor, lettered prominently in English with Arabic subtext. The shop seems ordinary from the outside, but even from outside of it, the pleasant smell of strong spices lingers. The shop's door is predictably locked, being well after the posted business close at 5:00 pm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Thu 07 July 2016.

"This Zubaida has really gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"
The 'ace' reporter chuckled.
"You wern't sat where I was Vinny; of course she's under my skin!". He glanced at Millicent. For some reason he couldn't quite fathom the reporter found himself adding hurriedly "Though, I dont love her obviously.". Though why Milly's opinion might matter was anyone's guess.

Together the trio walked on and Tommy pulled the collar of his coat closer as the cool night air sent a chill down his spine. He followed Vincent's glance skyward, catching glimpses of unknown constellations half hidden by billowing cloud.

"Oh God, you don't think there's one in Ireland do you?"
"They cant be everywhere can they? We'd know? Somehow they would have been found out, made rumors...?". Even as he spoke he doubted himself. The evidence of New York and London suggested otherwise. "I guess we can only confront what we know...".

Turning Northward they saw the street name come in to view;
Wardour Street, and the conversation faded away. Being careful to take his time Cotton strolled casually by the shop, glancing inside and to the windows above.

OOC - Any homeless folk near by? Knowing the area I'm imagining the shop is in the middle of a terrace with no side streets to its rear or anything?

OOC:

No homeless folks nearby. It's not connected to the next building; there is a way around back should you seek it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:28, Fri 08 July 2016.

Moretti studied the shop's windows for a moment. Satisfied that there were no lights on in the building, he looked up and down the street, making certain that the group wasn't being observed. Glancing at his two companions, he said, "I'm going to have a look around back."

Moving quietly along the side of the structure, he made his way to the rear of the shop.

12:45, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 10 using 1d100 with rolls of 10.  Sneak - Sneak 71%

Vincent moved like a wraith, slipping into the shadows as if he were a trained assassin. The back of the building was less well lit than the front, but the stars, the waxing crescent moon, and the glow from the front was sufficiently pervasive to allow him to make out a back door to the building.

Curious, Moretti approached the back door quietly. Pressing his ear to it, he paused, listening intently for any noises of activity within the darkened shop.

14:46, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 22 using 1d100 with rolls of 22.  Listen - Listen 25%

  Millicent glanced curiously at the shop as they approached. "So there's the infamous shop; looks pretty unremarkable, probably have to come back tomorrow to see anyone..."

 Her words died as she saw Vincent head to the rear. "Is he serious," she hissed in a whisper to Tommy. "Well if he gets caught, I don't know either of you lot."

Millicant gave a sigh, "I better keep an eye out, make sure no one curious or otherwise stumbles upon us. You want to go help him, be sure he doesn't get into trouble?" 

PM:

Hearing only silence, Moretti took a try at the lock on the door, hoping for a look inside. However, either because of the darkness that pervaded the back of the shop, or the composition of the lock itself, he was unable to open it.

Quietly, he sighed in frustration.

10:37, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 98 using 1d100 with rolls of 98.  Locksmith - Locksmith 70%

The pick Vincent was using snapped.

Moretti quietly made his way back to the front of the shop. He smiled at his companions ruefully. "Thought I might get a peek inside. Place is silent as a tomb, but I couldn't work the lock in the dark. Only way in is to strongarm the back door, and I don't think we want to risk that kind of attention."

He glanced back at the shop while he retrieved a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Guess it'll have to wait until we can pay it a legitimate visit tomorrow."

  The relief on Millicent's face was quite plain. "Oh well, them's the breaks right? It's probably all for the best; as you say, we can check out the place in the morning and if we need to try this again, we'll be more prepared for it."

  She gave a look around and checked her watch. "Well, shall we head back or is there more you want to check out? Might be good to get some sleep before the morning."