In reply to Mrs. Shipley (msg #103):

Taking the seat he had recently vacated the Count replies;

"Well I wouldn't say I could be of any help, but I do know one or two of the board members at the RA."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #104):

"You would? That would be wonderful. Oh, you didn't give me your card already did you? I get so forgetful sometimes." She looked up the stairs, with a puzzled look. "I'm sure he said they were coming down, no, wait, your friend the lady was looking at the painting? My word, I get so confused sometimes."

As Mrs Shipley looks up the stairs the Count nods towards Mr Singh indicating the door to the basement.

"So tell me more about this premier work, has Miles been working on it long ?"

Singh sreps into the parlour, snapping the Count a military salute, "Your Grace, I will check on the car and driver."

He leaves the house and hurries to the car, "Mr Webley, I need your assistance." Leading Phil to the house, he explains, "Miss Fuller may be in the cellar, but the inside door is locked. We'll look for an exterior door or window."

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #107):

"Right!  Driver stay HERE!"
Phil gets out and does a quick check of his Luger. He starts to scan the 'house' and move towards the left side.
"I may not have the license yet, but I have the will Mr. Singh."

Cynthia withdraws the painting from the closet to give it a proper examination (front and back). She also takes the opportunity to check the closet for anything else of interest. If Miles complains, she gives him another look until he shuts up.

Upstairs

The closet held the painting on an easel, plus some cleaning supplies. As she strained to see it better, Miles stepped in from behind and blocked her view. He pulled a drop-cloth over the frame and then shoved her back, hard, towards the top of the stairs. "No! It's not for the likes of you!" He then locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Any looks were met with a hard, possibly unbalanced stare.


Keeper's Note: the homes in the 1920's did not have garages to the right of the front door, as automobiles were not common (or indeed around) when they were built. Aatually, you can get floor plans for 6 Holbein Mews on the Internet, but these days it's a heavily-remodeled 3-story walk-up with a garage and no basement that retails for about $7 million.

Outside the House

The house was a row house, one in a series of brick homes. As such it had no sides that weren't other houses. It likely had a rear alley accessed from further up the lane. To the left of the door were casement windows, to the right was a wall with high bedroom windows. There was no basement access.

The cab driver spilled his flask of tea in surprise. "'Cor, wot's goin' on?" He started the car.

Inside the Parlour

"Oh, it was quite a labour of love getting it finished, all right..."

Singh barged past them and saluted on his way out the front door, startling Mrs. Shipley. "My word! What's all this fuss? I shan't be letting anyone back in, it's getting all too much for me!"

She got up and went to the front door, looking out at Singh, the car, and Phil. With a squeak of fear she locked the front door and took the key with her. "Heaven's sake! What's going on here? I will call the police this instant!" The little old woman bustled off towards the kitchen.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:24, Thu 22 Dec 2011.

The Count followed her into the kitchen.

"Sorry... there must be some mistake. I think Mr Singh was just checking the taxi was not leaving."

He tried to think of something else that may defuse the situation.

"So how much are you asking for the major work." He rummages in his inside pocket looking for his bill fold.

"Yes my good lady, lets talk business. I think Mrs Holloway is interested in the major work and if the price is right I may take the large mountain work as well."

He watched the woman trying to gauge whether she had calmed down. He also tried to lead her back to the parlour closing the door when she entered.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:50, Thu 22 Dec 2011.

JM woke as the train slowed, looking out the window and spotting his motorcycle with sidecar still parked next to the train stand.  He whistled merrily and rose, grabbing his case.

Come along now Major, we have a plane to catch.  I hope you don't mind riding in the side car.  I assure you it is perfectly safe.

"Go round to the alley and look," Singh tells Phil as he goes back into the house.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #113):

Singh tried the front door, only to find it was locked.

Meanwhile, Phil started up the street to find the alley that led to the rear lane.

Singh knocks politely.

Cynthia is unperturbed by all of this nonsense. She gives him one more good look, then walks down stairs, taking her time.

She then sits down at the table, pulls out her banker's checks, and begins making one out. Sooner or later the Mrs. will notice. It would be much less embarrassing for her if she didn't have to apologize to the police when they arrive, but such things are not of Cynthia's concern.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:48, Thu 22 Dec 2011.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #116):

Inside the House

Miles returned Cynthia's look with a coldness bordering on anger, seemingly a different and perhaps more dangerous person from the babbling wreck of a few minutes earlier. As she left the loft, she heard Miles lock the door and follow. Without a word he saw her down to the ground floor, staying up on the first floor.

Cynthia tried the front door, found it was locked. As it was an older-style lock that required the key (which was missing) she was unable to unlock the front door.

Mrs. Shipley trundled into the kitchen, locking the rear door and putting that key into her knitting bag along with the front door key. She looked at Cynthia and the Count.

"I say, what's this all about? I have half a mind to..." she paused. "Eh, you mean you want to buy? My son's best work is not for sale. You may purchase any others for eighty pound each."

Cynthia arches an eyebrow. She writes the check for two hundred. "I would like the mountain and the one in the closet. I trust this will cover any inconvenience."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #118):

Basket on arm, Mrs. Shipley crossed her arms and set her mouth in a line.

"The one in the closet is Not For Sale."

"Come.. my good lady Mrs Holloway has made a generous offer... could we not come to some sort of arrangement."

He turns to Miles in the doorway;

"Miles would you not part with your crowning glory ?

Miles walked to the kitchen door.

"My mother said it's not for sale. I say it's not for sale. You can have any other one."

There was a knock at the front door. Bertha Shipley paused in mid-pour of the hot water into the teapot, cocked her head, listening.

"What's that? Someone at the front door? Who could that be?"

"So be it, but maybe we could sweeten the offer by say £50 pounds ?"

He waited to see if they would change their minds, if not he adds;

"Well Mrs Holloway do you need to take another look at the large piece in the studio or to choose one of the others to go with it ?"

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #123):

"The one in the studio I will be willing to sell for £130. That is, the temple in the jungle. Any other for £80. Those are the only ones for sale."

Excellent Karlheinz.  We'll be taking the Brisfit up as is.  No installation of those guns until the time is right, though, good work getting them ready.  Major, you are welcome to ride in the truck, or hop in the sidecar as you choose

He gives the Major time to decide, but not a lot, before slipping goggles over his eyes and kicking the Triumph to life and gunning it back for the airfield.  It's so tiring just to ride, a pilot lives to feel the wind on his face, after all.  The commander of his own destiny, as it were.

He wastes no time as they arrive at the aerodrome, changing into flying leathers and doing his pre flight checks.  He didn't want any surprises out of the trusty Brisfit, and a good pre flight was excellent preventative medicine.  He made sure they had copies of the maps and the flight plan, as well as optics and sidearms, just in case.

"I'll be counting on those experienced eyes of yours Major, both to help with navigation and spotting.  I'll pack us some tea and biscuits for the trip, just in case we get a little toothy."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg #125):

Lympne Aerodrome

Major Storm decided he didn't care for riding in the sidecar. "I'll be freezing my hienie off soon enough!" He got in the passenger side of the flatbead, Karlhienz got in and turned the engine over. Eventually it caught, by that time they were eating JM's dust.

The aerodrome was less active this time of the year. The shells of a few surplus aircraft by a series of massive sheds to one side were all that remained of the vase air fleet that had defeated the Kaiser's best and bravest and struck at the heart of Germany itself. One by one they'd been disarmed and dismantled at Lympne Aerodrome or places like it. A few (mainly Vimy Bombers and Brisfits) converted to civilian use. The Aerodrome had just the year before become the headquarters for the newly-organised sport of air-racing, and it's proximity to Dover meant it was a popular way-point for flights to and from the Continent, France and beyond.

Falcon Aeronautics was located in a small dilapidated hangar at one end of the airfield, not too far from a secondary gate that led directly to adjoining Alderton Road and the cottage John-Marc rented with Karlhienz.

The Brisfit was parked outside, already fueled. The Vimy passenger was stored inside, engines apart for some lackadaisical maintenance. This time of year business was very slow due to the winter that was lingering into early spring.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:28, Fri 23 Dec 2011.

"Got my field glasses right here, don't you worry!"

Storm had a pair of good-quality Zeiss binoculars in a hard leather case.

"Karlhienz, help me get into these flying togs."

In reply to Major Charles Storm (msg #127):

"Ya, warten sie eine minute herr Major. Ach, one minute."

He helped the Major into his heavy coat and sheep's wool-lined pants. Then lifted the old soldier into the cockpit, handed up his flight bay.

That done, he walked over to grab the propeller, waiting for the word from John-Marc... "contact"!