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Hey everybody, sorry I've been AWOL for a while. I've been slammed with extra work stuff for the last few weeks, and it's not going to get better soon. Also, Harry PM'd me to say he'd have to drop out. So I'm going to go ahead and call this the end of the game. Thanks for taking a chance on it!
Victor's shots miss my a wide margin, and the attacker disappears into the dark of night. Petrov picks himself up off the ground. "No doubt you are being targeted as you suggested. I should leave, as I'd rather the hotel detective and police not know I'm involved, but I will be in touch." Petrov knocks some additional glass from the frame, and climbs out the window to leave and continue his investigation.
As the man runs from the study, Morroway's second shot finds its home. Harry and Victor try to grab him and keep him from escaping, but they can't quite catch up to him. Petrov also tries to stop the man from leaving...
For his trouble, he gets only a fistful of pant leg. The assailant continues running, and dives for the window...
The glass shatters, and he disappears into the opening.
As George throws open the door to the study, a solid slab of muscle plows into him.
George is tossed to the side effortlessly, slams into a wall, and slumps to the ground, unconscious.
George studies the main room, and notices that the door to the study is slightly ajar, but he is quite sure they left it closed when they left.
Morroway throws open the door to the water closet, but finds nothing worth mentioning. Victor opens up the first bedroom door, and likewise sees nothing immediately threatening, although there are ample opportunities to hide within. Petrov scans the living area, looking for clues.
Petrov throws the door open, ready for action, but no attackers are immediately visible. The suite is spacious and luxurious, with two separate sleeping chambers behind closed doors on the left. To the right, the door to the water closet, followed by a study. The living area in the center is richly furnished.
Petrov leads the group up to the room, and finds no sign of his man watching the door. "Let's move with caution. Someone may still be inside." -Posted with Wayfinder
The group enters the lobby of the hotel, and sees no sign of nefarious activity. In the bar, Harry is lounging with a drink and a newspaper, having spotted nothing alarming. Petrov approaches him. "When were you last in the room?" With some concern, he examines the drink, sniffing it and sticking his finger in to taste. "How much of this have you drank? My man guarding the rear has disappeared, so your shadows may be making a move against you."
Petrov quietly creeps around to the front door, and sees through the windows that the activity seems to be continuing as normal inside. Whatever the threat is, it isn't present in the lobby. "To your chambers, then? I have a man watching your hallway; I pray he kept a sharper eye out."
Vasily is caught off-guard by the informal greeting, but shakes it off. "As I said, I saw no activity in the hotel. Is it possible whoever was tailing you already got what they wanted? At any rate, I can escort you to the hotel where two of my men are still keeping watch." As you approach the Willard, Petrov whistles into the night. After a few seconds, he whistles again, concern growing on his face. "Stay here," he says, running off into the alley. Several seconds later he returns, his face pale. "Alan isn't at his post, and there is blood splatter on the stone. I can secure the area myself, but you look like you can handle yourselves if you want to join in."
When Victor spins around, he soon sees Vasily Petrov emerge from the fog. "I am well, thank you. Did you enjoy the theater? I did not see any suspicious activity at the hotel, but the streets can be dangerous in such conditions, so I sought to find you here."
The fog thickens as you approach the hotel. Hazy globes of light illuminate the path, and you hear footsteps behind you, getting closer.
The of the show passes without incident, and you soon find yourselves in the lamp-lit street several blocks from your hotel. A fog has descended on the city, and distant hoofbeats and the rattling of carriages echoes through the sparsely-traveled lanes.
The scarred man turns away and retreats through a staff door before Victor gets too close.
Morroway manages to hobnob among the industrialists, and gets out ahead of some of the gossip about his company. Harry speaks with some Japanese travelers, but they seem to misunderstand his questions as referring to strange customs of Americans, and they regale him with tales of the exotic New World. George keeps to himself, but finds no good hiding spots. The usher announces five minutes before the show resumes.
George hears some juicy tidbits of society gossip and minor political backscratching, but nothing about lizard people or grand conspiracies. He does, however, spot a man in servant's clothes lurking in the shadows, who appears to have a scar across his right cheek.
The best show that you are able to secure tickets to at such late notice is a production of Chekhov's Three Sisters. The first two acts proceed without incident, and intermission is called. Many well-to-do people are milling about, sipping champagne and eating small hors d'oeuvres.
"I know a delicatessen that can pass messages in a wrapped sandwich, if you feel the need for that level of secrecy."
Petrov considers the group carefully. "I do not usually get involved in business disputes like this, but I am not immune to curiosity. I will keep an eye on the Willard and see where that leads." He quotes you a price that is expensive, but of no real consequence to any of you.
"I assume you have already brought this up with the manager of the hotel, and with law enforcement, or for some reason cannot. So tell me, why do you believe these people are targeting you?"
You are able to easily find a private investigator, a Russian immigrant by the name of Vasily Petrov. He's quite well-dressed (evidently the PI business pays well in DC) and pleasant-faced. He welcomes you into his office above a butcher shop, and offers you some chairs. "What is it I can help you with today? Cheating lover? No, you come in large group, so I assume it deals with business."
"I'm not allowed to comment on ongoing investigations, but the man you describe is certainly not one of our agents. It's possible he was with the city police, but I'll pass your report on up the chain."
"Hmm, well, I can refer you to the agent in charge of that investigation, if you'd like."
The group travels to the national office of the United States Secret Service, and after maneuvering through a few layers of bureaucracy, are able to find a clerk who searches fruitlessly for a copy of the search warrant. "As far as I can tell, sirs and madam, there was no search warrant issued regarding the premises of the Willard hotel in the last few days. If, as you say, someone claimed to have one when searching your lodgings, it sounds as though they may be an imposter. Would you like to file a report?"
Harry and Evelyn return to the Willard, only to discover George and Victor speaking with the desk clerk. They receive a description of the men who searched their rooms, led by a well-tanned man with a distinctive scar on his right cheek. Victor is unable to find the manager, and the clerk informs him that he is attending to other business.
The Willard: "They showed us their badges, and I think they showed my manager a warrant. They didn't leave any of that with us, however."
The Willard: "S-s-sir, some policemen came in and demanded access to your room. They mentioned something about blackmail, and my supervisor told me to comply. They said not to alert you, so please don't let anyone know I said anything."
GM Roll:
The Willard: George spots that the front desk clerk looks nervous and confused. "But, sir... housekeeping has not yet attended to your room." He's quite clearly hiding something.
George and Victor return to the Willard to check for messages, but find none. GM Roll:
As they retire to their rooms to refresh, George notices that someone has been in the room, and surreptitiously going through his things.
Morroway:
Agent Marshall takes Morroway into the office so they can begin sorting out the mess.
Embassy:
"Ma'am, if you think there is no harm in my claiming a foreign government is infiltrated by lizard men, then you clearly know nothing of politics. If you could come back with some real, tangible evidence, I'd consider it. Until then, you can see yourselves out." Evelyn:
Embassy:
"You bring me nothing but photographs, and spin a wild tale of grotesque creatures and sinister conspiracy. What exactly would you have me do?"
Morroway: "We've received some information that's enough to merit an investigation. I'm sure with your help we can sort all this out."
Morroway & Co.:
Agent Marshall looks Van Winkle up and down. "Are you his legal counsel? Otherwise I can't share details of the investigation with you." British Embassy: Mr. Smythe stops writing when Harry mentions the lizard men. He looks at the photographs calmly. "I have no time for your Hindu superstitions. Please see yourselves out."
Van Winkle, Morroway, and Victor arrive at the local Morroway Securities office to find it in disarray. Files are boxed up in wooden crates, and most of the employees are gone, replaced instead with men in suits searching the walls for hidden compartments. The man who seems to be in charge approaches Morroway with a stern look. "I'm agent Marshall of the United States Secret Service. Morroway, I presume? Your office has been cooperative so far, but I'm going to need the combination to the private safe in your office, and any other places you might have hidden documents relating to business dealings in Columbia and what is now the country of Panama. Selling mercenary services to fight American-backed forces is highly illegal, even treasonous, and I promise we're going to get to the bottom of this." ---------- Harry and Evelyn travel to the British Embassy, and wait only a few minutes before being taken to the office of the assistant head of security. It's a cramped room, and the desk is covered in disheveled papers. The nameplate on the desk reads "Mr. Alan Smythe." The man at the desk is wiry and balding, with thin-rimmed glasses hanging off his nose. He barely glances up, continuing to scribble on the papers in front of him. "Go ahead. I'm listening."
While Harry tries to find an ear at the British Embassy, the rest of the group tries to finagle a meeting with a Senator from New York. However after a few fruitless hours, they seem no closer to securing a meeting with anyone important.
Van Winkle is flummoxed by their lack of progress, but Morroway recognizes the routine as a standard bureaucratic runaround. He surmises that some or all of the group is a persona non grata at the moment, and given the nature of the phone call he received...
Harry: Harry makes his way to the British Embassy, and is given the runaround for a couple of hours, before handed a card offering an appointment with the assistant to the head of security at the Embassy for early the next morning.
Are Harry and Evelyn still with us?
Evelyn: Evelyn spies a headline on a nearby newspaper: "Rising Star of British Art Scene Arrested!: Evelyn Cardue outed as anarchist conspirator" No one else seems to have noticed it.
Morroway: "Sir, perhaps I'm not being clear. You're under investigation for illegally providing mercenary services to the Columbian government during Panama's fight for independence. You can come answer questions at your office, or you can answer them at the police station."
Morroway phones into the office, and is greeted with an unfamiliar voice. Morroway: "Mr. Morroway? This is Agent Marshall with the United States Secret Service. We've been trying to get in touch with you. We have some questions regarding your business dealings in Columbia, and what is now Panama. I think it would be best if you came to speak with us in person."
Amid much discussion about drink, the group retires to the nearby Willard Hotel, keen on recovering from the events of the last two days. The bar is well-stocked and lavishly decorated, and even at this early hour, important men from across the civilized world are scattered about at the tables, engaged in hushed conversations with colleagues and mistresses in a half-dozen foreign languages.
The man looks a bit exasperated at the vagueness of the request, but he nods to his partner, sending him off to see if the Secretary can fit Van Winkle into his schedule. "We'll pass your request on up. If and when an appointment can be made, where can I contact you?"
"If you have a message for us to pass on, I'll make sure he receives it. If not, I can see if his schedule has any openings."
"Of course, for security reasons, I can't be specific about his schedule. If you have an urgent concern, I could perhaps arrange a meeting with someone else." -Posted with Wayfinder
One of the men tips his hat and replies, "Mr. Van Winkle, good to see you. Unfortunately, Mr. Roosevelt is traveling at the moment. If you like, you can tell us where you're staying, and we'll let the President know you called."
The cabbie brings the group around to the White House, which is still looking fresh from its remodeling a few years ago. The street is bustling with activity, and two men in dark suits and bowler hats stand by the main gate to the White House grounds. They wear five-pointed star badges, and eye the passing pedestrians casually.
George is easily able to find a carriage to take the group to their destination. "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?" the cabbie asks in a thick Irish accent. "Tourists in to see the capitol, I see!"
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