"I," Jake said, mock offended, "am trying to create a positive impression on the lady.
"Hm. I guess Hank can be our driver/mechanic as he looks now."
Wilson gets into the best clothes he has - the suit he wears to interview important people - before presenting himself. He also takes along a notebook for jotting things down and his pistol, safely tucked away in a pocket.
"We intend to conduct an interview of a fairly successful business woman. She's probably smarter than we expect, so be on your guard. I think we should push the possible survivor angle. She might interested in the fate of her brother if she thinks it's possible he survived. We also want to find out what she knows about her brother's plans - why an expedition to Egypt in the first place, why these people, and so on."
Kwan (Mainly because he struggles with the language) will take his normal outside guard duties.
Stealth
WD
The address provided is a 3 story brownstone on a quiet cul-de-sac between Columbus Avenue and Central Park West. You can hear the sounds of children's laughter coming from the Park as it teems with small children. In the distance, the bells of the Church of Saint Paul and Saint Andrew peal 4 times.
A knock on the door is answered quickly by a very large man wearing an expensive suit. His face has the slightly mangled look of someone who has seen many a fist fight. In contrast to his surroundings and fancy clothes, his accent when he speaks is pure Little Italy. His glance takes you all in and then settles back to Jake, You that actor that called, right? Miss Carlyle is expecting you. Before youse guys go up, got to make sure you ain't packing. If you're heeled, you can leave your piece on the side table. He stares at Jake in a most unfriendly manner.
Beyond the very large man, you see another large man standing on the landing to the second floor, also wearing an expensive suit.
Hank finds something very interesting in his pocket, biding time in case Jake wants to try his charming magic on Mount Thug and his partner Mount Biggerthug.
I don't think we want to shoot anyone here. But I would have said that about the hotel room. In any case, I know a few tricks to take these giants down to size.
Spencer puts on an offended look and scoffs at Jake. "Whatever do you mean by that, Sheik?" Being from a wealthy family, Spencer is of course dressed in well-fitting, nice-looking clothes, and appears very presentable the majority of the time.
At the Carlyle house itself, however, Spencer pauses upon seeing the big man. He gives him a once-over and coughs before slipping into an accent of his own, and drawing on knowledge gained during dalliances on the streets of the city. "Hey, you think we're some kinda hoods here? What do I look like, a palooka? You think I'm gonna try somethin', you think my buddies are gonna try somethin'?" Spencer shakes his head and holds up his hands. "No. I've danced a time or two, huh? Seen hard-boiled guys like yaselves. I don't know the way you run things from nothing, yeah, but I don't take wooden nickels either, ya know? Guy's gotta be safe, gotta take care of himself. Everything Jake if we do that?" Spencer gives the man a questioning, appeasing look.
Spencer puts on an offended look and scoffs at Jake. "Whatever do you mean by that, Sheik?" Being from a wealthy family, Spencer is of course dressed in well-fitting, nice-looking clothes, and appears very presentable the majority of the time.
At the Carlyle house itself, however, Spencer pauses upon seeing the big man. He gives him a once-over and coughs before slipping into an accent of his own, and drawing on knowledge gained during dalliances on the streets of the city. "Hey, you think we're some kinda hoods here? What do I look like, a palooka? You think I'm gonna try somethin', you think my buddies are gonna try somethin'?" Spencer shakes his head and holds up his hands. "No. I've danced a time or two, huh? Seen hard-boiled guys like yaselves. I don't know the way you run things from nothing, yeah, but I don't take wooden nickels either, ya know? Guy's gotta be safe, gotta take care of himself. Everything Jake if we do that?" Spencer gives the man a questioning, appeasing look.
[dice=Roll]1d4+2
[dice=Wild]1d6+2
The very large man is unimpressed with Spencer's patter. Listen buster, he says with a sneer, if you want in the house, you leaves your piece right here. Youse guys wanted to see the lady, not the other way round. Capisce?
I'm the only one packin'. There's no harm to the lady planned here, unless it's you two plannin' it. Here you go.
Hank hands over his .45 to the very large man.
The big man sighs and says listen Ace, I don't want your piece...you can just leave it on the table. It'll be there when you get back. And my job isn't to take your word about your buddies. He quickly and efficiently frisks Hank and then gestures him towards the stairs. Miss Carlyle is up on the 3rd floor, front room...Frankie will show you when you get up there. He gives Spencer a fairly unpleasant look. OK, what about the rest of you? Handing over your gats and going up or waiting outside? Those being your only choices.
Jake waived a placating hand to his companions.
"Now now, the lady seems to have excellent security, unlike that publisher. We should be perfectly alright here."
He smiled as he whipped out his fancy engraved Colt .45 Peacemaker and laid it on the table.
"Make sure this doesn't wander off somewhere young man, Bat Masterson gave me this pistol when we worked on a Western a few years back. He won it in a contest in 1877 I believe..."
Hank does his best to feign shock that someone else was carrying a weapon.
Jake's illustrious movie career just might have a rival.
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Fr. Murphy contemplates just waiting outside. Ever since the...incident, he's been anxious about his lack of...of utility, when encountering the...the things of the...the incident. That very night he rang at a known parisher who lived above a business that catered to sportsmen. He spent a long night and an early morning getting reacquainted with an old friend which now rested under his arm, whose name, "St. George," was stenciled into its side.
Still, he'd hate to miss the interview, and Jake is correct. With such solid gentlemen at the gate, what could possibly go wrong?
Connor steps up to the table, reaches under his jacket and produces his own piece. "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition," he says, smiling, reciting the Infantryman's prayer.
Wilson mentally takes note that the security is surprisingly high and resolves to ask Miss Carlyle about it. Meanwhile, he sets his pistol on the table without comment.
As his companions divest themselves of weaponry, he casually glances about.
Madoon'! Bat Masterson, really?!? My padre read me his sports column everyday when I was growing up. I recognize you now. You do those Westerns. Good pictures. Before he died, me and mia padre would go see them double features every Saturday, the very large man says as he dabs his eyes. If you vouch for these mugs then I guess they're okay. You boys can follow me.
You all make the long climb up the stairs to the third floor. The very big man introduces himself as Joe Cory and volunteers that he's one of Miss Carlyle's bodyguards. As you pass the man on the second floor landing, Joe introduces him as Rocco and then at the third floor landing he introduces you to Frankie. All three men are extremely well dressed but have hard edges and carry themselves as if they are or were boxers. They all have suspicious bulges under their suit coats that make you think that they are wearing shoulder holsters.
Reaching the top floor, Joe shows you into the front sitting room which is filled with antique furniture. Sitting on a settee is Erica Carlyle who is a very pretty young women that you'd guess is in her mid 20's. She is dressed simply but exquisitely in fashionable casual clothes, she wears her blonde hair in a short bob. She stands when you enter the room and firmly shakes each of your hands as she looks you directly in the eye. Gesturing for you to be seated she rings a small hand bell which summons a middle-aged woman wearing a maid's outfit. Gentlemen, may I offer you a refreshment? Water, soda, liquor, champagne or something else?
Wilson mentally takes note that the security is surprisingly high and resolves to ask Miss Carlyle about it. Meanwhile, he sets his pistol on the table without comment.
As his companions divest themselves of weaponry, he casually glances about.
[dice=Notice]1d8
[dice=Wild]1d6
You definitely recognize Joe as an ex-buttonman in Smiling Jim Salvore's gang and remember that Salvore's not been seen in a few months. The assumption going around town is that he tried to muscle in on somebody that was too tough for him. Rocco and Frankie look less familiar but well may have been connected to the same family.
"Two fingers of scotch, two ice if you have it." Said Jake airily.
Taking a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes from his vest pocket, he offered one around to everybody.
"Two fingers of scotch, two ice if you have it." Said Jake airily.
Taking a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes from his vest pocket, he offered one around to everybody.
Miss Carlyle nods and says to the maid, Mary, bring us glasses, bottles of the 21 year Ballantine and the 17 year Johnny Walker for our guests and a bucket of ice. Bring a bottle of Hayman's for me and some tonic water. Hmm...also a box of the Cubans. That'll be all, thank you Mary.
Please make yourselves comfortable gentlemen. Speaking of comfort, your chinaman is welcome inside the house if wants to wait someplace warm, no need to stand out in the cold. Nothing happens on our little street without being seen so there's no need for him to stand guard duty in the cold.
Hank nods to Miss Carlyle with a sense of respect.
Why, that's right kindly of you, ma'am. You can have your men tell him, but he seems to like it out there better, he says, misconstruing Kwan Ho's reasons.
Pouring himself three fingers of the Ballantyne (21 years is better than 17, right?), he plops down unceremoniously in a the nearest comfy chair.
Right kindly indeed.
Now, this is the life. I wonder if she needs a pilot...
One of Miss Caryle's men goes outside to tell Kwan but he's too well hidden to be soon. However, Kwan could make himself known to the man if he wants to come inside.
The rest of you partake in enjoyment of the refreshments and make yourself comfortable.
Alright Mr. Westfield, you called earlier today with supposedly some news or rumors of news about Roger. I'd like to know what you've heard about my brother.
Turning serious, Jake leaned back and drew on his cigarette.
"Well Miss Carlyle, I had the honor of being acquainted with Jackson Elias, an investigative journalist of some note. I thought one of his books would make a fine basis for a movie, and we were in talks to acquire it for my production company."
He paused, gravely regarding the glowing tip.
"You may have heard something about it in the news. He was murdered foully... Anyway, when I had visited him, he had mentioned in passing about his looking into the story of the Carlyle expedition, and he had newspaper clippings about it scattered about his apartment.
"Anyway, I and some other friends of his got to wondering if something about that investigation was what ended up killing him. We went down to his publishers to ask about his recent inquiries. What he told us was astonishing! But we were interrupted by some darkie fellows who tried to kill us with ceremonial knives! Barely escaped with our lives I tell you.
"But putting that together with accounts of dark skinned fellows running away from Jackson Elias' murder, we came to conclude that the murders were connected with the expedition somehow.
"So we wanted to know more about this expedition; something more accurate than what the papers had. We come to you hoping you could help us with that."
Jake looked at Erica cautiously optimistic that she would be forthcoming.
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Father Murphy gently allow the actor to take the lead. Too many strangers yelling questions at the girl might make her scatter-brained. He makes himself a glass of ice and Walker, and offers to make one for anyone else. 'A time and place for all things under Heaven' it is said.
"Excuse me. Kwan can be a bit paranoid. I'll go fetch him myself."
Connor accompanies the gentleman outside and calls for Kwan to come in and maintain readiness inside the abode. Then he'll go back and join the Q&A session.
After Jake lays out an introduction, Wilson chimes in with, "We can understand your concerns about the Carlyle name and reputation. We have no intentions of publishing any sort of gossip or engaging in yellow journalism. In fact, based on the sketchy information we have so far, I suspect very few publishers would touch the story or view it as anything but a fiction. I think most of us are interested more in finishing the job Jackson Elias started and understanding why someone thought his investigations needed a deadly response."
Miss Carlyle frowns slightly as she listens to Jake and Guthrie. I don't know your Mr. Elias. I am sorry for your loss. I can tell you what I know about the expedition but I doubt it will be helpful.
She pauses and takes a sip from her drink. To understand my brother's expedition you need to understand Roger. I dearly loved my brother but he had some, I guess you could say issues. He lacked focus and could be easily led astray. You may already know this but he was expelled from several boarding schools and then had to leave, hmm, I think 5 universities. Never for anything, well, bad, just a lot of poor decisions. He'd drink and smoke and have girls up to his room and never show up for class. All of that would be bad enough, but he influenced others to do the same. My father said one time that the best way to guarantee someone flunking out of school was to introduce them to Roger. Erica pauses and gives a sad smile in memory and then after another sip continues.
Roger was only 21 when my parents died in the car crash and had just been asked to leave Cornell. Suddenly, he found himself in charge of one of the biggest businesses on the East Coast. At first, he actually pulled himself together. He stopped drinking, he stopped going out and he really focused on the business. Unfortunately several things happened that, hmm, started the chain of events that led to his death in Kenya. First, even though he tried hard, he made several bad business decisions. Then, like a gambler trying to get even he made even bigger and worse deals trying to get back to even. Some of his new partners were less than ethical businessmen and they soon started trying to, as they say, muscle Roger out. Erica gestures at her bodyguards as she pauses as if they are somehow connected to that part of her story. After another sip, says takes a deep breath and continues.
I hate to say it but I also became part of Roger's problem. I'm several years younger than Roger and was his opposite in many ways. I guess I take after Daddy...I'm extremely focused and driven. While Roger was struggling, I graduated from boarding school 2 years early and then finished Vassar in 3. When Roger's business dealings began to go horribly wrong, I'm afraid I confronted him in front of the board and, well, the board of directors chose me to run the company. It took a little while but I was able to, hmm, remove Roger's new business partners and return the company to a solid foundation. In fact, we are more successful today than at any time in our history.
Not suprisingly this had a very bad impact on Roger. He, well to be blunt, fell apart. Drinking, drugs, violence, loose women and all the rest. As bad as that was, once he took up with that Negro woman, everything went to, excuse my language, hell. Roger’s entanglement with that woman only indicated how depraved his tastes had become. The Negro Woman came to rule Roger’s life and shortly after that, Roger began to have strange dreams in which something seemed to call to him and beckon that something be done. Roger would scream and wake up, but absolutely refused to discuss the dreams beyond that.
I recommended that Roger visit Dr. Robert Huston, who was then the lion of our social set. All my friends told me what he a great doctor he was. That idea completely backfired. In fact, I believe that Huston talked Roger into the expedition.
Erica takes one last longer drink, draining her glass as she comes to the end of her story. I know this sounds bizarre, but I feel that it was the Negro Woman who caused Roger to lose his grasp of reality. Once he started seeing her he would disappear for days, then suddenly turn up wild-eyed and crazed, saying only that he had been to Harlem. Roger said that the Negro Woman was queenly, a priestess and that she held secrets which he must have. I'm afraid that I did not discourage the expedition as I supposed that when there Roger would see that the Negro Woman and her tales were mumbo-jumbo. So I authorized the financing of the trip that killed him.
Erica looks at each of you expectantly and awaits any questions.
Wilson's eyebrows rise and his eyes widen in interest. "Negro woman? This would be Nichonka Bunay? Did you ever meet her personally?"
And as a further line of inquiry..."How does Jack Brady fit into your brother's life? What sort of man was he?"
Making notes in his journal, Jake paused, cigarette burning between his fingers forgotten.
"What can you tell us of the Expedition itself? Do you know what it was after? What it's route was? All I could tell from the clippings is that they hit Egypt and South of that."
Wilson's eyebrows rise and his eyes widen in interest. "Negro woman? This would be Nichonka Bunay? Did you ever meet her personally?"
And as a further line of inquiry..."How does Jack Brady fit into your brother's life? What sort of man was he?"
Erica shakes her head at the first question, I never met her and never found out her name. Sorry.
Jack, well Jack was quite a character. He normally went by "Brass” Brady: he was fanatically loyal to Roger, and someone whom Roger could always trust. In California, Roger's lawyers had saved Brady from certain conviction of murder. This occurred while Roger spent a semester at USC after having before then been thrown out of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Miskatonic. She motions Joe to come over and join the conversation. Joe, these guys want to know about Jack Brady.
Joe stands still for a moment trying to figure out the best way to describe Brady. That SOB was a man. Toughest man I've seen. Best brawler. Good with a knife. Not afraid of doing what needed to be done. Joe glances around at all of you, if you all were locked in a room with Brass, he'd kill everyone of you without a second thought or breaking a sweat. Bad, bad man to cross.
Erica nods as Joe is talking. The only reason my brother's so called partners never made a move to get rid of Roger is that they knew they would have to deal with Jack. Jack did not care about anything or anyone except for my brother. He'd kill anyone that tried to harm Roger. Those bastards in Kenya must have either taken him by surprise or had a huge advantage in numbers to put him down.
Making notes in his journal, Jake paused, cigarette burning between his fingers forgotten.
"What can you tell us of the Expedition itself? Do you know what it was after? What it's route was? All I could tell from the clippings is that they hit Egypt and South of that."
When Jake asks his questions, Erica doesn't answer but instead stands up and says, I will be right back. Please excuse me. With that she slips out of the room through a door that leads further back into the house. She's only gone for a few minutes and then returns carrying an old looking book. She holds the book gingerly as if she was nervous about carrying it. After sitting back down she turns to Jake. A few weeks before Roger began to talk about his expedition, Roger started constantly reading this book. After he left for Egypt I glanced through it. It is a very disturbing book. I started having nightmares right away and have kept it locked away. The stories in here actually seemed to substantiate Roger’s crazy tales about magic and power and the Ju-Ju woman and gave him the idea of doing a dig in Egypt.
Kwan is thankful for the invitation to keep watch inside out of the cold. Usually when he kept watch, the violence began immediately, but his waiting had left him a bit cold. In addition his threadbare coat did little to dampen the chill.
Stealth
WD
He finds an OK place to conceal himself, but anyone coming down the stairs would see him easily.
Jake tries to leaf through the book, wondering what was so interesting about it.
Jake tries to leaf through the book, wondering what was so interesting about it.
With some reluctance, Erica hands over her book to Jake. The first thing you notice is that it is old, very, very old. The pages do not appear to be made of paper but of what might be some sort of animal skin. You're not able to read the text but think based on what you learned in school, it is almost certainly written in Latin. Flipping through the book you come across a drawing of a vile thing, it appears to be a horribly grotesque idol, made of an unknown element, combining the worst aspects of octopus, elephant, and human being. You find yourself staring in sick amazement at the picture, unable to look away then you feel as if you are being drawn into the picture itself to fall at the feet of the idol to worship its wonder forever and ever...without end...until the stars die and utter blackness takes your soul...with a start you feel Miss Carlyle shake your arm and take the book from your grasp. You find out that you've been sitting without moving or blinking for over a minute.
Erica lights a cigar and calmly puffs away as she awaits any further questions.
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Father Murphy, concerned for Jake's welfare, get's up and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. He feels relieved when Miss Carlyle's touch seems to bring him from his stupor. As Jake regains his senses, Connor curiously scans the book in his lap, wondering what it was that caused him to ponder it so deeply.
"Here, my lad, let's have a look. What is this, Latin? You know they still make you take that at seminary. Dreadful boring language, but, the...congregation...always, you know...eats it...up...."
Connor takes the book and begins to page through it, drilling through reams of half-forgotten lessons and fighting through inky blackness threatening to engulf him to try and make sense of it.
The words are indeed written in Latin and you are able to read the text. The title of the book seems to be the Pnakotic Manuscripts. As you start skimming the first page, you realize it must have been written by a madman. It's almost as if words had been put together at random and to no useful purpose. Then as you stare at the words, the gibberish actually starts to make sense. Somehow, though you're not sure how, whatever happened yesterday that has shaken your certainty of how the world works is reflected in the fascinating, confusing, beautiful, horrible words of the book. You feel certain that if you just had a few days to read and reread the book, so much of what has been hidden would be revealed.
Jake seems to come awake again as the book is taken from his hands.
"Yes, yes. I trust Father Murphy can make more sense of it than I." He said, his voice shaking.
Realizing his cigarette had burned to a nubbin, he stubbed it out and took out another with shaking hands. He can barely operate his lighter; but he manages somehow, and he takes some comfort in the inhaled smoke.
"Yes. Well then." He said, a little calmer now. "Do you know a Penhew Foundation? Who are they and how are they connected?"
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Without thinking, Connor rips off a tiny piece of fabric from his sleeve and places it as a bookmark. Closing the book, he moves to the side board and pours himself a large glass. Of what he cares not, be it Walker or Ballantine or water, and drinks it without tasting.
"Miss Carlyle," Connor says, uncharacteristically stepping on Jake's question. "Would you mind if I borrowed this book for some times. The text is quite...complicated. But I feel I can makes sense of it. If...if given...given time."
He pours another glass, and sips it slowly, returning to his chair. The book held in his hand as if it belongs to him now.
Erica looks gravely at first Jake and then Murphy once everyone has returned to their seats. I think you both now understand when I say it is a very disturbing book. Father, I am not sure that it would do you any favors to let you borrow the book. She pauses and looks at you and then your partners as she makes her decision. But, I must admit that I am curious as to what the book is trying to reveal and too, hmm, unsettled by it to read it through myself. I will make a bargain with you, you may borrow the book if, and only if, you give me your word as a man of God that you will explain it to me once you decipher it.
Her mind distracted by thoughts of the book she ignores Jake's question until he prods her by repeating it. Oh my, you have my apologies Mr. Westfield, that was quite rude of me. I do not have much that I can tell you about the Penhew Foundation. Let's see, it was started by Aubrey Penhew, or I guess it should be Sir Aubrey Penhew. Old family in England, goes back centuries. He is considered an expert on Egyptology and his foundation was established to provide support to Egyptian expeditions. My brother corresponded quite a lot with him before he left New York and then Roger arranged his trip to go to London before heading to Egypt. Penhew joined the group in London and was then murdered by the savages in Africa along with the others.
Erica looks at Murphy again and asks, Father, would you or any of your friends be interested in Roger's other books? You may borrow them also if you are.
Wilson had been thinking about the Brady angle for some time wondering if Brady could be the kind of guy to cut and run, or even betray the Carlyle expedition, in order to save himself. Though, from Erica's description, that sounds more and more unlikely, at least as far as Carlyle himself was concerned. But there were others - she may not have known Penhew personally, but she may have known Masters...
"Miss Carlyle, how well did you know the last of the principle expedition members, Miss Hypatia Masters? The news said she was associated with Roger in the past - I assume romantically?"
Wilson had been thinking about the Brady angle for some time wondering if Brady could be the kind of guy to cut and run, or even betray the Carlyle expedition, in order to save himself. Though, from Erica's description, that sounds more and more unlikely, at least as far as Carlyle himself was concerned. But there were others - she may not have known Penhew personally, but she may have known Masters...
"Miss Carlyle, how well did you know the last of the principle expedition members, Miss Hypatia Masters? The news said she was associated with Roger in the past - I assume romantically?"
Erica gives another puff on her cigar. They went out a few times but I don't think that they were serious. I personally did not think much of her, pardon me for speaking ill of the dead. She was neither smart nor strong-willed. I will say though that she was a good photographer, I assume that is why she was part of the expedition. You do know that she was the heir to the Master's armament fortune, don't you? She's one of the few people that Roger was friendly with that weren't after money.
Erica pauses as if considering to add something and then finally lowers her voice and adds, there was a rumor going around about her, that she was involved with a Red and got herself in trouble. Supposedly she had to go to Canada to, hmm, solve her problem and that there were some sort of complications. Puff, puff...Of course, that's all just rumors.
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"Erica, you have my solemn promise that if these texts have a meaning that can be deciphered, I shall bring all I can learn to you.
And, yes, whatever it is that...whatever -is- going on, it is becoming clear that we must needs have all information, no how tangential, if we are ever to solve this great enigma that all signs point to. Whatever books you can provide we shall gladly peruse them for the clues they hold."
Erica asks Joe to bring the chest with Roger's books. He returns a minute or two later carrying a medium sized brass chest with an old-fashioned lock. Erica pulls a key from her pocket and hands it to Joe then motions for him to give Murphy the locked chest and the keys. I have not looked at these other books after my experience with the first of Roger's. Please do return them when you are finished. I shall like to donate all of them to Vassar.
"Erica, you have my solemn promise that if these texts have a meaning that can be deciphered, I shall bring all I can learn to you.
And, yes, whatever it is that...whatever -is- going on, it is becoming clear that we must needs have all information, no how tangential, if we are ever to solve this great enigma that all signs point to. Whatever books you can provide we shall gladly peruse them for the clues they hold."
Jake turned to the others and raised an eyebrow.