Amadeus freezes. "Normally I would laugh off your dreams, but this time... That thing I saw. It was... proof of something beyond comprehension. Something... wrong." Amadeus sighs and rubs his temple with his hand. "I'll keep an eye out for wolves and honey, then."
You father pours two cups of coffee, bringing them over to the table and taking a seat.
"Ah, so you're doing research for her, then? I remember Winston Pharmaceuticals quite well- seems like they had a store on every corner around here. Do they have you under an NDA? I'd love to hear about what kinds of treatments you're looking into..."
An NDA. Of course, Evelyn thinks, almost sighing with relief. A perfectly plausible excuse to not divulge too much, built right into her profession. When it came to her father however, it still felt like a lie by omission.
"Sorry. I'm afraid I can't say too much," she says as she dumps a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, smiling wryly. "Janet is being especially stingy about this one. We're continuing the research that some previous colleagues of hers worked on some years ago. They were a bit ahead of their time, I suppose."
I decide not to trouble my parents too much with what happened outside, though I do encourage them to get deadbolts. San Diego is becoming a bit unsafe these days...
In general, he has a wonderful time with his parents. He makes a note to see if his companions had similar threats during their time off.
Each of you enjoys your time with family and friends (even if it is strained at times), marshaling your resources for the work ahead. After several weeks off, you're as ready as you'll ever be to continue Janet's work.
After your time away, you reconvene in the privacy of the Winston hangar. Maps and atlases are spread out before you along with the notes taken from Trammel's Testament and what you could piece together of Ayers' travel itinerary.
The reel to reel recording is a hypnotic, rhythmic song. Between wordless crooning of a female and male (is it male?) voice with light background accompaniment the woman's voice sings things like "mi corazon", "mi amor", "mi nombre" and "mi boca". It repeats over and over again. It's a bit eerie, but not the most disturbing thing you've experienced lately.
Volume 12, it is!
After visiting her father, Evelyn makes a point of stopping by Lenox Hill, just to see how things have been going during her absence. She speaks to Dr. Hastings, making cordial conversation but brushing off any questions regarding the end of her sabbatical - the truth was, not even she was certain of when it might end.
Without the investigation to focus on, Evelyn grows increasingly restless. The temptation to seek out Jeffery was there... but that was one bridge she could not bring herself to cross. It comes as a great relief when the time finally comes for everyone to reconvene at the hangar.
Evelyn busies herself with flipping through Trammel's books, but instinct compels her to stay away from the Revelations of Glaaki. She finds her inability to explain her reasoning rationally annoying, but she knows there is just something... wrong about the book.
"I would suggest that we investigate Ayers or Donovan next. For one, we actually have their names."
"It seems that Ethiopia might be a good place to start. Might as well finish this George Ayers thing out for a bit. Plus, I've never been to the Dark Continent. What do you guys think".
Freddy nods to Anatoly. "Ethiopia does seem like the strongest lead that we have and I would like to dig in further on this Ayers character, but the stakes in Malta are very high. They seem to be putting out a ton of nectar and they are doing it with sacrifices of some sort. It doesn't spell out human sacrifices specifically but I wouldn't put it past these people."
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It sounds as though people in Malta may need help, but we may want to know more of what we're facing...Siam may be our best lead for the most information.
I place my arms around Joseph and Freddy's shoulders, with myself in the middle.
My friends, just think! The smokey orient! A mysterious letter! An unknown woman! Maybe an opium den? I'm not totally sure, I've never left the states. The point is, who knows what adventure awaits us in Siam?
Evelyn frowns. "You almost make it sound like we're going on a vacation. But this is serious business."
"I am in agreement with Freddy, in any case. The stakes do seem higher in Malta... and given what we know, we cannot even be certain that George Ayers is alive."
"Ralph. While I too have visions of the mystery of the orient, I feel we must ground ourselves in more reality. We have a lead with a name in Ethiopia... and if anything we need more information on the sources and causes of this... thing. Going into Bangkok armed as we were would be suicidal. If not for us finding that grenade we would likely have died in that basement, and I don't know about you, but I don't have any more grenades. Let's follow up with the possible source of this evil, and not it's symptoms. Perhaps we'll gather a clue to help combat this if we understand where it's coming from. If we don't understand it and learn to stop the source of this terrible thing, it will just crop up again somewhere else, and we'll either die, or spend our lives confronting this evil over and over. We must go to Ethiopia first".
Amadeus looks tempted by the though of opium dens, but nods toward Evelyn and Freddy. "I agree with Freddy and Evelyn; I've seen what this Mouth wants from us and I cannot sleep with the knowledge that it's doing it even worse to others. Plus, the spirits tell me that Malta is our next location and I never argue with the spirits."
"I think it's a mistake, as we don't know how to fight these things. But it is important we remain focused. Perhaps we can get more grenades or some dynamite when we arrive. Does anyone speak the native language"?
Freddy nods to Anatoly. "I'm sure we could come up with some sort of weaponry. If Janet's personal pilot goes overseas, we will have an easier time scoring it here and hauling it over."
With Janet's plane, it should be a lengthy but fairly easy Transatlantic flight to France, followed by another flight to an airfield outside of Valletta.
If you want to go in packing explosives, you will have to spend Streetwise to get some and then pack it really well and pray for as little turbulence as possible. Let me know what you're looking for- dynamite doesn't travel very well, but it's readily available from construction sites. Hand grenades are more portable and easier to conceal, but they will cost more. There are always molotov cocktails as well ("Franco's Bottle Bombs" in the '30s)- which don't require a spend as they are homemade.
Valletta is also a very busy port city- you may be able to locate a smuggler there that can set you up without having to worry about Customs or blowing yourselves up on a bumpy flight.
You all prepare your luggage and give Kearns a ring. By morning the plane is prepped to fly again, gleaming silver in the sun.
Ralph and Anatole, the history buffs, spent a little time going through the encyclopedias and atlases in the hangar to get a better sense of the isle of Malta. It's a small, rocky island in the Mediterranean Sea, south of Sicily. The climate tends to be dry and hot. It's been settled for thousands of years, going back to 5000 BC and beyond. Ancient Greeks, Byzantines, Phoenicians, Romans, Normans and more would inhabit the island over the millennia, leading to a culturally rich and artistically diverse identity. As an ideally positioned Mediterranean port, the island has long been coveted by navies, merchants and pilgrims looking for a safe stopover spot for refueling, trade and worship.
To sorcerers and occultists investigating the ancient magical rites and powers of prehistoric civilizations, Malta is an important destination. It may be a site of Atlantean power or a remnant of a prehistoric valley flooded when the Strait of Gibraltar gave way and admitted Atlantic waters, thereby creating the Mediterranean Sea. Its ruins contain countless forgotten inscriptions in vanished and unearthly languages. Its landscape contains fossils of long-lost species and traces of ancient magic. Malta is rich with mysticism and history.
In 1530, the island was given by Charles I of Spain to the Knights Hospitaller, who would thereby come to be known as the Knights of Malta. Following the Great Siege of Malta by the Ottomans in 1565, which the Knights famously endured, the fortified city of Valletta was founded and named in honor of their Grand Master- Jean Parisot de la Valette. The Knights referred to it as "the Most Humble City of Valletta" yet the glitterati and royalty of Europe called it Superbissima, meaning "Most Proud". To the locals, it is simply Il-Belt, "The City".
The Knights of Malta held the city until 1798, when it was taken from them by Napoleon's treachery. After being admitted to port for resupply, Napoleon captured and looted Valletta. With his own French garrison in place and his handpicked leaders in control, Bonaparte left for Egypt. The French administrators were not popular, but the people of Malta endured. While the public rule of the Knights of Malta ended, it is said that a few chapters of the order went underground to combat the French in secret. When Britain finally took control in 1814, the Maltese people welcomed them, though it's said that one chapter of the Knights remain in hiding to ensure the safety of Malta and her secrets.
Presently, Malta remains part of the British Empire, though the fleet once stationed there has been relocated to Alexandria.
You take off early, hoping to land for refueling on the Continent before it gets too late. It isn't long before your entire view out the windows are sky and ocean- after the initial excitement recedes, you're only left with the engine noise and the bleak ocean out your window.
It's midway through the flight when Joseph feels an itch in his toes that simply won't go away. While he leans forward to untie his laces, he notices that there's a shoebox underneath Evelyn's seat. Curious, he pulls it out- only to find that it's surprisingly heavy.
Opening the lid, he finds a bundle of dynamite wired to a timer! And it's only got three minutes left before it blows!
"Is that a... why is that ticking? Freddy, make that stop ticking. " Amadeus says in a flat monotone, but his eyes are getting crazy. "MAKE IT STOP TICKING, FREDDY." He says in an increasingly loud high-pitched voice.
"Uuuuhh I don't know how to do that."
"I have some experience with explosives. Let me try". Anatoly takes the bomb... if offered, and attempts to disarm. He steps close to the door so that if he fails he can pitch it.
If Anatoly tries to disarm
Explosives spend.
If needed.
Anatoly pulls out some handy wire cutters and gets to work. Putting all of his concentration and knowledge of explosives to the task he snips the first wire.... with success.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he works on the redundant blasting caps and counts the wires. Finally, he settles on what he believes is the proper choice, a green wire attached to the timer.
Paralysis and prayer dominate the cabin as the archaeologist snips the wire.....
And the timer stops. No one explodes.
Frank, the pilot, lets out the breath he'd been holding.
"Hoo boy! Thought this would be my last flight for a minute there!"
Amadeus looks at the Russian with new respect. "Good job, sir. You are a useful man to have around."
"Wow. Nice job Anatoly. Between the grenade and the dynamite, you are the man for handling our explosives." Freddy almost gives Anatoly a hearty pat on the back, but thinks better of it.
In between the discovery of the bomb and its subsequent defusing, Evelyn wrestles with the urge to vomit. Each second seems to take an eternity to pass; by the time it is all over, the doctor is panting.
"Thank goodness," she remarks with a forced smile, as she waits for the pounding in her chest to stop. The bomb might not explode, but her heart might. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and assumes her mantle of calm once more.
Anatoly looks up with a forced smile, a single drop of sweat revealing how nervous he was.
"Thank you my friends. We were fortunate the the wiring was something I had seen before, just a different color scheme. We used similar devices when we were rough clearing some overburden at Skara Brae. I was indeed fortunate to pay enough attention to allow me to suceed".
That was...well done Anatoly. Now for the uncomfortable question...who placed the bomb there?
Freddy nods to Ralph. "Right. Frank, who else had access to this plane before us?"
From the pilot's seat, Kearns hollers back.
"Just me and Janet, pal. And believe me, I don't wanna die anytime soon- I got a sweet job here." Frank shakes his head, still a little wound up from the bomb threat.
You think for a second that he's not going to add anymore while he looks at the instruments but he pipes up a minute later.
"Could be someone broke in overnight. Whoever they was, it's lucky for us they didn't know jack about planes or they coulda really messed us up. I'll give the cabin a better look next time..."
The flight is quiet and a little tense for the remainder of the Transatlantic leg. When you touch down for refueling in the south of France, you have some time to stretch your legs at a small airfield. Janet, of course, has phoned ahead to make sure that a bottle of wine and a plate of various cheeses, smoked meats and fruits are waiting for you during your brief layover. Frank chugs a coffee and stuffs some food in his mouth before returning to the plane.
Kearns holds up departure for a few moments purely to give the plane another once over- checking the fuel lines and the engine to ensure no other surprises are waiting for you. When he's satisfied, you get back into your seats for the final leg into the Mediterranean. You all get a little shuteye (the wine helps) before you awaken for landing in Malta.
It's early morning when you arrive, landing in an airstrip a few miles outside of Valletta. Even on the interior of the island, the scent of the sea blows in off the Mediterranean in the cool predawn hours. The city stretches before you in the distance with its baroque architecture and lush gardens and a harbor that's changed hands almost as long as it's been inhabited.
And somewhere in there is a Mouth of the Liar, belching out ungodly quantities of Nectar.