Play@YSDC

Chapter Two - London, Starting 28th January 1925 For generations. London and its suburbs have comprised the greatest city known to man, approximately seven and a half million live in greater London. Not only the largest, London is also the wealthiest city in the world.

For later generations, New York will overtake the sprawling city on the Thames, but just now London is queen of civilisation. The Great War interrupted the rate of building, but that has since renewed itself despite labour unrest. The irregularly-shaped County of London is approximately 11.5 by 16 miles, with an area of about 116 square miles. It is ridiculously easy to hide in the swarm of streets and buildings.

The wealthiest portions of the city are north of the Thames: the West End, most of Westminster, with extensions into Chelsea, Kensingion, Paddington, and Marylebone. Within Westminster rest the palaces and governmental offices commonly thought of when the word London is mentioned. The most fashionable addresses include Mayfair (just east of Hyde Park), Belgravia (south of Hyde Park), Kensington (west of Belgravia), and Chelsea (to the south of Belgravia and Kensington). The actual City of London is about one square mile north of the Thames, within London’s medieval walls. It is there to which the rail terminals funnel, to the commercial heart of the British empire.

The district of Soho - a locale traditional to prostitutes and advertising men, and convenient to the seats of government - is roughly bounded by Oxford Street, Regent Street, Charing Cross Road and Piccadilly.

Further north, the districts are predominantly artisan or middle class.

The mean streets of the East End - Stepney, Bethnal, Green, Limehouse, Shoreditch, etc. - form a distinct and abruptly contrasting poverty, a state also normal along the south bank of the Thames from Battersea to Greenwich. A writer of the time noted that "even in the richest quarters, in Westminster and elsewhere, small but well-defined areas of the poorest dwellings occur..."

Further south of the Thames, the districts become progressively more middle class and suburban. - Complete Masks of Nyarlathotep (Chaosium 2001)


From the Eclipse to London, via Liverpool

The weather remained fine for the rest of the crossing, and the SS Devonian eventually slips into Liverpool Docks during the afternoon of the twenty-seventh, delayed by only one day due to the ferocity of the storm.

While Andrei remains locked inside his cabin for the duration of the voyage, distracting himself by pouring over Jackson Elias' crazy London notes, the rest of the investigators have a great time.

The spectacular solar eclipse has raised the spirits of everybody aboard the Devonian, and it seems to be one long party all the way to Liverpool. Maksim and Caroline seem to be the talk of the ship, as word quickly gets around all the passengers of their 'engagement,' everybody aboard that they meet think that they make a 'lovely couple.'

The customs officers at the port of Liverpool only glance at Elizabeth's piles of luggage, and so Timour's mighty automatic rifle passes into Great Britain unnoticed by the authorities.

********

After a single night in a plush Liverpool Hotel, the party board the morning 'Merseyside Express' from Liverpool Lime Street Station direct to London Euston, Elizabeth books a first-class compartment - a private compartment with six seats - to ensure privacy during the train journey. There are no delays and the 200 mile journey takes just over four and a half hours.
Outside Euston Arch - Euston Station, London
1:10pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

After collecting their luggage from the train the investigators make their way out onto the streets of London, standing outside the impressive Euston Arch that towers over the entrance to London's Euston Station they are greeted by lines of black taxis and bustling crowds of pedestrians. The road in packed with private cars, taxi, buses and bicycles; while the traffic here is not quite as heavy as in New York, both the roads and sidewalks are narrower and there is no grid system. This old city dates back to the Roman empire, and the arrangement of the roads is chaotic to say the least.

The air is damp and chilly, though warmer than New York, and a heavy mist hangs in air, not really one of London's famous 'pea-soupers,' but visibility is no more than a hundred yards. A few yards away a man sells copies of 'The Times' from a small newspaper stand, "Egyptian Murderer Strikes Again!" is the eye catching headline on the front page.

Elizabeth was glad to be out of the train and onto the London streets. While not her favorite European city (that would be Paris), she does have fond memories of her previous stays here. Normally Elizabeth found traveling to be invigorating and the train to be one of the most pleasant modes of transportation, but having to share a compartment with Andrei for over four hours had been quite distasteful. Luckily, the dining car had been a welcome respite from it all.

As she steps out of the station and reads the newspaper headline she lets out a little gasp. "Egyptian Murderer!" She bustles over to the stand and promptly buys a copy.

Whether or not Caroline hurries to her side, Maksim catches her hand and tutts. "Now, now, articles on murder are no things for a lady to see." He doesn't expect her to take the bait but he can't help but try for a reaction.

Timour mops the sweat from his brow. Being in such restrictive quarters for four consecutive hours had taken a toll on him, and Andrei had been less than pleasant. He thought for sure he'd seen the large Russian eyeing him when he wasn't looking, with a mean look on his face. But was he? Then again, his imagination had been known to play tricks on him. Especially when his claustrophobia was rearing it's unwelcome head.

He strides toward the newstand, happy to be out and walking, and picks up the newspaper eagerly. He opens it, giving it an impressive shake to knock the fold from the pages, but then notices Elizabeth buying one as well.

He decides to save his two bits for the next one, and goes to stand next to her to read the article. He smiles at her and leans in to see it first hand.

Johnny has been in tremendously good spirits since they passed safely through customs. Going so far as to tip his hat at random passerbys and even making cheerful comments about minor matters such as the cleanliness of the cabin, the attentiveness of the station attendants, the view from the window and so forth throughout the train trip.

The detective's face sours at the sight of the headline, and he looks as though he is of half a mind to follow Miss D and Timour to the newspaper shop, but instead contents himself with standing watchfully near the mound of luggage.

He finds himself scanning the streets apprehensively; after a few moments he finds himself looking at the Stanton Hotel. "Very accessible, not necessarily a good thing," he says to no one in particular.

Under Euston Arch - Outside Euston Station, London
1:10pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Crowding around Elizabeth, everybody can easily read the front page of her copy of The Times:

The Times, Wednesday 28th January 1925 wrote:
EGYPTIAN MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN!

SCOTLAND YARD yesterday confirmed the twenty-fifth victim of the so called Egyptian Murders. The latest victim of this most horrific series of crimes was discovered in the early hours of yesterday morning laying face down on the bank of the River Thames by passers by on the Isle of Dogs.

Speaking outside the New Scotland Yard headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, Detective Inspector James Barrington admitted that murder bore all the hallmarks of the previous serial murders, but said the true identity of the newest victim would probably remain a mystery. Barrington claimed that the victim was most likely a migrant Asian worker from the crew of a freighter, and so is unlikely to be know to the authorities.

This series of horrific murders, dubbed the Egyptian Murders due to the ethnic origins of seventeen of the previous victims, has baffled Scotland Yard detectives for over three years. Inspector Barrington, who took over the case nearly a year ago following the mysterious disappearance of his predecessor, is coming under increasing pressure to produce a result. In the meantime the citizens of London live in fear, particularly the residents of Soho's Egyptian community, for the first time since the Zeppelin raids of the Great War or perhaps since the Ripper stalked the streets of Whitechapel nearly forty years ago.

"Inspector Barrington? Isn't that..." Elizabeth scowls and glances around at the crowds of people surrounding them. She moves back to the pile of luggage and hands Johnny the newspaper. "Should we stay here or go to the Ritz or ...?" Elizabeth has never before asked Johnny for his advice on hotels.

Maksim Rukov wrote:Whether or not Caroline hurries to her side, Maksim catches her hand and tutts. "Now, now, articles on murder are no things for a lady to see." He doesn't expect her to take the bait but he can't help but try for a reaction.

"Tsk tsk. I've seen my share of dead people," Caroline says, without an edge. "If our fake marriage is going to work, you're going to have to give me some room to breathe, you know."

Andrei was extremely tense on the train. He hadn't been around the group for the last few days, and it was apparent that he hadn't cooled down since he was last seen on the night of the eclipse. The tension between him and Timour was thick enough to see. It would probably be better off if he'd just open his mouth, get into a fight, or something, but instead he scowls and fumes, and tries to maintain his distance whenever possible.

...

Andrei is extremely curious about the article at the train station, but stands back, at the luggage, with Johnny.

Johnny wrote:He finds himself scanning the streets apprehensively; after a few moments he finds himself looking at the Euston Station Hotel. "Very accessible, not necessarily a good thing," he says to no one in particular.

There's a moment of silence between the two of them, as Andrei considers Johnny's observations. The Russian seems equally apprehensive, and eyes any dark-skinned folk warily until they pass away from view.

He clears his throat, about to say something to Johnny, when Elizabeth approaches. he looks at the ground as she speaks.

Elizabeth wrote:"Inspector Barrington? Isn't that..." Elizabeth scowls and glances around at the crowds of people surrounding them. She moves back to the pile of luggage and hands Johnny the newspaper. "Should we stay here or go to the Ritz or ...?" Elizabeth has never before asked Johnny for his advice on hotels.

Andrei interrupts before Johnny can reply. He tries to sound confident, but only succeeds in speaking too loud, and coming across as rude. "I'm staying here at Euston Station. Do what you like. I shall check my bags, then I'm off to find Jackson's friend, Nathaniel." He pauses for an uncomfortable moment, then grabs his trunk and wheels it towards the Stanton.

Andrei is showing no sign that he wants to be followed.

"You know where to find me," he calls back.

The Euston Station Hotel: Photo taken from this website, it was demolished along with the Arch and the rest of the original station in 1963, and this is the only online photo I've been able to find.

Johnny nods at Andrei's disappearing backside.

imme wrote:"Should we stay here or go to the Ritz or ...?" Elizabeth has never before asked Johnny for his advice on hotels.

Johnny stares darkly at the newspaper. "The Ritz offers some advantages in the form of observant staff; I doubt anyone could get through the windows. Of course, that works both ways. The assertion that we're staying in Paris will be less convincing.

But a stay in London for a few days before we depart, presumably to Paris, is always an option."

Elizabeth's cheeks are pink and her lips are pursed as she watches Andrei's receding back. Her eyes remain boring into his back as she listens to Johnny.

Johnny wrote:"The Ritz offers some advantages in the form of observant staff; I doubt anyone could get through the windows. Of course, that works both ways. The assertion that we're staying in Paris will be less convincing. But a stay in London for a few days before we depart, presumably to Paris, is always an option."

"The Ritz it is." She marches off toward the waiting taxis.

Johnny efficiently coordinates the transfer of luggage into various taxis; making sure that he is in a cab with the heavier pieces of Miss D's luggage.

If he has a chance to speak to either Timour or Maksim he'll mention that "Perhaps you and your brother help me look into getting an appropriate car? We will be needing good one I think. With a rather sizable compartment in the back. Just for emergencies, of course."

Timour scratches the back of his head, watching Andrei walk away, and swiftly moves to Elizabeth's side without skipping a beat.

He tries to grab the luggage but of course Johnny'd beat him to it. He pulls at the one case...the one he knows he has invested interest in....and manhandles it from Johnny's hands so that he can place it in the back of the cabbie personally.

Grafster wrote: Perhaps you and your brother help me look into getting an appropriate car? We will be needing good one I think. With a rather sizable compartment in the back. Just for emergencies, of course."

"Right. A car!" Timour grins ear to ear. This was, after all, one of his favorite subjects. "Yes let's do that, straight away. We can drop the birds off at the Ritz before we go, eh?"

He glances over his shoulder at Caroline and Elizabeth, hoping they hadn't just overheard him. He nods again at Johnny, and goes round the side to hop in.

Under The Euston Arch - Euston Road, London
1:15pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Johnny and Timour quickly organise the luggage into two black cab taxis, as Andrei disappears from view into the Euston Station Hotel, without turning back once to look at his friends.

It's a few miles to The Ritz, which overlooks Green Park from Piccadilly, Mayfair; and the journey will doubtless be made longer by the heavy traffic and the fog. Nonetheless the journey will offer a chance to view a few London landmarks before getting down to more serious business.

Elizabeth is literally tight-lipped during the taxi ride. Any who tries to make eye contact with her can see the anger smoldering in her eyes.

Maksim releases Caroline at the tsk tsk with a smile. He tries to catch someone's gaze when Andrei leaves, nodding in his direction. "I gotta split, pick me somethin' with a racing engine," he says to Timour. Then joins a small crowd of people who are heading to the hotel.

Timour Rukov wrote:[Timour] pulls at the one case...the one he knows he has invested interest in....and manhandles it from Johnny's hands so that he can place it in the back of the cabbie personally.

Johnny happily acquieses to allowing Timour to handle the heaviest bag.

Timour Rukov wrote:"Right. A car!" Timour grins ear to ear. This was, after all, one of his favorite subjects. "Yes let's do that, straight away. We can drop the birds off at the Ritz before we go, eh?"

Johnny nods. It occurs to me we should start by inquiring at the Ritz. Perhaps we'll find they have one that matches your brother's specifications.

In the Cab
Johnny settles silently into his seat.

Timour settles himself in the back seat of the cab with a miserable look on his face. What did Maks think he was doing? First announcing a sham marriage...Timour looks at Caroline heavily for a moment....now running after Andrei and attempting to talk him out of his childish temper tantrum. Now here I am stuck to pick up the pieces!

He gazes out the window, fully aware of Elizabeth's bad mood. He tries not to stare at his mother's large wedding ring stuck on Caroline's finger as a beacon of blasphemy itself....

He tries to change the subject to avoid going mad in the cramped quarters. He turns to Johnny first. "Yes. The Ritz will have an idea of the best places to shop. We need a car with some rumble! Besides which, Maks isn't here. His specifications don't matter a lick when he didn't come with us to help look. It's you and me now, Johnny!"

Caroline can almost feel Timour's distaste for her at this moment, though she can't really imagine why. It wasn't like I was really married to his brother, she thinks. It's just an act.

Beth seemed too tense to talk to at the moment. Only Johnny seemed in control of his emotions, as nearly always. She decides just to keep to herself and go on to the hotel.

Johnny looks confused for a moment, then smiles.

Yes, of course, we should ignore your brothers request. Let's get a car with a very strong engine. I am sure it will be vexatious for him to have a car like that.

Timour grins, "Well, I am only saying we are the ones to have the fun, eh? So let's not spoil it for ourselves. I'd like to drive a few before I decide on one...if that's alright with everyone. It's difficult to settle down. Have to check out all the options first."

He eyes Caroline carefully as he says it, and avoids her glances if she notices him watching her.

Knowing full well the tension, he figures better to talk about it and clear the air than drive through London in silence. He clears his throat then, "Elizabeth. Tell me, would you like to accompany me this evening for a drink? Or will you be tied up with that angry sop again?" He chuckles nervously for a moment under his breath before abruptly waiting for her reply.

Palm Court, The Ritz Hotel - 150 Piccadilly, London
2:00pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

The taxi journey to The Ritz takes about twenty minutes, the route passes along Tottenham Court Road, passing by the Penhew Foundation Building, an elegant two-storey High-Victorian building, surrounded by a tall, spiked iron fence.

After crossing Oxford Street, which is teeming with shoppers, the taxi passes through the bustle of Piccadilly Circus, onto Piccadilly, and soon pulls up outside the splendid Ritz Hotel.
As the investigators step out of the taxi, a virtual army of blue uniformed porters rush to assist with the luggage. Elizabeth manages to hire two adjacent suites, each with two bedrooms, and a sleeping area for a butler. The suites are high in the hotel, with magnificent views south over the woods of Green Park
- Buckingham Palace with its own extensive grounds is clearly visible on the opposite side of the park.


After freshening up everybody gathers back downstairs in The Ritz's famous Palm Court, where Afternoon Tea is being served. The restaurant's huge windows face South towards the park, and crystal chandeliers hang from the magnificent vaulted ceiling. There is normally a six week waiting list for Tea at the Ritz, but the concierge assures you that there is always room for occupants of the hotel's best suites.
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OOC: I've moved you to the Palm Court Restaurant, and move the clock on so that Maksim or Andrei can walk in during your conversation, should either of them join you at the Ritz.

And you can't stay at The Ritz without having tea there.

In the taxi:

Timour Rukov wrote:"Elizabeth. Tell me, would you like to accompany me this evening for a drink? Or will you be tied up with that angry sop again?" He chuckles nervously for a moment under his breath before abruptly waiting for her reply.

"I haven't been tied up with him for quite awhile now," she spits out. "He's been too busy hiding in his rooms." She settles back into a smoldering silence, either having forgotten Timour's question, or choosing to ignore it.
----

Tea at the Ritz:

Elizabeth returns from having freshed herself up. She has changed out of her traveling clothes, into something more appropriate for tea. Her hair and make up have been touched up, and there is a cheerful smile on her face. At the table the concierge is kind enough to find for them, she is as pleasant as ever. She politely questions Caroline and Timour about their previous trips to London, if any, and relates amusing anecdotes about her own adventures in the city.

Caroline answers Beth's questions but may seem a bit distracted. At one level, she's just morbidly concerned about the group's situation. Here we are in the heart of civilization, and we have to be worried about savage cultists attacking us. Hardly seems possible.

At another level, she's worried about how easily and thoroughly the group seems to be fraying. She glances down at her hand, noticing the ring again. It's not like we're really married, but it's funny how a piece of metal can create a sense of obligation somehow. She hopes Maks and Andrei will be all right.

Timour has escorted the women to their table with his head held high, offering an arm to both of them to walk through the beautiful tea room. He pulls each chair out for them, finally sinking into his own seat with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Ah....London. What a beautiful city. It's been years since I was here, personally."

Timour chit chats for a bit, but finds himself feeling quite melancholy after a spell. Perhaps it was the brave front Elizabeth seemed to be putting on. Or perhaps it was the look on Caroline's face when he noticed her staring at his mother's wedding ring.

Finally, he gives her a slight smile. "It's a beautiful ring, isn't it? Mother wore it every day." How could anyone have known Maks was the thief? When the rings went mysteriously missing before we went off to the war, we all thought it was the hired help. And now this.....

Timour gazes around the tea room for a moment, then decides to leave these thoughts for a moment by himself. No use in becoming a sap in front of the ladies.

"We've quite the adventure to undertake, don't you agree? I have a feeling we'll have much to discover here."

In the Car
Johnny leans over to stare intently at the Penhew Foundation as it passes. Once it has passed from view he slides back into his seat with a slight harrumphing sound.
"A Fence..."

At the Ritz
Johnny hobbles into the tea room looking slightly flushed.

He was visible in the rooms earlier with hotel staff quiring them mercilessly on issues ranging from the frequency of window washing (when the could be expected, for how long), the existence of keys and master keys (number, possession, etc), frequency of room cleaning and identity of staff and so forth.

The famous British reserve was probably on display as the small Chinese man braced his cane against the window and leaned out as far as he could; intently inspecting the building both above and below the windows.

After that he departed immediately for a tour of "every egress in the building".

Johnny nods to Miss D and then everyone before sliding into his seat. He looks well satisfied.

The detective glances over at Timour. We have an appointment with the garage later; I believe one of their mechanics or someone similar will discuss the cars with us. They have a "Bentley Speed, ahh, Tourer Johnny flounders slightly, I've been assured it's quite fast. It won a race or something to that effect.

Timour Rukov wrote: "We've quite the adventure to undertake, don't you agree? I have a feeling we'll have much to discover here."

That does bring up the question of what we are going to look into during our visit here. I had presumed we might enjoy more relaxation during our trip, but, in light of the recent events here perhaps should consider continuing to travel in pairs?

Timour Rukov wrote:Finally, he gives her a slight smile. "It's a beautiful ring, isn't it? Mother wore it every day."

Caroline looks up, startled. "Wha- what? Oh, my! I- I didn't know." I guess I should have imagined something like that, but ... no wonder Timour has been on edge with me. She looks down self-consciously.

Elizabeth is well aware of the crowded room and the constant servants passing to and fro. "Why yes, I think we must enjoy the city together. Perhaps while you gentlemen go to look at the car Caroline and I can go to the Penhew Foundation? I remember that one of my favorite professors at Barnard dearly loved the place. He said they had an excellent collection, and somehow I've never managed to make it there on any of my previous trips. A pleasant afternoon activity, don't you think?"

Johnny, a touch edgy, nods. His voice is pitched low.

"Naturally, since the demise of its founder it might be interesting to see how things are developing in his absence. Certainly, since the man perished in that terrible accident it's unlikely that he's still lurking about.

And of course, it has a very nice address. I'm sure there wouldn't be anyone to be worried about. It certainly couldn't be a haven for,".... Johnny pauses as a waiter passes the table... "some sort of international criminal gang."
The last three words are more whispered than spoken.

"Nevertheless, I'm sure you'll take any necessary caution to prevent drawing unnecessary attention to yourselves. And as Mr. Gavigan may have had communication with Jackson in the past I'm sure he'll be curious to have heard about the unfortunate events in New York. You might want to spare him any, ah, unnecessary details of course.
The English sensibilities are quite delicate, I've heard."

"Timour and I will make sure a vehicle is ready when you return."

"Beth and I probably should go to the foundation," Caroline says. "I think we can be discreet enough, and probably more so if we don't all go in a troupe."

Decrepit wrote:

Timour Rukov wrote:Finally, he gives her a slight smile. "It's a beautiful ring, isn't it? Mother wore it every day."

Caroline looks up, startled. "Wha- what? Oh, my! I- I didn't know." I guess I should have imagined something like that, but ... no wonder Timour has been on edge with me. She looks down self-consciously.

Timour pats Caroline's hand as he speaks, but you can tell it's a subject he wished he hadn't brought up. "Just take good care of it, will you? It's been missing for some time now." He gives her a half hearted smile and looks away.

grafster wrote: The detective glances over at Timour. We have an appointment with the garage later; I believe one of their mechanics or someone similar will discuss the cars with us. They have a "Bentley Speed, ahh, Tourer.Johnny flounders slightly, I've been assured it's quite fast. It won a race or something to that effect.

"Ah yes, a fast one eh? Maks will be tickled I suppose." Timour sits back in his chair and strokes an absent minded hand along his moustache. "Yes, I suppose that would be best."

He looks over at Beth and Caroline as they speak about the foundation, and Johnny's warning rings in his ears. His eyes lingered over Elizabeth's face, seemingly enraptured with every detail for a moment. He thoughtfully sips his tea, then sets it on the saucer with a clatter. He looks around nervously, then leans in. "I'd really prefer to be going to the Foundation if there's any hint of trouble possible there. What if the ladies get into hot water? And we're off at the garage, distracted by large engines and greasy tradesmen? No, we'll have to swing by there before we return to the hotel, just in case. Unless Caroline's interested in car shopping with you, Johnny?" He winks at Caroline and grins.

In my experience less can sometimes be more more. Two young ladies with a casual interest in the Foundation's work don't raise the sort of attention that three, or even four people would.

Johnny begins to roll a cigarette. "And there is something else to consider as well. This Gavigan is probably the bookish sort. Afraid of his own shadow," he glances over at Timour, "Probably not comfortable around, well... men of strong character. He'd probably be so flustered at the sight of you that he'll go running to hide behind the lace curtains in his office." Johnny swallows for a minute, but forges on. "I think Miss Downings original proposal is the most likely to bear fruit."

"Ah, yes, the meek sort eh?" Timour laughs, as he picks up a pastry and bites into it.

"Really what I meant was to drive around the back and scope it out. Make sure there's no strange characters lurking about, running for their lives." He pauses to take another bite, "You know, just in case." Timour adds.

"Timour, I do appreciate your concern, but it is the middle of the day and we'll only be two young women visiting a respectable foundation. Trust me, if I believed there to be any significant danger, I would be the last to want to go. You and Johnny do whatever you wish, but Caroline and I will travel there alone." Elizabeth smiles at Caroline. "It will be our own little harmless adventure."

Yes, quite. I am, and I am sure we all are, quite comfortable and confident that Miss Downing and Dr. Ward due to the great care and discretion they routinely exercise, and will be quite safe during their short and casual visit to the Foundation." Johnny's voice is studiedly neutral, almost placid.

Johnny notes he seems to have squeezed his cigarette a bit too hard and forcing tobacco leaves out of the ends. He begins to roll another with measured, careful movements.

And there are a great deal of other things we could follow up. I believe there was discussion of checking up on Mr. Moore, or visiting the offices of the Scoop or even speaking with Inspector Barrington.

Plus there is the matter of, loading all of those heavy bags into the car.

"Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten Mr. Moore," Caroline exclaims. "Someone should see about him. Oh, but didn't Andrei mention that he was going to check up on him?" Still, Andrei had been proving rather ... unreliable. A frown crosses her face momentarily.

The Ritz - Piccadilly, London
3:30pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Elizabeth and Caroline leave for the Penhew Foundation after everyone has finished their tea, Johnny and Timour wait around for another twenty minutes for the Bentley to be delivered.

The rental for the powerful car is £5 per day, rather expensive, but little to someone of Elizabeth's means.

Maksim still hasn't arrived, so unfortunately the task of testing out the race car will fall on them.

******************

Click here to read about Elizabeth and Caroline's visit to the Penhew Foundation.

Johnny leans against the wall of the garage while they wait for the Bently to be brought around. Massaging his leg with one hand and smoking enthusiastically.

He glances around, seeing that no one is within earshot he takes his chance to speak with Timour.

"I'd been meaning to mention something. The ah...." Johnny inclines his head at the heavy set of bags resting on the ground nearby, " ... is quite useful. But it's not so easy to carry around. Maybe we should consider picking up something that's a bit more.... concealable. You mentioned something back at Andrei's apartment about grenades." Johnny whispers the last word.

"I don't think I took your comment seriously at the time. There have been times recently when I wish I had. I think we may need to be more prepared than we have been in the future for unforeseen events."

"I hope you're not implying..." Timour begins, then pauses to bum a smoke, "that I'd leave it behind. You know that's out of the question."

He casually lights the cigarette, and leans in. "I'm glad to see you've decided to take me seriously about that. It couldn't hurt to have them along." Timour raises his eyebrows and nods at the pile of luggage, "Once they're safely stowed in the trunk, the heaviness won't be an issue."

Timour folds his arms, then unfolds them. He appears to be trying desperately to wait patiently, to no avail. He mumbles under his breath some foulness about the garage help's incompetence, and sucks on his cigarette fixatedly.

Johnny shakes his head as he passes Timour a cigarette. "On the contrary. It events at Ju Ju House made me keenly aware that... from time to time... it might be necessary to... ah..." he glances around quickly "make a large impression on a large group of people."

"I'm just saying that, in the event of an emergency, it might be better to have a lot of options. Including options that you can put in your pocket, or a small bag."

Fortunately the trunk of the Bentley has enough room for all of the 'heavy items' that four occupants could ever wish for.

Timour soon has a small arsenal stored in there. Just in case.

Johnny gets directions to Fleet Street from a mechanic. "We won't be able to find Moore before Andrei does. Better to start some place where we can be effective. And I'd prefer if Miss Downing didn't show her face there. We were able to track Carlyle's movements using newspaper articles, and he wasn't connected to the biggest murders in New York in the last ten years.

We should be able to make some discreet inquiries, see what they have to say about Jackson and be back before too long has passed.

"Yes.....Andrei..." Timour's expression darkens and he mumbles under his breath incoherently again, and butts his cigarette.

"Well, you know, Elizabeth has a face a man can never forget. " Timour stares off distractedly and rubs his moustache. "Right. Sounds like you've dotted your i's and crossed your t's." Timour grins, "....as usual."

He slaps the hood of the Bentley as he walks round it and slips into the driver's seat. "Let's see what this baby can do!"

Timour turns the key and the Bentley's powerful engine roars into life. Driving away from the Ritz Hotel he finds that the racing car is every bit as powerful he'd hoped, probably a little too powerful for the crowded streets of central London, but it will make an excellent getaway car if that becomes necessary.

Fleet Street, London
4:00pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925


Fleet Street, London

Half an hour later Timour and Johnny are sat in the Bentley, parked on Fleet Street close to Ludgate Circus.

Across the road is a Victorian-era office block that has seen better days, according to several people who they've asked the office of The Scoop is located on the third floor.

[OOC: I've just noticed that I forgot to erase the location of The Scoop from the London Map ]

Johnny's taken the opportunity to try to recall what they know about the Scoop during the drive over.

"Unfortunately, until that Australian professor looked over the notesnone of us had even noticed the mention of this paper."

He glances over at the nearby building. "Maybe we should just cut to the case, bring up Jackson's name and see what they say? We could say we're working for his estate, but that because of his death a few things need to be cleared up before we can proceed with the probate."

Timour flashes Johnny a confused look and pulls to the side of the road in front of the Scoop.

"Well, that's really your forte, now isn't it? I don't recall that, but I'm sure it's because I was unconscious at the time." Timour scratches his head, and shuts off the engine.

"I'll just follow your lead, Johnny."

"I'd tell you more but I know little. Andrei may have figured out more during his studies of the notes during the trip, but I if so he hasn't let me know anything yet."

Johnny gets out of the car and makes his way across the street, slowly mounting the steps to the office of the Scoop.

OOC
Once inside he explains that he's a private detective, from the US, representing the estate of Jackson Elias and he'd like a few minutes of someone's time. He starts off with general questions, trying to suss out what sort of relationship, if any, Jackson had with the Scoop, or, more specifically with any staff. If it doesn't look like this is the case he'll have to shift gears.

Timour has to double step to catch up to Johnny's lead, but manages to reach the door at about the same time. He tries to look casual, keeping an ear on what Johnny is asking about, but looking around as well.

He runs a finger over a dusty shelf, looks up to the ceiling, and scopes out the joint for anything looking out of place. He also pays close attention to the men Johnny is speaking with, for any hint of discomfort given the topic of discussion.

******************

Click here to read about Johnny and Timour's visit to The Scoop.

The Ritz Hotel - 150 Piccadilly, London
5:05pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Elizabeth and Caroline arrive back at The Ritz only a minute before Timour roars up to the entrance in the Bentley with Johnny holding tightly onto the passenger seat.

Dinner will be served at 5:30, formal evening dress is of course a requirement.

There's still no sign of either Maksim or Andrei.

******************

[OOC: Remember that Grafster can't post for a few days, so just assume Johnny's listening quietly for now.]

Caroline looks a little dour as she comes in--more dour than usual, anyway. The day at the Foundation was ... informative, but it seemed that every clue just led to another one, that everyone had something to hide.

"So, where's my husband?" Caroline asks, suddenly brightening and looking around the room. "Never here when you need him, is he?"

Johnny perches by the window, idly scanning the street. He looks a bit tired.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen him. And the front desk says he hasn't checked in yet. Perhaps he is still consoling Andrei?"

"How was your visit to the Foundation?"

"We got a good tour by Edward, Mr. Gavigan that is. He seemed to know quite a bit about the Expedition. He was of the opinion that that black woman was cheating them all. She promised great finds and then disappeared with all of the Expedition's money. But I asked too many questions and he became suspicious." She looks embarrassed.

Timour had sauntered up to meet the ladies with a grin on his face, in clear satisfaction of his trip to the Scoop. He stood there casually for a moment, listening in, proudly admiring the car and only paying half attention.

He snaps back to the conversation abruptly, however, when Elizabeth begins to recount their findings.

"Uh....suspicious? What sort of fellow was he? Did he look....dangerous....or threatening...in any way?"

Timour shoves his hands in his pockets and looks disappointed, but the expression only lasts for a moment. Then, a flicker of mysterious amusement crosses his eyes. "You dolls get all the action, huh?"

"Well," Caroline says, "I don't think Edward was dangerous, at least not to us. It seemed more as if he were holding something back and told us a cover story rather than everything he knew. We shoudln't be surprised; I doubt we'd tell everything we knew to strangers, either."

She turns to Beth. "Oh, please don't be sorry, darling. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sure I wouldn't have done as well as you did. He was just being tight-lipped, maybe for good reason.

"We should find out more, though. There are three options, as I see it. One would be to try to look up some more information about Gavigan. That might be a good idea regardless of what else we do.

"The second is to try to take him into our confidence and hope he tells us more out of a sense of duty. Without knowing more about him or his motives, I can't recommend that.

"The third would be watch him or the Foundation, or--" She stops for a moment. "Or do a little after-hours snooping at the Foundation ourselves.

"Really, he may not know that much more, but I'm confident he's keeping something back." She looks around for reactions, knowing that she's probably said more and proposed more than she ever has with them at one time. For a moment, she wishes Maks were there for some reassurance.

Johnny's face has featured a unattractive, pinched frown for most of the conversation.

If we are presuming that Jackson was onto something. And since we're all here I think we are, then we have to accept the possibly that his superficially lunatic concerns about criminal groups operating as religious gangs in London are as correct as his concerns about New York.

The implications of our conversations with the gentleman who runs the Scoop are basically.... Jackson thought he was being followed. And these groups were tied with both the Penhew Foundation and with attacks, including the Egyptian Murders, in the area.

I'd like to be circumspect, when possible. Would you," Johnny looks over at Miss Downing, "object to spending the evening ostentatiously spending money and appearing unconcerned about anything this evening? In the improbable event that this Edward person is connected to the group, or you were followed then that should give the impression that we are not serious about pursuing the matter. The hotel would be the safest, but you could always go visit that painter Timour was interested in."

"Did Edward seem to be married?"

"I will surveil the Foundation today, if possible follow Edward home and identify where he lives, and then return to the foundation to keep an eye on things. Tomorrow, during the day, I can attempt to enter his house, provided he doesn't have an excess of servants or a homebound wife. It should be less secure, and we may find something of interest."

"Having seen the Foundation during the night, and seen what we can see at his house tomorrow we can consider how prudent it will be to break into the Foundation tomorrow."

Elizabeth sighs. "I'd love to be unconcerned about anything this evening. I can turn a gay face to the world." She smiles to prove her point. "What painter?"

"Oh, I didn't get the impression he was. He seemed the old bachelor type to me. But I didn't notice his ring finger."

imme wrote: "Oh, I didn't get the impression he was. He seemed the old bachelor type to me. But I didn't notice his ring finger."

Johnny nods. "That will make things significantly easier."

imme wrote:Elizabeth sighs. "I'd love to be unconcerned about anything this evening. I can turn a gay face to the world." She smiles to prove her point. "What painter?"

Johnny shrugs, "Just someone Jackson had some sort of fascination with. Lives nearby. Paints strange things." The diminutive detective gestures vaguely in Timour's direction as if answers will be more forthcoming from the handsome Russian.

Timour grins at Elizabeth, and replies simply, "Fascinating, really. The ol' chap paints these pictures...gruesome ones....we read an article about it in the Scoop." Timour leans into Caroline and Elizabeth and lowers his voice, "The article stated his words....something about...he's in contact with these other dimensions...with these powerful beings...and his art is just his version of what he's seen."

Timour rubs his chin a bit, "I thought it sounded fascinating....but of course I had to find out what the ol' guy was like. Found out where he lived. But naturally I didn't want to knock on the door without knowing what to expect. If he were dangerous....you know? Apparently he's harmless...according to Mickey at the Scoop anyways."

As Timour finishes explaining the painter, his weird subject matter and absurd claims Johnny starts to gather his hat and coat.

" 'Fascinating'? Hmm." Elizabeth is less than convinced that disturbing paintings by a disturbed man are of any particular interest. "I don't know, that doesn't seem particularly appealing, but if you think it's worth investigating ... What do you think, Caroline? Shall we go see these paintings or stay here and enjoy the ammenities of the Ritz?"

"Oh, I don't know, dear," Caroline says. "Sometimes the ravings of the mad do carry a particular insight. I'm not sure, though, what this could possibly have to do with our problem--unless, of course, Timour thinks this man truly *is* in touch with 'other dimensions'?" She could believe psychotic madmen were after them easily enough, but to believe that what they themselves believed ... well, that was beyond credulity. "I don't think any of us should go out alone, though," she adds hastily, lest it seem like she was consigning Timour to a suicide run.

Timour shuffles his feet nervously and scratches his head. Why can't they see how fascinating this was? A man that claimed to be in contact with otherworldly beasts? Oh....where was Andrei and Maks? Surely they'd be into running after some half crazed lunatic....and clearly it wasn't the dames' cup of tea....

"Well, don't worry your pretty heads about it. Perhaps its a job for a couple of us blokes, huh?" He gives Johnny a wink and a jab to his arm, much to his chagrin, and grins at the ladies.

"We can always discuss this over dinner, after all. We should all retire to the dining room. I'm famished, myself."

"Now there's an idea I can fully endore," Caroline says, smiling.

Timour begins to walk away to retire to his room to change for supper, but turns in an afterthought.

"I never mentioned it....but I found it interesting that Jackson himself had been interested in these paintings as well. He'd been down at the Scoop looking up a few articles that the bloke, Mickey'd shown us. Jackson had taken an interest in the paintings....seen them as an important clue. I don't know what we'll find down there, but we'll at least get closer to what Jackson was trying to uncover."

Timour looks over at Johnny to gauge his response. He was certain that Johnny was just strangely intimidated by these otherworldly encounters....but still....the both of them had heard these details...why was he so quiet?

Timour turns to see Johnny at the door, hat and coat in hand. He smiles a slightly grim smile. "I should be back by morning. I hope you have a fruitful evening."

He nods to Miss Downing and disappears into the bowels of the hotel.

"Oh, all right, Timour," Caroline says. "I can see that you're fixated on this idea. Going with you would be the least I could do for my new 'brother-in-law.'" She pats his hand.

Johnny's trip to the Penhew Foundation is detailed in a separate thread.

The Ritz Hotel - 150 Piccadilly, London
6:35pm - Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Timour, Elizabeth and Caroline enjoy an excellent evening meal in the Ritz Hotel Restaurant, then get ready to head out into London again. The heavy rush hour traffic has mostly died away now, unfortunately the fog hasn't.

[OOC: If you don't want to take the Bentley, it's less than a mile to Miles Shipley's house on Holbein Mews, so it's probably easier to walk than take the tube.]

Upon stepping outside, Elizabeth shivers and pulls her coat more tightly closed. "Well, Timour, now you have a chance to show us this car you've been so excited about." She turns to include Caroline as well, "and perhaps after we see these paintings we can go out on the town and try to enjoy ourselves. What was it Johnny said? 'Ostentatiously spend money'? I think we can manage that." She grins, but the usual sparkle is missing from her eyes.

"Don't worry, doll, I'm right here beside ya." Timour senses Elizabeth's forced good mood, and catches her around the waist on the way to the car.

He motions to the Bentley when they near, and quickly opens the doors for Elizabeth and Caroline, before swinging round to the trunk to ensure a few important things are still present in the trunk.

He slips into the front seat, the engine roars to life, and he quickly starts off towards the painters home, following the directions Mickey gave him.

Outside Miles Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:45pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

The drive to Holbien Mews only takes a couple of minutes, traffic is much lighter now so there is little to slow down Timour's Bentley - apart from unfamiliarity with driving on the left side of the road.

The houses along Holbien Mews are rather dilapidated looking two storey terraces, indeed numbers four and eight adjacent to Miles Shipley's house at number six are both boarded up and abandoned. Several of the streetlights along the Mews are not working, but the one right outside number five (across the street from the Shipley residence) is - illuminating the fog below it an eerie yellow.

The street is quiet. As Timour parks the car there is nobody else in sight, although visibility is less than a hundred feet anyway.

The curtains of number six are all tightly closed, but the lights are on inside.

"This is seeming like a worse idea by the minute," Caroline says as she looks around, her initial reluctance resurfacing.

Timour leans forward across the steering column to look at the house from the outside.

He turns in his seat to face Beth and Caroline, and gives them a nervous grin.

"Perhaps I'll knock on the door first....you know.....just to....find out what kind of feller this guy really is. You two should wait here for a moment or two. I'll wave to you if it's a go, alright?"

"Well ... all right, but don't do anything rash ... or any more rash, I mean," Caroline says, then glances at Beth for confirmation.

Elizabeth nods. "Yes, and we will keep an eye on the street." She glances around, nervously and subconsciously demonstrating her point.

Timour hops out of the car and swings the door shut, putting a self conscious hand on his pistol momentarily.

He exhales slowly and walks over to the door, rapping on it three times.

Outside Miles Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:47pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Nobody answers Timour's knocking for a minute or two, eventually however the door is opened halfway by an old lady - Timour estimates that she is in her seventies.

The lady is dressed in a yellow frock and a brown woollen cardigan, and is holding some knitting in her left hand. Peering cautiously around the door onto the street she looks surprised to see the young Russian stood on her doorstep.

"Hello?"

"Evenin' to ya" Timour tips his hat and smiles. "Name's Maks. I'm a fan of your son's paintings. Is he home?"

Outside Miles Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:47pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

The lady remains half hidden behind the front door, "Oh? Are you interested in purchasing?"

"We don't usually allow casual viewing you see..."

Her eyes move to Timour's expensive sports car parked outside, where Elizabeth and Caroline are still seated, and her lips twist into a smile.

"...never mind. Come inside, my Miles will be delighted to show you his work."

She opens the front door fully and steps aside, waving Timour into her house.

Caroline starts tapping her foot nervously on the floorboard.

Timour starts into the door, then turns to peer into the car from where he's standing.

"You won't mind if I invite my friends in also?" Before she has a chance to answer, he begins waving Elizabeth and Caroline in from the car.

Outside Miles Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:47pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

"Oh of course not dear, come inside! The more the merrier!"

While Timour waits for Elizabeth and Caroline to catch up, Mrs Shipley turns towards the staircase behind her and shouts, "Miles! We've got visitors!"

When she turns back to Timour she says, "He's such a dedicated boy you know, I just can't keep him away from those paintings of his."

She smiles, "Would you all like a nice cup of tea dears? It's such a chilly night outside."

It's much warmer inside the house, clearly Mrs Shipley likes to keep her house homely despite it's dilapidated appearance. Even standing half inside the doorway Timour can feel the warmth of the interior. He hears some footsteps and a voice from somewhere upstairs, "I'm... coming... mother!"

The voice sounds tired or distracted, or perhaps it's just distorted by the distance.

Elizabeth eagerly leaves the car when beckoned. She quickly makes her way up to the front door, but lets Timour continue leading the show.

Hmmm, thinks Caroline as she trots off after Beth. It's just art ....

If the ol' fellow's painting...what sort of shape is he in? Communicating with aliens? Distracted by voices in his head? Oh...this is gonna be good!

Timour flashes the woman a smile, "Tea'd be lovely, I think." He waits at the door for Beth and Caroline to catch up, and holds the door for them.

"These are my companions, Shirley (he motions to Elizabeth and winks) and Dorothy (he motions again to Caroline). And of course I'm Maks." He smiles his most dashing smile at the woman. "We couldn't help our interest in these paintings. They sound simply stunning. I'm sure your son does very well, hm?" Timour watches the staircase fixatedly where the voice was trailing from, and makes motion to come in and settle into one of the easy chairs in the living room.

Inside he shakes. Just don't call me Timour....please just go with the aliases.....Shirley and Dorothy....don't forget...Shirley...Dorothy....

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow and turns to Caroline. "Well, Dorothy it looks like Max has managed to get us a viewing after all."

"How delightful," "Dorothy" replies, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice and hoping her nervousness at the ruse doesn't show.

The Shipley House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:49pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Once everyone's entered the house and gone into the living room, Mrs Shipley locks the front door and pockets the key. Then she walks into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

It is uncomfortably warm inside the living room, a large coal fire blazes in the hearth, and there is an unusual aroma that is familiar, but none of the investigators can quite place it.

By the time the kettle has boiled and Mrs Shipley returned with a tray full of steaming cups of tea, her son has finally arrived downstairs.

"So... you... want... to... see... my... paintings... then?" Miles Shipley is a mess; it doesn't need someone with Catherine's medical training to see that he is quite clearly insane, and probably a drug addict. He looks at those gathered in the living room though wide bloodshot eyes, staring at Elizabeth and Catherine in particular with a look that can only be described as hunger.

His voice is halting, he has nervous tremors, his thick hair is greasy and unkempt, and his skin has a sheen of sweat.

Miles offers his hand to his guests, it's shaking even before anyone accepts.

While her son shakes hands, Mrs Shipley passes out the cups of tea. Disturbingly she also looks greedily at her guests.
[OOC: Couldn't resist using the photo of Isaac Mendez for Miles. Unfortunately I've not managed to find a photo of him looking his worst.]

Time to go now, Timour, Caroline thinks as she takes an appraising look at Miles and Mrs. Shipley. She declines Miles proffered handshake, and she declines to take any tea. Whatever good humor she entered the door with has evaporated.

Elizabeth barely manages to keep from recoiling at Miles' look. "We ... have no time to visit, I'm afraid. We must be off to another engagement. Perhaps we can just view the paintings tonight and return tomorrow for the tea and a discussion of any possible acquisitions?"

Timour gives Miles a half hearted smile and shakes his hand enthusiastically. Time to step it up a notch...the ladies are getting antsy...

"Well, we were so interested in meeting you personally, after all. Heard such interesting things, and I believe we're interested in acquiring a painting if it's not too much trouble. Trouble is we're shopping for a friend, and he might be choosy about which one. We were hoping to take a look so that we could recommend a few to him. He's quite the art collector. And I have to admit, I'm so interested in hearing a little about them! Remarkable, I've been told."

Timour rubs the back of his neck casually and grimaces in Elizabeth's direction. Hardly the time to offend and go running back out the door.....I don't like this much either but there's no sense causing them to turn on us now, is there?

"Follow me... then..." Miles turns around and starts to lead the way upstairs.

"My... studio... is in... the... attic."

Elizabeth pointedly waits for Timour to go first, and will follow afterwards with Caroline.

Caroline glances ruefully at Beth and comes along.

Timour hops up from his seat and follows Miles up the stairwell. He winks at Elizabeth and Caroline and tries to go ahead of them, so that he's the first in line headed up the stairs. If anything goes on...I want to be the first in line...... Timour swallows hard and wonders what he's got himself, Elizabeth and Caroline into. Miles and his mother seemed the peculiar sort, of that there was no doubt.

Timour feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He hoped they wouldn't be given any trouble. There's ladies here after all....he wouldn't try anything odd would he??

The Shipley House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:52pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Miles leads the investigators up through the second floor and up a second creaking staircase to his garret studio in the attic, his mother walks up last, following the ladies. The studio door is locked, Miles uses a key to unlock it before proudly leading everyone inside.

It is a bare room with sloping ceilings, illuminated by dangling kerosene lamps. There is a skylight in the roof, but it appears to have been blacked out with paint. Under the skylight stands an easel, the canvas on it bears a few faint pencil sketches, doubtless the next of Miles' masterpieces.

Against the walls stand four stacks of painting, tow against the south wall and two against the north wall. Miles led everyone in thorough a door in the south wall, there is another padlocked door in the north wall. The front painting in each stack is visible, they truly are macabre masterpieces, each one is minutely detailed, seeming to hint that closer study will reveal details that escape the casual viewer. Their colours are vivid, seeming to bring the gruesome or otherworldly scenes to life. Looking at the paintings is disturbing, they draw you in, the scenes are repulsive, but riveting and viewing them leads to a curious mixture of emotions: the urge to leave the room immediately, is opposed by a desire to study each painting in intimate detail for hours, and this is tempered by the urge to view the paintings hidden behind the font layer.

The first stack of paintings to the north contains six paintings, the front one is a portrait of a beautiful woman, unnaturally pale, sleeping delicately on a verdant carpet of writing serpents. There is a bite mark on her neck, and as you look closer at the painting, her flesh begins to take on a sickly greenish cast. Beside it, next to the padlocked door, stands a second stack of five paintings, the front one depicts a city of dark, windowless towers made of some kind of black stone.

On the south wall the two stacks sit on either side of the entrance, one to the left is a stack of four, in the scene depicted in the first, it is night. A vast black mountain rises from a savannah. A great figure rises over the mountain, blotting out the moon. Its head is a massive red tendril. Near a temple-like building, tiny human figures lift their hands imploringly towards the creature; each wears a headdress of the bloody tongue - the exact same headdresses that were worn by the cultists in New York.

To the right of the entrance stands the final stack of six paintings, the front painting is an extreme close-up of a human eye. The pupil reflects endless rows of teeth, stacked one atop the next.

Timour takes a first few glances and tries hard to squelch the feelings of panic and disgust rising up. This guy's bloody well off his rocker....

He looks from one painting to the next, and flashes a knowing glance at Elizabeth. After a moment he looks at the painting of the bloody tongue with interest, and then feels a creeping, cold finger trace his spine and work up to his skull, giving him a chill that moves over him entirely. He shudders involuntarily, and quickly turns away.

"Ah....ha ha....uh....they're so.....detailed. Really great work, Miles. I'm...uh.....heh..heh.....astounded! Where did you get such....(ahem)......brilliant inspiration?"

Caroline looks closely at the paintings, finding herself drawn, despite her intentions and against a strong but not strong enough part of her will, into the painting of the beautiful woman. Almost without realizing it, she begins to rub her own neck at the point where the woman in the painting has the bite mark.

Timour was right to want to come here after all, she thinks. This is truly fascinating ...

She hears Timour's question as if through layers of water, and responds, "Yes, Miles, please do tell us."

Elizabeth's eyes go wide as they travel around the room, and are pulled back to the bloody tongue painting. It horrifies her to see such a clear depiction of those damned headdresses, and the creature is more than disturbing, but her gaze remains locked on the scene. It's like a giant clue waiting to be unwrapped.

She nods in response to Timour's question.

[OOC: Oops! I almost forgot, the creature rising over the Mountain is the same one that you saw in the dream, the one that attacked Timour!
SAN Checks everyone please. (Sanity loss is 0/1d4)]

The Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
6:53pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

Miles walks towards the first stack of paintings, with the painting of the woman and the bed of snakes that Caroline is examining, "I... don't... know really. The scenes... just... come... to me"

"Would... you... like to look... through... the... rest of... them?"

Mrs Shipley stands in front of the padlocked door, she smiles in delight as she says, "Yes you must look through them all, Miles is so talented! I'm sure that there will be something to interest your friend."

[I was surprised that these paintings didn't challenge our sanity, but I wasn't about to ask for a roll. Chapter 2 - San check for creature in painting (75) (1d100=63, 1d4=3) Wow, has Elizabeth really not lost any sanity yet?]

Elizabeth can't help herself. She nods and moves over to where Miles is ready to show more of these disturbing, and amazing, paintings.

[O.C. The bloody tongue is really creeping Timour out....he is losing sanityfor sure. And funny that you forgot Raiko....I laughed at that! Timour loses 2 sanity]

Timour hops from one foot to another uncomfortably and averts his eyes from the painting of the bloody tongue. Somehow, it was haunting him, this depiction of his worst nightmare. He could see the costumes as plain as the day he experienced it firsthand. He cleared his throat, put a hand on the back of his neck, and shifted again.

He begins to move the one in front of the stack of two to see the one behind.

Keep it together....this is nothing to go crazy over....the women will wonder if you start to sketch out....c'mon man....!!!!

[OOC: Caroline fails her San check (70) with a roll of 74. San loss is 2 points.]

Caroline, entranced, says, "Yes, I very much would like to see what happens next to that poor, lovely, pale thing." She moves to flip to the next painting, feeling an almost overwhelming desire to do so.

Somehow, though, the rational part of her mind speaks, even as she looks on the next works, "Oh, Miles," she says, touching his hand, for some reason no longer finding him repulsive, "you simply must be honest with me, though, about your inspiration. Our ... our friend ..." She finds it a bit difficult to get the words out, even to form them in her mind. "Our friend has particular tastes, if you know what I mean. This person likes art that ... that means something."

The next painting that Caroline reveals shows a Castle on a moor. Mutilated bodies are impaled on its ramparts. Things that are not quite birds circle overhead, silhouetted by the setting sun.

Caroline wrote:Our friend has particular tastes, if you know what I mean. This person likes art that ... that means something.

Miles freezes, unsure how to answer, his mad eyes are fixed upon a point on Caroline's forehead that seems to utterly distract him.

After standing unmoving for a few seconds, he snaps out of his trance and mumbles, "I don't... know... what you... mean. Won't he... like my... paintings?"

Miles glances at his mother, he looks scared. "Won't... he... like this one?"

Miles shows Caroline the next painting in the stack. Two men kneel before a massive tree. The fruit of the tree is rotten and filled with maggots. The maggot’s faces are strangely human. In the background are dark trees with intertwining trunks and sinuous branches.

*******************

Timour Rukov wrote:He begins to move the one in front of the stack of two to see the one behind.

The painting shows a large room in a museum, the room contains Egyptian exhibits - sculptures and statues - a young woman's body lies in a pool of blood. Two men stand over the body, one seems familiar. Andrei Zatisov flees from the scene - holding a revolver. He's running towards something insubstantial that lurks in the shadows, Timour tries to see more clearly what it is, but Miles has painted it in such a way that he just can't make out any details.

Timour realises that the familiar figure standing over the woman's body is his brother Maksim, viewed from behind.

[ooc: Oh sh*t!]

Caroline finds the new painting still rather mesmerizing as she tries to place the creatures she sees flying ahead, almost moving to touch one, then stopping. She hears the panic in Miles's voice and attempts to soothe him by sidestepping his question, no longer so much perversely charmed by him as hoping to diffuse a potentially explosive situation.

"Oh, Miles, your art is ... wondrous. I'm sure anyone with a true eye for genius would recognize your gifts."

Then she pushes the gambit just a bit. "Everything looks so ... so vivid. So lifelike. But of course it's all fantastic."

She glances to see how Timour is reacting, sensing something has happened.

Timour stares at the painting momentarily, his eyes widening and feeling as though they'd surely bore holes in the very canvas with their intensity. What is this I'm seeing? It can't be...it couldn't be.....

The room swims, and he takes a step back, managing to choke out a "Oh dear god!" before hanging his head to rub his temple vexatedly. Why have I come here? This is not what I wish to know....is it? I don't want to see these paintings, this curious mix between horror and a possible future? Is this what will happen? Is this a sign of things to come?

He flashes a pained expression at Caroline, and motions for her to come closer. He can't help but close his eyes and shudder though, as the same cold finger traces his spine and the chill runs up his back and over his very skull.

We've got to get out of here......soon.

"Wha....what....have you painted..... here in the corner, Miles?" Timour asks weakly, spinning on his heel to find the painter. He points to the spot that Andrei is headed for, and looks at him curiously.

Caroline drags herself away from the painting she'd been looking at, seeing the pain on Timour's face. Then she sees what Timour saw and gasps as well, her hand going to her mouth. "Uh, yes, Miles," she finally gets out, "what does this one represent?" She's unsure what she or any of them can get out of Miles and his mother. She knew already there was something Miles wasn't telling her, but now her worst suspicions seem--somehow, impossibly--confirmed: Miles is somehow painting things that are real. Would actually buying one of these horrors draw Miles out? Surely they couldn't convince those two that they shared their ... beliefs, could they? Would any of them make it out of here? Her thoughts raced at lightning speed.

Having been prepared for something shocking by her companions' reactions, Elizabeth manages to keep her mouth firmly shut as she leans in to view the painting. Nevertheless, the image sends shivers up her spine. Her face drains of color and her hands clench into fists at her side. The present? The future? Neither seems like a good option, but the painting is so life-like that it must mean something. And how could Miles have painted Andrei so faithfully, almost surely never having seen him before? And why was she wondering that anyway when there was obviously something horrible at work, based on all the other paintings she could see? Elizabeth remains silent.

Miles studies his painting curiously, as though he'd never seen it before.

Eventually he says somewhat ambiguously, "I think... the thing... in the corner... represents... the character's... future."

"He... flees... from this... scene, but... straight towards... something... far darker."

He smiles "Do... you... like... this one?"

While everyone else gathers around Miles' painting of Andrei, his mother remains by the padlocked door studying everyone silently, she looks quite predatory.

[OOC: I think everyone should make another SAN roll, seeing Andrei in the painting must be fairly mindblowing - again the loss is 0/1d3]

[OOC - Chapter 2 - San roll for seeing the painting (75) (1d100=23, 1d3=1) Elizabeth's sanity remains invincible! ... for now.]

"Mmm, maybe. Two more to go ..." She moves the second painting to see the fourth.

[OOC: Caroline blows it again with a SAN loss of 1 this time.]

[O.C. Sanity check passed....amazingly enough! ]

Timour tries hard to shake off the chills running down his spine, and looks back at Miles peculiarly.

"Wait, he runs to something else? Something darker? Did you paint a series? Do you have more depicting this man?" He points to Andrei in confusion.

It's so strange....how could he paint him without knowing him? Or is this man tracking us? Or perhaps the cult he follows is....

Miles stares at Timour, clearly irritated that the Russian misunderstands his work, “No... there’s no... series.”

He points to the shadowy entity that Andrei is depicted running towards, “This... is the character’s... dark future.”

“His future... is... uncertain, so you... cannot clearly... see the... entity.”

“I... expect... he’ll... die.”

Miles shrugs, “But... it’s only... a painting.”

Miles’ Mother laughs loudly.

At Miles' words Elizabeth forgets the other paintings. She spins around and glares at his mother. "Tim ... Timothy will be expecting us back soon, I suspect. Max? I think we've seen enough. We need to go. Now."

Caroline nods assent. She'd really like to get to the bottom of what these two people are hiding, but they're all in a rather vulnerable state, both physically and mentally right now.

Timour looks at Elizabeth in alarm, rather shocked at her abrupt change in behaviour. "Uh....alright....uh....ok then. But....are you sure you wouldn't like to take a painting home tonight? This one.." he motions to the one of Maksim and Andrei..." well, it's struck a peculiar fancy with me. I'd hate for someone else to buy it....you know.....before we have a chance to tell.... Timothy about it..." He furrows his brow in confusion, hoping she'd catch his drift. Would it be wise to leave it here...to fall into the wrong hands? Surely Maks and Andrei wouldn't believe our stories of these paintings without seeing it firsthand...especially Johnny...seemingly the doubting Thomas...he'd never give them the time of day...

The flickering light of the kerosene lamps causes the shadows in the garret studio to dance and flicker, but just for a moment as Elizabeth stares at Miles' elderly mother she thinks that she sees a shadow cast on the door behind her not from a frail old lady, but from some reptilian creature of nightmare.

The hairs on the back of Elizabeth's neck stand on end as she realises why the strange aroma of this house seems so familiar. She remembers days spent in Central Park Zoo with her parents as a child, and most of all she remembers the smell and the dry heat of the Reptile House...

Mrs Shipley's predatory gaze shifts from Elizabeth to Timour, "Yes, yes that is an excellent piece, one of Miles' best works, and a bargain at only one hundred pounds."

"Hmm, well, if we bring this one, at least he will have a good sample of the work, in case he should be interested in purchasing more." As in, please let us leave intact. We might return bringing money. At this point, Elizabeth just desperately wants to leave.

The Shipley's House - No.6 Holbein Mews, London
7:00pm, Wednesday 28th January, 1925

The old lady smiles and crosses the studio to Elizabeth, leaving the padlocked door for the first time, “Excellent, I’m sure that your friend won't be disappointed. I can see that this painting affected you greatly”

“You must bring your friend with you next time! So that he can see Miles’ talent for himself.”

She points to the open door leading back downstairs, “We keep the cash box downstairs, Miles will carry the painting down for you.”

*******************************

Imme:

Elizabeth nods and heads back downstairs.

Caroline is just glad to be heading downstairs, glad that the immediate crisis is over. Still, she takes a backward glance at the pale woman and is oddly wistful.

Timour whistles absent mindedly as he follows the ladies down the stairs.

This situation might not be so bad after all. What was Elizabeth shaking in her boots about anyways?

Miles follows down the stairs, carrying the painting of Andrei and Maks. Once everyone has reached the living room Mrs Shipley takes the cash box from the hearth and looks at Elizabeth expectantly as she opens it, “that will be seventy five pounds then my dear.”

Timour looks startled at the sudden change in price (and in their favour no less!) Did Elizabeth barter without him noticing?

He watches Elizabeth expectedly. Perhaps this bird has a few tricks up her sleeve I never noticed before....

Elizabeth opens her purse and digs through it impatiently until she has collected a wad of cash. She keeps the money sheltered in her purse until she has counted out the correct amount. With obvious impatience, and something that her friends may be surprised to identify as fear, she holds out the bills. "Here."

"Let's go."

Mrs Shipley grins as Elizabeth hands the money over, and shows the visitors back to the front door once Miles has presented Timour with the painting.

Both of the Shipley's look delighted to have made the sale, as she unlocks the front door Mrs Shipley says, "You must all come back soon - with your friend, so he can see Miles' work for himself!"

Thank God that's over, Caroline says, somewhat recovered from her near-trace experience. Those maniacs could've attacked us for the money we had, and Beth wasn't any too careful about not displaying it.

Timour offers his hand to shake to Miles, and then accepts the painting. He waits for the ladies to leave the house first, then follows after them, nodding his goodbye to Miles and his mother.

After the door is closed, he breathes a sigh of relief. "Let's get the hell outta here." he says offhandedly, hurrying to the car to start the engine.

Once on their way, his eyes flicker to catch Elizabeth's and Caroline's. "Well? Was that entirely what you expected?"

"Oh, certainly, Timour," Caroline says drippingly, "that's exactly what I expected."

She stops talking for a second, shaking a bit. "We're fortunate to have gotten out of that with our hides. What do you suppose those two were hiding up there? And what the devil is Miles capable of? And what do we do now? Is Maks all right?" She finally winds down.

"We go find Maks and Andrei. Do either of you recognize this damn place?" She waves at the painting, obviously high-strung. Elizabeth keeps a worried eye on the house until they have driven down the block and around the corner.

"The strange smell in there ... have either of you ever been to see the reptiles at the zoo?" She shudders and waits for a response.

Timour grimaces at Caroline's reaction, but he rather expected it. It was when Elizabeth chimed in that he started to worry.

"You can't really be thinking.." he scoffs, turning to Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow. "I mean...it's just a painting. You saw what wing nuts those two are. You're going to buy into the whole gig? You think he paints the future? I mean, honestly Elizabeth....I didn't peg you as that sort of bird." He grins at her and tries to squelch a rising snicker.

Timour casually lights a cigarette on the drive, puffing between turning the wheel and continuing on his rant. "What in blue blazes are you talking about lizards for anyways? Did you see something peculiar? I saw a crazy bachelor who needs to clean up his act, living with his old mum. I mean...rather run of the mill if you ask me." Timour sticks the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and grins precociously at the pair. "You gonna let a pair like them scare you silly? They let us out the front door. C'mon...you weren't scared?" He snickers as he says it and checks the rearview mirror casually.

"You two should know....you're out with big bad Timour. What do you have to worry about anyways?"

ooc. knowledge roll passed

Know Roll Urgh--I'm not getting the tags right ...

"Were we scared?! Damn right we were, and don't try to pretend that you weren't. I saw you shaking up there. And what do we have to be scared of? Well, let's list them, shall we? First off, we were locked in the house of a crazy old lady and her drug addict son. Who knows what kind of crazy things he could have done. That alone would be enough reason for concern. But that's not where it ends. Somehow this man was able to paint our friends in clear detail, never having seen them before. And they look to be in danger." Elizabeth pauses her tirade to stare at the painting again. She feels she could almost name the place.

"Oh, and let's not forget the other paintings by this man. I'm sure we all noticed the one with the horrible beast and the cultists in worship around it, all wearing those damned masks. 'Just an image' you could say, except all of us dreamed of that image devouring you and when we awoke you didn't!" Elizabeth's face drops. She closes her eyes and brings her fingers up to rub her temples. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me. There is far too much going on right now that I just do not understand. Why was Miles painting the images he was? And that strange smell ... I am sure it is exactly the same smell that comes from a reptile house. It was probably just that the smell was affecting my subconscious, but at one point up in that attic the light flickered in a funny way and I thought that old woman's shadow had changed into that of some reptilian beast.

So yes, I am scared and worried for our friends. If you are truly so invulnerable as you proclaim to be, I would appreciate it if you would at least humor us and help us try to find Andrei and Maksim."

"Calm down, love." Timour states matter of factly, as though it was all she needed to hear. He calmly pulls a cigarette out, offering one up to the ladies as well. "I didn't say they weren't queer."

Timour remains silent for a moment, puffing away on his cigarette thoughtfully. He surely wasn't going to admit to Elizabeth just how much the painting of the bloody tongue caused his skin to crawl. She'd never know...never understand what it felt like to be trapped inside a dream for days. And there was simply no manly way to describe it....not without sounding like a drip.

"Well, I did hear from the newsman that he was quite the character. But reptiles? What did you make of it Caroline? Any reptilian old ladies to write home about?" Timour grins at Elizabeth, trying desperately to lighten the mood, and pats her hand affectionately for a moment. "Don't worry. We won't go back. But it'll make quite the tale for the rest of the bunch, hm?" And about Andrei and Maksim....I don't know where we'd find them. Have you two any ideas?

OOC:

Elizabeth ignores Timour's cigarette, and perhaps his comments as well, as she stares intently at the painting. "Wait! Of course! It's the Egyptian section at the British Museum. I knew I recognized it from somewhere."

OOC:

Approaching the British Museum - Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, London.

Timour drives to the British Museum as quickly as he can, when he approaches the scene looks ominous: there are lots of police cars and journalists present, as well as many ‘interested bystanders.’ The museum itself appears to have been cordoned off by the police.

*****************************

OOC:

"Oh." Elizabeth's eyes sweep over the mess of people, looking for any familiar faces. To Timour she says, "Just park somewhere. We need to find out what happened."

Timour pulls the car over and parks, shutting the engine off. Before he hops out he stares into the mass of people quietly, before pocketing the keys, and mumbling a "Let's go."

He holds the doors for the ladies, then treks across the parking lot to the commotion. He keeps a watchful eye out for any officials, standing right behind them so that he may overhear their conversation.

O.C. Listen

Caroline takes her ever-present medical bag, hoping she won't need it but quite willing to volunteer her services should such be required.

As they work their way towards the museum Elizabeth, Caroline and Timour all overhear gossip about what’s happened, but it’s all rumour. It is clear that somebody has been killed inside the museum, though the number of deaths is uncertain, some people are saying that there is only one victim, others claim that up to ten are dead.

From the snatches of conversation around the investigators they hear the words “Egyptian Killers,” “Mutilated,” “Gunfire,” and “Russian.”

As they near the museum they find a line of policemen blocking anyone from proceeding further along the street.

Caroline holds up her bag. "Let me through!" she commands. "I'm a doctor!"

Elizabeth sticks close to Caroline, determined to pass through the line with her.

Timour makes his way to the back of the line, nodding to Elizabeth to go with Caroline. "I'll see you inside," he whispers, then makes his way around the side of the building to the back, looking for another entrance, hopefully one un-guarded.

“I’m sorry doctor, but nobody is allowed past.”

The constable smiles, “Thanks for offering to help, but the injured have already been dealt with.”

***********************

OOC:

"But officer, we think our friends are in there! Two Russian men? One a large man, one too hansom for his own good? Please, we must see them." Although genuinely concerned, she manages to add a charming smile to her request.

OOC:

Timour finds an unguarded entrance, and tries the doorknob. If it turns he pokes his head in, before entering, trying to stay to the shadows in case a security guard surprises him.

“Ah yes, the Russian’s!”

The constable smiles, “Your friends are perfectly ok miss, in fact they are the heroes of the hour I think.”

“I’ll take you through to them now, although you may not be able to speak to them until the inspector has finished dealing with them.”

The constable turns towards the museum entrance and leads Elizabeth and Caroline inside, leaving his colleagues to deal with the crowd for now.

He leads the ladies through a few of the museum’s huge halls, as they enter the Egyptian exhibitions Elizabeth and Caroline spot Andrei, Maks and two others (one man and one lady), being led towards them by another uniformed police constable.

*******************************

Timour sneaks quietly through the west wing of museum, most of the halls are currently deserted, the few people (all policemen) that he does spot seem to be mostly heading towards one part of the huge building.

Following one of them as discretely as he can Timour finds himself inside the museum’s famous Egyptian exhibition. Across the hall he sees the same police constable that was outside leading Elizabeth and Caroline towards another group of people...

...a group that includes his brother and Andrei!

*******************************

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