Play@YSDC

Lexington Avenue

The fourth floor was high enough to rid of some of the ruckus outside, not all. Jackson cranes his neck to look after a group of women milling down to the subway station. It was quite hot for June. The fan didn't keep up and protested when he had cranked the speed up, leaving it at slow rotation.

Jackson turns back from the window and producing a large handkerchief wipes the back of his neck, before loosening his tie slightly. "Damn heat, damn fan Ive had cooler days in the Sahara"
He slumps into a leather chair and pulls the various travel brochures to where he can see them easily. Hmm, he thinks, what the hell is Blackwell going to Damascus for when he's supposed to be off to Kenya? Interesting.

He pulls a silvered hip flask from an inside pocket of his jacket that he had draped over the back of the chair. Unscrewing the top he takes a mouthfull of the contents, feeling the burn as the expensive scotch slides down his throat.

Damascus? Maybe theres something interesting to be found there? Maybe something to be used in the book he's been thinking about for a while now 'Dark Babylon'

The only ship sailing on Cape Town is the SS Galeka, it might still be docked at the piers. As usual Blackwell didn't have a plan. Fate shows the way as always. Other than for Jackson, who knows how to plan and to follow through..

Might be an idea to visit the Carlyle building. They said it should be the tallest in the world. That might be a sight to see. And, close by.

Jackson heard at the club, the other day, that mother Russia had a relocation plan to move population around, resulting in rumours that entire villages had disappeared in the wilds of the province Siberia. But who trusts anything that comes from the east?

Jackson spends a few minutes considering his options. Yeah he could go down to the pier and see if Blackwell was on the Galeka, or he could take a trip around the Carlyle Building and see how New York looked from up there.

He takes another hit from the flask, again feeling the burn as the scotch slid down his throat before screwing the cap back on and replacing the flask in his jacket pocket. Idly, he uses the handkerchief to wipe around the inside of his collar once more.

Jackson thinking:   Damn this heat.

Mind made up he grabs his jacket and hat and makes for the door.

Jackson thinking:   At least over in the Carlyle building they might have fans that work.

He reaches for the door knob then stops, an afterthought has him reaching back across the desk for his half empty pack of Luckies and almost empty book of matches...

The trip to the Carlyle Building should be by the modernity of The Yellow Cab service. Throughout the last couple of months, the city had been changed to a milling ant hill of yellow cabs working all day and night. The trip could go by ground train or subway but a horse and carriage could work fine too.

Jackson's pocket watch tells him that the time is five o'clock.

Outside the publishing house, on the busy thoroughfare, Jackson quickly hails a cab. Just about to shout "The Carlyle Building" to the driver he changes his mind, "Pier 54 as fast as you can pal".

Jackson thinking:   The Carlyle Building can wait, it aint going anywhere but [b]Blackwell's[/b] true destination is an enigma and I hate enigmas.

"Sure think, buddy! Going places, are we?" The fare takes forty minutes and gets him to Pier 54 without any mishaps, although the driver drove as there were no tomorrow.

By the docks, lies the SS Galeka. A company of four businessmen are boarding as the cab comes to a halt.

Compared to ordinary liners, this ship is dwarfed, it's a quarter the size of the "real ships".

"Thanks pal" Jackson hands the driver some cash, "Keep the change". He opens the door and slides out onto the docks. For a moment he stares at the boat docked in front of him - SS Galeka - hardly a first class liner, but then Blackwell always was a cheapskate.
Nonchalantly he lights one of his remaining Lucky Strikes as he walks towards the gangplank, stopping as the group of businessmen begin the slow process of boarding.
A sign board says that the Galeka is bound for Durban, so if Blackwell is on board he must have decided against Damascus after all.
With the last of the businessmen on board Jackson nods to a uniformed official, "I'm looking for a Mr Nigel Blackwell, he's supposed to be booked on board to Durban. I don't know what cabin number he would be in, but knowing Nigel he'll probably be sat in the bar by now"

"Hello sir, do you have any luggage? A ticket?" He eyes Elias up and down and decides that he's a non-threat to ship security. "The bar is next to the restaurant, through there. Ten minutes, then you need to leave ship or pay your passage."

When ready to enter the restaurant, please do head through the deck doors: Pier 54