IC - Chapter 1 - New York, January 1925

[kabukiman]

James Marko

"I need to get some coffee. Anyone who wants to talk to me about what happened and what we're gonna do is free to come with me."

"Yes, I suppose we have a lot to talk".- says Anderson

[andyw666]

Tremayne rubs his sore knuckles. "Oh yes, a coffee is definitely called for. And a bit of planning on what we do next I feel."

[Raiko]

Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Lieutenant Poole takes Jordan to one side to talk.

"Your friend might have stumbled into something here then, there is definitely an African connection. That symbol, the only thing that we’ve learned is that it's an old, old symbol with connections to a tribe or religion in North East Africa with a dark reputation.

"In Harlem, no one will speak of these bootleggers, but people are scared, in all my years I’ve never seen anything like it. No one is talking, not a soul."

Poole makes sure he's out of earshot of anyone else and lowers his voice, "To be honest with you, if it was just the bootlegging we wouldn't give these guys a second thought. I like a drink as much as the next man, and as long as they stick to Harlem no one would care. Let the Feds deal with the mobsters and the speakeasies.

"But these killings, real nasty stuff – and they might be the tip of the iceberg, people have been disappearing in Harlem and no one will talk to us cops. If your friend Mister Elias got mixed up in that…"

The detective shakes his head grimly, "These guys make the Italians look like babies."

West 23rd Street, outside the Hotel Chelsea

It is snowing again outside, but that's not stopped a crowd of onlookers gathering, including several newspaper reporters looking to speak to witnesses.
On the corner of Eighth Avenue nearby the Coffee Pot is still open, familiar, inviting and warm.

[HoneyDog]

James Marko

When everyone is together, James speaks.

"Let's go to the Coffee Pot then. Not as a big crowd though, we don't want to attract the attention of the newshounds."

[HelplessBystander]

"Agreed. Let's go." Irene said, nodding nervously.

[Mr. Handy]

Amy nods again as well, trudging along through the snow, overwhelmed by sorrow. She goes with Irene, finding her presence comforting.

[HelplessBystander]

Irene waited for Amy to catch up. She empathises with Amy's sorrows and made an attempt to help her feel better, if only for a little bit.

[DrPeterson]

Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Jordan fishes a couple of cigarettes out of his pockets and offers one to Poole.
'I appreciate your candor, Lieutenant, and I will return it with my own, like soldiers who await certain death in the trenches speak their mind. They have nothing to lose, because death will keep their secrets, as will their brotherhood should they be spared in the morning.'

He lights up his cigarette and offer Poole some fire too.

'I'm going to pursue these tracks, and find out why Elias and those others were murdered by these cretins. I don't do it for the glory of the NYPD or my own, for there is no glory to be found in this matter of death and carnage. I do it for the memory of a true man, a man's man, whose life was as the sun to me and whose murder was like the destruction of my heart. I have traveled widely in and around Africa and I know the hearts of these men. I am sure I can find results where the police can not.'

[andyw666]

Tremayne pulls his duffle coat and scarf on again for the short dash/snowy shuffle to the Coffee Pot. Inside he swiftly signals for coffee and lights a cigar, awaiting the others.

[Raiko]

Fourth Floor, The Hotel Chelsea

"Take care then Mr Jordan, these are dangerous people," Poole looks intently at Jordan, "and please don't go doing anything that means that I've got to come looking for you."

With that the lieutenant turns and walks off towards the other detectives, leaving Jordan alone.

The Coffee Pot - Corner of 8th Avenue and West 23rd Street, New York City
10:10pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

The Coffee Pot is much the same as it was when Tremayne and his friends left it nearly three hours ago, except it's certainly not the same anymore, no longer the place for a relaxing chat with Jackson Elias.

Six months earlier they'd all gathered here with Jackson and his publisher Jonah Kensington, with Jackson excited to be heading to Africa pursuing his biggest story yet; then the cryptic telegram to Amy about the ill-fated Carlyle Expedition, and now he's gone.

[andyw666]

OOC:   Do the names of the prior victims mean anything to Tremayne? Would a Know or History roll assist?

[HoneyDog]

James Marko sits down and takes off his coat. Ordering coffee, he produces the business card he found earlier.

"I think this is worth checking out. I want to find out who killed Jackson and why. Anyone who wants to help out is welcome."

[Mr. Handy]

The coffee warms Amy, but it doesn't take away her anguish. "I'll do whatever I can to help," she says. "We can't bring Jackson back, but we can still bring his killers to justice. I think all this must have to do with his trip to Kenya. The African connection can't be a coincidence. After I got the telegram, I did some preliminary research on the Carlyle Expedition, and I can look through periodicals to find out about the other murders. That should give us more information so that we can piece all this together."

[HoneyDog]

James Marko

“Good” says James. “This Silas N’Kwane guy is obviously African. I’m going to Emerson Imports first thing tomorrow and see if I can find out about him.”

Raiko,Does James know anyone or anything which could help him find out more about the company before he goes? Any contacts at the docks, or something?

[DrPeterson]

Jordan said goodbye to the lieutenant and made his way downstairs, lighting a cigar as he stepped out of the hotel. He looks around at the reporters for a moment and then raises his hand.

"Alright, calm down, my good friend Jackson Elias was brutally murdered inside the hotel. He was the inspiration for my last novel and his loss has me grieving, like a man who has lost a limb to a shelling, I still feel his presence though he is no longer here. I will reward any valuable clues with the sum of one hundred dollars in cash, information to be issued to my publisher."

He pulls out a paper and draws the glyph. Holding it up, he shows it to the press so they can get a good look.

"This is the only lead we have for the moment. Help us."

He crumbles the paper into his pocket and marches of to the Coffee Pot, growling: "No further questions."

[HelplessBystander]

James Marko

“Good” says James. “This Silas N’Kwane guy is obviously African. I’m going to Emerson Imports first thing tomorrow and see if I can find out about him.”

Raiko,Does James know anyone or anything which could help him find out more about the company before he goes? Any contacts at the docks, or something?

Irene sips her coffee, and said, "Well, Gerald and I are more than willing to help out in any way possible."

[HoneyDog]

James nods his head in appreciation. “Let’s see if we can find out something about this company first. It might be better to get a sense of what we might be walking into.”

[Mr. Handy]

"Thank you," says Amy, smiling at Irene. "I really appreciate it." She nods at James. "If this Emerson Imports is involved in criminal activity, it might be best to inquire of the police. I can help look through more public sources of information about the company and its history."

[HelplessBystander]

"Thank you," says Amy, smiling at Irene. "I really appreciate it." She nods at James. "If this Emerson Imports is involved in criminal activity, it might be best to inquire of the police. I can help look through more public sources of information about the company and its history."

"Well, we have a plan of action thus far, then. I suppose Gerald could help with communicating with the police, heaven knows how charming he is." Irene says, clapping her hands. "I'll follow...James, was it? I'll go with him and help out, I suppose this'll bring closure to all of us, we're all shaken by this, and we can all do our part and bring justice to Elias' murder."

[Raiko]

West 23rd Street, New York

Several reporters snap a photograph of Jordan after his speech, while others pursue him as he walks through the snow towards the Coffee Pot, notepads open in their hands they shout questions asking for more details:

What is his name, who is his publisher, did he witness the murder, why was Mr Elias attacked?