[IC]Chapter 1.8a - Emerson Imports

[Raiko]

Emerson Imports - Pier 86, Hells Kitchen, New York
9:30am - Friday 16th January 1925
Characters Present: Cynthia, Marcus and Michael

The Emerson Imports company is housed in a long narrow warehouse building located on the river docks of the Hudson in the notorious Hells Kitchen district.

There is a loading bay at each end of the building, several people are visible working inside and it appears busy despite the wintery weather. Although the warehouse is located in a disreputable part of the docks there is no sign of any suspicious activity going on.

[Silver Priest]

Marcus puffs on his cig contently.

"So what's our plan here? We talk to management and try to find out more? Maybe bluff into getting a tour of the place? I'm thinking we keep note of security and where things are stored in case we suspect they're hiding something and need to pay a late night visit."

[kabukiman]

"That seems a good plan. And we could our lady let most of the talk for now, maybe the person in charge here will be more amiable to her charms" - says Michael wih a wink.

[jp1885]

"'Our lady'; you make me sound like a frikkin' nun!" Cynthia digs Anderson in the ribs.

"We could make like we wanna hire a warehouse, or maybe you're some big-shot looking to buy directly from source?"

[kabukiman]

"I don't like the idea of lying this way. Why don't we say that Jackson is dead to see his reaction? If he is hostile, we can say we suspected he was a criminal and he may help us; if he is sad, we say we were his friend so we can try a different aproach and tell we want to discover who are the murderers."

[jp1885]

“Honesty is the best policy huh? Sure, let’s go in and see what happens; unless you guys wanna hang back and eye the joint a while first?”

[Silver Priest]

"If you don't think you need me, I could eye the place, see what I can observe." Marcus volunteers. "If I get caught, I'll just say I'm an interested customer checking out the security."

[kabukiman]

"Good idea Marcus, extra information is always goods".

[jp1885]

“Sounds like we got ourselves a plan: Marcus, you snoop around while we keep ‘em talking.”

Assuming this is agreed, Cynthia will head off to one of the loading bays with Michael.

[Silver Priest]

Conversely, Marcus tries to make himself appear uninteresting as he walks through the docks and takes notes of where everything is and the security present.

Stealth 60%,[dice]0[/dice]

[Raiko]

There are two men working to load crates onto a box truck at the loading dock. One is a stocky man wearing a thick woollen coat and a wool hat, who is probably in his fifties, though his short grey beard makes it trickier to guess his age. He notices Cynthia and Michael approaching and stops working.

"What do you want?"

Meanwhile Marcus begins his walk outside the warehouse and around the rest of Pier 86. Nobody seems to be paying him any attention.

[jp1885]

“This Emerson Imports?” Cynthia asks bluntly. “We’ve been sent to come take a look.”

[Raiko]

The guy gives Cynthia an admiring once-over and nods towards the warehouse itself, "Boss is in there, upstairs."

[Silver Priest]

Trying to blend in, Marcus looks around for any areas of Emerson's that seem to have heightened security.

[jp1885]

Cynthia bristles at being looked at in such a way, but pushes down her anger.

“And his name is..?” she asks.

[Raiko]

The stevedore looks cheekily up at the Emerson Imports sign hanging on the side of the warehouse, then turns back toward Cynthia with a smirk on his face, "Emerson."

[jp1885]

“Right, gotcha. C’mon Mike.” Face flushing, Cynthia quickly heads towards the warehouse, looking for the steps to what she assumes is an upstairs office.

[kabukiman]

Michael follows careful that nobody makes anything else besides looking at Cynthia.

[Raiko]

The interior of the warehouse is stacked high with crates, freight from every corner of the globe. A narrow stairway leads up to a mezzanine where the office door is open.

A tall well muscled man stands just outside the office door, observing the warehouse activity while he smokes a cigar. He looks to be in his mid-fifties, his features softened by age, though his thick brown hair and beard are mostly untouched by grey.

He watches the investigators approach as they climb up the stairs.

[jp1885]

“Mr. Emerson?” Cynthia asks. “We’ve been sent by a pal of mine. Can we have a word?”