Play@YSDC

Friday March 13th, 1931 12.15pm
Coast Road, Johnson Bayou, Cameron Parish, Louisiana

Heading west, it was a good walk out to the oil field, especially as the temperature was starting to rise. The road took them out along the coast, just inland from the beach. They saw no one else as they walked until they got close to the oil derricks that turned rhythmically off to their right. They turned at different speeds and were hypnotic to watch as the cycles aligned and then broke again.

A tall wire fence ran along the road, with signs declaring that the site was managed by the Vacuum Oil Company, and that trespassers would be prosecuted.



As they walked further along the fence, they could hear voices raised in argument.

Alex finds the quiet comfortable, and is happy to enjoy the scenery as well as the company.

But eventually the mission intrudes, and he speaks. "I suppose we should come up with an reason we wish to speak with the oilmen. I'm not sure they would take the time to entertain a few tourists from out of town. And I'm afraid I don't have enough knowledge on the industry to pretend to be a part of it."

As they start to hear the voices he attempts to make out as much as he can of what they're saying.

1d100

“I suppose pretending to be lost would be somewhat weak,” Ivy opines, shortly before she hears the raised voices.

[32] = 32
Listen 57 1d100: [ 32 ] = 32

“Do you hear that?” Ivy whispers.

“Someone - a local man I think - is complaining about the pollution caused by the oil operation to another fellow. He’s from Pennsylvania if I’m not mistaken.”

“This could be our ‘angle’ - we are journalists who have come to report on this.”

She fishes out her notebook from her handbag.

"Good idea," Alex says, standing up straight. "We should probably introduce ourselves. I'm not very good at stealthing about.I think we should try and find a way to talk to the foreman and dig for information or a tour to 'write' our article. Along the way we can also keep an eye out for any snake art."

“Agreed. We could hint that how sympathetic our article will be depends on his co-operation,” replies Ivy.

Nodding, Alex approaches the fence and calls out. "Excuse me!"

On the other side of the fence stood a number of men, but it was the two nearest to them who appeared to be arguing. One was a neatly turned out older man, in jacket, waistcoat and tie. The other was less well attired; he also wore a waistcoat and a knitted woollen tie, but they were obviously his work clothes, as they bore the stains of working in an oil field.

”Who are you?!” rudely snapped the second man, to which the first tutted loudly. “You are forgetting your manners, Henry,” he said urbanely, with a strong southern accent. He turned to face Alex and Ivy. “Welcome to Johnson Bayou, we don’t get many visitors here. My name is Halpert, and this Henry Jones, foreman for the Vacuum Oil Company, so-called because of the vacuum where their consciences should be!”

"Please accept our apologies for intruding," Ivy says primly. "Ivy and Alex Arbuckle at your service. We are combining journalism with a sightseeing tour of the area, with plans on writing a travelogue of sorts."

"Having pitched up at Johnson Bayou, we heard of the oil drilling operation and thought we'd do a piece, as it were."

She taps her notepad with her pen, as if to illustrate the point.

Alex cannot help but smile-- this role clearly fits Ivy far better than the demure wife!

"Indeed. It's a lovely little community. Our readers will love a detailed story on how industry is powering America's progress. We'd love to get interviews with the both of you!"

Halpert laughed sourly. “Destroying America’s communities is more like it,” he said, frowning at the foreman. “You just need to look around to see the damage being done to the place where we live!”

”For Christ’s sake, give it a rest!” growled Jones. ”That’s all we hear! You bellyaching and getting in the way of progress. Now you’ve been warned before, stay off our land!”

He turned around to Ivy and Alex and snapped, ”And that applies to any damned reporters too!”

Ivy stiffens.

"Damned reporters?" she screeches. "You'll keep a civil tongue in your head, or you'll be explaining to your superior just why an extremely unflattering article about your operation is appearing in the national press!"

Clearly, it's been a while since she had a good vent.

"Damned reporters indeed!"

Even Alex flinches, though he quickly recovers.

"It is of course your choice whether or not you wish to participate in our interview. But as my colleague mentions, it will be published regardless. And we will be contacting the company behind this operation and letting them know of your cooperation-- or lack thereof."

That said, he turns towards Halpert. "Of course we are interested in all perspectives on the matter, including those of prominent residents. We chose Johnson Bayou because it's a microcosm of what is going on in the nation at present. The clash between tradition and progress, industry and nature. We want to capture all sides of this story and would love to here yours as well, Sir."

Halpert smirked at Henry Jones who scowled angrily. ”You better watch yourselves! I don’t like nosey journalists and my boss doesn’t like them either!” he said, threatenly.

Halpert was clearly the happier of the two of them at the turn of events. “You’ve no need to take that from the likes of him,” he said. “You wait there and I’ll be right with you!” He turned and walked in the direction of the main gate, returning thirty seconds later on their side of the fence.

”Local press is it? Or are you syndicated?” he asked as he led them away from the site. ”And did you bring a camera?” Behind them, there was a paroxysm of cursing. ”You see so much as a camera and you’ve got my permission to give them what for! Damned journalists!” Jones shouted at two solidly-built security guards who were stood guarding the fence.

1d100

"We're from the Associated Press," Alex tells Halpert. "And your cooperation is appreciated, Sir. I'm sensing there's more tension here than we were first aware of."

Here you go: http://licm.org.uk/livingImage/Kodak_No ... unior.html. Should take a reasonable picture, if required.

Seeing Alex with his camera, Halpert said, “We might want to just step away from here before you wave that around. Who knows what Henry’s goons will get up to!” He took their arms and ushered them away from the fence and back down the road towards the town.

He talked as they walked. ”My names Halpert and I own some land around here. It’s been in my family for generations and I’ve got a thriving business. At least I had, until the Vacuum Oil Company showed up. We’ve had nothing but trouble since. They’ve polluted some of the waterways and those oil storage pits of theirs are causing havoc with the local insects. My yield’s down 20 per cent since they arrived. And you can’t reason with them, no sir! Jones’ boys are causing all sorts of problems around the town. It got so a god-fearing man worried about taking his family to church because of their behaviour!”

Alex looks very interested, trying to sell the idea of this story suddenly seeming far more complex than the puff piece they had hoped to write.

"Oh my, this all sounds rather troubling. Yes Mr. Halpert, we'd love to hear more on all this along with recommendations on who to talk to-- I do doubt we'll be getting much from Mr. Jones or his men, though journalistic integrity ensures that we try.

You say they even disrupt church services?"

“They did, but we need not stand here discussing it,” said Halpert. ”Why not come back to my house and we can discuss matters over a nice glass of iced tea?” He stopped and looked up and down the road. “Where’s my damned driver got to?!”

While the Alex talks to Halpert, Ivy fumes silently, glaring at the oilmen as if she's attempting to turn them to stone.

"Iced tea would be delightful," she mutters, throwing one last dagger-look at Jones before haughtily turning her back on him and his guards.

There was a sudden backfiring sound and a large white car chugged along the road, coming to a sudden, skidding halt in front of them. Halpert winced and frowned at the African American driver, who blithely sat staring ahead. “Erasmus has not been with me long,” he said tartly.

He stood waiting by the passenger door but clearly Erasmus had no plans to get out and open the door for them so Halpert sighed and opened the door himself.”He should be glad that we don’t whip boys like that anymore,” he said, before forcing a smile.

Offering a hand to Ivy, he said, “May I help you aboard?”

With a glance to Alex, Ivy accepts Halpert’s invitation to get into the car.

“Is your driver well?” she asks. “He seems somewhat unfocused,”

“He is well enough,” replied Halpert, who rapped sharply on the window glass, indicating that Erasmus should sit up straighter, which the young man did. ”My regular driver quit to look after his sick wife, and Erasmus was the only available option. He usually drives a truck and he is yet to learn the required social niceties. I could drive myself but that really isn’t a good look for a man of my position.”

Having helped Ivy on board, Halpert did the same for Alex, insisting they take the larger seat while he perched on a drop-down seat opposite them. He slid open the glass panel that portioned the the driver and passengers’ cabin, and said, “Take us home, Erasmus. And remember, you are transporting china, not cotton!”

With a teeth-jarring jolt, Erasmus found the gear at the second attempt and pulled away, leaving the oilfields behind. “It shouldn’t take long,” Halpert tried to reassure them with a pained smile.

Alex chides himself for not helping Ivy into the vehicle. But right now they're not pretending to be husband and wife, so perhaps it was alright. Hopefully she did not think him rude.

He gets in the car himself. "Why, we couldn't... thank you very much, Mr. Halpert." The detective says as he takes a seat next to Ivy. "We greatly appreciate your hospitality."

“Just good old-fashioned southern hospitality,” replied Halpert with a smile. ”So have you written for any publications I may have heard of?”

"Well, I started my career after the Great War. Most of my time was with a few smaller papers, then the Globe up in Boston. Covering local and state matters, though with President Coolidge you can imagine our coverage took a bit of a national bent. Politics was an interesting beat of course, but there's many people telling those stories. I'm more interested in capturing the less notable but still important stories happening in places like Johnson Bayou. Though I have to admit I had no idea there was such conflict here between the oil workers and the townsfolk. They certainly don't seem to be the most agreeable lot. Ah, off the record."

"Whereas I am an enthusiastic amateur I suppose," says Ivy, deciding to hide her subterfuge under a veil of truth. "More of a secretary, truth be told."

"So how long has the oil company blighted your town?"

“I’m sure your contribution is just as valid,” Halpert said to Ivy. ”And I’m happy to be quoted on the record. The damage that has been done to the local area these last 12 months or so needs to be exposed to a wider audience.”

“No doubt the proprietors of the Vacuum Oil Company are solid businessmen but I am likewise sure that they live many miles away from the disturbance and distress caused by the ruffians they employ. Did you know that they are allowed by law - laws no doubly greased by the the funds from their exploitations - to create storage pits for the unwanted residue from their drilling. It’s meant to be disposed of properly but it’s allowed to leach into the local supply or they burn it off and claim it to be an accident! You should investigate that!”

"Indeed it is. We've worked together for awhile now, and I feel she's far more than just a secretary." Alex says. "Ivy has helped me to break more than a few stories."

As Halpert speaks he looks concerned and takes notes, the better to sell their roles. "This Mr. Jones does not seem to be the best example of a company man, no. I wonder what Vacuum will say when I bring his behavior to their attention. Of course we'll need to talk to a few more people first, ensure we get a fair assessment of the man; but if he's as disliked as he appears to be, I venture to guess we won't find much support for him here."

He shares a look with Ivy. "We'd like to examine these storage pits later. Company pollutes pristine town without regard is outrageous and could sell very well with our audience." The detective is finding he quite enjoys his role as a journalist.

“I expect you will find some residents of each persuasion,” replied Halpert. ”Those who make money from what the oilmen spend, and those who are not directly affected by the destruction they cause probably care little.”

“But there are a number of us who do care; myself, that indigenous fellow, Nashoba, and Father Daigle all believe that any benefits from drilling for oil cannot be outweighed by the damage done to our town.”

"We've met the good father, but you must arrange an introduction to this Nashoba fellow," Ivy retorts, before leaning over to speak to Erasmus.

"And what is your opinion?"

”I ain’t paid to have an opinion, ma’am,” rumbled Erasmus, a response to which Halpert instantly bristled. “Now you listen here!” he snapped at his driver, tapping him vigorously on his shoulder. ”A guest of mine asks you a question, and you answer, you understand!”

Erasmus huffed, but acquiesced when Halpert growled warningly. ”They makin’ a real mess, Ma’am. Me an’ my brothers liked to go swimmin’ on a Sunday but we can’t go now, on account of the oil on the water.”

"I concur that meeting Nashoba could be informative. The father told us he's been a strong advocate against the company and its practices. Have you spoken with him much? I imagine he shares many of the same objections as you.."

“I’m aware of his views but I can’t say we have discussed the matter per se,” replied Halpert, tartly.

Psychology roll, please.

Ivy isn’t the most sympathetic of souls, but something about the way Halpert scolds Erasmus rankles her.

Still not 100% sure of their host, she attempts to mend bridges with his driver - perhaps an ally can be found in the surly chauffeur?

While Halpert and Alex chat, she leans forward, keeping her voice low.

“I apologise I got you into trouble. Thank you for answering and I’m sorry you lost your Sunday swims. Perhaps we can do something about it.”

1d100

Alex does not wish offending the man, so decides to play to his bigotries. "Oh of course not, Mr. Halpert. I can't imagine you both sitting down for afternoon tea." he chuckles. "Still,interviewing him could prove useful. Many of our readers have a romanticized view of the Indian, and hearing his tale of woe is a surefire way to attract a sympathetic audience towards the town's plight."

Alex can tell that Halpert thinks it would be beneath him to spend time in the company of Nashoba.

“Well, yes, I can see how you must present a balanced point of view in your article,” said Halpert. ”And I’m sure Nashoba could tell you what his people think of the situation, such as it is. I do not know of his whereabouts, but I am sure if you enquire in town, someone there will be able to point you in his direction.”

As Ivy spoke, Erasmus looked at her in the rearview mirror, then looked back to the road as they turned off through a grand, stone gateway and onto a long straight road that led through fields of cotton up to a large colonial house in the distance. ”Thank you, Ma’am,” he said quietly, as Halpert told him to drive straight up to the house.

On both sides of the road, Alex and Ivy could see the freshly tilled soil of the cottonfields, with groups of predominantly African Americans working in groups, sewing the seeds for the growing season ahead. Most of the workers ignored their passage, except for one or two of the children - for they worked alongside their parents - who stared as they went past. Halpert looked out of the window as they drove up to the house, nodding in approval at the work being done. “I think we might well have a bumper harvest this year,” he declared.

"We'll be sure to do that. Of course, I expect your words will be given more emphasis in the final story, as a prominent citizen of the community." Alex works to keep his distaste hidden. A man like Halpert enjoyed having his ego stroked.

"That's good to hear! The output has been good over these last few unfortunate years?" He'll make polite small conversation about the history and economical performance of Halpert's fields, reasoning the man would like to boast.

Halpert was obviously taken with Alex’s flattery, although he tried half-heartedly to wave it away. “I’m sure everyone’s views are valid,” said Halpert modestly. “Oh, and that’s Halpert, H A L P E R T,” he said.

As they neared the house, Erasmus beeped the horn twice, so that by the time he brought the car to a halt, the staff were waiting for them. A tall, blonde man with an English accent helped them alight from the car, while the African American servants stood waiting to attend to them, the darkness of their skin in sharp contrast to the white starched aprons that they wore.

“Welcome to my home,” said Halpert proudly.

"It's quite a lovely home." Alex responds. "I hope you don't mind me getting a picture of it for the article. Perhaps one of you in your study as well, a man fighting to save his town."

He thanks the man who helps them out of the vehicle. "Oh my, I wasn't expecting to meet an Englishman here. Has he been in your service long, Mr. Halpert?"

“Of course,” Halpert said to Alex. “I’m quite pleased with my study. It’s taken some time to get it right.” He looked up at the sky, tipping the brim of his hat against the sun. “The afternoon sun lights up that side of the house, so we’ll give that an hour or so and we’ll be able to take some photographs.”

As the car crunched to a halt on the gravel drive (which earned Erasmus another sharp look), Halpert said to Ivy “Richard has been with me for about five years. He came highly recommended by Massey’s of London, England. There’s just something a cut above about an English butler, don’t you find?”

"Oh indeed," Ivy replies, scrutinising the house through the car window. "It is reputed that my ancestor, one of the first English settlers in this great country, was a manservant. Made his fortune through trade with the Indians."

“Oh, really?” said Halpert, sounding genuinely interested. ”What was your family name? Perhaps I have come across them in my business dealings.”

As he spoke, Richard opened the car door and gave a short, clipped bow. ”Welcome home, Mr Halpert. I trust you have had an interesting morning. Will your guests be staying?”

"Not for very long, I'm afraid. I'd relish the opportunity, but we have a job to do in town." Says Alex, getting out of the car. He had asked how long Richard had worked for Halbert in case he had some sort of affiliation with Brophy, but that did not seem to be the case. The detective chided himself for being so suspicious. "But we do greatly appreciate the hospitality," he tells his host. "I suppose it's true what they say about southern manners."

“The original family name was Wergyn,” say Ivy. “But the male line in America died out. Luckily someone married into the Ripleys and the rest is history,” she continues, nodding cordially to Richard as she alights the car.

“Manners maketh the man, is that not so?”

“Very much so,” said Halpert as Richard led them inside.

”I’m afraid I don’t recognise the name,” he continued, addressing Ivy. ”Where does the family name originate? Is it Dutch?”

“Saxon, I believe,” sniffs Ivy.

OOC:   Not far from where I live is a place called Wergins Bridge. I’ve always liked the name and it often pops up in my games and characters

“Saxon?! Ancient, indeed!” said Halpert. ”Perhaps, I should look into the origins of my own name?”

He smiled as Richard pushed open the door to the study, a pleasant, airy room with settees, a large desk and a wall full of books. ”A light lunch, I think, Richard,” he said.

Nice idea

"That would be appreciated," Alex says, the topic reminding him how peckish he was indeed.

He can't help but smile as Ivy and Halpert converse. The two seem to be hitting it off-- perhaps love would be in the air. Ivy deserved someone who could make her happy. But first things first. They had a job to do, and romantic musings would have to wait.

For now, lunch. And then, questions.

[31] = 31
Psychology 60 1d100: [ 31 ] = 31

Reading her friend, Ivy knows full well what Alex is thinking. She throws him a sharp, 'don't you dare' kind of look.

"Indeed, lunch would be most welcome," she mutters.

A very pleasant lunch of salad and fresh fish was served in the dining room adjacent to the study. Once they had finished with a coffee and a cigar, Halpert said, “About that photograph?” and he went and stood in the window, giving Alex a questioning look, expecting the detective to tell him when the light was at it’s most favourable.

Having been caught, Alex smiles guiltily and decides to drop the matter. They had too much to focus on without him playing cupid.

"Ah yes, the photo!" Of course, Alex had no real experience with taking photos, but he intended to do his best. "Just slightly to the right--there we go. Look somber, if you would. You're fighting to save this community, and I want to make sure that's reflected in the picture."

1d100

Woah. Apparently Alex should consider a new line of work.

If Alex wasn’t a professional photographer, no one would have been able to tell, as he guided Halpert into the windows and got the photograph just so.

For his part, Halpert nodded and smiled, clearly impressed by Alex’s work. “I’m looking forward to seeing the results,” he said. “Now is there anything more I can tell you about the oilmen and the damage they are doing?”

"You and me both," Alex says in a moment of unexpected honesty. While he's not one to toot his own horn he did feel like he had just captured the perfect shot. He couldn't wait to have the picture developed.

But Halpert's words reminded him of what they were really there for, and he quickly sobers. "Yes, that will prove very helpful Mr. Halpert. You mentioned something about people being afraid to attend church due to the oilmen's behavior. Could you elaborate on that? Are there some heathen or unusual beliefs amongst that crowd, or hostility towards God fearing Christians?"

With Halpert distracted, Ivy takes the opportunity to mooch around the study. She focuses on the bookshelves (easier to explain away if challenged) - inspecting the man’s choice of reading material and also looking for more carved serpents.

Halpert considered Alex’s question for a moment, then said, “I didn’t actually witness the behaviour as I was out of town on business that weekend but I believe Richard was there. Perhaps you should ask him?” he suggested. He crossed to the door and pulled on a bell cord.

In the depths of the house, a bell rang, and Richard was there moments later. Prompted by Halpert, the English butler stated that he had been in church when a group of oilmen had attended one of the Sunday morning services. ”They had clearly been drinking the night before, if their demeanour and general behaviour were anything to go by,” he said. “They were vulgar and thought it highly amusing to make noises to try to put off Father Ortega. One of them even turned the order of service into a paper plane and launched it towards the Reverend as he was preaching!”

“It was most unseemly and loutish behaviour. I understand that they have been banned from attending again!”

On the other side of the room, Ivy browsed Halpert’s shelves. He had a moderately extensive collection, covering the natural world and history, to politics and some books on military strategy, She ran her fingers across the shelves but they were plain and unadorned.

"Sounds ghastly," Alex declares with a frown. "Do you know around when these events took place?

"We were actually in the church and discovered someone had carved a snake into one of the pews! The priest said it was unlikely to have been done by a regular, so we were wondering if it had been carved in by one of the oil workers as some sort of pagan prayer. Do either of you know if there's been any interest in serpents from any of these types? I'd love to find the culprit while we were here; the angle of satanic oil workers would shock our readers and needless to say be met with much outcry."

Ivy tries to gauge Halpert and Richard’s reactions at this revelation.

[45] = 45
Psychology 60 1d100: [ 45 ] = 45

Richard thought for moment, then said, “It would have been a few weeks ago. I’m sorry I can’t be more precise but I could check my diary and see whether I made a note of it, if that would help?”

Ivy watched the conversation from the other side of the room but detected nothing untoward.

"That would be a big help," Alex says. "If we can narrow down the culprit we have a lead to pursue that might I add would be highly embarrassing for the oil company. Imagine going into the house of the Lord and being so sacrilegious!" Though a man of nominal religiosity--even after what he's seen-- Alex is playing this angle up a little.

“Have you noticed any unusual behaviour among your own employees recently?” Ivy asks Halpert.

“Have the oilmen’s ways rubbed off on them, or do they keep themselves to themselves?”

Richard excused himself with a curt bow and left to go and check his diary, while Halpert said, “Unusual behaviour? Not that I’m aware of. What exactly do do you mean?”

“Well, the oil workers must have some interaction with the locals, your staff included,” Ivy replies. “If their roustabout ways were picked up by some, that would add to the story.”

“I shouldn’t imagine they would have much to do with each other but by all means talk to them if you wish. I can ask Richard to find out where they are working when he returns, if that would be of use,” Halpert said. He paused for a moment, then continued. “I, err, will still be the main person in your article, though, won’t I?”

"Of course, Mr. Halpert. They're your workers after all. It would only make sense to credit you if they helped us uncover a scandal." Alex says this as though it were self evident.

“Oh indeed,” Ivy concurs. “You will be the ‘star of the show’, as it were. But if Richard could furnish us with their location, it would certainly help.”

“You’re being so very helpful,” she simpers, inwardly raging against herself.

Richard returned shortly, letting himself into the room quietly. ”It was approximately six weeks ago,” he informed them. “Father Ortega had not been here long and they presumably thought to have some sport at his expense. It was most unseemly - they behaved like wild animals.”

“Quite so,” said Halpert. “Now Richard, our guests have expressed a wish to speak to some of the workers. Would you know of someone to whom they might speak?”

Richard considered the question a moment. “Preacher Litton?” he suggested. “He ministers to the workers and their families. He might be the most appropriate.”

Alex frowns slightly; The mark had been less than a month old. And if they were banned from services after that event that meant an oilman was not their culprit. "Hmm... that does not seem to match up with the reported vandalism. Still, it's important information in that it helps us to eliminate some suspects. I ah, read a lot of detective fiction." He explains.

"I believe we've heard of this preacher and would like to speak to him. With Mr. Halpert's permission, of course."

Halpert shrugged. “He is a free man, He may talk to anyone that he wishes to,” he said.

The grandfather clock chimed in the corner of the room and Halpert pulled out his watch, frowned and said, “It has been most pleasant meeting you but I have business I must attend to. Richard will show you out.” He bid them farewell and excused himself, leaving Richard to escort them to the front door.

Outside, the day had grown more blustery and the clouds above held the threat of rain. “Would you like me to ask Erasmus to run you back to your lodgings?” suggested Richard.

"Thank you very much for all your assistance," Alex tells Halpert, shaking the man's hand. "Rest assured we will be in touch if we learn anything."

He looks to the clock, trying to determine just how late in the day it is.

“Thank you Richard. Would you be able to take us to see Preacher Litton?” asks Ivy.

The time is getting on for 3.30pm.

Richard glanced at Halpert who nodded and waved him away impatiently. “Very well,” he said. “I can show you the way.”

It was no more than ten minutes drive to where the workers had their homes. They were, for the most part, ramshackle and assembled with anything that the inhabitants could find to hand. The walls were wooden and most had either shutters or even blankets fixed to the windows for privacy. There was a pump for water but no other services.

The shacks lined the track on both sides, and at the end, a larger shack stood slightly apart. It was better maintained and one of the windows even had glass! A large crucifix was fixed to the wall adjacent to the door. Two men stood on the porch, watching warily as the car approached. The younger was muscled like an ox, tall and solidly built. The other was considerably shorter, almost spherical, with a shock of white hair like a man touching one of those electric machines down at count fair.

They had been in conversation when first spotted but now they stood and waited for their visitors to speak.

"Good afternoon gentleman," Alex offers them both a nod. "My colleague and I are journalists from up north. We were hoping Preacher Litton was around. We would like to ask him a few questions."

“We’re investigating the oil company,” Ivy adds. “And the effect they are having on local communities such as this.”

She gestures to the shacks in what she hopes is an approving manner.

The white-haired man turned his head and spoke quietly to the younger man, who briefly shook his head in response. He looked back towards his visitors and said, ”Ah am indeed, Preacher Litton, though ah am sure that Richard has already told you who ah am.” His voice was higher pitched than expected for such a large-framed man, almost reedy. He peered at the Englishman who had remained in the car, who stared back impassively.

The oil company, you say? They are indeed a plague on this town, like those that befell Egypt in ancient times. Except that it is the hand of man and not of GOD that brings this plague upon us! The LORD struck the river Nile with his staff and changed the water into BLOOD! Man seeks to follow in his footsteps but the LORD will not tolerate their attempt to to cravenly follow HIS ways! A PLAGUE will be upon them and they will suffer HIS wrath!”

Alex finds himself tempted to say Amen! But manages to repress the urge.

"Yes. We are beginning to agree with that assessment. We've heard tales of pagan worship by the men. Someone went so far as to carve a snake into one of the pews in Father Ortega's church! As a local religious leader, we were wondering if you've heard any whispers of the oilmen or anyone being involved in snake worship recently. Of course, it could have just been some juvenile foolishness-- we're given to understand that some of the oilmen were involved in this recently-- but if there is witchery afoot we'd like to expose it for our readers."

Preacher Litton’s eyes flashed with religious fervour. ”The book of Corinthians, chapter 11:3 tells us that Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, and that minds may somehow be led astray from sincere and pure devotion to CHRIST! Ah know not of anyone worshipping serpents but those that do are surely DAMNED to all eternity! For is not the serpent the tool of the DEVIL, sent to tempt man from the path of HOLY RIGHTEOUSNESS?!”

It’s hard for Ivy not to roll her eyes: the fellow is certainly enthusiastic about his work.

“Have there been any incidents of unusual behaviour among your flock?” she asks, bracing herself for yet another blast of preaching.

The Preacher’s eyes narrowed. ”Ah see you doubt mah words!” he thundered. ”Does not the HOLY BIBLE say ‘In the last times there will be scoffers who will follow their own ungodly desires. These are the people who divide you, who follow mere natural instincts and do not have the SPIRIT! But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most HOLY faith and praying in the HOLY SPIRIT, keep yourselves in GOD’S love as you wait for the MERCY of our LORD JESUS CHRIST to bring you to ETERNAL LIFE! Be merciful to those who doubt; save others by snatching them from the fire; to others show MERCY, mixed with fear—hating even the clothing stained by CORRUPTED FLESH!”

He stepped down from the porch and grabbed Ivy’s hand. “Confess your sins, child! Your impure thoughts! Let the LORD into your life!”

Alex steps forward, politely but firmly attempting to position himself between the preacher and Ivy.

"Let's all try and calm down. I can assure you my colleague is a woman of faith. It's one reason we are here trying to investigate reports of occult activity.

"What do you know about the native people's in this area?" He asks, fully expecting another tirade but hopeful his words will somewhat calm the man.

1d100

At least it was a fail, not a fumble.

Preacher Litton showed no signs of being inclined to release Ivy’s hand but he did at least answer Alex’s question. ”In Matthew 28, verses 19-20, does not OUR LORD JESUS say, ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the FATHER and of the SON and of the HOLY SPIRIT, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.’”

”Well, those GODLESS HEATHENS do not want to listen to the words the GOOD BOOK, to let the LORD bring his righteous light into their lives! They follow their own ways, praying to beasts and FALSE IDOLS! Exodus 20, verses 2-6, states, ‘I am the LORD your GOD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before ME. You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in HEAVEN above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your GOD am a jealous GOD, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate ME, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love ME and keep MY commandments!’”

”Ah have tried many times to bring our native brethren to the LORD, but they have refused me! I pray daily for a solution that might bring them to the Church, where they might join us in HOLY WORSHIP!”

The Preacher’s colour was rising and he eventually let go of Ivy’s hand so he could pull out a brightly coloured handkerchief and mop his brow.

Momentarily stunned by the preacher’s sudden exposition, Ivy rallies her wits with Alex’s attempted intervention.

“Be careful you do not fall into apoplexy preacher!” she barks.

“I have witnessed things that would turn the most pious man into a raving sinner of the worst kind, yet have kept my virtue throughout. My workaday sins are nought compared the forces of evil that gather around, and yes, among us!”

She grips his hand as tightly as he grips hers.

“That is what we are here to fight! Will you help us?”

”The GOOD LORD will sustain me, my child,” replied Preacher Litton. Nevertheless, he stepped back and took a seat on a bench on the porch.

In a less strident voice, he said, ”What are the forces of evil of which you speak?”

Alex takes a cautious look back towards Richard, then speaks in a slightly lower tone, hoping the butler wouldn't overhear him.

"We've reasons to suspect that a cult is operating in this area. They have infiltrated communities before and attempted to corrupt them from within. We fear the same may be beginning to occur here, as seen by the markings in the church. If any of your flock detect any further signs or markings of snakes, please do let us know." He decides to leave it at that, but leaves the door open for Ivy to elaborate if she wishes.

Ivy nods her assent.

“That’s the gist of it,” she says. “We have to find and expose them.”

She knows that confiding in the preacher is yet another risk, but their lack of success frustrates her.

Richard (Listen) 1d100

Richard appeared to be oblivious to their discussion with Preacher Litton, who replied, ”Serpents, you say? The serpent in the GARDEN OF EDEN led EVE astray and cause them to be cast out, as we shall cast out any of SATAN’S MINIONS who seek to lead good people astray!”

“Ah shall pray for guidance to the GOOD LORD and ah will ask my flock to do the same. Be sure that ah will bring to you any news that ah find.”

Sensing that's all they'd get out of the Preacher, Alex nods. "That's all we can ask. Thank you, Preacher. We will be staying in town if you hear anything." Unless Ivy has more to add, he prepares to leave.

Ivy nods her assent - there's nothing more to be gained here, she believes.

When everyone else is out of earshot, she huffs in frustration.

"Considering we're supposed to be discreet, we're confiding in too many people as to the real reason we're here," she mutters to Alex.

"The only other lead we might have is the fellow who's wife left him recently. We'll end up telling him about it all too no doubt!"

Alex winces. Ivy's grumblings hit the mark.

"You're right about that. Especially given whatever the good Preacher's other qualities, subtlety does not appear to be among them.

"I'm not sure that other lead will get us much-- most people here seem ignorant of the cult. We could return to the hotel and wait to see what Lawrence and William learned of Nashoba. Hopefully they had better luck than us. But we at least confirmed an ignorance on the part of the townsfolk, which is better than the alternative I suppose."

"Agreed. Perhaps the other two can think of a better way to access the oilfield," Ivy muses.

We’re moving on to the next chapter: Hebert House