The Darkest of Rivers...

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

While trying to maintain an air of detached nonchalance which he hopes is the proper demeanor for a well heeled tourist, Tommy checks out the surroundings. Even in one of the better hotels in the area, there is an undercurrent of seediness. The sultry heat doesn't help, and the ceiling fans don't really do much more than push the humid air around. The booth doesn't suit him as well as he'd like- he'd prefer to sit at the bar, from which vantage point he can see the whole room behind him in the back-bar mirror without being too obvious, but that wouldn't fit the character he's trying to play. Even so, he immediately makes three people in the room as decidedly shady. One he dismisses quickly as a call-girl...the kind who invites you up to her room without bothering to disclose that her boyfriend is hiding in the closet, waiting for the mark to get his pants around his ankles before applying the sap, whereupon he and the "lady" promptly disappear, along with whatever funds anybody naive enough to fall for such an old dodge might have on his person. Another fellow, wearing a white seersucker suit, looks like the kind of guy who can get a visitor "anything you want, mister.." Him he'll keep an eye on, they might actually have a use for such a guy. The third one is harder to figure out the skinny on..he's in a darkened corner, pretending to read a newspaper, but Tommy notices he hasn't turned a page since they came in ten minutes back. Once in a while, the paper drops a little, and Gunn is pretty sure the mug is looking at them. He makes sure the guy doesn't catch him looking back...and reaches down surreptitiously and unsnaps the flap on the brown leather holster holding his Colt.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

As Miles scans the room again he notices a gent in khaki trousers and a faded grey shirt standing near the opposite end of the bar,turning back to the bar and adjusting his seat so he can watch for a sign from either Tommy or Mrs. Cross,he catches the barman's eye ,waving him over he asks him what the gent on the end is drinking,extracts a card,enough moneyfor another pair of drinks gives it to the barman and sets back to see what happens.  The bartender builds a G&T and delivers it ,with the card, the gent reads the card,looks up, then reaches into an inside pocket and pull out a spectacle case,placing the coke bottle thick lenses on his nose he looks down the bar,then grabs his cane, gets up and slowly works his way down the bar to Miles,carring his fresh drink and the card in his off hand. "Masterchief ?!! it is you!!  I was told you were among the missing presumed dead when to USS Shenandoa was lost off Big Sur, R.C."
  Miles says "No I wasn't aboard the Captain told me to stay behind and expedite the repair supplies arrival, I was waiting for her in San Fran when the message came in that she was going in, if I had been aboard maybe my boys and I could have saved her,still hurts ten years later,that i wasn't there to keep her flying.but enough of me , what happened to you Gunny? the limp glasses and the fingers?" 
  Gunnery seargent Martin Replys "I was cross decked to the Lexingtonfour years back when they were training a batch of new Ensign pilots and one of em missed the wire and the net and hit the parked aircraft waiting to launch,my bird caught a chunk thru the wing and caught fire ,as a was getting clear a 250lbdr blew and took my leg andflash burned my eyes, Doc said I wouldn't ever see again but he was wrong ,more that five feet and i can't tell facesmore that twenty it's all a blur, but i still am just as good as i ever was a gun repair,so that is what i am doing here.with my pension and my shop i live alright.and the eyes are coming back,i need to get a ligter prescription soon." miles gets directions to the shop and goes over to  the matre de in the dinningroom and asks for a tabe for two, then goes back in and gets the Gunny and treats him to dinner.             

[The Abiliegh]

She watched Tommy asses the joint, and she saw Miles take a seat at the bar and do much the same not long after. She was glad for it, trusting the men, knowing that she couldn't afford to show the same sense of caution. She was a hero, certainly, but more importantly, she was a woman on vacation, and it was time to sell it.

Showtime... she thought bemusedly.

She called for a man to bring Tommy and her a drink, asking for "something local" with as much indulgent, amused derision as she could muster. Better that they focus on presumed racial-insensitivity than any factual personality trait. She made a point of inquiring after appropriate social functions for a well-to-do American couple, clasping her hands with excitement as more choice functions we're spoken of.

Her laughter was both frivolous and infectious, echoing throughout the lounge as she spoke with the waiter. Keeping her face nearly as animated as her hands, she continued with a fluid grace, fingers touching her neck, Tommy's hand, her hat, the stem of her glass... anything to keep an observer's eyes occupied with her. She'd lived the privileged life before; it was easy to recall the feeling of careless gaiety, excitement and entitlement that she'd spent the most of her youth living in. And it was that life, what with it's ill-gotten funding, that gave her the practice and such subtle dissembling. Keeping the attention of a room was the first thing she'd mastered. And so she glittered like a jewel, radiant and fresh against the lurid backdrop of the dingy, sweaty, tropical town.... A place, she noted, not so different from the speakeasies and jazz halls she used to sing in.

She wished Mr. Bass would arrive. They could continue the charade for a drink or two, discussing safari and the like with their supposed guide, and then they would be well within their disguises to retire to their rooms to speak more privately with both Rafe and with Miles. Until then, she continued, falling into meaningless, gaudy chatter with Tommy when there was no one else about to unwittingly enlist.

[MWBailey]

A day and a night playing hide-and-go-fight with a pair of thugs who were almost certainly air pirates looking for a hostage to pound into the shape of a stool pigeon had drawn Rafe out of the hotel, back into the backstreets of Pointe Noir, and through every stinking alley in the burg. He had finally shaken them and somehow made it back to the hotel, adn gotten a couple of hours sleep, then showered (after a fashion, the water pressure was lacking somewhat). HE put on his chanhge of khakis, reshipped his various hideout and other weaponry(two webleys unde rteh fielsd jacket, kukhri on the belt, sawed-off webley in jacket pocket, and various nasty surprises/useful bits in other locations).

He ghosted into the hotel's lounge just in time to hear a looker of a lady mutter in what was obviously a private comment about "this Rafe person" and his whereabouts. TEh twop blokes with her looked ready enough. The fellow who seemed to be playing the part of hjer beau looked and acted like a man whose profession mihght be related to his own. the other looked like what Rafe hadcome to think of as the typical 'merchant aeromarine type.'  Rafe sidled up to the bar, ordered a pint, and went back to ward the relevant table, and said, "I heard you folks were looking for one Rafael Bass? Well, He's me. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

When asked about his tardiness, he explained, "I did some diggin' about to find out both about some previous biz of mine an' a certain party we're all acquainted with, and about prospects for our own little jaunt. "Some of the people related to the people I asked thought I'd make an easy mark. I persuaded 'em otherwise, but keep yer heads on straight; Somebody somewhere is pullin the strings to make proddin' in some places difficult, and there're more mercs and privateers in the air and on the ground now than there's been since before The Scare. Seems like every military unit that would've got furloughed went rogue before they could give the order.

I don't suppose any of you folks've been in these parts before? Oh, and be careful of Shifty over there be'ind the paper. he's not much, but he's a little too interested in 'business opportunities,' if you get my drift."

[The Abiliegh]

Her eyes narrowed, and she wiped the look from her face as fast as she was able by masking her frustration in her drink. Apparently he hadn't got her telegram. Ah well... she thought. Nothing ever goes smoothly anyhow...

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, her hand fluttering over her chest in what most would view as a vapid, nervous gesture. "I didn't realize that there was so much to consider before going on Safari!" She worried her hands together, fingers fretting over her rings. Her brows furrowed, and she spoke in a breathy, startled tone. "Tommy, you don't think this is something we'll have to worry about while we're on holiday, do you?"

She paused, looking back to Mr. Bass. "I'm sorry, sir. We were led to believe that you would be a suitable guide for our tour of the area. If that is not true..." she paused, letting her words trail off. She lowered her head in apology, knowing that the rakish angle of her hat and the veil which surrounded it would hide the movements of her mouth. Her next words were a whisper just loud enough for the men at the table to hear, the words spoken quickly. "We've decided to go somewhat undercover, Mr. Bass. I'm sorry you didn't get my message, but please, play along."

She stood, looking flustered and put-upon. "I suppose we'll have to look for a more suitable man to lead us on our safari. C'mon, Tommy." She looked at Tommy expectantly while whispering to Rafe once more. "Chase us down, apologize for mistaking us for others, and convince us to stay. We'll talk about nothing a bit for show, then we'll retire to our rooms to speak on more pressing matters."

She then turned on her heel, not actually waiting for Tommy, and started toward the lobby, muttering about disreputable men talking of privateers and mercenaries to a well-to-do American woman. She took short, pointedly angry steps so that Mr. Bass or Tommy could catch her and they could continue on as planned.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

 Miles and the gunny had a nice late lunch ,Gunney says "time for me to head back to the shop"
  and Miles return to the bar,getting the sign he goes over to the table " Any dign of your guide yet M'lady" removing his cap and sitting down,the side of his trousers split to reveal a high boot with a brace arangement extending from knee to the ankle. a wooden knob an inch and a half in diameter protrudes slightly from the top of the boot. glancing down,then back up ,"excuse me, I need to fix this"miles bends down and re ties the closers on the leg of his trousers.movement catching his eye he sees a gent matching the description in the telegram from The Baron.quickly finishing the last tie ,he sets back up and observes the byplay. As Tommy starts to rise ,Miles stands as well    "come along Mr Bass,the Lady Abiliegh  is a bit high strung and after waiting four hours she tends to get a bit Techy an short fused." the three men start off after the lady and her mechanicale manservant.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

After a bit of fluster and show, the 'interested parties' gather in the suite of rooms on the third floor. Tommy strides across the main room, opens the french doors onto the balcony, steps out and takes a quick look up and down the street below, and across to the rooftops of the buildings fronting the street opposite them. Nothing. Good. He re-enters the room, closing the doors, and then the drapes, behind him. He crosses to the bar, surprisingly well stocked, and says, "Can I build anybody a drink? This heat has me thinking Gin & tonic...I think Uncle would approve." Clark interjects, "Allow me, Sir...it is, after all, my primary function." Tommy grins at the mechanical marvel. "Well, I guess it is at that, ain't it?" Clark quickly assembles a pitcher of Boodles and quinine water, applies a deft shot of seltzer to it, then, wrapping a fist sized chunk of ice in a bar towel, brings his pincer like right hand down on it, smashing the ice into pieces, and adds them to the pitcher. Placing the pitcher on a tray with four glasses, he glides smoothly over to the sitting area and places the tray on the low table. "Thanks, Clark." Tommy lights a Sullivan-Powell and turns to their new acquaintance. "So, Mr. Bass...I think we can speak freely here...fill us in a bit...what are we up against?"

[The Abiliegh]

Sitting in the privacy of their rooms, she was different woman. She let Tommy and Clark arrange the drinks while she took a moment to decompress. The vacant, high-maintenence and hig-strung woman bit took it out of her, and she was happy to let down to ruse.

She too pulled on a cigarette from Tommy's case, and as she exhaled, smoke coiling slowly past her lips, one could easily see her melt back into herself. She listened patiently for Mr. Bass to speak, having done more than enough interrupting already.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

 Miles accepts a G&T from Clarke and pulls out his pipe,a beat up old corncob,and proceeds to fill it while waiting to hear the latest information and a bit of background about the situation from Rafe.
 Things probably have changed since they left Iron Forge, so the Masterchief  was going to listen sharp as he oiled the brace up on his left leg.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"As I understand it," Tommy says, "Th' Baron is concerned because production at his copper mines has fallen off dramatically. Can't even fill a single shift, much less two. Somethin'...or someone...is either scarin' off or buyin' off the available workforce. Uncle thinks there may be some element of "hoodoo" involved, but probably just a scheme, y'know...ta scare th' superstitious types. Maybe it's sumthin' else altogether....hell, fer all we know, somebody's raisin' a bush army, an's hiring off all th' young men." He pauses to take a drink, and inhales a puff, blows a smoke ring, and says, "Right now, everything we know is about as substantial as that smoke ring."

[MWBailey]

"Things've been techy in the Bush for a while, now," Bass answered, seriously. "I wasn't always a grounded airman who's had to ride the rails and pack over the estuary on that blasted cat's cradle of a bridge; I had my own ship 'til barely a month ago."

His voice took on a tone of bitter nostalgia. "I don't suppose you heard about a merc packet named the Simba fightin' a runnin' battle with the pirate skycutter Buluwayo barely a month ago? It was big news down south of here, 'cause of the value of the cargo lost. Well, that was me an' my mates, runnin a cargo out o' the Walinga Station Aerodrome 'bout fifty miles upriver, out to the Capetown airfield. We was what passed for 'heavily armed' for packets in these parts in better days, two waist-mount Vickers an' fore-and-aft aimable Whippet Projector rocket tubes, but the Buluwayo 'ad twenty or more pom-poms and rocket tubes, liftable armor, an' ducted-fan propulsion, a damned Colonial Defense Force cutter gone rogue. She dogged us over the mountains, a real runnin, dodgin' scrappin' battle, across the grasslands, and all the way to the Witwatersrand gold mines, which is where they finally holed our engine room and broke our back. I don't surrender, but we finally had to jump off, me and the two mates what were left. I grabbed the one Vickers that was left; that and the Baron's settlement were all what was left of my Simba, and I traded the gun for the new one over there." He gestured at the varnished box, really a glorified crate, in which resided the double-barelled Villar Perosa. "At least now I can chop 'em up finer if they decide to tangle." Bass's voice took on a dark edge.  

"That's the kind've pirates, or privateers, or whatever you want ter call 'em," He continued in a lighter, more bantery tone, "that we've got a bumper crop of these days, and then there's that curse business. It's gotten to where some o' the merchant airmen're makin' convoys to get through -- and half of 'em never make it past the floodplain even so. That Gorge where 'is Excellency has  his mines, and places like Walinga, most of the fortified ports, they're relatively safe, but the airspace between can get hairy if the baddies decide you're slow or fat enough to be worth their while. Your hints at a conspiracy of some kind, if you'll allow me to read-in  a  bit," He winked, "fit right in with the level of organizatiion of those people; their intel is just a little too good, I'm thinking, for just run-of-the-mill brigands."

"Oddly enough, though, private or non-cargo craft, at least, seem to get less heat than the rest, that includes the passenger and sightseeing flights, long as they go right through and don't pry...usually..."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"does it seem like some one is trying to organize a government on the sly kinda,to win independence from the Belgians" asks Miles with a quizcal expression. "I am curios if that ,or maybe one of the other European powers is trying to take over on the cheap?


OOC( probly last post from me for three or four days as I have to pack and get ready for the drive to New Mexico ,I will be leaving Md. in the early afternoon. wish me luck.   Miles

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

OOC: Good luck, Sir!

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC  "thank you SargentMajor.   i will be doing the legal limit in four hour stints down I-81,then saying Hi to Xenos and dropping a package off with him then it is I-40 straight across to Albq,NM.
total time driving 32 hours ,figuring to do the run in 64-68 hours,but not much less,aiming for 14 on 6-8 off,depends on time and temp,mainly.
                                                                Miles
Miles says "relative armamentstaken in to play you were well out of your weight class Captain. Have you heard anything on the bush telegraph that has our cover blown? if not then tommorrow lets hit the sky running and go let Tommy and Mrs Cross get a shot at some game and start giving this cover story a bit of flesh to cover its rather bare skeleton,'eh? that way we can get you familiarized with the AiRIEON flight carichteristics and arms,she's a bit different than any other I've
ever seen,and takes a bit of getting used to, She has two differrent flight regimes,powered and un-powered and is actually faster in unpowered flight and a damn sight more manuverable than most, a few of my own propritary design modifications that are built in to the framing. I 'd also like to get your take on upgunning  or not as you think given her current armament.

OOC will try to get the Areion's specifications posted next time i get on. She is a bit of a temporal anomoly.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

OOC: The 81, you say? If you are going down through Virginia, you will pass within 6 miles of my location.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC Yes I-81 to roanoke then over to wnston salem,nc almost to meet Xenos and Drop off a Lionel "Polar Express Set"then  it is on to I40 and west to NM.
last post if you want me to swing by Call me in the next two or three hours,
                          cell number is 5oh5 7one5-37one5,
and you could meet me at the nearest  off ramp to your place, any way tearing down now and rolling in about fifteen minutes.  Miles

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

OOC: You'll see this eventually, Miles.. ...If you are heading for W-S from Roanoke, you won't be in this neck of the woods, after all. I didn't call because I don't believe in distracting someone who's under th' wheel...used to be a long haul trucker, y' know. Some other time, compadre.....

[The Abiliegh]

She exhaled a drag of her cigarette slowly, contemplating what Mr. Bass had explained thus far. "What's the story on these Belgiums? Are we looking at somethin' more like to be an uprising of the locals or somethin' more lofty like, say, another country vying for power here?"

She didn't particularly want to get tangled in the local politics, but it seemed that was a direction they may need to persue. "I'd rather know now if the local government is on the up-and-up or if the goal would be better served by letting revolution take it's course. Such messy, chaotic business, political uprising being what it is, could provide us just the amount of confision we need to do whatever it is we suss out that we gotta do..."

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"It stands to reason," muses Tommy, "That fer international business interests like th' Baron's th' more stable th' local situation is, th' better it is fer business." He takes a drag on his cigarette, exhales, then continues. "If it's local, mebbe we got th' wherewithal ta push it, one way or th' other...if it's any bigger, then we're just another piece in the big game. Speakin' of "big game," if we're gonna make a show of playin' safari, we're gonna hafta hire some gun-bearers and beaters, and mebbe a camp boss and a cook. Mr. Bass, I think we can leave that end of things to your expertise. I think the Masterchief can fly high cover for us, and rendezvous every few days with supplies...that'll keep the total number of bearers down, too."

[The Abiliegh]

"Yes, we've got t'keep our cover..." She took a sip of her G&T. "But we've got to be learning what we're up against as well. Perhaps we need to mingle this evening, and invite a few key socialites along with us? Seems that we won't get terrible far if we're out in the brush by our lonesomes." A smirk played over her lips and she leaned her head on Tommy's shoulder. "Though, I can't pretend I wouldn't enjoy a few days of just you an' me and the big ol' jungle."

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Tommy grins, leans over a plants a small kiss on her forehead. "Me Tarzan, you Jane, huh?" He chuckles. "Babe, I think we'd better take some experts with us...gettin' eaten by lions isn't going to get th' job done, and even though I'm pretty good at negotiatin' 'concrete jungles' like Chicago, th' real thing is a whole 'nother kettle o' fish."

[The Abiliegh]

She blushes and a small chuckle escapes her. "I know that, ya big lout. Whaddaya think of my idea to bring along a little aristocracy, though? Seems to me that we can gossip freely with those types and not bring on any untoward suspision..."

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"Couldn't hurt, I suppose." He freshens his drink from the pitcher, sips, and continues. "The farther up-river and in-country we get, and the nearer to Thistlewaite's copper mines, the more skinny we're likely ta get on th' labour shortage...an' that info is more likely ta come from th' hired hands than from the aristocrats. Still, though, it's a good idea, get some o' th' local muckity-mucks involved, might smooth things out considerably on down th' line."

[The Abiliegh]

"Aye. After I've made a big show of shooting something, then you boys will go off and do more real hunting. You can snoop and I can pry." She nodded, smiling.

"Still, Mr. Bass, I'd love to know what you've already got up in the noggin' of yours. You're the most real thing we've got to go on."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC made it in safly to Alb. 1030pm Tuesday night. wiill try to log on and catch up every night bout this time

   Sounds like a good start on a plan of attack to me" agrees miles as he finishes his drink and get up to get another.