"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[Leonard Lightning]

Leonard rubbed his sore hands as he worked on the engine's acceleration turbine that he was retuning.  He'd never been in a fist fight before, "Must remember to use my cane next time.  I wonder where that weapon came from?  It seems much like what brother makes only weaker." he sighs softly to himself. "Why is the range of mine so short by comparison?  No matter.  I'm certainly getting adventure...  Now if only it didn't sting so much."  this last was said as he set the machine to running again.

After the engine is running at tip top shape he strolls around the ship thinking back to the struggle blushing at the thought of Lili landing in his arms and the way he practically collapsed.  He always envied people of action like his fellow crew mates.  He couldn't help but think of how useless he had been.  Now the blush turned an uglier shade of red.  He hated being so weak but what could he do about it?  Maybe it was the adventure that toughened you.  Maybe that was why everyone else seem so competent was they had traveled?  He didn't know but he'd find out. 

These thoughts brought him to the bridge where he nodded to Ben and sat on the floor near the front left and continued to install the Radial dispersion cage.  It was in operating but for some reason any time Leonard checked it appeared as if there was something behind them.  After having looked several times from many angles he hadn't been able to see the phantom and so had thought that his invention was malfunctioning...  It wasn't.

[Vienna Fahrmann]

      When Lakshmi was next awake, Lilli brought her a small swatch of very fine linen.  "There's a little bit of residue here from whatever was used to drug me in London.  I'd be grateful if you could try to identify it for me".  Lakshmi had heard about Lilli's arrival on the Boheme, and since Jessica was recovering nicely, she agreed to to take a look at it in between her other duties.   She enjoyed the challenge of identifying unknown substances.

     Vienna

[Leonard Lightning]

Meanwhile back in London Lemwith worked while he waited.  First he killed every rodent in his room and the nearbye rooms with tiny dynamo's he jammed in the wall.  He listened with a chuckle as the rats squealed.  The wait was intolerable but the squeals made it just a little better.  All this waiting and nary a word from the Colonel.  He was begining to wonder if he had been misinformed or if he was being played with. His thoughts were turning particularly dark one day when a knock came on his door.

"Scuse me?  I got a message for a," a small snigger, "Lemwith Fulmineus.  That you?"

This brought Lemwith up like a bolt his hand snapping into his jacket pocket, digging out his geared and wired glove.  Stepping beside the door, "Why yes good man.  Is it a verbal message or a letter?"

"A little of both so why don't ya open up?"

With no shoot ringing out through the door Lemwith opens the door very slightly, "Yes what is it?" he asks as keeps his gloved hand ready to slip out the door and just out of sight.

A short man maybe no taller than 5'2" grins up at Lemwith with a hideous grin made all the scarier by the malice lingering there.  He leans non-chalantly against the door frame cleaning his fingernails with a small knife.  "Mornin.  I'm tah fetch ya down to another place.  Somewhere closer to the bosses heart as it were."  the blade twitches slightly drawing blood at the mention of hearts. "He says I get to bring you wether you want or not." the smile widens as if daring Lemwith to disagree so that mayhem can insue.

This grotesque grin is greeted with a perfect but, equally disturbing one from Lemwith.  Like a mad man looking in an fouled mirror Lemwith smiles at this kindred spirit, a brother in blood let and speaks, "Why that sounds most excellent.  I had begun to worry that I needed to send more messages to get a meeting."  turning quickly he snags his few belongings leaving his assorted simple creations around the room.  As he does so Hickock steps forward raising the knife as if eager to place it between Lemwith's shoulders.  "Tempting target an open back but mind your step.  Electricty is a fickle mistress who will strike those who don't take care."  Hickock pauses and glances down to see one of the dynamos not a step away and steps back.

"You ready to go?  Keeping my boss waiting isn't much unhealthier than making me wait."  So saying he turns and walks out a humming Lemwith right behind.

[Jessica Butcher]

Things were going well. Jessica had gradually regained consciousness, but Lakshmi still insisted she not leave bed for a while longer. So she and Oliver were mulling over the various possibilities concerning who had sent the mysterious saboteur. Jessica's first guess was, predictably, the Masons, but even she agreed that they were not behind everything bad in the world, and it was far more likely that it was someone who had attacked them in the past. They even mentioned the Golden Man, a particularly nasty villain who worked with the eventual aim of eradicating albinism by means of murder. Oliver pointed out that the Golden Man would never go to such lengths simply to assasinate him. The most likely possibility was that someone wanted something that was on this ship.

One thing they knew: It was going to be impossible to get Hiram's trinket quickly now.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

A similar thought was going through Ben's mind. Once again, they had come under attack, and the deadline was nearing. They needed to get going.
'I suggest we leave within the hour. If you have any business to complete, pray do it now.'

[Mercury Wells]

An copy of an extract from a diary (sent in a letter) to Demetri Rousselle from an antiquarian bookshop somewhere London by a street urchin

Dear Sir.

I think, that you'll find this very interesting, if you would like the rest of the dairy...I will be in touch.

Yours &c.

L. B.

"Date:- Unknown

I am alone now, supplies are all but finished (I am writing what maybe my last entry by the light of a strange pulsating, creeping, crawling green malevolent luminescence from the walls).

My companions have either died or have deserted me.

After wandering for what seems a lifetime and judging from some of the objects (Ritual^TM) I have seen, it seems likely that I have found evidence that A-K were revered by this unknown race. I have now stumbled on what looks like a temple 

Dominating the temple is a huge carved statue of a Humanoid with an unfinished tentacled head. These tentacles seem to writhe in a menacing fashion when observed from the corner of ones eye (I am very scared...).

Around the base of the statue is a circular pit containing a viscous, bubbling clear liquid, containing the preserved naked bodies of both genders, young and old. Their hands clenched, mouths are screaming, eyes bulging as if they are caught in a waking nightmare. I heard what seemed to a low sounding massed murmuring of a chant of some sort, repeating over and over.

(I have only approached it once and never again will I do so!).

Having difficulty sleeping.

How long I have been awake I have no idea. As soon as I close my eyes I see or even imagine myself watching the universe slowly change while overlaying the view of myself in this accursed place. Martian (Alien) thoughts slowly surface like massive glaciers grinding their way towards an ocean so vast not even I can comprehend, even now I shudder while writing these words. A voice...a cruel detached voice echoes within my very soul taunting me, entreating me in words I can not hope to understand.

I must leave this oppressive place somehow!"

[Jessica Butcher]

Bored, Jessica reached into her large red leather bag for her journal. The thought suddenly occured to her that the thief might well have done away with something therein. She took a quick look. Oliver's innovative pistol and her blue goggles were still there. So were all her clothes, jewelry, and other personal effects. She contented herself that nothing there could possibly be of value.

Then it came to her: the journal was completely gone!

There was nothing important or confidential there: what could he have been looking for? 

[bluestocking]

In the skies above North Africa, Lakshmi was having a trying day in her makeshift laboratory.

She'd tested the scrap of linen Vienna had given her - fine quality stuff it was, too; of Irish manufacture, if she didn't miss her guess, and not worn from many washings - for the usual sedatives; ether, chloroform, laudanum. None of them were present. Frustrated, she was trying a chromatographic procedure on it, in hopes of at least isolating some identifying components.

Now she took the strip of thick paper from the beaker. There were indeed lines upon it, and the pattern struck her memory. She rummaged in one of her half-unpacked steamer trunks, emerging with a leather-bound notebook thick with addenda and inserted notes. After a few minutes flipping through it, she found what she had been seeking, and cursed softly.

She pulled a tiny bottle from a case that lay on her work-table, and carefully decanted a few drops into a round-bottomed flask. A generous quantity of water and a tiny scrap cut from the linen were added, then she placed it on a ring stand and lit her alcohol lamp beneath it. As the solution heated, it turned an unsettling yellow color. Lakshmi removed it from the heat and held it up to the light from one of the aetheric lamps that illuminated the chamber, then flipped one colored lens from the spray of optics clipped to the temple of her protective glasses over her eye. With a grim satisfaction, she noted that the solution fluoresced under the altered light.

"Blue-balled Krishna on a velocipede," she muttered.

This presented quite a quandary. There was only one group of which she knew which utilized that particular compound, and as far as she knew, they only had access to it as a milder herbal concoction - not a potent scientifically-refined solution as this must have been, judging from the unstained condition of the linen scrap and the saturated color of the solution in the flask. She was more than a little scared at the thought.

She was also starting to become very suspicious of Lilli. When she'd tended to the Austrian woman's hands after the set-to with the invader, she'd recognized the distinctive ligatures left by the use of a garotte - a weapon she associated more with the Indian side of her heritage than the European one. Where had Lilli learned its use? It was a weapon that required considerable finesse. Now to discover that she had been rendered unconscious with what was essentially a purified form of a trance drug also in use by certain Hindu cults... Lakshmi felt that she should inform Captain Hudson of this. She had the strong suspicion that Lilli had acquaintances, and enemies, who could pose a significant danger to all on board.

By acquiescing to her request to discover the substance, though, Lakshmi had in essence accepted Lilli as her patient, and there were codes that governed confidentiality between doctors and patients. If she informed Captain Hudson of the drug, and her suspicions, would she be breaking those codes?

She dropped her head against the surface of the work-table with a gentle thunk, and the reflection of the aetheric light off the gleaming brass knobs of her microscope caught her eye. Well, she had to talk to Captain Hudson about the oddities presented by that hair anyway...

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

All the crew's business had been finished in Gibraltar by the morning. With the morning light rising over the rock, Ben released the docking clamps and the Bohème floated into the open air. Rising thermals carried them to a few thousand feet.
Suddenly, the ship reached the famous Trans-Mediterranean jetstream, and was buffeted by its uneven thrust, powered by descending airflows in the deep north. The skin flexed and tautened on the half-ribs, sending the Bohème swaying rather violently. In the galley, there was the distressing sound of porcelain meeting tile with painful results. Ben flung the wheel around and turned the ship to be lengthways in the current. The swaying abated. Laksmi came out of her room looking somewhat annoyed. She was holding a beaker, the contents of which were splashed onto her clothing. 'Turbulence?' she asked dryly.
Ben fired up the engines and set the course for Cairo. Despite Hiram's influence, which had them leaving far sooner than would normally be possible, they were several days behind schedule. Something would have to be done to get them back in time.
Ge set a bearing for Valetta and stuck to the shore until they were into Libya to avoid going over the Atlas Mountains. A strong westerly wind made for high speeds and good economy, and they cruised at over one hundred miles per hour. Before daybreak the next morning, the aetherlights of Cairo's famous aeroport were visible. In barely a decade it had sprung up from a small 'drome to the largest port in Africa, catering every day for hundreds of ships, mostly British. The Scramble for Africa was in full flow, and in the streets of Cairo, most of the drunkards were English.
A voice came over the wireless, approving their approach. Ben cut the drive and eased the Bohème towards the port.

[SalieriAAX]

The heat inside the bustling terminal building of Cairo Aeroport was intolerable.  The echoing Nouveau tiling in the central hall doubled and redoubled the calls and cries of the throng of passengers, pilots, tradesmen, engineers and aeroport employees. Boistrous American spinsters, wrapped in shawls and scarves and fashionable turbans clambered over men with animals in cages demanding tickets or their luggage or both; children were seen gazing about themselves in wonder or crying in terror but all were wrestling to free their hands from the iron grips of their mothers, their governesses, or their nurses.  Here and there an otherwise undaunted gentleman could be caught putting out his cigar for lack of air.  Despite their differences, everyone was hot, and everyone was impatient.

It seemed to many that half the crowd were aeroport employees, resplendant in neat company caps (something between a door-boy's pillbox cap and a fez), and company fob-chains, darting through the crowds like scythes, the vacuums behind them filling instantly with noisy passengers waving tickets.

Dr. Josiah Pendleton heaved open the great brass and stained-glass doors and strode outside onto one of landing platforms.

"Mr. Everett, I thought you said by eight o'clock this morning.  It is approaching half-past nine.  What exactly is going here?"

Mr. Everett, the Aeroport's English agent turned to Dr. Pendleton and gave a sympathetic sigh.

"I'm sorry Dr. Pendelton, we're doing the best we can.  Dr. Pendleton, isn't that..."  Mr. Everett would have gone on, but Pendleton carried the look of a man who cared little how inappropriately he was dressed. He changed tack "The next craft due in is English I believe, sir, perhaps they might be of interest."

"Very well, Mr. Everett.  If you would be so good, pray see to it that the pilot does not leave this aeroport until I have spoken with him.  I will be in the first class lounge.  Much longer and I will have to contact the embassy."

With that, Pendleton turned on his boot heels and strode of.  Mr. Everett looked nervously after the retreating gentleman who was going the wrong way.  He did not mention it.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

As they neared, the levithian scale of the hangars became clear. Carefully, he allowed her to float forward under her own momentum, then applied the airbrakes as she slid into a great pair of claws. They closed with great hissing of pneumatic pistons, and locked underneath her gondola. Many slender arms unfolded out of the claws and proceeded until they met the skin, whereupon they stopped, applying the lightest (though firm) touch on the body of the Bohème. She was supported all around.

In the belly of the huge building to the rear of the main hangar, a great engine breathed into life, turning great pulleys wrapped with cables as thick as a man's thigh. With the expert touch of an operator in a booth on the upside of the claw, the drive was rerouted over gears and drivechains. The whole claw moved slowly.
It lifted them up thirty, then forty storeys up into the hangar, which extended at least as far again above. On reaching the allocated level, the operator (so small and insignificant in his booth compared to the machine majesty of the Claw) pulled a lever. The movement paused, then restarted, moving them laterally into a honeycomb of airships two deep. Clamps slid onto the Bohème's hooks, and took her weight. The telescopic arms retracted into the body of the Claw. Ben waved a thanks to the operator, who returned the greeting, then leant fully back into his chair to pull at another lever, sending the Claw plummeting under its own weight back to the Docking Level. Cables whipped and took up slack, then tightened and ever-so-slightly stretched, taking up the mammoth weight of the claw below.

Ben marvelled.

The crew filed out of the main door and onto a gantry. It led to a cage lift. Rather disturbingly, it had two settings - Fast Down and V. Fast Down. By general consent, Oliver pulled the Fast Down lever.
The cage descended at a discomfiting rate, a spinning set of weights on arms creating friction on the cable and slowing their passage to a mere plummet. As it neared the bottom, it slowed quickly, forcing Ben towards the floor. He felt about an inch shorter by the time total standstill was reached.

The mesh door was opened by a red-clad doorman. He nodded his head and threw out his arm, indicating the way to go. The oppressive heat was like a physical blow. 'Ladies and gentlemen... welcome to Cairo.'

[Vienna Fahrmann]

    Lilli was disconcerted by the sheer mass of humanity crushed into the Cairo aerodrome.  She hated these kind of crowds.  Someone would inevitably pinch her bottom, especially if she was alone. 
     Lilli had felt quite isolated aboard the Boheme, cut off from news of European happenings.  She asked Oliver if he would mind escorting her to a newsagents.  The port was so cosmopolitan, she was sure there would be Western newspapers available.  Oliver agreed and they made arrangements to meet up with the rest of the Boheme crew later. 
    Oliver and Lilli jostled their way slowly through the crowds, until at last they reached a W.H. Smith.  Lilli picked up the International Herald Tribune and Oliver stocked up on the latest issues of the scientifically oriented periodicals the shop carried. 
     Lilli scanned her paper while Oliver decided on his purchases.  One article almost leaped out at her. She gasped.Oliver turned around and asked "Is something wrong?".  She showed him the article and he nodded gravely.  "I see, yes, that IS a problem" he said. 
     "Please hurry, Oliver", Lilli begged, "I need to get to the Austrian consulate right away!  We need to find a cab!".  She was so upset that Oliver passed up leafing through a few more magazines, made his purchases quickly, and assisted Lilli through the crowds to one of the many horse-cab stands at the aerodromes entrances.
   As Oliver tried to explain to a driver that they wanted to go to the Austrian Consulate, a well-dressed trio of people, two men and a woman, strolled up to them.  Their clothes were in the height of European fashion.  Apparently seeing Lilli's distress, the woman reached her surprisingly gloveless hand and grasped Lilli's arm.  To a casual observer, it seemed that an invitation of some sort was being offered, as the words "private museum" and "influential patron" were heard being uttered by the fashionable lady.  The casual observer might not have noticed that Lilli's eyes had become unfocussed, and her arm hung strangely slack in the woman's grip.
     It seemed that the gentleman had made the same offer to Oliver, as the cab driver was now loudly cursing the ways of Westerners who changed their minds so suddenly.  Oliver was loud in his acceptance of the offer of a visit to a private museum, unusual for the normally soft-spoken albino.  Even more strangely, he had dropped his recently acquired magazines and made no move to pick them up.
     In a city as crowded as Cairo, their were eyes everywhere.  Some of those were watching the transactions at the cabstands.  One of Hiram's local agents sent a boy back to the chandlers with a message that he would be following Lilli and Oliver.  He was under orders to make sure that the personnel of the Boheme didn't wander off and get involved in anything that would delay the ship's departure.

[Jessica Butcher]

Jessica was still somewhat disconcerted by the elevator ride. Even on the "Fast Down" setting, it had shook dangerously and squealed almost unbearably with the hissing of steam as it hurtled downward at breakneck speed. The result resembled an intoxicated cheetah crossed with a screaming baby.
Slowly working their way through the crowd, the rest of the crew was not relieved to find Lilli and Oliver gone. What on earth were they doing, and how long would it take?
   This near-grumbling was interrupted by one of the port workers rushing towards Ben. A disheveled boy of eighteen or so, he fell facedown on the floor with an "uff!", dusted himself off, and reported "Cap'n Hudson sir, there's a gennelman here what'd like ta talk with you." Without giving further details, he ran off, falling down at least twice in the process.

[Vienna Fahrmann]

     As Oliver and Lilli slowly accompanied their new acquaintances toward a large enclosed carriage, Oliver was thinking furiously.  "Was I loud enough that someone will remember our encounter?  Will anyone realize that the  science magazines were mine?"  He had felt a slight prick at his elbow, but his clothing seemed to have prevented much of whatever substance it was from entering his bloodstream.  On the other hand, Lilli had seemed to be greatly affected and he didn't want to leave her with these unknown people.  Besides, he was curious as to what sort of adventure might be in store for him.

     Vienna

[bluestocking]

Before Ben headed off after the urchin, Lakshmi caught his eye.

"Captain, there's something I'd like to talk to you about. I've some items I want to acquire in the souk, and it's seems you're in demand elsewhere. Would it be possible to meet at Sheapard's, say, around four, for tea?"

He nodded, and she disappeared into the swirling crowd.

[Stella Gaslight]

Emmaline was running down the crowded path that wound through the marketplace as fast as her legs could carry her.  The was sure the man in Capitan Hieronymus' colors had spotted her and was giving chase just out of sight.  If she stopped he would be upon her and she would be bundled aboard The Evening Star before sundown.  "Or dead" Said a fretful voice in her ear 

"Yes that too." She snapped over her right shoulder.  "This is all your fault. It is an easy job you said, A way to further our research you said.  If you had ears I would be boxing them." Caught up in yelling she failed to notice the pretty Indian lady in white muslin traveling clothes until it was far to late. Emmaline barreled in to Lakshmi with a surprising amount of force and a loud clang.

They crash to the ground in a jumble of limbs and tools tumbling out of half hidden pockets. Emmaline is dazed but she fights her way to her feet.  Her heart beating quick as a rabbits she scans the crowd but the man in in Capitan Hieronymus' colors is nowhere to be seen.  Safe for the moment Emma offers her hand to the other prone woman.  She helps Lakshmi gently to her feet and gathers the fallen tools.  Emma bows her head face red with embarrassment and exhaustion.  "We are very sorry for that Miss.  Is their anything I can do to make up for it?"

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi handed the petite young woman back a spanner of mysterious design and brushed the dust off the ruffles of her own white muslin walking dress.

"Quite all right, Miss. Is something the matter? If I may be so bold, you seem quite distressed." She bent to help gather the strewn implements, retrieving a minute oil can, a selection of screwdrivers, and what appeared to be disused engine parts.

Something the girl had said registered. "Wait... we?" She scanned the crowd for someone who looked to be a companion to the strangely-dressed young woman, but now that the drama of their collision had passed, the cosmopolitan masses in the souk were blithely ignoring them. Not a single person seemed to have any interest in her.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Ben looked bemusedly after the young chap, then followed him. Thanks to the boy's tendency of falling over every trailing cable, stray dog or commuter, it was not hard to keep up. He looked around him, and saw that the others had drifted off. He checked his watch. There was still plenty of time before his appointment at Sheapard's.

[SalieriAAX]

The First Class lounge of the Cairo Aeroport was spectacularly well appointed.  If the rest of the port was smart, this was resplendent.  Refined couples and families sat around tables displaying the finest french polish, upon which were piled plates, cakestands, cups, glasses, bottles, teapots; like latter-day culinary pyramids, delicious monuments of excess.  Unlike those in the central lobby, the ladies and gentlemen in here were confident that they had paid enough money that they would not miss their flights or lose their luggage and no rowdy queueing was required as an order of precedence was established by the size of each patron's bar credit.

If there was one patron who did not fit the scene of elegant contentment, it was the one in the far corner from the entrance.  Partly obscured in a mahogany bay, and shrouded from the great wash of light streaming in from the great panoramic window that overlooked the comings and goings of the entire port, a man sat hunched, reading, in a curious light tweed morning jacket and pinned stock.  He looked like he had ridden direct from a country hunt meet to Cairo, and had neither slept nor combed his hair along the way. His table was laid not with champagne and tea but with gin and coffee.  He fidgeted, he drank, he kept reading, and he did not look up until the gentility of the lounge was shattered as a lad in aeroport uniform collapsed through the doors.

[Vienna Fahrmann]

     Oliver and Lilli approached the ornate carriage.  It was ornate in the wrong way for Cairo, it looked out of place.  A closed carriage like this one would have looked more at home in Paris, London, or Vienna, but not here.  Oliver decided that it had been chosen because it concealed it's occupants almost totally.  He continued to chat with their new companions in a louder than usual voice and discovered that the name, or at least the alias of the man they were going to see was Dr. Habib.  He took a good look at the pair of drivers (pair?) as Lilli was assisted into the carriage.  One looked European, the other Egyptian.  Both of them looked exceedingly tough, despite the smartly tailored uniforms.  As he mounted the step to the carriage, Oliver turned and gave a cheery wave to the general populace of the street.  "We're off to the marvelous museum of Dr. Habib!" he announced.  One of the fashionable men looked annoyed at his pronouncement and hastily shoved him into the carriage. 
    Unseen by the drivers or occupants, a lithe, slender man quickly leapt to the back of the carriage and folded himself into a neat bundle on the luggage shelf.  He arranged his burnoose so that he almost looked like a package of oddments, not a human being.  He left just enough room to peer out.  He was glad of the cloth over his nose.  The carriage kicked up an almost choking cloud of dust from the Cairo streets.
     THe carriage drove quickly through the less savoury parts of the city and soon reached a suburb of elegant houses and villas, with wide, tree-lined streets.   The drivers continued to a neighbourhood of stunning mansions, visible only over the tops of their surrounding walls.  Alerted by the slowing of the carriage, the uninvited passenger prepared to jump off. 
     He took his chance when the carriage stopped in front of a pair elaborately worked, but solid iron gates.  He unfolded with surprising speed and darted into a large bush composed of loose frond-like leaves.  The secondary driver had swung down from the carriage and clanged one of the iron knockers.  A  small viewport opened in the gate and a stream of mutterings that sounded like codes and countercodes passed back and forth.  Apparently the exchange was satisfactory, as the gate opened to admit the carriage.

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma tucked the bits and pieces away.  She tried to tidy herself up but it was little use her skirt was more dust colored than gray. "Allow me to introduce ourselves I am Emmaline Lighton and this is my partner Professor George Lewistine"  She gestured to the empty air beside her. Lakshmi was rightfully confused.  "My partner was disembodied and forced it to the realm of aether in a lab accident."  Emma wasn't sure if the other woman believed her or thought she was mad.  If it was the later she wouldn't be the first.   "It is a rather long story that I would love to share but I am in a good deal of trouble.  Their is an airship captain that wants something of us we can not morally allow and he won't take my refusal for an answer.  I fear I may have already gotten you tangled up in it too. I don't know how far captain Hieronymus will take this chase."  She stuttered a bit at his name wondering if he was somewhere near listing.  "If you are willing to take the risk I would be grateful for the chance to rest and tell our story.  I could buy you a cold drink or two for indulging my need to speak to a friendly face."  Emma knew she had probably said too much already but she had not had the chance for feminine companionship since she set foot on The Eastern Star almost half a year ago.  The loneliness was a bit more potent than she thought.  "If you would rather not I can take my leave and do our best to make sure you are not followed." She smiled small and hopeful,

[HAC]

Mahjub abd-al-Qadir, spat a stream of tobacco juice, and  stirred from the alcove he had been waiting and watching from. There, moving through the narrow street, making his way through the crowds, was the Anglisiki   Captain, the one his master, the effendi from the steppes beyond the Kush of India, was seeking.
  "Follow the Angliski, do not be seen as your life depends on it. Follow and report" his master had said....
Mahjub would do  just that. At a discrete distance, he would not be noticed, to an Angliski, he looked like another of Cairo's souk-dwellers, and Mahjub was good at this game.  He fingered the jambiyya tucked away in  the folds of his dirty robe, and pulled his cloak about him.. Killing the Angliski would be a great sport, but as he valued his life, he would obey his master.,

[bluestocking]

The young woman's refusal to settle on either the first person singular or plural was giving Lakshmi a headache, but no matter. She wasn't sure if the young woman was utterly mad, or whether... well, there had been than incident in Ferrara, but surely that was nothing more than rumor?

The mention of pursuit invaded the happy experimenter's tizzy which invaded her mind. She scanned the crowd again, and now saw a burly man in what looked like a quasi-military uniform of the type often worn by private zeppelin crews. He was obviously on the hunt for something - or someone - and Lakshmi was sure that it was only Miss Lighton's diminutive stature that had prevented him from spotting her thus far.

"You're being followed indeed." The girl's eyes went wide behind her bottle-bottom lenses. "Come with me: I think we can lose him in the souk."

Cairo was not Calcutta, but a crowded marketplace has a certain rhythm to it. Lakshmi guided the girl through clumps of people, through the shop of a dealer in ersatz antiquities, and down a narrow alley. Damn and blast, she still had to make it to the mechanist's, and be in time to meet Captain Hudson for tea!

[Vienna Fahrmann]

      Hiram's local agent had watched the actions of the ornate carriages extra passenger with interest.  He had hired a respectable western style conveyance as the others were boarding and had followed at a discreet distance.  He ordered the driver to take him around to the other side of the block and scribbled a quick note that he inserted into a small, locking metal tube.  He hopped nimbly out of the cab, hung his oversized umbrella over his arm, and paid the driver an extra sum to have the note delivered back to the chandlers at the aerodrome.   He strolled along the other half of the block, unfurling his umbrella to shield him from the sun.  He looked a little unfashionable for this neighbourhood, but could easily pass for a rich man's secretary or an employee of a similar station.  He unobtrusively scouted the outside of the house for possible exits.  His eyesight was excellent.  THere appeared to be a small postern gate in the back wall, hidden behind a mass of lush foliage.  In moments, he had the umbrella down and was crouched behind the plantings, examining the lock of the gate.  He trusted that it wouldn't be straightforward.  Since ancient times, the Egyptians had had a penchant for booby traps. 
     Meanwhile, back at the front of the house, the slender man stripped off his heavy Siberian coat.  It had been stifling him, but after the slight fracas he had been involved in at the aerodrome, it had seemed the best course of action to quickly, or at least as quickly as possible in Cairo, purchase a simple native burnoose for disguise and leave the vicinity immediately.  He had recognized the odd couple of the redhead and the albino as coming from the recently docked Boheme.  In fact, he had been heading for the Boheme when the disturbance had occurred.  He needed a lift on an independent ship, and the Boheme had seemed to fit the bill.  If he got some of their crew out a sticky situation, he hoped he could persuade the Captain to take him as a passenger.  He had an urgent message that he had to deliver.
     Inside the mansion, Oliver noticed with appreciation that the owner really did have an excellent collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts.  He delayed the little group's progress through the mansion as much as possible, pausing to admire and comment loudly on every antique.  While pretending to examine the artifacts, he was noting the layout of the mansion and how many uniformed servants there seemed to be stationed in various areas.  The atmosphere reminded him of a military outpost, rather than a private residence.  At last they reached a suite of rooms on the upper floor, tastefully decorated in a mix of Western and Egyptian styles.  An Egyptian man wearing a fashionable Western suit greeted them as if they were old friends.  Oliver surged forward and shook his hosts hand heartily, not his usual manner of greeting anyone, which was much more subdued. He didn't feel anything likely to be a weapon hidden up the mans sleeves.  Lilli smiled vaguely, and extended a limp hand to be kissed. 
     Their host suggested tea, and waved them all to comfortable looking seats.  The fashionable woman guided Lilli to her seat, but Oliver roamed about the room, apparently testing each chair before he settled into
the cushions of a low divan. 
     Hirams agent had found the first of what he assumed would be several booby traps.  It had been cunning, and he wasn't looking forward to springing the rest of them.  He was perspiring heavily, and it wasn't only from the heat.
     The slender man left his coat concealed in the shrubbery, resumed his burnoose, and began to walk slowly around the outside of the house.  He had waited long enough that he was reasonably sure the man in the turret at the top of the house hadn't spotted him.  As he continued around the back of the house, he noticed that one of the many plants lining the walls had suddenly become abnormally still.  Having just hidden in a bush himself, he wondered if another watcher had had the same idea.  The plantings did offer the only cover hear the mansions walls.  He looked furtively around and stepped over to the bush.  He hiked up the front of his burnoose as though he was about to relieve himself.  It was crude, but it was the only thing he could think of on the spur of the moment.  He carefully showed both of his hands to the bush, empty of any weapon.  "Ami?" he whispered "Friend?".  There was no reply.  He tried again "I help white haired man".  He looked up into the sky, mimed finishing his business, and dropped behind the bush before the watchman turned his way again.  A slim, deadly knife was immediately at his throat.
     "Who are you and what are you looking for?  Give me a good reason quickly, or I'll slit your throat!" Hiram's agent whispered in English. 
     "I am ami, friend.  I see man and woman taken away and I must help them.  Those who use drugs on innocents are villains.  I cannot see this and let these people be hurt!" he exclaimed frantically, but quietly. 
     The Knife didn't move.  "Stay still" warned his temporary captor, "I'm going to search your pockets. One false move, and you're dead, understand me?"
     "Most certainly" the slender man replied, at held himself as relaxed and still as possible while he was swiftly and professionally searched.  He heard his passport being flicked open.
     "French, eh?" Hiram's agent asked rhetorically.  The slender man nodded, very, very carefully.  Hiram's agent thought quickly.  He didn't know who Froggie was, but he might prove useful.  His many years of experience told him that this man wasn't dangerous, at least not to anything he was planning.  He slowly withdrew his knife from the other man's throat.  "Okay, Froggie" he said "this is what we're going to do".


     
     
     

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma wanted to say she was sorry for getting another person caught up in her troubles.  No one had ever gone out on a limb like this for her.  When they got wherever they were going she would give thanks as best she could but now was not the time for words.   George was talking swift and scared in her ear and her lungs burned.  Emma ignored them both and focused on being small, silent and swift as a mouse.  If luck was on her side this mouse would avoid the hawk and live another day.