After the viewing of the "art" in Quigleys room Solomon bid Al and Julia goodnight after stifling a yawn and a loosening of tie started to make his way to his own....
Going down the spiral stairs he grinned smugly to himself as he dropped the key he'd "borrowed" from Quigley into a pocket and started humming an old Jewish tune his Grandfather had favoured.
Feeling self satisfied he entered the corridor where his room was and stopped dead in his tracks.
He could clearly hear the same tune, if scratchily rendered in the corridor as well as in his head.............so he made his way stealthily up the corridor....and past his room.
Yep - the tune was definitely coming from his room - but he hadnt left the wireless on.
Shaking out the garotte in his pocket he prepared it for use in one hand while fishing for his key and listened again before putting the key in the lock, using the cover of the doorframe.
Nothing.
"Here goes - you've done this plenty of times, Steinberg - no problem" he thought as he turned the key and pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
The wireless continued playing while he gave the room a check. Nothing disturbed or out of place.
"Thats enough" he said aloud to himself as he crossed back and switched the wireless off.........the tune carried on.
Giving it a hard thump he switched it on and off - to no avail.
The floor started to vibrate in time with the tune - this was getting spectacularly.....annoying.
"Right then - have it your way" he said wrenching the plug out of the socket and picking the wireless up and carrying it to the door. The wireless stopped as soon as it crossed the threshold.
"Hmmm.......lets see what these parlour tricks are about"
Picking the wireless up he put it near the door, still churning the melody out and locked the door.
The reverberation and footsteps grew louder. Solomon unhurriedly crossed to his valise, flipped it open screwed a suppressor onto a 9mm Automatic and placed himself with a clear shot at the door.
The music and footsteps grew louder...and stopped.
The door handle turned - "Locked - try again"
The door rattled violently in its frame.
Then.......................Silence.
Solomon crept across the room and flung the door open to a deserted corridor
Leaving the door open he picked up the radio, placed it outside near the door and locked it again.
"Bedtime - its been a long day" - he thought with a yawn.
Showing posts with label Call of Cthulhu Decade of Darkness Solomon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Call of Cthulhu Decade of Darkness Solomon. Show all posts
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Friday, 13 August 2010
The Journey
10th January 13:02 – 16:30
Solomon finished reading the newspaper, apart from the domestic news on the imminent Prohibition Law the only worthwhile item of interest overseas appeared to be the crushing defeat of the Imperial forces by the Bolsheviks in the Russian Civil War.
The other passengers seemed keen to regale a complete stranger with their business in these close confines presumably as a way of passing the time.
In a fairly short interval Solomon had discovered from several conversations The Majestic hotel was the place to be in Vermont as well as stoically sitting through the marvels of the mechanical press from a travelling salesman which caused him to have a serious rethink on the contents of his business card.
On balance he considered it time well spent.
“Excuse me – do you have the right time?”
Keeping his expression carefully neutral Solomon looked up to find the young woman in the foxfur smiling enquiringly at him......
“Sure have, miss” …......and held his wristwatch up for inspection.
The time noted he smiled at her and observed “Nice hat”
Despite looking taken aback at the remark she replied “Thanks – say are those Black Russian cigarettes you have there........very continental ….......like my new friend Al”
A glance across at the young man introduced as “Al” produced a mixed and contradictory result.
Hispanic or possibly Italian looking and strongly built like a boxer or brawler with scarred hands and ink stained fingers from jotting in a small black bound notebook was his first impression.
“I'm Julia Sommersby by the way, a pleasure to make your acquaintance”
He was aware of the New York Sommersby's position in society circles...........near the top.
The man previously identified as “Al” leaned across and introduced himself........
“Allesandro Mancini”
Shaking both of their hands Solomon said “Steinberg, Solomon Steinberg likewise a pleasure to make both of your acquaintance. What brings you to the frozen wastes of Vermont?” with a gesture at the blurring snowscape passing them by.
The answers came back respectively Julia was to deliver a talk on the role of women in aviation and was a pilot herself and Alessandro was going for an interview for a job as a baristo coincidentally at the Hotel Majestic which thus far had unfailingly got glowing recommendations by those travellers destined for Vermont.
Solomon told them Vermont the Green Mountains and environs had been recommended to him as a vacation venue by someone he knew..............but hadnt been organised enough to make a reservation.
As the train started to slow he decided the Majestic was as good a place as any to start the search for Fetterman...............and improvise from there..............
Solomon finished reading the newspaper, apart from the domestic news on the imminent Prohibition Law the only worthwhile item of interest overseas appeared to be the crushing defeat of the Imperial forces by the Bolsheviks in the Russian Civil War.
The other passengers seemed keen to regale a complete stranger with their business in these close confines presumably as a way of passing the time.
In a fairly short interval Solomon had discovered from several conversations The Majestic hotel was the place to be in Vermont as well as stoically sitting through the marvels of the mechanical press from a travelling salesman which caused him to have a serious rethink on the contents of his business card.
On balance he considered it time well spent.
“Excuse me – do you have the right time?”
Keeping his expression carefully neutral Solomon looked up to find the young woman in the foxfur smiling enquiringly at him......
“Sure have, miss” …......and held his wristwatch up for inspection.
The time noted he smiled at her and observed “Nice hat”
Despite looking taken aback at the remark she replied “Thanks – say are those Black Russian cigarettes you have there........very continental ….......like my new friend Al”
A glance across at the young man introduced as “Al” produced a mixed and contradictory result.
Hispanic or possibly Italian looking and strongly built like a boxer or brawler with scarred hands and ink stained fingers from jotting in a small black bound notebook was his first impression.
“I'm Julia Sommersby by the way, a pleasure to make your acquaintance”
He was aware of the New York Sommersby's position in society circles...........near the top.
The man previously identified as “Al” leaned across and introduced himself........
“Allesandro Mancini”
Shaking both of their hands Solomon said “Steinberg, Solomon Steinberg likewise a pleasure to make both of your acquaintance. What brings you to the frozen wastes of Vermont?” with a gesture at the blurring snowscape passing them by.
The answers came back respectively Julia was to deliver a talk on the role of women in aviation and was a pilot herself and Alessandro was going for an interview for a job as a baristo coincidentally at the Hotel Majestic which thus far had unfailingly got glowing recommendations by those travellers destined for Vermont.
Solomon told them Vermont the Green Mountains and environs had been recommended to him as a vacation venue by someone he knew..............but hadnt been organised enough to make a reservation.
As the train started to slow he decided the Majestic was as good a place as any to start the search for Fetterman...............and improvise from there..............
Monday, 9 August 2010
Pennsylvania Station
11:45 am 10th January 1920
Passing under the impressive edifice of Pennsylvania Station sent an involuntary chill down Solomon's spine as he emerged onto the main concourse.
Putting his valise and violin case down he leaned against a pillar, ostensibly watching the mass of humanity frequenting the station going about their business whilst having a smoke and checking his interior pockets for his ticket and “business cards” giving his occupation as “Musical Instrument Salesman”
The thought “What lurks beneath?” forced its way to the front of his mind seemingly of its own volition as people went about their business.
Nothing was ever as it seemed........
Having satisfied himself he wasnt being tailed, unlikely though this was it paid to be careful. The Organisation's "cleaners" prided themselves on their anonymity. In spite of this the Feds and their informers got everywhere these days and who knows what snippet of information they might get wind of by accident?
Better to be safe than sorry......
A trip to a newstand concluded with the purchase of a newspaper partly to read and also for discouraging unwanted conversation on the train. A visit to the cafeteria resulted in sandwiches and coffee followed by a leisurely stroll to board the train
Solomon had nearly made it to the train when the clattering of fashionable Parisian high heels came from behind him, followed by a fleeting impression of a young woman in a luxuriant fox fur passing at a speed that shouldnt have safely been possible, given her footwear.
By the time he got to the conductor to present his ticket, she had boarded.
Solomon took a seat by himself and a couple of minutes later with a venting of steam and a jolt the train pulled away for the four and a half hour journey to Vermont.
Folding the broadsheet newspaper in half, Solomon indulged in some people watching while pretending to read the Baseball results and eating a sandwich whilst taking an occasional sip of coffee..
A cursory inspection of the carriage revealed a mixed selection of other travellers from New York socialites to one young man whose fur coat belied the well worn appearance of the rest of his apparel.
Passing under the impressive edifice of Pennsylvania Station sent an involuntary chill down Solomon's spine as he emerged onto the main concourse.
Putting his valise and violin case down he leaned against a pillar, ostensibly watching the mass of humanity frequenting the station going about their business whilst having a smoke and checking his interior pockets for his ticket and “business cards” giving his occupation as “Musical Instrument Salesman”
The thought “What lurks beneath?” forced its way to the front of his mind seemingly of its own volition as people went about their business.
Nothing was ever as it seemed........
Having satisfied himself he wasnt being tailed, unlikely though this was it paid to be careful. The Organisation's "cleaners" prided themselves on their anonymity. In spite of this the Feds and their informers got everywhere these days and who knows what snippet of information they might get wind of by accident?
Better to be safe than sorry......
A trip to a newstand concluded with the purchase of a newspaper partly to read and also for discouraging unwanted conversation on the train. A visit to the cafeteria resulted in sandwiches and coffee followed by a leisurely stroll to board the train
Solomon had nearly made it to the train when the clattering of fashionable Parisian high heels came from behind him, followed by a fleeting impression of a young woman in a luxuriant fox fur passing at a speed that shouldnt have safely been possible, given her footwear.
By the time he got to the conductor to present his ticket, she had boarded.
Solomon took a seat by himself and a couple of minutes later with a venting of steam and a jolt the train pulled away for the four and a half hour journey to Vermont.
Folding the broadsheet newspaper in half, Solomon indulged in some people watching while pretending to read the Baseball results and eating a sandwich whilst taking an occasional sip of coffee..
A cursory inspection of the carriage revealed a mixed selection of other travellers from New York socialites to one young man whose fur coat belied the well worn appearance of the rest of his apparel.
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Solomon - Introduction
Since Dungeonmum's blogging about her character's exploits in Daddy Grognards Call of Cthulhu PBEM campaign, I thought I'd write stuff up from my characters perspective....
Solomon
The loose stair creaked.
Slowly Solomon reached for the suppressed 9mm pistol that was never far from immediate reach and took aim.........
An envelope sized object slid under the apartment door with a rustling hiss, followed closely by the scampering of feet, leaving considerably less stealthily than they had arrived.
The black blob of wax used by the Organisation to notify its operatives of their next mission was instantly recognisable.Scooping up the envelope with his free hand, Solomon seated himself in the tatty armchair, placed his weapon on the battered table nearby and slit open the envelope.
After inhaling the unique aroma of the Florentine paper of the envelope, the folded paper inside revealed a photograph and the accompanying note divulged the mark's name was Louis Fetterman....
”An activist and anarchist who owes the Organisation money. Clean up the mess, recover the money and make it look like an accident. Sources tell us he was last seen at Pennsylvania Station last Saturday boarding a train to Vermont, he may be trying to make a run for Canada”
Allowing himself a wry smile at the mental image of a large snowball crushing the prosperous looking portly gentlemen in the photograph, he flicked open his lighter with practised dexterity and near simultaneously lit a Sobranie Black Russian and destroyed the parchment, which was then deposited in the slightly reeking kitchenette bin.
“To work Mr Steinberg, time waits for no man”
After an afternoon spent purchasing necessary items and chatting to a talkative and over-enthusiastic sporting goods store clerk, he discovered trains to Vermont were daily at 12:02pm and Brattleboro was popular with hunters, skiers and vacationers.
It was also conveniently near the border.............
Solomon
The loose stair creaked.
Slowly Solomon reached for the suppressed 9mm pistol that was never far from immediate reach and took aim.........
An envelope sized object slid under the apartment door with a rustling hiss, followed closely by the scampering of feet, leaving considerably less stealthily than they had arrived.
The black blob of wax used by the Organisation to notify its operatives of their next mission was instantly recognisable.Scooping up the envelope with his free hand, Solomon seated himself in the tatty armchair, placed his weapon on the battered table nearby and slit open the envelope.
After inhaling the unique aroma of the Florentine paper of the envelope, the folded paper inside revealed a photograph and the accompanying note divulged the mark's name was Louis Fetterman....
”An activist and anarchist who owes the Organisation money. Clean up the mess, recover the money and make it look like an accident. Sources tell us he was last seen at Pennsylvania Station last Saturday boarding a train to Vermont, he may be trying to make a run for Canada”
Allowing himself a wry smile at the mental image of a large snowball crushing the prosperous looking portly gentlemen in the photograph, he flicked open his lighter with practised dexterity and near simultaneously lit a Sobranie Black Russian and destroyed the parchment, which was then deposited in the slightly reeking kitchenette bin.
“To work Mr Steinberg, time waits for no man”
After an afternoon spent purchasing necessary items and chatting to a talkative and over-enthusiastic sporting goods store clerk, he discovered trains to Vermont were daily at 12:02pm and Brattleboro was popular with hunters, skiers and vacationers.
It was also conveniently near the border.............
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