Frank kicked the door wide open. There he was the mighty Baron of the Austria-Hungary Empire. But he looked different. Wild and unattended to. His collar slit open and hair greatly disturbed. He had pulled his blade from the cain and stood behind Colonel Williams with the tip of the blade towards the Colonel’s neck.
“Hand me the Whispering Fez or your comrade will die like a pig!”
His shouting was furious, the scream of a madman. Colonel Williams seemed to be in trance, his eyes looking wide beyond the present compartment but still holding the gun with smoke coming from its barrel.
The investigators conveyed. How to overman them without killing them? This was the challenge. Frank lost his patience. This was no time for petty conferences! They were under fire and he almost got blown away two seconds ago! Frank opened fire and hit the Baron in his shoulder. Lord Fyrom Squibb followed suit and hit him again in the side. The Baron fell. Anxiously waiting for Colonel Williams response, he seemed to stagger and lowered his gun. The fight was over.
Miss Ilsa von Hofler lost it. “You bastards, you killed my father! I will have you shot for treason!” She ran over to her father and fell over him trying to revive him. The investigators followed suit and with First Aid and Medicine they managed to restore hime to +3 hit points in the grace of time. The Baron was very close to death.
The train staff agreed to silence this whole matter. No one wanted a scandal that could rock the Austria-Hungary Empire further. There was rumors of upheaval and uproar in the Serbian parts and the need for tranquility was clear and present.
Arriving in Budapest, Miss Ilsa von Hofler’s hirelings entered the train. The investigators were pleased to see that they were old friends. Edward Natt och Dag of the Swedish Aristocracy, and Boris Vasilij, a Russian Military Attache. Also entering were some new faces, Dr of Medicine Dr Errol Murray and a Mr Ian from Dublin, an investigative journalist ex boxer, as well as a Scottish investigator, a Mr Nic Harwey Ferguson, Professor of languages with Latin (89 %) and Arabic (61 %) as majors. Beside English at 95 % of course…
(These new investigators will be uploaded within shortly in the Characters area)
Miss Ilsa Von Hofler said good bye and left with the Baron in Budapest. They would take him back to Vienna where famous Psychiatrist Dr Sigmund Freud would treat him. “Good luck with your mission, I do hope for all of us that you succeed”. The investigators respected her need for privacy but courteously asked how they could find her and the Baron if need be. “Vienna is our home and I will treat my father there.” She slipped off in the dark Budapest night.
The investigators rested and Hermann continued his studies guarded by Frank Patterson who would not leave The Whispering Fez or the Blood Red Fez unguarded any more. Hermann finished the tome around 2:30 am. He looked with grim eyes at Frank. “We must hurry to destroy the fez. Something…. something very bad is waiting to enter this world and the fez is the gate.”
Frank saw something in Hermann’s eyes that he had not seen before. Sheer fright.
The investigators tried to get some sleep but awoke already at 05:40 as the train arrived in Belgrade.
Lord Fyrom Squibb had difficulties sleeping at decided to send a postcard back to England. The postal services were great along the Orient Express and you could send and receive post and postal telegrams at each and every station. Modern technology at its best!
Unfortunately Lord Squibb did not share his sentiments with the rest of the group so we do not know the content at this time. Perhaps it will be revealed at a later time. In the meantime please enjoy the Serb colorful estethics on the postcard above.
The morning was breaking as the train had left Belgrade, The Kingdom of the Serbs. Hermann looked out over the hills and mountainous terrain. How could the Austrians ever hold this land, he thought to himself. German mechanized forces would be needed. So right he was 58 years before the future invasion.
The restaurant was open and they entered it. As they were about to finish the Countess entered followed by her companion Miss Karla Minkoff. She hasted to the investigators. “I need your help. Pytor Trubosky, my husbands cousin, refuses to let me go. We were lovers but I want to break it up. Now he threatens me. Please help me I know you to be men of honor and great potency.” The investigators asked her if no other path was possible. It was not. Boris Vasilij lost it. He would challenge Trubosky on a duel he said stoutly. As Count Razumosky and Pytor Trubosky entered the salon he joined their table and waited for it. And it came. Trubosky happened to mention low remarks of the region where *Boris*’ mother came from (Luck roll_). Boris stood up and slapped Trubosky over the face. “You have insulted my mother and I challenge you on a duel!”. The Count looked shocked but nodded. Indeed, a duel was the right way to handle disagreement between gentlemen. Boris, almost 2 meters tall and 100+ muscles lifted Trubosky from the table and carried him off to the next wagon (Luggage Car, Fourgon) and there he gave him a good brushing off. Trubosky almost started crying and was submissive at once realizing this could be his last moment in life. Never talk to the Countess again or I will make sure you never see the light of day again. Trubosky agreed and they returned to the restaurant car. The count was all smiles. "_Gentlemen, you have settled your differences like true men. Now we drink Vodka!" And so bottles of Vodka was brought forward at 9:30 in the morning…
Mr Myers not feeling well…
Frank and Lord Fyrom Squibb wanted to check on Mr Myers. It had been 3 days now. About the same time that poor student Matthew Pooke had lasted before turning into a monster in London. No sounds or movement from the compartment? They asked the guard. None. The investigators readied their weapons and entered the compartment. He was still bound and the trap was still there with sharp blades mounted on the bed above. Suddenly he moved and tried to break free with ferocious force. The strands were about to break! His face had changed now, almost submerged into the fez that seemed to melt down over his face. His teeth looked grim and the tongue now 30-40 centimeters long split like the tongue of a snake. The investigators opened fire. They continued to fire until the monster stopped moving. The monsters resistance to bullets made some of the investigators use blunt weapons and shotguns for greater effect. These monsters seemed almost immune to impaling weapons.
As the monster succumbed to its last breath, the Blood Red Fez fell off. Now they had two. They gathered it carefully without touching it, and put it in the bo with the other Fez that they got in London. Now they had two.
The train continued with full speed to Nis and only 20-30 minutes remained. A little less than 24 hours remained to Constantinople where they would arrive the next day, Saturday, at 10:43.
To be continued…