2072: Game World, IC thread for 2072: Recruitment always open! Options

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:51:54 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The old lady shot off a rapid-fire stream of Russian at the server girl who, for some odd reason, gave Jack the impression of stifling a smirk. "She wants you to go pick up her laundry from across the street at Olga's laundry room, then buy 6 cases of ammunition for her warhawk, caseless ammo only of course.... and finally she wishes you to go pick up her daily supply of fish from the fishery in Everrett. After that, she will talk to you about training."

The server looked at Jack, "Nice to meet you Wild Card... interesting name, you can call me Alex."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:53:22 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

You've got to be fraggin' kidding me... Jack decided to flourish his upcoming conversation with Hawke with more than a few choice colorful metaphors. In the mean time however, knowing the intricacies of the culture and the powers that be; Jack decided to make a prudent choice.

"Yes ma'am. I would be delighted to get your laundry for you." Maybe I should double up on my meds if I have to deal with this one much longer...maybe I could politely excuse myself and find a game to make some cred. It's got to be less humiliating than this. Alex seems to be enjoying this at least. If it takes this to get her name I don't know if I'd want to find out what it takes to get any more information out of her. Jack droned on in his own head for a while longer, trying not to remember the sheer tedious nature of the situation he found himself in. With that he headed across the street to pick up some laundry.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:57:22 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The recently aerated front section of the Crimean was directly across the double lane street from a shabby looking and small laundromat which actually looked, from what Jack could see at least through the grimy windows, to be employing real humans rather than drones. The teetering door that led into the establishment proper looked like it could've served better as a spaghetti strainer than any sort of barrier against entry.

Just inside the door, on a rusting bench next to the old-fashioned cash register, a homely looking troll was perched reading an e-paper. The troll apparently was not concerned about a cancer-free life as he seemed hell bent on chain smoking the most noxious smelling nicotine sticks Jack had ever had the displeasure of encountering, even in some of the dives had reason to frequent in search of bigger and better games.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 20:59:44 Stalingrad Range near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Yeah, I'm here to pick up laundry for Alina." Jack looked over the troll who seemed to enjoy irritating customers with a passion, or perhaps it was the waves of apathy that seemed to come off of him. He looked over at the troll and repressed the sudden homicidal urge to just take out his gun just to get a response. If nothing else Jack knew that Alina would not appreciate blood on her clothes, whether his or the troll's mattered very little.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:04:14 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The troll however, doesn't even respond, merely pausing to light another, if it is actually possible, even worse smelling nicotine stick and flick the remains near, but not quite at, Jack's feet. As Jack pauses, nonplussed and very uncertain about his next course of action, one of the human ladies folding laundry in the back of the long and narrow hall that forms the laundromat coughs and looks at Jack hurriedly before looking back down at her work.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:05:01 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Yo! I'd be just as happy to leave you alone and let you get back to your paper. Trust me I didn't wake up today and plot out how to annoy you." Jack was keeping his cool for the most part but that same urge came into play.

Jack sent Becky another message. << Hey Becky can I have a naked picture of you, I may need to help motivate this guy into helping me out a little. It's a long story, but you how it goes.>> Jack could only hope that she wasn't passed out somewhere overseas. Jack typically liked trolls, most of the one's he had known growing up weren't too hard on him after he was busted for pickpocketing or whatever. The orks he had known weren't always the nicest however...

Jack took a look at the lady that had coughed. "I'll be right back for that laundry, I need to use your restroom." Jack walked over to the lady. "Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?" and in a much lower and quicker tone, "Were you trying to get my attention?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:05:15 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

The lady, actually a girl by all comparative aging that Jack could see, merely handed him a basket full of laundry piled precariously high and said, "Thank you, I was wondering when she'd be coming in for it. Now, that will be 500 nuyen please."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:06:31 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"500? What's in the basket AK-98s?" though the phrase left his lips with a sarcastic tone, Jack quickly realized that type of humor might not be appreciated. That and the joke's punchline might have more kick than he'd care to know. Jack handed her two poker chips and took the laundry that she had gestured to. Walking back to Alina triumphantly with laundry in hand Jack was whistling an obnoxiously chipper tune while walking past the dour troll if only to spite him. The troll may have had the last laugh because walking by him made Jack feel even more unclean and the clothes surely suffered as well.

That's enough of this drek...

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:06:33 Olga's Laundromat near Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

As Jack walked out, something about the troll sitting there unmoving unnerved him and he took a closer look as he was about to leave the entry way for the lane outside. The trolls face, which Jack had taken for just an extremely heavily dermal fixation on the part of the miss-shapen troll giving the resemblance of stone... actually was... How the stone was animated to look so lifelike was beyond Jack and made him very glad he had not decided to antagonize the troll-thing.

He hastily crossed the street and entered the gambling den, feeling quite ridiculous at carrying laundry like any serving girl, especially given the looks he was garnering from the patrons of the establishment. He saw Hawke, now very much the calm and usual person that Jack had known him to be in the short term, who caught Jack's eye and smiled broadly before ambling over to the entrance to the gun range. He met Jack at the door as he entered the entry way and gave an understanding nod, "Doing laundry for Alina are you? Poor soul... she comes up with the most interesting chores these days."

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:09:17 Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]
[Quincy Mathews: PAN Passive][Jack Blades: PAN Hidden]

"Hawke, I just shelled out more cred than I earned tonight from winning that game practically and don't have a thing to show for it. I don't want to be disrespectful to you, but I'm beginning to feel a bit disrespected myself. Is this on the level? I need to know, because I don't do well with practical jokes, at all." Jack was proud of himself for speaking his piece without yelling or using any of the choice metaphors he had in the back of his mind.

Jack could hear some slight snickering and tried to remain calm, but his calm was coming to an end.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Another small mercy, they seemed to be in working order. That was her primary concern, her second was still the man sitting next to her. He wasn't very talkative, at least for the while she'd been diligently tapping the air in front of her. He had been a lot closer to the blast than she had been, maybe he was still worked up about it?

"Hey, you in there? What's got you so spooked, pal? You need to snap out of it or something, whatever has you worked up, it can't be all that bad! At least you won't be winking like a mad fiend at everyone you come across for the next hour."

She smiled as best she could, but her head was still registering a serious amount of hurt. She only hoped it would alleviate some of his misgivings, considering there was another friendly human-being there. Or maybe he was working up the courage to ask her her rates. Better to be proactive, especially since he wasn't all that bad looking.

"Oh, almost forgot, my rates are 300Y an hour."

She hoped she was right, or this was about to get even more awkward.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:14:11; S 19th St.]
Adrian heard the woman talk to him, only actually registering her words after a few minutes.
"Hey, you in there? What's got you so spooked, pal? You need to snap out of it or something, whatever has you worked up, it can't be all that bad! At least you won't be winking like a mad fiend at everyone you come across for the next hour."

Stopping his search for a useless medkit Cybereyes. Lemme get that clear CYBEReyes, got it!?, he turns towards her and says Sorry, it's just I'm; Well I'm not used to losing customers, I'm not used to bombs blowing up close by, I'm not used to having customers' heads... wait her head...
Adrian's face becomes even paler. If her head blew up and ... it was not an - what do you call it explosive round - and it was not magic - should have checked - then... Oh no! Her head blew up, as in there was a bomb in her head! She was in my cab! If it would've blown earlier...

Still shaken, it takes him another minute to react to Saint's next sentence. Your rates? But I'm the cabbie... Er Looking confused, he looks at Saint, then gives her a look-over; he continues Ah; err, nothing personal but if you're selling, I'm not buying looking her over once more, he smiles and finishes however enticing the offer is.

Enticing, tempting, ... Good thing I got a thesaurus. Guess with where my thoughts are going, I'm definitely still alive...

Smiling for more than one reason, Adrian remembers something he'd almost forgotten About that wink... I guess you'd need to see someone to get that fixed. Not that I've got any personal experience with that, but you got a err Doctor-cum-Mechanic I could drive you to? Seeing as I still got most of a taxi left...

More under his breath, he adds First week and one of my fares has a bomb in her head! Maybe ferrying rich kids around wasn't so bad after all.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Yup-- awkward. She smiled to herself, glad that part was out of the way. She really wasn't up for it anyway, and what made her smile was a small musing of how a headache really was the reason this time.

However, although her mind was swimming, it connected a few strands of data he'd spurted out. Head. Explosive. Her. Then a mini montage, promising to make her ill all over again, started running in a loop in her head. He had dropped her off at this location? She had been in THIS car? An information source had appeared!

"Wait. You knew that woman? Do you know anything about her? Where'd she call the taxi from?" She asked with genuine interest, positively ecstatic that she had a new lead. Though, she had side-tracked most of his conversation, regular banter could wait she justified to herself, this was important.

Unless she found out more, she wouldn't be leaving this guy's side. She pulled a window up as quickly as she could, running a browse program on combat cab services and the people who used them after jumping nodes to a public access terminal nearby where she could searches on relating information. She split her focus, she didn't have to worry about IC or snooping while on public MSPs. Saint was on this like an active bloodhound IC, but she needed to register whatever information this cabbie had on Jessica.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:13:54; S 19th St. In a Comat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Tapping out a few commands on his console, Adrian causes a flickering map to appear on the cracked windshield.
Well, dispatch sent me there... He stabs his finger at a spot on the map, causing it to flicker before it settles down again. to pick her up. So that should be where she called from.

Who was she? I mean, I got her name but why'd someone he shudders blow her up in the middle of a road? With Knight Errant nearby?

And whith me nearby. There ain't no such thing as coincidences. What is my part in this story? And hers, whatever her name is?

You can call me John, by the way... As he takes his finger off the windshield to point at his license, the map flickers again, inverting its colours.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:12:15; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She looked up for a moment, having rotten luck anyway finding anything remotely close to useful.

"Can you bring up a street name on the screen? I imagine if she was that paranoid she'd have walked a block before signaling your cab. However, we could get lucky if she was in a rush. Either way, I have a narrowed triangulation on her place of residence, or at least a point of interest. She could've been walking out of the street doc that had her fitted with that cortex bomb. Long shot, but anything's better than what I have now."

She went back to her search program for the time-being. Anything she said from then on was in short bursts as she juggled the two mediums of reality.

"Her name is Jessica. Street walker turned CJ, not someone you want to be friends with. Apparently, all she had left were the wrong types. That thing I mentioned, the cortex bomb, it's something you put in your head if you want to keep your information overly safe. Usually a last ditch effort, judging by the feed I have of her before she vaporized, she knew it was there. The information better damn well be worth your life, in her case, I imagine there were worse things in store for her if the data got free." She spoke dispassionately, each sentence separated by a few seconds or longer, as it was just cold hard fact.

She paused her searches for the moment, still not getting anywhere. She was half-focused on other routes she could take to get info, and half-focused on the conversation.

"You dig a deep enough grave, someone will it fill it for you." She said mostly to herself, until she remembered she wasn't alone with her thoughts. She turned to Adrian, still heavily focused on the matter at hand, she wasn't much for smiles and rays of sunshine right now.

"Hey John, I'm Saint, welcome to the REAL Seattle night life," waving her hand to encompass the blast area behind the cracked windshield.

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:15:23; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

A street name? Two actually, corner of Wall street and Bond Street.

With a baffled expression, Adrian listens to Saint.

She had a bomb implanted in her own head? Because that was better than - well, somehow not quite as horribly bad as - the alternatives?

Shaking his head, he says Some sort of night life that is. People having bombs put into their skulls.

Didn't even know I was invited. And then this woman, Saint. "Saint" - "Boddhisatva", different frame of reference, roughly same idea. Well, minus some Christian superstition.

Want me to drive you there?

Anyway, if there's a minute strand linking my fate that dead woman's, there certainly is a thick rope between hers and Saint's.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:15:54; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She looked out the rear window at her bike, then back toward Adrian. She also looked at her surroundings as she spoke.

"Do you have something a little less-- destroyed, in mind?"

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:14; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Well, I'm no expert in these kind of things but I'd thought we could go have a look-around where I picked her up. Maybe she slipped up and went straight from her, well her operation to the corner; maybe there's something to see giving us an idea what else she might've done there. Or there's someone nosy and talkative. Adrian shrugs. Gotta try something, no?

Something. How about something else? Well, given how much his "tourist kit" cost me, I might as well bother him.
With the telltale look of someone interacting with AR interfaces, Adrian writes out a message and sends it off on its way.

<<from:flyboy to:the_moose subject:just a question>
Hey, sorry to bother you but if I found myself in Everett - say about here<GPS/GridGuide location> - and felt the urgent need to have something put into my head, think there'd be a discreet place to do it?>

Well, here goes nothing.

Just asked someone I know whether he knows someone near where I picked Jessica up, who sticks things into people's heads. Worth a try, I guess.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:40; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

Saint looked at him as if he might be hallucinating, which was saying something, her involuntarily twitching eye added to the effect.

"Yeah, got that. My thoughts exactly. But-- I was referring to the functional state of your car, sweetheart. Yeah the thing is a rolling billboard for how sturdy these things are, but you really want to cruise around town with a sign on our back in neon lights stating "obvious war zone in rear-view"?

She sighed, having to explain anything was not her forte tonight. Not that she was usually this gruff, but her headache compounded the issue.

"I was thinking if you have a Joe Nobody car at home, so we can blend in. I have my bike, but it seats one in a general state of comfort, two's gonna get really comfy, yeah?"

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Oops. And ouch!

Err, I guess you're right; doesn't look exactly inconspicuous.

Look at the thing. Now imagine you'd have sat there in a normal car...

Sorry, but I can't help you there; got a bike myself too. Looks a lot like yours, in fact.

Wouldn't have guessed that not having a car would be a problem.

Hmm, might be another really stupid question on my part, but can you ride your bike with the way your eye acts up? If so, you could go ahead on your own while I drop off this "billboard" at the depot, get my bike and we meet up in Everett. If you'd rather not risk it, might wanna treat yourself to being chauffeured around on your own bike.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:16:40; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

That perked her up a bit more, things were looking up, a fellow motorcycle enthusiast.

"I should be fine, no breaking of any speed limits happening tonight I can assure you. You said Bond and Wall street? Yeah, I can get directions easy enough. I'll see you there, but at some point I need to go see someone for this glitch."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Ok, take care. Tapping on his commlink again, Adrian causes an ARO - a plain white businesscard that reads "John Taylor", "flyboy" and gives a matrix address - to float in midair between him and Saint. Seeing as you'll probably get there first, why don't you give me a line when you arrive.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:17:38; S 19th St.]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She made sure to route it to her actual commlink, nodding to him. This night was shaping up to be a long one, she felt bad that she'd been cursing Tomoko under her breath for being late in replying, taking a good hour to respond to her in kind. After pulling her effects out of the back seat, she made her way back to the Suzuki.

Saint's curiosity spiked, having time to think about the mission on her way over. She wasn't quite sure if she could handle two jobs at once, quickly compiling a new message for her fixer before she rode off.

<<@Tomoko: Something has come up, is this the urgent kind or can it wait? [Saint]>>

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:18:13; S 19th St. In a Combat Cab]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor

Watching Saint walk over to her bike, Adrian lets his mind wander for a second. What was that old thing his uncle once muttered? Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go? Heh, some other time, some other life, who knows?

Waving a goodbye to Saint, Adrian drives off

...and takes his time to compose a message to his boss

[April 17h 2072, 23:49:07; 120 th NE Ave; almost in sight of the Touristville Combat Cab department]

...sending it off just before reaching "home base".

<<from:CC#19493@8746 to:CC_8746 subject:ending my shift a bit early>
Cab got caught in a bomb explosion. Might want to have someone look it over. RTB. Taking some hours off.
J. Taylor>

See, didn't even have to lie. And with a bit of luck, I'm already leaving the parking lot on my bike before he even sees it.

With an unusually smug grin, Adrian pulls into the parking spot assigned to Seattle's Combat Cab #19493.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@ E:PL
[May 5th, 2072; Marseilles, The refectory of St. Madeleine]

The elderly and powerful abbot's summons at this very late hour of the night, while most certainly not unexpected, still boded ill for Father Anselm given the events of the evening. I knew I should have reined in my connection with the Lord but there wasn't much I could do... The quiet-moving priest moved rapidly down the hall, seeming to glide in motion, outwardly calm, inwardly a wreck of doubt. The abbot was not known to be merciful to those who brought attention to the inner workings of the church, and if the Sylvestrines had not managed to cleanse the area before onlookers could arrive who would know about magical methods of tracing, it was going to be a worse night.


The slowly flickering fire at the end of the refectory hall glittered softly in the seemingly cavernous space between the refectory entrance and it's high table, some 200 meters in all, it was a grand edifice of a powerful and ancient moral authority. The abbot was back-lit by the mammoth fireplace and as Anselm moved closer he could feel the man watching him with all the power that had been invested into such a frail body. The abbot was known to personally torture those who were deemed useless by the church and well Anselm knew that attempting to resist would just lengthen the process.

The abbot rose quietly and stood watching as Anselm arrived at the steps to the dias and promptly bowed to the ground, "My lord, I ask forgiveness for incurring the Lord's wrath tonight.... I believed that our pawn would be overcome.." The quiet stillness held more threat than any outburst that the abbot could have thrown into his face. Anselm sought to find his inner sense of peace in the Lord's work as he always did during his devotions, but it was a search without success as the very air seemed to grow cold around his body.

NO! I will not go quietly! He felt the abbot building his power around him, releasing the power of the ether onto Anselm's unshielded form. Regardless of future reparations Anselm fought to quench the hungering void of the abyss that the abbot threw around him like a constricting cloak of doubt. He sought to find the fire of the Lord to fill the vacuum and failed for what seemed ages until he finally found a spark deep within his soul that blossomed into a raging inferno to warm his body and close off the void.

Again the abbot's quiet demeanor amplified the attack against his very mind as he felt the abbot send a spear of divine omniscience into the core of his mind, only after a few seconds did he manage to thrust the abbot away, forcibly throwing him backwards over the dias table where he sprawled almost to the fireplace. Anger seethed within Anselm and for moments which stretched into eternity he held a lance of plasma, greater than the one he had thrown at the heathen, in fact greater than he had indeed realized he could have held without being torn to pieces, at the throat of the aging and now weak-seeming abbot. "My Lord you have taken much from me this night, knowing my thoughts in ways that only God should use, especially against one of his servants. You now know I speak no lie when I say I did as I believed the Lord wanted me to... do not attack me again my Lord... God and God alone will be my doubter!"

The anger spent, Anselm released the spear, allowing it to billow up to the refectory roof and disappear, thankful indeed that he had been given the grace to hold such power for even a second in his righteous defence. The abbot regained his composure remarkably well and though he eyed Anselm warily, as one alpha wolf to another, he merely held out his hand and said, "My son, it seems God has more in store for you than I could have seen. However, you committed grave acts that threaten to break our secret charge in the world this night and moreover, you did so with articles of the Church in your possession... I require them of you now, or you will feel the full might of Holy Church against your soul."

His threat was not idle, as Anselm could practically see the buildup of power around the old abbot. He realized in that instant that the abbot had merely been testing him, and that his full power had been sheltered so that he could gauge the worthiness of Anselm's fervor. Reluctantly, Anselm handed the two foci over that he had been lent during his time in France, neglecting to mention his possession of two more which he had encountered on his travels to the Holy Land. "As you wish my lord.... would you still have me carry out the mission for which all was risked this evening?"


The abbot smiled, in such a drawn face it was almost a rictus of death, and nodded in affirmation, "Indeed my son, you have proven yourself worthy of the mission as well as now having a need for you to be absent from our small city for some time, at least until you have something to show for your efforts...You will find your package to be two people, a father and his son. The son is collateral but the father is the real point of interest for this group of heathens and devil-worshippers; be on your guard, he is one of those whom the devil has granted the ability to interface with all manner of matrix based machines. How one can not see that this is not of the Lord is beyond the sight of the faithful as how can one commune with that which has no soul, that which is harsh and unmoving? Either way, ensure he reaches his destination safely at all costs; we must know how many more to purge or if any can be turn to God's holy work. You will stop over in the UK, in fact quite close to our friends at the newly reconsecrated Rosslyn Abbey. Then from there, it is hoped that this group, who goes by the name of Stillwater, will facilitate further transport for you; if not however, you are to be in contact with a fixer known to sully her reputation by dealing with such people by the name of Argent, and our faithful will arrange for your convenient transport via Chicago and then on to Seattle."


Anselm stood for a moment, uncertain as to his dismissal before bowing mutely and retreating as quickly as he had come. Now to pick up my charges and flee this country as quickly as possible before the abbot changes his mind.