The father's demeanor switches to one which is more serious. He nods at Vera very slowly, and then responds a little bit more on edge, but he also appears to take her more seriously.

[Yorubu]



The child points the AK-97 right at Dartha.



[Everyone can continue to negotiate. If you would like to do so, please make the corresponding social skill test roll along with your dialouge.

-2 for Male Characters. -4 for Females. The amount of successes you can acheive in the roll is limited by your langauge skill.]

Spoiler for Dartha.

Vera inwardly sighs at her own social mistake. She sent a message to the whole group. With a bit of creative application of a substitution program she replaces her team-mate's names with International Alphabet designators and has it re-substitute them back if anyone sends them to her.


<<To all: [Golf/Pope], you are the most senior man here. It is important that you do the negotiations and not me. At the moment, they are asking for 50 nuyen a head and the rifle sticking out of [Echo/Hawkeye]'s bag. Pope, could you conclude the negotiations. My contact is waiting outside.>>

I'm somehwat glad Hodder jumps in, and cuts Dartha off. I really don't feel like answering her question. It ain't out of shame or anything. I just don't see the point in us talkin about it. All in all, what the fuck is it going to change. He drowned in the toilet. I stabbed him in the face. He was trampled over by an angry giraffe. He shot himself. He ran away to become president of Botswana. Who the fuck cares, really. He's gone, and it don't affect us. Yet, she wants to know.

I should've brought beef jerky. I feel like chewing on something right about now. Jack's got some chewings, but I ain't comfortable enough to ask the guy. Sure, if he offered. But I ain't about to ask. Ever.

Dartha asks again. Right 'bout now, I can't really make my mind up. Jane didn't ask. Hodder didn't ask. No one asked beside her. Either they don't care, or they just get it. But her? She's either as dumb as a bag of hammers, or just... I can't even decide whats the correct word. Didn't go to school too long. Wasn't really good either. Not like the Marine Corps issued thesaurus. At least, I think thats the word for it.

I pull my baseball cap over my face, and cross my arms. Like I plan on catching some shut eye. I don't really. Guess I'm just feeling tired all of a sudden. I answer her in my own fashion. Out loud.

“Nuthin.” Which, when you think about it, is true.

Monday, April 9th, 2072, 1132. Lagos, Yorubu, Nigeria.

It's only when the plane finally touches down that I realize my clothes smell like chicken shit. Great. Now I get to walk around like I'm poultry crap. What a beautiful fuckin' day.

Jumping down from the plane, I feel it rocking back and forth behind me. I'd usually find the entire thing somewhat amusing, but my mind's on my job and nothing else. Got my bag slung across me. I just stand there for a few seconds, looking things over. Again, I feel a bit naked. My rifle's back in its case. Not quite the right moment to tote around Mil Spec gear. Later. The sun's pounding, and it's hot and dry as fucking hell. Reminds me of the desert. I hate the desert. In the city, there's always a reflection. In the jungle, always a sound. The desert's dry of everything. Bad place. Hodder pushes my smart pack out with his two legs. The think probably weights about as much as him. I turn round, grab it with one hand and slip it on.

Sure, it's like carrying another person on your back... but I find the weight reassuring. I slung my kit bag to the side, to I've got enough room to draw if need be.

When we finally start to move, everyone falls into something of a loose formation. Not bad. Personality wise, we ain't gelling for fuck. But this party got serious, and everyone seems to be pulling their weight.

Two locals approach us. They ain't military. They ain't trained security either. Probably local paras. I fuckin' hate para militaries. Most of 'em are crazier than chip heads, got short temper, and are as vicious as my wife's divorce lawyer. Fortunately, they're close enough I can tap both of them. What I don't like is the other 40 odd guys, with Kalashnikovs. And that this is open terain. If it turns bad, for all intent and purposes, we are fucked.

I feel a tremor run through my body. My jacked up nervous system is firing about 30 times faster than it should. My wires might be old, but they still work. The kid soldier is grinning at us. Reminds me of Dartha. When he swings the barrel of his rifle around towards her, I don't like it at all. My jacket is wide open. It's fuckin' hot here... and the jacket ain't helping at all. Under might left arm, my revolver suddently feels a lot heavier than it should. Every single muscle in my body wants to draw. Every single cell wants to fight it out. She's just a kid. Something stirs inside me. I think of my daughters. She's got to be someone's daughter.

My chromed hand twitches. Muscle memory finally kicks in. Luckly for everyone, I don't draw. I can hear Vera's voice pipe in my head. She brings me out of my day dreaming. Good thing she spoke. My instinct almost killed those two. And we would've had a running gunfight on our hands.

I frown and look at Vera. Negotiate? Me? Who the fuck does she think I am? Last time I tried to bargain was for my apparement. And I got a rat infested den in Redmond, for twice the price it was originally.

Oh yea; did I mention I don't speak Yorubu? Or whatever the hell these people speak. Part me wished that by “negotiating” she meant “shoot dead”. She probably ain't kidding...

I come a bit closer to the guy who thinks he's in charge.

“Hey partner” I drawl, not real sure what the hell I'm supposed to say.

“I don't suppose you speak english?”

Vera turns to the man and speaks to him Yoruba.

The father looks scans the team, and nods upwards at Dexter. He doesn't seem to understand what the man is trying tos say.

Vera speaks, making reference to Hawkeye being Dexter's daughter.

The ork father looks at his own son, and then back at the team.

The son continues to stare at the team, scanning them with his AK-97

[Yoruba]



The man looks at his son while he is speaking to Vera.

He then looks behind at the other armed men, and gestures for them to allow the team to pass.

Vera carefully nods first to Abebe and then to Pope and then the rest of the team. She transfers the money into Abebe's commlink.

[Yoruba]


<<Thanks to Pope, the father and son have agreed to let us go at 50 nuyen each. I have already payed the father, so I suggest you move quickly and certainly through. If you are a woman, keep your eyes down, and if you are a man keep looking straight ahead.>>


Vera stays with Pope until the last of them clear off and then moves with Pope past the father and son team.

<<I guess that's good? For how long?>> I don't like to have my eyes down, it very quickly makes me feel vulnerable. I compromise by tilting my head downward and allowing my eyes to roam side to side as best I can. It isn't nearly the field of vision that I'm used to, but it will have to do, getting the locals mad at us won't really do when there are so many of them with guns around... if I could slip away it wouldn't be a problem to take them out, but that isn't why we're here.

<<What was that all about anyway? Is that a normal charge or something?>> I ask. I wish I knew more about the place, there certainly seems to be some kind of male superiority thing here with us having to keep our eyes down.. that'd be good to know a bit more about. Best to know what not to do to draw too much attention.

Hodder walks through as if he belonged, not rubbernecking even though he had an insistent desire to do so. Why travel if you don't look around? He keeps his ears open for Swahili, the one African language he knows at the moment. He broadcasts to the team, "Foxtrot, you and I will have to get some time in with the locals for language instruction. I hope this male superiority thing isn't universal. It might get in the way. We could pull the same shtick, I suppose. A half day's work and we could have the dialects down. I assume Alpha's contacts will be filling her in for a while."

Jack stood passively by, close to the child as he could during the negotiations. If anything went down, it'd be easier to disarm the boy and, while distasteful to think of it, the boy would make an excellent meat-shield, one the father would hesitate to shoot through at any rate. Jack scans for any signals, particularly a close one not on his teammates. Jack could almost sigh relief when allowed to pass. Gaia did he hate these paramilitary fucks, leeches without any honor.....but, they were often the reason men like Jack had jobs.

Obedient to Jane's instructions, Dartha leaves the negotiations to the others and does her best to seem humble and meek, eyes averted but still moving warrily, carefully reaching out with every sense magical and mundane, watching for threats. The body language and attitude of the men with their uncivilized and primitive weapons rubs her completely the wrong way, but it's not the first time she has had to subborn her temper and natural inclinations to achieve her objectives and she suppresses the desire to destroy one of the men with lecherous eyes easily.

"I'm fine just to listen and take it in, Delta. And regardless what some people might think, I can be humble when apropriate," she says with a distinct trace of humor. "Why do you think I got a cloak with a deep hood, anyhow? There are significant areas of Lagos where Sharia is THE law, and a woman with uncovered hair is a sure way to start trouble. That being said, if one of these bastards so much as twitches, I'm gonna blast him to the fourth planet."

Vera follows closely with Dexter as they go through the checkpoint. She looks around at the airport. What had once been the jewel of Lagos, it's international airport, now looked like most derelict buildings. The thing that had really struck her was the heat and the smells. Hundreds of different smells converged from every direction towards her.

She slipped down her sunglasses as she looked around for anyone who could help them. Angel had said he would send a van, but so far all she sees are the money-changers, boys selling bottled water and the 40 cobbled together tuk-tuks and autorikshaws and their beckoning and hooting taxi drivers. She hoped the van would come and she could get to the hotel and get rid of Dartha.

Monday, April 9th, 2072, 1200. Lagos, Yorubu, Nigeria.
-Lagos International Airport.

Jane and the team exit the airport. There is a large highway which surrounds the immediate area of the airport. It is filled with pot holes, and the roads in this area look like they haven't been paved in ages. But in the areas just beyond the airport's vicinity, they see nothing buy depressing slums. To describe the travesty of these homes in words would not do it justice.

[Lands outside of the Airport]

Jane takes a few moments to take in the scene. Her eyes narrow, her heart begins to beat a little faster. She holds her breath.

"This is terrible."

[spoiler for Vera]



There is trash everywhere, smog in the skies, and the water smells like toxic fumes. The seagulls avoid this area, for the garbage and pollution here disgust them.

In the far distance, the team can see some semblance of infrastructure. There are condemned high rises about twenty kilometers south of their location. Even then, these buildings make the Ork Underground or the Barrens look like a paradise.

A pristine black Rove Model 2070 (Page 109 AR) pulls up into the waiting area. It's an extended version of the luxury SUV with four sets of doors on both sides. The Rove is sporting high off road suspension tires and dual exhausts that seem to be generating a lot of heat. The windows are tinted. It greatly resembles a stretched limo, only wider, bigger, faster, and stronger.

Behind the Rove Model a upgraded Tata Hotspur with heavy armor, high off road suspension, a powerful engine, and in a camouflage color drives up. Two heavily armed orks and humans are in the Hotspur all of them have their guns pointed at the team as they drive up, except the driver of course.. Each of these men have assault rifles in their arms and pistols and knives on their body.

The passenger side of the Rove opens up and a well muscled human with a shaved head exits the SUV. The man has a variety nano-tattos on his shaved scalp. Wearing mirror shades and dressed in body armor the apparent leader of this group lights up a cigar before placing his hands together and bowing towards the group.

"My name is Chibuzo" the mirror shaded man speaks in broken English. "Angel of the Igbo, sends his regards and our services to help guide you through our beloved city." He makes a motion towards the slums. "If you stay with us, we shall provide security, safe travel, and information. However, before we do so, we would like payment for our services.."

Chibuzo eyes the teams equipment from their medical supplies to weapons, to any type of traveling bag.

[Astral Spoiler]

Dartha keeps her face concealed by the hood of her robe, but her eyes rove tirelessly out the window of the vehicle as it moves through the overcrowded parking avenues that pass for freeways in this hell hole excuse for a city. Ordinarily, Dartha wouldn't pay any form of need, poverty or suffering any attention, this level of squallor is completely new to her. Seeing what are clearly gangs of pre-adolescent boys walking meaningfully and threateningly with their AK-97's as if they have the first idea how to use them shakes her a bit.

Upon further consideration, she realizes that it's just a matter of degree. This really isn't that much different from the barrens in Seattle; The pollution levels are higher here, but the radiation levels are considerably lower. The constant wetness is familiar, even if the temperature would be oppressive to someody without her own talents. The buildings are lower and made of rejected scrap rather than the crumbling bones of once-loved homes and high-rises. And the age of the thugs on the corner seems to be a lot lower but in the end, it's exactly the same. The biggest change is the crush of metahumanity and the attendant astronomical increase in vehicular traffic, but that's just going to take a little adaptation; Adaptation is something she's good at. Besides, when you can fly, traffic is just a mundane nuisance; Mundane nuisances are the realm of somebody like Pope, not the Awakened like Hodder or herself.

The sights, sounds and smells of Lagos roll by past her window and Dartha feels her armor of detachment slot back into its proper place by the time the two-vehicle caravan arrives at the hotel.

Monday, April 9th, 2072, 1330. Lagos, Yorubu, Nigeria.
-Apapa District, Porto Nova Hotel

Because of the traffic, congestion, and lack of structured highways, it takes the team over an hour to eventually reach the hotel. Vera was able to convince Chibuzo to wait for the payment after the services had been rendered, a professional courtesy for being on good terms with Angel, one of the few people in the world who had garnered the respect of the smuggling warlord. Chibuzo nor Jane did not negate the offer for a little bit of nuyen to be exchanged for safe passage through the city.

Angel's men lead by Chibuzo turned out to be a good investment. The team road in the ROV with the rigger and one of the mercenaries, while Chibuzo and the other three men tailed them in the Hotspur. While traveling through Lagos, they continue to see a series of slums and ghettos, before eventually riding through a commercial area. Jane had informed the driver that the team's hotel for the first night would be at the Porto Novo "Luxury Hotel"

[More pictures of Lagos]

The team drives south in the SUV into the main downtown area of Lagos and into the Apapa district of the city. Along the way they catch glimpses of the Lagos Lagoon. A deep bog which covers a good portion of the city. The Lagoon was polluted with waste, sludge, slime, and God knows what else. There was a foul odor coming form the Lagoon as they drove by. It did not help seeing people urinate, and have public bowel movements into the body of water. After seeing people use the Lagoon as a watering hole, only a few miles down they would see a citizen using the Lagoon for bathing.

The streets were littered with locals. Street vendors screamed and shouted in order to sell their cheaply manufactured goods, hoping to make enough money to have something to eat at the end of the day. Young men, and teenagers roamed the streets carrying firearms openly, probably high on some form of narcotic while they caused trouble to anyone who did not fear them. Fortunately, the team was with Chibuzo. The convey told anyone who saw it coming by "Not to Fuck with us." And that is how the people on the streets viewed them.

The team eventually arrives at the Porto Nova. The Porto Nova hotel is a five story building in the shape of a U or a horseshoe. The building is made entirely of cinder blocks coated in red dust and the only way into the hotel is through a guarded wrought iron gate. The guards appear to be members of a local militia. The hotel owner seems to have a good protection for monetary compensation deal going with them.

The ROV drive speaks with the guards before being let in. He stops the stretched SUV outside of the entrance to the hotel. The Hotspur drives by, as Chibuzo sends a text to Vera.

<<@Vera. "We'll be here in the morning. 09:00 hours to take you to meet Angel. Be ready.>>

The Hotspur drives away, followed by the SUV. The inner workings of the Porto Nova are not as bad as it seems. There is a lobby with a receptionist desk, there also appears to be an open lounge and bar, of the three star variety. Not bad for mainland Lagos. Jane turns to all of you.

"You'll each have your own rooms. But we will need to share two bathrooms between the seven of us. I'll get us checked in, a friend of mine was able to get us a discount price. I will pay for lodging, but you will have to pay for any luxury items or gear with your own nuyen." She points to a booth in the hotel which greatly resembles a 'tourist booth' in modern hotels.

"There is a man who can help you get through the city. He will also be able to exchange your electronic nuyen for hard nairia currency in the form of bills and coins. There is a local market not to far from here if anyone is looking to pick up extra gear. Other then that, I assume Vera or Hodder might have other connections in the city. I am exhausted and will spend the rest of the day resting and sleeping. Our investigation of Lockwood begins tomorrow. Some of us will follow up with Vera's contact and the others will search the city. I suggest not venturing into the city alone. Vera make sure to get everyone their vaccinations if you haven't already done so."

Jane leaves to settle things with the hotel staff. After she does so, a manager leads all of you to your rooms. The rooms for the entire team are on the third floor. There are two bathrooms. Each room is the size of a very very small bedroom in the Barrens. There is a bed, one chair, and a dresser in hotel rooms. The bathrooms have one toilet, one shower, and two sinks.

The bar serves bottled water and home-brewed wine along with a few domestic alcoholic products. The lounge has a few straw chairs and cheap tables. There are armed guards patrolling the hotel. There is a courtyard outside with a few benches and picnic tables of the plastic and wood variety. The garden see's a gardener about every six months.

According to Jane, this is a safe location as long as you don't piss off the FNHAR-toting security. The manager of the hotel, a man who goes by the name of "Peaceful" is supposed to have connections throughout the city.

Dartha establishes a private connection to Hodder's comlink.

Hodder, would you care to wander out to the market? I need a couple items and I could use time to pick up the local dialects. We can take whomever Jane suggests as a local guide/chapperon/translator until we're sure of the local lay of the land and culture.

Monday, April 9th, 2072, 1330. Lagos, Yorubu, Nigeria.
-Apapa District, Porto Nova Hotel

Hodder dumps his bags in his room, and looks out the window at the depressing scene spread out before him. Humanity trying hard to do itself in, at the same time as hundreds of thousands of individual stories of heroism and endurance play out on this decaying stage.

>>Everyone, Delta here. I'm never going to heal if I walk for hours around this city, despite the fact that I bet there are some interesting things to find for sale out there. The antiquarian in me is itching to see what is in those markets. Nevertheless, I'm going to stay in the hotel, maybe get something to eat downstairs, have a beer in the bar, make a couple of calls and rest. Somebody should stay in the vicinity of Alpha anyway. Here's a thousand nuyen for you guys to convert for me, if you don't mind.<<

Dartha suppresses a sigh.

"All right, "Delta". I know "Golf" isn't interested in spending time with me, and it's probably unwise for "Bravo" to be alone with me. "Echo"'s a little skittish, and I don't know "Charlie". That leaves me kind of solo, which isn't particularly wise."

Dartha stops to consider her next plan of action and decides to toss this one up in the air.

"All right, Delta. You stay here and rest. Does anybody else feel like wandering down to the market with me? There are a few items I would like to try to get my hands on."

"Well, let's see what can of worms THAT opens up."

Vera negotiates with the boss of the Igbo detail that deals with them, she also made sure that if they were going to get paid it would be through Angel and not her. "Don't worry about vaccinations, I made sure everyone had theirs on the flight over to Accra. Can I recommend that one bathroom for boys and one bathroom for the girls?"

[OOC: Vera did it too!]


After finally getting her way upstairs, she dumped her gear on the bed and looked around her room. She noted that despite its rundown look, the sheets were clean, the bed made and a basin and jug for water. The lock on the door was probably about as reliable as a piece of twine, but then again that's why she talked to the security guard on the third floor. She took all her clothes out of the bag and stuffed everything that she did not want stolen back in the bag and knocked on Jane's door.

"Can you hold on my medkit and bag for me, while I go out and change some money? Do you need anything while I am out?"

<<I would like to go and find a reputable money exchanger, but also just have a look around Lagos. Anyone want to join? I want to at least find food.>>

<<"Well, Bravo, I was just saying how I needed to go out anyhow. If you like, we can go together.">>

"If there is a God, She sure has a sick sense of humor. I wonder if she'll actually go for it" Dartha thinks to herself.

<<This is Charlie. Two unaccompanied women is not a good idea. I'll tag along, but please limit the shoe shopping if you can>>>

Jack looks over his small amount of gear, the 97 is a must for a fashion accessory he determines.

Jane speaks up into her commlink.

<<Subvocal to Everyone: Delta. I may join you for a drink later.>>


There is a knock on Jane's door. It is Vera. She looks up and smiles at the elf.

"Can you hold on my medkit and bag for me, while I go out and change some money? Do you need anything while I am out?"

Jane thinks for a moment.

"I can Vera. Please obtain some Naira for me." She swipes her cred-stick along the electronic reader in her commlink which broadcasts 1,000 nuyen to Vera.

The guard on the third floor is a man in his mid-twenties. He approaches Jane's room and whomever is there with Vera.

"He-ll-o..." He speaks in broken English. "Kofi." He places his hand on his heart, making reference to himself.

There is a slight pause as he's trying to say something. He then switches to Yoruba.

"It is not safe for the white foreigners to travel into Apapa. Kofi's shift ends in thirty minutes. He can help you, for 30 nuyen."

Vera smiles at Kofi and replies in Yoruba: "I would love a bit of help with the city. 30 nuyen is an honest sum for a honest man. We would like to look around a bit, find a money changer, do some shopping and see about getting us clean water and food for tonight. There would be at least two of us going."

Hodder stretches out on the bed. It is reasonably comfortable, and clean too. He muses about the project ahead. "We're looking for a guy who may or may not be in Lagos. We are likely in the hunt with a third party of unknown characteristics, other than the description of one woman by Bunker. We barely made it out of our own beds and somebody tried to kill us. We are looking for an item which our employer is hesitant to describe to us in any great detail, particularly why she is interested in it.

"Basically, I'm putting my life on the line, and I don't know why. It's days like this that make life worthwhile! But for that life to be likely to continue, I should get more information."

Hodder activates his commlink, and engages all the security measures he has. "I should talk to Jack about what he can do for my commlink. He may be able to install better security."

<<Hoy, Yono. I was doing some reading and came across a description of an item that sounds interesting. I wonder if you know anything about it. I'd be grateful enough to buy that amulet you've been trying to shill off on me for, say, 300 nuyen, an extra 100 nuyen you will note, if when you get a chance, you'd fill me in on what you know about something called the Piri Reis Map.

While you are digging, I also wonder if you have heard of somebody called Samriel Lockwood. I understand he could be a competitor in the business. Thanks, sweetheart, you're my main girl.>>

<<Shalom, Yitzak. I was doing some reading and came across a description of an item that sounds interesting. I wonder if you know anything about it. Maybe, after all, I could translate that document for you in return for your time and effort. Could you fill me in on what you know about something called the Piri Reis Map?

While you are digging, I also wonder if you have heard of somebody called Samriel Lockwood. I understand he could be a competitor in the business. Next year, in Jerusalem.>>

<<Nǐ hǎu, Fat. I'd love to come out your way and discuss that job you proposed a while back. I've changed my mind and think I could swing by Hong Kong this season. I was doing some reading and came across a description of an item that sounds interesting. Do you know anything about something called the Piri Reis Map?

While you are digging, I also wonder if you have heard of somebody called Samriel Lockwood. I understand he could be a competitor in the business. Zài jiàn.>>

Hodder puts his head down on the pillow and sets the commlink to wake him in an hour. Then downstairs for something to eat, drink, and ....

We've finally got boots on the ground, and not five minutes later, the chicks want to go out for some shopping. Seriously. Shopping. Here. I guess women will always be women, no matter what fucking hellhole they find themselves in. The only thing that prevents me from having a vein pop in my brain is the fact that, beside all this, we seem to be gellin'. Not real smooth, but everyone seems to know we're in the shit now.

For a second, I think about following the gals outside to make sure they don't get bumped by the locals. But at the end of the day, that ain't my job. My job is to make sure Miss J stays in one piece. Which means that her foot ain't even on the third floor completely that I'm guiding her towards the far room. Down the hall. As far from the elevator as possible, and half way off the stairs. Not the best of position. It just means that anybody coming up has to go through me first. I grab the room right next to hers. I ain't planning on doing much sleeping, but I'd rather half my stuff close by handy, just in case.

Just as I come out of my room, my small gear pouch in hand, Vera's chatting away with some local fella. I wish I had a toothpick. Or some gum. My jaw's twitching like crazy on one side. Fuckin' wires are getting too old. Maybe this job will end up landing enough cred to get them replaced.

I fish around the pouch a bit.

About 2 months ago, had a black clinic doc in Caracas look at my ware. Basic tune up. Ya know. Used to have them done like clockwork back in the Corps. Now, I ain't really got the time, or money to. He says my nervous system has some serious damage. Fuck me. Like I need a doctor to tell me that. I've been put back together so many times by so many different people; I'm still surprised my dick isn't on my elbow.

Maybe they color coded my bones when I was sleeping.
Meh.

I start going round, establishing my perimeter as best as I can. The place ain't great, but it'll have to do. I guess. The walls are paper thin. The carpet is smelly. The paint is falling off the walls. Sorta remind me of my apartment, but without the AC. Thin walls don't give a whole lot of cover, but that works both ways. As I stare at the 5 small motion sensors crowding my palm, I wonder why I didn't bring more.

Oh well.
FIDO.

Once the bugs are in place, I grab the fire extinguisher and drag it next to the stairs. I don't care a whole fuckin' lot about fire. I got enough blister pack with me to make California fireproof.

It takes me about ten god damn minutes to find a decent chair. I end up having to borrow one from the lobby. The guy at the desk starts to say something, but I just look dead on at him and grunt. He shuts the fuck up and just smiles. And nod. He nods a whole lot. Probably thought I was going to ram it up his ass.
Which ain't too far from the truth.

Monday, April 9th, 2072, 1500. Lagos, Yorubu, Nigeria.
-Apapa District, Porto Nova Hotel



Kofi responds to Vera. "I know where you can exchange your money for a reasonable rate and find clean water and excellent Lagos cuisine. Maybe I'll introduce you to my wife's shop in the market, she makes excellent shoes and clothing."

Kofi makes mention that he should be available in an hour if the team still wants his services. He mentions that it will get dark in three hours, around 18:00:00.

Kofi walks back to his post, and looks very suspicious at Dexter and all of his preparations. Dexter comes from the lower floor with a chair in hand. Kofi offers him a toothpick. Dexter places his seat near the stairway. He flips through the magazines he picked up, Urban Brawling Monthly, Awakened Critters Geographic: Main Article the Chinese Phoenix; keys to eternal youth, TIME 2072: Profile, the NEW Damien Knight (Cover has a picture of him as Big Brother), and quiet a number of dirty magazines such as "Dwarf Girls Dig It" "Play Troll" and the "Elven Exotic." There is also a old issue of Guns and Ammo featuring the Gauss Rifle.

Thirty minutes after he sends messages to his contacts, Hodder receives some feedback from his contacts.

<<From Yono: "Piri Reis map is a historical oddity. Made in 1513 by Piri Reis, a Turkish cartographer. Showed the coastline of Antarctica without the ice. How is that possible, since Antarctica was under ice in the sixteenth century, is a real mystery. They say the last time Antarctica wasn't covered in ice was around 4,000 BC. No one around making maps back then though...

Current location is unknown. It is rumored that it is in the hands of some African royalty..."

Ten minutes later, another message appears.



<<From Yitzak. Hey Belloq. Received your description of this Lockwood character. Fits the description of someone I worked with two years ago. He was in Tel Aviv working with one of my contacts. Hard ass military type. He was a security guard for an Atlantean Foundation excavation site. Heavy Hitter, Black Ops type. I heard he's a adept and a member of a group called the "Mystic Crusaders (Description in Street Magic." This baffles my mind, because when I met him, he was crammed with Cyberware and Bioware. The man is a killing machine, moves like Pavel Bure 1998 across the hockey rink if you know what I mean."


[Spoiler for Texas Jack.]

Vera nods to Kofi and says in Yoruba, "That sounds excellent. I look forward to meeting your wife. When you finish, I will be in the bar."

<<I will be down in the bar if anyone wants to join us in our excursion. I need to have some money changed and at least a change of clothing. All mine still smell of jungle.>>


Vera goes down to the bar and orders a beer, from the bartender. "Hi, how's things? Has there been many foreigners at this hotel in the past month? What about people asking about us? A friend of mine would love some juice brought to him. Could you? He's on floor three. Thanks."

As the bartender hurries about, she sits begins her favorite hobby from the comfort of a bar stool: people watching.

<<<Delta to all
I'd like to arrange a time we can all be together. I'd like to discuss syncing up our wireless links. I'd prefer to be the hub and monitor, but I understand some of you might not be comfortable with that idea.
Delta out>>>>

<<Delta to Charlie. You're Charlie. I'm Delta. I'm fine with your linkup. Check you in a while.>>>

If the message from Jack[Charlie] didn't wake Hodder[Delta] up, the one from Yitzak certainly did. He leapt up from his bed, rushing to the window. He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping handfuls at the back.

"I should have guessed. The fucking Mystic Crusaders are involved in this. Why the hell didn't Jane let us know? Those tight-assed, conceited ....... Must you speak in such terms, Simon? ..... Yeah, I do when it's about them!"

A nap is out of the question now. Hodder steps out into the hallway and looks around. He sees Dexter[Golf] seated in the hallway near the stairs. Hodder joins him, leaning back against the wall across from Dexter.

"I see you have your post picked out. If you need some rest, give me a call, and I'll spell you off for a while." Hodder drops his voice and moves closer.

"Listen, I just got some info from an associate of mine. This guy we're looking for, seems he's connected to a group, the Mystic Crusaders, that works with and for the Atlantean Foundation. Big money, accustomed to winning. These guys pack serious mojo. Physical adepts, with implants, military training, the whole nine yards. This is serious drek we're poking our noses into. I sure wish Alpha[Jane] had bothered to tell us ahead of time. I'm not sure I much like the 'need to know' basis we're operating under. Mind you, if I had known it was from one of those holier-than-thou Crusaders we were looking to liberate our objective, I might have signed on for free. I'll be bringing this up when we have our briefing tomorrow.

"I'm glad you're putting protocols into place to protect us and do a pro job. I'm just saying, be a little paranoid as well as professional. We get on the wrong side of these guys, they make it their business to make us pay."

Hodder moves to head downstairs, adjusting his sunglasses to tint just enough to cover the steely grey hazing of his eyes. He stops to look at the fire extinguisher. "Huh. Clever." In the main lobby Hodder stops at the 'tourist booth' and asks if they can dig up someone trustworthy who is fluent in the local dialect, the 'city-speak' of Lagos. Hodder says he is willing to pay for two or three hours of conversational language instruction. Then he goes to the bar. Vera[Bravo] and others appear ready to head out on an excursion. Hodder grabs a beer from the bartender, charging it to his room, and salutes the party before they leave.

Jack shakes his head at his mistake. <<<Sorry. Last time out I was Delta. I'll write it on my hand or something so I dont forget.>>>

Vera sat at the bar for an hour carefully watching people. She idly wondered who was what.

It was pretty quiet really, the only people worth noting were two contractors from Serbia. They were not really speaking, but you could tell from the cyberware that they were mercenaries. One of them had a faded tattoo of a two headed eagle of Serbian special forces. Dutifully she tagged and sent their images and biometrics to Dexter.

The group was with her as Kofi finished work. He had changed his clothing and was dressed in a pair of slacks and a brightly colored shirt.

Lagos is a place filled with colors, smells, and people. The press of people make the place stand out, compared with dour and silent streets of Seattle. It is the closeness of people, nothing is done part-way, when people laugh, they laugh heartily, conversations are lively and fights were often lethal. They carefully walked along the township, they stood out, not so much by their skin colour, but by their dour behaviour.

Vera was constantly asking Kofi questions, prices, places, and people. Their first stop was the money changers to change electronic nuyen to hard naira.

"A Hawala network is an informal system of monetary transfers that relies upon a strict honor system. A person can make a deposit (certified electronic funds, hard currency, precious metals or gems, or occasionally
other highly valuable commodities) with a Hawala in their area. For a percentage, usually around 10-20 percent, the Hawala gives the client a voucher. Then, generally, the Hawala contacts another Hawala in another city, transferring the funds to that Hawala.

Anyone with the correct voucher (written, electronic, or even a verbal phrase or key) can then access the funds, which will be provided in the requested form (typically certified cred or hard currency). Used for centuries across Africa and Asia by migrant workers unable to access the more established banking system and by underworld figures who wished to launder money or transfer funds without leaving a data trail, the practice fell out of favor early in the century. When Africa crumbled after VITAS and most public and private banks crumbled with it, the Hawala system became the only reliable method of transferring money between families scattered across the continent. The system depends completely on the honor and honesty of the Hawalas involved and the trust that their clients place upon them. As such, the men are often held in high esteem within their societies and often act as trustworthy and reputable fixers.

In Asia there is the underground Chinese banking system, which is similar. Nobody forges the money, their mages and schoolgirls make us look like schoolgirls."