"I agree with Mr, err, Count Rakosi. The more stuff we add to this plan, the more stuff can go wrong."

"If we're gonna steal this thing, I'm not going to be able to lift it on my own. That said, maybe we don't have to - perhaps we could bring some sort of small push-trolley or something? Something that we can hide on ourselves as we go in?"

"In fact, that gives me an idea - perhaps we can literally sneak it out of the embassy right under their nose. If we take the device, put on one of those silver tray trolley, or whatever they're called, we may just be able to walk around the embassy completely unnoticed! We can still use the distractions to get around the places that'll see through the disguise, of course, but we may very well be able to get out without raising the alarm, and once we're out, the hardest part of the job is done!"

"I'd imagine a trolly like that would be best. We'd definately need to costume ourselves in some fashion or another. If there's some event going on then, we could easily pose as servants."

"We'd still need to distract the men guarding the engine though..."

"OK, how's this.

"The kid does the leg work, sneaks in and finds the thing. We have a couple 'faces' inside casing the place, and can provide back up and look out in a pinch. We need a distraction, the Doc can take care of that. That will clear the way. I head to where the kid is, and help move it out, and I can take care of a couple guards and leave nothing behind but a few headaches and sore jaws. We bring the whatzit back to the car and make off with it.

"How's that sound?"

"I like the sound so of thins, everything is coming together," Jameson say stroking his jaw.

"Miss Lewis and the Count will do nicely for a pair of dignitaries invited into the Consulate. Locky and either of the three of us, myself, Blaine, or John, could pass off as a butler and a chauffeur, while the other two wait in the car's trunk. I'm not the best driver so I'll volenteer for the trunk.

"Once we're inside the Embassy Rhiannon and Janos can keep the authorities occupied while Locky slips out and the other man frees us form the car.

"Once Locky has located the basement storage room the four of us will break and try to subdue the gaurds as quickly and quietly as possible. Between the four of us this should be easy enough. We then swap the crate for our dummy and steal back to the car.

"Once the switch is done Locky and the Chauffeur need only provide sufficient reason for the guests to leave. One of use could even sneak off the property and call the embassy posing as the one of the Count's men, and provide reason from he and Rhiannon to leave.

"How's that sound?"

"Due to the size of the object, two cars might be more appropriate. Mr. Bradford could escort Ms. Lewis, while I could come unescorted. Blaine could be one of our servants, while Mr. McKenzie and Dr. Mystery could be the chauffeurs. That gets everyone inside, and has the bonnet-space for whatever weight we are going to replace the object with."

"If we need an extra pair of hands for a variety of reasons, I could involve my servant, Joszef."

Blaine chuckles at the suggestion that he acts as someone's servant.

"OK, but I don't have exactly the 'social graces' you might be looking for. I usually did bodyguarding and personal security, so I got no problem with that. If you want me to be a butler or something...well whatever's needed to get the job done I guess. I'll do what needs to be done. Just don't be snapping orders at me or nothin'. I may have taken a lot of hits to the head, but I still have a good memory. Keep that in mind if you try to get me to kiss your feet or something at the party."

"Something you should have me do though, once we're there and the Kid is in position, send me on some kind of errand, and I'll go help move it."

"Perhaps I could have Mr. Bradford as my chaperone and Mr. McAllister as my bodyguard?" Rhiannon suggests thoughtfully. "Seeing as both gentlemen are used to combat, a beautiful woman being bothered by an unwelcome suitor would need the protection..."

Her green eyes brighten. "I had another thought. What if we could cast al-Luqmani as a hireling of said unwelcome suitor? I could give his description to the Consulate, so when he shows up, they'll assume he's come for me. I'm sure Dr Mystery could arrange for my 'disappearance' if necessary, and I could remain hidden..."

"Is al-Luqmani working for anyone?"

"Sounds good. Gimme a monkey suit, and I'll be her bodyguard. At the right time, I could 'escort' one of you out for bothering her, and that will be my excuse to go and help the Kid. How's that? People usually don't worry too much about the help goin' missing."

"Hmmm ... except for the fact that you would have to hand me over to the British ... not too good for me."

Janos smiles at that thought.

"Mr. McAllister, you would be stunned how easily it is for society people to ignore the coming and goings of their so-called lessers ... but, you might have to escort the lady to a place away from the main function."
"That would leave you with Ms. Lewis, Dr. Mystery, and Mr. McKenzie ... Locky, to do the deed. Mr. Bradford and I could keep an eye on the main room, and, should any alarm be raised, we could provide some sort of distraction."

"I think the idea of formenting suspicion in the British about al-Luqmani is a fine one. The more difficultlies we toss his way, the better."
"If I may suggest an addition? We have you and Mr. Blaine say that this character, some thug has identified as al-Luqmani, has tried to force his way into your entourage, apparently to gain access to the Consulate. It is believable that someone of Mr. MacAllister's reputation sent the scoundrels packing, this time."
With a smirk, he adds,
"Besides, they want to believe a strong, white man has taken to task any number of darkies."
Janos shakes his head, perhaps realizing that at one time he might have thought the same way.

"Still, that leaves them a suspect and a trail to follow if they notice the theft."

Looking over the group,
"I believe we make a good team."

"I'm pretty good with everything everyone's saying, with just one problem - can someone teach me how to drive? Because I've never driven an automobile in my life..."

"To add to that, I would also need some lessons in the use of an automobile as well. I always just travel by train. The plan seems quite sound though"

Jameson turns toward Blaine, "I think that once we reach Cairo we should try to make contact with the dank underbelly of the city, the criminal elemnet you know. Perhaps with a few well placed bribes and a little intimidation we can get some additional information on our adversary, al-Luqumani. I could really use your help, while I do have some ability in dealings in the underworld I'd wager a hefty sum that you are much more adept than I."

Blaine considers Bradford's idea for only a moment or two.

"I was thinking the same thing Bradford. Dig up a little dirt on these mooks, it could pay off in the long run. If they are a kind of rebel gang or something, they'll probably have their fingers in arms deals. They'll also need access to decent transportation out of the country if things get too hot. The docks are a good place for both, that and the train stations. From there you check out the local dives and watering holes, where they recruit and hang out."

"We should start there, it shouldn't take too long to get something. I can be..." he balls his right fist and pushes it into the palm of his other hand, making the knuckles pop again grotesquely "very persuasive."

"The main problem could be the language. Some things I don't need a translator for, some things I do. That can work in our favor also. The Lady said she's good with languages, and I'm supposed to be her bodyguard later on. Well there's a good chance I might be seen or recognized at the docks say, and later on at the party. If she were there translating, it would make our grift more believable, if the consulate has any spies they would have seen us together before. Ya' see?"

"Good idea Blaine. And since I'm going t be escorting her to the embassy for the party it will further help to back up our story."

King silently listens to the group’s discussion for a time, but soon consults his watch and looks up towards the men.

“I am afraid that I must conclude this meeting, gentlemen. I suggest that you return home and prepare - you will have plenty of time to finish your plans on the plane and in Cairo. Ms. Lewis will escort you to the door; make sure she is appraised of any equipment you will require. Good luck, gentlemen - I look forward to your success.”

Minutes later, the assembled men step out into the winter afternoon, pausing to pull their coats closer against the cold before nodding to each other and going their separate ways.

The British Consulate
Cairo, Egypt
February 26, 1924

Night has fallen over Cairo, and the city’s socialites are gathering for the Consul's latest reception. A dozen automobiles have pulled up in the Consulate’s drive, and more are arriving every fifteen minutes or so.

One of these is a new black and grey Chrysler Six, piloted gingerly by the mildly infamous “Locky” McKenzie. With only two days of driving experience under his belt, he is understandably on edge as he slowly and carefully pulls the car up against the curb in front of the Consulate. He breathes a sigh of relief as he turns off the engine, then gets out, remembering to open the door for his single passenger - Janos Rakozi.

Janos strides past Locky and into the building as Locky locks the car. He had parked toward the end of the drive - well away from the lights around the Consulates entrance. Glancing around for onlookers, he steps around behind the car. Inside the trunk lays a partially broken down engine block with handles spot welded to its frame for relatively easy transportation. According to King’s specs, this should about match the dimensions and mass of the generator.

Locky unlocks the trunk (for later convenience), straightens his tailored chauffeur's uniform, and strolls up the drive to the Consulate. As he goes, he reflexively cases the property, noting that there will be little cover available to hide the group as they ferry the engine block and the generator back and forth across the lawn. As he nears the entrance, he passes a single, bored-looking guard standing watch over the cars - an added complication, but probably not too difficult to distract.

Inside, Locky looks around, then finds his way to a waiting room provided for servants of the guests.

Janos follows the doorman’s direction, and steps into the Consulate’s ballroom. The ballroom is an ostentatious space, its arching ceiling, elaborate chandeliers, and painstakingly detailed woodwork all striving to announce the wealth of the British Empire. The men and women gathered here are the cream of Cairo’s high society - the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city.

Janos, however, stands unimpressed by the glitter. After all, compared to old Europe this party is almost ... provincial.

The man at the door consults his guest list and announces the arrival of ‘the Count Janos Rakozi Graf von Kadar.’ The name is unfamiliar to most of the guests, sparking some mild confusion. This turns to consternation, however, as the better informed guests knowingly explain the Count’s ‘unfortunate’ background.

Over the next several minutes, some of those caught by off guard cover their surprise by turning it into a joke: the Hungarian Count who fought the Empire left with nothing but a title and some friends in America. As Janos steps out onto the ballroom floor, he catches fragments of these comments - mostly muttered behind his back.

The ballroom’s temporary interest in Janos is mostly redirected about ten minutes later, when the Americans show up.

The doorman announces the arrival of ‘Ms. Rhiannon Lewis and her escort, Mr. Jameson Bradford.’ He wavers for a moment over Blaine, clearly wondering who Blaine is, before adding, ‘... and associate, Blaine MaCallister.’

Jameson enters the room first, ostensibly checking the room’s safety as he scans the ballroom and motions for Rhiannon to follow. He draws his share of attention, if only due to novelty - it isn’t too often that Cairo sees a displaced cowboy wander through. He notices that a few of the unaccompanied ladies appear to have taken a particular interest in him. Of course, he’s on a mission ... but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun, right?

When Rhiannon enters the ballroom, she catches more than a few eyes - both the appreciative gazes of most of the room’s men and the irritated glances of their wives. Her natural assets are stunningly set off by her evening dress - a recent Paris original that she found waiting for her in Cairo. The Lord knows how King got there so quickly (and, to the best of her knowledge, without knowing her measurements), but it is fashionable, one-of-a-kind, and fits perfectly. Though she hasn’t had much experience with this kind of function, her poise and manner make her seem perfectly comfortable with her surroundings.

Blaine avoids notice, remaining back from the crowd. He scans the room before slipping away and assisting in the heist, waiting until he’s sure no one is paying attention to him. Absently, he fingers a recent bruise decorating the right side of his ribcage - the result of a minor scuffle that afternoon. He, Jameson, and Rhiannon had gone trawling for information - figuring that the later they did so, the less time reports of their poking around would have to filter down to Luqmani. The fight was nothing special - simply the inevitable result of three Americans sticking their noses into the wrong Cairo bars.

Unfortunately, the three didn’t get much information. No one knows where Luqmani himself is holed up, and the group of thugs he has behind him doesn’t really have a headquarters. It seems that Luqmani’s men are supposed to meet him at a predetermined location tomorrow morning, where he’ll pass on the details of his plan. The team has the addresses of several of Luqmani’s men, but ultimately decided against interrogating any of them. After all, Luqmani might decide to make a change of plans if one of his guys doesn’t show up tomorrow.

With luck, this heist will be over and the group winging back to America before Luqmani notices something wrong.

Outside the ballroom, John Adams Frederickson has found Locky waiting in the servants’ room - a small, plain room adjoining the entry hall. They are not alone - the waiting room also holds several chauffeurs and a few other servants.

John drew a couple of odd looks pushing a steel caterer’s trolley into the building, but it seems that Janos was right - everyone does seem willing to ignore the activities of servants. The trolley has been gutted, and the back is held on by just a couple of bolts. John and Blaine have already snuck the engine block out of Janos’ car and into the trolley, so it’s just a matter of exchanging the objects and getting out.

The trolley (and the engine block) now sits in the corner of the servant's room, waiting for the action to start.

Locky waits until none of the other servants are looking his way, then slips out of the room to scout out the route to the device’s storage room. John remains in the servant’s room, waiting for Blaine to arrive.

In the ballroom, the Consul has made his way to Rhiannon’s party, bowing briefly before assuring her of the Consulate’s security: “Your office has told me that a group of locals attempted to force themselves into your party. I wanted to personally assure you that you have nothing to fear within these walls - Cairo is full of thieves and scoundrels, but they will never find their way in here.”

Janos does his best to ignore the slights and catty-talk as he crosses the ballroom floor. He ignores the food, going for the bar and a stiff martini.
There, he patiently waits for the more adventurous to approach him, or for Rhiannon's party to arrive. With their arrival, Janos will studiously eye both Blaine and Jameson, as if looking for something, or seeing something familiar.
{preparing for a cover story, if necessary}

Jameson enters the room and begins to pull off his gloves while he surveys the scene. He places the gloves into each pocket of the coat before removing the coat and hat and handing them to an attendant.

As the consul walks towards the party Jameson checks his watch casually making note of the time and mentally determining when the other lads will be making their theft attempt.

After greeting the consul jameson turns to Rhiannon, "Shall I get you a drink my dear?" he asks.

Once Rhiannon has given him her request Jameson heads over to the bar making sure to drop at least a couple of suggestive glances and winks to a few of the more attractive female attendees.

Once at the bar Jameson slaps the count on the back loudly while grasping his hand and shaking, "A pleasure I'm sure, Jameson Bradford at your service. I don't belive I caught your name good sir? Oh bartender, bourbon whisky, on the rocks and make it a double."

Rhiannon gives a dazzling smile to the Consul. "Thank you, good sir," she says in her impeccable British accent, touching by the Welsh lilt. "It gladdens my heart to know that British citizens are safe abroad..." She sighs. "I did warn you that my undesireable suitor had an Arab by the name of al-Luqmani and his hirelings after me, correct?"

She requests a glass of champagne from Jameson as he heads to the bar. In her green silk dress and sparkling emerald jewelry, she looks quite striking against the rest of the crowd. She casts glances about the room, giving Count Rakosi a significant glance.

"Poor man, to be left exiled and penniless," she says. "At least I was able to leave with some of my assets."

The Count looks at his hand, as Jameson pumps it, then up at the face of the man doing this thing. His look isn't so much outrage, as confusion.

Finally, after a moment he says, in heavily accented english,
"Ah, an American. I should have known."

Jameson lets go with a deep hearty laugh. "You got that right my friend!!" He slaps Janos on the back once more before turning to the bar and picking up the bourbon.

"A glass of champagne for the lady please," he says to the bartender, indicating Rhiannon with a nod of his head. He turns back to Janos and clinks their glasses together. "How about a toast to new freinds?" he says and without waiting for a reply knocks back his bourbon in one gulp.

Jameson then deposits his empty glass on the bar and picks up Riannon's champagne, "Good talking to you," he says to Janos as he ambles back to Rhiannon's side.

"Uncultured oaf", Janos mutters in response to the toast.
As Jameson turns to leave, Janos continues with,
"If she is with you, perhaps she isn't even a lady."
His voice is soft, but full of menace.

With what some might consider practiced ease, Locky starts walking through the consulate.

Thanks to Locky's agile mind and quick study skills, Locky moves around the consulate like he's worked here for months. Locky's knowledge of being a house worker is less than would be appropriate, so while his intuition lets him avoid the more populated parts of the consulate, several very close calls start making Locky more focused, and less risk taking. He's a foreign national in a British consulate, and while deportation's unlikely, they are working to a timetable, after all. Getting caught would slow him down somewhat.

Locky wends his way down towards the basement storeroom, finally reaching the final corner, and peering around to get a decent view.

Jameson halts in mid-stride as he hears Janos's inflamatory comments. A look of rage twists Jameson's features but does not touch his eyes which have taken on the cold, hard, and dead look of man who is ready to kill.

Jameson hands Rhiannon her drink and smiles, "If you'll excuse me my dear I must teach that man over there that while Americans will tolerate insults leveled at them, they will not tolerate degrading remarks towards women." With that he spins on his heel and strides back to Janos a look of murder in his eyes.

The Count leans back against the bar with relaxed grace. When he sees Jameson come back around, a predatory smile crosses his lips.
{Not because he relishes fighting Jameson, but because he feels the ruse is working}

As Jameson approaches, he will stand up straight and ready his gloves.
"Since you may have come unequiped in matters of honor, you may borrow mine," he says to Jameson as he offers the other man his gloves. His voice is strong, confident, and clear.

Jameson stride up to Jan0s at the bar. He gives a quick look to the bartender and points with his left hand to the empty bourbon glass, "Another please."

He turns to Janos and his eyes narrowing. Suddenly he lashes out with a right hook catching the count square on the jaw (but pulling the punch so as to inflict no actual damage). "As you pointed out I am an 'Uncultured oaf' so why should I bother with the pretense? " He grabs the now full bourbon glass and downs the double in one massive gulp (and thanks god for all those drinking contests he's won)

"You could have avoided this whole mess had you not insultedmy dear Miss Lewis ... but then what should I expect from a pathetic washed out noble, eh?" he adds the last with a sneer.

The Count steps back, shocked, and then dabbles some blood off his lip (where he has bitten down on it).

"Were you even capable of being a gentleman in polite society, Herr Bradford, you would understand the difference between ignorance and pretensiousness."
The Counts voice is full of menace, but also very calm.
He flings the gloves at Jameson.
"You have insulted my family honor ... infront of witnesses," he gesters to the assemblage," and I demand satisfaction."

Baline is in a hall used mainly by servants and those looking for perhaps a discreet moment or two. Not too far away is an exit to the street and in the other direction is supposed to be where the 'framasatz' was. As soon as the kid was in position he'd help him out. He tugged at the uncomfortably tight starched collar. Most of his shirts he neede to get tailor made, his neck was rather large. "Stupid monkeysuit." he mumbled.

"What are you lookin' at?" he said to a servant that seems to be tarrying a little too long. He didn't look like he understood the words, but when Blaine jerked a thumb back towards the entrance he came in, the servant got the message.

Then he hears gasps and shouts coming from back in the party room. The two gents must be getting their little dance on. The kid should be in place soon. Blaine craefully looks around for anyone else that might have spotted him, guards especially. Rubberneckers he wasn't worried about, but guards he had to take out quietly, and he doubted he'd get much help from the kid or the magician.

Jameson catches the Count's gloves in the air. "Why should I give you the satisfaction of getting your face pounded in by me?" he asks.

Jameson looks around the room for a second, pausing to take the time off the grandfather clock in the corner. While he expects that the others will get the business done quickly he realizes that the distraction was coming along a bit too quickly. 'I gotta stall a bit' he thinks to himself.

Jameson looks at the gloves in his hand and then back into the face of his adversary. "I may not know much about your customs or your antiquated sense of honor but I know what these mean," he says brandishing the gloves.

"However, if I am to fight you I will do so for my own reasons," Jameson whips around and slaps the Count across his face with his very own gloves. "Your derogatory comments regarding Miss Lewis will not be tolerated!"

With that he begins to take off his coat and tie and roll up the sleeves of his shirt. "Here or out in the courtyard? It makes not matter to me where I beat you!!"

Blaine takes a couple of quiet steps to the nearest corner and checks the connecting hall. It looks like he got away clean. As long as he stays out of the way, he should be able to get where he needs to be without a fuss; the Consulate has less than a dozen guards, and King’s reports indicated that they generally don’t bother patrolling the back halls.

Blaine vaguely recalls the magician stepping into a side room set up for the guests’ servants. That shouldn’t be too far away, and the magician should still have the dead weight with him. As for the kid, who knows where he is? He’ll show up when he’s done scouting.

‘The kid’ is now padding along the concrete halls of the basement, carrying his shoes and following his memorized map. Word has it that the only guards are on the machine itself, but Locky still takes things carefully - checking around corners and constantly listening for footsteps. He passes the doors to the basement’s access ramp, noting that the lock is just a simple padlock - no hassle.

Reaching the proper storage room, Locky pauses and takes the last few steps nice and slow. The door is hanging open, and he can hear human sounds from within. Sidling along the wall and carefully peeking around the corner, he sees two bored-looking soldiers playing cards - using a large wooden crate as their table. It’ll be hard to get that away from them without a distraction, but with some cleverness it may be possible to get them out of the room long enough for the switch to be made.

Of course, it might be possible to just gang up on them - with John and Blaine, the odds are good - but that wouldn’t be very subtle. If the soldiers guarding the crate are found unconscious, the crate is bound to be checked - and a broken-down engine block isn’t going to be mistaken for a miracle machine.

The Count catches the gloves before they hit his face, and twists them away.
"One needs not counter a challenge, once delivered," he quips.

He steps back and allows Jameson to take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. He arches an eyebrow at the the 'beat you' comment.

"Yes, outside in the courtyard is fine with me. As the offended party, I will defer to our gracious host to determine the means of our satifaction, though my preference is for blades. If it is his choice for it to be boxing, or blades, we will need several stout men to form an arena."

"Blades, fists, or pistols, it matter not to me ... I'll wipe that smug look off your face no matter what the method is."

Jameson turns to the consul waiting to hear his choice.

Standing in the servants' room, John grins a disturbing cheshire cat grin, waiting for Blaine, and preparing for action. His jacket waits in the trolley along with the engine block. Standing in a corner apart from the other servants, John waits patiently.

Blaine takes a quick look, listens to hear that the ruckus is getting louder and then does a quick shuffle to the servant's rooms. He pretends to act like he belongs, looking a bit like a security guard or bodyguard that he's supposed to be. The few servants he does see, he just jerks a big thumb back over his shoulder to indicate they need to be somewhere else, quickly.

Finally he opens a door and finds the one he's looking for. The few servants left in this room he lets through the door, enducing them to leave with a menacing stare. Once they've left he turns to Dr. Mystery.

"Alright Doc. Here's your cue."

Rhiannon assumes a stony look, her green eyes as hard as the emeralds on her fingers. "I think the Count's problem is with me being English," she says crisply. "Consul, I suspect the Count has lost his manners along with his fortune."

Locky carefully sneaks out of the basement, and begins retracing his steps back to the servant's waiting room, meeting the two other teammates.

"OK, we got two bored men, and the rest is a piece of cake. That said, a few parts of the building still have people around, and we'll have to get through at least one of them to get in and out. We all ready?"

When Locky gets back to the waiting room, he finds it empty of all but his partners in crime - the developing fight and Blaine's bullish presence have combined to handily clear the space.

Locky’s scouting has allowed him to devise an out-of-the-way route down to the basement. With luck, the guards will hold true to pattern and stay out of the back halls - leaving the three men free of interference.

Getting the trolley and its heavy load down the steps silently will be a challenge, but use of the service elevator would most likely attract inquisitive guards.

In the ballroom, the socialites seem to be pleasantly thrilled by this unexpected turn of events. The Consul, however, seems less than happy - obviously not wanting to deal with the complications a serious injury could bring to the evening.

However, he has little choice at this point. A murmur of agreement accompanies Rhiannon’s slight, and the crowd is clearly starting to anticipate the promised duel. He wavers a moment, then - coming to a relatively diplomatic solution - steps forward.

“Gentlemen, restrain yourselves. A challenge has been made and accepted, but this is an outpost of the British Empire! Matters will be dealt with in a civilized manner."

"Since there have been no objections from Mr. Bradford, I will support the Count’s preference for blades. However, since this is to be civilized, this will be a duel to the first blood ... and no further!”

"Do you gentlemen require blades?"