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IC Night's Black Agents: The Hesselius Letter

EnigmaticOne

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Eddie had to get up, and check in on his trawling spiders, and on some other things he had them start searching on before he bunked down for the night: Aleister Singleton and the specifics of the Hillingham house's service to the Admiralty. Any idea of what happened there might affect the knowledge of available security they would have to grapple with

Seeing the reports on John Hawkins, quite potentially 'Hopkins', gave Edgar some difficult thinking. In the spy world, there wasn't much room for coincidences.

"You'd think a letter like that isn't worth killing over, but we have seen it. If we get connected to it, the culprits will go after us anyway. But if the three of you want out, I won't blame you."
 

Regular Guy

"Lemme make a call."
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"Where 'ave I gots t' go?" Quinn, reeling from a smashing headache takes his seat at the table. As soon as he sits, he reaches for a cup of coffee. With a tot of whiskey remaining in his flask, he dumps it into his steaming cup. "Less' git on with it eh?"
 

pstjmack

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Validated User
Eddie had to get up, and check in on his trawling spiders, and on some other things he had them start searching on before he bunked down for the night: Aleister Singleton and the specifics of the Hillingham house's service to the Admiralty. Any idea of what happened there might affect the knowledge of available security they would have to grapple with

Seeing the reports on John Hawkins, quite potentially 'Hopkins', gave Edgar some difficult thinking. In the spy world, there wasn't much room for coincidences.

"You'd think a letter like that isn't worth killing over, but we have seen it. If we get connected to it, the culprits will go after us anyway. But if the three of you want out, I won't blame you."
Edgar's spiders have dredged up some more background on Singleton. The man runs something called the Order of Darkness, a rather ludicrous New Age Goth cult. To judge from the gossip press, it seems to exist mainly to provide nubile young partners of both sexes for Singelton's orgies at Darkacres, his mansion in Highgate, not far from Hillingham itself. Apparently this louche reputation hasn't harmed Singleton's standing in High Society, though: invitations to his soirees are exclusive and much sought after.

In contrast, details on Hillingham's past and government ownership seem suspiciously sparse. It's almost as though someone deliberately expunged them from the records...
 

Cannonball

So bouncy!
Validated User
“If we are not going to get low, then I am itching to see where this rabbit hole goes. And no time like the present, yes? I want to investigate that house so I shall!” With food out of the way, Coco pulled a bag together and slung it over her shoulder. “I shall be a curious tourist, and no one will be the wiser!”
 

EnigmaticOne

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"Who's going to go with her? Pairs or all together?" Edgar asked, still looking at the screen with a frown. Expunged history - well, now this whole thing had a whiff of something more plausible to all this.

All right, it was still mysterious as hell, but it made the letter seem less incongruous as a smoking gun. Hillingham was clearly part of a skeleton in someone's closet, possibly in the Cold War era, likely with connections to officialdom and that someone didn't want exhumation.

The joke's on them, because Eddie Klarfeld had the spirit of a shovel.
 

pstjmack

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Validated User
"Who's going to go with her? Pairs or all together?" Edgar asked, still looking at the screen with a frown. Expunged history - well, now this whole thing had a whiff of something more plausible to all this.

All right, it was still mysterious as hell, but it made the letter seem less incongruous as a smoking gun. Hillingham was clearly part of a skeleton in someone's closet, possibly in the Cold War era, likely with connections to officialdom and that someone didn't want exhumation.

The joke's on them, because Eddie Klarfeld had the spirit of a shovel.
As everyone finishes Edgar's breakfast and gulps down his coffee, the enigmatic building hovers on the screen, mysterious, enticing, like a puzzle box waiting to be opened...

OOC: Any mission prep for the visit to the house? Research or surveillance of any kind? What time of day you planning to do it? It's now mid-morning, so there's plenty of time to gear up or organize things in advance.

Also, for now at least, you can all move freely under your own IDs. No one seems to have picked up on the handover at the pub, no one is asking questions about you or Googling your personal details.
 

tutunaku

Be Seeing You
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Stu chugs a few cups of coffee and between twitter feuds on some sockpuppet accounts, decides to check if the bills are paid up on the house. Its derelict, but has anyone shut the water off?
 

pstjmack

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Validated User
Stu chugs a few cups of coffee and between twitter feuds on some sockpuppet accounts, decides to check if the bills are paid up on the house. Its derelict, but has anyone shut the water off?
The suave Singaporean dilettante is no genius hacker on Eddie's level, but even he can hack Greater London's utilities. A few calls to the relevant services, a little Accounting ju-jitsu, a few doses of Flattery, Flirting and Negotiation with the bored call centre girls, and he finds out that Hillingham is now off the grid for everything from mains electricity to sewage and waste disposal. Not only does it seem like that house is empty and unused, it also looks like nobody wants any kind of paper trail associated with it whatsoever...
 

Regular Guy

"Lemme make a call."
Validated User
"The house eh?" Quinn runs his hand through his thick beard. "Where is 't exactly? What's around it? Motorways? Neighborhood? Farm? Easy in/ out? Long drive t' th' house?" He takes another sip of coffee. "Any pryin' eyes around? Dinnot want a bunch o' chancers wanderin' round to get nipped by the polis."
 

pstjmack

Registered User
Validated User
"The house eh?" Quinn runs his hand through his thick beard. "Where is 't exactly? What's around it? Motorways? Neighborhood? Farm? Easy in/ out? Long drive t' th' house?" He takes another sip of coffee. "Any pryin' eyes around? Dinnot want a bunch o' chancers wanderin' round to get nipped by the polis."
Google Maps shows that Hillingham is tucked away down one of those strangely rural forest lanes on the edge of Hampstead Heath, all by itself. Hard to tell from the satellite view, but there even appears to be fencing or boarding around it.
 
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