Entry 11 - Niarobi: Tandor Sing's Tea Shop, looking for Nelson and news of Brady

18 Feb: James quickly sat up from what he could only hope a nightmare. And immediately regretted the act. His head throbbing, cotton mouth, sensitive to the slightest sounds. Such as Rene’s LOUD, warm welcome, “Morning sunshine. Wondered when the dead would rise.” Now there’s a relevant word…dead. Which stirred James’ memories of the prior day…

 
17 Feb: Noon tea with the captain of the African Rifles, then the group was off to seek new contacts. To the railway station looking for the gardener Sam Marega. The elder black remembering those years back when he led the Carlyle massacre recovery team, “Near the foot of the Kenya mountain, about 4 days from here. Dreadful. And cursed. Nothing grows there. What was left of the bodies…no rot, no scavengers, not even flies would touch the remains.” He remembered the team earlier in Nairobi. Their many visits with Tandor Sing in his tea shop in Browntown. “But if you want to know more about the Bloody Tongue cult, seek Johnston Kenyata in Blacktown.”

Instead, they are off to the local school hoping to find an astrologer to interpret the celestial map. But the Strats Mission School on the edge of Brown and Blacktown was a combined school/hospital run by the Anglican priest, Dr. Horace Starret. “Sorry, no learned teacher of that subject but I do have some books and Farmer Almanacs.”

While Norman and Khatan studied the books, the others questioned the priest about the Carlyle group. “Yes, I treated Ms Masters for her ‘morning sickness’. She was usually accompanied by Penhew and Huston. I remember Penhew looking vibrant and younger than his age. As for Roger and his bodyguard, they stayed secluded in their tents.”

Meanwhile, Norman found Farmer Almanac entries for 14 January, 1926, “The 3 planets will align creating a solar eclipse best viewed from the Indian Ocean.”

Now evening, the group headed for the ‘Loyal Defender’ bar where they hoped to find Nelson. Along the way, on the edge of Browntown,

they stopped at ‘Tandor Sing’s Tea Shop.’ The Indian proprietor reacting with surprise at our entrance. Most of us read it as surprise whites would visit his shop; Khatan saw it as recognition. As Tandor offered tea, conversation included the game of chess but soon turned to the Carlyle group. “Yes, Ms Masters and Mr Penhew frequented my shop; they loved my oolong tea.” But his ticks and gestures implied he wasn’t telling the whole truth. The JuJu shop all over again. We excused ourselves for our appointment across the street at the bar.

Per the captain’s description, Nelson stood out at his table with the whiskey shot before him.

James joined him in easy conversation before Rene settled in putting a full whiskey bottle before him. “Nails” hated his current assignment…hot/humid, nothing but digging ditches all day. “Not like my time in the Far East in Hong Kong. Shanghai before that.” Racial bastard finding joy in exploiting “the slant eyes. There for the Boxer Rebellion when I got to empty my rifle in a few.”

It didn’t take much to introduce the name “Brady” whom Nails knew. “I served with ole Brass Brady in Shanghai a decade ago. Funny you should mention him; why I ran into him 2 years ago during my Hong Kong tour. Ole Brass was a merchant marine. Killed a man with brass knuckles. Woulda rot in jail except some rich playboy rescued his arsk. Yeah, Roger Carlyle his name. His bodyguard ever since he left the service. Except Roger was missing in Hong Kong. And Brass seemed distracted/worried. Had to get back to his yellow bitch back in Shanghai. Choi Mae Ling her name. Good luck at finding him; he knows how to stay hidden.”

Good timing as Sing entered the bar. James joining him in a game of chess, after nodding to Rene. Slipping out the backdoor near the bathroom, Rene crossed the unlit street back to Sing’s shop. Easily picking the lock barring the backdoor. Searching the storeroom with shipping crates and empty barrels for anything that would connect Tandor with the Bloody Tongues. Nothing but shipments from India; a silver tea set and other fine china. Nothing upstairs in his bedroom behind his pictures of a Hindu god. Then a knock at the front door. 3 knocks before whoever it was left. Time for Rene to leave.

Rene returned to the bar shaking his head which prompted Khatan to sit himself with Sing. “Come now, let’s not play games. You recognized us and haven’t been telling us the truth.” Smiling, Sing responded, “You need to leave this country. I run this town. You stick your noses in places not welcomed. Just like London. Oh yes, I know your trail.”

 

Tandor rises to leave with the others quickly following. Outside, Sing turns (already speaking the beginning of a spell) to confront the group. Unfazed, Rene charges with his billy-club. The faster Khatan rushes to tackle the Indian. Although he fails, he distracts Sing well enough for Rene’s bat to rattle the poor man’s skull. Khatan noting, “That bastard was about to cast a blindness spell.”

Picture “weekend at Bernie’s” with the group aiding the "drunkard" to his shop’s backdoor. Tied and gagged, Tandor awakens with the splash of water across his face. He quickly speaks when intimidated by Rene and Khatan’s threat of casting “Shrink” upon the man’s genitals. “I was informed of your arrival from Cairo. It was I who sent the ‘fire vampires’ to attack you on the train. Aubrey is my contact to gather sacrifices (just like the Carlyle group) for next month’s great celebration upon the mountain. Led by our priestess Enwayru, the ritual will welcome the birth of the child of the small crawler (the god of an India cult). He has bear-claws for hands and tentacles for feet. But 14 January is the date he will awaken, blotting out the sun and ridding the world of all non-believers.”

Rene had enough as he swings his bat, “Just like chest pieces, even pawns must fall.” His policeman skills coming into play as he cleans the shop, creates a obstructive wrinkle in the rug atop the stairs, where he tumbles the body to support an investigator's belief poor Tandor caught his foot and tumbled to his death. His only problem: a squeamish James horrified by the murder. Thus the return to the pub and the quick “alcoholic drowning” of the neophyte to silence his blubbering.

18 Feb: Sporting his hangover, ill thoughts of his murderous-accomplice tag, James suffers during the 17 hour return train ride to Mombasa where they purchase boat tickets for Shanghai. Except this time, the group tries to be discrete with misdirection of tickets bought for India. It’s a 12 day sail across the Indian Ocean, around Singapore, and into the South China Sea on their way to Shanghai. Plenty of time to catch up on their study of spells. But not enough time to reason, “Small crawler? What does that have to do with the Black Pharaoh?”