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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Karl Green" data-source="post: 1527113" data-attributes="member: 1467">After everyone gets settled in for the flight, Redfield enters the planes and heads for the pilots cabin. Over the loud speakers he says “Kindly take your seats and strap yourselves in, we are about to take off.” And the plane idles up and heads to the runway without delay. After a short wait the plane is off and heading over the Atlantic in no time. The hours drone by through, with little happing. There are movie laptop systems built into every seat that people can watch a wide selection of movies and documentaries. The additional correspondents of Sterne’s are available in a dossier that was dropped off by another B.P.R.D. field agent before take-off. They include letters to a number of different people within the Nazi party and government, about North African history and how Aryan Peoples played a piedmont role in its history of the region. [Anyone wishing to read these for more then an hour (there are copies of about a hundred letters, research papers, proposals, grant applications, etc) may make a Profession (Research) or a Search roll and let me know what the result is] Just over 9 hours later, Redfield’s voice is hear over the speakers again waking anyone asleep “Lady and Gentlemen, I am about to make our final approach into Mali capital Bamako, kindly return to your seats and strap yourselves in. We should be landing in 10 minutes; it is 1:52am local time.”True to his word the jet quickly touches down without problems on the Mali tarmac and taxies to a stop near the airport terminal. The night’s sky is very clear and a bit chilly (they roll up a debarking stairs, as the terminal is not very modern). The party is meet by a strange looking little man who introduces himself as Greoire Montaigne, with a heavy French accent he says “Top of the morning to ye, one and all. Hopin ye flight was a pleasant one, cause now the fun does begin, no what I mean? Well then this way to be pride and joy, the Flying Dutchman, HA, that’s a laugh, no what I mean? Here we go here we go… off to the great unknown? Well Mother, Marry and Juab, I’ll get you right, no what I mean. Here we are, here we are, load up and all aboard. Just finishing refueling and we be off, off we go to Timbuktu, Saints alive.” The party is lead to a two-engine prop cargo plane that has been converted to carry passengers in the front, and still cargo in the back. It looks to be 20 or 30 years old, but it is clean and looks to be in good condition. Of course any who linger outside watch in horror as Montaigne is fueling the plane from a near by fuel truck, he strikes up a match and lights a long cigarette, standing near some spilled gas. Whether by dumb luck or divine intervention there is no explosion and he finishes refuel, chatting to himself and the saints and anyone around absent-mildly. “Well now, here we go, here we go, Timbuktu, great place to visit in the winter, no what I mean? OK all aboard, lets get a going, got be back for evening mass tonight, bless the traveler and all that, know what I mean?” While this flight is far bumper then the one on the corporate jet, the plane still makes good time to Timbuktu, arriving just around sun-rise. Anyone looking out the windows can see that it is a desert town of good size. Checking recorders the population is around 30,000 at this time. For a quick history lesson, if anyone read up on the area, Timbuktu is on the southern edge of the Sahara Desert, a few miles north of the Niger River. In the Middle Ages, it was a rich city where desert caravans met traders from the south to deal in gold, salt and slaves. The Emperor of Mali built famous mosques and colleges, and recruited countless scholars. It went into decline after the Empire fell, the French didn’t do very much for it, and the old trade patterns are now all but vanished. However of late, international organizations have been trying to preserve the great mosques and the medieval libraries, and there is a small tourist trade that has grown up over the years. The area is mostly peaceful, with some rare banditry and petty crimes.The plane lands on a dusty airstrip as the wind picks up a bit, causes a hazy view of the area. There are two people here to meet the party, a short, broadly-built, older African American that you recognize as the historian Dr. Reginald Clay and another chap who is dressed in a worn police Captains uniform, smoking a fat cigar.</blockquote>

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