Reply to thread

Message

<blockquote data-quote="DanMcS" data-source="post: 837857" data-attributes="member: 6530">The gate rolled open with a whirring of a motor.&nbsp; A uniformed guy pulled up in a golf cart and looked at us expectantly.&nbsp; We shrugged, and got on board.The house was even bigger than it looked from the road.&nbsp; Hugh was waiting for us on the front steps.&nbsp; He led the way in the door and around the corner to a sitting room.&nbsp; &quot;What can I do for you gentlemen?&quot;&quot;Ah, um, we're reporters, yeah, that's right, for the, er, AP.&quot;&quot;Really?&quot;&nbsp; A raised eyebrow.&nbsp; &quot;Would you like that drink?&quot;&quot;Water?&quot;&nbsp; Isaac ventured.&quot;Water's good.&quot;&nbsp; Mason agreed.&quot;Got any scotch?&quot;&nbsp; A brave lad, Wolfgang.&quot;Indeed.&quot;&nbsp; This guy was so cheerful, it was creepy.&nbsp; We'd been out sneaking around his property, and here he was treating us like invited guests.&nbsp; &quot;And what are you reporting on?&quot;&quot;Vasco Industries.&quot;&nbsp; &quot;The Brimstone Club.&quot;&quot;Perhaps I'll just give you a moment to get your stories straight.&quot;&quot;Yeah, thanks.&quot;&nbsp; The old guy stepped out.&quot;What are we doing here?&quot;&quot;We got invited in.&quot;&quot;SO?!&nbsp; This guy's insane.&nbsp; We've got to bail.&quot;&quot;Maybe we can trick some info out of him.&quot;&quot;Like what?&nbsp; How to cook our brains?&quot;&quot;Ask him about the Founder's Ball.&quot;&quot;Shh, he's coming back.&quot;&quot;You all sure what you're doing here now?&quot;&quot;Yes, sir.&nbsp; We're reporting on the Founder's Ball, and were doing a sidebar on some of the members of the club.&nbsp; You, for instance. What can you tell us about the Ball?&quot;&quot;Oh, it's a yearly thing, we bring in the media like yourself, local luminaries, all the members of course, have a big dinner and dance.&nbsp; Good PR, all that.&nbsp; You are attending, yes?&quot;&quot;Sure thing.&nbsp; And what does the Brimstone Club, itself, do, the rest of the year I mean?&quot;&quot;It's a social type club.&nbsp; Charity events, dinners, insider trading advice...&nbsp; I'm kidding of course.&nbsp; We do lunches, not dinners.&quot;&quot;Ah, heh, heh, yes, very amusing.&quot;&quot;I'm really not very involved with the day-to-day events of the club, being gone so much.&quot;&quot;Yes, well, that's all we needed for our, um, background, we'll just be going now.&quot;&quot;Certainly.&nbsp; One of my men will show you out.&nbsp; See you at the ball.&quot;***&quot;That guy was entirely too helpful.&nbsp; Something's not right there.&quot;&quot;Well, we got out alive.&nbsp; Any meeting you walk away from is a good one, I always say.&quot;&quot;No you don't.&quot;&quot;I'm gonna start.&quot;&quot;We've got to pick up our credentials and invite tomorrow.&quot;&quot;I hope the forgers do a good job.&quot;***Isaac, dealing in books for a couple of years now, had some passing familiarity with the art of creating documents, and decided the reporter's badges and invitation would pass any but the most serious inspection.&nbsp; Hopefully we could avoid that, or our stay at the dinner party would be short.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="DanMcS, post: 837857, member: 6530"] The gate rolled open with a whirring of a motor. A uniformed guy pulled up in a golf cart and looked at us expectantly. We shrugged, and got on board. The house was even bigger than it looked from the road. Hugh was waiting for us on the front steps. He led the way in the door and around the corner to a sitting room. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" "Ah, um, we're reporters, yeah, that's right, for the, er, AP." "Really?" A raised eyebrow. "Would you like that drink?" "Water?" Isaac ventured. "Water's good." Mason agreed. "Got any scotch?" A brave lad, Wolfgang. "Indeed." This guy was so cheerful, it was creepy. We'd been out sneaking around his property, and here he was treating us like invited guests. "And what are you reporting on?" "Vasco Industries." "The Brimstone Club." "Perhaps I'll just give you a moment to get your stories straight." "Yeah, thanks." The old guy stepped out. "What are we doing here?" "We got invited in." "SO?! This guy's insane. We've got to bail." "Maybe we can trick some info out of him." "Like what? How to cook our brains?" "Ask him about the Founder's Ball." "Shh, he's coming back." "You all sure what you're doing here now?" "Yes, sir. We're reporting on the Founder's Ball, and were doing a sidebar on some of the members of the club. You, for instance. What can you tell us about the Ball?" "Oh, it's a yearly thing, we bring in the media like yourself, local luminaries, all the members of course, have a big dinner and dance. Good PR, all that. You are attending, yes?" "Sure thing. And what does the Brimstone Club, itself, do, the rest of the year I mean?" "It's a social type club. Charity events, dinners, insider trading advice... I'm kidding of course. We do lunches, not dinners." "Ah, heh, heh, yes, very amusing." "I'm really not very involved with the day-to-day events of the club, being gone so much." "Yes, well, that's all we needed for our, um, background, we'll just be going now." "Certainly. One of my men will show you out. See you at the ball." *** "That guy was entirely too helpful. Something's not right there." "Well, we got out alive. Any meeting you walk away from is a good one, I always say." "No you don't." "I'm gonna start." "We've got to pick up our credentials and invite tomorrow." "I hope the forgers do a good job." *** Isaac, dealing in books for a couple of years now, had some passing familiarity with the art of creating documents, and decided the reporter's badges and invitation would pass any but the most serious inspection. Hopefully we could avoid that, or our stay at the dinner party would be short. [/QUOTE]

Verification