Janet Winston-Rogers

970 Fifth Avenue

New York, New York

September 29th, 1934

Lacie Ferrier

7794 Newcastle Street

Greenwich Village, New York

Miss Ferrier,

I do not know if you will recall our previous acquaintance, but we have met briefly at various parties and soirees, and I attended the opening night of your most recent concert series. When we have had a chance to talk, I have always been delighted by your extensive knowledge of the lore of dreams and the unquiet dead. Such erudition in one so young is a rare thing indeed. 

For this reason, your name sprang to mind when I was considering who to hire for a particular matter. I have certain inquiries which touch on matters of the occult. To pursue them, I require a trustworthy agent with a keen eye and extensive experience in the paranormal. I have only scraps of information: I require someone who has the knowledge to assemble them into a story. 

If such an endeavor would be of any interest to you whatsoever, I would most kindly request your attendance at Floyd Bennett Field in New York on the evening of October 31st at the hour of 9 o’clock. If there is anyone else you believe would be of assistance, you may send me a letter of introduction at this address.

A retainer of $500 per month will be paid for the duration of whatever service you may be able to provide, with a similar fee paid immediately in recompense for indulging me.

Due to the nature of this affair, I must ask that you keep these matters in the strictest of confidences.  It is my deepest regret that it would be inappropriate to trust any further information to paper, and so I must ask that any further questions you might desire must wait until the evening of the 31st,

      Janet Winston-Rogers

Janet Winston-Rogers

970 Fifth Avenue

New York, New York

September 29th, 1934

Carrie Meadows

12 Temple Dr.

Unit 55

Bronx, NY 10467

Miss Meadows, 

I require the almost immediate services of an excellent engineer for an investigation of some import.

I originally contacted Dr. McConnel, professor of archaeology at Columbia University. Unfortunately, she was unable to take a sabbatical from her current employment, and she believes that the investigation may not require her unique skills at this time. However, she was able to give me your name. She mentioned your mathematical ability and well-rounded knowledge in all areas related to engineering, and her personal grief about your inability to find work commensurate with your talents.

I am seeking not merely someone who can read technical drawings and calculate equations, but someone with a scientific cast of mind. I hope you will not consider me a naive woman easily deceived by charlatans when I say that this investigation may touch on matters of the occult and the paranormal. I am not so foolish as to believe that science has discovered all things which exist in our world; nevertheless, one must take a skeptical eye to all such claims. A scientist must believe in that for which there is evidence, while accepting nullius in verba and always keeping a mind open toward alternate explanations. Dr. McConnel assures me of your abilities. 

A retainer of $500 per month will be paid for the duration of whatever service you may be able to provide, with a similar fee paid immediately in recompense for indulging me in New York. Please make certain that your passport and other travel documents are in proper order and then report to Floyd Bennett Field in New York on the evening of October 31st at the hour of 9 o’clock.

Please cable your acceptance of these terms to my office in New York with the greatest speed possible. You may ask Dr. McConnel for any reassurances you desire of my probity, level-headedness and the serious nature of my inquiries. Due to the nature of this affair, however, I must ask that you keep these matters in the strictest of confidences.  It is my deepest regret that it would be inappropriate to trust any further information to paper, and so I must ask that any further questions you might desire must wait until the evening of the 31st,

      Janet Winston-Rogers

Janet Winston-Rogers

970 Fifth Avenue

New York, New York

October 10th, 1934

Zoe Alethia 

9 Birchwood Street

New York, NY 

Miss Alethia,

Miss Lacie Ferrier has instructed me that, because of the nomadic nature of circus life, sending a letter to your close friend Mr. Ralph Haas is the best way to contact you. I do hope this letter reaches you in time, and apologize that the short notice is made even shorter by this circumvolution. 

I do not think that I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance, but Miss Ferrier has spoken very highly of your invaluable assistance. She says your daring and bravery were invaluable in resolving certain situations involving the unquiet dead. Without your aid, the situation may have become far more dire, perhaps fatal. 

I come to you with a similar situation. I have certain inquiries which touch on matters of the occult, and I require the assistance of someone with experience. I fear that some powerful people may not wish certain secrets to be uncovered, and these inquiries may put those who look into them in grave danger. Your skills as an acrobat and an escape artist may not go amiss. 

If such an endeavor would be of any interest to you whatsoever, I would most kindly request your attendance at Floyd Bennett Field in New York on the evening of October 31st at the hour of 9 o’clock.

A retainer of $500 per month will be paid for the duration of whatever service you may be able to provide, with a similar fee paid immediately in recompense for indulging me in New York. I understand you may be anywhere in the continent of North America. You may phone my secretary at Plaza 3525 to make arrangements for your travel expenses to New York. To make up for the inconvenience, I will gladly pay for a week or two in a hotel afterward so you may see the sights of our glorious city. 

Due to the nature of this affair, I must ask that you keep these matters in the strictest of confidences.  It is my deepest regret that it would be inappropriate to trust any further information to paper, and so I must ask that any further questions you might desire must wait until the evening of the 31st,

      Janet Winston-Rogers

"I have a meeting in the evening the day after tomorrow, I'll be out late," Mordred tells his brother when he gets home from work on the evening of the 29th, slides the letter across the table to him. 

(There are teeth marks in the envelope. He does have a letter opener at his desk but it wasn't in arm's reach. It's fine, okay, Agravaine, stop looking at him like that, nobody else is going to see it or care.) 

Agravaine takes the letter, careful to avoid the parts of the paper Mordred's bitten. Scans it. "Wow," he says, and then, "A skeptical mind, huh." 

"She's got every reason to believe --"

Taptaptap go Mordred's fingertips on the table.

"No, no, I know." Pause. "Five hundred. Who is this person?"

"Haven't had a chance to check the morgue yet, but I'm sure I'll find out tomorrow," Mordred says.

"Mm." Another pause, this time much longer, before, "Are you telling Gale?"

"Depends on what it turns out to be," which is the best answer Mordred can give, and no answer at all.

Goodness, $500 per month! Zoe supposes she does reside on Upper Fifth Avenue.

Zoe supposes she should make travel arrangements... and speak with the ringmaster about her upcoming absence. 

Hangar Five is strangely posh and comfortable in its little sitting area. Short folding bookshelves, full of encyclopedias, and portable tables covered in maps stand at the edges of a few overlapping area rugs, which define something like a parlor in the midst of the hangar. It’s like an expeditionary camp in the midst of the countryside, but with deep, broken-in leather chairs and green-glass reading lamps to give it a feeling like some literati den. This is how Walter Winston ran things, and his daughter carries on his style.
 
The rest of the hangar is a typically spare place, with a few toolboxes and an antelope head mounted on a post. The plane is gleaming silver, without airline decorations.

Zoe peruses the bookshelves to see what they contain. The bookshelves mostly contain reference material and have a few books related to the occult; no titles she recognizes. Finding nothing of interest on the bookshelves or in the toolboxes, she flops on the couch in a most unladylike manner. 

She absently flicks her zippo open and closed and looks around at the people she doesn't know to see if anyone looks interested in making conversation.

Zoe is very short. She is muscular, especially in the arms and shoulders. She has dark curly hair and dark brown eyes and olive skin. She moves very fluidly and smiles a lot.

Mordred waits in the parlor. Wonders who makes a parlor this posh in an airplane hangar as opposed to nearly anywhere else. Watches whoever else is here. Looks to see what type of books there are but waits to try and read them. Fidgets with a pencil.

Mordred is weirdly strong for how thin he is and vaguely fishy-looking but not in a way where he doesn't look like a basically reasonable person who you'd see on the subway. He presents nerdy-side-of-normal and has been putting off getting a haircut for a while. He has pale skin with greenish undertones in the wrong light, dark hair and grey eyes.

Anemone hangs around waiting for someone else to show up. She does not bother to tell her pet monkey Magnificence not to steal anything. She looks at the books and, impressed, concludes that Walter Winston must have been a sorcerer of some occult power. 

Anemone is a sickly half-Maya woman who looks like she could be knocked over in a particularly strong wind, but also simultaneously radiates enormous quantities of confidence 100% of the time.

Carrie looks at the most interesting thing in the ENTIRE hangar which is the PLANE. It looks like a DC-2-- the latest prop plane-- but someone has made some modifications to it. She can't quite tell what the modifications would do.

She is wearing a jacket with many pockets.

Lacie waves hi to her friend Zoe, then inspects the books as well. Nothing occult that she's heard of... but that only makes it more interesting.

Lacie has very dark hair which she bobs and she dresses like an eccentric bohemian and wears too much make-up and she almost always looks like she's laughing at a private joke. Physically her eyes are brown but spiritually they are red.

A woman who is probably Janet Winston-Rogers enters. 

Zoe is impressed by her outfit and tries to figure out what kind of fur that is. 

Anemone is SUSPICIOUS. Is this lady ALSO a dark sorcerer? She doesn't look like a dark sorcerer but you never know. Anemone is going to REMAIN ON GUARD for dark sorcery anyway.

"Hello," Mrs. Winston-Rogers says. "I see you all came."

"With an invitation as interesting as yours, who wouldn't?" 

"Many people, I presume," Mrs. Winston-Rogers says. "I suppose you're all wanting an explanation?"

"If one is forthcoming," Mordred says.

"Please," Lacie says. "You spoke of a matter of a paranormal nature, in your letter?"

"Unfortunately," she says, "I am afraid that I have more new mysteries than solutions to them."

"If I understood you right," Zoe says, "the solution part is our job. What's the mystery?"

"I am hiring you to investigate my father and... certain events he was involved in in August of 1924. I need to know what he was mixed up in. Whether he left any work unfinished. Whether I am in any danger. Whether..." She hesitates. "Whether I should be apologizing for him or defending him."

That is an impressively dramatic and opaque answer.

Mrs. Winston-Rogers blinks, taking in the monkey for the first time. "...there's a monkey?"

"I bring him everywhere."

"I... I suppose that's an explanation." Mrs. Winston-Rogers looks quite taken aback.

She gathers herself and soldiers on. "My father... was a driven man. He made a fortune in the pharmaceuticals business after the war. He spent a few years traveling the world, studying folklore. This led to an interest in the occult."

"When my father wasn't traveling, he was having meetings-- secret meetings-- with people he wasn't in business with. Other dabblers in the occult, I think. My mother didn't like them. That was when she started drinking."

"I only overheard scraps and pieces, but... I put it together that my father was bent on battling something. I don't know what."

"I don't know much, but I know that in August 1924... something happened."