We began with most of us checking in at the mosque. Well, except for Sarah and Clayton. Sarah was so tired from the events of the other night that she decided to rest up instead. As for Clayton, he insisted that he'd met someone at the consulate he wanted to know more about. Turns out, he was right - a man named Nigel Wassif had been watching him, the smoker who had the red-and-gold-banded cigarettes on his person at all times. The two struck up conversation, and it became clear to Clayton and I he'd been curious as to why we were looking into Omar Shakti. As it turns out, Nigel didn't trust the man, and there was no reason we should, either. He was familiar with the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh as well, and they gave him some serious pause - apparently, he'd been investigating them on behalf of the consulate for some time. From this, we quickly realized the man was a spook - some sort of spy or G-man, perhaps, probably working on behalf of the British Empire - and that he'd been keeping an eye on us all. Of course. Who isn't watching us these days?
As it turns out, Nigel had also heard rumors we had been looking for information about the Carlyle Expedition, and offered an interesting lead as he questioned us - a photo of the entire Expedition, resting in front of the Great Sphinx of Giza in a touring motor car. The crew looked in fine spirits, all save for one - Hypatia Masters, the girlfriend of Roger Carlyle. She had that look about her, an odd dowdy cast to her otherwise angelic features that suggested some sort of illness. Clayton quickly ascertained, thinking on what little knowledge he had of medicine, that it was probably morning sickness - she was pregnant, but in the very early stages of it. Miss Masters was certainly not fit for travel, let alone to someplace like the wilds of Kenya after Cairo. Why hadn't her lover Roger insisted she rest in a hotel room instead of traipse about out in the hot desert sun? Why didn't the others seem concerned, except for the somewhat effeminate-looking man in the photo, whom I assumed must have been Jack Brady? What had happened to make the Carlyle Expedition so callous as to Miss Master's health?
He didn't have time to answer these questions, unfortunately, because Nigel had to leave us. Not before offering to help of course - any time we needed him, check the consulate, he said. Then, like a true spook, he vanished into the crowd of workers and tourists seeking passport stamps, and was gone. I of course only heard of this once he caught back up with us, but it's nice to know we have some sort of ally, if indeed, he is on our side...
While Clayton was busy at the consulate, the rest of us quickly found Mah'muhd begging in the streets outside, and had him direct us to the Mosque of Ibn Tulin. I like the kid, he's really quite a good-natured boy forced to live in terrible circumstances. I hope he can find someone to take him in, the mosque perhaps? The mean streets of Cairo are certainly no place for a 12-year-old boy to live... But adept at navigating them he is, and we quickly found our way there. At first, the member we met balked at letting us in, until Ewan thought to drop hints that we sought information concerning the Black Pharaoh. Well, that got their attention, and the man of faith quickly left to ask the leader of the temple to see us, a man named Zehavi. The request was granted. Unfortunately, due to religious reasons, women weren't allowed in the mosque, so only Ewan and Ted went inside while Bridget, Mah'muhd, and I waited outside. What information I have from the mosque is therefore second-hand.
While the men spoke with Zehavi, Bridget and I decided to catch a little girl time and get to know our new guide better. Asking the boy to show us around, he took us to this charming little bazaar a few streets over, where we had fresh pomegranates and pita bread for lunch. Mah'muhd was greatly amused that he had to teach us how to open the pomegranate and take the seeds out, since neither of us had ever eaten one before. And of course, the stains got all over my nice linen blouse I bought for the trip! Thank goodness for the old hydrogen peroxide trick. Always carry some in the first aid kit I brought along, though conserving it was the utmost priority. As we snacked and browsed the fine Persian rugs, sculpted clay vases, and blown glass jewelry, it truly was as if we stepped into another world. Mah'muhd was kind enough to teach me a few bartering skills, and I am now the proud owner of the most adorable turquoise hair clip. Who ever said investigating a missing Expedition had to be all seriousness, anyway?
It was around the time that Bridget and I were looking over some small carved stone trinkets that Bridget felt a tug on her dress, hurried and nervous. It was Mah'muhd - and he looked frightened, pointing to a nearby dark alley. He insisted that it seemed like someone was following us. Of course, we took it seriously, ready to fight if it came down to that, but there was no need. Down the shadowed alley stumbled a man, reaching for us with a shaky hand... or perhaps just reaching for me, as if he knew me. Then he approached into the sunlight, and we saw the real reason for his stumbling gait - a massive gash wound in his stomach, the blood staining his robes. It was obvious he'd been attacked and was seeking help, but one could hardly recognize who he was, for his eyes, tongue, and ears had all been replaced, the sockets and empty holes filled with a number of bizarre and disturbing amulets.
To say the crowd panicked is an understatement, and even Bridget and I got a little nauseous to see this display. He didn't stand long, the man - he fell to the ground, choking grotesquely on his own blood, and it became clear as we turned the body over that the blood on his clothing and the amulets was dry as bone. Then we heard Mah'muhd squeak in abject terror, pointing to the dead man, echoing my own sinking feeling of deep dread.
"That's Mr. Najir!" he cried, big dark eyes wide with horror. "The shop-keeper! The Brotherhood must have done this..."
Indeed, he was right, as much as I hate to admit it. Not only did the body of Faraz Najir have a massive gouge shaped like the Brotherhood's inverse ankh, from which loops of intestine protruded horribly, but close inspection of the amulets showed they too had all been carved with the same symbol. A few of the crowd tried to stop Bridget from picking them up, insisting they were cursed, and none in the bazaar would buy them, but her suspicion was that they could have been magical and she wanted to be sure the body would not get up again. Not that far-fetched a theory, considering what we've seen thus far. To keep Mah'muhd from seeing any more of the awfulness before us, we sent him to get the men and bring them here. There's safety in numbers, and if we got ambushed, it would be better to have backup.
Once the men regrouped with us, we found they'd brought two men from the mosque, armed with scimitars, to help us out. Mah'muhd had been kept behind at the mosque to keep him safe. While the men spoke with some of the locals about what happened and prayed over Najir's body, we explained the situation to the men and caught up with what they knew. Apparently their talk with Zehavi had proven fruitful - it seems that there was some connection to the Black Pharaoh and a sorceress named Nitocris. Quite a powerful and wicked woman who worshiped the Black Pharaoh, she had tried to revive his worship several decades after Sneferu had snuffed the cult out, but had failed. It was her mummy Zehavi believed had been stolen from the recent Clive Expedition, but without asking the diggers, he had no proof of this. What he did have proof of was that the Brotherhood had been attacking the mosque recently, apparently for an artifact of great power that they possessed in their vaults - the Girdle of Nitocris. From what Ted and Ewan told me, this was apparently needed for some ritual they'd be doing, and the Brotherhood already had two other pieces of Nitocris' jewelry that they needed, plus the mummy. Zehavi and his men, for their part, have been trying to find a way to destroy the Girdle, but have failed thus far. They were so adamant about keeping it safe, they wouldn't even let the men see the girdle.
While we puzzled all this out, it was at that point that Bridget noticed a strange amulet on Najir's corpse - one that bore an odd similarity to the six-eyed flying creature we'd seen last night as well as at Erica Carlyle's safe-house, wrapped about an inlaid onyx. It seemed very unlike the others, so we kept it. The other amulets, we handed over to the locals in charge of keeping the peace. I suppose when you don't trust the biased British Royal Police to help, having town members with scimitars and muscle is probably the next best thing. We both wisely decided it was time to head back to the mosque, and made a quick retreat from the scene after being assured the case would be handled appropriately. Of course, who should walk up then but Clayton, late to the party as usual. He's a good man, Clayton Byrd, despite his profession... but he has a terrible sense of timing.
Once more, we have more questions than answers. What really happened to the Carlyle Expedition? What was wrong with Hypatia Masters? What is the bizarre amulet we found on Faraz Najir's body? What did Warren Besart know, and why does the Brotherhood want so badly for us not to find him? What about the branched symbol we'd been taught to use? All questions for another time, I suppose. I just hope we don't have any more casualties, but between you and me, I'm not very optimistic in that regard.