Session 05

To: Miriam Goldberg, nee Roth, 120 Street of Lights, Paris, France
From: Sarah Roth, the Saville, London, UK

My dearest Miri,

A thousand apologies for not writing more often, or sooner, but I 
have had as exciting a month as I can ever describe, and have barely 
had time to think, much less to write.

First, and foremost: What I will describe here includes the predations 
of a dangerous, ruthless, and unhinged organization, one that appers to 
have global scope.  Please, for the love of God, be discrete.

With that thought in mind, in brief, my adventures:

You will recall my friend, Mr. Elias--yes, the journalist.  I was, 
with accquaintences from my Mexican adventure (you claimed not to 
believe the story, but I assure you that every word was true, 
especially the more unlikely parts), to meet him in New York.  Alas, 
it was not to be; briefly before our arrival, he met with a darker 
destiny.  I won't bore you with the details now, but the long and 
short of it was that Jackson had attracted the attention of a group 
called "the Cult of the Bloody Tongue" (which appears to  be identical 
to the supposedly supressed "cult of the Black Pharoh") when investigating 
the Carsyle expedition and they proceeded to drug him (with substances that
impaired his memory and weakened hiis sanity) in London, and when he ran 
afoul of the group's chapter in New York, murder him.  My new friends 
and I were able to track down the group and learned that they were engaged 
in horrible practices--human sacrifice, worshiping dark and false gods, and 
the like --the group largely being of African origin, but having quite a 
few American white converts (no Jews, though, fortunately--it would be
mortifying!) as well.  In the course of our investigations, my new friend 
the Chinaman, Xian Shen, attracted the attention of the cult, and his 
uncle, a highly respected person in New York's Chinese community and 
antiques seller, was kidnapped to use in their foul rites. Naturally, 
we informed the police--but once the word got out, Uncle's neighbors 
insisted on effecting a rescue, and we were carried along in their wake; 
they were certainly right that time was of the essence.  Our adventure may 
have been ill-advised, and was certainly dangerous, but was a success--we 
were able to rescue their intended victims (their temple, stored in the
basement of an antiquities shop, appears to have burned down that night, 
but I cannot say how that would have happened!)

I also took the liberty of purchasing Roger Carsyle's books and papers 
from his sister (distressingly, and supporting the insane idea that this 
really is a global conspiracy, my competitor in acquiring these materials 
was a white member of the cult, who met his deathin the unfortunate fire).
They are fascinating, if disturbing and difficult, reading; many dealing 
with a dark mythology that seems to match the imaginings of the cult in
tone--if infinitely more complex.  Entirely unbelievable stories, of
course--but I'm sure more than one good opera could be made of them.

There was also a brief misadventure--while trying to get some information 
on Carsyle, I disguised myself as a nurse in order to gain a prequest for
requesting his medical records--it's not like he can be harmed in his 
current state (presuming he is dead--our evidence has reopened that
possibility, however--note, from my comment below, that they were sponsored
by the suspect Penhew organization); unfortunately my information on medical
customs was out of date, and I was found out to great embarassment.
Speaking of embarassment, do -not- believe the vile rumors in the paper 
that resulted from this incident.

Since this adventure, we have contined our explorations by travelling to
London, yes right across the Channel from you, and yes, I will visit if 
time and prudence allows.  we have discovered, so far, that there are 
two related branches of the same cult, in a matter of some rivalry.  
One group seems tied deeply into the Penhew foundation, and headed by 
the foundation's director, one Mr. Edward Gavigan.  The other, by an Arab 
spice merchant, the same one my London factor recently purchased a large 
batch of spices from.  Our best guess as to how to  proceed is to put these 
two groups at odds--only time will tell whether this maneuver is successful.  

I am quite aware that this account is unbelievable--even perposterous.  But 
I assure you, every word is true, nor am I insane.  Perhaps this adventure
itself is mad--but this isn't the kind of matter any country's police can
handle (or would believe), and it seems like someone must stop these madmen--
so why not us?

                                  With love, 
                                      Your sister, Sarah