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"Well this shouldn't take long. I will be back momentarily uncle," Peter says before sliding into the back seat. Once everyone, driver included are situated the car drives slowly towards the main gate before it opens further to allow him passage off the base. The roads are clearing but even though they are, it is obvious that taking a car in this town right then was going to take them longer than if they had just walked. Granted Peter was not complaining, he thigh twitched from time to time and it was the end of the day. It was better now though than it had been in England, the weather there was never kind to old battle wounds.

Peter passed the time by carrying on casual light conversation with Lauren, vague things such as the weather. Asking her how hot did it actually get here and how she coped with the heat. How was she enjoying living out here and if there were any places of interest he should visit. The usual banter for someone who did not really know the person sitting next to them.

Once they arrived at the Hotel, Peter told the driver to wait as he held his hand out to Lauren. "Shall we? I would be failing in my duty if I were just to drop you off here. Once I am sure you are safe at your room, I shall stop pestering you this evening," he said with a warm chuckle.

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Lauren looked down at Reginald when he declined to come with them she gave the man a soft smile and nod. "Thank you for entertaining me this evening." She said with a soft smile as Peter climbed in and handed him a handgun she knew her way around guns a little bit her father taught her how to handle one a few years ago. As the driver started up the car she leaned back as the gates opened to let them pass through and into the streets. It was a relaxing drive as she looked towards Peter as he started to make some small talk, she told him that she always tried to find something that was lose fitting to cope with the heat, and remembered the sights that Aziza had showed her when she first came to Cairo.

Lauren so far had enjoyed her time aside from the weird dreams and the heat, she suggested the markets in case he was ever interested in going there. Or even offered to go with him if he ever did want to go, she took in the night air as they got closer towards the hotel, once they were there Lauren smiled when Peter climbed out and offered his hand out to her. "You aren't pestering me at all, having a five year old child would be more annoying." Lauren said jokingly as she climbed out of the car.

She started to search around in her pockets and pulled out the room key that Aziza had given her looking towards Peter and smiled once more before leading the way, and started making her way up towards her room wondering if Aziza had made it back there already or not.

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Nora took her seat on the sofa, Spot eagerly leaping up and sniffing at her hand. She smiled slightly at the intelligent creature, and ruffled the fur on his head ever so slightly, as she continued to sort through the mail. The paper had been delivered, written entirely in Arabic. Despite her lengthy stay in Cairo and her interest in decoding the language, she could not read it without the help of mathematics. And so, she glanced at the paper for a moment, before setting it aside.

"Perhaps you might be better suited to reading it than I," Nora whispered to her dear dog. She spoke to him more than she did to most people. A dog never concerned itself with social conventions, and nor did a dog accuse her of bringing shame to the family name. She then picked up the post from England. Her sister Emmaline had wrote her, letting her know of the family news. It was mostly trivial at best, detailing the pursuit of wives for her unwed brothers, and the maintenance of domesticity for her sisters.

However, the papers from London provided something perhaps more interesting. It would appear the Lord Captain had become the talk of the ton, with gossip and rumors circulating his valiant escape from the clutches of the Germans. Some speculation included his ties to the Lady Munn, and Nora smiled coyly to herself. The papers seemed to have been correct in their theory that he had headed to Egypt. And it would seem that the Lord Captain intended to make a wife out of the Lady Munn.

The pair did seem suited for each other. Nora herself did not pay much attention to the eligible bachelors of England. For she could not bear a child--no man could ever want her. And Nora was not too certain that she could ever bring herself to want any man. She operated best in solitude. The world could continue turning without her, and it would not bother her in the slightest.

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"I would imagine so. Never been one to want children. Thankfully being the spare heir I am not pressed to reproduce. Don't get me wrong, children are wonderful and fascinating but myself I never thought of that path," Peter said as he climbed out of the car. Looking around and seeing the police where there he cocked a brow. "I better escort you in," he said taking his walking cane and then noting to the driver that he would return shortly.

Holding his arm out for Lauren he started to make his way towards the hotel, seeing a flash of brown curls in the crowd speaking to one of the officers. It was Vera and she was without escort it seemed. Grand timing," he said with a quick smile towards Lauren before heading over to Vera. Her eyes widening slightly as she was tapped on the shoulder and turned around to see the two.

"Dear heavens, what are you two doing here?" she asked after she had bid the officer good evening and thanked him for answering her questions.

"Just escorting Miss Ridgeway to her domicile for the evening, the couple that was with her earlier decided to turn in early."

Vera nodded in understanding, she knew Peter wouldn't let a woman wander around alone if he could help it during such times. She was glad for it, especially with the tolling of the bell and the police at the hotel. "What happened here?"

"Seems there was someone that caused quite the stir a little while ago and it turns out he matched the description of the man that broke out from the prison earlier this evening.

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"Takk og lov, hun gikk..."

Haakon sighed, quietly whispering those foreign words to himself when the maid decided to leave him alone. Which was good, because Haakon was getting quickly tired of the whole What, isn't this my room? But I'm sure I left this very room this morning-act - luckily not as fast as the leaving maid. He let his hand fall down beside his satchel, and himself breathing out heavily.

It had been a long day. Far too long if you asked him.

Something made a noise. Haakon's ears picked up something, something barely audible but near. Haakon turned his head, just enough for his eyes to look at the door. The same door the burglar - or thief, mad-man, murderer, prisoner, Haakon had by now far too many names for his suspect - had entered only minutes before. It didn't sound like someone about to exit the room, but perhaps...was he listening to him? Haakon's right hand was still clutching his revolver, so if wasn't entirely defenseless, that was a relief at least. Sticking to the plan, he began to fumble with the door again.

But deep inside him, he was hoping - perhaps bordering praying, something Haakon was not known for doing - that Jo was alright.

---

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What have you gotten yourself into Jo?

That was the question, wasn't it? Here she was, about to leap from one balcony to another to enter a room with a crazed, knife-wielding man who has already killed someone, in Egypt. If this wasn't real life she would swear she was in a movie. She crept up on the ledge, said a few words to a God she didn't really believe in, and jumped.

A close call as she hit the other side. She quickly grabbed the nearby ledge to steady herself before hopping down to the floor. Perhaps she will go to church after all.

She looked inside to see the man hold the knife up as Haakon fumbled with the doorknob. It was perfect really. She opened the patio door and took out her gun, pointing it at the man. She mustered the experience she had playing the femme fatale before and spoke out, "Put the knife down. Don't be fooled, I am quite handy with a gun and one false move and I won't hesitate to shoot you. You've already killed and the authorities won't think twice about an escaped convict being dead, will they? Now, put the knife on the floor, kick it away, and unlock the door so my friend can step inside too. Be warned, he is armed as well." She said it in her most authorotative voice, but she also thought the man may not understand English, so she was prepared to fire, just in case.

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Reginald gave his departing guests a final wave as the Rolls pulled away from the front of the Officers' Club. He waited until the frame of the stately vehicle cleared the main gates before turning back around and returning to his favorite seat near the bar. The staff had already begun to clear the dishes and put the excess food away (that which was still proper for later service, at any rate), and the few patrons that remained were settling their tabs and making ready to depart.

It was still fairly early so far as the scene went for the Barracks, but it appeared to be a dismally slow night. Enlisted men generally didn't come in here, and the officers apparently had duties to perform, else they found their diversions elsewhere. It was just the Lord Major seated in an obvious manner and the lay staff populating the Officers' Club. A slow piece of big band music played quietly amid the quiet din of plates and flatware being whisked away; not enough to draw attention away from whatever conversation the nonexistent patrons may have been having, were they actually present. Good enough time to get a little light reading in.

His earlier plans, those of looking up requisition paperwork and getting into his contacts; he decided that it was better left until the morning. They would be in his office anyway, and his clerk here at the Qasr El Nil was off duty. Proper provision and equipment reqs in a timely fashion would require the clout of a commanding officer and the contact savvy of an experienced clerk. Morning, then. Meantime, Reginald had been meaning to catch up on the periodicals back home. They had arrived earlier, but in the excitement of the day the Lord Major had cleanly forgotten.

"'Awadd 'an 'araa alddawriaat London, min fadlik." he requested of the barman present. "Thank you, there's a good chap. Ah, and please ensure that guest accommodations are made ready for the younger Lord Keystone upon his return. One of the dignitary's suites, or Officer's quarters near my own."

A few moments later, the Lord Major was presented with a short stack of newspapers, all written solidly in the King's English, of London and Brighton addresses. To his surprise, each one of them featured name and/or illustration of one Lord Peter Keystone.

"Oh, lad. Whatever have you gotten yourself into?"

The evening just kept getting more interesting.

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Lauren smiled and took Peter's arm as she followed alongside him, she looked around there seems to be a lot of officers in front of the hotel she looked around grateful for Peter's protection. She then recognized the curly brown hair of Vera's from earlier in the evening, though Lauren didn't really speak up that much earlier when she was with all of the others. "It's good to see you again." Lauren said with a soft smile as she watched the officer that Vera was talking to turned around to do what he was doing.

When Vera mentioned the man that had broken out earlier in the evening was around, Lauren turned to look at the hotel wondering if Aziza and Henry were both safely in the room now or not. "Did you find anything else out from that officer over there?" Lauren asked gesturing towards the man she was just talking to.

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After Nora completed her perusal of the gossip surrounding a one Lord Captain, her eyes fell upon a strange journal mixed in with her post. Carefully picking the journal from the small pile, Nora frowned slightly as her eyes swept over the printed words. As a mathematician herself, Nora understood some of the scientific world, and its joy of awarding prizes.

However, she failed to understand why anyone should care to notify her of them. The Nobel Prizes and Nora were born, so to speak, merely a year apart. But given that there were no awards for archaeology, her dear father never quite did rave about them. At his core, he was a man concerned with class and appearances--and an award that could be of no use to himself was thus meaningless. She ran her fingers over the names, mentally searching for some pattern that would suggest why it was of such import to have the journal delivered to her. Had the events of that evening not already been highly bizarre and irregular, Nora might have brushed it aside as an accident, as misdirected post.

She then noticed the prize for literature, and rolled her eyes ever so slightly. It was a knee-jerk type reaction, caused by her hatred for her sister-in-law. Fannie considered herself to be an experimental writer--the very profession that Nora found to be of almost no merit. Still, the fact that she had been delivered the journal listing the winners of Nobel prizes must have been some clue, Nora concluded. And so, she painstakingly copied down the names within her own journal, as well as any notes as to any other peculiarities she could find.

Perhaps these winners were involved in some fashion. Her eyes flickered back up towards the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded to an Irishman. For his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation, it read. Nora frowned slightly. "An spiorad náisiún nua go deimhin ..."

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"He was rather tight lipped about the on goings but it seemed that some man came in and caused a scene before storming out. Looking for one of the patrons staying here," Vera said before there was a large commotion and much yelling coming from out in the alley way. Vera, ever the curious one, ran off towards the sound of the yelling and nearly tripping over everyone in her path and her own to feet.

Peter grumbled under his breath. "For a woman that will jump at the sight of a single book out of place on a shelf she has no sense of danger when her curiosity is peeked," he muttered before smiling softly towards Lauren and motioning for her to stay close to him as they walked calmly but as quickly as possible after Vera. Leaning on his cane as he did he rounded the corner only to get slammed into his chest by Vera who let out a scream and trembled in fear as the police drug a body out from behind some rubbish.

"I believe you two should retire within the barracks this evening...." he said as he wrapped a protective arm around Vera and pulled her close. Looking over towards Lauren his lips thinned somewhat. "We should seek out your companions post haste and leave the scene as quickly as possible. It obviously isn't safe here. Please lead the way," he said to Lauren as he kept her arms in his and lead the trembling Vera away from the alleyway and back towards the front of the hotel.

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The commotion inside the room was by now getting loud enough for Haakon to hear - partially - what was being said. Thankfully, it was the voice of Jo, stern and filled with confidence, that he heard first. He quietly let out a sigh of relief, she wasn't harmed by the man or by the balcony. Well, Haakon thought to himself, no use in playing games now, is it?

Haakon quickly let go of the door handle he had been fiddling and stepped right in front of the door with Jo and the murderer. His gun now rested firmly in his right hand, pointing straight at the door. From the other side of the door, he heard the man say something about it being Jo breaking into the room and possibly out to kill his friend, while he himself were harmless. "As harmless as any man cracking the skull of an innocent man and strangling him. Now enough of this game, open the door and come out with your hands up! Or else I'll...break down the door!"

And not a second after he had shouted, he heard voices from behind him too, though very different from the man refusing to come out. Turning his head just enough to see who was there, he recognized the two people standing there; the British soldier Mr. Walsh and his lady-friend Miss Tarek. Clearly it seemed that it was Haakon who was trying to break into the room, her room. So their suspicions were correct, he WAS after her.

"On the contrary, Miss Tarek, Miss Clark and trying to stop the man who has broken into your room. He's already killed a man down outside the hotel, and we followed him up here. Josephine, are you okay back there?"

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Josephine pointed the gun at the man with a sly smile. Cute, she thought to herself, he's trying to turn this around on me. "If I wanted to harm her, I could have easily done so earlier today. You, however, have the opportunity now, seeing as you just escaped from prison. Isn't that right? I imagine the sound of that alarm is for you. I think the authorities will be very interested in getting you back, especially as you've already killed."

At Haakon's insistence, plus with the additional voices she could barely make out outside, she responded, "Doing just fine, darling. See if you can get the door open as our guest is being very rude about it. Now, again, put the knife down and kick it away or things will get very hairy. We're just going to talk and work this out, that's all."

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Lauren nodded slightly it was pretty typical officers always either withholding information, until they knew more or just completely ignoring the question. She looked around for a moment to see if Aziza or Henry were within the crowd, however there wasn't as Lauren then jumped slightly when she heard a commotion coming from a nearby alleyway. She watched as Vera quickly darted off towards where it was coming from, Lauren would normally have just ran in the opposite direction but Vera just ran towards it. "Probably wouldn't have been the smartest thing." Lauren said then biting her lower lip for a moment. "No offense to her that is, normally I would have just ran off the other way and hide." Lauren said.

She started following behind Peter until Lauren stopped suddenly getting out of the way from Peter and Vera bumping into one another, she turned her attention towards the group of officers who were dealing with a body that was there. Lauren froze staring at it before turning her attention towards Peter and gave him a slight nod. She started to worry about Aziza and Peter as she started to turn around and quickly started making her way through the foyer of the hotel. She was slow enough to make sure that Peter and Vera didn't lag behind, Lauren started making her way up the stairs.

Lauren then could hear a familiar voice as Lauren made it to the right floor that they were on, Lauren looked up she spotted Aziza and Henry there as well as Haakon looking at the three of them. Lauren took a few deep breathes as she looked towards her friend. "Are you two alright?" Lauren finally asked then turned to look at Haakon. "Whats going on here?"

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"My, but those lads with the Fourth Estate are imaginative..." mused the elder Keystone, putting one paper to the side and selecting another in the small stack of newsprint on the table before him. They all seemed to be very interested in his nephew Peter, easily making him the Talk of London, and so by extension, the Talk of the British Empire. Many of the periodicals exalted the young man, his tenacity and cunning in surviving the horrors of the past few years and his resolve in returning to find his childhood sweetheart. Some predicted that he would soon be on the road yet again to find his lady love, prompting an utterance of, "Oh my, I see they did scratch up an accurate detail, hmm..."

Reginald paused his light reading to attend his tumbler of whisky, and rattled off a sentiment to the slender man behind the bar. "You know, good sir... in my youth, the average newsman printed facts, you see. Proper and solid fact, mind you, about current events and local happenings, that sort of thing... But it seems lately to be a sordid quagmire of sensationalism. Takes a practiced hand to sort out the riches from the rubbish as of late. Quite. And I've not even gotten to the rabble-rousers yet."

The bottom of his glass was found some four seconds later, and the Lord Major decided to have a fill of his pipe. It was a practical, short-stemmed affair; a pipe for a military field officer. He packed it fully from an old fashioned tobacco pouch and set it between his teeth, resting gently as to avoid unnecessary scratching along the mouthpiece. He produced a curious brass lighter and sparked it to life. The device was well crafted and polished, obviously an handmade item - crafted from the brass of a spent gunnery casing. He touched fire to leaf and drew air through the pipe until a dull orange glow emanated from the bowl. Satisfied, Reginald returned to his reading.

"Oh, bother..." he groaned. The next headline was less than gracious; it detailed an account where one reporter voiced a theory to Peter that his beloved Vera was the culprit responsible for the death of her uncle and the subsequent grave robbing. This attempt to paint the Lord Major's adoptive niece in such a manner infuriated him, and in classic Keystone tradition, Peter did precisely what he would have done in for such an occasion: Peter put his fist in the reporter's eye, and apparently let fly a slew of words most ungentlemanly but quite possibly highly appropriate.

"Yes, and it bloody well serves that cad properly." he said aloud, making note of the name of the reporter. In the event that they ever crossed paths, Reginald wanted to give the man a supplementary opinion to Peter's, in a manner and attitude similar to the original. Perhaps he could darken the other eye. "Nobody drags my family through the mud to sell Periodicals. Nobody."

"Now... to find the funnies section..."

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The bell continued to toll, and Nora set down the paper in irritation. If there was one thing that Miss Kingston did cherish in the world, it was peace and quiet. The din of the bell interrupted her each and every thought, to the extent that she could not ponder any further the meaning of the Nobel Prize pamphlet that had been distributed to her.

They're going to be heard in London with such noise, Nora thought to herself, leaning back on the sofa for a moment. She wished that she could feel tired, but that evening, she felt more of an insomniac than ever before. The bell tolled relentlessly, and Nora knew that it would be a day if the culprit was not apprehended. She shut her eyes, but her mind would not quiet, and the racket outside did not decrease. Her eye twitched in annoyance, and Spot, seemingly understanding Nora's distress, brushed his head against her hand.

But instead of winning affection from his mistress, he only caused her pain, for his nostril had rubbed her wounded hand. Nora nearly pulled her hair out from pain and frustration, when seemingly learning of her plights, the universe decided to further complicate her situation. A gnawing hunger, unlike any she had ever known before, spread through her. She ate the normal proportions of an English lady at the most--never did she indulge in anything more. Nora's mother praised the quality in her, though it brought out concern in her brother Ethan. Nora herself likened it as a souvenir of her childhood illness--a lack of appetite.

Regardless, this evening had proven absolutely monstrous. Nora rose from the couch, and allowed her hunger to guide her thoughts, searching the kitchen for some nourishment. She smiled wryly at the thought that perhaps her hunger was connected to her injury. It was a foolish and fantastical notion, she knew.

Yet she could not deny that the fantastical seemed ever the more real.

---

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"Broken into my room?" Aziza asked confused to what exactly what was going on as the color drained from her features. After the attack earlier on her this was not what she wanted to deal with. Sgt. Walsh took note of it and drew his revolver, taking the key from Aziza and motioning for her and Haakon to step back from the door. Moving closer he quietly slipped the key into the lock and turned it.

Abbas grinned towards Josephine but did not throw his knife to the ground. "That isn't going to happen," he said flashing the blade a bit as he heard the click in the lock. Stepping away from the door he kept the knife out before him as Harry pushed the door open suddenly and pointed his revolver straight at the man. Aziza looked through the door and her jaw dropped.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" she said suddenly as the color came back to her features. Stepping through the door fully and right over to the man without even caring about his knife; which hit the floor as she slapped him across the face.

"Good to see you, you are beautiful as ever," he said as he rubbed his cheek and chuckled.

Downstairs and outside the place was in an uproar. Vera keeping her head buried in Peters chest as she shook, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "A body... someone was killed..." she said between the chattering of her own teeth and trembling breaths.

"Yes, you two are most definitely staying at the barracks tonight," Peter said, insisting they were not staying in a place where someone had just been murdered. Sighing as he stroked Vera's hair he looked over towards Lauren. "I should take you two back to the barracks and then come back with a patrol to retrieve Stg. Walsh and Miss Tarek."

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At first Haakon felt a sense of relief fall upon his shoulders as he saw Mr. Walsh pull out his own revolver, ready to take over from him. Of course Haakon would make it clear that he was able and willing to open the door him too, but leaving it to an actual soldier with actual experience in these lethal situations, he was more than happy to let him go in first. Not that Haakon wasn't far behind him; he had to make sure Jo was fine, regardless of what she said.

It was for those very same reasons that that sense of relief turned - in the blink of an eye - to a wave of confusion, as Miss Tarek made her surprise at seeing the man clear, and then stepping into the room to give the man a good slap across the face. Haakon had to blink a few times, just to unsure that this was indeed the same man they had been following from the reception. "...and here I thought this night couldn't get any stranger..."

Haakon gave a brief look towards Josephine, who was standing still inside the room, a calm smile falling onto his face as he saw she was unharmed. "Clearly me asking if you are all right is redundant now, or what Jo? You never cease to impress me." Haakon said to Josephine, his gun still clinging tightly in his hand as he turned around to look at this very, very odd scene unfolding itself in Miss Tarek's room.

"An excellent question, Miss Tarek, one that I'm equally wondering about; who in the name of John Dewey are you, and what are you doing here? You're clearly not just a local fan, now are you?"

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Lauren stood there staring at the body for a moment as she turned to look at Vera feeling bad that the woman had seen a murder, she was shaking slightly to as she wondered who exactly was the person that got murdered and why they were murdered as well. She was worried for Aziza and sighed to herself as she ran a hand through her hair once more looking at them, Aziza was with Sgt. Walsh however so she was in good care. "Sounds good to me then I guess." Lauren said softly as she moved over to Vera and gave the woman a soft smile as she offered her hand. "The car isn't far." Lauren said with a smile as she started to lead the way back towards the car.

Lauren climbed first into the car and sat on the far side, her eyes wondering over towards the Grand Continental hoping her friend was alright. She pulled out her neckless and ran her fingers over it she was starting to miss everything back in the States, her husband, daughter, father even the bar she lived and worked in with her father and friends that she had back home as well. Lauren looked down at the crowd for a moment seeing all the chaos there over the body that the officers.

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The man wasn't budging it seemed. He either had a death wish or he assumed she didn't know how to use a gun. Rather a stupid assumption. Her grandfather taught her and she was quite good with one. Before she could speak, the door began to creak open and the man prepared his knife. She pointed the gun at him, prepared to shoot if he made any sort of motion for an attack. She expected Haakon to walk through the door and was surprised to see Sgt. Walsh enter. The soldier pointed his own gun at the man. She was kind of relieved. Soon, Aziza walked into the room and came right at the man and slapped him, causing him to drop his knife.

Things seemed under control now, "Quite the slap, darling. You have a good arm." She walked over and picked up the knife and handed it to Sgt. Walsh, "Glad you showed up when you did. I wasn't sure how to handle this ruffian." She walked over to Haakon with a warm smile, "Of course I am all right, darling. It takes more than some murdering felon to get the best of me. Your concern is appreciated, though. Now, what are we to do with this man? We should go tell the authorities he is here, I feel."

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Eventually, her search for sustenance paid off. She had stashed away a tin of biscuits in the cupboard, and while she did prefer to take her biscuits with tea, the thought of preparing the kettle was not one she fancied. Bringing the tin with her back to the sitting room, she pulled out a biscuit and nibbled on it thoughtfully, resisting the urge to wolf them down. Once she reached her third biscuit, however, Nora noticed that another alarm joined the nighttime medley.

Frowning to herself, Nora strained her hearing. It was rather faint and hard to recognize, but sirens had been added to the tolling of the bell. She set down the biscuit tin, pausing with a mouth full of food, as she slowly crept around the flat, attempting to detect the source of the noise. Eventually, Nora could only conclude that the sound of the distress was coming from the museum. And from what she had learned of the Lady Munn's working habits, she suspected the woman would still be present, working away with a fierce dedication.

However, Nora could not begin to think of the meaning of the sirens. Had they ever sounded before, she had been unaware of them--but Nora suspected that was not the case. She imagined that they must have had some rare meaning behind them, beyond an escaped convict. And while Nora herself was unaware as to the sirens, she reasoned to herself that the clerk at the building entrance might have an inkling as to the meaning of the sirens. Pulling on her coat, Nora fetched her belongings, left her rooms, and then headed down the stairs.

"If I may inquire, what is the meaning of the sirens?" Nora asked, once she spotted the night clerk.