Disclaimer: Well, well, I don't own all TM characters (and what the dude of reader would suspect I do?), but I own Julian
Randy character, which is again not a big surprise cozz it's me! At least in some aspect. Have fun and tell me if I should
continue the story, because it's only prologue!
P.S. Hey, i've got to say also-English is not my first language,
so don't be too harsh about my grammar mistakes.
Under American jurisdiction or Case N13.
By Seti the Last/High Priest of Seth
Prologue: Not a very nice guy.
"Is it usual for this season ?" asked Julian Randy idly, pointing at the window.
American ambassador, Mr. Dannerwort, raised his eyes from the document which he had been reading during last two hours and asked irritably "What do you mean?"
"I mean meteor raining", explained his secretary, looking with mild interest as huge ball of fire smashed against the tall minaret of Ibn Tulun Mosque. Not that Mr. Randy was too much distressed by the fact, because shrill cries of muezzins or whatever-was-their-name, those Islamic priests, used to awaken him at 5.00 AM every morning, to his great irritation. His lodgings were near the Embassy, on Sharia el Salibah street, and damned mosque loomed over the entire district like an overgrown bird of prey.
Mr. Dannerwort, distracted from his reading, also took a look and choked.
Broad straps of fire crossed the sky over Cairo city, reflecting
in the river like the fireworks launched on some crazy
carnival.
"No, I don't think it's usual", puffed he at last, shoving Randy's
report from the table and staring at the window,
now colored in ominous red. "I think we must do something about it..."
"Like what?" asked younger man coolly. "Take a bigbarrel of water and ran over the city, extinguishing fire? Or just call to our department in New York and frankly ask them to stop it?"
Physiognomy of ambassador colored in same ominous red and he opened
his mouth, ready to yell, but instantly the door swung open and several
men erupted into the office. At closer look one of them turned out
to be the local police
officer, whereas two others were Embassy guards.
"Mr. Dannerwort, sorry, but this man insisted on seeing you," gasped one of the guards. "I've told you I'm busy, and asked not to disturb me!" snapped ambassador in response, readily returning from the cosmological problems to routine bureaucracy. However, the officer fought his way to the table and blurted out something on Arabic. Then , seeing blank expression on ambassador's face (languages weren't Mr. Dannerwort's strong point), he continued on ragged English. " American...ze tourist...found dead in saloon "Omar-el-Haium" near El Giza Bridge."
"So what?" asked Mr. Dannerwort indifferently, picking up the report.
Policeman stared at him something like minute in full bewilderment, but then his emotions apparently overflowed and he burst in set of incoherent screams in Arabic. Julian Randy turned at last from the window, partly because meteor rain ceased, and addressed to one of the guards "Would you please translate his speech?"
"Well…" started the guard, with rather confused expression on his face "If exclude the rude language...Basically, he said that Americans had bewitched the inn."
Red of ambassador's face darkened and turned into bluish purple, while his secretary had been trying to stiff outburst of giggles.
"What the Hell," screeched Mr. Dannerwort. "Get this lunatic out of here, now!"
"Well, aren't we supposed to listen his complain?" asked Randy innocently, winking at the guard.
"This man's saying they turned all beverages in the inn into the blood,"
explained the last, with broad smirk on his face.
"Completely destroyed one of the living rooms and kidnapped landlord's
cat".
"That's enough!" roared outraged ambassador."Didn't I say GET HIM OUT OF HERE?!"
"But American citizen was murdered, wasn't him?" asked Julian Randy in same innocent tone.
"He declared so," confirmed the guard.
"So wouldn't it be reasonable to investigate the case?" suggested ambassador's secretary. Personally, he was pretty sure that all the affair is no more than the pile of crap, but anyway it would be more fascinating than to listen Dannerwort's waspish remarks about his monthly report.
"About what you are talking?" barked Mr. Dannerwort, searching through the heaps of papers on his table. "Get this man to the psychiatrist and let us proceed with your..."
But the next shot of policeman's screams interrupted him.
"He said that the name of victim was Mr.Burns, and also that the man named O'Connell is suspected in committing the crime."
"O'Connell?" moaned poor ambassador."Oh no, only not him. Randy, go and check what happened."
Young man was only too ready to obey this order.
*************
Julian Randy wasn't a very nice guy. Actually, he was damned son of a bitch, as all of his relatives proclaimed. He must have been insulted, because his mother, late Beatrice Mournblood, was a pure lady, but somehow he wasn't. And relatives had their reasons to call him different names, because he'd lost all his father's estate in gambling, along with family esteem and pride and stuff. Not that he cared a lot about family esteem and pride and stuff.
He had been expelled from the university on his second year, then was noticed associating with mischievous and obviously-not-low-abiding guys, apparently professional gamblers and bootleggers, so his senior relatives, namely uncle David, decided to cool the young renegade in hot southern climate and sent him from the Big Apple to the Cairo, to take a tedious job of ambassador's first secretary. He wasn't over-enthusiastic about this plan, but uncle paid part of his gambling debts and sorted part of his problems with police, under the condition that he would reside in Cairo at least for three next years.
Now, after three months of stiffing heat, stinky streets, buzzing flies and boring work he started to think longingly about New-York state prison. He was 23 now, and the best career he could expect was transfer to Teheran . Not very promising future for the young man who used to stake thousands in poker and send an expensive jewelry presents to opera girls. But poverty wasn't the worst , of course. Boredom. That was the most intolerable thing in this damned eastern hole of a town.
That's why Mr. Julian Randy, first secretary of American Ambassador
in Cairo, was humming a merry melody, when he ran down the Embassy stairs
to the crowded Sharia el Salibah street. He still was humming it, when
his car skidded in front of ill-fated saloon "Omar-el-Haium".
PLEASE, TELL ME - SHALL I GO ON?