Participants:
| Scene Title | More World Traveling |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Three Ferry members make their way to Norway through round about means to appeal to a former Vanguard. |
| Date | June 20, 2011 |
Stavenger, Norway
There's a certain perception most people have about world weather patterns. Namely that northern countries tend to get hot in the summer, and cold in the winter. It's not always true. Stavanger, Norway barely broke 60 degrees Fahrenheit and remained partly cloudy throughout the day. Sweater weather almost in July. At least it's not raining.
Without the luxury of speed afforded by air travel, the Ferrymen are confined to moving across the oceans by boat. It takes longer, yes, but they're less likely to be recognized as terrorists as well. When the ship discharged them in the port, it was without fanfare or a big fuss. And without a sunset; even though it's shortly before six o'clock in the evening when they arrive, it is still very much day time, and the light does well to give the trio- Abigail, Catherine, and Elizabeth- a good view of the classical architecture, far away though it is from the dockyard they'd arrived at. That was a short while ago.
It's shortly after six o'clock now, still day time, and the activity around them is beginning to calm, although with Stavanger, the 'Oil Capital,' being the third largest city in the country, it's safe to assume there will be some work going on well into the 'night.' With help from an address and rough directions, Roald Ingebrigtsen's shipping company is within arm's reach. And, with luck, so is Roald Ingebrigtsen himself.
"You know, I've always wanted to do more world traveling. I just didn't expect it to be like this," Elizabeth Messer says, pulling the sleeves of her red-knit sweater over her hands to keep them warm. The petite woman stretches her legs a bit, moving in place as her eyes take in the architecture. "Shame there isn't more time to look around. The oldest cathedral in Norway is here." Rocking lightly on her heels, Liza squints at the buildings in the distance longingly before her eyes settle back on her two traveling companions.
A zip up sweater, jeans, boots, hiking pack filled with necessities, Abigail walks with the other two on this mission of mercy, and begging for assistance that has landed them in a completely foreign country. She can now add Norway to her list of countries visited.
"How do you say hello again?" This asked of Cat, tucking a strange of brown/blonde hair behind her ear. There was enough time on the boat to do some cosmetic changes, apply hair dye in chunks/streaks to make the blonde coming in not so terrible.
"Is it?" The comment of a cathedral grabbing her attention from the encyclopedia cathrinica that they are travelling with. Booted feet scruff across the ground as they go. "I haven't been in church in…" Since she went on the lam. "How much further?" Not like they have GPS.
Directions are easily gotten from online sources when one has an address for a city of this size, often in fact for a city of any size, and when one can memorize maps just by having seen them once the task becomes easier still. Cat has these bits of data in her head, along with many other pertinent things acquired for the mission. Like a decent knowledge of the Norwegian dialect most common for this area and the written versions of that language. Not to mention the legal code.
Clad for the purpose in a Brooks Brothers suit with pants and heels, she looks much more like a practicing attorney than she normally would, even though it feels like a monkey suit for the rocker chick she is at heart. Business, and potential negotiations, require such sacrifices for the projection of professionalism and competence.
She listens as the women to either side of her speak and float queries, Abby's commentary drawing out a flash of memory neither of them have spoken about since, let alone even acknowledged ever happened. There's no indication of it now either, other than the expression shown which suggests she's playing some snippet of mental recording.
"«Hello."» Spoken for Abby's benefit.
"Not far," she additional replies in English on the subject of remaining distance. When one has a Cat, GPS is less necessary.
'Not far' is an accurate enough description of the distance that remains to be traveled by the trio. It's only another minute before Cat can determine with total accuracy that, yes, they have arrived. Although they have left the dock yard proper, the administrative offices are still close enough to them to be technically on-site. They've closed for the day, but only just, and it looks very much like someone is still inside. Hopefully the man they're looking for.
It's lucky enough that someone is still inside, but even luckier still, perhaps, that the front door is still unlocked. If nothing else, they won't be wandering aimlessly around the city trying to find Ingebrigtsen.
Snuggling the lower part of her face down a little more into the sweater, Liza certainly doesn't look the part of any sort of business professional. She sticks her hands down into her jeans a bit, looking a little more like she fits in than trying to stand out. Her eyes look towards the building, peeking inside with some curiosity.
"If we're lucky, he'll speak English. My fingers are crossed," Liza comments as she makes her way towards the door to hold it open for the other two.
"A lot of people do, but it's still polite to try and say hello in their native tongue' Abigail, always trying to be respectful of other people for the most part. She like Liza, nowhere near Cat's aura of business professional. Which means she's letting Cat run the show. At least until/unless Cat take the wrong tact.
Which means, she's leaning forward when they make it to the door, hand closes around the handle and pulls it open for the dark haired woman. "You first"
One door. Two women ahead of her both seeking to open and hold it for people coming after. Cat steps through and waits inside for the others to join her, flashing both of them a quiet grin. "It may be a little rough, but I did prepare for the trip," she remarks. And once inside her eyes travel, taking in whatever might be seen there, while seeking out an occupied office.
At first, there's nobody in sight. Maybe that's not a surprise, all things considered: The offices are closed for the day, so anyone who would be inside is likely not in the front reception area. After a short time, however, someone does come out from the back offices. A man in his late thirties or early forties with short, dark hair and a thin beard in a matching color. Although he may have been wearing a business suit at one point, he has quite clearly shed the jacket and tie for the time while he was, apparently, closing up. Briefly, he looks a little surprised to see them, but recovers quickly enough. "«Sorry, but we're closed now,»" he says, either a native speaker or a well studied student, "«But we'll be opened tomorrow at seven o'clock, so it would be best to come back then.»"
Polite to say hello? Liza's all for being polite. And friendly, she's all for that too. She waits for the two to step inside before she does the same. "«Hello!»," she offers with a friendly smile. Her eyes flicker to the two before she looks back towards the man once again. "Roald Ingebrigtsen?" She looks to Cat. Especially if he doesn't speak English, she'll need the professional looking one to take a bit of a lead.
"«Please do forgive us for being here after hours,»" Cat replies in adopting an expression of contrition, "«we were hoping to meet with Mr. Ingebrigtsen. A mutual friend said we should meet with him while we're visiting Norway. Regrettably, circumstances conspired against making an appointment or calling ahead."
After addressing the man, she turns toward her companions to translate what they said. "They're closed for the day, he says they'll be open again tomorrow at seven. I told him we were referred by a friend, but were unable to make an appointment or call ahead."
There's a moment that passes, and then the man resumes speaking, although this time he has elected to use English instead of Norwegian. "I'm Ingebridtsen," is simple enough, "We are closed for the day, but if you were referred, I wouldn't mind setting up an appointment. I would meet now, but I'm already late for dinner, you see. Er, may I ask who referred you?"
'Eileen Ruskin"
Likely a name that Mr. Ingebrigtsen hasn't heard in a while. "We come on her behalf, with little time and a hope that perhaps, you might speak with us this evening. Time is of the essence, but if you have to hurry home right this moment, then I am sure that we can try and find a place to stay for the night and meet with you tomorrow" Abigail offers up, southern tones and respect for the man in front of them.
"But we have traveled a great distance to speak with you, on her behalf and on behalf of the others she is with" WHich is them. Essentially.
It seems like it must be a name he hasn't heard in a while. It's one, perhaps, he was not expecting to hear ever again. For the second time, he looks surprised, but rather than recovering, his expression hovers between caution and unease, and finally settles on poorly hidden worry and fear. These are serious people that have come to see him. And likely for serious purposes. "I, I see," he stammers. His body tenses, as if getting ready to reach for a pistol, and then relaxes just slightly, as if remembering that he doesn't have one. "And, what did, uh, what did she, send you to see me about?"
Liza puts her hands up a little in a sort of generic 'we mean no harm' gesture, offering a warm smile in his direction as she steps out of the way a little bit. "We don't mean to alarm you or anything at all, Mr. Ingebrigtsen. We wouldn't want to keep you from dinner, especially if you have family waiting. We can wait until tomorrow, although we would like to talk as soon as you have a moment," the blonde offers gently, still offering that same kind smile.
"A request, for help. Nothing more, but like Liza said, this can wait, until tomorrow. You have family waiting and I know what it's like to wait at the door worrying. You have nothing to worry from us, or from Ms. Ruskin. We come unarmed and bearing no ill will" The other quasi blonde chimes in with liza. "Maybe you can direct us to a place to stay that won't cost too much?"
Content for the moment to observe and listen, Cat does just that. She notes his initial reaction to Eileen's name and has to wonder if he suspects they're agents of some official agency either or Norway, the US, or any other government, given his ties to the Vanguard and the fact most of them have been hunted down and either imprisoned or exterminated.
Also unspoken is her curiosity about where this man might have stood on Kazimir's plans to virally scour the world and/or use a nuke to flood it. It wouldn't do to bring any of that up.
"Ah, well…" Ingebridtsen's options are few. These might be very dangerous people: Running won't help. Even if he gets away, where can he go? They found him here. He has one option, really, and it is of course, not a pleasant one. "I'll only be a few minutes late. We, uh, I mean… well, um, what, what do you want?" He's is beginning to visibly sweat, nervous, uncomfortable, and frightened. Really, there was no avoiding that.
Oh dear. Liza doesn't like his discomfort, and he doesn't seem to be really pleased they are there. Her gaze moves further into the office and she offers the man a more hopeful gaze. "Maybe we could all sit down? I think it'd be easier to talk and more comfortable for everyone. We don't need to be so formal about it. We won't even take very much of your time. I don't want to keep you from your family… family's very important." She smiles a little more gently at the last bit, waiting to see if he moves before she heads in that direction herself. "We're really sorry for intruding on you like this."
"Yes," Ingebridtsen says, before almost immediately changing his mind. "No. Uh, standing is fine. Only, what do you want? What help do you want? From me?" Although clearly still nervous, the fact that he's not yet dead is good news. His nerves are settling a bit. Just a bit.
"We're with a group which shelters people," Cat explains in calm tones, "and we've run into troubles with our network. We need help in terms of money for establishing new places where these people can be assisted, and in finding places for them as well. Eileen wasn't certain, but she thought you might have access to such things, which we might be able to count upon if unfortunate contingencies arise." Like Heller finding Bannerman Castle and trying to kill everyone in it.
Again, there are a few moments that pass as Ingebridtsen takes in the fact that these people have come to solicit money and hiding places. And then, it dawns on him, judging by the change in his expression, that they may need these things to survive, and he realizes he has some power in this exchange after all. He straightens up just a bit, and becomes less like a deer staring at headlights and more like an experienced businessman again. "Money," he says, "Okay. So, why would I give Eileen Ruskin money? I haven't seen her in a long time. I don't know her anymore."
"Because at some time, you were a member of the Vanguard. You fixed the invierno and the Verano and made sure that they could do what they needed to do. We're not here asking for help. She doesn't want us to ask for money, or for shelter. She told us specifically not to. She wanted us to explain, to tell you the situation that we are in. We've come all the way across the Atlantic to do that" Abigail supplements, sandwiched between Cat and Liza.
'My name is Abigail Beauchamp, I am one of the members of a group called the Ferrymen in New York City. We help those who are evolved or not, are being persecuted, hunted or otherwise needing shelter. Women, Children, whole families or individuals. We get them to other parts of the country, we help them get new identities, out of the country if necessary. But eight months ago, the network took a big blow and we lost well over half the people that comprise the network"
Abigail inhales softly, looking to cat then back to the man in front of them. "We are still helping people, but the danger has increased ten fold and our resources, namely places to safely put people or even go ourselves is down to one or two places. Eileen, all of us who spearhead the council, Cat and myself included-" Not Liza obviously "Have used all of our resources, connections and people that we know who can help us. I don't think Eileen wants money truth be told"
Abigail shakes her head. "I think, we're coming, knowing if you know of a place where we can run to, with our people, with the ones who needs our help, when things once again, turn bad" As if things aren't bad enough as it is.
"Cat Chesterfield," she states quietly when Abby's finished, and is silent thereafter to let it be Liza's choice if she desires to be named or not. The man's reactions to what's just been said is observed, her mind at work with things as they appear on the fly.
"A lot of bad things have happened to people in New York. There are a lot of good people in need of protection and we're doing the best we can to help…" Liza's eyes move from Cat and Abby back to Roald. "But I think what is important is that you know what's going on. We aren't here to beg or really ask… just to tell you that there are people who need help. The Ferrymen took me in and hid me, saved my life when I had nowhere else to go. There are plenty more stories like mine and we just don't have anywhere to go if things get worse."
The subtle changes in Ingebridtsen's expression indicate that maybe the girls have told him just a bit more than he would have preferred to know. "You need help," the Norwegian states flatly, "If you didn't, you wouldn't come so far." He pauses a beat, just to make sure this point he feels is a fact is understood. "For me, it would be very risky. For anyone, risky. But, I have listened, so if I do decide to help, it would be… an investment. So, what is the return?"
"It doesn't require you to do anything at all, sir," Cat replies, "except tell us if you know about any places or assets Kazimir Volken didn't tell the rest of his organization about. You might call it an investment, and truthfully to a degree it is, you might desire to use such things for your own ends, but you don't appear to have any such needs. However," she pauses for a few moments…
"… you would of course have our assistance if you came to need it in the future. Most of the Vanguard has been neutralized around the world, you're one of few people connected to it who haven't run into troubles with governmental agencies. If that changes, you'd need a place to go, and if we operate such places as you might know about, odds are much better of them being ready and kept in decent repair, yes?"
"We aren't begging for help," Liza tries to explain, pursing her lips. "But the world is a dangerous place. For everyone. The Ferrymen are good allies, people worth trusting." She pauses. "When we first showed up, you were uncomfortable with us being here. You're still worried that something might catch up with you. You don't have to help, certainly. But when it comes down to it, I sleep a lot better knowing I've got someone to watch my back."
Again, another few moments of silence. This time, however, Ingebridtsen takes a short walk towards one of the walls while he thinks, stopping next to a simple chair intended for potential or current clients, depending. "Money, is messy," he admits, "It needs to be laundered, physically moved, it's very difficult. Hiding people?" Another pause while he turns to face the girls again. "That's easier. If things are so bad, you will need places to send people. I won't hide them, but okay, I will look for hiding places."
"Just looking for places, for us, helps far more I think, than you could imagine. Or if you know of ships that are willing to take on some…. unregistered passengers across the atlantic, then, that might be good information to have as well" Abigail supplies for the man, a hint of a smile on her face.
"We'll set up secure means of communication between us and you when we get back," Cat provides. "It's pleasant we were able to reach an understanding." Her right hand, the fingertips of which are callused in a fashion common to musicians, is extended to shake.
Liza offers him a warm smile, genuinely looking content. "A little goes a long way, Mr. Ingebridtsen. That's exactly the kind of thing we could use…" Her eyes drift back to the other two before her smile broadens. "I hope you have a good dinner. I'm sorry we kept you from it."
Ingebridtsen looks at Cat's outstretched hand for a moment, and then decides there is no harm in shaking it. "There is a hotel not far away, if you need it," the man adds.
There's no offering of hands from Abby, taking a step back to let Cat deal with the pleasantries. "I think, it's a nice evening and we'll go walk around before deciding where to settle for the night but thank you Sir, it's good to know there's something near" And where there's a hotel, there tends to be food.
"Do enjoy your dinner, and your evening, sir," Cat offers as she shakes once and releases with a grip stronger than he might expect from a woman, yet not crushingly so. She then turns to lead the way out, mind turning to things like ships and islands where no one else lives.
And that Zagat guide she read.
Moving towards the door, Liza offers a final smile towards Ingebridsen before she turns back to the door. She steps outside, before her eyes flit quickly towards horizon again. She rocks on her heels for a moment and looks back to the other two.
"I think that went pretty well." She pauses for a long moment. "… so Stavenger just happens to have Norway's oldest cathedral…"