Khan arrives

[sable_cloak]

For the Old Tiger, an extensive report complete with a duplicate of Sayre’s document, and other information appear within the Rettigue apartment. It contains many details, and also, the thoughts of the younger Shadow.

Comments

[sable_cloak]

Khan recommended immediate trip to Tibet. Cranston already there, will be dismissing servants shortly.

It's an alibi that's sound enough, though not bullet proof. So long as Khan is pleased to learn that The Shadow, as Cranston, has left, and does not see any of his operatives poking their noses about, he should suffice to continue with plans.

While the servants busy themselves and prepare to close up the house, The Shadow makes a call to Burbank and orders his agents off duty. Burbank and Shrevnitz are put on call, but for the most part, they're also relieved of duty. In this situation, the PINpoints may serve as a more secure and safe method of communication.

There's a knock at the door and The Shadow answers.

"Yes?"

"Sir? Should I call Stanley?" The Shadow considers the idea, but decides the chauffeur is not as sharp a driver as Shrevnitz. He'll need the man's shifty driving to disappear should Khan be watching, or following.

"No, I've ordered a taxi."

"Very well, sir." The servant departed and The Shadow stood, shrugging on one of Cranston's overcoats and donning one of his hats. The light gray was less than desirable should an emergency arise, but he had to make a good show of it.

Will send coordinates, expecting trouble within the next few hours.

[evillurks]

Understood. Will proceed to Myra's, available if when you need me. Wearing Rettigue face.

That last bit of information might be useful if he's needed on a moment's notice, since it is not the best of disguises to those that know him. Certainly he can change faces on short notice, should his alternate request it.
He sees through the message to the underlying plan easily, and assumes his alternate will be making use of the opportunity to lurk around New York.

[sable_cloak]

With servants dismissed, bags packed into Shrevnitz' trunk, and the house closed up, The Shadow strolls to the taxi and takes off his hat as he sits inside. Moe closes the door for him, keeping up the pretense well, before sitting in the driver's seat. Burbank has passed instructions to the sharp driver, and he starts off for the New York airport.

After some skilled driving, and a few impromptu instructions by The Shadow, they arrive parked in a small, two car garage. Both of them quickly unload the car, stashing the luggage in a hidden corner. The Shadow dismisses the hack driver, who leaves, under orders to keep low.

Searching out a hidden doorway, The Shadow uses a small passage through a few basements to reach a new location. He's changed clothes and his face has been moderately altered. It will suffice for now.

He enters an apartment building using a key, and locks the door behind him once he's secured the apartment. It's a one-use way-station of sorts tonight. Here he begins the transformation to Allard, and sends coordinates.

In-transit. Current location is temporary but will be here for some time.

[evillurks]

Slightly over an hour from his last message, the older Shadow appears at the coordinates he's been sent. The cloak is over his arm, but the way it conceals that hand hints at his method of keeping a grip on a gun beneath it. He does not know where or what he's arriving into, and is ready for anything. In a dark suit, he could pass for nothing more than a respectable older gentleman, while he's clearly carrying the gear to take on his most familiar role.

[sable_cloak]

The apartment is dark, a single, dim, yellow light in a corner of the room is the only illumination. The shades are drawn, the door is deadbolted, and a chair has been place to block it for good measure. The Old Tiger has been PINpointed into the best strategic point in the room. Near the light, stands a more weathered-looking Allard. The four-weapon brace on him reflects dimly.

"No move from Khan yet. Agents are off duty." He holds out an envelope in one hand as he watches the Old Tiger. The envelope contains a short list of locations for the Old Tiger to use, including some handy PINpoint coordinates. It has been written in the trademark fading ink. At the bottom of the list is simply an unnamed address and a PINpoint labeled approximate. It is the secured sanctum he has set up for The Shadow.

[evillurks]

After taking in the surroundings, he eases the gun back into its holster and slides the whole mass of cloak and holster further up his arm to get both hands free. Before he even opens the envelope, he pulls out the reading glasses. One or two embarrassing experiences years back have taught him the prudence of having them on before he tries reading anything that may vanish before his eyes.

"And keeping their heads down, I hope. Khan's greatest strength is his knowledge of the details..." The coordinates are quickly put to memory, and he folds the paper neatly as the ink fades. "He knows about the PINpoints, even if he doesn't quite grasp how they work. There are devices to protect an area so that it can't be PINpointed into. I have the Sanctum and Burbank's location set up with them. I should have taught you about them before now..." He gives a wheezing sigh. So much knowledge to impart, and so hard to find the time to do so.

[sable_cloak]

There's a visible hardening of Allard's eyes at the wheezing sigh.

"That won't be an issue...?" It's an inquiry rather than a statement as to the condition of The Shadow's lungs. He doesn't want the old man getting killed in his world, because of a wheeze.

[evillurks]

"What?" He glances over the wire rims of the reading glasses, his own eyes narrowing, and genuinely takes a moment to realize what the question is in reference to. While he hears the wheezes and coughs, he's learned not to consciously register them.

The Old Tiger's expressions are subtle, but he's on the defensive now, hackles rising. "My lungs have been better. I did warn you to quit smoking. It'd do you good to shave a few decades off that habit. There's not much to be done about getting gassed or caught in the smoke from burning buildings, though." He is, in a sense, dodging the issue.

[sable_cloak]

His eyes narrow briefly, it's an issue of concern, especially around the naljorpas. The Shadow has a similar training, to become so still that he appears to disappear, but a wheeze, no matter how perfect the technique, will destroy the illusion.

"Are there any other concerns I should know about, while we have the chance to talk?" At The Old Tiger's age, there should be more than simply bad lungs to worry about, even in top health, and with the added effects of the mystery elixir earned long ago. He sees that his comment has put the older gentleman on the defensive, but it's not going to stop him from pressing the issue for the moment.

[evillurks]

The tone of voice only irks him further, and he crosses his arms over his chest, the cloak draped from them and rendering him a column of black topped by silver hair. "I'm ninety-four, you can't have expected me to be in my physical prime. But I've taken Khan out for good, in my world and another." Looking down his hawkish nose at the younger man simply won't work, since they're the same height, but it's clear from his posture he's nettled by the discussion.

"I still manage."

[sable_cloak]

Those are facts that are difficult to argue with, and while the younger Shadow is still unaware that the lung injury stems from a bullet wound, he figures it would be more prudent to drop the topic at this point.

"Fine." He crosses his own arms, an unintentional mirroring. He's about to speak when a small sound makes it through the thick door, to both sets of keen ears. It sounds like someone is sneaking around (impressively well) just outside of the door.

[evillurks]

As soon as he relents, the Old Tiger is ready to give a more thorough explanation, but his hearing is as sharp as it has ever been. He does not move too quickly, since to do so would risk betraying sounds, but he does draw an automatic from the holster dangling beneath the cloak on his arm, and drops carefully to one knee in a crouch. Unfortunately his silver hair is like a light in the darkened room, but to pull on cloak and hat would make rustling fabric noises and take more time than they may have to spare.

In addition to that physical preparation for a fight, he spreads his psychic senses like a subtle net, listening and feeling without probing, and thus hoping to avoid detection himself.

[sable_cloak]

Khan's influence is prevalent in the area outside of the doorway, there are two presences schooled in arts familiar, they are likely naljorpas. The others are more closely directed by Khan, but their loyalty is unquestionable.

The younger man shows no surprise, but he does appear perturbed as he draws his own gun silently. He's in a poor position in the room compared to the Old Tiger, but he keeps his motion to a minimum as he keeps his place by the light. Dousing it would betray that they were aware, but he's within reach of the bulb to throw the room into darkness when the attack comes.

The doorknob is gently tested before silence resumes. They are given scarcely a moment as there is the sound of a vicious crack from the door as it's nearly ripped from the hinges. Three large men bearing swords and a death wish come barreling into the room. They are followed up by two naljorpas who keep to the doorway. In the instant given to appraise the situation, the light is broken, dashed against the wall to throw the room into darkness. Only the hallway light that spills through the broken door illuminates the scene.

The brandishing of two heavy guns does not slow down the charging men, and they make the mistake of focusing on the one man they were sent to kill, the one in black who poses the greatest threat to their Khan, unaware that the younger man, is an equally great threat. With little light in the room, they blunder straight for the last place the cloaked adversary was seen.

Shots are loosed toward the doorway, there is no mercy, and the younger Shadow intends to take his share of the action. The slippery naljorpas skitter from the door, they give no betraying cry from The Shadow's flawless aim, but he's missed making lethal shots. They can ignore the pain. He senses one of the knife-men nearby, attempting to approach without being detected, but their tactics only work when absolutely still. Launching himself, he engages one, grabbing at the wrist in attempt to stay the dangerous blade in that hand.

[evillurks]

The old man has only seconds to attempt to relay what he senses to his younger alternate, and in the distraction he remains unsure how much the other man may have already realized on his own. Crouched with a gun raised and the cloak trailing from his arm, he looks the part despite the aged face and silver hair. When the men come straight for him, he's hardly surprised.

Outlined in the light of the hall, however, the first wave make easy targets. Riddled by bullets from both Shadows, the swordmen are unlikely to ever get in close enough range to use their blades. It is the naljorpas the Old Tiger is worried about, and his bullets also fail to force either of them to drop. All too soon they are in the room, moving swiftly and surely in the darkness. He hears and senses his younger alternate grappling with one, and is aware the other is nearly upon him. Rather than rise from his crouch, he lashes out from that low position, tangling the naljorpa's legs in an attempt to fell him and thus gain a brief advantage. Up close the automatic can serve as a club, and he's quick to let go of the rest of his gear to get the other hand free for the fight.

[sable_cloak]

The large fighters fall to the floor, mortally wounded by unerring aim. The naljorpa near the older man is lithe, and while the advantage is gained by The Shadow, he squirms valiantly to free himself for a close-ranged attack with the knife.

The younger Shadow is making a fight of it with his own adversary, as he's slowly pushed closer to the other tangled fighters in the room. Both foes struggle against each other, reluctant to let go, knowing the training each other has could turn events in their favor should a hand be found free.

A burst of strength though, allows the younger man to crank the naljorpa's wrist in a cruel, almost bone-crunching grip that sends the wiry foe sailing into a wall, his blade clattering to the floor. By the sound of the thud, the naljorpa is already scrambling to right himself. The length between himself and The younger Shadow is an easy distance to wield the blade with deadly accuracy. A well-placed shot from a drawn automatic however, halts that advance and the warrior withers to the floor.

[evillurks]

Not quite as quick as the younger Shadow, the old man is still wrestling with his own assailant while the other one is sent flying against the wall. A brief struggle tells him he's closely matched in strength and the naljorpa probably has more endurance. If he keeps a grip on the other fighter's wrist, it's only a matter of time before some clever twist slides the knife blade in somewhere. He is capable of being just as merciless as his foe, however, and brings the automatic down heavily on the other man's face, a few times in a row. The naljorpa won't let himself be taken down by the blows, but a broken nose is enough to distract him briefly. The Old Tiger is ready, the knife is wrested out of temporarily loosened fingers, and twisted around to be driven home in the naljorpa's chest.

The Shadow gives a couple of rattling coughs as he rises from the fight, a keen gaze and a keener mind scanning the room and the hall beyond for further battle. He has not even lost his reading glasses, although they're slipping down his nose.