5415/The Barlow Woman

The Barlow Woman
Date of Scene:	04 August 2017
Location:	New Providence <NP>
Synopsis:	Sombra does some legwork to discover who the Barlow Woman is and the nature of her relationship with Captain Flint. What she discovers may threaten not only the Urca hunt, but the stability of Flint's captaincy.
Cast of Characters:	Captain Flint, Sombra

---

Captain Flint has posed:
The clock is ticking, counting down towards the ragtag fleet's departure in search of the treasure galleon Urca de Lima. The Walrus crew have all retired to their tents, but Sombra, the intrepid hacker, has elected to search for some answers regarding the Barlow Woman.

     At first, Sombra's search seems fruitless. Barlow is a common name in this time period, and Nassau's recordkeeping is hardly meritorious--especially considering the city's tendency to get raided by powers seeking to strike at England's economic power base in the West Indies and the reluctance of England to actually defend said power base. Cross referencing things with Flint is even harder--there's no mention of him in the island's census, and the only documents one may find are warrants for his arrest, wanted posters and the like.

     It's as if Flint one day suddenly just... appeared. As for the Barlow Woman, there are a number of leads still available. Firstly, the Maria Aleyne, the ship Flint had previously promised would provide more riches than his crew would know what to do with. It's possible there's some link to Barlow there, given that Flint reportedly informed Barlow the two rich passengers were dead.

     Secondly... that meeting was stated by Morley to have taken place on the shores of New Providence. It's possible this woman still lives on the island somewhere, but if she does, finding her will require some old fashioned legwork.

Sombra has posed:
    Only a fool would settle for less than stellar answers when serious questions pop up. Sure, the others might settle for asking Captain Flint directly and take his word for it. But why do that when you can search elsewhere? Sombra opts to do what she always does when she finds a thread of information, and she finds herself a place to work in quiet while the others get ready. It's time to see where this tidbit leads to...

    People don't just pop up out of nowhere. Perhaps it would be easier if this world was more tech heavy, but even so a person who wants to be hidden and knows the right people will be able to hide, just like Sombra herself did. So Flint is like her in that regard, huh? What does /he/ have to hide? Besides promising riches that are clearly not on board the ship to begin with...

    Legwork isn't unfamiliar to Sombra, as she's used to taking to the streets after she as a young girl ran errands, dug up information for Los Muertos by hacking and turning on a charm. Certainly she can do the same thing here, right? Clad in more fitting clothes for the area, the hacker makes her way to one of the busier taverns, a place where people are bound to meet up, drink and be more eager to talk. Especially to a lone woman. There's one good thing about dresses with long skirts and sleeves, it's easy to hide weapons and translocators in them. And with her hair arranged differently it's easier to hide the eyecatching cybernetic implants as well.

    Entering the tavern, Sombra looks around before she heads over the bar, ordering herself a drink as she tries to listen in on the conversations around her. While she's up at the bar though, she does look at the bartender as he prepares her drink. "Excuse me... but I was wondering if you know of a lady by the name of Barlow? I'm new here to the island, you see..."

Captain Flint has posed:
History is often not as glamorous as the books would make it seem. Sombra's attire is certainly period accurate, in keeping with the fashion of the day. In a civilized place she'd be able to hobknob with high society. In Nassau she's not out of place per se--a few ladies on the street dress the way she does, but there's a seemingly inescapable level of dirt and grime that accumulates on even fine clothes in this place, as if the port town is determined to leave its mark even on those who think themselves above its vices.

     When Sombra enters the tavern, it boasts a middling amount of customers despite the late hour. A few of them are from other worlds--there's some sort of wooden automaton gambling with a toothless pirate at one table. Another table is host to three seemingly identical men in matching, faded armor, each one with a high tech sidearm.

     Eyes (even the Multiversal sort) land on Sombra when she enters, making silent assessments. Some of the looks are more unsavory than simple assessment, but by the time she makes it to the bar the conversations start up again. Flint is a hot topic, with the patrons murmuring rumors about him. Charles Vane, another pirate of Nassau, is mentioned--it seems he's left the island in search of something.

     A mug of spiced rum is set before Sombra on the bar. The bartender, a young man with short, dark hair and a weathered suntan, keeps his face neutral.

     "I can tell," he says. "What makes you think there's a woman called Barlow here?"

Sombra has posed:
    No, this place might not be the cleanest. But it's all about what kind of message you want to give the world, all for the role you need to play. A role that she seems comfortable in as she enters the tavern, not looking directly at the people who look at her in a way that she would rather be without. Let people make their assessments, most likely they are wrong either way.

    The spiced rum is picked up after she has deposited some coins on the counter. A careful sip, and she nods at the young bartender. "Is it that obvious...?" Sombra laughs, offering what looks like a nervous smile. "And well, I know that lady Barlow is not here, but... people do talk at taverns, no? I was hoping that somebody here knew of her. Mi madre, my mother... she didn't leave me much information, sadly. But I promised that I would find her. Family matters, you see." With that she takes another sip, pretending to be busy with that and make it less obvious that she's trying to assess whether this got a reaction from anybody in the room. It's easy to tell with most people, and it would give her a fair idea on who to approach and dig more information out of...

Captain Flint has posed:
It's a fluid motion that a less observant person would miss--but when Sombra looks around, she'll notice a nonverbal exchange between the bartender and one of the guards posted by the staircase. A series of looks, and then that guard heads upstairs. It does seem as if the questioning has drawn a reaction.

     The bartender doesn't seem to notice that he's being surveiled during this exchange--his attention returns to Sombra just as she finishes looking around. "Keep that close to your chest," he says. "And try to stay inland if you can. That's my advice." He briefly departs to take care of another patron. Before he can return to Sombra, a second voice addresses her.

     "Not many people ask for Mrs. Barlow by name," says a woman's voice. Standing behind Sombra is a blonde-haired woman with blue eyes and fair skin, dressed in a much more moderate, subtle way--a plain white blouse with a brown vest, complimented by a long, faded blue dress. Her arms are crossed, her posture straight and rigidly confident. "The tavern's not the best place to have this conversation. Join me in my office?"

Sombra has posed:
    Interesting... It does appear that there is information to be gotten in this place. Which means... that she will just have to give it a little while to see if something happens, if not then it's time to go upstairs. Her fingers itch a bit as she tightens her grip on the mug.

    Her purple eyes glance back to the bartender, and she blinks. "Inland...? What to do you mean by that?" she begins, though sighs when he leaves to take care of another patron. And then she hears it, footsteps... followed by a voice behind her. Putting on a surprised look, the latina looks behind her at the blonde woman standing there. Could this be her...? Or an underling, even? A practical person, just by looking at her. Feigning uncertainty, Sombra eventually nods her head. "Of course...?" The spiced rum is set aside, and Sombra slips off her seat as she moves to follow the woman to wherever her office might be.

    Could this be lady Barrow? If so, then this might be lucky. Then again, her entire role in this situation is still not clear.

Captain Flint has posed:
The blonde woman turns, her body language indicating she expects Sombra to follow. Not just practical, but assured. Her feet thump against the wooden staircase as she ascends, and provided Sombra decides to follow, she'll be led into an office. She's been in one of these rooms before--whoever this lady is, she must be the proprietor of this tavern.

     The woman takes a seat at a mahogany desk, flanked on either side by windows with shutters and white linen curtans. A door on one side of the room leads to a balcony, and a few wicker chairs have been set aside for guests. She gestures with a pale hand to an open chair. Some moments pass in silence as her blue eyes scan Sombra's face.

     "My men told me you're new on the island and looking for Mrs. Barlow. Something about family issues." She waves a hand dismissively. "My name is Eleanor Guthrie. Nothing happens on this island that I don't know about--and while you may think that makes me the perfect person to come to for information, you should also know there are certain endeavors to which I've made notable investments." She steeples her hands. "Investments I have a marked interest in seeing to completion."

     "Now--your accent tells me you're from Spain, or at least a Spanish colony. What family ties could you possibly have to an English Puritan like Mrs. Barlow?"

Sombra has posed:
    Sombra does follow, hiking up her skirts slightly as they ascend the stairs. Heading into the room she looks around, studying the place with a curious look on her face, all before she nods at the woman before taking a seat in the offered chair. "Thank you..."

    Silence reigns for a short while, and the hacker doesn't speak up until after the woman, Eleanor, is done talking. This lady is certainly an authoritive one, isn't she? "I see. So... you are among those who know the most then?" Sombra inquires, looking rather hopeful as she leans a bit forward in her chair. So... Eleanor has some business deals going on then. How interesting. Or some rather questionable deals for some reason, most likely.

    A nod is given in response to the question. "Sí, that's correct." Spain, Mexico... close enough, right? "My mother is Spanish, but my father came from England, with ties to the Barlow family," Sombra begins, fidgeting a bit with the hem of her sleeve. "I... I'm ashamed to say he was estranged, which is why he left the family to begin with. I'm... I'm here to deliver some news to them, and lady Barlow was the only one my mother could get any trace of... Please, I beg you... I must see her!"

Captain Flint has posed:
Eleanor leans forward in her chair. For a moment, those eyes scrutinize Sombra. "I am," she flatly replies. She then curtly opens a drawer in her desk, pulling out a scrap of parchment and a quill pen. Dipping the tip into the ink, she jots something down, the sharp tip of the quill scratching tersely against the paper.

     "These are directions to Miranda Barlow's homestead in the island's interior. If you really are here to deliver news, these directions will suffice. If the purpose of your visit is to frustrate my investments or those of my clients..." Eleanor chuckles knowingly. "Well. Suffice it to say you'll be wasting your time."

     She folds the parchment up and slides it across the desk.

Sombra has posed:
    The latina sits still in her chair, watching Eleanor back with curiousity, waiting. Fidgeting just slightly with the hem of her sleeves, an act to seem less composed than she really is...

    When the woman opens her drawer, Sombra blinks... only to relax when Eleanor begins writing down something. It's better when she states what she's writing down exactly. "Ah, gracias! I... I don't know how to repay you, señora," Sombra begins, placing her hands together in gratitude.

    Sure. Most people would have problems getting in places. But then again, few people are as stealthy as a certain Talon agent, now are they? If that's the house where the lady Barlow lives, then excellent.

    And maybe she can learn more about the investments and clients of Eleanor as well, which might be useful in itself too.

    It's time to see lady Barrow. And do so stealthily.

Captain Flint has posed:
"You can owe me a favor," says Eleanor. "When I have need of you, you'll hear from me." The statement is made with the utmost certainty. If it weren't for the fact that the two had never met face to face, it might seem like Eleanor had some knowledge of her talents.

     As it turns out, the note is written in disappearing ink--by the time Sombra memorizes the location, the parchment is blank to the naked eye. Still, the directions lead /somewhere./

     The dirt road that leads to the homestead branches off several times down the way, creating a sort of neighborhood in the island's interior. Walking in this area, Sombra can see a stark contrast between the inland and Nassau--first and foremost the smell is /so/ much better, but more importantly, this place doesn't carry the same obvious destitution--though the plantations further down the road do carry the ugly signs of slavery.

     There are no pirates here (so far as a cursory examination reveals, at least) and the sounds of the port are far away. When Sombra arrives at the supposed home of the Barlow wooden, a modest homestead greets her in the humid night air.

     A simple wooden fence made from logs and the odd piece of driftwood encircles the property, which sits on a small patch of land that must've been cleared out. The dense tropical foliage which surrounds it suggests that the owner values their privacy, or at least the quiet life.

Sombra has posed:
    Nodding in agreement, Sombra takes the paper and looks at it, quickly memorising the directions written down. Huh, disappearing ink. Smart choice.

    By the time Sombra has made her way to the homestead at the inner part of the island, the hacker has opted for some lighter clothes. More correctly, her own clothes. A dress is useful if you need to be seen and to blend in. For a more literal blending in with the scenery and ease of movement, dresses are a hindrance. With the thermoptic camouflage activated she approaches the area, easily getting over the wooden fence after arriving at the neighbourhood, a bit relieved at the better smell in this area. This isn't a place for everybody on the island, that's for sure. Not so strange, as the elite always tends to isolate themselves like this.

    Once at the house, she looks around for an easy way to get inside. A window she can get open, a terrace, somewhere she can slip in undetected. It's not like she expects this place to have any tech, even if there's multiversal influences and all to consider. But if there is any tech, she's ready to interface with it just in case. For now though, let's see if she can use her parkour skills to enter undetected into the house itself.

Captain Flint has posed:
The easiest way to get inside would be the chimney--the windows are latched shut, the door locked, but in the middle of summer, there's no need to have a fire. The house is a simple one-story affair, too, so Sombra's expertise should allow her to slip in easily enough. How good is her Santa Claus impression?

Sombra has posed:
    So no easy windows or doors, huh. Too bad. Luckily the chimney seems large enough for her to climb down, and so Sombra quickly ascends the wall of the house, using ledges from windows and the like to make her way up, unseen. With the house being only one floor it should be easy enough to search the place. Once she's found what she needs, then she can translocate out to a translocator she's set out in the nearby forest.

    Down the chimney she goes, and the hacker makes sure to hold her breath lest she brush up some ash that might irritate her airways. Slow and easy does it, and quietly Sombra lowers herself onto her feet to not make a sound. Okay, what kind of room has she gotten into... a living room? A study? Are there any people inside here, or any people nearby that she can hear? Even if she's invisible it's still good to get a good view of the situation before she begins snooping around.

Captain Flint has posed:
Sombra does indeed exit into a living room... and a sparsely decorated one, at that. It's adjoined with a kitchen and a wood burning stove. There's a round, wooden table with a couple of chairs nearby, for entertaining guests, as well as a harpsichord with an open music book resting atop it. The floors have been swept recently, but are far from the opulence of the plantations in this part of the island. There's also a tall, well-stocked bookcase on one end of the room. On the mantle of the fireplace, there's a crucifix.

     Behind a closed door, the soft creak of a mattress can be heard--but after a moment of tense silence, it doesn't seem as though Sombra's been detected. Still, someone is here. Probably asleep, as the gap beneath the door doesn't seem to have any light coming from it.

     The only other thing of interest in the room is a birch roll top desk.

Sombra has posed:
    Not the fanciest place, is it...? Well, it will be quick to look through at least. Listening she hears the telltale sound of a mattress, and she waits for a few seconds before she carefully steps into the room. Time to work.

    A brief glance is given to the music, and then Sombra steps forward, the thermoptic camouflage fading away as she picks up the music book to look through it and take photos of the pages. Who knows, people have been known to make codes in music before. It's something that she too has done over the years. Then it's neatly set back. Next she moves to the desk, carefully looking at it as she begins inspecting the desk, carefully opening drawers, being careful to see whether there are any obvious traps or security measures in place. If not, then she will begin reading and taking photos of whatever info she can find.

Captain Flint has posed:
The music is some of Handel's work--there doesn't seem to be a cipher involved, at least, to the naked eye. The book is well-loved, however, and shows signs of frequent use.

     The real thing of interest is the desk. The drawers mostly contain letters to people on the island, including a correspondence with one Pastor Lambrick, as well as a few sermons from the pastor with notes and observations scrawled in the margins. Most of it is pretty routine stuff, but there is one letter, locked away in a secure compartment. It's a simple lock, easy work for a Talon operative to overcome. The letter is written in elegant, flowing script, although the letter 's' seems to look like an 'f' without the cross through the middle.

     To the Honorable Justice Addington Thomas, Massachusetts Bay Colony,

     I petition you under the advisement of your friend Mr. Richard Guthrie to bestow your favor and Influence. You may know Captain James Flint by reputation through stories of his past misdeeds, but you might not know of his desire to Repent.

     He is a good man, a decent man, eager to Renounce his transgressions at sea and seek life in a part of the world willing to accept a man humbled and penitent.

     Were such a thing possible, would such a place exist? It is with this very hope that I write you today. I've enclosed a bill of exchange for £500 to be spent at your discretion toward procuring whatever permissions necessary--I only urge speed.

     He is caught in a dangerous plot with wicked men who will most certainly kill him when they learn of his betrayal.

     Signed, Miranda Barlow

Sombra has posed:
    Handel... a bit too dry for Sombra's taste when it comes to music, but not exactly bad.

    Picking the lock is likewise not that hard, certainly easier than some of the locks that the girl learned to deal with before she became Sombra. Open the drawer goes, and... what do we have here? Sombra arches a fine eyebrow, amusement and curiousity there as she reads the neat writing on the paper.

    Now this isn't exactly what she expected to find. A letter, asking for pardon on Flint's behalf? Would that man really desire to turn his life around after suddenly surfacing, with no clear background? And just how can this be linked to the upcoming assault on the ship? Is there something on board that lady Barlow would wish to find? Some people she's in opposition with? Judging from the correspondence on the desk, it appears she's a lady with many contacts. Richard Guthrie... a relation to Eleanor no doubt. Of course there has to be something of value for lady Barlow relating to this entire attack. A promise for a pardon if Flint carries through this mission on her behalf? Eyes glance towards the door, and Sombra seems to ponder her options at this point.

    Slowly the letter is placed back into place before Sombra closes the drawer after her, locking it. Rather than speaking to the lady, it might be wiser to seek words with the captain. Especially since she has information to press him on, and Flint should know better than to dismiss her.

Hers shimmer falls over Sombra's form as she seems to dissolve into a digital shadow, the intruding shade gone from the house for now.