The opening was one of those thriller mysterious openings that sets up the situation and then we go into the flashbacks that explain how we got into that situation.
- 3 characters in rumpled evening wear are being held for questioning in various cells
- a disfigured man with red leather, rubber soled shoes, a missing leg and one eye, asks them all the same questions
- “How did you get your invitation to the theatre for that night?”
- “Where were you when the bomb went off?”
- “What do you know about the ‘Cult of the Clitoris’?”
Then we jump to a week before.
The true answer is that given by Rob’s character: a colleague at Queen’s University, got tickets for himself and the PCs by signing up for the club performance of “Salome.” What they will tell the investigator is another matter.
Irish Brotherhood member James “The American” floats some money to Aislin to hire some muscle to increase the pressure on police when the Trades Unions go out to prevent the strike from being broken when the boat with the performers of the play tries to unload the sets. [carried out by Aislin’s Contact, her Dad]
The morning the ship tries to unload there is a riot at the Customs House. In the confusion,
the PCs get into the complex where Edith Craig is negotiating with customs authorities and MP Edward Carson.
A PC (Aislin?) spends and discovers that the there were already many police in place at Customs House, almost as if they knew that the spontaneous union protest was going to take place.
Craig hires Rachel’s NPC Riley to help repair and repaint a damaged scrim in advance of the show. Carson extracts a promise that he will be informed as to anything that Rachel sees on the boat.
Rachel discovers a load of German rifles and ammunition in the hold.
Rob and Kate’s characters are observed following Rachel and Riley onto the boat.
After some skulking around, Kate’s PC plants the explosives (!) that she had been carrying around and manages to put a hole in the ship.
Our protagonists are busy in the Customs House when the bomb goes off. They were making for the exit when a new complication pops up: a dead body of a would-be extremist with a dynamite belt, dead from a vicious bit to the next, and bearing leaflets with the cryptic phrase: “Death to the Cult of the Clitoris.”
And it’s only Saturday afternoon.