MACHINEGUN MOLLY

RM9.1 Old McDonald's Farm

”The world was not always thus” Sir Hugh regards Daniel Mansfield with a pensive, calculating look. Sitting behind his desk, over looking Kew Gardens, he fingers an elaborate golden key as the two men watch the setting sun.
“What do you mean?”
Sir Hugh pauses as he reaches for the right words and Daniel Mansfield observes this uncharacteristic hesitation with some interest for Sir Hugh is not usually at a loss for words. Something in Sinclair’s manner imports an immediate sense of gravity and watching the older man choosing his words with such careful deliberation sends a slight chill up Daniel Mansfield’s neck.
“What I am about to tell you will seem utterly fantastic” Sir Hugh explains. “Beyond belief perhaps - you may feel the need to dismiss it as madness, but I assure you that every word I am about to tell you is the truth as we know it.”
“We?”
“I’ll come to that later. First let me tell you a story.”
Mansfield nods and Sir Hugh opens a drawer to produce a manila folder.
“It all begins with several colonial land owners in Massachusetts, in 1776, or at least that is to say the parts of the story to which I am familiar begin at that date. It is entirely possible that the men involved had been in league with each other long before. What we know of began in 1776 however, with the colonial declaration of independence by what we today know of as the United States of America. As you know the colonies refusal to recognise the crown gave rise to a war with his Majesty’s government, a war which Great Britain tragically lost.”
Daniel Mansfield’s eye brows rise somewhat as he notices Sir Hugh’s choice of words, but his surprise is utterly compounded by what follows and Mansfield finds himself wondering at the very foundations of his understanding.
“What is not generally known is that, despite the public admission of defeat by King George III the conflict never really ended and as of today, the greatest threat to the British Empire remains the United States of America.”
“But Sir, why? Surely that’s all history now.”
“We live in history Captain Mansfield. It shapes our lives like the water of a stream shapes the pebbles.”
Taken somewhat aback by this rather flowery statement, Daniel Mansfield nods. “Yes, I suppose so Sir”
Sir Hugh regards the younger man thoughtfully. Perhaps he should just tell him the whole story he thinks to himself. There is something frank and engaging about the clear eyed pilot, something that defies description, a disarming affability that encourages one to engage, but for Sir Hugh such sentiments are alien to his nature and he quickly dismisses the idea as absurd. Mansfield must remain an agent, but unaware of the true agenda he serves. His good natured character would be hard pressed to reconcile itself with the essentially selfish motives of the empire. He picks up the manila folder. 
“Here is your mission. It’s a fairly simple operation. I want you to go to America and help our man Mulligan rescue one of our American agents, a lady named Molly Winter. There is a trans-Atlantic flight leaving Brookhurst later today, I’ve told them to wait for you and all the details are in the folder, but I’ll just give you the main details. Winter has been our main conduit of secret information out of the United States for the last ten years. Under the guise of a bordello proprietor, she has overseen numerous operations to obtain and smuggle information out across the Canadian border. She operates alongside various immigrant gangster families, mainly Italian, since to do otherwise would be far too risky - using a network of connections she established during prohibition. When the Volstead Act was repealed, a lot of people along the old alcohol smuggling routes lost their income. This has served us well, and Winter was given the means to capitalise on this opportunity. In the last few years she has managed to ‘recruit’ several high standing members of the American military…”
“Recruit Sir?”
“She runs a brothel Captain.”
Daniel’s face flushes as understanding hits him. “Do you mean to say Sir, that His Majesty’s government…?”
“Runs a knocking shop?” Sir Hugh smiles. “Yes. And more than one! The amount of information we have managed to accumulate regarding the American military over the last few years, has been quite astounding. I only hope our own staff officers are not as prone to idle chatter as the Americans have been.”
“You said Miss Winter needs to be rescued?”
“Yes. Molly’s run of fortune looks to have ended which is a pity since she had managed to get her hands on something of particular interest to us. The FBI were all set to arrest her as of twelve hours ago and after that it is only a matter of time before she is detained at a secure location.”
Daniel Mansfield stands up and walks to the door. Time is obviously a factor. “Why haven’t they already done so?” he asks.
“Winter has gone to ground at a safe house, but the federal agents have tracked her down to northern Minnesota. She is probably at a farm house just outside the town of Fort Frances in Ontario. Go straight to Mulligan and he will brief you on how things stand. If we are lucky we can get her out and the documents she has in her possesion.
Mansfield’s arm half raises in an unconsious salute but Sir Hugh holds up a hand.
”There is one more thing.”
”Sir?”
”Your American friend, Mitchell. Better leave him behind this time around – you understand?”
Daniel Mansfield pauses, frowns, then nods before he leaves.

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Seventeen hours after his interview with Sir Hugh, Daniel Mansfield parks his hired car in front of a dilapidated service station and opens the door to stretch his legs. Staring up at the peeling paintwork on the large yellow sign that reads Eddie’s Gas, he remarks casually. ”This looks like the place.”
The other four men in the car climb out, stretching their stiff limbs and rubbing their backs. ”This is where we meet Mulligan?” Hamish asks. The men look about themselves. The service station is old and worn down, but obviously still  in business. Several children and a dog sit along the deck in front of the shop, staring the new arrivals.
”I say, you boys” George walks over to them and produces a coin. ”Wheres the chap who owns this place?”
”He’s inside mister” one of them grins and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. The dog barks cheerfully and thumps his tail on the wooden planking. George reaches over and pats the mongrel on the head. He flips the coin to the oldest boy.
”Thanks Chum, but off you go now, see?” Laughing the children run off as an old man with a crown of straggly white hair emerges from the building.
”You want gas?” he asks in a curious accent.
”We do” George replies. ”And is there a pharmacy in this town?”
”We only have a chemist” the man peers above his spectacles.
”Does he sell Allbright’s Powder?”
”Oh he most certainly does” the old man smiles in satisfaction as he unhitches the pump ”and Mulligan is around the back in the work shop. He is mighty impatient too so you’d better get along quick.”
The five men follow this instruction and find two men standing in the wide open door of a low wooden building. One is short and stout, and the other is tall and muscular.
”Mansfield?” the shorter man asks. Mansfield nods and looks at the second man – there is something familiar about him.
”I’m Mulligan” the short man continues and this is my associate Jack Campbell.”
”Campbell?” Mansfield repeats, then a grim look comes across his face. ”Would you be related to Ben Campbell?”
Campbell nods sternly. ”He was my younger brother.”
”I’m sorry for your loss” Mansfield replies. His mind flashes momentarily back to the Canadian tracker’s horrible death in Florida. ”He was a good man.”
”He was.” Mulligan states. ”Now introduce me to your crew if you please. I like to know who I’m going to be working with.”
Daniel grins and indicates each of his companions in turn. ”This is Hamish, Dougal and Marcel. Marcel is a Frenchman of course but you can trust him.”
”You certainly can mon ami” Marcel grins around the cigarette he is lighting.
”And this?”
”This is George. George takes care of what you might call our technical matters.”
Mulligan nods, apparently with little interest. Opening a wooden crate which stands just inside the door of the wooden building, he produces a Thompsen submachine gun and passes it to George.”
”Can you fix that?”
”George examines the weapon and shrugs. ”Possibly” he says. ”Whats wrong with it?”
”Well if I knew that, then I wouldn’t have to ask you” Mulligan replies. George exchanges a glance with Daniel. Their host it seems is a man of little charm.
”Perhaps, Mister Mulligan, you’d like to tell us where Molly Winter is and how we might go about retrieving her?”
Mulligan nods and disapears into the shadoews of the work shop. The others follow him into a back room where several maps have been pinned to a wall.
”Now you see this? This is Old McDonald’s farm on the shore of Lake Superior, about two hundred miles from here...”

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Player One

Rocketman. George Macarthur. Marcel Messnier.  Hamish. Dougal.

Player Two

Mulligan. Jack Campbell. 3 x Local Agents

Player Three

Special Agent Goodman. Special Agent Malloy. 4 x Federal Agents (SMG)

Player Four

Sheriff Cleveland. 5 x Deputies (Rifles)

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RM9.2 Starlight Serenade

“Well, who on Earth were those people?” George leans back over the passenger seat to look back through the rear window. Daniel Mansfield shakes his head angrily.
“That was close” he growls.
Did we walk into a trap?” George wonders.
One hand on the wheel, whilst the other fishes out a cigarette, Marcel Messnier chuckles heartily. “No my friend, they were as surprised as we were.”
Daniel thinks for a moment then grins. “They did seem a tad off balance” he concedes.
“But who were they?” George repeats.
“I have no idea” Daniel replies. “Pull over Marcel and let’s talk to Mulligan.”

Messnier pulls into the side of the road and the three men climb out of the car. Mulligan’s truck pulls up behind them and Hamish jumps down from the flat bed.
“Have ye got Dougal?” he demands
The three companions exchange glances. “No - isn’t he with you?” Messnier asks.
“I think they grabbed him back there” Mulligan says. The last I saw of him, he was struggling with several men.”
“Look” George interrupts, “Just who were those men?”
“Feds” Mulligan replies. “Hoover’s boys.”
“Who?”
“J. Edgar Hoover” Daniel says with a frown. “He is the Director of the Federal Police in America, a very dangerous man!”
“I have heard of him too” Marcel agrees. “He is an enemy, most formidable!”
“Well he has my brother and I’m not leaving here without him!” Hamish growls. He turns to Mulligan. “Do ye know where they will have taken him?
Mulligan rubs his chin and looks pensive. “I only know of one FBI hide out in these parts, but since it’s not very far away, then it’s probably our best chance.” He looks at Daniel Mansfield, who returns his gaze with a nod.
“You lead the way and we’ll follow.”
“Very good then” Mulligan turns back his truck, then pauses, “…but first we’ll fetch a few more friends and this time we go in softly. No cars or headlights!”

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Player One

Rocketman. George Macarthur. Marcel Messnier.  Hamish. Dougal.

Mulligan. Jack Campbell. 3 x Local Agents

Player Two

Special Agent Goodman. Special Agent Malloy. 4 x Federal Agents (SMG)

Player Three

Sheriff Cleveland. 5 x Deputies (Rifles)

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Special rules

The Americans start on table, in various guard positions in or around the buildings. The British come on table, stealthily and from any direction they please.

All the vehicles in the game are static but can be started against a 2 for the Americans or 4 for the British.

Victory conditions are standard; losing two thirds of a side results in a defeat. Hamish is being held in the upper level of the house. Two British elements reaching him will constitute a victory.

Rocketman has 3 hero points.

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