The Loaded Coin (Night's Black Agents, Dracula Dossier)

In this method the pill is stuck to the center of one side of a coin. The coin is taken by the performer from his pocket along with two or three other coins. The 'loaded' coin, however, in being brought out from the pocket is held between the thumb and first finger and the other coins are gripped between the rest of the fingers and the palm. The loaded coin is so held that the pill is kept from sight of the spectators … the purpose of taking the coins from the pocket is, ostensibly, to make some minor purchase such as a packet of cigarettes. There should be enough coins left in the hand after making the purchase so that two or more may be put on the bar or table and yet have two of the same size left in the hand. One of these two coins is the one to which the pill is attached …

This Cold War era trick comes courtesy of the CIA Manual of Trickery and Deception, written originally by magician John Mulholland and resurrected from the CIA archives by H. Keith Melton and Robert Wallace. The intent is to slip a drug into a drink, unnoticed. You use a coin rather than palming because pills tend to stick to warm, damp flesh, whereas a pill on the reverse side of a coin can be flicked into a drink with a quick shake, or sweep of a finger.

It might be used by a Cold War era asset, or vampire-savvy outfits like Edom or China's Room 452. The trick, intended to deliver incapacitating or mind-altering substances like LSD, comes from the same line of thinking that gave us Project MKUltra. The idea is to deliver a payload that neutralizes an enemy asset, in a public place like a bar. This is especially relevant for Night's Black Agents characters, who know that certain substances, like garlic, holy water, or dead man's blood, can incapacitate or even kill an opposition target. All of these could be delivered in pill form, surreptitiously enough to evade detection. In theory the agent could hit the target, walk away, and watch the target fall to bits.

Of course, there is one obvious problem with this tactic. Coins are becoming obsolete, especially in sophisticated cities where smart cards and touch cards are more common. Particularly in high-end establishments, paying in coins makes you stand out - and standing out is the last thing a covert agent wants.

There are other issues. Prices have increased significantly since this trick was designed; even a packet of cigarettes will cost much more than a few coins. Also, in Mulholland's day security cameras were not anything like as common as they are now. These days even the dodgiest of pubs is likely to have CCTV, which means using this tactic increases Heat by 1. Moreover delivering a bane this way has its own risks; a vampire-friendly establishment might have countermeasures designed to detect, say, dead man's blood. This is more likely in Supernatural or Damned games, where science is less important than magic. If the pocket where you keep the loaded coins starts glowing red, or screaming, when you walk in the door, then you've got problems that not even Flirting can solve.

Making it Work: the agent needs to pass a minimum Difficulty 4 test, adjusted by Alertness modifier, spending either Preparedness or Filch, or a combination of the two. This may involve a Full Contest if the target is on the alert, for whatever reason, or is being watched over by a third party, like a bodyguard. Difficulty can be reduced if the agent can distract the target. In Mulholland's version this distraction came from natural patter, which in game would be Technothriller Monologue and can be prepared in advance. The remark is unimportant as to substance. It only has to express a reason, seemingly of interest or amusement to the performer, which makes it natural to show the coins. This can be achieved in other ways. At the end of the television show Mossad's season one, the distraction comes when an attractive member of the opposite sex walks past the target, which in game terms would be Cooperation. The exact reduction will depend on circumstances, but assume a minimum reduction of 2.

What happens next depends on the payload, and the target. Agents with a regard for their own health may want to scout out an exfil route before trying this tactic. An enraged vampire lashing out at anything and everything in sight is likely to do a lot of damage to its environment.

What's good for the goose is sauce for the gander. The opposition may try this tactic on the agents, perhaps delivering good old-fashioned LSD or some kind of knockout drug. A Sense Trouble Difficulty 4 minimum, increased by the opposition's Stealth modifier, detects this.  Alternatively the agent may spend Tradecraft to notice this Cold War spy trick. The result depends on the substance used, but it's reasonable to assume the effect takes place within 2 to 4 rounds, requires a minimum Difficulty 5 Health check, its minor effect is to inflict Shaken for the remainder of the scene, its major effect is to incapacitate for the remainder of the scene. Basic first aid given immediately can negate the minor effect, or reduce a major effect to a minor effect.

Enjoy!

Person of Interest: Benjamin Rucker, aka Black Herman (RPG all, especially Timewatch)

Professor Black Herman, the self-proclaimed World's Greatest Negro Magician, was born in a Zulu village, to hear him tell it, and spent his early life learning the mystic secrets of the Orient while dodging Chinese assassins, bent on revenge for his refusing to help them steal a priceless diamond from the head of a statue of Buddha. Seeing that the end was nigh, rather than deliver himself into the hands of his enemies, Black Herman drank poison and died. Many dignitaries, including the King of the Zulus, gathered to pay respects, only to gape in wonderment, as Black Herman stepped out of his coffin and back into the land of the living. Then, after a display of wonders to rival the best, Black Herman went across the seas, to try his luck at fame and fortune in the Americas.

Or, to be slightly more accurate, Benjamin Rucker was probably born in Amherst, Virginia, in 1892. He tried a number of different professions before taking up the magician's wand, but by 1906 he was well on his way. He's known to have worked with Harry Kellar, but it's his alleged association with huckster, herb doctor, and fellow Virginian Prince Herman that he's best known for. It's not entirely clear whether Rucker worked with Prince Herman or not, but Rucker said he did, and he took on Herman's stage name after Prince Herman died unexpectedly in 1909.

Rucker, then only 17, was set to conquer the world, but there was a problem: he was black, in a world where that mattered more than anything. When he worked with Prince Herman, he could perform in the South; now he was a solo act, segregation laws confined him to non-white audiences, unless he was performing in the North. So he set his sights on other audiences, and by 1918 was at the height of his talent. An absolute master of stage magic, he also mixed in a healthy dose of hoodoo and herbal remedies; for, as Rucker himself put it, he was a man who knew how to spend $1 twice over and still have change left, and fortunetelling with a healthy dose of herbal remedies were where the money was.

Hoodoo, for those unfamiliar with the term, is not voodoo. Hoodoo is an American variant on West African folklore, also known as conjure, root doctoring, or rootworking. It blends herbal remedies with Moses-as-conjuror; the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses are the core texts of this spiritualist movement. A hoodoo worker makes talismans, oils, candles and incense, to minister to every possible need or ailment. Though hoodoo has a strong element of ancestor worship, it lacks the loa that vaudon sanctifies, and also lacks the Catholic overtones of voodoo.

The man who not only can foretell the future, but also supply every possible remedy to human frailty, can make a great deal of money, which is exactly what Benjamin Rucker did.

Things went from good to better. He bought a brownstone in Harlem, NYC, where he saw all his clients. He performed across the country, and when the performances were over, he used his hoodoo skills to counsel his audience. He became a devoted friend and counselor to Marcus Garvey, leader of the Back to Africa movement, and Garvey was far from Burcker's only friend and confidante; Black Herman was probably the best-connected hoodoo man and performing magician of his day. He was an Elk, a Freemason, a Knight of Pythias. He donated to churches and worthy causes, funded scholarships, was a friend to poor man and intellectuals, politicians and power brokers. Everyone wanted to be on good terms with the man who knew how to twist the skein of fortune any way he wanted.

HIs signature performance piece was a living burial. He picked a spot, which he called his Private Graveyard, and lay in his coffin on display for all to see; it cost ten cents to check his pulse. Then he was buried, but when his coffin was disinterred a few days later he stepped out, none the worse. He used his miraculous recovery as a kick-off for his stage performance, emerging from the coffin to lead a parade to the stage. It was his boast that he returned to a venue once every seven years - a picturesque way of saying he was constantly on tour.

Things didn't always go his way. In 1927 he was arrested and sent to Sing Sing on charges of fortune telling and selling medicine without a license, but he only spent a brief time in jail. His supporters claimed a prison cell couldn't hold him; he'd walk out of there any time he liked. He wasn't in jail long in any event, and the 1929 stock market crash didn't hurt his fortune much; whatever financial losses he might have suffered were soon made back again, by telling more fortunes and selling more conjure medicine.

He died young. In 1934 he collapsed at a friend's home - some stories say it actually happened on stage - suffering massive cardiac failure. He was only 44 years old.

Even then, his admirers and well-wishers didn't believe it. Professor Black Herman, dead? The man who'd stepped out of the coffin more times than a man could count? No, never; thousands went to the funeral home to see his body, laid out in state. His assistant, Washington Reeves - later to take on Black Herman's stage name - charged money to view the corpse. But this time it didn't step out of the casket; Benjamin Rucker had enraptured his last audience.

From a gamificiation viewpoint, a hoodoo stage magician who performs throughout the 1920s and 30s, all across the United States, is a perfect NPC for Trail or Call of Cthulhu. However with that mysterious death, can he be anything other than a Timewatch agent? You can almost picture the funeral home, after everyone else is left, as Black Herman walks out of the grave one last time, and into Time itself.

With that in mind:

Recruitment Drive: TimeWatch intends to pick up Rucker at the funeral home in 1934 but, when the agents get there, he's not in the coffin any more. Instead, an aged and scarred Rucker appears at his brownstone in Harlem, witnessed by his employee and protégée Washington Reeves, who he tells to go to the funeral home and give a message to whoever he finds there. Clearly Rucker's been time travelling, but on whose dime? And was his reappearance an attempt to contact TimeWatch, knowing that TimeWatch agents would have to be in Harlem on that date? Or is this some elaborate trap?

That's it for now. Enjoy!