* * * * *

On the eastern hemisphere of Ithea lie the far east continent Aruga, comprised of hundreds of smaller countries surrounded by a chain of islands which thrived on Aruga’s economical pith. One of its economic strongholds stood within a country called Juhara, a glass-and-steel nation spanning over two thousand miles across Aruga, neighboring a larger country known as Negashi, the chief location of the Arugian emperor.

The emperor’s forbidden city quarters separated from the rest of the city, heavily secured beyond a great wall where four high-rising levels served as his own private sector. Each tier had its own specialized work force that operated with strict scrutiny over the goings-on in the country. Every level in the emperor’s city rested on a plot of untouched land laden with cobblestone walkways and tall, stone pillars with Arugian flags at their peaks. Long stairwells divided every threshold to the next plateaus, and in the center of the highest tier stood the emperor’s dwelling, a sixty-foot stone and marble tower that overlooked a grand courtyard.

Beyond the beveled wooden doors, ensconced by an angular arch, the emperor stood near a large desk on the ground floor. Nearby workers casually monitored activity in the other buildings while one of them talked on the telephone, frantically scribbling on a pad of paper.

“I understand, sir. The minister’s order has been given. I will ask Emperor Yaraja to speak to him.”

The robed emperor Sabara Yaraja, a stone-faced man in his mid-forties, eyed the short man as he hung up the telephone. Just under six feet tall, the emperor had a slender physique with pronounced cheekbones, a long, needle-like nose, and black hair that grew to his backside, trimmed with short bangs resting above his brows. His wore a golden yellow robe with pink silk sleeves beneath. “What is the matter, Mr. Benghar?”

“Emperor Yaraja, I just spoke to one of our ambassadors.”

“What did they tell you?”

“It involves Gino Jirani,” replied Mr. Benghar, steadying his glasses.

“Minister Moraffi’s advisor?”

“Correct, my Lord. Mr. Jirani and Mr. Shigoh are under criminal charges in Gesnia.”

“That’s preposterous! Why would they have left Aruga?” the emperor said in surprise.

“I do not know, Sir. All we know now is that they have gone missing. Mr. Jirani has been charged with murder and theft!”

Yaraja slapped his hand on the counter, startling some workers. “I cannot believe this! What could have possibly happened?”

“They stole money from Mayor Corrigan’s office under false pretenses. Iamo Norasi was shot to death, and Mr. Jirani killed a police officer.”

Yaraja flailed his arms, his brown eyes engorged with anger. “This is completely unacceptable! The minister had no clearance from me whatsoever to do this! Contact him at once!”

Near a city in southern Negashi, the minister’s church stood on a busy side of the street, a lavishly-decorated structure erected in the center of an enclosed courtyard neighbored by several small buildings and shrines. A sermon just ended, and a group of visitors exited the building. Moraffi, a deceptively soothing man of forty-two, emerged from the doorway clad in a black robe and a pair of round glasses, his wiry black hair combed back with slick gel. The gaunt, narrow-eyed man bowed to his guests and stepped back through the doorway, where one of his advisors approached him.

“Mr. Tengura, you have an urgent phone call from Emperor Yaraja.”

The minister took the phone. “Sabara?”

“Moraffi, what in the world were you thinking? How could you be so irresponsible?”

“What is the matter, Sabara?”

“Are you aware Mr. Jirani is facing criminal charges? Do you understand the position this puts me in?”

Moraffi nearly dropped the phone, his wrinkled brow lifting. “Wh-what happened?”

“Mr. Jirani fled Senigot City with stolen money after murdering a police officer! How could you not tell me about this?”

Moraffi shut his eyes briefly, his head shaking. “I sent them to find my daughter. Alia left me three years ago.”

“What? For what reason?”

“She refused to conform with her marriage, so she ran away. After all the work I’ve done raising her—”

“Moraffi, you are my friend, but what you did is inexcusable! I regret that Alia has left you, but it could have been addressed had you not deceived me! This is not good for our country; you must abort this mission.”

“I cannot get in touch with them, Sabara. Their operation has already been shut down.”

“You’ve never been so careless, Moraffi. I understand you want your daughter back, but there’s not a thing I can do until I contact the Gesnian embassies. Who knows what we’ll have to do to get her back. We’ve already lost Mr. Norasi.”

Moraffi gasped. “My Lord…I never intended this to happen.” He held a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“For now, minister, just go about your business. This one time, I will look the other way. Understand this: if things escalate further, there will be consequences. I will be in touch. Goodbye.”

* * * * *

Back in Senigot, the mayor embroiled in his own investigation. “Absolutely. This is going to be resolved immediately,” Corrigan said with grinding aggravation.

Inside the conference hall, the mayor and his colleagues engaged in heavy deliberation. The mayor hunched over his table, grimly staring down a plethora of documents and photographs. His twelve colleagues occupied both sides of the table. The cigar perched beneath his thick lips twitched unsteadily while a cloud of smoke crept over the table. Two officers stood by the doorway, one of them being Officer Jobs. The mayor yanked the cigar from his mouth and began grinding it into a small glass ashtray. “What of the photos here?”

“They were taken at the crime scene,” one of the board members said. “Officer Kirk Ebson and Iamo Norasi were the only deaths involved.”

Corrigan examined the gruesome pictures. “What did the autopsies reveal?”

“No evidence of biological or chemical causes. Officer Ebson sustained a fatal head wound from a dagger and Mr. Norasi was killed by a bullet wound,” Jobs replied.

“And what of the restaurant?”

“The Arugian Oasis Tavern has been quarantined until further notice. Turns out Mr. Jirani didn’t even own the place. When we looked up the real owner, he said Jirani paid him to borrow the space for unknown reasons.”

“What’s that you’re carrying?” Corrigan asked.

The officer set down a black briefcase and opened it. Corrigan’s jaw dropped.

“Seems Jirani left a stash of hidden money in the restaurant. We searched the place and found a bunch of bank slips too,” the officer said.

Corrigan leaned over the table and snatched up some of the loose slips, crinkling them in his hands. “Oh my God. Gold Crest Corporation? That’s the company’s bank!” He slapped the papers onto the table. “That conniving…quick, get the Accounting Manager up here!”

Two of the mayor’s colleagues hurried out of the office.

“Son of a bitch!” Corrigan slammed his fist on the table. “Jirani worked here for months without so much as a hint to any of this. Now he runs off with my company’s money? When I get my hands on him!”

“What steps should we take to console Ebson’s family?” a woman said.

“That’s of secondary importance,” replied the mayor.

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I’m saying the integrity of this company has been jeopardized because of the Arugians.”

“What’re you implying?” Officer Jobs said.

Corrigan paced around the table. “We need to heighten security around here and weed out the whole lot of those damned sunburnt frauds!”

“Sir, you’re not thinking this through,” one of his associates said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t you think you’re acting hastily? It was only a few men.”

Corrigan yanked the man’s tie. “A few men who had no right being here in the first place! After all the work I did to build better lives for them, this is how they repay me? These incidents have been going on for too long. We can’t look the other way forever. Officer Jobs, you’re under official city orders, siege Higonji and apprehend all Arugians, no questions asked. Understood?”

“Y-yes sir. I’ll have my men call the security borders to prepare a convoy of ships.” Officer Jobs hurried from the room with radio in hand.

“Forty-ninth Precinct, what is your order?” the dispatcher asked.

“Contact Commissioner Riley—we’re under the mayor’s order: dispatch all units to Higonji and detain the Arugians!” Jobs ordered.

“If these are their true colors, then we don’t need their intervention,” Corrigan said. “Officer Harrison Dackford?”

“Yes sir?” The slender, twenty-eight-year-old rookie officer hurried forth.

“Send an alert across the country. Gino Jirani and Duy Shigoh are to be apprehended and brought to me. We found the problem, now we eliminate the source.”