NationStates Jolt Archive

The Heist of the Millennium...

Saturday, 2:00 PM
Executive Vice-President in charge of account management for DMG International Bank, Michael Stanton, was sitting behind his desk in his luxurious corner office. Unfortunately, that corner office had no windows because the entirety of the bank's building was located underground for security reasons. Thus the vaults that housed immeasurable valuables lay beneath even the city's infrastructure.

The only noises in the wood-stroked office was the sound of the clock ticking away the seconds and the computer keys being compressed under Stanton's thick fingers. With every passing moment, the speed of his fingers seemed to increase, indicating that whatever he was doing was under a time crunch.

Finally, without any pause, Stanton closed his laptop lid heavily, slipped it into his carrying pack. Pushing his leather chair back quickly, he stood up, grabbed his traveling coat and designer hat off of the hook and left through the door. His secretary, a pleasant dark-red haired woman named Martha, smiled at him and asked, "Leaving?"

"Saturday afternoon," he winked, "time to go home and relax. See you on Monday Martha... and tell your son happy birthday for me, will you?"

"That's so nice of you. Of course I'll pass the message along. Bye now..."

Mike Stanton walked down the aisle of cubicles that sat some twenty feet or so from his office door. They were for the secretaries of various executives, some of whom were in, especially if there bosses were, but most of whom had taken the normal Saturday off. One on the side, perhaps the prettiest of the lot with great looks and a young body, was just getting up to leave as Stanton passed by and gave her a courteous nod of acknowledgement.

His pace was quick and deliberate as he made his way to the elevator. With very few employees in the building, the elevator was already waiting on the second-to-bottom floor for him. The doors beeped as they slid open and then slid shut behind his large form. It whirred as it sped rapidly past floor after floor before stopping on the light indicated "F2." The building was designed with floors descending into the ground but with ascending numbers; however, the elevator only traveled in the floors between (and including) the executive floor (second-to-bottom) and the second floor. To get to the vaults below the executive's level, another elevator was used, and to get to the surface from the second floor, one had to walk up two sets of grand marble stairs...

With the light ahead of him, Mike exited the building and took a private coach to the Dominion National Airport and boarded his private jet - one of the benefits of being a senior executive of a massive corporation. Without much delay, the aircraft took off and sped to the island on which Viscount International Airport was the only occupant. After a short security check, the jet left for destinations unknown...

---------

Saturday, 4:45 PM
Currently twenty minutes to five, the bank's operations and accounts closed at five o'clock sharp on Saturdays and would not resume until nine in the morning on Monday.

Only a couple of employees remained in the building finishing off some paperwork or filing it away, and Stanton, the most senior member in that day, was long gone.

Five minutes later, the heist of the millennium got under way. Sequenced for fifteen minutes exactly, the Proteus program began its work on the company's computer systems. Over one hundred thirty-six trillion dollars had sat dormant in the massive international accounts, but no longer. Proteus was quickly siphoning away all of the assets, sending them to millions of bank accounts around the world in varying amounts with no-trace orders on them. When those transfers were received on the other end, all data relating to their initiation would instantly be erased, as many other ordered on a daily basis. The information would be lost and the accounts unknown with such massive financing traffic every day.

Banks would close soon after updating their accounts and everything would be hidden in the numbers...

As five o'clock struck on the bank's central computer, so did a thief. Every last penny of the international accounts was liquidated and then everything shut down...

---------

Monday, 9:00 AM
An account handler sat in his cubicle office on one of the service floors as he spoke on the phone to an international client. "Yes, sir, I am accessing your account right now to transfer the funds... please hold." Keystrokes were just blurs of sound in the noisy air of the waking service floor. But a moment later, those keystrokes stopped. "Sir, I am sorry, but it appears that your account is empty."

No doubt the earpiece was filled with screaming and disbelief, but the account handler was insistent. However, a couple minutes later, this same strange scene was taking place in every cubicle office on three floors of the building. It was obvious to some. Everything was gone. One senior person ran to his more senior boss who ran to his more senior boss and so until eventually the President's door opened and a wheezing executive ran in. "Sir! Everything is gone! All of the international accounts are empty!"

President Antony Kilov sat in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and confusion as the executive ran through the series of events that had transpired in only the last fifteen or so minutes. "You mean...?"

"Yes, sir, we've been robbed damn it!"

---------

Monday, 2:00 PM To: DIB International Account Holders
From: DIB President Antony Kilov

It gives me great dishonor and unease to report to you, our loyal account holders, that as of this morning, DMG International Bank has suffered a major heist. All accounts have been robbed and emptied by this unknown thief. But rest assured we are investigating the matter fully and will not rest until we have caught the bandit and returned your funds.

If within thirty days we have not rectified this situation, all holders of insurance will be repaid in full and have the option of removing their funds free of charge.

We would also like to take this opportunity to reassure you of our dedication to you and our business as well as invite all of those who are concerned to send civilian investigators to help facilitate the process. Your people will be welcomed and given access to all information related to the case.

With a most heavy heart,
President Antony Kilov
DMG International Bank

Official Kampferian Statement
http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w107/imdmill/kampferianseal.jpg

As I am sure you know, I maintain Bank Account Number 3244-4325-5464-9038. This money is insured, but I am sure you are doing all you can to return it. I would like to inform you that I will expect the money by the end of the 30 day deadline, and that if it is not returned by that time, I may pursue legal actions. As it is, I can not afford to spare any private investigators at this time, but I will trust on the efforts of those who do go to your nation. For now, I trust in your ability to return me my money. Do not shake this confidence.


Fuhrer Richtoff

Offical Greal Statement


Greal will like to send police investigators to help with your search for the money.

"It is a wonderful painting, I agree, Great Lord. Magnificent. In my opinion, Vidensian's best."

"Certainly. People always make a fuss about his portrait of Darius VI, the detail; I've never really had the same reverence for it that others do. Surrender of the Sarmatians has always been my favorite."

It is afternoon in Kregaia, in the foothills of the Sanctus Mountains, close to the source of the great River Arsakia. In the distance rear the snow-capped peaks of the Sanctus range, wreathed in purple haze. They give way to emerald, grass-covered hills that roll smoothly across the landscape; and atop one of those hills, like an alabaster eye, stands a country estate belonging to Lord Tiberius Abarro, former general in the Air Force, and current host to none other than Sacred Emperor Ishamael.

They are relaxing, enjoying a delicious luncheon in Lord Abarro's lounge, reclining in handmade leather chairs while smoking Generian cigars and enjoying an excellent bottle of single-malt whiskey, discussing the merits of a masterpiece hanging above the fireplace, and it is this work of art that will bring us to the heart of the matter. It is the famed Surrender of the Sarmatians by the sixteenth-century painter and architect, Inigo Vidensian; a patriotic and beautiful depiction of the chiefs of the Sarmatians, the last free barbarian tribe on Kregaia, surrendering to the legendary Sacred Emperor Domitian. Last sold for over 120 million dollars, it is one of the most valuable pieces in the Empire. And this is why the Sacred Emperor glances at his host and remarks...

"You know, I'd love to buy it from you. How much did you buy it for?"

A surprised Abarro replies, "124.7 million dollars...but it is in my will, Great Lord. I was going to leave it to my daughter..."

"Well, it must be a fair price...Let me see." Ishamael stared at the painting, taking a long drag on his cigar as he did so. "How about three hundred million?" The shock on Abarro's face was plain. That was more than any painting in the Empire was worth, that he knew of. And daughter or no daughter, Lord Abarro had never been known for his spartan lifestyle.

"I...I am stunned, Divine One. Of course. Yes, yes, of course. It is yours."

"Excellent. I'll have the funds wired immediately."

And this is where our story truly begins.

***

Thousands of miles away, in the heart of Korronis's famed Financial District, a phone rings in the luxurious corner office of Lord Treasurer Inuriel Crovax, manager of the Sacred Emperor's personal finance. The Lord Treasurer does not, in general, have much to do, but when this phone rings, the one to which only the Most Imperial Highness has the number, Lord Treasurers through history have scrambled off their asses and answered it before the first ring is over. And Crovax is no exception.

"Great Lord, how may I help you?"

"Crovax. Hello. I just bought Surrender of the Sarmatians, and I need you to transfer the money for me. Three hundred million. Wire it to Lord Tiberius Abarro's account. You remember him?"

"Vaguely, my Lord."

"Fine. Send him the money and tell me when you're done."

Obediently, Crovax cradled the phone between his jaw and right shoulder as he tapped in commands on his computer. Logging on to the Internet...navigating to the DMG International Bank website and waiting for his computer to transmit the complex identification code...pressing his finger to the scan pad and allowing a laser to examine his retina, then sending the data to compare with the bank's user profile, before at last it allowed him in. Account No. 1743-5697-3657-3456. Users: Sacred Emperor Ishamael, Imperator Anton Malustar, Lord Treasurer Inuriel Crovax...

Crovax froze.

Current Balance: 0.00 USD.

This is impossible...

"That's not..."

"What is it, Crovax?" The Sacred Emperor sounded mildly impatient. "Wire the money." Crovax instinctively obeyed, sending in the orders for three hundred million to be wired to Abarro's account. The response: WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT THIS TRANSACTION CANNOT BE COMPLETED AT THIS TIME. YOUR ACCOUNT CONTAINS INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.

"Great Lord, this is impossible, but...the account comes up empty. I think the bank has been robbed."

Now honestly, what do you say when you find out that almost sixteen trillion dollars, the wealth that your ancestors have hoarded before you for seventeen hundred years, and essentially all the cash you own, has been stolen from a supposedly impregnable account?

Ishamael knows.

"...You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"No sir, that's exactly why we chose the DMG International Bank. Because they are the most secure bank outside of Layartebian borders. No. I don't care what the situation is. We need to find out what happened and we can't wait around for them to do it. No I won't budge on this issue. It is a problem. All of the international accounts are gone. Not just ours. We have insurance yes. Fine!" The accountant slammed down the phone and looked around at the men inside of the small office. "What a goddamn nimrod!" He was referring to the senior vice president for finances and Cyrex International was now in deep trouble. Cyrex International was a legitimate business, a textiles firm but its $100,000,000.00 account in the DMG International Bank belonged to the Nacht Schatten. The senior vice president was a member of the groups financial wing as were the six men inside of the small meeting room. "You know why they ever put him in charge is beyond me but here's our situation. The DMG bank has been robbed and with it our one hundred million dollars.

"We pay one percent for insurance so the money will be returned to us and thankful for that. However, we cannot afford to get too involved. We'll do what every corporation would do in this instance, basically sit around, send e-mails, have meetings, make phone calls, the normal bullshit. Maybe I'll go upstairs and strangle Sean," they laughed. "The government had money in there too. A lot more than we did. Obviously the Ministry of Finance is going to be involved in this so we're going to do what we should do. We're going to call them and get them to do the investigative work. We will be refunded and we are going to keep our money in the DMG bank. It's secure, very secure so how this happened is beyond me. I suspect an inside job but that's not a problem. We cannot go with a bank inside of the Empire simply because of what the account is. The DMG bank will not investigate they'll take the deposits and the withdrawals and won't ask questions. That is what we need and that was what we paid two million dollars to set up."

"But won't the Ministry of Finance want to know why we had our money there?" Gerry, a nervous accountant said as he fiddled with his pencil, scribbling notes.

"They will. But, technically, it's none of their business. We have a cover story. It is a pension bonus fund, just in case the corporation tanks, it is the fund we can use to provide severance pay to the employees. That is all we are going to say."

"Alright." The accountants were, by nature, twitchy. It was late Sunday night but mid-afternoon in DMG when the notice from DMG International sparked the emergency meeting and put the whole finance department on its toes. One hundred million was a lot of money to be missing and though only those six men and the senior vice president knew what it was for, everyone knew it existed. It was all done on purpose, to keep the legitimate smoke screen that the money was really used for paramilitary operations, although it was, in essence, a safety fund for the Nacht Schatten. Funding for their operations came from elsewhere. Outside of the sixty-story office building, the Miami air was 47°F, the humidity around 62%, and the skies above were filled with scattered clouds. Rain was expected for the morning. One thousand and eighty-seven miles to the north, the Ministry of Finance was a buzz of activity.

The DMG telegram was received in disbelief at first. Six phone calls later, it was no prank and by 21:30 hours, half an hour after the notice was received, the Minister of Finance was surrounded by his immediate cabinet staff. "Gentlemen. What do we do? We had insurance. What was our balance, Freddy?"

Fred McAllister was the Deputy Minister of Finance and the minister's right hand man. "As of August 21 we had three point three, five, five, five, six trillion in there. We now have a balance of zero."

"We have insurance so the money is going to be returned to us. That is a fact so we don't need to worry. I doubt that suddenly, within the next thirty days, we'll have a need for three and a half trillion dollars of money. We have funding in other banks as well so we're covered. We have cause to worry but not cause to panic. What do we know?"

"Very little right now," Freddy continued. "We suspect it was an inside job but that's just us right now. We know, for a fact, that someone didn't walk out with the money. They couldn't. All of the money is electronic bytes. Someone robbed it through a computer but this we know simply because we know how they stored money. Our best guess is a worm. It could have been in the bank for weeks, years, minutes, who knows. We have to contact them and find out details."

"What threat do we face?"

"Alan has that answer."

"Thank you," Alan Sour, an odd last name it was, headed up the security division for the Empire's finance. "Our banks are as secure or slightly more secure than that of the DMG bank, simply because of laws and our government. That isn't to say the DMG International Bank wasn't. By all means it is the most secure bank overseas, which was why we put our money there although we weren't foolish. We bought interest. If their bank was vulnerable I would say that so are ours. We may use different firewalls, software, et cetera but the truth of the matter is that if someone can get into that bank they can get into any bank. There's no sidestepping that fact, unless it was an inside job done by those who knew the passwords, port numbers, and what not. If that was the case then our banks are safe and so is theirs. It depends solely on the nature of the intrusion. We do have a memo going out to all banks throughout our Empire to back-up their records on external devices that can be unplugged and stored so that they can retrieve data if anything does occur. We have suggested incremental back-ups of every six hours in the past but we've upgraded the recommendation to every hour now. It is a lot of headache but it is for the good of the people."

"Alright. Where do we stand with options here? When I brief the Emperor I want to be able to say that the Ministry of Finance is on top of this."

"We can sit back, accept the insurance, get our money back, and move on." Alan said with a distinctive eyebrow raise at the end. "Or we could assist. The Ministry of Finance has a detective staff, specializing in electronic fraud of this nature. We could be of assistance to them. At this time we know squat. With someone helping we can know a lot more of what happened, perhaps learn how to prevent that here."

"That's the ideas?"

"That's what we've agreed upon here." Freddy took control. "We recommend the latter option. We'll get our money back either way but we need to look at this as an opportunity to never have this happen here."

"Alright. I brief the Emperor in thirty minutes. I'll pitch him the idea." Half an hour later, the Minister of Finance was sitting with the Cabinet, explaining the situation and explaining the recommendation by the Ministry of Finance. It took the Cabinet less than ten minutes to debate the issue. They were going to help and the DMG International Bank was contacted immediately. If they would accept assistance, the Empire would send an investigative team of four people, two men and two women, all highly specialized in electronic fraud and computer crimes.

The DMG International Bank, located south of New Zealand in the Antarctic Rim, ten thousand miles away. The Empire had no plane to get there in one trip, which meant that the team would have to make a stop over and refuel. Unfortunately, because of the location, the best place to do this would be in the Galapagos Islands and Easter Island, both of which were devoid of civilians and staffed strictly by the military. Anything that happened on either location was completely top secret and the investigative team of two men and two women. They took off from Layarteb City IAP on Monday morning, just after 03:30 hours and, had they been able to fly non-stop, their C-28A Gulfstream VI would have gotten them there in just under eighteen hours. That wouldn't happen. They would have to land in the Galapagos and refuel and land again at Easter Island and refuel. In total, it would take then around twenty-four hours to get there. It would give them plenty of time to reacquaint themselves with each other, ask how their kids were, and to study up on the bank and the situation. Naturally, they would sleep as well. The loss of seventeen hours crossing the time zones would really throw off their sleep cycles as well and jet lag was a definite guarantee. They would be landing around 03:30 hours Tuesday morning, Layarteb City time but, in reality, that would be around 20:30 hours in on Tuesday evening for DMG, nearly thirty hours after the Empire was informed of the situation.

Monday, 2.45pm
Cabinet Meeting

Amid much hoorah and confusion the Celtayoshi cabinet was discussing the heist. "Its only, $10 billion, a trivial amount. There is no need for us to get involved. After all, other nations will search for the money and we won't have to do anything," said the Minister of Finance.
"That is not the point. No-one robs from Celtayoshi. Period. I have now dedcided that we will send out top men from State Intelligence to investigate and capture the criminals behind this." The Premier seemed very resolute. "In the meantime we will say nothing to the press until they ask us and I want permission for those investigators to work in DMG now. This meeting is over. Minister Wallace, wait behind."

The ministers began filing out, leaving only the Premier and Minister for Intelliegence.

"I want these fuckers dead," said the Premier. With a bow and a smile that no man would want to see Wallace replied, "I know just the men."

Now the contracts out
They've put the word about
I'm coming after you

It's not the money I make
It's the thrill of the chase
And I'm coming after you

The car is luxurious. One of the Sacred Emperor's fleet of limousines, with a spacious and well-stocked bar, seats upholstered with handmade leather, an LCD screen currently playing scenes from the occupants' favorite movie, Lucky Number Slevin...the occupants, it should be noted, are not paying full attention to the movie. One of them is drinking heavily from a large bottle of gin, while the other is happily shooting up heroin, giggling insanely as he does. The first, seemingly completely unaffected by his near-draining of the bottle, is Dr. Jacob Seuss, renowned alcoholic and formerly of the Imperial Inquisition. The second, now cackling madly and lying on his side, unable to sit back up, is Sir Topham Hatt, once an employee of the Ministry of Transportation and now a fully insane drug addict. And the two of them are perhaps the most deadly assassins alive.

I watch your every move
Study the things you do
And the pattern of your ways

I watch the way you walk
I hear your telephone talk
I want to understand the way you think

The limousine is on its way to Typhon International Airport, one of the few facilities in Korronis relatively untouched by the Succession Wars. Ishamael had issued his orders to them by secure email, so as to avoid those in the Inner Court gossiping about the assassins' presence, and those orders were quite simple: 16 trillion USD was missing from the Sacred Emperor's personal account, and he wanted Dr. Seuss and Hatt to find those responsible, recover the money, and kill them all in the most brutal way convenient.

They didn't talk to the driver when they got out; they simply walked around to the trunk, retrieved their bags, and entered the terminal. Buying their tickets, they walked wordlessly to the gate (although Hatt occasionally started walking the wrong way just for fun, forcing Seuss to drag him back), and, when the plane arrived, they got onboard without causing a problem. First class, of course. Always an entertaining proposition, given Hatt's tendency for nonsense...one which soon expressed itself, as he refused to sit down until he received three waffles with syrup. Seuss, meanwhile, occupied himself downing glass after glass of champagne. Allowing for time in a taxi after they landed, they'd be arriving at DMG International Bank in thirteen hours or so; no point getting there sober.

The financial officer of Alfegos REM stared in horror at his computer screen: all the money had been cleared from the account. He hit the blue button under the desk, and almost immediately, the deputy CEO was called to his office.

The computer was scanned, and no faults were found.

=====

The CEO of Alfegos REM yelled furiously down the phone.

"Yes, I want to see the head of DMG International bank. If not, your head will roll. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

He was going to sort this out.

"Mr CEO, please may I explain the predicament: all our money in our account has gone, and we would wish to know where. If not, we would wish to know whether you have anywhere to hide while we go to find our money, whether you wish to be stickied or not. I would hate to see the headlines with you covered in sticky foam. It ruins those lovely suits you like to wear."

The CEO meanwhile waited for a response.

=====

Meanwhile, the corporate reserve was being alerted for action. These were money-collectors, with a difference: they had authority to use non-lethal weapons such as the sticky guns and the wicked crossbows tipped with muscle relaxant.

=====

All was not lost. The financial supercomputer at the heart of the admin sprawl in New Zevkhay had worked out in its superconducting circuits in the liquid - oxyen cooled core the best possible course of action within a few picoseconds: all money in the emergancy accounts would be put into use, and the stock it held in a few stable companies would be sold.

President's Office

The Greal President, Sarah Watson was shocked that her personel money was gone. 5 billion dollars were gone! She authorized 5 of her best police investigators into the room.
"Could be a inside job."said Captain Pickett who was looking at the newspapers.
"How many police investigators are going to be sent?"asked President Sarah, she had spent the whole night calling police investigators.
"We are going to send a small number of 20 police investigators, we have to send a small number because we might alarm the DMG."said Captain Pickett who was still looking at the papers.
"But what if the people that stole the money get out of the country?"asked President Sarah.
"We are going to have to work with other countries to get them."said Captain Pickett, who finally put down the newspaper.
"Well, its a pleasure to meet you Madam President."said Captain Pickett who was getting up along with other police investigators.
"Its a pleasure to meet you too. Keep me informed."said President Sarah who sat down at her desk and began working on some work.

Sasha International Airport

It was another crowded day at Sasha International Airport, noone noticed Captain Pickett and his 20 men come into the airport.
20 police investigators were boarding a private flight to Viscount International Airpot. Among them were some pistols and rifles in case anything happens.
"I hope nothing goes wrong."said Captain Pickett who was putting his suitcase next to him since the pirvate plane was mostly empty.
"Well, we get to DMG in 7 hours." said Lt. Frank who was flying the plane.

OOC: Edited my post to include the massive time difference (17 hours behind for Layarteb City) and the flight over, which because of its 10,000 miles {yes that far} will take about 24 hours of flying because of stop overs so my team should be there around 20:30 hours, local time, Tuesday night.

Tomoyo was awoken in the middle of the night by her maid servant. "What is it?"

"Bad news highness, you are wanted rightaway in the Raven Chamber of Legisliation."

Tomoyo quickly dressed and went downstairs. Everyone stood as she entered.

"Your majesty, our account with DMG has been robbed."

"What?"

She read the letter which was hastily translated into Kurma. "Completly empty?"

"Afraid so."

"We didn't have any insurace what are we supposed to do? We invested billions of Kuromians into that account. Money I convinced the people that would be more benefical as an investment rather than imediate infrastructure improvments. Money that could help us in time of disasters. But now we don't have cent left over."

"It's your call highness."

"Doesn't matter now do we, we don't have an account to close they won't care too much if they lose us. They have every fat cat 1st class first world industiralized nation in their (Kurma Profanaties)" Tomoyo began kicking and screaming in her frustration. "This is capital crime. Who ever did this bring them to justice. Send out the Royal Guard and bring them. Bring them to Kurona to be tried. I don't care if it's a god damn show trial, bring them here and them ship them off to a deserted island."

"This does fall into elgiblity of Death Penalty."

"No. Death is far too good for him. He needs to suffer." Tomoyo turned and left. Everyone was stuned. Tomoyo was usually a very pacificitc girl but her word was final.

The Royal Guard the bodyguards of the Princess were trained as eleite fighters. They could act as a para military unit when called upon. Now their first assignment would come in.

Taichi heard a knock on the door. The half dressed young man answered cracking the door open. "Yes?"

He was handed an assignment.

"Looks like we have work to do." In the bed turned over a fellow guardsmen. Or guardwoman in this case, Aya was her name. It was forbidden to have romantic relations with your fellow gaurds. "Awww I was enjoying my time off." She said

Alvin Reckno, the current Prime Minister of the Prime Ministerialship of Bazalonia was asleep it was 1 am. When a member of his security detail opened the door and woke him up.

"Sir, we have a major issue that needs your."

Alvin sighed, "Alright... I'll be there in a sec. I presume the situation room?"

"Yes, sir." said the Guard as he left letting the Prime Minister get himself up and to the situation room. He found that the Joint Military Council and the Minister Defense in there.

"This doesn't look good. Have we been attacked? Are we are war, Those Starblaydi's are coming here?"

"No, No, No, nothing as deadly, but something that could be just as politically bad. The International Bank that is holding 1.5 Trillion for us has been robbed... it's all gone. 1.5 Trillion in defense just gone puffed away."

"Damnit, That Hawdon put it in there and now I'm going to have to pay the political fall-out. Okay, So I want to make it clear that I'm doing something. Since this is military money I want military investigators on it, and see what you can find. People are going to be coming out of the woodwork own, I want watch on our most likely suspects."

"Do we have BSIA, in on this?"

"They're waiting on orders from you currently what do you want them to do."

"Do we have any sources in DMG?"

"They're not saying."

"Damnit, Okay, Have BSID picked up anything, of interest nothing yet?"

"Nope, their over-the-horizon scanning abilities are working on this though."


To: DMG Foreign Ministry
From: Office of the Prime Minister, Bazalonia
Subject: Heist Response

I am deeply saddened that such a heist has occured but now is not the time for talk, it is the time for action, The Bazalonian military has lost 1.5 Trillion in uninsured currency from this heist, as a result I am requesting for a military investigative team to be allowed into DMG to act on the behalf of the Defense Minister and the Joint Military Council.

Thank you,

Alvin Reckno, Prime Minister
Bazalonia

The Supreme Admiral was not happy. Last night, he assumed, had been fun. The problem was he could not remember it, the amount of Whiskey he had ingested prevented him from doing so. It had also managed to give him a rather nasty head ache.

"Good Morning, Sir!" The yeoman that stood guard at the entrance to his outer chambers called as Dennis Approached.

"Ugh, At ease," Crowley replied as he returned the soldier's salute. The yeoman opened the doors for Crowley and watched as his leader proceeded in. Dennis continued in passing only his assistant, "Anything important?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir," The man replied as he handed him his morning coffee, "There is a message from DMG International Bank though, it came overnight. It's probably just another bank statement as usual."

Crowley went into his office, one of the most secure rooms in the world. One his desk was an envelope. The letter of course had come over via a computer, however the Admiral prefered to have hard copies of everything. As such, a system had been put in place to print out all of his emails. He read over the letter.

Crowley was furious. He flung the cup of coffee against his wall at a speed that put most Hillian Baseball pitchers to shame. He didn't even need to use the intercom for his assistant to hear him, all he did was yell. "Get Antony Kilov on the phone now!" he yelled, "And get Comiskey down here this second!"

The assistant quickly had a message sent up to Hillian Inteligence Director Alvin Comiskey stating that the Admiral need him. Then he went on to a more daunting task, getting the man who was probably the biggest banker in the world on the phone.

Baikov International Headquarters, Kazakhstan

Sasha Baikov shot Yuri Yakov a malicious look, one so terrible that Yuri visibly flinched. Lowering his gaze, Sasha audibly sighed, placing down the latest profit report. It was four percent lower than last year. Yuri gulped.
"What is it this time, Yakov?" He muttered irritably. "It seems that you only get messages whenever you know i'm enjoying myself." Yuri tried to force a smile on his face, but the scowling glance of the Director made him quickly abandon such a notion. He ran a hand through his lustrous black hair nervously.
"Sorry to bother you, Director. It's just I was told that I was to alert you if anything major happened in the business world." Realising he sounded almost snidey, he quickly added in a "Sir." Sasha collapsed into his chair, bored hands running down his silky blond hair before descending to the pointed tips of his ears.
"Yes, I did. Very well, get on with it."
"You are aware that we are keeping a dossier on the nation of D-" He quickly halted at the sight of the Director's menacing gaze. "Anyway, our recon came up with this..." The Director was out of his seat and reading the report before he even finished. Sasha's eyes brightened with a glimmer of interest, tearing the document from Yuri's grasp. As he finished scanning the text, there was an awkward silence, before a demonic smile appeared on Sasha's face. Remembering the silent messenger, Sasha quickly schooled his expression.
"Tell Aleksey I need a team."
"Aleksey is at a conference, Director." A flash of annoyance came across the Director's face, before returning to his blank stare.
"Then get the Admin. Tell him I need a monkey and a metalman ready to be dispatched within the hour." Ignoring Yuri's puzzled stare, the Director dismissed him with a small gesture of his hand. Dropping the document over the profit report, he downed the last of his champagne.
Time for a gold rush.

Royal Treasury Complex
Ael Khalas, Altanar

Deep in the sub-basement bowels of Building C of the Royal Treasury Complex, Asar Periak typed away, his fingers merrily clicking over the keys as he hummed a little tune. His job as an RS-15 grade accountant was relatively simple, but one that warmed his bureaucratic heart: run daily audits and checks over a series of accounts that the Altanari government had invested in various banks, stock brokerages and other institutions. Around him, a room full of other RS-15's did the same checks on the accounts they were designated to audit. Supervisors monitored their work to ensure there was no fiduciary funny business on their part, while in glassed-in offices, higher-ranking office managers monitored them as well. There had been occasional discrepancies, but nothing serious in the hundred-plus year history of the Royal Treasury. But every winning streak, sadly, has its end...

When Periak entered the codes to audit one of the accounts on his list, he was barely paying attention, since nothing ever changed in his job. A sharp beep from the screen caused him to re-focus on the account in question. Flashing red letters appeared in the "account audit" screen:

Account: 02XX-84XX-58XX-45XX
Account depository: DMG International Bank
Previous daily balance: $10,000,000,000
Current daily balance: $0.00
***NO WITHDRAWALS AUTHORIZED BY ROYTREAS---ALERT CODE 01-RT-1111***

Periak stared at the screen, stunned. He could barely remember what alert code 01-RT-1111 represented, having never seen it before except in training. Then it hit him like a brick to the forehead.

01-RT-1111....Possible theft of funds....

Just at that second, his supervisor, who had been monitoring Periak's screen remotely, came barrelling out of his office, waving a printout and shouting.

The only thing Periak could think, seeing this, was that the ashak was about to hit the fan.

---

The Aerie
Ael Khalas, Altanar
Situation Room

"How much has been stolen?" Altanar's ruler, King Aelkyn, said.

"According to our auditors, your Majesty, it was $10,000,000,000 that we had deposited in the DMG International Bank. We just received this message from the bank as well, explaining the situation," Royal Treasurer Warca Simexpa replied, placing the message on the ebonywood conference table in front of the King. "It's a relatively trivial amount, sire, and we were smart enough to insure our deposit, but there could be complications..."

"That's putting it mildly," Prime Minister Jaris Krytellin snapped. "Especially if this supposedly invulnerable bank goes belly-up as a result of this debacle, taking our 'insurance' with it...not to mention the PR hit we're going to take once word of this theft of tax revenue gets out to the media..."

Aelkyn sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. "Indeed. What are we doing to address this mess?"

The other person at the table turned to respond. "We're ready to send a team to investigate this theft and track down the offenders, your Majesty," Justice Minister Lisa Shannon Gerasnak replied. "The MoJ and the RAPF have assembled a special unit with experience in financial crimes and computer crimes to investigate, along with additional officers to provide more...physically oriented backup, should it be needed. We'll be counting on the cooperation of the bank and the local authorities, but seeing how embarrassing this incident is for them, I doubt that'll be hard to obtain."

"Then get your team out there on the double," Aelkyn commanded. "I want these bastards tracked down and our money recovered."

---

Hasakar Royal Air Fleet Base
Kyrinia, Altanar

A single C-21A, decorated in the livery of the Royal Altanari Police Force, stood on the tarmac. Eight passengers, some dressed in RAPF uniforms, others wearing black suits, quickly boarded. The trip would be a long one, and would require refueling stops in some friendly states along the way. But when the time came, the Altanari team would be there to begin their investigation.

20.00
Belfast International Airport

On the Premier's orders four agents of the Celtayoshi State Intelligence Service were waiting to border an Air Celtayoshi flight to DMG. Although the CYSIS also conducted state espionage, these men where from the Serious Fraud and Financial Theft Office (SFFTO). The four men where,
Alfred Fairweather, aged 54,
Freddie Rich, aged 46,
Yohan Stein, aged 39 and
Evan Terence, aged 30.
They travelled with a small amount of portable equipment which could help link them with their office if necessary. There they had access to as much help as they could ever want.
For now, however, they sat waiting for the 20.42 flight to DMG, which would take 11 hours.

OOC: DMG, I kind of assumed that at least SOMETHING was above-ground in the bank...to be honest, I don't really know how you get in, so if you want me to I'll edit this to reflect the bank's layout.

IC: Seuss yawned and drained his twenty-first glass of champagne, looking out the window at the icy expanse of Antarctica. "Looks fun," he muttered to himself, before returning to his copy of Machiavelli's Il Principe. The plane taxied in for a smooth landing at Dominion International Airport, and he woke Sir Topham Hatt, who had fallen into an hours-long stupor after eating his waffles. They exited without any difficulty, passing easily through customs: they hadn't packed any contraband or weapons, unwilling to cut through any red tape. Exiting the airport, the duo hailed a cab and headed off to the DMG International Bank's headquarters.

It wasn't long before they arrived, and it was odd to look at the building's polished exterior. As far as appearances went, the bank could have been completely untouched, instead of facing catastrophic bankruptcy. Seuss ignored the appearance, however. The loss of an estimated $140 trillion USD in cash wouldn't cause a worldwide financial meltdown, but it would mean the end of DMG's international credibility in addition to the obvious financial losses, dealing a significant blow to the worldwide defense industry through DMG Military Industries...DMG was well-connected to the rest of the world, and economic chaos there meant economic chaos everywhere. Something that had to be avoided.

He strode into the building, glancing to make sure Hatt was still behind him, and headed straight for the help desk. Clearing his throat to get the woman's attention, he flashed a badge that proclaimed him 'Civilian Consultant-Kregaian Imperial Intelligence Division' and coolly stated, fixing her with an imperious stare, "Good day. My name is Dr. Jacob Seuss, this is my companion Sir Topham Hatt, and we'd like to see President Stanton, please."

Monday, 6:00 PM
"First of all, it's 'President' to you, not CEO," Antony Kilov said as he began to get irritated with the CEO of Alfegos REM on the other side of the phone. "Second of all, we here in the Dominion do not take kindly to threats of any kind. We are handling the situation, we have already notified you that you can send your own investigators, and we are attempting to rectify the situation. Now, unless you have something more important to say... buzz off."

With that gentle dismissal of yet another unhappy client, President Antony Kilov hung up the phone and took a deep breath. However, right as he was about to lean back in the folds of his leather chair, a beep emitted from the phone followed by a voice alerting him that he had yet another call - this is one too, no doubt, from unhappy client.

"You're on the line with Supreme Admiral Crowly of Drexel Hillsville," said a female's voice as the connection was accepted from Drexel to the President of the bank.

---------

At Viscount International Airport, the island that serviced all entrances into and exits out of the Dominion, the scene was the normal semi-chaotic state when countless millions of people milled about in the same complex. In truth it was a giant complex, but still, when a population larger than many a small country was moving around in a building attempting to catch flights, there was no such thing as perfect order.

However, for each account holder that had responded to the Bank Message with a confirmation of sending their own investigators, a small detail of the airport's security force had been tasked. The detail of some four officers would see the investigators through the long arduous security and screening process. So thorough, the process was, that it took roughly thirty minutes per person from beginning to end... not including any queuing or waiting time. The final step was registering with the government, which a fingerprint, iris, and voice scan, and submitting to a background check. All temporary visitors were required to wear small tracking devices until cleared by the government. Failure to submit to any of these security checks earned anyone a direct trip to the soonest flight out of the Dominion.

If everything was clear, though, they would be ushered onto the next plane bound for the Dominion, and given instructions on how to reach the bank.

---------

The scene at the bank was one of ordered chaos. All roads surrounding the underground entrance and small plaza area above had been roped off by police and traffic diverted elsewhere. However, other than that, at the moment the local authorities were doing little. With most companies, they would have vehemently taken the lead in righting such a grave wrong, but then the International Bank of DMG was not most other companies. In this delicate and deep situation, all authorities had chosen to defer to the Bank's own investigators. Because the investigators technically had no more legal power than any other citizen, the police and other federal agencies would be doing a lot of the groundwork that required such authority.

The actual investigation had began the moment the funds were stolen. All fifty of the banks Special Investigators had been called to duty and had begun their work. However, before moving any further or deeper into the investigation, they decided to wait for the other nations' investigators to arrive.

So Patrick Stewart, chief lei zone from the Bank, would wait for the others and direct them in their efforts. He would give them all roughly the same speech: "All evidence and bank access is fully open, though trips to the vault, as unnecessary as they may be, require a Bank escort. All evidence acquired by our own investigators will be shared with all, and we hope the same courtesy shall be extended on your end. Lead Investigator Edmond Dantès will fill you in on the current status - he is on the executive floor..."

---------

The lady at the help desk pointed Dr. Jacob Seuss and Sir Topham Hatt to Patrick Stewart who was to deal with foreign investigators. "Greetings," the man said in a slight accent - something odd among Demogades. "Vice President Stanton is currently unavailable," he responded, emphasizing his proper title. "However, I have been informed that President Antony Kilov will be accepting foreign investigators in his office. His office is on the executive floor..."

Seuss smiled formally as the man corrected him, and bowed his head slightly when the other finished. "My apologies, sir," he replied, "A simple slip of the tongue. If you please, could you show us to President Kilov's office?" Stewart nodded and smiled politely, turning and leading them down a set of stairs to another floor and into an elevator. Punching a button, Stewart waited as they descended into the ground, emerging at last on the penultimate floor, leading them through a double frosted-glass door and onto a tastefully decorated office floor, lined with lavish-looking offices and finally to what must be President Kilov's office. Knocking, the trio entered the secretary's office, who let them pass into Kilov's office. The President of DMG International Bank was seated behind an expensive-looking desk, looking every inch a man deserving of his station. Seuss fixed him with a steady stare, while Hatt fidgeted next to him, and Stewart introduced the two and excused himself from the room.

"President Kilov, forgive us for interrupting you like this. Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dr. Jacob Seuss, and this is Sir Topham Hatt. Both of us hail from the Kregaian Empire; in fact, we are Civilian Consultants employed by the Kregaian Imperial Intelligence Division. We understand that almost sixteen trillion dollars of Sacred Emperor Ishamael's personal wealth has been stolen by an unknown party or parties, and we have been assigned to find those responsible, bring them to justice, and above all recover the money. Perhaps you could tell us about the theft? Any information would be highly appreciated."

The aircraft wasn't scheduled to take off for another two and a half hours but the Layartebian investigatory team was ready to go. It was just after 01:00 hours, Monday morning, seventeen hours behind the time in DMG. When informed of the security checks they would have to go through, the Layartebian team looked to expedite things. Any information needed would be sent over, electronically, ahead of time while the investigators were onboard the aircraft. They wouldn't arrive for a full day because of the long distance between countries.

The AREM CEO sighed. He had been a bit too harsh. But money was important.

He ordered the go-ahead for the 2 x 10 man investigative teams to look for these robbers. They would start at the bank. And if anyone got in their way, they had permission to sticky them for obstructing investigation.

The jet took off, before receiveing the beacon from the Viscount airport. It turned and followed the call, towards DMG. Onboard were the two teams, all armed with non-lethal weapons and a couple of 'other' things, such as the concelaed syringes filled with Sodium Penthol.