Ruban stood outside the offices of World News Now, his mouth dry and palms sweaty. Two large potted plants decorated the entrance to the chic, well-lit offices, located on the twenty-third floor of one of the tallest buildings in Film City.

Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to forego the elevators and take the stairs all the way down to the ground floor. To freedom.

He’d asked Casia Washi for a favor. And she’d agreed to do him one. He didn’t know which of the two was more surprising.

Not that she was being entirely selfless, of course. She’d get days (if not weeks) of content out of this too. Not to mention that she liked Ashwin, certainly much more than she’d ever liked Ruban.

That was what he was banking on, after all. That people liked Ashwin enough to want to help him.

Thanks to his exploits over the past year, Ashwin had no dearth of friends in the media. He was pretty, witty, and earnest – had good screen presence – and it didn’t take much more than that to win over the bored, television-viewing public of Vandram.

Last year, Ashwin’s pervasive, effortless charm had worked against them as they scrambled to keep him off the news networks. This time, it might well work in their favor.

A denim-clad secretary ushered him inside and led him through the busy, labyrinthine corridors into a large corner office with glass walls. Perched atop her glossy wooden desk, a pen in her mouth and another stuck behind her left ear, Casia Washi looked up from the overstuffed folder she’d been perusing.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and steaming, aromatic tea in hand-painted porcelain cups soon appeared in front of them. Ruban took a sip, letting the spicy sweetness suffuse his senses. It was the best tea he’d had in – well, since Ashwin was taken. He swallowed, putting the cup down, only to see Casia watching him through narrowed eyes.

He sat back in his chair. “If I knew media houses served such wonderful tea, I’d have considered journalism in college.”

“Thank Vaan you didn’t, then.” Her eyes twinkled. Ruban groaned, childhood superstitions about swearing in the name of Vaan rearing to be unleashed. He wondered if she’d said it just to get a rise out of him. “But I have a feeling you’re not here to discuss our superior choice in beverages,” she added.

“No.” If she wanted him to cut to the chase, he was more than willing to oblige. “I take it you’ve heard about the recent arrests we made at the Zainian border.”

She nodded. “Who hasn’t? Though I can’t say it was much of a surprise. The Qawirsin has been smuggling feathers out of the country for months now. The official line notwithstanding, I don’t think there’s anyone in this building who didn’t see this coming a mile off. If anything, after all the damage they’ve caused, it seems too little too late.”

“It is. I’m not asking for more press coverage of the arrests. Quite the contrary. I want you to shed some light on our failure to protect foreign emissaries on our soil.”

She stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Ashwin Kwan was taken by the mafia in Ghorib. By Janak Nath, to be precise. The head of the Qawirsin. We’re trying to find him, but we haven’t had much luck so far. And our efforts are being blocked by certain factions within the central government.”

Ruban watched a plethora of emotions flit across Casia’s oddly symmetrical face. After a few seconds of stunned silence, she cleared her throat. “Tell me more,” she said, leaning forward.

He brought the beautiful, hand-painted teacup to his lips and took another sip, buying himself time. How much could he tell her? How much did she even need to know? He’d taken a risk by coming here, by asking for her help. He was walking a tightrope over a canyon, but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t just abandon Ashwin to his fate, not when he knew what he did about Janak and his history with Aeriels.

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He had to find him. And if this was the only way, then it was a risk he had no choice but to take.

“It was Ashwin who’d brought us the information about a potential raid on the Ghorib mines. I don’t know what his sources were; he refused to disclose–”

“Tight-lipped little bugger,” Casia muttered, her voice fond. “Could prattle on for hours unprompted, but good luck trying to get him to say a word when he didn’t want to. Never met anyone who could talk so much while revealing so little.”

His lips twitched. Casia didn’t know who Ashwin truly was, but somehow, she understood the infuriating paradox of him – painfully earnest in his deceptions; ridiculously honest without ever telling the whole truth.

“Yes, well, I told him to stay in Ragah, but he wouldn’t listen. Followed us to Ghorib, and then to the mines on the day of the attack, although I didn’t know it at the time. By the time I realized he had entered the mines, it was too late. He was nabbed by Janak and some of his men before they escaped.

“We’ve been looking for him everywhere, but every lead we find turns out to be a dead end. It’s been over a week, and–”

“And you think there’s a way I can help you find him?”

He looked down at the cup in his hand. His tea had gone cold. “Yes. One of the smugglers we arrested at the Zainian border – his name is Farid – and he’s known to be a trusted associate of Janak Nath. One of his closest confidantes. If anyone would know where he’s hiding, it’d be Farid.”

“Let me guess. You’d like to have a little heart-to-heart with this man.” She frowned. “But I don’t see what the problem is. You should have the clearance–”

“I would, if those goddamn politicians weren’t doing everything in their power to thwart me. I didn’t understand what the hold-up was, initially. But every time I scheduled an appointment to visit Farid, it was postponed. Finally, I called up the director of the IAW to ask what the matter was.” He bit his lip, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “And he implied that there was pressure from the Department of Defence to keep my team away from the prisoners.”

Casia finished her tea and placed the cup carefully on its saucer, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, Janak Nath did work for the IAW, way back in the day. It’s not inconceivable that he may still have some contacts in the government, especially now that he’s one of the most influential figures in the illegal feather trade. The mafia’s rolling in money, ever since those Aeriels joined up with them after Tauheen’s death.”

“I figured as much. But I need to talk to Farid. Right now, he’s the only lead we have. If we let him slip through our fingers, we lose Ashwin.”

“And we can’t have that, can we now?” She smirked. “That boy’s left me high and dry more times than I can count. Still, I don’t know why, but I like him.”

Ruban rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could relate, perhaps more than it was healthy for a Hunter to relate to a reporter. Just like Ashwin to leave everyone in a state of baffled fascination even as he was busy getting kidnapped.

“Pressure from the Department of Defence, you said.” She’d pulled out a notepad and was now scribbling furiously on it, her nose inches from the desk. “Who’s the new senior secretary, do you know?”

He nodded, then realized she wasn’t looking at him and stopped. “Uh, yes. I’ve met her a few times, but we haven’t really talked much. If there’s anything in particular you want to know–”

“For the moment, she’s relevant only as a point of contact between the IAW and the central government. She’s new to her position, so she wouldn’t have the clout to put pressure on the IAW Director.” As she spoke, her fingers flew over the weirdly shaped ergonomic keyboard on her desk. “But somebody higher up might be using her as a go-between to do their bidding, help keep you and your team out of the loop. We’ll need a list of all the people she’s recently been in contact with, any colleagues or superiors at her last job who might have a vested interest–”

“Casia!” His eyes met hers. “Thank you. I know we haven’t always been on the best of terms, but… I called you yesterday because I’d hit one dead end after another, and I had nowhere else to turn. But I never imagined–”

She waved a hand. “He’s my friend too, you know. Ashwin – or whatever his name really is.” She smirked at his startled expression. “Not quite as smart as he fancies himself, our mutual friend.

“Still, he’s Ashwin to me. To us. And we’ll find him. If I have to run a sting operation on the entire Department of Defence to smoke out the ones pulling the strings on behalf of Janak Nath,” she shrugged, eyes gleaming with excitement. “So be it. It’ll be good for the ratings, if nothing else.”

Ruban closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I might be delusional. But talking to you, I almost feel like we might really win this.”