From the 56th floor he surveyed the entire Manhattan skyline. Looking out the floor to celling windows all one could see were spires of chrome and glass. The corner office provided a view some men would kill for, and in fact some had.

In fact he had. No one but his old man had known the lengths he had gone to assure his success, and the old man was long dead. To the outside observer the firm of Kaufman & Keaton appeared to be a simple, albeit amazingly prosperous, antiquities dealer.

His secretary knocked and quietly opened the door.

“Mr. Kaufman? This package just arrived for you.”

“Set it on my desk”, he said without turning around. She left as quietly as she came. As soon as she was gone he spun around, eyes fixed on the small brown box. It bore no return address, but he knew its origin. Directly in the middle, on the top, was blood-red wax seal, about the size of a quarter, with a dragon stamped in it.

A devilish smile crept across his face.

“Finally”, he said.

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