The scent of earl gray filled the office as a sharply dressed woman brought a steaming cup of tea to the desk. The large office chair turned from the windows as she set it down. An older man with a thick beard gave the woman a brief smile, “Thank you Amalia. Could you please compose the letters?”

“Of course, sir.” Amalia walked over to the type writer, as her boss looked through his flies again.

“The terrorist group’s movement is unusual. They are abandoning their normal facilities and seem to be moving underground. We’ve detected a transfer of funds. However we are unable to trace the bank account.” He stood and faced the window again with a sigh, “I would like to be able to hold back a little longer, but this war must end. It’s time to dispatch them.” Amalia pulled out the completed letter and stamped it for authentication.

“You must end this war,

or it will end us

I want you”