A SARA series novel by Kasobazu Sumi (Kazu), all rights reserved.

Peni Araka (AKA Sara), a high school girl from the famous Peni Sakashi clan who has a passion to save people from danger, found her place as an Intern Agent in the new SAIR Internship Program, the agency that was responsible for protecting people during dangerous supernatural incidents, investigating complex super-nature related crimes, and also ensure the security of the nation. While during her work term, she had came across people from different background with unique personalities and made many friends along the way. She also furthered her understanding of how the world functioned during the work term. However, as she dived deeper into the world, dangers and uncertainty were always awaiting her.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐫. 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

*𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅*

When a beautiful girl is found murdered on the forty-sixth floor of the new SchwarzTech Towers building, Lieutenant Jack Reynolds of LAPD Special Services is called on to act as a liaison between the department and the German company, SchwarzTech. He is aided by a somewhat disreputable captain who is on extended leave and who has spent time in Germany. During the investigation, Reynolds learns a lot about the adversarial trade methods used by the Germans to subvert and undermine the United States.

Spoiler Alert:  This is an alternate reality story.

Welcome to Fairhaven, Virginia, in the enchanting autumn of 1854. The leaves have transformed into vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold, painting a picturesque scene. A wispy, gentle breeze carries the scent of fallen leaves through the air, as wind chimes tinkle melodious, their soothing notes echoing throughout Fairhaven. October has bid farewell, leaving a sense of anticipation and change in its wake.

In this quaint town, we find The Vandelles family, esteemed pillars of the community. Percival Vandelles, a prominent railroad tycoon, and his beloved wife Genevieve, hailing from a prestigious cotton family. Their two sons, Theodore and Sebastian, are eager to follow in their father's footsteps and make their mark on the world.

However, tragedy struck The Vandelles family when Genevieve succumbed to tuberculosis, leaving Percival burdened by grief and longing for solace., with a heavy heart, Percival retired from the bustling railroad business, passing the torch of responsibility to his capable son, Sebastian. As the Vandelles Railroad Company flourishes under Sebastian's guidance, Theodore a well-educated lawyer and graduate of Oxford University As well as a top-notch education  Theodore has pickup a sight English accent due to his time in England. The brothers find themselves navigating their paths amidst a rapidly changing world.

Join us on this captivating journey through love, ambition, and the complexities of family dynamics in the autumn of 1854 in Fairhaven, Virginia. Experience the beauty of the season, the ambitions of The Vandelles family, and the challenges they face as they strive to carve out their destinies in a world filled with both promise and uncertainty.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺

𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴!

𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑, "𝑂ℎ, 𝑤𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛?" 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑, "𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘."  𝘐 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑅𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑘 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟.

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦.

I have an idea in mind, just keeping this as a tote to develop my characters and my narrative. Nothing is in order. (English isn't my first language)

Anna believed she was living a romantic fairytale. That was not the case. She suffered physical and mental torture from the man she loved. Anna developed psychological abilities as a result of the shock she experienced as a result of these tragedies. Anna is becoming more powerful. Sadly, this growth will also lead to a change in the human psyche. Anna is a well-known entrepreneur who also serves as the leader of a covert organization. Because the guys she genuinely loved let her down, Anna ventures into love affairs. She exacts retribution and resolves her cases without showing pity to those who merit punishment. Will Anna overcome the physical and mental trauma she was subjected to? Will he manage to master his powers and deviant tendencies? Will she meet the love of her dreams?

Age rating: 17+

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It was a day like any other on patrol for officer Franny Day until she made the mistake of pulling over a serial killer which set fourth going rogue, abandoning her position as an officer, going on the run with an abused runway 14 y/o female she saved, an old acquaintance from her dark days, wanted by the law she used to uphold for an oppressive government and a carefree, rebellious 18 y/o female looking to lead a fight as more and more teenagers are going missing every day, rumored to be escaping the country if they can by any means.

Where they are is no longer safe for any of them and one, let alone four can only hide in plain sight for so long, the only option being to sneak across the border.

If they make it to the border that is.

Inside an old hotel, on the steps, lies the blood-soaked, decapitated body of a famous singer- Vivaan Singh. Carefully positioned, legs stretched out, arms crossed over the chest, the most horrifying thing of all is that the singer's head has been replaced by that of a dog.

Later, the forensic team discover that, on the victim's back, the figure '5' has been scrawled in blood.

At first, Inspector Nakuul Shetty believes that this is a ritualistic killing. But as more bodies surface, he is forced to reassess. All the victims died in the way with the thing they feared the most.

Their worst nightmares have literally come true. But how could the killer have known? And what links these apparently random victims?

Nakuul finds himself on the trail of an elusive and sadistic killer, someone who apparently has the power to read his victims' minds. Someone who can sense what scares his victims the most. Someone who will stop at nothing to achieve his twisted aim.

IMAGINE YOUR WORST FEAR- THEN MEET YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE

Drew Atticus is a spy who is stuck for months in a room. Little does he know, all his movements are being monitored. He has two options either to give up everything and die or stay strong and fulfil his incomplete mission. But the only problem that arises is to hide his actions from the SPE (special police establishment). Will Drew get caught during his mission or will he be successful?

(may include bad language)

Martin Blanchard is a man who grieves for the loss of his wife, Anne Blanchard, who was murdered by a killer. As he attempts to move on with his life, he meets Jessica Harrison, whose own personal life is full of sorrow after the death of her first boyfriend, Harry James.

But, as their lives connect, the killer strikes New Yorkers, as the crime rate soars in the city that never sleeps.

The bullet hit the brickwork above my head. The twanging whine of the ricochet echoed down the alley. These goons meant business. I was up to my neck in it this time.

It started with a call from a local music retailer. “Mr Wright my name is Harold Greene, I am Manager of ‘Music Land’ in Burbank St. If you are available, I would like to employ you to do some investigative work for us. Can you come and see me?”

“Sure, how about Monday morning 9 am.”

“That suits me fine. I’ll see you then.”

Staff at Music Land had spotted a stall holder at the Market Precinct in the City, offering CD’s, DVD’s and other music related products at low prices.

“Many of the products he has on sale are identical to the stock we sell,”  Harald Greene explained. “Our HQ has given me permission to look into the matter further. We want to know if his products are genuine, and if not, locate the source of his supply.”

Micro Taggants, microscopic identification particles on every Music Land product, mark it as a genuine article. The laser pen the Manager handed me activates when near the taggants up to a distance of one metre. No flashing light, no genuine product.

I was certain the job would be straight forward. The technology for duplication of media products is within easy reach of anybody who has a mind to do it, these days. If the products were illegal it was just a matter of finding the amateur impresario and giving Harold Greene the lowdown on the production location.

Tuesday, I hit the Market Precinct. A mid-twenties Asian man with a perpetual smile presided over a comprehensive selection of CD’s DVD’s and Music Video’s. With the laser pen taped to the inside of my wrist, a slight turn of my hand provided a view of the indicator light. I looked at the guy, “Are these all authentic products?” The smile remained but it was obvious that was too much English for him. “These,”  I said sweeping my hand over the display, “not fake?”

“Oh! no! no! not fake. All good All good.”

I smiled and nodded.

I handled various items from different areas of the display under the pretence of interest .The indicator had not flashed once. It was possible the Asian gentleman was the producer as well as the seller of the illicit media. The only avenue to determine that was by monitoring his movements over time.

Late that afternoon I sat in my car watching him pack up the stall and place everything under lock and key in the security lockers provided by the Market Administration. I tailed his vehicle to a small stucco house in an Asian neighbourhood. I knew it would take time. The stall was popular. He was selling items every-day. Hopefully, that meant he would need more stock soon. It required me to stake out his house early morning and the stall at finishing time. If he was not making the copies I would be on his tail when he visited his supplier.

Apart from a two hour visit to a local pokies venue Wednesday evening, my quarry kept to an unvarying routine. An early start at the stall and a late evening return home. Friday morning he caught me by surprise, pulling out of the driveway at the usual time and motoring off in the opposite direction from his usual route. I kept up with him until he turned into a factory car park in an industrial area. It was obviously a distribution centre. The place was a hive of activity. Cars pulling in, people loading boxes into their vehicles and driving off.

This was more than I had anticipated. Way beyond being a small one-man operation. After an hour, my man came out with boxes which he loaded into the back seat of his car. He went back inside twice reappearing with more boxes until the rear seat of his vehicle was stacked to the roof.

To my mind this place was a wholesale distribution centre. It was not the production centre. A few days surveillance here might get me a lead in that direction.

Two men in a black BMW X5 SUV visited the factory daily. A couple of hard looking characters. Both were tall. One lean and hawk-faced, the other large and Muscular with a black beard. Both wore dark brown leather Jackets and dark trousers. After a few days I pegged them as the owners of the business. If an illegal operation can be called a business. Shadowing them would get me to the base of operations.

I had an eerie feeling I was getting into deep water with these two Gorilla’s. They looked like professionals. The type who would spot a tail if I was careless.

The size of the operation puzzled me. I called Walter. My 18-year-old nephew is a University student living at home with his Parents. His computer skills have become an essential part of my business. I pay him for time spent on his computer for me.

“It’s research, this time Walter. Get me some facts on counterfeiting of  CD’s, DVD’s and Video. On counterfeiting in general, and who is doing it.”

“ No problem Uncle Charles.”

“ Email me a summary of what you come up with. And be sure to note how much time you spend.”

“Ok.”

It was afternoon on the day I followed them. I kept five cars behind in traffic. My odometer indicated 40 kilometres, as they turned into an abandoned industrial area, pulling up out front of one of a group of old Warehouses. The place had no windows. Nothing of the building's exterior gave any indication of what went on inside. The one loading bay might have given some view of the interior. For the present, the roller door was down.

It was imperative that I verify whether this was the counterfeiting centre before passing the location to Harald Greene. A brief foray inside was my only choice. My stomach was informing me of the need for food. I had a few hours before darkness. I drove back to the MacDonald’s, passed during the pursuit, for a leisurely meal.

10 pm I left my car half a kilometre from the warehouse and approached on foot. There appeared to be no security cameras on the building. I would have to brave whatever security was in place. My intent was a quick entry, a quick look around and a quick exit. A large padlock secured a side entrance door. I made quick work of that with the Private Investigators friend, a small set of locksmith’s lock picking tools.

Once inside my torch beam revealed what I was looking for. A bench beside a large offset printing press with set up runs of CD and DVD covers. Stacks of clear plastic CD, DVD and Video cases. Machines surrounded by evidence of being product duplicators. Evidence enough.

Loud voices and torch beams erupted from my entry door. I crouched down behind the printing machine. In the dark I had a good chance of getting out. Unfortunately, someone had begun to switch on the lights. My only chance was to make a run for it now. I bolted for the side door. I made it, but more shouts and torch beams told me they had seen me.

The bullet hit the brickwork as I raced down the alley between the buildings. The whining echo of another followed it. They were firing blind into the dark. I plunged ahead. My only thought was to get to my car. They were coming fast behind me. A shout went up each time a torch beam picked me out. Thankfully, I had not locked the car. I slid in behind the wheel, started the vehicle, and put my foot down. The last I saw of my pursuers was torch beams dancing around the rear of my vehicle. Trying for the numberplate?

Walters email that evening cleared up a lot of questions for me. Counterfeiting of media, prescription drugs, car parts, aviation parts, clothes, shoes and much more is a $600 billion industry. The biggest players are the Mafia, Chinese triad gangs, Irish Republican Army, Korean criminals, and terrorist groups. Which of these groups I had upset I did not know. I did know it was way above my pay grade. The battleground of Government agencies.

The sight of the shattered glass panel of my office door the next morning, prepared me for what was inside. Nothing in the office had escaped unscathed. Everything was smashed, slashed or beaten into uselessness. I guess they picked up my number plate. It was a warning. ‘Stay out of our business.’

I was philosophical. I could remedy the situation. Items could be replaced. The office repaired. It could have been much worse. Much worse !!

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