The Mysterious Disappearance of Henry Spiggen
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Filó District, Hemberdale, Kingdom of Gadalland
The usual police business of the day, including answering emergency calls and dealing with overreactions, was interrupted by a call to the Sertian Police Force non-emergency number. Officer Morris Dramson received the call.
The area code was +8980, which usually indicated an urgent message from the government. Government officials in Gadalland and Aspern are always instructed to use the non-emergency number, as it is at less of a risk of illegal surveillance.
+8980.+8980. Officer Dramson looked at those numbers and knew he was not allowed to pick up the call. What would happen if I did? What if this is a test? Dramson looked around, making small movements with his head and large movements with his eyes. He picked up the phone.
"Sertian Police Force non-emergency number. What can I do for you today?"
"This is the government of Gadalland and Aspern requesting a Turnip for the Man."
Dramson immediately knew what the voice meant. Sure, he spoke Stamp Lect (The Sertian Official Secret Language).
"Sir, I'm not classed to receive this information. May I transfer you to our police chief?"
"Do it. Now."Dramson dropped the phone, got up from his chair and walked quickly down the hall to the Office of the Chief. He knocked on the closed door, unable to see through the frosted glass.
Knock.
Knock.
Taking a deep breath, Dramson turned the handle and walked in. Inside the office were three other men around the police chief. They turned to look at Dramson.From the Chief's perspective, Dramson looked so nervous he might have urinated on someone at any moment. The three men Dramson recognised as his colleagues who worked on the emergency line.
"Sir," Dramson began, "I received an 8980 call to disclose classified information. They're on the line now."
The Chief looked at Dramson, not with alarm but with a furrowed, slightly anxious frown. "I know, Dramson. They called us three times already. " He gestured to the three men in the room.
"They're still on the line, sir, if you would like to talk to them. I think it's urgent."
"I'm going to put them on speaker. Do you know what this means?" the Chief asked.
I'll have to keep this secret for the rest of my life. Yes, I do know.
"Yes, sir," Dramson replied. The other men nodded in nervous agreement.
The Chief picked up the phone. "Speaking?" he asked the receiver.
"This is Councillor Dína for Councillor Spiggen. Is this Solitaire?" said the receiver.
What was the European Councillor doing in Hemberdale? Shouldn't she have been on recess?
"Solitaire on call," the Chief replied.
"What goes around and comes around, Solitaire?"
The Chief replied, "He who bears the Crown of Horns." This was the riddle asked to confirm the identity of high government officials. Though nonsensical, the answer to the same question changed every day.
"You received a turnip from the Man?" Dína asked through the phone.
"Yes."
"Do you know what to do?"
"Don't tell the press, a secret is a safe secret. Yes, I do, Councillor Dína. I will send these gentlemen to the Hall immediately."
Dína hung up the phone."Gentlemen," the Chief said, "Mr. Spiggen has been kidnapped."
Dramson had always wanted to be a professor of Oceanography, not an emergency responder because he knew something like this would happen. Oh well, he thought. Here we go.
