“And what is your point, Captain?” asked Major Hiro.

“We—I mean, your unit—would be honored if we could use it for humanitarian purposes. We have seen great suffering in the region and, with your permission, sir, we would like to give a little back to the people here. We would like to share the great merit that has been bestowed on our empire by helping the poor and the sick.”

“That would be a very noble enterprise,” said Hiro, his eyes focused on two lizards playing chase across the wall.

“But Major, we would need to be patient. We need to be able to find a place to store the gold safely for a year or two to keep it out of the hands of opportunists and thieves.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said the major. “I am Major Hiro Uenobu. I am the head of the salvage unit.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Then leave it up to me. Have the men reseal the crates and stencil the words Obsolete Breeze Blocks on both. I shall bury that gold in paperwork so deep you’ll need a diving bell to find it.”

“Are you sure you . . . ?”

“Do you doubt my filing ability, Captain?”

“No, sir. It’s just . . .”

“I know what I’m doing. Once the gold is safe, I shall share its location with you and the men. Give me thirty-six hours.”

But the major didn’t have thirty-six hours. He spent that day at his desk directing and redirecting the movement of containers. He stamped and signed each order. And that evening after sweeping his office and locking the door, he stripped butt naked and climbed an old observation turret. By the time they brought him down, his mind was scrambled. No matter how many documents they scoured, the men in his unit could find not a trace of the two crates. Captain Yuki and his men went to every known warehouse and storage depot. They broke open every box and case, but they could not find their gold. They visited the major every day trying to squeeze the location out of him, but by then he was already barking mad. Then, one day, he’d disappeared.