Inge's Revenge
-
28th January 2022. Het Goor, North Diessen
"She's here, Ekrem."
President of the Confederacy of North Diessen Ekrem Mueller sighed. For weeks, even months, his new and orderly reign had been undisturbed by attempts to oust him, or uncover the ways in which he had gained power. Surprisingly to him, no one had openly challenged why he should have been the one to follow in former President Inge Pekcan's footsteps when she had oh-so-inconveniently been injured during civil hostilities earlier this year. No one had questioned why units from the Inimician armed forces had cut communication lines to and from military compounds and had prevented anyone in military high command from communicating with one another.
All things considered, the ruse had gone perfectly, and Ekrem had the Inimicians to thank. He had even been slightly frightened by their immense efficiency. Within a matter of days they had completely quashed the rebellion Ekrem had instigated in Reuland -- always the odd State out in this country. At the same time, they had organised themselves entirely according to the discussed plan and positioned units at crucial junctions and infrastructure checkpoints. Within an hour or two, it had all been done. Pekcan was out, and Mueller was in.
He hadn't killed her. For some reason, there was still a sense of loyalty towards his former employer that had prevented him from, as it were, finishing the job. The Inimicians had insisted she be 'taken away' to their country, which Ekrem knew full well was one of the most gruesome euphemisms one could use. Instead, he had insisted Pekcan be kept under guard here, in the cellars of the Presidential Palace. She had not seen anything other than the four walls surrounding her since her ousting last autumn.
Until now. The head of Pekcan's security detail had informed Ekrem last week that Pekcan had found a way of getting in touch with a journalist, perhaps through a less-than-perfectly loyal guard, and was threatening to leak the whole saga to the Hilverbode unless she were granted an audience with him. Naturally, he had 'dismissed' all guards at her cell immediately and had had new detachments take their place, but one could never be too careful. That, if anything, was the lesson the Inimician Emperor had taught him. Cover your corners, pay attention to the details, and you will always outsmart those who threaten to bring you down.
"Inge", he said as the former President sat down in front of him, "Good to see you again." She was quite literally a shadow of her former self. Her face was pale, devoid of exposure to sunlight. Her incarceration diet had reduced her body to bones and skin, and her hair to thin, textile-like strands dotted around her scalp. Her voice, which clearly had not been used like it once had been, was hoarse, rough, and weirdly horrifying.
"The more humane result would've been to put a bullet in my head and be done with it, Ekrem. You see what a life I live. All day, every day, for four months, I have done nothing but think about what I'd do to you if I had the chance."
"And now, you have your chance."
"My chance came and went a long time ago, Ekrem. You know, I pity you, in many ways. If you had waited for a few years, you would have risen to the top of the ladder by yourself. But you didn't have the patience. And now, you will suffer the consequences of your mistake."
Ekrem saw Inge sigh. He would not have been surprised if she had dropped dead right there, right then, but she kept going. She appeared to gaze at her surroundings, the office which she had occupied herself until last October. It was a sentimental type of gaze, the sort of look one gives one's holiday apartment on the day of a return journey home.
"I just wanted to see you in person before your demise, Ekrem. It's all been done, the press are aware. They'll be verifying their sources by now. You've left it too late."
Ekrem frowned. He wanted to interrupt, but Pekcan continued: "Loyalists in the government will see through your lies and deceit, and at a moment's notice, they'll stand up to fight for what is right."
He stood up, walked over to Inge's chair, and slapped her across the face. She grinned. "You should've listened to your puppet master, Ekrem. Leave no stone unturned, or it may come back to bite you. Or spit at you."
A glottal sound, a wet splash on Ekrem's face. The guards in the corners intervened and began to drag Pekcan back down into the bowels of the Presidential Palace. "Take care of it", Ekrem shouted after them as he wiped his face, "And get my crisis team here at once." Artabanos had once said, nip crises in the bud, resolve them before they emerge. Perhaps, however, this crisis had already emerged further than he could possibly have imagined.
-
"De Hilverbode, the Diessenian Guardian, the Voice of Wollek, all of them. Chase whoever has access to the government quarter, anyone."
Panic had struck in the Office of the President of the Confederacy of North Diessen. With her final breaths, the walking skeleton once called President Inge Pekcan had delivered a potential hammer blow to the administration of Ekrem Mueller. "And get the Inimicians on the line, we may need their help." The dozen or so people present busily typed away on tablets, shouted down landlines and mobiles, and ordered aides in and out of the room. Inge had been chatting. And, more seriously, she had been chatting to a journalist, from inside her prison cell. The fact she had used one of her final moments on this earth to spit in Ekrem's face was nothing compared to the harm this might to do him.
What did she tell them? How much of the whole story might appear in the press? Just his opportunism, or his years of planning the whole operation? Just his internal connections, or the Inimician involvement with his plans as well?
As he wandered off into thought, a shout from one of his aides brought him back to earth. "We've got a Hilverbode staffer leaving the compound on CCTV."
When? Where? How? Was his security so lax that pesky journalists -- not just that, a mere staffer -- were allowed into the governmental complex without any sort of check? "Do we know who exactly this is? Get people out to the Hilverbode headquarters. Find them -- enter every room."
"Surely", a quiet voice spoke up, and the raucous of the room instantly died down, "Surely it would be prudent to exercise a discreet sense of caution at this point?"
Albert Rosenfield, Commander of the Inimician Imperial Guard Investigation Unit, rose from his seat in the corner opposite Ekrem's desk. Rosenfield had been appointed Special Envoy to North Diessen following Ekrem's rise to power. Everyone knew, everyone accepted, that the eyes and ears of Emperor Artabanos were present deep in the Diessenian structure of state. Rosenfield was famed for bringing the late great Augustus Barrington to justice in his own country -- it was known he would not hesitate to bring anyone else to justice the Emperor felt needed it.
"With all humility", Rosenfield continued, with no humility whatsoever, "May I offer a suggestion? I thought so. I think you will find that when your men arrive at the Hilverbode's headquarters, they will find a suspicious package there. A very suspicious package indeed, suspicious enough to lock down the whole building for several hours. Suspicious enough to let no one in or out for a day or more. Suspicious enough, even, to cut all communication lines to the inside."
Ekrem hesitated. "A suspicious package? I mean, well, OK -- "
Rosenfield rose and proceeded across the room. The grand fireplace in Ekrem's office had traditionally played host to a range of historical artefacts from the Confederacy's history. A 12th-century drinking cup gifted to the rules of Reuland at the time. A framed copy of the first Diessenian constitution of 1801. A rectangular box containing the chess set of the Confederacy's first president. It was this rectangular box that Rosenfield picked up. Looks from across the chamber at the apparent sacrilege occuring before everyone's eyes. Muffled hushes.
The Imperial Guardsman, in his usual sense of flair and efficiency, proceeded to wrap the priceless box in newspapers from Ekrem's paper bin, Just moments later, he handed the suspicious package to Ekrem. "Go wild."
-
"Got him."
"What do you mean, 'got him'. You have him in custody, or you killed him?"
"We er-- we know who he is."
President Ekrem Mueller's large-scale search for the scoundrel in possession of his state secrets was bearing only tiny little fruits. Three hours the Diessenar Defence Force had spent searching room after room in the Hilverbode newspaper's headquarters, and found no one matching the silhouette captured on the Presidential Palace's CCTV screens. Until now. Commander Rosenfield's ruse had succeeded -- as if it wouldn't -- and now it was up to Diessenar law enforcement to complete its part of the bargain. Pressing his aides for information, Ekrem finally found out to whom former president Inge Pekcan had betrayed the secrets of Ekrem's coup.
"Nestor Karaman, twenty nine years of age, born in Reuland, has been employed with the Hilverbode since graduating from the University of Diessen. Unfortunately for him, his social media profiles are not set to private, and a small bit of wiggling got us his phone number as well. Tracking is a marvel of modern technology, Mr President."
"I hope you've apprehended his entire team and are currently making sure he didn't tell them a thing", Ekrem said, with a fear in his voice he did not recognise. He had always been confident, perhaps overly so, and this was the most vulnerable he had ever been. How did people like him do it? How did they rule without constant stress, constant anxiety, the constant fear that someone, somewhere, is out to find you?
"They're being loaded up as we speak. Karaman, er, well, has proven more... elusive... and appears to be heading south."
And how did people like Ekrem manage to keep their tempers in check, with such incompetence as their only pillars? Perhaps this is why Inimician Emperor Artabanos had advised him to take things slowly, to replace people who did not fit, and to take no rash actions until things were stable. Things were, as they stood, far from stable. Someone with enough information to topple Ekrem's entire regime before it could be properly established was on the loose. His first priority, above everything, would be to stop Nestor Karaman from speaking to a single soul.
"Alert local and national law enforcement to track him down", Ekrem commanded, "Keep a constant eye on his phone's location, and use any means necessary."
As the room once again scrambled into action, Inimician Imperial Guard Commander Rosenfield approached Ekrem and began to whisper.
-
"Well, he's across. So... what now?"
Ekrem had just witnessed Nestor Karaman, in possession of inflammatory testimony about the President's eventful rise to power, cross the now open border into the Empire of Inimicus. Karaman was taking former President Inge Pekcan's secrets, potentially rather disclosing information about Ekrem, into a foreign country.
Moments before, Albert Rosenfield, the Inimician representative (read: colonial lordship) to North Diessen had whispered to Ekrem to allow Karaman to cross unhindered. It was clear to him that the Inimicians wanted the prestige of catching Karaman. Or perhaps even the first rights of interrogation, and before they could hand him over, stashing him away in some Imperial compound.
More so than anything, Ekrem felt ashamed. This meant he would have to ring Emperor Artabanos and tell Him of his failure to contain a single, unremarkable man. He already knew what His reply would be. Oh yes, of course, Ekrem, we've already got him. That was very silly of you, yes. Now, I can of course give him to you, but perhaps you would like to give me something in return first?
And so, the mineral rights of North Diessen would be surrendered. Or its exclusive fishing rights in its territorial waters. Or the control over its airspace. Or the training of its soldiers. Or all of those at once. In any case, Ekrem's hold over his country would be damaged once more, as it had time and time again since he started colluding with the Inimicians. He had begun to realise what he had sacrificed, what his nation had sacrificed, in order to be rid of Inge Pekcan's ineffective and pacifist governance. In a sense, North Diessen had sacrificed its nationhood.
"All right", he said, sighing. "Get me a line to Telum. The Inimicians were already aware, I assume?"
Having received a confirmatory nod from the Special Envoy and Imperial Guard Investigation Unit Commander, he sat down at his desk and, with the telephone to his ear, awaited the Emperor's familiar voice.
"Helloooooooooo? Ekrem? Ah! Yes, hi, I'm the car. No, no, just heading up to Praestoris to meet your famous Nestor. I saw the photo of him you sent over - is this intentional? You picked quite the guy, so thank you for that. No, no, I thought I wouldn't wear my pink tie, I didn't want things to be too obvious, you know. So uh, what is it you rang for?"
Ekrem never really understood Artabanos. One moment, He would be as He was now, joking, light-hearted, and slightly uncaring. From one moment to the next, however, He could turn completely and utterly ruthless. Artabanos had told Ekrem the story of how He had had to smother His former lover with a pillow. At any moment, He might do the same to Ekrem -- at the very least figuratively. The President breathed deeply before speaking: "I was hoping to arrange extradition of this Karaman, Your Imperial Majesty. He is, as You'll be aware, in possession of some sensitive information."
"Oh yes of course, Ekrem. I'm fully aware. If anything, him twittering and tweeting away would be more damaging to Me than to you -- just think of what Jean-Claude would say, or Mikaela, or even Simon. It'd be quite the thing. We'll make sure to get him back to you of course, but I'm sure you won't mind if I have My way with him first. Perhaps in more ways than one."
"W-- well, yes, of course, but I'd just like to stress---"
"Oh, got to go, Ekrem. So sorry. I've got Christopher on the other line, and you know what these Imperial Consuls are like. Speak soon!"
And just like that, the line broke up. Ekrem was left with the vague sense he was being played, while playing others himself.
-
"It truly is fascinating, Nestor. That such a thing could happen in Diessen. And to involve us, too. Gosh."
Suspected traitor Nestor Karamam had just spilled his beans to Emperor Artabanos Himself. Except that Inge Pekcan, whose secrets Karaman was now party to, had, for some reason unbeknownst to Artabanos, not informed Nestor of the Inimician involvement in the events leading to Inge's demise. Could it be that she was entirely unaware the Imperial Armed Forces had intervened in her country simply to remove her from power? Possibly. In a strange way, however, Artabanos had admired Inge too much for her to had no idea He was behind it all. No, something strategic must have motivated her selective passing on of information. What, however, He did not yet know.
"So what will You do now, Your Imperial Majesty?", Karaman said calmly. He was seated in a dimly lit room somewhere in the regional Imperial Guard command centre for Terra Praestoris, Inimicus's northwestern province. A plastic cup of tasteless vending machine coffee in front of him, he looked a defeated man. Nevertheless, Artabanos knew He had significant leverage in front of Him. Leverage He had no intention of doing away with.
"I think I'll have a drink, first of all", the Emperor replied, "It's been a long journey. Perhaps, eh, perhaps you'd like to join me? I hail from these parts, as you know -- our Praestorian whiskies are second to none." Realising Nestor had no idea what to make of this unexpected offer, especially given the circumstances, He walked over to where the fugitive was sat, opened His hip flask, and poured a substantial slosh into the poor man's coffee. "Now you've got yourself some Praestorian coffee."
Having received a quiet, uncertain 'thank you', Artabanos continued: "No, Nestor, I will have to think on this a while. But as you'll know, the Diessenians will be looking for you. You made a wise, wise decision coming to the Empire -- you'll be safe in My arms, as it were -- but North Diessen is an Inimician ally, and we cannot keep you from them unless we think of something special."
His phone rang. Ekrem Mueller, President of the Confederacy of North Diessen. "Ekrem, how many times do I -- no. No, we're not done with him yet, not by a long shot. How much he knows? Let's just say, enough. No. Don't call me again, I'll have someone get in touch."
Artabanos sighed. An hour ago, He would have happily sent Nestor back to Diessen with no questions asked. If He was being honest with Himself, He had mainly come for the eye candy. But now, now things were far more interesting. This was not just a simple cry of revenge from Inge - this was meant to bring down Ekrem, and Ekrem alone.
"Is uh, is that how world leaders often speak to one another?", Nestor asked.
"It is when when you're Me. Come, there's an excellent bar somewhere in this complex."
-
"Make a formal request for extradition. Publicise it, let the world know about it. And let them know, especially, about their refusal, should that happen."
Ekrem knew Artabanos would not surrender his criminal to him. Nestor Karaman, perhaps the most dangerous person Ekrem had ever witnessed, was in the Inimician Emperor's custody. And there was little, very little, that Diessenar authorities could do about it, except protest as much as they could. Or, well, as much as the Inimicians would allow them to. Ekrem became painfully aware of Imperial Guard Commander Rosenfield in the corner of the room, a blank expression on his face, as though he had known all along what would happen and was watching everything unfold exactly as he had anticipated. Though not a violent man, Ekrem felt like throwing the priceless Early Diessenar vase on his desk at Rosenfield's face. He felt like strangling Emperor Artabanos, who was showing how little He could be relied on when things really came down to it.
But this would all be for later. "Do we have any means of getting Nestor out of there?", Ekrem asked the room, which remained deathly silent. "Great. Just great. So now we have a runaway with violently dangerous information on our regime in the hands of the Inimicians. And not just the Inimicians, of Artabanos personally. This is... this is worse than bad."
"We could... Uh, we could do something", spoke General-in-Chief Victor Imam, overall commander of the Diessenar Defence Force, before eyeing the Imperial Guard commander, the Emperor's eyes in Het Goor. "I'm afraid Mr Rosenfield would have to leave us, this is sensitive information." Ah, so it was that sort of 'something', though Ekrem. Would North Diessen really organise a raid on Inimician territory, just months after the Imperial Armed Forces had shown their total and unrelenting military dominance? Perhaps that played in favour of Diessen. Perhaps the IAF was too cocky to expect such a thing. An interesting notion.
"I have been party to far more sensitive information than you could think of, General Imam. I think I'll stay", said Rosenfield, calmly.
Ekrem's face flashed red. "Leave us. Or be escorted out."
A moment of silence. Rosenfield stood up, hands on hips. Was he carrying a sidearm? Who else in the room would show loyalty to him rather than Ekrem?
Time to find out.
-
Albert Rosenfield, Imperial Special Envoy to North Diessen, Commander of the Imperial Guard Investigation Unit, watched the ground beneath the Diessenar Confederal President's office race closer. The whole moment must have taken less than a second; in his mind, an eternity. Had they really just done what they had done? Had they genuinely grabbed him by the shoulders, opened the window, and lobbed him outside?
Rather than feeling anger, Rosenfield felt a distinct feeling of sadness, knowing that this would mean the end of Ekrem's current regime, more death, more despair, more Imperial Armed Forces inside the Confederacy's territory. Those fine ladies and gentlemen who had manhandled him would soon find out what the true cost of defenestrating an Imperial official was. They had no idea that Rosenfield was not just another bureaucrat, not just another level in the Imperial system of state. Albert was a member of that select, secretive group of people in Emperor Artabanos's inner circle. Ever since he had brought Augustus Barrington back to the Empire in chains, the Emperor had known He could rely on him. And now it would be time for him to rely on Him.
Thankfully, Albert had been thrown in such a way his feet and legs would absorb much of the impact. A stinging pain shot through his left ankle and leg up his body as he came down with a loud crash. He looked up, and saw the face of Confederal President Ekrem Mueller hanging outside the window, three storeys above. In a matter of milliseconds, Albert could see it: Mueller knew his authority just flew out of the window with the Imperial Special Envoy. Mueller knew this would not be left unpunished.
Rosenfield attempted to rise. Every step was agony, every movement was hellfire. His experience in the field as an Imperial Guard Investigation Unit officer, however, had prepared him for exactly this type of situation. Some would have suggested making his way back to the Empire. But this was Albert Rosenfield. He did not shun a fight. No, his destination was clear: back into that building. Eventually.
-
Imperial Palace, Telum
17th March"You've done so well."
"Thanks, Artie. Now let's see if anyone buys it."
On the insistence of Emperor Artabanos, Nestor Karaman had revealed what happened in North Diessen at the end of last year. Well, in part. Karaman had not lied, not at all -- he had merely failed to tell the full truth. Was Diessenar President Mueller a murdeous, illegitimate autocrat? Yes. Did he grab power in the face of internal instability which he helped orchestrate? Yes. Did this happen in complete secrecy from Inimician authorities and come as a surprise to Special Envoy Rosenfield? No. Not in the slightest. But that was not appropriate for extensive interviews in the Hilverbode.
The two men sat down with sighs on a 19th-century sofa in Artabanos's private quarters. The pieces had been set and the opening move had been made, the Emperor thought. Soon enough, He would have His Foreign Officer issue a strongly-worded statement, which is what she was good at, and start pressuring Ekrem to leave, or be dragged out. He might even fly some drones over the North Diessenar capital, that might be fun. It would certainly please Boris Mancov.
"Within a week, we should see Ekrem gone and elections called", Nestor said, turning to Artabanos, "And then, well, I'll have to rely on Your expertise."
"Making sure the outcomes of elections are what I want them to be is my specialty, Nestor. Don't you worry one second."
There had been a strange kind of mutual comfort between Karaman and Artabanos ever since they had first met. For once, the Emperor had not extensively planned what was going on, and He had not even heard of Karaman until his flight into the Empire. But -- and this, He believed, was what set Him apart from His predecessors -- He knew how to use opportunities that arose around Him. Ekrem Mueller had clearly served his purpose. Artabanos had, He fully admitted, misplaced much trust in him, and he was far more difficult than the Emperor could ever have imagined.
Indeed, following Mueller's coup - which was, incidentally, fully sponsored and orchestrated by the Imperial Armed Forces, a detail which Nestor skillfully managed to avoid disclosing in his interview - the first signs of Mueller's "delusions of independence" started to show extremely swiftly. The new Diessenar president had insisted it should be Diessenar companies that took the lead on constructing the Artabanos canal. He had refused the Imperial Air Force unrestricted access to Diessenar airspace. And, finally, he had made a fuss about Karaman crossing the Inimician border. And Artabanos hated people who made a fuss.
"We'll see how everyone around responds", Karaman said, pouring himself a drink. "Hopefully there will be actual pressure on Ekrem to leave."
"If there isn't, we'll design this pressure ourselves", Artabanos said confidently. "Rosenfield is still out there, and we're still in contact. His Imperial Guard training is unmatched, and his skill for applying 'pressure' is, as well."
Artabanos and Karaman stared out the window. Life seemed to be taking a turn for the better, in more ways than one.
