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Power Play

Crotobaltislavonia

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General Kruten already had a full report on what Seskus had been up to the last couple of weeks. The information that was sealed away in his office safe was enough to warrant putting a bullet behind Seskus' ear and being done with the whole sordid affair. But because of Seskus, a president was dead, two of the service's best assets were lost, and the country was again on the brink. A point had to be made, even if would get out to the rank-and-file only as rumor and innuendo.

The General watched for a time with mild interest. It was not like the old days. Now, interrogators were encouraged to use their imaginations. And there were doctors standing by to keep the prisoners alive, awake, and lucid. It was only when Seskus' eyes went wide at the sight of the power drill that Kruten took his leave.

In his office, warm and safe, Kruten leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his lapsang souchong. The Jewish problem didn't seem to want to go away. Gorman had played her final role admirably, but an actual Yiddish girl might be better for the long haul. Kruten sat up, put his tea out of the way, and opened the dossier at the top of the pile. He studied the face of ... Linoy Lichtman.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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Prime Minister Musayev was having a quiet dinner with his wife when a group of men burst in, an officer, an NCO, several privates. The Prime Minister set down his utensils, wiped his mouth, and turned to look at the Kalashnikov rifles pointed at him.

"General Kruten would like to speak with you, Comrade Premier."

"I have been expecting his summons. Do not hurt my wife, comrade. She has nothing to do with this."

-

Melchol Tirzah was in the women's room, washing her hands. Most of her wounds were healed, but she still used a cane to get around. Tonight, the Coalition was making their plans for the no confidence vote next week. Melchol finished drying her hands, tossed the paper towel into a waste basket, and turned for her cane. Her eyes fell upon Linoy standing by the door with a silenced semi-auto pistol.

Melchol scoffed and shook her head. "You stupid girl. They'll kill you too, you know. All Yids are shit to them."

The girl aimed and fired two quick shots into Melchol's chest and one carefully aimed shot into her forehead.

.

Biserka Lončar and her daughter were on the cold concrete floor, holding each other tightly, and crying silently. The last couple of weeks had been hell for both women. But they were together again for one last moment. The cell door unlocked and started to swing open. Biserka looked at her daughter, pushed some greasy hair out of the girl's face, and gave her a kiss.

"Don't turn your head. Just look at me, your mama. Whatever happens, remember I love you. I love you, Ana. Whatever..."

.

Maria was on the roof of the CBS News Center. She had a broadcast in half an hour, but she needed to feel alive. The career was going wonderfully; but, the homelife was on the rocks. Maria and Vincent had fought again and he'd finally voiced his suspicions about an affair. Maria had denied all, asking how she could manage an affair along with a husband, their children, and the job. Vincent had only shook his head and walked away.

Behind Maria, the roof door opened and the sound of footfalls on gravel could be heard. Maria took a last puff of her cig, flicked it into the air, and started to unfasten her pants.

"Shit, it's cold. Do it fast this time, Nazzy."

Turning, she saw a dark shape coming towards her, quickly, with arms outstretched. Before Maria could react, the shape had given her a powerful shove and she was over the edge, falling towards the ground, and landing head first in the parking lot.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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VO: "stand by for a message from the Prime Minister."

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"Comrades, I will be blunt. Hard times are upon us. The oil we have been promised in Sokolov and under the Polesian isn't there. There will be no new high paying jobs. There will be no rush of petrodinars. The bright future we have planned on has turned into a winter of discontent.

"Comrades, now is the time we must pull together and make the hard decisions. We must embrace every opportunity that presents itself to help our comrades and help ourselves.

"Therefore, all men, women, and children of the Jewish faith or of Yiddish descent that are under Crotobaltislavonian jurisdiction, must leave the country by the end of the year. These are good people. But they are people who have a homeland of their own and friends waiting to embrace them in the Polesian People's Republic. They must go there.

"Comrades, it is not all bad news. While the oil wells in Sokolov have been found to be dry, our explorations have found a great amount of coal. Coal is dirty, yes. It is dangerous to get out of the ground, yes. But it is Crotobaltislavonia's opportunity for the future. We must embrace it.

"Hard decisions to make, Comrades. Hard tasks to take up. And hardships to endure yet to come. But if we pull together, link arms, and go to work, hard work, then we can do it. I promise you. The State will guide, as always. The Motherland will provide. And the Free Canton of Crotobaltislavonia will prevail and be the stronger for it.

"Comrades, God bless us all."

The Prime Minister is replaced by a Crotobaltislavonian flag fluttering in a stiff breeze. The national anthem begins, sung by a male choir.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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General Kruten read the report from the Gunnish desk. Yesterday: "increased Gunnish presence in Elben." Today: "Gunnish-Justosian relations deepen."

"Is our aim good enough to kill two birds with one stone? We shall find out."

Though he was in charge of the SPA, the secret police and the armed forces were all uniformed services. The General began drafting an order that would put the airborne brigade on alert and ready for deployment.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Sobel was a taller, lanky woman with dark, frizzy hair who wore glasses. A physician by training, she'd been a member of the Otpor League since the movement against The Dear Leader had begun, back when the League and its motives had been pure and all sons and daughters of the Motherland were welcome, even Jews like Sobel. And now she'd heard that she was to be fired from her job at Banja Luka #1. "A swat on the ass to get us moving in the right direction," her colleague had said over the phone.

The doctor was a go-getter. She had to be as a Jewish woman who wanted to be the best at her job. So when a challenge presented itself, Sobel went to work on it. Once, Otpor had been the solution to all of Crotobaltislavonia's ails. Now it was the problem. It was a disease limb that had to be amputated at the joint.

Being a member of Otpor, Sobel knew she was not alone. More and more lately, the meetings had become opportunities for the younger members to air their grievances, younger members who were disillusioned after the promise of peace had died with Fyodorov, now that the Motherland seemed to be stumbling from one crisis to the next. But would her own people listen? Sobel had an idea who to contact and started leafing through her old address book.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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The words of Kadikistan and Polesian had put Sobel's nacent movement in jeopardy. Only days ago, the Motherland's very existence had been in doubt and her friends in Otpor had been clamoring for some way to avert disaster. But the allies had spoken up and calmed the momentary crisis. Sobel had decided to press on; her termination letter from the hospital had arrived and she had nothing better to do. Dr. Sobel had gotten into contact with Dr. Holstein, an old friend from residency, who was working in Krasrilevke.

"All is well, Sarah ... I'm out of work now ... quite insane, yes ... I'm working on something new that I want to run by you ... I am coming to visit my parents on Saturday. Can we meet?"

-

In the middle of the room was a large table around which were men hard at work with paper and pencil. Standing around were more men, some in quiet conversation, others in more heated debate, all chain smoking.

"The President must be a mere figurehead. The Prime Minister must have the power."

"Checks and balances, a novel concept, comrade."

"How many more days to the deadline?"

"Comrade, have you any more Luckys?"
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Sobel was sitting alone, in shock.

The plan to do something about Otpor was spinning out of control. Get in contact with other Jews, yes. Sell the disaffected Otpor members on sacking Musayev, yes. Strike a deal with the Pochenkoists, yes. But this new coalition had needed a lynchpin. The Jews would accept only a Jew. Otpor would accept only a member of Otpor. And the Pochenkoists would accept only whichever way the wind was blowing. And everyone had turned to look to Rachel. It was her show and she'd have to see it through.

The Jewish doctor stood up, put on her coat, and headed for the door. With every step, she stood a little straighter and her gait took on greater purpose.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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On the border with Lars...

The men stood, kneeled, sat, or laid prone on the ground and expended round after round after round at the targets downrange. When target practice was over, they moved over to an impromptu "kill house" made of plywood and sandbags, and populated with life-sized "bad guys" and "hostages". The commando teams took turns clearing the "house".

In the afternoon, the exercise moved "outside", a force-on-force run with paint guns. The commandos had the job of penetrating a simulated border. The young Border Guards were primed for action but most ended up with a large pink splotch in the middle of their chests and a "good job, son" from one the commandos.

At the end of the day, while the Border Guards did some laundry and went down to the village for beer and women, the commandos had a private bonfire, grilled some wild game, and stared across the wire into Lars, wondering if they'd ever do it for real.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Fate is not without a sense of irony.....

The assassination attempt had failed, spectacularly. Linoy had managed to poison most of the Prime Minister's staff. But at the last moment, Sobel had been called away and missed afternoon tea. Banja Luka Police were quickly on the case. Survivors were prime suspects and the net was closing.

Bounin switched the wireless off and shook his head sadly. He knew operations could go wrong, but so badly? The secret agent was resigning himself to the fact that General Kruten would have to commit suicide somehow. Perhaps a smuggled capsule... The passenger door opened and a breathless Linoy got in and sat low.

"We'll get you across the border into Bergenheim. I've contracted a Blud-boat to smuggle you along the coast. Friends are waiting, your people."

Linoy nodded as she looked away. Life as she knew it was coming to an end. Where would she end up? At a Cinnabon counter in Midweis, no doubt.

Bournin put the subcompact into gear and pulled out of the alley. The car was immediately t-boned by a speeding police van. The SPA agent and his young operative were killed instantly. And the knowledge of their mission died with them.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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Commander Dubravka Goranka Tomić was at her desk at police headquarters in Banja Luka. Until recently, she'd worked in narcotics, fighting the scourge of Blud in Crotobaltislavonia. And then good fortune had crossed her path; a particularly impressive Blud-bust had attracted attention her way just when the politicians had gotten rid of the SPA and turned state security over to the Police. The President and the Prime Minister were successful women who were developing the habit of surrounding themselves with other successful women. So Dubravka had been promoted (the youngest Commander on the force!) and put behind a desk. Maybe she was out of her element. But dammit, she'd do her best!

Unfortunately, her best didn't seem to be good enough with the thousands of former Slavonian refugees on the move inside Crotobaltislavonia. Not to mention the Yids, the Jews, the Zionists, the Gypsies, and all of the other local ethnic variants. And then the religious differences! Ugh. Like many of her peers at Banja Luka Police, Dubravka had cheered when BLP's brief had been expanded. But now, she was not so sure it was a good idea. She had to admit, if only to herself, that the SPA's dirty tricks probably made the job a lot easier.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Dubravka had been surprised how often she'd got out of the office in her capacity as Commander. But by now, it was part of the job. Today, she was meeting Löwe for lunch at a Gypsy cafe bankrolled by the Police. Officially, Marko was the Third Deputy Attache for Cultural Affairs, or some nonsense. Unofficially, he reported to Amt.

The young Commander arrived a little late. When he saw her, Marko quickly stood and the two planted kisses on each other's cheeks.

"So good to see you."

"How do you do."

Seated, the pair made small talk as their drinks were delivered and their orders were taken. And then they got down to business.

"These attacks in Bourgogne, very bad business." Dubravka shook her head in sympathy.

"Indeed. We had warning that something was up. But nothing actionable."

Dubravka asked, "what about retaliation? Do you have a target?"

Marko hesitated before saying, "that's why I wanted to see you. We think there is traffic between here and the west. Confirmation would be appreciated."

The Commander leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Difficult. There are rules now and my job is follow them."

"I know you'll do your best."

The Gypsy waitress returned and placed two steaming bowls onto the table. "Enjoy your goulash."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Marko was sitting in the darkened theater trying to not look at the screen and glad the other patrons weren't making a spectacle of themselves. Someone sat down next to him. Marko was about to say for the third time he didn't want to partake when the man said in rough Germanian, "thank you for meeting me."

Marko replied in fluent Germanian. "Who are you? How did you know to contact me?"

"A holdover from the old days, I expect. You're either a good guy or a bad guy or know someone who is. I know someone who is who knows you. My people think a leadership change is in order. If we're going to have a new dam and a superhighway, we need a new leader too, huh?"

Marko scoffed. "Why tell me?"

"The leader we have in mind is an old friend who currently resides in your neck of the woods. We want to know if your people will lend a hand in bringing her home and making her welcome."

@Elben
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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Prime Minister Sobel had been knocked on her butt and blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. President Hodiah was kneeling beside Sobel, comforting the woman. And Generals Križ and Milojević were at each other's throats as their aides tried to separate them.

"Bastard! The Air Force needs that money!"

"You and your flyboys had your chance!"

"The Army is just a dog and pony show!"

"The Air Force може да сиса наше курце!"

"твоја мајка га узима у дупе!"

General Križ broke free and sucker punched Milojević who was still being restrained by his adjundant. The Air Force general went down to his knees as stars filled his eyes.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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The politicians had decapitated the SPA and given the rank-and-file their pink slips. But secret policemen have to eat...

Chief Constable Filipović and his team approached the house on the outskirts of Foca. The tipster had said there was Blud here on the way to Elben. A lot of Blud.

The vans pulled up in front of the house, doors slid open, and policemen leaped out. Before even one of the cops reached the front porch, there was sniper fire from across the street. And then automatic fire erupted from inside the house.

In Banja Luka...

Commander Tomić set the report down on her desk and closed her eyes as the words crossed her mind.

"A pattern is emerging..."

"Another ambush..."

"OPERATION GEMSTONE..."

"The only conclusion: former SPA members are being used by Nekmet."

The commander swiveled back around to her desk and picked up the phone. "Get me the Prime Minister. Hurry."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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The briefing was taking place in Prime Minister Sobel's office in the White House. The leadership of Crotobaltislavonia was long past tired of seeing gypsies milling around Red Square in front of the Presidential Palace.

The Prime Minister, President Hodiah, Chief Cabinet Secretary Stojanović sat in a semi-circle of chairs as Banja Luka Police Commissioner Perko explained things with pictures on easels.

"Our investigation has wrapped up. My investigators have no doubt that General Kriz was attacked by the mugger, a local addict, who then perished from a Blud overdose while he celebrated his crime."

The President and Prime Minister said nothing. Secretary Stojanović spoke for the trio of women: "it seems open and shut. Thank you for another rushed investigation, Commission. Tell your people their efforts are noted and appreciated. Dismissed."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Sobel again woke up groggy and unrested. It was getting to the point where she could not remember the last time she had awoken immediately ready for the day. The Prime Minister climbed out of bed, reached down her pajama bottoms to scratch an itch, and made her way to the bathroom. Before settling on the toilet, she turned on the shower; the plumbing in this building was ancient and the shower took awhile to warm up.

After getting cleaned up and having a cup of coffee, Sobel was feeling better, if not her best. The doctor in Sobel told herself she needed a check-up, a rest, a real vacation. The politician in Sobel told herself that Crotobaltislavonia was on the razor's edge and she didn't have time to think of herself.

Are things that bad? The war in Gallia hasn't affected us since we took in the wave of Slavonian guest workers who fled. The Crotians finally left Red Square. The Slavonian nationalists are uppity, but what else is new.

Even if circumstances were perfect, Sobel realized she could not show weakness now. Instead of taking some time off or making a visit to the official government physician, she decided to invite her dear friend Sarah, a fellow doctor, up from Krasrilevke.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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The black foreign sedan paused as the driver spoke with the policeman manning the gate alongside a couple of cuirassiers. After checking his list, the policeman waved them through and the cuirassiers saluted smartly. The sedan pulled into the Palace's inner courtyard and stopped at the bottom of the steps of the State Entrance. Waiting there, looking worn, was Prime Minister Sobel. A woman emerged from the sedan and the embraced warmly.

"Rachel, sorry I couldn't come sooner, I had patients."

Sobel nodded. "I'm glad you're here, Sarah."

Sarah was already eyeing her friend's weakened state. "Rachel, are you unwell?"

"It's something. I thought it was fatigue, but I can't shake it and it's progressive. I need your help, you're the only one I can trust with this, Sarah."

Sarah nodded. "Let's go inside."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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The next morning, Dr. Holstein gave the Prime Minister a thorough medical examination. A history was taken. Blood pressure, pulse, and oxygenation were checked. Lungs, heart, and abdomen were listened to, sometimes for a good five minutes. Blood and other samples were taken and discreetly sent off for testing.

...

Rachel stood, wearing only the top of her pajamas, while Sarah inspected her skin. Sarah was looking at a pair of red bumps on her friend's back at the waistline with a magnifying glass, when Rachel chuckled softly.

Sarah looked up from her magnifying glass. "What?"

"I was just thinking, I should call upstairs and invite President Hodiah to join us."

Sarah asked, "oh, she's like that, isn't she."

"Yes."

Sarah went back to looking at the bumps. "Have you?"

The two friends laughed at the prospect.

...

They were in the office set aside for Sobel. She was on the phone with one of her whips at the White House, where the Assembly was in session. Holstein sat on the floor, surrounded by medical and more esoteric texts, trying to determine what exactly was ailing her friend.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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"I can't help you, Rachel."

They were in the Prime Minister's office. Holstein had finished all her exams. All of the tests had come back from the lab.

"What is it? Cancer? Tell me."

"Rachel, you've been poisoned."

The Prime Minister scoffed at her friend, sat back in her chair, and scoffed again. But then she said, "poison?"

Holstein nodded. "Unless you go to a hospital, which is what I am advising you to do, everything else cannot be eliminated. But your symptoms fit the effects of Dodotox."

The Prime Minister shook her head. "I've never heard of that."

"I've come across symptoms like yours before when treating some of our people involved in criminal activities, so I used to your security clearance to request information. Fortunately our country's chemical weapons program wasn't large and the information wasn't hard to find. Dodotox is a poison the military developed years ago. It kills. But they could never get it to kill faster than weeks or months. Officially, the remaining stocks were destroyed. But some of it appears to be in criminal hands."

"Nekmet, dammit."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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President Lihi Hodiah stood when the man came into her office. She smiled graciously amd came from behind her desk as the man crossed the floor to meet her. The man set down the briefcase he was carrying and the two exchanged pecks on each cheek. Greetings completed, the man lifted the briefcase onto the desk and opened it. President Hodiah took one of the bundles of cash and flipped through it. Satisfied, she put the bundle down.

"Good enough. Tell the committee it shall be as we agreed; I will make the announcement this afternoon."
 
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