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Garnet Clouds

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PROLOGUE
DAY ONE


At around noon, an anonymous call went out from a pre-paid cell phone to Farpoint's Cantonal Emergency Center, the caller reporting of suspicious activity in the vicinity of a blue Whitehaven Motors van parked at the Ryan Fairmont Square, right outside of the Farpoint Commonwealth Building. The caller hung up before the dispatcher could make any further inquiries.

Such calls made by immature teenagers, mentally unstable individuals or pranksters with just too much time in their hands were not exactly rare occurences in Cornavia, but owing to the terror scares that had occured in Farpoint and the vicinity since the apparent resumption of activity by Nordisk Frihet, a Canton Constabulary patrol permanently stationed to the square was told to check out the vehicle regardless.

And as it turned out, this time it hadn't been just a prank call. As one of the officers peered into the back of the van through its rear windows, he saw an unrecognizable shape covered by a tarpaulin, and with a closer glance thought that he'd seen wiring emerging from underneath the tarpaulin. Farpoint's police officers were taking no chances, particularly as the Commonwealth authorities were preparing to the highly publicized execution of a Nordic separatist for murder, and accordingly the Emergency Center called in EOD units of the Commonwealth Army in addition to additional police units which were given the task of evacuating the square and its adjacent buildings.

With the aid of a remote-controlled robot, the Northern Engineers EOD unit discovered that the tarpaulin concealed a timed-detonation explosive device consisting of six 75-liter canisters of propane and two hundred kilograms of ammonium nitrate, which was promptly neutralized by the disposal unit.

Later in the day, the Farpoint Canton Constabulary released a public statement confirming that an explosive device had been neutralized and discovered due to a public tip in downtown Farpoint, but neglecting further commentaries and thanking the anonymous citizen responsible for alerting the authorities. The Anti-Terrorist Branch, and their counterparts over at the Security Service, would've preferred to keep the matter away from public view but pictures of the police evacuation and cordon of Fairmont Square and the subsequent arrival of Army jeeps had within an hour spread to most major Cornavian news sites in spite of the best efforts of the constables to enforce an on-scene media blackout. As a result, the Ministry of Justice was forced to announce a Commonwealth-wide heightened state of alert in response to a likely terrorist threat.

The true shape of these events and their consequences, however, had been decidedly different. As would turn out during the following days.
 
Joined
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DAY ONE - TEN HOURS SINCE THE RYAN FAIRMONT SQUARE INCIDENT

The Olofsen Farmstead
Ravenholm
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


His Wieser-made suppressed submachine gun trained to the windows of the farmhouse up ahead, Staff Sergeant David "Sparks" Maynard moved in from the cover of the shed, the remaining three members of his entry team in tow right behind him. As they reached the front wall of the farmhouse, Sparks and two others aiming their weapons to cover all the windows with a line of sight towards the team's position as their breaching specialist prepared to work on the padlock-sealed doors apparently leading into the house's cellar, he saw that the other fire team had crossed the opening safely as well.

So far, so good. Pitch black as it was, with the exception of the omnipresent snowfall that was affecting the entire Northern Isles, and with electricity to the target having been cut off minutes before by one of their support teams, it was safe to say that the occupants were not aware of the eighteen Special Forces operators who had now surrounded the building. At the same time, the operators were guaranteed improved visibility thanks to their night vision equipment. Twelve of them were now making preparations for entry - Echo One was to their right, stacked up in front of the main door, while Echo Three was preparing to ascend to the second floor by using a ladder that had been spotted to the back of the building. Conveniently enough, it led directly to a balcony in the second floor.

His radio headphones crackled into life with the distorted sound of his commander, observing the entry with the remaining six-man support element, "Echo call signs, report ready."

"Echo One, at entry confirmed"

"Echo Two, at entry confirmed", Sparks replied in a hushed-up tone to the microphone he was wearing.

"Echo Three, at entry confirmed".

"Charlie confirms", the commander replied again, then after a brief pause continued, "Echo Two, do you have likely basement entry?"

"Echo Two, affirmative", Sparks replied and nodded to his breaching specialist - Sergeant Liam "Woods" Harrington, who had produced a pair of bolt cutters from his backpack, "Padlocked hatch to basement, ready to breach and enter."

"Charlie, Echo Two, silent basement entry, look for an entrance into the main floor, then double back if the entry is negative. Echo One, Echo Three, hold."

"Roger", Sparks said, then gesturing to the members of his fire team, who took up positions in front of the doors leading into the basement of their target building. Sparks made another hand signal, and Woods snapped open the chains of the padlock with his bolt cutters, then lifted open the pair of doors. Sparks at the lead, the team descended into the basement, fanning out to cover the entirety of the room.

With the exception of stocked foodstuff, farming equipment and the usual paraphernalia people moved to their cellars, the stuffy-smelling basement was empty. Apparently, those occupants who had been sighted by observers inside the building - light came out from some of the windows - were the only ones around. Calming down after the initial burst of adrenaline, Sparks spied a stairway leading into a door at the other end of the basement, and signalled his squad to move in.

"Echo Two, Charlie, probable first floor entry sighted, unlocked and on a stairway, but don't have an opening on fiber-optics."

"Echo One, Charlie, I'm seeing a doorway leading to a lit-up room after the entry room, light coming from under the door, am I cleared for stealth entry and recon?"

"Charlie, Echo One, cleared for stealth entry, Echo Two, hold."

At the upper end of the stairwell apparently leading into the first floor, Sparks heard voices beyond the door. What words he could make out from the muffled conversation, however, were just idle banter between a man and a woman. None too young, either. Where the hell was the cell they were supposed to take out tonight?

"Echo One, Charlie, Echo One is in entry room, using fiber-optics....Got a living room, one doorway beyond and one to the right, looks like it's heading down below. Got one male and one female, mid 50's in room, one canine, a large one."

"Charlie, Echo Three, what are you seeing?"

"Echo Three's on a balcony into a hallway, no lights, got two doors up ahead and a stairway downstairs on the right."

"Echo Two, Charlie, believe that you're heading to the room of targets in first floor?"

Sparks held his breath for a moment, listening more closely to the speech coming in from the other side of the closed door. The feel when you didn't know exactly what you were going in to was one of the most gnawing ones you got to feel in his line of work.

"Echo Two, Charlie, respond."

"Charlie, Echo Two, roger", Sparks finally said, then signalled his team to move in to an entry posture, with Woods maneuvering to take the lead.

"Echo One and Two, Charlie, bang and clear room on my go. Echo One will bang when ready. Echo Three, enter second floor on same go."

"Roger."

"Bang out."

A loud banging noise carried through the wooden door as a flashbang grenade exploded on the other side, and Woods opened the door to rush in, followed by Sparks and the others as the members of the other team came in through their own doorway to converge on the hapless middle-age couple seated in chairs of their living room and their pet dog.

The Alsatian made a blind lunge towards Sparks, and before he fully realized it himself he'd aimed his MP5 and loosened a three-round burst at the animal, and it came down on the floor shrieking amidst spatters of blood. Another burst from Woods finished it off, and Sparks turned his attention to the occupants of the room, who were being dragged off their seats by the members of the other team. Disoriented by the going off of the flashbang grenade and the shouts of "Armed Forces, stand still!" coming from the team members.

As the living room was cleared and the team members moved to the other rooms of the house, it was becoming apparent that they had not, in fact, entered a safehouse of a Nordisk Frihet cell. And that the Security Service would have a lot of explaining to do as to why a Special Forces team under their supervision had invaded a home of a regular middle-aged couple, brutalized them and shot their pet dog.

In an entirely different location in the Greater Farpoint area, the real Nordisk Frihet cell was continuing unimpeded, except by the loss of a single member during the day.
 
Joined
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DAY ONE - RYAN FAIRMONT SQUARE INCIDENT

Downtown
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Reidar Thomsen's excitement was not yet over, even though he'd already delivered his lethal cargo into the downtown of Farpoint, where, as the cell had planned, it would devastate the loathed symbols of Commonwealth governance in the North. However, they weren't stupid enough to risk the public relations damage that such a large-scale bomb leading into significant losses of human lives would cause for the Nordisk Frihet, and as such the explosive device had been set by Thomsen to detonate exactly at midnight.

The movement would, Erik had said, send a strong signal of their will to continue the armed struggle while at the same time avoiding loss of major human life. Some casualties were, however, inevitable. Alas, it was likely that night guards and such and the occasional bystander would be caught by the blast, but Erik had described this as inevitable and Reidar knew better than to question their leader.

Now, he walked away from the Square along the adjacent Terrence Markham Avenue, towards the place where one of his cell members would have left an escape vehicle. Blending into the crowd, or so he hoped, given how many people were up and about this time of the day in downtown Farpoint, either people off work or retired shopping or people coming from the downtown's offices for their dinner breaks. Reidar remembered something vague about all of the downtown being bombed to hell and back in air raids during the Great War, and post-war they'd only rebuilt the Ryan Fairmont Square and its vicinity to original specifications out of all downtown, so the rest of this downtown of a city of over two hundred thousand was very much a concrete-and-steel hell hole of the 1950s. At least the snow made it slightly bearable during the winter.

He turned around the corner, then gave a brief glance to his back to make sure he wasn't being followed. Reidar quite couldn't shake off this looming feeling of suspicion he had in him, but he wrote it off as second-guessing, telling himself that no one had discovered the bomb and that everything would be fine once he'd head to the meeting spot. At that moment, his Cornavian-made cell phone let off a sound, and Reidar reached inside the breast pocket of his winter coat to take it. It was a text message from Erik. Meeting spot compromised, new meet outside of shopping center in Ashby. Dispose of this phone after reception.

Reidar felt his heart jump into his throat. Erik had a knack for being paranoid about government infiltration inside of their cell, but somehow Reidar knew that this time it wasn't just paranoia. A few meters ahead his eyes spotted a storm drain, and he reached down to threw his phone in.

* * *

"Bravo Two here, target is dumping something."

"Bravo Two, can you get a better visual?"

"Negative Alpha."

"Charlie One here, I see it, think he just dumped his cell phone. Are we compromised?"

"Negative, negative, continue normally."

* * *

Consciously or subconsciously Reidar had increased his pace of walking since the text message came in. Erik didn't fuck around, and he was more and more starting to believe that things had seriously gone south. But why, Reidar didn't know. He just wanted out of this bloody city into safety. As it turned out, the red Whitehaven Erik had told would be his escape vehicle awaited less than a block away.

And Reidar let off a breath of relief, just before he turned his head at the sound of a rapidly approaching car from behind, seeing a white unmarked van overtake him and then turn ninety degrees to block the sidewalk, to the surprise of Reidar and all the bystanders watching. When the side door of the van opened, revealing men in black combat gear and armed with automatic weapons, Erik turned tail and ran for the alley to his right.

He ran down the alley, and the thumps of combat boots against the pavement followed him in, together with dissonant shouts, "Armed police! Stand still! Stand still and put your hands up!"

They'd indeed been compromised. Reidar ran for his life, not stopping even as someone let off a shout, "Stand still or we will open fire!"

A taser dart flew harmlessly past him, then Reidar heard a loud bang, and seconds afterwards felt pain in his left leg as the round ricocheted into his skin. He stumbled, but didn't fall down, at least not until a second round caught in his right leg right above his knee. As he fell to the pavement, he felt sharp pain in his knees and elbows, not having made the fall in a clean way at all.

He heard the sounds of combat boots closing in, and another shout, "Show me your hands! Do it now!". Reidar didn't think about resisting.
 
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DAY ONE - TWO HOURS SINCE THE RYAN FAIRMONT SQUARE INCIDENT

Ashby
Intercity Highway 166
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


A look to the side of the road as their truck passed a large, lit-up sign told Jonas Fält that they had crossed from Farpoint into the area of the neighboring town of Ashby. As they neared the designated meeting spot that Erik had told to the members of the cell - a farmstead up in Ravenholm, a small town away from 166. If Jonas recalled correctly, they'd soon leave the Highway in favor of Regional Road 652, which would lead through the town that was their destination.

And indeed, with every kilometer the doubts and worries in Jonas's mind increased. Six months of lies and deceit were about to come to an end, and, indeed, his excitement and at the same time fear had grown the closer he and the others got to the farmstead. The location, in the ownership of a couple apparently sympathetic to the cause of Nordic separatism, would serve as the conclusion in the play in which Jonas had played a part for longer than he'd liked. Alas, he'd realized that he wasn't cut out for such periods working under cover, but by then it had been too long to back out. Too many people depended on him and on him to do his part in the plan that had been laid out hundreds of kilometers away, in a comfortable office up in Southport-on-Sea.

He just wanted to get out. And this would be the day for that to happen.

He shared the cabin of the truck with Erik, the leader of their cell, and their driver Olof. In the back with the equipment of theirs that they'd removed from the safehouse - not much in regards to inflicting mass damage, as most of their ANFO and propane had been used in the Ryan Fairmont Square bomb - were Karl and Fjalar. All very serious men, and men Jonas knew could do terrible things given the motivation. All had served in the Army by the virtue of Cornavia's conscription, though from what he could tell Fjalar had been discharged on psychological grounds relatively early on. At least Karl and Olof were former skinheads, people whom Erik had drafted to their outfit by channeling their racism into a more comprehensive hate, this time against the Commonwealth's central government and the "Southerners". Fjalar, on the other hand, had just been a petty thief before meeting up with Karl in prison. And Erik, well, Erik was a mystery to most men in the cell and their associates, but Jonas knew that there was more to the man that met the eye.

A beep of a cell phone to his right, and Jonas saw Erik reach to the inside of his jacket for his phone. A text message apparently, which prompted Erik to look ahead and then say to Olof, "Let's get off the 166."

Olof followed suit, soon changing lane to the one taking off Highway 166 to Regional Road 652, which crossed the northward-heading 166 on a bridge.

"Turn right here", Erik followed as they reached the end of the ramp from 166 to 652, which was then that Jonas noticed the traffic signs. Ravenholm 10 pointing left, and Ashby Central 8 pointing right. We're not going to Ravenholm.

"Erik, what the..."

As Jonas turned his head, he met the barrel of a nine-millimeter handgun which Erik had trained upon him. His heart literally jumped to his throat, as Jonas realized that they'd found out what and who he truly was.

"We're heading to Ashby downtown, it's our new meeting spot", Erik said, his voice fierce, almost a growl, on his face a savage smile, "Army's defusing our little bomb just about now. And police's got Reidar now. You treacherous son-of-a-bitch, how many Sovereigns do you get for betraying your own people?"

"Erik..."

"Shut the fuck up!", the terrorist leader growled, then pistol-whipped Jonas in the face. The pain came sharply, and Jonas felt his nose break and blood gush down his cheeks, and he held his hands against his face trying to stop the bloodflow.

"Keep your hands in front of you, asshole", Erik continued as he reached with his free hand to pull Jonas's arms to the front. Jonas didn't resist as Erik reached out to handcuff him.

Still, he knew that something had went wrong big-time. The Special Forces wouldn't be following the truck, because they'd assume that it was going to the farmstead up in Ravenholm in any case, and therefore it made no sense to risk blowing Jonas's cover. So now, they'd hit the wrong location, and Erik and the cell would still be out there. And me, well, Nordisk Frihet doesn't like traitors. They're going to kill me.
 
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Messages
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DAY TWO

47 Commonwealth Colonnade
Cairns House, Ministry of Defense
Ashdown, Southport-on-Sea
Canton of Western Crownland
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"What the f...."

For a moment there, Major Liam Callum had forgotten the proper decorum expected of a Commonwealth Marine officer of his age and standing, especially given the company involved. Then, upon regaining his self-control together with the said military decorum, he swiftly threw a military salute in response to the two men seated in the conference room.

"Major Liam Callum reporting as ordered, sirs".

The two uniform-wearing men seated around the room's table studied him with unnerving calm for a brief moment, and Callum was half-expecting either or both of them to explode in the typical rant that followed when one did was guilty of such errors in the Marines. But this wasn't the Marines, and the Department of Military Intelligence allowed its officers some freedoms uncommon to many other units of the Commonwealth Army, particularly if they spent most of their days and missions out of uniform as Liam Callum did.

"Be seated, Major", the older man, wearing an uniform of the Air Force, said. Perhaps there was even a hint of a smile in the middle-aged, baldening visage of Major General Thor Henriksen as the Director of Military Intelligence studied the new arrival. Seated to his right Callum saw his immediate commanding officer, the Deputy Director of Military Intelligence for Operations, Colonel Brendan Carter, who had produced three brown dossiers from his attaché case.

"Operation Chatham", Carter said as he handed Callum the first dossier, on the cover of which was the symbol of Military Intelligence and "SECRET" in large red letters, "A joint operation between the Military Intelligence, the Security Service and the Anti-Terrorist Branch of the Farpoint Canton to apprehend an active Nordisk Frihet separatist cell planning attacks in the Greater Farpoint area."

"Yesterday, Major", Callum's superior continued in a serious tone, one that caught his attention even considering how deadpan the Colonel usually was, "That operation failed. Our original objectives of taking out the entire cell were not achieved, but instead we managed to defuse an ANFO-propane bomb set to detonate last night and managed to capture a single member of the cell."

Thoughts raced in Liam Callum's head as he sucked in what Carter had just said, and opened the dossier laid before him. What with Callum having been on a leave of absence, he'd only followed the events in Farpoint from the news. It hadn't been his operation in any case, though, alas, he had a feeling that he hadn't seen or heard the last of it. The version that was repeated in CNBC and every other Cornavian news channel, newspaper and Internet news site went that the terrorists had planned to blow up the bomb during midday, but when Cornavian security services were in question the official version was rarely the truthful one. Indeed, this was one of such occasions.

"Though the CNBC spoke about a mass casualty bombing having been planned...", Callum said with a faint smile on his face.

"Indeed, and that's it for everyone except those in this room and a few others", Henriksen replied, "Now, to business. Since this morning, the Chief Security Advisor to the Cabinet Chancellor has authorized a Military Intelligence takeover of the remainder of Operation Chatham, meaning that the ATB and SS elements involved are now subordinate to us. Because of this you'll be heading to Farpoint tomorrow, Major Callum."

He should've guessed as much. Since he'd returned from a successful stint as the military attaché to the Cornavian embassy in Olmolungring, Major Liam Callum had occupied the position of a circling troubleshooter within Military Intelligence and the Ministry of Defense. One of Major General Henriksen's most trusted men, Callum and his hand-picked team of case officers, analysts and technicians was called in whenever there was a particularly sensitive or critical operation to handle, for Henriksen and his superiors knew that his loyalty to the service and country went beyond even law. Alas, he had a suspicion that this was one of such cases.

"What's our department got to do with a counter-separatist operation, sir?", Callum asked, noting that usually such matters would've been taken care of by the Security Service in concert with the police.

"That's what I was getting in to, Major", Henriksen replied, and Callum noticed the tone and manner of his two superior officers becoming way more serious with that mention. Major Callum received a second dossier from Carter, this one also bearing the identical Military Intelligence and Secret designations.

"Captain Eric Newcastle, Commonwealth Army retired", Carter said as Callum opened the dossier.

At a first glance at the beginning pages of the dossier, indeed those that had been labeled as also being included in the official personal record of Captain Newcastle, gave away nothing odd. The Captain had entered the Greenmoat Commonwealth Army Academy after his conscription, and had gained an officer's commission in the logistical corps with relatively average marks. After that, he had served for ten years, rising to the rank of a captain and being identified as candidate for the Staff Officers Course and promotion into even higher ranks. However, after those ten years he had inexplicably resigned his commission, to take up private enterprise running a logistical business in his native town of Farpoint.

"Also known as Erik Nyslott, an ethnic Nord, though his father Anglicized his children's names in the 1970s", Henriksen added, "And if you'll look at the subsequent pages, yes, those added by us and the Security Service, you'll note that the good Captain has been suspected by the Security Service for ties with Nordic separatists. Indeed, his name has turned up in internal records of the Järnmark Freedom Party, and we suspect him for being one of its financiers through his company, Nyslott Logistics. And, furthermore, we suspect that he is the head of the terrorist cell responsible for planting yesterday's bomb in Ryan Fairmont Square."

"Security Service's been on him for several months, and has infiltrated an undercover agent in the cell", the Major General continued, "The original intent of Operation Chatham was to disarm the bomb, after which the entire cell would have been captured in its meeting spot, which was tipped to us by the said undercover. Instead, we found a middle-aged farming couple at the supposed meeting spot, and our man inside has been in the dark for 24 hours. We're presuming that he's been killed in action."

"With all due respect, sir", Major Callum replied while attempting to absorb all the information that he'd been given during these minutes, "I still don't see how this is Military Intelligence business."

"Colonel..."

"Operation Garnet", Colonel Carter said with a grim nod, "During his time in the Army, Captain Newcastle, Nyslott, whatever was involved in Garnet's logistical side, specifically in providing logistical support to the Special Home Guard. Naturally, this doesn't show up even in his secret dossiers. We suspect that he still possesses intimate knowledge of Special Home Guard structure and specifically their logistical base, and could be using that to further separatist agendas. Furthermore, as already said, he knows that Operation Garnet exists."

"What the Colonel's telling you", Henriksen added while he lit a cigarillo, "Is that due to his association with Nordisk Frihet and his previous involvement in Operation Garnet, Erik Nyslott represents a clear and present danger to the Commonwealth's internal security. Officially, Military Intelligence's in to investigate links between the separatists and an arms smuggling ring involving Armed Forces servicemen, and as far as everyone is concerned that shall be your task. Unofficially, however..."

Henriksen put the cigarillo to his mouth and drew in, then puffed out a cloud of smoke. It occured to Major Callum that smoking was banned within Commonwealth government buildings. However, who'd tell the head of Military Intelligence that he couldn't smoke inside the offices of his own damn department?

"Your task will be to capture Nyslott and find out how much of Operation Garnet he has compromised. After doing this, you will terminate him with extreme prejudice."
 
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Messages
1,896
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JUNE 1992

All-Cornavian Energy Oil Refinery Construction Yard
Colton Ridge
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


The campaign against the construction of the Colton Ridge oil refinery was a motley bunch. Lucy Newcastle didn't like the idea of their small Nature Party and the other assorted environmentalist groups teaming up with Nordic separatists to take on big Southern capital, but as her comrades had pointed out time upon time, they were too small to stop the Colton Ridge Project alone. Maybe it was the logical thing to do to team up with another group that had the same goal, even if for different reasons.

Still, in private discussions with her comrades during the time when they'd travelled from Farpoint to Colton Ridge, she'd time upon time denounced the Järnmark Freedom Party's nationalism as the biggest cancer upon the human mind with all the zeal and confidence that a woman of 25 years of age could muster. We're all just people, damn it, same flesh and same blood in the end, Lucy had thought, and the Nord background of her own family made the JFP's agenda of assertion of Nordic independence against Anglosaxon domination even more despicable. In her mind, a lot more could've been achieved if common Cornavians regardless of religion or ethnicity would've stuck together, because in the end their true problems did not result from national or religious issues but from the dominance of the big capital.

Perhaps, she mused as she looked over the heads of her compatriots to the line of policemen that kept watch upon the demonstrators blocking access into the construction yard, he hated the separatists so because their ignorant zeal reminded her of her brother. Though his ignorance was of a different kind, for instead of turning to separatist ideology Eric Newcastle had embraced the even greater lie of jingoism in service of the Cornavian military. That the man he'd known for her entire life and thought of as a sister usually thought of a brother would willingly wear an uniform, accepting all that it entailed including the possibility that he might well kill on command, disgusted Lucy so. Eric was no different from the separatists who served the cause of Nordic nationalism, and no different from those separatists who'd ended up taking to the arms. The only thing different was the flag that he served.

"Shame on you, shame on you, shame on you!", a cry begun in the ranks of the demonstrators as the line of policemen seemed to grow, and Lucy thought that she saw back there the regular policemen being replaced with colleagues donned in gas masks, riot helmets and protective armor and wielding long riot batons and shields instead of the regular police equipment.

"Do you think that they'll try and push us out?", Lucy asked the man beside her. She'd met Nick Steadman at their university during a lecture on psychology, and they'd been together for nearly a year. He was so considerate, going to all the demonstrations and rallies with her. Lucy had got him to join the Nature Party and together they'd started a section at their campus. Indeed, she couldn't imagine herself with a man of any other kind, at least not with one of those chauvinist jerks who'd think nothing of women.

"I don't know", Nick replied with an unsure look on his face, then added, "Don't know really, maybe, if those company stooges been telling them to do it."

Fucking pigs. Intervening in a democratic demonstration like that, one that had surely done no harm to anyone, just proved that the demonstrators were right and the cops were serving the interests of the same big business who wanted to ruin the North's nature with their oil rigs and refineries.

There was a stir to the front, and Lucy saw the leaders of the demonstrating groups push themselves through the crowd to the police line. Were they negotiating?

"What are they doing?", Lucy heard Nick ask another Nature Party activist to the front of them.

"The cops are telling that we need to stop with the blockade or they'll arrest us."

"Bullshit!", Lucy explained, then watched as the leading demonstrators in front continued their attempt to negotiate with the police. One of them suddenly towards a senior police officer who appeared to be in charge of making demands, and to Lucy's astonishment two riot cops tackled the man to the ground. It was then that more police officers emerged from the line to tackle and cuff the gathered leaders of their demonstration, and furious chants erupted from the crowd. Before she could fully realize what was going on, she saw cylindrical objects flying towards them, from behind the line of the police. As they landed amidst a surprised and confused crowd, they let off whizzs and started to let off tear gas. Lucy now realized that the cops had started to shoot tear gas grenades at them, and saw the line of riot policemen move forward, striking at those to the front with batons.

Panic overtook the crowd amidst the tear gas and the baton charge of the riot police, and Lucy saw comrades suddenly turning tail towards the construction yard, away from the landed tear gas and police. The tidal wave of people pushed her back with her. She realized that she'd lost sight of Nick before the crowd broke into a run, and someone pushed her down.

She couldn't see Nick, and fell down to the asphalt as the crowd of a thousand or so demonstrators broke and ran. Feet trampled over her, and she desperately tried to regain her footing. Lucy was halfway to doing so when someone, desperately trying to run away towards the construction yard, collided into her.

Lucy Newcastle fell headfirst into the asphalt and then felt nothing at all.
 
Joined
Aug 27, 2009
Messages
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DAY TWO

15 Sven Reidarson Road
Ashby
Canton of Western Crownland
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"Open it."

The young Nord man nodded upon hearing Erik's command, and lifted off the lid that concealed the hidden subterranean compartment in the nondescript warehouse that Erik Nyslott had purchased two years ago under a false identity. Normally the said lid was conveniently concealed by stacked boxes, parked vehicles or other equipment just in case there were uninvited visitors, for it wouldn't do at all for someone to become curious about the subterranean section of the warehouse and to discover its contents.

But now, all of the five men accompanying Erik were loyal members of their movement. Or, at least, that was what Erik could determine. The betrayal by Jonas still stung him, and unnerved him in that him and the others had allowed such a snake into their midst for such a long period of time. The chances were that all their work would have been in vain, had not Erik kept this warehouse and a few others from their knowledge as his ace in the hole. Now that the traitor had been dealt with and, indeed, his betrayal had left them with no other choices, Erik had decided to reveal his last cards. Government agents wouldn't shoot their colleagues to preserve their cover, and Erik had had each of the cell members shoot at Jonas Fält once. After that, Erik himself had delivered the final killing shot, after which the traitor's body had been buried in the woods.

"Why'd we not hear of this before?", asked Fjalar, the bald and burly man gazing at the entrance into the underground room. Inside, lights had automatically went on the moment the lid had been opened, revealing a ladder leading to the floor and a few of the crates stacked inside.

"Gentlemen", Erik replied, eying the cell members arrayed before him in the warehouse's main hall. Fjalar, Olof and Karl had been with him during the failed attempt to bomb the Ryan Fairmont Square, and Axel and Göran were Ashby locals Erik had been forced to bring in on the plot after Reidar's arrest and Jonas's betrayal. "You're looking at our ace in the hole, right here and now. If you will..."

He gestured to the opened hatch, and Axel was the first to descend the ladder into the room. The others followed, and Erik Nyslott descended the ladder as the last one.

Within, the concealed basement consisted of about twenty square meters of room, most of which was stacked with wooden boxes, some of which bore warning signs indicating that they contained explosive materials.

"Feel free to open 'em up and look around", Erik said with a smile on his face as the five Nordic separatists accompanying him in the basement got a view of the space, surprise evident on their faces. When all of them stood still, Erik shrugged and lifted off the covering of the nearest wooden box. Inside between paddings were five nearly-meter long, matte-black objects. Erik took one and held it between his hands for the others to see.

"Nordic Ordnance AR-85 7,62mm assault rifle. Standard issue, Commonwealth Armed Forces", Erik said, his eyes gleaming as he watched the curious eyes of the others study the weapon and the four others remaining in the box. "There are twenty in total in this room in addition to these, one in five also equipped with an underbarrel grenade launcher. In the other crates, an equivalent number of handguns, four Nordic Ordnance MG-85 squad automatic weapons, two sniper rifles and personal military-grade equipment for twenty-five men. Now, I'm effectively a fugitive, and the security services are probably about to check out all the properties belonging to Nyslott Logistics. Just in case, we're moving this stuff out of here to a new location."

As if in unison, Fjalar and Axel uttered, "How the fuck have you come across this stuff, Erik?".

Erik Nyslott let off a dark smile in response. Of course, he couldn't tell none of the men in his cell where these weapons had come from. For how would they trust him anymore if he told them about Operation Garnet, and what he had done in the days before he had found the cause of self-determination for the people of the North? All that they needed to know was that he was their leader, and that he knew what he was doing. His men, he had come to learn, were easy enough to lead provided that they were given a goal to focus on. Simple enough soldiers for the army with which he'd exact his revenge.

Over fifteen years ago, his sister had died in a police intervention, a violent act of repression against a completely legitimate demonstration to give his people what they rightfully deserved to gain from the spoils of the North. Granted, since those events the Cantonal governments had actually made a few concessions, but in the end it wasn't about what they had, but what they could achieve. And we'll gain revenge too.
 
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DAY THREE

Cornavian Airspace

The occasions when a superior officer said to the officer in the field that he could have everything that he needed to get the job done were extremely rare within the Cornavian intelligence community, which more often than not had to make up for a lack of great power resources with audacious and ingenious tactics. This, however, was clearly not one of those cases where an officer heading an operation had to work with lacking resources.

Thor Henriksen had seen him off today at the Southport-on-Sea Air Force Base with precisely those words, and so far Major Liam Callum seemed to be inclined to believe. Indeed, at this very moment him and his team of (sometimes literal) troubleshooters were above Central Cornavia in a Ministry of Defense business jet, and he'd been told that a full Special Forces platoon was in readiness at Farpoint to give them tactical back-up if needed. They'd get helicopter support as well, and the Military Police and Security Service up North had been gotten to requisition some land vehicles for their use. And as if that wasn't enough, upon arriving in Farpoint he would take control of the entire search for the at large Nordisk Frihet terrorists. That meant officers from the Ministry of Defense, the Security Service, the Anti-Terrorist Branch and numerous local law enforcement agencies.

If anything, the abundance of operational resources that Major Callum had suddenly found himself working with underlined the threat that Major General Henriksen and others at the top of the intelligence community saw in Erik Nyslott, and the urgency with which they wanted the man shut up. Not only that, but a kill order being issued on a Cornavian citizen on Cornavian soil was not exactly the most regular of occurences. Granted, it wasn't strictly illegal, for there were a number of ways with which the Defense Conditions Act could be spun to label such an operation as an "intervention in case of a major act of terrorism, insurgency or clear and present danger against the Commonwealth".

However, invoking the Defense Conditions Act meant that the Armed Forces was allowed to walk over numerous rules of due process and government use of force without breaking a sweat, so such acts were bound to draw controversy. Of course, in this case the general idea was that there'd be no controversy because no one would know what truly happened when all had been said and done.

In any case, Callum had decided to make up for the headstart the separatists had as good as he could, putting his team to work on their way up to Farpoint. In addition, he'd relayed requests up to Farpoint to prepare to carry out raids on Nyslott Logistics properties and to put known associates of the suspects under surveillance, and to expand the search radius for Nyslott and his identified associates in Nordisk Frihet. At least now that they no longer needed to maintain the pretense of covert infiltration they could bring in more muscle to the game, as long as Callum and his men kept their eyes to the second goal of the mission, that being the covert abduction of Nyslott before the entire cell would be officially apprehended.
 
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DAY THREE

6 Ferguson Street
Headquarters of the Farpoint Anti-Terrorism Branch
The New Constabulary
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"To be honest, I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

At least the Security Service had been actually useful with their undercover inside the terrorist cell that Detective Chief Inspector Robert Simmons and his men had been tracking. It had all gone to hell since those stooges from the Ministry of Defense had showed up, not only had they created a near-PR disaster with the fuck-ups in the attempt to catch the cell, but now they wanted to take over the entire investigation.

"First your people throw Special Forces around like an elephant in a porcelain store, and then you waltz in here telling me that you're stealing my own investigation under me", Simmons continued, his eyes fixed on the late-thirtys man seated behind the opposite side of his office desk. Major Liam Callum didn't correspond to his stereotype of a Marine officer. While fit, he was less bulkier than most of the other Marines he had seen in his time, and wore his hair somewhat longer too. Then again, he'd heard that the people in military intelligence were given a share of liberties in comparison to the more regular soldiers. It could have also been that the man was in civilian attire.

"Want my advice?", Major Callum replied calmly, "Deal with it. These orders come directly from the Cabinet Security Advisor, so you're not going to get them countermanded even if you tried. Besides, we're on the same side here, damn it."

Simmons sighed. Arguing against an equal member of what constituted a rival service was one thing, but arguing against one when he was going around with authorization from the top security official in the entire damn Commonwealth was another. Besides, Deputy Constable-in-Chief Walker had already urged Simmons to render his full cooperation to Major Callum and his men, so it wasn't as if he had any room to object.

Still, Robert Simmons had served in regular criminal investigation before transferring out to the Anti-Terrorism Branch, and he'd held on to a rather traditional perception of policing even in the world of anti-terrorism and counter-intelligence. To him, being a cop meant finding evidence, catching the bad guy and netting convictions, not this game the intelligence people called counter-terrorism. They'd come dangerously close to a disaster by letting Nordisk Frihet get a bomb to the middle of Farpoint, particularly concerning how they'd failed to spring the trap laid for the entire cell. Simmons knew that the bit about the terrorists having made plans to blow up the bomb at midday was just sexed-up reporting, but assuming that they'd included a failsafe of some kind or changed the plans that the undercover had proposed, it might have well turned into reality.

"Oh well", Simmons said, then took a sip of his coffee cup, "Not as if I've got any other choices."

"Smart man. So where are you on the case?"

Detective Chief Inspector Simmons turned to his computer to pull up his in-house e-mail, which contained the reports sent by his subordinates and the associated liaisons in the Security Service and the Military Police to refresh his memory. Since they'd botched the attempt to capture the cell, the investigation had spanned to include the better part of the Canton. Not exactly a small thing to coordinate. As it turned out, a new e-mail had come in from Diane Adams, the Security Service liaison officer up in Farpoint. When Simmons opened it to see its contents, he nearly spat the coffee in his mouth on to the screen.

"What is it?", Major Callum asked, evidently seeing the surprise in his face.

"Looks like we caught a lucky break", Simmons said, the surprise turning into glee, "A Security Service source in the Järnmark Freedom Party picked up chatter saying that Nyslott has split from his cell and is in the Greater Farpoint area planning another bombing.

"Really?", Callum replied and raised his eyebrows. That had come fast. "How reliable is the intel?"

"It's checked out before."

"I want us on it, then. Where are we on Nyslott Logistics?"

"We secured search warrants for their properties today and have already begun getting ready. However I doubt that he'll be using company assets anymore now that we have them on the open."

"Alright, then", Callum said and got up, "I'll be in the operational center. I expect your subordinates to get me and my men up to speed."

Detective Chief Inspector Simmons nodded, and Major Callum left the room. He had a distinct feeling that the Military Intelligence officer was hiding something from him. A former military officer or not, Nyslott and his cell should have well been within the capabilities of the Anti-Terrorism Branch and the Security Service, and this arms smuggling business that the military people kept going on about could have been solved at a later date once the more pressing threat was taken care of, and without the intervention of the Chief Security Advisor. Something was definitely up, and Robert Simmons felt that it went way over his pay grade.

* * *

In the hallway, Major Liam Callum paused to look at the name plate on the door. He'd had his share of uncooperative law enforcers and spies, but his new apparent partner from the Anti-Terrorist Branch seemed to be more than that. Don't underestimate this one, Liam. Don't underestimate him at all.
 
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DAY FOUR

7 Patterson Road
The Nordia Building
Cantonal University of Farpoint
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


His student of three years now had been an easy catch to recruit into the organization. When Professor Göran Magnusson had first come in contact with Axel Thorsten, the latter had been a first-year student majoring in Nordic Literature and minoring in History, and a noticeably naive member of the local group of the radical leftist 13th of September Movement.

An admirer of the Vangalan revolutionaries, Axel had kept going on and on about the wrongs that the Occidental capitalist societies had kept inflicting upon indigenous societies everywhere, and had called Basuism a way of empowering the North's native Sevets to take back their lands and resources from the Anglosaxon mechanisms of oppression. In effect, it had been this (albeit misguided) fervour and desire to act that Magnusson had set his eyes upon. Turning all that "save the world" sentiment into something actually useful had been a feat that Magnusson was still proud of, though - alas - putting that something useful into motion had not been so successful.

And Göran Magnusson himself? Well, he'd been a student himself back when Nordisk Frihet had been formed in 1981, and had been among the original members of the Järnmark Freedom Party who had decided to turn militant in their campaign against encroachment to the North by Anglosaxon migrants, landowners and oil and gas entrepreneurs. And unlike some, he'd never stopped believing in the cause. For the sake of friends lost, he had to keep going. The movement, on the other hand, had dwindled since the high days of armed struggle, not the least because the group had been to a certain extent been able to seek support from the Communist governments of the time even if their favorite target of support had been the Cornavian Red Army. Still, Magnusson's patience had paid off, for now there were signs that the cause was reviving itself.

His student and compatriot Thorsten was not in his mind for any futile reason, for the Professor had just entered the cafeteria of the Nordia Building - which housed facilities belonging to History, Literature and a couple of other departments of Humanities - looking for the man. Though the cafeteria was crowded with students, being lunch time and whatnot, Magnusson quickly spied the man seated alone in a table with his food. Good. What he had to say needed to be heard by no strangers. He exchanged greetings with some of the students on his way from the door of the cafeteria to Thorsten's table.

"Axel", he said, sitting down opposite to him. 24 years old and wearing brown dreadlocks and some second-hand stuff crowned with one of those Uroduah scarves, Axel Thorsten looked like a stereotypical left-wing student. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?", Axel said, lifting his gaze up to face the Professor. The latter noticed correctly that Axel had picked up the vegetarian option again.

Professor Göran Magnusson looked around, then opened his briefcase to take out a brown envelope.

"Oh, it's your evaluation for the work you did on that course on Oelar 19th century poetry, I was buried under other things so I was unable to return it earlier", he said in a slightly louder voice, as if to dispel any suspicions from anyone who might have overheard them, "Do take a look at the notes."

Axel Thorsten nodded his head. The Professor left his student to finish off his meal. He hadn't wanted to use Axel to do this, nor had he wanted to break protocol with such a direct approach, but the news of an ongoing terrorist hunt in the Canton and Erik having been out of touch for quite too long time had left him with no other choice.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

25 Kurt Strömberg Lane,
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Axel Thorsten barely managed to hide his flash of recognition when the door to the otherwise unremarkable flat in the working-class suburb of Whitelake was opened from the inside. That's him, he said to himself, that's Erik, for fuck's sake.

The man was of an average height and a stocky build, and in his early fifty's. Axel remembered the hard, blue close-set eyes and the brown hair, of which due to baldening remained something only in the sides and to the back, from the picture he'd seen of him two weeks ago.

"A package to you", Axel finally managed to say, "Comes from Magnusson."

"Alright, boy, be on your way then", Erik Nyslott replied, and Axel handed him the envelope.

The man had disappeared back inside in a couple of seconds, the exchange having ended almost as soon as it started. He barely managed to control the shaking of his hands as he walked back down the stairs to his car, where the stress broke out. He'd just been face-to-face with the most wanted terrorist in the Northern Cantons, possibly in the whole of the Commonwealth. And what I am about to do...

Once he had calmed himself, he reached to a pocket sewn to the underside of his car's driver seat, pulling out a cell phone and speed-dialing the only number that had been saved into it.

In an office up in downtown Farpoint, specifically in the wing of the Farpoint Commonwealth Building that had been reserved for the use of the Commonwealth Security Service, his case officer picked up his own phone. The agent's reaction to the inbound call from one of his sources was as bewildered as Axel's reaction to meeting Erik Nyslott had been, and immediately upon the ending of the call the agent rushed to a conference room where one Officer Diane Adams was having a meeting with her Ranking Officer James Murphy and one Major Liam Callum from the Ministry of Defense.
 
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DAY FOUR

3 Ryan Fairmont Square
Canton Office of the Commonwealth Security Service
Farpoint Commonwealth Building
Canton of Farpoint
Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"Nyslott's driven by revenge, from what we can tell based on the psych evaluations we've done based on information from our undercover", said James Murphy, the Ranking Officer at the Farpoint Office of the CSS and therefore the head of all operational activity for the agency in the entire Canton.

Major Liam Callum wondered when was the last time the mid-40s man had actually been working in the field. Having to turn into a desk spook tended to have a degenerative effect for some people, even though it was an inevitable phase in the life circle of an intelligence officer unless one resigned from the service before or ended up becoming a trainer. Callum had tried to prevent that fate visiting himself, and had largely succeeded thanks to being appointed to his current role in the aftermath of the Oelarian assignment. Having always been too young or inexperienced when opportunity had come for a promotion up to a senior Cairns House position, he had stayed in the field as opposed to taking a regular officer's position in the Marines or switching to an intelligence unit in the Army or the Navy. In fact, in Intelligence duties he'd discovered a fondness for the trade, and had since realized that regular military life ill suited him. Nor did the other reasons that often drove people out of the field, such as gaining a family or just growing too old, apply to him yet.

As for Murphy, the man seemed to be competent enough, and with enough experience on the Nordic separatists under his belt. And indeed, more willing to accept the compromises and necessities involved in intelligence work than that Detective Chief Inspector he'd dealt with from the Anti-Terrorism Branch. However, Callum still hadn't figured out whether or the guy had been behind the desk for too long.

"Specifically, he's got deep issues with the oil and gas industry and the Commonwealth government and what we're doing here, and that..."

Major Callum let out a cough to interrupt Murphy, then raised his hand and replied, "Yes, I've read the reports. But let's get round to stopping the cell."

Ranking Officer Murphy seemed to be midlly irritated by the interruption, but swallowed it up admirably enough while giving a contemplative look first at Officer Adams, then at Callum.

"As I was about to say", Murphy continued with a puncturing look aimed at Major Callum, "This puts government buildings and possibly oil and gas company properties in the position of likely targets, assuming that the cell is still operating on the modus operandi of bomb attacks. Again going by the existing modus operandi, we can assume that it's a night-time bombing or one with an advance warning upcoming."

"Unless they've changed the M.O, could be that they're desperate with us on the hunt", Adams cut in.

"Nordisk Frihet hasn't changed it's M.O in 20 years, Officer", Murphy retorted.

"Yes, and in 2009 people also said that they lack the capability to carry out attacks and operations of impact, yet this year we've had an assassination and several bomb incidents on behalf of them, not to mention the Nyslott Cell", Adams drove on. Major Callum had to admit some admiration for the woman finding the guts to contradict a superior in a meeting where the third attendant was a member of another government agency.

Murphy was about to make another, clearly more angrier retort, when Callum cut in. "Your subordinate has a point there", he said, "You'd do well to keep her close to you."

The mid 30s blonde let off a faint smile at him in response, and it occurred to him that she wasn't too bad looking either. And suddenly, Major Liam Callum had to remind himself that there was no mixing of business and pleasure. Not in this line of work, at least. And he gave himself a mental slap in the wrist for that.

The Ranking Officer grunted in response, and Major Callum continued, "In any case, if we're to assume that Nyslott's the shot-caller in the cell, then we can look at his targets being possibly based on personal revenge..."

At least that was how he would have the others believe. An unnerving thought had occurred to him in his deliberation of what kind of a man Erik Nyslott was, what drove him on and what he would be after. During his time in the Army, the man had been involved in the logistical side of Operation Garnet, a fact that had been concealed from those not part of Major Callum's own team. All components of Garnet used strict compartmentalization, and Nyslott wasn't supposed to be aware of the Operation's component of internal subterfuge. However, if he was aware, then there was a chance that he could be acting out of disgruntlement with Garnet, or could have even combined the two in his head. It was equally unnerving that he'd have to lead these people away from anything and everything that had to do with Nyslott and the very existence of Operation Garnet.

And furthermore, Major Liam Callum had noticed that in these deliberations he'd come terribly close to understanding Erik Nyslott. The man did what he did over his loved ones, or rather the loss thereof. And to a large extent, Callum was driven by the same motivations. Had he been born into a middle-class Anglosaxon family back in Whitehaven's suburbia, and me into a Nordic family in Farpoint... Then again, there was the key difference that Nyslott believed in blowing up people for his cause.

He was about to continue when a man, recognizable as one of the local Security Service officers based on the straight trousers and a suit's shirt he was wearing together with a CSS name card hanging from his neck, burst in through the conference room's double doors.

As the three of them turned in unison towards the new arrival, the youngish man begun, "Sorry to interrupt this but we've got something here, Charybdis contacted me with a half-an-hour-old location on Erik Nyslott! An apartment up in 25 Kurt Strömberg Lane, a contact of Charybdis just had him deliver a package of some sort to Nyslott."

Charybdis. In the midst of his sudden excitement it occurred to Callum that that was the codename for some Security Service source among the Nordic separatists here in Farpoint.

"Son of a bitch", Major Callum muttered, getting up while at the same time taking his cellphone in his right hand. He speed-dialled the number of Captain John Shepard, his second-in-command, and while waiting for the man to pick up said to Murphy and Adams, "Tell the Constabulary to set up a cordon on a three-block radius around 25 Strömberg Lane, I'll get my people and Special Forces up there."

"Should I notify DCI Simmons?", Adams inquired.

Callum stopped to think, then said, "No, I'll do it."
 
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DAY FOUR

25 Kurt Strömberg Lane,
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Still cold as in a frozen hell, Detective Chief Inspector Robert Simmons thought as he stepped out from his unmarked Anti-Terrorism Branch sedan and saw a line of curious onlookers, separated from the house a Special Forces team had just hit by police patrol cruisers, a line of tape and policemen wearing body armor and helmets standing guard.

The Constables standing guard at the edge of the cordon formed around 25 Kurt Strömberg Lane and now maintained in a one-block radius let DCI Simmons through past the police taping as the Anti-Terrorism Branch official flashed them his official badge. From the looks of things, Major Callum's men had gone in before Simmons had arrived to the scene. More armed policemen stood guard outside of the stairwell where an apartment stated to act as a hiding place for the terrorist cell leader Erik Nyslott was located.

Needless to say, DCI Simmons was not particularly amused as to the way Liam Callum and the Military Intelligence team had sidelined him and the ATB in carrying out the raid. Fucking glory hounds. He'd only found out what was going on after the police radio had carried a call for armed backup to the address, and had connected the dots upon Callum and his deputy Shepard suddenly being out of touch. Simmons didn't like being sidelined like this in his own investigation, not that it actually was his own investigation anymore after Callum and his team had showed up waving around an authorization from Chief Security Advisor Collins.

Since then, the MoD stooges had only been getting in the way, and Robert Simmons felt more and more annoyed by their presence now that it seemed that Major Callum was bent on taking all the credit for the hunt of Nyslott for himself even though it were Farpoint's own that were doing all the dirty work.

He found Callum and two other members of his team conversing next to an array of unmarked cars, into some of which the members of that Special Forces team were loading equipment used in the raid. Next to other cars, plainclothes men were bringing out forensic equipment, presumably to carry out a thorough search of the raided apartment. All, Callum and his two discussion partners included, were wearing either tactical gear or body armor on top of regular clothes.

"...and I want to know who owns the apartment, and if he's reachable then he is to be brought in for questioning, also get me the CCTV tapes of the vicinity. Traffic cams, estate cams and the ones from the store on the opposite side of the street, make it happen."

"Yes, sir."

When the two subordinates went off, Major Callum turned to see a more than slightly annoyed Detective Chief Inspector Robert Simmons standing next to him. The Major's visage revealed no surprise at Simmons's arrival, at least not beyond the stress Callum evidently had going.

The latter was about to say something, but Simmons was faster, "Why the hell was I not notified that we were raiding? This was supposed to be a joint operation. And now that Nyslott's out he's going to put the pieces together as to who tipped us to him, and then that CSS undercover is in big trouble."

"There was no time for that", Callum said dismissively, "We had to act on the tip fast. Alas, Nyslott got away in any case. As for Charybdis, the Security Service's retrieved him, but the Nordisk Frihet member he's associated with is still at large. There was no one in the apartment when the entry team struck. We did, however, discover these..."

Bastard went and dodged me right there. DCI Simmons couldn't decide whether the Major was doing what he did for some infantile desire of playing around with people, or because he was sick with the ambition to get the credit for bringing in Nyslott and the cell. Or, it occurred to him, because of some entirely different reason. He swallowed his dissatisfaction over the man and watched Callum open the side door of one of the unmarked vans, removing an object which the DCI recognized as a big military webbing pouch in a sealed evidence bag. It reminded him of the gas mask bags he'd used in his younger days.

"We found this along with a map of downtown Farpoint and a piece of 'Improvised Explosive Devices Handbook', Army print 1992, but replaced with a new edition several times. The bag contains electric detonators, also Army issue. Five are missing", Callum said in a serious tone as he held up the evidence bag, "Assuming that Nyslott's gone and taken the rest with him, it might be that he's about to carry out the attack right now."

Shit. There was no way in hell that Robert Simmons would leave it at that, but with the greater threat looming it seemed that Callum would win this round. However, Simmons resolved to take the matter up with his superiors immediately. He was about to speak in response to Callum, when one of the constables standing guard outside of the stairwell approached.

"Major Callum!"

"Yes?", Callum said as he and DCI Simmons turned to look at the constable. At the door to the stairwell, his colleague was talking to a man, presumably a resident. The MoD Major and Simmons followed the burly mid-30s police officer to the entrance, where the constable's younger partner and the greying man in his middle age stopped talking.

"Mr. Jansson here saw our suspect exiting about thirty minutes before the cordon was set up", the older Constable explained, leading to a curt nod on behalf of the man. Simmons watched Callum reach into a pocket of his winter longcoat to pull out an image.

"This man?", Callum asked, and the man nodded again. Liam Callum had showed the man an image of Erik Nyslott. "Did he go by car or on foot?"

"By car, it was a white AC Transporter, Farpoint plates, F-GT Five-Two-Eight-Five."

Oh shit. With the earlier intelligence that the man was indeed preparing to carry out an attack combined with the discovery of the detonators - and indeed, also the fact that some of the said items were missing - and was now possibly driving a van loaded with an assembled bomb into downtown Farpoint.

This time, Detective Chief Inspector Simmons was the quicker one to act, reaching for his cell phone and phoning the Farpoint Emergency Center. The operator in the other end picked up the phone quickly upon seeing that the call came from a phone registered to a member of the ATB.

"Emergency Center, how may I be of assistence?"

"This is DCI Robert Simmons, Anti-Terrorism Branch", Simmons begun, with the eyes of Major Callum and the others fixed upon him, "Adjust the 'observe and report' on Erik Nyslott issued by ATB into 'suspect'. He could be headed into downtown Farpoint with a white Ashland Transporter, Farpoint plates F-GT Five-Two-Eight-Five. Nyslott is to be considered as armed and dangerous, and there are explosive ordnances in the vehicle. Regular officers are not to attempt an arrest, we have Special Forces on stand-by."

While Simmons was making the call to Emergency Center, Major Liam Callum was making another phone call to Farpoint Castle Air Station telling them that the two Special Forces teams and the two Ashland-Carrington MH-16 Raven helicopters he'd held back were needed in Farpoint right away.
 
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DAY FOUR

7 Patterson Road
The Nordia Building
Cantonal University of Farpoint
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"Mr. Magnusson, we need to talk to you."

The two men standing at the doorway of the printing and copying room in which they'd found Göran Magnusson did not look familiar in the least. Students they were certainly not, for they were older than the average student of his department, perhaps in their thirties. And he knew all the employees here at least by their faces. Well-dressed, but too heavily built to be just academics on a visit or donors, and those looks that they have on them. Oh, I don't like this, I don't like this at all.

"Yes?", Magnusson replied, trying to keep his calm and struggling against the rising heart rate. It occurred to him that this was why he'd always been a man in the background in their movement. As much as he hated to admit it, in truth Göran Magnusson was afraid. "We'll be able to go to my office, I will just copy these papers."

"No, we're not", the taller of the two, with brown hair and a goatee, replied. It was then that he spread open the left side of his winter longcoat, and Magnusson could see that the man was wearing an armpit holster. He's armed. "You're coming with us, like it or not."

I'm a strategist, not a fighter. I'm not cut out for this shit. The two men were likely working for the Commonwealth government, and if he'd fight back they could just make it official and excuse themselves whatever they happened to do with him. The men who had appeared to menace him, just as Magnusson had hoped to stay off the radar while Erik Nyslott proceeded with his mysterious plan, were younger and fitter than him. Probably they'd been trained in this stuff. And furthermore, they were armed.

"Alright", Göran Magnusson said and sighed, trying to keep his calm. He knew that the two men were government people, they had to be, and the fact that they hadn't showed him their badges or told their parent agency meant that none of the gifts of due process would be of use to him. If he was indeed correct and he was being grabbed.
 
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Messages
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DAY FOUR

22 Coleman Road
Ministry of Defense Building
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Staff Sergeant Jeremy Cole was having a very, very dull day shift as the head of security of the Ministry of Defense Building for Farpoint which was, in effect, a recruitment and reservist and conscript affairs office and a Military Police station for those occasions when soldiers on leave from the island's units got a bit too rowdy in the city's nightclubs. The actual military functions on Farpoint Island were carried out by Farpoint AFB, Northern Naval Command at Castle Farpoint - Cole and his team were Marines officially out of that base - and Army's Fort Leyton and Fort Carlisle respectively.

Even the actual MP stockade for the island was in Castle Farpoint, so between weekends when the station's few holding cells might be used, all Cole had to do was sit around in his office at the MP section of the building watching the surveillance cameras, writing reports and drinking coffee and listening to the law enforcement radio frequencies to fight off the boredom as well as making plans for the next weekend's drinking and sexual escapades. Occasionally he'd get some other career NCO or a conscript to cover for him and head to the gym and shooting range which were located in the basement of the building. Alas, he hadn't had exactly this in mind when he'd signed up to do regular Military Police service at the end of his conscription nearly eight years ago. He still had this idea of resigning and applying to the Commonwealth Constabulary, being that he was more interested in law enforcement anyway.

Staff Sergeant Cole was just busy mentally undressing the new 19-year old female Corporal who'd arrived here last week, when something caught his eye in the surveillance monitors on the table to his left. His office table was set up in an L-shape, with his PC's monitor normally in front of him while on his left were two monitors showing split-screen CCTV image and a third one as the main screen of the building's surveillance and access control system. Jeremy Cole enlarged one of the CCTV split-screens from a camera to the back of the building, realizing immediately that to the opposite side of the street was a van that hadn't been parked there before.

Using a joystick to focus the camera to the van and to zoom in, Staff Sergeant Cole saw that whoever had driven the car there had left. More or less having nothing else to do, he zoomed in to the license plate and promptly spat out his coffee from his mouth to the screen, having heard the plate registry only minutes later on the law enforcement frequencies. Specifically, in an APB that contained the mention of an armed terrorist suspect and explosive ordnance.

Shit, he thought as he moved the camera around to see if there was anything suspicious, Shit, shit, shit. His training kicking into motion, he reached for his personal TETRA device tuned to a closed channel for his unit, pressed talk and exclaimed, "All callsigns, this is Foxtrot Two-One, we have an imminent security threat against the building, designation orange. Evacuate all personnel through the front of the building. This is not a drill."

He tried to calm himself down and to bring back the emergency procedures for these kinds of things to his head. Notify security personnel, notify law enforcement and rescue services, commence evacuation, the manual went, and so had gone the training. But this, it seemed, was the real thing. A possible terrorist attack at work.

Hearing his Military Policemen-and women acknowledge the message through the radio, he reached for a second TETRA device, this one tuned to a frequency used to relay messages between police dispatchers at the Farpoint Cantonal Emergency Center and units in the field, and pressed the talk button again, "Farpoint dispatch, this is Argus Foxtrot Two-One at Farpoint MoD building, we have a.."

Staff Sergeant Cole cursed under his breath, and briefly glanced in the direction of a paper headlined CANTONAL POLICE CODES on his table, then continued, "We have an imminent Code 10 on reported F-GT Five-Two-Eight-Five, reported suspect not visible, vehicle parked at 7 Cutter Lane, we are evacuating the building."

As the distorted voice of a female operator began coming out of the radio speaker in response, Cole pressed a button in his table's intercom control panel labeled EVAC ALARM - BOMB. As he listened to the instructions given by the operator, alarm klaxons and an automated evacuation warning started sounding throughout the building.
 
Joined
Aug 27, 2009
Messages
1,896
Location
Helsinki
DAY FOUR

22 Coleman Road
Ministry of Defense Building
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


The first patrols of the Farpoint Canton Constabulary were at the scene five minutes after Staff Sergeant Jeremy Cole had called in a likely bomb threat against the Farpoint Ministry of Defense Building. By then Cole's personnel had evacuated the MoD Building of its employees and those civilians who had been inside at the time the evacuation had been ordered. Alas, the concentration of the Military Police officers in securing the building and its employees also meant that there was no one immediately available to commence a search for Erik Nyslott, who managed to exit the immediate vicinity of the building before a substantial police response was carried out.

When the Canton Constabulary took over, they according to procedure commenced an evacuation of neighboring buildings that happened to be within the danger zone of a van-sized explosive device. When the Ryan Fairmont Square bomb had been defused, a Northern Engineers EOD unit had been in readiness precisely for the reason that it had been a sting operation by the security services. This time, with no advance warning, on-site commander Inspector Connor Jackson called in the Canton Constabulary's own Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit to search the vehicle.

Meanwhile at the Cantonal Emergency Center, Deputy Constable-in-Chief Robin Walker was coordinating a wide response in the Greater Farpoint area to the ongoing terrorist threat, including heightened security measures in government buildings, train and bus stations and at the Farpoint Cantonal Airport. At the same time, the Canton Constabulary's single police helicopter and a flight of three helicopters of the Commonwealth Constabulary stationed in Farpoint were being prepared to take off. As were the two MH-16s at Farpoint AFB and their Special Forces teams.

Having headed into downtown Farpoint from the Northern suburbs as fast as they could, Detective Chief Inspector Robert Simmons and Major Liam Callum and their respective colleagues arrived to the perimeter just as the guarding policemen watched, holding their breath, as the EOD specialists set to work guiding a remote-guided disposal robot towards the suspected bomb van. Indeed, a surprise awaited them, for after the specialists carried out their reconnaissance of the target they realized that it contained no bomb at all.
 
Joined
Aug 27, 2009
Messages
1,896
Location
Helsinki
DAY FOUR

15 Coleman Road
Incident Command Post
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"Command, this is Delta, there is no explosive device, I repeat, there is no explosive device."

"What the fuck?", Inspector Connor Jackson, Detective Chief Inspector Robert Simmons and Major Liam Callum said nearly in unison as they heard the voice of the EOD team leader through their respective headsets and saw the camera of the EOD robot fixed on the interior of the van where there was, indeed, no sign of a bomb of any kind. To say that Major Callum felt bewildered would have been an understatement.

"Delta, Command, all clear confirmed", Inspector Jackson replied to the microphone in the headset, then nodded to his second-in-command Captain Dawes, who raised his TETRA radio to his mouth and relayed the order to the rest of the covering perimeter officers.

Major Callum barely noticed all this, and the subsequent commotion between the senior police officers, for he was buried in his own thinking. Erik Nyslott had been here, he was sure of that, and during the bomb threat Callum's men had managed to recover CCTV tapes showing Nyslott driving away the van that had now been searched from the Kurt Strömberg Lane. He had also had the detonators, and he had been in contact with Nordisk Frihet members while in Farpoint. But he had driven nearly half of the security forces in the entire Canton after him for no reason unless...

Unless to draw their attention had been the reason. It was with great shock that Major Liam Callum realized that he had been played, and he had been played hard, his focus on Nyslott taken advantage of. The others inside the Canton Constabulary command bus looked with surprise as Major Callum grabbed a telephone receiver from the command bus's large table and dialed a number he knew belonged to CSS Officer Diane Adams.

"This is Callum on the phone!", the Major exclaimed in a frantic tone almost as soon as Adams picked up the phone, prompting surprise from others in the command bus, "Are you in front of a computer with web access?"

"Yes", Adams replied, "At the Emergency Center, why?"

"We have a problem. I think the bomb was a decoy. Are there any high-profile events taking place in the Canton today, anything that we haven't possibly covered yet?"

"Hold on...I'll check some news sites..."

The moment of Major Callum waiting for a reply from Adams sent his heart rate beating, adding to the discomfort he already felt by the virtue of the tactical body armor he had been wearing since the failed attempt to capture Erik Nyslott at Strömberg Lane. By the virtue of his line of work, he was used to wearing lighter models that fit under a shirt and a jacket.

"Fuck", the Major finally heard from the other end of the line.

"What is it?"

"All-Cornavian Energy is inaugurating the Colton Ridge Oil Refinery today after a modernization, corporate leadership and the Cantonal Minister of Energy are expected to be in attendance", Adams paused, and Callum felt as if he sensed hesitation in the woman, "Are you thinking of what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah", Callum said, cursing under his breath. Colton Ridge. To be fair, his superiors had instructed that capture and termination of Erik Nyslott was the mission priority. Still, he should have seen this. What the hell had they been thinking? Indeed, concentrating on Nyslott and leaving finding the rest of the cell to infiltrators within Nordisk Frihet and to informing law enforcement in other parts of the Canton had been a futile move, and it had been what had led to this point. Nyslott had seemed to be the imminent threat, but they had been wrong on that one. The cell had clearly gone underground as part of a plan, a plan known only to Nyslott and someone who now led the cell.

I should have seen this. The events at Colton Ridge in 1992 had been what had sparked Erik Nyslott's decision to join the Nordic separatists, though Liam Callum had also had his own suspicions that he'd neglected to share with DCI Simmons and the others, even with Adams. The psychological evaluations based on reports from the undercover officer had made him out as a person out to get revenge against the government and the continental oil companies, and they had taken that into account in their manhunt. But only in Farpoint. That had clearly not been enough.

"I'll get back to you", Major Callum said to Adams, then pressed a red button on the phone to disconnect the call.

Without bothering to explain to the others what exactly it was that he was doing, he instantly phoned another number, this one belonging to the Emergency Center itself. There he asked the operator to connect to the Colton Ridge Oil Refinery.
 
Joined
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Messages
1,896
Location
Helsinki
DAY FOUR

Main Building
All-Cornavian Energy Oil Refinery Colton Ridge
Colton Ridge
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


"Sir, we have a phone call incoming to you from the Farpoint Cantonal Emergency Center."

Now what could this be about, Darren Thorpe thought to himself as he watched the arrangements at the dining hall being finalized by catering company employees supervised by ACE PR reps and indeed, the senior leaders of the company and the refinery itself, who had arrived well in advance of the guests from the Cantonal government, contractors involved in the refinery's modernization and other leading actors in the Cornavian oil industry.

A former member of the Whitehaven Police with Bachelor's Degrees in Law Enforcement and Corporate Security, Thorpe had been a natural choice when All-Cornavian Energy had asked Sandown Security Solutions for a chief of security to the Colton Ridge facility. That been four years ago, and it had been an interesting assignment, but Thorpe now held hopes up that he'd be able to secure a transfer into a more senior position. Hell, maybe he'd even leave Sandown and work for ACE full-time if he could impress those company executives today. He'd heard that the in-house security section was in need of new applicants.

"Patch it through", Thorpe said to the main building's receptionist over his cell phone, and let off a quiet sigh. Somebody was shitting on his parade again. Probably environmentalists, or maybe even those Järnmark separatists again, protesting against the refinery.

"This is Major Liam Callum with the Ministry of Defense", a bass voice in the other end of the phone said, "Am I speaking to the head of facility security at Colton Ridge?"

"That's correct, Darren Thorpe here from Sandown", Thorpe replied. Ministry of Defense, huh. Some cloak-and-dagger stuff there. "What's the matter that you wish to take up with me?"

"I need you to listen carefully", Callum replied, then paused and continued, "We have intel about an imminent threat of a terrorist attack against the Colton Ridge refinery by a Nordic separatist cell. How many security personnel do you have on site?"

A terrorist attack. This had to take place just today, didn't it? After asking himself that question Thorpe soon realized that its whole standpoint was somewhat stupid, as any terrorist attack would naturally occur during an occasion when the facility was occupied by high-value individuals. Indeed, his instincts kicked in as soon as the MoD Major had told him what he had to say, and thoughts started racing in his head.

"I have sixteen armed men in my regular security team right now, two at the front gate with a sniffer dog, two pulling surveillance, four in here and the remaining eight on vehicle patrol", Darren Thorpe replied, "Also, the ACE executives have brought in personal details adding up to eight in total, and we will have additional personnel on behalf of VIP guests within the next thirty minutes."

Thorpe checked his wristwatch for assurance. The event was to commence at five, and at the moment it was 4:30 or so. A glance through the hall's large glass windows told him that it was already dark outside. Then he added, "What kind of a threat are we dealing with here?"

"The cell may possess explosives, but you may also be dealing with a firearms attack with up to five or six suspects, if you have a telephone capable of receiving images I can transmit the information to you now."

Goddamn. The security services had a tendency to be a bit giddy on occasion, especially when they believed that a terrorist threat was in play, and they also had a tendency to overplay those threats. However, Darren Thorpe somehow felt that this wasn't one of such cases.

"Do that, I'll rel-"

Thorpe froze as he heard screams from the back of the hall, specifically through the doorway leading into the kitchens and storage rooms of the dining hall. First, men and women in white and black uniforms of chefs and waiters rushed out, then they were followed in by masked, black-clad men as the civilians in the conference room realizeed this and dove for cover. Masked, armored and black-clad men wielding automatic weapons. Darren Thorpe recognized an assault rifle when he saw one.

"Shit!", he shouted over the phone to Callum while reaching to the inside of his armpit holster for his nine-millimeter handgun, even as the assailants scattered to cover the room from the base of the stage and the first gunshots flew in the air.

"What's going on?", a confused Major Callum inquired in the phone.

"You're too damn late!", Thorpe said, overturning a big oak table and throwing himself behind it for cover, even while knowing that it covered exactly jack shit against an assault rifle, "Five-six hostiles with body armor and assault rifles in the main hall, we're under attack!"

A rifle shot tore through the table a few centimeters away from Darren Thorpe, and he cursed as wooden shards went into his left arm. The telephone flew from his hands out into the open. He realized that the members of his security team in the hall - two of his own men and the eight executive bodyguards - had returned fire with their handguns, and saw the doors leading into the lobby open.

The two guards who had been in the lobby rushed in with pistols drawn, but one was promptly cut down by incoming rifle fire, a civilian being caught in the midst as he tried to rush to the exit. Thorpe realized that at least a couple of the hostiles were deliberately firing towards the exit to discourage anyone trying to make a run for it. They must be trying to take hostages. He saw CEO Aldridge cowering behind a table, protected by two of his bodyguards.

"Six attackers in Security Point Mike Three, automatic weapons, we have men down!", he frantically shouted to the sleeve microphone connected to the members of the team in other parts of the facility. A glance to his right told him that another man had gone down, his partner trying to pull him back behind cover. Without waiting for an answer, Darren Thrope peeked up and fired again in the direction of the attackers, seeing one going down.

And a second afterward, a burst of rifle fire from another struck him in the chest. Darren Thorpe fell on his back and, little by little, felt himself drifting away from this world and the thoughts he had of his wife, the sounds of gunfire and the shouts becoming quieter and quieter by the minute.
 
Joined
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Messages
1,896
Location
Helsinki
DAY FOUR

After his phone call with Darren Thorpe had been abruptly cut off by the sounds of gunfire, Major Liam Callum, trying to regain his composure, placed another phone call to the small Colton Ridge Police Department. A gesture that was mirrored by the security guards at the Oil Refinery's surveillance control room, who also phoned the CRPD as soon as their radio carried reports of gunfire breaking out in the main building.

Given that the founding of the entire department had been funded almost entirely by All-Cornavian Energy, which wanted security for its facility in Colton Ridge, the police chief promptly headed to the facility with the six of his patrol officers who happened to be on duty at the time and called in his twelve off-duty officers. Immediately upon arriving to the facility, the first police officers started coordinating an evacuation of the refinery's employees and those dignitaries who had made it out of the main building in concert with the perimeter security.

Meanwhile, Major Callum placed a fourth phone call, this time to the office of Director of Military Intelligence Major General Thor Henriksen. Who, to say the least, was not amused by the Major's status report on the operation to catch the Nordic separatist cell. After conversing with Callum and ordering the Major to stay focused on Nyslott to send his deputy Captain Shepard to the refinery, Major General Henriksen called Cabinet Security Advisor Christine Collins. Who, in turn, rushed to the office of Cabinet Chancellor Joanne Wainwright to interrupt a meeting she had with Commonwealth Party PR consultants on the upcoming elections.

After that, the Cabinet Chancellor cancelled a dinner she was planning to undertake with her husband in a Belmontien restaurant in Ashdown, and summoned the Cabinet Security Committee into an extraordinary meeting. At the same time, the Cabinet Security Advisor was relaying orders for all Commonwealth, Cantonal and local agencies to assume Security Condition Red and for the Commonwealth Special Forces at Fort Liberty to deploy their Immediate Action Unit.

In Farpoint, Nordic separatist cell leader Erik Nyslott had evaded police cordons set up in the vicinity of the Ministry of Defense Building by accessing an underground tunnel he'd learned by repurposing a certain map he'd gained access to as part of his duties in Operation Garnet, and was on his way to a point where he was to meet with an associate of Professor Göran Magnusson.

Alas, the said associate had been extracted several hours ago by the Security Service, and Professor Magnusson himself had been quietly shipped out to an Operation Garnet safehouse in the possession of a Special Home Guard member by two of Major Callum's men. Suffice to say, the two intelligence officers felt very inclined to take advantage of all the privileges given to them by the fact that no one aside from themselves, Major Callum and Captain Shepard were even aware of their location or the fact that they'd taken Magnusson.
 

Gunnland

FTR
Joined
Nov 1, 2006
Messages
2,035
Location
Virginia, USA
Capital
Windhaven, Gunnland
DAY FOUR

Department of English
Sebastian Quintaine University
Southport-on-Sea
Canton of Western Crownland
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Where was Dr. Göran Magnusson? The professor of Oelarian poetry from the Cantonal University of Farpoint had not arrived, although it was not unknown for academics to be late.

Vandrare Vilhjálmsson Perseifur, white-haired and balding, paunchy and carelessly dressed, was slumped at a long table under a banner reading 'THE BORDERS OF SEPTENTRIONALISM: TAGZIG LITERATURE IN A REGIONAL POLITICAL CONTEXT'. V. V. Perseifur was the author of "Sarkonism Between the Gravplasses: 1865 to 1945". G. Magnusson, the author of "Gravplass: The Poet of the Oelarian Political Elegy", was missing.

Perseifur leaned over to Lincoln Hayter, the rector of SQU, the newest of the Ivory League schools. "I missed Dr. Geijer, I hear, perhaps our foremost expert on septentrionalism." Hayter nodded, looking distracted (perhaps about Magnusson, perhaps because he wanted to leave). "As did I. He left town earlier this morning after meeting with Bill Fenner. Actually he broke an appointment he was supposed to have with me about a visiting professorship..."

Feargus Ulfsson Gunnr, sitting next to Perseifur as a factotum for the trip, raised an eyebrow. The Campanile had been hearing strange things about Geijer. But not about Magnusson, although it might not be the best time for a Nordic literature and culture roundtable in Cornavia.
 
Joined
Aug 27, 2009
Messages
1,896
Location
Helsinki
DAY FOUR

3 Trondheim Lane
Farpoint
Canton of Farpoint
Commonwealth of Cornavia


Now, all that Erik Nyslott had to do was to wait. However, he'd have preferred to do the waiting somewhere else than in a Farpoint street corner, especially as a look at the TVs of an electronics storefront he'd passed after emerging from the underground had told him that the security forces had just gone to the highest possible state of alert. They'd acted fairly quickly, even taking into account that Nyslott had spent nearly two hours hiding in the tunnels to avoid the chance that the initial responding units would assume a search pattern once the buildings within the immediate blast zone would have been evacuated.

Now, where the hell are you? He'd stood here for nigh ten minutes or so waiting for the associate of separatist leader Göran Magnusson, to whom Erik had trusted the task of arranging a transportation out of here. Damn it, I should have taken care of this myself too. It wasn't that he suspected Göran of having committed treason, for he had been with the movement back when Erik himself had been a loyal officer of the Commonwealth Army. But anything could've happened to the man, particularly with the police out on the move. He might have to rely on his own instincts to pull this off.

Still, he was willing to give Göran and his partner, presumably the same one who had transported him the forged Suionian passport he now carried and enough cash to make it out of the country if things came to that, the benefit of the doubt. Still, Erik needed to get himself off the street for a while, and ahead towards downtown on the very same street he saw a bar that happened to be open. And in usual suburban style, the windows were tinted at least from the outside, which would help out considering that by now his picture probably was saved to the data terminals of every police car in the entire damn Canton.

Thus, he entered the bar, named "Johnny's" based on a plaque on top of the main door. Before he entered, Erik Nyslott noted to himself that the name reminded him of a fairly generic suburban bar, the kind that was usually frequented by drunks and the workingman wasting his pay on beer and other assorted liquors in the absence of anything better. And when he entered, the truth corresponded to the impression with the place's interior decorations probably bought on discount from some restaurant equipment wholesaler, the musky smell of cigarettes and the patronage of aforementioned drunks and workingmen. However, he welcomed the safety, not to mention the fact that it beat standing outside given that the tunnels he'd spent his nearly two hours hiding in had been cold as hell.

Ordering an Old Pyke Dry Stout, Nyslott sat down to an inconspicuous corner table that nevertheless left him with a clear line of sight towards the doorway and the main windows, which he now saw provided nearly clear vision to the street. He'd made a mental note of a back exit likely leading to the toilets and any storage room the bar might have. He'd also noted at the bar desk that the proprietor had been an immigrant, which had reminded him of the rants that the Professor had made in their bilateral meetings back when Southport-on-Sea had started bringing in the immigrants to the municipal estates up in Farpoint and the Iron Islands. With their numbers having grown he now saw their purpose: When you arrived from a faraway country into the Commonwealth, even if you happened to settle in an area of a ethnic minority the chances were that through government, education and most importantly the wide saturation of English in popular culture, you inevitably grew into that Anglo-Saxon culture. Immigrants, many in the movement had concluded, were thus tools in a campaign of Anglo-Saxon assimilation waged against the North.

No wonder that with the formation of a new core of the movement, many of the new entrants had once subscribed to more overt ideas of racial hate and discrimination. More often than not they weren't too bright types, but Erik was convinced that they could be dedicated provided that they were given the right focus. Hell, before he'd recruited them, Karl and Olof from his cell had been wasting their time on beer and beating up immigrants in the streets of Farpoint. Now? He had given them a purpose.

The sight of a passing police cruiser, in the blue-and-white colors of the Farpoint Canton Constabulary, caught his eye and he soon realized that the cruiser came to a halt directly to the opposite side of the street. Two police officers, one male and one female, donning dark blue winter uniforms topped by the fur caps many Cornavian cops wore at winter time, stepped out. When Erik realized that they were looking at the bar, and indeed after a brief moment walked towards the entrance, he made an exit to the back as discreetly as he could manage.
 
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