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Rheinbund

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Rotterdam, Netherlands
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Fehrbellin
27 November 2010
Wetzlar, Eiffelland

The City Council had forbidden the demonstration, but that decision had been successfully challenged in court. Today the Gotisch-Eiffelländische Liga gathered together in the outskirts of Wetzlar for the largest demonstration of extremist rightwingers in the history of Eiffelland. About 5000 people came traveling from all over the country to demonstrate for their cause. The demonstration would take place on a field outside the city, but the mayor didn’t want to take any risks. A large number of police officers patrolled the city and the field where the demonstration would take place.
But something else was happening as well. Something else the police did not know about. Hordes of extremist leftwingers were traveling to Wetzlar as well. Their cause: Disturbing the GEL-demonstration in an impressive way. Fights between extremist leftwing and extremist rightwing groups often occurred in Eiffelland. They were mostly limited to attacks to each other’s meeting places, but sometimes each other’s demonstrations were disturbed as well. This time several extremist leftwing groups joined their forces to come up heavily against the GEL.
Bastian Holzbrenner was one of them. 18 years old since a couple of weeks, 6th class of the Königliches Gymnasium in Trier, and full of ideals. Leftwing ideals. Although he didn’t believe in a planned economy, he called himself a Socialist. More important to him was the environment. He was a vegetarian, tried to live as ecologically as possible, and took part in actions against pollution and transports of nuclear waste.
But most important to Bastian were minority, women and gay rights. He could not stand it that somebody was discriminated, and he always fought against discrimination. Luckily, discrimination did not often occur in Eiffelland, so Bastian’s battle was a light one, although he was sometimes grabbed by the throat when he jumped in. Or worse.
Rightwing extremism stood for everything Bastian hated. He was in Wetzlar because of that. But also because of something else. With the resignation of King Heinrich and the accession to the Throne by King Albrecht, much had changed. Laws the Eiffellandians were already following finally got the Royal Signature, and laws were added to them. Laws Bastian wanted to defend, when needed with his life, because they stood for everything he stood for, and because they were applicable to him. And to lots of his friends. Friends who were beaten up by extremist rightwingers a couple of months ago. Also for revenge he was in Wetzlar.

The GEL-demonstration was at its height when suddenly large groups of extremist leftwingers attacked the terrain from each and every corner. The police were not prepared for an attack of this size. Within a minute, the whole terrain was one heap of fighting people where it was impossible to see from the outside who belonged to which camp. The police could do nothing but ask for re-inforcements. They would arrive soon.
Bastian was far from musculous, but with the help of some of his friends, he managed to fight his way through a group of skinheads. They always jumped with three or four people on one skinhead, worked him to the ground and gave him a couple of kicks with their boots. Most of the times, that was enough to get someone out of the fight. This tactic worked out well, but could only work out well because of the size of the attack as a whole. Bastian and his friends didn’t think about that. They just fought and enjoyed the winning mood.

Staatsschutz re-inforcements were arriving when Bastian saw a guy who was petrified with fear. Unlike most other GEL-people who had shaven their heads bald, he had a fashionable haircut. He continuously looked around him and he seemed not to understand what was happening around him.
“Hey, do you see that guy over there? He’s completely baffled,” he asked one of his friends.
“Well, if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. It’s his fault that he’s here. He’ll probably stay away from events like this one from now on,” one of his friends said.
“That’s too harsh, let’s get him out of here,” Bastian said.
“Are we suddenly becoming a rescue squad for scared rightwingers?” someone else asked.
“If we approach him with the 12 of us, he might start doing strange things out of panic. I’ll do it on my own. You take those skinheads over there, because I think they want to drag him into the fight,” Bastian said.
While his friends attacked the skinheads, Bastian ran to the guy and said with a caring tone in his voice: “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, I’ll get you out of here.”


Same day
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

“OK, how come that we didn’t know that this would happen?!” Staatshauptdirektor des Staatssschutzes Heinz-Karl Farnbach asked loudly. It was difficult to get him mad, but now he was furious. “How come that we didn’t know that all extremist leftwing groups we have in this country would form a joint-venture to attack that demonstration?! How could a large action like this escape your attention?! Now they ‘just’ attacked a demonstration, but if they suddenly decide to combine their forces to attack the animal lab of the Charité or the Robert Koch Universität, or the family house of the Rathenaus, or Schloss Bellevue, or even worse Schloss Charlottenburg, you won’t notice either!!”
“We don’t know ourselves, Herr Staatshauptdirektor. We haven’t had contact with our spies in those organisations for about 2 weeks. We tried to contact them, but failed. We don’t know why. There is a chance that they were uncovered. And an action like we saw this afternoon can be setup in days. Of course we have other agents, but they are not high enough in the organisations yet. So indeed, at this moment we are tapping in the dark with respect to these organisations,” Jochen Plöger, head of the department for radical leftwing groups said.
“You’re tapping in the dark, and I don’t know. So now people who desire to topple the government can do what they want without being surveyed. How nice,” Farnbach said.
“Not completely. At the last contact we had with them, it did not appear that those groups were plotting to topple the government. And suppose if they would want to, they can’t by far mobilise enough people to do so. And for the safety of various instances, we already informed all possible targets of these groups, so they took their measures. Meanwhile, we are trying very hard to find our contacts in those groups. And I also have to say that the radical leftwing groups in Eiffelland are too weak to be dangerous. They have hardly enough manpower to occasionally liberate some laboratory animals,” Plöger said.
“But they have apparently enough manpower to disturb a large rightwing demonstration,” Farnbach said.
“You will find more people prepared for that than people prepared for attacks on laboratories or people. The days of the Rote Befreiiungsarmee are definitely gone. Furthermore, they were not preparing something like that,” Plöger said.

At that moment, an aide came in with Plöger’s handy. “Please excuse me gentlemen,” she said, “they said it was urgent.”

Plöger took the telephone.
“Plöger.”
“....”
“Good evening. What happened?”
“....”
Oh, Scheisse. Where was he found?”
“....”
“Poor lad. Would he have been able to tell anything?”
“....”
“OK. Any more details?”
“....”
“OK. Thank you. Goodbye.”
“....”

Plöger broke the connection and gave the handy to the aide. After she left, he took the floor.

“Our agent in the Radikalsozialistische Aktionsfront has been found. With a neckshot. And signs of torture,” Plöger said. Of course the people in the room were shocked.
A neckshot was the traditional way of executing people for Eiffelland’s radical leftwing groups. This in contrast with the radical rightwing groups, which executed their victims by beating and kicking them to death. Torturing was also done differently by the radical groups: The radical leftwingers put electricity on the victim’s genitals and nipples, and the radical rightwingers tortured the same way as they executed.
“Poor man. We will have to inform the family. Could he have told anything?” Farnbach asked.
“I don’t know. There is always a chance that he knew other infiltrants, but let’s hope he did not,” Plöger said.

OOC: This is the start of an RP I already had in my mind. I more or less said in the thread about the red summer that radical leftwingers and radical rightwingers sometimes attacked each other. I mentioned it in my newsthread once. That was about a demonstration of rightwingers disturbed by leftwingers that ICly took place on 27 November 2010. The next post will make a 2 month jump, but still takes place in the past. If you want to ICly come in, please wait until the story is in the present. And please take into account that I will have an extremely busy work schedule in April and May, being forced to work 110% or more.
 

Rheinbund

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18 January 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

Staatshauptdirektor des Staatssschutzes Heinz-Karl Farnbach was satisfied. The infiltrant in the Radikalsozialistische Aktionsfront was not the only Staatsschutz-infiltrant in the radical leftwing scene that had been killed. In fact, all radical leftwing groups had managed to uncover the infiltrants in the highest echelons of those groups. The really violent ones had executed the uncovered infiltrants; the non-violent ones had just removed them from their organisations. But before those infiltrants were uncovered, they had collected more than enough information on Eiffelland’s radical leftwing organisations to dismantle the violent radical ones and clearly warn the less violent radical ones to stay inside the legal limits with their actions. Demonstrations, internet actions, commercials, fine, but no murders, threats or animal liberations.
And to be honest, it would also be good if radical groups would make their opinions known. Without radical leftwing groups, the environment had never reached the political agenda. In the end, politics chose a different solution for environmental problems than those groups had in mind, but the problems were solved. And that would never have happened if radical leftwingers would not have raised their voices in the 1960s and 1970s. But then again, please state your opinions with words and not with violence.
Farnbach’s political beliefs were clearly those of the political party without which nothing was possible in Eiffelland: The Christiandemocrats. Centre-right in the political spectrum, and with only 25 to 30% of the votes for ever in the centre of Power. But despite his moderate political beliefs, Farnbach knew that the larger political parties were only looking at the bigger picture and never at the details. And the details were the part of the picture most people looked at. Most details could be managed with the view on the bigger picture, but sometimes details were uncoupled from the bigger picture. And then a detail could easily become a breeding place for radicalism.

The beginning of 2011 looked well. The Radikalsozialistische Aktionsfront had disappeared. Its members had been convicted for high-treason. The same to some other radical leftwing groups. The coal mines were happy with the extra work force. The radical leftwing groups that had not been dismantled all contained a nice portion of infiltrants and informants, and were under constant surveillance. They remained within the limits of the law, organised demonstrations, built nice websites and financed advertising campaigns. And should they cross the line, the Staatsschutz would know soon.

“We don’t have an informant in the highest echelons of the GEL any more,” Bartsch said during the weekly directors meeting.
“What do you mean with that?” Farnbach asked.
“Our informant has been found. Dead. Or better said, we found a heap of flesh and needed to conduct a DNA-analysis to find out that that heap of flesh was our informant,” Bartsch said. “Please excuse my words, but it was so horrible that I’m still not over it. This is the worst way ever that extremist rightwingers executed somebody.”
Everybody at the table was shocked. It took some moments before Farnbach took the floor again.
“Poor man. Take some days off if that helps you,” he said to Bartsch.
“Thanks Herr Staatshauptdirektor, but not now. Later maybe. There is something else I want to discuss with you. Roland Meißner presents himself as the highest boss of the GEL, and actually he is. But he himself has a boss as well. The same for Günther Ziesche and his Volksunion. That was the last information we got from our informant. He was killed before he managed to find out who that boss is.”
“Do you want to find out who he is?” Farnbach asked.
“Yes, I do. I already ordered to have Meißner and Ziesche followed. But we are still in the start phase of those iinvestigations. I can’t tell any interesting information yet.”
 

Rheinbund

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22 January 2011
Augsburg, Wiese

Ziesche left his hotel near the centre of Augsburg, took the tram to a park, got out, walked through the park, looked around him, took the underground to a shopping mall, entered a shop there, bought something, left the shop again, walked through the shopping mall, took the tram to a large cathedral, entered the cathedral and walked through it, and took the tram to another shopping mall. He carried out this type of movements for several hours before he went to his final destination of that day: A large five-star hotel in the city centre of Augsburg. The secret agent that tried to follow him would report later on that Ziesche had probably been professonally trained in shaking off pursuers, and would advice to have Ziesche followed through a box system next time. Ziesche himself assumed that he would be followed, but did not know who actually did it.

When Meißner left his hotel in Augsburg, he followed a similar pattern as Ziesche. Also he managed to shake off his pursuer, who would report the same thing about Meißner as would be reported about Ziesche.

Ziesche was still a bit puzzled about the man that had invited him and Meißner to Augsburg. A couple of months ago, he had introduced himself as “the real and only rightful claimant to the Throne of Eiffelland”. “You probably learned that King Lothar VII died without children,” he had told. “That is not true. He had a son. But that son was a bastard. Or better said, became a bastard after he had been born. In 1757, Lothar secretly married an opera diva. Out of that marriage, a son was born. But Lothar’s father found out. Of course, this marriage was a serious mésaillance in those days. It was declared legally invalid, the diva died in what was called an accident and the baby went to an orphanage. A friend of the diva, however, managed to find the baby years later and told him about it. Unfortunately, I cannot prove this with official documents. Everything documenting the marriage and the birth of the child was burned. My plan is to prove my descendance through DNA testing.”
This story was very strange according to Ziesche, but if it was true, it would make the unofficial position of the Von Dietz-Hadamars in Eiffelland’s society quite a lot weaker. A good point of this strange man was that he did not put his story on the foreground. He had designed a plan for an extremist rightwing revolution in Eiffelland. Not by just committing a coup d’état, but first by making the people angry at leftwing and the government, and then putting the government aside. “Recently the authorities managed to get the extremist leftwing groups under control. We are setting up a group of people which will commit extremist leftwing terrorist attacks. This means that the government is suddenly confronted with a new and until then unknown extremist leftwing group. This group will cause so much trouble, that the population will demand action. But the Staatsschutz will not know where to look. It will look in the leftwing scene, but it will find nothing there, because nothing is there. Ziesche, your task and the task of the VU will be to criticise the government in parliament and public. You will make very clear that the Staatsschutz is failing in its job. Meißner, at a certain moment, the GEL will round up all extremist leftwing people and all people that have been extremist leftwing in the past, prooving that the Staatsschutz is failing in its job. Of course I have some informants in the Staatsschutz, so I will give you a list of all extremist leftwingers with their adresses and so on when the time is there. This will be a process of years. We cannot let this happen in the upcoming weeks. We are currently collecting and training a group of people that will carry out Phase I: The extremist leftwing terrorist attacks. I expect that it will take half a year before Phase I can actually start.”
Now this man gave a clear time path for the events to come. Phase I would start in April. Series of terrorist attacks would follow. In June, Ziesche would have to start criticising the government for not doing the right thing against the leftwing terrorism. The attacks would continue, and then by November, Meißner with the GEL would come into action. By Christmas, the Government would be forced to resign. And then this strange man would appear, claiming that he was a descendant of King Lothar. Codename of the project: Operation Eagle.
On the flight back home, Ziesche was still asking himself whether he did the right thing with cooperating with this man. Apart from his plans, he knew nothing about him. How would he know whether he was trustworthy? This could backfire enormously if it would fail. On the other hand, this could be the only opportunity Ziesche would get to let his ideals come true. You never knew what would happen on the longer term, but on the short term, it was impossible to get a majority of the Eiffellandians behind politically extremist ideals. Even if Operation Eagle would succeed and the people of Eiffelland would stand up against the government, it would be questionable whether they would agree with extremist rightwing ideals. But Ziesche had no other choice than joining this. He knew what would happen in the end if he would be thrown out of the movement as a traitor.
 

Rheinbund

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27 February 2011
2 a.m.
Nollendorfplatz
Trier, Eiffelland

“Hey, let him go,” Bastian Holzbrenner yelled at the four skinheads who were molesting someone.
“What are you saying?” one of the skinheads growled.
“Let him go,” Bastian yelled again while running towards the group.
“Do you really think we let a spoiled brat like you tell us what we have to do?” the skinhead said while grabbing Bastian by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
“Let them go! Now!” Prince Ludwig shouted while walking towards the group. His boyfriend, the Talemantine Prince Sebastiano, followed him.
“Yet another greenhorn who thinks he can tell us what to do. Whom are you going to hire to prevent us from beating these two fags to pieces?” one of the other skinheads growled. His attempt to grab Ludwig by the throat failed miserably. Ludwig and Sebastiano were very well trained in fighting techniques, and Ludwig was 3rd Gup in Taekwon-do. Five seconds later, the fight had ended. Ludwig and Sebastiano were unharmed.
“We don’t need to hire anyone for that. And now get lost,” Ludwig said sharply.
As far as they could, the skinheads ran away.

“Are you alright?” Ludwig asked with his normal soft voice to Bastian and the other guy, while he helped Bastian to stand up and Sebastiano helped the other guy to stand up.
“Yes. Thank you,” the other guy said.
“I had already heard about your fighting skills, but I didn’t know they were that amazing. I’m glad I didn’t know about it when I tried to seduce you last year,” Bastian said.
“Well, what will I say?” Ludwig smiled shily. “I wasn’t alone,” he added while putting an arm around Sebastiano. “But I must say that I don’t like this kind of fights at all. Fighting must always be the last resort. Most of the times, I manage to calm down people without having to fight. Well, you know about it. But skinheads are the only people I don’t have a grip on. I don’t know why,” he continued more seriously.
“Maybe because you have to deal with real evil when dealing with skinheads,” Bastian said. “I don’t know any more if I believe in a God, but they proove that there is a devil.”
“Do you know each other?” the fourth guy asked.
“We all three know each other,” Sebastiano said. “We attend the same school.”
“Come. We ’ll have you taken home,” Ludwig said while holding a taxi.
“I can’t afford a taxi to Prenzlauer Berg. I just spent all my money. I have barely enough for the night bus,” Bastian said.
“Same to me,” the fourth guy said.
“You can’t take the night bus now. It’s unsafe. We don’t know what those four guys are organising now. The fastest way to get you home is by taxi. I’ll pay,” Ludwig said while taking two 50 Marks notes out of his wallet.
“You have to go to Prenzlauer Berg as well?” the fourth guy asked Bastian.
“Yes,” Bastian answered.
“Then let’s take this taxi together,” the fourth guy proposed.
Bastian agreed, and Ludwig arranged everything.
“How about the two of you?” the fourth guy asked.
“Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage,” Sebastiano said.
 

Rheinbund

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Bastian

Du warst vorhanden.

That was what I said to Ludwig when he asked me about the kiss I had given him a month earlier. And man I regret those words. But at that moment I was too proud to confess that I still loved him after he had rejected me. It was the week before Christmas, about a year ago. We were in different classes, but had the sports classes at the same hours. Ludwig was constantly looking at me in the dressroom. But not only there. Also when he saw me during the lesson breaks, at school parties (when he didn’t need to play). And when he didn’t look at me, I looked at him. He had a crush on me, and I had a crush on him. So I decided to take the step. I kissed him in a school toilet. First he answered the kiss, but then he pushed me away. One week later, he saw me kissing with another guy. I didn’t do that out of love. It did that out of anger for the missed love. But I was too proud to explain that to Ludwig. So I said: “Du warst vorhanden.
First I saw Ludwig’s tears. Then I saw his eyes sprewing fire. Then he said “Du bist ekelhaft”, turned around and went. He didn’t talk to me again until after the summer holidays.
After he got a relationship with Prince Sebastiano, we met each other once. I asked him if he finally had got the boyfriend that obtained the family approval. It was clear that he was angry because of that remark. He said: “Believe me, it’s real love between Sebastiano and me. We’re not together because we are the only gay princes in the world. We are together because we’re in love with each other. Do do you know the big difference between you and Sebastiano? Er ist nicht ‘vorhanden’, er ist für mich da.”
A few weeks after that, Ludwig and I got on speaking terms again. And I’m glad with that. As far as I can see, it is indeed real love between him and Sebastiano. They are extremely happy with each other and will probably be buried together in one coffin. Am I still in love with Ludwig? To be honest, yes. I don’t know if he knows. Believe me, pride can destruct more than you want. It is clear that I can’t have him, so I’ll take the rest of the world.

Although Christoph is a special guy as well. I met him when we disturbed that demonstration in Wetzlar last year. He was staring at the fight like a rabbit into the lights of the car rushing upon it. I got him out of the fight and off the site where the demonstration was held. We told each other quite a lot about ourselves. He didn’t look like an extremist rightwinger at all. In fact, he looked like an average guy. But one way or the other, he wasn’t. He bought a complete set of clothes for me, because whole Wetzlar was filled with police officers looking for everything that looked like an extremist from whichever side. What an altruism! We went out in Wetzlar and took the last train back to Trier. And at that moment, I was really glad that I had changed clothes. The police were even patrolling at the station.
Christoph told me that he didn’t agree with extremist rightwing ideas at all, but that his father had forced him to go. He must be from a quite rich family by the way, given the fact that he was able to spend 300 Marks on clothes for a stranger. He just took it from his bank card.
A few weeks after that demonstration, I discovered that he goes to the same school as I do. Since then, we’ve talked quite a lot. In fact we became friends. We sometimes see each other at his place (he lives in an enormous house in Zehlendorf), but more often in town or at my place. I asked him once if he is gay. He says he is not. He has a girlfriend, but there is something strange in his behaviour towards girls. Something that doesn’t match with falling for girls.

Did I tell that I’m a vegetarian? I don’t want animals to die for me. Especially not for my food. I drink milk and I eat fish, but but for the remainder it’s all vegetables. Animals feel pain and have emotions. Who are we to hurt them? Furthermore, it takes 8 kilos of vegetables and grass to make 1 kilo of meat. That is an enormous waste of resources.
More in general, how stupid can you be if you destroy the place where you live? That is in fact what we are doing. If we go on like this, the earth will be a wasteland by 2050. Pollution has already been tackled, but it is not enough. Much more must be done. We must rethink our ways of growing food, of living in general.

When it comes to discrimination, much has been done in this country. After King Heinrich resigned, Eiffelland developed itself from a rather conservative country to the avantgarde of social freedom. Quite some countries offer the registered partnership to gay couples, but where else can gays really marry, apart from Arendaal? Furthermore, most Eiffellandians are not so much interested in ethnicity. They’re only nationalist when cars are the issue. But that has been the case at least as long as I live. Crimes involving discrimination are punished harshly here. Of course we have skinheads, of course we have the Volksunion and the GEL, but they hardly get any support from the Eiffellandians. If you tell that you’re a member of the Volksunion or the GEL, you have a hard time in this country. Did you know that the Volksunion doesn’t have an Eiffellandian bankaccount? There is no bank in Eiffelland that wants to be associated with it! The same to newspapers and commercial broadcasting stations! The public broadcasting stations are obliged to broadcast some Volksunion propaganda during the broadcasting time for political parties, but that is all! That’s why I love my Fellow-Eiffellandians. And that’s why I would die for this country.

Do I agree with the way Eiffelland is organised? Not completely. There are still drop-outs in this country. OK, they get social allowances, but they are on the sideline, and nothing is done to get them in the game. The highest 1% has more money than can be spent in a human life, and the lowest 1% can barely afford a good fridge. The average life expectancy in Eiffelland is 81 years, but it is 85 in Trier‑Zehlendorf and 70 in Trier‑Neukölln. OK, 95% of the Eiffellandians do well, but much more should be done for the 5% which is doing badly. If people in the lowest social classes are doing so badly as in Eiffelland, it is perverse that the upper 1% has more money than it can spend.
Furthermore, there is too much power in too few hands. If the King doesn’t agree with a new law, he can just refuse signing it and the law won’t become effective. That does not happen very often, but the previous King upheld two laws for 20 years. Furthermore, it is the King that leads the process of Cabinet formation. He appoints and fires ministers. Parliament can only vote a whole Cabinet out of office. Fortunately, new laws also need the approval of both parliaments, so the King cannot govern by Royal Decree, but then again. Furthermore, the Royal Family has an enormous influence in this country. Things won’t happen if the King disagrees. People should not obtain such a powerful position because they were born in a certain family. Such a powerful position should be obtained through a democratic voting process. Don’t get me wrong, the Hadamars are doing a good job, especially the current King. And of course I see how Ludwig is behaving at school. He never misuses his position for his own advantage, and he mainly uses his influence for the greater good. It is also thanks to him that the athmosphere at school is so good. In that way, I admire the Hadamars. But then again, they should not have obtained their position through inheritance.
The same to Eiffelland’s most important political party, the Christiandemocrats. Since the beginning of the 20th century, it has been continuously part of the Government. Most of the times also the Chancellor was a Christiandemocrat. That could be logical with the 40% of the votes they got until the late 1960s, but they haven’t ever crossed the 30% line since the 1980s and still no government can be formed without the Christiandemocrats. And because of that, euthanasia is still forbidden in this country, although the vast majority of the Eiffellandians would favour it. That is not democracy.

Don’t get me wrong. Life in Eiffelland is good. But I think it can become even better.

OOC: Translations:
Du warst vorhanden = You were available.
Du bist ekelhaft = You are disgusting.
Er ist nicht ‘vorhanden’, er ist für mich da = He is not ‘available’, he is with me to support me.
 

Rheinbund

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21 April 2011
U-Bahnhof Friedrich von Dietzdamm
Trier, Eiffelland

The Friedrich von Dietzdamm is one of the most important shopping streets in Trier. Situated in two of the richest quarters of Trier (Charlottenburg and Wilmersdorf), it contains many theatres, clothes shops, jewelries, warehouses, shoeshops, restaurants, grands-cafés, cinemas and so on. During the decades, it has become a symbol of the consumption society, together with the Friedrichstraße. It is a wide avenue, with per direction two driving lanes and one parking lane, a 20 meters wide central reserve, and 10 meters wide sidewalks on each side. Nearly to the eastern edge of the Friedrich von Dietzdamm, the underground station Friedrich von Dietzdamm is situated. Two underground lines cross each other there: One major North-South line (the U9) and the first underground line the city of Trier had ever built (the U1).

Working in one of the underground bookstalls on the platform had its disadvantages, but also its advantages. The bookstall measured 1 by 2 meters, which is small if you have to sit in it all day long, you didn’t earn much with it, but it was a steady income, although it became less and less each year. Newspapers and magazines were sold less and less. Also cigarettes and cigars were sold less and less. Only candy and drinks were sold on the same level as years ago. It was 50 years ago when Mrs. Schmiedling rented the bookstall together with her husband, precisely at the moment that the new underground line U9 was opened. During the years, they kept the bookstall open from 6 in the morning until 11 in the evening. When their children were old enough, they helped them out. Later on, nephews, nieces and children from the neighbourhood in Wedding helped out.
It was hard, especially since her husband died two years ago, but it was interesting as well. Mrs. Schmiedling saw enormously different types of people. In fact she saw the changes in the world in her underground position. She saw the fashion changing enormously. She saw the rise and fall of the hippies, the punkers, the yuppies, she saw the walkmen appear and be replaced with first the discmen and then the iPods and the MP3-players. She saw the mobile phones appear. All those things had changed the world dramaticly. She had seen the dramatic changes, although she could not understand them any more. But there was one thing she clearly understood: The number of bags the shoppers were carrying. The more bags they carried, and the bigger the bags, the better the economy, and of course also the other way round. When the bags suddenly became smaller, the world was on fire; when they suddenly became bigger again, the problems had been solved. Given the fact that the Friedrich von Dietzdamm was one of Trier’s largest shopping centres, there were many shopping bags to see.
This week it was clear that there was a school holiday. Normally the teenagers show up massively during the morning rush hour to go to school, and then go back home between 3 and 5 p.m. Now they showed up a couple of hours later, and from then on more spread over the day. It was Easter holiday, like always in the week before and the week after Easter. It was less busy in general during the rush hours because of that.

Two hours ago, Mrs. Schmiedling had opened her bookstall on the platform of the U9. She had already sold some things and was observing the people coming and going over the stairs opposite to her bookstall. She saw the man in a grey suit wearing a black briefcase, walking to one of the sites of the platform, but didn’t pay attention to him. She did not see the man getting a telephone call and becoming upset. She saw the man running up the stairs, but didn’t pay attention to it. She didn’t see the man loosing his briefcase, and didn’t see it falling down the stairs, either. But she saw and heard the explosion, ripping the bodies of several people apart. Mrs. Schmiedling survived the bomb, but did not survive the heart attack.

Nine people died and 20 people were severely wounded. The underground station was temporarily closed until examination of the construction would reveal that the construction was still safe, the police had finished their investigations and everything had been cleaned up.


22 April 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

“Are there any indications from the extremist groups?” Farnbach asked.
“The extremist leftwingers are as surprised as we are. I don’t expect that it came from there,” Plöger said.
“The same situation for the extremist rightwingers,” Bartsch said.
“How about the followers of the solaris cult?” Farnbach asked.
“They didn’t see it coming, either,” Gruber said.
“So either some people are acting, or we are dealing with a group of people we haven’t heard of yet. Can it be that the Solaris sent some people in without us knowing it?”
“That is possible, Herr Staatshauptdirektor, but would be strange. That country has been frozen for weeks, as you know,” Gruber said.
“We have to realise that it is impossible to keep the borders 100% closed without crippling the economy, so I won’t blame anyone at this moment if it was indeed a group from outside,” Farnbach said. “But it is also possible that it weren’t foreigners. Maybe it was a new group established recently so that we don’t know about it yet. But then I expect that they will show up among their fellow-extremists sooner or later. Check everything you know again.”
“We are already doing so. We also try to find information on newcomers in these scenes. But that takes time. We are working hard on it. As hard as we can.”


23 April 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

Horst Krämer had been looking at the images from the security cameras in the railway station for hours, when he suddenly realised something. He grabbed his telephone and called the teamleader. He called him while the latter was doing Easter shopping with his wife.

“Gomulka.”
“Good morning, Mr. Gomulka, Krämer here. I have discovered something at the images from the security cameras in the underground station. I’m already chasing the man through our images database.”
“OK, Good job. I’m on my way.”

Gomulka closed the connection and excused himself to his wife: “Entschuldigung, Schatz, es ist wichtig. Ich muss hin.
Gomulka underwent his wife’s lamentation about being married with a man with such an irregular job in which he so often suddenly had to leave, gave her the car keys, and took a taxi to the Staatsschutz headquarters.

“Well, Mr. Krämer, here I am. What did you find?”
“Here I have the part of the image file of the five minutes before the explosion. This is the platform direction Emyn Arnener Straße. Do you see that man with a briefcase?”
“Yes.”
“Now he picks up his handy ... He closes the connection, and starts running. With his briefcase. Here we have his face.”
“OK.”
“These are the images from the camera pointed at the stairs to the Friedrich von Dietzdamm and the platforms of the U1. Here he arrives at the stairs, still with his briefcase. 10 seconds later, the explosion takes place.”
“I don’t see anything strange yet.”
“These images are from the other side of these stairs. Here you see the man again. This time without his briefcase. This is one second before the explosion.”
“So what do you think?”
“Of course it could be coincidence, but I think that this briefcase contained the bomb. The man dropped it about halfway the stairs, it fell down and exploded.”
“You could be right. In any case, we have to find this man. Do you have a match in the database?”
“Not yet, but of course that takes some hours.”
“OK. I’m going to talk to the SvD. If we don’t know the man, I want his picture on TV, in next Tuesday’s newspapers and on the internet. If we do know him, I want him here for interrogation.”

OOC 1: This is about the same bombing attack as in my newsthread.
OOC 2: Translation: Entschuldigung, Schatz, es ist wichtig. Ich muss hin = Sorry darling, it is important, I have to go there.
OOC 3: SvD: Staatsanwalt vom Dienst; the prosecutor who is covering the tasks outside office hours.
 

Rheinbund

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The noble family von Weizenburg had lost all its possessions in the beginning of the 20th century, when Franz Freiherr von Weizenburg drank and gambled the inheritance away. When he died, he left a woman and three young children behind in poverty. The family, however, remained nobility, so its family head could still use the title of Freiherr, which meant baron. Franz’s eldest son, the 12 year old Christoph, was Freiherr von Weizenburg without any possessions. Not able to attend a Grammar School due to financial reasons, he started working. He worked himself up to truck driver, then bought his own truck, bought another truck, put a driver into it, bought a third truck and so on. When Christoph was 50, he had a thriving company called Weizenburg Spedition.
The current Freiherr von Weizenburg was Christoph’s grandchild. The 47 year old Joachim Freiherr von Weizenburg owned one of Eiffelland’s largest logistics companies. When he inherited the firm, about two years ago, he bought out his brother. His father had been the only child of Christoph Freiherr von Weizenburg. He had a villa in Trier’s wealthiest quarter Zehlendorf and a holiday home in the mountains of the North. One of his hobbies was mountaineering, a hobby he shared with his 17 years old son Christoph. The baron also had a 15 year old daughter, Hilde. His first wife had died of a severe flu six years ago. Recently, he got a new girlfriend, a 20 years younger woman. He hadn’t told his children about that yet.
His son Christoph von Weizenburg, named after his greatgrandfather, attended the 5th class of the Königliches Gymnasium in Trier. He was an intelligent and sometimes impulsive boy. He obtained good notes at school and was good at sports. Three times a week, he went to a climbing wall to practice mountaineering. During the easter and the summer holidays, he went to mountaineering camps. Furthermore, the family always went to the mountains for one week during the summer holidays. Christoph had a beautiful girlfriend, the 16 year old Sabine Erpel. He had met her during his climbing practices. The baron knew the Erpel family well enough to approve the relationship between his son and Sabine.
But despite the fact that his son seemed to develop extremely well and without any problems, the baron was a bit concerned. He himself was a stereotypical macho, and combined that with extremist rightwing preferences. He considered Eiffelland morally decayed to a high extent. His son seemed to disagree with him. “Does it harm you when two guys get a relationship?” He had asked once during a political discussion. “A man must live a complete life, Christoph,” he had replied. “He must marry a woman and raise children. He must be strong to be able to defend his family. And his land when needed. Only then you are a complete man. Sex has two goals: Reproduction and sealing the love between man and woman so that they can be loving parents for their children. The body of a man has been shaped for the body of a woman, not for the body of another man. Therefore, sex between two men is unnatural and perverse. Your life is not complete when you have a relationship with a man. The only way we can keep our country strong is to keep our morality high and to stay disciplined. If we tolerate homosexuality, we take the first step in lowering our morale and our disciplin. And then the next steps to lower morale and disciplin will be too easy.”
After that discussion, the baron and his son never had such a discussion again. Would he have convinced his son? He didn’t know. Was the Königliches Gymnasium the right school for his son? Intellectually, yes. The school was an intellectual challenge. But politically? The Gay Prince had a too big influence there with respect to that. The baron knew that Prince Ludwig was extremely popular at the Königliches Gymnasium, and that his ancestry only played a minor role in that. Not only because of the Prince’s homosexuality but also because of the Prince’s influence on the political climate at school, the baron was glad that his son was not in the same year as Prince Ludwig. That diminished the bad influence on his son — At least that was what the baron hoped. The baron had considered putting his son at another school, even at a private school in Wendmark or Breotonia, but Christoph had exploded for anger when he heard about these plans. On the one hand, the baron felt that his son should follow his wishes. On the other hand, he realised that it would be better not to push this through as long as it would not be necessary. So he stayed calm.

Also because if his current activities would work out well, the country would be purified anyway. People like Prince Ludwig would be eliminated. And with him the bad influence on his son.


29 April 2011
Mahlow, near Trier, Eiffelland

It cost him quite a lot of money, but the material was good. The Freiherr von Weizenburg was satisfied about his new contact. And finally he could do something to get Eiffelland back on the right moral track, in the second half of his life. Last week’s bombing was a success, although Patke’s picture had been broadcasted on television, spread over the Internet and printed in all papers. For quite a large period of time, Patke could not appear in public any more, but that was not a problem. Weizenburg had enough other people. Two more bombings, and then he would claim responsibility. But that would not be the end.
Indeed, Weizenburg was happy with how things went. Morality would be brought back to Eiffelland. Of course, Ziesche and Meißner stood before the cameras, so they would get the credits, but they could do nothing without his work behind the scenes, and they both knew. They could do nothing without Weizenburg’s money, either, and they both knew that as well. That made Weizenburg the unofficial King of the extremist rightwing movement in Eiffelland, although nobody apart from the highest hierarchical levels of The Movement knew that. Weizenburg was known for Weizenburg Spedition, but unknown for his extremism, even among many extremist rightwingers.
Now he was busy preparing the next bombing. Since the preparations for a war with Solaren had started, the Trierer banking district was guarded extremely well. It would be impossible to get a bomb there. That was the initial plan. But the shopping district in Ingelheim on the day before Labour Day would do as well. And then next week the shopping district in Köln.
 

Rheinbund

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6 May 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

“Three bombing attacks in two weeks, gentlemen, and we still know nothing,” Farnbach said while slamming with his fist on the table. He was mad, but not at his men. “Is there really nothing in the extremist groups?”
“No Sir, still nothing from there. At least not among the extremist leftwingers,” Plöger said.
“Nothing among the extremist rightwingers, either, but Meißner and Ziesche are acting strangely. In what way, my people don’t know, and you can hardly see it, but it looks like they are hiding something,” Bartsch said. “I don’t know yet if that strange behaviour can be coupled to it, but I have to mention it. They travel abroad once every two weeks, always to different cities. Once or twice, they traveled to the same city to be there on the same day, but always separated from each other. The last time they were abroad in the same city was 22 January. After that day, they have always traveled on separate days. One pattern is always the same. They always travel to a hotel to meet someone there. Unfortunately, we never know to which hotel in advance, but it is always a large hotel with several floors. In some cases, we managed to hack the security cameras of those hotels. Now we have lots of video materials. We are comparing them to find out if we can find one face in all those hotels. This is an enormous work, because we have several hundreds of thousands of terabytes of materials.”
“Good work, Mr. Bartsch, Go on with that. Mr. Gruber, can you tell anything from the extremist religious groups?” Farnbach asked.
“No. The followers of the solaris cult are quiet. So are all other extremist religious groups,” Gruber said.
“Mr. Lorbach, what can you tell?” Farnbach asked.

For a part, the Staatsschutz was organised quite traditionally in separate divisons. On the other hand, it also knew a network structure. Lorbach’s division for counterterrorism was an example of that. It had been grounded to be able to face new threads more quickly. The disadvantage of an organisation strictly divided by division was its rigidity. If a bombing occurred, who had to investigate it? The division for leftwing extremism, for rightwing extremism, for religious extremism or were it foreigners? To tackle this better, a more general division was grounded: The division for counterterrorism. This division would deal with every kind of terrorist attacks. It would investigate it and ask for information from the other divisions, and also share information. Lorbach was the director of this division.
But the Staatsschutz had not been completely reorganised. The old divisions on several kinds of extremism had collected a lot of information and experience on their separate fields of epertise, and had proven to be excellent vehicles to collect that information and experience. That was the reason why they still existed. Those divisions sent agents to infiltrate into the extremist scenes. When they discovered that an assault was prepared, they warned Counterterrorism and the people were arrested. But Farnbach made sure that everybody got his share in the honours and regards. The people behind the scenes got their share in Royal and Military Decorations as well.
The division structure had been maintained, but in fact the Staatsschutz was a networkorganisation. People in Counterterrorism could temporarily work for Leftwing, Rightwing or Religious Extremism and vice versa without any bureaucratic problems. And when somebody of one division needed assistance from another division, he just called the persons from the other divisions he needed.

But to keep everything organised, of course meetings with the division managers were often needed.

“You all know that we found a face at the first attack. That face was made public. Some people coupled it to a man working for Weizenburg Spedizion. We know whom they meant and are investigating the man. No interesting information on him yet,” Lorbach said. “We are investigating the other assaults, also the images we have.”


Trierer Stadtautobahn (A100)
Trier, Eiffelland

Val-my, Val-my, Montelimar.
Val-my, Val-my, Montelimar.

The sound of an almost completely instrumental synthesizer composition by Montelimarian artists from the beginning of the 1980s came out of the car radio of Lorbach’s Audi A6 when he drove from the Staatsschutz headquarters to his house in Frohnau. It was 9 ‘o clock. The sun had already set, and it was dark. It had been a rainy day in Trier, and it was still raining with 20 centigrades. Lorbach was switching from the A100 to the A111 when he was called by Plöger. He answered the call.

“Lorbach.”
“Hello Lorbach. Plöger here. Were you listening to the news?”
“I was listening to a jewel of Montelimarian synthesizer music from the 1980s, but what you can tell me, is probably more important.”
“The attacks have been claimed. By a new leftwing terrorist group calling itself the Neue Rote Befreiiungsarmee.”

Lorbach needed some time to process this information.

“So this means I am needed at the headquarters.”
“I’m afraid so. I already called Farnbach. Would it be possible for you to come?”
“I’m already switching the direction. I’m currently behind the AD Charlottenburg. It can take 20 minutes before I’m at the headquarters.”
“OK.”

Despite the time of the day, it was still quite busy on the road, although there were no traffic jams. Lorbach put the blue flash light on the car roof, turned on the flash light installation and drove back to the Staatsschutz headquarters.

OOC: Songtext: Free interpretation after the track “Paris France” from a cooperation project between Didier Marouani and Paris France Transit in 1983. The track is almost completely instrumental, but the phrase “Pa-ris, Pa-ris, Pa-ris France” is sung at some moments. I changed it into “Val-my, Val-my, Montelimar”, because there is no Paris in our world any more and the phrasing I used fits better.
 

Rheinbund

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16 May 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

Some may call it a curse,
A life like mine.
But others, a blessing.
It's certainly a lonely life,
But a fullfilling one at best.
It's my cross to bear.
And I'll bear it gladly.
Someone has to take a stand against evil.
Why should it not be me?

A friend of his had invited Christoph von Weizenburg at home to listen to his newest CD from a Batavian band he was a fan of. “This is the kind of music you have to hear through a real hifi-installation, not through the headphones of an MP3-player,” he had said. That was a couple of weeks ago. The music was a pompous combination of guitars, bass guitars and a symphony orchestra. Christoph actually liked it. The songtext of the first track was what he had remembered best.
Also because the story behind it was similar to Christoph’s experiences of the last weeks. He already knew that his father was an old-fashioned macho who refused to understand how society was developing, but he never knew how far his father wanted to go to impose his ideal society upon Eiffelland. Until last weekend, when he accidentally overheard his father discussing an upcoming bombing. Then he realised that it wasn’t the “Neue Rote Befreiungsarmee” who had committed the recent bombing assaults, and that his father’s political ideas were a lot more extreme than he initially thought. Suddenly he became afraid of his father.

Christoph had been forced by his father to occasionally take part in extremist rightwing activities. He realised that that should never become known at school, so he kept himself low-profile at extremist rightwing events, so that he would not suddenly be filmed by a camera. He also stayed away from the violent actions committed by the GEL, because he strongly disagreed with those and he really did not want to be arrested in such a situation.
He knew very well that he did not want to live in his father’s ideal society. He completely disagreed with his father and his babbling about “moral decay”. How bad off was Eiffelland? Was it really so much better in Sarmatia, the country his father idealised? Given what he had heard about it, no. Life in Eiffelland was much better, despite the “moral decay”. Furthermore, what does it matter when a man knitted his own pullowers at home as long as he did well at work? More generally, what does it matter how somebody organises his private life as long as he does his work well?

Christoph had always considered himself straight, or better said, he had rolled into a straight life as a self-evidence. Almost all the guys he knew made an enormous lot out of dating and sleeping with girls, both his friends and the guys his father wanted him to consider his friends. Especially the latter ones. And even more those stupid dumbasses from the GEL. He himself started dating girls when he was 13, just to try it out. He felt a resistance inside himself when he kissed his first girlfriend, but thought he was just nervous because it was the first time. He was deflowered by a girl when he was 15. Actually, they deflowered each other. Also then he felt resistance, but also then he thought it was because he was nervous. Since then, he slept with a gigantic number of girls, just to find that enormous lot the others were talking about with regards to sex. He had been dating his current girlfriend Sabine Erpel since December last year, in the hope that he would finally find that enormous lot by adding love to sex. He didn’t find it. Meanwhile he started to loose interest in Sabine. Bastian, the guy he became friends with after that demonstration in Wetzlar, had asked him once if he was gay. Bastian had said that he was straight, but that question made him ask himself if he was looking at the right place for that enormous lot. If not, then Christoph would have to conclude that it would not be a matter of not wanting but of not being able to live in his father’s ideal society.

And now it appeared that his father wanted to impose his crazy ideas upon the nation.

Christoph knew to what this would lead. Revolution, maybe even a civil war. Justified in a country in which nothing worked for a large part of society, but not in a country where everything went well. Well, OK, Bastian had told him about Neukölln and comparable quarters in other cities, and something needed to be done there, but Christoph failed to understand how his father’s fight against “moral decay” and for a “pure Eiffelland” would help those people. Apart from that, those people were never talked about by his father, so maybe he didn’t care for them at all. Then what reason would he have to risk a civil war? Hundreds of thousands of people, maybe even millions, killed for a vague notion about “moral decay” or a “pure Eiffelland”?

Someone has to take a stand against evil. Why should it not be him?


Polizeiamt Trier-Mitte

“How can I be sure that you are telling the truth and not digging up a story for whichever reason?” the police officer in front of Christoph said. He wasn’t in a happy mood. The bombings were a matter of the Staatsschutz, but the police were busy with them as well. For starters because they had to patrol more intensively. And of course it put a psychological tension on everybody. Everything strange could become the next bombing. In whichever way, about half of the people in the police force had witnessed the bombings of the Rote Befreiungsarmee during the 1970s. Either they witnessed them as children, or as adolescents, or while at the police academy or as young police officers. A new extremist leftwing organisation calling itself the Neue Rote Befreiungsarmee had claimed the responsibility for the recent assaults, and now this spoiled brat in front of him was telling that his father was responsible for everything.
“I can’t deliver exact proof, but you have to believe me. I told about that student club in Weissenfels they want to attack. Check that club and you will see that I’m telling the truth,” Christoph said.
“You tell that your father is an extremist rightwing who ordered those assaults, but they were claimed by an extremist leftwing organisation. How do you combine that?” the police officer asked.
“I don’t know how to combine that, Sir. But I do know that those assaults were ordered by my father, although I don’t know what he wants to achieve with it. I didn’t hear why he ordered them, but his end goal is a fascist Eiffelland. Like I said, check out that club in Weissenfels, and you will know that I am right. The bomb there will explode on the 19th May.”

The police officer clearly showed that he considered Christoph a fantast looking for attention while showing him the way out. After that, he typed a report into the computer.

A few hours later, the computer network would make some connections with the name “Weizenburg”. It would notice that the man connected to the bombing attack in the Trierer underground was seen as an employee from Weizenburg Spedizion, that that company was led by Joachim Freiherr von Weizenburg, that that man was the father of Christoph von Weizenburg, and that that boy had told the police that his father was ordering the assaults.


OOC: Songtext:
Within Temptation – Why not me
CD The unforgiving (2011)

Batavia, I turned it Icly into a Batavian band, because this type of music fits better with your country than with Vistrasia’s one. I hope you won’t object against this.
 

Rheinbund

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17 May 2011
Trier-Charlottenburg, Eiffelland
03:00

A telephone rang in an apartment in Trier-Charlottenburg.

“Gomulka.”
“...”
“Hello Strauss. What did you find?”
“...”
“What?”
“...”
“Good. Thanks for notifying. I come to the office. Wiederhör’n.”

“This is the zillionth time that you are called in the middle of the night, Sepp. What is it this time?” Gomulka’s wife Birgit asked while Gomulka was putting his clothes on.
“I told you several times, darling, that I can’t tell about my work. Sorry, but I’m getting a bit sick of the discussions about this. You knew that I have an irregular job when we married, so please stop arguing about it,” Gomulka replied.
“This happens too often, Sepp. You’re away so often that we hardly see you.”
“I know, darling, I know. I will see that I get some more time, but not now. This is important.”
“More important than your own family? More important than me and your own children?”
“No. But what I do, is important to the whole country, so also for you and the children. So if I choose against it, like you apparently want me to do, I also choose against you and the children.”
“Well, what is so important that you need to use such serious phrases and neglecting us is in our interest?”
“You know that I can’t tell.”
“Why not? Are you afraid that I spy for the criminals in Trier?”
“I already told you that as well. It is better that you don’t know too much, even if you want to keep your mouth shut. There is always a chance that you tell about it without realising it.”
“Well at least it would help me to accept this all.”
“Still I cannot tell. Sorry darling, but otherwise I loose my job.”
“Then you can at least try to find something more regular.”
“I will see if I can get my work a bit more regular. But not now. After this job has done.”

Gomulka grabbed his briefcase, sneaked into his children’s bedrooms for a brief glimpse at them, kissed his wife goodbye and left.

Sepp Gomulka and Birgit Krenz met each other 13 years ago. Gomulka had just graduated at the police academy and had been admitted at the Kriminalpolizeiamt Trier as Kriminalkommissar (inspector). At least, that was what he told. Birgit, a rather naive and intellectually limited woman, considered it exciting that her boyfriend had such a dangerous job. Sepp Gomulka and Birgit Krenz married in the first year of the new millennium. Birgit worked at a beauty shop at the Friedrich von Dietzdamm, and Sepp developed his career. The first five years of their marriage were happy, but then more and more it appeared that the two were less made for each other than it originally seemed. The two spouses started to drift apart due to the difference in intellectual capacities. The argues began four years ago. Birgit pointed them at Sepp’s irregular working times, but in fact she wanted to stop his way up. She realised very well that she would loose him in the end if he would develop further. But Sepp didn’t want to switch to a more regular job. He was ambitious. The argues became worse and worse, and at a certain moment they stopped sleeping with each other.
A couple of months ago, Sepp started to have one-night-stands with some of his female colleagues. He thought that Birgit didn’t know, but she did. She didn’t want a divorce, but took revenge. She started an affair with a man she had met while going out with her colleagues. The man was quite interested in Sepp’s work, but Birgit couldn’t tell more than that Sepp worked for the KriPo Trier and had a very irregular job.

While going to the headquarters of his real employer, the Staatsschutz, Sepp Gomulka telephoned with the SvD in Weissenfels to discuss a search warrant for the student club Cachet. “Better safe than sorry,” he said to the SvD. When he arrived at the headquarters, Strauss wheeled to him in his wheelchair. A couple of years ago, Strauss had lost the ability to walk when he was hit by a car shortly after he had helped with uncovering a hackers network. The driver of the car that had hit him had never been arrested; directly after he had hit Strauss, he speeded away. It was unclear up to now whether this was an assault or simply an accident.
Strauss was a brilliant computer programmer. Whatever you asked him, he could do. He cracked the best firewalls and was mostly involved in trying to find the people behind extremist websites. The fact that he was sticked to a wheelchair did not change that. Meanwhile, he had dug up all the information he knew about the Freiherr von Weizenburg and his son.

Grüß dich, Strauss,” Gomulka said. During the years, the communication inside the Staatsschutz had become less formal than in the police or the army. Only the highest levels still used the more formal “Sie” when adressing other people, but all other Staatsschutz-employees used the informal “du”. But also they would never use each other’s first names; that would be a bit too close. They used the “du” in combination with each other’s surnames.
“Hallo Gomulka,” Strauss said. “I searched the Von Weizenburgs but that has not delivered anything interesting yet. I am currently chasing the pictures of their passports through our picture database.”
“Did you also check the database of the school inspection?”
“Yes, I did. Christoph von Weizenburg attends the same school as Prince Ludwig, the Königliches Gymnasium Standort Mitte.”
“Thanks. I will see that somebody visits him there. But now first the details on the Cachet, so that I can give the SvD in Weissenfels some more details on the search warrant.”

There was the possibility to take a shower in the Staatsschutz headquarters. Because Gomulka had jumped directly from his bed into his clothes, he used that possibility after he had arranged for the search warrant, put on clean underwear and a clean shirt, and drove to Weissenfels with one of his subordinates.


Weissenfels-Johannstad, Eiffelland
09:00

The complete quarter had been fenced off by the police. Gomulka arrived in Weissenfels while a special task force of the army entered the Cachet to find and dismantle a possible bomb. They were not certain if they would find one, but actually they found a combination of bombs installed in such a way that the whole building and the two adjacent buildings would have collapsed. The dismantled bombs were transported away and exploded on a site outside Weissenfels.

“How is it possible that such a bomb is installed without anyone knowing it?” Gomulka asked. “Mr. Gruber, I have to consider you and all your employees suspects,” he said to the owner of the club.”
“What? Me, a suspect of blowing up my own club?” Gruber asked angrily.
“As long as I don’t know who actually did it, I have to consider everybody who knows the alarm codes suspect. Somebody has broken in into the club to place the bombs, but there is no report of a burglary. Normally if a window has been tapped out of the groove, you as the owner would have known. The fact that you know about a burglary but do not report it makes you a suspect. Furthermore, the alarm of your club is connected to a security company. That company would have driven to the club to check it, and would have informed at least you and also the police if they would have found something suspect. We still have to check with the security company, but if they don’t know about the alarm going off, we have to conclude that it didn’t go off. We also have to check if it still works properly, but if so, somebody has turned off the alarm while those persons were there. So it must be somebody who knows the alarm codes. Until I know more, everybody knowing the alarm codes of your club is a suspect. We will search the whole building after signs for any burglary, and we will check with your alarm company for any strange things,” Gomulka said.
“Talking about the security company, two weeks ago they had sent somebody to check the system,” Gruber said.
“Thank you for the information. We will check that with the security company as well,” Gomulka said.


11:00

“OK, what do we have?” Gomulka said. “The people from the security company say that the alarm has never gone off for at least two years. They also say that they don’t know anything about a checkup of the alarm system two weeks ago. So that man that came by to check the system was not an employee from the security company. Was he accompanied while walking through the building?” he asked Gruber.
“If you can’t even trust people from a security company, the world is really bad off,” Gruber said.
“I take that as a no,” Gomulka said.
At that moment, a police officer came out of the building and walked to Gomulka and Gruber.
“Gentlemen, I would like to show you something,” he said.
The three men walked to the attic of the club.
“I took some pictures of those two windows,” the police officer said while pointing at the windows directing at the courtyard. “I will show them on the laptop, because I can’t ask from you to walk over the roof. This is a picture of the window on the left. Look carefully at the screws.” The officer zoomed in at each screw.
“This is a picture of the window on the right. Also look at the screws. What do you see?” the officer asked.
“What should I see?” Gruber asked.
“These screws have been turned out and back in recently, and that screw is a new one. This means that this window has been taken out and back in recently.”
“But that’s impossible,” Gruber said. “The alarm would have gone off.”
“Let’s walk to the window,” the police officer said. When the three men were near the window, the police officer pointed at the place where the alarm threads on the window had been broken. “This makes clear that the window has been taken out,” he said. “The reason why the alarm didn’t go off is here. The threads have been connected in such a way that this window has been taken out of the loop. So this window was free to use. And it has been used.”
“Good work, Mr... ?” Gomulka said.
“Rieger,” the officer said.
“OK. Thank you. Mr. Gruber, I need the person letting that ‘serviceman’ in for making a composition picture. We still need to interrogate you and your employees. Meanwhile, we put the club under Staatsschutz protection.”


18 May 2011
Trier-Zehlendorf, Eiffelland

Gomulka had ordered to put Christoph von Weizenburg under surveillance. Yesterday the boy had been followed while windowshopping with his girlfriend. Today Kommissar Schröder, a young Staatsschutz agent working in Gomulka’s team, decided to approach Christoph while the latter was walking to his bicycle at the underground station Krumme Lanke.

“Christoph von Weizenburg?” Schröder asked Christoph.
“Yes, that’s me,” Christoph answered.
“Schröder, Staatsschutz,” Schröder said while showing his Staatsschutz badge. “I need to ask you some questions about your father. Would you like to follow me?”
“OK,” Christoph said.

When they sat in Schröder’s FMW 118, Schröder started the engine and started to drive around while asking Christoph some questions.

“You probably heard on the news that we managed to dismantle that bomb in Weissenfels. You saved the lives of about a thousand people. Thank you for that,” Schröder said.
Christoph didn’t know how to react.
“We can’t put your father in jail just based on your report to the police,” Schröder said. “Your father will simply deny, and you will be in big trouble. We need more than what you told. Do you understand that?”
Christoph nodded.
“We will work on that. I want to ask you to inform us again as soon as you know more, but before you agree to do so, I need to tell you something. The groups your father belongs to are very harsh towards people they consider traitors. If they discover that you give information to us, your death will be terribly painful,” Schröder said.
“Many more people will die if I don’t, I’m afraid. I’ll do it,” Christoph said.
“Thanks. You’re a very brave boy. I will contact you via your locker at school. Contact me by sending a letter to this adress. A stamp will not be needed. Think up an alternative way I should contact you when the summer holidays start,” Schröder said while giving Christoph a piece of paper.

Christoph was a bit dizzy after he had been taken back to the underground station. But he had taken a decision. He knew enough about electricity, microphones, MP3-devices, senders and so on to setup a bugging system. He decided to bug his father’s office.
 

Rheinbund

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20 May 2011
Café Savigny
Trier-Tiergarten, Eiffelland

A heavy thunderstorm had hit Trier last night. The temperature had dropped from 32 to 19 centigrades. Now it was raining again. Café Savigny, a popular meeting place for students and artists, had a very beautiful terrace, but unfortunately it wasn’t possible to sit there now.
Christoph von Weizenburg wasn’t happy with the weather. The mountaineering club he was a member of had a climbing wall inside but also a climbing wall outside. He liked climbing on the outside wall more than climbing on the inside wall, because climbing outside resembled the real work in the mountains more. But the outside wall was only used during Spring and Summer, and only when the weather was good.
School had just finished, and Bastian had invited him for a beer. Now they were sitting in this pub, discussing some things. Christoph had told Bastian that it didn’t go well between him and Sabine, at least not from his point of view. He was seriously asking himself if he was still in love with her. It didn’t work any more from his point of view, but something was holding him from breaking up.
“What would hold you up then?” Bastian asked.
“I don’t know,” Christoph said. “Maybe the fun we have together. If I break up, that will end as well. And I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Are you still in love with her?” Bastian asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ve never been. Maybe I started with it in the hope that the love would come with time,” Christoph said.
“I only know you with Sabine, but of course I heard about the period before her. The gossip train never stops. So I know that you’ve slept with more girls during the last two years than a guy usually sleeps with during his whole life,” Bastian said. He took a sip of his beer, paused and continued. “Our age is the age of trying things out, among others sex. But given what you just told about your relationship with Sabine and the high number of girls before Sabine, I’m getting the feeling that your experiments with sex continuously fail.”
“Maybe,” Christoph said.
“Are you sure that you’re sleeping with the right people?” Bastian asked.
“I’ve been asking that question to myself as well,” Christoph said. “I don’t know the answer. But if not, I might get into serious trouble. You know what I told you about my dad.”

Bastian got the impression that it might not be a matter of not knowing the answer but being afraid of the answer. But he considered it better not to ask that. He had learned one lesson from Ludwig: Pushing too much will never lead to the result you desire.

“Indeed, I know. What are you going to do in the Ascension holidays?” Bastian asked.
“I don’t have any real plans. My dad wants me to spend them with the sons of his friends, if you know what I mean. I really don’t want to go, but I don’t have an alternative. What are you going to do?” Christoph asked.
“I’ll go to Bad Hersfeld, meeting some friends of mine from all over the country. To be precise, my friends from the antifascist demos. This year we agreed that each would invite somebody else. The others take their girlfriends with them. I haven't invited anyone yet. It’s always one big party on the beach. Would you like to join me?” Bastian asked.
“Thanks for the offer. I will think about it,” Christoph said.


Trier-Schöneberg, Eiffelland

It was a coincidence that he got a relationship with Gomulka’s wife, but now it appeared to be a nice coincidence. Jens Karstens had received some clear instructions on getting some information from Birgit Gomulka‑Krenz. The woman was extremely good in bed, but unfortunately a bit dumb. Her husband had told her that he worked for the KriPo Trier, but never told about his work. And that was a pity. The leader of the investigations of the bombing attacks didn’t tell anything about his work when at home, not even when his wife put him under pressure.

Karstens himself was a Leitender Direktor des Staatsschutzes. He had access to quite a lot of inside information. He knew that Gomulka was the leader of the team investigating the recent bombing attacks, but he didn’t know the details of that investigation. Those details were only known to Gomulka and his team, and maybe Gomulka’s manager. He couldn’t get access to those details ,either. He didn’t know Gomulka or his manager personnally, so the way of getting them through smalltalk was barred as well.
But Karstens was interested in the details on the investigations of the recent bombings. His colleagues didn’t know that he was a member of the Volksunion. His colleagues didn’t know either that it was him who betrayed the Staatsschutz infiltrants killed at the beginning of the year. He was the spy in the Staatsschutz for the extremist rightwing movement. Recently he got instructions to get information about the investigations of the recent bombing attacks. He wasn’t told why, but he carried them out.

Now he was lying naked in his bed after the steamiest sex he had had for ages. Birgit was lying next to him with her head on Karstens’s chest. Karstens was fondling her hair.
“You’re fantastic,” Karstens said.
“You too,” Birgit said.
“I love you, Birgit.”
“I love you too.”

Then they remained silent. After a minute, Karstens asked: “What has your husband been doing lately?”
“Please Jens, leave him. Why would you be interested in him?” Birgit asked.
“I never told you, but I work for the Staatsschutz. We got some information about your husband. Maybe he has a different reason why he doesn’t want to tell about his work than he says. He may be involved in some dirty affairs,” Jens said.
“What do you mean with that?” Birgit asked.
“Either he is keeping some people out of jail, or he is willingly looking the other way while some people are doing criminal things,” Jens said.
“But why would he do so?”
“I don’t know. You know him the best. Did you see him behave strangely lately?”
“It already happened quite often that he suddenly left after a telephone call, but that has happened more often since about Easter. He’s sometimes even called in the middle of the night, and then he says that it is urgent and is gone. But he never tells anything than that it is important what he does.”
“Try to put some more pressure on him. We really need to know what he is doing.”
“I will try to do so,” Birgit said. Then she surrendered herself to another passionate kiss, too naive to ask whether Jens was interested in her or her husband.


22 May 2011
Trier-Zehlendorf, Eiffelland

A car bomb right in front of the Metropol, Trier’s largest club. And it would explode at 1 o’ clock at night, exactly at the moment that the Nollendorfplatz would be at its busiest with people going out and the line before the Metropol would be the largest. And it would happen next weekend, when Christoph would be out of town. He knew that many of his classmates often went to the Metropol at Saturday night. Also he himself often went there. His father knew about that, but didn’t think about that. Christoph was furious. What was this man worth as a father if he decided to kill his son’s classmates? He sent a message to Schröder about it, and decided to defy his father even more.
He had lied to Bastian that he didn’t know the answer on one of the most important questions of his life. He already knew the answer. When looking back, Christoph had never liked the sex with all those girls. The resistance he felt every time was not the result of uncertainty. When looking back, the strange feelings he felt when looking at the other guys before and after sports was sexual arousal.
Furthermore, piece by piece, all those girls he slept with scratched his back open. Sabine did that again last night. She had his blood under her nails this time, and that wasn’t the first time that that happened. That was something he was completely done with. He had heard that some populations believed that each girl had a hymen that would tear apart when she was deflowered, causing the girl to bleed. He had also heard that in some cultures the sheets of the wedding-night were shown publicly with some blood drops to proove that the girl had been a virgin before her marriage. Christoph was convinced that the blood drops almost always came from the guy because his back had been scratched open.

Up to now, Christoph had been afraid of his father, but not any more. His fear had been replaced with anger. He decided to live according to his preferences and see how long he could hide it for his family.

He also called Bastian to tell that he would go to Bad Hersfeld with him, and to invite him to watch him climbing next Friday.
 

Rheinbund

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23 May 2011
Schloss Bellevue, Trier, Eiffelland

“We got a message from our contact again. The next assault will be at the night club Metropol here in Trier. A car bomb should explode in front of the doors so that the people queing up for the Metropol are hit,” Gomulka told during a meeting with all the directors of the Staatsschutz, the Minister for Internal Affairs and the Chancellor. “The precautions beinng taken is that we check every car being parked at the Nollendorfplatz and all the streets around it within a radius of 500 meters. Furthermore, we check the undergroundstation, both under the ground and above the ground. The construction of the elevated train of the U2 will be checked thoroughly as well. We are currently checking all the cars parked there in the neighbourhood. If a car hasn’t left its parking place for more than a week, we contact the owner. If he cannot be contacted, we take it away for further checks. In that way, we already found some stolen cars, by the way.”
“You already told that these assaults don’t come from the extremist leftwing but from the extremist rightwing scene. Do you already have more clarity about the offenders?” Chancellor Von Seydewitz asked.
“Our source in this terrorist group is very close to the leader. Because of that, we know very well what is happening. Unfortunately, our source is not so close to the remainder of the group. Therefore, we only know the name of the leader,” Gomulka said.
“Sorry, but I don’t understand how it is possible that you know the leader but not the other people of the group,” Von Seydewitz said.
“Our contact is the son of the leader. He has seen some of the people involved, but not all. And he doesn’t know them, either. But once he accidentally heard his father preparing the assault in Weissenfels, so he informed the police. That’s how we came into contact with him,” Gomulka said.
“You also told that this is a completely new group. How much do the extremist rightwingers known to us about this new group?” the Minister for Internal Affairs Neubauer asked.
“The Volksunion and the GEL don’t know anything, but probably except Ziesche and Meißner. We know that they met with somebody outside Eiffelland. We also have the face of that somebody, but not the name yet. We don’t know for sure, but they probably received instructions. I don’t know which kind. But the extremist rightwing websites already discuss about it. They are blaming the Government for not doing enough against extremist leftwing terrorism and use the bombings as arguments to support that,” the director of the division rightwing terrorism Bartsch said.
“Instructions? What kind of instructions?” Von Seydewitz asked.
“I don’t know yet. In any case, the GEL is not responsible for the assaults,” Bartsch said.
“So this is a completely new group without any contacts with the existing groups, except for the highest levels,” Neubauer said.
“Indeed, Herr Minister. But Ziesche and Meißner don’t know who they are, although they know that they are there,” Bartsch said.
“In any case, we already know the leader,” Gomulka said.
“Then why don’t you arrest him,” Neubauer said.
“Because at this moment we can’t prove before court what we need to prove,” the director of the division counterterrorism Lorbach said. “We have enough knowledge of this man, but we didn’t acquire that knowledge legally. We have a serious problem if we loose this before court on procedural mistakes. You can count on it that the lawyers will dig into the procedures we followed to find that one small mistake to get their man free. The alternative could be to take our man out of society by other means, but the man we are talking about has such a position in commerce that his disappearance won’t go unnoticed and can be considered extremist leftwing terrorism. We will be forced to investigate a crime we ourselves committed, catch a group of extremist leftwingers and blame them for everything. We will have to construct evidence against them. If that flares up, we are in serious trouble. Indeed, we must catch this man and his group, but we have to do it very carefully. If we make public that the Neue Rote Befreiungsarmee is in fact a group of extremist rightwingers, we will have to thoroughly prove it.”
“And that, Herr Kanzler, Herr Minister, is the reason why we can’t proceed differently from how we are proceeding. We realise that it goes slowly, but going too fast will backfire this time,” Staatshauptdirektor des Staatsschutzes Farnbach said to the Chancellor and the Minister.
“I want to discuss this with the minister, gentlemen. Please stay here,” the Chancellor said.

After a few minutes, Von Seydewitz and Neubauer returned to the meeting room.

“Gentlemen, you may proceed. But I want that we, that means all the people in this group, meet here once every week. Furthermore, I want to be informed about the proceedings once each day. It is enough if you send me an e-mail over the secured line. Mr. Gomulka, you will get all the warrants you need to conduct your investigations, but I want your team is available 24 hours a day. You will spend the nights at the Staatsschutz headquarters until this group has been caught. Your sole project for the coming months will be catching this group. The same will count for the people under you. Is this clear?” the Chancellor said.
“Yes, Herr Kanzler,” Gomulka answered.
“OK. That was it, gentlemen. Good luck,” the Chancellor said.


27 May 2011
Trier-Dahlem, Eiffelland

The mountaineering association Christoph was a member of sometimes gave its members the opportunity to take a guest to a climbing lesson. Today was such an occasion. Christoph wanted to keep Bastian away from his family and the extremist rightwing clique around it, but his father couldn’t attend today’s climbing lesson and nobody of the extremist clique was a member of the climbing association, so he considered it safe to invite Bastian. He wanted to get a closer contact with him, because he had the feeling that Bastian could help him with the decisions he had taken. The only problem was that Sabine was there as well, but maybe she would understand later on.
It had been raining continuously until two days ago, but the weather had changed again. It had been a sunny day with a temperature of 28 centigrades, and it was still quite warm during the climbing lesson. Several guys took off their shirts, among others Christoph.

After the lesson had ended, Christoph walked to Bastian with his shirt in his hand, who was stunned.
“Well, how did you like it?” Christoph asked.
Bastian didn’t answer.
“Hey, what’s the matter with you? Never seen a shirtless guy in your life?” Christoph asked ironicly while noticing that Bastian was looking at his body instead of his face. At that moment, Sabine wrapped her arms around Christoph from behind.


Lenz Bar, Trier-Schöneberg, Eiffelland

“Hey Bastian, how come you’re so silent?” Prince Sebastiano asked Bastian.
“Brown hair, brown eyes, a bit shorter than me, tendinous, tanned ... I’m in love,” Bastian said.
“Whow. And who is it?” Sebastiano asked.
“Christoph von Weizenburg. The son of a real baron,” Bastian said.
“Christoph von Weizenburg? He slept with quite some girls. I’m afraid he’s straight,” Prince Ludwig said.
“In fact he slept with half his year, to be precise the female half. And also some girls of our year, and some girls of the year after him. And now he’s been in a relationship with a girl for 6 months. This love is really chanceless, Bastian,” Sebastiano said.
“Well, I know some things about him that you don’t know. This guy is so cute, I’ll wait for him,” Bastian said.

When Bastian left Sebastiano and Ludwig to get a beer, the two princes looked at each other in amazement.
“Is this the Bastian that we know?” Ludwig asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Sebastiano said.
“And I’m also afraid that we need to reconsider our ideas about Christoph the Great Womanizer’s preferences for girls,” Ludwig said.
“Do you think so?” Sebastiano asked.
“There is a chance that Bastian’s view on Christoph is blurred, but I don’t think so. They already know each other for quite some time, and only now Bastian is in love. He wouldn’t fall in love with a straight guy he knows for about half a year. No, here is really something going on,” Ludwig said.


28 May 2011
An estate near Marburg, Eiffelland

Christoph was not enjoying himself at all. He was at a yearly event organised by a prominent member of the extremist rightwing scene. The only thing his cousin Reinhold von Weizenburg could talk about was how to beat up gays, immigrants and leftwingers. Good that that dumbass was too stupid to attend the Gymnasium [1], otherwise he would have been at the same school as I am, Christoph thought. He was glad in general that nobody of the people here attended the same school as he did.

“Hey, Christoph, how are things going?”
“Good. Busy with school. As always,” Christoph said while opening a beer.
“Yeah, I know the drill,” Uwe Wehnert said. Like Christoph, he was from Trier. And like with his cousin, Christoph was glad that he attended another school. “Good looking sister you have, by the way.”
“Well, she is my sister, so I don’t look at her that way, but maybe you are right,” Christoph said. “But she is still 15, so be decent,” he said with an ironicly fatherly tone in his voice.
“What? Is she still 15? You wouldn’t say so,” Uwe said.
“It would be bad if I wouldn’t know my sister’s age, wouldn’t it?” Christoph asked.
“Yeah, indeed. But couldn’t you introduce me to her?” Uwe asked.
Then Christoph got an idea. Uwe was a kind of a primus inter pares among the extremist rightwing youth in Trier. He had obtained that position because he combined intelligence with agression, although he was not really cunning. Each and every time the Trierer skinheads were planning an assault on a gay bar or a meeting place of socialists or environmentalists, he was involved. It should be possible to get some information from him.
“I could make her willing to see you, but then you have to promise not to do anything she doesn’t want. And to make her interested in you, I need to tell her what you are doing, so you need to tell that to me,” Christoph said.
“Ok. Deal,” Uwe said.
“That also means the plans you make. So if you plan to send out some guys to demolish a gay bar or a meeting place of the socialists. Otherwise I can’t show my sister what a great guy you are,” Christoph said.
“Deal,” Uwe said. “By the way, how is Sabine doing?”
“Fine. She couldn’t be here, but I’ll see her tomorrow,” Christoph said.


29 May 2011, 3:00 a.m.
Motorway Marburg – Trier (A12)

“I talked a bit with Reinhold. He is doing really fine,” Von Weizenburg said to his son Christoph and his daughter Hilde, while they drove home. “He just finished his exams for the Realschule. He was confident that he would pass them, so next year he’s at the Königliches Gymnasium as well.”
“Cool,” Hilde said. Christoph remained silent.
“You and Reinhold are not doing well together, Christoph. Why is that?” Von Weizenburg asked.
“Come on, dad, the guy is a dumbass. The only thing he can talk about is beating up people. He’ll be doing fine at the Königliches Gymnasium with that topic of conversation,” Christoph said. “And all people will know that I’m his cousin, for Christ’s sake.”
“He’s doing more for the cause than you do, Christoph. I wished that you would have some more of his commitment and manliness,” Von Weizenburg said.
“Yeah, right. Ten people beating up a gay is good for the cause. And then Reinhold’s ‘manliness’. A mass of muscles going berserk, but only when he’s part of a group of 10. Then he’s courageous. When he’s alone, he’s worth nothing. Do you call that manliness? OK I’m not a fighter, but I show more courage on the climbing wall and in the mountains. At least I face my fears instead of reducing them by doing things in large groups that I wouldn’t dare to do alone,” Christoph said.
“He goes to demonstrations, spreads flyers, makes banners and protest signs and so on. You don’t do anything of those,” Von Weizenburg said.
“First, I want to get good notes at school, and that’s also what you want me to do. Second, for the zillionth time, if the people at school discover that I’m involved in the extremist rightwing scene, I’m in trouble. I won’t be bullied but I will loose all my friends there and I will be ignored. And don’t think it will be different at any other school. I want my school time to be joyful, OK? And third, I did go to that demo in Wetzlar last year,” Christoph said.
“Indeed, you went to that demo, and you were the only one that came back unharmed. Two hours later than the other ones,” Von Weizenburg said.
“I already told you that I had the luck that there were no fightings around me. Furthermore, I wouldn’t have made the difference,” Christoph said.
“In any case, I want you to show more commitment to the cause. I understand why you don’t want it to become public that you are an extremist rightwinger, but you have to show up behind the scenes more often. Is that clear?” Von Weizenburg said.
“Yes, that is clear,” Christoph said.


31 May 2011
Mahlow, near Trier, Eiffelland

“So, ladies and gentlemen, did you find anything shocking in this perfectly kept financial administration of mine?” the Freiherr von Weizenburg asked to the people from the tax office, who had been ordered by Gomulka to conduct a full financial random check of Weizenburg Spedition.
“Well, everything is indeed perfect,” Karin Merkelbach, the leader of the delegation from the tax office, said.
“Of course it is. I am a decent citizen of this country and pay my taxes, like everyone should do,” Von Weizenburg said.
“You didn’t let me finish, Mr. von Weizenburg,” Merkelbach continued. “Everything is perfect, except for some money currents to ‘charity funds’, both out of your private finances and out of your company finances. When looking at your administration of the last 10 years, you have been sending money to the charity fund ‘Rehoboth’. First 1000 Marks each month, then five years ago you raised it to 2000 Marks. This all came from your private money. Last year November, you sent 1 million Marks at once to this fund from the assets of your company, additionally to your private gifts. You paid your taxes over that money, but we are wondering what has happened to those 1 million Marks flowing out of your company to Rehoboth.”
“That money has been spent by Rehoboth. What else would you expect?” Von Weizenburg replied.
“I don’t know what I should expect. That’s why I’m asking you. Let’s start from the beginning. What does Rehoboth do?” the woman said.
“Rehoboth is an association to support Dominican Catholic people who are oppressed because of their religious belief. One of our people was kidnapped in Solaren. We had to buy him free,” Von Weizenburg explained.
“Do we know enough with this answer?” the woman asked her colleagues. They agreed that they did.
“That’s all, Mr. von Weizenburg. Thank you. We know the way out,” the woman said to Von Weizenburg.

The people from the tax office left the offices of Weizenburg Spedition and went to the office building of the Provinzfinanzamt Niedereiffel to meet with Gomulka there.


Provinzfinanzamt Niedereiffel
Trier, Eiffelland

“So Von Weizenburg sent 1 million Marks to that charity association called ‘Rehoboth’. Could you please get me all the information you know about that organisation?” Gomulka asked.
“Well, actually, we didn’t know why you sent us to Weizenburg Spedition, but 1 million Marks gone missing is interesting to us as well, so we will work on it,” Karin Merkelbach said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Merkelbach. Believe me, it is important that you carried out this investigation. I can’t say anything more about it. We will also dive into it, and of course if we find something interesting for you, we will tell you,” Gomulka said.

Rehoboth. A religious charity association. Of course the word had some biblical associations. One of them was the well dug by Isaac. Gomulka knew that it was often used as a name for Calvinist schools. Not that there were that many in Eiffelland, but he knew it from stories about Sarmatia [2]. And now it was used for a Dominican Catholic organisation that had received 1 million Marks from Weizenburg Spedition. Von Weizenburg had said that it was used to buy somebody who had been kidnapped in Solaren free. Gomulka did not believe that, but considered it wise to verify the story. He also ordered to check the money currents from the bank account of Rehoboth. And of course he still kept a team on the extremist leftwing groups. You could never know if they would become active again after some assaults claimed by a group calling itself extremist leftwing.


Trier-Schöneberg, Eiffelland

“I must say that I like it more with you than with Sepp,” Birgit said to Karstens. “He hasn’t come home for a week now anyway. He says that he has to work 24 hours a day at his current case.”
“Well, if you like it more with me than with Sepp, then why don’t you move in with me? I have plenty of room for you and the kids,” Karstens said.
“I like that idea, but first the school year has to end. We can’t let the children switch the school so shortly before the end of the school year,” Birgit said.
“I understand. Maybe it would be good to let your children get used to their new father?” Karstens asked.
“That could be an idea. Next week Tuesday?” Birgit asked.
“OK,” Karstens said. “Now let’s proceed to more important things.” And he gave Birgit a passionate kiss while starting to undress her.


1 June 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

Christoph had told his father that he would go on a trip from school organised by his history teacher. His father was a bit surprised that something like that would be organised during the Ascension Day holidays, but agreed with it that Christoph would be gone for 4 days.
Christoph skipped the mountaineering lesson and went to the Central Station of Trier to meet with Bastian there. Not having to go on an Ascension Day trip with among others his cousin Reinhold and Uwe Wehnert made him happy. Going to the beach on a sunny day with temperatures around 30 centigrades and weather forecasts indicating that it would stay that way at least until the beginning of next week made him even happier. He had already SMSed to Bastian that he would take care of the train tickets. Tickets for the air‑conditioned high‑speed train that adolescents usually could not afford. The train to Bad Hersfeld would leave at half past eight and would arrive in Bad Hersfeld 1.5 hours later.

After the train had left the outskirts of Trier, it accelerated to its top speed while the sun was setting over the forests surrounding Trier. Christoph said to Bastian that he had to go to the toilet. When he returned, he seated himself next to Bastian again and wrapped his arm around Bastian’s shoulders. Bastian wrapped his arm around Christoph’s shoulder and asked: “What about Sabine?”
“I broke up with her last Monday,” Christoph said.
“And what about your family?” Bastian asked.
Christoph put an earphone of his MP3-player into Bastian’s ear. The song Bastian had chosen was Fütter deine Angst by the Eiffellandian duo Rosenstolz.

Geh lieber durch die Wand
als immer durch die Tür
durchbreche den Verstand
dann findest Du zu Dir

Fütter Deine Angst
denn sie wird niemals satt
verschwende Deine Wut
Dein Leben schreit danach
Balsam für die Seele
ist die Ruhe für den Sturm
erliege der Versuchung
denn sie gibt Dir Kraft
Fütter Deine Angst
Fütter Deine Angst

“Whow, du hast was vor,” Bastian said.
Stimmt,” Christoph replied while looking at Bastian and smiling.

After the song had ended, Christoph started to talk.
“I want to test how long I can hide it for my family, but I need to take some precautions. I want to ask you to help me with that. My sister attends our school as well, so we can’t appear as a couple there. Both my father and my sister are members of my mountaineering club, so we can’t appear as a couple there, either. But it should be possible to go out in the gay scene without them noticing.”
“Let’s try it out,” Bastian said. He was glad that he had only told to Ludwig and Sebastiano that he was in love with Christoph. They would always be discrete.


OOC 1: [1] The Gymnasium is a type of secondary school that educates for university. At age 12, the pupils are selected out for each type of secondary school. The brightest ones go to the Gymnasium, the less bright ones to the Realschule and the least bright ones to the Hauptschule. Indeed, the RL German system, although the Germans already select at age 10.

OOC 2: [2] Sarmatia, if the thing about Calvinist schools in Sarmatia is wrong, please give me a note and I’ll adapt it.

OOC 3: I already mentioned it in the text, but for the sake of completeness: The songtext is from the song Fütter deine Angst by Rosenstolz (CD Zucker (1999)). I only cited the chorus. Herewith the translation:

Rather go through the wall than always through the door.
Break through reason, then you’ll find yourself.

Feed your fear,
Because it never has enough.
Spill your anger,
Your life screams for it.
Balsam for your mind
is the calm before the storm.
Succumb to the temptation,
Because it will give you power.
Feed your fear.
Feed your fear.

OOC 4: Other translations:
Du hast was vor = You have some plans.
Stimmt = That’s correct.
 

Rheinbund

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Messages
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Location
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Fehrbellin
3 June 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

“We checked Rehoboth, Mr. Gomulka,” Karin Merkelbach said through the phone. “Von Weizenburg’s 1 million Marks came in, and were sent to various bank accounts outside Eiffelland. All those bank accounts are in your mailbox now.”
“Thank you Mrs. Merkelbach,” Gomulka said. “Do you have any indications for fiscal fraud?”
“No, not really,” Merkelbach said. “The gift to Rehoboth was carried out correctly on both sides. It is up to you to find out if that white money suddenly became black money.”
“Indeed, that is always the most difficult part. But you helped us a lot further.”

Gomulka found the list of bank accounts in his mailbox, and forwarded them to his computer specialists Strauss and Krämer. Then he phoned them to ask them to hack those bank accounts. Meanwhile, started to do some investigations on Rehoboth.

“This is gonna be nice. Hacking about 1000 bank accounts to find out where those 1 million Marks went to. Happy Ascension Holidays, Krämer,” Strauss said jovially.
“Thanks, you too,” Krämer said while lighting a cigarette.
The office of these two men was the only place in the Staatsschutz headquarters where the usual smoking ban had not been pushed through, apart from the smoking rooms. Both men worked on a normally lethal cocktail of nicotine and cafeine. They had their own coffee machine in their office. Strauss started the programs needed to hack the bank accounts and then wheeled to the coffee machine to check the stocks of coffee, coffeefilters and cigarettes.
“How late is it? Ah, Berger is still in the office,” he said. Then he took his telephone.

“Hi Strauss,” a female voice said through the telephone horn.
“Hello Berger. How are you?” Strauss asked.
“I’m fine. And you?” the female voice asked.
“I’m fine, too. Hey, could you bring 10 packages of coffee and 10 cartons of Davidoff Black? We have a big and important job to do this weekend,” Strauss asked.
“That much? The two of you are gonna kill yourself once,” Berger said.
“But we can’t think without it,” Strauss said with a pseudo-pitiful tone in his voice. “Please?”
“Well, OK, I’ll do it,” Berger said.

Half an hour later, Berger came to bring the coffee and cigarettes. “I don’t want to know how this room will smell next Monday, but I’m afraid I will know. Do you promise me to at least order some healthy food? For instance fruit and vegetables?” she asked.
“No worries, Berger, I will do so,” Strauss said.

“I think Berger likes you,” Krämer said. “Why don’t you ask her out once we’re done with this job?”
“Come on, Krämer, what would she see in a computer nerd in a wheelchair?” Strauss replied.
“Well, you’re the master hacker here, and you still outspeed Gomulka in that wheelchair of yours. Don’t talk yourself down too much. Just buy a bunch of flowers for her, women seem to like that. That also works with my girlfriend,” Krämer said.


6 June 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

“My goodness, it smells like the breath of the devil in here, but then literally,” Gomulka said while entering Strauss’s and Krämer’s office. “Well, what have you got for me?”
“An enormous heap of anonymous bank accounts spread over Europe. In the end 200,000 Marks ended on an anonymous bank account in Danzig that probably belongs to an arms dealer. Because from there, the money flows to arms manufacturers. At this moment mainly manufacturers of bombs, but also of guns,” Strauss said.
“O-K. So we can assume that money from Rehoboth was used for buying bombs and weapons,” Gomulka said.
“Indeed,” Krämer said.
“Write it down in a nice file. This is not enough for an arrestment, but enough for special investigational methods. I’m going to ask for a bugging permission,” Gomulka said.


7 June 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland

Because of the impact of Gomulka’s current operation, his wife and children had got Staatsschutz protection. But not from the Staatsschutz person they knew. Whereever they went, there was a Staatsschutz agent in the neighbourhood. Because of that, it became known to the Staatsschutz that Karstens had an affair with Gomulka’s wife. It was decided not to tell Gomulka, but Karsten’s superior Vetter decided to invite him to his office.

“Karstens, you know that Gomulka is currently investigating the NRBA-assaults,” Vetter said. “Because of that, his wife and children are under our surveillance. So we managed to find out that you are behaving in a very disloyal way... We uncovered your affair with Gomulka’s wife.”
Karstens remained silent.
“At this moment, Gomulka is working 24 hours per day on this case. He can’t go home, and you are taking advantage of that situation. And you’re doing that to your colleague. You’re an asshole,” Vetter said.
Karstens remained silent.
“You are going to end this affair, Karstens. If not, you will get a very hard time here. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I do,” Karstens said. But he didn’t intend to end the affair with Gomulka’s wife. He didn’t care about Vetter’s threat. Why should he? By the end of the year, Ziesche would reside in Schloss Bellevue instead of Von Seydewitz. And then Karstens would be in charge instead of Vetter. Maybe even instead of Farnbach.


9 June 2011
Trier, Eiffelland
2 a.m.

“How the hell did they get here?”
“I really don’t know, Sir. I’m as baffled as you are. But what frightens me more, is that you can’t see from the outside that they have been here. They must have had help from some people of the railroad police. And I really don’t like the idea of my organisation having been infiltrated.”
“To be honest, you can never rule that out. But indeed, that thought is frightening,” Gomulka said.

Shortly afterwards, a huge bomb that would have destroyed the building of the Ostbahnhof was removed. Everybody was relieved that it had been discovered after the train and S-bahn services had ended. Nobody was in the station and the services did not need to be interrupted. So this bomb could be removed without publicity.


11 June 2011
Trier, Eiffelland
2 a.m.

The police had got a tip from the Staatsschutz about an assault on a gay bar by a group of GEL-members, so a group of policemen were in the neighbourhood when suddenly ten skinheads rushed into the bar and started to beat up the people inside. Some of the officers were sitting in the bar when it happened, the others ran into the bar from the outside with their guns in their hands.

Polizei!! Alle auf den Boden!! Jetzt!!

Everybody went down on the floor, except one skinhead, who held one of his victims in front of him as a human shield, with a knife on his throat.

“Let us go, or this fag becomes history. Put your guns down,” he said to the police officers. Then he was hit in his neck, so that he lost consciousness.

“Do you really think we are that stupid?” a woman that appeared to be a police officer in civil said.

The skinheads were arrested.


14 June 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

Joachim Freiherr von Weizenburg was not a fool. First the bombings that had been prevented, then the check of his firm and Rehoboth by the financial authorities, and now the bomb in railway station Trier‑Ostbahnhof that had not detonated. One way or the other, the authorities knew what he was doing, probably because his organisation had been inlfiltrated. But who was the spy?
In any case, it was time to take precautions. If he would be discovered prematurely, he would need to leave the country, and then he would need lots of money. Money that was currently in his company. If things would go according to plan, he would not have the time to run his company any more.
Two months ago, a group of firms from the seaport of Lübeck had shown interest in buying his company. Von Weizenburg still had that offer under consideration, but now he decided to ask those companies if they were still interested.


16 June 2011
Weissenfels, Eiffelland
2 a.m.

“Yet another bomb. Under the historic bridge over the Rhine this time. Will this ever stop?”
“We have to know who they are. For the time being, we need to do it with the information about where the bombings will take place. We don’t have anything more. Now let’s get this bomb dismantled.”

But Gomulka did have something more: Faces. He had got permission to bug Von Weizenburg’s house and office, not only with microphones but with cameras as well. He and his team knew almost everything about the Von Weizenburg family, including the name of Hilde’s new boyfriend. Christoph was surveyed as well, so his romance with Bastian was also known. And of course the baron’s love affair was known as well. Among others. Gomulka and his team were collecting more and more information to get Von Weizenburg behind bars. But it would take some more time to get the story complete.


17 June 2011
Weissenfels, Eiffelland

“There is a letter from the NRBA again. They demand the release of the last alive ex-members of the RBA before 1 July, otherwise the country would be struck with disaster. How far are you with your investigations, Gomulka,” Minister for Internal Affairs Neubauer asked.
“We are proceeding. I don’t know if we are ready before 1 July, but we already know what they have on the role in the first two weeks of July. One thing will be handled by us, but the other thing will have to be handled by the Königlicher Garde. That’s why it was needed that Oberst Barnim would attend as well,” Gomulka told.

The minister and the Colonel were frightened.

“Who is the target?” the Colonel asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Gomulka said. “I only know that it will happen here in Trier. Meanwhile, I also know the code name for the whole project: Operation Eagle. But the kidnapping of the member of the Royal Family has got a different code name: Operation Flamingo. By the way, Herr Oberst, I have to inform you that your organisation has been infiltrated. The kidnapping will be carried out by the victim’s own guards.”

The Colonel was stunned.

“How bad is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Gomulka asked. “First of all, Prince Sebastiano is safe. They know that the complete Talemantine secret service will show up here if he is harmed. I advice you to do the following. Consider everybody wanting to change his shift in the first two weeks of July to be suspect. If many people suddenly change their shift to one day and explicitly ask to guard one specific person, you can be sure that that will be the day. Make sure that a second team is watching the victim. A team of people you can surely trust.”
“I will personnally be a member of the second team,” the Colonel said with a grim tone in his voice. “I want to personnally fry the traitors alive.”


18 June 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

“When will Von Seydewitz finally take action? How many more bombs are needed before something happens? The NRBA has this country in its claws and Von Seydewitz does nothing. One more year under Von Seydewitz and Eiffelland will be a second Carentania. Yesterday it became known that again two assaults had been setup by the NRBA. Fortunately the bombs did not detonate, but still Von Seydewitz is doing nothing. Still the culprits are walking around. They even sent a threat again,” Ziesche sounded through the speakers of the television in Von Seydewitz’s office.

“Well, what do you think?” Von Seydewitz asked.
“The NRBA is listening as well. We can’t respond to this. But you can count on one thing. Ziesche is involved,” Minister for Internal Affairs Neubauer said.
“Do you think that this is a plan from the extremist rightwingers?” Vice-Chancellor Kögler asked.
“Yes, I do,” Neubauer said. “The plan is simple. They aim to destabilise the country with these assaults. And they do so under the flag of leftwing extremism. We will have a hard time to explain that the assaults came from the extremist rightwingers instead. In that sense, Farnbach is right. We need to have very good evidence before we put Von Weizenburg behind bars. We can’t do anything else than what we do. But then we can hit Ziesche back in a delicious way.”
 

Rheinbund

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Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
2 July 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

The school year was over. Christoph had been moved up with good notes. Yesterday he got his report. The summer holidays had begun.

Christoph’s father was abroad, and Hilde was in town and would stay away for at least the whole afternoon. Christoph had the house for himself on an extremely hot Saturday afternoon. A house with a swimming pool in the garden. An ideal setting for two young people who are in love with each other. So he had invited Bastian to come over.

While they were drinking rosé and playing around in the swimming pool, the door bell rang.

Mist,” Christoph said. He climbed out of the swimming pool.
“It will probably be a Jehova’s Witness. Just let him stay out,” Bastian said.
“You never can tell, maybe it’s the mailman or a courier. I need to go there,” Christoph said while putting on a bath robe. “Be a good boy. I’ll be back in a minute,” Christoph said while bending over to give Bastian a kiss.

When he opened the front door, he saw Sabine. She was crying.
“Christoph, can’t we try again?” she asked.
“No. Sorry Sabine, but I told you, it doesn’t work any more between you and me, at least not from my side. I’m not in love any more,” Christoph said.
“But why so suddenly? It was over from one moment to the other. I don’t get it.”
“Believe me, it didn’t work out for me for a longer time than that. I couldn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want to hurt you, but in fact I was acting at least during the last month of our relationship. I broke up when I couldn’t act any more.”
“But why? What is it that it didn’t work out any more? You broke up, but I don’t understand why. What did I do wrong? I want you back. Tell me, what did I do wrong so that I can do it right next time?”

Bastian was wondering why it took so long at the front door, so he climbed out of the swimming pool and walked to the front door. He was there right on time to see how Sabine wrapped herself around Christoph, pushed him inside and kicked the door shut. Christoph pushed her back and yelled: “Get your hands off of me, God damn it!”
Sabine fell against the front door. Then she saw Bastian in swimming pants and started to suspect something. Christoph grabbed her by the upper arm, pulled her away from the front door, opened the door, pushed Sabine outside and screamed: “Stay away from me! It’s over!” Then he slammed the door shut.

OK. That was clear. She had seen Bastian for the first time during that open mountaineering lesson six weeks ago. The way Bastian looked at Christoph didn’t leave much room for interpretation. Would they suddenly have a relationship?

Hardly aware of what she was doing, Sabine started to walk around the houses and ended at the back side of the garden of Von Weizenburg’s house. There she climbed a tree to watch the two guys. She noted that they were taking pictures of each other with their smartphones while they were naked. Well, she thought, if they are taking pictures of each other, why can’t I take pictures of them as well? She took her smartphone and started to take pictures. She continued with that while the two guys were making love. Christoph would have to come out of the closet once. Sabine would be delighted to help him with that.


6 July 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

The mountaineering lesson would soon begin. Christoph, his father and his sister were a bit late for it. Because of that, they missed Sabine spreading pieces of paper with a picture of Christoph and Bastian kissing each other passionately. The people of Christoph’s and Sabine’s age enjoyed the new gossip enormously. The older people didn’t know what to think of this scene.

Christoph had noticed his father’s sudden strange behaviour towards him. This morning, nothing was the matter, but now his father was very short to him. Because of that, he became insecure himself. Would his father have discovered about his spying? Or about Bastian? But why didn’t he say anything then?

Mist,” Christoph said after his shoelace snapped. He was in the changing room with his father. Both were changing their outfits.
“What is it?” his father asked.
“My shoelace snapped. I have to fix it.”
“Well, I’ll go to the lesson and tell that you’ll be a bit later.”
“OK.”

When the Freiherr von Weizenburg came out of the changing room, he noticed the unusual fun the young people were making. Then he heard Sabine saying: “Well, now you know why Christoph left me.” She was standing with her back to Von Weizenburg, but he saw that she was holding papers in her hand. He walked to her and grabbed one of the papers. Sabine frightened up and turned around. Von Weizenburg looked at the paper, and then at Sabine with a look in his eyes as if he wanted to kill her on the spot. Then he left the lesson.

Christoph’s sister Hilde had missed these events. When she came out of the changing room, her father had already left. When she noticed that everybody was looking at her, she asked what was going on.
Somebody said: “Well, your brother is gay, and your father didn’t like it when he found out.”
“What? But how did he find out? And how did you find out? Christoph didn’t even tell me,” Hilde said. Somebody gave her a picture.
“My God, is it him?” Hilde said when she recognised the other guy. “I always thought they were just friends.”

Also Christoph had missed the events completely. When he wanted to come out of the changing room, he met his father who came in and said that he had got a telephone call and had to leave. “Enjoy the lesson,” he said while changing his clothes. Christoph went out.

When he joined the group for the lesson, he noticed that everybody was looking at him, including his sister. “What’s the matter?” he asked sharply. Then he saw Sabine, still holding some papers in her hand. He walked to her, took a paper out of her hand, looked at it and became pale. He realised very well that this was the reason why his father had left the lesson. And he also realised what was going to await him when he returned home. “What for Christ’s sake did you do?” he screamed at Sabine. Then he ran back to the changing room.
Also Hilde went to the changing room. “Sorry, but now my place it at home I’m afraid. Trying to calm both down,” she said.

Von Weizenburg did not drive home, but to a small village outside Trier. While doing so, he called Ernst Lanzer, one of his employees, and told that their appointment would be two hours earlier, and at Lanzer’s instead of Von Weizenburg’s place.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Von Weizenburg?” Lanzer asked after he had offered a drink. Von Weizenburg showed him one of the pictures with his son and Bastian Holzbrenner he had got over the paper mail that morning.
“I don’t think I need to explain what happens on this picture. I want you to find the guy that seduced Christoph. And kill him. His name is Bastian Holzbrenner, and he lives in Trier-Prenzlauer Berg. Here is the adress,” Von Weizenburg said. Earlier that day, he had ordered Karstens to find the adress.

When Hilde came home, she found the house empty. She decided to stay awake until the others would come.

Christoph had called Bastian to tell him that his father had found out. They agreed to meet each other in Café Savigny. The sun had just set after a steamy hot day, so the terrace over there would form an ideal athmosphere. When they saw each other, they immediately embraced each other.
“What did your father say?” Bastian asked.
“He hasn’t said anything about it yet, but I expect the worst. Sabine took pictures from us last weekend and spread them at the mountaineering club,” Christoph said.
“That is what you call outing someone,” Bastian said.

Christoph and Bastian talked with each other until shortly before Café Savigny would close. One of the last songs played was Je sais pas by Celine Dion.

j'sais prendre un coup, le rendre aussi
River des clous, ça j'ai appris
j'suis pas victime, j'suis pas colombe
Et pour qu'on m'abime,faut que je tombe
Je sais les hivers, je sais le froid
Mais la vie sans toi, je sais pas

At the drawing-out of the saxophone, Christoph started to cry.
“Hey. Come on. You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll stay together for ever,” Bastian said while referring to the songtext and taking Christoph in his arms.
“I don’t dare to go home,” Christoph sniffed after a few moments.
“Why don’t you spend the night at my place? My parents are on holiday anyway,” Bastian asked.
“I’d love to,” Christoph said. Despite Bastian’s comforting words, he realised very well that it could be the last time they would see each other, because he was sure that his father would ground him. And maybe send him to a private school abroad, like he had proposed once. And then it would be wise to let that last time last as long as possible.


7 July 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland
5 a.m.

A handy rang.

It rang another time.

Gomulka woke up and answered the call.

“Gomulka.”
“...”
“You got them?”
“...”
“Alive?”
“...”
“Congratulations. Good work. And like I told at the briefing, try to keep the press out of it. We’ll organise a press conference as soon as we have them all.”
“...”
“OK. Goodbye.”

That was target number one: A valley bridge in the A16 between Weissenfels and Lübeck. This was an important motorway, because it connected large parts of Sauerland and Niedereiffel with Eiffelland’s largest seaport. And a valley bridge was not something that could be rebuilt rapidly. The NRBA, or better said the clique around the Freiherr von Weizenburg, had chosen this target very carefully.

The handy rang another time.

“Gomulka.”
“...”
“Ah, you got the boat. Good work. You all have taken up your positions?”
“...”
“Good. Goodby and good luck.”

That was target number two: A radiographicly steered boat. Gomulka’s team had found it. It was planned to collide with the rail bridge in Köln the next morning as soon as the fast train from Starnberg would ride over it. But now the people that would loosen the mooring-ropes of that boat would be arrested, and the people that would steer the boat from a distance would be traced and arrested as well.

The handy rang another time.

“Gomulka.”
“...”
“Ah, you got the launching installation and the people installing it. Good work. Did you arrest them?”
“...”
“Alive?”
“...”
“Well, apparently, that could not be prevented. See that the ones who are still alive are admitted to hospital, and make sure they can’t flee or be kidnapped from there. How are you and your men?”
“...”
“OK. Thanks. Goodbye.”

That was target number three: The airport Trier-Schönefeld. One of the first planes to take off from there would be shot down with a small missile. But now it would not.

The morning of 7 July 2011 was planned to become a black day in Eiffelland’s history. In total, the NRBA had planned to conduct 10 large assaults on that day that would cause large damage to the country because crucial traffic points were targeted, or cause an enormous amount of casualties, or do both. All of these assaults were prevented, all people involved were caught, except one who was killed, and all explosives were taken care of by the army. The morning of 7 July 2011 would end as a victory for Gomulka. Although he was wise enough to assume that he had only won an important battle and not yet the war. Everything would be kept secret until they were sure that they had the whole gang.

OOC: Songtext taken from: Celine Dion – Je sais pas
CD D’eux (1995).

Translation:
I can take a beating, and give one back.
Putting someone to silence, I know how to do.
I’m not a victim, I’m not a softie.
And you can’t beat me up before I fall.
I know about winters, I know about cold.
But living without you, I don’t know how to do.
 

Rheinbund

Established Nation
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
11,806
Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
7 July 2011
Trier, Eiffelland
3 a.m.

An ambulance helicopter flew from the quarter Prenzlauer Berg to the Charité, one of Trier’s university hospitals. The patient it carried was Bastian Holzbrenner, severely injured, although it was not known precisely what the injuries were. Meanwhile, the Kollwitzplatz in Prenzlauer Berg bathed in the blue flashlights of three police cars. All people living in the apartments at the same stairs as the one of Bastian’s parents were awake. They were interrogated by the police.

When Kommissar Schröder from the Staatsschutz arrived, he walked to the first police officer he saw.

“Good evening. Staatsschutz Kommissar Schröder,” he said while showing his Staatsschutz card. “Could you please show me to the man or woman in charge?”
“The Staatsschutz here? For a bashed up teenager?” the officer asked.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wouldn’t have a reason, but you know that I can’t tell,” Schröder said.
“Well, OK, I’ll lead you to Kriminalkommissar Heidemann,” the officer said. And so he did. Schröder and Heidemann introduced themselves to each other, and then Schröder started to ask.

“Do you already know what happened?” he asked.
“Globally, yes. To sum it up, four guys broke into the apartment of the Holzbrenner family and started to bash up the oldest son of the Holzbrenners, Bastian. Then a fifth guy started to scream hystericly at the stairs and pressing all doorbells, waking up all the people living there. One man ran into the Holzbrenner apartment and saw the four people still kicking the victim. When he tried to stop them, they ran out of the apartment and took the fifth guy, so Bastian’s guest, with them. So we have a clear case of burglary, disturbance of domestic peace, severe maltreatment and kidnapping,” Heidemann said.
“Where are the parents of the victim?” Schröder asked.
“They are currently on holiday in Talemantros, with the youngest son. We are currently trying to contact them,” Heidemann said.
“OK. Where is Bastian taken to? I’m going to arrange protection for him,” Schröder said.
“I’m getting curious about your interest for this guy. Anyway, he is taken to the Charité,” Heidemann said.
“Can I talk to the people living here as well? Maybe I know the fifth guy,” Schröder said.
“Of course. I will introduce you,” Heidemann said.

Schröder showed a picture of Christoph to the people living at the same stairs as the Holzbrenners, and got the confirmation that it was him who had woken up all people. He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but he realised that Christoph’s father had discovered that Christoph and Bastian had a relationship, and that Bastian had been beaten up because of that. And maybe Christoph’s father had discovered even more. Poor boy, Schröder thought.

Schröder arranged protection for Bastian and then started to talk with Heidemann.

“Well, Mr. Heidemann, I am not here for nothing. I can’t say much yet. I am sorry for that. I can tell this. The kidnapped guy was Bastian’s boyfriend. And one of our informants about the extremist rightwing scene. This whole event was an act of revenge,” Schröder said.
“But then we have to inform the parents of the kidnapped guy as well,” Heidemann said.
“Please leave that to us. Try to find the culprits. You know where to look. Call me if you need more information on the extremist rightwing scene. Here is my card. If you give me yours, I can tip you as well,” Schröder said.


Trier – Charlottenburg, Eiffelland
3.30 a.m.

The Staatsschutz agent noticed that an Audi stopped in front of the building where Gomulka lived. He also knew who the owner of the Audi was: The man stepping out of it. It was Jens Karstens, apparently visiting Gomulka’s wife again. The agent took his handy to report the incident.

“Hello Schneider,” the agent heard.
“Hello Schmitz,” he answered. “How are things going?”
“Good. And for you?”
“Like always. I can’t complain. You knew about Karstens’s affair with Gomulka’s wife, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I know about it.”
“And you also knew that he continued it despite the fact that Vetter ordered him to stop it?”
“Yes. Hopefully we don’t have too many sneaks like that in the Staatsschutz.”
“He just visited her.”
“At this time?”
“At this time. What? He’s back. Together with Gomulka’s wife and two sons. And a set of suitcases. I need to check this out.”

Schneider broke the connection and got out of his car.

Halt. Staatsschutz,” he shouted.
“That’s funny.” Karstens said while taking his Staatsschutz badge and showing it to Schneider. “Karstens, Leitender Staatsschutzdirektor. I am accompanying Gomulka’s wife and children to a safer place.”
“I would have been informed if that would happen. What’s going on?” Schneider asked.
“I’m sorry but we don’t have the time for formalities now. This is a matter of life and death, and a matter of minutes or even seconds,” Karstens said while opening his car and letting Gomulka’s wife and children in. “Sorry, but we have to go now.”
Schneider grabbed his gun and said: “Nobody is going anywhere until I have checked this with the headquarters.”
At that moment, the window in the front door of the apartment block burst. The bullet going through it hit Schneider in the head.
“Good shot, Patke,” Karstens said to the man coming out of the door. “Help me with the suitcases, and then let’s go.”

Schmitz was so keen to send the police to Gomulka’s house. When they arrived, they only found Schneider’s body.

“I must say it’s a strange night,” Kriminalkommissar Müller said to Staatsschutzkommissar Müller. “An 18 year old boy was beaten up at home and now also this. And in both cases the Staatsschutz is involved.”
“I know it is strange. You said that the apartment is empty?” Müller asked.
“The furniture is still there, but the people are gone. Mrs. Gomulka, her children, even the man who had to guard her according to you is gone.”
“Are there any blood stains?”
“No, not a single one. No signs that there had been a fight whatsoever. Mrs. Gomulka and the children were taken away under your guard’s nose.”
“And the guard is gone as well,” Müller said. He called the headquarters and asked them to contact the guard and get the details of Karstens’s car. One minute later, he was phoned back.

“Müller.”
“Schmitz here. We can’t reach Patke and we don’t know where he is. He probably took the battery out of his handy. Same to Karstens. We are currently issuing a search warrant for Karstens’s house. I sent the details of Karstens’s car to the police. They are looking for it.”
“Good. Thank you.”


10 km from Seppenrade, Eiffelland
5 a.m.

A VW Golf drove towards the gate of an old country house. The gate opened, and the car drove further. The sky was becoming light in the east, indicating that the sun would rise in half an hour. Christoph felt and heard that the car drove on a country road, but he could not see where he was. His hands were tied and his eyes were covered. Suddenly the car halted. Christoph’s eyes were uncovered and his hands were made free. “We are at the destination, you fag, get out,” somebody said to him. He shoved to one of the doors, climbed out of the car and looked around. He didn’t recognise the house at all. It was badly kept. The plastering showed clefts, and the window-frames were rotten. The front garden was a dusty mess. Christoph realised that they were on a place that used to be an enormous piece of land in the possession of a local nobleman that used the land for agricultural purposes. Eiffelland used to have more of such lands, but only a few of them had survived the time. During the 20th century, many of these noblemen started to lease the lands to farmers, or even sold their lands for whichever reasons.

“Good morning everyone,” Christoph heard his father saying.
“Good morning Mr. Von Weizenburg. I present to you your son. He was with Bastian Holzbrenner when we broke in there,” Ernst Lanzer said.
“Thank you Lanzer. Did you finish the other job as well?” Von Weizenburg asked.
“I don’t know. We didn’t have the time to do it thoroughly, because your son woke up the whole building with his screaming. We were discovered by the neighbours,” Lanzer said.
“What?! Did you order this?!” Christoph screamed with a hoarse voice.
“Silence. I will talk to you later,” Von Weizenburg said coldly. Then he continued to Lanzer: “Take him upstairs and lock him up in that room on the second floor. I have some other guests to receive.”


Airport Lüneburg, Eiffelland
10 a.m.

A traffic warden at the parking space of the airport walked his usual round. He had been ordered to look for a black Audi A6 and a dark blue Audi A8, both with Trierer licence plates. He did so while doing his normal checks. At a certain moment, he found the A6 and notified his superior.


Airport Heilbronn, Eiffelland
10 a.m.

Another traffic warden patrolled at the airport of Heilbronn. Also he had been asked to look for those cars. He found the A8.


Staatsschutz headquarters, Trier, Eiffelland
2 p.m.

“So Karsten’s car was found at the airport of Lüneburg, and Von Weizenburg’s car at the airport of Heilbronn. But nobody saw them inside, and they were not seen on the cameras. So they must have taken some other kind of transport from there. One of the pendling buses?” Gomulka asked.
“We asked the drivers out. They haven’t seen them, either. I think they took another car from there. It is quite simple. You can park a car there for a long period without anyone noticing it. So well in advance you park your car there and when needed you pick it up,” Schröder said.
“So now they can be everywhere. And Karstens took my wife and children,” Gomulka said. Each move he made, and the way he talked, made clear that he was furious. “No matter how this ends, I’ll go after Karstens and Patke after this and make sure that they will remember me.”

At that moment, a telephone rang.

“Gomulka.”
“Hello Gomulka. Tischler hier. I have a phonecall for you.”
“Did you hear who it was?”
“No, the man did not want to tell who he was.”
“OK. Send him through,” Gomulka said while turning the speaker of the phone on.
“Gomulka.”
“Good afternoon. Joachim Freiherr Von Weizenburg here. I’ll keep it brief. I have your wife and children. Tomorrow at dawn, that means 5:32, we meet each other on the parking Grefrath at the A12 Trier-Marburg. Then I’ll tell you my demands. Come alone. If my demands are not met, or you are not alone, or something happens to me, your wife and children will be shot.”
 

Rheinbund

Established Nation
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
11,806
Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
7 July 2011
10 km from Seppenrade, Eiffelland
6.30 a.m.

The sun had risen above Eiffelland, announcing another beautiful and extremely hot day. Also above the decripit mansion that Von Weizenburg had chosen as his temporary base. The gates of the mansion opened when Karstens approached them in the VW Golf that had been parked at the Lüneburger airport and would function as their escape car. The change of cars was something Birgit Gomulka wondered about, but she had accepted Karstens’s explanation. But when she saw the mansion, she started to wonder again. Why would the Staatsschutz use such old and decripit buildings as safe houses?

“Good morning Karstens,” Von Weizenburg said after everybody had got out of the car.
“Is this the ‘safe house’?” Gomulka’s older son asked ironicly. From the beginning, he had not trusted Karstens. He had repeatedly told that to his mother, but she had continuously waved his objections away. And in the end, she had obliged him to act nicely against Karstens. He was a 10 year old boy. What else could he do?
“Well at least you will keep us safe. From arrestment by your father,” Karstens said, knowing that now he could reveal his real role.
“Eh, what? What do you mean?” Birgit Gomulka said.
“That you have been kidnapped. You for our safe journey out of the country,” Karstens said.
“What?! I trusted you... You... You... Who are you really?” Birgit screamed.
“Part of the group your husband is chasing at,” Karstens said. “Indeed, I lied to you, but for the greater good of the country.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are cleansing this country from the moral decay that undermines it. We will give Eiffelland back to the Eiffellandians and bring back the old values that made this country strong,” Von Weizenburg said.
“Believe me, Darling, I enjoyed each and every moment with you, but now I have to deal with more important matters,” Karstens said.
“Lock them up in that same room at the second floor as where my son is,” Von Weizenburg said to Lanzer.
“Your son is here as well?” Karstens asked puzzled.
“That’s a long story,” Von Weizenburg said. “I found out that he was involved in a homosexual affair. The influence of Prince Ludwig I’m afraid. Clearly an indication that something must happen in this country. I have to take him away from here. Away from the bad influence he is exposed to. I’ll put him on a boarding school in Wendmark.”
“What about the guy he had that affair with?” Karstens asked.
“He has been taken care of. Sufficiently I hope. Our people were disturbed,” Von Weizenburg said.


Barracks of the Königlicher Garde
Trier, Eiffelland
1 p.m.

A group of people had gathered together in a meeting room. The door was locked. The group consisted of 20 soldiers of the Königlicher Garde. The person highest in rank was lieutenant Paul Ullmann. One other man was a sergeant, all others were soldiers.
“Prince Ludwig is ill and has cancelled all appointments for today. This means that he won’t go to the practicing studio this evening,” Ullmann said. “But more important, the bombs didn’t detonate.”
The other people remained silent.
“In any case, the kidnapping planned for today cannot take place. We won’t get the Prince out of the palace,” Ullmann continued.
Everybody agreed. But the sergeant asked: “What about a later time?”
“We’ll need to set it up again in that case, but there is a more fundamental problem. Like I said, the bombs didn’t detonate. I think there is a problem,” Ullmann said.
“What do you think of?” the sergeant asked.
“Maybe the whole group has been arrested. If that is the case and we kidnap the Prince, we won’t have a place to go to. We have to cancel the whole action,” Ullmann said.
“But what if everything is still on schedule and we blow up everything by not doing our part?” the sergeant asked.
“There is nothing going on schedule,” Ullmann said. “Von Weizenburg has been arrested, we won’t have a place to go. And there is a chance that people already know about our plans, and that the Prince’s illness is a dogde.”
“But how do they know our plans?” the sergeant asked.
“How should I know? In any case, we can’t continue for now. Maybe later if somebody comes up with a new plan, but not now.”
“Maybe we can enforce a good retreat if we kidnap the Prince.”
“We are in serious trouble if we do. Do you really think they’ll leave us alone? No, it’s better to cancel it all and see what they can prove against us.”
“So no action?”
“Indeed, no action. We leave the Prince alone,” Lieutenant Ullmann said.

“Like I told you, Herr Oberst, we discovered that all persons but one had changed their shifts so that they could work this evening and accompany Prince Ludwig. We informed the Prince and he cancelled all his appointments of today because of illness. The whole group that would accompany the Prince tonight gathered together today,” Oberleutnant Kessel said to Oberst Barnim.
“They’re probably discussing what to do. At least they realise that their plan for tonight can’t go on. Maybe they also realise that they have been discovered. In any case, they are discussing the situation,” Barnim said.
“What do you want me to do, Herr Oberst? Arrest them?” Kessel asked.
“To be honest, Kessel, I would love to rip their uniforms off of their bodies in public to make clear that they are not worthy to wear them. Unfortunately, we don’t have proof enough that they are the traitors. We only know that there are some foul elements in the force, but the only thing we know about the people in our focus is that they changed their shifts so that they would do the evening shift to guard Prince Ludwig together, and that they are currently in a meeting together. That combined is not punishable. It would have been different if we actually would capture them while attempting to kidnap the Prince, but it is imaginable that the Prince does not like to act as bait. And proposing that would be bad for the proposer’s career I’m afraid. But I have enough other options left to punish the traitors. Replacement for instance. There is a vacancy at the administration department. Normally it’s used as an incubation function for future higher officers, but not for the coming 35 years, because we will have Lieutenant Ullmann there, being incubated for the higher rank he will never get. Of course he will be kept away from the interesting and sensible tasks. I will have to think about the others. That is not easy. Sending them to the kitchen permanently could be an idea, but then they could poison the regiment. Making them responsible for the equipment is risky as well. But maybe I will order their superiors to become extremely picky at them so that they will be punished with extra fatigue duties over and over again,” Barnim said.


10 km from Seppenrade, Eiffelland
2.30 p.m.

No bomb had detonated. Von Weizenburg had been watching the news all morning. No bomb had detonated. It was not even mentioned that the assaults had been discovered. But even worse, the people committing the assaults had not reported themselves back to him. Von Weizenburg knew what this meant. His men had been discovered and arrested.
During his last visit to that strange man calling himself the descendant of King Lothar, he had told that the authorities probably knew about the existence of Von Weizenburg’s group. Von Weizenburg wanted to stop the operation so that he could spare his men for later, but that strange man wanted him to continue. And so he continued. But he had created himself a way out. A way out that he would leave open for Karstens, Patke, Lanzer and his three other minions. He demanded loyalty from his men, but gave that loyalty to his men as well. And he would take his son with him. Another problem he had to deal with.
The day before, he had received a set of colour pictures over the paper mail. Colour pictures that had been taken in his garden. Colour pictures of his son and that friend of his, Bastian Holzbrenner. Colour pictures that made very clear that they were lovers. Colour pictures that showed how they made love to each other. In Von Weizenburg’s garden. The picture of Christoph and Bastian he took out of Sabine’s hands did not reveal anything new for him. It only revealed who had sent the colour pictures, and apparently who had made them.

Von Weizenburg asked Lanzer to get his son from upstairs. Then he spread Sabine’s colour pictures over the desk in the room he was standing in. He would confront his son in the worst way he could think of. Lanzer came in with Christoph and left. Christoph immediately started to talk.
“What in Heaven’s name are you doing? Why are we here, in this ruin?” he asked. He could guess why his father was here. He knew everything about the assaults. He himself had told about them to the Staatsschutz, so the ones to be conducted today would probably have been prevented as well. And apparently his father considered it wise to go into hiding. But why did he take Christoph with him? And where was Hilde?
“I already told you about what is wrong in this country. I tried to reverse that process, but unfortunately that went wrong. I am forced to continue my struggle from abroad. I had already arranged that you and Hilde would stay with Uncle Gregor, but I had to revise that plan with regards to you,” Von Weizenburg said.
So originally Christoph’s father would have parked him and his sister with Gregor von Weizenburg, his uncle, his father’s brother, the father of his cousin Reinhold. Understandable. His mother’s family had broken with the Von Weizenburgs, so Uncle Gregor, Aunt Uschi and his cousins Reinhold and Helene were his only family. But now apparently his father had something else in mind for him.
“This is what I received over the paper mail yesterday,” Christoph’s father said while pointing at the photographs lying on the desk. Christoph already knew the black and white version of one of them. It was the one Sabine had spread at the mountaineering club. Was that really yesterday evening? Christoph had the feeling that it was months ago, so much had happened since then. Now it appeared that Sabine had not only photographed while he and Bastian were kissing, but also while they made love. This was not only an outing but an embarrassment as well.
“So Bastian had to die,” Christoph said.
“Indeed,” Von Weizenburg said. He took a pause, and then continued.
“I had to conclude that you fell prey to the moral decay omnipresent in Eiffelland, and to the bad influence of Prince Ludwig at your school. My only son, the son and heir of the Von Weizenburgs, has become a depraved homosexual. You disappoint me, and you’ve violated the trust I placed in you,” Von Weizenburg said.
“I didn’t ‘become’ gay because of the ‘bad influence’ of Prince Ludwig. I have been gay my whole life. It only took me until recently to understand that. I slept with more girls than my friends did. I slept with more girls than those brainless lunatics you wanted me to call my friends did. They all talked about it as if it were a trip to Heaven, but I only felt aversion. Even when I did it with Sabine. Only when I did it with Bastian did I experience that trip to Heaven. I didn’t ‘become’ gay. I have been gay my whole life,” Christoph said.
“The problem is not that you’re homosexual, the problem is that you do it with guys. I already told you about the task of a man. He has to ground a family. You can only do so if you make love to a woman. It doesn’t matter if you like that or not; you have to do it to fulfil your task as a man. Do you really think I allow you to make love with men? Apart from the abomination that homosexuality is, you are the son and heir. You ought to marry a woman and get children to continue the line. It is unacceptable if you don’t. And that is why Bastian had to die. Now you can’t long for him any more,” Von Weizenburg said.
“You’re a complete lunatic,” Christoph said. “And an old bore that is blind for the times he is living in.”
Von Weizenburg slapped his son in the face.
“Not only a disgrace to the family, but an insolent boy as well. But I’ll bring you back on the right track. I’ll put you on a boarding school in Wendmark, so that you are no longer under the bad influence of Prince Ludwig. And away from any other bad contacts you made in Trier. But first of all, I’ll force you to sleep with a girl every day as long as we are here,” Von Weizenburg said.
“Is this the man on whose back I rode horses when I was a little kid? Is this the man that taught me mountaineering and took me on mountaineering tours? Is this distorted maniac my father?” Christoph asked. “Thinking that I became gay because of Prince Ludwig. Forcing me to sleep with a girl so that I become straight. I already slept with more girls than all those fascist machos you collected here, and that only confirmed that I’m gay. But worst of all, you killed the guy I loved so that I can’t long for him any more. You’re a psychopath.”
Von Weizenburg slapped his son another time.
“And apparently the only answer you have is to slap me in the face,” Christoph said.
“For now we have nothing to say to each other,” Von Weizenburg said. “Lanzer!” he called. A few seconds later, Lanzer arrived.
“Yes,” Lanzer said.
“Bring my son back upstairs and lock him up,” Von Weizenburg said.


8 July 2011
Last parking before parking Grefrath
A12 Trier-Marburg, Eiffelland
5.00 a.m.

It was still dark, but it already became light in the East. Two cars arrived at the parking with their lights on.

“Are you sure, Gomulka?” Schröder asked.
“I have to do this alone. Otherwise I’ll loose my family,”Gomulka said.
“Well, good luck then,” Schröder said.
“Thank you,” Gomulka said.

Gomulka walked to his bordeaux-red A4, got in, started the engine and drove away. Schröder and two other Staatsschutz agents stayed behind in Schröder’s white FMW 118.
“What are we going to do?” one of the agents asked.
“We are going to wait. Gomulka is right. He has to do this alone,” Schröder said.
“But why did Von Weizenburg call personnally yesterday?” the other agent asked.
“I don’t know,” Schröder said. “But probably Gomulka will find out. By the way, I have an order for you. Could you place this camera near the road? We are going to check the licence plates of all the cars passing. And of course of all the cars stopping here at the parking.”
“Are we going to do that while we are here?”
“No. Too much special radio traffic then. Maybe they can detect that. We will check it afterwards. We can keep our handies on. They will certainly expect to get some handy traffic here.”

It was not really busy on the road at this time of the day, so not many cars passed by. But Schröder and his men knew that their man was in one of the cars they checked. At a certain moment, a grey VW Golf entered the parking, while another car passed by.
“These are our men,” Schröder said.
“So if it goes wrong at Grefrath, the hell will break loose here as well,” one of the agents said.
“Indeed,” Schröder said.

Twenty minutes later, the VW Golf drove away. Schröder’s handy rang. It was Gomulka.


Parking Grefrath
A12 Trier-Marburg, Eiffelland
5.30 a.m.

Gomulka was already waiting for a quarter of an hour when a blue VW Golf entered the parking. The man stepping out was Von Weizenburg. Gomulka recognised him from the pictures.
“So you must be Staatsschutzhauptkommissar Gomulka,” Von Weizenburg said jovially. Then he screamed: “Karstens, you can join us.”
Gomulka remained silent.
“Karstens checked for me whether you were alone. And you are. A wise decision,” Von Weizenburg said fatherly.
“Good morning, Gomulka. Now we meet in another setting,” Karstens said.
“You asked me to come here to listen to your demands. What are they?” Gomulka asked sharply.
“tuttuttut, Mr. Gomulka, not so sharp. And not directly to the point. Now that I have the opportunity to get to know the man who chases me so successfully, I want to use it,” Von Weizenburg said heartily.
“During the last months you neglected your family even more than you already did. I felt obliged to take care of it. Already six months ago,” Karstens said venomously. “Your wife is fantastic in bed. Did you neglect her because you forgot?”
“What are your demands?” Gomulka asked while getting extremely angry.
“Not so angry Mr. Gomulka. Look. We took your wife with us,” Von Weizenburg said as if he had brought a present while opening the door of his Golf. As far as she could with her hands and feet tied, Birgit Gomulka got out of the car.
“No, not yet, Mrs. Gomulka. Wait until we untied your hands and feet before you start to walk to your husband,” Von Weizenburg said fatherly to Birgit. Then he continued business-like to Gomulka: “My demands are as follows. My actions to steer Eiffelland back to normal ethic values failed because of you. Therefore, I will continue my life and my struggle abroad. I want a safe-conduct for ten persons, including your children, out of Eiffelland to Breotonia. I want to go there in a private plane. From there, I and my team will continue our journey under false names. While traveling to my final destination, I will set your children free in a city with an Eiffellandian embassy. You get three days to arrange everything. I will call you next Monday to check time and place of the plane taking us to Breotonia. If my demands are not met, or I am arrested, or one of my team members is arrested, your sons will be killed. Did you get that?”
“Yes, I did,” Mr. Gomulka.
“Very well. Now I will release your wife. Karstens, make Mrs. Gomulka’s hands and feet free so that she can walk normally to her husband,” Von Weizenburg said heartily.
Karstens untied Birgit’s hands and feet. Then he said jovially to her: “Goodbye sweetheart. I enjoyed all the moments with you, especially the sex.” Birgit looked at him with a glance full of hatred. Then she started to walk to her husband. Suddenly Von Weizenburg took a gun from under his jacket and shot Birgit in the back of her head. She fell on her knees and then on her face.
“Now you know that I’m not bluffing, Mr. Gomulka. Meet my demands, or your children will die as well,” Von Weizenburg said coldly.
 

Rheinbund

Established Nation
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
11,806
Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
8 July 2011
Staatsschutz headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland
12.00 p.m.

“How is Gomulka doing?” Strauss asked after Schröder had told about the events on parking Grefrath.
“Badly I think. He doesn’t show any emotions, but either they are boiling under the surface or the major hit will come later,” Schröder said. “He is currently interrogating some of the terrorists. What did you find in the handy traffic around Marburg this morning?”
“Von Weizenburg’s team used some handies. We managed to follow the signals of those handies until Marburg. Then apparently the batteries were taken out,” Strauss said to Schröder while putting his cigarette out. “From Marburg onwards, we don’t know where they went. The SIM-cards in question belong to prepaid numbers. We are checking throughout the country if they are used again, but up to now they weren’t. They probably use those phones with new SIM-cards. Or even other phones.”
“Is it possible to identify the handies with other means than the SIM-card?” Schröder asked.
“Yes, that is possible. A handy has its own identification as well. But there is a problem. That identification is not sent over the network. We’ll have to make contact with each and every handy in Eiffelland to find out if it’s the handy we look for,” Strauss said.
“Guys, look at this,” Krämer exclaimed. “Schröder, this is your boy, isn’t he?”
Schröder walked to Krämer’s desk and looked at the computer screen. Strauss wheeled after him and looked at the screen as well. They saw an extremist rightwing website with a video on it. The video’s title was: “They should do this to all fags in the country.” The video showed in each and every detail how Christoph was forced to make love to a woman. Schröder, Strauss and Krämer had seen a lot, but they had never seen anybody being humiliated to the extent that this movie was showing. Christoph’s face was clear, but all other faces were blurred.
“My goodness. This is cruel. Poor boy,” Schröder said. “Where is this site?”
“Let’s check out,” Krämer said. “First let’s act as if we were a computer in Carentania, and then check the site.” Krämer typed some codes and strings on the keyboard. “Gotcha!! The server is located in Wattenscheid, a small village 50km from Ratzeburg. This is the adress.”
“Could you look at the data on the server?” Schröder asked.
“Let’s try ... Mist. I can’t get in,” Krämer said.
“May I look at it?” Strauss asked.
“Of course,” Krämer said.
Strauss wheeled to the computer and started to type.
“I’m in,” he said. “And this might be the video with unblurred faces.” It was.
“Good job, guys. I’m gonna talk to a prosecutor that is responsible for Wattenscheid,” Schröder said.
“Do you think Von Weizenburg is there?” Strauss asked.
“I can’t rule it out, but I think he’s not. It would be tricky for him to stay in civilisation. He’s probably in a house or farm somewhere on the land.


International Airport Trier-Schönefeld
1 p.m.

The plane from Talemaniki arrived at the airport, with the Holzbrenner family on board. It was the first available flight they had been able to take after they had been informed about Bastian. When the plane was attached to the trunks of the gate, the Holzbrenners got out and went to the baggage carrousel to get their suitcases. Then they went to the customs.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holzbrenner. I want to ask you to go to the information desk. It is important with regards to your son,” the customs officer said.
“Well, given the fact that our son is in hospital floating somewhere between life and death, I would like to go there as soon as possible,” Holzbrenner said.
“Nevertheless, it is important that you go to the information desk. Please do so,” the customs officer said.
The Holzbrenners went to the information desk. There they were introduced to Gerd Weinschenk from the Staatsschutz.
“OK, where was Bastian involved in that the fact that he was beaten up is a Staatsschutz matter?” Holzbrenner asked.
“Did you know that he has a boyfriend?” Weinschenk asked.
“I know that he is gay, but I didn’t know that he has a boyfriend,” Holzbrenner said.
“But I already had the impression that something was happening between him and a friend of his, Christoph von Weizenburg,” Mrs. Holzbrenner added.
“Actually, more than something was happening between them. They are lovers. We know that, because Christoph is subject of an investigation. Well, not Christoph, but his father,” Weinschenk said.
“But if the father is subject to your interest, why is the son spied?” Holzbrenner asked.
“The son was not spied. His love affair with Bastian was a collateral catch in the information we gathered about the father,” Weinschenk said.
“Did Christoph know about his father?” Mrs. Holzbrenner asked.
“He knew about his father’s ideas, but he did not know about his father’s actions. To clarify his role, he strongly disagrees with his father’s ideas, so he is really on the good side,” Weinschenk lied.
“OK, now we are talking about Bastian’s boyfriend, but what happened to Bastian?” Holzbrenner asked.
Weinschenk told what had happened. Then he continued: “This all is probably an act of revenge by Christoph’s father, who is known by us for being thoroughly anti‑gay. Therefore, we expected that Christoph would be in trouble if his father would find out about his love-affair with Bastian. But to be honest, we did not expect that he would have his son’s lover beaten up this way.”
“So Bastian was almost killed because his boyfriend’s father didn’t like their relationship. But if Christoph knew about his father’s ideas, why did he start a relationship with Bastian? He could have known that something would happen, given his father’s thoughts. But that spoiled noblechild only paid attention to his own desires,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said.
“Mrs. Holzbrenner, you are judging Christoph too harshly now. The boy only knew his father’s ideas. He didn’t know what his father was capable of. This is a nightmare scenario that nobody takes into account,” Weinschenk said.
“Those noble families haven’t changed anything,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said. “There is a reason why King Lothar wasn’t married. He had a boyfriend: One of the officers in his father’s army. But his father had the officer killed. Pretty nice parallel with what happened now.”
“Gerda, you’re going too far now. The guy didn’t know that this would happen. And maybe he is a nobleman, but he never feels too good to help with cleaning up the dinner table and the kitchen after dinner. You yourself even commended him for that. And it is because of him that Peter gets good notes for Latin,” Holzbrenner said.
“Well, maybe, but this all happened to Bastian because of him. The spoilt brat thought of nothing but his own thrills. I won’t let him see Bastian again. End of the discussion. We’re going to the Charité now,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said.
“I can have you taken there if possible,” Weinschenk said.
“If you could, yes please” Mrs. Holzbrenner said. “Normally Bastian would have picked us up with the family car, but now that he’s in hospital...”

After they had loaded their luggage into a Passat of the Staatsschutz, Weinschenk said: “Mrs. Holzbrenner, I want to say something about Christoph that I had forgotten to say when we were in the office. Christoph can’t visit Bastian at the moment. He has been kidnapped by the same people that beat up Bastian. We don’t even know if he’s alive or not. Goodbye,” Weinschenk said. He also said goodbye to the 13 year old Peter Holzbrenner.
Mrs. Holzbrenner and Peter stepped into the car, and Weinschenk took Holzbrenner apart for a moment.
“This all is not Christoph’s fault. Please convince your wife of that,” he said.
“I know, Mr. Weinschenk. I will do my best, but you know what it is with women. If they have something in their minds, you can’t get it out,” Holzbrenner said.


Charité
Trier, Eiffelland
3 p.m.

The Holzbrenner family had to wait some minutes for one of the physicians treating Bastian. Traumatologist Oberarzt Sauerbruch entered the room and introduced himself. Then he started to explain the situation.
“At this moment, Bastian’s health status is critical,” Sauerbruch said. “He was brought in with a vertebral fracture, several rib fractures which also damaged the lung, a pelvis fracture, a hip fracture left, a shattered upper leg bone left, a fracture in the lower leg bone left and several fractures in his arms and hands. Furthermore, he has a kidney contusion, a spleen rupture and a bowel rupture. To make matters more complicated, the artery in the left upper leg was so damaged that we feared for his left leg. Good news is that we managed to replace the damaged artery with a vessel prosthesis, so for now we saved Bastian’s leg. Other good news is that the vertebral fracture did not lead to damage to the spinal cord. We conducted several other operations to fix the fractures and the shattered leg bone, and to repair the lung damage and the spleen and bowel ruptures, so that is good news as well. Other good news is that Bastian’s head is intact. He probably protected his head with his arms, and he was very successful in that.”
Sauerbruch waited a while to let this information sink in.
“What are Bastian’s chances, Dr. Sauerbruch?” Holzbrenner asked.
“It is too early to answer that question,” Sauerbruch said. “Up to now, our treatment was successful, but still some things can go wrong. If the artery prosthesis does not work properly, we might have to amputate Bastian’s leg, although we will do everything to prevent that. Due to the bowel rupture, bacteria entered the abdominal cavity. That might lead to a peritonitis. We are constantly washing the abdominal cavity with antibiotics to prevent that. I also have to mention that Bastian was brought in unconscious. Macroscopicly, his brain is intact, but we don’t know what happened microscopicly. We can’t check that at the moment, because we keep Bastian permanently under narcosis because of the severity of the injuries.”
The Holzbrenners started to cry. After a minute, Sauerbruch said: “Bastian is currently in the intensive care. You were probably informed that he is guarded by two armed Staatsschutz officers. I can lead you to him now, but I warn you that he has a lot of tubes in his body and that he’s connected to a lot of devices. He is also on artificial respiration.” And so the Holzbrenners went to the intensive care.

All three were a bit shocked when they saw Bastian lying between a couple of devices that were all connected to his body with lots of tubes and cables. Both his arms were fixated with plaster bandages, and both his legs with braces.
“And this all because he loved a boy,” Holzbrenner said.
At the end of the visit, Bastian’s 13 year old brother Peter said: “In quite a lot of movies, you always hear a bleep indicating the heart beat when a patient is lying on the intensive care, but here you don’t hear that.”
“That’s correct. The older devices did bleep with every heart beat, but to be honest, that bleep is not needed. You only need to be warned when the heart suddenly does strange things. You can count on it that our devices do,” Sauerbruch told.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Holzbrenner arranged that Christoph would not be allowed to visit Bastian in the hospital.


Wattenscheid, Eiffelland
8 p.m.

The southern parts of Eiffelland’s most southern province, Emsland, mainly consists of grasslands, also because the soil is so deficient that grass is the only thing that can grow on it. In earlier days, hot dry summers could lead to problems here, and the summers in Southern Eiffelland are often hot and dry. Nowadays, Eiffelland has a well‑functioning system of desalinisation installations along the coast that can cover for hot dry periods. The result is not the normal drinking water, but demineralised water is also water. It reduced the problems of dryness, and therefore made agriculture easier. Although the region is still poor compared with the remainder of Eiffelland.
Wattenscheid is a small village located in this area. Its inhabitants are mainly farmers and people working for or delivering to farmers. It is an isolated village; the nearest by city, Meppen, is 20km away and has 15,000 inhabitants. The village has only a primary school; each day a large group of teenagers cycle from Wattenscheid to Meppen to go to secondary school, or take the bus. Radio, television and internet had connected Wattenscheid to the rest of the world, but only to a limited extent. The village is still relatively isolated, and its inhabitants are still a bit backwards with regards to social developments, although they know everything about new agricultural techniques.
Achim Hagen was a 26 year old man, and a computer technician, which was extraordinary in this village. He lived in an average house, together with wife and children. He was at home, watering the plants in the garden, while his wife Anke was watching television. It was needed to give the plants some extra water. The summer was extremely warm this year, and the plants were drying out. When the doorbell rang, Anke went to the front door to open it. An average man was standing outside.
“Good evening. Mrs. Hagen? Lothar Peters, Kripo Meppen. I need to talk to your husband Achim Hagen. May I come in?” Peters asked.
“Yes of course,” Anke said while giving Peters room to enter. Then she went to the garden to call her husband. He went to the corridor and showed Peters the way to the living room. Anke continued to watch television in the garden.
“Mr. Hagen, we know that you run an extremist rightwing website. I am here because of the most recent movie you put on your website. We happen to know the victim on that movie. Did you know that he is a minor?” Peters asked.
“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about an extremist rightwing website,” Hagen said.
“You certainly do, Mr. Hagen. We traced the website, and it led to this adress. I have a search warrant, and a team in the neighbourhood. That team can be here in a minute, with flashlights and sirens, notifying the whole village that the police are searching your house. You can count on it that we will find what we are looking for. And you will have a serious problem with that movie. You can also cooperate. Then my team will stay outside the village,” Peters said.
Hagen decided to cooperate.

“We have the movie, Schröder,” Peters said through the telephone.
“Thank you Peters. What about the place where he received them from?” Schröder asked.
“He says that he doesn’t know where Von Weizenburg and his group is. They don’t communicate over the normal telephone lines. They send compressed files to each other on the 27MC-frequencies. Hagen points the sender-receiver at the Northeast, but that is the only thing he knows about the place where they currently are,” Peters said.
“OK. Thank you Peters, Schröder said.
 

Rheinbund

Established Nation
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
11,806
Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
9 July 2011
10 km from Seppenrade, Eiffelland
10 p.m.

Christoph had just been brought back into the room that had become his prison. Back from the third time that he had been forced to sleep with a girl. The first time had been recorded with a camera. Christoph knew why. He hoped that at least his name would not be mentioned on the Internet.
Mrs. Gomulka and her sons Max and Bernd had been locked up in the same room as him. They had talked quite a lot. In the night from Thursday to Friday, Mrs. Gomulka was taken out of the room. She didn’t return. Christoph didn’t know how to interpret that. Now he considered it his task to take care of the children as far as he could. At least to comfort them, and in whichever way possible to play with them. He had built up a tie with them. He had understood from Mrs. Gomulka that her husband, Max’s and Bernd’s father, was the leader of the Staatsschutz team investigating against his father. Christoph had told a fake story about why he had been captured. It was a bit too difficult to him to have his coming-out in front of complete strangers. Furthermore, how to explain homosexuality to a 7 year old child?
In the evening of the first day he was here, he was taken out of the room. He got the opportunity to shower, which he took. Then he got fresh clothes. Apparently his father had had the chance to pack some of his clothes as well. Then he was taken to a room where some people had gathered together. One of the men who had beaten up Bastian and taken him here, his father, and the two men who had arrived that morning with Mrs. Gomulka and her children and whom he had never seen before that morning. And there was a girl. He tried to resist, but the kick in his back made clear that resistance would not help. The fact that he was allowed to shower before made it a bit less humiliating, because now he didn’t smell of old sweat, but he longed for a shower afterwards as well.
Yesterday he had arranged that Max and Bernd could shower as well and also got clean clothes every day. It was extremely warm in the room. All three were sweating like hell. They were allowed to open the window from time to time, but not all day long. Luckily, they got a lot of water to drink, and there was no limit on that.

There wasn’t much Christoph could do in his current situation. He couldn’t take it up against 7 people. He was strong, but not that strong. Furthermore, he absolutely did not know how to fight physically. He had a strong aversion against that. His father had sent him to several camps of the GEL. Those camps were always the same: Much physical training, many teachings about how to survive in the wilderness and many fighting trainings. The result: He outran them all, he outclimbed them all, and the wilderness was his home, but he lost all the fights.

Christoph realised that he had to escape. Now he still had the opportunity to get out of the far-right clique around his father and leave that all behind. When he was outside Eiffelland, that would become a lot more difficult, at least impossible as long as he would be in that boarding school in Wendmark his father wanted to send him to. But if he would escape, he would have to do it with Max and Bernd. He didn’t know what his father wanted to do with them, but certainly not something positive.
But how to get out of here with two children? Max was 10 years old, intelligent, sharp in his observations and already quite strong, so he was capable of some things. Bernd was 7 years old, as intelligent as his brother but far less sharp in his observations; furthermore, he was quite weak, even for his age, as far as Christoph could assess.
It was impossible to get out through the door. It was permanently guarded. The window was an option, but they couldn’t jump out of it. They were on the 2nd floor. They had to climb. Christoph had already looked at the outside wall. It was full of fissures. With his mountaineering experience, he could climb down, even with Bernd on his back. But how to get Max out? He looked around in the room, and saw the sheets on the matresses. It would be a cliché, but it would work.
Then he heard the thunder of an approaching thunderstorm. He walked to the window and looked outside. The sun had set more than an hour ago, but the sky was still a bit light in the North. So the thunderstorm came from the other side. It would be dangerous to be outside during a thunderstorm, especially because he didn’t know in which kind of landscape he was. He knew it was hilly, but with or without trees? And a thunderstorm in a hilly landscape could have its peculiarities. On the other hand, he would have an advantage. It would be possible to kick the window out during a thunder, and maybe his father’s people would not patrol during the heavy rain. He took the sheets of his and Mrs. Gomulka’s matress and bound them together to make a rope. Then he bound one end of this rope to the only bed in the room. During the next thunder, he woke up Max and Bernd. He gave a hand signal to whisper instead of talk. Then he whispered that he wanted to escape.
“Do you want to go now?” Max whispered.
“No. Listen,” Christoph whispered. The next thunder rolled over the land. “We go when that thunderstorm is here. During a thunder, I kick the window out. Nobody will hear. Then you throw the sheetrope out and climb out, Max. I am a mountaineer, so I can climb along the wall. Bernd, you cling yourself to my back, and I take you down that way.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to be outside during a thunderstorm?” Bernd whispered.
“Believe me, it is more dangerous to stay here. We have to go,” Christoph whispered. “Normally you should stay inside during a thunderstorm, but this time it will give us an advantage.” Another thunder rolled over the hills, louder this time. The storm was approaching.
“Question. I was blinded when I was brought here, so I don’t have a clue about where we are. Do you know anything about it?” Christoph whispered.
“After Marburg, we followed the A16 direction Weissenfels,” Max whispered. Then he mentioned the names of the towns and villages he had seen on the last sign he saw.
“So hills, forests and vineyards. I’ve never been here, so I don’t know the area. This means that we have to follow the roads. Unfortunately,” Christoph whispered.
“Why that? We can go through the forests,” Max whispered.
“We can’t do anything against wolves and bears, so that’s too dangerous,” Christoph whispered.
Everybody agreed about the plan. Then they saw the first lightning flash through the window. 15 seconds later, they heard the thunder.
Christoph looked through the window. He saw one of the cars coming back. Probably the guy that had taken the girl back home. When he held his ear against the glass, he could hear what the people outside said. When the car arrived, he heard that heavy thunderstorms with much rain were predicted for tonight. The rain was so heavy that in some villages the sewers couldn’t handle it, leading to flooded streets. Sometimes the water was 50 centimeters high. Christoph considered this good news. Maybe indeed nobody would patrol tonight.
When the thunderstorm approached, the lightnings became more frequent and the thunders louder. Suddenly the wind became much stronger. Christoph saw one of the men patrolling around the house. He had problems with walking against the wind. He also saw one of the trees along the carriage drive falling down. He heard some more cracking noises, probably on the other side of the house, because he didn’t see anything in the front. Then he felt the house trembling, heard some yelling inside the house, and heard the guard on the other side of the door running away. That was really good news.
Another lightning, thunder, the wind stopped and it started to rain heavily. Christoph took off one of his shoes and waited for the next lightning and thunder. He didn’t have to wait long. He smashed the window out during the next thunder, smashed the worst points out as well so that there was a good passage hole and put his shoe back on. Max threw the sheetrope out and climbed down. Bernd clung himself to Christoph’s back, and Christoph climbed down along the wall. When they were on the ground together, they ran to the road through the field.
Christoph held Max and Bernd by the hands while they walked down the road. The rain became heavier, the lightnings more vivid and the thunders louder. Suddenly an enormous flash and a tremendous burst of thunder. Christoph realised immediately that a lighting had struck very close by. He looked around him and saw a dark shadow falling towards him. He dragged Max and Bernd with him while running away. They felt the earth shaking, turned around and saw an enormous tree lying on the road, exactly on the spot where they had just been standing. They ran away as fast as they could.

“Are you alright?” Von Weizenburg asked Lanzer after all people had freed him from under the tree crown that had fallen on him.
“I don’t think I broke anything, so I’m alright,” Lanzer answered. Then a lightning and another thunder.
“OK. Then let’s go back inside. Patke, could you walk around the house and see if everything is alright?” Von Weizenburg asked.
“Of course. I will do so,” Patke answered.
Two minutes later, he ran into the house and screamed: “They’re gone!”
“What?” someone screamed.
“Christoph and the two kids are gone!” Patke screamed.
An enormous swear sounded through the house. Then Von Weizenburg started to organise the search for Christoph, Max and Bernd. Soon they found out that they had run through the field. Von Weizenburg and Lanzer ran through the field, while the thunderstorm was still raging above their heads. Everybody held contact with each other through walkietalkies. When Von Weizenburg and Lanzer reached the road, Von Weizenburg called the other ones to immediately go to the cars and drive to him. One minute later, he was informed that a tree had fallen over the carriage drive. Another lightning and thunder. Then Von Weizenburg and Lanzer started to run down the road while Von Weizenburg gave orders about removing the tree first and then coming after them with a car. Half an hour later, Von Weizenburg and Lanzer found the tree that had almost fallen on Christoph and the children. The thunderstorm started to diminish. Von Weizenburg and Lanzer inspected the tree with their pocket-torches.
“They aren’t lying under it, are they?” Von Weizenburg asked Lanzer.
“I don’t think so,” Lanzer said.
“When this tree fell, were the children before or after it?” Von Weizenburg asked.
“I don’t think that matters,” Lanzer said. “They are behind it now. They were following the road, and they still are. Neither of them knows the surroundings, so they will have considered it too tricky to go into the forests. Like you, Christoph is a mountaineer. He will know about the risks of a thunderstorm on the top of a mountain, so he will definitely not have gone up the hill.”
The light of a lightning flashed through the forest. Von Weizenburg took his walkietalkie and asked the others if they had managed to remove the tree on the carriage drive. Then the thunder of the last lightning was heard. The tree on the carriage drive appeared to have been removed. Von Weizenburg ordered one car to collect him and Lanzer on the road and asked them to take a map of the surroundings with them.
“The tree on the carriage drive was not a big one. That was easy to remove. But this one is too big for us. I need to find a way to drive around this hill and catch the children from the other side,” Von Weizenburg said.

The rain had just stopped when Christoph, Max and Bernd arrived in Seppenrade. All three were soaking wet and all three shivered for cold. The first thing they noticed was the blue flashlights of the police and fire brigade cars. It appeared that Seppenrade had been hit hard. The village was situated at the bottom of a valley, and all the water from the hills around it had streamed into the village. The water was standing half a meter high in the streets of Seppenrade. It appeared that a tree had fallen on a house and another tree needed to be strut up to prevent it from falling on another house.
Christoph, Max and Bernd walked to the first police officer they saw. When they told who they were, they were directly put into a police car. The police officer immediately called the regional police headquarters in Olpe, which notified the Staatsschutz. One minute later, the police officer was called back.
“Wenzel,” she said while picking up her phone.
“...”
“That’s not gonna be easy. The water is still standing 50cm high here in Seppenrade, and the boys told me that the Kelmisser Straße is blocked with a tree. It will take me 1.5 hours to get in Olpe.”
“...”
“OK, I will do so.”

Mrs. Wenzel closed the connection. Then she arranged replacement of herself, and drove Christoph, Max and Bernd to Olpe. During the drive, they were called by Schröder from the Staatsschutz, who asked Christoph where he had been kept hostage. Christoph could give an explanation of the route they had followed from the villa where they all had been taken hostage to Seppenrade. Gomulka also called them to talk to his sons.
 

Rheinbund

Established Nation
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
11,806
Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
Capital
Fehrbellin
9 July 2011
10 km from Seppenrade, Eiffelland
11 p.m.

It was still raining when Patke arrived to pick up Von Weizenburg and Lanzer. He had a map of the surroundings with him. Von Weizenburg seated himself on the front passenger seat, and Lanzer on the back couch. Then Patke opened the map.
“These are the surroundings. This is the villa where we stay, and we are about here,” Patke said while pointing at the map. “This tree is too big for us to remove, even with all three cars. We don’t have chain saws that are big enough, either. We’ll have to drive around it, but that will take too much time. Do you see those crossroads? By the time we get there, they will already be in Seppenrade.” A lightning flashed through the forest.
Von Weizenburg cursed enormously. Then the thunder of the last lightning was heard.
“OK. Turn back,” Von Weizenburg said.
“What are we going to do?” Lanzer asked.
“We’re going to get out of the country,” Von Weizenburg said.
“How?” Patke asked.
“I don’t know yet. First we have to get away from here. Christoph will certainly be able to deduct where the villa is, and then the Staatsschutz will be there in no time. So we’re going to pack our things and get out of here,” Von Weizenburg said.


10 July 2011
Hauptpolizeiamt Kreis Olpe
Olpe, Eiffelland
2 a.m.

Like Von Weizenburg assumed, Christoph was able to indicate the location of the villa where he had been held hostage. So the Staatsschutz sent an arrestment team to the villa as soon as it was possible to let helicopters fly in the neighbourhood again. Also all the roads were blocked. But they were too late. Von Weizenburg had managed to escape before the roadblocks had been installed. The arrestment team found the villa empty. Meanwhile, Gomulka and Schröder had arrived at the police headquarters in Olpe.

“OK. Where can they go to?” Gomulka asked while looking at the map of the region that had been pointed at the wall.
“Not to the A16, Mr. Gomulka,” one of the police officers said. “The children talked about a tree blocking the road here, but that’s not the only road that has been blocked by fallen trees. This road has been blocked by a tree as well,” he continued while pointing at the same map.
“My goodness, this must have been a very severe thunderstorm, if so many trees have been blown over,” Gomulka said. “This means that the fastest way to get out of here, is to drive to the A4. Then the next question. To the North or to the South?”
“I think to the South,” Schröder said.
“Why do you think so?” Gomulka asked.
“Von Weizenburg used a lot of banks to pay for those weapons. One of them is a number account at a Danziger bank. All bank accounts of Von Weizenburg have been blocked, except that one. We can’t block it, because officially we can’t prove that it is owned by Von Weizenburg. But such a bank won’t hand out bank cards. You will have to go there to get your money,” Schröder said.
“So you think he wants to go to Danzig,” Gomulka said. “But how will he get in?”
“I don’t know. But he isn’t there yet. He is still in Southern Eiffelland. I propose that we block all the roads and railroads to Danzig, and all the airports in Southern Eiffelland. Also the one in Weissenfels,” Schröder said.
“And not only that. All the ships in the Ems will have to be checked, with a focus on small boats and yachts. But now let’s drive to Danzig. I want to see if I can arrest them personnally,” Gomulka said.
“We won’t get there on time for that, Gomulka,” Schröder said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. My car is a Staatsschutz model, which means that I can outspeed most conventional car models. Also the type of Golf Von Weizenburg was driving. With that respect, it would have been better if Karstens would have kept his own car,” Gomulka said.


A3 Weissenfels-Lörrach, Eiffelland
3 a.m.

Gomulka had put the blue flashlight on the roof of his car and had turned it on. He drove to Danzig as fast as he could. The speed-o-meter sometimes crossed the 300 km/h line.
“I really don’t know how to behave towards Christoph. He is the son of the man that killed my wife, but also the saviour of my children. I should be thankful to him for the rest of my life, but I also see his father in him,” he said to Schröder.
“I can’t help you with that. But keep in mind that this case would have been far more difficult without him. Thanks to him, we knew where to look. And thanks to him, we became aware of the complexity of this case on time. It would have taken a lot longer for us to start to look to the right instead of the left without him,” Schröder said.
“Would he have done the same if he would have been straight?” Gomulka asked.
Schröder took some time to think. Then he said: “His homosexuality was probably an important factor in why he turned himself away from the extremist rightwing scene. If he would have been straight, he wouldn’t have had a direct reason to put question marks to his father’s ideology. So maybe he wouldn’t have done so. On the other hand, he certainly wanted to prevent his father from killing lots of people. And that had nothing to do with his homosexuality. So maybe he would also have come to us if he would have been straight. But then he wouldn’t have saved your children.”
“Why not?” Gomulka asked.
“He would have loved to do so, but then he wouldn’t have had the opportunity. His father had taken him away because he had found out about his homosexuality. If Christoph would have been straight, or if his father would not have found out, he would not have been in that house near Seppenrade. Von Weizenburg originally did not intend to take his children with him. He only took Christoph with him to get him away from his boyfriend,” Schröder said. “And that video we took from the internet, it was his father who ordered that all.”
Gomulka took a few minutes to think. Then he said: “Parents always have certain images in their heads of what their children will become. They always have some expectations. That is inevitable. It is part of the idea that you want the best for your children. But what happens when your child does not meet your expectations, or chooses a different path than what you had in mind? The first reflex is that parents start to worry about how their child will end. The second reflex is trying to steer your child back on the track you deem the best. There are cases when you have to do that as a parent. Homosexuality is not such a case, but according to Von Weizenburg’s far right ideas it was. It is strange how cruel a parent can be to his children out of parental love.”
“So you think that Von Weizenburg ordered Bastian Holzbrenner to be killed and forced Christoph to sleep with a girl out of parental love?” Schröder said.
“Yes, I think so, although that parental love has seriously been perverted by the far right ideas he has,” Gomulka said. “Don’t get me wrong, what he did to Chrisoph is so cruel that he disqualified himself for beig a parent. But let’s not forget that he also has blood on his hands.”
After a few minutes, Gomulka asked: “How is Christoph doing now?”
“Badly,” Schröder said. “You know that the police doctor sent him to hospital because of that black spot on his back and the fact that he had blood in his urine. His injuries are not that bad: Three contused ribs and a contused kidney. He’ll be out of hospital in a week. But he got a psychic shock. He was crying all the time when I talked to him. Last week’s events were traumatic to him, but the biggest trauma is probably that it was his only remaining parent that did it to him. He’s still a child but he has no home any more. His mother is dead. He doesn’t have any contact with his family from his mother’s side any more. And his family from his father’s side is into the far right movement. Including his sister. He has nowhere to go.”
“Did you arrange for protection in the hospital?” Gomulka asked.
“Yes, I did. And your sons are on their way to a safehouse. Christoph had to convince them that is was good this time, because Karstens had already told about a safehouse, and that turned out to be a hiding place where they were kept hostage,” Schröder said.
“I’ll go to my sons as soon as I can, but first I want to nail Karstens and Von Weizenburg to the wall,” Gomulka growled.
“Be careful with turning this into a personal vendetta,” Schröder smirked. “We need them alive.”
Then Gomulka’s handy rang. He answered the call over the car hifi system.
“Gomulka.”
Good evening Gomulka. Wenzel hier, Autobahnpolizei Emsland. We blocked all the roads to Danzig. I also want to report that the Golf you talked about has been seen by a patrol on the A4 Emden-Danzig, together with two other Golfs.
“Thanks. Would it be possible for you to fake a car accident on that road and create a traffic jam?”
I’ll try, but at this hour there is more traffic out of than into Danzig. The people visiting parties over there are already there. In the coming hours, you will mainly have people going home.
“Do what you can. Talk to you later.”

Gomulka arranged for a helicopter that would take him and Schröder to the Southeast of Emsland and that would take off from the police airport in Lörrach.


Border area between Eiffelland and Danzig
5:30 a.m.

There were quite a lot of traffic jams on the Eiffellandian side of the border with Danzig. Each and every car was checked. Von Weizenburg and his people were in those traffic jams as well. But they didn’t go to the border. They took an exit 20km before the border to go to a village by the sea and steal a boat there; then they would go to the Danziger shore from there. There was free traffic between Eiffelland and Danzig, so Eiffellandians didn’t need any stamps in their passports when staying in Danzig. Because of that, Von Weizenburg and his people wouldn’t get into trouble there.
The sun was about to rise in a cloudy sky when Von Weizenburg and his men reached the village. They drove straight to the marina to find a boat there. But they didn’t find a boat. They did find an arrestment team of the Staatsschutz.
Karstens was the only one who escaped. He knew what would await him. It would be made public that he had betrayed the Staatsschutz. Furthermore, he would get twice the punishments that others would get for the crimes he committed. And of course it would become known in prison, or the coal mines, that he used to be a Leitender Staatsschutzdirektor. Convicted police officers always had a very bad time in prison. Also convicted secret police officers. He also knew that the situation in Eiffellandian prisons was such that the other prisoners would have more than enough room to show him what they thought of officers fallen back to crime. That ‘accident’ in the coal mines would be painful and slowly lethal. Better the life of an outlaw than that. He ran back to the cars, and was blocked from fleeing by Schröder and Gomulka. When he realised that he didn’t have a way out, he pointed his gun at his temple. Then Gomulka shot him in the shoulder. Karstens gazed at him, not understanding why Gomulka wanted to prevent his death.
“Do you really think I’d leave you that escape?” Gomulka asked sharply.
 

Rheinbund

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Location
Rotterdam, Netherlands
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1 August 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

A lot had changed in Christoph’s life. An enormous lot. Because his mother was dead and his father was in prison, he and his sister had moved in with his uncle’s family.
Also there the situation had changed enormously. The family had left the extremist rightwing scene. Uncle Gregor soon realised that it would be a matter of time before the name Von Weizenburg would appear in the news. And then he himself would be forced to answer questions about his feelings towards rightwing extremism. And his answers would be checked. This meant that somebody would investigate whether he had been a member of extremist rightwing organisations, or supported them in whichever way. Until the Staatsschutz visited him, he himself had never known what his older brother, Joachim Freiherr von Weizenburg, was doing. But he had financially supported the Volksunion. If that would become known, he would loose his job, even if he was a respected member of the board of directors of the Piëch Gruppe. OK, his older brother had paid him 100 million Marks when he left Weizenburg Spedition, so money would not be a problem, but becoming a social pariah would. So he had left the extremist rightwing scene, so that he could say “yes, I supported the Volksunion, but I don’t agree with their aims any more, so I stopped my support” and then play the game of an ex-extremist rightwinger who had turned into a conservative FDV-voter (rightwing liberals).
His wife Uschi and his daughter Helene initially did not agree with this step, but understood his motives later on and in the end asked themselves why they had joined the extremist rightwing scene anyway. They still agreed with some elements of the philosophy, but asked themselves why the violence was needed. His son Reinhold continued to believe in extremist rightwing ideas, and still continued to see his extremist rightwing friends. Until he was beaten up by them because of his father’s “betrayal”.

Christoph and Hilde were also under the supervision of the youth office. Furthermore, their father had reserved 1 million Marks for each of them. Until their school exams, a small part of the intrest of that money was paid to themselves as pocket money and the remainder of that intrest went to their uncle to cover the costs of raising them. After their school exams, they would get the money themselves to pay for their studies. Hilde already lived with Uncle Gregor’s family, but Christoph had been staying in a safehouse from the Staatsschutz until last weekend, when he was taken to his uncle.

Christoph continuously felt a kind of tension when he was at home. Uncle Gregor and his family knew about his homosexuality. It was never a topic, and Christoph had the feeling that he could better not turn it into a topic. Maybe later, but not now. His family clearly rejected it, although his aunt, Helene and Hilde were prepared for letting him choose the life he wanted as long as they weren’t always confronted with his boyfriend. This meant that he could not invite Bastian at home.

Bastian ... Schröder had told Christoph that he was treated at the Charité. So he had survived. But his injuries were severe. So severe that he was still at the Intensive Care. Schröder could not tell more about him, but had told that Bastian’s mother was extremely angry at Christoph. According to her, Christoph could have foreseen that Bastian would be beaten up; therefore, she considered it his fault as well.
Christoph had gone to the Intensive Care of the Charité, but was told there that he had been explicitly forbidden to see Bastian. He decided to call Bastian’s mother after she had returned from the hospital.

Christoph heard the beep tone indicating that the telephone was ringing. He heard it another time. Then Mrs. Holzbrenner took the phone.

Mrs. Holzbrenner-Altorf,” she said.
“Good evening Mrs. Holzbrenner ... Christoph here,” Christoph said shily.
Why are you calling?” Mrs. Holzbrenner said icily.
“I want to talk to you about Bastian. Can I pass by?” Christoph asked.
No. I don’t want you to see Bastian any more. It is because of you that he’s lying in hospital. You knew that your father was in the far right movement, so you knew that this could happen. But in spite of that, you started an affair with my son, only thinking of your own little pleasures. It would be Bastian anyway who would catch the beats,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said staccatolike.
“No, that is not true. I never thought of it that this could happen. Should I have realised it, I wouldn’t have started anything with Bastian,” Christoph said half crying.
Lies. You’re a spoilt noblechild that had everything in the world but still wasn’t satisfied, so you grabbed my son knowing that he would be beaten up by your father’s henchmen. You will stay away from Bastian. Find yourself somebody else to put at risk,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said staccatolike.
“No. I don’t want anybody else. I want Bastian,” Christoph cried.
Find somebody else for your little pleasures,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said sharply.
Christoph was already very sad during the telephone call, but now he became angry as well.
“Do you realise that you let my father win after all? While he’s in jail, you’re letting his ideas come true,” Christoph screamed angrily while crying.
So it’s not about Bastian, but about your fight with your father. And on top of that, you accuse me of having extremist rightwing sympathies,” Mrs. Holzbrenner said sharply. “I won’t allow you to turn Bastian into the stone of offence in your fight with your father, young man. Goodbye.” Then she broke the connection.


2 August 2011
Trier, Eiffelland

“Why did you say that?” Jutta Roetschke, the psychologist helping Christoph, asked.
“I don’t know. It slipped out of my mouth. She called me a spoilt brat and then she forbade me to see Bastian. I was angry,” Christoph said. “Of course she is not an extremist rightwinger, but it is true what I said. Now my father has his way after all. And what makes her think that I’m a spoilt brat? OK, I could dispose of a lot of money, but my father kept a tight hand over my sister and me. We were by far not spoilt.”
“It is natural that you’re angry about it. But also look at Bastian’s mother. She does what every mother would do: She defends her child against threats,” Mrs. Roetschke said.
“But how can I be a threat to Bastian?” Christoph asked.
Mrs. Roetschke remained silent for a few moments. Then she said: “According to me, you are not. But her train of thoughts may be as follows. It was your father who ordered what happened to him. And you knew about your father’s far right ideas. Therefore, she thinks that you could have foreseen what happened, and because of that, you should not have got a relationship with Bastian.”
“Should I not?” Christoph asked.
“That question is not important. What happened, happened. You’re not guilty of it. Your father is, and the people who beat up Bastian are. Not you,” Mrs. Roetschke said.

Then Christoph got a flashback. Schröder’s voice sounded through his head. “The groups your father belongs to are very harsh towards people they consider traitors. If they discover that you give information to us, your death will be terribly painful.” It was almost 3 months ago when Schröder said that to him.

“What are you thinking of?” Mrs. Roetschke asked.
Christoph told her about the flashback. Then he said: “I never thought of it. I had forgotten about it when I got the relationship with Bastian. I could have deduced it again from my father’s believes, but I never did. I never realised that this could happen. Would I have realised it, I would not have started that affair with Bastian.”
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Christoph,” Mrs. Roetschke said. “It was not you who did it. It was your father.”
“But how am I going to convince Bastian’s mother of that?” Christoph asked.
“Maybe she needs some time to realise this,” Mrs. Roetschke said.
“But how long then?” Christoph asked.
“I don’t know. The only thing you can do now is wait,” Mrs. Roetschke said.
 
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