Omnishambles [ATTN: all connected to Gang of 5 legal case]

Discussion in 'The World Stage' started by Nedernesië, Jul 16, 2019.

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  1. Nedernesië

    Nedernesië Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jul 27, 2018
    Messages:
    239
    Location:
    Frankfurt am Main, Germany
    Capital:
    Vrijpoort
    Nick:
    Drei
    Regeringshuis | Government House
    Senior Minister's Office
    Northeastern Vrijpoort on the harbour

    The car door slammed. Yisrael Habibi, head of the VeDi (Veiligheidsdienst/Security Service), Nedernesia's intelligence agency, began walking up the marble steps into Government House. He hadn't slept in nearly two days and his shabbat on Saturday had been disturbed by the urgency of the legal case on everyone's plate. The so-called 'Gang of Five'. What a fucking mess, damned goyim*, he thought.

    Habibi's portly figure waddled slowly up the steps and he was soon met by Jeroen Hoefnaggels, head of Nedernesian Signals Directorate, a spry, 30-something gentleman who loathed leaving his agency's offices for any reason. His agency had requested the use of the Defense of the State Act 1984 to detain the five Engellkin and when he received the 'request' to visit the Senior Minister, he told his agency that he might not be coming back. Despite that, he felt strangely calm.

    Another car arrived and out stepped Mordechai Schlomo, High Barrister of the Crown Prosecution Office. He didn't look so calm. In fact, he was perspiring profusely. Habibi turned back from further up the steps and saw his Jewish comrade sweating.

    'Shalom shalom, Mordechai! You're schvitzing like a pig! Relax!'

    Schlomo gestured with his right hand in a downward swatting motion, 'I'm fine. Fine! Leave me be, you old Jew.'

    Jeroen rolled his eyes. Whenever the directors came together Yisrael and Mordechai always ended up bickering and complaining. Kvetching, they called it. It was annoying, that's what they should call it.

    An RCMP car had arrived and out stepped a slim, dark-skinned woman in full police uniform dress. Shaz Paruk, Chief Officer of the Royal Commonwealth Mounted Police (RCMP). Her deep brown eyes with a gold glint, long black, silky hair and good looks typically made the men shut up their banter.

    Lastly a military SUV produced High Commander of the Royal Nedernesian Expeditionary Force, Francois de le Coeur. Also in full military dress uniform, the dark green going well with his silver gray hair, he kept a blank poker face and nodded to the others as he sprung up the steps to Government House.

    Inside the sleek marble entrance hall of Government House with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the harbour, the five began walking towards the Senior Minister's quarter. Coming from their destination was a tall man dressed in an immaculate Tiburan-style suit with two assistants in tow. He looked angry, his face pink and his assistants seemed nervous. The trio nodded to the government directors as they passed.

    Shaz Paruk of the RCMP looked back at the man. She had caught his eye long enough to know that she wouldn't mind a piece of that.

    'Was that Daan Vermeulen?' she asked the men as they neared the entrance to the Senior Minister's quarters.

    Yisrael Habibi nodded, 'Indeed. Daan Vermeulen, CEO of KLM Airways. He looks pretty pissed.' Yisrael was about to make some supposedly funny comment that probably only Mordechai would appreciate, but the group was greeted by an assistant.

    'Good morning. The Senior Minister will see you now.' He led them into the ornately decorated office of the Senior Minister. A large dark wood table stood before the windows overlooking the skyline and harbour. Government House sat atop a small hill providing breathtaking views of the city. White leather sofas and chairs encircled a glass coffee table. A fireplace, unused in summer of course, dominated the back wall. Portraits of previous Senior Ministers donned the walls. The late morning sun was shining brightly.

    Senior Minister Bas Duinman, a tall black man who's grandparents had been born in the Dune Sea and emigrated to Nedernesia to open a convenience store, was leaning over his desk facing the group with both hands atop the table. He looked upset. Clearly his meeting with the KLM Airways CEO hadn't gone well. The group saluted and waited.

    Duinman slowly drew in a deep breath as if preparing to calm himself down before speaking. He stood up straight and motioned with his hand for the group to sit down. They did so.

    'Does someone want to explain to me how a simple detainment operation turned into AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING DISASTER!!??'


    *Yiddish for non-Jews
     
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  2. Nedernesië

    Nedernesië Well-Known Member

    Joined:
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    Location:
    Frankfurt am Main, Germany
    Capital:
    Vrijpoort
    Nick:
    Drei
    Head Office of the Equity and Prosperity Party
    The Gupta Complex, Tower 6, Floor 77
    Scanian Boulevard, Block 104
    4004 Central, Vrijpoort/Freeport
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia

    Matilda Weldaad sipped her second coffee of the morning, her senses overwhelmed with the robust aroma of the Loagan beans, roasted in Scania with 'just a titch' of creamy Gunnish milk added to her cup for the perfect morning brew. In her left hand she held a copy of one of the dozens of Nedernesian newspapers, the crisp paper leaving behind the thinnest film of black newsprint on her fingers. Nedernesia had one of the highest concentrations of newspapers in the world and it was a mark of respect and intelligence to have newsprint visible on one's fingers throughout the day.

    She set down her cup of fine Touzen china on its saucer and exchanged the Engelsh twice-daily Commonwealth Morning Post for the Salian (Dutch) tabloid Beeld, which had a picture of a worried-looking Senior Minister Bas Duinman splashed across its first page and a headline of 'Time's Up!' in bold capital letters. Matilda chuckled, set it down on the coffee table, stood up and gazed out the window to the sea of skyscrapers towering above the bustling harbour. Commercial jet liners were coming and going, container ships were being laden and unladen with good from around the world at the port complex farther out near Rivonia. Simply the most remarkable construction of all humanity, she thought to herself, as many Nedernesians did, whether fresh first generation immigrant arrivals or 'aboriginals' such as herself who had Salian, Gunnish and Engellexian blood flowing through her 55-year-old veins.

    'Sharvari! Get in here!' she called out to her top strategist who immediately entered the expansive office with her laptop in one hand and mobile in another, hair rustled, clearly having gone yet another night without sleep.

    Matilda Weldaad turned around from the window and sat back down on the sofa. Sharvari remained standing.

    'The five detained are meeting with their legal team today and my little birds have told me that their first court appearance is being moved up to tomorrow. Clearly the Senior Minister has intervened...' she spread out more newspapers on the coffee table, awash with headlines and photo-shopped pictures of Cussian and Engellexian missiles just above the skyscrapers of Vrijpoort, while more racy publications showed enslaved naked children with whipped backs, cuts across their bodies, forced to take drugs while Cussian men loomed over them grinning with devilish sexual grins, puppet strings attached to the men with an Engellexian dominatrix overlord laughing. The headline: 'Is this our future?'

    'Duinman won't survive this. He can't control the agencies. I don't care who he ends up sacking. I want you to start securing votes. Quorum will be reached for an emergency Senate session and I'll formally call for a vote of no confidence. You can tell the Senators that. Get the press riled up.'

    Sharvari nodded her head, 'Yes mum, right away. I've already spoken to the EPP whip and he doesn't expect any of our own senators to deviate from the Party line on this. The other opposition parties should be easy enough to convince as well. We might even get some of the People's Action Party senators to join in. Wouldn't that be something to see! The PAP voting against it's own SM! They'll finally lose power after nearly fifty years!'

    Matilda nodded in partial agreement, 'Not so fast, Sharvari. We don't know how many PAP votes we can get and besides...this is secondary to more important matters. I'm not just playing politics here. I'm genuinely concerned about the security of the country. I have a feeling even the strictest judge on the bench will show leniency here and we might even see some of these guys walk free, but stakes are high.'

    Matilda stood up once more and gazed out the windows. 'This is the centre of the universe, as far as I'm concerned, and I will not allow for anyone to so much as scratch our steel and glass skies and golden streets...I need an audience with the Engellkin. Discreet, maybe at the Grand Occidental Hotel's private facilities. Get me a lunch meeting with their ambassadors. I'm going to make them a deal.'

    Sharvari had already dashed out of the room to make calls and could be heard snapping at junior staff to get on the phones. Matilda was still staring out into the steel and glass sea, hands clasped behind her back.

    If protecting this masterpiece means making a deal with the devil, so be it. No one has risen to power by purely honest means, anyway...
     
  3. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

    Joined:
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    2,142
    Location:
    The Best Carolina
    Capital:
    Welmonton
    Nick:
    Beautancus
    South Lawn, Drummond House
    Statesboro District of Welmonton
    Confederated Republic of Beautancus


    It was just like the First Citizen to insist on holding this meeting out of doors, midday.

    The Cussian leader wasn't exactly known for any great fondness for this kind of heat, being native to the far more temperate mountain-country far to the west, in the Commonwealth of Avery. Nothing like the 106 Fahrenheit (41 C) temperatures that late July brought to Welmonton, or the Commonwealth of Clarendon from which it had been calved.

    No, it had far more to do with Edward Ceneric Orton's well-known penchant for doubling down on a point proven by demonstrating just how unbothered the man appeared by the considerations of mere mortals. The Cussian ambassador to the Nedernesian Commonwealth counted himself among that number.

    The air wasn't quite still, but the breeze it carried was just as hot at the rest. Even the
    Skyeaja refused to provide relief, nothing but steam and the shimmering mirage of visible heat radiating up from the broad river today. It was if the very elements had bowed before the whims of Beautancus' Chief Executive - as so much else in the world had done of late.

    The South Lawn was still a minor botanical wonder, all the same. Even when engaging in these ever-so-difficult games of gesture and counter-sentiment, Orton retained an immaculate sense of form and style. Set amid the small stand of dogwoods and magnolia near the river bank, an oversized pavilion had been erected for the day. His Excellency was already seated at the head of a great oaken table painstakingly removed from Drummond House and placed here for this occasion and this occasion only. Flanking him, the stunningly beautiful Press Secretary, Adigne Tayte on his left and Sir Endymion Walker on the right, the Ambassador's overall boss. Tayte was already looking at him, her smile betraying nothing of the deadly seriousness behind the summons that drew him from Freeport back to Welmonton.

    I will roast in the shade then, at least, Barclay Toland Hargrove allowed. I just hope they don't have me killed in this heat, the flies it will draw...

    A vice-like grip seized Barclay by the shoulder some feet away from the pavilion, a gray-suited Executive Service bodyguard now glowering down at him from behind black-mirrored shades. Another set of hands straightened his arms, and the first bodyguard patted him down. They even removed his cell phone from his back pocket, opened it up and began to scan though the contents, all rather unceremoniously. "You'll more than likely get this back," was all that they said before nudging him into the shade of the pavilion.

    Sweat trickled down the small of his back and down to his haunches, the exquisite cut of his suit doing absolutely no favors in Cussian summer. That, and the horrifyingly ill-considered actions taken by the Nedernesian government in recent days. Of all times for anyone to pull such a dumb fucking stunt. It's not like we aren't already bombing the shit out of a former great power in the same neighborhood.

    Conscious now of the First Citizen's piercing, blue eyed gaze, Barclay did the only thing that would come to mind: he dropped to one knee and bowed his before the Chief Executive, as if he'd been some heathen king of old. "Your Excellency," was all that Barclay could manage to stammer around a tongue suddenly grown too thick.

    "Ambassador Hargrove. You may stand..." It was Ms Tayte that spoke, the sound of her soft voice was a momentary respite. "So long as you are able to explain to me just exactly what the fuck those stupid Fictional bastards are thinking for!" That had been the First Citizen, shockingly. Barclay had never heard him yell, or even heard of him doing it second-hand. Even so, that was precisely what he'd done now.

    "I, I, I, I, uh..." Swallowing hard, Barclay clenched his fists gently. His palms had gone slick with the anxiety of the moment, like everything else. "I honestly cannot say, Your Excellency, nothing about this most ill-advised course of actions has..."

    "Well of course it fucking hasn't Hargrove, but we were still hoping you'd have some insights to provide on the matter...that being the sole reason I've had you in that jumped-up market town for the past five years! You are paid to keep this sort of shit from happening, precisely this!" It was Endymion Walker, the State Foreign Service Secretary, this time. The Cussian top diplomat's ginger pale features were so red it seemed he might go apoplectic, quite worryingly.

    Barclay felt like he was going to cry, if he didn't outright faint from the heat first.

    There passed a long moment of the most awkward silence the Ambassador had ever suffered, before the First Citizen finally spoke, "Sit, now. And have a drink before you pass out." Though not at all the famous drawl that people from this part of Beautancus - Chicora, Clarendon and Croatoan - were known for, Orton's smoothly drawled Avery accent was a different animal altogether from Barclay's. A native of the Commonwealth of Albemarle, the Ambassador sounded as much like a Sylvanian as anything, always had.

    Tayte poured them all a drink, Orton first, then Barclay, and finally one for both she and Walker. Barclay's boss was under the gun for this too, no doubt, seeming only slightly less bedraggled - though still plenty together to direct his ire at a foolish subordinate. Waiting for the First Citizen before daring tip his own back, though once he did there was no helping the appreciation he felt for it - it had to be a Gunnish malt whisky older than everyone at the table combined.

    Orton had been observing closely. "At least you have the sense to know good liquor. Alexander Gunn's Ardmar 16, though I must admit to still preferring Clarendon Red.*" Producing a silvered tin from his front pocket, the First Citizen retrieved a lit a hand-rolled cigarette for himself, offering to the rest as he lit. Barclay didn't smoke, but this time he took one without a second thought.

    "I wouldn't have spared this business a second thought even, if those bastards hadn't turned it into a damned media circus, you know that? As if we or the world cannot recognize an attempted shakedown when we see one." Orton exhaled a great gout of smoke from both nostrils, voice growing deeper with the smoke as he did.

    "I have to say that I have been equally surprised and perplexed by this development Your Excellency, nothing about it makes sense from the Nedernesian perspective. I can only say that I suspect pressure is being applied from other Competitor Powers, this is so far outside of character for the Commonwealth." Barclay managed to hold it together, immensely thankful for the fortification the drink provided, and the focus brought by the cigarette.

    "I didn't even know who this Bas Duinman piece of shit was before the other day. And now, I am literally sick of hearing his fucking name." Orton had actually growled the man's name, the precise mask of his features slipping ever so slightly. The gentle hand the Press Secretary placed on his shoulder before using it to gently stroke the hair behind his ear calmed him quickly.

    Walker picked up from there, pointing with the tumbler clenched under white knuckles. "You're going to make sure this is salvaged, and salvaged fucking well, do you hear me? Or there will be severe consequences and repercussions."

    Barclay swallowed, despite himself. "As you wish, absolutely whatever I have to do...what exactly do you want me to do, sir? Your Excellency?" The Ambassador to Nedernesia glanced between the two leaders, beyond nervous.

    The smile First Citizen Orton gave him before outlining just what it would take to "salvage this" chilled Barclay to the very bones. The outline itself only made it worse.




    *Clarendon Red = most famous distillers/brand of Cussian sipping whiskey or "Clarentine" (called bourbon irl)

     
    Last edited: Jul 21, 2019
  4. Nedernesië

    Nedernesië Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jul 27, 2018
    Messages:
    239
    Location:
    Frankfurt am Main, Germany
    Capital:
    Vrijpoort
    Nick:
    Drei
    Highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility
    Windemere Outback Road 700
    3100 Windemere, Grootland
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    Nestled in the highland mountains of Grootland, Nedernesia's largest and mostly rural island, was the highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility, the Commonwealth's largest and most secure penal facility. Until a few weeks ago all five suspects in the Gang of Five case had been dispersed in separate locations across the archipelago, but had now been brought together to make visitation with their legal team and consular officials easier. It was also a sign that their detention was being relaxed and change in the handling of the entire case was forthcoming.

    The five men were not permitted to see each other and they met with their lawyers and consular officials separately. This was to prevent the group creating stories or other fabrications. For the past few weeks they and their legal team from Van Daalen Wakefield Pryce had been reviewing boxes of evidence and the charges laid out by the Crown Prosecution Authority. Mathijs van Daalen himself was leading their defence case and had already succeeded in moving up their first court date appearance to today.

    Dressed
    immaculately as ever in a crisp, slim fitting Larsian suit, he entered a sound-proof meeting room in the visitor's section of the prison complex where consular officials from Beautancus, Sylvania and Clarenthia were waiting for him. He had been meeting with them regularly over the past few weeks keeping them up to date on the case and his team's progress. He was here now to give them some good news.

    'Afternoon, afternoon' he said with a smile as he took his seat and removed a sheath of papers to lay in front of him on the desk.

    'All five men, the two from Sylvania, the two from Beautancus and the one from Clarenthia, are being transported separately on chartered flights to Vrijpoort later today for their court appearance tomorrow. I just got off the phone with my head office in Vrijpoort and my partner informed me that the judge, after reviewing our filings for wrongful detention on lack of hard evidence, will order the immediate release of three of the men: the two Cussians and one Sylvanian. As we have been able to prove, neither Nedernesian Signals Directorate nor the Royal Commonwealth Mounted Police actually have proof that these three clients were directly involved in the alleged child sex trafficking, gun running and drug smuggling. They just happen to work in high level positions for the company that has been accused of colluding in these activities. They will be able to walk free - that is my prognosis. The Crown doesn't want to go through the
    embarrassment of a court case with them if they know it will result in a loss. We can discuss counter lawsuits later due to the hardship experienced by these men and their families since their detainment'.

    Van Daalen took a sip of sparkling water and swished it around his mouth briefly before continuing. It was a habit of his to do this before breaking negative news.

    'The other two clients, one from Sylvania and one from Clarenthia, have it a bit harder, but I believe we have a very good fighting chance to defend them. Nedernesian Signals Directorate furnished to my office email and SMS records that clearly implicate these men directly with the alleged crimes. My office has 50 lawyers pouring over these documents as we speak to find ways to show that these communications are not necessarily proof of active participation in the alleged crimes. This won't necessarily be an easy task but it may be possible to get the charges reduced to collusion or cooperation with an illicit operation. We might also be able to enter a plea bargain here. It seems that the true criminals are somewhere abroad and have relations with the Thaumantic Trading Services Pty Ltd that the clients work for. If they agreed to cooperate and admitted their partial involvement, they could get off with large fines and maybe a few strokes of the cane, but no prison time. I'm not sure yet as we have to wait until tomorrow for the first court appearance before we know exactly what are options will be and how me move next strategically'.

    Van Daalen clasped his hands together and waited for the inevitable questions from the diplomats.


    Grand Occidental Hotel
    High Tea Room, Floor 52
    Merchant's Plaza
    4002 Central, Vrijpoort/Freeport
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    Matilda Weldaad of the Equity and Prosperity Party rose to greet Ambassador Barclay Hargrove of Beautancus as he entered the stylish High Tea Room of the Grand Occidental Hotel. She firmly shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat as a fresh pot of black afternoon tea was brought to them with fine china and a three layer tray of small sandwiches was set down.

    'It's most unfortunate to be meeting under such circumstances, Ambassador Hargrove. You do know that had I been running the show with the EPP at the helm this sort of brashness wouldn't have occurred, at least not in such an indiscreet and hilarious way'.

    She poured them both tea and added one sugar cube and a splash of fresh milk to her cup before delicately bringing it to her lips for a first sip.

    'I'm sure you've heard already that the five suspects are being transferred to Vrijpoort today for their court appearance tomorrow. From what my people tell me, three of them may very well walk free, including the two Cussian gentleman. The other two have a very capable legal team with Van Daalen Wakefield Pryce, I can assure you of that. They are my personal law firm as well'.

    Weldaad wasn't here to comfort Hargrove but in typical Nedernesian fashion she said what was already known, giving the person opposite time to reflect, think and steer the conversation with their response. All the while she was providing subtle hints to ensure that the topic veered inevitably to the direction she wanted: her getting power.

    @Beautancus @Clarenthia @Sylvania
     
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  5. Clarenthia

    Clarenthia Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    May 4, 2010
    Messages:
    1,143
    Capital:
    Palmerton
    Nick:
    Jurzidentia
    Clarenthian Embassy
    7110 Varsseveld, Vrijpoort
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    7110 Varsseveld had been abuzz with activity ever since the reputation of the Treaty Lands as a quiet, peaceful and amiable faraway land was shattered by the impacts of cruise missiles across the Burgundian city of Ouistreham – paving the way for what was undoubtedly the largest military invasion of the Gallian continent in the modern era. Judging from the news coverage, it was obvious that the Embassy had only received word of the invasion after the Domain’s Vultures deployed the first of the boots on the ground.

    The Treaty Lands, ever committed to preserving economic ties while also joining the arsenal of democracy with which Neustria would be liberated, triaged its Foreign Service to allow for a significant degree of autonomy to be delegated out of Palmerton and instead in Hammersmith where Ambassador Victor Hydenstane Jr. – son of the industrial mogul – was in charge of coordinating the country’s engagements across Gallia, Scania, and Germania.

    In recent days, Palmerton had acquiesced and finally found the funds necessary to deploy additional staff and resources to Hammersmith, which went on to disperse its new-found wealth to the embassies in the area. Nedernesia had recently been elevated from a small concern to an area of urgent import. The embassy of only 98 employees was on the cusp of swelling to 178.

    The Gang of Five, which had gained little media attention in the Treaty Lands, had nevertheless provoked an aggressive response that brought the quaint Commonwealth within the crosshairs of the Domain. Now, accusations of Engell-sponsored piracy, in the wake of the Long Sea Crisis, and any attempts on Nedernesia to coordinate a military response so close to Domain Operations – a crisis was beginning.

    “My people aren’t going to be fucking killed because of a pedophilic human trafficker,” were the bitter final instructions that Mason Baine received from the Governor-General herself. As if planned, she hung up the phone as the limo entered the gated embassy. Baine stepped out of the limo, slyly fastened his suit jacket and approached the embassy doors.

    “Let’s begin,” he said to the assembled staff “How soon can I meet with Minister Riverdale?”

    “I will see to it at once,” a staffer nodded and scurried off.

    Highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility
    Windemere Outback Road 700
    3100 Windemere, Grootland
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    “Uhh, thank you – Mr. van Daalen,” Kuri Colquehuanca said when van Daalen had described the situation “This update is most welcomed.”

    Kuri was showing her exhaustion. Only hours from preparing to pack for a flight to the Natal for a family vacation she had been saving for years, she received a call from the Foreign Service that she was needed in Nedernesia to resolve this “Gang of Five” business quickly and efficiently.

    “When am I to report? I’d have to switch flights, cancel reservations, inform my family,” she rattled on the phone.

    “Now,” her boss cut her off “the Commission has arranged for a charter flight to Nedernesia. It seems like you’re already packed so it shouldn’t be difficult.”

    Switching out her two-piece bikini, that she had eaten a caloric deficit of 600 for the past two months to fit into, for several sleek black pant suits that the GovGen had made famous – she was on her way.

    “There are certain cultural differences between our two countries that I believe in one instance or another clashed with this affair – certainly though, there is no cultural distinction that in any way can justify human trafficking and especially human trafficking of a minor,” she spoke “But I will be frank and I will be honest. My country wants this affair to be history and wants that done quickly. We do not want the press talking about the Treaty Lands’ fierce defense of child predators and I am sure your markets do not want a luring prospect of increased tension. So, I came here to ask your lawyers to go the Crown and demand extradition. This individual you have in custody will face years as a Capital Duty to repent for his crimes. At that point, this affair is finished and our two countries can normalize.”

    She knew that the offer – and the break from Beautancus – would ruffle feathers among the Domain. The Cussians were known for their hot bloodedness. However, she was confident her country’s commitment to the Burgundian affair could allow such an indiscretion to pass.
     
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  6. Sylvania

    Sylvania Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Feb 19, 2011
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    1,500
    Location:
    The Heart of Dixie
    Capital:
    Charleroi
    Nick:
    RevolverZeek
    Dan Harling had worked with the Sylvanian embassy to Nerdernesia for only a year and he was getting a bit tired of the place. He had hope for a better assignment than Nedernesia, yea sure the place had a few nice beaches, you could get a few things you wouldn't find back in Sylvania, but Harling had hoped for a better locale, perhaps somewhere in Gallia or Germania. Harling had listened intently to what the lawyer had to say but frankly it didn't matter. If the charges were not dropped Sylvania would begin placing economic sanctions on the island nation that would no doubt hurt them in many different places.

    "Well that sounds all well and good Mr. Van Daalen and without a doubt the Breckenridge Adminstration will be happy to learn that at least one of our citizens will be coming home soon without criminal charges. However like my Clarenthian counterpart here, my boss is very unhappy that the Crown wants to continue on with prosecuting our other man. Releasing one is not the same as releasing both and the Continental Republic, which is already facing deep embarrassment over the cult that had just been unveiled there recently, will not tolerate further embarrassment."

    Harling covered his mouth as he yawned, "excuse me, not much sleep last night." He continued.

    "Now if there is really and truly evidence of crime here then we can talk extradition, nice and quiet if possible, where he will face justice for his crimes. Or you can convince the Crown prosecution to drop the charges, that way the sanctions are avoided and Nerdernesia and Sylvania can go back to being friends, like nothing had ever happened. Or... the sanctions will come down, firstly with a travel ban, than most likely in the energy and foodstuffs departments where our trade is most substantial last I checked. We do not want to see this happen and please don't try to call a bluff on this one, the government is willing to eat the cost of the lost sales to Nedernesia to punish your government for this blunder. Look at it this way, your country has so many problems ahead of you with the Domain, why continue down this path with Sylvania?"
     
  7. Nedernesië

    Nedernesië Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jul 27, 2018
    Messages:
    239
    Location:
    Frankfurt am Main, Germany
    Capital:
    Vrijpoort
    Nick:
    Drei
    Highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility
    Windemere Outback Road 700
    3100 Windemere, Grootland
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    Mathijs listened patiently and very carefully to the two ambassadors as he jotted down notes and already began coming up with possible strategies to implement their wishes. He was a bit amused that they spoke to him as if he were a representative of the Nedernesian Government. When both had finished speaking he set down his fountain pen, which probably cost more than a few months of their income, and clasped his hands again. He couldn't wait to get this case off his desk despite the fact that the publicity and invoice he would be sending out would be a huge windfall for the firm.

    'Ambassadors, thank you very much for your insights on this matter. Extradition is a route we could possibly take. The problem is that historically the Nedernesian government avoids extradition as it is a country with a long history of accepting people from all corners and all walks of life, who disappear amongst the skyscrapers to make their fortune in this city. It's a well-known fact that many alleged financial criminals fly to Vrijpoort to avoid prosecution at home and if there is no hard evidence on them, the extradition requests are usually denied'.

    He poured another glass of sparkling water but this time did not swish it around in his mouth prior to continuing.

    'But let's see. These men have more than financial crime on their charge papers and at this point you may be right, the government probably wants this mess done and dusted as soon as possible. Have your offices furnish me the official extradition requests before the end of the day so that I can head into court with them first thing in the morning. From my experience I expect that the Crown might accept, but only if in conjunction with the extradition the local assets of the men are frozen pending a full investigation into their company and if they agree to share any any all information they have that could help the broader investigation into this affair, which spreads globally'.
     
    Last edited: Aug 10, 2019
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  8. Clarenthia

    Clarenthia Well-Known Member

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    Palmerton
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    Jurzidentia
    Highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility
    Windemere Outback Road 700
    3100 Windemere, Grootland
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia

    Kuri smiled. "Mr. Van Daalen, thank you for your time. I can see it does not come without significant expense. My government had calculated it may be difficult to convince the Crown to support extradition, especially given the historic rarity such a thing has. However, in my limited experience as a foreign diplomat combined with the bountiful experience of the Commonwealth Foreign Service, I tend to find that in the most extraordinary of circumstances governments will make the most extraordinary of exceptions. I will procure these documents for you and I trust your legal talents will prove sufficient to convince your government."
     
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  9. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

    Joined:
    Aug 1, 2008
    Messages:
    2,142
    Location:
    The Best Carolina
    Capital:
    Welmonton
    Nick:
    Beautancus
    Grand Occidental Hotel
    High Tea Room, Floor 52
    Merchant's Plaza 4002 Central, Vrijpoort/Freeport Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    Hargrove's head pounded. Nothing tasted right. He couldn't sleep. There seemed to be very little that he could do to preserve his career with the State Foreign Service, much less ever hoping for advancement. There was more, so much more, and it only got worse.

    Sipping at his tea more out of habit than any real desire or thirst, staring out at the world through hollow, dark rimmed eyes, Hargrove tried to smile at Weldaad before speaking but could only manage a sour pucker.

    "I've no way to tell you this other than to say that I think we both know this has progressed too far, too long. The time passed has allowed other, more serious matters to develop - ones that I don't think I could have hoped to smooth over, even had this horseshit scandal not been engineered." There was a desperation in the unhealthy waxiness of his complexion now, a sickly mobility as he bobbed forward when speaking.

    "Freeport's benefactors, nay, her masters are dragging you down the road to your Fictional hell Weldaad. They are not, nor have they ever been equal to the cataclysm it seems they're so hellbent on engineering. Touzen is a long way from Freeport. Much too far to matter for you." The pasty halfbreed ambassador shook his head mournfully, sitting his tea down on the desk before him so carelessly it nearly tipped off.

    "They're going to rape those two bastards minds, and extract every bit of data you don't know you've exposed them to. And then they are going to put them in front of a firing squad and a camera for everyone of the Domain's mouthpieces - and then they are going to blow them the fuck away." Hargrove locked eyes with Weldaad now, his expression charged with the earnestness of a man liberated by knowledge and growing acceptance of his own fate.

    "You've got as little to do with this as I do - but can you explain to me what jackass thought that fabricating an incident of piracy in the Engellsea, in a time of war, when civil maritime traffic has already been restricted - for their own safety - would be a good idea. It's not like there aren't literally fucking hundreds of Domain vessels within a thousand kilometers, and dozens of satellites locked onto this section of the Thaumantic at all times."

    The ambassador's expression had slipped to one of horrified disgust, and he was making no attempts to hide it. "You've accused the Domain's Naval Forces of piracy, in so many words. You've accused the fucking Engells of piracy in their own goddamned sea...have you people lost your minds? Are you suicidal? It has been the pleasure of Engellex and the whole of the Engellkin to safeguard the high seas against piracy for the past two centuries and more. Piracy which did not exist until your Fennic overlords began to perpetrate it - yes, don't look so horrified. It can't be anything like as bad for you as it is for me..." Hargrove cut himself off abruptly.

    "You've all but murdered me. And fuck all of you for it." And with that, the slightly built half-Cussian stood and left. He exited the hotel with an inexplicable urgency, some gravity pulling at him beyond the limits of perception.

    By the time he reached the ground floor and had exited the lobby, the toxins had mostly done their work. By the time he stepped towards his car, his heart stopped - and all but exploded.

    There on the street outside the Grand Occidental Hotel, the Cussian ambassador to Nedernesia fell dead, dead as a stone.

     
    Last edited: Aug 11, 2019
  10. Sylvania

    Sylvania Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Feb 19, 2011
    Messages:
    1,500
    Location:
    The Heart of Dixie
    Capital:
    Charleroi
    Nick:
    RevolverZeek
    Highlands Grove Punishment & Correctional Facility
    Windemere Outback Road 700
    3100 Windemere, Grootland
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia

    Harling stood up, he had enough of the attorney's smug attitude. "I'll have the paperwork into your office before the end of the day."


    (OOC: sorry dont really have much to add to this RP.)
     
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  11. Nedernesië

    Nedernesië Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jul 27, 2018
    Messages:
    239
    Location:
    Frankfurt am Main, Germany
    Capital:
    Vrijpoort
    Nick:
    Drei
    Grand Occidental Hotel
    High Tea Room, Floor 52
    Merchant's Plaza
    4002 Central, Vrijpoort
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia


    Weldaad immediately sensed that something was off with the Ambassador. He looked physically unwell, flushed, sweating. His hand trembled and he could barely control placing the tea cup back onto the saucer. All the while he was spewing out absolute nonsense that Weldaad had trouble understanding. At first she tried to interject and calm him down.

    'Ambassador I'm not sure what you mean by Vrijpoort accusing any country of backing piracy. As far as I've read in the papers the incident was conducted by unknown individuals and the Nedernesian government, which I am not a part of, wants to ensure no piracy of any form takes place now or in future.'

    The ambassador continued babbling on. Weldaad tried to interject once more.

    'Are you implying that the two Cussian suspects, if let free by the court, will be tortured and then executed back home in Beautancus? I don't understand, I thought your government would be pleased to have them returned safely without having to face trial here...can I get you some water? Perhaps you should lay down...'

    Nothing was getting through to Ambassador Hargrove and he suddenly rose and fled, looking far worse than when he had first entered the tea room. As he was heading for the lifts, Weldaad, concerned for his health, dashed to the tea room's manager.

    'Claude, call an ambulance at once!'

    Outside the Grand Occidental shocked hotel guests and passing pedestrians witnessed the man collapse and struggle to breathe. A bellman rushed over and began administering CPR, a basic skill all Nedernesians had thanks to rigorous civil defense drills from school days and during their mandatory three years of military service.

    Within two minutes the two-tone siren of an ambulance could be heard, the blue lights visible down the street. A Metro Police car was first to arrive on scene, having been nearby on patrol. The two officers blocked traffic and kept curious tourists away from the suffering man. The ambulance arrived and the paramedics took over from the bellman. Hargrove was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance, which sped off to Vrijpoort General Hospital, drivers obediently clearing out of the way. The paramedics continued the CPR and began administering the automated external defibrillator. It was to no avail. Hargrove was dead and the paramedics knew it, but they would have to wait for a doctor at the hospital to officially pronounce him so.

    Vrijpoort General Hospital

    Due to the special status of the deceased patient, RCMP (Royal Commonwealth Mounted Police) kept the body under constant guard. They had strict orders not to allow transfer to the morgue until Cussian embassy staff arrived. The RCMP commander on duty, Robin Tao, was speaking with the doctor and his team.

    'The Cussians are on their way. Cooperate fully with them. They have the option to have one of their own coroners conduct the autopsy together with your coroner. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is to be undertaken without at least two Cussian witnesses present, understood? The body must have eyes on it at all times plus CCTV.'

    The doctor nodded and signed the death certificates while one of his residents looked down the hall.

    'That's them'.

    A large group of Cussian embassy staff were being escorted through the hospital by RCMP officers. Commander Tao didn't have time for pleasantries and knew the Cussians wouldn't want to bother with the handshakes either. He motioned for them to step into the hospital room where Hargrove's body lay serenely on a bed. The chief doctor on duty spoke first.

    'Good afternoon. I'm Dr Smit. Ambassador Hargrove was deceased upon arrival. The paramedics weren't able to resuscitate him en route. It's not clear what the cause is but we do know that his heart suddenly stopped. Witnesses say he looked ill, pale, was sweating and was rambling shortly before he collapsed outside the hotel. He was a relatively young and fit gentleman and his health records are pretty clean. In my professional opinion I recommend a full autopsy to determine the cause of death. Of course, as a diplomat under your delegation, that decision is up to your embassy'.

    Dr Smit paused knowing that outside medical things, this wasn't his pitch. He allowed Commander Tao to speak.

    'Sirs, since Ambassador Hargrove was, well, your ambassador, I assume your chargé d´affaires, second in command, has the decision to make, or whoever is responsible under your system, whether you would like an autopsy performed. We would like for you to appoint your own coroner as well to undertake the autopsy in conjunction with the chief coroner on staff at Vrijpoort General, should it be decided to perform an autopsy'.

    The hospital staff were waiting patiently as they reminded Commander Tao that they needed to get the body to the morgue and into a cooling chamber.

    'Sirs, please follow us down to the morgue'.

    Vrijpoort Magistrates' Court
    Legal Plaza, Central
    4001 Vrijpoort
    Commonwealth of Nedernesia

    Mathijs van Daalen was whispering in hushed tones to the half dozen lawyers on his team that sat beside him on the defense bench while another thirty were sitting further back in the public gallery. The five accused were sitting on the suspect bench. They had changed into suits and wore no handcuffs. The Crown Prosecutor sat to the right of Van Daalen with a team of five.

    The bailiff bellowed out in Nedernesian Salic (Dutch) and then Engelsh:

    'All rise for the Honourable Chief Judge Kaneko, the Honourable Judge Milton and the Honourable Judge Spitsbergen'!

    The entire court room rose. It was packed to the gills with lawyers, members of the public and press (without cameras) cramped in to view 'the trial of the decade'.

    The three judges, donned in regal purple robes and wearing white curled whigs, entered the court room and took their seats. Mathijs and the rest of his team on the bench hastily put on their whigs and straightened out their jet black robes as well.

    'Fucking whigs, they make me itch so much I have fuckin' phantom itches for fuckin' DAYS'! muttered one of the junior partners on Mathijs' bench. Mathijs shot the junior partner a nasty scowl that said more than any words could: that just cost you the rest of your holiday for the year plus a month's salary you fucking twit, now shut the fuck up or I'll have you hanged and quartered in front of the harbour before dinner time.

    A clerk rose and read out: 'The Crown vs. Thaumantic Trading Services Pty Ltd and affiliates. Docket number two seven four dash three three. All defendants present'.

    Chief Judge Kaneko, an elderly man of Touzen descent, raised slightly his right hand, signalling the clerk to pause.

    'My office received papers this morning requesting immediate acquittal for three of the defendants. Before officially opening this trial I invite Defense to speak to this matter. Barrister Van Daalen...'

    Van Daalen rose, his robe flowing down. 'Your Honours, if it pleases the Court. Indeed I personally delivered the acquittal request this morning on behalf of three of my clients. The two Cussians and one Sylvanian. As my papers clearly indicate, there is no hard evidence from either the RCMP, VeDi or Nedernesian Signals Directorate that squarely implicates these gentlemen in the accusations presented by the Crown. While certainly they may be persons of interest they were not involved or aware of illicit acts per se and after multiple discussions with my clients they may be willing to provide information to investigating authorities that could assist with further investigations into their employer, Thaumantic Trading Services Pty Ltd. Immediate acquittal would not only be the just thing to do under the law but it would also help ensure that vital information leading to the apprehension of the true masterminds behind this investigation is brought to light. Thank you'.

    Van Daalen gave a slight bow of the head and took his seat. Judge Kaneko nodded and looked to the Crown Prosecutor.

    'What say you, representative of the Crown?'

    The Crown Prosecutor rose and spoke to the best of his ability albeit through slightly gritted teeth as he and most of his team was personally against the orders they had received late last night from their superiors, who had no doubt been ordered by the Senior Minister's Office. He addressed the court in Nedernesian Salic, which was simultaneously interpreted through ear pieces for those who could not understand.

    'The Crown makes way for said request assuming the three in question agree to partake in recorded interviews in which any and all information they have that could be helpful to our wider investigation is provided and agree to their Nedernesian assets being frozen pending full forensic accounting sweeps. Your Honours' the Crown Prosecutor bowed his head flashed his eyes to his left, glaring at Van Daalen, before sitting down.

    The court room erupted into a collective gasp with some in the gallery yelling out: shame! child rapists! murderers! Dirty redneck swine!

    'Order! Order!' KLACK KLACK KLACK. Chief Judge Kaneko's gavel smashed down, the sound ricocheting across the vast court room, but the cacophony did not cease. Van Daalen turned to the five accused and gave them a cheeky smile and wink.

    'I said ORDER!' KLACK KLACK KLACK KLACK. The judge's attempts to quell the unrest did little if anything. The insults continued to fly out from the public gallery and suddenly someone from the crowd lobbed an egg in the direction of the defendants. It flew in an arch across the court room and landed on the floor not too far from the five Westernessers.

    And then all hell broke loose. Eggs, all of which were rotten and bad tomatoes began flying towards the suspects from all angles of the gallery. The suspects began ducking behind the bench and some of Van Daalen's lawyers tried to shield their clients from the onslaught.

    And then it came. A baby diaper was seen traversing the court room, dripping fresh baby dung as it honed in on its target. Before it could land on the defendant's bench a junior associate from Van Daalen Wakefield Pryce jumped across to intercept the smelly projectile, which hit him and splattered across his Tiburan suit, perhaps not aware at the time that his prized sartorial possession would never be salvageable even with the finest dry cleaning care Vrijpoort could offer. He would be declared a 'true client's hero' in the legal journals the next day, but in that moment he lay on the floor of the court room...covered in shit. The ultimate Nedernesian weapon of civil protest: used diapers.

    Amidst the chaos Judge Kaneko ordered the bailiff to clear the court room. The bailiff blew his whistle and the doors flew open with dozens of uniformed Courthouse Police flooding in as they grabbed people who refused to leave and anyone who was seen throwing objects. Whistles continued, eggs and rotten vegetables continued to criss cross the room. Van Daalen was ducking beneath his table.

    'What the actual fuck, they've gone bloody bonkers!' he had never seen such outcry and physical reaction from the public in all his years of defending so-called deplorables. One of his junior partners also seeking refuge under the table pointed to the rear door leading to the legal chambers.

    'Let's get out of here!'

    They made a dash for the door. Van Daalen turned to his five clients who were being quickly led back to their holding quarters by a phalanx of Court Police and RCMP that was trying to protect the defendants from the flying rubbish.

    'I'll see you boys tomorrow! Three of you are going home! The other two, I'm getting you out of this mess as well, fear not!'

    Van Daalen turned back to the door he was running towards, saw a fully loaded diaper, ducked just in time, allowing the missile to land instead in the face of his junior partner - the very one who had spoken out of turn minutes earlier.

    Well that was worth seeing, Van Daalen chuckled to himself as they rushed through the door and into the safety of the legal chambers.

    The Magistrates' Court began sounding an alarm and was locked down with backup units on the way to arrest the public nuisances and restore order.
     
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  12. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

    Joined:
    Aug 1, 2008
    Messages:
    2,142
    Location:
    The Best Carolina
    Capital:
    Welmonton
    Nick:
    Beautancus
    Vrijpoort General Hospital


    The person taking the lead for the remnants of the Cussian Embassy staff, Loriana Fletcher, wasn't at all attached to or associated with the now-former ambassador's staff. Her credentials confirmed that she was a State Foreign Service Officer, albeit with very little in the way of verifiable prior experience, and she hadn't been assigned to the Freeport Embassy until Hargrove's return from Welmonton mere days prior.

    More than a few of the Embassy staff suspected that she was really State Service, but would never dare utter those suspicions aloud.

    Beautiful in that severe way that Cussian gentrywomen were known for - eyes like pale blue and framed by hair so blonde it tended to white, itself perfectly matching the almost powdered whiteness of her complexion - there was still no mistaking that she was a woman accustomed to having her orders followed.

    The smile that Fletcher exchanged with Dr. Smit seemed so thin that it might break. "The Office for the Administration of Government for the Confederated Republic of Beautancus thanks you, Doctor."

    Officer Fletcher gestured to the man on her left, "This is Doctor Shackleford, the State Foreign Service has selected him to assist your own Coroner in effecting a suitable autopsy of the deceased." Something in the way she said deceased made it clear she was intentionally choosing not to use the former ambassador's name.

    The glaring omission of an introduction for the man on her right hung fatly in the air, a pregnant silence in its own way. There was no mistaking him as someone with more direct skillsets, hard-faced Indigene features and nondescript service-gray business suit marking him almost immediately for a man from the SSB.

    "And yes Doctor Smit, we will. Gentlemen?" Fletcher exchanged looks with both of the other Cussians, who merely nodded, and all proceeded with Dr. Smit to the morgue without offering further remark of small talk.


     
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