Our warm embrace

[Clarenthia]

Bakva Beridze was sitting in Abasha airport. Beridze was an agent of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for quite some time now, he was well trusted, and for this mission he needed to be. Some of the most important people to step into Akhaltsikhe were coming on the plane that had just landed.

Beridze stood up and walked to the terminal where the passengers were getting off the plane. He was wearing a gray suit with a blue tie and black sun glasses. His hair was neatly combed and he looked much younger than 56.

Beridze had a suitcase with him. In the suitcase was some of the most classified information in Akhaltsikhe, information vital to the plans of the Council. The information was so classified that not even Beridze knew many details, but he thought it was better that way.

He continued to watch the crowd coming off the plane, searching for his targets.

 

[Batavië]

There were only three of them. They were wearing dark suits, carrying briefcases and they had a few aides carrying luggage behind them. Their apparent leader was a former member of the communist Politburo. Peter Morteng shook hands with Beridze.

'Take us to a quiet place, eh?' being seen in public was dangerous.

As they walked to the cars Morteng noticed the suitcase with Beridze. They settled into the leather seats. It was hot. They had just come in from Kryobaijan, opposite climate.

'What do you have there?' the suitcase was odd, in his view, and he was very curious.

 

[Clarenthia]

Beridze smiled at the three men when they asked about the briefcase.
“Your future,” he replied “But, come, come, I, as much as you, don’t want people to see us.”

The party walked to a limo where they got in and began driving towards the mountains in Abasha. The exact location couldn’t be said for it was also a hideout for the Government if something was to go amiss, like it just had in Senaki. Beridze pulled out the briefcase again and decided to open it, showing the gentlemen what was inside.

“Most of the information in this briefcase is top secret, highly classified in order to ensure your safety. This briefcase holds the new identities you will have while you make a living in Akhaltsikhe. It also holds information on your bank account, and now worries, you’ll be able to withdraw money at free will.

Speaking of money, we have A$4.3 million(USD = 140,000) in each of your bank accounts. We would like you to use it to get cosmetic surgery, to change your appearance as best we can. Until you get that, we can’t have you leave the villa, it’s for your own good. We went through a lot of work to get you three here, we wouldn’t like to see it all go to waste.”

 

[Batavië]

The three men laughed and made a few remarks to each other in Dutch. Finally the 'leader', Morteng, spoke on their behalf.

'We won't be getting surgery, I am sorry to say. They have no idea that we are here and as long as we stay low and don't go to any major centres where there might be someone who will recognise us, we'll be fine. Besides, the Staatsveiligheid, the Batavian intelligence service...well let's just say that they would know if we got plastic surgery and it wouldn't help us much. They probably have a couple of guys here already. They just don't know that we are here. Keep us away from major urban centres and we'll make do.'

 

[Clarenthia]

The Limo pulled to a stop and the doors were opened. Beridze smiled at the Batavians, as he put on sunglasses. The party stepped out of the limo and saw a beautiful villa that had a view of the mountains of Akhaltsikhe. The beaming sun beat down on the party, which made Beridze take off his jacket.

"Our aides will show you to your rooms, here are your new identities for any legal action you want to take that anyone could use," Beridze, handing them papers.

"I want to give you three time to settle in, I'll be back tomorrow to talk to you about matters of importance, I'll try to answer all your questions then," Beridze said.

The aides came and showed the Batavians to their rooms. Beridze watched as they were taken away, and he smiled, getting back into the limo, driving off.

"Poor bastards," he mumbled.

 

[Batavië]

Morteng and the other two flipped through the papers and then made their ways into their rooms. They were tired, nervous and now they had nothing to do.

Morteng himself sat down in his relatively sparse room. He walked over to the window and opened the curtains. The view of the mountains was stunning. There were no mountains in Batavië, just some hills in the southeast.

He thought about what he would do. Open a shop...work for a law firm, maybe or a bank. Or maybe he would wire the rest of his hidden money in Danzig to his new account here and just kick back, relax and enjoy the beach.

Tomorrow he would get his bearings. He had no idea that the man walking his dog outside was an SV agent.

 

[Clarenthia]

(OOC: Sorry! I forgot about this RP!)

Beridze returned in the morning. The sun was hot again, as it usually was, especially in these months. Beridze went straight to an aide before he went into the dining hall of the Villa so he could enjoy a breakfast, waiting for his Batavian friends to meet with him.

 

[Batavië]

They walked through the dining hall, dressed in tan suits, sun glasses. It was like a holiday for them. They sat down at the table and began helping themselves to coffee and bread. Morteng sipped his coffee and spread out the front page of the newspaper. It was a Franken paper, but he had few problems with German thanks to it being the second language taught in school in Batavië.

'What a mess they are in with that whole Fulanistan business, eh?' he chuckled as he finished his first cup and began to pour his second. The other two men took the paper and began reading the article.

'What's on the agenda today then? Are you setting us up with local accounts and services or what?' there was a slight tone of impatience. It was shown in his eyes.


While the three communists indulged in their breakfast the SV agent was outside smoking a cigarette reading the same paper. Sometimes the travel, the constant flying around and sparse living conditions were a burden, but he was glad his job was always stable. Four months ago he was spying on BRA capitalists for a communist government. Today he was reading a Franken paper with a front page article on the crisis in Himyar. Personally this agent didn't see what the big deal was. They should fucking mind their own business, he thought. Batavië posed no threat, not militarily at least with Himyar being so far away.

He stubbed out the cigarette on the pavement and looked inside. They were still eating like a trio of fat capitalist pigs.

 

[Clarenthia]

Beridze smiled at his new countrymen and motioned for them to take a seat. Beridze took a sip from his drink and then looked at a document he had brought with him.

“Gentlemen, I truly do hope you are enjoying your stay in Akhaltsikhe. We certainly enjoy your presence, but it’s time we get down to business,” Beridze said as his tone changed.

“Finding the three of you and then brining you all here was one of the greatest tasks we had undergone. We spent a sum of money on you three as well, and to be honest, we’d like a return,” Beridize continued.

“What do we want? It’s simple and you three should have it. We’d like to know everything you know on secret Batavian operations and especially any secret you have on Vangala, anything at all. Also, we’d like to find more of the communist leaders in exile, the information they possess could be even more useful to us, and in return, they get a good life, so if you can, tell us where the others are,” Beridze said.

“Also, if it suits your fancy, we have jobs set up for you at the National Bank in Abasha or another office around the Country. If that doesn’t fit your fancy, we can make arrangements. Or, you can just sit in relax in this villa for the remainder of your life. Of course, you will be watched all the time, for your own safety, of course.”