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Paristani War Criminal Demands Asylum in Radilo

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Mr. Jean-Luc Delauney, a heavyset man in his late 50s, wearing a long coat and a hat pulled down over his eyes, arrives at the Radilo embassy in Montmartre just before closing time. He goes to the reception area (or whatever you'd have).

"Hello? Anyone? I need asylum..."
 

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There are two young girls working at the reception desk, Nadia and Page. The latter was an intern from Radilo and the former from Paristan; both undergraduates in foreign affairs. It didn't take much deduction to know who the man was. Without much conversation Page went to the ambassador's office.

"Monsieur Ambassador," she said opening the door, "there is someone here you would like to meet."

"Qui?"

"Monsieur Delauney."

"C'est vrai?"

"C'est vrai."

"Send him in," he said, still not entirely convinced."

She walked back out.

"The ambassador will meet you," she said, almost in a whisper.

She led him to the ambassador's office, and the two walked in. There was a long pause; finally the ambassador spoke:

"Page, it's late, you and Nadia can go home... take tomorrow and the weekend off. I'll see you two on Monday."

The girl nodded and left.

"So," said the ambassador taking out a bottle of liquor and two glasses from his desk drawer, "what are you here to talk to me about?"
 
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Mr. Delaunay gratefully accepts a drink, and shoots it down in one gulp. His face is haggard, worn, and he looks around the room shiftily.
"These bastards...these commie bastards. They want my head. I need asylum. I was just following orders, you understand? LeClerc was a madman - he would have killed me and my family... I was just following orders...and now Magritte and his so-called Justice Commission want to try me for mass murder! There is no innocent until proven guilty...and the punishment is death by guillotine!"
 

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"Settle down," said the ambassador sipping his drink. "I know who you are and what you are and vaguely know of what you are accused of. I also know that my country wants good relations with yours. You are a big fish, but not the biggest. Monsieur LeClerc is who they want... if you can give me him, I can assure your safe passage into the Third Republic.

But, before all of that, let me introduce myself. I am Louis VanBrache, ambassador to Paristan from the Radilan Third Republic.

If you fill me in on details, about you and Monsieur LeClarc, it would be most appreciated."
 
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Delauney lets out a bitter laugh that degenerates into a cough. "The madmen...they took care of LeClerc at the start of this mad revolution...dragged him out into the street and shot him to death. You obviously haven't read up on your Paristani history, Mr. Ambassador."
 
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The Ambassador has received an urgent communique from the office of Prime Minister Magritte. It reads:

"It is my understanding that Mr. Jean-Luc Delauney is hiding in your embassy like the cornered rat he is. Please do not give him sanctuary. This man is personally responsible for the deaths of over 1,000 union leaders during the LeClerc dictatorship. Paristani authorities are being dispatched to your embassy. They will not enter without your permission. If you will hand Mr. Delauney to our authorities outside of your embassy gates, we will take care of him from there. In the interest of our mutual desire for a respectful and fruitful relationship between our two nations, your prompt compliance is urged. Delay, or refusal to turn over Mr. Delauney to our authorities, would be unfortunate."
 

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"I think, monsieur, you misunderstand me. I know his body is dead and his soul in hell--but that is the end of a person. How many foreign bank accounts did he stow away a personal fortune estimated in the billions? What secrets did he die with that you and others surely know; what weapons programs, what secret deals? They made a mistake in killing him so quickly; they still don't have all of him yet. So what of him can you still give them? What of him can you still give to me? And what of you can you give to me?"

The phone rang.

"Bonjour. Oui."

He hung the phone up.

"Be brief monsieur; now someone's looking for you."
 

Radilo

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OOC: Oops, I should have remembered that... oh well I'll just spin it to the ambassador being cryptic about stuff.
 
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ooc: lol no worries - nice save.

ic: "I think you overestimate my importance to the LeClerc regime, monsieur Ambassador. The bastard kept all of his money and his secrets very close to his chest - only three or four people knew about any of that, and they're all in hiding somewhere...I barely had contact with any of them. What was that phone call about? Probably Magritte...his secret spies are everywhere...probably followed me here, the bastards."

Delauney looks around shiftily, and then speaks in low tones. "I can get you the name of one of LeClerc's most trusted advisors. I even know where he was last seen. That's all I have."
 

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"Well, Monsieur Delauney, if you give me that information you can stay in the embassy for now. I can promise you that you will not die, at least for the time being. Because you are wanted by Interpol, I will have to get the approval of my superiors to grant you anything."

He picked up the phone.

"Tell the Prime Minister we cannot confirm or deny the presents of any such individual on our compound. Also have the Foreign Minister contact me as soon as possible."


Nouveau Port

The foreign minister was out to dinner with a group of senators when his blackberry went off. Annoyed, he read the text message. With a peeved facial expression he dialed his office.

"Tell the ambassador to sit on his hands until I can get back in. I'll be about two hours."

He hung up the cellphone and resumed his meal.

Montematre

After getting the response form the Foreign Ministry, the Ambassador poured himself another drink.

"So Monsieur Delauney, we have some time to kill now; tell me about yourself."
 
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"What's to say? I was a loyal member of LeClerc's administration. I didn't particularly believe in his mad visions of wealth and power, but I was a good soldier. I followed orders. That's all. If a few union leeches paid the price for a greater New Paristan...that was all a part of doing business. Revolutions are for stupid idealists who think better of the human race than the human race deserves. Reality demands action. That's what I always believed."
 
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The Ambassador has received another urgent communique from Prime Minister Magritte's office.

"It would be in our mutual interest for you to respond to my previous message posthaste. You will note the presence of Paristani police outside of your embassy gates. Soon, the press will get wind of this situation. If we cooperate with each other, it will be better."
 

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"Funny, it seems you are the stupid one, as it seems those union leaches seem to have won out the day. Those idealists also seem to have bigger guns and bigger brains than you, which is why you are in my office begging for sanctuary.

My boss is what you would call a lefty, a socialist. And while he might not agree with or condone the actions of this government of amateurs; he sympathizes with them.

I though, am also just a soldier who takes orders. And I'm now waiting for mine."

The phone rang.

"Bonjour. I don't want to draw any suspicion either, Monsieur Magritte. So I would recommend you move your men a few blocks away from the embassy. It's not like anyone would get very far...

Because I can't do anything yet without the approval of my boss. I need you to be patient; its not necessary to rush anything yet."

The ambassador turned to Delauney.

"This is causing me more of a headache then I would like; and likely more than you are worth. You need to give me those names and addresses now, or else you will not be allowed to stay here."
 
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"There's a Marc Delphine, he was LeClerc's chief political adviser. Oddly, despite your country's socialistic nature, he's actually hiding in your main city. No doubt the Paristani authorities would be very interested in getting their hands on him." Delauney scratches an address on a piece of paper and hands it to the Ambassador.
 

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"Excellent," said the ambassador, taking out a blackberry. He quickly punched a few things into the secure line; hung up, and put the cell back into his pocket.

"If that proves to be useful inelegance, I can guarantee your protection."

Nouveau Port

The foreign minister was briefed on the proceedings when he returned to his office after dinner.

"So do we know where Delphine is?" asked the Minister to a SIR member, Madame Que.

"We should have him in a few hours," she responded, "he has been living under the pseudonym Jean Claude; he doesn't do much, just sits around coffee shops and bars all day."

"Good," he said, picking up the phone, "I need to call my counterpart, get him off my ambassador's back... Bonjour, je suis le ministre estranger..."
 
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Foreign Minister Marius Pontmercy was just finishing some paperwork regarding New Paristan's stalled application to join the General Assembly. His phone rang.
"Oui? Ah, hello Minister [didn't see his name anywhere]." Pontmercy's eyes widen, and he scribbles the information down. "I'll get this to Prime Minister Magritte's office right away. Merci."

He hangs up the phone and immediately dials the Prime Minister's office. "The Radillans [Radillians? Radillites?] have got Delphine."

The Prime Minister responds, "Delphine? What about Delaunay? I want that scumbag at the Place de la Concorde with his head in the guillotine."

"Yes, I do too Bruno, but I think what the Radillans are proposing is that Delauney give us Delphine in exchange for Delauney's immunity and asylum in their country."

Magritte thinks about this for a second. "I need to go see this Ambassador personally. He needs to understand just what both of these men did to us."

Fifteen minutes later, the Prime Minister's motorcade pulls up outside the Radillan embassy. [if the embassy is locked up for the night, which I think it is] He stands outside of the gate and dials the Ambassador on his cell phone. "I'm outside your embassy, Mr. Ambassador. Put Delauney in a secure location. We need to have a chat. Please let me in." [this may not be super realistic, but meh.]
 

Radilo

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OOC: It is but, oh well. ;)

IC: "Of course your Excellency, I'll send someone to let you."

The Prime Minister was led to the Ambassador's office.

"Greetings Monsieur Prime Minister. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Nouveau Port

Delphine didn't put up much of a fight when SIR agents arrested him. In fact, he was unnervingly calm. At SIR headquarters he sat quietly in an interview room, smoking a cigarette. Madame Que was assigned to interrogate him.

She walked into the room, and sat down across from him.

"So... Monseur Delphine," she started.

"I ask your pardon ma'am, my name is Jean..."

"Don't even try that, we've already confirmed your identity; we got a nice tip off from one of your old friends."

"I see. Well then it would behoove you to pick up the paper in the morning... You will not be able to send me back."

"How so?"

"I chose this country for a reason... you have no extradition treaty with Paristan. And you can't just sneak me out now... those idiots already have made a scene at your embassy. This whole story has already hit the internet, I'm sure it will be in the headlines in Les Temps tomorrow."

Madame Que didn't have a response. She texted her boss, who confirmed that the story had already hit the wire service. And on Les Temp's website it was the most clicked story that hour.
 

Radilo

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OOC: I blame the Republicans... and Danz, possibly Xen too... and throw Jose in there, just for good measure.
 
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