NationStates Jolt Archive

To: EGC of Xikuang
From: Svea Riga Ministry of Foreign Affairs & Justice Department
Re: Meeting between EGC and Thom Dingsten Hellberg – Minister of Justice
Encryption: None


Comrades

Members of the Elected General Council we humbly request a meeting between your EGC and our Minister of Justice, Thom Dingsten Hellberg, to discuss the exchange of several Xikuangese citizens held prisoners by the Svea Rigan state. Amongst these men are:

Khulun Drokhpha – Arrested for distributing flayers which supported a new revolution against SFP.
Xucai Zhijian – Arrested and sentenced to 40 years of imprisonment for the murder of 2 officers within the Rigan militia.
Dhan Lhin – Arrested for hacking into and stealing nearly 12 billion crowns from the Rigan State Bank.
Szeqi Ÿrlhing – Arrested for harbouring 43 Xikaungese-Rigan citizens loyal to Goran Persson during the revolution.
Qanh Zhulhe – Arrested for leading rallies outside the Stock Holm military base which resulted in 32 people dead and several hundreds wounded.
Zhin Zhiyi – Arrested and sentenced to death for stealing and selling enriched plutonium to Skargarden.

We are willing to surrender these people in exchange for some very sensitive subjects which you are holding in captivity against their will. We request this meeting to be set up no more than four days after the 4CACE has ended; failure to comply with our wishes may result in harsher punishment for the prisoners.

With benedictions


//Thom Dingsten Hellberg
Minister of Justice
Svea Riga

Dr. Xu read the message flagged for her attention, then read it again.

"How peculiar." she commented, then forwarded it to the rest of the Elected General Committee, with an addendum:


They seem to be quite urgent about this, and given current affairs in Svea Riga, I see no reason why we shouldn't meet with them as soon as possible. If we can have the full assembly, that would be ideal.

-Xu

She then set about composing a response:


Greetings to Minister Thom Dingsten Hellberg--

We will of course be more than willing to meet with you to discuss these matters. I would like to invite you to attend us at your earliest convenience, so that we may assemble the Council as quickly as possible.

With benedictions--

Dr. Xu Xian,
Elected,
Chair of the Elected General Council of the Serene Socialist Republic of Xikuang

A few minutes later, she had a reply:


Dr. Xu--

I think I may know what this is about. If I'm right, it could get nasty. Just letting you know.

--Sarekh

Greetings Councillor Dr. Xu Xian

I’m very glad to hear that you were able to meet with our demands regarding this meeting; I am on my way to Lhijir at the moment with our Cessna and will be staying in the city until you have the entire EGC gathered and can set up a meeting. I travel alone without secretary or guards; I trust it you can make appropriate amends to security when I arrive.

With benedictions

//Thom Dingsten Hellberg
Minister of Justice
Svea Riga

Thom clicked the “send” button and stretched for the glass of vodka which had been served to comfort his fright of flying. Five minutes to takeoff, more than enough time to alter some laws and restrictions regarding court-hearings in the field and military trials.
As he swept the vodka down reaching for the bottle to pour another one up he saw the small icon blink “You got mail!” Ah, I hate this piece of SeOCC shit, you can’t turn that stupid message of.


Please enter security code: xxxxxxxx

To: Minister of Justice, Thom Dingsten Hellberg
From: Minister of Defence, Axel Joahnsson
Re: Greeting old friends

Comrade

I just sent this message to wish you good luck in your journey to the east and may you have a fortunate travel with our newly purchased Cessna, it still itches me that you disobeyed my advices to bring guards with you but I can not force you to it I guess.

When discussing the more sensitive matter of the meeting with the Elected General Kooks, I suggest that you be more careful than you use to be when discussing with foreign powers, we want him home to whatever cost, almost! You know within which perimeters you may move and how much you may offer for him but I warn you not to extend those boundaries unless you want to be eradicated when you come back to Stock Holm old pal.


All hail Svea Riga

//Axel

"Svea Rigan craft, you are cleared for landing on Runway 5. Welcome to Xikuang."

The Cessna descended and made a graceful, easy landing, but the slight bump as the wheels came down on the tarmac still made Minister Hellberg jump. The vodka may have put him at his ease while in the air, but he'd need rather a bit more if it was to calm his fear of landing, which, he noted, seemed to come much too soon. But then, he reflected, much of this country was much too high up.

Stupid mountains.

As he disembarked, the minister noticed a group of several people coming towards him. At first, he thought that the one in the lead must be a foreigner, for he stood head and shoulders above the tallest of the others and was built like the proverbial brick hygienic facility; the Xikuangese, he knew, were a tetchy little people in whom the dizzy heights of five and a half feet was about the most you could expect. But as the man approached, Hellberg recognised him as a member of the Elected General Committee, whom he had seen once on telly, saying something about international politics. The others appeared to be guards: they were in crisp, identical grey uniforms, sashed with blue, and carried some sort of staff-type thing fashioned of a matte black substance. Apparently, they had indeed made appropriate provisions for his security, or at least what provisions such a congenitally peaceable lot would be likely to make.

Well, it would have to do.

The large man approached him and bowed in the traditional manner, raising his hands, right wrapped around left fist, to forehead level, and straightened again.

"Minister Thom Hellberg, I presume? Councillor Sarekh Djijirin, Chair of National Security. I hope you had a pleasant flight?"

Thom was, to his great surprise, quite sober when the plane had gone down in Lhijir. He was even more sober when the hatch opened exposing him to fresh mountain air which filled his lungs making him cough a bit. As ordered he was wearing his standard issue Generals Uniform making him feel as he invaded the place rather than visited it.

"Minister Thom Hellberg, I presume? Councillor Sarekh Djijirin, Chair of National Security. I hope you had a pleasant flight?"

Thom was surprised, this guy was taller than most Rigans, but then he probably was the exception that confirms the rule.

“You presume correctly. Dreadful, absolutely dreadful, I hate flying above all else, but since you’ve decided to live so far from Svea Riga and in the mountains I guess it’s better than taking the bus. I see you got some guards or whatever they are with you, good, I like having a few guys around me ready to defend me and the party. I don’t expect you to hold up to the Rigan standard of course but I guess you’ll do when I refuse to bring my own ones…
Oh yes and before I forget, a gift from the Svea Rigan state, I have no idea what the briefcase contains or why you receive a gift from us, but here”

Thom hands over a small briefcase with the Xikuangese flag painted on the sides of it. It’s quite small but it weighs more than one can imagine.

“So then, where will I stay during the days forward to the meeting?”

Councillor Sarekh takes the briefcase, and is momentarily surprised by its weight. He handles it, however, as if it were filled with the normal sorts of things one would find in briefcases, not whatever this is that weighs many times that: he is obviously not just huge, but rather stronger than average, as well. "How very gracious of you. I thank you, on behalf of the council. We normally house foreign dignitaries in the Goran T'he'rajhi hotel, that being amongst the more comfortable establishments, but should you find that it isn't quite to your taste, we can always make other arrangements."

He gestures for Hellberg to walk beside him, and they start for the airport as the guards fall in behind. "Sorry to hear that you did not enjoy your journey. I do appreciate that flying can be uncomfortable, but we find ourselves where we find ourselves." And blessedly, it's at least this far from Svea Riga, he thinks to himself, but is careful not to say.

They proceed through the terminal, and the well-oiled machine that is airport security kicks into gear. An immense black dog, looking for all the world like a great shaggy wolf, approaches in the company of a member of security staff, and wags its tail languidly at the Rigan official, staring up at him, and then at its human partner, with expectant yellow eyes. The human, for his part, bows his head to Minister Hellberg, then ruffles the dog behind the ears and moves off.

"Yes." Sarekh says, handing the case to a security attendant, holding on to it a bit longer than expected, so that the rather small woman will not be overbalanced by its unusual weight. She is obliged to carry it in both hands. "We received your request for a security staff. They are probably not what you would find in Svea Riga, but you will find them well trained. But of course, you probably will not need them here. Unless..." Sarekh eyes the Rigan carefully. "Unless there are special considerations?"

Meanwhile, the security attendant passes the case through the X-ray machine, and frowns when the image comes up a black square. Lead-lined. She shifts the heavy case off the belt and carries it through to the curtained-off area just behind her, where she opens it, finding another box inside. She lifts this out, checking the rest of the case before opening the box. Her eyes widen as she lifts the contents out, realising that the object in her hands is probably worth a small fortune. She carefully packs the case back up, closes it, and returns it to the waiting party.

”Special considerations? Well except the fact that we’re experiencing constant attacks from separatists and revolutionaries everything is quite normal. I requested the security because I didn’t want to bring my own guards with me, it feels so crowded when they’re with me”

Thom sighed when the case was given to the security woman. He wanted the contents for himself, or at least to know what it contained, he had been given strict orders not to open the case. He know that the old saying “Fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts” was more fitting for the Rigans, they always brought gifts when they had bad news to tell and this was no exception. And considering the graveness of his news the contents must’ve been worth more than the Cessna he arrived in.

When the party was given the case back they resumed their journey towards the doors leading out from the airport. It was a cloudy but still comfortable day in the Xikuangese lowlands, since Thom had no idea where he was supposed to go he waited for Sarekh to take control of the party and lead him to his place of stay. The other suitcase did not get examined as so was the tradition, for that Thom was glad since it didn’t only contain personal belongings but diplomatic papers, the case was used as a diplomatic case.

“So, from here we go where?”

Noting the expression on the security attendant's face as she handed the case back to him, Sarekh's curiosity about its contents intensified. He wouldn't open it, though-- according to Xikuangese sensibilities, that would be an extreme breach of propriety. He just took it, and gestured for Hellberg to follow him towards one of the exits.

"A car has been arranged to take you directly to the hotel, or somewhere else, if you'd prefer. Ah, yes-- we have been following the situation with these separatists. It seems that you are experiencing interesting times."

As they exit, there is, indeed, a car waiting: one of the comfortable, but understated, slate-grey affairs typically employed by the government. One of the guards trots forward to open the door for the Rigan minister.

OOC: I’m jumping to the hotel if you don’t mind?

”Interesting isn’t the word I’d use for our situation but I guess it’s as good as any other word in the Celdonian vocabulary. I take it you’ll give me a signal when the EGC is all gathered and we can have the meetings I’m here to conduct?”

Without waiting for a reply Thom gives a slight salute to Sarekh and enters the car closing the door quickly eager to get to the hotel.

“Goran T'he'rajhi hotel, and make it quick” Thom was in a rather good mood considering the circumstances he was in. The journey to Xikuang was decided just two weeks ago and he got the spot as negotiator twelve hours before the flight was scheduled, but the matter was widely discussed in the parliament and Thom was one of those who advocated a journey to Xikuang to strike a deal with the EGC. But he could never imagine it would be him who got appointed to do it.

As the car arrived to the hotel Thom got out hastily. Walked up to the reception explaining who he was and that he needed a room for no more than seven days time.

“I also require two guards to be present outside the door to my room at all times not letting anyone I haven’t granted permission to enter”.

ooc: that's fine; I assume you'll want your guard to come with you? If not, ignore the first part of this post and I'll edit it out later.

As he gets into the vehicle, Hellberg finds that two of his greeting party have gotten in ahead of him, one sharing the passenger compartment with him, the other taking his seat next to the driver. The man in the back turns to Hellberg and gives him a curt, unsmiling nod, speaking without any indication of emotion.

"Minister Hellberg, we have been assigned to your protection while you are here. I wish to reassure you that the city is very safe, but should you wish it a detachment will be available for you twenty-four hours a day."

Studying him, Hellberg can't help but notice a rather unmistakable sort of bulge under the man's uniform jacket. Evidently, he was packing, though as Hellberg knew perfectly well, firearms were not permitted in Xikuang, either for civilians or police forces.

Blissfully, it doesn't take long to get from Lhijir International Airport to the city itself, and not long to navigate the city's narrow, twisting, climbing streets to its busy centre, where the Goran T'he'rajhi is located. Much of the native style clings to Lhijir's largest and most modern hotel, and the Minister might momentarily be distracted by the intricate geometrical tiling decorating the facade, before something having to do with the elevation prompts in him a rather pressing desire to sit down somewhere, and he heads quickly for reception.

At his requests, the receptionist-- a bright young woman with close-cropped hair and wire-rimmed spectacles, her hotel uniform absolutely immaculate-- smiles brightly. The request for a guard was unusual, but foreign dignitaries were often given rooms here, and she was used to their occasional eccentricities and paranoias; too, she was aware of the situation in Svea Riga and would not question the legitimacy or not of the Minister's request.

"Certainly, sir." she says. "Your arrival was expected and reservations have already been made for you in 6/16." She hands him a plastic swipecard emblazoned with the hotel's logo. "Should you find anything not to your satisfaction, please just 'ring the front desk and we'll do all we can to help. A porter will show you to your room."

She nods towards his left, and Hellberg notices for the first time another bright young woman, in a slightly different, but equally immaculate, hotel uniform standing a few paces away. She nods cheerfully towards him. "This way, sir. Someone will bring your luggage directly."

The porter leads Minister Hellberg briskly to his room, providing him with details of the hotel's restaurant and two café bars, as well as how to find information about the city itself and what entertainment he might find, in a practised monologue along the way. She opens the door to 6/16 for him with a master swipecard and steps back, as the two guards take places to either side of the door.

Hellberg finds that he has not been assigned a room, but a small suite: the door opens into a well-appointed lounge, a small bar at one end with tea and coffee facilities. To the right, a door opens into a comfortable bedroom, and beyond that, another door into a very well provided bath. It isn't what one would describe as opulent, but it is certainly comfortable, and, Hellberg may note, conscientiously well heated.

----------------------------------

Sarekh Djijirin pulled his small car into his designated spot, noting with a certain grim satisfaction that that bozo from the records office hadn't taken it once since that little e-mail he'd dropped. Working for National Security did have its perks. He got out and walked away, then, remembering, returned to the vahicle and retrieved the heavy case Hellberg had given him earlier, claiming not to kno wwhat it contained.

What an... abrupt sort of fellow, Djijirin mused as he walked towards his flat. It will certainly be interesting to see what the Rigan government wants... but hopefully, not too interesting... He closed his door behind him, went into his rather spartan kitchen, set the case on the table and made a pot of tea, meticulously salting and buttering it to his rather pernickety taste. Returning to the table cup in hand, without any further reason to curtail his curiosity, he snapped open the case, then lifted the lid on the box inside.

And stared.

He picked up the receiver on his landline and dialled, not bothering with a greeting when the 'phone was picked up at the other end. Though the very embodiment of propriety himself, Councillor Xiang, Chair of the Elected General Committee for International Affairs and Xikuang's premier diplomat, did not stand overmuch on ceremony, and would almost certainly know the answer to his question.

"Kalsang, what does it mean when the Rigans give you presents?"

"Oh, hello, Djijirin." the voice on the other end answered; Councillor Sarekh could hear a children's television program playing in the background. "I take it you met Minister Hellberg then. How did it go?"

"Well, enough, I think. He's an interesting sort of character, I'm sure you'll find. But I don't quite know what to make of this gift thing."

"Was it presented to you, or the council?" Xiang asked.

"Council. Hellberg just gave me the case on behalf of the government; said he didn't know what was in it."

"Ah." Xiang answered. "It is traditional for the Rigans to present gifts when making requests. It is intended both to flatter the recipient, and to provide an indication of the importance of whatever is being requested. The more valuable the gift, the more important the request, and the more valued a positive response."

"Oh. That's interesting. Very interesting."

"Indeed?"

"Well, whatever Minister Hellberg has come to request, the Rigans consider it pretty important."

From its box on his kitchen table, looking very much out of place, the heavy hammer and sickle, expertly crafted of solid gold and intricately designed, the handles of the tools, the symbols of the proletariat, plated in platinum, gleamed unnervingly at Councillor Sarekh.

Finally alone!. When the door closes Thom takes a few moments to settle down in his new suite, examining its interior closely, looking for bugs, hidden cameras, etc. Then he remembered where exactly he was, and for what purpose… so he resumed the scanning of the suite. After a good 40 minutes sweep he stated that the suite was clean from all electronics more advanced than the lights in the mini-bar so he began to unpack his things. There was the computer, phone, 10’000 of the Xikuangese currency - bulldog lais, clothes, medicines and his books about military strategy – this week’s homework from the government.

After the unpacking was done Thom stepped into the bathroom. Fuck me! Not even old Persson had this kind of bathtub, if this is an ordinary suite I’d like to see the Presidents’. He tapped a bath for himself and stepped into it, making sure the water was just too hot for him to splash his face with the water. There he stayed a good 45 minutes just sniffing the fumes from the lavender oil mixing with the hot water. His skin dry as a raisin he got up from the tub and got into some nice clean clothes.

When he opened the door to the hallway he didn’t look like he did when he arrived, the uniform changed into a pair of black jeans and a white shirt with a black tie. He changed his military boots against a pair of joggers and he was ready to go.

The guards on the door nod to Hellberg as he steps out, and maintain their position, while another man in the same uniform-- the one who had shared the back seat with him on the journey to the hotel-- rises from a chair nearby and steps quietly into line behind him, following.

ooc: I know that it is terrible form to co-opt someone else's character. Don't worry-- SR's player asked me to, and has approved the following content.

ic:

Minister Hellberg's Jolly Romp in Lhijir


Hellberg walked down the hotel corridor, whistling cheerfully, his dour-faced guard following two and a half paces behind him. A native might have felt uncomfortable under such vigilance, but for Hellberg, to be going out without the veritable retinue that would have accompanied him at home was a strangely liberating experience. Odd that it should be so, he reflected: he might have felt unsafe without the pack of SpecOps that normally would have surrounded him, but he felt positively free. He stopped at the end of the corridor and pressed the button to call the elevator, then abruptly rethought his earlier notion of going to the hotel restaurant. Bah, I eat in hotel restaurants all the time, he thought. Tonight he'd do something different. Just for a lark.

He returned to his room to collect his coat (his taciturn guard shadowed him), then headed downstairs and outside. He was still finding the air a bit thin, but the air had a pleasant chill in it that Hellberg found nicely refreshing after his long hot bath. It was also quite stimulating to his hunger, and his stomach complained of its emptiness with a low growl. Now, to find some food. Wonder where's good? He contemplated going back inside for a guide, but then decided against it: what would be the fun in that? Hellberg decided he would go into the first eatery that took his fancy.

He wandered around Lhijir's winding streets for a bit, his guard's footsteps always the same distance behind him, taking in the sights. He took a detour down a winding, ancient-looking alley, its cobbled pavement overlooked by high masonry walls in the blocky traditional style, listening to the sounds coming from within the various establishments that occupied its ground and basement level floors. Bypassing several potential candidates and getting hungrier all the time, he came at last to a small restaurant whose sign, unusually, was only in the native language, unaccompanied by the Celdonian translation. It looked nice; pleasant, cozy candlelit tables, and the exotic smells from within struck him as appealing. He went in.

Unbeknownst to himself, Hellberg had stumbled upon one of Lhijir's better regarded restaurants, specialising in native cuisine. The hostess, an exceedingly perceptive and capable person, took one glance at the minister and his shadow, and seated him at a small table placed at an unobtrusive window where he could look out, and where, from a nearby alcove, his guard could keep a watchful eye on him. Almost immediately a waitress appeared with a pot of tea (churned, after the old style, with butter and salt; any unconventonal nonsense having to do with sugar or milk is not an option here) a little basket of egg-sized steamed buns, and a menu, printed in Xikuangese and Celdonian.

"Here, now." Hellberg said when the waiteress returned a few minutes later. "When it says here beetles, do you really mean beetles? As in, insects?"

"Oh, yes, sir." the waitress replied brightly. "The greater spotted beetle is quite a delicacy. Prepared well, there's nothing else quite like it,"

"What are they like, these beetles?"

"I could show you, if you would like."

"That would be nice. And while you're at it, a vodka tonic."

"Right away, sir."

Hellberg was expecting to be shown a document about the origins and natural habits of the greater spotted beetle, and was somewhat surprised when the waitress returned with a vodka tonic on one hand and an enormous bug in the other. Nearly eight centimeters long, with a plump, rounded body, its head was adorned with a glossy black horn, the elongated tarsus of its hindlegs with long, delicate tarsal claws. Its carapace was a glossy white, mottled with grey spots. It was a lovely thing, and Hellberg-- who had had a healthy interest in all things creepy and crawly as a child-- was astonished that he had never encountered one before. It crawled about quite freely on the waitrress's hand, and she had to keep turning it over so the beetle wouldn't fall off.

"The lesser spotted beetle is usually considered to be prettier, but I prefer these." she said. "Besides, you can't eat the lesser ones. Well, you can-- they aren't poisonous or anything-- but they don't taste very good."

"And these do?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Then I'll have the beetles, and a bottle of whatever goes best with beetle."

"Thank you, sir."

About twenty minutes later, the waitress returned with a plate piled with what appeared to be little green parcels and a small heap of vegetable tempura-like things, subtly aromatic, and a bottle of a chilled Rehochipean white. She showed Hellberg how to unwrap the leaf parcels in which the beetles had been steamed with butter and herbs, how to slide the lower carapace off without breaking the legs, and then suck the meat out of the inverted shell. He was pleasantly surprised by the taste: a little like monkfish, but with a subtle sweetness, accentuated by the butter and spices.

These are awfully nice. I wonder if I can get them to get these for the governnemtal compound, he reflected, then was siezed with a fit of the giggles at the thought of the Prime Minister eating a plate full of bugs. He finished, paid his bill, and left, quietly tailed by his guard.

Suddenly, an idea struck him, something that had never occurred to him at any point in his governmental career. It would have seemed preposterous, but he was enjoying his sense of freedom, and thought he'd entertain it. He stopped and turned around and looked quizzically at his guard.

"You there. What's your name?"

The man looked somewhat taken aback, and hesitated, as though he had forgotten it.

"Er... Khunh, sir." he replied. "Khunh Ÿxinh."

Wonder how you spell that, Hellberg reflected, somewhat doubting his ability to pronounce it.

"Do you like your work?" he asked.

Khunh blinked. He hadn't expected that the Minister of Justice would talk to him. "It isn't really a matter of liking it; it's just a matter of doing it, sir." he managed eventually.

"Well, what do you like? What do you do on your day off? Presuming you get a day off."

Hellberg was clearly making the guard uncomfortable, and was rather enjoying it. "Er... I quite like the cinema, sir."

"Cinema! Wonderful, I like it myself. In fact I think I fancy a picture tonight. Do you know the city well?"

"Passably well, sir."

"Then show me a good theatre."

"It's rather late for that sort of thing, sir."

"There've got to be late showings, haven't there? On you go, chop chop."

The guard blinked again. This was not within his remand, but he hailed a passing taxi and opened the door for Hellberg, then got in himself and gave the driver some instructions. The cab pulled away, and in a few minutes Hellberg found himself outside a tastefully lit up building, proclaiming various titles on a rather understated sign.

It didn't look like a theatre. It looked more like a temple, and indeed, that's what it had once been, but it had been converted now into a combination bar and movie house claiming comfortable seats and a relaxed atmosphere. Combination bar and movie house, Hellberg thought. How civilised! He had no idea what the picture showing was, but the thought of a warming glass of something and some laid-back entertainment was just the thing, so he decided that whatever it was, he'd see it.

He paid his bulldog lais and went in. The lobby gave way to a large room, a bar at one end and a full-size screen at the other. Comfortable sofas and chairs were arranged around low tables scattered about the place Indeed, very civilised, Hellberg thought. I think I might actually like this country. The main feature wouldn't start for another half an hour, but a series of shorts were show in between, most of them really weird; there was this thing having to do with some guy who appeared to be going insane in a public library, and a short documentary on the mating habits of scorpions, and then a rather haunting black and white animated thing about a small boy and a llama. Hellberg decided he'd liked the beetles enough that he'd sample a bit of the local tipple, and ordered a glass of something called Xaijian Hurrungo-- 'Velvet Revolution,' apparently-- that looked interestng, and settled down. His guard took a seat a bit behind him, where he could see Hellberg and both doors easily, at a distance just out of reasonable talking range, but Hellberg had grown bored of tormenting him anyway.

The Xaijian Huruungo was indeed interesting, and Hellberg found himself ordering another when a random staff member came around to ask whether he'd like one. The film, however, was bizarre. It featured a rather sad looking man, who worked in a gloomy office, where he tallied figures and stamped papers across from a fat guy who did similar things, except that the fat guy kept falling asleep with his head on the table and drooling all over his work. One day, as he was returning from work, the train came to a screeching halt just as it was pulling out of the station, sending all the passengers flying. It turned out that an old man had fallen under the tracks. Nobody knew who he was. After that, everywhere he went, there would be cats. Different cats, but always cats. Then he found a strange door behind a market stall in town. For some reason, he went in, and inside was all corridors, corridors leading to more corridors leading to more corridors, and occasionally a door to a room. The rooms were almost always completely empty, dust hanging in the air, but then he came to one where there was an old ironwork bed in the middle of the floor. Seated on the bed, crying very softly, there was a woman with the head of a pig, who got up, took him by the hand and then pushed him through the wall, and he found himself in an alley near the market stall. He kept going back, and always the same thing happened, but then one day he went to find the door, but it was gone and there was a post box there instead. Then the film ended, with the man just standing there, staring at the post box.

Hellberg stood up, but then thought he'd better sit back down again, and he realised that he'd rather lost track of the number of times a random staff member had come around to ask him if he mightn't like another, which, in each case, he did. He squinted at his watch, trying to make out the time. He couldn't quite, but he got the impression that it was rather a bit later than he'd thought it might be. A firm grip on the arm of his chair, he stood again, somewhat unsteadily, and took his bearings. Suddenly, he was aware of a presence at his side, and looked up blearily.

It was his guard, dour-faced as ever. "Everything all right, sir?" he said. "I didn't understand that at all." Hellberg said. "What was all that with the pig-head girl? She was weird... but funny, pretty funny. Ha ha!" He was obliged to support himself with both hands on the back of his chair while he laughed; meanwhile, Khunh put his fingers to his ear and spoke quietly. Presently, Hellberg recovered. He straightened, and moved towards the door... or more or less towards the door. A hand on his arm stopped hm.

"What is it, man?"

"I've called a taxi, sir." Khunh was saying. "Wouldn't it be better to wait inside?"

"Oh. That was forward-thinking of you. Yes, it would. I'll just have another *hic* drink while I'm waiting."

"I'd rather advise against it, sir."

"Damn it, it's hardly your business to advise me, is it?"

"No, sir." the guard answred, somewhat sheepishly.

"Right, then." said Hellberg, and flagged the barman. Half a vodka tonic later, he found himself being gently shaken. "Taxi's here, sir." said a voice nearby.

"My lady is unkind." Hellberg answered, but allowed himself to be helped up. "But then, she does have the head of a pig... hee hee hee hee hee!" Recovering somewhat, Hellberg required only minimal help to get into the taxi. How, precisely, he made it to bed, would forever be a mystery to him.

--------------------------

6:32 AM, Lhailhunhan Kinryi, Lhijir

Songde rousted himself from his meditations, rising from his cross-legged position on the cold stone floor surprisingly nimbly, given the monk's advanced age. He straightened his orange robe and cast a smile towards his eleven companions, also rising: a number of monks, heads shaven and clad in the same orange robes, between the ages of sixteen and ninety. Wordlessly acknowledging one another, they moved in single file towards the door of their meditation chamber, each one pausing to slip his shoes onto his feet before heading outdoors onto the platform. At one of the highest positions if the ancient temple complex, built into and incorporating the living mountain, it commanded an excellent view of the city, shrouded below in cloud.

Without speaking, each of the twelve took from one or the other of two lacquered wooden racks a most extraordinary instrument: thirteen feet long, crafted of beaten brass and very heavy, these old curiosities had been spared through the long time of their silence just because of their unique nature. But since the liberation, their voices had been heard again, greeting every morning, as they had been before they were silenced: hundreds of years, uncountable.

The monks waited, and then there came on the wind a faint sound of bells. Songde filled his lungs, as did his companions, and blew.

It was all a mist, dark clouds covering the corners while whiter ones covered the middle. And among all the clouds there were angels, beautiful and superior. Thom walked towards them but for every step he took they faded more and more from his vision. A loud rumble was heard and a crack in the earth spitting fire and death devoured him while he fell towards the great seas of lava and bones beneath. And there high on a great stone lifted from the ground stood the evil in the form of a woman with the head of a pig, who got up, took him by the hand and then began to shout at him.

”BROOOOOOOOM”

“What the…” Thom was thinking when he began to wake up from the bad dream.

BROOOOOOOOM

Thom slowly began to understand where he was, lying horizontally on the big bed still in the clothes he had worn the day before, all wrapped into the sheets of the bed. Smelling anything but fresh, it felt like a yak had crawled unto his mouth and died in there. He tried to roll off the bed and find the way to the bathroom; he soon realized that the ache he had in his head wasn’t the result of bumping into the floor as he fell but something stupid he must’ve done the night before.

BROOOOOOOOM

Again! It must be some kind of alarm - Thom gave it a thought and tried to stand up, still wrapped in his sheets it proved to be more difficult that he first had thought. When his feet’s finally were free from the sheets he headed for the door to the corridor.
They’ve finally dared to attack us; I must find a phone and call back to Stock Holm… if there even is a Stock Holm left.

BROOOOOOOOM

There it was again, he must hurry to a shelter or something; forget about Stock Holm, his own life was at stake and he wouldn’t die with the biggest hangover of his life, this sucked. When he reached the door and opened it he was met with the blinding light from the lamps hanging from the ceiling.

“Ah my eyes, they’re attacking. We must all hurry to shelter and take cover! They’re destroying us all. Run for it!” In the confusion he had stirred up he forgot to speak Celdonian to the guards and realized he had spoken in Rigan.

Ah, screw them. If they don’t run it’s their problem, I’m getting out of here. Thom began to run for the stairs, still wrapped in sheets making his already blurred vision worse.

"Attack! Secure the minister!"

The guards posted out the door saw Hellberg, clad only in a sheet, running hell for leather down the hallway yelling something of which they can only understand that he seems to be exceedingly alarmed, and made the natural assumptions. Two of them-- one of the door guards and Hellberg's personal guard-- immediately drew their firearms and followed the fleeing minister, while the third, also drawing a weapon, dropped and swung into the room to confront whoever was in there.

"Secure the floor! Close all exits!" Hellberg's personal guard-- not Khunh; someone had relieved him once they managed to get the Minister safely into bed-- shouted, this order relayed by radio to hotel security, which sprang into action like the well-oiled machine that it was. Still yelling something about shelters and death and destruction in Rigan, Hellberg rounded the corner and collided with a member of staff pushing a trolley stacked with various cleaning paraphenalia. The chambermaid screamed, ecologically responsible cleansing agents scattered everywhere, and Hellberg's sheet became hopelessly entangled in the trolley, which clattered along behind him upsetting a potted philodendron as he ran. The maid screamed again when the guards rounded the corner, and when she saw that they were carrying guns, she became downright inconsolable. At the same time the corridors were beginning to be flooded with security staff. The elevators were stopped. The electronic locks on the stairs doors clicked. And the sonorous tones from the thirteen-foot horns echoed once more around the city.

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

… down the hall he ran, towards the door he knew led out to the staircases. No idea to taje the lifts, they’ve probably shut them down any way. Now what is this, locked, these idiots locks the only way to escape in a bomb raid. Thom noticed that the door ignored all his attempts to break it open, he is a quite small man and not particularly strong either. Must get a key card to open the door, it can’t be long before the bombs begin to fall.
Thom makes a 1-80 turn and suddenly stands face to face with one of the security guards.

"Sir, we can get you to--” the man started hastily before being interrupted.

Thom totally ignored, what seemed like an endless flood of words in some language he'd totally forgotten he had taken extra courses to learn, that came out of the guys mouth and just shouted to him. "We need to get out of here, give me your keycard!"

Thom totally ignored, what seemed like an endless flood of words in some language he'd totally forgotten he had taken extra courses to learn, that came out of the guys mouth and just shouted to him. "We need to get out of here, give me your keycard!".

The hapless security guard stared at the sheet-clad Minister, completely uncomprehending, and tried again, slowing his Celdonian and speaking carefully, at a somewhat more elevated volume. "Sir, we can get you to safety if you will just-- ouuff!"

Thom gives the guard a forceful push trying to knock him to the ground "No time for chatting, give me the card or I'll take it myself". Thom stretches his hand into the guards’ jacket trying to locate where the card is.

Though not a large man, Thom outweighs by a good sum the guard in front of him, and knocks the man to the ground. "Agyi!" the guard cries, trying to fend off his attacker without hurting him. Other guards close in, unsure as to how to react; several of them ready their staves, pointed ominously in Hellberg's direction, before the man's personal guard batters through "No!" he calls. "Let him go!" Thom's personal security agent-- a man whose uniform, if not face, he recognises, steps forward, pulling Hellberg to his feet. "Are you allright, sir?"

Thom suddenly realizes that he understands what the other guard says. "Allright? all right! No I'm not all right, there's a bloody war going on and you stand here like it was a walk in the park, we won't survive if we stay here we need to get down below the surface". Thom has his hands clutched to the jacket of the guard who he pushed to the ground

The guard struggles, finally getting his weight under the minister, throwing him off. Two other guards immediately seize him by both arms, pulling him into a crouching position, while guards on all sides adopt ready, watchful stances. "A war?" Thom's personal guard asks, watching over his shoulder as he looks back to Hellberg. "What do you mean?"

Thom looks at the guard looking like a questionmark. "You mean I've gone insane, can't any of you hear the damn alarm?" Thom struggles to get loose.

"Alarm?" the guard asks, his face a mask of confusion. Then, next to him, one of the guards begins to giggle.
"The horns." says the guard, still chuckling. "Nobody told him about the horns."

“Ahhh...” Thom's guard manages not to laugh, though the giggles seem to be spreading back through the ranks. Thom's guard approaches, andhelps the Minister to as dignified a position possible for one clad only in a sheet.

"Minister Hellberg, you are in no danger. These horns sound over this city every morning. They are a call to prayer, not a call to war. You may visit yourself, if you like. You are in no danger."

Thom suddenly realizes what he's done, he stand up further wiring himself in sheets trying to regain his mind. "Idiots... I... I didn't know" Then the headache and hangover hits him, he begins to fall towards the floor almost unconscious by the great pressure he's laid on his poor body.

Guards move in to catch Hellberg, and someone makes it his duty to see that the Minister is decent at all times. "Sleepwalking." declares Hellberg's guard, as others carry Hellberg back to his room. "I'll recommend a day's rest, probably the altitude."

Soon enough, the chaos on Hellberg's floor was brought under control, the security alert is reversed, and Thom Hellberg lay in a dreamless sleep. He did not notice when the horns stop sounding-- indeed, he didn't notice anything at all, until an insistent sound near his head burrowed into his consciousness and started poking him, hard, right in the headache.

bleeleeleeleeleeleeleep
bleeleeleeleeleeleeleep
bleeleeleeleeleeleeleep

Thom managed to peel an eye half open. Blurrily, the sideways image of a room he did not recognise presented itself to him. Where the hell am I? was his first thought, and then, gradually, he gathered the rather scattered memories of the previous day together. Oh yes. Bloody Lhijir. Bloody horns. Bloody... that's the bloody phone ringing, isn't it?

bleeleeleeleeleeleeleep
bleeleeleeleeleeleeleep

Stupid phone... Thom pulled himself into a sitting position, realising that he had no idea how he had gotten back into bed. Someone seemed to have removed his shoes, but he was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn the previous day, an extra blanket thrown over him while his legs were still tangled in bedclothes. Fortunately, he didn't have to go anywhere to reach the phone, situated as it was right by the bed.

bleeleeleeleelee** "Hello. Er. I mean, hello." he said, managing to focus his eyes on the bedside clock. 11:46, it read. He also found that someone had placed a package of aspirin and a bottle of water there as well.

"Hello, Minister Hellberg. Councillor Sarekh. I understand there was something of an incident this morning. I trust you are allright?"

”Incident, there was no incident… unless you refer to the abrupt attack upon my mental health by a couple of monks this morning?” Thom got out of the sheets that tied down his feet’s and embarked upon the adventure to get his head together. “You are a strange people councillor Sara… Sarekh, I hope that the next official sent here is given a due warning to this whole idiotic enterprise to blow big horns in the morning” Thom is gladly surprised to notice that he had managed to swallow a couple of aspirins and drink all the water in the glass, it tasted quite old but Thom didn’t mind, his head however, hurt as never before.

“I guess there’s something that you want, no? Otherwise you probably wouldn’t have called here and woke me up. I’m really surprised if you’ve called me to tell me that you’ve got the entire EGC together and that you request my presence. Giving your lax nature we would’ve thought it would take a couple of days longer than this…” Thom paused to take a deep breath resulting in an unwanted and harsh cough attack.

Almost given a heart attack when a guard goes through his bedroom with a can of water filling up his glass, Thom tries to give of a small scream which results in a gurgle before he realizes that the guard is actually one of the nice guys.

Councillor Sarekh was about to explain the cultural significance of the morning horns, but realising there was no way he was going to get a word in edgeways over Minister Hellberg's rant, he decided against it. He also decided that rather than take offense at the minister's more deprecating comments, he would make a mental note of their content: Note: Minister thinks we are weird and inefficient, and doesn't care to keep quiet about it. He was quietly wondering whether Hellberg might perhaps have some connection to the old Rigan government that might explain this disaffinity, or if he was simply a grumpy, intolerant hothead in need of a good smack, when Hellberg ranted himself out into a coughing fit. Sarekh let him cough for a moment before speaking.

"I'm sorry to have woken, you, Minister, but it is nearly midday. I shall certainly take into account your preference for late rising in--"

"Yerkggllgl!!"

"Are you quite allright, Minister?"

"Yes yes yes, I'm fine, now what do you want?"

"Well, you rightly anticipate that I am not about to tell you that the Council is assembled and awaiting you. There is a slight difficulty in getting the entire Council together just now, and we're down one member. Our CACE representative is in Celdonia-- he's had quite a lot to do since the bombings, and now that they've ID'd most of the bodies, he has a number of funerals to attend... I'm sure that you can understand that for humanitarian reasons, we would rather let him do that. So I need to ask you now how important it is that we have the entire council present, or if you couldn't perhaps forgive Kham his absence."

"Bombings? Oh yes those bombings, well I could respect that you're unable to comprehend the importance of my mission and that you're too darn compassionate for your own good. So Councillor Kham can not attend the meeting no matter what? We got people dying because of bombings and separatist attacks every day, were we to send an official to every funeral we'd soon stand with none left"

Sarekh took a deep breath.
"I quite understand, minister Hellberg, but if I may clarify, councillor Kham is not attending funerals in official capacity. He lost a number of personal friends in the attack and I'm sure you can appreciate that this is not an easy time for him. If you absolutely require his presence, we can recall him, but I would need a very good reason to do so."

Thom begins to get clothed; to his surprise the wardrobe contains several jackets fitting him.
"As I've said a repeated number of times; I can not discuss or tell you what the meeting is about, doing so would be a crime against Rigan law and I would surely be fired! I guess that since you're unable to fulfil our request regarding the presence of the full council I will have to report it back to Stock Holm"

"It's not that we are unable to fulfil your request; it is only that I need to know how important it is that Kham attend personally. The normal procedure, when any given councillor cannot attend a routine meeting and their representation is required, is that the Chair for the relevant Provincial Council attends in their place. Would that satisfy you?"

Thom draws a deep breath.
"To me, that is enough, but you must understand that I'm here as a representative from the Rigan government and to them that isn't enough. The letters you recieved was quite clear weren't they? The entire council or no exchange of prisoners can take place. If Kham doesn't care about his fellow countrymen but instead chooses to honour his comrades... our governments acts in very different ways"

Sarekh spoke quietly, and a fair bit more calmly than he actually felt. He was not used to being spoken to in this way, and it was beginning to gall him. "I see. In which case, will it be possible to beg a few days' indulgence of you, or is your time scale as inflexible as your government's instructions?"

"We got an election coming up and I would prefer to be back home working with the campaign, so I'm as unwilling as you to be here, but unlike you people we follow orders when given to us. I'm sure that Councillor Kham can attend every funeral he want to attend and be present in the meeting, there are flights going from Xikuang to Celdonia aren't there? He could be back in CDQ the same day"

Thom makes the finishing touches to his outfit. Unlike the previous night he had gone with the more strict way of looking with a white shirt under a black jacket and black trousers.

Deep breath, Sarekh told himself. Bad to yell at foreign ministers, no matter how inhuman, demanding, rude... Xiang should be doing this, I don't know why I have to put up with-- no, no, no, deep breath...
"Is that..." he spoke in carefully measured increments, trying to keep any hint of irritation out of his voice, and probably, he realised, failing. "...a 'yes I can wait a few days' or a 'no I require immediate compliance'?"

"That is a, as you so sensitively put it 'no I require immediate compliance'. And still if you're unable to comply with our demands you're free to take the consequences of your actions. But I can tell you that people in Stock Holm will be very disappointed about your lack of collaboration with us"

His voice dropping half an octave, Sarekh could barely keep the growl out of his tone. "I was unaware, Minister Hellberg," he said measuredly, "that you were in a position to make demands. If that is the case, then we will need to go over the terms of your government's 'request' again a bit more carefully. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh my, one could almost take you as a real man Councillor Sarekh" Thom gave of a slight giggle and sharpened his tone. "My governments 'requests' are quite clear aren't they? The entire council present, we could accept that Kham isn't present yes! But not without consequences, do I make myself clear?"

That's it, Sarekh thought to himself. I have absolutely had enough of this impudent little pasty-faced excuse for a government official. "I will thank you, Minister Hellberg, not to take that tone with me. And I will remind you that you are not in Svea Riga, and that if you have people jumping to your every beck and call there, you do not have such privileges here. I will speak to Councillor Kham, and should it please me, I shall speak with your government regarding your assignment. I or someone will get back to you in due course. Good day, Minister."

Sarekh slammed the receiver down with considerable force. Not content with this, he released a torrent of invective against Hellberg to the innocent device. Then he decided he had better alphabetise the contents of his cupboard before he could trust himself to talk to anyone. Impudent little seventh son of a turtle's egg, he thought. Let him stew. We'll give him a dose or two to make him think again about holding us over a barrel. Snake brained cock-up. Feh. Should I file these under 'b' for 'beans' or 'k' for 'kidney'?

Thom stood absolutely stunned in the room just where Sarekh had left him.
He took a sip of water from his cup and asked loudly to himself “What was his problem?”

"Try to be charitable, Djijirin." Dr. Xu poured another bowl of tea for Sarekh from the freshly churned pot her assistant had just brought. "You know how troubled the Rigans have been... there are bound to be a few stones in the tsampa."

Sarekh took the tea, swirling it around in the bowl, watching the patterns the butter made. "This Hellberg... he is no stone. He is arrogant, insulting, rude, demanding as a spoiled little girl-- I'm telling you, Xian, I cannot deal with this... person. Not if he's to be returned to Svea Riga with his head in the usual place."

Xu sighed. "I'm sorry. But there are good reasons why I asked you to be his liaison, you know."

"Of course. I'm not questioning your judgement, It's my ability to refrain from pounding the living daylights ought of the man that I doubt."

"Well, I'm not asking you to be servile." Dr. Xu took up her own bowl and sipped her tea. "Quite to the contrary. From what you've told me, Minister Hellberg sounds like a man accustomed to getting precisely what he wants just for the asking, and he needs to know that it doesn't always work that way."

"There's something disturbing me, Xian." Sarekh set his bowl down. "All the conversation I've had with Hellberg, he's not come across as an official requesting a hearing with a foreign government-- he's demanding it, on his terms, and this whole 'there will be consequences of your actions' line, and the 'exchange of prisoners' thing he mentions while he refuses to say anything else about his assignment-- it sounds more like a hostage exchange to me. Like he's holding us to ransom. Very suspicious. I don't like it."

"Hmn. No. I don't imagine you do. Do you still think this has something to do with that trial?"

"Well, I've been down the line to Thejir, and neither he nor I can find anything to the contrary. I'm guessing it does."

"In which case, given what we have, there's not a whole lot they can do... unless they have a ram amongst the sheep. Have you spoken to Khitai?"

"He wasn't in and I couldn't get his mobile. I left a message."

"Allright. I'll try to get through. But for now, may I enjoin you, Councillor Sarekh..." Dr. Xu fixed him with That Look... "to get back to Minister Hellberg as soon as we have word from Councillor Kham, so that we can resolve this matter as quickly as possible, to the greatest possible mutual satisfaction."

"Is that all?"

"No. I'd like you to keep a record of this Hellberg's abuses made within your hearing. If he is altogether intolerable, I will file a formal complaint."

Sarekh smiled. "My pleasure."

Thom took one look out the window and winced. It was one of those bright, beautifully crisp, clear days one gets in the mountains: one of those days where it seems that the sun is much closer than usual, but somehow fails to be warming. It complimented neither his hangover nor his mood, which was considerably soured owing to his having been somewhat thwarted in his plans. He drained the rest of his water, ruminating over his converstion with Sarekh. Thom really didn't understand what the man's problem was. Naturally, he'd been briefed that the Xikuangese were very touchy when it came to matters of presentational propriety, but really... Thom was annoyed. Clearly, these people had no concept of the importance of his mission, nor, apparently, had they any grasp of the notion of keeping to a schedule. Funerals to attend... why on earth did they have members of central government shipped out to Celdonia, anyway? It wasn't the way they did things in Svea Riga. No, indeed. Which is, he mused, why Svea Riga is a major world power, and Xikuang is a backwater little state full of fluffy bunny peacemongering treehugging eco-diplomats and politeness police.

Irritatedly, he snapped the curtains closed, shutting out the daylight in the bedroom, then stomped about the suite doing the same with all the others before picking up the phone to order a Bloody Mary from room service. There was nothing to cure a hangover like a hot bath and a Bloody Mary. Make if a carafe. Thom hummed tunelessly along with the gurgle of the water pouring into the tub as he plugged his laptop into the hotel provided broadband, his e-mail client obligingly taking advantage of its connectedness to download his mail. There was certainly enough work for him to do. He did not venture out of his room for the remainder of the day, sending down to room service when he was hungry, giving orders to one of his guards if he needed anything else, working quietly away.
--------------

Councillor Sarekh felt better after his meeting with Dr. Xu, but he was still feeling less than charitably inclined towards Minister Hellberg. Intolerable person, he thought. Sleeps all day, then has the absolute gall to demand the Council to assemble in the middle of the Celdonian crisis for some putative 'exchange of prisoners'... and about what, precisely, is all that anyway?

Sarekh deliberately put all thoughts of Minister Hellberg out of his head, and went through his daily routine: reports to read, reports to submit, transactions that did not officicially take place to transact; the usual. He certainly had enough on his plate, what with the information coming in from the Agency with regard to recent events in addition to his usual fare. In point of fact, Councillor Kham had returned his call just after lunch. He would, he'd said, be able to be back in Lhai for eight in the morning. Sarekh didn't think it particularly important to share this information with Minister Hellberg right away. Rather, he went through his work, then answered his e-mail, then put in a couple of sarcastic posts to a weblog he was in the habit of reading, before 'phoning Hellberg's room at 10 to seven.

----

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The entire day had gone smooth for Thom. He was able to get a law proposal through making it illegal for soldiers to keep their uniforms when they’re fired or quit. He had ruined a couple of families lives by acting advisor to several judges who sentenced members of Aktion-48 to lifetime in prison, yes life was good, and this way he didn’t have to take out his angers to the poor bastards who guarded him. Food was good, he learnt the first night he was here that testing local customs wasn’t anything he should continue with, a filet mignon with boiled potatoes would do perfectly, a dessert of vanilla ice-cream and caviar. The chef just wanted to vomit when he heard the ministers’ order, who eats caviar with ice-cream besides wealthy Rigans?

Dinner was nice, although the plate certainly could support a lot of food he found it to be centred in the middle laying there like it wanted to make him go to bed hungry. Damn nation, can’t get enough food here to still the hunger of a dog, and where’s that message he was going to be given. Bah, the messenger probably had a funeral to attend to or a yak got sick and the entire nation was in grief.

----

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”Yes this is Thom Dingsten-Hellberg, Minister of Justice, Svea Riga”

"Good evening, Minister Hellberg. Councillor Sarekh Djijirin here. I have an update for you." Though it had been some time since their last exchange and his cupboards were in most satisfyingly perfect order, Sarekh had no intention of allowing Hellberg time to put him out of temper. "I've spoken with Councillor Kham. Though he hopes to be able to return to Celdonia as quickly as possible, he says he can get the overnight and be here for eight tomorrow morning. We can have the whole council assembled then at the earliest. Would that suit you?"

Meanwhile, downstairs, the member of room service staff who had brought Hellberg his dinner was commiserating with the chef.

"Egyi... Fish ovaries are bad enough as it is..."

"But with ice cream?

"Snake's ghosts, they can't possibly eat stuff like that up there. It has to be some kind of perverted fetish."

"Has to be."

"Just hope he doesn't ask for seconds."

"Oh, compassionate Buddha..."

”Pfff. Councillor Sarekh, I am most pleased that you’ve, admittedly after quite some time, complied with our demands regarding this meeting. I can not imagine a way for you to understand the meaning of what you’ve done but you should be happy about it anyway” Thom was thrilled, this meant that if the meeting tomorrow would go smooth he could be back in his house in the governmental estate by the next couple of days… if the meeting went smooth that is, and with all these nut jobs ruling the land it probably wouldn’t. “Oh, and I have some demands regarding the details of my pickup, I’d like to be picked up at 0700 hours by a colon of 3 cars of which I will enter a random one and that I am escorted the entire way to the EGC to minimize the possibility for an attack upon me. Was it something else while we’re still chatting?”

Sarekh bit down on the growl that was rising in his throat, making every effort to sound polite."No, that is the sum of the information I require to convey," he said, a touch of the sarcastic creeping into his tone. Demands, demands, always with the 'you will comply with my demands'-- well, I may as well have a little fun with the boy, he mused. "I will arrange for your cars. I should probably be remiss in observance of my duties as Chief of National Security that such a display of precaution will be perceived as rather unusual, but if you are not bothered about attracting a certain degree of attention, there should be no problem fulfilling your... requests." Deliberate emphasis was placed on the final word, which Sarekh hoped would convey to the Rigan Minister of Justice that he and Sarekh did not see eye to eye on this demands issue. "If you've nothing further, I shan't trouble you any more tonight, Minister Hellberg."

Two can play that game Thom thought. Requests? Well they can call it whatever they want, it’s not like they can deny us anything, hah. “Oh but councillor Sarekh, just let me put up a small mathematic problem to you ok? You got one RPG, that’s Rocket Propelled Grenade, a weak and cheap kind of anti-tank weapon used mainly by rebels and other scum in the world. With that RPG you can blow up one car and therefore you get a killing rate of Rigan Ministers in Xikuang of 100% if I am in said car, with me so far?”

Before Sarekh could react and say something back Thom immediately began to talk again. “And if you got three cars but only one RPG you get the much lower killing rate of Rigan Ministers in Xikuang, closer to 33%, which is far superior to the 100 % you would prefer no? Now if I were a Xikuangese I’d stop milking that yak and get myself into the national safety business and soon I’d have your job councillor Sarekh since it doesn’t seem that you need a long education for it, certainly not one involving maths in any case.Anyway, we tire of thee and bid ye farewell”

Hellberg had put down the receiver before Sarekh had time fully to take in what he said, much less to formulate a response to it, leaving the Councillor listening slack-jawed to an emptily repetitive beep on the other end of the line. What absolute unmitigated gall. He terminated the call and very carefully set the 'phone down, then picked up an empty garbanzo bean tin that was awaiting recycling on the edge of the sink, crushing it in his hand. What a vituperative, objectionable git.

He tossed the ruins of the tin into the recycle bin and selected a clean glass from the dishwasher, then poured himself a healthy draught of the Zhangnhe Mulhong, savouring that rather particular way it had of clearing the sinuses. And, if he's actually that paranoid, how little he has done his homework, Sarekh mused. As if one would need an anti-tank weapon to carry out a basic assassination in the middle of Lhai, even if one could get such a thing into Lhai without being on the military payroll. Pouring himself another drink, Sarekh noted with a chuckle that the Minister had not mentioned bulletproofing. He'd probably have a conniption if he discovered that Xikuangese government cars came with normal safety glass.

Nonetheless, there was the possibility that some enterprising individual might take advantage of Hellberg's being without his usual armada of special forces to try to take him down. Hellberg wasn't the most savoury of characters, and it was a virtual certainty that there were people back in Svea Riga who would love to see him dead. He thought back to his earlier conversation with Thé. He'd asked for some background on Thom Hellberg, and Thejir, as usual, did not disappoint. It emerged that old Thom was quite a colourful character. He had been a high military legal counsel under the reprehensible regime of Goran Persson, with pretty much free rein to do whatever he liked, and he had been one of the wealthiest people in Persson's government. He had been appointed to his current position after the SFP took over, but it was mysteriously unclear how or by whom this had been accomplished. He had also, it seemed, been tried for espionage, but the charges had been dropped and the case buried so that now hardly anyone knew of its existence. "Be careful with this one, Djijirin." Thejir had said. "He's touble."

"All the more reason to treat him with the strictest propriety. We have nothing to fear from him." Sarekh had answered.

"All the more reason to treat him with the utmost delicacy. He'll have access to information that isn't on public record. We have perfectly good contingencies should the entire council not be able to assemble, yet he insists. Why is he so anxious to have Kham here? Supposing it were Xiang? Think about it."

And Sarekh had. So, reluctantly, he requested that the cars in Hellberg's convoy should be of the special variety.

Even so, he brooded, the arrogant git had better watch himself. Should he so much as intimate any such threat... I shall become very unpleasant.

----------------

The sound of the temple horns resonated through Lhai's cloud-enshrouded streets as Hellberg's convoy pulled up at seven on the dot. Hellberg was already dressed-- impeccably, and with an eye more towards intimidating rather than impressing the natives-- and waiting, the dour Khunh shadowing him, giving every impression in the manner of his alert watchfulness that he had no time for conversation. Hellberg wasn't in the mood to torment him anyway. He wanted his business conducted, with all possible alacrity and the minimum possible fussiness, so he could get off of this miserable yak-infested mountain range and back to civilisation.

Councillor Kham had actually been the first to arrive at the Council Halls, having stopped only to freshen up at the station facilities, and appeared earnestly to be contemplating an empty teacup when Sarekh came in. He may have made good time, but it was evident that Khitai hadn't slept at all at least since the day before, and Sarekh was worried about him.

"How're you doing?"* he asked, offering to refill Khitai's cup before pouring one for himself.

" 'Kay." Khitai answered, monosyllabically. It was a lie.

"Things still pretty bad in the CDQ, I expect."

"Yeah." He fiddled with his spectacles, a nervous habit of his. "They're still... cleaning up. We won't have a full body count for a while yet."

Sarekh sat down across from the other councillor. "It's horrific... and Celdonia, of all places... well, we'll get to the bottom of it, somehow." He sighed. "Khitai... about this meeting. I don't know for certain what this Minister Hellberg wants, but I have a fair idea. I don't think you're going to enjoy it."

"You mentioned. Any chance you can illuminate me?"

"I suspect this might be about the Zhi trial."

Khitai dropped his spectacles onto the floor. A miserable groan escaped him as he lowered his head into his hands, folding himself in. Already small, he seemed to shrink in proportion before Sarekh's eyes.

"Like I said, I'm not sure." Sarekh said hurriedly. He retrieved the fallen spectacles, placing them down in front of their somewhat crumpled owner. "You going to be all right? Look, I can get Lhyinh. I've already spoken to him, so he knows we might need him. It's no problem. His Royal Highness Hellberg will just have to accept it."

"No." Khitai answered from somewhere within himself. "No. He wants us all here, I'm here, I'll stay. I'm all right. It's fine."

"Sure?"

"Sure." With effort, he straightened up, but Sarekh noticed that he kept his left arm curled in oddly. Khitai cleaned the lenses of his spectacles on his shirt before putting them back on. "Anyway," he said, it's nearly time."

It was. At a few minutes to eight the eleven other members of the Elected General Council filtered in, exchanging salutations, pouring tea, as usual. Dr. Xu set the heavy case containing the gift from the Rigan government, lid closed, on a side table, as propriety dictated. As one, they rose and bowed politely, as Minister for Justice Thom Hellberg, under armed guard, was ushered in at eight o'clock exactly.

*Color indicates that the language being spoken is Idhri, a dialect used throughout the Western moutains in Qabka and Lhorong provinces.

Thom walked directly towards the podium that worked as the centre in the room. If it had always been there or set up to his comfort was to remain untold, and he couldn’t care less.
This is it - he thought. If I screw this up….

He wore his standard ceremonial uniform with the medals and his other Rigan valuables attached to his chest. It wasn’t a clear detail but to the trained eye one could spot a lost and forgotten award for ‘contributions to the party’ from Guo Leng. It had been given to him a lost amount of time ago, when people and cultures were different, when he had been the most powerful man in Svea Riga… yes in the entire continent of Aperin.

Here it goes, the entire training of their names last night will hopefully pay off.
“Councillor Xiang Kalsang, Councillor T'ing Cinyen, Councillor Yng Li'i, Councillor Chanh Qirjis, Councillor Draghne Lokesh, Councillor Zhe Xixin, Councillor Khe Quzhie, Councillor Tenzin Tinle, Councillor Q'ing Lhyijing, Councillor He Dorje, Xijin and of course Councillor Kham Khitai” After every name that Thom pronounced, not without difficulties, he gave a slight bow to the females and a nod to the males.

“I bid you warm greetings from the Svea Rigan government and people, we kindly ask you to receive this gift, made from Rigan valuables found in our own mountains, on the behalf of President Carl-Magnus Rödin and the entire SFP government as thanks for the support and brotherhood you have shown us over the years, your great deeds during the revolution and after to embrace us into the international community will not be forgotten. This is but a small token we want you to accept in a long chain of gifts and acts from our side. We ask you to be but forgiving for the long delay we have taken in presenting them to you” Thom gives of a small cough after the opening speech and finds a glass of water besides him. Say all you want about these retarded yak-herders but they sure can serve water at the most coincidental occasions.

After emptying the glass he puts it back to the place of origin and notices how a pipe fills it up again. “But as you’ve probably understood my business here is neither brotherly nor is it compassionate. For the favour we of the Svea Rigan Freedom Party ask you, the Elected General Council of Xikuang and the people of Xikuang, is not an easy one. Not for us to ask or for you to fulfil” Have to remind myself to send a thank-you note to my secretary for writing that speech.

“Zhi Nyima, national of Svea Riga. High Admiral of the Rigan National Navy and many times prized war hero of the ‘Skargarden conflict’ have fallen into your hands. We kindly requests for his immediate release from Xikuangese custody so that he can be embraced by the Rigan army once again, I do not believe that I can describe in words how valuable that man is to our future progress within some highly classified areas…” Thom was about to continue but got interrupted as he spoke.

Thom was interrupted when, at the mention of 'highly classified areas', Councillor He was abruptly siezed by some kind of choking fit. Sarekh, seated next to him, reached out and gave him a solid thump on the back-- rather too solid, it appeared-- and Q'ing pushed a glass of water hastily poured from a pitcher on the table towards him, but it was a moment before he recovered sufficiently to accept it. "...thousand pardons." He finally managed, hoarsely, to Hellberg, but by this point the Rigan Minister for Justice had lost the momentum of his carefully prepared speech, and just stood awaiting a response.

There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause, the silence broken only by He's coughing, before Xiang turned to address the podium.

The podium had, as it happened, indeed been set up for Hellberg's convenience: Hellberg was an important official heavily steeped in rigid military protocol, and it was reasoned that the usual egalitarian round-the-table seating might make the Rigan official uncomfortable. Thus tables had been arranged in a quasi-semicircle facing the podium in a contrived imitation of the Rigan system. The automatic water glass refilling device had been suggested by Councillor Chanh. He knew how much the Rigans loved their gadgets, and the simple system had been easy enough to rig. Nobody noticed, however, whether Hellberg appreciated it or not. They were preoccupied with the content of his speech.

Councillor He was still coughing mutedly, but Sarekh noted that Kham had shown no outward response. Good, he thought. A very nice speech, but there's no telling when he's going to take the kid gloves off and break out the nasty. Sarekh watched Hellberg carefully as Xiang spoke.

"May I thank you on behalf of this council for this most generous and thoughtful gift, and may I return the earnest wish that our governments should work together in partnership and alliance for many years to come." Xiang spoke slowly, with the absolute most proper of enunciation to his barely accented Celdonian. "We are indeed glad to count Svea Riga amongst our allies, as we are proud that our people rallied alongside your own to restore freedom and rule of just law to Svea Riga. May it abide."

Xiang bowed to Hellberg before continuing, "However, as you say, what you ask is most difficult. Obviously you are aware of Zhi Nyima's detention here, but you may not fully have been appraised of the reason for it. Therefore it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that Zhi Nyima stands accused of war crimes committed in this country, the nature of which are beyond atrocious. His trial is pending. Please accept my apologies on behalf of this Council: it is quite impossible that Zhi Nyima should be released."

Mr. Hellberg clears his throat loudly, I knew it, they won't obey that easy.
"Councillor Xiang, I must clear some things out for you, as of the moment there is no prisoners-exchange treaty between our nations therefore you have taken a citizen from Svea Riga with absolutely no legal backup. We simply request from you to release officer Zhi so that he can return to Svea Riga"

Xiang is about to reply to Hellberg, but Dr. Xu signals for him to stop, and so with a bow of the head Xiang sits back, giving the floor to the Chair. Xu Xian, for her part, looks impassively at Hellberg, speaking quietly but with authority.

“With all due respect, I am afraid that is not the case, Minister Hellberg." she says. "Whatever his status may have been, Zhi Nyima is known to have been an officer under the auspices of the Lhai Hsi Kuang Protectorate of Guo Leng, which as you know no longer exists. I cannot possibly overemphasise to you the extent of the severity of the crimes he is accused of having committed on the soil that has been restored to the people of Xikuang. If I interpret you correctly, you would have us release this man to you so that he could be re-instated into a position of respect and power? Sir, we cannot possibly release in such circumstances such a dangerous person.”

“Councillor Xu. I do respect the fears and sacrifices your people have endured during the Guo Leng rule that roamed these lands. I do however respect the rules between two sovereign nations more. It is not accepted for one nation to kidnap citizens of one nation on behalf of the other nation’s government. My demand is quite simple; I want you to release Commander Zhi Nyima, a Svea Rigan citizen protected by the laws of Svea Riga. You have illegally abducted him and taken away his freedom.”

Thom took a sip of water from the glass that automatically refilled itself, it was cool and fresh, unlike himself who just got warm and ready for combat. Then he continued.

“Whatever crimes you claim he has performed you may take up with the Rigan Military Supreme Court. But I do say that I find your accusations unbelievable, Zhi Nyima has done nothing but served Svea Riga for years faithfully and never shown any intention on even being able to hurt a single soul. Honestly, isn't it the sweet thought of revenge that makes you keep him? You have hunted former officials from Guo Leng to prosecute them for crimes you claim they've committed during their regime, some which are to awful to believe a human being can perform at all. But we, the nation of Svea Riga isn't at all unable to compromise with, I was sent here to get Commander Zhi back, name your prize”

The reactions of the thirteen members of the EGC were mixed as Hellberg spoke, a demanding tone distinctly evident in the Rigan minister's voice and manner. Xu kept her attention focused on Hellberg, while there were stifled mutterings between some of the councillors around her. Kham seemed to have switched off entirely, which fact only seemed to feed the stewing ire brewing in Sarekh Djijirin.

"Minister Hellberg, you must know that this council cannot accept--" Xu began, and then was sharply interrupted by Sarekh.

"Ah, so that's what it comes down to, does it? 'Name your price', is it? So Zhi's one of your countrymen, is he? How interesting that he 'fell into' our hands during old Persson's regime, but I don't imagine you'd want to mention that, would you, Minister Hellberg?"

"Sarekh!" Xu admonished, but Sarekh was oblivious.

"And now you want to buy Zhi out from under us without so much as a passing glance at the evidence against him... and you, a justice minister? You must have a very interesting notion of justice', sir!'

"Sarekh, I insist you sit down now!" Xu commanded.

"I will not sit down, Chair, not while torturers and murderers are exalted before me and their right to freedom demanded from the people who suffered from their viciousness. No, I will not."

The final word was practically snarled at Hellberg.

Thom cracked a smile and looked councillor Sarekh in the eyes while still addressing Dr. Xu.

“My dear Councillor Sarekh, as I’ve already said, perhaps it has slipped your mind? If you feel that you’ve been mistreated by an official during the reign of Guo Leng in Xikuang you’re welcome to address the Rigan Supreme Military Court and file a complaint and I’ll personally make sure it’s thoroughly investigated and that Zhi Nyima is punished if he’s found guilty. But at the moment it all comes down to this; you have illegally abducted a Rigan citizen and with the help of your military held him hostage and refused him to make any contact with the Chief of Special Military Operations… me. Zhi Nyima is looked upon as a valuable resource by the Rigan military and we’re willing to go far to release him from your vicious grasp. And by the looks of your sudden outburst Councillor Sarekh it seems I was correct all the time, this is nothing but a crusade against the few still remaining former members of the Guo Leng administration which you seem to perform with great anger. And while it’s my turn to speak, do not, under no circumstances bring up Goran Persson again, if you think you’ve seen suffering, I can tell you that you have seen nothing compared to me”.

Councillor Sarekh's eyes narrowed as he focused his entire attention upon Hellberg.

"Do not, sir." he said, his tone low and dangerous. "Each and every one of us in this room has lived under an oppressive totalitarian regime. Do not, sir, you suggest in this room that you have any authority to speak on that ground, lest it come back against you. Because I can assure you that it will."

"SAREKH!" Xu slammed her hand down on the table with a bang. Almost everyone in the room jumped. Councillor Sarekh, whose attention towards Minister Hellberg bore every indication of becoming violent, turned towards her, but the anger in his expression did not diminish.

Xu glared, and seemed about to reproach him, but then abruptly her countenance changed. She sighed, and spoke softly. "Sarekh, take five. I will not be countermanded."

Sarekh stared at her for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Hellberg. With a crisp formality, he bowed towards the Rigan minister. There was nothing in the way of apology for his outburst in the gesture: rather, it seemed to punctuate his earlier speech. He pushed his chair back and stepped out, turning towards Kham as he did so.

"Khitai."

Shaken out of his reverie, Kham looked at Sarekh, then at Dr. Xu, who acknowledged his wordless inquiry and nodded. He rose and walked quickly out, Sarekh ushering him out ahead of himself.

Once the two of them had gone and the door swung closed, Dr. Xu removed her spectacles and pressed her thumb and index finger against her closed eyes. "Well." she muttered. "That was disgraceful."

This is better than I ever could expect, I understand that councillor Sarekh seems to be extra delicate about the Guo Leng regime. When he returns I shall do my best to aggravate him further. Thom corrected a few detail on his uniform that had been displaced when he had so aggressively responded to councillor Sarekhs outbursts.

“Dr. Xu if I may, I propose that we all take a five minutes break to get a sip of fresh air and calm down our nerves, this outburst from your side was unfortunate and my responses were said in anger, I do not take lightly on threats either. And you must remember that it is not me as a person who requests this of you, I am merely the messenger” Thom didn’t even wait for a response from Dr. Xu but instead he made a 180 degree turn and walked out of the council chamber.

“Sigh, I need to call someone, is there a phone anywhere around here?” – Thom asked one of the guards who stood outside the door.

”Right down the hall to your left”

“Down… hall, left, thank you” Thom walked with strong and sturdy steps towards the phones sat down at one and started to type in a number. They’re probably bugged but I couldn’t care less, they know something I don’t want them to know.

Classified building located 200 metres below the surface of Stock Holm – Svea Riga

Beep Beep Beep Beep

”Yes”

”Thom here, I need to talk”

”I’ll let you through to him”

”Thank you…”

Click…

”Yes…”

”Thom here, Lhijir EGC chambers so I have to be brief. I believe they’ve acquired information about me from a sensitive period and might use it if aggravated. Councillor Sarekh has already had an outburst”

”Good, proceed as planned, use what means necessary. Bye”

”Bye”

Thom put the phone down and started up his computer which he had carried with him in a bag, he accessed some files and when he was done a minute later he entered the Councillor Chamber again.

"You're not going back in there."

Sarekh and Kham had gone through to a smaller conference room. Its windows faced out over the Lhai mountain range, and Sarekh paced back and forth in front of them, seething, for some time, every step an expression of his ire. "We ought to send him packing. How he expects to waltz in here, issue this demand, that demand, like he was lord and master of everything-- damn it if I wouldn't like to force a change of opinion into his thick skull. With a large, blunt object. That reprehensible little--"

"Calm down, Djijirin." Khitai interrupted from the chair into which he had slumped. "He's just not accustomed to the way we do things. He's clearly used to power, and he's on a mission from the Rigan government. As for Zhi... Hellberg must have been misinformed."

"Oh, that he certainly has not." Sarekh growled. "I think he knows exactly what Zhi is. The old boy must have made himself very useful to Persson's regime. Oh, yes, indeed he must have. I don't even think about what they want him back for. What the hell do they want him back for?"

Khitai sighed. "You must surely understand how very, very little desire I feel towards the notion of contemplating that question." He resumed fiddling with his spectacles. "We'll have to tell him how it is, and if he isn't happy with that then he or we can go to his superiors."

"Hmm."

"But we should be getting back now."

"I told you you're not going back in there!" Sarekh burst out. "He can demand the full council 'til yaks learn to fly for all I care, but you of all people should not have to be subjected to this-- this--"

"Come on, Dji, it's not exactly as if I hadn't had to before, you know."

That had something of a sobering effect on Sarekh. He sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't want to see any... unpleasantness."

"I know." Khitai stood up. "So let's talk to the man like rational human beings and we'll sort it out."

"I don't like it, Khitai." Sarekh reached out and delicately plucked a dead leaf off of a branch on a nearby potted ficus. "It's all just a little too interesting for my taste. Allright. Let's go."

----------------------

When Hellberg re-entered the council halls, the members of the EGC were milling aboutthe room. Xiang, Zhe, T'ing, He and Xu were in a tight knot, engaged in quiet but earnest conversation, while the others held their separate discussions. Sarekh and Kham entered via another door, and at a word from the Chair, they began to take their seats. Before Xu took hers, though, Sarekh purposefully intercepted her, bent and spoke quietly into her ear. Xu nodded, then bowed towards Hellberg, indicating that he might return to his position at the podium. Sarekh returned to his seat without so much as a glance in Hellberg's direction.

"Justice Minister Hellberg." Dr. Xu began before Thom could speak. "May I assure you that what you have encountered just now is quite unusual proceedings in this hall. But you come to us with unusual requests. May I clarify with you a few things surrounding Zhi Nyima's case.

"First, though I am not acquainted with the details of Zhi Nyima's becoming present in this country, I can tell you that he was not 'abducted' on the authority of this council or any of its representatives. I understand that there were special circumstances, but that is a matter of criminal justice proceedings and is not available for public scrutiny at this time.

"Further to that, Zhi Nyima's detention pending trial is a matter of criminal justice proceedure, and it is not within this council's purview to release him to you. We can, if we are satisfied that there is sufficient reason, initiate dialogue between yourself and the General Committee for Law and Order, but to interrupt normal judiciary proceedure does not fall within our capacity here today.

"I accept that you may have spoken in anger, but may I finally assure you that there exists no 'crusade' against former members of the Guo Leng administration. In the years following the restoration we have sought only healing, not revenge. Nonetheless, there are certain individuals whose activities under the Guo Leng regime simply cannot go unaddressed. Zhi Nyima stands accused of being one of these. There is no question in my mind that it is not without very good reason that he is so."

”So what you’re basically saying is that this council has no jurisdiction over the different proceedings in Xikuang? You must excuse me but I thought I had come here to have a dialogue with the leaders of Xikuang not to commune with an assembly of powerless peasants”

“You also elucidate that the council has no intentions whatsoever to release or transfer Zhi Nyima to Svea Riga neither at this time nor in any other time. Your lack of understanding of international laws sickens me to the extent that I’m willing to give these talks up and go home. But I am a man of my words and will make one final try to make you understand exactly why I need to bring Zhi Nyima back to his home”

Thom took a sip of water and went over an old children’s tale his mother used to tell him when he was a kid.

“Ahem. Let me tell you a little story about a bear and squirrel. The little squirrel lived in a tree which had grown a lot of nuts on its branches. But when in the winter the bear, which lived in a nearby cave, came and ‘harvested’ all the nuts and brought them back to his lair. The little squirrel, almost broken by hunger, sneaked to the lair of the bear and stole one of the biggest and tastiest nuts and took it back to his nest. The bear noticed the theft the day after and slowly walked to the squirrel demanding his nut back; in exchange the squirrel could get ten almost as tasty nuts instead of the big one. The squirrel looked at the bear with fear but stood up for himself. He would under no circumstances give the bear back his nut, not even for a thousand more nuts. The bear shook his head at the squirrels’ foolishness and broke down the tree, killing the squirrel and receiving the big and tasty nut”

“Weather Commander Zhi is guilty of any crimes against the Xikuangese people I am not the judge to tell, if you got any suspicions that that might be the case you are, as I’ve said many times before, welcome to bring it to the attention of the Rigan Military Supreme Court when Zhi Nyima is back home in Svea Riga”

Thom emptied his glass and watched it refill slowly with fresh and cold water. He had begun to sweat; he realized what kind of position he was in now. He had overstepped his boundaries with that story, innocent it might’ve been when he was little now it was meant as a threat and threatening a standing member within the CACE was something he clearly wasn’t in a position to do, but he couldn’t back away from it now, he had to go the entire way.

“Zhi Nyima is a citizen of Svea Riga whether you like it or not and it is my mission to bring him home whether you like it or not. And I can assure you that if I fail it won’t be the last thing you will hear about this. Quite the opposite, we’re not afraid to take this to any length necessary to bring him back to us. So I warn you to deny me this request again councillors”

Thom emptied another glass of water in a desperate attempt to chill him, now he wanted a unpleasant reply from the EGC so he could commence the last part of his plan.

Silence.

The councillors looked at Thom Hellberg with that practiced Xikuangese inscrutability that he found so exasperating. Even Sarekh did not so much as raise an eyebrow. Indeed, if anything, the Elected General Councillor for National Security looked a little smug.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Still without speaking, some of the councillors cast questioning glances about at the others. Dr. Xu caught Xiang's eye, cocking her head slightly to the side. So it was that Xiang finally broke the oppressive silence with a single half-whispered word.

"Tqaiqai'iin."

There was another silence, this one broken only by the creaking of furniture as several of the councillors shifted their weight in mild apprehension.

At last Dr. Xu addressed Hellberg-- without the usual formal inclination of the head, the ubiquitous Xikuangese gesture of deference. "Justice Minister Hellberg." she said. "I am not sure what you expected, but may I clarify for you that this council is an elected body whose duty it is to uphold law and order, not to break or bend it whenever we or anyone should deem it fit. I reiterate that we are unable to comply with your request."

Followng some cue Hellberg hadn't noticed, a primly attired young woman came into the chamber through a side door. Dr. Xu gestured towards the heavy case Hellberg had brought with him. The woman nodded and went to pick it up.

"It is with great sorrow that I must confess this council's misunderstanding of the nature of your government's request for this meeting. Since this council regretfully cannot serve you, we equally cannot accept your generosity. It is thus with contrition that we return to you your gift."

The young woman stepped towards Thom, holding the case in both hands. Setting it down on the podium in front of him, she bowed, intoning the perhaps contradictory phrase (literally: 'I am sorry please') ubiquitous in polite conversation: "Khenjialaqi khanlai." She took three steps backwards, then turned and went back the way she had come. At the same time, the Elected General Council rose as one, giving every indication that as far as they were concerned, the meeting was over, and they were leaving.

Whether Hellberg understood the formalities or not, there could be no doubt about the message: in terminating the meeting without giving Hellberg the last word and especially in returning to him the Rigan government's gift, it was demonstrated that not only did the Xikuangese council regard itself as having been insulted, but that it resented the affront in no uncertain terms.

[Wow, a whole month since the last post... I promise I'll try to come up with something soon... there's plans bubbling in my mind ;) ]

Just two weeks had passed since Thom returned empty handed from Xikuang, Svea Riga Freedom Party lost the election and Thom could finally retire from his place as Minister of Justice to his family manor in the Rigan mountains, finally he could rest without having to worry about a single thing in the world. Sure, what was to be the peak of his career, the negotiation and return of Commander Zhi Nyima was a total failure but no one outside the party ever found out about it…

He was found deceased just six hour after the final election count. His death was silenced and no one except his closest family was allowed to attend his funeral. The cause of his death was too bizarre to be mentioned anywhere except in a few highly classified medical journals, it appeared his throat was cut with a sickle in pure gold and platinum and his head bashed in with a equally valuable hammer, his body was then positioned in his favourite chair with his favourite brandy and cigar.

The forensic detectives handling the case were all fired when they came with the final report, never before had the chief heard such fallacies, the marks of boots found in the house hailed from the Rigan Army and a very special Specs-Op unit as well. Simply a preposterous idea!

An underground bunker located within a secret military complex in eastern Svea Riga

Lieutenant Asperlund was a simple man; he did his duties to the motherland without asking any unnecessary questions. All he wanted to know was; Where? When? Who? “Why” was totally irrelevant, it was far to relative to affect him in any way. But this job triggered something inside of his head. When he first had received the mission by his superiors he read it over and over again to memorize it, he then gave his version of the order to his squad consisting of rouge mercenaries hired by the Rigan state (and any other state for that matter) when really dirty jobs needed to be done. He and his squad had resided in Svea Riga for almost four years, there was always work to be done here, some rough and some more or less illegal by international laws, or any other law in the world.

The orders would involve a lot of time being spent in cold snow and in high places, he hated snow and he especially hated high places like mountains.

Headhunter-Squad: Overview

Squad leader: Joakim Asperlund – 31 year old Rigan, former assassin and professional army sniper.
Demolition Expert: Johannes Åld – 23 year old Rigan, former elite soldier in the Rigan army.
Planning and Cooperation Expert: Claes Lundh – 34 year old Rigan, former officer in the Rigan army, taken out of service due to his lack of attention to his superiors.
Electronics Expert: Kajar Eherb – 28 year old SeOCC citizen, former mercenary in the Rigan army.
Martial Arts Expert: Dhan Zhuhle – 21 year old Xikuangese-Rigan citizen, served under FSP rule during the revolution and quickly became a mercenary afterwards.
Firearms and Assault Expert: Nicklas Silcon – 24 year old Cirdan-Rigan citizen, served under the government during the revolution but was bought out of jail afterwards by high standing military officers.

Purchasing their services was almost as expensive as the equipment they had on them, nothing other than the best of the best suited these guys. Their rooms in the complex were filled with the latest military gadgets bought in from the Rigan Intelligence Service. If one needed use of their Services no smaller sums than 10’000’000 dollars would even be considered, they were the best and they knew it, they just didn’t do anything their employers wanted, they chose what job to take and what not to take. And this was a job they certainly would take, leaving aside the fact that it would involve snow and a lot of killing the pay itself would make a millionaire blush.

Furthest down on the document which contained the orders to the mission was written in green text: 150’000’000 million dollars will be paid upon return to Svea Riga.

”Fucking double check it for errors again and again till you’ve found one, there won’t be a second chance while we there you know!” Joakim Asperlund stood over a desk cleansing his PSG-90 with a rag.

“Fuck you Asperlund, who died and made you boss? Really? I’m getting sick and tired of you bossing us around like you were Göran himself!” Dhan Zhuhle, the latest contribution to the group, now stood up and held his ‘Five-Seven Colt’ handgun in a tight grip to his side.

“And just exactly what were you planning on doing with that toy? Twenty cases barrel, it’ll need at least five just to get me to stop beating the shit out of you. Once you pull that trigger making it lethal there will be no more yaks for you to shepherd in this life” Joakim took up a magazine belonging to his PSG and began loading it with sharp ammunition.

”Son of a dirty yak-whore! I’m going to gut you right open!! Fucking nazi” Dhan had withdrawn his knife from its rightful place on his vest. “Make on move and you’ll be squealing like a pig for mercy, asshole”

“Fuck you, get your gear ready instead of bitching with me!” Joakim took his bag from the table, loaded the PSG into it and walked out of the room, hitting Dhan on the shoulder with his own before leaving the room, resulting in Dhan waving his knife dangerously close to Joakims neck before burying it deep into the wooden table.

Same time in a undisclosed area in the Xikuangese mountains

Zhi Nyima had been up all night again, it was difficult to sleep on this altitude the thought, and there was also the problem with the floor standing still instead of going behaving like a ship on open water.

He waited patiently for his tyrants to come and pick him out of his cell for the hearings. He was dressed in his finest clothes available, although the selection was quite scarce he had found a black robe that was to his liking, not too far from looking like his old uniform.

He sat on his bed just waiting, his hands together, facing the floor he sat in a downward angle just looking at nothing. He felt, for the first time in his adult life, the feeling of being left behind. The first weeks were ok for him, ‘the Rigans will come and get me soon’ he continued to say out loud. But the weeks passed and no rescue came.

He was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of a key being pressed into the lock on the door and the bars keeping him safe from the outside, or was it keeping the outside safe from him, opened.

It was time for his first hearing…

Several months had passed since the last meeting-- fateful, though the Xikuangese Council wouldn't know that-- with Thom Dingsten Hellberg. General Elections had been held. Elected General Councillor Sarekh Djijirin had been re-elected to his position, as had his colleague He Dorje, and former Elected General Councillor and Chair of the Elected General Committee for International Affairs Xiang Kalsang had taken up the position of EGC Chair, but apart from them, a new Council presided in the EGC Halls when the trial of Zhi Nyima, alleged Chief Interrogator under the Guo Leng Protectorate of Lhai Hsi Kuang, accused of war crimes including murder, torture, humiliation, false imprisonment, unnecessary cruelty-- you name it-- had at last come due.

Sarekh looked at the brief and sighed. He was glad that now ex-Councillor Kham had stood down in the last election. Had Khitai announced his candidacy, he certainly would have been re-elected, and had he been re-elected, he would have resumed work with the same unflagging pace with which he'd begun... and he'd be privy to this, this trial, this awful piece of business enmired in a past better, but not possibly, forgotten. Very few people knew how Kham Khitai might be connected to Zhi Nyima's case, and Sarekh was one of them. He shuddered and hoped. He did not like to think what would become of his friend should his identity come out, and he should be summoned as a witness. But Khitai was safely settled in Celdonia now-- he had been granted a professorship at one of the better universities there, in the highlands, where he might not feel too far away from home. Surely he was out of reach. It's all behind him now, Sarekh made himself think. It's behind all of us.

The trial was due within the week. The prisoner would be transported soon. Sarekh made the necessary arrangements and then doubled the security. He was expecting trouble, and he wanted to be ready for it.

An undisclosed location, Xikuang

A remote, isolated facility stands on a level plateau somewhere in the high mountains dominating Western Xikuang, sheltered from the winds by the high, craggy cliffs rising behind it. The single lonely road leading to the gates of the perimeter fence is wide and well-maintained. A single vehicle moves along it. It reaches the checkpoint, waits, and then is cleared. It passes through, just shy of 4:00 am.

As darkness turns to dawn, the bright electrical lighting comprehensively illuminating the grounds switches off: a closed automatic system possible to override only from within the facility itself. Somewhere, a dog barked: not a warning, but a greeting to the relief guard. The dogs carefully had been trained to do this as the guard was relieved in intervals around the perimeter. The wrong bark, or none at all, would have every single one of the twenty-odd dogs-- big pacers, bred for strength, speed and toothsomeness-- on the alert. This was the right bark. A gentle breeze stirred the branches of hardy trees growing on the thin soil collecting in the crags of the cliff face. All was peaceful.

Inside the facility, the light of dawn spread through heavily barred windows, gradually illuminating a barely furnished, but comfortable, room. The writing desk had a good supply of paper and there were soft-tipped felt brush pens, the sort favoured for writing in the Xikuangese alphabet, all unused. To the side of the desk was a bookshelf, stocked with a few volumes, we thumbed. The bed was clean, comfortable, and like the rest of the furniture, bolted to the floor. Nothing in this facility was going anywhere without the specific by-your-leave of the people who ran it, including the room's solitary inhabitant.

He sat, as he always did, at the foot of the bed, greeting the shafts of light the dawn made through his barred windows. Zhi Nyima barely slept these days. He read far into the night, or else he sat still, thinking; he rose early in the morning, contemplative. He was exemplarily attentive to his toilet. He washed thoroughly, and his clothes-- his uniform-- were always clean. He waited, as he had every day, for months.

He heard footsteps in the corridor outside his room. Strange: it was too early for breakfast. Then there was a clatter as the mechanical lock in the door was turned; then a shrill beep as the electronic lock released. Several people stood in the corridor, only one of them familiar: the section guard who checked on him throughout the day, and to whom he reported if he wanted or needed anything. The others were all strangers. Two of them, an officious-looking woman in a dark suit and a man with the stature and sturdiness of a tree trunk weilding handcuffs, stepped forward.

"Zhi Nyima." the woman said. "It's time." The man stepped forward, extending the cuffs.

Nyima rose, smiling. He extended his arms, allowed himself to be cuffed behind his back, allowed himself to be led off like chattel. It didn't matter. None of this did. Things were moving now, and soon, soon, his friends would exercise their... authority.

He wouldn't have to wait much longer.