NationStates Jolt Archive

VSIC: AL-ISKANDARIYAH, EGYPTIAN SR, UNITED ARAB SOCIALIST REPUBLIC

Their names were Muhammad and 'Abdullah. Yeah, right. Or, maybe they were, 'Alauddin al-Mişri had no idea. He had just picked two guys randomly from the State Security Division roster from back in al-Qahirah. Hadn't even looked at their names. The two had been told to come to this abandoned apartment on the fourth floor of a mass housing unit in al-Iskandariyah, popularly with Western tourists, Alexandria. As Director of the SSD in al-Iskandariyah, it was al-Mişri's job to give them this odious assignment.
al-Mişri slid a manila folder across the table, where the two figures, their faces hidden by ski masks, sat. A gloved hand took it up from the table and opened it up. Muhammad read through it, then 'Abdullah.
"This operation does not exist," al-Mişri said, as he seemingly had said a million times, "You will not disclose any part of this operation to anybody other than me or each other before, during, or after its completion. If this operation is not successfully completed, the both of you will be punished. Severely. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Comrade," the both of them said in unison. All three of them knew it was true. When an operation this secret was to be carried out, sometimes the Premier didn't even know. This was one of those times. al-Badr might have been informed, but she was in Zaire right now. That didn't matter, though.
"Good," al-Mişri said, "Has the Defense Bureau procured a weapon for you?"
'Abdullah responded by picking up a Yugoslav M76 sniper rifle, chambered in 7.62x54mm for export to the UASR.
"Good, again," al-Mişri said, "Good night, comrades, and good luck."

To: Revolutionary Leader Mu'ammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi, Tarabulus, Great Socialist Libyan People's Arab Jamahiriyah

Greetings from the United Arab Socialist Republic, Comrade Qadhafi.
As you know, Comrade Qadhafi, our countries have not always had the most cordial of relations. We believe that this is a shame, considering we are both neighbors. We in the UASR believe that this should change, as we would rather have friends for neighbors than enemies. And, while we don't know how you feel, Comrade Qadhafi, we hope you feel the same way.
It is for this reason that we invite you, Comrade Qadhafi, as the very image of your country and its revolution, to attend talks with our country in al-Iskandariyah, Egyptian SR, to discuss improved relations between our nations. We hope that they can produce some positive results.

محمد حفيظ التكريتي

Muhammad Hafiz al-Tikriti, United Arab Socialist Republic Foreign Minister

"Vladmir! Our spies..."
"Shhh! No one supposed to know about them!"

Vladmir quickly tells his Communications advisor to be quiet.

"So what's up?" he whispers
"According to our sources, something's up in the middle-east!" the advisor tells him.
"And?" Vladmir asks.
"There's territory involved..."
"I'm on it!" Vladmir quickly responds.

ooc: Okay, I'm taking up a beef with that. Even if your "spies" somehow figured out about the director of the State Security Division in al-Iskandariyah and two guys who are, except to people within the SSD, just a couple of average joes, meeting in an abandoned apartment, how are they supposed to figure out what was on the document? The director gave them the folder. The two guys took it. The end. They are not your spies. Only a choice few people in the SSD know at all. Everyone else has no idea. And even if they had the document, it would say nothing at all about "territory."
Bottom line, your spies didn't find anything. Maybe we can have a little scandal about this later, probably not. But right now, it's secret. That's why I put VSIC. Would I have to have put copious amounts of Vs to get that across?

"Vladmir! Our spies..."
"Shhh! No one supposed to know about them!"

Vladmir quickly tells his Communications advisor to be quiet.

"So what's up?" he whispers
"According to our sources, something's up in the middle-east!" the advisor tells him.
"And?" Vladmir asks.
"There's territory involved..."
"I'm on it!" Vladmir quickly responds.

OOC: No offense but if you're a new country how are you going to have a big enough and advanced enough intell network to find out what other nations are doing secretly?

ooc: Anybody to RP Libya?

OOC: If you take Algeria in mine, I'll take Libya in yours-a fair trade, seeing as we are African Brothers in SYAE...not to mention it'd make us bordering nations too...

ooc: Deal. Let's roll.

OOC: Sweet. I'll have a post up tomorrow. (I'll be signing off soon here-and I'd rather make a fleshy post than a hastened one).

Al-Burayqah, Libya
Shores of the Gulf of Sidra

Another round fired from the chamber, another impact dead on the forehead of the stuffed body imitation propped 125 yards away. A good shot, indeed.
Tarik Muntassar was a mercenary by true definition-more or less, it was the best category he could fit his hobbled-together profile in. He had tried the course of every dangerous profession-from the illegal to the glorious-and couldn't fit. Muntassar had turned to money for war, and it had paid off slightly better. A native Tunisian, somewhat diminutive at 5'11", Muntassar was often regarded as a "second-class" warrior-but he was not so. Moreover, Muntassar was a match for anyone in the Libyan army-though they had patched differences somewhat since his first "incident".
The first time had been trouble. On a first assignment, against a small company of troops from his native Tunisia, the Libyan soldiers had made comments on the man's honor and family-merely for fun and to provoke a reaction. To a point, the soldiers did just that-provoke a rather large reaction from Tarik. It had cost two of the soldiers their lives-decapitated by the man's singing blade-and had forced another into four months of recuperation and recovery in a Tripoli hospital. Since that, legends had grown from the odd, somewhat quiet man, simply increasing his lore around the Libyan army.
Tarik had no real interest in the publicity. He was quiet, and preferred to earn a paycheck and do his work quickly and effectively. But some things disgruntled him.

Another bullet slammed the body dead on.

Tripoli, Libya
Shores of the Mediterranean

Tumultous times in these corners of the globe.
Muammar al-Gaddafi (OOC: There are many spellings-I use wikipedia's) had weathered every storm in the past, out-storming the tempests, and coming up stronger. But a thorn was in his side-America.
The capitalists had displayed a bit of muscle during the 1980s, and since then, Gaddafi had been walking on a thin line with the West-America and Europe had consistantly been pressuring the Libyan government. They had eased off recently, but Gaddafi knew they were still keeping an eye out. However, this proposal by the new Arabian government-one dedicated to the ideals of communism-had him slightly interested. Slightly.
Gaddafi still had two common goals-his own power, and the unification of all of the Muslim and Arab states in one giant confederation. While the UASR potentially could provide this, two ther nearby countries that had come up recently-the Western-sympathetic Zaire, and the fanatical Songhai-not to mention Aeson's hold on what had been Morocco. Neither of the countries were too open to any discussion of sorts.
Both governments that were still autonomous around Libya had also been slightly tumultous. Tunisia had had its own problems, along with a severe rivalry with Gaddafi's state. The Algerians, on the other hand, were slightly more stable now, though coming off of their own Algerian Civil War. Neither seemed like any other good place to start-certainly not with possibly American-supported Zaire or the West African zealots right on the opposing doorsteps.
Perhaps this "UASR" had a little more merit after all-perhaps. Gaddafi was cautious for traps.

Delegated to Muhammad Hafiz al-Tikriti, United Arab Socialist Republic Foreign Minister

With Africa seemingly teetering over on eithe ends from opposing forces, it may be in Libya's best effort, and to further the just and good cause of Pan-Arabism, for a meeting to be in store.
However, my country requries tending. In my stead shall be sent a foreign minister, Al-Zahimi Moushtadar, to serve as an envoy. I hope he shall be sufficient for your needs.

Muammar al-Gaddafi
Brotherly Leader and Guide of the Revolution

ooc: Thanks. When it gets a bit clearer to me what I need to RP currently in yours, I'll post.

VSIC:

"Comrade," an aide said to al-Misri, handing him a letter, "Just came into al-Tikriti's office. He wanted you to see it, for whatever reason."
al-Misri flipped open the note and looked at it, "He had a reason. Thank you, Sulayman."
Sulayman nodded and power-walked off in his trademark manner to deliver a cup of coffee. al-Misri, in the meantime, quickly read over the note. After a bit, he went to his cellphone and selected a Chinese restaurant known as the Szechuan Empress.
The Szechuan Empress did not exist. al-Misri ordered from a different Chinese restaurant, known as Guangzhou House, a little restaurant on the corner next to the SSD HQ in al-Iskandariyah. A guy named Du had run it since 1989, when he came into the UASR, he was very nice. But, that was beside the point. The Szechuan Empress number called a much more dark sort of place. Closing and locking his office door behind him, al-Misri waited for somebody to pick up on the other end.
Finally, "Hello?"
The guy on the other end of the phone was Mahdi Saifuddin Saifullah, director of the State Security Division and all of its offshoots, both inside and outside the UASR. Responsible for dozens of political imprisonments and assassinations, including the assassination of the country's first Premier, Ghassan al-Mukhtar. Possibly the most dastardly, evil, sociopath alive. And it was why he had his job. He had run the State Security Division since before Idris al-Asadi had run the country, and he was still alive as well.
"Comrade Saifullah," al-Misri said, trying to make the call sound as normal as a solicitor in America, "The fish didn't bite."
A pause. Then, "I'm aware, comrade. Why have you called to inform me of this?"
"You told me to call if the fish didn't bite, Comrade Saifullah," al-Misri said.
"I did, didn't I?" Saifullah said, "I'm glad you remembered, comrade. You need alternate instructions, don't you."
"Yes, comrade," al-Misri said.
"This is a roadblock, comrade, but we can get around it," Saifullah said, "Tell Muhammad and 'Abdullah to come back in, hand in their rifle. Do you follow me, comrade?"
"Yes," al-Misri said. He hoped that this wasn't Saifullah's Plan B, to just drop it and forget it.
"We have procured some documents that prove that a 7.62x54mm M76 sniper rifle sent up from al-Qahirah was stolen en route. We have also procured some documents stolen from the Foreign Affairs Bureau by a snitch employee and given to an Imam Anwar al-Dawhi. We even have some documents that prove that al-Dawhi had a hitman who was being paid to assassinate Qadhafi."
al-Misri couldn't really see where this was going. He knew well who Anwar al-Dawhi was, a Wahhabi Imam from Qatar, and an (in)famous political dissident. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch would have literally raped the UASR in an alleyway if the government so much as gave him a parking ticket. But, beyond screwing al-Dawhi over with a good reason, al-Misri was still in the dark. Was Saifullah just twisting this so they could still get something done because Qadhafi wasn't coming?
As if Saifullah could read his mind (which would be very, very bad), "I'm sure you're wondering how the hell we're going to tie this into our efforts to make Libya our tenth constituent republic. Look, comrade, it's like this..."

To: Revolutionary Leader Mu'ammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi, Great Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriyah

Your foreign minister will do. We would like to begin these talks as soon as possible; the State Security Division has made some disturbing findings.

محمد حفيظ التكريتي

Muhammad Hafiz al-Tikriti, United Arab Socialist Republic Foreign Minister

OOC: Per my TG to you, the other thread (Algeria with me) will have to go for now-the Cape Verde affair is preoccupying my nation.

IC:

Approaching al-Iskandariyah
20,000 Feet above the ground

Al-Zahimi Moushtadar was a quiet man at times-particularly when flying. The return communication had been sent to the UASR about his flight, and he was approaching al-Iskandariyah's airport-probaly another 20 minutes to go. Moushtadar hated flying-he had never liked it, preferring to walk over all else. It was the most natural way.
He was intrigued by the offer of the UASR, while Gaddafi had been slightly reproachful at the idea. The UASR could offer a lot-certainly more than those crazy Algerians, or the other nearby powers, such as the capitalist Zaire folk.
Maybe something could be accomplished.

"al-Iskandariyah National, this is Libyan 202-61. Requesting clearance for landing, cargo is aboard," radioed the pilot to the UASR airport in al-Iskandariyah

OOC: For ease, I went ahead and assumed there was an airport-if not, I'll change it.

"202-61, you are clear to land," came back from the control tower.

At the airport waiting for the Libyan diplomat was a black Lexus GS with dark, tinted windows. Two men in sunglasses and long black coats stood outside the vehicle, waiting for the Libyan diplomat to arrive. They were members of the SSD, although their mission wasn't nearly as dubious as two certain other SSD agents' missions had been. Inside the vehicle sat a driver who, while he wasn't looking like some creepy secret policeman, was also part of the SSD. The vehicle would take the Libyan to a building in downtown al-Iskandariyah, where Foreign Minister al-Tikriti was waiting to talk with him.

al-Iskandariyah
Airport

The plane settled, uneventfully. Another routine landing, and Moushtadar wiped his brow-he had slightly been sweating during the procedure, much to his disdain. Moving to the front of the craft, he slowly stepped down the steps connecting up to the stopped craft, squinting in the bright Egyptian sun.

Moushtadar was escorted to the government vehicle. The driver pulled out of the airport and headed towards the building where Foreign Minister al-Tikriti was waiting. As instructed, he made sure to take the "nice" route, which showed all the prettiest scenery on any route to the building. There was a shorter way, yes, but it went through a nasty industrial area.
The two SSD men escorted Moushtadar into the building, a functional, but not too flashy affair. From there, he was taken into a conference room on the second floor, where his UASR counterpart was waiting. A couple of plain manila folders sat in front of him.
"As-salaam alaykum, rafiq," al-Tikriti said, "Please, sit."

"A pleasure to meet you," Moushtadar said with a slight lift in voice, taking his seat without any nervousness. While he might have been sweating bullets on the way here-and indeed he was-once it was crunch time, Moushtadar was as cool as the other side of the pillow.

"Likewise," al-Tikriti said. The Libyan diplomat was calm, collected. There were things in the folder on the table, however, that would most likely change that.
"Well, straight to business," the UASR's foreign minister continued, "Comrade Moushtadar, our State Intelligence Division has managed to intercept some very disturbing correspondence that concerns the both of our nations."
al-Tikriti slid the folder across the table. Inside were various e-Mails, old-fashioned letters, transcripts of phone conversations, and even the record of an IM. The first was a copy of the letter al-Tikriti had sent to Qadhafi. As Moushtadar continued, however, through the mass of communication, he would find what would appear to be proof of a plot to assassinate Qadhafi on his visit to the UASR, assuming he had been coming. Wahhabi Imam Anwar al-Dawhi, who was now locked up in a non-existant maximum-security prison facility in Kurdistan (read: executed, despite the UASR's abolition of the death penalty), had sold Libyan exiles in Britain fake IDs and passports, a sniper rifle, which had gone missing on its way from a warehouse in al-Qahirah, and the letter, as well as the location the UASR would have hosted Qadhafi at. The last two had been procured by a leak in the Foreign Affairs Bureau. There was more, but all the stuff was meant to lead Moushtadar to the same conclusion; Libyan dissidents and UASR dissidents were in league.
This was all very well, but they were also all fabrications. Very good fabrications, done by the best of forgers, but fabrications nonetheless. It helped their integrity however, that al-Tikriti had no idea they were fake, and acted as if they were completely true. Because, to his knowledge, they were.
"We apologize profusely for the leaks in our Foreign Affairs Bureau. That should never have happened," al-Tikriti said, "However, these do all point towards one thing; opponents of your country's revolution and opponents of my country's revolution are working together to accomplish whatever ends they might be going for."
"Thus, it is the United Arab Socialist Republic's hope that Libya would likewise work with my country, both to root out these...gnawing little rats, and on other fronts."