NationStates Jolt Archive

Prologue:

The Southern Confederacy. A bastion of socialism in South America, comprised of nations formerly known as Argentina, Chile and Paraguay. Unfortunately, the 'utopia' did not last. Several poor decisions by the government had led to other nations looking elsewhere; the Confederacy was not a pariah, but instead was regarded as not being worth the effort to talk to. The economy began to slide into a downward spiral, and popular dissent swelled dramatically. With the government teetering on the brink, several factions sought to replace them.

General Marco Kuerten was amongst them, receiving overtures from the Chinese government who wished to see him in power; he had a fruitful relationship with Beijing, and it would not be long until he provided the Chinese with a major ally in the Americas. That was the plan, anyway. Before Kuerten's plan could be implemented, a coup was launched against the government by an alliance of right-wing groups and military personnel. The cabinet were taken into protective custody, and General Federico Domingo Carrasco was sworn in as a temporary President. Carrasco soon showed no intention of stepping down. He united the political groups that had backed him, creating the Movimiento Falangista, and declared that he would provide the treatment that his sick nation required.

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Palace of Congress, La Plata

Federico Domingo Carrasco strode confidently to the podium, the applause of the Senado echoing around the chamber. He was riding a wave of popularity not seen for decades; 'emergency elections' in every district had seen Falangistas sent to the Congress en masse. He had not intially planned to overthrow the government, but his nationalistic streak had convinced him to do what was right for the state and its people; socialism had failed the nation, so it was time to eradicate it. He stopped at the podium, nodding as the gathered members all stood and saluted him; after returning the salute, he motioned for them to sit before beginning his speech.

"Fellow patriots, we have a mission to undertake. Socialism almost destroyed this nation, after twenty years I am surprised that we have a nation left! We all followed them because we were doing our duty, supporting what we believed to be the rightful government, but we now know that they never deserved the power they had. They alienated the people with their corruption, and they alienated the military with their incompetence. Well, socialism is gone from this place, and it will not be coming back.

We must rebuild this nation, we must make it vibrant and strong once more. We shall rise, never to fall. The world will notice us once again, we shall be recognised as a power once again. Our mission is handed to us by God, and with his blessing we shall succeed. We must begin our mission by eradicating the final fragment of socialism in our nation.....we shall no longer be the 'Southern Confederacy'. The Confederacy was an invention of the socialists, designed to divide the people by setting the states against each other; we shall end such a situation. I ask you now to vote on the change. No longer the Southern Confederacy, now the Unión Suramericana Falangista!

We will also require strong leadership for this mission! You have trusted me to begin it, I ask you to believe that I can see it through. Confirm me as President, and allow me to continue the work that we have started!"

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

The evening news enthusiastically reported the new state of affairs. The nation was now the Unión Suramericana Falangista, with Carrasco ruling as President and Generalissimo. The news was well-received by the populace, but certain sectors received it with more joy than others....

"See, do you see, Mannfred? I told you that he was the one to back! The socialists have been handed a defeat that they will not soon forget."

Mannfred Nacht nodded as Felix Reinhardt excitedly downed his drink. "I must admit, you were right about him, Felix. I apologise for questioning your judgement."

Felix grinned manically as he headed for the door. "Come, old friend, we have to celebrate! For the first time in sixty years we have truly gained a modicum of vengeance. My grandfather always used to tell me stories about the war....how we trampled Europe under our boot, and how he fled to this place when the world united against us. He always believed that we would rise again, and now we are doing so....just less publically than he would have wanted. This is the beginning of what we have longed for, Mannfred. The constant reorganisations to stay hidden have been worth it; too many know of ODESSA, and the Kameradenwerk, but hardly anyone knows of Die Letzte Symphonie. This day will go down in history as the day when our Great Work took a giant step forward."

Buenos Aires, Mattingly Line

The city's fortifications had changed since May of 1982, when two companies of the 34th Armoured had held off an attack force of over one hundred tanks. In place of an earthen berm, interconnected pillboxes and bunkers formed Buenos Aires' defences from Confederacy attack. In the twenty-four years since the taking of the city, defence protocols had laxed somewhat. Three thousand men and women manned positions built for twice their number and artillery was shifted quietly out of the city to be sent on to Africa. Machine guns stood silent and unmanned, the snub-noses of the Vickers guns rested against sandbags and the ammunition was locked away. Soldiers played poker games in the bunkers, venturing out now and again to check on the landward approaches to the city.

The Confederates, for their part, stayed at home. A few patrols could be seen now and again, usually a group of TAMs or Isuzu Troopers with machine guns mounted on. Never did they approach the Mattingly Line, perhaps remembering the utter ruin that came to the last attack made upon it. As the years passed, defending troops took to waving at the Confederates, and faces became familiar when seen through binoculars. Shouts of ¡Hola, Ingles! and ¡Como Estas! could be heard, yelled at acquaintances from across the barbed wire.

So there was a bit of confusion and no small amount of alarm when the news broke that the Confederacy's government was in shambles, and a new man held power in La Plata. The border was put on alert, militiamen grouped at their depots to collect surplus Enfields, and the few remaining howitzers on the Mattingly Line were checked for operability. With all these preparations, the untrained eye might expect an immanent British sally, or perhaps an attack capitalizing on the disorganization of the Confederacy. But a military man would note the paltry number of defenders, the unmilitary look of their uniforms. Only a few of them-- that three thousand-- were trained in combat. Not one of them had ever seen a shot fired in anger. If combat was to come, they would have to trust to the sturdiness of the Mattingly Line and the experience of their general-- Benjamin Lyle-- to see them through.

London, No. 10 Downing St.

"Mmmf?" Sir Andrew Strathairn's face was buried in his pillow. It was getting on fall, and the characteristic London gloom had descended upon the city. He was suffering from a mild head cold, and had wrapped himself in blankets to stave off the chill. So when the phone rang, Sir Andrew had to perform a rather ungainly wriggle to free his hands from their woolen confines. He snatched at the phone and pressed it to his ear, fighting to shake off the groginess.

"Strathairn," he said stuffily. Damn this cold, anyway.

"Mr. Prime Minister," the voice was that of Daniel Spader, lately returned from Port Royal to take up his old post as Deputy Foreign Secretary. "We've received some interesting news from La Plata concerning the government of the Southern Confederacy." Strathairn sniffled quietly and divested himself of the blankets. "It seems that one General Carrasco has taken power and dissolved the socialist government there. He's just announced the formation of a Falangist-- that is to say, Fascist-- union government. Our ambassador in La Plata hasn't been able to get in contact with him or the former President. Even our contacts in their Defence department are quiet."

"Right," Strathairn replied. "Contact the cabinet, tell them that we need to have a meeting about this. Hm... see if you can get Christina on the phone as well. She ought to be informed." Damn. And he'd been looking forward to a nice, long night. Maybe a leisurely breakfast tomorrow, a cup of coffee and a copy of the Times. Damn again. Strathairn shoved his feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers, donned his smoking jacket and shuffled out of the room. Time to meet with his cabinet, dressed or no.

Government House, La Plata

"El Presidente......it's good, isn't it? You have this nation ready to rebuild according to your vision. Oh, I envy you Federico, I would do anything to have a nation at my command."

Carrasco smirked at Felix Reinhardt, who was beaming with glee in the Presidential offices.

"You're more excited about this than I am. I want you to know that if there's anything I can do to help you and your cause, just ask and I'll see what I can do. Your money bought half the support I received, and I daresay that General Ortiz's accident was your doing as well; you helped me get in here, and I don't forget my friends."

"Excellent, I'll hold you to that."

"I expect that you will. Now, what can I do for you?"

Felix let out a long sigh. "Straight down to business, I like that. Very authoritarian. Anyway, I was wondering if you could arrange a full pardon for one Kurt Rodriguez; the socialists locked him up for 'murdering' one of their ministers, but they aren't in power any more."

Carrasco frowned. "So you want him released as some sort of hero? Rodriguez isn't exactly who I want running around in my nation; he was convicted of that murder, but he's suspected to be part of some terrorist group!"

"Well, yes, he is. He's part of my group. Besides, it's a bit late for 'moralising' now, since you overthrew a democratically elected government and accepted the assistance of a rather nasty bunch of people to achieve it. Just one litle pardon, that's all it will take. Then Kurt is out of your prison system and back under my supervision, where he can commit terrible acts which will work to your advantage. You're El Presidente, no-one would question you. If they do, they can disappear suddenly."

"Alright, but I'm doing it quietly."

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The reorganisation of the nation began with the media. All media organisations were acquired by the government and put under the auspices of the new 'Ministry of Public Information', thus allowing the Falangists to act without too much fear of unsavoury actions becoming public knowledge. In addition, having the media under control allowed the Carrasco personality cult to be born.

Banners were being hung from large buildings, depicting Carrasco as the 'Iron Man of the Americas'; these were accompanied by masses of posters and billboards, placed anywhere the government could find enough room. The media began talking about Carrasco as a saviour of the nation, a firm but fair leader who would revitalise not only the USF but the whole of South America through his actions. With the nation focused on their new government and President, the Secretaria de Inteligencia began drawing up lists of potential opposition forces within the country, compiling files of evidence which may prove useful in the 'national rebirth'.

St. Paul

Worrisome, worrisome indeed. Governor General Sir Benjamin Lyle, newly appointed head of British South America, watched the fanfare via television broadcast. No stranger to authoritarian governments in South America, Lyle noted the adulatory tone of the broadcasts and the enormous banners, and was reminded of similar ones present in historical footage from Germany in the middle 1930s. This General Carrasco seemed canny enough, and he certainly looked good on television. Black hair, tanned skin speaking of mixed heritage, a moustache... he was a man of the people who promised a new beginning under enlightened despotic rule. What could be more different from the socialist failure of past governments?

Lyle was a suspicious man by nature, which had served him well during the campaign to capture Buenos Aires. He'd noted Kuerten's sudden division of forces and correctly guessed that an attack was underway, then correctly guessed in which direction Kuerten would feint. He had deployed forces to trap the other general, and forced a cease-fire in doing so. All through being suspicious of every move. That same sense was working again, but this time the aging general couldn't quite identify what was off. Sure, authoritarian governments and military coups were distressing, but nothing new in the historically poor and neglected Americas. It was something about this man and the advisers sometimes seen in background footage, men of apparently European descent who could sometimes be seen blurrily in the shadows. They were probably just peninsulares, Lyle thought, people with money who were backing Carrasco's populist regime change. Expect pandering and social stratification, with a chance of rain.

Still, Lyle was uncomfortable with it all. Something was wrong here... he couldn't say what. And the American Territories were very suddenly bereft of most of their military protection, shifted as it had been to Africa. He commanded only the permanent Airean garrison and a small force of professionals, and if Carrasco decided to make a play for Buenos Aires...

La Plata

"Yes, I'd like to speak to Mr. Carrasco. Yes, General Carrasco. Whatever, dammit." Ambassador Home Popham, named for an obscure British admiral from ages past, jammed a Havana cigar into his mouth and lit it irritatedly. Stonewalled from the start by Carrasco's legion of aides, flunkies and strongmen, Popham was just about ready to close the embassy and fly back to Britain in a funk. He straightened his lavender tie and sat back in the plush seat, calming as he smoked and relaxed. The comforts of the embassy would be hard to leave behind, and really, a rich young man like himself could still find plenty to enjoy in the corrupt atmosphere of La Plata. Fine clothes, good rum and other diverse pleasures of Latin America were still open to a man who could find them, he just needed to prove his continuing worth to London by making a little progress with this Carrasco fellow.

"Ricardo!" He called for his aide, putting aside his cigar. "Ricardo, get Kuerten on the phone. He has to be somewhere, see if we can use our old military connections to get at Carrasco, hmm?"

S.I. Headquarters, La Plata

"You know, we have to get Carrasco to be more proactive. He needs a little push to really open up with the 'big guns'....got any ideas?"

S.I. Chief Celino Marquez smirked at Reinhardt's thinking. Carrasco had appointed Marquez to the position because of his experience in the intelligence community and his apparent loyalty to the USF; in reality Marquez was a mole for Die Letzte Symphonie. He'd stumbled across the group while investigating some very large account transfers; Reinhardt had worked his persuasive charm and earned himself a loyal intelligence agent.

"Well, we could go after Kuerten. His file indicates a possible leaning towards the Chinese, and we have some interesting financial investigations that could be carried out. If we could show Kuerten up as some kind of foreign agent, then Carrasco might just give me the green light for my proposed revival of Operation Condor."

Reinhardt chuckled. "Perfect. I'll leave you to it."

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

General Marco Kuerten was furious with the way things had turned out. The Chinese government had been making overtures to him, the British respected him; he would have been an excellent President, with already-established foreign friends. Now, instead of his planned reforms towards market socialism, the nation had been rebranded and set on a path to who-knew-where.

He switched off the television and took a gulp of whiskey; he'd heard enough adulation for Carrasco to last a lifetime. As he went to turn off the light, the phone rang; although suspicious at first, Kuerten lifted the receiver. To his relief, it was the British embassy.

"What can I do for you?"

British Embassy, La Plata

"Ah, General Kuerten!" The warmth in Popham's voice was genuine, if motivated by the solution to a vexing problem rather than pleasure at the conversation. "Good to get ahold of you, sir. I'm Ambassador Popham, British Empire. I believe that we have spoken on occasion?"

Government House, La Plata

"What can you tell us about the new direction of Union politics?!" The question was shouted over the heads of other clamouring journalists, most of whom brandished microphones, television cameras, or a combination of the two. There were a few hardy souls with notepads and a harried little man with a tape recorder, but the scene was by far dominated by officials of the British Broadcasting Corporation, as well as colleagues from the CNN and RBC. Their target of opportunity was the Minister of Public Information, a rather reclusive fellow whose department had quickly and handily absorbed every major broadcasting and printing source within the country. While interviews with President Carrasco were numerous and freely available, they were also conducted under the auspices of the Ministerio de Informacion Publica, and as a result tended towards focusing on Carrasco's plenitude of medals, shiny uniform and long-winded dissertations on the subject of one party government.

People the world over were demanding the real story, and the BBC would get it.

"Minister, what can you tell the people of Britain about the UDF's international policy? Is Buenos Aires' recapture a long-term goal of the Carrasco administration? Will he seek to normalise relations with the Empire? What is his position on the Soviets?"

Government House, La Plata

Vicente Delgado carried himself with the utmost professionalism as the world media bombarded him with question after question; it was his grace under fire that had led to his installation as Minister of Public Information. He was a man who could be relied on to do what was necessary, as a former officer he knew what knowledge was required to get the job done, and which facts could be ignored or suppressed until further notice.

"Please, please. Honestly, you are like a bunch of rabid dogs. You seem to forget that we became to save this nation, and that is our foremost policy. I am here to discuss the new direction of Union politics, and I shall. The socialists were ruining this nation, but of course none of you cared to cover it, because the celebrities of your respective nations are more important to you than a potential geopolitical problem. Since none of your nations were going to help us, simply because they did not seem to care, we helped ourselves. Socialists love going on about how revolutions are the best things ever, yet when it happens to them they inevitably cry foul, complaining about ignorant peasants who could not see how starvation was enlightening them to the greater human truth.

President Carrasco is now in power because he can heal our country and our people. I realise that many of you here abhor the idea of a military man taking power from a standing government, but then you live in other nations, so you only see what you want to and then make the rest up for an audience who will read the story once, pretend to care for thirty seconds and then forget it. You will write informative and unbiased accounts of this speech, conveniently forgetting that you are already biased due to the fact that you are an outsider making your own assumptions about why we do things a certain way. I have no doubt that your governments and people have already made up their minds about us; you know what they think of us, and you will twist everything we do to fit that image to increase your revenues.

We have no problem with that. We do not care. We do not answer to your beck and call. We do not discuss foreign policy issues with foreign media until those issues have been discussed with the foreign governments concerned. However, I will give you one nice, strong statement that should give you all a nice banner headline."

He extended his arm and pointed his index finger rightwards.

"That is the new direction of our politics. The socialists went left, and they got lost. We'll go right, and we'll find our nation's true path."

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Kuerten Residence

"Yes, I do believe I've had the pleasure of conversation with you, Ambassador. I must admit, I'm not too surprised to have a phone call from your side. Carrasco's got you worried, hasn't he?"

OOC: I just want to say that I didn't forget about this, I'm just busy with school and the common app right now.

OOC: Back again!

British Embassy

"A bit, yes." Popham laughed nervously at the general's words. "I mean, the last time we dealt with a fascist government, we ended up in a shooting war that left London in ruins, so we're a little concerned." The ambassador paused to puff upon his cigar for a moment.

"What are your sources telling you about the UDF's military status? Some of our reports from Buenos Aires haven't been encouraging, but it wouldn't be the first time that we've had a border flare-up. Have you heard anything about a mobilization order?"

OOC: Back again!

British Embassy

"A bit, yes." Popham laughed nervously at the general's words. "I mean, the last time we dealt with a fascist government, we ended up in a shooting war that left London in ruins, so we're a little concerned." The ambassador paused to puff upon his cigar for a moment.

"What are your sources telling you about the UDF's military status? Some of our reports from Buenos Aires haven't been encouraging, but it wouldn't be the first time that we've had a border flare-up. Have you heard anything about a mobilization order?"

"I've heard absolutely nothing about any mobilisation, and you can trust me when I say that I would have heard about one if it was issued. Carrasco is more concerned about domestic affairs right now; say what you will about him, he's not stupid. There's no gain in a war with your nation while our own nation is desperate for restructuring.

If your intention to maintain a peaceful status quo, you'd be best served by leaving Carrasco alone. Besides, your last war with a fascist government was a little closer to home for you; I doubt that we'd ever be able to reach London, let alone leave it in ruins."

Popham was noticeably relieved; his father had fought the Germans in France, and the ambassador did not relish another fascist convulsion like that which had plagued his father's generation.

"My government has no intention of making hostile moves on the UDF, Marco. We're just being careful, I'm sure you understand? Honestly, Carrasco is a little authoritarian for our tastes, but so long as he keeps on his side of the border and refrains from any atrocities, we're content to have him as a neighbour.

Unfortunately, we've been a bit stonewalled by his offices, and we'd very much like to open a dialogue. Is there someone that you can put us in contact with, General?"

Popham was noticeably relieved; his father had fought the Germans in France, and the ambassador did not relish another fascist convulsion like that which had plagued his father's generation.

"My government has no intention of making hostile moves on the UDF, Marco. We're just being careful, I'm sure you understand? Honestly, Carrasco is a little authoritarian for our tastes, but so long as he keeps on his side of the border and refrains from any atrocities, we're content to have him as a neighbour.

Unfortunately, we've been a bit stonewalled by his offices, and we'd very much like to open a dialogue. Is there someone that you can put us in contact with, General?"

"Perhaps....perhaps I can talk to Carrasco about it. We're both officers after all, he might listen to me. Apart from that, I would suggest going through our Foreign Ministry; it may take a while, but you'd end up talking to someone useful eventually.

Anyway, as I say, I shall talk to Carrasco. In all honesty, he's probably unsure of what to make of your attempts to contact him, if he even knows about them. If there has been an attempt to stop you from having dialogue with him, I shall find out soon enough. Rest assured that if people are keeping him in the dark, he will not be best pleased."

If Kuerten had been near a window, he may have noticed the van driving off at speed. In the back, the S.I. agents were cackling over the information gained from the phone tap; Chief Marquez would certainly be interested in what they had picked up.


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Felix Reinhardt stubbed out his cigarillo as he stepped out of the limousine; Carrasco had sensibly arranged for the release to happen at night. The prison doors were opened just enough for a lone figure to step out, carrying a small bag. As he scanned the immediate vicinity and noticed Reinhardt's presence, Kurt Rodriguez quickly made his way over to his 'superior officer'.

"I thought I detected your hand in this, my friend. How does the struggle go?"

Reinhardt smirked and slapped Rodriguez on the back. "We have our general in power, and he knows just how much he owes us; what he doesn't know is that we're about to ensure that this nation proceeds down the correct path, and you're a major part of that. Is the 'Dirty Wolf' ready to begin hunting again?"

Rodriguez chuckled as he entered the limousine. "I can smell the blood already."

The Unión Suramericana Falangista was soon subject to an endless stream of reforms, aimed at removing the taint of 'socialist failure'; Carrasco's studies of former Falangist states were significant in the formulation of the reforms, but Felix Reinhardt enjoyed an 'advisory role' from behind the scenes.

The trade unions were outlawed, with all workers and employers tied together in the new Sindicato Vertical, ostensibly a central organisation which would grant equal bargaining rights to both workers and employers; it made layoffs more difficult, but the employers were granted a slight advantage. All elected representatives with the S.V. were government-approved, and the Carrasco government had a vested interest in an expanding economy; the view was that by granting the employers small concessions, they would be able to make more money.

The Movimiento Falangista was enshrined as the only legal political party in the USF, securing Carrasco's regime as the only 'legitimate' representation for the nation. In addition, the Ministry of Public Information continued fostering the Carrasco personality cult; the President now began broadcasting fortnightly addresses, in which he described the latest reforms and how they would help strengthen the nation. Youth groups also began springing up, all of which had to be officially recognised and therefore had to be controlled by the Movimiento Falangista.

The military also began to receive a great deal of attention. As a former military man and now the Generalissimo, Carrasco proclaimed that a nation was only as strong as its protectors; to this end, the standing army would receive increased funding while conscription would be introduced to provide backup in times of national conflict. The 'Indigenous Initiative' was also announced; the nation would equip the armed forces with hardware made in the USF whenever possible. The idea was that this would decrease the nation's reliance on others while also boosting the defence sector of the economy.

Finally, the S.I. completed their lists of potential opponents who had not yet been taken to task; former socialist politicans, potential rivals within the military, as well as anyone else who was strongly linked with the socialist regime but hadn't publicly renounced it. Chief Marquez had compiled a huge reservoir of evidence against the listed individuals, and was now ready to approach Carrasco about the revival of Operation Condor. Of course, Die Letzte Symphonie had managed to get some names onto the lists who would not have otherwise been implicated.

Gurg, you just have Buenos Aires? Or do you have more of Argentina?

OOC: I've a bit of the Pampas as well, which is ideal tank country but not much else. In the event of a war in the area against the UDF (highly unlikely), I'd just cede that since it's relatively worthless and concentrate on defending BA.

(OOC: This post contains reference to http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12420541&postcount=9 which occured before Carrasco took over)

Government House, La Plata

"Federico, we need to talk."

President Carrasco looked up from his desk and beamed as Marco Kuerten closed the door behind himself.

"Ah, Marco! I was hoping to talk to you actually, there's something I need you to clear up for me."

"Can it wait? I have something which is probably far more important."

Carrasco stood and picked up the folder on his desk, opening it to a specific page.

"What's this information about a statue of yourself? Are you really so vain that you had one commissioned? Especially one entitled, and I quote, 'Lifetime President of the Confederacy'. You're planning to resurrect that heap of shit which we only recently disposed of, and you wanted to be leader of it! What about me? Was I to have a part in your 'new order', or was I going to die?!"

Kuerten raised his hands. "No, that's not true. I didn't have that statue made, and it dates from before the fall of the Confederacy."

"If you didn't make it, who did?!"

"The Chinese of course, who else? A little token of their appreciation for their best agent."

Kuerten turned to see Felix Reinhardt calmly leaning against the window, having now pushed back the curtain he had ducked behind. Reinhardt shot Kuerten a devious smirk as he continued.

"My President, look at the evidence. Chief Marquez has provided details of numerous transactions between Kuerten and his Chinese paymasters...."

Kuerten snarled in rage. "Lies! You have no 'evidence'! Federico, I..."

Reinhardt patronisingly shushed him. "You'd be surprised what you can learn, given the time and.....effort. My President, they were to put him into power, but you got there first. I wouldn't be surprised if they still plan to do so."

Kuerten snorted. "Get serious. Foreign conspiracies? Federico, do you honestly believe..."

Carrasco glared at Kuerten. "What about your recent conversations with the British? Why have you been talking secretly with their embassy?!"

Reinhardt sneered. "He's probably been trying to switch paymasters; the British would love to undermine you, they're scared of you."

As it seemed that Kuerten was ready to lunge for Reinhardt, Carrasco barked for the guards. As four security personnel strode in, Carrasco pointed at Kuerten.

"Take him to the S.I., maybe Marquez can sort the truth from the lies."


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

Kuerten scowled at the now-grinning Reinhardt, who mockingly waved at him.

"Don't worry Marco, we'll take care of your family for you."

At the thought of his wife and child, Kuerten ignored the guards and leapt at Reinhardt, catching him on the chin with a right hook before the guards tackled him to the floor. As the guards bound Kuerten's hands behind his back, Reinhardt got to his feet and viciously kicked Kuerten in the face with enough force to break his nose; he then produced a handkerchief and stuffed it into Kuerten's mouth to stifle his yelling.

"Get him up."

The guards pulled Kuerten to his feet; Reinhardt delivered a punch to the gut and showboated slightly. "Now that is how you throw a punch. Do as the President ordered and get him out of here."

As Kuerten was taken away, Reinhardt smiled at Carrasco. "That went well, I feel. So, when are we reactivating Operation Condor?"

Carrasco shook his head. "Are you sure it's necessary?"

Reinhardt held his hands up. "It's not my decision, it's yours. However, think of it; Kuerten was supposed to be loyal to the rightful government of the nation, but he plotted to hand it over to foreigners. If other governments could get agents that highly-placed, who knows how many more enemies are lurking within? Operation Condor would clear out the mess, leaving a pure population to follow your vision."