Battling Brexit

by Andrew Anzur Clement

  I slow down and walk over to the nearest officer. “Tell me who is in charge here.”

  The officer gives me some name. I don’t actually care and realize I should have said what I really meant.

  “Go get him.”

  The officer leaves. The rest of the cordon stays put.

  Afrim and Drago try to push their way past an officer, who puts out a firm hand. Emilija stands back and regards them.

  The officer I talked to comes back with another man. I walk up to him. “I demand to know the reason for this cordon.”

  “The reason? Reports of Islamist radicals using the abandoned buildings here as a staging area for rallies and kidnappings, that’s what. We have orders to cordon it off every night, so events like that won’t happen again, if the first one did in fact occur.”

  “What? I’m the one who uncovered that. You say you don’t believe me and then this is what you do with the information?”

  “This is the best we can do at this time, ma’am.”

  I ball my hands into fists. “Then maybe you could do something that’s actually useful with your time like trying to get more info. All you’re accomplishing right now is keeping my friends from getting to their house!”

  “Their house? It’s a bunch of abandoned warehouse buildings.”

  For some reason, Drago starts to look really pissed all of a sudden. He marches over to where I am standing. “Look, my brother and I are just two guys who are down on our luck and trying to make it on our own. Our so-called house is a room we sort of fixed up in the Gare Maritime.”

  “So in other words you are illegal squatters,” the officer says.

  Oh, crap. Maybe I shouldn’t have told the police that.

  Drago looks at the ground indignantly. “It’s not like we have much of a choice.”

  The guy in charge of the cordon puts his hands on his hips. “All right, let me see some ID.”

  I hand him my diplomatic passport. Afrim, Drago and Emilija give him these little green things—Belgian residence attestations for EU citizens. He takes the IDs to a police car parked next to the royal depot and fools around with them. He walks back and says something that would make me hit the ceiling, if there was one above my head; he points to Afrim and Drago. “You’re not just squatters, you have long-standing ties to a known terrorist organization and your real permanent address is the home of a man with known Mujahedeen ties, who we have had under watch for a while now. I’m arresting you for planning to commit terrorist activities and for trying to force your way past a police cordon.”

  “What? You can’t do that.” Emilija snaps, like she is used to ordering people around.

  “As a matter of fact, I can.” He points to Emilija. “You’re under arrest, too.”

  “On what charge?” Drago yells.

  “Do you really have to ask? We saw how you were driving.” The officer reaches for his handcuffs.

  Not knowing what else to do, I leap forward and knock the cuffs out of his hands. “You’re not arresting anyone. Afrim and Drago are only living there because they are trying to get away from that organization. Emilija was only trying to help them protect their only shelter. I have diplomatic immunity; they’re with me and that’s the end of it.”

  The officer in charge laughs. “That’s not how it works. You may have immunity, but they don’t.”

  The three of them are handcuffed and another officer reads some list of rights and charges or something. The head cop looks back at me and sees that I’m seething. He points to the rest of the police officers. “It’s just you against all of us. Immunity or not, don’t try anything stupid.”

  There is nothing I can do other than grab the keys to the SUV from Emilija’s purse and run for it. I’ve got to get back to the residence and let Lucija and Hristijan know what happened. I wonder if going on this escapade was a good idea after all. But it had to have been, right? If I didn’t agree to this, the cops would have kicked my friends out of their house. What was I supposed to do when I found out, call the police?

  Drago

  I sit in the holding cell on the bed next to Afrim, staring at Emilija. She is leaning against the wall in the cell across the hall from us, acting like she’s not even aware that she is under arrest, probably because she never has been before.

  I get up and start pacing back and forth.

  Emilija starts talking. I think she’s trying to calm me down. “Will you relax? My dad will get us out.” That only makes things worse.

  I shake my head as I pace, suddenly indignant at all the options that Emilija has. “Oh, so that’s why you’re so calm, you can depend on your father to get you out? It’s not like anyone cares about us lowlifes.”

  Emilija cocks her head at me, like she’s saying ‘really?’ “I care. Is that seriously how much faith you have in me?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m used to having to rely on myself. Besides, what do you care? You’ll be going back to Sweden in a couple of months anyway.”

  “Sweden isn’t the moon. And do I really need to give you the same speech that we gave to Elena yesterday? You matter to me and you’re not alone. My dad will get you and Afrim out of here. We’ll make things work, once my Erasmus ends.”

  I don’t respond immediately. She stays silent. I go back to pacing. After a few moments she starts talking again, suspicion seeping into her voice.

  “Wait a minute. All of this, seeing if we could help Elena go after Daesh, was your idea. You say you don’t want anything to do with her, but you were willing to go a pretty big distance just to make her feel better. Why? What is she to you really?”

  I stop pacing and catch myself hesitating. Finally I say, “She’s a sheltered girl who’s been forced to take on an impossible task she never asked for, and she’s not up to it, not yet. I want to stop Daesh, but I know what men like al-Qadir are capable of. I’m trying to keep her from getting hurt.”

  Emilija frowns. “So in other words, you were willing to do all this for her in spite of yourself. Now you’re acting like I didn’t wind up in here, in a police station, for driving across town as fast as I could when I heard that the cops might take away your house.”

  “Like you said, you have a dad who can get you out.”

  “So that’s it? You expect me to suffer gladly through all of this without so much as flinching just because I’m rich? That may be true. But I’m not just some pampered rich girl. I was a refugee. I lost a parent in the wars, too. You don’t have a monopoly on suffering.”

  “I know, and that’s why I know you’ll be able to handle it if you lose me, or anyone. Elena never went through any of that. I feel like I have to protect her, like I did with my little brother, even though I resent her and her parents for failing to stop the war I had to fight, the war that put Elena and me in this situation.”

  She huffs out a breath at me.

  The clack of footsteps walking up the hall distracts us. There is the electronic buzz of a lock being retracted from a remote. A police officer walks up in front of us.

  “You are being released. The charges against you have been dropped. We apologize for any hindrance we may have caused the Republic of Croatia in its undercover activities.”

  I have no idea what the man is talking about, but I am smart enough to simply say, “Thank you for your apology.” They lead the three of us out into the lobby. Elena is there with her older cousin, Croatia’s main EU liaison for counterterrorism at the Intelligence and Situation Center. She has an even more cross expression than usual.

  “Well, here we are again,” she grumbles at Elena, who runs up and hugs me.

  “Thank God you’re all right. I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have told the cops you were living there.”

  “It’s all right,” I tell her. “You were trying to help. There was no way you could have known what would happen.”

  I hear Emilija next to me. “Come on, relax. It was no big deal. We were only in a cell for one night. It wasn’t like anythin
g was going to happen to us. Besides, my dad would have gotten us out anyway.”

  Elena steps back and rolls her eyes at Emilija. “Well, you’re certainly welcome.”

  Her older cousin motions over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s move.”

  We walk out of the station and pile into a car. Emilija and I give each other awkward glances as we climb into the back seat.

  Afrim, who is sitting behind Elena, pipes up as we get under way, “Um, Elena, not that I mind getting implicated in flashy Croatian secret missions, but how did you get all the charges dropped, exactly?”

  Her older cousin lets out a huff. “For the record it was me who pulled it off, not Elena. I managed to convince my counterpart at the Belgian State Security Service that you were all part of a mission we were running against some extremist group. It was a total crock. You’ll be happy to know that they dropped the police cordon when I told them that we’d survey Tour et Taxis from now on. Your pathetic little squat is probably still there.”

  “Do you have to be so rude about it?” Elena hisses at her cousin.

  “I’m afraid I do. This is the second time I’ve had to put my position in jeopardy to get you or your friends out of jail. If it’s found out that I was lying about the mission, then it could cost me my job. Tell your friends, such as they are, to stay out of trouble. I won’t rescue them again.”

  Afrim leans forward. “Hey, Elena is right. We’re sitting right here.”

  She ignores him.

  Elena glances back at me. I could swear that Emilija pretends not to notice, except for giving me a slight glare.

  Ten:

  Constitutional Crisis

  Elena

  Hristijan finally got me a meeting with the Kosovoan chargé d’affaires at their embassy on Avenue Roger Vandendriessche. The problem is that he won’t admit Chancellor Merkel’s concerns about migration are a thing. I decide to push back.

  “I am telling you, the growing exodus of economic migrants from your country to Western Europe is becoming more and more concerning to many northern and western EU member states. Pristina needs to do something about it, or I may be unable to keep the Committee of Permanent Representatives from halting the signing of your Stabilization and Association Agreement on the agenda for discussion in the EU Council.”

  “I understand your concern and your position, Maršal,” he replies. “But what can we do? We simply do not have the capability to catch the migrant smugglers who are selling the lie that their clients will be able to get refugee status in Western Europe. We have no idea how they are even spreading it. There is no way we can allot more funds to catch them. How can we? Our parliament is currently in a position of constitutional crisis.”

  “Well, you’d better do something,” I tell him. “You can already forget about the Schengen Area lifting visa requirements for your citizens anytime soon. As for the people who migrate, most of them lose their life savings to the smugglers and are deported back to Kosovo.”

  “I am not disputing that. But, as I told you, we’re just one fledgling state, not even ten years old yet. There isn’t a lot we can do. We want to become members of the EU as soon as possible so we’ll have the help of the entire Union to develop.”

  I stand. “What I am trying to tell you is that your path to EU membership is precarious as it is. If this keeps up there might not be one for the foreseeable future.”

  “I don’t see what you’re so worried about. Our Stabilization and Association Agreement was initialed this summer. Your godfather was there to witness it.”

  “Initialed doesn’t mean signed. I assume that you don’t need reminding that five current EU members don’t even recognize your country’s independence from Serbia. If Serbia gets into the EU first, you’re probably screwed forever, especially if you don’t get it together to form a government and ratify the Brussels Agreement on relations between Kosovo and Serbia that Kosovo agreed to at the negotiating table last year.”

  The chargé d’affaires keeps whining. “I’m certain you know that, unfortunately, part of the reason that the constitutional crisis exists is because the Self-Determination party refuses to let the Brussels Agreement be ratified and is boycotting the parliament. Our hands are tied, for the time being.”

  He pauses for a moment and then goes on. “I have an alternate proposal. The EU states you say are concerned with this migration are some of the most economically powerful in the Union. If they want to stop the migration, why don’t we let them handle it? Some kind of public information campaign in the press, perhaps.”

  I wonder if I could do more to solve this crisis if I were actually in Pristina, but I’m not and I can kind of see his point. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  We shake hands. I go back to the residence and work on a paper until Hristijan comes home. He sticks his head in my room. “How did the meeting with the Kosovoan chargé d’affaires go?”

  “Pretty well, but he said that his hands are tied until the parliament resolves its constitutional crisis. Until then, stopping the migrants will have to be done by the countries that the migrants are going to. Do you think you could convince Chancellor Merkel and some representatives of the Belgian and Austrian governments to meet with me?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Can you run by me what you are planning on telling them?”

  “Well, what I just told you, essentially.”

  Hristijan shakes his head. “You really need to be careful, Elena. A lot of member states like Germany or Austria are concerned that the rest of the Balkans wants to join the EU just because they want funding and the right to emigrate to richer countries. That is one of the Brexiteers’ main arguments for the UK leaving the EU, actually. I wouldn’t play up the constitutional crisis or Kosovo’s development level too much when you talk with them. You won’t win this if you make it a Balkan pity play. Make it clear that Kosovo is taking this position because their attitude is ‘your concern, your problem.’ That should make the Germans and the Austrians more inclined to treat our region as an equal partner.” He starts to walk out of the room.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I call after him. Since getting kidnapped I’ve made a resolution to start taking more of Hristijan’s advice and accept that I’m still in training. “Let me know if they can make it.”

  ***

  I’m seated across the table from the German chancellor again in a meeting room in the EU Commission building. She looks crossly at my half-blue hair, as if she still doesn’t take me seriously, even though she agreed to meet with me. Next to her are the Austrian foreign minister and the Belgian prime minister.

  “I reached out to the Embassy of Kosovo about the migration concerns you raised during your meeting with my uncle, Chancellor Merkel. I finally have a response. I am afraid you’re not going to like it too much. Their position is that if you are concerned about the amount of irregular migration to your countries from Kosovo, then you should be the ones to do something about it. I would also ask that Kosovo’s path to EU membership be allowed to continue unimpeded.”

  The Belgian PM nods. “That sounds reasonable to me. I’d be interested to hear more of what you have in mind.”

  Merkel’s expression stays neutral. She places her hands on the table, fingers intertwined. Eventually she says, “I cannot say that I like it, but given the gains the AFD party has been making lately in Germany, that probably would be the best solution; we need to stop the migration however we can, before it gets too widely reported in the media.”

  Is it really going to be this easy? Of course not.

  The Austrian foreign minister opens his mouth. “This is ridiculous. Half of your former country used to be ruled from Vienna. What makes Pristina think that it can use you to order us around?”

  I take a deep breath and try to keep my cool. “It’s not an order, it is simply a statement of fact given the situation in Kosovo right now. All that would be needed is a public service campaign in Serbian and Albanian, telling people that t
he migrant smugglers are lying. The experiences of the migrants, who already tried to get refugee status and got sent back, should also discourage more people from trying. This is likely to be a temporary phenomenon. I’m just asking for your help to make it, well, more temporary.”

  The Austrian foreign minister begins to nod. Then a familiar voice speaking in a posh English accent reaches my ears. It makes my head whip around to the meeting room’s entrance. It’s Sir Jonathan, who apparently snuck in at some point.

  “I am afraid I cannot concur, regarding the continuance of Kosovo’s path to EU membership,” he chimes in, saying something that’s so asinine it makes me want to scream. “The British public would be simply outraged if they knew of the threat such migration poses to Britain. Probably all of Kosovo would come to the UK, if they could get through our border. EU membership would mean that they would earn the right to live and work in the UK legally.” He says it almost as if the thought makes him all scandalized or something. “The signing of their Stabilization and Association Agreement must be halted in perpetuity.”

  Chancellor Merkel replies quietly, “No, actually, all indications are that the migrants aren’t trying to go to the UK. The ones who are trying to make the trip are mostly trying to go to Germany.”

  “She’s right,” I follow on. “The target country of most of the Kosovoan migrants is Germany and in any case the vast majority of the population is going to stay put in Kosovo, even once Kosovo does join. You weren’t invited and everyone else in this meeting is way above your pay grade. What are you even doing here?”

  Sir Jonathan brings his head back like he’s insulted. “I heard you were having this meeting and thought that I would stop by in order to ensure that the voice of the United Kingdom is heard.”

  I turn back to the other three in the room. I have the agreement of two of the three countries that are actually most affected; now I just need the third. Sir Jonathan, though present and an annoying loudmouth, is irrelevant. I narrow my eyes on the Austrian foreign minister. “You’ve got to agree to this. Think about it. If the Balkans become a part of the EU, that’s just like putting the region back in your sphere of influence and then some.”