It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  The thought of breads, thick German sausage, cold meats and soft-boiled eggs doesn’t impress… "Muesli, I think, and tea, please.

  “You got it.” He’s off foraging food as Harry opens her notepad penning some thoughts.

  It’s not busy this morning, most patrons preferring inside dining; however, another couple brave the day claiming a table two away.

  The village quiet is unsettled by an arriving E-3 into the nearby NATO Airbase Geilenkirchen; only Harry looks up.

  “Here, babe,” placing a tray on the table, to distribute the bowls, teapot, cup and saucer with accompanying cutlery… “Your muesli, with a tub of honey and yoghurt.” Immediately he’s off to satisfy a ravenous hunger.

  Fortunately, there’s no breeze; the morning sun warms as Harry launches into her muesli. Laughter from the nearby couple catches her attention, both are early to mid-twenties, smartly dressed, obviously engrossed with each other’s company. Her thoughts wander into the past; first, university days and the procession of short-lived affairs one of which a same-sex experimentation. Then a late finishing evening with one of the legal partners the result of which leads to her career change to journalism. The disaster that is Gary and then, Phillip. None are as fulfilling or so perfect as the man inside the café ladling his plate with food. The voices of the nearby couple are audible, yet Harry’s engrossed in her day dream. Another noisy air arrival turns heads skyward as he alouds… “Today, it’s on time. Another live meat delivery for European brothels.”

  Looking skyward, she sees a Boeing 747, wheels dangling slowing into the glide-path to land. Attention switches to the nearby couple as the she follows… “I’ve readied and palleted just on one hundred kilos of weaponry for the return journey. Had to keep the weight down as the flight plan is via Malta.”

  “Why Malta this time?” questions the companion.

  “To hide the originating point. Seems the media is onto the resupply.”

  “Okay, babe,” Matt bums into his seat holding as if a prize, a tray full of food… “Let’s eat, I’m starved!”

  Lowering her voice… “Don’t look, but that couple behind you must be from the base. The aircraft just landing according to the man, has people aboard destined for European brothels. She adds, she’s readied cargo for the return, weaponry.”

  Between mouthfuls… “They say where from and where to?”

  “No, it’ll be one of the general’s questions.” Tucking into her muesli… “Now I’m hungry too.”

  Matt steals looks to the couple… “Yeah, she’ll be a load master and he, most probably, air traffic controller.”

  The second couple consume their breakfast as too, Harry and Matt.

  *

  With hunger satisfied and close to time, they steer into the airbase’s entrance and gatehouse. Holding his CNN photo ID… “Matt Leveaux and Harry Reisner to see Brigadier General Ryan.”

  The airman looks at his running sheet… “Down NATO Avenue 200 metres, turn left and stop at building B22. Park where you see the Duty Officer, he’ll direct you to the general.”

  “Thanks, corporal.” The vehicle goes into gear to passage though.

  Almost as if he has been here before, Matt steers the vehicle directly to the correct building.

  Directed into a carpark, both alight to be ushered into a nondescript meeting room. Matt sets up camera and lighting in preparation for the General. The wait’s short; two uniformed officers enter the room… “Harry Reisner?” The general obviously expects two males.

  “I’m Harry, it’s short for Harrietta.” Thrusting a hand towards the uniform.

  Following her lead… “Matt Leveaux, general.”

  Looking inquisitively… “Good to meet you both. Now, we spoke on the telephone. I’ll answer as much as I can, so shoot.”

  First placing a folder on her lap, crossing her legs… “Thank you General Ryan for agreeing to this interview.”

  “You’re welcome.” He’s obviously at ease.

  “General,” the usual frontal assault… “What do you say to allegations that this facility is the entry point for illegals coming into Germany and indentured into prostitution?”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. This is a NATO facility, military only.”

  Harry detects insincerity lacing the answer… “Then there are no records of civil registered aircraft landing at this base?”

  “Err yes well,” a correction is necessary… “Occasionally civilian aircraft transit through.”

  A rapid return of serve… “And the reason is?”

  “Varied, but I can’t go into specifics.”

  She gives him no thinking time before… “Cannot or will not?”

  “Frau Reisner,” the general inserts his own pause to gather his thoughts… “This is a sensitive military facility and as such much of what transpires here, is classified.”

  “General,” time to reveal her cards… “We have it on tape, activities on your sensitive military base include civil registered aircraft landing with human cargo destined for European brothels leaving with weapons and armaments to continue the carnage and bloodshed in the Balkans. A with the recently arrived 747.”

  The general searches their faces… “That’s preposterous,”

  “General,” editing… “we have witness depositions on tape, arriving here and clearly identifying your aircraft and just before we arrive, a 747 loaded with people, live meat for European brothels, arrives and no doubt, being loaded with weapons for the Balkans via Malta, care to comment, general?”

  “As I said, there’re some authorised movements through this base.”

  “Carrying?”

  An aide steps into the frame, whispering in the General’s ear… “I’ve answered that question already.”

  Going back one step… “You say authorised, define authorised?”

  “Through,” searching for words… “the chain of command.”

  “Specifically, by whom?”

  Still no respite from the assault… “Higher up the command chain.”

  “Your commander-in-chief,” speculating.

  “Ma’am,” again, the general hesitates to regain his thoughts… “I don’t know exactly where or who, I follow orders.”

  “General,” she tosses a hand grenade… “anyone watching this interview could immediately think you just confirmed the allegations of slave for weapons which, you facilitate.”

  “Look, ma’am, Harry,” he’s rattled… “you’re drawing a long bow. I don’t know what substantiation you might have or what’s alleged.” Rallying under the onslaught… “Once again, this is a military facility; we operate under a military chain of command. I’ve indicated civilian registered cargo aircraft use this facility. I don’t endorse your allegations.”

  There’s not much more to milk from this… “Thank you, general for your candour,” she finishes… “That’s a wrap.”

  Picking up the cue, Matt ceases filming, and both journalists begin gathering their things to leave.

  “Harry, off the record,” he relaxes… “Our mission here’s clear, early waring and surveillance. There are some activities I don’t like, compromising that mission. There are agendas running here totally at odds with why, as a fresh-faced kid from college, I joined the United States Air Force. We, the US military, operate under public scrutiny; there are some who stand in shadows and lie for a living.” The general looks to Matt… “Son, you give me the impression, you’ve done military service.”

  “Thirteen years a marine, general.”

  “And just looking at you, I’m guessing you’ve been places and done things you can’t discuss?”

  “That’s affirmative, general.”

  In an almost insightful observation, the general offers… “Let me guess, recon then a SEAL?”

  “You’re on the money again, general.”

  “Then you know exactly what I’m talking about?”

  “I believe I do, sir.”

  Almost as a plea fo
r clemency… “Then you’ll be kind to me when you cut this into a report.”

  That’s Harry’s call and she’s not yet finished… “General, have you heard the codename Tallboy?”

  The general’s face changes… “I cannot answer that.”

  “I think you just have.” She rephrases the question… “General, you do know this man, where is he?”

  “Harry, you know I can’t answer that.”

  “So, general, if I were to visit Kosovo, could I expect to see a man in his late forties, fair complexion brown hair, about 179 cm and 80 kilos?”

  Replying in a strange tone of voice… “That sounds like someone you could find almost anywhere in the world, especially Kosovo.”

  He remains silent as both stand ready to leave; Harry’s first… “Thank you, general.”

  Matt’s next… “Nice to meet you, general.”

  Placing his left hand over Matt’s hand… “You two better be careful.” And in an ominous tone, adds… “These guys play it rough.”

  “The lady already knows.”

  “Then it’s good you’re standing beside her.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  *

  As they sit in the auto, he reflects… “Babe, you say you don’t want to be a target again. We go further down this road and you will be.”

  “I know, Matt,” she has been tossing this over several times since beginning the assignment… “But I can’t walk away knowing I can make a difference.”

  “That’s what I like about you, babe. I’m with you all the way.”

  Both leave the airbase heading for Germany’s seat of government and the next episode.

  *

  Werner Schmitt and Welf Meyer are on Bundesrat committees overseeing Germany’s NATO commitment to the Balkans and for this reason, agree to Harry’s interview request, today. Meeting in Nordrhein-Westfalen Landtag by the Rhein, in Düsseldorf they taxi to the building.

  All yesterday and last night, she avoids any discussion involving Sanders; in sensing her mood, Matt also relegates the issue, albeit both convinced Sanders’ gangrenous activities spread to the already troubled Balkans.

  Labouring with the emotional legacy of the Australian life-threatening events, she searches for the courage to go after this man and expose him for the cancer that he is. Riding the taxi to the venue… “If Sanders is involved in this slavery, he needs to be stopped. Matt, I want to go after Sanders.”

  To that point, both are mid-discussion over what’s tonight’s dinner… “Babe, I agree the guy’s evil, interested in only one thing, money. You realise he won’t be here in Germany, the CIA would’ve tucked him away outta sight in Bosnia or Kosovo, not here.”

  “I realise that, it’s what I’m saying,” now however, she’s determined… “We should go after him.”

  “Babe,” changing tone… “It’s a hot conflict zone, there are bullets flying around. Think it through.”

  “I have, Matt; we won’t find evidence of his corruption in Germany. It’ll be in the Balkans. Birgit will sign off on a sex slaves for weapons assignment. Matt,” she looks to him expectantly… “we have to go the Balkans.”

  “Babe, you gotta understand the environment in a war zone’s different to anythin’ you’ve experienced previously. You livin’ on the edge.” An analogy she’ll understand… “It’s like being run off the road, kidnapped and shot at all at the same time, every day.” Adding experience… “A soldier carries a weapon and is able to defend himself. You’d be enterin’ a hot situation armed with a microphone and me, a camera.”

  “Some months ago, sergeant, you thought that a great career move.”

  “Yeah, that’s before you changed addresses.”

  Displaying why, one should always listen carefully… “So far Matt, you explain the environment and not argued against. You also believe this man must be stopped, don’t you?”

  “Without a shadow of a doubt, people around him die.” She isn’t the only one giving the issue serious thought; revealing his thinking… “Maybe, we can end his body count.”

  “I love you, sergeant.”

  “I love you too, babe, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

  They sit for the remainder of the journey in silence, holding hands ever so tightly.

  *

  The taxi delivers them to the entrance from where they navigate the myriad of security checks and hallways. The escort leads them to a meeting room… “Warten Sie bitte hier, die Mitglieder kommen bald.”

  In the waiting, the camera settings are tuned, lighting’s good, artificial is unnecessary… “You ready for this?”

  “You bet.”

  Minutes tick until the door opens… “Gute Nachmittag.” He’s well-dressed in his early forties, slim with short hair and equally short and manicured beard enters the room… “Ich bin Werner Schmitt und Welf Meyer er.” Gesturing to the short dumpy man entering behind… “Erlauben Sie mir, Ihnen, Welf Meyer.” Returning to Harry… “Und Sie sind Frau Reisner?”

  Stepping forward grabbing his hand… “Pleased to meet you. This is my colleague Matt Leveaux.”

  As the group exchange pleasantries, two women and another man file in behind.

  Hearing the journalists’ choice of English, the politician changes also… “You understand our work is much, requiring a personal assistant to manage our schedule.” Gesturing to the lone male assistant… “Klaus here is our Balkans specialist. He helps us not to get things wrong.”

  Harry invites everyone to sit, Welf Meyer announces… “On the way is coffee.”

  Before everyone settles, Matt redirects the politicians… “Can I get you sittin’ over here,” pointing to the seats nearer the window; framing," adding the sweetener… “Better lightin’ also.”

  Both duly oblige.

  With everyone comfortable… “Thank you Herr Schmitt, Herr Meyer for agreeing to this interview. To preface, we are completing a report on exploited immigrants and prostitution in Germany. We have discovered many who enter this country with carnet documents end up in brothels as sex slaves, burdened with repaying huge sums of money for the privilege.” Looking to Werner Schmitt… “How do you think we can stop this?”

  As if reading from an autocue… “We must tighten the conditions of entry and monitor the activities of those once they are here.”

  “How do you stop illegal activities, such as certain ethnic group targeted and sold to unscrupulous persons in Croatia or Albania, flown to Germany in cargo aircraft to populate German brothels with, these same aircraft returning to the Balkans, carrying armaments perpetuating regional violence and persecution?” Not quite in one breath, however, Harry’s fired.

  Seemingly rehearsed and in monotone… “Again, tightening conditions of entry and monitor the activities of those once here will reduce this dramatically.”

  Offering the commentary to canvas a response… “If there is a measure to remove demand, then prostitution withers?”

  “Prohibition of prostitution does not work as,” he stutters searching for the right words… “as proven with alcohol in America in the nineteen-twenties.”

  “Not prohibition, Herr Schmitt,” correcting… “I say demand, but let’s pick that up later.” Changing the subject… “As clear-thinking men, you would be appalled knowing girls of ethnic certain Balkan communities are targeted for sex slavery in Germany.”

  Werner Schmitt rapid fires… “But of course.”

  “Herr Meyer,” editorialising… “it is almost genocidal by definition.” Laying the ambush… “So those who facilitate this are reprehensible and should be brought to account?”

  Finally, Welf Meyer to this point relegated to nodding or shaking his head, leads… “As my parliamentary colleague answers you previously, of course without doubt.”

  Not only an ambush, she positions a crossfire… “Then you support all efforts to uncover the perpetrators.”

  “Yes, of course.” It’s set.


  Both walk right in… “I agree also.”

  “Gentlemen, you can help.” The lull before the storm and the primary reason for the interview… “I need to know what intelligence the Bundeswehr holds on armament shipments from the NATO base Geilenkirchen to the Balkans.”

  “Frau Reisner, this is impossible.” Werner Schmitt’s indignant… “If we have such information, we cannot provide this to you.”

  Welf Meyer echoes the indignation… “Nay, this is not possible.”

  “Gentlemen, everything is possible to those who are focused.” Now the trap… “Look to the screen, my colleague has some vision you will find interesting.”

  All in the room turn to the television screen on the opposite wall. In setting up, Matt links the videoed footage. The politicians’ faces change colour as the aids strain to interpret what they see. Werner Schmitt’s first… “Frau Reisner, you will forgive us, we have a committee hearing in less than thirty minutes, and Herr Meyer and I still have some preparation to finish.” Turning to the assistants… “Please, go now to the committee room, we follow you.” As Welf Meyer stands opening the door, the aids duly gather their papers stand and file through to the corridor. Before departing, Werner Schmitt looks to Harry… “Your cellphone I have; contact later, I will.”

  “I will look forward to that, Herr Schmitt.”

  Then he’s gone.

  Flabbergasted with what he had just witnessed… “Babe, you the best. I wasn’t sure where you’re headed with those questions but I’m damn sure you’ll get the result.”

  *

  Retracing their steps when her cellphone rings. After a short conversation, she looks up to Matt… “It’s Schmitt; he wants us to wait. He joins us in the entrance foyer.”

  “That’s quick. He’s obviously rattled.”

  Minutes pass until… “It’s Schmitt, coming this way.”

  The politician walks briskly towards the journalists seemingly ready to push into Harry. Matt intervenes stepping forward blocking his path… “That’ll do right there, Herr Schmitt!”

  The man seems distant, looking right through Matt to Harry… “I work long hours for the German people. What I do in private life is no business to you. I have much to offer the German people and for that reason only, I give in to your blackmail. So far, nine flights, one every two weeks transit through Geilenkirchen for Priština.” The pitch of his voice increases with each word… “The American CIA in Priština be responsible for this and operates without German authority to carry passengers into this country.” People begin to notice the spectacle… “Journalists are trash, always looking for the dark side.”