sThe Quiet Wart

by The Quiet War (ARC) (epub)

  Making his humble apologies to the police and trying to make a joke of it, Sean showed them the papers, saying that he meant no harm. They didn’t appear to see the funny side, but they still just pushed him back through a gap in the barrier and into the crowd, letting him go.

  ‘We’ve blown it. He was our last chance,’ Sean said, as Steve walked around to get him. ‘I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll go and live in Korea with Liz. It’s not going to be great to be English in the coming years.’

  When Praew arrived at his side, he stroked her hair and kissed her head. ‘Thanks, you did really well,’ he said.

  Feeling completely dejected, Sean guided the group of four people away from the crowded entrance to the Justus Lipsius Building and started to walk in the direction of the European Parliament.

  ‘We could still try to stop that Nazi bitch, even if we can’t stop the legislation,’ Pete said.

  ‘How? She’ll be untouchable by midday,’ Sean replied, barely mustering the energy to speak.

  ‘Not if we can tell people she’s a Nazi,’ Pete continued.

  ‘But we’ve got nothing to prove it. We’ll never get it published, and if we just put it on the Internet it’ll be dismissed as conspiracy theory nonsense.’ Sean shrugged. He really didn’t feel like talking and the four of them continued to walk in the direction of the Parliament in silence.

  ‘Wait!’ Steve said, putting out his hand to stop Sean. ‘We need to go back to the house. The German, Dorsch, he was a gadget freak yeah, and unbelievably paranoid. I’ve never seen so much spy gear. I’ll bet he had cameras in the house, keeping an eye on us.’

  At first, Sean wanted to just ignore him and move on, but Steve had a point. ‘You could be right, but it won’t be in the house. His guys cleared everything out. It’ll be in one of those boxes in the van we abandoned on the way here.’

  The reality quickly hitting home, all four people immediately flipped around and started to run in the opposite direction, back towards the van.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Monday, 15th February. Brussels, Belgium.

  Both Liz and Clive entered the Parliament building sweating and out of breath, which caught the attention of the security guards. But after some quick talking by Liz, where she convinced them that they just didn’t want to miss the chance to get in before the start of the special plenary session, they were allowed in and escorted with a small group of other observers to the viewing gallery.

  Unlike the debating chamber in Strasbourg, this chamber was more sumptuous, with wood panelling and comfortable leather seating. The house was already full, just managing to accommodate the smaller group of MEP’s since the suspensions.

  Searching around, Liz quickly located Anna; she was busy moving from group to group, shaking hands, shoring up her final numbers. Unlike the psychopathic Nazi Liz had observed on Sunday, Anna was now the confident politician, dressed conservatively in a dark suit, and walking with the swagger of somebody who knew she had the confidence of the house and the numbers to get her way.

  ‘Within the hour, she could be the most powerful woman in the world,’ Liz said, with hate etched across her face.

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ Clive said, his eyes not leaving Anna for a second.

  A few short words from the speaker and the house was quickly called into order. The MEPs hastily took their seats, and both Liz and Clive slipped on their headsets to listen to the translations.

  The first few minutes were taken up with formalities, letting MEPs know that this was an extraordinary meeting of the Parliament, convened by the Commission President, at the request of Frau Faustein.

  Accepting the heavy applause, Anna stood at the mention of her name and pulled the desk mic forward. She started to speak calmly, in German, her voice carrying the air of authority that would be expected from the political leader of a huge federation of nations.

  Judging by the start point of the speech, which was the formation of the Council of Europe in 1949, Liz realised this wasn’t going to be a quick affair. Obviously Anna wanted to take time to gloat in her moment; to savour every minute of her final ascension to power.

  When, after thirty minutes, she’d only got as far ahead as the signing of the Benelux treaty in 1958, Clive was clearly starting to become agitated, shaking his head.

  It was a further thirty minutes before Anna mentioned the reason for today’s meeting: the passing of a historic treaty amendment; one which would set Europe free from tyranny for ever, and finally make Europe one nation, answerable to its people.

  ‘Very soon now, the reporter from the European Council is going to enter this chamber to announce that the treaty amendment has been passed unanimously by the heads of state of every one of the current member countries of this EU.’ Anna said, to thunderous applause from the gathered MEPs and the Commission and Council observers.

  ‘When this is announced, I intend to propose a further amendment to protect the people of Europe from the shame of nationalism,’ she said.

  Liz’s stomach curdled as the noise level in the chamber redoubled. ‘Surely they know that they’re only going to be able to do this because of the dubious suspensions of a few states? A fucking technicality,’ she said to Clive. ‘How could they be so corrupt?’

  ‘Look at them. They’re consumed with an uncontrollable lust for power. This is everything they’ve ever wanted, they don’t care how they get it,’ Clive replied.

  As Anna started to speak again and the cacophony died down, Liz stood up and plucked up her courage. ‘Have you told them that you think you’re Hitler’s granddaughter and that you’re the second-in-command in a Nazi organisation called the Fourth Reich?’ she shouted at the top of her voice.

  The activity in the chamber suddenly stopped as all heads turned towards Liz. When Anna turned around and saw Liz, shock seemed to cross her face, but then she tried to make pretence of laughing it off. It didn’t fool Liz. She could see the anger in her gestures.

  Before Liz could speak again, she was grabbed by two uniformed security guards and asked to leave, before being frog-marched from the gallery, followed closely by Clive.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Clive protested. ‘She’s allowed to state her case. I thought Europe was a democracy?’

  The guards just ignored him and held onto Liz until they’d reached the exit doors, where they pushed her outside and, in broken English, told her not to come back.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. She’s such a manipulative bitch,’ Liz said.

  ‘If you hadn’t said something, I was going to.’ Clive laughed, walking Liz over to a bench in Parc Leopold, close to the Parliament entrance.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Monday, 15th February. Brussels, Belgium.

  Sean was amazed that the van was still there and hadn’t been towed away by the police, when he saw the no-parking sign next to the abandoned vehicle.

  When they reached it, Steve pulled the keys from his pocket and jumped into the driver’s seat, while the others climbed into the rear. Sean felt two bumps as they mounted the kerb and turned around. ‘Hold on,’ Steve shouted through the small grill that separated the cabin from the van area.

  Ten seconds later they swerved sharp left and two further bumps confirmed that they were back on the road. This time they were moving, heading away from traffic, until Steve pulled the van over into a quiet side street.

  When he joined them in the rear of the van, Sean, Praew and Pete were rifling through the various boxes of military hardware.

  ‘It’s a good job we got to this van before the police found it,’ Pete said, pulling ammunition out of a metal case. ‘Look at this lot. The anti-terrorist guys would have put the whole of Brussels into lockdown.’

  ‘Here,’ Praew called as she opened up a case that held four military style impact-resistant laptops.

  ‘Do these things work the same way as normal computers?’ Sean asked Pete.

  ‘Yes, they’re the same thing bas
ically, just a bit tougher.’

  Grabbing one computer each, they opened the screens. ‘Password protected,’ Praew said first, as the others all saw the same thing.

  ‘Anything obvious you can think of about Dorsch?’ Sean asked.

  ‘No, he was both smarter and more paranoid than that,’ Pete said.

  ‘Damn!’ Sean put the computer to one side in frustration.

  ‘It may be ultra-violet,’ Steve said. We used to use it for codes when we had a few machines.’ He pulled a key fob from his pocket with a small torch attached and shone it on the bottom of the computer. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  Next to him, Praew was examining the inside of the stainless steel case that her computer was housed in. Then she pulled at the foam padding to reveal the inside of the casing. Steve quickly scanned the area with his ultra-violet torch.

  A series of nine numbers and letters lit up.

  Reading from the case, Praew quickly typed the series into the screen, but the password was rejected.

  ‘Try it backwards,’ Pete suggested. ‘That’s what I used to do.’

  Quickly reversing the numbers, Praew hit enter. Suddenly the screen lit up and began to run its log-on sequence. Then the same process was repeated for the three other machines.

  ‘What are we looking for?’ Praew asked.

  ‘Recent video files. Anything that shows the room where we were held captive,’ Sean said.

  For the next few minutes all four people were sitting with their faces fixated by the screens, clicking the mouse to change the files. Then Pete stopped. ‘This is the room,’ he said, as they all looked at the screen. The clip showed Dorsch sitting at the table alone, working on some electronic equipment. It was the confirmation they needed that he had been watching them.

  ‘I hope those goose-stepping morons didn’t pull it out when they captured us,’ Sean said.

  Clicking on files, Steve was now busy scanning contents. ‘Bingo!’ he said a few moments later. The video they saw running on the screen showed Anna and Wagner walking into the room.

  ‘Any sound?’ Sean asked.

  Steve hit a key and suddenly they could hear Anna’s voice as clear as day.

  ‘Brilliant! You’re a genius,’ Sean said as he kissed Praew on the head and Steve closed the laptop.

  ‘What now?’ Pete asked.

  ‘I need to get somewhere where I can upload this and get it out,’ Sean said.

  ‘Would an Internet café do?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Yes, but a hotel would be better. At least we’d have some privacy. We can go back to the Sofitel; it’s really close.’

  A couple of seconds after Steve climbed back into the driver’s seat, the van shot forward and five minutes later, they were pulling over at the far end of Place Jourdan, well away from the hotel. ‘If somebody accidentally sees what’s in here, we don’t want them to find us too easily,’ Steve said.

  When they reached the hotel doors, Steve went into the lobby with Praew, while Sean and Pete waited outside. The sight of the blood dried onto Sean’s leg and the cuts on his arms would almost certainly put the receptionist off giving them a room.

  Five minutes later, Praew came out on her own. ‘We’re in, Steve’s going to bring you in through the car park. It’s just around the corner,’ she said, before she ran back through the revolving door.

  As Sean rounded the corner of Place Jourdan, the shining towers of the Parliament building came into view across Parc Leopold. He instantly thought of Liz. Is she there watching Anna Faustein being crowned the Queen of Europe? Liz had immediately picked up that there was something wrong with Anna’s story and with Anna herself, but Sean had chosen to ignore it and chased the story. I’ll never ignore Liz’s instincts again. He pulled his phone out and sent a text:

  We’re at the Sofitel when you get out. We failed, sorry!

  The final recognition that he’d failed made Sean shiver, even though they had some evidence that would be enough to get Anna Faustein removed from the Parliament, and probably to ensure that it wasn’t overrun by Nazis, Sean knew that they’d failed in the real task, which was to stop the treaty change passing the Council, and prevent the final loss of UK sovereignty to Europe.

  His mind drifted to the Allied war veterans who’d fought to maintain sovereignty for their countries. What would they think, when so many of their friends and family had died for the right to run their own country? How would they react when they saw that everything they fought for had been just given away by incompetent and power hungry politicians, to a group of people that wanted power at any cost? How would they feel when they woke up tomorrow to be told that Hitler’s dream of one Europe had been fulfilled… without a bullet being fired?

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Monday, 15th February. Brussels, Belgium.

  The vibration in her pocket snapped Liz out of her daze. Since they’d sat on the bench, neither her, nor Clive had spoken. They just huddled together in the cold, staring up at the huge glass tower of the Parliament building.

  Okay, We’ll be there soon. We got thrown out! I made a bit of a scene! she responded to Sean’s message.

  ‘Sean and the others are at the Sofitel. They didn’t get anywhere with the heads of state. It’s over,’ Liz said to Clive.

  ‘Okay, we should go. Faustein and Wagner will be after us now that they know we’re still alive and who knows when Koryalov might show up again.’

  Feeling shattered, Liz pushed herself up slowly from the cold bench. Her body was sore and she was tired beyond a point that she’d ever been before. All she wanted to do now was have a hot shower, curl up in bed with Sean and try to forget that the whole thing ever happened.

  ‘Hold on,’ Clive said, grabbing her arm, then pulling her behind a column. ‘Look at that,’ he said.

  A gaggle of journalists were following the short figure of Anna Faustein, as she marched across the courtyard in the direction of the road.

  ‘It must be over,’ Liz said.

  ‘Let’s follow her, and see where she’s going,’ Clive suggested.

  ‘Really? I’m not sure I have the energy,’ Liz said.

  ‘You’ll be okay once you’re moving,’ Clive said giving her a fatherly hug.

  They let Anna pass before they stepped out and joined the rear of the group of journalists. ‘She looks angry. I thought she’d be floating on air,’ Liz said.

  When Anna reached the end of the concourse, she turned right towards the Berlaymont and Justus Lipsius Buildings.

  ‘She’s going to claim her crown,’ Clive said.

  ‘God help us all,’ Liz added.

  As the growing group of journalists followed behind, trying to keep up with Anna, Liz caught sight of a familiar face. ‘Nathan!’ she said, grabbing his arm.

  ‘Channing,’ he said laughing. ‘Nice speech in there. Funny, I didn’t have you down as a whacko. You must have been spending too much time with McManus.’

  Liz had forgotten what a pompous prick Shaw could be and she bit her lip. ‘What’s going on?’ she said, pointing towards Anna.

  ‘You tell me. She spent the whole morning boring everyone to death, building up to the big moment when the great white fairy would arrive and transform her from the Wicked Witch of the West into Snow White, and then ten minutes ago, her aide walked in, said a few words to her and she stormed out. All a bit dramatic really.’

  ‘So the vote didn’t happen?’ Liz asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  The group sped along the footpath, past yet another monolithic EU building that wasn’t yet finished, and then came alongside the Justus Lipsius Building. Outside the main door, there was a large group of journalists and TV cameramen jostling for position. Anna marched straight towards them.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Liz asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but I think there’re going to be fisticuffs. I do hope so.’ Shaw jousted with his hands childishly.

  With complete disregard for anybody, Shaw pushed through the jou
rnalists roughly, creating a space for Liz and Clive to follow. When they got near the front, the figure of a short middle-aged man, with grey hair, olive skin and a thoughtful face came into view. He was making a speech to the gathered journalists.

  ‘So why did you block the treaty change, Mr Prime Minister?’ a journalist shouted in English.

  ‘It’s Fernando Dalmas, the Maltese Prime Minister,’ Shaw said.

  ‘I didn’t block the bill. I simply asked for more time to consider it,’ Dalmas replied quickly.

  ‘What changed your mind when all the others voted for it?’

  ‘Strangely enough it was a young girl,’ the Prime Minster said and then paused for effect. ‘This young lady took a great risk to pass me some information before I went into the meeting this morning, and wherever she is, whoever she is, I’d like to thank her on behalf of the Maltese people.’

  ‘What was the information?’

  ‘It was rubbish; just anti-European propaganda,’ Anna said, stepping though the police cordon.

  ‘Oh, this is getting interesting,’ Shaw smirked.

  Not put off by Anna, Dalmas held his ground as she marched towards him. ‘That’s your opinion, Frau Faustein, and as always, I’m respectful of the opinion of others. But as I said, I would like time to investigate the information myself.’ Dalmas nodded and thanked the gathered press, before turning around and walking back into the Justus Lipsius Building.

  Before Anna turned to face the journalists, she smiled, trying to fake indifference, but it was impossible to hide the rage burning inside her. ‘This highlights the problem with the EU as it stands. One man, who represents a population of less than a twentieth of that of Berlin alone, can stop something which the other 99.9% of the population want.’