Torn Apart: A Country Divided (IC/OPEN)

[New Belhavia]

9 July 2013, 10:03 am (EST),
New York City, Empire of New Belhavia,
(Former) New York City Hall,
His Imperial Majesty's Office

Emperor Ryan Adrian I entered his office - his office, he now routinely thought of it as, not Mike Bloomberg's old office - and hung up his overcoat on the coat rack in the corner. Adjusting his tie slightly, he took his seat behind his oak mahogany desk and sifted through the various documents and inter-departmental mail waiting on it. A Foreign Ministry memo caught his eye and he picked it up to read it.

Imperial Foreign Ministry
Internal Memo
To: His Majesty the Emperor
From: Tom Foley

Excellency, I have concluded all items of negiotation we discussed before on the Republic of Arizona. President Smith has signed our diplomatic recognition papers and our free trade agreement.

The first cargo plane of agreed-upon trade goods has arrived last night at JFK. Delta-Continental Holdings was awarded the contract to transport our promised goods to the Arizonans. In addition, I received your letter appointing Ben Holland as our ambassador to Phoenix. He and his family, and along with the organized diplomatic staff, will fly out to our new embassy early tomorrow morning.

Lastly, Chris, Mike, and I are prepping for the state visit the Arizonans agreed to. As you wished, I will take Sam Karr and Ian Settas with us. After the state visit, I will provide you will a full report. We should return sometime on the 13th.

Tom

Adrian re-read it and put the memo down. The former governor of New Jersey grimaced and shook his head. I need to rebuke Tom for being so...casual in communication with me. During his last meeting with his top aides and military officers before his proclamation as the "American Emperor," Adrian had been clear that once he proclaimed his new regime, his normal honorifics of ‘Governor’ and ‘sir’ were to be dropped in favor of ‘Your Excellency’ and ‘Your Majesty’. Adrian felt it better represented the imperial power he held over his new domain. Regardless, many of his subordinates - having grown up in the American tradition - were uneasy and uncomfortable using the new titles.

Speaking of foreign policy...He turned on his intercom.

"Mary, can you find Director Gavin for me? I want him to come to my office."
"Yes, Majesty," his secretary replied politely.

10:51am

Adrian looked up from his computer screen as his Director of Imperial Intelligence, the lanky, somewhat-grizzled-looking David Gavin, stepped into his office and quietly closed his door. The Intel chief stepped up in front of the Emperor's desk. Gesturing casually toward one of his armchairs in front of his desk, Adrian started, "Director Gavin, please have a seat."
"You asked for me, my lord." he said as he complied and reluctantly took a seat. He's a real man of action. Hands-on, not some armchair commander...
"Correct. What is the status of Operation Shadow Hand?" Adrian asked, looking directly at Gavin. Shadow Hand was Intel's codename for the below-the-radar 'shadowy' interference New Belhavian agents were to give to the PCF, slowing down and sabotaging their war plans to allow the fascists to eke out a victory. Two operational teams - forty men - were currently out on the West Coast, carrying out Adrian's directives.
Gavin's normal hard look didn't waver for a second.
"Sir, its been five days. My men have set up a discrete base camp just on the Californian side of the PCF-CA border. They are currently scouting out PCF Army positions for weak points and trying to cultivate new agents out of some of their officers - through seduction, gambling debts, and other normal ways. Within a few days my teams can start actual sabotage and assassinations."
"Very good. Make sure our agents know our presence in the PCF-CA war cannot be discovered. Until I have more allies in the region, our efforts must be invisible and unknown by the various powers that be." He responded darkly.
"My men understand and will follow your orders to the letter."
"Good. Tend to your duties, Director." He waved dismissively. Gavin stood, nodded respectfully, and left.

[Salutem]

July 9th, 2013
Western Border
Phalanx Outpost

Daniels was engrossed in her book. It was called Embedded and followed a journalist as he tried to get past the government's roundabout answering with the press. It was quite good and Daniels was sure that it was something that could, or already has, happened. She felt someone tapping her boot. Lowering the book, she looked up to see Specialist Jenkins pointing his camera at her, the red light seconding her assumption that it was recording.

"And here," Jenkins began, talking to the camera, "is our beautiful Platoon Leader. Say hi to the camera el-tee."

Daniels smiled and shook her head, "Jenkins, what have I told you?"

"That if I called you beautiful one more time, you'd have lunch with me?" he asked with a sheepish smile, that the camera couldn't see.

"Nice try."

Jenkins sighed, "That you'd take my camera away if I tried to record you." Daniels held out her hand for the device. She saw his eyes dart towards the edge of the netting. Slowly, she put her bookmark in the book before setting it aside.

"Don't run Jenkins, you'll just make it worse for yourself," Daniels warned, her legs curling under her in anticipation. Like she had expected, Jenkins turned and ran, his camera still recording. The Lieutenant was on her feet and chasing after him not three seconds after. After going halfway around the perimeter, Daniels got a hold of Jenkins's jacket and pulled him to the ground. While he was down, the woman grabbed the camera from his hand. Daniels thought about deleting the footage but decided that his viewers seeing him being brought down by a woman was payback enough.

"Last warning Jenkins, understood?" Daniels asked, holding the camera out to him. Jenkins stood and nodded, taking the camera and jogging away from the Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Daniels!" shouted a very gruff, very to the point voice. Snapping to attention, Daniels turned to look at the source of the voice to find the Company Captain approaching her. "Quit playing around Lieutenant. I need one of your squads on watch on the West-Side of the perimeter."

"Will do, Captain," Daniels replied. The Captain nodded and walked off, towards the Command Truck. The Lieutenant turned to head back to her truck. She'd gear up before grabbing First Squad and taking them to the post. One of the members of First Squad was the budding cameraman, Specialist Jenkins.

Wonder if his squad knows what happened, Daniels thought to herself as she walked back to her truck. She chuckled to herself, Well, if they don't, they will.

---

July 10th, 2013
Phoenix International Airport

Phonix International remained largely unchanged from the Collapse besides the removal of the American flag and the decrease in flights. With the new treaty with New Belhavia, flight traffic picked up slightly but it was still far from how busy it once was. A small military detachment was housed at the Airport. This included two flights of fighter craft and a company of ground troops.

When the Belhavian delegation began their approach, all other air traffic was put into a holding pattern so the delegation could land first. When the plane stopped, the area where the bottom of the stairs would be would be flanked by six Republic Guardsman, all dressed in their grey uniforms and facemasks, tan vests and helmets, and tinted goggles. Their rifles were loosely held but one could tell that they stood ready in case anything went wrong. The company of regulars sat a good two hangers away, likewise dressed in combat gear and standing outside their desert tiger striped Humvees, ready to roll in should the plane be filled with attackers. In today's world, Brenard thought to himself, one cannot be too sure as to who his 'friends' are.

Parked a short distance away were five vehicles in a line. The two at the outside of the convoy were grey Humvees, driven and manned by two Guardsman each. The next two vehicles were black SUVs, their drivers also being Guardsman who were sitting pateintly, staring straight ahead. The only civvie appearing vehicle was the limo in the middle, it's driver being an older gentleman in a suit and dress cap. The driver of the limo currently stood by the open back door, his hands clasped in front of himself. In front of the steps would be Brenard, dressed in a maroon suit, his assistant Robert, dressed in a black suit, and Colonel Thompson, dressed in his desert tiger stripe uniform, which looked freshly dry cleaned and starched. The Colonel was the only military man in sight who was not armed with some sort of weapon. Brenard had his hands much like the limo driver while Robert was holding a briefcase in his hand, causing him to have his hands at his sides. The Colonel had his hands clasped behind his back and his feet spread in a parade rest stance.

[New Belhavia]

3:14pm (EST)
Phoenix International Airport,
Phoenix,
Republic of Arizona,

Tom Foley looked at his watch as their jet began its decent for landing. Behind him, Chris Christie and Mike Bloomberg were debating whether Phoenix had any New York-style delis, while Sam Karr and Ian Settas - younger aides the Emperor insisted attend as well - were chatting over something they were watching on Karr's laptop. Eight Imperial Diplomatic Security Corps agents sat in the back. They were wearing - like their American Secret Service predecessors - matching black suits, earplugs, black aviator glasses, and concealed Glock-22 handguns in their suit jackets' brest packets. Foley himself wore a light tan suit and white button-down shirt but open at the collar with no tie.

It is hot in the Southwest...

The pilot glanced over his seat to look at Foley.
"Sir, the fighter pilots acknowledge that they landed safely and are meeting with their Arizonan military greeters."
"Good, make sure they know they're on effective vacation until we leave."
"Yes, sir. I doubt they'll be upset to hear that..."
"No doubt, indeed." Foley concluded as the pilot returned toward gliding the medium-sized jet in for a smooth landing.

Five minutes later, having landed and taxied to a waiting mobile stairway, Foley looked outside the window at the large Arizonan delegation. The area at the bottom of the stairs were flanked by six elite, imposing soldiers - probably the Republic Guardsmen Bernard had mentioned. All were dressed in greyish uniforms and intimidating facemasks, tan vests and helmets, and tinted goggles - as if ready for chemical warfare. A short walk away was a convoy of five vehicles in a line, with two Army Humvees at either end and more civilian, diplomatic vehicles in the middle, including a black limo.

Two IDSC agents stepped out unto the small landing at the top of the stairway and gestured for Foley. He stepped out and began to walk down the stairs. The two fell in line behind him. Christie followed, flanked by two more agents, then Bloomberg with his pair, and the two aides, followed by the last duo of agents. Foley was internally nervous around the masked and goggled Guardsmen but put forward an indifferent, regal external posture to maintain his air of authority. The New Belhavian delegation of officials and guards continued until they passed all six Guardsmen.

Between the end of the "honor guard" and the convoy stood three men. Two were in suits - one, an older gentlemen in a maroon suit and matching tie, another, younger aide-type in black with a briefcase - and a military officer in a pressed tan dress uniform, standing at a casual parade-ground rest position.

Foley, at the head of his column, pressed forward confidently to the trio. Sizing each up, he steered himself directly in front of the maroon-suited gentlemen. He put out his hand casually for a handshake.

"Foreign Minister Tom Foley, Imperial representative of New Belhavia." The man shook it and nodded in acquaintance.
"Foreign Affairs Official Brian Bernard, senior foreign policy advisor of the Republic of Arizona."
Foley nodded and smiled. "Pleased to finally meet you. Please call me Tom." He chuckled. "We can leave the formalities for the communiques we write to each other."
Bernard mirrored his smile. "Then call me Brian."
Foley nodded in gratitude. He turned toward Bloomberg and Christie. "Let me also introduce President Michael Bloomberg, leader of our close local ally, the Corporate Republic of Manhatten. Former Governor Chris Christie, one of His Majesty's senior advisors." Bernard shook both men's hands and exchanged quick "nice to meet you"s. Foley turned toward his two young aides. "These are two of Emperor Adrian's top aides - Sam Karr, and Ian Settas."

After shaking their hands, Bernard turned toward his black-suited companion. "This is my assistant Robert." The man gave Foley a firm handshake. "...and Colonel Thompson of the Republic Army." He and Foley shook hands. "Colonel Thompson is head of security for this state visit. All security matters are to go through him."
"A pleasure, Colonel." Foley complimented. Thompson nodded politely. "Same here, Minister Foley."
"If we shall be off..." Bernard gestured toward the open-doored limo. The Foreign Minister paused. "Our luggage?" he questioned. Bernard waved him off and gestured toward the jet. Four Republic Guardsmen were hauling over their luggage from the jet's underbelly.
"They'll load it into our last SUV. Now, if we can..." He, his aide Robert, Thompson, Foley, Christie, Bloomberg and two IDSC agents climbed into the limo. Karr, Settas, and two other agents loaded into the front-most SUV, and the last quartet of agents piled into the last SUV.

The convoy took off, heading into a sparsely filled free-way into central Phoenix. They rode in silence for a few minutes before Christie spoke up to Bernard from across the narrow space in the limo.
"Brian," he started, his New Jersey accent particularly strong, "Where will we be staying and what is on the agenda for tonight?"
"Not to worry, Governor." Bernard began in earnst, "We're heading to the Presidential House in downtown Phoenix, where you and your delegation, including your security staff, will be housed in its guest wing. You'll have a few hours to relax and freshen up for the state gala hosted by President Smith tonight. It will include the most senior government, political, and media figures in the Republic."

[Salutem]

July 10th, 2013
Presidential House
Phoenix, Arizona

When the convoy arrived at the Presidential House, the Humvees carrying the Guardsmen split from the convoy and turned away to head around to the security block at the backside of the house. Two Guardsmen flanked the door into the house and an aide in a black suit waited to escort the delegation to the Guest Wing.

After the limo driver opened the door, the group carefully climbed out and into the yard. Brenard motioned to the aide, "He will escort you to your rooms. I must speak with President Smith before the dinner."

Tom nodded, "Of course." He and his delegation than followed the aide into the House. After they left, Brenard turned to Robert, "Make sure they're happy, would you?"

Robert nodded and ran off after the group, passing the Guardsman who flanked the door and passing the other Guardsman stationed at certain positions in the House. Brenard and Thompson both looked at each other and silently walked through the house to the banquet hall. It was a large room, filled with decorated tables, plush chairs, a snack table at the back, a band at the front, and many Arizonan "representatives" milling about. One Guardsman was posted at each corner of the room, with one more flanking Smith who sat at the head table.

"The delegation has arrived and-"

"Don't state the obvious, Brenard," Smith interrupted.

Brian nodded and began again, "The delegation from New Belhavia is currently prepping themselves in the Guest Wing. They will arrive for dinner shortly."

"That's good. I'll get the band playing. You and Thompson relax unil the Belhavians arrive."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Brenard said before walking off to the snack table with Colonel Thompson.

"This'll be fun," Thompson added. Brenard quickly agreed before taking a bit of one of the snacks.

The rooms that the delegation would be staying in were lavish and stocked for everything a high-end politician my need.

[New Belhavia]

July 10th, 2013,
Phoenix, Arizona,
Presidential House,
Guest Wing,

Foley nodded to the others as he turned the key and entered his guest quarters. Much like a four-star hotel, the room was somewhat large but cozy; freshly-pressed sheets on the King-sized bed and a new flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. Complimentary drinks and snacks were arrayed neatly on the dresser against the far wall. A modest bathroom and shower was off in its own room to his left as he surveyed his quarters.

The Arizonans know how to treat guests right, that's for sure...

His three large, black luggage containers were piled together by the bed. He began to unpack and took out a freshly-pressed tuxedo and matching accessories. An hour later - showered, and dressed in his comfortable tux - Foley ventured out into the hallway. He nodded in a friendly way to his two IDSC bodyguards, who flanked his doorway, and looked around. The door two down was open, and he walked casually over. Karr and Settas were watching a video on Karr's laptop, both already dressed in their more formal suits.

"Minister." They acknowledged politely as one as they noticed Foley loitering in the space between the hallway and their bedroom suite.
"Carry on, boys." he replied in a grandfather-like manner, "Just checking in."
"Sir," Settas started, "When do you think we will be going to the state dinner?"
Foley thought for a moment. "Perhaps a half-hour, give or take.
"Remember boys, " he continued, looking hard at them, "Do not cause any incidents. We are the Arizonans' guests. Emperor Adrian wants this newfound friendship between our governments to last."
"Of course, Minister." Karr replied quickly.
"Good. I'll have an agent fetch you two in a few." He turned and went back into the hallway. Christie was just exiting his room two doors down, passing indifferently between his two bodyguards. He looked over and saw Foley.
"Tom," he called out, taking a few steps to enter a close enough space to hold a reasonable conversation, "This should be an interesting dinner."
"Agreed," Tom concurred, "We shall take note of how the Arizonans treat us."
He leaned in closer and dropped his voice, "Intel has conflicting reports on Jeremy Smith and whether he really runs Arizona - or whether the head of the Republic Guards is the real power behind the throne." He paused and chuckled. "So to speak, of course."
Christie laughed and nodded. He said in a similar low tone,"We need to know who runs things if we are to take Arizona into account for Shadow Hand."
Foley grimaced. "I know. What do you think of Brian Brenard?"
"Brenard seems like a good fellow, at any rate." Christie said, with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.
"Yes," Foley nodded, "He seems somewhat...cynical, but a cooperative partner so far."
"Minister? Governor? Can I be of assistance?" a voice called out to them. They both turned to regard Brenard's assistant, Robert, in a black-clad suit, walking briskly down the hallway toward them. Foley rolled his eyes and looked at Christie, his ridicule blocked from Robert's sight.

"We are fine, Robert. But thank you for asking." Foley said, hoping to dissuade the man. He did not.
"Are you gentlemen sure?" Robert insisted.
"Yes." Christie replied. "Please inform Mr. Brenard that we will be joining the dinner shortly."
Robert nodded and walked off.
Christie and Foley exchanged looks.
"Let's get the rest of our party and head over..."

[Salutem]

July 10th, 2013
Presidential House
Phoenix, Arizona

When the delegation entered the banquet hall, classical music would be playing and everyone would be slowly finding their seats. Robert would bounce up to the Belhavian delegation, smiling, "Right this way, please. The plan is to eat first and converse later. Sounds like a plan, yes?"

As Robert turned around to lead the way, Tom again rolled his eyes at the behavior of the overly-excited aide. The Belhavians were quickly led to the large table that President Smith, Brenard, and Thompson sat at. Smith stood and extended his hand to the delegation, "I'm President Smith, leader of the Republic of Arizona."

"Foreign Minister Tom Foley, Imperial representative of New Belhavia, Foley stated as Smith gave his hand a hearty shake. The skinny man moved on to the others until they were all introduced. He than laughed and pointed at the seats as he re-took his own, "Please, sit, sit."

"Your guards can sit at that empty table if they wish," Robert piped in, pointing at said empty table that sat next to the President's table.

Foley nodded as he sat, "I think that would work." The Foreign Minister, noticing the number of chairs, looked at Brenard, "Is Robert not joining us?"

Brenard shooed Robert away before answering, "He sits at a different table."

"I see," Foley said quietly. Thank god, he thought to himself.

As the food began to come out, Thompson spoke up. "Mr. Foley, do you know what a Phoenix is?"

Foley did a half-nod, half-shake of his head, "Only that it's a bird of fire."

"Yes, a bird of fire, indeed," Thompson replied before continuing, "A Phoenix was, like you said, a mythological bird of fire. It could live five hundred to a thousand years before dying. Before it died though, it would build a nest. When it died in this nest, the nest and the bird would burn to ash. From this ash, the Phoenix would be reborn, ready to live another life-cycle."

Before Foley could reply, President Smith spoke up, "Enough with these myths you so love to speak of Thompson. Let's eat!"

Thompson smiled a small smile, "Of course Mr. President."

[New Belhavia]

7:45pm (MST),
July 10th, 2013,
Phoenix,
Presidential House,
State Gala

Foley frowned as Smith cut Thompson off. The Phoenix mythology...
He carefully scrutinized Colonel Thompson peripherially. The Colonel seemed neutral to Smith's dismissal of him from the conversation.
The Phoenix, he debated in his head, What was the Colonel's point? Why mention it at all...?
Foley glanced around, taking note of the nearest Republic Guardsmen. The Phoenix is a story of rebirth...of resurrection.
Ah, a thought came to him, and he smiled slightly to himself, A resurrection. That is what Thompson is allegorically aiming at...the question is, what is he trying to recreate?

Waiters and waitresses arrived, interrupting his thoughts; Each placed a large, white bowl with a silver lid in front of each person.

Some type of soup, perhaps...?

Smith turned and smiled softly at Foley. "A surprise gift for our newfound friends. Tonight's dinner was organized around a particular food set that I think you will find familiar." As he finished, almost as one, the wait staff pulled off the silver lids. Steam came forward -

"Matzo Ball soup." Mike Bloomberg said. Foley eyed the soup closer and saw a light brown chicken broth with egg noodles, small chunks of chicken, and large, white matzo balls.
Foley grinned warmly and looked at Smith. "Much appreciated, Mr. President. This is definitely a part of the old New York staple diet."
Smith nodded in return. "I figured as much. We specially-ordered this from the kosher Jewish Harold's Deli in downtown Phoenix. Enjoy."

The New Belhavian delegation failed to hesitate as they began to spoon gleefully over their soup bowls. Smith and Brenard exchanged thin-lipped grins.

After a few minutes of relative quiet after everyone ate their first course, Foley glanced over at Smith, eyeing him up.
Time to delve a little deeper as to who really rules Arizona...
"So tell me, President Smith," Foley began in an affable manner, "how is the Republic of Arizona structured in terms of executive power?"
Smith paused for a moment, eyes darting to a group of Republic Guardsmen a few feet away, before composing himself quickly.
"Much like our old American Federal Republic, one could say..." he replied somewhat vaguely, as if mentally distracted from the conversation, "I am the executive. The legislature has given me powers over - "
Interrupting him politely, Foley smiled, "Excuse me, I apologize. I noticed you look wary. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."
"No, not at all. Questions on our government system are quite appropriate - even necessary - and I would expect you to ask them." Smith responded.
Brenard was on edge, his face particularly hardened, eyes carefully observing the nearest Guardsmen.
"For instance," Christie cut in forcefully, "I have observed the ever-present Republic Guardsmen. Who heads the Republic Guard? Did you appoint him?"
"The Guard is headed by - " Thompson began as Brenard put a hand on his arm.
"Colonel," Brenard warned darkly, eyes locked with Thompson's, "Our internal security apparatus..." he started, turning toward Foley.
"Is something best left for our private meeting tomorrow morning." Smith finished. his hard look now an open glare at Brenard and Thompson.
"Very well." Foley concluded, subtly shooting Christie a quick look of peaked interest.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and quick looks among each delegation, the waiters returned with silver lid-covering plates.
"Our main dish." Brenard introduced. The waiters pulled off the lids -
"Hot patrasami sandwhiches." Foley replied, pleased. Each dish had two slaps of Jewish rye bread with rough cuts of beef pastrami piled high, held together with a toothpick at the top. Colesaw, pomme frites, and a herb garnish completed the plate.
"An...unorthodox choice, I know, for a state dinner." Smith started reassuredly, "but it is something I figured you would enjoy nevertheless."
"Not an issue, Mr. President." Foley nodded in gratitude. "This probably beats the entrees at most high-profile political dinners I've attended over the years..."
"Glad to hear it." Brenard added impatiently, pausing, "Since we're talking of government systems...
"I have a question of my own about Emperor Adrian..."