Migoz2
Senator
Often from a hospital ward.
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Stolen Election: A Moral(es) Tale
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
ledoux
Governor
Everything in this story is credible except the words, "inadvertently" and, given he's known Barb more than five minutes, "unexpected."
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Well, if my idea that the ex-CIA guy looks like Robert Redford is any good at all, at the risk of "reading ahead", I wonder if Barb likes that look. He could be in for a few more inadvertent sights and sounds, before this is all over.
Hmmmm … one never knows, does one?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
First imagination that came up to me as Barb's bodyguard was an Al Neri lookalike (from the Godfather II).
He's less blonde haired and blue eyed than I imagined him.First imagination that came up to me as Barb's bodyguard was an Al Neri lookalike (from the Godfather II).
View attachment 1579539
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Handsome dude, I dare say. Eat your heart out, Stan Goldman!
SirMGBZ
Governor
I do agree that the blue makes it substantially harder to read. And changing the background does not change the blue. Even using the light theme, which I prefer, does not help.
It's better to be a smart ass than a dumb ass!Wise ass!!!
As the great PTerry Pratchett said:
“Multiple exclamation marks,' he went on, shaking his head, 'are a sure sign of a diseased mind.”
― Terry Pratchett, Eric
2.
‘Capitán de Policía’ Sergio Perez had stationed himself just outside the front entrance to the Universidade de República de Nueva Valencia’s student Union. Speaking into the wire attached to the collar of his uniform flak jacket, he was engaged in patiently and methodically checking in with each of his units.
A careful professional, he needed to assure himself that everyone and everything was in position, including the dozens of police vans and buses just then arriving on scene for the purpose of carrying away the anticipated hundreds of detainees.
With everything reportedly in place, he gave the command. “Go!”
Within the building, in the main floor meeting hall, where the Frente Liberal Democrático Party faithful had gathered to celebrate what they believed would be an historic electoral triumph, there was a sudden shattering of windows by incoming tear gas canisters. Within a matter of seconds, all exits were blocked and phalanxes of helmeted, shield-carrying, baton-wielding police began forcing their way in. Their orders were to beat down any potential resistance as swiftly as possible before dividing and isolating all in attendance into clusters of kneeling detainees, hands clasped to the back of their heads, awaiting their turn to be herded outside to the waiting buses and vans.
Perez spoke again into his wire, “Where’s Bárbara Morales? Do we have her in custody?”
The replies flooded back, one after another, along with a background cacophony of shouts, screams and wails.
Negative!”
“Negative!”
“Negative, seems she’s somewhere up on the second floor. Lift unavailable. Appears it’s being held on the second floor. We’re ascending the stairs!”
That last transmission quickly erupted into the sound of gunfire, the intensity of which caused Gonzales to wince and hastily remove his earpiece.
The gunfire had come from the top of the stairway, where two of Jack Smith’s operatives had emptied the magazines of their semi-automatics into the ascending police, taking down several and sending the survivors into a panicky headlong retreat.
“Officers down! Officers down!” Perez’s headpiece, now held in his hand, screamed.
Up on the second floor, Jack Smith was propelling a bewildered and somewhat resistant, Bárbara Morales, into the lift being held there by the rest of his operatives.
“Can we bypass the ground floor going down?” he called out to one of them … kneeling on the floor of the carriage, the control panel, already removed, resting on his knee.
“Can do!”
“Alright, let’s do it!”
“What about the others?”
“Yes, what about them? We can’t just leave them!” wailed Bárbara.
“They’re on their own. No more time! Take this baby down to the cellar …. now!”
And with a lurch the lift began a rapid descent with everyone’s eyes glued to the panel that showed its progress.
There was a collective sigh of relief when it passed by the ground floor without stopping.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” cautioned Jack. “We’ve no idea whether they might be down there waiting for us. But hopefully not, and if not we can expect to make good our escape through the labyrinth of utility tunnels connecting the main campus buildings.
It was Bárbara who then said softly what everyone was thinking, “And what if they’re there waiting for us?”
“Then it’s over.”
With a bump the lift ended its rapid descent. The doors opened.
There was no one there!
Jack exercised immediate command. “Alright move it! They’re sure to have caught on soon as the lift bypassed the ground floor. Follow me, I know the way, having anticipated this possibility.”
“You anticipated? How did you know? Why wasn’t I warned?” she demanded, facing him with hands planted on hips and the front of her bath robe gaping wide open again.
“My job is to anticipate. Yours WAS to campaign,” he declared, gripping her by the shoulders and roughly spinning her about. “But the campaign is over. So cover yourself up and move! At the first junction ahead, we’ll take the left tunnel!”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it, hastily pulled the front of her robe together and took off after the four operatives already sprinting ahead.
Jack stayed behind long enough to rip the lift’s dangling control panel away, immobilizing it.
****************
Roughly a mile and a half away, at the Palacio Presidencial, President Manuel Mendoza stood behind his great mahogany desk, a lit ‘Cohiba Behike 56’ Cuban cigar in one hand, a television remote control in the other.
His full attention, though, was focused at that moment, not on the television coverage of the cream of the political opposition being loaded onto police busses and vans, but on the desk intercom, through which came the voice of ‘Capitán de Policía’ Sergio Perez, reporting on the situation within the Frente Liberal Democrático Party headquarters.
“Situation well in hand,” Perez was saying. “We’ve a full preliminary report in now. Nearly all of the opposition party leaders are in custody, as well as the crowd of supporters who’d rallied to celebrate the Morales bitches’ expected win. A few broken heads, but most of them packed into buses and vans with relatively little fuss. They behaved like a bunch of sheep. Most are well on their way now to the San Rafael Induction and Interrogation Center. By this time tomorrow we’ll have extracted plenty of names and a full scale country-wide roundup will be underway.
“Excellent!” How many did we bag?”
“No exact count yet, but I’d estimate seven hundred or so.”
“Any street demonstrations?”
“None so far. We may have bagged many of the organizers. But if and when they take to the streets, we’re ready for them.”
“And Bárbara Morales? We have her too?”
“Unfortunately, no. Seems she and her security people managed to escape. But I can assure you that we’ll have her in hand soon enough. We’ll dragnet the city. Our intelligence on the locations of their ‘safe houses’ is excellent.”
“Good. What about casualties?”
“Sorry to say, but we lost three dead and two wounded.”
“How did that happen? I thought you said there was little resistance?”
“Firefight with two of Morales’ security people. We killed both of them. Couple of Americans; we believe they’re ex-CiA.”
“Alright. Let’s see that our dead are given a proper state funeral with honors. I want them presented to the Nation as patriotic heroes who died averting a stolen election. And I want to circulate to the media that the Americans have been caught interfering in our election.”
“Yessir, I’ll see that the necessary information is forwarded to the propaganda ministry people.”
“And, I want Bárbara Morales apprehended and brought in within 24 hours. No excuses, Perez! Have I made myself clear?
“Yessir!”
****************
Barrio Rojo, Wednesday, February 19, 4:08 am
“What next?” demanded Bárbara, hands on hips and facing Jack Smith. She’d just emerged from the back room of the ‘safe-house’ they’d taken refuge in, located somewhere in the poorest part of the city.
The bathrobe she’d worn earlier had been replaced, but not in her customarily fashionable ‘clothes horse’ style. She now wore a pair of patched and dirty workman’s pants that were much too large for her, and had to be held up by a length of cord tied tightly at her waist. The ensemble further consisted of a black v-necked tee worn beneath a faded denim jacket, the sleeves of which someone had cut away. Her long hair was tucked away under a gray knit hat. As there was nothing amongst the safe-house’s odd collection of shoes that came even close to fitting her feet, her feet were bare.
Smith looked her up and down before answering. “Our next challenge, Ms Morales, is to get you out of the city. And after that, assuming we even get that far, finding a way to smuggle you out of the country
“But I don’t want to leave the country! What good would that do? I can’t be seen running away. I need to stay and fight this thing! I want to speak out!”
“Of course you do, but how? With what?Mendoza is in complete control. He’s already arrested thousands of your supporters. The police and state security forces are everywhere. People are still being rounded up, and they’re on the lookout for you! One can hardly go anywhere without encountering a check point or road block. You’ve no choice but to flee!”
She stared at him in sullen silence, before speaking again. “Jack, I want to know what happened to your men … the two operatives who stayed behind back at the student union to keep at bay those police attempting to come up those stairs.”
“We’ve no way of knowing … they’re probably dead.”
“Such a shame.”
“They were pros, Bárbara. They knew what they were getting into when they signed up. In any case, they’re better off dead than captured and tortured by Mendoza’s goons. Now, unless we’d like to meet his goons in that very unpleasant way, we’d best get a move on while it’s still dark. Any hope of still getting you to safety requires it!”
He thought she was about to break down and cry, but no … after continuing to stare at him awhile longer … she sucked it up, and murmured, “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Okay. We’ll send out Rex and Dave as point men. They’ll signal back if and when the way is clear, and we follow. Then we do it all over again until we’re out of the city. Stay close to me and do everything exactly as I do. Got it?”
“What about the other two?”
“They’ll cover our rear.”
“And sacrifice themselves if necessary?”
“If necessary, yes, that’s the way it works.
TBC
‘Capitán de Policía’ Sergio Perez had stationed himself just outside the front entrance to the Universidade de República de Nueva Valencia’s student Union. Speaking into the wire attached to the collar of his uniform flak jacket, he was engaged in patiently and methodically checking in with each of his units.
A careful professional, he needed to assure himself that everyone and everything was in position, including the dozens of police vans and buses just then arriving on scene for the purpose of carrying away the anticipated hundreds of detainees.
With everything reportedly in place, he gave the command. “Go!”
Within the building, in the main floor meeting hall, where the Frente Liberal Democrático Party faithful had gathered to celebrate what they believed would be an historic electoral triumph, there was a sudden shattering of windows by incoming tear gas canisters. Within a matter of seconds, all exits were blocked and phalanxes of helmeted, shield-carrying, baton-wielding police began forcing their way in. Their orders were to beat down any potential resistance as swiftly as possible before dividing and isolating all in attendance into clusters of kneeling detainees, hands clasped to the back of their heads, awaiting their turn to be herded outside to the waiting buses and vans.
Perez spoke again into his wire, “Where’s Bárbara Morales? Do we have her in custody?”
The replies flooded back, one after another, along with a background cacophony of shouts, screams and wails.
Negative!”
“Negative!”
“Negative, seems she’s somewhere up on the second floor. Lift unavailable. Appears it’s being held on the second floor. We’re ascending the stairs!”
That last transmission quickly erupted into the sound of gunfire, the intensity of which caused Gonzales to wince and hastily remove his earpiece.
The gunfire had come from the top of the stairway, where two of Jack Smith’s operatives had emptied the magazines of their semi-automatics into the ascending police, taking down several and sending the survivors into a panicky headlong retreat.
“Officers down! Officers down!” Perez’s headpiece, now held in his hand, screamed.
Up on the second floor, Jack Smith was propelling a bewildered and somewhat resistant, Bárbara Morales, into the lift being held there by the rest of his operatives.
“Can we bypass the ground floor going down?” he called out to one of them … kneeling on the floor of the carriage, the control panel, already removed, resting on his knee.
“Can do!”
“Alright, let’s do it!”
“What about the others?”
“Yes, what about them? We can’t just leave them!” wailed Bárbara.
“They’re on their own. No more time! Take this baby down to the cellar …. now!”
And with a lurch the lift began a rapid descent with everyone’s eyes glued to the panel that showed its progress.
There was a collective sigh of relief when it passed by the ground floor without stopping.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” cautioned Jack. “We’ve no idea whether they might be down there waiting for us. But hopefully not, and if not we can expect to make good our escape through the labyrinth of utility tunnels connecting the main campus buildings.
It was Bárbara who then said softly what everyone was thinking, “And what if they’re there waiting for us?”
“Then it’s over.”
With a bump the lift ended its rapid descent. The doors opened.
There was no one there!
Jack exercised immediate command. “Alright move it! They’re sure to have caught on soon as the lift bypassed the ground floor. Follow me, I know the way, having anticipated this possibility.”
“You anticipated? How did you know? Why wasn’t I warned?” she demanded, facing him with hands planted on hips and the front of her bath robe gaping wide open again.
“My job is to anticipate. Yours WAS to campaign,” he declared, gripping her by the shoulders and roughly spinning her about. “But the campaign is over. So cover yourself up and move! At the first junction ahead, we’ll take the left tunnel!”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it, hastily pulled the front of her robe together and took off after the four operatives already sprinting ahead.
Jack stayed behind long enough to rip the lift’s dangling control panel away, immobilizing it.
****************
Roughly a mile and a half away, at the Palacio Presidencial, President Manuel Mendoza stood behind his great mahogany desk, a lit ‘Cohiba Behike 56’ Cuban cigar in one hand, a television remote control in the other.
His full attention, though, was focused at that moment, not on the television coverage of the cream of the political opposition being loaded onto police busses and vans, but on the desk intercom, through which came the voice of ‘Capitán de Policía’ Sergio Perez, reporting on the situation within the Frente Liberal Democrático Party headquarters.
“Situation well in hand,” Perez was saying. “We’ve a full preliminary report in now. Nearly all of the opposition party leaders are in custody, as well as the crowd of supporters who’d rallied to celebrate the Morales bitches’ expected win. A few broken heads, but most of them packed into buses and vans with relatively little fuss. They behaved like a bunch of sheep. Most are well on their way now to the San Rafael Induction and Interrogation Center. By this time tomorrow we’ll have extracted plenty of names and a full scale country-wide roundup will be underway.
“Excellent!” How many did we bag?”
“No exact count yet, but I’d estimate seven hundred or so.”
“Any street demonstrations?”
“None so far. We may have bagged many of the organizers. But if and when they take to the streets, we’re ready for them.”
“And Bárbara Morales? We have her too?”
“Unfortunately, no. Seems she and her security people managed to escape. But I can assure you that we’ll have her in hand soon enough. We’ll dragnet the city. Our intelligence on the locations of their ‘safe houses’ is excellent.”
“Good. What about casualties?”
“Sorry to say, but we lost three dead and two wounded.”
“How did that happen? I thought you said there was little resistance?”
“Firefight with two of Morales’ security people. We killed both of them. Couple of Americans; we believe they’re ex-CiA.”
“Alright. Let’s see that our dead are given a proper state funeral with honors. I want them presented to the Nation as patriotic heroes who died averting a stolen election. And I want to circulate to the media that the Americans have been caught interfering in our election.”
“Yessir, I’ll see that the necessary information is forwarded to the propaganda ministry people.”
“And, I want Bárbara Morales apprehended and brought in within 24 hours. No excuses, Perez! Have I made myself clear?
“Yessir!”
****************
Barrio Rojo, Wednesday, February 19, 4:08 am
“What next?” demanded Bárbara, hands on hips and facing Jack Smith. She’d just emerged from the back room of the ‘safe-house’ they’d taken refuge in, located somewhere in the poorest part of the city.
The bathrobe she’d worn earlier had been replaced, but not in her customarily fashionable ‘clothes horse’ style. She now wore a pair of patched and dirty workman’s pants that were much too large for her, and had to be held up by a length of cord tied tightly at her waist. The ensemble further consisted of a black v-necked tee worn beneath a faded denim jacket, the sleeves of which someone had cut away. Her long hair was tucked away under a gray knit hat. As there was nothing amongst the safe-house’s odd collection of shoes that came even close to fitting her feet, her feet were bare.
Smith looked her up and down before answering. “Our next challenge, Ms Morales, is to get you out of the city. And after that, assuming we even get that far, finding a way to smuggle you out of the country
“But I don’t want to leave the country! What good would that do? I can’t be seen running away. I need to stay and fight this thing! I want to speak out!”
“Of course you do, but how? With what?Mendoza is in complete control. He’s already arrested thousands of your supporters. The police and state security forces are everywhere. People are still being rounded up, and they’re on the lookout for you! One can hardly go anywhere without encountering a check point or road block. You’ve no choice but to flee!”
She stared at him in sullen silence, before speaking again. “Jack, I want to know what happened to your men … the two operatives who stayed behind back at the student union to keep at bay those police attempting to come up those stairs.”
“We’ve no way of knowing … they’re probably dead.”
“Such a shame.”
“They were pros, Bárbara. They knew what they were getting into when they signed up. In any case, they’re better off dead than captured and tortured by Mendoza’s goons. Now, unless we’d like to meet his goons in that very unpleasant way, we’d best get a move on while it’s still dark. Any hope of still getting you to safety requires it!”
He thought she was about to break down and cry, but no … after continuing to stare at him awhile longer … she sucked it up, and murmured, “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Okay. We’ll send out Rex and Dave as point men. They’ll signal back if and when the way is clear, and we follow. Then we do it all over again until we’re out of the city. Stay close to me and do everything exactly as I do. Got it?”
“What about the other two?”
“They’ll cover our rear.”
“And sacrifice themselves if necessary?”
“If necessary, yes, that’s the way it works.
TBC
ledoux
Governor
I REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS GUY! Cmon, Cover?
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Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Why not? He is a pro! He is doing the job he is supposed to do, and so far, he is doing it well! If someone could save Barb from harm in a CF story, it is him (and that would be a first on this Forum!
) .But I will stop reading ahead?
I prefered Barb in the bath robe with nothing under it
It turned out that there were actually a few pairs of hideous shoes in the safe-house, that fit Barb's feet, but even Jack Smith could not convince her to wear such ones!
ledoux
Governor
It's just that I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that the word "cover," when referring to Barb's attire, or that of her thinly-disguised alter egos, should never be used.
I'm more of a "uncover" kind of guy, maybe that's just me.
ledoux
Governor
Tree sees a gallows being readied for everybody.
Yes we can!
. Doesn't matter anyway. Where Barb goes, idealism just leads to trouble and almost certain death.
Exciting escape scene. Someone should shoot this Perez guy.