Part XII — Into ze Germanland

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Hours had passed. The black car sped over the highway, nearing the German border. In it, Thierry was explaining his view on the Western political landscape.
– ‘…So then I figured: if the elites don’t represent the will of the people, we should give the people better representation, and what better to do that than public voting on important issues? That’s why my part is called Forum for Democracy: I wanted to give the power back to the people, away from the corrupt elite in Brussels.’
‘But…?’
– ‘But it did not work. Not at all. Well, I lifted along with the right populism wave and became prime minister, so that worked all right. But beyond that, nothing. In order to get the power back to the people, the people need to have a vote on it, but because they don’t have the power, they don’t get a vote… It’s a Catch-22.’
‘How will you solve it?’
Baudet’s face turned grim. ‘Not sure we can, to be honest. I used to trust in the rules and traditions to pull us through, but lately it is hard to see the silver lining.’ Baudet leaned closer to Barron and lowered his voice. ‘…They say that the end of democracy will arrive soon.’
Barron looked skeptical. ‘My dad has got a great deal of supporters that call him the God-Emperor and beg him to make himself emperor. He always said those people were taking things too serious.’
– ‘Look, I know what you’re thinking. Are we going back to the age of kings and dictators? I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing: I used to be the biggest fighter for democracy, back when the left was trying to kill it. But now…? Now it seems only suckers and gullible people still believe in it. No one takes the official system serious anymore. Something major is going to happen, you can bet on it.’
Barron said nothing.

Baudet inspected their location on his phone. He turned towards the chauffeur. ‘Next exit, Rudi!’
– ‘Yes sir.’

The car turned off the highway and came to a halt on a parking spot next to a gas station.

‘Soon you’ll be crossing the border into Germany’ Thierry said as they stepped out of the car. ‘We’re all part of the Schengen area family, so you don’t need to be afraid of border patrol. I’m afraid that I can’t come with you. Too risky. However, we’ve already decided that my chauffeur, Rudi, is yours for as long you need him. He knows what roads to take.’
Baudet pointed towards a dark green dilapidated station car. ‘That’s your vehicle. Good luck, son of Trump!’

And with that, Barron once again said goodbye to a recently made friend. He entered the car (it smelled of old people) and Rudi took the wheel and sped off, into Germany. Although he did not want to jinx himself, Barron could not help but think that, finally, things were looking to go his way.

The phone rang twice before it was answered. A gruff voice.
‘Yes.’
– ‘We have information. Dutch prime minister missing from his post. His car was spotted close to German border near Düsseldorf before turning around. Our agents say a switch was likely made into the following car: Dark Green Toyota Corona, license plate VL-SE-937. Spotted on route 3 past Frankfurt.’
‘Good. Alert our friends. I’m on my way.’
– ‘Will do.’
*click.*

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