The eleven Vanguardians and Mr. Smith were brought into the main hall of the Palace, a majestic room with a mahogany wood floor, as well as fine, antique chairs along the walls. Paintings of former President-Prime Ministers of Mandelovia, all stately-looking men of vision going back almost five centuries adorned the solid red-oak walls. Through a large bay window could be seen the view of both parts of the city, New and Old Mandelovia, and the lights were beginning to shine brightly even as the already dark blue sky turned to black. The twinkling lights of the city stretched into the horizon. The huge chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling lit up the room, somewhat spoiling the effect.
"Welcome to Mandelovia, gentlemen and lady," a well-dressed man in a suit said as five other men in suits walked over to the Vanguardians and began passing scanning devices over them individually. "We apologize for the inconvenience, but we must verify your identities."
"And who are you supposed to be?" Chance asked, a resigned frown on his face.
"My name is not important, Mr. Schanz. Suffice it to say, I am an important official in the Mandelovian Security Agency which, like your American F.B.I., is responsible for keeping our beloved nation secure."
"So what happened to Colonel Nemo? Why isn't he greeting us himself?" asked Kristogar Velo, who had met Nemo when the team was attempting to escape Mandelovia, the case which ended with them being owed a debt to the General. A debt which they were now about to pay. "Don't tell me Nemo's no longer the head of the M.S.A.?"
The man was unperturbed by this but continued to smile politely. "It's best that you don't ask such question, Mr. Velo." The five M.S.A. agents completed their scans. "Well, gentlemen, it appears that you are who you say you are." He looked at Mr. Smith. "And you brought a friend. How interesting. I'm sure the General will be sending for you shortly." The man left the room, while the five M.S.A. agents stood silently watching them.
"Umm... hey," Ozzy Baxter said in a rasping voice which was meant to be a whisper to one of the agents, "You there! Sorry if I'm messing up your... uh... 'concentration'... but... umm... could I use your bathroom? M'afraid I had a few too many 'refreshments' on the way in. My bladder may be as tough as the rest o' me, but there's only so much I can hold in."
The agent being addressed turned and glanced at the other agent, then turned back and pointed a finger. His face remained completely humorless as he said in a flat tone, "Down the hallway, third door on the left."
"Thanks, pal," he said, turning and walking down the hallway where he found a large bathroom. Opening the door, a man-servant standing by the sink holding a towel nodded at him and directed him to a wide stall. "Bloody brilliant!" he said in a fake British accent with a voice a bit too loud, so much so that it slightly echoed. A chandelier kept the bathroom well-lit.
Ozzy Baxter "did his business" and then began walking straight to the door he'd come in through, but the man-servant caught his eye. "Oh, right," he muttered, feeling a bit guilty, so he walked up to wash his hands at the sink. As soon as he finished, the man-servant rushed up to him and held out a towel for him to dry his hands. "Great service here, huh? Am I, uh, supposed to leave a tip or something?" The man-servant shrugged and continued to smile wordlessly. Ozzy dug into his pockets, finding little in them. "Shit... my wallet must be somewhere around here. Oh, wait one minute! Here y'are, guy." He tossed a half-empty pack of cigarettes into the man-servant's open palm -- a "last parting gift" from the Yakuza -- and slapped him on the shoulder, presenting him with a toothy grin. "Have a good one, eh?" The man-servant wore an expression like he'd been soiled.
Ozzy began walking down the hallway back to the main hall once more, glancing through a few open doorways on the way there. "Fucking hell, they sure like their chandeliers here, don't they?"
When he got back into the main hall, the other Vanguardians were already being led out. "This way, sir," one of the M.S.A. agents said with a slight accent, leading him along with the others.
The Vanguardians were led into a room which kind of resembled the Oval Office in the White House. This was, of course, the official office of the President-Prime Minister. Since the nation had no PPM at the moment, it was the office of General D'goon, unofficial dictator and absolute leader of Mandelovia. All twelve of them were led to stand in a line before the large wooden desk. The chair behind it was turned away from them, and a line of grey smoke trailed up from behind it. The Vanguardians looked at each other and around the room. The M.S.A. agents as well as two uniformed members of the Mandelovian Honour Guard stood on watch in the room. They were kept waiting for some moments.
Finally, the chair swiveled around, and they saw the familiar-looking olive-skinned man wearing one of the red-coloured ceremonial uniforms of the Mandelovian National People's Army, covered with many medals and bars signifying his rank as general. General Colton D'goon.
"My friends!" he said, smiling at them as he tapped his cigar on a crystal ashtray on his desk and rose to meet them. In appearance, D'goon was not a very tall man by any means, but he was solidly built for his age. His skin was tanned like most Mandelovians, his hair had been jet-black when last they saw him, but now it was slightly peppered with grey. His prominent and slightly-bushy black eyebrows rose, making him appear charming, almost friendly, while his grin was highlighted by a well-trimmed black moustache, though otherwise he was clean-shaven. He had a slight resemblance to both Josef Stalin and Saddam Hussein, and indeed he radiated the same self-confidence and personal charisma as other dictators and world leaders, but he had his own unique style. If it had not been for his personal dislike of headware, the hat of a Mandelovian general would have adorned his head. As it was, he didn't need it to come across as the undisputed ruler of Mandelovia. "Welcome to our beloved country. I trust your journey was comfortable?"
Chance spoke for the group. "General D'goon, we owe you a debt. And we're here to protect you because of that. But you had no business telling the Mandelovian people that we were defecting to your country."
The General laughed slightly and said, "A slight deception. If you ever enter politics, Mr. Schanz, I'm sure you will find them necessary from time to time. I've learned a great deal about you, Mr. Vice-Chairman. Or is it Chairman now that your Australian leader is gone? It's funny, I never thought the boy had it in him. In any case, I'm impressed at your record in the chemical industry. You were a prodigy, Mr. Schanz, a genius with chemicals who might very well have been recruited to become a Mandelovian in your own right, one of the shining lights in our own League of Science. Yet you seemingly died, right here in our own country, and were cremated. A faked death, perhaps? Or something... other?" He paused for a moment as he looked at the Swede. "I was disappointed to learn that you walked away from such a promising career, however. Perhaps you would find a place amongst other such prodigies as yourself in the League of Science? You would make a fine Mandelovian citizen."
"I'm not interested," Chance said without equivocation. "What we do want to know is why, exactly, we are here. My fellow Vanguardian, Kristogar Velo, has told me of your impressive and formidable Elite Agents, a secretive group which you once belonged to in your youth. Why are they no longer enough protection for you?"
The confident smile began to fade from the General's face as Chance spoke. He had found D'goon's weak spot. "They are... no longer in existence. The Strikeforce is determined to destroy me... to destroy all of Mandelovia, just as the U.S. government of some of your own Vanguard International agents tried to destroy Mandelovia in January 2002. I made the decision to ally with your former ally Naecken for Mandelovia's protection. However, even now the Strikeforce is mounting to destroy me, to destroy Mandelovia in one fell swoop. If you are men of honour you will repay the debt you owe me. Do it for the Mandelovian people, if not me. It is for their sake that I took power. They needed a strong leader after so many weak-willed ones which were leading the country astray and selling it out to the highest foreign bidders."
General D'goon looked grim for a moment but seemingly remembered himself. "Ah, but I haven't met most of you yet." He stepped forward to shake hands with each of the Vanguardians and Mr. Smith. The M.S.A. agent who addressed the Vanguardians earlier stepped forward, saying, "Uh, sir, I'm not sure that's a wise--"
"Nonsense!" General D'goon said firmly. "I've been keeping tabs on the Vanguardians for nearly two years now. If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's their honesty." He went down the line and greeted each Vanguardian. Some shook his hand, but some merely nodded at him impassionately. Finally, reaching the last of them, he said, "Excellent! You have a fine crew here, Kristofer Schanz. Mandelovia welcomes you as one of her own! Perhaps I'll be able to convince you to stay on as citizens after all? Heh-heh."
Chance wore a look of disgust on his face. This was almost like being greeted by Adolf Hitler.
"Well, time is wasting, as they say," the General said finally, turning and walking over to the far wall. "We must prepare." He reached a candlestick on the wall which, when he turned it, caused a circular opening in the wall to retract like the iris of an eye retracts. The Vanguardians were astonished, as no sign of its existence could have been seen a moment before. "Follow me, my Vanguardians!" he said, waving a hand forward. "Mandelovia's new Minister of State is already awaiting your arrival in the War Room!"
The Vanguardians stepped forward and walked through the opening passage, which was like liquid metal in that it could change shape at will and seemed to be about five feet thick, making the room beyond impervious to the force of a nuclear blast. The War Room itself was impressively large and busy. It had two visible levels full of scanning equipment and a wall of monitor screens showing newscasts from around the world as well as video from different parts of Mandelovia and imagery which appeared to be from advanced spy-satellites. Several technicians and Army personnel sat around various consoles, keeping watch on the nation's borders and any possible threats on the nation, including the doings of the U.S.A. and the Strikeforce. An armory was accessible by a locked and guarded door. Thus far, this was the only room in the Palace they had seen which did not have a chandelier. It was, however, as technologically impressive as anything they had ever seen in the movies, to say the least.
