Chapter 13 - Reassigment

By order of the Capital chief, I was vacated from my post as Commissar.  A grand banquet was held in my honor in the great hall of the main hotel and all the party chiefs and city leaders were in attendance.  My brother and many of my family were in attendance and proudly raised their glasses as this was a great honor.  My early retirement.

In truth, Wolf Gustafson and the secret police had met with me.  They retrieved the tapes that Oliver truthfully identified in our wire tapped conversation.  He wasn't sure to label me a genius or an absolute buffoon, possibly both.  The tapes were destroyed and everyone had hoped that was the end of the Artesians.

They offered me a choice and the better of the options was early retirement.  We embraced and he shaked my hand in congratulations and was all smiles at the great gala with glasses raised and toasting one after the other with the six remaining Commissars.  Sigmund Gustafson was immediately posted as my replacement and we embraced and gave pleasantries to all in attendance.

The only Gustafson not in attendance was Sophie, who true to form was still in mourning of the death of her dear baby brother Stephan who Sigmund also wept for and decried that he would be even prouder had Stephan was standing there as the new Comissar.  A standing ovation and a loud cacophony of cheers, party songs and all the same you would hear and expect at any senior Politiburo event.

I retired at my own courtesy and was driven to my home by Wolf's personal attache a Captain Long.  All of my attache's and support staff had been reassigned.  The Colonel, retired.  One Captain promoted and now serving Sigmund.  The other Captain, resigned for reasons unknown.

Captain Long assured me all were safe and Wolf was true to his word.  The Colonel called me shortly after and confirmed what Captain Long had said.  While they couldn't give him a promotion, he retired handsomely on the pension of a General so he had little regret.  His only concern was how all this transpired and they were all treated like pawns.  He himself felt partially responsible for walking into Wolf's office that day and only giving me a nudge when he should have punched me out cold.

I should have decked you that day.  He should have floored himself if he had known what was coming.  He was in touch with both Captain's and the one now a Major is doing well and the other, he would not say his reasons, but assured us it was not under any duress or pressure by Wolf or anyone associated with the Politiburo.  He added, Wolf offered him a reinstatement at anytime he so wished.  Wolf said he would care for all of his own.

As for my new assignment?  I was welcomed to Camp 47 to begin a new re indoctrination program.  It would require about three years, no hard labor.  I would conclude the final year at the Perkin's and Wolf asked me to call him about a job.

Chapter 12 - Sophie

I didn't know what to expect when I first met Sophie Gustafson.  I had heard alot of things about her through Oliver, Ingrid and even her father.  I was expecting to find a fiery woman was an intense vendetta and overwhelming rage, instead I found the most quiet and beautiful young girl.

I arrived at the Gustafson estate and was brought out back to the private garden where Sophie was seated in a sheltered gazebo.  Tea had been set and we sat and discussed everything that had transpired.  She shared her story and that she blamed Karl Knutmudsen for her brother Stephan's death.  Indeed, she was fearful that Stephan was considering joining the Artesians as she had accompanied him on several meetings and encounters with Karl and already knew both Oliver and Ingrid were Artesians.

She never saw me at any of those meetings and while Karl and Oliver spoke highly of me, she knew I was not a member of that horrible cult.  She confided that she sat in a few of those sermons with Stephan and watched tearfully at how enraptured he was by Karl's preaching.  How Stephan's eyes glowed with such delight and he hung on every word.  She begged and begged of Ingrid and of Karl to not recruit Stephan, she even offered herself as a willing member if they would agree to reject his membership.  They refused.

Her father knows all of this.  And he was furious when he learned she offered herself to become an Artesian and in some ways as she sat in on several of those meetings, she should be treated as a suspect Artesian.

Sophie went further and said its against her father's pride and ways to have not turned both Sophie and Stephan in.  A Gustafson is always first loyal and a patriot and would do so above family and blood.  Everything Wolf probably said was to hide this fact and it was his asking me to see her was his way of trying to further cover up and end the family scandal.

She further knows of our family shared histories and even more so of my great uncle.  My older brother and Wolf are dear friends and all the more reason we are meeting today.  Wolf had been planning this all along and everything thus far had been his way of testing me.  If things do not turn out to Wolf's satisfaction, she would be soon joining Ingrid Glikmann.  But that was not why she agreed to meet, she is still as defiant as any Gustafson and wouldn't be afraid of imprisonment.

She felt anger at her father and considered me a fool and worse a pawn and a plaything that Wolf had manipulated for quite some time.  She wanted me to stop trying to seek out more about the movement and let it just die.  All it has brought was misery and suffering for those involved.

She welcomed and invited me to join her again and that Wolf would likely want the three of them to meet.  He very much wanted to speak with me and now that every shred of secrecy and subterfuge could be laid bare, we could have an actual conversation.

Chapter 11 - The Artesians

I don't know who or what the Artesians were about, only that they started as a movement and began attracting senior members of the Politiburo roughly more than a decade ago.  They became a cause for concern from the more conservative members of the party and was about the time Wolf Gustafson was pulled from the Army to oversee the secret police and root out the members of this cult.

Oliver and I continued to have conversations, but he refused to ever discuss or tell me more about the Artesians.  He had to bribe multiple sources to find out any details on Ingrid and what he discovered were terrifying accounts of her isolation and imprisonment.

She is being badly mistreated he would lament.  He spent obscene sums, but to no avail to try and alleviate her suffering.  Sophie Gustafson herself made sure anyone caught showing any sympathy to Ingrid would be summarily punished.

Sophie treated Ingrid worse than Karl.  And it was Oliver who then begged me to speak to Sophie on Ingrid's behalf.  Both of them resigned their fate to live out their lives in prison and would cause no more trouble or harm.  Something as little as a blanket, or food that wasn't rotten and crawling with maggots and cockroaches, even a bit of sunlight and fresh air.  The cruelty of Sophie is without ends.  She truly loved her baby brother and would have likely tortured Oliver if she had the chance.

I agreed to do what I can, but on the condition he tell me more about the Artesians.  Oliver sighed greatly and paused for what seemed like a long time then he warned me once I heard such things, they cannot be unheard and I place myself in great danger.  He reminded me of the wrath of Sophie and what is happening to Ingrid, to Michael and even poor, innocent John.  If I was ready to accept Sophie's wrath he would tell me about the Artesians.

Oliver then said he lied about the Perkins.  Michael snuck out a computer backup of all the groups writings.  He gave me the location of a postal box where it was likely kept.  But then he said, his phone is likely being wire tapped and he laughed and said it's likely gone now.  He said the backup tapes are or now were there and the authorities are already on their way to seize them.  He didn't want to drag anyone further down and he said again I am a fool.

But he did say in parting that he honestly believed Karl considered me a friend to have warned me off that day and as he idolized Karl, he too didn't want anything to happen to me.  I agreed to speak with Sophie and on Ingrid's behalf.  Oliver greatly appreciated the gesture.

Chapter 10 - Pleagos

Oliver called me a week after Ingrid's trial was over and he was already under house arrest and awaiting his court date.  He was relaxed and confessed to me everything that he was supposed to have joined Karl that day and likely would have been arrested and sentenced to death.  In a way, my call that day startled him as he at first thought I was an Artesian and had gotten some special instruction from Karl, however cryptic to await further orders that never came.

For nearly a decade he believed I was Karl's lieutenant and was waiting patiently for what would be the next move of the cause.  He nearly died laughing when he realized what a fool he had been all these years when he realized I was nothing of the sort and just a friend of Karl seeking an answer to something so meaningless.

But he thanked me all the same as the political climate is very different and instead of being shot as a traitor, he would spend the rest of his days in his gilded cage.  He did regret the fate of poor John who truly was the fool's fool in all of this.

I asked him what exactly are the Artesians and what are they seeking.  He paused and said, I am a big fool and felt John's death was the only real crime out of all of this and didn't wish to add me to that list.  The Artesians are now all dead, well except for Michael, Ingrid and himself, that would be the end of the cause and as the world still exists and the Politiburo continues to function, he confessed that it might have all been a lie anyway and Karl was nothing more than a con man who ruined so many lives.

Anything that was recorded went up in smoke in the Perkin's Home.  Karl had kept all of the movement's writings there and the switch was a fail safe that Oliver had Michael trigger that night.  He did so when he began to suspect I wasn't an Artesian.

Chapter 9 - The Trial

Ingrid's trial was a grand spectacle and she was found wanting and summarily sentenced to a life of hard labor on a penal colony in a remote archipelago surrounded by man eating sharks.  She did not weep.

Oliver however was a complete embarrassment to the Politiburo and to avoid scandal he was not placed on trial and instead given an extended 'holiday' on his family estate on a provincial town.  As a name sake of a Signatory # 3, his life was assured.  He confessed freely that he was a disciple of Karl Knutmudsen and of the Artesian cause.  He refused to say if there were additional co-conspirators besides Ingrid and himself, but he was generous in saying that poor John was never a willing participant and was caught up in all of this as he was assigned as Karl's final attache before his downfall.  This however, was of no help and John was sentenced to a lifetime of hard labor.  The lanky man wept in his prison cell when he heard of his sentencing.

Michael, was found wanting and proudly accepted hard labor and was ready to join his compatriots and died a few years later of exhaustion.  John shortly after.

I spoke with Wolf Gustafson who thanked me for outing what we all hoped were the last remnants of the Artesians.  He then shared, he had long suspected his own son Stephan might have been in the process of being recruited by Karl and it was his sister Sophie who vehemently intervened.  He apologized that he himself could never investigate his own children and had left a trial of bread crumbs to do so vicariously.  He was relieved that I found nothing to suspect Stephan was ever enthralled in the Artesian movement and reminded me of how our two families are intertwined.

Wolf knew of my brother and spoke highly of the Admiral.  He also added to my family story sharing that the vintner's son saved General Gustafson from a sniper's bullet.  It made more sense then why the General would carry him to the field hospital and again help him sign such an important document.  He also wished me to visit Sophie.

Stephan and Sophie were very close and it would have devastated her to know that he would join Karl's cult.  My relentless inquiries and me being a friend of Karl and also rejection of his Artesian cult made me the perfect investigator into finding out if Stephan was ever an Artesian and finding no proof or even suspect he was relieved the entire Gustafson clan.

Chapter 8 - House Fire

The Perkin's Institute suddenly burned to the ground.  No one was injured, but 48 students were rendered homeless and they were moved to Camp 29 for temporary quarters.  Of them included both ex-Artesians Michael and John.  One of my Captain's reached out to them to extend a place in another Institute, but they declined and preferred to stay with the other students.  They were not treated like prisoners and given free range and encouraged to leave the camp grounds and visit the city.

They were all assured that their graduation would not be delayed and would be released from the re-education within six months.  Michael and John were also both offered positions at the Montresor by invitation of Ingrid Glikmann after their graduation.

I didn't think much of it until Oliver shared the Perkin's Home was also the repository for all the re-education records for the last 55 years.  All of those were lost in the fire and there were no additional copies kept, which was not standard procedure.

No investigation was made and the grounds were already being cleared to make room for a new Perkin's building.  A faulty electrical circuit was blamed and it originated on the fifth floor which thankfully gave the students who slept on the second floor ample time to escape the burning building.  All records were kept on the forth floor.

The Housing director was fired for incompetence and a new director quickly replaced him.  Oliver as part of his duties was in the selection committee and as a favor to Ingrid hired her college friend.  I asked how much more in debt was she, he laughed it off and walked back to his office.

The day after the fire, Ingrid called and paid a visit at my apartment.  She shared that she extended the employment offers to Michael and John as a favor to me.  I wasn't clear as to why as I had little to do with them and if anything my only connection was through Karl and even then a weak one as they were ex-Artesians.  She then floored me by saying she is an Artesian and so was Oliver.

I slammed the door after demanding she leave.  She seemed bemused and strangely relaxed at having told a stranger she had never met before that she was a member of the most reviled group with nearly all of its known members having died in prison, including Knut.

My thoughts began to race and I immediately wondered if Stephan Gustafson was also an Artesian?  And if so, how many more members of the Commissariat, or even the entire Politiburo were also Artesians?  Knut was a very charismatic individual and it wasn't outside of fantasy that he may have rallied even more people to his cause, but other than to avoid arrest and imprisonment, why would they start to unmask themselves now?

It pained me, but I reached a difficult decision to inform on Oliver and Ingrid and speak to General Gustafson.  The Colonel was awaiting my command and spoke with Gustafson.  Within minutes of our conversation agents and cars arrived at the homes of both Ingrid Glikmann and Oliver Pleagos.  It was also inferred both Michael and John were transferred back to Schols and placed into hard labor.

Chapter 7 - A Day of Revolutions

July 16th is a National Holiday where everyone celebrates when the new Constitution was signed by all the heroes of the Republic.  One of my fore bearers and my family namesake was one of those heroes and thus guaranteeing every generation of a suitable position and office.

I used to dread Constitution Day as my teachers and classmates would have me stand and bow to their standing ovation when they recited each of the 47 names of the signatories.  My forebearer was number 33.

My elder brother loved the attention and relished the day.  He easily became an Admiral in the Navy and had commanded several of the most storied and famed ships of the line.  He was a patriot and steadfast loyalist to the cause and thus our parents favorite.

I memorized all the important dates and names, sang the patriotic songs and went through the motions as all good school children, but my parents knew my heart was not into the Revolution, but our status afforded me this luxury that so few had.  I was free to reject everything.

It was brother who sat me down one day when I was ten and set me straight on the world.  He told us of our great uncle who had died in the war.  He then shared with me what grandfather had told our father and he in turn told him that he was actually murdered before he could commit treason.  He as it turned out was very much like me and began to reject everything and so our grandfather had him shot.  And to make it clear how serious an infraction I was making he handed me the bullet they pulled from our great uncle's skull in the palm of my hand then wrapped my fingers tightly around it.

He embraced me as his dear brother and said that he would not hesitate to kill any enemies of the Republic be it foreign or at home.  I never again rejected everything, well, I never again told anyone.

When father was alive, we all met at the ancestral home on a vineyard twenty miles North of town several times a year for family events and holidays.  At least a hundred members of our extended family would gather from all corners of the Republic and it was a festive mood.  My favorite cousins from the coastal province would always be there and we would laugh and play as small children and later share stories before we met again during university.

Every Revolution Day we held a large party and invited the neighbors who included two other name sakes of signatories, the Adelaides, number 43 and the Yorkmans, number 46.  Naturally, our social status being based on what position our family name was on the charter.

The Adelaides were mere wine merchants who had the good fortune of a vintners son surviving the pivotal battle against the old guard and was present at the signing of the charter.  The Yorkmans, were once a more respected clan had fallen on hard times, but their forebearer was a General who fought in many of the major engagements and would have signed much earlier, but was late to the ceremonies, something they've resented and felt he could have signed as early as 7 or 8.

This was something anyone related to the 47 signatories often bantered and engaged in foolish and pointless debate.  My forebear was also a vintners son, but had proudly saved the day at the final battle.  He carried the flag on his wounded left shoulder and stood on a hill so the rest of the regiments could know which direction to charge.  He was merely a private of low rank, but a General Gustafson carried him to a field hospital after the battle and it was near there were the charter was signed.  Gustafson raised my forebearer's arm and helped him place his mark.

The Great Mural memorializing this momentous day stands over two hundred feet tall and even wider by some margins.  You can see my forebearer on a stretcher with arm raised signing our family name.  Each letter of our name taller than me standing before you.  I am always reminded of this as I pass by the Mural in the City Center.

This always placed a prize on both my brother and my head as suitable bachelors and for a time I was enthralled in the embrace of one of the Adelaide sisters a young Matilda.  It never lasted and she went on to marry someone of even better standing, a signatory 27.  It was a good pairing and they genuinely loved each other.  We paid our pleasantries at family gatherings and every Revolution Day.

Chapter 6 - The Montresor

The Montresor is the Art Academy on the East side of town.  All of the fallen art through the ages are housed in exhibits in the various wings of the seven story building.  Before it was designated as such, it was a rat infested tenement.  Most of the other decaying tenements had been torn down, but the Montresor remains and was restored and repurposed.

The chief curator, an Ingrid Glikmann has served in her role for eight years and was appointed by Sigmund Delemont's successor.  She was the typical academic and quite pleased with her coveted spot and spent her days wandering the various exhibits.  Even with her somewhat erratic behavior, she was a very competent curator and maintained several warehouses outside the city holding the larger collection of artworks.  She had three assistant directors who rotated through their duties and meticulously maintained the catalogs and regular rotations of exhibits.  This fall they were going to devote an entire floor of the west wing to Greek and Egyptian art centered with the Rosetta stone.  They did it every year.

Ingrid was a friend of Oliver's and she joined us one day for lunch near the Montresor.  She knew of a cafe that served delicious sandwiches and we agreed to meet her and discuss the annual budget.  Naturally, she asked for an increase and was dismayed the bureau had asked her for a significant cut in spending.  It would mean she would have to layoff a third of her staff.

There was little we could do as the budgets were established by a committee and the state chief who was further given direction from the central chief in the capital.  Of course, we lied.  Ingrid knew it, but this was all formalities and went through this every year with Oliver.  A tit for tat, a quid and a pro, I was not interested in these hobbies of his and asked directly my reason for being invited and Ingrid brightened up and said she was a friend of Karl Knutmudsen.

She had heard that I had been trying to find out about Karl for almost a decade and finally got some news about what happened to poor Karl.  She asked me if there was anything I was allowed to share with her or be willing to give in secret.

He died three years ago.  He was shot while trying to escape.  Oliver said it point of fact as he picked at his salad.  Ingrid frowned and and couldn't believe it as that didn't sound like him.  She then confessed, she and Karl had dated while in college.  She was a few years younger, but met him in his final year of university.  They kept in touch while he climbed his way up to a Commissariat and total silence after the Artesian movement.

Oliver was bit upset that Ingrid asked him to invite me to lunch.  If she wanted to know about Karl he would have already told her as we both knew the same information.  But it was Ingrid who knew of me as Karl had spoken of me and she felt she could trust me.  This really upset Oliver.

I confessed that while I knew Karl and we both were in school together and later worked together under Sigmund Delemont.  He never mentioned Ingrid before.  While she was his type, he normally didn't date academics and was honest to question what her motivations and intents were in asking about Karl.

Ingrid sighed and demurred.  She was just an art critic and knew little of politics.  Her only excitement these days was the ever decreasing pie that was her financial budget outlays and her frequent bribery of Oliver to sustain the Montresor.

Out of the blue, I asked if she knew Sophie Gustafson.  Ingrid seemed quite startled by a seemingly random name and I was curious at her odd reaction.  She stuttered Sophie's name and said they were classmates.  Oliver was equally startled and didn't realize she knew Gustafson's daughter.  We found this very odd as Sophie knew the night Karl was dead and could have told her years ago.

Ingrid sighed again and said while she knew Sophie, they are no longer close friends.  They haven't been close since Stephan's death and even more so when she learned Ingrid had dated Karl.  She really hated him and she didn't want to ask him even if it was about his death.

Oddly enough, Ingrid said Sophie contacted her recently and wanted to meet her for dinner.  She was shocked at the invitation as she hadn't stepped foot out of her home since Stephan died, except to visit Karl in prison.  She knew of her visits to see Karl and was surprised to hear she had visited him twice the week before he died and her frequent phone calls to Schols.

It really ruined poor Sophie when Stephan died.  Stephan was a good man, and there was no good reason for his death.  Ingrid then changed subject and said that Stephan was quite the art enthusiast and frequently visited the Montresor when she was still a student and working there as a volunteer.  He often came to enjoy the exhibits fully dressed in his military uniform.  All the girls working there at the time would swoon and they eagerly waited for his weekly visits.

She knew Stephan as he had been Karl's attache and they sometimes spoke, mostly of Karl or of the art.  In another lifetime perhaps, Stephan would have been a curator and sitting here having lunch with two Commissars of the Republic.  We finished our lunch and she gave us a private, guided tour.

Oliver remained for further spirited discussions on maintaining her annual budget and I returned to the Politburo.  I thought to myself a loud in the car would I ever be free of the Knut?

Chapter 5 - The Dead Commisar

Peter Recnig was the unfortunate Commisar who always liked to arrive early to the office.  He was at his desk reading the daily reports when the Artesians stormed the building and kicked the doors and found him.  They dragged him into a conference room and in front of live cameras executed him with a shot to the head.  He barely had a few minutes to compose himself.

There was nothing remarkable or surprising about Peter and even less so his role as chief of agriculture.  Gustafson was thorough and had every possibility, every angle investigated, re investigated and nothing.  They thought it might have been a hit job, perhaps he was hiding something about the wheat yields, but none of that made any sense.  The more outlandish the theory, it was investigated.

In the end, even the agents were frustrated and closed the investigation as there was nothing but simply a murder by the mad men in the Artesian movement.  The Artesians had recorded the evidence and had the murder weapon.  They kept the case file open for a full eighteen months before concluding it was simply a murder.  Peter was just a nice guy at the wrong place and at the wrong time.  An unlucky and unwilling participant.

I chose to not pursue this any further and returned Karl's case file to Gustafson.  I still felt troubled and openly admitted to him that while I had seen more than enough to reach the same conclusion as everyone else, I just felt a nagging pain in my gut that something wasn't right.  Gustafson also agreed and he felt that way for years and did everything in his power and office to find what it might be and he too came up empty.  He then ended the meeting by asking if this would conclude my inquiry in Karl Knutmudsen's death and I said yes and he bid be good day.

Without anything else to go by I didn't bother to reach out to Michael or John and did cease my investigation and resumed my duties as a Commisar.

How bizarre, why would they wait three years to tell me all of this?  That was a nagging feeling and I wondered if this was all intentional by Gustafson's part to have someone keep looking?  He didn't seem the type to play these sorts of games, but I had spent the better part of a decade and decided enough time had passed and had nothing to gain by all this.  Goodbye Karl.

Chapter 4 - Gustafson

General Wolf Gustafson was a famous war hero.  He was a lifer and loathed being transferred to what he considered a position beneath his status as chief of the prison systems, but he did so with no complaint and with utmost precision and efficiency.  That was how he approached everything, even things he absolutely detested.

The prison system was the crown jewel of the new law and order mandates championed by the city leaders and they indeed worked as prescribed to help calm and make everyone feel safe again.  Many credited Gustafson for achieving this feat and he was offered a post back in the Army, but surprisingly refused and remained in his post as commisar until his retirement.  A stubborn example of the old breed.

His only soft spot was in his three children, two sons Stephan, Sigmund and and his dearest one of all the eldest, his daughter Sophie.  Stephan was the youngest and in turn Sophie's favorite and the three often quarreled as siblings often do.

The tragedy of Stephan's death hurt Sophie the most and she never married and remained locked away on the Gustafson estate ever since.  She utterly despised Karl and blamed him for young Stephan's death and implored her father to have him punished severely.  She never quite understood, nor forgave him completely for allowing Karl to live for so long and to be treated so nicely.

It was with great regret that Gustafson had Sophie investigated shortly after the night Karl was shot and killed.  The agents were very thorough and noticed she had been in contact with the prison chief Schols and had called several times on the night Karl was killed both before and after.  It was much too suspicious and Sophie was questioned and interrogated over the course of several months, but the agents found nothing.

While the motive was there, she was still a Gustafson.  She confirmed she had called Schols and did so when she learned Karl was killed and asked for the details.  She was happy with his death and her mood markedly brightened afterwards as well as her relationship with her father, although nowhere near her original self when Stephan was still alive.

The prison logs also showed she had visited Karl several times, including twice in the week before he died.  They met in a the standard conference room and the conversations were monitored by several guards.  She blamed him for Stephan's death and hoped he would suffer.  It wasn't clear as to why Karl would agree to meet with her, but he felt it his duty to meet Sophie even with each vicious tirade.

The agents concluded as I also did that this was red herring and Sophie had no involvement in Karl's death and everything they could gather he died by his own volition.

Chapter 3 - The Knut

Before I knew Karl Knutmudsen, I knew him simply as the 'Knut'.  We were both in the same fraternity and he was often the life of the party.  While I was focused on my studies and spent my days in the library, he was often gallivanting about and didn't seem so intent on graduating.  He did only enough to pass his grades and arrived at graduation in a stupor.

I never took him as someone very serious about politics and was surprised when we both made attaches to the senior commissariat Sigmund Delemont.  It felt strange and wondered if Karl was somehow connected, but he came from modest means and spoke little of his parents other than they ran a small shop and he had a younger sister Greta.  I worked tirelessly to secure such a coveted spot and was flabbergasted to find he was offered it by Sigmund himself.

But then I realized he was a serious academic and hid behind a facade his keen intellect.  He was nothing less than amazing and quickly rose through the ranks and became a bureau chief within two years.  He never forgot me and as soon as a position opened he made me a bureau chief and both of our aspirations were skyrocketing.

The monthly station conferences were nothing short of a spectacle with the Knut.  Oliver fondly remembers those days and was a willing accomplice in his antics.  Above all others Oliver idolized Knut who was a bit of a mentor to him.  We never recalled any interaction between Karl and Gustafson who then wasn't part of the bureau and still assigned to the Army.  And Gustafson only arrived after the Artesians.

Stephan Gustafson however, was briefly an attache assigned to Sigmund and he was referred to Knut and myself and we both made our first acquaintance with the General through his son.  Stephan was recalled less than a year later to serve with the Army and it was about three years afterwards he died in the main lobby of the Politiburo during the uprising.  Karl felt personally responsible with his death as it was one of the Artesians who shot him.

But before that, we began seeing a marked change in the Knut's temperament around the time Stephan left.  It was when the Artesians began causing a disturbance and Oliver and myself were dismayed when Karl approached us one day trying to recruit us over to the Artesian's cause.  It wasn't long after that we stopped socializing with Karl.

The day the Artesians stormed the Politiburo, Karl called me and warned me not to go into town.  I asked him why and he wouldn't share beyond that it was a matter of life and death.  I called Oliver a short while later and said he got the same warning and we decided to call the security chief.  By then it was already too late and the chief was also telling us not to go anywhere near the Politburo as there had been shots fired and several people injured.

We watched as it all unfolded and then tried to sort through the pieces in the aftermath.  A dozen people were killed including a senior commisar, several bureau chiefs and Stephan Gustafson.  None of the Artesians died that day, but about eighty seven of its members and those suspected of being a member were summarily rounded up, given a trial and sentenced to hard labor.

It was a very tense time and I remember both Oliver and myself were interviewed by several special agents.  But the interviews concluded as quickly as they started and an eerie calm and peace returned to the city.  It was as if the uprising never occurred and the Artesians were just a memory.

Chapter 2 - Camp 47

Camp 47 where Karl's attache was being held had no walls, no barb wire and with the exception of a lone guard tower was manned by a few armed guards.  About three hundred inmates were held there and kept under the supervision of a handful of overseers who largely relied on a group of elected inmates who managed and kept everyone in line.  If someone wanted, they could simply walk away from Camp 47.

We were met by the Camp chief at the long driveway heading in the central L shaped concrete structure that housed the main administration offices, laundry, mess hall and other necessary elements of a prison.  He gave us a brief tour and directed me to a small room with windows open to the main prison yard.  A few dozen inmates were walking about on the yard and the Camp chief had one of his assistants find Karl's attache who was among those outside.

We saw a tall, lanky man look towards our direction and he walked towards the room and was seated across from the Camp chief, the Colonel and myself.  He introduced himself as John and he had worked for Karl for only a few months before the uprisings.  He confirmed he had been shot while trying to escape and that they were all imprisoned together.  As he had barely been with the Artesian movement, the judge gave him a lighter sentence of 10 years.  He has since served them and until recently was serving the final three months at Camp 47.

There was no bitterness or nervousness in his voice and he was calm and open.  He mentioned initially in the first year there was some roughness among the prison guards and he had been punched and kicked a few times, but in hindsight these were minor grievances.  All things considered, he looked forward to being released and closing that chapter in his life.  He genuinely felt regret and remorse for having wasted time being involved with the Artesians.

The Camp chief then left the room and we were alone for the rest of the day with John.  John then asked who I was and why my interest in his old boss.  He didn't feel comfortable in my asking about Karl and remembers the night he was shot.  They were in the same bunkrow and when they were to retire for the night, he bolted and tried to make it out to the prison yard.  The guards shouted and warned him several times and fired a few shots in the air before they finally killed him.

They gave him ample warning and it wasn't clear why he chose to run that evening.  The whole prison was locked down and over the course of several months a steady stream of officials including Gustafson paid a visit and there were countless investigations.  It was a tense period and there were still a few dozen Artesians that he remembered along with Michael and himself.  But within three years, only Michael and himself remained and the others died out from hard labor.  Nobody else was shot.

In fact, besides Karl only one other Artesian had been shot and it was one of the ringleaders of the rebellion, but that was during the more turbulent days shortly after their arrival to the prison.  Karl was visibly upset by the death of his friend and protested for weeks that culminated in a hunger strike.  He shared the same details with Gustafson who also opened an investigation to that shooting, but found nothing.

Gustafson was quite thorough and he was very upset with Karl's death.  While he never visited the prison until after his death, he ensured he was treated better than others and he made sure that all the Artesians were treated fairly, even though most knew they would never leave the prisons alive.

The Camp chief returned after an hour had passed and asked if we needed more time.  We ended the meeting and returned to our car.  The Camp chief handed me a letter to give to Gustafson and we thanked him for his generosity.  He shared further that John would be released in two weeks and would be at the Perkin's re-education institute, the same one where Michael was attending.  Gustafson fully anticipated we would seek them out later and decided to give this information after I had met with John.

I asked if there was anything more and the Camp chief said nothing that he could recall.  He knew of Gustafson and of his reputation, but he actually knew very little of the Artesians other than their rebellion.  He considered John nothing more than a petty criminal, but who had paid his debts to society.

The Colonel was now very intrigued and thought this a murder mystery worth solving.  Evidence, facts and even access to witnesses are now being given so freely, but why three years after Karl's death?  What was the significance or sudden about face?  The Colonel had one of the Captain's hand deliver the letter to Gustafson that day.

Chapter 1 - The Politiburo

In the early days, it was quite clear that law and order was necessary and above all desired.  The decision and agreement was near unanimous with only an obscure few minor officials who objected to the implementation of the sweeping reforms that created the social apparatus we know as today in the political state.

The first few weeks and months were understandably confusing and chaotic as policies were still being written and what was taking in action by the various bureau chiefs caused some consternation among the ranks, but like all things practice makes perfect and over time people began to identify certain things worked best and they became law and this was a beautiful thing.

The official figures and numbers in those days cited that things have markedly improved and as time has proven things were largely correct and we enjoy our prosperous society.

But I will spend some time to discuss now those few minor officials.  One was named Karl Knutmudsen.  He was a friend of mine and we both attended university together and for the most part were considered equals.  His world view however changed over time and he became more associated with the liberal left-minded Artesians.  In principle, the Artesians upheld some very lofty and positive goals, but in truth they lacked the basic grasp of reality and when pressed to perform or even achieve some measure of their ideology it brought about violence and derision.

It's difficult for me to write this as Karl was not a bad person, many of the Artesians were in general cultured and with good intentions.  It's even more difficult as those in power generally are viewed in a skeptical light when discussing their political foes and with those considerations I tread lightly on the subject of the Artesians and leave it as a great sorrow that they chose to revolt and were expunged.

None of the Artesians were spared and all were sent to the prison camps.  And in his nature, when offered a chance of a lighter sentence, my dear friend Karl declined and joined his compatriots.  The prison camps were fair, but strict and even severe in dealing with their prisoners and while little was recorded, I never heard from or of Karl or of any of the original Artesians.

The doorman opened the door of the car and I stepped out on the sidewalk in front of the headquarters of the Politiburo.  He ushered me to the main entrance and I was greeted and saluted by a pair of guards who then opened the main doors and pass through metal detectors and scanners into the lobby.  A senior officer, a Colonel accompanied by two Captains greeted me and we walked to the elevators up to the 11th floor where the city chiefs were convening for our monthly conference.  I knew the Colonel as a former Artilleryman and we joked that he viewed everything like a cannon.  In shallow humor, a few well placed heavy shells could have evaporated the entire city leadership in barely a second.

Commissar Oliver rose to start the meeting and began with pleasantries and a slideshow of the standard figures and updates from the various government bureaus and state affairs.  Each of the seven chiefs spoke in turn and within twenty minutes the meeting concluded with groups splintering off for more vigorous gossip and discussion.  The sheer efficiency of the process.

I spoke with my friend Commissar Oliver on the fate of my friend.  He sighed and repeated as he did each month that he would see what he could do.  The chief of the prison camps, a Wolf Gustafson was also in attendance and he chatted with Oliver along with an Army General with loud guffaws.  Wolf looked towards my direction and nodded.

After an hour most of the groups have dispersed and Gustafson gestured to me to join him alone in his office on the 8th floor.  The Colonel accompanied me and he was acquainted as they both served in the same military division.  He gave that nudge to be on my guard when speaking with Gustafson and the old General poured us each a drink and mentioned my friend by name.

He knew of him and shared that he was no longer with us.  He said a brief prayer and handed me his file.  It seems he had already known about my inquiry and had been holding onto the file for some time.  Gustafson was blunt and said he had been shot while trying to escape.  While he questioned such a report and had it investigated as he also knew of Knutmudsen and didn't believe it fit his profile, the camp chief was not someone who lied.

He then shared that this happened three years ago and no one was informed or notified of his passing.  Most of the other Artesians have also died out for various reasons and with exception of one or two junior attache's, there were none left.  He did give away that one of the attache's was Karl's and he had him transferred to another camp and offered an invitation to let me visit him and ask for myself about Knutmudsen.

Wolf made it clear that he wanted me to conclude my inquiry shortly after meeting the attache as it was raising eyebrows and while they had nothing to hide, just the perception of my persistence over the years can cause the wrong impressions.  He looked to the Colonel who responded in kind and we closed with pleasantries and left.

The Colonel commented that Wolf is quite precise and was best to accede when he offered this much.  He arranged for our visit tomorrow and I left for a lunch engagement with Oliver.  Oliver arranged for a private room at the main hotel dining hall and we feasted on much better fare than normal.  We jest that it was my last meal and he shared stories about Gustafson during the war.  The primary point he wanted to impart was Gustafson had a son who was killed during the revolt.  Karl attempted to diffuse the situation and tried to help Gustafson's son Stephan.  The young man died in Karl's arms.  It was for that reason, Gustafson was allowing me to visit.

While most have thought he had him shot.  Wolf was of an older breed.  Oliver was candid that while many thought the Artesians were tortured or executed, that was not true.  While many were sentenced to hard labor and eventually died from the excruciating toil, this was their sentence for waging open rebellion.  It was a chapter we all wanted to close.

I then asked why the attache's were still alive and Karl's had been transferred.  Oliver replied, their involvement was not as severe and hence their sentences had since been served.  The other attache had already been released and was enrolled in a transition house and re-education school.  Karl's would likely join him shortly.

I thought to ask then why share this only now.  And I remembered Gustafson's words.  We finished our meal and I returned to my office for the rest of the day.  The Colonel called a short while later and informed all arrangements had been made and he also confirmed the other attache named Michael had been released a few weeks ago and was indeed in the city and he was already asking one of the Captain's to seek his whereabouts to see if he was agreeable to meeting with me.  He warned me that while nothing seemed ominous or out-of-place and he knew Gustafson and I in turn was friends with Oliver, he felt something was being kept from me and didn't feel comfortable with me meeting with the Attache tomorrow.

I acceded to his concern and agreed that I also felt this quite confusing.  And we both joked that we were being a bit too paranoid for no reason as they offered everything I had asked for.  I left for the evening and retired at my apartment a mile from the city center.