The Devil's Handshake (30 page)

Angus offered a question back. “So why is he
a problem Mrs. Field?”

“
I take it you’re aware of
his rather suspect past and business operations?” she countered
ignoring Angus’s question for the moment.

“
Well my dear, we know he
isn’t a saint!” Angus answered annoyed at her rudeness in ignoring
his probing and the fact that it was an unwritten rule that the
role of MI6 wasn’t there to pass judgment on Her Majesty’s subjects
and business practices of companies registered in the United
Kingdom with regimes, not under UN Sanctions. It was only supposed
to get involved or provide assessment with respect to whether
British interests were at risk. This was a line of questioning was
overstepping the mark in his opinion.

“
Bribery! I will be damned,”
he thought.

Sensing she had touched a nerve by Angus’s
tone, this time Rebecca chose to stay silent to get the answer she
needed to hear one way or another.

How Thomas answered it over the coming
seconds or minutes, would tell her whether he would be an asset or
represent an obstacle to her plans. Reading her face, trusting his
instincts that there was more to this than meets the eye, Thomas
chose to answer her question.

As he did so, Angus raised an eyebrow at his
answer.

“
Elizabeth, I actually agree
with your service’s assessment. I think he is a dangerous man with
his own agenda with respect to the leadership of his country and he
is somebody that we are very aware could cause serious harm to TLH
reputation if we do business with him.”

Her next answer totally surprised him in
return.

“
Her Majesty Government will
be pleased to hear that, Sir Thomas, as you are aware the Prime
Minister is keen on seeing your investment in the country gets the
full support it needs. I have been tasked with making sure that
happens and it is our office opinion he represents a clear threat
to that.”

Rebecca’s next statement told them
everything.

“
Our American cousins
believe he is a strong leader who has the support of the Clans.
Therefore he represents to them a potential ally in the region
against Al-Shabaab for them.”

“
Interesting,” answered
Thomas quickly understanding the significance of the exchange of
information now taking place, for Al-Shabaab though a useful “PR”
tool, had nothing to do with the real reason behind the American
positioning.

“
So they think that the
Russians are backing the wrong man in the President?” asked
Angus.

“
That appears to be their
assessment of the situation in Adwalland,” answered
Rebecca.

Deciding to push a little further, Thomas
asked, “So if he were to convince the Chiefs that he was a suitable
alternative then he could count on their full support?”

“
We can’t speak for our
cousins, but we believe that is indeed the case,” the MI6 officer
responded without emotion, years of training masking Rebecca’s true
feelings.

A dumbfounded Angus now sat in silence
processing Rebecca’s words as she started her briefing on Wasir
Osman Hassan to ensure that TLH Group could best prepare with the
threats coming from within Adwalland.

“
Her Majesty’s Secret
Service has just basically tipped a wink towards us that they’d
rather see the Russians secure their interests in Africa over that
of the United States of America! Just like Thomas told me over
lunch,” the old General thought as she went about briefing them on
the Americans view of him.

“
The next Cold War is not
going to be fought over ideology but rather over natural resources
and in future, Her Majesty’s interests will have to be wrapped up
in who best provides them to our way of life,” Thomas had said to
him.

“
That’s the only ideology
that matters now, Angus,” he had said with absolute conviction when
they had disagreed with each other two hours earlier.

“
Britain would never back
the Russians over American interests there’s just too much history,
old boy,” he had said to back to Thomas, but now this beautiful
young woman had just proved him wrong. He suddenly felt very
old.

“
It was always easier when
it was just black or white, Communist or Capitalist, Christian or
Muslim, Jew or Muslim, this new game only had survival of the
fittest at its heart,” Angus sadly thought.

“
The lines from now on would
only be blurred!” he reflected in sadness. “The world was now the
Devil’s playground!”

By letting Thomas know the Americans were
taking a close look at Wasir as a possible replacement of the
President she had thereby planted a seed. Dressing for dinner,
Rebecca’s mind pondered on their exchange of the afternoon.

“
Dad would be pleased in his
little Jewish princess!” she told herself as she did her
makeup.

She hadn’t actually formulated what she would
do had Thomas’s answers indicated that he had in fact, a close
relationship with Wasir. The fact that he didn’t, she took as a
sign of “Bashert” was in motion.

Pleased with her overall appearance, she was
wearing a simple long, black evening dress with her hair up in a
bun above her face to show off her angled features. She picked up
her clutch bag as she shut the door behind her and joined the rest
of the guests in the lobby to wait for the convoy of BMWs and Audis
that had been leased to take guests to the main house.

She spotted Michael dressed in a white dinner
jacket with black trousers engaged in conversation with a colored
gentleman and a lady Rebecca assumed immediately were Somali by
their profiles. She gracefully joined them at his side.

“
Ah, Elizabeth there you
are!” Michael said smiling as he kissed her cheek.

“
I was just having a chat
here with His Excellency Suleiman Qalajango and his lovely wife,
Aasyia,” Michael said. “Your Excellency, may I introduce my
colleague, Mrs. Elizabeth Field,” he said keeping in line with
their simple cover of civil servants newly attached to the East
Africa desk. She offered her hand to the man who she guessed was
the Ambassador of Adwalland and whom Michael had befriended
earlier, before they had had a cup of tea together on her return
from the main house so she could brief him on the meeting she just
had with Thomas and Angus.

After introductions, a young member of staff,
with an overriding instruction to herd the guests towards the cars
outside to maintain the steady flow up to the house and avoid
congestion in the lobby, wandered over. Politely he asked that the
four of them make their way out of the hotel to the porte-cochere
where a car would take them to the main house. Taking the hint,
Michael suggested that they should catch up later. Something the
Ambassador also agreed on.

Reaching the house in a matter of minutes
they were met by yet another member of staff who quickly directed
them through the Tudor hall and out towards the back of the house.
As they wandered through the corridor, Michael’s eye was drawn to
an overly large picture of an Elizabethan Buccaneer with piercing
eyes watching over them from above.

“
He looks like a hard
bastard! Christ, doesn’t he look like Litchfield,” Michael
observed.

“
Yes he does,” answered
Rebecca. “They’re very similar as well!” she offered.

“
Really?” asked
Michael.

“
That’s Sir Humphrey
Litchfield. He was one of Elizabeth the First’s famous Seadogs,”
she briefed him.

“
Christ, you really do know
everything about Litchfield!” replied an impressed Michael with a
smile at the extent of her knowledge covering his family
history.

“
That’s a little harsh
Elizabeth, I have never traded slaves!” a voice behind them said
with a chuckle as he joined them.

“
You must be David,” Thomas
said, dressed like Michael in a tailored white dinner jacket and
black trousers, offering his hand

Taking his hand with a firm handshake,
Michael confirmed his cover identity.

“
I trust everybody is
looking after you?” Thomas enquired as he did earlier with
Rebecca.

“
Very much so, Sir Thomas,
and thank you for inviting us this evening,” replied the diplomat
despite his hidden agenda.

“
You’re most welcome and
thank you very much for your assistance,” Thomas responded in turn
in reference to his and Rebecca’s meeting this afternoon as Nara
wearing a stunning couture Chanel dress joined him at his
side.

“
Madam Gurbanammedowova, I
am Elizabeth,” Rebecca said offering her hand seizing the
initiative to introduce herself to the woman who shared Thomas’s
life.

“
I am impressed, Elizabeth,
most people have no idea how to pronounce my name,” Nara replied
smiling, taking Rebecca’s hand who in turn was also assessing the
attractive mature woman in front of her.

Thomas looked on with a quizzical eye.

“
There were very few women
in the world who can hold a candle visually to Nara in looks.
Rebecca, although a polar opposite, is one of them,” he concluded
as Rebecca informed Nara in fluent Russian with a hint of a French
accent that was because she was once attached to the British
Embassy in Moscow.

“
Your Russian is perfect!”
an impressed Nara said with a sparkle in her eyes.

“
With a St. Petersburg
accent as well!” injected an equally impressed Thomas as if a
complement in reference to the fact that her accent with its French
undertones sounded like the highborn society women of the early
twentieth century from that city.

“
A lady of many talents,”
Nara implied, now eyeing up the woman copiously considering her as
a possible rival after seeing the light in her Thomas’s eyes as he
looked down at the woman while she introduced herself to her
companion.

It was something that hadn’t been lost on
Michael either as they wandered out towards the lawns of the house
at the back, having had their introductions curtailed by Nara
spotting one of her friends behind them, dragging Thomas off to say
hello to them.

“
I see he likes you,
Elizabeth! Are you sure you two never met in Moscow?” he asked ever
the intelligence officer, knowing they were both there at the same
time.

She turned her head ever so slightly towards
Michael. “His eyes just like to wander!” she answered, attempting
to deflect him.

Michael smirked as if not quite believing her
as yet another member of staff asked for their names so he could
show them to their table for the night.

“
My eyes wouldn’t wander if
I had that firecracker in my life!” He muttered in reference to
Nara’s beauty as they followed the young man to their
table.

“
Michael! What would your
wife say,” mocked Rebecca.

“
Where did he find her?” he
asked intrigued whist ignoring the quip.

“
The legend goes he bought
her off a pimp in Turkmenistan!” answered Rebecca quietly as they
walked down the path of the gardens.

“
Really!” he answered in
genuine shock.

“
So he is a slave trader
then,” he joked as he took onboard her response.

Rebecca smiled back at Michael’s joke but
didn’t say a word.

“
He certainly doesn’t play
by the rules of society!” she thought knowing the details behind
the legend of how the beautiful woman entered his life having
researched him. The psychoanalyst report made reference to the
particular moments and decisions in his life appeared to follow a
form of Homeric views.

Not knowing what the analyst meant by Homeric
she had looked it up and agreed instantly with his synopsis. It was
why she used the Greek legends during their conversation at the
Connaught.

“
Everything he undertakes in
his professional and personal life appears to have reason,
intelligence, worldliness, secularism, courage, honor, integrity,
and restraint,” the analyst had concluded. Rebecca though
recognized something else. That being, because Thomas was bound to
act in a particular way and to live up to his nature and not shirk
from it. More specifically he had a strong inner and outer strength
to achieve it. This meant once you put them all together then it
was fair to assume that Thomas certainly didn’t feel the need to
conform to the defined laws of society or even feel the need to be
bound to it and as such in the future, this might represent a
threat if on the other side,

The saving of the beautiful woman at his side
was pure consequence of those views. The romantic in Rebecca saw
him as a throwback to a warrior king from the stories of ancient
Charlemagne. Yet from a national security viewpoint Thomas
represented a dangerous threat to the national security and to the
way of life she had sworn to protect if Britain’s interests ran
contrary to his own, such was his influence and power.

For now though, he was an ally in her quest.
At their table Rebecca and Michael found the dashing Angus and his
wife, Anne, the rather young looking new Russian Ambassador to
Adwalland known as Vitkor Vladimirovich Karpin, and his wife
Olga.

Introductions out of the way, the dinner
started with a routine by a famous wit from British Television and
a contemporary of Thomas’s from Oxford as the host of the night
promptly followed by a short speech by Thomas.

With the first courses delivered as the first
band of the night started the entertainment, all the parties made a
toast with the excellent Penat-Chardonnet Grande Reserve Grande
Cru.