The Devil's Handshake (34 page)

“
Sir Thomas, thank you for
seeing us on short notice,” offered Sergei in fluent English that
would have made a Newsreader on the BBC proud.

The fact that Sergei had chosen to use
Thomas’s title an affectation something that a Russian and
certainly not an officer of the SVR would never do with its links
to the Imperial past had momentarily caught him off guard.

It was something, though not mentioned, that
wasn’t lost on Sergei either.

“
Happy to help Sergei
Andreyevich,” Thomas answered, his composure restored.

When Alexei had rung and told him to expect
him he was privately pleased. He had heard of the legendary Zaslon
unit, but this was the first time he had actually met a member and
certainly not the Director of them. This signaled that Alexei was
taking his concerns seriously and not just giving him lip
service.

“
Sir Thomas, that is
excellent! Although Alexei Nikolai has officially tasked me with
the security of the Ambassador for his arrival next week,” Sergei
started. “Because I am never one for the bullshit why don’t you
tell me about what this Jawari has so we can assess what he needs
and what we have got in the short time available!” he answered
referring to the real nature of his mission.

Thomas quickly decided that he liked the man
sitting across from him dressed like a British lawyer in his
bespoke Saville Row suit with an understated tie.

“
Please call me Thomas,” he
offered towards Sergei just as Sgt. Tan walked into the study with
black tea and coffee, earning a smile in return from the Director
of the Zaslon as an acknowledgement as the old Ghurkha asked if he
would like tea or coffee.

“
I don’t suppose I could
have some sweet English Breakfast Tea, please Sgt. Tan?” asked
Sergei.

Again Thomas raised an eyebrow slightly by
his use of Tan’s previous rank and at his request of a cup of tea
the way all members of the British Army took it.

“
This Petrov is definitely
an interesting man!” he reflected.

“
Why of course, Sir!”
answered the Ghurkha with a beaming smile pleased that an English
friend of his former commanding officer had used his former
rank.

Twenty-four hours later the BBJ plane was on
its way back to Adawlland with ten million U.S. dollars in cash for
chieftain’s whims, along with Thomas, Mikhail and his long standing
permanent security team of Benny Zaguri, Barak Levi, Yossi Spungin
and Avi Ohana and a team of ten men known as Unit B from
Zaslon.

All veterans, experienced in the dark arts of
counter-intelligence and insurgency Unit B had spent the last six
months in Syria training and assisting Assad’s intelligence
service. Led by a thirty-three-year-old dark haired man with his
hair cut crew cut style with brown eyes and olive skin, due to his
mother’s Chechen heritage, called Igor Valeriyoych Protasov.

Although Sergei had been less than
forthcoming in terms of his experience, he did admit to them he was
a graduate of the Foreign Intelligence Academy and over the last
six years had seen service in the Middle East.

As with all the members of Zaslon, he spoke
four languages other than his native Russian, but it was because he
was fluent in Hebrew and English that Sergei decided he would be
the best qualified to work with Thomas and his men.

Assessing him, Thomas could see he had
already seen enough action for two lifetimes from the look in his
eyes. It was the look he once had before Nara and Victoria had
entered his life.

Still probing the young officer the only time
in the last couple of hours he had managed to catch him off guard
was when he had spoken Arabic to him. Immediately Igor had
responded with a Jordanian tint in it, but he could see he was
surprised that he had spoken the language as fluently as him.

Thomas knew then that the young man had spent
time undercover in Amman with the ten thousand strong, exiled
Chechen community. It was something Thomas had said to Igor as well
to test his reaction. Yet again though although Igor had smiled
politely he didn’t comment.

He had of course read the background files on
all them. So the officer knew they weren’t your usual civilians,
plus Sergei Andreyvich had warned him he was no ordinary Oligarch,
but nevertheless he was still impressed “Blagoeodnyy” had picked up
his Jordanian accent.

Despite this, for the moment neither Thomas
nor any members of his team had shared their information with
respect to the observation team that had been watching them in
Borama, as Thomas had wanted that kept in his back pocket for the
moment. The logic was simple.

“
If they were Russian, there
was no point letting on about them, but if they were American and
things started to get out of hand, then the information about the
presence might represent a useful bargaining chip for TLH.” So
instead, they had briefed Igor and his men on all the stress points
in the capital, covering off on their maps and satellite photos the
locations of the hotels, hospital, TV station, airport, petrol
stations, government ministries, electricity hubs, communications
towers, embassies, and residences of key individuals before finally
the various Ministries.

The advance team of the Russian Foreign
Service that was tasked with the setup of the embassy had been very
helpful with this respect. So it was a job made easier by the
excellent photographs they had taken on the ground.

During this time, not offering any value,
Thomas took the opportunity to touch base with home first, then
read the encrypted notes that Saul, who had stayed behind in Moscow
on the GSG business, had sent him. The report covered everything
that good due diligence on a potential acquisition target should
provide, if that was the goal. One name stuck out “Litchfield
Hirsch,” his father’s firm. They had acted as one of advisers on
the other side of the joint venture of his mining deal in Alaska.
He decided to park that revelation for a moment when one of the
plane’s staff said dinner was ready to be served. It wasn’t a hard
decision. Whenever his father’s name popped up it always brought a
mixture of emotions within in. None of them ever good!

Litchfield Hirsch was originally founded in
the mid-1800s in Hong Kong as a trading house by one of their
shared ancestors. The business was originally an importer of opium
but by the 1880s Henry Litchfield, his great, great grandfather,
recognizing the opportunities offered by the emerging rise of the
oil industry, instead started to ship cask oil from Russia to
Japan. His business began to do so well that he was able to
commission his own ships for bulk oil transportation.

By the twentieth century, flush with the
excess capital, Sir Henry’s third son and Thomas’s great
grandfather, Edward, started the Merchant Bank in partnership with
his other great grandfather, his Jewish partner Arabham Hirch.
Together they then set about turning it into one of the best
natural resources merchant banks in the world.

When Thomas’s father Rufus married his
mother, the eighteen-year-old Emilia Hirch, the only child of
Abraham’s son Isaac, many saw it as the as the final merging of the
bloodlines into one on the birth of Thomas.

History though chose otherwise. Despite the
many affairs of his father over the years, his mother had
steadfastly refused to divorce him. It was only when Thomas was up
at Oxford when his father told her that he was leaving her finally
for his young mistress who was pregnant did he finally push her
over the edge. It was as though the loss of her husband and son at
the same time was too much for her to bear.

Her funeral at the family estate was the last
time he had ever spoken to his father despite his father’s many
attempts to reconcile. Indeed he had never met his thirty-year-old
socialite twin half-sisters who were always in the society pages
and their many efforts over the years to engineer a meeting. In
Thomas’s mind, the best way to punish his father was to be better
than him in business, something he long surpassed.

Sitting around the table waiting for dinner,
the three men started to fill in their situation assessment grid
together. It was something neither he nor Mikhail had used since
their days in their respective army careers, thus rekindling
memories of times gone by for both of them.

The meal included a starter of smoked salmon
with traditional garnish of endive salad of goats curd and sweet
mustard dressing, followed by Australian lamb cutlets with new
potatoes with a very good white burgundy by Corton Charlemagne,
Grand-Cru, Rapet père et fils, and finally a vanilla crème brûlée
served with excellent Sauternes by Chateau Laville. It was
something that even a seasoned professional like Igor or any of his
team couldn’t turn down despite being on an operation.

Thomas chuckled watching them all. Soldiers
always enjoyed a good meal before going into battle. It was also
because of meals like this he personally worked out at every given
opportunity in the morning for an hour with each member of his
protection team in turn. If he didn’t, he would be the size of a
house.

Together the team reviewed the weather,
terrain, and how the military aspects could be affected by their
movement around the city and the country; followed by the civil
considerations: political, economic, sociological and psychological
factors that both the President and the perceived threat of the
Interior Minister held.

In the enemy column, each placed into it the
codename ‘Viper’ they agreed would be the call sign to represent
Wasir.

“
Mikhail, were you aware
that he has been recruiting Ukrainians?” Igor asked, formal
barriers broken down over the glass of excellent wine, stopping
dead the briefing.

“
Ukrainians?” answered
Mikhail surprised.

“
Yes our assets in Kiev
inform us that a GSG Security Head a…” Igor paused to check his
notes. “A Tony Wilson and his security consultant an Andrew Martin,
have been hiring former officers of Gaddafi’s Islamic Legion for
deployment into the region to supply advice to the Interior
Ministry on how to protect mining companies,” he
continued.

“
That’s interesting!” Thomas
thought he had heard of Martin, of course, he was a regular
carpetbagger that one would find on AIM listed natural resources
companies.

“
Benny can you look into
that when we land?” ordered a concerned Mikhail earning a nod from
the Israeli in return. He had heard what some of those Ukrainians
and the dead leader’s Tuareg Militia had gotten up to when the
Gaddafi regime was collapsing. The thought sent shivers down
Mikhail’s spine and instantly took him back to Bosnia from a long
time ago.

Mikhail’s mind switched back to the present
and he indicated towards Barek to continue, who did so by quickly
adding his thoughts to the assessment.

“
Dispositions! Let’s see,
Viper maintains over hundred former pirates on the coast in
Lughaya, all listed as Interior Ministry Port Control Officers!”
Barak said with a smirk. “They have limited skills capabilities
though with Toyota Land Cruisers and AK-47 and pistols for weapons.
As men they might be helpful for intimidation, not for firefights
in my opinion,” he added.

Igor nodded adding Barak’s comments to his
notes.

“
In Borama, Viper has ninety
Clan members who are totally loyal, all listed as Interior Ministry
Officers. They run his businesses from whores, tankers, money
lending, and slavery.”

Again they all made notes before Barak
continued on with his briefing on the weaponry they had.

“
Their skill levels are
better than the pirates as they fought in the various militias
against the Ethiopians, Somalis, and Al-Shaahab, so they are battle
hardened and utterly ruthless. Weapons wise though, they are
limited to standard AK-47 and pistols.”

“
At the Airport, Viper has
an IL-76 transporter which is his air cargo business. It is run by
a Turkmen who lives between Borama and Dubai,” advised Mikhail
interrupting Barak for just a moment.

“
Well, he just added to that
fleet,” interjected Igor.

“
Really! What has he
bought?” asked Thomas, as he wrote his own notes.

“
A Mil-17 helicopter!”
answered Igor

“
Omar didn’t tell me that!”
Thomas replied, assuming that the government had purchased the
helicopter Gunship as he put his pen down.

“
It was paid for by GSG,”
answered Igor.

“
Don’t tell me Ukrainians?”
asked Mikhail, a little pissed off as it was something he had only
just asked Saul to organize for their interests down there. The
Minister had beaten him to the punch.

Igor just offered a wry smile. They had some
handheld Strela 2 shoulder missiles to deal with any Halo threats,
but he knew it was unlikely, as Sergei had informed him that he
would get the director to deal with neutralizing the threat of
having a gunship running around with 57 mm rocket pods. Instead,
Igor’s mind was focused on whether they had to deal with any tanks
or armored vehicles. It was the next question he asked Mikhail.

“
Viper uses a couple of
Armored B6 Toyota Land Cruisers and is guarded by a team of ten,
led by his oldest son Mohammed. All experienced, again ex-militia,
but it’s my assessment that they’re not really trained in close
protection skills. That said they are loyal and carry Heckler &
Koch UMPs, so they are well equipped,” Mikhail replied.

“
At Viper’s villa he has
four mounted M60 machines guns at each corner with thirty men all
armed with AKs. Vehicles wise, again three Toyota Land Cruisers not
armored though one is a pick-up with a mounted M60,” Mikhail
continued as he pointed to the house’s location on the overhead
shots of Borama.