The Devil's Handshake (50 page)

A gust of wind out of nowhere in response,
Thomas took it as a sign his mother would do as he asked. He leaned
down and kissed his daughter’s head again at his side, getting
another squeeze of his hand in return from the little girl.

An hour later back at the house Thomas found
and asked for a moment with his father.

“
Of course, Thomas,” Rufus
answered putting down his cup of tea.

Walking into the study, he closed the door
behind them. Straightaway Thomas spotted the chess set on the side
table.

“
I would like very much if
we could have a game together again,” his Father said having
spotted what he was looking at as he placed his hand on Thomas’s
shoulder.

“
As you wish Father,” Thomas
responded before giving the reasons why he had asked for a moment
alone with him not really wanting to engage in small talk until he
reached an agreement with his father.

Once completed and looking grim his Father
give a singular nod of his head if not his approval for he knew his
son would not change his mind.

“
I ask only one thing in
return,” Rufus said before going on to ask that he and his family
spend Christmas with him on his return from his duty and that he
swore to look after Cecilia and his sisters once he was
gone.

“
I promise you on my honor
that I will,” answered Thomas without a second thought despite his
feelings towards Cecilia.

His response was a source of great relief for
the old man. He had worried considerably over the years that once
he was gone from this world his son would reap his vengeance upon
Cecilia and the girls, for though they hadn’t spoken, he still
intended to leave the company and house to him as honor demanded
but most of all he had worried about his son’s exotic business
reputation with its unproven links to a number of high profile
deaths in Russia and the former Soviet Union.

Over the years, Cecilia had lobbied hard for
him change his will on the basis that Thomas didn’t need his money
and would only kick them out with nothing. Relentlessly using the
logic that Thomas had not once had he made the effort to be part of
their life despite his and the girls multiple attempts not really
understanding that was the least of her worries.

The answer his son had just given him had
immediately lifted the weight of the world of his old shoulders.
Now his concerns would be directed to that of his son’s chosen
path.

Seeing an ivory piece on the chessboard,
Rufus suddenly picked it up and threw it towards his son. Catching
it, Thomas looked at the piece and smiled: It was the Knight.

“
Bring it back for our
game!” he ordered his son and heir.

“
So like his mother,” he
thought. “Always swimming upstream as though he was a salmon to its
fate.”

59

Nouakchott

A week later when sitting in his office, in
the grounds of the Russian Embassy on the Rue Mamadou in the
capital belonging to one of the poorest states in the world
twenty-eight-year-old Anton Vasilyevich Sosnin, the local resident
of the SVR, had nearly fallen off his chair when he received a call
from his line officer at the Wood telling to make himself available
for a team from the famous Planning Division that would be arriving
that night.

He was even more surprised when he received
his encrypted packet to find he was ordered to gather intelligence
on the background on the villa of the now infamous warlord Wasir
Osman Hassan, who was in Nouakchott.

Being his first posting overseas as a
resident and only being in-country for just eight months to find
out he had been sitting on the individual that his country had
declared public enemy number one for his attempted coup d’état and
his massacre of the United Nations Mission of Russia’s new ally in
East Africa, had been a shock to say the least.

He also knew that failure wouldn’t be
tolerated. With his contacts still quite limited, Anton immediately
knew he was going have to do the job himself. The possible loss of
operational security was too great.

Getting into his Toyota Corolla and grateful
for the air conditioning, as the humidity at this time of the year
was an absolute killer, the young intelligence officer drove the
car to the Centre Emetteur district to case the warlord’s
villa.

It didn’t take him long to find the compound
for it was just off the main road. Driving past, Anton quickly made
a mental note of the two guards out the front then parked up about
500 yards up the road, having seen a street seller that he could
use for cover.

Once out of the car he then took a photo
discreetly with his iPhone of the street at the front as he bought
a bottle of cold Seven-Up.

He was able to do so without anybody noticing
because he belonged to the forty thousand strong mixed-race
community of Russia.

The product of a marriage between his Russian
Father and his Cuban Angolan mother had given him features that in
appearance that were similar in looks to a member of the Berber
tribes that inhabited the countries of the Sahara, which is why he
had been chosen by the SVR for a North African posting. When he was
told he going to Nouakchott at the time he had disappointed. He had
hoped for the very least for a posting in Rabat or Tunis. Now he
could see that fate had dealt him a fine hand indeed. Get this
right and he could have his pick of postings.

Finishing his Seven-Up, giving it back to the
trader as was a tradition in the third world countries of the world
so they could return to the bottling plant to fill it up and sell
the contents again, Anton got back into the small car and then
drove around the back of the compound whereupon he proceeded to do
the same thing again. This time finding no guards at the back he
was able freely take a set of photos of the back and each side.
Finished he drove back to his office to make his report to
Moscow.

Within minutes of sending the photos to the
email address he had been given, his phone buzzed.

“
Anton Vasilyevich,” he said
announcing he was the line to the caller.

Five minutes later putting down his phone he
got up, told his secretary that he was taking the rest of the day
off and then drove out of the compound so he could take the short
ten minute drive to the Residence Iman hotel. On reaching the small
five-story pink hotel at the heart of the city he parked outside
its front, got out, and walked up and through the entrance to the
reception of the hotel.

“
Monsieur Morris?” he asked
in French to use the preferred language of the hotel staff of
Nouakchott.

Taking a moment to check if the man was a
guest of the hotel, the man at the front desk nodded then handed
the young intelligence officer the phone so he could speak to the
guest.

Receiving the room number from the same voice
that had asked him to come to the hotel, Anton handed back the
phone, entered the drain smelling lift and made the short journey
to the third floor before stepping out and walking along the
corridor to the end.

On reaching the door he was looking for,
Anton knocked three times. The door opened immediately.

“
Igor Valeriyovich,” the
voice said introducing himself, offering his hand once the young
officer was inside.

Half an hour later, briefing over, Igor
thanked him for his support and let the young resident out of the
suite and closed the door but not before giving him a purchasing
list.

“
I will call Fama and let
him know we’re good to go,” Igor said to his number two.

60

London

Replacing the handset, his encrypted call
with Igor over. Thomas left his office and took the short walk
across the floor of the Berkeley Square townhouse and entered
Mikhail’s office where he found his old friend behind his desk his
feet up, drinking a cup of coffee.

Immediately the bodyguard knew why he was
there.

“
It’s on, Igor advises they
are good to go,” stated Thomas as he closed the door behind
him.

“
I will let the pilots
know,” answered Mikhail as he began to pick up the
phone.

Unlike their usual mode of transport, this
time they would be using an old cargo Boeing 737 they had chartered
especially for the trip and all of them would be traveling on false
passports of Canada, courtesy of the Special Services of
Russia.

Leaving Mikhail and returning to his own
office, Thomas closed the door, picked up the phone and then dialed
the number of his father.

After their meeting at Litchfield House
Thomas had over the last week put into place with Saul all the
necessary documents to make his father in the event of his death
the protector of Victoria’s trusts and most importantly her
Guardian.

“
Father I will be leaving
tonight,” he said as his father answered.

“
Good hunting,” was his
Father’s short but sweet response.

“
Thank you,” answered Thomas
in return. Their relationship may always be complicated, but blood
was blood.

He put down the phone as Mikhail entered the
room to let him know they were good to go.

Thomas said, “I need to go home first before
we go to Gatwick.”

Twenty minutes later they reached the house.
He first found Tania who was sitting in the lounge.

The attractive woman had taken Nara’s death
understandably very badly, and as he entered the woman quickly got
to her feet out of respect to his position as he was the titular
head of their family. He walked up to her and stopped her doing
so.

“
Sit,” he ordered as he
gestured with his hands then followed suit at her side as she did
as she was told. He took hold of hands then looked into her
eyes.

“
I shall be leaving tonight
to avenge our beloved. If I do not return, you’re to stay with
Victoria until she says otherwise,” he ordered in
Turkmen.

“
Yes, Thomas,” answered the
woman her body and hands shaking.

“
If its God’s will that it
is my destiny for him to take me and join Nara, then my father will
take care of you,” he continued using language she would
understand.

Again the woman nodded before looking up
him.

“
Ar Almak,” answered Tania,
meaning “Take Revenge,” in Turkmen before she reached up and kissed
him on both cheeks.

Leaving Tania in the lounge, Thomas went
upstairs to find Victoria. This would be a much more challenging
conversation for although she had just had her first session with
the grievance counselor, she still hadn’t spoken.

Upon finding her alone in her room playing
with her iPad she smiled at him as he walked into the room.

“
Plum, I need to speak to
you for a moment,” he asked gently as he reached her and got down
on one knee, so he was level with her. Face to face.

Putting down the iPad and sensing something
was wrong she turned towards him, still not saying anything but
touching his face with her hand, and taking it in his own hand he
said, “I need to go away for few days.” Horror surfaced in her
eyes, quickly she grabbed him close to her, shaking her head
violently as her way to plead for him not to.

“
Plum, it will be okay Nana
is here, and so is Mr. Pritchard,” he continued on as she refused
to let go.

Looking into her eyes stroking her hair,
trying to comfort her, he kissed his daughter’s head three times.
Releasing her grip after a few moments, he got back up off his
knee, turned and walked away towards the door.

“
D-a-d-d-y! Please don’t
go!” she cried over sobs delivering her first words for weeks in
the process.

Stopped in his tracks by her voice Thomas
turned back around just as she flung herself into his waist.

“
Please D-a-d-d-y!” Victoria
desperately pleaded again so much, so he almost caved into
her.

“
Victoria,” he said using
his finger gently lifting her face up him, before continuing, “I
have to do something for Mummy!” He was struggling to keep his
emotions in check.

“
WHAT?” she demanded, tears
in her eyes.

“
A debt of Honor,” he
whispered.

“
I don’t understand Daddy?”
she asked while holding on to him for dear life.

“
You will one day,
Plum.”

“
But for now I have do this
for your Mother,” he said seriously not wanting to answer her. “I
need you to look after Grandma for me,” he requested so to change
the subject giving his now speaking daughter a responsibility to
focus her mind and still processing the fact she was talking again
fully.

“
Will you do that for me?”
he asked as he looked down at her.

Looking up him the little girl, sensing the
pain in her father’s eyes, suddenly grew up.

“
You will come back? Won’t
you Daddy?” she asked

“
If Allah wills it,
Victoria,” Thomas replied not wanting to lie to his daughter and
treating her as an adult. “Will you let me go?” he asked
finally.

“
Yes, Daddy,” she answered
firmly thinking that was what her mother would say if she were here
sensing the trip was dangerous despite her father not saying so by
his response.

When her mother was alive, she often told her
that her father fought bad men who wanted to hurt them as an answer
when she first asked why they had bodyguards. This must be one of
those times.

“
Thank you,” the former
solider answered with a stiff upper lip making every effort not to
cry over the fact that Victoria was talking again and trying to
show strength for the task he now had to do while experiencing for
the first time since his first operation in Northern Ireland all
those years ago that being: genuine fear.