The Devil's Handshake

by Michael Reagan

54

  Washington D.C.

  The world was in melt down, markets had opened in panic with sell offs everywhere being registered across the board, worse still commodity prices had also risen in sharp razor-like peaks, added to that petrol stations and supermarkets were now starting to report long queues and stockpiling.

  All sparked from the response by the Russians that they were sending their "peacekeeping" troops to the Mission in Lughaya.

  For the President of the United States, it was about to get a lot worse.

  "Mr. President the Russians appear to be making ready their mobile regiments in Teykovo."

  "I strongly recommend we do the same and move to DEFCON Three," said the Air Force Chief of Staff as a response to the mobile nuclear missiles regiments of Russia departing their home base.

  "What! Have they gone mad?" replied the Assistant to the President on National Security Affairs, in shock.

  "Sir, they would do this if they believed there is a Danger of War," offered the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs understanding instantly why.

  "May I suggest that we stopping buzzing their troops with the F-15," offered the Secretary of State trying to prevent the grandstanding blowing into a full-blown engagement.

  "We will do both," replied the President acknowledging his equally tired Secretary of State effort to try and strike a balance between the two options without appearing weak.

  "We believe it's time to invoke Title 12, Mr. President," said the Secretary of the Treasury, crisply adding his thoughts and to the stress if not the temperature by referring to the law that gave the President in times of war the right to order the freezing assets of companies and nationals of an enemy nation.

  "Jesus Christ! Freeze their assets! They will take that as an act of war!" blurted out the Secretary of State understanding the significance of his colleague's recommendation.

  "We are taking hits from Russians shorting our gold reserves," said the Treasury Head, rebutting him. He refused to be bullied.

  "We wait," said the President, backing his Secretary of State.

  "Sir-" replied the Treasury head ready for a fight, only be cut off by the President's stare.

  An hour later the Director of Communications of the White House went on television in response the White Press Corps to accuse the Russians of supporting genocide and comparing their actions to what they were doing in Syria in an attempt to rebuke the Russians claims that the United Nations Secretary General had acted outside his mandate.

  Immediately the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs responded in kind by rebutting the comments from the White House by claiming that the Americans were operating outside the Mandate of the UN Resolution by refusing to recognize their requests to hand over security for the mission to Russian Armed Forces.

  The result of which quickly had the two Ambassadors on the Security Council engaging in bitter diplomatic war of words over principle with the world as very worried and scared spectators, the financial markets responding accordingly.

  Yet, by luck rather than design, both parties as of yet had still so far not fired a physical shot against each other.

  In between this, the Russians or the President of Adwalland had not yet announced that they had the three CIA assets in custody. It was a problem that was resting heavily on the President's mind for if and when they did he was sure the response of America's allies would be less than supportive and result in a cold freeze on par with what he experienced the year previously over the illegal monitoring of their telephones.

  Worse still, his political instincts were telling him that they would quickly lose any potential goodwill they were now receiving from the world's media over their actions in regard to the rescue mission.

  Despite all of that, it wasn't until the Chief Agent of his Protection Detail gave him his body armor to put on as he left the Situation Room, and then informed him that because the country was at DEFCON 3 from this moment onwards the White House would be in lock down mode did it really strike home the enormity of what he had just ordered on behalf of his nation.

  Taking stock, and in his thoughts as he walked through the White House, it wasn't lost on him that none of his Administration team had said a word in greeting towards him; their grim faces told him the whole story as they observed the President in body armor over his suit, an increased security detail in a circle around him and Heckler and Koch MP5s on full display in his own house,

  Entering his private office, he instantly switched on the television set to find a journalist from MGN, who was among the first of the world's main media into Borama, reporting that the order had been restored to the city.

  He switched to CNN. This time he found a journalist reporting that Russian Special Forces were parking up outside the Mission.

  "Ladies and Gentleman, we are interrupting the broadcast as it appears something is happening at the White House."

  "Here we go," thought the President, switching off the television screen knowing full well what they were about to refer to lock down that had been ordered by the Secret Service.

  He closed his eyes, all he got, unfortunately, was only a few minutes of respite.

  His Presidential Secretary, the last line of defense, interrupted his thoughts. Knowing she would not do it lightly despite the situation in the office, he pressed the phone with a sigh.

  "Mr. President the Chief of Staff says he needs to speak to you urgently," she offered down the phone.

  "Send him in please."

  Within seconds the man entered to brief him on the call he had just received from Ambassador Jack Fielding. The President listened carefully then gave a singular nod of his head just as his Secretary interrupted again.

  This time it was the Secretary of State, only in his case, the call he had received had come from Steve Krivets, the owner of MGN.

  As his Chief of Staff and The Secretary of State discussed and compared the calls they had received they were interrupted one last time. This time by a simple knock on the door whereupon his secretary quietly informed him that she now had the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom on the line asking for him.

  Asking the Secretary of State to wait a moment, The President switched lines.

  "David, what can I do for you?" he asked informally as was their way between each other.

  "Barack, I just had a somewhat interesting call from Sir Thomas Litchfield, Chairman of TLH," he said before continuing with the content of the call.

  "I think we can say this guy is real," he said to his Secretary of State and Chief of Staff when he disconnected the call from the Prime Minister.

  "That's some impressive clout!" said his Chief of Staff reflecting on and the fact one man had managed to get a back-channel message across to them from three different sources of the highest level.

  "Not even John Scali achieved that," said the President who being a keen student of the Kennedy Administration, had like his Chief of Staff grasped just what the Oligarch was doing.

  It was at that moment he took a decision to back his gut.

  "Call Jack Fielding and let him know we are prepared to accept the terms that they are offering."

  Thirty minutes later the President of the Russian Federation appeared on television to his country to confirm his signal within a softer speech.

  "I am convinced that our two great nations with pride and noble purpose-" using Thomas's code word 'blagorodnyy purpose' confirming his below the line approval of the idea put forward by his National Champion.

  Twenty minutes later the President of the United States of America with his body armor off appeared before his country and confirmed he accepted the proposal by his use of the same line at the beginning of his speech in English and a response in kind with a speech that suggested that a way forward could be found by the two great nations.

  An hour later with little fanfare or statement, the American Commander of the rescue mission walked out to a watching world media and handed over responsibility of the mission security to
the Russian Commander. As the two veterans saluted each other, the world started to breathe again.

  Over the following ten hours, as agreed, the Russians took the lead as the armed forces of both countries stood down and returned to peacetime footing.

  As they did so the world, praised the statesmanship and common sense of both leaders and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  With the television screens off, the exhausted but much relieved President summoned the Director of the CIA to his office. Forty-five minutes later on being shown into his office, his President's expression said it all.

  "Director Young, I would like you to contact Ambassador Joe Fielding so you can make arrangements for the collection you're missing agents," he said.

  "I assume that I can leave you to clean this mess up?" The President added, handing him the contact details of Fielding.

  "Yes Mr. President," answered the dumfounded Director.

  "Good, you may go now," said the President, dismissing him.

  As Young exited from the office, he wondered just how in the hell Litchfield had pulled this off.

  The answer to how Thomas managed to get the both leaders to back down came from the four most important phone calls of his life.

  Yet despite believing otherwise the reasons as to why Thomas's plan had been approved by the Mayor had nothing do with the commercial reasons that he offered up at the time.

  The leader of Russia couldn't have cared less about saving the Americans' embarrassment over their failed coup d'?tat by handing over the three CIA assets Thomas's people had caught below the line, or his request to ask the many National Champions of Russia to prevent the shorting of U.S. Stocks and attacks on the U.S. Economy.

  "Sir, the Americans are perceiving this as an act of War," Thomas had suggested to him.

  The Mayor's single overriding objective had been the political process and ensuring Russia didn't lose face, but more importantly he didn't.

  Much like his predecessor in the 1960s, the Mayor couldn't use his country's diplomatic channels, as that would have meant breaking constitutional law.

  The result of such an action would have given his former prot?g? and partner the extra weight he needed to have him removed just like Brezhnev had been able to do to Khrushchev once the Cuban crisis was over, ending right there and then his dream of a strong Russia leading the world into the twenty-first century.

  "Use him to act as a go-between without breaking constitutional law," thought the Mayor as Thomas continued with his explanation, which didn't mean he shouldn't cover his bases. Something he did by instructing Thomas to hand over the prisoners to the SVR commander in theatre if he didn't get anywhere within twenty-four hours.

  "Of course sir," Thomas had answered hoping he had enough time and luck on his side.

  The second call Thomas made was to Jack Fielding. It was to the point and insightful.

  "The President will get the Russian financial community to stop the shorting of U.S. positions," confirmed Jack. "He will also tell them to start supporting the Feds' efforts to rebuild confidence in the U.S. dollar by purchasing U.S. positions."

  "Yes," Thomas said firmly.

  "And get you to hand over the CIA officers to avoid any potential leaks in Borama," the Ambassador had continued.

  "That's correct!" Thomas had replied, telling Jack only some of the truth.

  "In return, he asks that the United States hand over the responsibility of the Mission in Lughaya to Russia," the Ambassador had stated. "As a direct result of this Statesmanship by the White House he will personally praise his leadership and quickly order Russian strategic forces to stand down first so to ensure that the United States doesn't lose any face over the hand-over and then take the lead over the next ten hours as America stands down theirs in response in each case."

  "Yes!" Thomas had answered for the third time. It was essential Jack got this right.

  "Finally, he will support U.S. Corporations in natural resources joint ventures by underwriting the United States sides of the deal in Adwalland through TLH?" the Ambassador had asked.

  If anybody else had made this call the respected diplomat would have thought he or she were crazy.

  "That's it in a nutshell," Thomas had answered not bothering to tell him that it was actually going to cost him, personally, three billion U.S. dollars, not the Russian government.

  "I will call White House and pass it on, but you will need a few other advocates, Thomas, I won't be enough and there isn't much time," the former Ambassador had advised whilst looking at his television screen showing the Fifth Fleet exiting the Arabian Gulf. The fact that the Russians were to going assist in the shoring up of the commercial positions of the United States and then give the Americans the credit for acting as the peacemaker in exchange for the handover of something the world would be telling his country's many Ambassadors to do so to avert the crisis was a lot to absorb.

  Experience told him this offer had nothing to do with the agents or commercial benefits; they were all window dressing. This was all about pride and having the excuse to not to go to war.

  It was at that moment Jack knew that he had been right to work for Litchfield; he really was the real-politic deal.

  "I am on it, as we speak," Thomas had said.

  Thomas's next call was to Steve Krivets.

  "Fuck me, Thomas, this is turning into a real fucking shit storm!" Steve had expressed while he watched Jessica Austin report on the fact that the White House was now in lockdown, and speculating on unconfirmed reports that an attempt had just been made on The President life by the Russians.

  "I know, but I have something that I think will help! But we don't have much time, so fucking listen!" Thomas had ordered him. It was a language he had rarely used with his friend, but he needed to ram home the importance of what was going to ask him to do.

  "I am on it!" the Mogul had answered, fully briefed and already thinking about the political capital he was going to get from the White House for his efforts in the brokering of this deal.

  "The Governor of California here I come!" he had said as he dialed McGiven, all the while making a mental note as he watched Jessica on screen to invite her dinner for it was time to put away the starlets.

  The last call Thomas made went to Angus, except in this case it was an instruction to call Rebecca and ask her to pass the content up the line and give to the Foreign Secretary and then ultimately the Prime Minister.

  "Consider it good as done," The former commanding officer had replied before adding his condolences over the death of the five Gurkhas.

  "Those are my next five calls," he said.

  55

  Aden Isaaq International Airport

  The ever-present call to prayer rippling across the city joined the men in welcoming the Falcon that was taxiing into the hanger.

  Once parked up, a door opened to allow a man to walk down the steps of the aircraft.

  He was a very different person to one Thomas had first met in the early 2003 when he was trying to sell his Russian Oil interests. That man had been overweight and heading for a heart attack. This man was fit and lean.

  Earlier when Fielding rang him and told him that the Americans were sending Rob Ashley, the trusted representative of the Sheikh of Dubai, to receive delivery of his employer's Indian partner and their people to expedite matters by acting as their proxy as well in the handover of the officers, it had completely taken Thomas by surprise. Up to that moment he had assumed that it was Americans that had financed the coup d'?tat. Rather, it appeared now that it was the Sheikh who had covertly backed the regime change.

  Only to have this assumption changed back to his original hypothesis, when Benny walked into the office after seeing the man's passport details arrive over the wire as part of the aircraft flight plan.

  "Boss, I know this guy," Benny said holding a copy of the man's passport details.

  "So do I, he works for the Sheikh of Dubai," Thomas answered, thinking
that was what his trusted bodyguard was about to say.

  "No! I know him from my time at the Institute," Benny replied making reference to his service in the Mossad before going on to explain how he had delivered a mobile phone to a CIA asset that killed the Hamas commander on behalf of Israel due to the short time constraints in the city.

  "Rob Ashley did that!" offered Mikhail shocked and not to mention impressed before offering up to Thomas that the man Ashley had killed was the bastard who ordered the murder of Hannah's brother along with thirty other souls in a caf? in Tel Aviv.

  "That means Gourgamangi has to be an asset as well!" Thomas inwardly reasoned but kept that to himself.

  "If that is the case that means the CIA is now actively engaged in securing natural resources!" he further theorized on the implications of what that intelligence had just given him.

  "Either way we soon find out," he thought as the smiling Fixer walked up to him, offering his hand.

  "Been a long time, Sir Thomas," Rob said.

  "Indeed" answered Thomas noting the Glock under his shoulder over his white linen shirt as he took his hand firmly.

  "You look well," said Mikhail shaking his hand also referring to physical appearance.

  "Amazing what a sexy personal trainer and giving up the booze will do for you!" said Ashley in return in an attempt to break the ice.

  Seeing Thomas's continuing lack of a smile, he quickly decided to end the small talk.

  "I don't suppose the Boss can have his friends back now could he?" he asked instead, keeping the fa?ade of his cover intact.

  Thomas turned towards the team and gave them a nod.

  At which point Avi and Yossi turned on their heels and went to obtain the prisoners, leaving the three of them to stand in awkward silence in the process.

  Less than a minute later, Rob's face instantly changed the second he caught sight of Benny walking out with the five prisoners with their hands behind their back in FexiCuffs.

  Mikhail broke the silence, having caught the nod between Benny and Rob.

  "Rob, my thanks to you on behalf of my wife's brother in getting that bastard!"

  "Don't mention it, Mikhail," replied Rob knowing that his cover was blown and what Mikhail was referring to.

  As they were handing over the five to Ashley, the now uncovered CIA officer suddenly drew his pistol, pointed it at the head of Andrew Martin first and released two shots. The sound rippled across the hanger in loud thuds as he did so in quick succession into the Guardsman's head. Then without hesitation did the same again into the face of a wide-eyed Tony Wilson who were all rooted to the spot in stunned silence from shock,

  Again the thuds echoed around the hanger.

  Execution over, Rob coolly reapplied the safety catch and replaced his weapon back into its holster under his shoulder.

  "Orders, Sir Thomas," Rob offered as he turned back towards Thomas and Mikhail to find weapons pointing at him as to the justification of why he had just executed the two men in cold blood. Ignoring them, the Fixer turned again, this time towards the other equally wide-eyed prisoners at his side.

  As he did so he could see by the look in their eyes to a man and a woman, they were still in shock and terrified from thinking they were next.

  Instead, Rob coolly walked behind them one by one and cut their bonds with his Swiss Army knife.

  "Let's go guys," he ordered to them.

  "G, I think it's time for me to come home," Rob said to his Indian friend as they walked up the steps of the Falcon together leaving the two dead bodies of Martin and Wilson for Thomas and his men to clean up.

  "Let Badr know they tried to escape," Thomas said as he watched the plane engines started up feeling nothing because these two men were the architects of the deaths of his Gurkhas.

  The next day Sky News exclusively reported that Andrew Martin of Xerulla and his former Sergeant Major from the Welsh Guards a Tony Wilson working in partnership with the Interior Minister were actually the masterminds behind the whole plan to overthrow the government and were, in fact, the ones responsible for the massacre at the Mission, not The President's Militia.

  "All done so they could steal all the natural resources rights by getting the Americans to serve as their security proxy while they tore up the agreements with the Russians," said the shocked journalist.

  "Mindboggling!" replied the experienced anchor.

  The Prime Minister promised to investigate and hold a public enquiry in the actions of the various security companies that employed former military personnel stating in Prime Ministers Question Time.

  "Men like Martin and Wilson cannot bring nations to the brink of the war in the pursuit of commercial gain!" to sounds cheers and "Hear!" "Hear!" coming from both sides of the House.

  The widow of Andrew Martin and the English family of Wilson desperately tried to tell the world that it was an Indian Businessman named Gourgmangi Singh who was actually behind the plot, but, unfortunately, for them, nobody was interested.

  The Presidents of United States and Russia promised to work together to ensure that incidents of this nature never happened again between them, and Thomas flew to Nepal to attend the funerals of the five Gurkhas whereupon it was reported in the local media that he had set up foundations in their names and would be providing the men's villages each a new school, hospital, and scholarships for the children of the fallen.

  The Ambassador of Russia was met by Igor as he arrived to take up his post in Borama, quickly followed by a thousand Russian 'advisors' to assist the President's security forces in rounding up Wasir's criminals.

  The United States of America announced that it would be opening an Embassy in Borama to support the growing interest in the country generated by the three American Natural Resources corporations who had applied for and had been granted several exploration licenses.

  "The former Interior Minister remains at large, despite his assets in Dubai being frozen," reported the MGN journalist from Dubai.

  The Movers column on the Hotels.com website reported that the development officer of Sheikh's hotel group was leaving after thirteen years for a new job in Hong Kong.

  A Tuareg shepherd watched by his sons shook hands on new additions to his goatherd in Mali.

  A Frenchman of Ukrainian extraction went shopping in his local Carrefour in Lyon.

  The UN personnel murdered by Wasir were buried in the respective countries.

  The world commodity markets stabilized.

  The world returned to normal, or its previous version of it.

  56

  London

  Looking at his reflection in the mirror Thomas was lost in his thoughts as he set about putting the shaving foam on his face.

  It had been both a rather hectic month and a rather expensive one in economic terms, due to the personal commitment he had made to the President of the United States.

  Described by the media and many analysts as the best piece of business that CORETEXAS had ever made by the fact that the field in Adwalland was estimated to be worth well over ten billion U.S. dollars in potential revenues, and it hadn't cost them a single cent, he had tried not to think about the cost as he signed the agreement just yesterday.

  Despite James, behind the scenes, heavily briefing the financial community's various analysts that it made sense because of the increased marketing channels that TLH would be able to tap into, the business community on the whole wondered whether Thomas had lost his touch.

  The only actual benefit the Englishman-become-Russian had actually received out of his 'Noble' act of stopping two of the world's powers from a confrontation, was an invite through Jack Fielding for a private dinner with the President on his next trip to Washington and a Russian Diplomatic Passport with a title of 'Special Advisor' attached to the Embassy in the United Kingdom as a thank you from the Mayor. An item he thought of as a 'poisoned chalice,' as it now meant he was well and truly an instrument of the will of Russia.

  On the other hand, one p
erson who was completely satisfied with his gift was Mikhail who immediately saw it as an excuse to upgrade his security by taking up the option of contracting Armed Close Protection Officers from the Police due to him being a designated person in the country of the Russian Federation.

  "I feel less naked now!" Mikhail said as he waved his hands dramatically about in defense of the fact that he wasn't allowed to carry firearms when in the UK when a furious Saul had found out the cost of the team of officers per year was going to be half a million pounds.

  "The Mayor is not going to be paying for this is he?" Saul had said to Mikhail in disgust.

  "Just keep the old man happy," Thomas had said to the CFO with a hand on his shoulder.

  Yet despite the heavy cost to his fortune on a personal level, it had been a rather good one as Thomas had finally asked Nara to marry him.

  It was a decision that he had made as the consequence of surviving the grenade that had fallen just short of his position in Borama. At the time the blast had knocked him off his feet. It wasn't until he looked down while momentary dazed to find shrapnel lodged in his chest amour next to his heart that he had his epiphany.

  "Fuck!" he had thought as the bullets and smoke whizzed around him as it had suddenly dawned on him that his first thoughts weren't about himself they were about Nara and Victoria for the first time in his life, before switching back on to instantly to take up position again by the window.

  As he did, so he made a vow. If he survived he would marry his Turkmen wild spirit.

  The look on his beautiful life's companion's face was one he would never forget. They were on The Libertine off the Amalfi coast. He had woken and finding she wasn't there he had gotten up from the bed to look for her only to find her, as she often did when on the yacht, on the deck outside their bedroom looking out to sea, watching the sunrise.

  Taking a moment to gaze at her as he did so he was more convinced than ever she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment just as a touch of wind had caused her loose coal-black long hair to flutter about as she sipped on the glass of water that she was holding with both hands.

  "Good Morning, my Thomas," she had said as he had come up behind her and wrapped his arms around her while water lapped against the yacht. Her scent mixed with the smell of the clear blue sea was almost aphrodisiacal.

  "My lovely lady," he replied as her hand went around behind his head and pulled his hair before turning around to look up him. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds.

  As she set about kissing him on the lips, sucking him deeper and deeper into her mouth while flicking out her tongue, he stopped her for a moment. The fact he had done so upset her.

  "Have I done something wrong?" she had asked concerned.

  "No," he had replied with a serious look. "My darling, I just want you to let me put this on your finger," he had said as he lifted her hand up to his chest before showing her the beautiful large pink pear shaped diamond ring on a rose gold setting that he had collected from the famous Bond Street jeweler and somehow had managed to keep hidden from her the day before.

  The significance of his actions immediately caused Nara's eyes to water.

  "Oh, ? My T-h-o-m-a-s, yes!" she said, answering him before he could ask her.

  "Will you marry me?" he asked anyway, determined to have his moment.

  "Yes! Yes! Yes! My, My Beautiful T-h-o-m-a-s," in Turkmen she replied excitedly as she reached up into his face with hers before kissing him over and over again, sucking his lips and licking his mouth hungrily as she went.

  57

  St Ageranus School, Somerset

  Sitting concealed among dense underbrush by the school's playing field quietly observing the growing crowd of parents, teachers and children was the former security chief of Adwalland's Interior Ministry.

  This last month had been incredibly challenging for him, a wanted man by the United Nations and now vilified by the world as a war criminal of the worst kind, meant that they had only just managed to escape from Adwalland.

  Bitter and twisted, the Chief wanted revenge, and the focus of which was the Englishman.

  "No! Ahmed I want his entire seed taken out!" Wasir shouted at him as they sat together in the rented villa in Nouakchott licking their collective wounds when he had suggested they use a sniper to kill him.

  "Ybeeldaaje," the man answered resigned to the fact that an order like that would be extremely difficult if not expensive to undertake in England.

  If it wasn't for the pilot friend of the Ybeelaadje suggesting that maybe the best place to take him would most probably be at the school sports day of his daughter, the battle harden Clan fighter Ahmed would still be wondering just how he was going to carry out such an attack without dying in the process.

  "Chief, the Englishman is on the field by the running track," offered one of his spotters, in Somali, a young teenager he recruited from the East London's exiled community.

  Using his binoculars, Ahmed immediately spotted him cheering away, with his woman and the guards alongside them both as the children began their race.

  Counting the numbers around him, he could see he had a team of seven around him.

  "Good our numbers are equal!" he thought smiling.

  "Take up positions! Wait for my signal!" he commanded on the radio.

  "Ybeeldaaje," came back over the radio.

  The tactic was simple in design; a standard L-shaped formation in the heavy trees to the right and a team of three led by him in front of them.

  Because the Englishmen bodyguards were professionals, Ahmed had reasoned that this would mean once the attack started that they would almost immediately form up into a circle to protect the principal.

  But he theorized that with the children and parents in the way taking fire from the team confusion might rain, and if they broke to the left, they would move into the fire of his flanking team. If they moved to the right, then the flanking team would paint their backs. If they tried to move forward, then they would walk straight into his central team that would be advancing forward, again giving him the opportunity to create a lethal killing zone. Finally, if they chose to turn around and try to move out towards the school then, his central team would be able to paint their backs.

  Either way they took, Ahmed was confident that with all the panic and screams, the killing zone would be a place that nobody would want to be for unlike them the Englishman men would be able to return fire as they wouldn't be armed because of the laws of the country. Something he again took as a sign of Allah granting the wish of his Chief.

  As the loud repetitive cracks of gunfire, sounds all of Mikhail's team immediately recognized as Mac-10s, over the cheering and shouting, launched the security team into action.

  Ignoring screams of bullets hitting flesh and blood spatter, Avi and Yossi quickly pulled Thomas behind them while David the bodyguard of Nara quickly did the same to her.

  "Circle," cried Mikhail to his men while the two Close Protection Officers of the Metropolitan Police Protection Unit took up position at the front acting as the point. By the sounds of the weapon fire, Mikhail knew instantly they were caught in an L-Shaped ambush.

  "L!" he shouted to the team to tell them what type of ambush they were in. As he did, a bullet seared passed his ear hitting one of the parents behind that the fully trained team were using as cover.

  Unbeknown to the assault team Mikhail had been prepared for such an attack ever since he scoped the school for risks once Thomas informed him that he was going to send Victoria there.

  So instead of panicking as Ahmed hoped he would do and moving into the line of fire, the experienced Israeli bodyguard ordered his team to shift forty-five degrees to their left.

  Taking up point, the first armed police officer fired his pistol four times toward the front of the L.

  "Victoria!" Nara screamed in panic desperately looking for their daughter amongst the confusion, spotting her frozen in fear in the middle of the running track. Immedia
tely Nara, spurred on by her maternal instincts, broke from the center of the circle taking her personal security officer, David with her with automatically.

  "Fuck!" cried Avi as she bolted.

  "Go with her Avi," Thomas ordered his bodyguard.

  "You're the fucking objective not her!" Mikhail cried overriding Thomas's order as other bullet whizzed past them and into another set of screaming parents and teachers.

  "Go!" Thomas ordered with a look that was obeyed. This time, Mikhail reluctantly nodded.

  Thomas took up Avi's former position on Mikhail's shoulder by tapping on it in the process to show he was now the last-man in the formation.

  "Mikhail, we have to move towards them," shouted Thomas seeing people and children being cut to ribbons around them.

  "No way!"

  "There are too many of them, we will fall back via the center then back up towards the school."

  Reluctantly knowing his old friend was right. Thomas followed his orders as they began to do by walking backwards in a cool measured manner.

  Seeing them form up to do so Ahmed realized the team of the Englishmen weren't panicking instead, they were using the panic in front of them as cover.

  "They are escaping!"

  "Break cover, attack!" he ordered the men on the side of the L-formed ambush, a fatal mistake as they up until then had the benefit of cover.

  "Targets moving!"

  "On the right," cried Benny seeing them break cover.

  Immediately the two police officers fired off three rounds hitting two of the ambushers coming out of the trees before they could fire another volley.

  Seeing his comrades falling by the side of him, the remaining Somali gunman panicked as Ahmet had told them that the target would not be armed, he was wrong!

  "Action Movement! V Formation," shouted Mikhail at the two officers at the front. Straightaway Thomas took up on his left while Benny did the same on his right. Yossi immediately came up beside Thomas as the second officer fired off another couple of shots towards the trees at the left.

  With no ability to return fire but not wanting more children or civilians, to be hurt they shouted, "DOWN! DOWN!" towards the remaining parents, teachers and terrified children still standing frozen in fear.

  Swearing in Somali on seeing the side of his ambush was being counter-attacked, and his ambush was breaking up because his men were fleeing the scene, Ahmed ordered his men away from the advancing counter-attacking V.

  "Take out his family!" he ordered towards his remaining men determined to extract some form of revenge from the fast deteriorating situation.

  Unfortunately for Ahmed though they only got time for one round of shots off in Nara's direction, as the rapid fire of the two officers ripped into the trees around them.

  Knowing he had missed his chance. Ahmed reluctantly ordered their withdraw cursing in his wake as he did so. Escape was his overriding objective now.

  What felt like an hour but was in fact less than a couple minutes later the attack was over.

  "Cease-fire" cried the first officer as they surveyed the carnage behind and in front of them realizing now that the attackers had withdrawn from the field.

  "Boss! Nara is down," cried out Avi to Mikhail in his earpiece.

  "It's Nara!" said Mikhail to Thomas ashen faced.

  Turning his head, ignoring the screams, sobs, wailing of parents, teachers and more terribly children Thomas's eyes fixed upon Avi and David's position.

  Seeing them on their knees over a body he set off like a freight train at full speed towards them, his head on fire.

  Reaching them in a matter of seconds, he found Nara on the ground with Victoria at her side.

  "Naraaaa!" he screamed seeing blood pouring out of her.

  "V-i-c-t-o-rrria-" Nara whispered concerned for her daughter and not understanding why she felt so cold.

  "It is okay boss. She's okay!" answered David rapidly in succession having checked Victoria over finding it was only blood spatter on her. Turning momentary towards his little girl to make sure although he could see she was in shock but not physically unharmed he nodded his thanks towards David.

  Focusing all of his attention back on Nara, looking down on and one knee fear gripped him.

  "Plum is okay! My Darling," Thomas said, the shock beginning to hit him as he told her.

  "I am sorry my T-h-o-m-a-s-" Nara whispered, pain starting to go, light fading from her eyes.

  "Shhhhh, darling!" Thomas answered, knowing his beloved was dying in his arms.

  "I can't stop the bleeding boss!" said Avi in despair seeing she had been hit twice in the stomach trying to keep pressure on the wounds with a mass of blood everywhere. Time stopped.

  "I love you my Darling," Thomas said towards Nara ignoring his bodyguard's words, tears abundant in his eyes knowing he was losing her and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

  A few moments later a hand on his shoulder brought him back from the depths of his mind as he held Nara limply in his arms.

  "She's gone, Thomas," said Mikhail his voice full of sorrow.

  "I know, I know," he said repeatedly in anguish before turning his head looking up towards Mikhail with a stare of the devil. A look that gave the hardened bodyguard shivers all the way through his spine.

  58

  London

  The despicable and horrific attack made news everywhere for a week around the world. Questions had been asked why, knowing that VIPs' children were at the school, it had taken thirty minutes for the nearest armed police unit, and medical units to descend on the school in force having been alerted by the two armed security officers. Additional questions were then asked as to how something like this could happen again at a school in his country. Each time, the Chief Constable and the Home Secretary tried their best to give a sensible answer. Each time both failed in the process.

  As the dust settled the facts began to come forth.

  The assassination team had killed fifteen parents, five teachers, and more terribly six children and wounding another ten in trying to kill Thomas.

  He had lost Nara and his unborn child when she had shielded their little girl.

  Unsurprisingly Victoria, had had become withdrawn and silent as the direct result of the trauma of seeing her mother die before her eyes. Not even Tania could get a word out of her.

  Every night the little girl would climb into his bed and only then would she fall asleep in his arms.

  Although he had returned all the numerous calls of condolences from his associates, Presidents, Prime Ministers, and his and Nara's friends, lost to his demons and grief just like his daughter, Thomas withdrew from the normal world and society.

  Within days six men were arrested in the manhunt that followed, now all that remained was the ringleader, a Somali only known as Ahmed.

  Although the press speculated to the causes of the attack privately Thomas knew who had ordered it.

  With the coroner ordering an inquest into the deaths of all the victims of the school massacre, Thomas was told he had to wait until the body had been assessed for evidence. It had taken ten days for that to happen.

  Replacing the phone in his study having just been told he was allowed collect Nara's body, Thomas took a moment to mentally pull together.

  He stiffening his back, straightening his neck then went to find Tania so he could ask her if he could bury her alongside his mother at the family plot at his father's estate.

  "I am sure our Gunara would like that, Thomas," the woman answered who had aged ten years over the last week as she hugged him in tears sobbing in the sitting room of her bedroom.

  "Thank you," was all he could reply fighting his own grief.

  Back in his study, still just holding it together he picked up the phone again. He paused briefly then dialed the number of his father's office. Immediately he was transferred to Rufus when he announced whom he was.

  It had been almost thirty-one years since he last spoke to his father.
>
  "Thomas, I am so very sorry!" the merchant banker said as if they had only spoken yesterday, the second he came on the phone.

  "Thank you Father," replied the man, no longer the angry youth of eighteen.

  "I will ensure the family plot is prepared for her alongside your mother," his father stated, knowing why after all these years he had called him.

  "Thank you Father," Thomas answered again before putting down the phone so not to allow his father to speak any further.

  Arriving at the TLH private office Rebecca was immediately shown into the conference room on the ground floor. She declined the offer of refreshments and chose to stand as she waited for Thomas to come.

  The last ten days had been a whirlwind to say the least.

  When she heard of the attempted assassination and the carnage she immediately asked her counterparts at MI5 if she could question the arrested members of the hit team. After a week of giving her the run around they finally gave her permission to do so. It hadn't taken her long to break one of the young Somali refugees who up to that point like his colleagues hadn't said a word despite intense questioning by the locals and the comic relief of Thames House.

  Walking into the room Rebecca had quickly taken up position opposite the young man of no more than eighteen, she could tell straight away by the expression on his face he was terrified despite his lack of words.

  Her assessment was that he more than likely was a refugee roped in by his Principals on fear of the threat of death of his family in Somalia if he did not do as ordered. She didn't pity him as he had made his choice, and it was one that would cost him the rest of his life in prison just like his colleagues.

  To break him, all she had to do was put a picture under his nose of Ahmed and Wasir to get the answer she had known was right. The look of fear in his eyes told her everything.

  "That was quick!" commented the impressed Chief Inspector observing her when she got up without asking a question.

  "They belong to the Clan of the former Interior Minister of Adwalland," she offered as a courtesy towards him. "We will send you over any relevant files we have them," she added as she left in the interview room hardly less than a couple minutes of sitting down in.

  Sitting in Vauxhall Bridge updating the DG, as to who was behind the attack on one of Britain's most significant businessmen the Head of MI6 she was told.

  "Rebecca, the PM wants this bloody bugger caught!" stated the senior officer reflecting on his rather uncomfortable meeting with the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary yesterday when he was informed in no uncertain terms that Britain should not be used to settle debts like something out of the eighteenth century. Such was the depth of public outrage over the murdering of children it was politically damaging the Government. The world's press were like a swarm of hornets, anything even remotely related to Litchfield was looked at: his links to the Russian President, the fact that an armed police unit was only there to limit the casualties because he held a diplomat passport of Russia, his influence in the corridors of power of Westminster and so on.

  The situation was a hot potato, to put it mildly.

  "Even the bloody Yanks have washed their hands of him!" he continued making reference to the fact that they covertly supported Wasir's coup attempt despite denials.

  "We believe he is in Mauritania, Sir," Michael offered, drawing upon from the intelligence that an aircraft belonging to one of the companies Wasir was linked had flown out of Bristol airport two hours after the attack with a passenger that looked like the ringleader onboard.

  It had taken them a week to find out that the aircraft had flown first to Madeira then changed it flight plan mid-flight by taking a detour to Mauritania instead of Eritrea.

  "Really?"

  "Is that confirmed?" asked the DG, looking for a bone for the Foreign Secretary, his immediate superior, to gnaw on.

  "Yes, the Americans confirmed it for us," Rebecca answered. Something she had only just found out about, when to her surprise an English sounding voice had called her back a couple of days before in response to having asked Langley if it were case due to the fact they had assets on the ground. The voice confirmed the inquiry and then followed up with an email attaching surveillance footage to confirm it.

  "Mmm so do you have a plan?" asked the DG, hoping it didn't include an expensive Special Forces assault as he was already over budget.

  "Yes we do," Michael answered looking towards Rebecca.

  The man that greeted Rebecca was not the same man of several months ago at his annual party. Although he was smartly dressed and his face sported a neatly trimmed full beard, his eyes told a somewhat different story.

  "Thank you for seeing me," Rebecca said shaking his hand first then just as everybody else had since Nara's death offering her sympathy and condolences.

  "I have something for you," she said giving him the envelope.

  "Where were these photos taken?" he asked after he pulled them out.

  "Mauritania," Rebecca answered simply.

  "Thank you. I owe you one," he said understanding why she was giving him the photos.

  "No, you don't," she replied before explaining the link that bound them. Once she finished, Thomas took her hand lifted it to his lips and gently kissed her fingers looking her straight in the eyes. Not a word said between them.

  Composing herself, Rebecca got up and made to leave the conference room, but when she reached the door she stopped and turned back towards to Thomas.

  "Got shtroft! der mentsh iz zich noikem!" she said in Yiddish.

  Thomas's reply to her statement was a mere nod. No translation was necessary; he understood the meaning completely.

  Picking up the phone on the conference table, Thomas dialed the personal number for Sergei Andreyevich Petrov who like everybody else when he picked up offered his own set of condolences.

  The painful account of 'thank you's' out of the way, Thomas set about explaining what information Rebecca had just given him, if not the source of information.

  Once completed, the Head of Zaslon replied he would send Igor and his team to assist him following up on the directive made by the Mayor that all efforts would be made to find the man that had almost taken Russia and America to the brink of war.

  Awake at seven. Thomas gently moved his sleeping daughter by the side of him. He got up and went into his bathroom, showered, trimmed his beard and brushed his teeth before returning to the bedroom. Taking a moment, he sat down by the side of Victoria and gently stroked her hair, seeing Nara in her features brought him a sense of peace if only for just a moment.

  "Time to get dressed Plum," he said using her nickname gently as he woke her. Opening her eyes again, he found Nara staring right back at him as if haunting him through their daughter. She still hadn't spoken since that fateful day. Knowing his daughter was traumatized, initially Thomas had hoped that eventually she would just start naturally talking again but as of yet that still hadn't happened. Instead, she would just nod and hug everybody she knew when was asked something.

  "She needs help!" offered Hannah, firmly backed up by Tania in turn, when they confronted him in the study of the Holland Park house.

  "They are right, Thomas," Mikhail also offered to support his wife and Victoria's grandmother.

  "I'll think about it," Thomas had responded, unimpressed with their proposal yet understanding why they were pushing him.

  It wasn't though until Pritchard offered his opinion when bringing him some coffee in the afternoon that he actually took notice.

  "Sir, may I have a minute?" asked the butler putting down the tray with the silver coffee pot.

  "Of course Pritchard," Thomas answered, turning off the television he was watching before turning towards him.

  "You're bloody fool, Sir!" Pritchard blurted out when their eyes met.

  "Pardon!" Thomas replied absolutely shocked.

  "Sir! That little girl needs help! And you're an arrogant bugger if you think she doesn't," he s
aid. "You and she are the nearest thing I have to a family! So please I am begging you, don't allow her to be lost to the demons of her soul like your mother!" he said going for the killer blow.

  Looking at Pritchard who was actually shaking from the emotional courage he had used to create a stand on behalf of Victoria, Thomas reflected first on his statements then acknowledged within seconds that his old charge was right, and it took the mention of his mother's demons to terrify the hell out of him to recognize it.

  "Thank you Stephen," he said taking his arm to put him at ease as his mind took on board the possibility that his little girl might end up the same way if he didn't act. "I will make the call," he continued as Stephen went about pouring the coffee his hand still shaking.

  "Blast!" Pritchard said, having spilt coffee in the saucer and not wanting to embarrass him Thomas said nothing having recognizing the courage it took to confront him in the first place.

  Awake, Victoria hugged him first, got up with the sleep still in her eyes and left the bedroom, to return to her own room; still not a word muttered by her. Thomas's eyes never lost sight of her until she closed the bedroom door behind her.

  "Soon," he thought almost as if he were talking to Nara. His mind lost to the demons of vengeance.

  Walking into the dressing room that still smelled of Nara's perfume, Thomas faced up to the possibility that, after the funeral today and when the time was right and he left to revenge Victoria's mother, his little girl could lose him as well.

  He reflected for a moment as he tied his black tie.

  "You have no choice," his mind concluded in reference to the conversation that he now knew he need to have. A conversation with the one person in the world he swore he would never ask for support.

  Arriving at the Litchfield House estate they were greeted by a whole volley of flashes from to the cameras outside the gates from journalists that had massed to record the funeral. Keeping his eyes ahead with Victoria tucked under his arm Thomas ignored them. Instead he focused his gaze on the road ahead that led to his father's mansion.

  Admired by all since it was established in the 1880s as a country retreat on a grand scale for its magnificent gardens, the house had once been the glittering hub of society; visited by virtually every British Monarch and home to Litchfield's since the early twentieth century and just as infamous for its exclusive parties and political gatherings.

  Yet, because his mother hated it she had rarely visited it during her lifetime, preferring the party set of London, that's why he had always found it ironic that she had chosen it as her final place. Of course, he knew why. It was his mother's twisted way of punishing Rufus and telling his young wife that one day he would come back to her.

  Despite his mother's tormented last laugh on his father Thomas however, thought the house was lovely, but because it would have meant interacting with his Father he had never visited his mother's grave.

  "God has it really been over thirty years!" he asked himself in relation to the last time he was there as the car pulled up outside the house.

  Luckily because the Chapel of the great house was private, this meant Victoria wouldn't have to deal with the attention of the world.

  Although he never said anything he was grateful to the personal assistants of both him and his Father in ensuring that all the correct people were invited.

  "Thomas," his Father said once he had exited the Rolls Royce proffering his hand and offering the first olive branch between the two men of the Litchfield Clan.

  Standing around six-foot-three with hazel eyes and short white hair, Thomas could instantly see the old bastard was still fairly well built with the firm jaw of all the Litchfield men pointing forward with pride.

  "Father," Thomas answered taking his hand firmly.

  Despite all these years and long surpassing his Father's power and status, Thomas still felt like the young boy in front of him. Today was no different.

  Turning to his daughter, Thomas took the opportunity to present them to each other for the first time.

  "Victoria, I would like to introduce you to your grandfather, Rufus," he said.

  "You're a lucky man," Rufus said taking in sight of the beautiful child and as he did so he could have sworn he saw Amelia in her smile.

  "It's a great pleasure to meet you Victoria," Rufus said introducing himself by leaning down and kissing her cheek. It was a gesture that took Thomas by surprise, as he was never that friendly with him as a child. It was always handshakes, never hugs or kisses.

  Figuring Victoria was shy, as she hadn't said anything, Rufus moved on quickly to introduce his wife and two daughters.

  "Thomas this is my wife, Cecilia."

  Although Thomas had never met her before he was very aware of her, a striking attractive long blonde, blue eyed woman in her early fifties who looked no more than forty years old, he could see why she still captured the attention of all the men, old or young. Standing barely five-foot-three in height, with a very narrow waist and slender legs the woman had been his secretary before becoming his wife at the age of just twenty.

  "Cecilia," Thomas offered with a nod. Defensively.

  "And your sisters, Charlotte and Eleanor," said his father.

  Again despite never bothering to meet them Thomas was very much aware of them as they both girls had reputations that would have put the famous Mitford sisters to shame. Just thirty, the twins were the reason his father had left his mother all those years ago. Slight and slim, he could see both had inherited their mother's figure, with long and wavy dirty blonde hair, wide-set blue eyes, pert upturned noses, and pleasantly oval shaped faces he could see why the papers, including his own tabloid, had made them the darlings of the gossip pages.

  Over the years with ambitions of careers in the Media they had many a time tried to engineer a meeting with him. It had taken a tragedy to finally do so.

  "Ladies," Thomas answered. Recognizing despite his personal feelings towards their mother because they shared the same blood he bent down and kissed each of them on the cheek as if it were a regular occurrence in turn.

  It was a gesture that wasn't lost on either Cecilia or his Father. In Cecilia's case, it was one of fury because he refused to kiss her, thereby acknowledging her place in his father's life while in contrast his father's case it was one of pride because it meant Thomas had acknowledged the girls as part of his family.

  Awkward introductions out of the way, the Litchfield clan walked into the chapel for the service together.

  Because Nara was Muslim the washing and shrouding and Janaazh prayer are the responsibility of the deceased family, but as Thomas wasn't of the faith, Tania had taken over the responsibility. She allowed Thomas to stand at her side watching her wash her beloved daughter forty times in the morning at the funeral home before Nara was driven down to the country for her final resting place. It had nearly torn him apart watching it, but he had remained composed for Tania's sake.

  Together they had designed a service to reflect the celebration of Nara's life. So as the Imam sung his prayer it wasn't lost on him that it made a lovely contrast to surroundings of the Christian chapel, so much so by the end of the service the only ones not crying were Thomas and Victoria. Something he had only noticed when his daughter looked up at him under his shoulder.

  He smiled and kissed her head.

  At the end, the service over Thomas and Victoria rose together. He felt his daughter take his hand firmly. He squeezed it gently then placed an arm around the sobbing Tania as the coffin was carried out the three of them followed behind so they could walk to the plot that had been made ready by the side of his mother. They were swiftly followed his Father and his second family, Mikhail and Hanna, Sgt. Tan and his wife, Pritchard and the rest of his men and senior staff then finally the now permanent police protection unit that had been increased in size since the incident at the school.

  Watching his beloved Nara being lowered into the ground Thomas made a silent commitment to the wom
an he loved, "I will revenge you my darling! On my life!"

  "Please look after them for me?" Thomas suddenly asked of his mother referring to Nara and his unborn child within his confines of his mind.

  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'?tat 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 especia
lly 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.

  Not fear for himself but fear for the little girl in front of him if he didn't come back.

  "Mama will keep you safe!" replied his half Turkmen-English daughter with her mother's eyes staring back at him as she leant up to kiss his cheek and hug him firmly. Holding her for a few moments longer himself for now it was his turn let her go reluctantly. Releasing her, he turned and left his daughter, his eyes changing in the process as he did so.

  61

  Nouakchott International Airport

  As the old 737 cargo plane taxied into Nouakchott International Airport using the cover of a charter to carry out the gold that had been mined by one of the Canadian mining companies that operated in the country, all the men on board knew that they would have less than one day to complete the mission.

  Igor's team with the support of the local resident had established that Wasir's villa, though near the main road, had only a team of ten guarding him. That meant that with his team of fifteen on site and all posing as many NGO's plus Thomas and this team who had all insisted that they were coming with him that doubled the advantage over the team protecting the pirate.

  Using the plans of the villa that had been registered at the Department of Works and Buildings that the Resident obtained, they worked on the premise that it was unlikely the internal walls of the villa would have changed much.

  To save time, Igor had sent these plans to Mikhail so he and the team could get themselves familiar with the structure via the photos.

  Getting off the plane, the five Canadians posing as security officers for the gold shipment presented their passports at the immigration desk at the private aviation department of the small airport.

  Checking their passports twice making sure the visa was correct, the disinterested immigration officer found a free page in each as he slammed stamp after stamp to reflect their entry and then took the $200 entry fees from Yossi.

  "Welcome to Nouakchott," said the officer in French.

  "Merci," replied Yossi said taking back the passports back.

  Picking up their kit, containing their equipment of Heckler and Koch UMP Machines guns, hunting knifes and a rather unique one, a Kukri Ghurkha Knife owned by Thomas, stun grenades, night vision, body armor, and headsets. All of which had passed through the turned off x-ray machine with the help of a $200 U.S. dollar bribe to the young police officer. The five Canadians made their way out of the small building where they were met by two of Igor's team and their newly purchased fourth hand white KIA Gallopers.

  "Good to see you again," offered Aytrom towards Mikhail

  "Likewise Aytrom," answered Mikhail in return as he shook his hand first then following up quickly with everybody else.

  Upon reaching Thomas, though, he held on firmly looked at him straight in the eyes.

  "We will settle the debt, Fama," he said, determination coming through in h
is voice instead of the usual condolences he received from everybody.

  "Thank you Artyom," replied Thomas towards the Zaslon officer.

  Releasing his hand, the seven men got into the four-wheel drives and drove off for the short trip towards the base hotel.

  Taking just ten minutes not one member of the team said anything in the short trip. Instead they choose to take in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood as they made their way through the city down the Avenue Gamal Abdel Nassar.

  They arrived at the Residence Imam, and unloaded the kit. The men went through the hotel up into lift two at a time and rode up to the third floor, exited and made their way along the corridor to the suite.

  Once inside, greetings and introductions out of the way the strike team assembled to go through the plan around the dining table.

  "The villa is near the main road. According to our intelligence the only presence outside appears to be the two guards on the main gate," Igor said starting the briefing by showing them the images on screen that had come from Anton.

  "So Vitali and Emin will take them out with their sniper rifles," Igor said looking towards his men before continuing with the briefing.

  Ten minutes later briefing finished. The team set about stripping down their weapons to clean them before reassembling them ready for action.

  "Are you really sure you want to be part of the main assault team?" Igor asked Thomas sitting down by the side of him. Sergei had told him to make sure that no harm came to him despite him insisting that he was to be part of the assault team. The fallout they would receive from their President if anything did, would be the equivalent of driving around Dagestan in an open top Jeep to quote his commanding officer.

  Mikhail looked towards the Zaslon commander and gave him a shake of his head to signal that he shouldn't bring it up.

  "Igor, thank you for your concern. This is a debt of honor that I must follow," replied Thomas firmly, his eyes full of steel towards the young commander as he clicked his firing pin back into place on his UMP. "So don't worry I won't let you or your men down!" he added finishing the conversation.

  "Don't worry Igor. I will make sure he doesn't!" offered Mikhail in support.

  Nodding in return, accepting that he had been put in his place, Igor grabbed Thomas's shoulder.

  "He is as pig-headed and stubborn as a mule," he offered in Russian, earning a smile in return from Mikhail if not one from Thomas, who was in the zone.

  With the city asleep and dawn still forty-five minutes away the assault team, dressed in black head to toe and with facemasks, took up position.

  Eight hundred yards away further down the road and waiting for Igor's mark, two snipers were in place ready to release their shots.

  They didn't have to wait long. Giving a fist pump then a forward pointing motion, a silent thud escaped from their barrels and instantly both guards fell to the ground like rag dolls. Moving quickly within seconds upon reaching the gates Yossi placed two extra shots in the heads of the fallen guards from his muffler attached UMP to make sure they were dead.

  Taking up position outside the solid metal gate Aytrom pushed through the middle gap a small camera.

  Looking on the small monitor, they found four guards outside the entrance of the villa, sleeping on chairs.

  To signal to the assault team what threat would greet them he held up four fingers to signal four targets then two fingers to signal the split followed by pointed hand moved left and right to signal the deployment.

  Igor nodded in return.

  Quickly another Zaslon team member placed about seventy grams of RDX explosive on the bolt. He gave his signal to indicate he was ready to detonate the charge so to allow the teams to move either side of the gate to take up their position.

  "BANG!" the explosion careened around the sleeping streets.

  Pushing the gate open either side, the split assault team began their attack.

  First the two guards either side of the gate were downed. No shot was fired in return. Again, as Yossi had done outside the gate, one of the Zaslon commandos followed up the kills by slotting the guards on the floor with four single thuds to the heads.

  Still not a word had been said.

  Reaching the villa front door from the side, within seconds Aytrom placed a further ball of RDX on the lock. He then stepped to aside and detonated it, just as four of the team went either side of the building to take up their entry points into the villa. While this was taking place another of Igor's team took out the generator to ensure they could use the darkness and their night vision classes for the assault on the villa.

  Still not a word had been said?

  Seconds later, kicking the door open from the side Igor's team entered the building.

  Immediately machine gunfire was let loose at the door for just a few seconds as the loud bangs when off at the side entrance of the structure. This had the effect of causing confusion while both Benny and Aytrom chucked two assault grenades inside.

  Once they heard the loud thud, the team entered the building, releasing a volley of shots into the hall of the villa followed by Yossi, Avi, Mikhail, and Thomas doing the same.

  When the shooting was over the first voice erupted over the short-wave radios of the assault team.

  "OCHISTIT," meaning "clear" in Russian, shouted Aytrom as he proceeded to shoot one of Wasir's sons in the head who was lying wounded on the floor.

  Additional shouts and thuds continued to ring out across the villa followed within seconds by shouts of "CLEAR" to signal the assaulting teams that targets were being taken out.

  "OCHISTIT," shouted one of the men after clearing the rest of the room.

  Awakened from the first loud bang and realizing they were under attack, Ahmed pushed the young girl who was sharing his bed aside. Grabbing his pistol he made his way out of the bedroom.

  "Ybeeldaaje," he shouted twice towards the bedroom of Wasir just as he saw the shadows of men dressed completely in black moving and shouts of words in Russian, following each loud bang.

  He only managed to get off one shot towards them before he felt a volley of bullets rip through his naked torso. The last thing he saw was a man in black standing over him as the bullet ripped through his head.

  Again the shouts of "CLEAR" echoed around the house. Igor checked his G-Shock watch. So far the operation had taken five minutes. They had planned to be in and out within ten minutes. The operation was ahead of schedule.

  Upon reaching the door of the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, one of the members of the Zaslon team placed RDX on the door. Again they detonated and threw a shock grenade and as soon as it exploded they entered the bedroom. It took out one of the occupants of the bedroom in the process.

  "I surrender, I surrender" came the voice of Wasir who was in a state of shock, naked with his hands in the air by the side of the dead companion who had been sharing his bed. Another innocent caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  "We have VIPER!" cried Igor into his mic.

  "OCHISTIT," came the similar call from one the men who had just cleared the on suite bathroom. Just as he did so, Thomas walked into the bedroom.

  Terrified, Wasir looked up towards him with his hands on his head as he did so he proceed to pee himself with anxiety.

  "I surrender!" he said, hoping it was enough to save his life as he focused on the man in front of him taking off his mask.

  The sounds of the Imams calling to dawn prayers began to ring out across the small city and ripple through the air as Wasir suddenly recognized the eyes staring back at him.

  "Englishman!" he said shocked, the strange looking knife he had spotted in his mind, as he felt his head being violently grabbed upwards by Thomas.

  "Please, I beg!" offered Wasir weakly but loudly towards Thomas, whose eyes were like a demon.

  "Seni? mertebe bolmak meni? mertebe!" Thomas whispered in prayer towards the woman he loved as he took the head of Wasir from his torso in one movement with his Ku
kri.