The Devil's Playground

by Michael Reagan

showed him the picture and studied Rob's face again. This time he could tell he was surprised.

  "I take it you know who those gentleman are standing with the head of the Shota-Gumi?" Sam enquired.

  Rob looked up him.

  "Unfortunately I do, the older gentleman is Hank Dowling and the second guy is a former SAD Operative," continued Rob.

  Although Sam could see his friend was being truthful with him, he also noted that he was concealing something.

  "So they're not off-limits?" asked Sam.

  Rob handed the iPad back to him and confirmed that they were not, just as the waitress arrived to take their orders.

  "Sam," he asked once she left again. "What can you tell me about the Shota-Gumi?"

  Sam looked at his friend for a second. He smiled.

  "In that case, you're buying dinner!"

  23

  Washington D.C.

  The information that Sam had shared with him yesterday had been enlightening. It also went a long way to explaining the SIGINTEL that he had been receiving across his desk on the buildup of tensions between Japan and Korea caused by the recent announcement of Litchfield's intention to start the extraction of natural gas around the Liancourt Rocks and alleged TLH profiteering by forcing CORETEXAS to raise its LNG prices.

  The role of the Special Activities Division with the odd exception was now completely engaged on anything energy, security, or political destabilization related that could affect the strategic interests of the United Sates. The appointment of Rob as a Deputy Director to replace Ali Mansoor had made complete sense because he was the only officer in-house that truly had the expertise to understand the world of natural resources and what drove it from his experience of working and living around the feudal courts of the Middle East.

  One of his old mentors from his time in the Middle East often loved to quote to him the words of Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Naynan, the former ruler of Abu Dhabi and the first President of the United Arab Emirates, who had famously said during a private dinner at OPEC's first Summit of Heads of State and Government in Algeria in 1975, whenever they found themselves on a plane to some hole in Africa:

  "It is truly the Devil's playground, brother will kill brother, and then sell his own daughters for the right to control the black wells, that is why it is so important that we must stand together as one."

  Although at the time that statement had been purely a piece of typical tribal theatre, as far as Rob was concerned, never had a truer observation ever been said. "The Devil's Playground crossed all boundaries and respected none," and while the world was dependent on fossil fuels every country's domestic or foreign policy would be driven by it.

  That was why he had instantly focused on something that he had read in reference from one of the reports of Langley's legion of analysts had stated in regard to the recent deal that had been announced by the Turkmenistan government to supply gas to Ukrainian LNG Plant that had been purchased by a Japanese financed Hungarian company and had then promptly shared the information with Sam who covered everything Japanese as far as Rob concerned.

  To his delight Sam didn't let him down. He immediately responded with an important part of HUMINT for him if somewhat unwittingly.

  "That bank is owned by the Katamaya-Gumi," Sam answered, in between a bite of his cheese enchilada from the tampique?a platter, recognizing the name of the organization they had financed the deal before going on to explain further that the Shota-Gumi was also part of their operations, as had been Ruslan Mingazow, the man the press was reporting Litchfield had murdered.

  "We have always known that he was running transportation for the Japanese since his days as a diplomat in Beijing, but we just couldn't do anything about it because of his Diplomatic immunity," Sam replied, wiping his mouth.

  "Dowling and Litchfield are partners," explained Rob sharing background information with Sam.

  "Then this sounds like a power play to me," Sam replied, before telling him that he intended to reassume his operations against Oshima. "The Yazuka are trying to move into the world of Natural Resources."

  Rob nodded. He agreed with his friend's synopsis but in the back of his mind he couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was part of something wider. Either way he had decided to tip his hat towards Navjot that the DEA was taking a look at him. They went back too far for him not to do so.

  Because of that decision was why Rob found himself standing at 6:30 a.m the next day outside of one the best breakfast burrito trucks located in Rosslyn, Washington DC, waiting for his Indian friend to turn up,

  "Morning, Rob!" Navjot said. The two friends greeted each other warmly. Still suffering the effects of his Mexican meal from last night, Rob decided to stick to coffee while Navjot ordered breakfast.

  "How are Clara and Eddie?" Navjot asked as he paid.

  "Good, thanks," replied Rob before enquiring about Lori his wife and two children earning a response about them learning lacrosse and little league softball in return.

  Social niceties out of the way, Navjot started the conversation once they walked away from the breakfast truck.

  "What gives?" he asked.

  "Am I that transparent?" Rob asked with a smile. His friend nodded. "What is Dowling up to?"

  Navjot looked at him for second and then shook his head.

  "Pretty much what you think: bribery, coercion, and pumping oil and gas in order to maintain the American way of life," the Indian answered with a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Why?"

  "Because you have appeared on a DEA watch list," responded Rob.

  "Oshima?" Navjot asked with a grimace. This time it was Rob's turn to nod.

  By the time Navjot finished giving him an overview thirty minutes later on what he knew and the two friends had said their goodbyes, Rob was left with a problem of epic proportions. The question was-what was he going to do about it?

  24

  Moscow

  Although their romance had only just began in New York just over a week ago and thus far had covered only an afternoon, a night of passion and telephone calls, to Thomas's surprise it had consumed him in a way he hadn't experienced since Nara.

  Zhang was self-sufficient, elegant, opinionated, strong willed, worldly wise, and intelligent compared to that of Nara's exotic looks, fire, passion, and her world of fashion and lifestyle; Thomas was relived to find to find because they where completely different, that it meant for the first time since Nara's death he had felt no guilt in being with somebody else.

  When Zhang told him had she was to attend the Moscow Film Festival on behalf of one of the sponsors he had jumped at the chance to spend a night with her again in spite his troubles.

  Consequently the next day, Thomas found himself in the early morning light watching her sleep in the bedroom of her suite at the Four Seasons adjacent the Kremlin.

  "Are you watching me sleep Tommy?" she asked quietly, scratching her nose in a manner that Thomas thought was cute and alluring at the same time. He laughed.

  "Caught red-handed," he said kissing her nose and earning a giggle from her in return.

  "What time is it?" she asked, half opening her eyes. Thomas looked at the clock by the side of the bed.

  "Six."

  "Too early," Zhang replied opening her eyes.

  "Way too early," he responded in agreement as he leaned in for another kiss, this time on her mouth, only to be foiled by her movement away from him because she had leaped up from the bed before he had a chance to stop her.

  Thomas watched her sexy form head for the bathroom. He enjoyed the view until she closed the door behind her.

  Somewhat reluctantly Thomas refocused his thoughts on the meeting he was about to have with the Turkmenistan Ambassador at the behest of the President of Russia, in two hours time.

  Summoned yesterday to the President's office to explain his actions as to why he was refusing to allow the transit of gas along the section of the pipeline TLH controlled in Russia that
linked through the Caspian Sea to the Turkmenistan. It had been a meeting that could only be described a roll of the dice.

  "Fama," the Mayor had said, using the Russian form of his name once Thomas had sat down in his office opposite him. "This feud between you and Agamyradov should not be affecting Russia's position in Europe!" he stated with his famous look of a piercing stare and locked jaw to reflect his displeasure.

  "He stole my company!" Thomas had replied with false passion to reflect his anger. Internally he was anything but. Anger was an emotion that brought you death. Control of your environment was everything.

  "And you killed one of his biggest supporters," the President countered, overriding Thomas's false objection while wagging his finger at him, another one of the Mayor's tells to show he wasn't happy.

  "That is not true," Thomas had responded firmly and with a look of authority and knowledge. "He ordered that."

  Surprised, the Mayor had looked at him for a moment and then placed his hands under his chin in the form of inverted V, another tell to indicate that he was now in a problem solving mood.

  "What purpose would that serve?" he had asked, his interest piqued. Falling into the position that Thomas needed him to be.

  In the days that led up to that meeting, Thomas had thought a great deal about the problem he was facing in Asia but it wasn't until he had taken and finished a call from his friend Steve Krivets, the Governor of California, that he started to think it was part of some wider agenda that were American in design. When Thomas had discussed his plan with