The Devil's Handshake

11

Venice, 2001

The weekend they conceived Victoria was in many ways one of few moments in their life together when Thomas and Nara actually felt like an everyday couple losing themselves in romance like the rest of tourists that visited Venice over the ages. It was a time when they believed it was for it was just for them, and nobody else.

His exotic creature of Central Asia had been with him two years or as she preferred to tell him, “Allah had sent him to save her,” rather dramatically.

He had just received his knighthood, something he knew would have pleased his mother if she had lived and though Thomas and Nara’s relationship had certainly grown, it wasn’t until what she said in the car on the way back from Buckingham Palace to him that he actually realized what she meant to him notwithstanding their many passionate moments together.

Up until that moment he had been convinced she masked her emotions from him, something he thought was a direct consequence of her former profession.

“Your Mama would have proud, my Thomas,” she had said, looking at him tears forming in her eyes, her black kohl mascara running.

“Of what?” he had responded teasing her.

“Of seeing her son and the love of my life being made a Knight of the Realm by your great lady, of course!” she had replied her feelings hurt giving him the look of an innocent child.

“So I am your love of life?” he had teased again causing her to look at him with even more shock and horror because he questioned her statement.

“A-l-w-a-y-s, my Thomas” she had responded continuing to show her shock that he would think otherwise.

“My God! She means it!” he had thought, feeling guilty for teasing her.

Putting his arm around her as a way of an apology Thomas kissed her gently on lips before allowing his mind to drift for a few moments.

He knew he loved her. It was just that he was having trouble getting his head around the fact she was so young and he was sixteen years older than her.

“But he had made a vow,” Thomas had decided. “Vows are never broken!” he had admonished himself.

“I would like to take you to Venice this weekend just you and me nobody else,” he had said suddenly.

“I would like that, my darling,” Nara had answered

The person who didn’t was Mikhail. He went ballistic when Thomas had told him of his intentions. The two of them argued heavily over it.

“It’s not bloody Moscow!” retorted Thomas.

“No, it’s worse. It is the land of the Mafia!” replied Mikhail.

In the end he reached a compromise with Mikhail insisting that he would carry his Glock pistol at all times, and the team though not following them, would remain on station in Venice and out of sight.

Having arrived at midday and now on the launch, he took in the face of the young woman he had sworn to protect as she saw Venice for the first time, as through the mist and half sunlight the beautiful city appeared.

To many, the city is at its best when the high water known by the locals as “Acqua alta” takes away the decay floating around the city.

“Thomas, it is so beautiful!” she said excitedly.

“Not as beautiful as you my darling,” he said taking her hand.

Turning towards him, her lovely jet-black hair drifting in the light wind from the Adriatic she pulled him into her. She kissed him forcibly on the lips, her saltiness tasting to him like honey.

“I love you, my Darling!” she said with a smile as their long kiss ended.

That afternoon, no guards, no demands, just Nara and him like two young lovers, he showed her around the Venice of his youth that despite the tourists, never seems to change. When he last visited the floating city just after the First Gulf War to take up a position as a researcher for his former professor at Oxford who was writing a book, , he was a broken and bitter young man by what he felt was a betrayal by the politicians of him and his men when they had left them to die.

“I want to you meet a very special person,” he said as they walked hand in hand.

Taking her to an old church of the San Martino, he presented to the man who, with his kindliness and reflective advice had brought him back from the edge and set Thomas on the road to become the man he now was.

A charmingly cluttered parish church, built in the Renaissance Period, was located on a canal in Castello not far from the Arsenale. The church wasn’t listed in most guidebooks probably because it doesn’t have any famous masterpieces, but Thomas had loved it for its art including some modern twentieth century works mixed in with the old which ranged from the Byzantine to Baroque periods and, he had further explained to her as they walked together, that the church always felt less of a museum more like an active part of the neighborhood.

“Like our Mosques back home,” Nara responded trying to show him she understood.

“Yes, Darling,” he answered with a smile followed by passionate kiss, their tenth of the day, and again earning a “Bella Bambina” or “Molto benne” in admiration from the male Italian residents of Venice every time he did.

Walking into the Church he immediately spotted Father Umberto Amersini.

He caught sight of Thomas at the same time and quickly walked briskly towards him beaming and shouting out loud, “Thomas! It is so good to see you again my son,” he said in Italian to him as they hugged each other.

“So many years! Tell me have you beaten your demon, my son?” He looked at him with a quizzical eye before answering his own question. “I think he lies only dormant, my son!” he concluded almost sage like.

Changing the subject before the old priest had time to question him further, the former researcher cum billionaire introduced Nara to him. The old man smiled as he took her in.

“I can see though you have captured his heart, La Signorina! Such a beautiful woman, Thomas you’re a lucky man,” he said as he now took and then kissed her hand.

Watching Nara blush as she thanked the priest, he had to agree with his old friend who still had a twinkle in his eye despite his vows.

Thomas, having decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with the priest and with Umberto holding court telling her things about him that even Mikhail didn’t know, watched on, falling in love with her once more as she listened, warmly smiled, and laughed over coffee and cake.

On returning to the hotel, Nara made him wait by refusing him the honor of taking her in the shower instead she insisted that he went first, dress for dinner, and wait to take her out. As he entered the bathroom he decided if somewhat reluctantly to follow her orders, she then smacked his bottom.

“Bad Thomas!” she chastised him.

When he came out, he tried to make a move towards her again, but before he could grab her Nara ran past him into the bathroom and locked the door behind her to the sound of her saying, “Niet! Naughty, naughty!”

He laughed loudly.

Foiled! He set about drying himself, put on some cologne from Aqua din Pinna, his favorite from the small perfumery in Florence, his underwear, and then his linen tailored white shirt followed by his sky blue linen trousers. He pulled his holster personally designed to fit discreetly with a Glock pistol in it over his shoulder, around his side, just as Mikhail had insisted. He donned his tailored linen jacket to hide it.

As he made his Bombay Martini with a drop of bitters from the drinks tray, Thomas pondered Umberto’s final words of the afternoon.

“Thomas, promise me you will control the Demon for if you don’t he will consume your soul one day,” he said referring to Thomas’s determination to use power as a way to punish the injustice in his life he felt that had been committed to him and those he was charged to lead and protect.

“Remember, my son, rather than providing closure, he does the opposite, keeps the wound open and fresh by taking those things you value most treasured!”

Thomas had replied back with a wry smile as he always did when they debated all those years previously when he had shared his plans to travel to Russia.

“Yes, Father and when presented with a Gordian knot, one slashes it,” he replied using the reference of the famous legend that the man who could untie the knot was destined to rule the entire world. When Alexander was presented with it, he had slashed it with his sword and unraveled it and conquered the known world.

Umberto rolled his eyes at Thomas’s use of the legend of Alexander as a justification that one shouldn’t walk away from a fight of honor whatever the cost.

“Just make sure you find peace one day and give that young lady of yours, a child,” Umberto ordered before forcibly kissing him on both cheeks with a firm grip.

A half hour later as he sat lost in his thoughts slipping his chilled Martini listening to the sounds of Venice mixing with the classic music of Bach’s Cello suite No.1 being played softly from the musicians on the terrace bar below, Nara entered the room. She took his breath away yet again, just like she had done two years ago in Oleg’s club, except this time she wasn’t dressed for sin but instead she was a young elegant, classy woman. As his eyes wandered all over her, he was sure she would have matched in looks the lost painting by Aetion of Roxanne, the chief wife of Alexander the Great who was described as the most beautiful woman in all of Asia by historians.

With her light naturally olive complexion, long flowing jet-black hair brushed into a ponytail, so it sat down the front of her left breast, she wore no lipstick, just eye shadow in doing so emphasizing her dark brown eyes. She completed the spell by wearing a long flowing dress with a single Chanel top, with a Gucci charm bracelet on her wrist.

Standing up he smiled looked into her eyes and was mesmerized.

“How do I look, my Thomas?” she asked.

He replied in Italian that she was breathtakingly beautiful as he held open his hand for her to take, earning a smile from her even though she had no idea what he said until he translated it in Turkmen for her.

He took her to a small restaurant in the shady lanes behind Ponte delle Tette (Tit’s Bridge) and sat in a corner so he could have sight of the exits, old habits dying hard, not to mention Mikhail’s orders ringing in his ears. They ordered antipasti to start, for the entree Nara ordered filetto di San Pietro while he ordered Risotto al nero sepia accompanied with a beautiful bottle of Brunello di Montalcino for them to share.

They chattered about everything and nothing while they waited for main courses to arrive. Looking into her smoldering eyes, he slipped his hand behind her neck and drew her closer where he kissed on her mouth. It was a slow kiss and gentle.

“My beautiful darling,” he whispered into her ear as he attempted to feel her breasts.

“Naughty! Naughty!” she said playfully spanking hand in admonishment.

The rest of dinner was interrupted with lots of looks of love, plans for the new yacht, and fingers intertwining as they had their coffee and shared a Gelato before he paid the bill and they left the restaurant.

As they walked back to the hotel along the streets, a massive downpour arrived just as they reached Piazza di San Marco.

Standing under the arches with her under his arms watching the rain come down Thomas murmured, “I better ring the hotel and ask them to bring the Wellington Boots darling the flood is coming!”

About ten minutes later, instead of a hotel porter turning up Mikhail and one of his men rolled up with the boots and a couple of umbrellas.

“I thought you said I would be alone Mikhail?” Thomas said towards him slightly displeased that his bit of escapism was over.

“I lied!” Mikhail replied smiling, not a touch of remorse in sight.

“Well, I hope you brought Hanna with you to Venice!” Thomas said, not letting him off the hook.

“Yes, I hope you did as well Mikhail,” Nara said in support of him. Though Hanna and Nara were from different worlds, they had become good friends.

“Yes! Yes! Of course I did, it was the only way she would let me come!” he replied in mock shock.

As they looked at Mikhail with him shaking his head, the string quartet started playing for the patrons of the tourist restaurants around the Piazza.

“I’m glad to be spending this moment with you, my love,” Nara said before turning to look up at him.

“Me too, my darling girl,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her ear.

Taking over the party Nara invited Mikhail, Hanna, and Yossi, his man, for a nightcap at the hotel as they waited for the rain to cease.

Once it had lightened enough, the pair of them with Mikhail and Ari his new member of their protection team trailing behind them walked to a pier near the Palazzo Ducale, at that moment, a streak of lightning flew across the sky. Thomas wondered if it were his lightning bolt!

On reaching the Danieli on the Grand Canal, they had their nightcap with Hanna, Mikhail, and Yossi with lots of joyful laughter ringing around the small bar and then bid them goodnight they retired to their suite. Once in the lift Thomas had pressed her up against the wall and let his hands roam freely as he had kissed her.

“I love you, Nara!” he said passionately.

“My love,” she whispered back, her eyes stoned with love.

Upon entering the suite, they quickly shed their clothes. Thomas went slowly to kiss her.

“My Thomas, please!” Nara screamed at the top of her voice not wanting the slow build up.

Holding her gaze staring into her eyes with one long push into her, Thomas did as Nara demanded.

“I love you, my beautiful Nara,” he said as he felt her contract around him, an action that enabled him to feel the shudders that were rampaging through her body. She whispered his name as over and over using it as a whip to make him drive into her, so when they came together which they did quickly and with the spontaneity of their love, created their beloved Victoria.