The Devil's Handshake

21

Cote d’Azur

With the ladies departed, Hussein and Thomas, who had both risen as a sign of respect towards the women, sat back down with the drunk Wasir who hadn’t bothered to get up.

Nervously, the President’s Advisor moved the discussion towards the reason for the weekend.

“My friend,” Hussein said, licking his lips nervously. “The Minister has a request that I have been charged with to discuss with you in regard to the security measures that need to be put into place for your drilling teams,” he somewhat long-windedly offered on behalf of Wasir.

Thomas nodded his approval for Hussein to continue. Drunk, frustrated, and without the patience for a diplomatic approach, Wasir took over the meeting and went straight to the point.

“I need ten percent of all the revenues from your wells, one million U.S. dollars for my employees who will be selected to protect your interests and another one million for my expenses!”

As he listened to his statement, Thomas saw Hussein bulk at the figures. He agreed with him—two million U.S. dollars was a huge sum for security personnel in anybody’s language, but it was the ten percent added element, giving him at least fifty million U.S. dollars per year out of the ground once it was operational, that had made his statement outrageous.

“Over fifty million a year for security is rather steep,” Thomas responded coolly as he actually thought, “Greedy bastard!”

“You can afford it my friend,” Wasir responded with a toothy smile waving his hands around as a gesture toward his surroundings.

“Normally a security provider from the government receives a flat fee, not added incentives, as that goes to the Natural Resources Ministry,” Thomas countered ignoring the rude hand gestures as to his wealth.

“We are a poor country who needs the support of our wealthy friends,” Wasir said dismissing Thomas’s reply, determined not to budge.

“Do you have a suitable figure in mind Thomas?” Hussain asked respectfully to at least start a negotiation he knew his President needed to succeed.

“I have no problem with the two million just not the percentage of revenues,” Thomas said firmly.

“No percentage no deal!” the pirate said as he took yet another sip of his Blue Label that had been continually topped up through dinner.

“You are not authorized to speak on behalf of the President with that respect,” Thomas replied with a piercing stare. It was a look that instantly made Hussein shift in his chair nervously as the two men fixed on each other.

“Maybe it would better if we finished our discussions tomorrow?” Hussain offered. With neither man backing down nor was Wasir unlikely to be sensible due to his alcohol fuelled state of mind, it would be a good time to call it night. His statement brought an instant change in focus from the Minister he ranted at his advisor in Somali.

By the look on the face of the advisor, Thomas immediately thought he had just threatened to kill him, though he didn’t understand what he had said.

He certainly understood though what Wasir, having turned his gaze back towards to him, and said to him in Italian in an effort to show him he wasn’t just some peasant from Somalia who could, be pushed around by rich white men.

“Only if you send me your whore for the night!”

Instantly Thomas’s eyes flashed his demon appearing with force. It was a look that made Hussein feel a shiver down his spine.

In measured flawless Italian like the devil Thomas replied, “You will leave my boat in the morning! You will take the two million I have offered. If you do not, I will cut off your balls and feed them to fishes for your insult.”

In any other circumstances, he would have made Wasir pay the two million for the insult to the love of his life on pain of death, but he had given his word to his friend so instead he had offered the pirate a way out.

The fact that Litchfield had replied unexpectedly in fluent Italian to his insult just as Wasir’s teachers did as a small boy had taken aback the pirate for he could tell Thomas meant what he said.

Although Hussein had no idea what had been said, the former teacher could sense both parties were at a point of no return. He was thoroughly terrified and not just because of the threat, he had just been on the receiving end of from Wasir.

While the ex-pirate, sensing through experience that now was not the time for a fight, not to mention still in shock having been called out by the Englishman’s fluent Italian, he chose to listen to his survival instincts.

“Two million is acceptable,” he said taking the offer and allowing Hussein to breathe again as catastrophe had been avoided. Having being a teacher in London before returning home, he wasn’t used to ‘the sharp end’ of life.

“I will let the Captain know you’re leaving in morning Minister,” Thomas said with finality, letting Wasir know he was no longer welcome under his roof. He promptly left the room to join Nara.

As he did so, Wasir turned to the relieved Hussein and ordered, “Go and get my bitches and tell them to join me in my room!” in Somali.

“Ybeeldaaje,” meaning “Chief,” said the advisor in a subservient manner, praying that Wasir didn’t carry through on his threat to cut out his tongue.

Sitting in the Master cabin on the sofa at the end of the bed having retired in the evening, Thomas picked up the phone and made his call to Adwalland to let the President know how the meeting went with his problem Minister.

He hadn’t been on very long though before he was momentary distracted by Nara exiting their bathroom wearing the most incredible lace silk teddy. Covering the receiver he said, “La mia Signora di Bellezza!” receiving blown kisses in return from her.

Returning back to his call, he decided to finish it as quickly as possible so he could get his hands on Nara. He proceeded to brief the President as to his thoughts, including his disappointment at Wasir’s attempt to extort fifty million for his own personal pocket.

With the conversation now reaching a natural end, not to mention Nara giving him her “best come to bed” look as she sat by him on the sofa stroking his arm and sinfully using her toes to rub his crotch that in response was stirring to life, he wrapped up the call.

“We will need to deal with him in the near future, Mr. President.”

The President chose to ignore him. “I will see you in soon?” the President asked hopefully as he knew he needed Thomas’s financial strength and help to ensure the chief’s loyalty.

“Next month,” he promised his friend.

Call ended, the phone replaced, Nara pounced and arrived on his lap, straddling him with her feet either side whispering huskily in Turkmen as she bent down to kiss him. “Take what is yours, my love.”

As Thomas and Nara started to make love on The Libertine, the conversation between him and President started simultaneously downloaded by two listening posts, one at GCHQ in Cheltenham the other at the FAPSI listening post based in Syria.

The download completed, the communication was immediately forwarded onto Navjot and Rebecca respectively under the terms of their nations shared intelligence agreement and the analysts of the SVR by the FAPSI.

On the shoreline in Nice, three surveillance teams of MI6, SAD, and SVR unbeknownst to each other were also sending their images from the day on their respective laptops to their masters.