The Devil's Handshake

28

London, Two Months Later

On reaching passport control having arrived at Heathrow on the “red eye” from Washington, a smiling Navjot presented his NOC Gouramangi Singh British Passport to the officer on Passport Control desk.

Despite being a proud American through and through, the SAD operative up to the age of thirteen had been brought up in Reading, England and as such, he had never lost his English accent. So much so that when he went to Peary, the famous Farm located in Williamsburg, Virginia on being selected for NOC work, his trainers recommended that his cover identities, if possible, were to be always linked back to a British education.

This meant as far as the British Intelligence Services were concerned he was undeclared asset on their soil and by definition ‘illegal.’

Passing through the control without incident, he walked out of the Arrivals Hall to the pick-up location.

Met by his driver, they joined the early morning traffic and headed for central London.

The “legend,” is the slang for a NOC background was an expensive operation to maintain because it was also a fully-fledged diamond trading business not just a front.

Initially, from a standing start both he and his blonde, blue-eyed wife Lori, whom he had met at the Farm and then married, had created the retail business from scratch by buying and reselling diamonds in Mumbai and Dubai. Then once the reputation of the business was established they had entered the Indian community of Dubai. There, they had set about building the brand of the business, through placements into the society magazines of the area, sponsorships of various events ranging from cricket to fashion shows and the establishment of glossy retail stores in the Five Star Hotels that were being built on money borrowed against the sands owned by the ruling families, before finally moving on to Mumbai three years later to establish their reputations well and truly below and above the line.

Yet it wasn’t until just before the end of the decade that the company had started to become noticed on the world stage and in the process had become far bigger than either they or the Agency had ever originally imagined and all achieved by an astute investment into an Alaskan diamond production business.

As to how that had come about was all down to David Young who was at that time a Deputy Director of the Agency.

Taking opportunity to upgrade the Legend he ensured that the CIA’s Private Equity firms and key oversight committees steered the Alaskan State Government in the direction the GSG.

To a director like Young, who had internally supported the view with an argument that the world’s next Cold War would be fought over resources like water, oil, and gas and rare metals used in advanced technologies, it made sense. With Al Qaeda all but defeated, he ordered Navjot and his team reassigned with a plan for them to act as the United States’ point in this new battle.

On reaching the Carlton Tower Hotel in Knightsbridge at seven thirty in the morning, Navjot got out of the Mercedes, walked briskly through the hotel, and right into the famous Rib Room to join his newly hired Head of Security, Tony Wilson.

He had chosen the dining room for the meeting as it was his alter-ego Mr. Singh’s local restaurant of choice when in London because it was near Mr. Singh’s townhouse in Walton Row.

A former Major in the UAE Defense Forces and prior to that an Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) in the Welsh Guards, the stiffed backed man of over six-foot-three-inches had been over the moon when a recruitment agent rang him out of the blue at his Thailand home informing him he had got him an interview with a rich Indian who was looking to bump up his security for his expanding business in Africa.

With an ex-wife in England, a young Thai wife, plus two families to support, Wilson had thought when he looked GSG up on the web that his Christmas had come early. Even more so when he found it came with a package of £120,000/- per year plus all the fringe benefits. Consequently it hadn’t taken him long to confirm he would take the job after his first meeting with Mr. Singh.

Apart from the making sure the security at the shops and transportation was all spot on, a job he could do in his sleep, Tony thought his life was on the up.

That had quickly changed, however, when his new employer had asked him to look at bringing onboard some technical consultants for the group’s new investment interests they were intending to build.

Not wanting to show his contacts in the world of former “Ruperts” were limited, he had approached his former Commanding Officer Lt. Colonel Andrew Martin. Of course, Tony was completely unaware that was the only reason he had been hired in the first place.

This was going to be Navjot’s first meeting with Martin.

“Mr. Singh good to see you, Sir,” said the former RSM as he got up to shake his hand.

“Good to see you Tony,” replied Navjot with a smile.

“May I introduce my former Commanding Officer Lt. Colonel Andrew Martin,” the ex-RSM said almost barking his name as though he would do on parade.

“Absolute pleasure, Mr. Singh,” offered the former guardsman in a crisp public schooled accent in comparison to Tony’s East London one.

“Likewise Colonel,” Navjot replied, knowing British Army Officers loved their titles.

“The Major here was telling me all about your little project you have got going on in Adwalland. I must it all sounds rather good!” Andrew said taking over the meeting instantly. As he did so, Navjot chuckled at the use of Tony’s faux rank from his days in the United Arab Emirates armed forces.

“Well, let’s hope so! This is the first time we moved out of diamond mining!” Navjot replied as he sat down.

The next five minutes consisted of ordering of breakfasts, but as the menus were handed back to the waiter, Navjot got right down to business.

“We are pretty new in the country but we have an excellent relationship with the Interior Minister who will provide members of his Clan to undertake the day to day security of the teams, but he has,” he paused, taking a sip of his English Breakfast tea for effect, “requested that we assist him with equipment, technical support, and training,” he continued with a smile as he put the napkin to his lips. It wasn’t true of course, as Navjot hadn’t even got to that point with Wasir.

The second the Indian had finished his statement Martin’s mind began working overtime.

When his secretary had let him know he had a Mr. Wilson on the phone he had thought he was going to be in for one of those typical begging calls that he received from time to time from his former employees or NCOs asking whether he had any work.

Unfortunately, the truth was he was almost broke himself as the shareholdings he had in all his companies he had previously invested in and earned fees from providing his security teams to had virtually dried up as the world media had recently made its mission to hold them accountable as part of the “Twitter revolutions” in the world dictatorships.

In the old days when media had meant walking around with heavy cameras it had been far easier to manage the floor, but with every phone in the world now loaded with a camera and worst still Internet ready, it had become much harder to control. As a result he had suffered badly because he hadn’t won any of the larger contracts that were handed out as part of the Iraq Mission. Yes, he had done well in the early years earning some high fees, but that train had long left the station.

He couldn’t believe it when Wilson actually rang him up to offer him a job!

“How the bloody hell did Wilson get that job!” he thought as the RSM asked him to meet with his employer.

Discreet enquiries made with some of friends in the security services told him that, despite his high profile retail business that was worth about a billion U.S. dollars according to The Times’ Rich List, the man was also suspected of doing questionable deals with Taliban agents along the way via the purchase of conflict diamonds from the Congo. That didn’t bother Martin one bit. He just saw the much needed dollar signs.

“That sort of help does not come cheap Mr. Singh. Any idea what kind of equipment he has indicated he wants?” Andrew asked.

“Tony has the list,” Navjot said pretending not to understand the ins and outs of the business.

It was the exact opposite, in fact, as Clara, Pete, and he had sat down and worked out what was needed having assessed Wasir’s capabilities during their visit and then in turn gave the list to Wilson on behalf of the Minister.

“I just want to know how much?” Navjot continued as Tony pulled out his list from his file on the table and gave it to his former Colonel.

As Andrew scanned through the list, he knew instantly it wasn’t going to be used for technical assistance.

The Mil-17 Helicopter with counterinsurgency weaponry alone was going to cost in the region of five million U.S. dollars. He could see a nice commission on that item only for himself alone. He was hooked and went straight for the jugular so to speak.

“Well, looking at this, old boy, the equipment alone going to cost at least ten million with my twenty per cent handling fee on top to do it as it’s sensitive, to say the least,” the former Colonel answered without emotion.

“Men for the technical support would also cost about a million in salaries and bonuses,” he continued calculating the commission as he went.

Navjot listened carefully and pretended to nod.

“What’s the rest of your fee, Colonel?” he asked while he stroked his beard.

“Two million upfront and another two on conclusion of the contract plus a three percent non-diluted shareholding in any natural resources companies that are established or floated from Adwalland,” Martin answered without hesitation.

Although greed always disappointed him, Navjot wasn’t surprised.

“Let Tony know your account details,” Navjot said offering his hand to the Mercenary, who as he took it was thinking he that he would use the money to sort out that damp on his current family’s mansion that he lived in.