“That animal destroyed the soul of Nara and her mother” Mikhail had continued with disgust. “So because you saved my life on that street in Moscow and that of Nara and Tania for that matter on your journey, to right the wrongs of your life our souls are forever entwined with that of yours,” Mikhail had concluded with his ever-present fatalist outlook on life.
“I may not understand all what drives you on your quest,” Mikhail had carried on in reference to Thomas’s determination find those who had betrayed him in Iraq. “But it is my turn to help save your soul from yourself old friend.” He ended the discussion.
“Let me make some enquiries,” Mikhail had offered. “I am still owed one or two favors at the Institute,” He had said with a grim smile referring to the headquarters of his former employers.
The favor called. Three weeks later, Thomas and Mikhail found themselves in a suite at the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong greeting a Hasidic Jew and former colleague of Mikhail’s who made his living as a diamond dealer in Hong Kong while doubling as an intelligence officer of the Mossad.
There is perhaps no other ethnic group that is as inextricably intertwined with the world’s diamond trade than the Jewish people. A position that they as a collective have held ever since the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama discovered India in 1488. Ever alert to a business opportunity, the first traders who were based in Lisbon and belonging to the Sephardi opened their cutting houses and quickly gained a dominant role in the diamond-polishing industry before moving to Holland and then London to escape persecution. Yet despite financing the East India Company in the seventeenth century and running all of the diamond trade, it was not until the discovery of South Africa’s vast reserves during the late nineteenth century that they came to dominate the trade.
Concerned over a glut in the diamond market throughout, London’s diamond merchants a group of wealthy Jewish dealers of the Hasidic sect to pooled their resources to form ‘the Syndicate.’
The Syndicate’s purpose was simple in design: “Soak up all of the excess capacity being created by South Africa” in order to prevent the devaluation of diamonds. So successful in their endeavor did they become, that it enabled the dealers of London and New York to remain the driving force that lies behind the multi-billion dollar diamond industry that exists today throughout the world.
Possessing a long beard and wearing a simple jet-black suit, Yoel Teitebaum embodied to a ‘T’ what one would expect of a man belonging to the famous trader’s sect.
In the world of terrorists and criminals where diamonds had long been the currency of choice it made sense for the Mossad to place their assets in different locations around the world to keep an eye on the various individuals who acted as brokers and financiers.
Yoel was one such man. Recruited out of a northern Israel kibbutz at eighteen, he had served Israel faithfully in Hong Kong over the years. To his friends and business partners he was a successful diamond merchant who did business with anybody as long as the price was right. He was also the source of intelligence that had been passed on the Americans before 9/11 by the Institute (the Israeli’s name for the Mossad), warning them that a diamond merchant working for Bin Laden had been purchasing Sierra Leone diamonds from Charles Taylor, the dictator of the Sierra Leone.
Buying at a rate of three hundred thousand U.S. dollars per week between December 2000 and September 2001, then sending the diamonds to Hong Kong to sell them and transfer the funds into the money trader’s Dubai bank accounts, Yoel had passed on to the Institute the location of the funds he had transferred who in turn had then tracked them to Hamburg and then to America and into Atta’s and the other 9/11 terrorists bank accounts. It was these assets who had provided the intelligence to their Americans counterparts at Langley, before they, at their peril, had chosen to ignore the information until after the event.
“So Mikhail,” Yoel said after their expressive hugs were out the way.
“This is the famous Sir Thomas Litchfield,” he said offering his hand in the direction Thomas warmly.
“My pleasure Mr. Teitlebaum,” Thomas said in Yiddish taking the hand of Yoel.
“All lies,” Thomas answered with a smile in reference to Yoel’s ‘famous’ remark.
The man smiled but didn’t comment further as he took off his Beaver fur hat and sat down on the suite’s sitting room’s couch.
Neither Mikhail nor Thomas offered Yoel anything to eat, as they knew he would refuse it because the religious law of the Hasidic sects forbids a gentile from making food for Jews. Instead, because he was Jewish, Mikhail made and then poured him a cup of green tea.
Yoel thanked his old friend and got straight down to business. He didn’t ask the reasons why he had been asked to find a man within Oleg Rejejow’s criminal organization that could be approached to betray him. It wasn’t his place. It was also one of the reasons why he had stayed alive as long as he had, living in the shadowy world of criminals and terrorists. His role was merely to find, report, and pass on information.
“The man you seek is a diplomat in the Beijing Embassy. He is their local resident,” Yoel stated with authority, “But more importantly he is Oleg’s dealmaker with the Japanese Yazuka who uses their country’s diplomatic ‘bag’ to transport their illicit methamphetamines from North Korea via China into Western Europe.”
“My sources tell me that he has expensive tastes,” he continued with a smile that said it all before providing them with an outline of what they were. “I have set up a meeting with him tomorrow at Peninsula Hotel for you,” he said referring to the famous hotel located on Kowloon Island of Hong Kong where the tourists and members of the jewelry and apparel trades like to stay.
“Now, Mikhail tell me how is your family?” Yoel asked changing the subject to more palatable matters.
The next day, at five o’clock in the evening, a member of staff from the hotel led Ruslan Amangylyç Mingazow into a conference room overlooking Hong Kong harbor.
Instantly Thomas and Mikhail could see the colorful description of the man by Yoel who had described him as a ‘Cane Toad’ was spot on. In his late forties, medium height, possessing the typical rounded features of the tribes of Central Asia, and weighing at least two hundred and thirty pounds he moved like a man who was overweight. Thomas quickly sized up the man. He could see he had the look of one of Turkmenistan’s famous mountain men but being a trained diplomat, his mannerisms were anything but that of his brethren.
“Sir Thomas,” he said offering his hand respectfully.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Yuzbashi,” replied Thomas, formally using his military rank as he shook his hand.
“I am always happy to meet one of our President’s dear friends and partners,” he replied in a manner and style that Thomas concluded was creepy by the way the man smiled.
After the formalities of coffee were out of the way, Thomas got straight down to business.
“I am not going to waste your time,” he said. “I seek your help to settle a matter of honor relating to my family,” said Thomas.
“Sir Thomas,” the diplomat started.
“Qan dushar is illegal,” he continued referring to the term that means ‘blood reaches’ and an unwritten law of the tribes of Turkmenistan that allowed an individual with a common patrilineal ancestor who is not more than seven generations removed to seek revenge on the killer and their immediate kin, but had been declared illegal ever since the Soviets had ruled Turkmenistan.
“And in any case the law does cover foreigners,” he continued.
“Yuzbashi.”
“I am claiming the right on behalf of my daughter who is the granddaughter of Täçmyrat Baýramow,” answered Thomas using Nara’s grandfather’s name on her mother’s side. The man looked at Thomas for a second. He hesitated for a moment.