“The law only covers the patrilineal side of the family, not its matrilineal side,” the diplomat responded somewhat uncomfortably, implying he knew where the conversation between them was heading.
“Your woman’s father was Russian,” he tried to answer in the manner he had been trained.
“By definition because he is a foreigner the qan dashar cannot be claimed”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed, and then focused on the man. He kept his anger in check, but decided to take control of the situation.
“Ruslan Amangylyç. You will find I can be a most generous friend,” Thomas said making his move.
The man licked his lips. Thomas took this as a signal of greed he had been looking for.
“How generous?” He asked, falling in line with Yoel’s assessment of him.
“One million U.S. dollars!” answered Thomas.
Mingazow carefully picked up his glass of water. He sipped slowly to gather his thoughts. As he did so, Thomas assessed the man. He could see he was attempting to act cool. The offer was generous but not without risk. He was asking him to betray one of the most dangerous of individuals in his government’s list of henchmen.
“Who is the person the qan dashar will be performed on?” asked Mingazow with caution despite already indicating through his body language that he knew the answer.
“Oleg Mälikgulyýewiç Rejejow,” Thomas replied without hesitation.
Mingazow’s eyes widened. The fact he was sitting here meant that if Thomas failed with his attempted bribe, then the Turkmen would be facing certain death, for Thomas could not allow him to leave the room alive if he refused to help him.
“Five million upfront,” came the response of Mingazow without hesitation.
Thomas nodded. One never bargained with a person on matters of betrayal. Each man had a price that they valued their life at.
“I am not finished,” replied Mingazow forcefully laying down his terms. He put down the glass trying hard not to shake.
“If you’re successful, I want your support for my political ambitions in Ashgabat.”
Thomas nodded again.
“And a seat on the board of your Turkmen Company.”
At this statement, it was Mikhail’s turn to get angry. A look from Thomas defused the situation. Mikhail’s body language immediately relaxed at the instruction.
“With a salary and profit share I assume?” Thomas asked picking up his cup of green tea.
“Yes,” replied the diplomat without a flicker of emotion.
Again Thomas nodded.
“I will make the arrangements.”
“Then we have a deal,” replied Ruslan with a smile and offering his hand for Thomas to shake.
“We do indeed,” replied Thomas with the devil’s eyes.
Later that month, good to his word, Ruslan arranged for the setup, using the pretense that one of their partners in Japan wanted to meet with a man who could introduce him to the President to discuss a lucrative gas deal.
Being a trusted lieutenant in his business, Oleg didn’t even bat an eyelid when Ruslan had told him that the client wanted him to come to Dubai as he always enjoyed his trips to the Emirate. Nor did the Munbashi question the location of the meeting that was due to take place at a small four star hotel located on the busy road of Al Maktoum Street in Deira, known as the Moscow Hotel, because the hotel contained one of favorite dancing troops all drawn from Russia’s famous ballet schools who girls represented just the type of plaything he loved. Young, beautiful, elegant, and graceful but best of all, with limited experience in the ways of the world having been recruited from some of Russia’s famous dancing troops, therefore by definition, weren’t professionals, unlike the Jeleps he kept in Ashgabat and thus more innocent. As such his stays at the hotel were always thoroughly enjoyable.
“The manager has arranged for a private showing,” said Ruslan referring to the group of girls he had arranged to be delivered to the suite in order to pick one or two to share his bed as they were being driven to the hotel in a Sand Gold colored Vogue Range Rover by Yuri.
Already in a good mood because he had an excellent meal at the Emirates Towers Hotel’s Japanese restaurant, Oleg smacked his knee, making Ruslan wince in the process as he started the conversation.
“Who is this person the Katamaya-Gumi are sending us?” Oleg asked referring to their Yazuka partners from Osaka in Japan.
“Oleg Mälikgulyýewiç,” Ruslan answered formally, as nobody below him in the business was allowed to be informal when addressing him. “His name is Yaturo Nakajima and he represents one of the biggest Gas cartels in Tokyo.”
“What’s our take going to be?” Oleg asked, despite already knowing the answer. He just wanted to be sure the man wasn’t skimming anything.
“Twenty-five-year contract at $200 USD per 1,000 cubic meter gas delivered,” Ruslan answered, using the figure and term to reflect they would pay the transport costs of the Gas by sea that Thomas had given him.
”It will be worth two billion U.S. dollars to the President,” he offered nervously dangling the carrot just like Thomas told him to do so.
Oleg looked at him and smiled. Ruslan prayed to Allah that he would survive tonight. When the Jew had told him that the famous Sir Thomas Litchfield was looking for a good man to introduce him to Katamaya-Gumi he had jumped at the chance to earn some extra money on the side. Only to have that hope dashed as soon as the meeting started in Hong Kong.
He also knew if had refused then he was a dead man. Being a survivor, Ruslan tried to make the best deal possible out of a bad situation. He had no love for Oleg so the choice in the end had been relatively easy for him. That though didn’t stop him feeling nervous and terrified. If they failed tonight, his entire family would suffer.
“Who knows, you pull this off we might send you to Paris next,” Oleg said as the car pulled up in front of the hotel.
“Thank you Munbashi,” Ruslan replied with a nervous smile.
As they walked into the lobby, neither man spotted the dark looking Arab sitting there as they entered nor did they hear him mutter that the targets had entered the lift with a pair of locals dressed in their dish-dashes.
Exiting the lift moments later leaving the locals in the lift, the three men quickly made their way to the suite.
Once outside the door they rang the bell. The door opened and a Japanese man wearing a dark blue suit and red tie greeted them.
“Gentleman,” said the man warmly. “Do please come in.”
Once inside the Asian man, as was the Japanese way, presented his business card to Oleg and Yuri.
Although surprised that he had been given a business card, Yuri took it and made the pretense of being able to understand what was written on it so not to cause offence before promptly placing it into the pocket of his cheap tailored green suit.
“Thank you Nakajima-San,” replied Oleg respectfully as he took his card with both hands before presenting the man his own business card in the same manner.
They sat down and almost immediately both Oleg and Yuri started to feel out of breath and dizzy. An odor hit their nostrils. It was then they realized with horror where the smell was coming from. Their hands!
“YOU TRAIT….” was all Oleg managed to blurt out as his and Yuri’s world went black.
Originally developed by the Czechoslovak communist State Security secret police in the 1980s, the version of scopolamine used on Oleg and Yuri was four times more powerful than most date rape drugs that are sold and regularly used by the Colombian cartel known as “Devil’s Breath.” When a drugged person wakes, the first things that hit them are the side effects. A mixture of blurred vision, dizziness, and hypertension, Oleg felt all of these as his eyes opened.