“Always, my love,” she replied after their quick kiss was over, pleased at his acknowledgement at her form of dress.
Having decided not to change being so late, he followed Nara through the yacht up into the dining room.
As they entered the room, the President’s advisor Hussein Ali Yusuf greeted him warmly with a kiss on both cheeks followed by a similar greeting from Wasir, except in his case it was more of a formality and without warmth.
As Wasir wasn’t going to introduce his young female companions who in direct contrast to Nara had dressed in a manner that left little to the imagination, it was left to her to do so politely. By their Slavic looks and accented English, Thomas guessed they were Ukrainian. They were blonde, blue eyed, plus had large enhanced breasts finished off with rounded bottoms. They were typical of the type of girls that worked the Cote D’Azur servicing the wealthy Arabs who tended to prefer the “curvy” look. It was a look it appeared Wasir went for as well, he mused.
Introductions out of the way they quickly sat down to dinner.
As the champagne arrived, knowing Hussein did not drink the staff, having been briefed by Nara earlier offered him a fresh watermelon juice. Wasir, having no such qualms waved the juice away and instead said “champagne,” with no please nor thank you. Hussein, being ever the diplomat, started the conversation.
“My friend, I must say your Yacht is absolutely incredible! Madam Nara has made us most welcome,” he said warmly with a nod of his head towards her, aware of her standing in his friend’s life whilst Wasir lustfully eyed her up just as Nara had said he had done earlier.
When his partner in his cargo business from Turkmenistan had told him that Litchfield had one of the most famous and beautiful women from his country as a concubine he had incorrectly assumed she would be offered to him as part of his hospitality. However it wasn’t until she greeted them formally with a slight bow did he realize just how beautiful she was, so much so he quickly had lost interest in the two blonde companions who had accompanied him.
“If her body were as beautiful as her face then I am really going enjoy her!” he had thought to himself at the time.
“What a treasure!” He said in Somali, eyes roaming all over her as Hussein introduced them enjoying the sight of her as she nervously nodded her head in respect towards them, an action he had automatically incorrectly assumed was because of his power and status at the time. Only to have his rising expectation ruined within an hour when having joined her in the lounge area of Litchfield’s a great boat for drinks while they waited for him to arrive.
Catching sight of a picture of her on the table beside the sofa of her looking lovingly up at Litchfield in his arms with a beautiful little girl who was obviously their daughter in front of them, he picked it up. As he did so he ruefully thought, “My friend is wrong!” in reference to his Turkmen partner. “She isn’t his whore, she is his woman!” shaking his head knowing his chance to take her would not be offered. He silently murmured, “That will cost you, Litchfield! Tempting me with such a vision!” he told himself as he put down the image in disgust referring to the upcoming negotiation to be held later as one of the yacht’s staff provided him with a Blue Label on the rocks.
Picking up his look of lust across the table, a look Nara had seen before from many men over the years, she took Thomas’s hand in comfort. She knew killers, and she felt this man was one. It scared her.
“Thank you Hussein, I am indeed truly blessed,” Thomas replied in response to the advisor’s toast as he lifted her hand to his mouth to signal towards the peasant masquerading as a Minister at his side that she was indeed his lady and not for his pleasure. Something Wasir resentfully acknowledged also by the raising his glass if somewhat reluctantly.
Toast over and determined to punish Litchfield in their negotiations and the whores like dogs later, in frustration he ordered another drink. With various courses coming and going the conversation crossed many subjects from the history of Adwalland to the politics of the region. With the dessert course to arrive and been treated to the sight of Wasir getting drunker with each course and now past the point of just mentally undressing Nara with his blatantly leering looks and sensing she was becoming more and more uncomfortable, Thomas gave her the signal that it would be all right to escape. Picking up on it instantly, Nara’s relieved eyes said thank you to him.
Then not wasting a further moment she immediately suggested to his bored companions that they retire to the ready room on the main deck and leave the men to their business.
20
Borama
Sitting with the President a month ago, sharing a sweet, bitter coffee, the staple drink of East Africa, and pleasantries out of the way the conversation was nervously opened by the worried man.
“My friend, I have a problem with Wasir!” Omar had said before launching into a diatribe about the man and his constant undermining of his position. He is the richest man in Adwalland! I have nothing!” he had continued emotions boiling over, waving his hands in the process.
“You have me, Omar,” Thomas had countered evenly to his dramatics. “And the word of the President of Russia,” he had continued in reference to the Russian Government offering technical support to his Army and Police forces which would be borne out of the Militia disbandment.
“Yes I know, but as you know he is using his money to gain loyalty within the new Army and Police forces,” the President had countered. “And the support of Russia still needs to be approved by the leaders!” he then had added in reference to the tribal leaders of the land that he had to adhere to.
Thomas had looked at him as he talked and could tell the President was a man under pressure and reflected that had having fought for so long for the birth of their nation he now faced the added problem of having an ex-pirate erode away at his power base with the tribes as an intended power grab.
“What would you like me to do, my friend?” Thomas had asked to help, knowing it was almost certainly going to involve a payoff.
The man didn’t need to be asked twice.
“Please, my friend, reach a deal with him over the provision of security to your drilling teams,” the President had said.
Thomas nodded his head. He had taken out one of his Cuban Robustos from his cigar case and he offered one to the President. He knew he needed to give the President time to deal with the tribal elders while he waited for the first deployment of support by Russia, something that he had understood would happen over the next six months from the man who had also accompanied him as part the investment delegation from Russia on the trip and would eventually become the Ambassador to the country. As his African friend had taken the cigar, Thomas gave him the answer he knew he needed to hear.
“I will ask Hussein to organize that he comes to France as my guest in a month.”
“So long?” the President had questioned.
“There’s much I need to cover up to make sure my partners are happy,” Thomas had replied, something that was only a half-truth, but he wasn’t going to tell his friend. He needed to make sure that TLH’s bases were covered politically.
The worry written on the President’s face had told Thomas he felt it was too long. He had moved to put him at ease.
“Don’t worry, Omar, we will find a suitable solution,” he had said as he offered his gas lighter to the President.
“Thank you, my friend,” a very relieved President had acknowledged.
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.