With a gifted Russian passport, Thomas was considered no different, despite on this occasion, having used his British documentation, as the visit was unplanned.
Traveling quickly through the dark streets due to the fact that the early morning arrival had provided them with the benefit of being able to avoid the dreaded Moscow traffic that seemed to get worse every time he returned to the city, they reached the house thirty minutes later.
Met by his former Ghurkha batman Sgt. Tan and his wife, who ran the house and had done so ever since he had bought it when he had first come to Russia in the early 1990s. A tired and jetlagged Thomas asked Tan to wake him at six-thirty before making his way to the bedroom where he hit the bed, fully dressed apart from his shoes and fell fast asleep.
Three hours later Mr. Tan, just like when they were in Army, gently placed a cup of extra sweet English Breakfast Tea by the side of his bed. Old habits dying hard Thomas was instantly awake and alert.
“Good Morning, Sir Thomas!” beamed the batman.
“Mrs. Tan will have breakfast ready for you in the Conservatory whenever you’re ready,” he continued with a smile because he was happy to have his former commanding officer back home.
“Thank you, Tan,” Thomas said rubbing his weary eyes as his old Army Batman and trusted servant left the bedroom.
Sitting up, the former Gurkha officer took a sip of the sweet tea. Instantly the potion did its magic by helping to clear his mind. Seeing he was still dressed, Thomas got up, quickly took his clothes off then walked into the dressing room then finally into the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later, completely refreshed, the old warrior emerged from the bedroom, clean-shaven wearing a simple tailored blue suit with a sky blue shirt and tie, and then went downstairs for breakfast.
Entering the conservatory he found Saul already up and dressed like him except he was in a grey suit with white shirt and purple silk tie.
“Morning, Boss,” he said with a smile as he set about bashing his boiled eggs.
“Bloody hell, Saul, don’t you ever sleep?”
At just thirty-three years of age with short cropped jet-black thick hair, deep blue eyes and a thin physique, Saul Berkovic had become Thomas’s CFO of his Private Office after having been recommended for the job by Hanna Pschenicnikov who knew his family well before she had married Mikhail.
Joining TLH straight after graduating from the London Business School, the hawkish looking book warrior had become an indispensable member of his team over the last few years because of his “terrier” ability in being able to run the numbers for the hordes of lawyers and bankers of the overall group around the world. So much so, Thomas had made him an Executive Director of TLH Group and one of Victoria’s trustees despite his young age.
“No rest for the dammed,” replied Saul taking it as a backhanded compliment. Thomas just shook his head while he sipped a cup of coffee.
Breakfast over, Thomas departed to his study. Unlike his homes in England his Moscow abode was ultra-modern in design, with Swedish look with black and white and stainless steel reflecting the style of the furniture. The art in the room though, was most definitely Russian with a beautiful Icon from Peter the Great era of the Madonna and Child taking center stage.
He looked at the vintage Patek watch on his wrist, a special gift he had never changed, as the timepiece had come from his mother. Seeing it was seven-thirty he picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the CEO of the new Russian-Adwalland joint venture Bank. Then the CEO of the Russian Correspondence Bank before finally the person who was his overriding reason for coming to Moscow: Alexei Nikolai Anynkov.
“Good morning, Director,” Thomas offered as soon as the Director of the SVR picked up his call, earning a simple reply of his name in Russian as an acknowledgement.
Knowing Anynkov didn’t bother with small talk, Thomas asked for a meeting with him to give an update on matters in Adwalland, again Alexei Nikolai was quick in his response by confirming he could see him at ten o’clock.
As he put the telephone back on the hook, Mikhail walked into his office looking refreshed and as always looking more like a businessman than his personal bodyguard in his Brioni suit instead of his Adwalland attire of chinos, desert boots. The holster with his Heckler & Glock pistol in it showed over his polo shirt with dark sunglasses over his eyes.
Morning greetings out of the way, Thomas informed him that they had a meeting with Alexei Nikolai at ten o’clock. Looking at his watch, knowing that the office of the SVR was on the other side of Moscow, Mikhail immediately suggested that they leave at eight thirty knowing the unreliability of the ever-growing Muscovite traffic it would be a push to get there on time
“Oh and tell Saul to get some sleep, will you Mikhail?” Thomas added concerned that his young CFO was burning himself out.
“He needs a good wife,” replied Mikhail with a smile.
“Who says that, you or Hanna?” asked Thomas, knowing Hanna’s habit of acting like a good commanding officer wife when it came to life’s of many members of his team, and that including him before Nara entered his life all those years ago.
“No, comment!” Mikhail said as he departed his study.
As always Mikhail was right on the money; the traffic was absolutely terrible. Arriving at quarter to ten and on walking into the tall structure known as “Les” or “Wood” in English on the outskirts of Moscow in the Yasenevo District amongst the trees that surround it, Thomas was met by an attractive blonde in her late twenties and immediately shown to a conference room.
Refusing the offer of tea, Thomas waited patiently for Alexei Nikolai. In business life, Russians hate being late, seeing it as a kind of impoliteness Thomas took it for what it was and in spite of his unique relationship with Russia and his citizenship he was still a foreigner in the eyes of the technocrats that run the country and as such he would always remain so.
Over the last five years since Alexei Nikolai had become the head of the SVR the organization of 13,000 men and women had redeveloped itself into an impressive network of operatives that followed the second pillar of recruitment for the “Love of Russia.” Though Thomas wasn’t one of them in heart, the Mayor had made sure he was very much an instrument as when needed.
“Good Morning, Fama,” said Alexei Nikolai entering the room not bothering to give his hand as he sat down. Despite the insult nevertheless Thomas responded politely using the Director’s title in front of his surname instead of the informal but respectful use of his two Christian names.
Having listened for ten minutes during which his assistant delivered them both a pot of black tea, Alexei offered his views.
“So you believe Singh is being bankrolled by Americans interests?”
“I have no proof, but it makes sense, the economics of the deal suggest a primary underwriter of the deal he is offering and the Americans have been very vocal in their attacks on this investment,” replied Thomas. He was referring to the media he knew the Director of SVR Analysts would have almost certainly been monitoring including his personal interview, but still not declaring the actual source of the intelligence that had confirmed it for him had actually come from Rebecca in their meeting at Farrow Hall.
Taking a sip of tea, Thomas tried to gauge the director’s reaction.
“Do you believe the President’s at risk?” Alexei Nikolai probed.
Thomas nodded then offered, “I have to say the answer is Yes!” before adding that he had also asked the bank to make ready the ten million U.S. dollars in cash to take back with him to assist in shoring up the President’s position with the chiefs.