Alexei took a moment to reflect on Thomas’s response in silence. It was true the American media had been carefully increasing the temperature through various worldwide media outlets over the last couple of months. This method of destabilization certainly wasn’t new—they had used the same strategy in Russia in the early 1990s.
The new director of the CIA also had a reputation of being a manipulator of the dark arts.
With an ambassador due to be deployed next week. A regime change was the last thing Alexei felt he needed primarily because Vladimir Vladimirovich had made this agreement a cornerstone example of the re-emergence of Russia’s traditional rights in the world.
He didn’t like the man sitting across the table from him. Thomas was an example of everything that was wrong with the Russia emerging from the ruins of “Catastroika.” Ever the pragmatic though, that certainly didn’t mean he wasn’t useful plus he had certainly been making a difference in the sectors of the economy the President had told him to invest in.
As he respected Thomas’s business experience and contacts this meant the Englishman wasn’t exaggerating the situation that was fast developing in the Adwalland. It was because of this he took a decision.
“I will make sure that Jawari has a team of suitable advisers he can turn to if he wants to and I will take your thoughts under advisement,” offered the Director of SVR before getting up, signaling that their meeting was over.
Taking his cue, Thomas also rose and followed him out of the conference room. A brunette instead of blonde met him this time to show him out of the grey building.
Met by Mikhail, his trusted old friend asked how it went.
“He listened!” was all he said as he got into the Range Rover. He debriefed Mikhail as Barek drove the off road vehicle back to the house. His trusted driver offered a piece of information.
“Boss! I think that means the team who been observing us in Boroma belongs to Americans then,” he said as he drove.
“What team?” Thomas asked before answering his own question. “I think you’re right,” linking it to Rebecca’s information before Barek completed his explanation.
Returning to his office picking up the phone, the Director of the SVR dialed a number. The person he called was Sergei Andreyevich Petrov.
A tall man with salt and pepper hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes Petrov was the forty-nine year-old commanding officer of the SVR paramilitary unit known as Zaslon. Numbering just 500 personnel in size and reporting directly to the Director, the unit had a fearsome reputation.
Established in the late 1990s to perform covert missions abroad, the unit’s brief ranged from anything involving hostage rescues to assassinations. To many in the counter-intelligence community it was considered the counterpart of the Agency’s SAD, however within the Russian Intelligence as it did not even have a service badge, it didn’t even exist.
Joining the KGB straight after university during the last days of the Soviet Union but choosing not to resign like many of his colleagues after the fall and enter the world of commerce or organized crime, Petrov stayed to become part of the new ‘refocused’ SVR under Yevgeniy Maksimovich Primakov.
With his ear for languages and his unique survival experience, he had been deployed to the United States, Europe, Afghanistan, Jordan, Lebanon, Iraq, Pakistan, Syria, and few other places along the way.
A tough no nonsense man, he was a dedicated professional who cared deeply for his country. He had taken over the Zaslon unit after his predecessor botched the assassination of the Chechen leader Zelimkhan Yandarbiev in Qatar in 2003. Officially, Sergei’s title was Deputy Director of Planning but everybody in the service knew who he really was.
Although the conversation was warm between the two men it had been short with a request that Sergei join the Director for a meeting in his office.
“Of course, Director,” replied Sergei in his dress uniform of a blue pinstripe tailored English suit sitting at his own desk.
One hour later, the pair sat across from each other.
Old soldiers they went back along the way, with a bond of trust that had been forged in blood. First working together in the early days of the 1990s stealing industrial, scientific, and technological data from American and European companies, their role changed the moment the Mayor became President after the Chechen terrorist attacks.
Following that attack and working together as a team they set up a series of networks in the Middle East and Pakistan to combat the growing threat from the second Chechen war.
Bloody and ruthless with neither side backing down, Alexei and Sergei had both carried out sanctions in the past in response to the hijackings, the infamous taking of the Moscow theatre and the worst kind of crime the murder of children who were only guilty of going to school.
One such operation took place in the UAE. Sergei and his team had tracked the target to a villa in Sharjah who was known as the Financier of the Arab Mujahedeen in Chechnya and the man behind the kidnapping of the four Russian diplomats that were later executed in Iraq.
“Acting as the tip of the sword,” to quote the Mayor, Sergei had shot the Jordanian of Chechnya heritage in the head as he was coming out of the Villa and was awarded the Hero of Russia medal for the kill. Clean, efficient with little collateral damage he was always Alexei’s first port of call when he needed something handled with kid gloves so to speak.
Over the last couple of years with the exception of the successful Crimean Operation, Sergei’s part had been mostly handling the training of Assad’s militia and the covering of Moscow’s tracks by ensuring that sensitive military technology—including new surface-to-air systems—didn’t end up in foreign fighter hands in Syria.
A war the pair both sadly reflected was likely to become another Chechnya or Dagestan with it international funders from America and Wahhabists.
“I need you to put a team into Adwalland,” Alexei said once their friendly enquiries into each other families were out of the way.
“No problem, Alexei. May I ask what their role will be?” Petrov asked.
“Officially to provide protection services to the new embassy, unofficially to put a shadow team in theatre to ensure Omar Jawari maintains his position as President,” answered Alexei
“Who is the threat?” Sergei asked because his experience with regard to the country was limited to the fact that it was new and Russia’s President had reached an agreement to set a new naval base there similar in size to the one they currently had in Syria to replace their listening post located on one of the Yemeni Islands that was being shut down by the Pro-American Government.
“According to the ‘Blagorodnyy,’ the threat is coming from an ex-pirate who runs the Interior Ministry with backing from an Indian with American ties,” Alexei answered, using Thomas’s codename meaning ‘Noble’ and taking the intelligence of Thomas as read, even if he hadn’t acknowledged that he had.
Sergei nodded as Alexei handed in an encrypted USB stick containing analysis from the famous Support departments of the Special Services on Adwalland, the key players and intelligence evidence from the U.S.
34
Bangkok
The sweat caused by the unrelenting heat and humidity of Bangkok dripped down the back of Ahmet Abylow’s neck as the air-conditioning was still switched off to save on fuel while he was going over his final pre-flight checks on the IL-76 aircraft.
The young man had the look of a person on a personal crusade brought about by years of bitterness over his circumstances. He was originally educated in Switzerland and the plan had been to join the air force of Turkmenistan for a few years to fly MIG-29s before joining his father in his business. The assassination of his father though had ended that dream abruptly. Fearing for the lives of his mother and two younger sisters alongside him, Ahmet had left his homeland forever the night that happened.