“Is that a problem for us?” asked Navjot, eyeing up the pirate.
“No,” replied Wasir, lying to his face because, despite his growing commercial control through the Interior Ministry in the country, it wasn’t the case due to the fact he belonged to the Bima, a sub-clan of the Gadabuursi’s Dir so, therefore, unfortunately was still bound by the decisions of his Chieftain, something no foreigner couldn’t possibly understand.
The background to this tie of blood, a fact of everyday life in Somalia, was founded in the civil war that followed on from the revolution in 1969. After the breakdown and bloodshed of the brutal civil war and eventually sick of the bloodshed, the Clans of the North finally “stopped digging in their hole,” to quote President Bill Clinton, and met at a conference entirely organized by the elders in the early 1990s. The outcome of the conference was that all parties agreed to return to customary law and to form a grassroots assembly through which Clan leaders would oversee.
Overnight, this had the effect of legalizing the Clan structure and introducing a bicameral system consisting of Upper and Lower houses. The Clan elders predominant in the Upper house, and all from the Issa Clan took over security and helped hold the region together. The Lower house all from Bima Clan considered the educated ones became responsible for the legislation, which used Sharia law as its base.
Because Wasir belonged to a sub-clan under the Lower house it meant that despite his appearances to Navjot, even he had to bend to the will of the Upper house on matters of security. It was a bitter pill to swallow for the ambitious Wasir Osman Hassan who had funded and paid taxes over years from his piracy and had ensured that his Indian friend made a contribution of a million U.S. dollars to each tribal chief to gain power.
Yet, the simple truth was that because Jawari was a member of the Upper house through the blood of his uncle and furthermore maintained a close relationship with his area’s Upper house Chieftains, it meant that the man’s position was still stronger than his own due to his hereditary rights.
The deal offered by his Indian friend in Dubai with his white mercenaries had allowed Wasir a unique opportunity to change the natural order of things. He didn’t care about whether the Russians liked it or not. He was only interested his own power base within Adwalland. If the Indian and his friends wanted him to break the agreement with the Russian oil companies and the Englishman, so be it. Being an opportunist though he recognized this was the only chance to do it, because he knew the moment the Russian soldiers arrived, the power of Jawari would be absolute with his friends acting as guarantor.
He had seen how they had stood by the Syrian leader despite international pressure and they had always kept their promises.
With his friend’s adviser’s plan to bring in Gaddafi’s mercenaries to assist in any difficult operations of what Martin described as “sensitive,” Wasir immediately recognized what he could use them for: “A takeover in Lughaya then blame it on Jawari and his militia.”
His plan simple in design within the confines of his mind guaranteed him as the Minister responsible for security that the militia under his authority was sent in to restore order with the direct result being the unfortunate death of the incumbent Clan leader, Reer Rooble Ali.
What Wasir hadn’t bothered to explain to his Indian friend was that the difficult part of the operation, despite explaining otherwise, was the acceptance of him as Jawari’s replacement as he belonged to a Lower house Clan.
The only real way that he could ensure this happened was to slaughter Jawari and Rooble Ali’s entire immediate Clans and some of his own for appearances plus a unique group of VIPs. Together that decision represented the lives of over two thousand men, women, and children. Despite his friend and his Englishman’s tough talk, Wasir knew this final part of the plan would be something even they would hesitate over on fear of the world media finding out about it. Something that appeared to always be their first consideration in every decision he noted but still not understanding as to why.
It was because of this that Wasir had decided that he was only going to tell his Indian friend after the event.
“Excellent!” replied Navjot with a false smile.
“Let’s head back to the hotel so I can take a rest and then meet up this evening for dinner,” Navjot offered, just as a runner who had been observing started to call his supervisor on his cheap handset to let him know that a foreigner had arrived and been met by the Minister, knowing as he did so he would earn a hundred U.S. dollars, half a year’s salary for his family.
At about midday with the air conditioning working overtime as the heat continued to build outside sitting with Igor and his number two, Mikhail and Benny were at the suite’s dining table with Jawari’s head of security reviewing the security arrangements around the President and the different areas of importance around the city.
“I cannot put our men around the television center,” said Badr before explaining that the Interior Ministry had full responsibility for the security of the place.
“What about the telephone exchange?” Igor asked.
“The same again,” replied the experienced battle-hardened veteran of the civil war in Arabic, before adding as the mobile masts are here in the Cismah Hotel grounds, he would make sure the internet and mobiles of TLH network had their security increased with men that were loyal to the President.
“That will work,” thought Igor.
As long as they had a key piece of communications infrastructure under control, by giving Badr’s men loaded up burner phones, they could communicate at will on the TLH Network with all the President’s loyal fighters.
“Whatever happens, Badr,” said Igor. “You must hold the communication towers,” he instructed the Somali.
“I understand,” the man grimly nodded.
Earlier Mikhail had briefed Igor on the arrival of the Il-76 despite the intelligence being something Igor already knew about having been notified by Moscow who was monitoring all air traffic through their listening post in Yemen. The next piece of information from Mikhail’s update he certainly wasn’t aware of.
“The ten transporters,” Igor said, shaking his head. He hated surprises. This news definitely fit into that category.
“Should take them about nine hours to get to Addis,” continued Mikhail.
Fearing that the transporters could be picking up tanks or armored personnel carriers, Igor sent an immediate flash message to Sergei Andreyevich in Moscow asking for a confirmation of anything unique or unusual being reported from the local resident in Addis. Then things got worse.
“Mr. Igor, my people have found a farm that is located just outside Borama in a village called Aw-Barre. It appears to have over two hundred men on it undergoing drills and training,” Badr said.
“How do you know this?” injected Mikhail.
“We followed a white man who had a meeting with this Martin and Wilson at Rays Hotel in the Shacabka district,” answered the veteran.
“Thank you,” replied Igor, trying not to show his concern while his mind worked over the intelligence. With only the ten of them plus Litchfield’s men on site at the moment and with a possible coup d’état just days away he had to make a call whether to request additional backup. What happened over next few hours would determine whether he made that call or not.
A burner phone ringing on the table interrupted them.
“That was Barak,” reported Benny after he had finished listening to the pre-agreed coded-message.
“It appears that the Indian has arrived at the airport,” he said
“Really?” offered Igor somewhat surprised. In his experience Principals never arrived on the scene when a putsch was about to take place.