“We are very grateful for our Russian friend’s help,” said Rashid, emotionally supported by Rooble Ali having been told by the President that the Russians had arranged for the hated gunship to be impounded in Guinea Bissau. Both men had a rabid fear of them having seen the terrible effects the ones from Ethiopia had inflicted on their Clans during the war.
Interrupted by Mikhail, he could tell by the look on his trusted friend’s face that the news wasn’t good something that was confirmed to him when Mikhail leaned down into his ear and told of him of the news from Addis.
“What is it my friend?” asked the President concerned as he picked up on the same look. Just to have his own look match Mikhail’s and his when Thomas informed the three of them the news.
“What do you suggest Sheikh?” asked Rooble Ali in Arabic, still in shock over Wasir’s actions. In the twilight of his life, he had no wish to see his country fall back into the bloodshed of the past.
“Why don’t I ask our Russian friend to join us, he has a proposal,” replied Thomas, grimly knowing that they had a fight on their hands.
During the ten minute trip to the hotel, Navjot received an update from both Tony and Andrew with regard the loss of the gunship and as he listened to them offer up their excuses he knew it was an attempt by them both to downplay its significance because they had tried to convince him they had suitable backup plans in place to work around its loss. He didn’t bother to tell them that the Russians were behind it because he knew they would get cold feet.
So instead he set about briefing them on what the future plans were on the various companies he had lined up to enter into partnership once the regime change was completed. As he did so, could see the former Guards officer was impressed and already counting his money.
Now checked into his suite, Navjot started to sweep the room for listening and observation devices. Seeing there were none he opened his case pulled out the Codex phone and dialed a number. A lady answered.
“Coast is clear I am in my room,” he said.
Less than a minute later on the second knock he opened the door so allow Clara Martinez to walk in. As she did so, both of them ignored the little housekeeper of about fourteen going about her business on the same floor.
On the ground for the past two weeks watching the coming and goings of various designated parties with four other members the Special Operations Group, Clara and the rest of the team had entered through Ethiopia posing as NGOs attached to one of the CIA fronts, a water aid charity called Water & Life Aid. They had rented some offices in the center of the city where they had set up their communications and monitoring equipment.
A strong willed, attractive woman of Mexican descent in her mid-thirties, Clara was best described as having a slender, girlish figure with an oval face, large and lustrous eyes, and a head crowned by a mass of coal black wavy hair. She had served with Navjot for the last ten years since graduating in Politics and Economics from Berkeley and given her ability to multi-task, she held responsibility for logistics and planning of the group’s operations.
It was her unique ability at being “better at playing a part” and “superior to colleagues” when it came to “suppressing her ego in order to attain the goal,” as her trainers at the Farm had placed on her file alongside her skill in speaking Spanish and Arabic, that she found herself recruited into SAD.
An Intelligence Star locked up in the vault in Langley for her role in assisting in the take down of Anwar al-Awlaki in the Yemen, the unmarried “mother” as the team referred to her for the way she worried, Clara was always the first name Navjot added to his team list when setting up an operation.
“Boss! Do you think you should really be here!” she said not bothering with any formalities like greetings after he closed the door.
“Nice to see you too, Clara!” Navjot said making light of her statement.
“We are a fucking day away, and now the Principal is in the theatre! What the fuck does that look like!” she continued, ignoring his attempt at a joke not to mention angry with him for taking such risks.
“Like it’s supposed to!” Navjot answered, with a wry smile still trying to put her at ease before going on to describe both his and Ali’s suspicions that the Russians were on to the operation due to the gunship being impounded.
Their theory was a stretch, more Navjot’s as Ali wasn’t that convinced, despite backing him with an authorization to deploy, that for the sake of appearance with his presence in Adawaland they would ensure the Russians, fearing a regime change was about to take place, didn’t up the timetable by landing troops before their Ambassador officially took up residence,.
“No self-respecting billionaire is going to put himself in harm’s way due to the risk of things going wrong,” Navjot stated, ignoring the fact that Ali wasn’t fully behind the plan either.
Clara shook her head.
“I still consider it a fucking risk. What happens if they grab you?” she said, using almost the same line Ali had yesterday over the secure line.
“Then I am a star on the wall!” Navjot answered flippantly referring to the wall at Langley where all the fallen agents were honored.
He didn’t need Clara or Ali to tell him that. He knew it was a huge risk, but Navjot had rationalized that it was one he had to take due to the pressures of time working against them. That didn’t mean though he should not have a backup plan in place, that he done by putting Rob Ashley on standby back in Dubai, but again for operational security reasons, he chose to keep that from Clara for the simple reason she had no knowledge of Rob’s identity having never met him.
Finally, getting the message sensing she had almost certainly pushed her friend and colleague far enough, Clara reluctantly accepted his decision.
“Now having heard bullshit from everybody else can I have a proper update, please?” Navjot asked again with his smile returned before offering her a drink from the bar.
Forty-five minutes later, the attractive aid worker left the room and made her way back out of the hotel and got into her Land Cruiser.
As she did Navjot, still in his room, looked at his watch. Seeing that he had about an hour before he had to meet Wasir again, he undressed and went for a shower so he could think through the effect of what he had just been told to him by Clara.
“So Litchfield has ten Russian special forces members guarding him!” he told himself as the jets of water hit his face. That meant with Litchfield’s own team of four they had to deal with fourteen highly trained security officers plus the team of twenty ex-Gurkhas that were in charge of guarding the TLH assets in Adwalland, whom he had reasoned Litchfield would certainly be able to draw upon.
In his mind he had discounted Jawari’s own men due to their lack of skills and having assessed Wasir’s men on his previous trips he figured they could be easily neutralized; experienced fighters yes they were, but organized, no. “As long as it stays that way, we should be okay!” he convinced himself as he began to wash his hair.
To the sounds of the evening prayers echoing around the city and needing privacy to make his call, Igor entered his hotel room. He too checked for listening and monitoring devices then pulled up the stocky aerial on his Codex phone and dialed the number for Sergei Andreyevich.
Instantly his call was picked up.
“Sergei Andreyevich,” Igor started the call respectfully. “The President, within the next thirty minutes, will be sending the Minister of Foreign Affairs a formal request for assistance from Russian Armed Forces under the terms of their cooperation agreement fearing an attempt by foreign powers to overthrow his government,” said Igor.