The Devil's Handshake (8 page)

“
I may not understand all
what drives you on your quest,” Mikhail had carried on in reference
to Thomas’s determination find those who had betrayed him in Iraq.
“But it is my turn to help save your soul from yourself old
friend.” He ended the discussion.

“
Let me make some
enquiries,” Mikhail had offered. “I am still owed one or two favors
at the Institute,” He had said with a grim smile referring to the
headquarters of his former employers.

The favor called. Three weeks later, Thomas
and Mikhail found themselves in a suite at the Mandarin Oriental in
Hong Kong greeting a Hasidic Jew and former colleague of Mikhail’s
who made his living as a diamond dealer in Hong Kong while doubling
as an intelligence officer of the Mossad.

There is perhaps no other ethnic group that
is as inextricably intertwined with the world’s diamond trade than
the Jewish people. A position that they as a collective have held
ever since the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama discovered India
in 1488. Ever alert to a business opportunity, the first traders
who were based in Lisbon and belonging to the Sephardi opened their
cutting houses and quickly gained a dominant role in the
diamond-polishing industry before moving to Holland and then London
to escape persecution. Yet despite financing the East India Company
in the seventeenth century and running all of the diamond trade, it
was not until the discovery of South Africa’s vast reserves during
the late nineteenth century that they came to dominate the
trade.

Concerned over a glut in the diamond market
throughout, London’s diamond merchants a group of wealthy Jewish
dealers of the Hasidic sect to pooled their resources to form ‘the
Syndicate.’

The Syndicate’s purpose was simple in design:
“Soak up all of the excess capacity being created by South Africa”
in order to prevent the devaluation of diamonds. So successful in
their endeavor did they become, that it enabled the dealers of
London and New York to remain the driving force that lies behind
the multi-billion dollar diamond industry that exists today
throughout the world.

Possessing a long beard and wearing a simple
jet-black suit, Yoel Teitebaum embodied to a ‘T’ what one would
expect of a man belonging to the famous trader’s sect.

In the world of terrorists and criminals
where diamonds had long been the currency of choice it made sense
for the Mossad to place their assets in different locations around
the world to keep an eye on the various individuals who acted as
brokers and financiers.

Yoel was one such man. Recruited out of a
northern Israel kibbutz at eighteen, he had served Israel
faithfully in Hong Kong over the years. To his friends and business
partners he was a successful diamond merchant who did business with
anybody as long as the price was right. He was also the source of
intelligence that had been passed on the Americans before 9/11 by
the Institute (the Israeli’s name for the Mossad), warning them
that a diamond merchant working for Bin Laden had been purchasing
Sierra Leone diamonds from Charles Taylor, the dictator of the
Sierra Leone.

Buying at a rate of three hundred thousand
U.S. dollars per week between December 2000 and September 2001,
then sending the diamonds to Hong Kong to sell them and transfer
the funds into the money trader’s Dubai bank accounts, Yoel had
passed on to the Institute the location of the funds he had
transferred who in turn had then tracked them to Hamburg and then
to America and into Atta’s and the other 9/11 terrorists bank
accounts. It was these assets who had provided the intelligence to
their Americans counterparts at Langley, before they, at their
peril, had chosen to ignore the information until after the
event.

“
So Mikhail,” Yoel said
after their expressive hugs were out the way.

“
This is the famous Sir
Thomas Litchfield,” he said offering his hand in the direction
Thomas warmly.

“
My pleasure Mr.
Teitlebaum,” Thomas said in Yiddish taking the hand of
Yoel.

“
All lies,” Thomas answered
with a smile in reference to Yoel’s ‘famous’ remark.

The man smiled but didn’t comment further as
he took off his Beaver fur hat and sat down on the suite’s sitting
room’s couch.

Neither Mikhail nor Thomas offered Yoel
anything to eat, as they knew he would refuse it because the
religious law of the Hasidic sects forbids a gentile from making
food for Jews. Instead, because he was Jewish, Mikhail made and
then poured him a cup of green tea.

Yoel thanked his old friend and got straight
down to business. He didn’t ask the reasons why he had been asked
to find a man within Oleg Rejejow’s criminal organization that
could be approached to betray him. It wasn’t his place. It was also
one of the reasons why he had stayed alive as long as he had,
living in the shadowy world of criminals and terrorists. His role
was merely to find, report, and pass on information.

“
The man you seek is a
diplomat in the Beijing Embassy. He is their local resident,” Yoel
stated with authority, “But more importantly he is Oleg’s dealmaker
with the Japanese Yazuka who uses their country’s diplomatic ‘bag’
to transport their illicit methamphetamines from North Korea via
China into Western Europe.”

“
My sources tell me that he
has expensive tastes,” he continued with a smile that said it all
before providing them with an outline of what they were. “I have
set up a meeting with him tomorrow at Peninsula Hotel for you,” he
said referring to the famous hotel located on Kowloon Island of
Hong Kong where the tourists and members of the jewelry and apparel
trades like to stay.

“
Now, Mikhail tell me how is
your family?” Yoel asked changing the subject to more palatable
matters.

The next day, at five o’clock in the evening,
a member of staff from the hotel led Ruslan Amangylyç Mingazow into
a conference room overlooking Hong Kong harbor.

Instantly Thomas and Mikhail could see the
colorful description of the man by Yoel who had described him as a
‘Cane Toad’ was spot on. In his late forties, medium height,
possessing the typical rounded features of the tribes of Central
Asia, and weighing at least two hundred and thirty pounds he moved
like a man who was overweight. Thomas quickly sized up the man. He
could see he had the look of one of Turkmenistan’s famous mountain
men but being a trained diplomat, his mannerisms were anything but
that of his brethren.

“
Sir Thomas,” he said
offering his hand respectfully.

“
Thank you for agreeing to
meet with me, Yuzbashi,” replied Thomas, formally using his
military rank as he shook his hand.

“
I am always happy to meet
one of our President’s dear friends and partners,” he replied in a
manner and style that Thomas concluded was creepy by the way the
man smiled.

After the formalities of coffee were out of
the way, Thomas got straight down to business.

“
I am not going to waste
your time,” he said. “I seek your help to settle a matter of honor
relating to my family,” said Thomas.

“
Sir Thomas,” the diplomat
started.

“
Qan dushar is illegal,” he
continued referring to the term that means ‘blood reaches’ and an
unwritten law of the tribes of Turkmenistan that allowed an
individual with a common patrilineal ancestor who is not more than
seven generations removed to seek revenge on the killer and their
immediate kin, but had been declared illegal ever since the Soviets
had ruled Turkmenistan.

“
And in any case the law
does cover foreigners,” he continued.

“
Yuzbashi.”

“
I am claiming the right on
behalf of my daughter who is the granddaughter of Täçmyrat
Baýramow,” answered Thomas using Nara’s grandfather’s name on her
mother’s side. The man looked at Thomas for a second. He hesitated
for a moment.

“
The law only covers the
patrilineal side of the family, not its matrilineal side,” the
diplomat responded somewhat uncomfortably, implying he knew where
the conversation between them was heading.

“
Your woman’s father was
Russian,” he tried to answer in the manner he had been
trained.

“
By definition because he is
a foreigner the qan dashar cannot be claimed”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed, and then focused on
the man. He kept his anger in check, but decided to take control of
the situation.

“
Ruslan Amangylyç. You will
find I can be a most generous friend,” Thomas said making his
move.

The man licked his lips. Thomas took this as
a signal of greed he had been looking for.

“
How generous?” He asked,
falling in line with Yoel’s assessment of him.

“
One million U.S. dollars!”
answered Thomas.

Mingazow carefully picked up his glass of
water. He sipped slowly to gather his thoughts. As he did so,
Thomas assessed the man. He could see he was attempting to act
cool. The offer was generous but not without risk. He was asking
him to betray one of the most dangerous of individuals in his
government’s list of henchmen.

“
Who is the person the qan
dashar will be performed on?” asked Mingazow with caution despite
already indicating through his body language that he knew the
answer.

“
Oleg Mälikgulyýewiç
Rejejow,” Thomas replied without hesitation.

Mingazow’s eyes widened. The fact he was
sitting here meant that if Thomas failed with his attempted bribe,
then the Turkmen would be facing certain death, for Thomas could
not allow him to leave the room alive if he refused to help
him.

“
Five million upfront,” came
the response of Mingazow without hesitation.

Thomas nodded. One never bargained with a
person on matters of betrayal. Each man had a price that they
valued their life at.

“
I am not finished,” replied
Mingazow forcefully laying down his terms. He put down the glass
trying hard not to shake.

“
If you’re successful, I
want your support for my political ambitions in
Ashgabat.”

Thomas nodded again.

“
And a seat on the board of
your Turkmen Company.”

At this statement, it was Mikhail’s turn to
get angry. A look from Thomas defused the situation. Mikhail’s body
language immediately relaxed at the instruction.

“
With a salary and profit
share I assume?” Thomas asked picking up his cup of green
tea.

“
Yes,” replied the diplomat
without a flicker of emotion.

Again Thomas nodded.

“
I will make the
arrangements.”

“
Then we have a deal,”
replied Ruslan with a smile and offering his hand for Thomas to
shake.

“
We do indeed,” replied
Thomas with the devil’s eyes.

Later that month, good to his word, Ruslan
arranged for the setup, using the pretense that one of their
partners in Japan wanted to meet with a man who could introduce him
to the President to discuss a lucrative gas deal.

Being a trusted lieutenant in his business,
Oleg didn’t even bat an eyelid when Ruslan had told him that the
client wanted him to come to Dubai as he always enjoyed his trips
to the Emirate. Nor did the Munbashi question the location of the
meeting that was due to take place at a small four star hotel
located on the busy road of Al Maktoum Street in Deira, known as
the Moscow Hotel, because the hotel contained one of favorite
dancing troops all drawn from Russia’s famous ballet schools who
girls represented just the type of plaything he loved. Young,
beautiful, elegant, and graceful but best of all, with limited
experience in the ways of the world having been recruited from some
of Russia’s famous dancing troops, therefore by definition, weren’t
professionals, unlike the Jeleps he kept in Ashgabat and thus more
innocent. As such his stays at the hotel were always thoroughly
enjoyable.

“
The manager has arranged
for a private showing,” said Ruslan referring to the group of girls
he had arranged to be delivered to the suite in order to pick one
or two to share his bed as they were being driven to the hotel in a
Sand Gold colored Vogue Range Rover by Yuri.

Already in a good mood because he had an
excellent meal at the Emirates Towers Hotel’s Japanese restaurant,
Oleg smacked his knee, making Ruslan wince in the process as he
started the conversation.

“
Who is this person the
Katamaya-Gumi are sending us?” Oleg asked referring to their Yazuka
partners from Osaka in Japan.

“
Oleg Mälikgulyýewiç,”
Ruslan answered formally, as nobody below him in the business was
allowed to be informal when addressing him. “His name is Yaturo
Nakajima and he represents one of the biggest Gas cartels in
Tokyo.”

“
What’s our take going to
be?” Oleg asked, despite already knowing the answer. He just wanted
to be sure the man wasn’t skimming anything.

“
Twenty-five-year contract
at $200 USD per 1,000 cubic meter gas delivered,” Ruslan answered,
using the figure and term to reflect they would pay the transport
costs of the Gas by sea that Thomas had given him.

”
It will be worth two
billion U.S. dollars to the President,” he offered nervously
dangling the carrot just like Thomas told him to do so.

Oleg looked at him and smiled. Ruslan prayed
to Allah that he would survive tonight. When the Jew had told him
that the famous Sir Thomas Litchfield was looking for a good man to
introduce him to Katamaya-Gumi he had jumped at the chance to earn
some extra money on the side. Only to have that hope dashed as soon
as the meeting started in Hong Kong.