The Devil's Handshake (5 page)

Nara; blessed with a full naturally athletic,
exotically bronzed body, stood 5’10” tall, with an angular, oval
shaped face with high naturally puffed up cheeks, thinly plucked
eyebrows over a set of deeply dark brown eyes surrounded by long
black eyelashes, a pair of luscious lips, and a mane of incredibly
long straight coal black hair; was considered to be amongst of the
most beautiful women in the world.

“
Hello, my darling. You
wanted me?” Nara asked in her English Russian accent that Thomas
had always found rather sexy.

Never one for small talk on telephones except
when talking to their daughter, as time was money, he got straight
to the point.

“
Yes, I need you to fly down
to Nice tomorrow and prepare yacht for the weekend,” he
ordered.

“
Of course, my Thomas,” Nara
responded in return without hesitation, using the word “my” in
front of his name as a kind of respect to his position when given a
task.

A natural linguist fluent in Russian and
Arabic and a passable knowledge of Turkman, Mandarin, and Japanese,
and who had read Russian and Classics at Oxford before joining the
Army. Thomas’s education had provided him with the unique
understanding of the endocentric constructions of languages, so he
knew the use of “my” was Nara’s way of indicating to him the hold
he held over and in her life. He had never bothered to try and
correct her English despite the many years they had been
together.

In the early part of his adult life, this
education had been one of the reasons how he had ended up in the
Special Air Service (SAS) as part of the Mobility Troop Squadron.
When he left the Army in 1991 after the First Gulf War it had also
enabled him to build his Empire in the ashes of Yeltsin’s
Russia.

“
Excellent, Louise will send
over the details and requirements to you.”

“
Of course, my Thomas,”
again she repeated firmly, wanting to please him.

The call out of the way, Thomas sat down
behind his desk and went back to reading the contract notes from
the lawyers he had been mulling over at the window.

On the street corner was an alert man dressed
in a single-breasted dark blue suit, which gave the impression of
someone that shouldn’t be “messed with”, watching for possible
threats.

At his side, stood a beautiful woman who in
contrast to that of her bodyguard who looked anything but that of a
woman that shopped in a local Marks and Spencer for her wardrobe.
Her mane of long hair was pulled back, a tight black silk tight top
showed off her full ample cleavage, and a pair of black skinny
jeans wrapped around her legs as though they were part of her.
Wearing a pair of black simple Ballerina shoes on her feet all
under her couture half Sable Fur by the famous Marc Kaufmann, the
personal designer of choice of the wealthy Russian émigré women
that lived in ‘Londongrad’, was Nara Gurbanammedowova.

The Blackberry’s “hum and buzz” indicated to
her that an email had been received at the same time as her call
with Thomas ended. Focusing her mind, she clicked open the
email.

Skimming it, the beautiful woman quickly
decided to stop her mission to “shop before she dropped” in order
to allow her to return home to prepare herself for tonight’s dinner
with one of his business associates.

After all, she only had three hours to ensure
she looked the part for the evening.

“
Mason, I would like to go
home,” Nara ordered.

Immediately the bodyguard sprang into action.
He touched his earpiece and spoke a few words. Seconds later, a
black Vogue Armored Super-charged Range Rover pulled up alongside
them.

Opening the door to the private section of
the two-ton luxury four-wheel vehicle and still fully alert to any
threats, Mason allowed his charge enter the vehicle.

He then closed the door behind her, took one
last look around to make sure there were no threats on the horizon
and then climbed into the front seat.

“
Let’s go!” he said to the
driver at once, disappointing the on-looking shop assistant of the
boutique Nara had been about to enter before her call. Such was her
reputation for being able to spend.

As they sped off, Nara reflected on the
abruptness of the conservation she had just had with Thomas. She
nibbled her bottom lip as the Range Rover began to weave its way
through the traffic.

“
Is he losing interest in
me?” she pondered. A deeply complex man, honorable, hard, yet fair
unless crossed or dishonored collectively, something he once
described to her as the “Homeric” code of honor, loyalty, and
revenge. Yet to her it sounded more like the tribal laws of her
Turkmenistan unknowingly due to her limited knowledge of the
Classics that those laws had actually come from Alexander the
Great, a follower of Homer and the conqueror of Turkmenistan
thousands of years ago. She loved him passionately.

Compassionate, intelligent, powerful even
humorous, something again Nara had observed over the years they had
been together, that he often used as a defense mechanism whenever
he was deflecting difficult questions. Although still passionate in
their lovemaking, it was only on rare occasions he reciprocated and
told her he loved her these days. This in spite of her losing count
of the number of times she told him that he was the only man she
ever loved. No small thing as she had been a man-hater up to the
moment he entered and took possession of her life.

For his all idiosyncrasies, one thing she
loved most about him completely, unlike her own father, was
Thomas’s parenting abilities.

He had even allowed her to register Victoria,
his only heir, as a Muslim and always backed her in matters
relating to their daughter.

“
Well at least until
recently!” she thought nibbling her lip nervously, again thinking
back to their recent horrible argument over their baby, as she
thought of her current insecurities over her future role in his
life.

Twenty minutes later, after her protection
team had confirmed that it was safe for her exit, the beautiful
woman stepped out from the four-wheel drive and made her way up the
path towards the large mansion. Yet before she could even reach the
door of the house, a man opened it to greet her.

Anybody meeting Stephen Pritchard would
assume he represented a classic literary image of the
quintessential British Butler with his manners and demeanor.

He was a tall man of 5’11”, single never
married, and obsessive in regard to standards relating to dignity.
Physically, he would be best described as thin, willowy, and long.
He had grey hair and a pair of blue eyes hidden under his simple
silver rimmed glasses, and something the beautiful woman whom he
had open the door for had never seen him out of in all the years
she had known him; his classic butler’s uniform of black long coat,
white shirt with butlers tie, and morning suit trousers all
finished off with a pair of extra black polished Northampton soled
shoes.

He was sixty years old, but Nara had never
checked nor had she even wished him ‘happy birthday’ during the
twelve years he had served her.

The mansion had once belonged to the late
mother of Thomas that meant Pritchard’s loyalty towards that of the
Litchfield family was total, having served them and her love since
he was fourteen. Unfortunately, this had also meant the man was by
definition “untouchable,” despite her many attempts to get rid of
him over the years.

“
Good Afternoon, Lady
Gunara,” Pritchard said without smiling, using the term that he
only used when Thomas wasn’t in the house. For when her love was in
the residence it was, “Miss Gunara.”

To Nara this insult was taken by her as
Geci’s way of sending the message that she was only his Mistress
for short periods, and thereby here at the grace and favor of
Thomas and Victoria, who he always referred to as either “Sir
Thomas” or “Lady Victoria” or “My little Lady.”

Affection was something Stephen certainly
never shown towards her in any shape or form in all the years Nara
had known him. Today was no different.

Where this mutual distrust and resentment had
come from had its roots in an event seven years ago, when the old
“Geçi” meaning “Goat” in Turkman, as Nara always thought of him,
had complained to Thomas about her conduct over the disciplining of
a member of the household staff.

The shame and embarrassment the exotic woman
felt from that moment still burned deeply within her and as a
consequence would never leave her. As far as far as the butler was
concerned the incident had showed him well and truly where the
“little cow,” as he thought of her, stood within the pecking order
of the house.

Although the butler had never quite
comprehended exactly what Thomas saw in this uneducated, fiery, and
impolite Russian woman from central Asia, despite her physical
attributes, his feelings towards their daughter were a completely
different matter. In the little girl’s case, she could do no wrong.
He absolutely adored her. She was the grandchild that Stephen had
never had.

2

Holland Park 2007

With a heavy heart because Stephen felt he
had been left with little choice but to resign his position, which
was why the butler found himself opposite Sir Thomas in the study
of the house explaining what his “Woman” had done to the young and
inexperienced member of his staff.

Twenty minutes later, having finished his
explanation and despite being red-faced Stephen waited for his
Master’s response. He didn’t have to wait long. It was instant and
without hesitation.

“
Stephen please pay the girl
£30,000 on the condition she signs a binding Private and
Confidentiality Agreement, and please make sure we give her an
excellent introduction and reference,” Thomas ordered his face
impassive as he came straight to the point.

The statement caught the old butler off guard
because Thomas had used his Christian name. That was something done
he hadn’t since he was young boy. Gathering his thoughts, Stephen
offered first a singular nod as to his acceptance of the task. He
then answered. “A very generous offer, Sir Thomas. I am sure young
Jackie will accept.” as he believed it was an extremely fair offer
for it was equivalent to two years’ salary for the girl.

“
So there will be no need
for your resignation?” queried Thomas, hoping he had put an end to
the matter.

The man was the only real link he had left to
his mother, as he had chosen to cut all ties with his father and
didn’t want to lose Pritchard over the incredibly stupid actions of
Nara.

“
No, Sir Thomas, my mind is
made up! I cannot work for such a person who has no respect for the
people who are only trying to make her life easier! Physically
attacking a poor young girl over an accident is just not acceptable
in any society,” Stephen answered sticking to his guns
resolutely.

“
He’s right of course, Nara
is thoroughly out of bloody order and has acted no better than the
bloody animal that once owned her life!” Thomas reasoned inwardly.
“Well I am certainly putting a stop to that! Right now!” He thought
with conviction. “Maybe that will work” he concluded, his mind made
up as to his next course of action.

“
Stephen would you mind
waiting for one moment please?” he asked trying hard not to show
his anger.

“
Of course, Sir Thomas,”
answered the butler as his master got up and left the
room.

Less than a minute later, he returned with a
sweat-covered Nara in tow from the private gym in the house.
Looking up at her, Stephen immediately felt uncomfortable.

“
Does he really believe an
apology from the little tart is going to work,” Stephen angrily
thought with distain and disappointment showing on his face. He had
expected more from Thomas.

“
Nara, did you hit Jackie?”
Thomas asked, ignoring the disapproving look from his long-standing
butler.

“
Yes, my Thomas, I did!”
Nara answered without remorse and with fire in her eyes.

“
Why?” Thomas
queried.

“
Because the little
‘gullukçy’ spilt boiling tea over me in front of my friends, so she
needed to be taught a lesson!” Nara answered, using the Turkman
word for servant disparagingly.

Suddenly without warning, all in one movement
Thomas smacked Nara across her face with a stinging slap.

“
HOW DARE YOU, THIS IS NOT
FUCKING TURKMENISTAN!” Thomas shouted loudly towards Nara. “WE DO
NOT ACT LIKE THE DICTATORS OF YOUR COUNTRY AND HIT OUR STAFF LIKE
ANIMALS! IN DOING SO YOU HAVE NOW EMBARRASSED ME AND MY NAME WITH
PRITCHARD, FOR THAT YOU WILL BE PUNISHED”

“
N-O, N-O P-L-E-A-S-E M-Y
THOMAS” “P-L-E-A-S-E,” Nara screamed with terror as it suddenly
dawned on her that Thomas was about to beat her.

Unknown to the Butler watching them, she had
not experienced a beating since Turkmenistan at the hands of her
pimp. “NOT IN FRONT OF PRITCHARD. PLEASE I BEG-”

The fury in Thomas’s eyes burned her like a
hot iron.

“
Sir Thomas! PLEASE!”
Pritchard had pleaded with perspiration starting to form on his
head from a raised heartbeat. The dark look from Thomas as he
turned his head sent shivers through Stephen, even more so than the
one he had given his own father over his mother’s grave.

Suddenly as if realizing he had gone too far,
Pritchard watched the devil in Thomas’s eyes disappear back into
the depths of his soul.

“
My god!” he thought, “He’s
punished her for my benefit!” Unsure of what he should do next, he
looked on in stunned silence that was until his master made the
decision for him.