come, our Supreme Leader has much to discuss with you." He linked arms with his son. "Your wife and son are also desperate to see you," he said as the rain and the wind started to fall on the two men. One elderly and increasingly frail, the other a young broken man in need of rebuilding yet both loyal servants of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
9
Moscow
The picture of Nara, the beautiful dead companion and the mother of Thomas's fourteen-year-old daughter on his desk stared out at him as he sat in the study of his house mulling over this latest situation he found himself in.
For the second time in two years, Thomas found himself between two superpowers to potentially act at as a fulcrum in their latest tactical battle for dominance of the world resources. Although, at the time he was initially wasn't sure how he was going to navigate himself through it, none of that mattered the moment Young had appeared in the meeting.
The appearance in his study of Mikhail Pschneicnikov, his longtime bodyguard and closest friend, followed by Saul Berkovic, the CEO of TLH brought him back to the world.
"Ashley has just arrived," Mikhail said.
To which, Saul perked up, "Are you really sure this is a good idea?" he asked, referring to the planned trip they were about to make to Pyongyang with a known CIA agent as part of their team.
Mikhail answered for him, "Saul," the tall rugged blond former Shakbat Chief Sergeant said, "Next year in Jerusalem," he explained to the thirty-five-year-old whizz-kid with short-cropped jet-black thick hair, deep blue eyes, and a thin physique using the famous saying that all Jews used as an expression of spiritual hope but in particular the special forces of Israeli as a way of explaining a "Catch-22" situation they found themselves in.
The CEO looked at Mikhail. "That bad?"
"If I had refused the President's request then TLH would have lost all of the permits in Louisiana," Thomas replied in an effort to avoid the truth, something that he actually saw as fate's way of giving him the chance to avenge the death of Nara. He just didn't know how yet. "Not to mention the fact that we would have had every single Federal Agency the man had at his disposal stripping away at TLH various interests for wrongdoing," he continued. "So stop your moaning and let's welcome our latest recruit to the fold," Thomas ordered with a smile towards his trusted men just as Mr. Tan, the house's Gurkha butler walked into the study with Robin Ashley in tow.
"Gentleman," Rob said offering his hand first to Mikhail because he was closer to him then Saul. "Good to see you again, Sir Thomas," he said as they firmly shook hands.
"You too, Rob" Thomas replied with more warmth than the last time when they had met in the Oval Office. "As you're part of the team now," Thomas continued as they released their handshake. "It's Thomas," he said as he indicated for the CIA agent to sit down.
The friendliness, bouts of genuine laughter, and the animated conversation of Thomas, his team, and their families as he sat amongst them breaking bread, Rob confessed to his somewhat alcohol fuelled mind had taken him somewhat by surprise.
To the last man, woman, or child, they had made him feel as though he was part of their family over the last three hours. The analysts back at Langley described Thomas as a man who crossed both the worlds of crime and politics with a net worth of approximately seventy billion dollars with investments and interests in everything from oil to media and who ran his business as a Clan-based operation.
As he watched Thomas, whom he had noted at the White House had seemed to have aged ten years since he had last seen him two years ago in East Africa, sit with one of his arms around his exotic looking fourteen-year-old daughter's shoulder, he could see?they were right in their assumptions. Yet he also knew through bitter personal experience and for that matter cost from years spent in the desert working for the royal families and thereby exposed to one of the three "Children of Abraham" (a term he had once heard used by a respected Sheikh to describe the monotheistic faiths of Middle Eastern origin-Judaism, Islam, and Christianity-who could trace their common origin to Abraham) that it was never as simple as that and always went deeper.
"Loyalty is always earned and never given lightly!" he thought as he reflected on the old Sheikh's words, "Today's enemies are tomorrow's friends while today's friends are tomorrow's enemies!" the old fox had said to him as they shared a meal together in a tent in Afghanistan when they had been sent by his former employer to negotiate hunting rights with a local tribal chief. The same chief who had sworn revenge over the rape of his daughter by the Sheikh's son on a previous trip but now was offering loyalty and security to the Sheikh in exchange for members of the tribe being allowed to travel to Dubai to work as taxi drivers while they sat.
"But the animal raped his twelve year-old daughter," Rob had said with disgust referring to the Sheikh's oldest son, who kept pet Timberwolves and was considered such a total liability that he was passed over for Crown Prince.
"Yet, the tribe needs money to survive," the old fox had explained with sad eyes. "So he foregoes his revenge for the good of the tribe as you can see, my young friend, and the tribe's well-being must always come first."
When Rob had come up with this plan to use Litchfield as his country's proxy he knew it was risky, to say the least, for the Oligarch was without a shadow of doubt a man who walked in the corridors of power, considered important enough to be given a diplomatic passport by the Russians yet intelligent enough to act as a trusted go between. However, remembering the words of the old wizened Sheikh, Rob knew that when it came down to it Litchfield was a man that was only truly loyal to one thing, and unlike him it wasn't the Constitution of the United States of America! His loyalty was to the people who sat around this table and who belonged to "Abraham's Children" by the way of their Jewish heritage.
Yesterday, Litchfield had considered the Agency and its instruments, of which both Rob and his wife represented, the architects of the death of the woman he loved and bore the blood beneath his shoulder. Rob knew full well from his time in the Middle East that meant by the forces that drove Thomas this made him his enemy and consequentially one day Thomas would seek his vengeance despite the threat of destruction by those, who like him and his wife had sworn to protect their country against all enemies foreign and domestic.
"An eye for eye," Rob grimly had reflected as he looked at his wife and Ethan's pictures in the study.
Two years ago when Ali Mansoor instructed him to fly to Adwalland to extract Clara and the rest of the team and clean up the mess, he had thought at the time it was kismet. He just didn't know why. Nor did he really understand why he had decided to supply MI6 with the location of the man who had killed Thomas's innocent wife for at that moment in his journey Clara wasn't part of his life.
It wasn't until he had fallen in love with her that he truly understood. "It was Kismet in motion," he thought, wondering if that meant Thomas and he were destined to be enemies. He hoped not because he admired him but there was only one way he could find out if that were fate's plan or not, and that was to offer Thomas the olive branch.
Yet it wasn't until Rob had met Mikhail's wife did he truly understand what loyalty actually meant to the tribes of the Middle East, whether they be Christian, Jew or Arab. Today, he was the man who avenged the death of the brother of a member of Thomas's Clan, thus defined as a friend.
Rob thought back to the moment when that had happened.
On the completion of the briefing of Thomas's inner circle of ex-Shakbat Commandos on his role and mission, Mikhail, the group's leader, to his surprise had insisted that he have dinner with him and his family at his home. Rob, in the zone of "on mission" and still not comfortable despite convincing everybody back at Langley otherwise that he had placed his life into the hands of the men who knew he was a CIA officer, had decided to decline Mikhail's offer. That had earned a reply of "Nonsense!" from the former protective officer.
"Hannah will kill him if you refuse," Thomas had injected as he put his hand on his shoulder warmly. It wa
s gesture that, bearing in mind Thomas's attitude towards him on the last two occasions they had met, made him even more suspicious as to their motives. The look and smirks of the rest of Mikhail's men, including the man he now knew as Benny Zaguri but in the past as "the courier" who had delivered the device that he had used for his the sanction, the first of five Rob had carried out on behalf of his country over the years, had instantly told him that saying "No" was not an option.
"She wants to thank you personally," Benny had said in an effort as to explain why the offer was being made.
"Then I am deeply honored," Rob had replied suddenly understanding what Benny meant because his mind had returned to the discussion that he shared with Mikhail in Adwalland when the man had thanked him for killing the terrorist on behalf of his wife's brother.
The deep hug and emotion on the face of Hannah Pschenichikov after she had kissed him on both cheeks while he stood in the hallway of her home instantly banished his earlier suspicions.
Not for the first time in his life did he find his mind being drawn back to the belief of Kismet.
"Got shtroft, der mentsh iz zikh noikem!" Hannah whispered while holding his face.
"I am afraid, Hannah, you have to forgive me," Rob replied not understanding what she