“D-a-d-d-y! Please don’t go!” she cried over sobs delivering her first words for weeks in the process.
Stopped in his tracks by her voice Thomas turned back around just as she flung herself into his waist.
“Please D-a-d-d-y!” Victoria desperately pleaded again so much, so he almost caved into her.
“Victoria,” he said using his finger gently lifting her face up him, before continuing, “I have to do something for Mummy!” He was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
“WHAT?” she demanded, tears in her eyes.
“A debt of Honor,” he whispered.
“I don’t understand Daddy?” she asked while holding on to him for dear life.
“You will one day, Plum.”
“But for now I have do this for your Mother,” he said seriously not wanting to answer her. “I need you to look after Grandma for me,” he requested so to change the subject giving his now speaking daughter a responsibility to focus her mind and still processing the fact she was talking again fully.
“Will you do that for me?” he asked as he looked down at her.
Looking up him the little girl, sensing the pain in her father’s eyes, suddenly grew up.
“You will come back? Won’t you Daddy?” she asked
“If Allah wills it, Victoria,” Thomas replied not wanting to lie to his daughter and treating her as an adult. “Will you let me go?” he asked finally.
“Yes, Daddy,” she answered firmly thinking that was what her mother would say if she were here sensing the trip was dangerous despite her father not saying so by his response.
When her mother was alive, she often told her that her father fought bad men who wanted to hurt them as an answer when she first asked why they had bodyguards. This must be one of those times.
“Thank you,” the former solider answered with a stiff upper lip making every effort not to cry over the fact that Victoria was talking again and trying to show strength for the task he now had to do while experiencing for the first time since his first operation in Northern Ireland all those years ago that being: genuine fear.
Not fear for himself but fear for the little girl in front of him if he didn’t come back.
“Mama will keep you safe!” replied his half Turkmen-English daughter with her mother’s eyes staring back at him as she leant up to kiss his cheek and hug him firmly. Holding her for a few moments longer himself for now it was his turn let her go reluctantly. Releasing her, he turned and left his daughter, his eyes changing in the process as he did so.
61
Nouakchott International Airport
As the old 737 cargo plane taxied into Nouakchott International Airport using the cover of a charter to carry out the gold that had been mined by one of the Canadian mining companies that operated in the country, all the men on board knew that they would have less than one day to complete the mission.
Igor’s team with the support of the local resident had established that Wasir’s villa, though near the main road, had only a team of ten guarding him. That meant that with his team of fifteen on site and all posing as many NGO’s plus Thomas and this team who had all insisted that they were coming with him that doubled the advantage over the team protecting the pirate.
Using the plans of the villa that had been registered at the Department of Works and Buildings that the Resident obtained, they worked on the premise that it was unlikely the internal walls of the villa would have changed much.
To save time, Igor had sent these plans to Mikhail so he and the team could get themselves familiar with the structure via the photos.
Getting off the plane, the five Canadians posing as security officers for the gold shipment presented their passports at the immigration desk at the private aviation department of the small airport.
Checking their passports twice making sure the visa was correct, the disinterested immigration officer found a free page in each as he slammed stamp after stamp to reflect their entry and then took the $200 entry fees from Yossi.
“Welcome to Nouakchott,” said the officer in French.
“Merci,” replied Yossi said taking back the passports back.
Picking up their kit, containing their equipment of Heckler and Koch UMP Machines guns, hunting knifes and a rather unique one, a Kukri Ghurkha Knife owned by Thomas, stun grenades, night vision, body armor, and headsets. All of which had passed through the turned off x-ray machine with the help of a $200 U.S. dollar bribe to the young police officer. The five Canadians made their way out of the small building where they were met by two of Igor’s team and their newly purchased fourth hand white KIA Gallopers.
“Good to see you again,” offered Aytrom towards Mikhail
“Likewise Aytrom,” answered Mikhail in return as he shook his hand first then following up quickly with everybody else.
Upon reaching Thomas, though, he held on firmly looked at him straight in the eyes.
“We will settle the debt, Fama,” he said, determination coming through in his voice instead of the usual condolences he received from everybody.
“Thank you Artyom,” replied Thomas towards the Zaslon officer.
Releasing his hand, the seven men got into the four-wheel drives and drove off for the short trip towards the base hotel.
Taking just ten minutes not one member of the team said anything in the short trip. Instead they choose to take in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood as they made their way through the city down the Avenue Gamal Abdel Nassar.
They arrived at the Residence Imam, and unloaded the kit. The men went through the hotel up into lift two at a time and rode up to the third floor, exited and made their way along the corridor to the suite.
Once inside, greetings and introductions out of the way the strike team assembled to go through the plan around the dining table.
“The villa is near the main road. According to our intelligence the only presence outside appears to be the two guards on the main gate,” Igor said starting the briefing by showing them the images on screen that had come from Anton.
“So Vitali and Emin will take them out with their sniper rifles,” Igor said looking towards his men before continuing with the briefing.
Ten minutes later briefing finished. The team set about stripping down their weapons to clean them before reassembling them ready for action.
“Are you really sure you want to be part of the main assault team?” Igor asked Thomas sitting down by the side of him. Sergei had told him to make sure that no harm came to him despite him insisting that he was to be part of the assault team. The fallout they would receive from their President if anything did, would be the equivalent of driving around Dagestan in an open top Jeep to quote his commanding officer.
Mikhail looked towards the Zaslon commander and gave him a shake of his head to signal that he shouldn’t bring it up.
“Igor, thank you for your concern. This is a debt of honor that I must follow,” replied Thomas firmly, his eyes full of steel towards the young commander as he clicked his firing pin back into place on his UMP. “So don’t worry I won’t let you or your men down!” he added finishing the conversation.
“Don’t worry Igor. I will make sure he doesn’t!” offered Mikhail in support.
Nodding in return, accepting that he had been put in his place, Igor grabbed Thomas’s shoulder.
“He is as pig-headed and stubborn as a mule,” he offered in Russian, earning a smile in return from Mikhail if not one from Thomas, who was in the zone.
With the city asleep and dawn still forty-five minutes away the assault team, dressed in black head to toe and with facemasks, took up position.
Eight hundred yards away further down the road and waiting for Igor’s mark, two snipers were in place ready to release their shots.