The Devil's Playground

by Michael Reagan

plants in the homeland had quickly overridden any fears he had over the cutting ties with the Koreans.

  The approval of the Secretary of State had been the icing on the cake.

  In the space of three short years CORETEXAS was now going to control not only the production but also virtually the entire gas supply to the fourth largest economy in the world. It was a thought that warmed him as the rich complex bourbon slid down his throat.

  The words of Young, "Please ensure your friends understand that we expect them to support the President's agenda with regard to challenging China and Russia within South East Asia in exchange for this support" had interrupted his thoughts and had brought Hank back to the world.

  He refocused his attention on Young.

  "That means we do not expect them to sit on the fence when America stands up to Tyranny," the prissy bureaucrat had continued as he had referred to Japan's recent history of taking a liberal stance with regard to sanctions against Russia when they had annexed the Crimea and looking to do a deal with the Russia over the return of two of the tiniest islands of Northern Territories.

  "I understand Mr. Secretary," Hank had replied acknowledging the rank if not the man. "Your thoughts will be relayed accordingly and I will have that timetable for you within the next forty-eight hours," he had stated with authority.

  "Good," the Secretary of State had replied as he stood up to indicate their meeting was over.

  20

  Mexico City

  Navjot had worked for Hank Dowling since taking the fall for the debacle in Africa on behalf of the CIA nearly two years ago. Retired with full benefits, he had been personally recommended for this job as the Corporate Head of Security by the Secretary of State.

  "A favor to reflect your loyalty," Ali Mansoor the Director of CIA had called it at the time when he had received his gold watch.

  Mostly the work had consisted of paying bribes to unnamed officials from the various countries that the company worked in and then when an official couldn't be bribed, setting him or her up in one scandal or another. It was something that Navjot could do in his sleep and if he were honest with himself it had come as a relief from the last few years in the SAD where he often found himself increasingly more and more at odds with the new direction of the Agency and his division had been taking.

  When he had first joined the Agency the enemy was 'Communism,' then it had become a crusade of righteousness after the 9/11. In the past when the role had demanded that he had to make life and death decisions, although he never enjoyed it he found he could always deal with it emotionally as it was matter of ideology for him. When the Agency's business moved into the world of energy security only then did he find that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't justify it any longer.

  As far as Navjot was concerned, fighting a war based on making sure your country had access to next year's mobile phone coil just couldn't be defended. It was why he had been relieved to head off into the private sector. Unfortunately, this deal with the Shota-Gumi, an organization that engaged in kidnapping and contract killing in the United States and operated in partnership with Los Zetas and Sinaloa Cartels, in illegal drug trafficking had brought him right back into the world he thought he had left behind because he found himself acting as the "go-between" between his employer and the Gumi's head.

  Navjot's experience told him that there had to be more to Hank's partnership with Shota Oshima than just a joint venture to build two power generation plants close to the American-Mexican border. He had just chosen not to look down that corridor on fear of what he found. Instead he choose to think about the US$500,000 a year salary and bonuses that would educate his two children once they went to college and did what he was told.

  After the last exchange he had with Shota Oshima yesterday he now decided it was time to look for a new job. There were plenty of contractors, the headhunter in Washington had told him, looking for former Agency employees to act as their liaisons. Maybe this was the signal he had been looking for to jump ship.

  "Welcome to Mexico City Mr. Dowling," Navjot said, dressed in field dress of dark blue Ralph Lauren chinos and a white polo shirt and wearing a shoulder holster containing his Browning 9mm as he met the equally casually dressed Texan at the bottom of the steps of the G-4 and offered his outstretched hand.

  "Thanks Navjot," replied the Texan, shaking his hand firmly.

  "Is the meeting with Oshima arranged?" Hank asked him, getting straight to the point.

  Navjot immediately nodded under his Ray Ban sunglasses.

  "For eight this evening at his villa," he answered.

  "Good," Hank responded as he stepped into one of the armored black Cadillac Escalades that formed part of his protection detail from the anti-kidnapping agency of Mexico for the trip to the Four Seasons Hotels that was located at the heart of the city's historic Paseo de la Reforma.

  Once inside the vehicle and settled in, Hank said a name to Navjot who was sitting in the front of the vehicle that he hadn't heard since he had left the Agency and a question he hadn't been expecting to hear when he had gotten up that morning.

  "Son, what can you tell me about Thomas Litchfield?" Hank asked.

  Navjot removed his sunglasses and turned his head toward his employer. Despite wanting to ask the reason why his fellow Texan was asking him such a question, he didn't. Instead he answered.

  "The owner of TLH?" he asked in the manner of a query as if confirming and avoiding the question at the same time.

  "Yep," replied Hank before stating he didn't want the man's CV.

  Navjot paused for a moment yet before his curiosity could get the better of him as why Hank had made such a statement, the older man answered for him as to why.

  "The Secretary of State tells me you and he have history"

  Anger appeared on Navjot's face immediately. He only barely managed to keep it in check.

  "That's classified, Mr. Dowling," Navjot answered firmly. Boss or no Boss that didn't give him the God given right to ask him questions about his former service for his country nor did it give the Secretary of State for that matter the right to leak classified information.

  "I don't want to know how you know him, Goddamit son!" Hank countered with stare. "Young said you knew all about what made him tick. That's what I am interested in."

  The Indian-American mentally sighed. The last time he had seen Litchfield in person had been in Africa when he had been handed back to CIA as part of the "below the line" deal between Russia and America. It had cost him his career and he didn't want to revisit it. Unfortunately the look of Hank told him not giving him an answer just wasn't going to be an option.

  "Litchfield believes in the Homeric Code," answered Navjot.

  "What in the hell does that mean?" Hank questioned.

  "You know the story of Achilles and the siege of Troy?" Navjot answered trying to bring the conversation to a level that he figured his employer might be able to understand. The Texan nodded.

  "Well, that was written by a Greek called Homer over three thousand years ago. The code governs the conduct of the Homer's heroes is a simple one. Honor is essential in everything they do, so much so that life would be meaningless without it. To men like Litchfield honor is more important than life itself as they believe it is primarily determined by a mixture of courage and physical abilities and to a lesser degree by their social status and possessions."

  "Are you being serious?" asked Hank not quite believing him.

  "Unfortunately I am," replied Navjot.

  "Sounds savage," offered Hank.

  "I agree it's definitely that! You see?" Navjot searched for the words. Then remembered what one the behavior science analysts of Langley had once told him and continued. "Followers of a Homeric code tend to be fiercely individualistic, primarily concerned with their own honor and that of their households, who they see as extensions of themselves."

  "Just like Achilles at the siege of Troy," offered Hank showing Navjot that he grasped w
hat he had been talking about.

  Navjot offered a singular nod then a grim smile in return before he turned his body back around and refocused his attention on the environment around the vehicle as it moved through the city at speed.

  "In simple terms, that's what makes Litchfield tick," he stated ending the conversation.

  "Thanks, that explains a lot" Hank replied from behind him.

  "You're welcome, Sir" replied Navjot whilst his mind hoped that the fact his employer had asked him about Litchfield had nothing to do with this meeting he had arranged with Shota Oshima, in spite of his instincts telling him otherwise.

  "Better check in with that headhunter!" he decided right there and then.

  The Japanese Yazuka Kumicho of the Shota-Gumi studied the face of Dowling as his wife Teresa cleared away the remains of their meal from the table.

  When he had first arrived in Mexico City as the Katamaya-Gumi's representative Shota, he had quickly grasped that in order to survive he was going have to integrate with the community. Marrying a local and having children was only part of that that process.

  The Yakuza's Code of Ethics didn't apply in Mexico; here the only thing that mattered was survival of the fittest. It had also meant he had be more ruthless and hardnosed than his any competitors. It was something he did with upmost efficiency.

  In Mexico, members of cartels before they did business with, or accepted anybody into their organization had always required the individual making