The Devil's Handshake by Michael Reagan Read Free Book Online Page B

six
inches taller than her, she was considered curvy rather than
statuesque.
    A full-time secretary who worked for a bank
as did many women in her country who worked to support their ethnic
Russian husbands who had lost their jobs. She was a proud woman who
had absolutely hated her husband for what he had done to their
daughter through his weakness and had lost no sleep when he died
from a heart attack, sadly, so different to the young Engineer of
the Oil Refinery under the days of the Soviets that had married
her. It was why, despite her fears, she had accompanied her
daughter today.
    To look conservative, Tania had insisted that
they dress in a more formal way by wearing red and green long one
piece dresses. Unfortunately as Nara grimly reflected by the look
of Yuri, it certainly hadn’t worked.
    In contrast to him, as they sat down to wait
their turn, Nara noticed the man standing opposite them was a truly
different sort of individual.

A tall, striking man with short military
style blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a solid muscular frame he
was dressed in an expensively tailored simple, but elegant, dark
blue suit, light blue shirt, and dark blue tie by a designer Nara
immediately assumed was Italian. With his pistol nestling
discreetly underneath his jacket and his feet shod in an expensive
pair of dark tanned English style shoes; he looked the polar
opposite in class and style to Yuri.
    The man known as Mikhail Olegovich
Pshenicnikov she would later find out, she realized was assessing
her but then without saying a word, he put Nara quickly at ease by
smiling at her and then respectively offered a nod towards her
mother.
    Having spotted Mikhail’s respectful actions,
Yuri decided to mark his territory almost as was a dog cocking his
leg by retorting, “You can’t afford her Mikhail!” while laughing at
his own joke.
    It was spiteful comment that immediately sent
a shiver down Nara’s spine. She hated it when men treated her as a
piece of meat, evermore so as it was in front of her mama.
    Seeing that her daughter was biting her lip
and knowing that she was worried and nervous, Tania put her hand
across hers gently and patted it, almost to imply it didn’t matter
in an effort to comfort her. The young lady smiled in response
towards her mother but didn’t say anything. She also caught sight
of the polite man shooting Yuri a look, dismissing him for the
prick he was. It warmed her as he turned again towards them and
repeated his respectful nod again.
    Feeling better, Nara offered a smile of her
own as a way of a thank you, thinking to herself as she did so that
he looked Jewish.
    “ Whatever he is he is a
gentleman!” Nara thought. “At very least a bodyguard to very
powerful Oligarch who was meeting with Oleg!” she quickly
summarized as she continued to smile back.
    Her instinct had served her well for she was
right on both accounts being Jewish then secondly being a bodyguard
to a powerful man.
    Born in Soviet Russia in 1964 to Jewish
parents that were later allowed to emigrate, to Israel, the young
Mikhail had joined the Israeli Army at eighteen where his talents
as an excellent soldier were honed in the Shakbat and then in its
Protective Security Department.
    He had served six years and rose to the rank
of Chief Sergeant before leaving and going on the reserve list as
all Israeli’s did until they reach sixty-five.
    Having just managed to survive a bad
operation in Bosnia that involved the extraction of ethnic Jews who
had been caught up in the war between the Muslims and Christians in
1992, Mikhail, like many other Russian émigrés around the same
time, headed back to home to Russia to find work as a personal
bodyguard for the new Jewish Oligarchs who were making their
fortunes and wanting individuals with ‘special skills.’
    That was where he had met his current boss
who was doing business with the principal he was working for around
the same time.
    Recognizing Mikhail’s professionalism the