The air in Geneva always smelled too clean for a man like Yug Bhati.
Beneath the glass skyline and the ticking of diplomatic clocks, a different kind of war was already underway — not with tanks or soldiers, but with contracts, encrypted emails, and oil routes drawn in invisible ink.
He sat in the backroom of Hotel De La Montagne, a luxury suite that had been "under renovation" for the past two years — because the entire floor belonged to him.
Three men waited inside. One from the European Energy Commission, one from Rosneft's African Division, and one whose name didn't appear on any record.
A single camera light blinked red. Yug raised his eyes — calm, unreadable — and spoke.
> "You think Russia controls Africa's oil corridors? Gentlemen, Russia doesn't even control its own debts."
Silence.
He slid a folder across the table. Inside were leaked satellite images of Russian convoys in the Sahel region — black-market tankers loaded with oil, running under falsified trade routes. The images were branded with the insignia of Vulture 20.
> "They thought I wouldn't find out," Yug said, pouring himself a drink. "They were wrong. I don't play chess. I buy the board."
---
Scene Cut — Moscow, FSB Headquarters
The camera follows Colonel Vasiliev, head of Russian Counterintelligence, pacing across a dimly lit office.
He's looking at a holographic map of Africa — oil terminals flickering like embers. Every flicker represents a site partially owned, indirectly controlled, or administratively compromised… by Bhati International Holdings.
> "He doesn't even step foot on our soil," Vasiliev muttered.
"And yet fifteen percent of our national refinery output goes through his contracts."
The junior analyst hesitated. "Should we intercept his shipments?"
The colonel shook his head. "We can't. Half our military fuel comes from the same route. If we touch it, we burn ourselves."
Fade out.
---
Scene — Nairobi, Two Weeks Later
A convoy of armored trucks moves through the Nairobi-Mogadishu corridor, the world's most dangerous road.
Yug is inside the second vehicle, watching the desert roll by like an endless tan ocean. His assistant, a stoic woman named Amara Voss, hands him a secured tablet.
> "Fort Makana is ready for inspection," she said.
"And the Russians?"
"Still debating whether to admit they've lost fifteen percent of their oil profits to a man who doesn't even wear a uniform."
"Good," Yug replied, glancing out the window. "Let them choke on their pride. I'll take their silence as payment."
Outside, children waved at the convoy — not knowing the man inside was about to rewrite the balance of African power.
---
Scene — Russian Intelligence Briefing
> "Operation Dustwatch," read the screen.
"Primary Objective: Contain Bhati influence in Africa. Secondary: Identify 'Vulture 20' structure."
A female agent clicked through slides. Her voice was sharp.
> "Bhati's syndicate operates like an infection — financial, not physical. He doesn't control territory. He controls permission. Every refinery, every supply chain, every ship that moves — needs his signature."
The director slammed his fist on the desk.
> "Then revoke it!"
The agent looked up.
> "Sir, half our government contracts require his approval to function. He's already inside the system."
Silence.
The lights dim.
On the final slide — a single image: Yug Bhati, in a green overcoat, standing beside an Emirati minister.
Caption: "UNKNOWN – SUBJECT UNTOUCHABLE."
---
Scene — Back to Yug
Night falls over Fort Makana. The camp hums with the buzz of diesel engines and nervous laughter.
In the command room, Yug stares at a massive touchscreen table showing trade routes across Africa.
Amara Voss leans over him. "The Russians are probing your eastern supply lines."
> "Let them," Yug says, tapping a location on the map — Mali.
"By the time they figure out where their oil went, it'll already be mine again."
He stands, straightens his green coat, and holsters his custom Vulture P99 pistol.
The metal gleams under the fluorescent lights.
> "War," he murmurs, "is just business with a louder soundtrack."
---
Final Montage
Russian intelligence scrambling to track phantom companies in Dubai.
African militias funded by unknown Swiss accounts.
U.S. drones re-tasked to monitor a "ghost syndicate."
And in the middle of it all — Yug Bhati, watching from a steel balcony in the desert, the green of his coat fluttering in the wind.
A single message flickers on his encrypted phone:
> "Phase Two Approved. Proceed with Dust Protocol."
The chapter closes with Yug staring at the horizon —
A distant rumble of thunder rolling across the desert.
Only it's not thunder.
It's the first artillery shells of the war he just paid for.
---
End of Chapter 4 — "Echoes Before Gunfire."