by Jack Dylan
They left the eastern end of the island and sped noisily across the open water to another headland on the mainland shore, which hid a series of sheltered bays tucked into the serrated rocky shoreline. Arif slowed again as he approached one of the empty bays, and as they came to a standstill he dropped the bow anchor into the crystal clear water. When he had satisfied himself that they were secure, he killed the engine and flipped open the cold-box that was hidden under the rear seat of the boat.
“Beer?” asked Arif as he lifted a beer and a coke out of the box.
“You not having one?”
“Na. I just drink coke mostly. I like to see others drink but I don’t do much myself. That’s the difference the religion makes. Not that I do anything else about it, but you sort of grow up in a Muslim atmosphere where alcohol isn’t allowed, and it’s only the last few years that people are loosening up and drinking as much as the tourists. I haven’t got into the habit I guess. Just prefer to have a whisky when I’m relaxing, but I can’t be bothered with all the rest.”
Iannis took the proffered beer can and popped the seal.
“’Fraid I really like the beer here, so I’ll have one.”
“Want to have a go at the skiing afterwards?”
“I’ll only fall off and make a fool of myself.”
“Who’s to see you?”
“That’s true.”
They were not in view of the beach back at Olu Deniz, nor could the anchored yachts see into the secluded bay.
“OK, that’s cool. I’ll give it a try.”
When they finished their drinks, Arif fitted Iannis with a buoyancy jacket, showed him how to fit the water-skis, and gave him the standard instructions about keeping his arms straight, leaning backwards, and letting the boat do the pulling. After a lot of laughter and a few false starts, Arif managed to pull Iannis to his feet on the skis, and he executed a gentle circle round the bay, venturing far enough out to get a good expanse of water before turning back into the sheltered bay. Iannis grinned like a child as he completed another circle, but his arms were aching, his legs were aching, and his stance began to go wrong as they finished the turn. Arif could see him tiring and considerately slowed the boat so that Iannis gently subsided into the water as the speed dropped.
“Well done! You got it.”
“That’s fantastic. Didn’t think I’d get up at first. That’s really cool.”
They laughed and congratulated one-another before tucking the skis and rope away on the boat and accelerating back out into the wider bay to make their way back to the beach. Arif took a long sweep across the bay and over to the eastern coastline with its great gorges cutting down from the mountains behind. It was a dramatic and forbidding landscape, with tree-covered lower slopes, scree covered heights, and no sign of habitation.
“Used to be great smuggling country,” shouted Arif above the noise of the wind and the pounding of the boat over the waves. “Lots of places to hide, and hidden paths up into the mountains. This coast is famous for it.”
Iannis nodded as he scanned the coastline and imagined how impossible it would be for the authorities to monitor all the potential landing places. He looked thoughtfully at Arif and wondered again about his new friend.
They approached the beach slowly, taking care to watch out for the swimmers who seemed oblivious to the danger of being too close to a propeller in the water. Arif nosed the boat in to the beach and let Iannis jump off into the shallow water before reversing carefully back the way he had approached. Then with a casual wave of his left hand he once again accelerated away from the watching beach.
Iannis and his two London friends had drifted apart during the week in Olu Deniz. Attachments to different girls meant that each was more interested in pursuing female company than having a night with ‘the lads’. The three met early each evening in the apartment, and without rancour chatted about the different plans for the evening. They expected and didn’t mind the fact that they would end up in different places as the night wore on. They started the night as usual with some beer and food in the little pita shop that had become their regular haunt, and wished each other good luck for their last night on the town.
Iannis was the one without a prior arrangement with a girl, but he was relaxed, and looking forward to the excitement of finding someone new as they walked up the buzzing street to Arif’s club. They split up at the door, and as the other two went off to find their girlfriends, Iannis circled the floor looking for the unattached girls while trying to look cool and confident.
He gravitated to the bar and ordered another beer. There was a high stool available so he sat there and watched the crowd, still a little thin as it was early. By the time he had ordered his next beer the club was in full swing. The dance-floor was full of t-shirted couples, the tables were crowded, and most of the wall-space was taken up by nonchalant-looking single men, eyeing the crowds hungrily.
Above the noise of the music it was almost impossible to hear what was happening. Two people with heads almost touching had to shout to be heard by one-another. So it was the movement that Iannis saw rather than the crash of the doors bursting open. Like a wave in a tank, the physical push and the recognition of what was happening washed around the club. Those furthest away were dancing or shouting at each other, while those nearer the door had turned to see the intrusion and stopped in their tracks.
A spearhead of about ten armed men had burst through the doors. Most carried what Iannis could recognise as automatic rifles, and wore a uniform that he had seen occasionally round the village. It was the Jandarma, the semi-military police force that was responsible for law and order outside the cities, and particularly for border security and anti-smuggling enforcement. One was making his way forcefully towards the DJ who was poring over his playlist and seemed unaware of the raid. As long as the music blasted out, there was no chance of addressing or controlling the crowd.
Iannis felt a sudden firm touch on his shoulder. Arif was indicating urgently that he should duck down and come behind the bar. He crouched and slipped under the access hatch in the bar counter, and found Arif propelling him low and fast out of a back door into the alley behind the club. As he went he felt a solid, plastic-wrapped package being placed firmly in his right hand.
“Take this. Run.” Hissed Arif, before disappearing back through the door into the club.
Iannis listened for a moment before running. He knew that a planned raid by the Jandarma wouldn’t ignore the rear exit from the club. But the door he had emerged through wasn’t one of the main and obvious back doors. There were two, one at either side leading into the alleys that separated the club from its neighbouring buildings on each side. The door that Iannis had emerged through was a small and inconspicuous one, almost hidden in the detritus and undergrowth in the untidy laneway right behind the club. Instead of running either up or down the lane, which would take him past the ends of the alleys where the emergency exit doors were no doubt already guarded, he vaulted the waist-high fence that separated the lane from the village houses and gardens that ran parallel to the main street. Keeping low and being as quiet as he could, he made his way through what seemed to be vegetable patches and back yards to a point 100 metres along the lane, where he could see the rear of one of the competing night-clubs.
The package in his hand felt solid but slightly malleable. It was about half the size of a supermarket pack of sausages back in London, but was heavier and felt dense. He was just able to stuff it into the pocket of his jeans, where his loose overhanging t-shirt made it unobtrusive.
He could see that the rear door of the club was ajar. There were a couple of men relieving themselves in the laneway, and their voices could be heard along with the escaping noise of the music and chatter of the club. The two finished their business and slipped back inside the club. Iannis squeezed through an old gate in the fence and three paces took him across the lane and through the still unlocked door.
The club was less busy than Arif’s, but
sufficiently big and crowded that no-one seemed to notice his arrival. He moved a few metres away from the door and leaned against the wall. After a few moments to blend into the crowd he pushed his way to the bar and asked loudly for “another beer”.
Standing with his back to the bar, bottle in hand, he watched the bouncers make their routine circuit of the club and wearily secure the emergency exit crash-bar. He had been extremely lucky with the timing of his arrival. He felt his heart still pounding not from exertion but from the drama of the last three minutes. His calculation that, following the raid on Arif’s club, the safest place to be was in another club, was one that he couldn’t fully explain. However it seemed right when he considered the options, and he knew he didn’t want to be wandering along the street on his own, potentially being checked by the Jandarma. He waited and watched as the normality of the place reassured him and slowed his thudding pulse.
After a few minutes he saw a bouncer talking urgently to someone at the door, then hurry over to Arif’s equivalent behind the bar. Their heads bent together as an urgent bit of news was passed. To Iannis’ surprise, the owner nodded and allowed a slight smile to flicker briefly across his moustached face. Then it was back to business. He seemed relaxed. He didn’t seem at all surprised. Iannis guessed that he knew that the Jandarma would not be raiding his club that night.
“Hi gorgeous!” An unexpected voice disturbed Iannis’ thoughts in a brief pause in the music. She was smiling cheekily at him, head cocked appraisingly to one side, and waiting expectantly for his response.
“Hi, Janet?” he stabbed hopefully at the name.
“Jane,” she responded. “Haven’t seen you much for the last few days. Where have you been?”
“Sorry, yes, Jane. I’ve been around. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he lied.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say,” she parried but with no rancour, and still with the cheery smile on her well-tanned face.
“No really,” he went on, partly calculatedly, partly actually pleased to see her and to have the partner. “What are you drinking?”
“Another of those house cocktails since you’re asking. Ta.”
“Listen, do you want to dance first, then I’ll get us both a drink?”
“Yeah. Why not.”
So they sidled onto the sticky dance floor, and commandeered a body’s-worth of space where they could move and sway to the music. Iannis could feel the tension relax in his shoulders and neck. It had been a dramatic few minutes, and he suddenly felt invincible, having gone from peril to perfectly innocent cover in three easy steps. He stroked Jane’s arms and she allowed herself to brush closely against him, their cheeks touched gently together as they smiled with their different reasons for contentment.
Next morning Iannis slumped onto the window seat in the airport bus. It was lunchtime but he hadn’t been up in time for anything other than packing. The charter flight was in the early evening, but the tour operator insisted on getting them to the busy airport hours ahead of departure time, so he was grumpily and hungrily complaining about the uncivilised departure from the resort. His packing had been pretty straightforward, stuffing everything into the fake Mulberrry holdall and checking his passport, tickets, money and cards. He puzzled over Arif’s package. In the end he placed it beneath the worn underwear in one of the side pockets of his bag. No sign of Arif and no time to go looking for him. Iannis was contemplating the prospect of carrying the package through Dalaman and Gatwick airports. He didn’t know for sure what was in the package but he guessed from the feel and weight of it that he had probably the best part of 500g of cocaine in his bag. It wasn’t the sort of amount to be caught with, but it was incredibly tempting to take the risk.
He reasoned that he hadn’t been checked at any point in his holiday, so no-one would have any reason to pull him aside. He knew from experience that most people walked straight through customs in Gatwick – the officials more intent on minor infringements of duty-free allowances than on drug smuggling. Unless they were tipped off of course – which he knew was why most people were caught. It was generally a well-planned targeting of a mule as part of a long-term surveillance operation rather than a random lucky choice of victim. Since Arif hadn’t planned to give him the package and he himself certainly hadn’t been part of any plan to smuggle the package, he guessed that the chances of walking through were pretty good – unless they had dogs on duty.
He was still undecided about what to do when the coach arrived at Dalaman airport. He had kept his holdall with him so didn’t have to join the scrum of people retrieving their bags from the unloaded piles on either side of the bus. While the others were intent on spotting their luggage, Iannis was looking around and with a weary groan calculating how long the queue was going to take to get through initial security and into the building. Travel really was becoming a nightmare thanks to all the security checking. Perhaps the tour operator was right to allow so much time, but it wasn’t a pleasing prospect.
He spotted a motorbike picking its way over the speed-bumps on the airport approach road. It was able to skirt the edges of the bumps so was travelling much faster than the taxis and coaches that arrived in an endless stream. The helmet-less rider swooped round the final bend, disappeared from view briefly, and then noisily sped up the ramp to the upper level where the coaches disgorged their passengers. He wasn’t surprised to see the RayBans and the casual panache as Arif slowly rode past the crowds of passengers, scanning them intently.
Iannis stepped out with a raised hand, and the bike pulled into the gap between the emptying coaches.
“Hi man, I thought I’d missed you! I tried to catch you before the bus left but slept in I guess.” Arif was his usual cheery self.
“Man! I thought I was dying this morning. I didn’t have time to walk up to the village before the bus came. Thought you’d be on the ball!”
They embraced, throwing arms round each other and slapping each other on the back.
“You still got it?” murmured Arif into Iannis’ ear.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. Right here.”
Iannis bent down to his bag and slipped out the package along with a book and his camera. The package was under the book in case the security cameras really did work.
“Give me your e-mail address,” demanded Arif noisily. “You’re definitely coming back here. You must mail me and keep in touch.”
They noisily exchanged e-mail addresses and promises of return visits. They hugged again and gave one another the fond Mediterranean male cheek-kisses. It would have taken a very good security camera to detect the surreptitious transfer of the little package to Arif’s jeans.
Chapter 39
Correspondence Summer 2000
To: [email protected]
Sent: 9 Aug 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: hi
Merhaba Iannis
I hope you are safe home and not missing the sunshine too much. The club is very busy here and business is good.
Thank you for helping me with the unwanted goods when we had visitors. You must come again but next time talk business.
Be careful what you write in e-mails
Arif
To: [email protected]
Sent: 12 Aug 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: hi
Hi Arif
Good to hear from you. Things here busy too. Lot of tourists around London and things going well.
I’ll be back OK, interested to talk business next time. Open to ideas.
Ciao
Iannis
To: [email protected]
Sent: 20 Aug 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: hi
Merhaba Iannis
Are you going to come back this year? The season here is good right through to end of October. Why don’t you come then and we can talk.
Arif
To: [email protected]
<
br /> Sent: 25 Aug 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: hi
Hi Arif
I’ll check flights in October – should be good. There should be plenty of last minute deals from London, so I’ll plan to come second week of Oct.
Ciao
Iannis
To: [email protected]
Sent: 25 Sept 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: hi
Hi Arif
Booked a deal for Sat 14th October. Flying to Dalaman and staying in same hotel. Flight arrives very late Sat night so I’ll see you on Sunday night at the club.
Ciao
Iannis
To: [email protected]
Sent: 26 Sept 2000
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: hi
Merhaba Iannis
Great to hear you are coming. More time to talk in the day than at night in club. I’ll pick you up at the beach bar on Sunday afternoon.
Arif
It was as easy as that. When Iannis looked back years later at the start of the collaboration, it seemed too easy, but he trusted his instinct, and trusted the evidence from their first encounter that he had passed the test that Arif had set him.
.
Chapter 40
The Rodos
Turkish Coast October 2006
Iannis Katharos senior was no sailor. He wondered why he had allowed his son to persuade him to come along on this trip. In the first place he didn't like Turks. He was of the generation that remembered the stories of the so-called "population exchanges" of the 1920s. Greeks of his generation had grown up with the horror stories of Smyrna repeated time without number. He remembered family holidays in the Aegean Islands when he was a child. He heard the men talk in the taverna about their readiness to defend their islands against potential invasion by the Turks. The men told the impressionable young visitor about the guns hidden in the outhouses, and the signalling systems arranged for the inevitable night when the Turks would come. It wasn't a vague uncertain possibility; it was just a question of exactly when they would come. Along with these stories came the confidences about the nature of the enemy. Unlike the honourable and noble Greeks, who had brought civilisation and democracy to the world, the Turks were part of the Barbarian east that had never achieved the civilisation of their European neighbours. Nothing that old Katharos could read or hear would change his deeply held beliefs about the neighbouring nations.