“Sir?” said Jake.
“You heard me, honk the horn and flash the lights,” said the Lieutenant.
Jake did as ordered. All of a sudden, the police cars began to drive.
“Thank Christ for that,” said the Lieutenant, wiping sweat off his brow.
The motorcade drove across the airport at high speed. The only hurdle now between the airport and the estate was a potential security check at the gates. The CIA had given assurances that no such check would occur, but the Lieutenant clearly wasn’t taking any chances. As the cars slowed towards the exit through a gate, the Lieutenant spotted several armed soldiers standing at a checkpoint. The Lieutenant lifted his M14 to his side.
“Get ready to hit the gas if this goes south,” said the Lieutenant.
The police car at the front of the convoy stopped. There seemed to be some heavy discussions going on with the soldier through the window. A Venezuelan police officer then got out of the passenger side and marched around to the soldier and appeared to be arguing with him. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying to each other, but the officer was pointing at the limousines. Everyone was on edge as the soldier appeared to make a call on his radio and took a few steps towards the motorcade. Luckily, he stopped in his tracks and turned whilst getting a response on the radio. He then walked up to the officer nodding. As the police officer returned to his own vehicle, the soldier began to wave the motorcade through.
As the team drove from the airport, they could make out the Beriev taxiing to the runway for another take-off.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” said Marco.
Despite it being the middle of the night, the weather was still very warm and humid. This wasn’t helped by the fact that the air conditioners in the limousines were not working. Moreover, the SEALs would not allow Paddy to open the windows, as lowering the blacked out windows could potentially break their cover.
The cars shot through the towns and villages. There was a carriageway of sorts that ran from the nearest town of El Espinal through the Macanao Peninsula. This was the main road through the middle of the island. Following this route, there weren’t going to be many changes in direction - perhaps three or four turn-offs at most. However, it was still thirty-plus miles to their destination, and the end roads leading into the Royal Laguna estate were going to be slow.
There was a full moon in the sky that night and it lit up the shoreline as well as the tropical mountainous terrain which characterized most of the island.
***
After about twenty-five minutes of driving, the team approached the crossing between the main part of the island and the Macanao Peninsula. There were no checkpoints, just an old bridge.
“There it is,” aid the Lieutenant.
“There is what?” said Jake.
“On the hills in the distance, close to the coast, you can make out the lights emanating from the towers of the hotel.”
The hotel rose out of the treeline on a hillside in the distance. It sat about a quarter of a mile inland on the edge of the mountain base. The terrain between the hotel and the beach was mainly made up of flat swampland. The bridge led into a tunnel which went under the first mountain of the Macanao Peninsula.
“If I am correct, it will be the first exit on the right,” said the Lieutenant.
Sure enough, as they exited the tunnel the police cars veered right and down an exit. The motorcade then followed a long and steep sweeping road down to sea level below the bridge on the Macanao side. The vegetation was dense and jungle-like - the perfect environment for the SEALs to get lost in. After about five minutes, the cars in front again began to slow. Out of the darkness appeared an enormous set of gates with a single guard manning a booth. The guard made his way out to the gate when he saw the convoy arriving.
“That’s odd, the place is less guarded than expected,” the Lieutenant whispered to Jake as the convoy came to a halt.
“How so?” replied Jake.
“Venezuelan army were supposed to be guarding the gate and patrolling the perimeter,” said Lieutenant Graham.
“Maybe they still are, sir,” replied Jake.
“Let’s hope they’re not inside the estate itself - that could slow our foot journey once we exit the motorcade,” said Lieutenant Graham.
The guard appeared to be familiar with the procedure, and upon recognising the police officers he returned to his post to open the huge iron gates. As he went to do so, the police cars began to manoeuvre out of the way to let the rest of the motorcade past.
“Thank Christ, they’re leaving us here,” said Lieutenant Graham.
Then, suddenly, one of the police officers jumped out of his car and began walking towards the Land Rover at pace.
“Damn!” said Jake.
“Oh no, what the hell’s he doing…” said Lieutenant Graham.
Once again, everyone was ready to let loose. Jake lifted his weapon this time. However, the Lieutenant put his hand on Jake’s arm. “Wait,” said the Lieutenant.
The police man indicated that Jake should lower his window.
“Do it, smile and say nothing. I’ll do the talking.”
“Aw, hell no.”
Jake lowered the window.
“Épale! Cómo está la vaina?” said the officer.
“Hello,” said the Lieutenant.
“Ah, English, ok, ok.” The police officer smiled and pointed at Jake. “You follow the road, ok?”
“Ok,” said the Lieutenant.
Jake and the Lieutenant smiled. The officer just smiled back. After a few moments, the officer reached out his hand. The Lieutenant realised he was expecting some money for his services. He reached into his bag and handed the officer a bundle of US dollars.
Jake turned to look at the Lieutenant, then turned back and in a near perfect accent said, “Sí, no hay problema. Gracias, señor.”
“Cartelúo!” said the officer. He nodded and waved the motorcade through the gate as the rest of the team followed suit.
The Lieutenant turned to Jake. “Didn’t know you had it in you, big guy.”
“I’m from Southeast Texas, sir. I had to learn the language of my neighbours,” replied Jake.
As the gate disappeared into the distance and the motorcade travelled deep into the forest, the Lieutenant began to look for somewhere to stop so the SEALs could hide the Land Rovers. From there, they would make their way to the hotel and create a land perimeter.
“There, that’ll do, nice and covered,” said Lieutenant Graham, pointing to some overgrown bushes off to the left of the roadway. “Get right in behind them.”
The motorcade came to a stop. The remaining SEALs exited from the limousines and joined the others in covering the Land Rovers with brush. The Lieutenant quickly rushed over to Marco and Paddy in the first limousine.
“Okay guys, you’re doing the rest of the journey on your own. Next time we will see you will be during evac from the hotel after we’ve neutralized and captured the target. Be on your guard! When you get into the building communicate by secure radio only. Is that all clear?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Good luck,” said Paddy.
The SEAL team then disappeared into the night. Paddy and Marco abandoned the first limousine and jumped into the second. Elvis drove off on a strange and winding road which never seemed to end. After what seemed like an eternity, lights began to appear again along the sides of the drive, and soon they began to make out the Hotel Margarita. It was almost gothic in its style and would have looked more at home nestled in a Scottish glen than on a Caribbean island.
Paddy pushed a button, lowering the partition between Alex and Elvis and the rest of the crew.
“This isn’t going to be the easiest thing for the SEALs to scale. Look at the height of the windows off the ground,” said Paddy.
“At least the windows aren’t grated, that could have been a real issue!” replied Alex.
A wide set of steps led up to a grand entrance to
the hotel and they could see several valets in white tuxedos rushing out to greet them as they approached.
“Right, make sure you’re in character, Nasser. From here on in, you’re Omar Sannallah. Are you ready?” asked Paddy.
“I was born ready,” replied Nasser.
The limousine pulled up and ground to a halt. Alex immediately jumped out and gestured the valets to open the door for Nasser. Paddy and Marco moved around to the trunk, pulled out several bags, and walked over to join Nasser. Meanwhile, Marco walked up to the valets and began giving orders.
“Please, please, do not bother Mr. Sanallah. He is tired after a long journey! We wish to be directed to our suites immediately!” shouted Marco.
The valets rushed up the steps while Paddy, Marco and Elvis formed a perimeter around Nasser, maintaining the act that they were his bodyguards. They went through a large revolving door as they entered the reception lobby. As they entered, Paddy locked eyes with a man walking out of the building.
“Crap,” Paddy whispered.
“What?” said Elvis.
“I think that was one of the Mechanic’s bodyguards,” replied Paddy.
“Are you sure? Did he notice you?” asked Elvis.
“Yes, I’m sure…although I don’t know if he recognised me,” replied Paddy.
Far from the quiet hotel they had expected on such a late arrival, the place was still extremely busy and lively. The ground floor was open plan; a large casino floor off to the left was crowded with people playing poker and blackjack. A portly man with a moustache appeared and spoke in a camp voice. “Welcome to the Hotel Margarita, Mr. Shanallah.” The man went to shake Nasser’s hand, but was immediately pushed back by Paddy.
“Hey, back off. You talk to me,” said Paddy.
“Emm. Sorry…I am the General Manager, Mr. Davidson. If there is anything at all I can assist you with, please let me know.”
“You’re American?” said Paddy.
“Yes, that’s correct, and you are English… a rarity around here,” said Mr. Davidson.
“Well, British; Northern Irish, to be precise. Mr. Davidson, apologies for being blunt, but Mr. Shanallah wishes to go to his suite now and does not wish to be disturbed until morning,” said Paddy.
“Very well, sir, however, I must point out that his friends would like to speak to him before he does call it a night,” replied Mr. Davidson.
“Friends?” asked Paddy.
“Well, um, Dr Von Gunten and several others…” said Mr. Davidson.
“Where?” asked Paddy.
“At the bar on the casino floor,” said Mr. Davidson.
Paddy turned around and looked at Nasser, who nodded his head.
“Of course, Mr Davidson. Please inform Dr Von Gunten and the others that the Minister will be with them shortly. However, first he would like to go and wash up after a long journey,” said Paddy.
“Excellent, Raul and Carlos will show the Minister the suite,” said the General Manager.
There was silence as the elevator moved through the floors. Nasser, Paddy, Marco, Alex and Elvis were all wondering what on earth to do next. When the doors finally opened again, they were quickly ushered to the room. Paddy and Marco grabbed the remaining bags, handsomely tipping the valets and then shutting the door in their faces.
“What do we do now?” said Marco.
“I can’t go down to the meeting with the Mechanic. If I do, he will ID me and that will be that.” said Paddy
“Didn’t they already ID you coming through the door?” said Elvis.
“What do you mean?” said Alex.
“The British Captain here was concerned that a member of the Mechanic’s entourage may have recognised him coming through the door,” said Elvis.
“Ah ty che blyad, that’s the mission compromised already. We might as well call in the SEALs now!” said Alex.
“Yes I’ll radio them” Paddy picked up the radio. “Come in, come in. Frequent Flyer Group 2, over…” He tried again, and again. The radio was silent. There was some sort of interference.
“Could be the walls,” said Marco.
An argument ensued between Paddy, Elvis, Alex and Marco.
“Silence!” shouted Nasser. “You are all speculating and if there is one thing I know in this life, it is that speculation never does any good. Now, here’s what’s going to happen.”
He went on authoritatively. “I will go down and meet the Mechanic. Marco, you will float around the periphery of the casino floor. If you have any news to report, you can walk out and pass messages to Paddy, who will be guarding the exterior of the hotel. In reality, Paddy, you can pass messages to the SEALs less obviously from that location. Elvis and Alex, you will accompany me to the meeting with the Mechanic. You are not recognisable to the Mechanic and you are less likely to raise concerns given your nationalities. Now, is that understood, gentlemen?”
“Sounds very good, Nasser,” said Paddy.
“That was quite an impressive solution,” said Alex.
“I am a Colonel for a reason, gentlemen,” said Nasser.
The team took a few moments to gather their composure, then left the room to move into position. Before leaving the room, Paddy grabbed a notepad and pen.
“Has anyone got any cigarettes?” asked Paddy.
“No, it’s not something I would carry on a top secret mission,” said Marco.
“I need something to make it look less obvious that I am going to be stuffing messages in flower pots.”
“Here,” said Nasser as he passed Paddy a packet of Marlboro Reds with Arabic writing plastered over the front.
“Thanks,” said Paddy.
The team took the spiralling stairs so that Paddy could branch off less conspicuously once they hit reception. With the exception of Nasser, all members of the team carried their weapons in holsters under their shirts.
As they hit the reception hall, Paddy briskly walked to the revolving doors and out onto the porch to light up a cigarette. Whilst doing so, he took care to make sure he wasn’t being observed by anyone around him. He couldn’t see the SEALs, but assumed they were in position and watching. He scribbled a note on his notepad.
“Radios not working. Nasser been asked to meet Mechanic on Casino Floor. Unclear what room Mechanic is located in. Wait for my signal before proceeding further. Please reply to confirm you have got this message.”
Paddy finished his cigarette and casually strolled over to the water fountain, playing with his phone as he did so. He then put out his cigarette in a large flower pot close to some bushes on the far side of the roundabout, on the edge of the forest and dropped the note beside it on the soil. As he did this, he deliberately pointed at the note, hoping the SEALs would see.
Meanwhile, on the casino floor, Nasser and the others approached the bar, escorted by the General Manager. As they neared the bar, the Mechanic lifted his head and locked eyes with Nasser. He appeared to be talking to some Arab men dressed in thawbs. Several muscular men in suits appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and began searching Alex and Elvis, removing their holstered weapons. It created a bit of a scene on the casino floor.
The Mechanic stood up. “Gentlemen, please. These are merely the Minister’s bodyguards, I am sure.” The suited men returned their weapons and stepped back as the Mechanic spoke again.
“Omar Sanallah, I assume?”
“As-salam alaykom,” said Nasser.
“As-salam alaykom,” replied the Mechanic. “Have you met these gentlemen before? This is Colonel Abdulla Senussi, Head of Libyan External Security. This is General Abdul Fatah Younis, formerly Interior Minister.”
“As-salam alaykom.”
“I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of meeting yet, Omar,” said the General as he stood to shake Nasser’s hand.
“Well, as a recently appointed Junior Minister, I have not had the pleasure of attending executive meetings of the Government. Most of my role so far has been running the National Oil Corporation. My po
sition within the government, if you could even call it that, is perhaps more honorary than official,” said Nasser.
“Ah, yes, of course, now I remember,” said Colonel Abdullah.
“Gentlemen, what about a game of poker to calm the Minister’s nerves after a long journey?” said the Mechanic.
“Sounds like an excellent idea,” said Nasser.
The four men made their way to a private side room of the main casino floor. A waitress followed them in.
“I’ll have a cigar,” said the General.
“Soda water and lime, please,” said Nasser.
“Whiskey,” said the Colonel, smiling. “The good thing about not being in Libya is not having to observe the rules of our culture.”
“Mr. Sannallah, would you mind pushing the button underneath your seat. It activates the light on the outside of the booth to say it is occupied,” said the Mechanic.
Nasser hit the button.
Back outside the hotel, there was absolutely no sight of the SEALs as Paddy waited on the steps. However, this was to be expected. After all they specialised in being invisible. After a few moments, he spotted three pronounced flashes of a torch from inside the woods, about two hundred yards from his position. Paddy took this as confirmation that the message had been received.
Back in the casino, Nasser drew the big blind, with Colonel Abdullah drawing the small blind. It was the four of them playing. “That will be $300 for the big blind and $150 for the small blind,” said the Dealer. Nasser obliged, as did the Colonel. The cards were then distributed for the pre-flop betting.
“I do hope that INTERPOL isn’t watching us. Apparently we’ve all been named in some sort of official UN Special Notice and all our assets have been frozen,” said the Colonel.
“Yes, they’ve issued a security alert concerning the ‘possible movement of dangerous individuals and assets’ based on the 1970 United Nations Security Council Resolution,” said the Mechanic.
“Praise be to Allah we’ve been all smart enough to siphon our money off to this beautiful place over the last few years,” said Nasser, smiling.
The Keepers of the Persian Gate Page 4