by J E Higgins
The lawyer remained hesitant. It was obvious Rhys’ explanation left him concerned. “I cannot say that I’m comfortable with the notion that a bunch of strangers you’ve never met or worked with before is so close to such a sensitive operation.”
“I understand,” Rhys explained. “This isn’t ideal. But it’s a risk we have to take. If the situation requires my team to be called into action, I need people who know the area and can easily blend in with the populace. A bunch of your countrymen running about in a country like this would stick out and bring unwanted attention that would be worse than what you’re concerned about.”
Managua nodded nervously, but he had to concede to the mercenary. The men finished their drinks and paid their bill. Managua went on to explain “I will arrange lodgings for all of you at a beach house I know of. It should accommodate your whole team and provide a place to headquarter your activities. Until then, I have booked rooms for you and your men at the hotel where I’m currently staying.”
“That will be fine,” Rhys replied after looking at his two men.
The lawyer continued. “Until your headquarters is established, I would ask that we refrain from discussing any topics pertaining to our business here.”
“I was wondering why we were discussing such matters in a public place like this,” Yadav, interjected.
“My reasons for discussing this matter here as opposed to my hotel were deliberate,” Managua answered.
“Are you concerned our mysterious enemies have gotten onto you?” Rhys asked.
“No,” Managua shook his head. “It’s just that Cyprus is in somewhat of a volatile state. For a long time, there has been a lot of tension between the two predominate ethnicities on the island, the Greeks and the Turks. In the mid-seventies, a military junta in Greece took control of the country with the help of Greek nationalists. This led to Turkey intervening with their own military landing forces on the island. It led to the country splitting with the Turks controlling the northeast and the Greeks controlling the southwest. Though no active fighting has occurred for a long time, there remains a lot of animosity between the two sides with antagonistic actions being undertaken by both.”
“Greece and Turkey frequently involve themselves in the island’s affairs which adds to the problem. On top of that, the turmoil in the Middle-East has spilled over onto these shores in the last few years. Islamic militants from Hezbollah, the PLO, and other such groups have sought refuge from the Israeli security forces here. Due to all this, I understand that the national police like to conduct random surveillance missions on hotels to see who are operating in their country and what they’re doing. They like to see who they can catch discussing nefarious business.”
“Are you saying we could be known to the police?” Rhys was taken aback by the sudden revelation.
“No,” the lawyer responded immediately. “I don’t believe so. As I’ve said, it's random and routine. The police are interested in threats on their shores. Not the shores of others. You must also understand that the strategic location of this country makes it a convenient Mecca for black marketers, criminals, and mercenaries. Business people here dabble in the illicit trade from other countries so, at some level, it is beneficial economically for them to allow a degree of this trade. The person I’m working with to procure weapons is a serious player in the arms business. He also owns several legitimate businesses. I could be a customer of either. The police will probably take an initial interest as part of their usual routine. So long as we’re not careless or discuss anything in a hotel room that would rouse their suspicions, they’ll dismiss us and move on to the next group on their list.”
“It makes sense,” Mehendra stated as he followed behind.
“For security reasons, we discuss business only in places like this,” Managua said pointing back to the bar. “At least until I can move you out of the hotels into someplace more secure.”
A cab pulled up to meet the four men. They piled into it with Rhys and his men cramming into the backseat, and Managua taking the front seat. The lawyer gave directions to the hotel and the car was off.
19
It felt great, Sauwa thought to herself as she leaned back in her chair enjoying the feeling of her new clothes. The T-shirt and blue jeans were a welcome change from the crusty attire she had been working in since being consigned to the Filipino safe house in Izmir. It was fortunate that the shopping area they were taken to hosted a series of small second-hand shops that offered a variety of cheaper clothing. Not being much of a shopper, she found a few articles that served her purpose and supplied her with enough fresh clothing to last several days. It was the softness of her clean, new socks massaging her feet that manage to almost forget where she was.
“Alright, this meeting can begin,” Tarkov stated, capturing everyone’s attention with his deep voice. He had a natural commanding presence about him. By now, everyone had come to accept his leadership. The Russian moved to the center of the group where all eyes focused on him. Dressed smartly now in a crisp pair of slacks and a short-sleeved blue collared shirt, he was very much the executive exuding control. “We’ve had time to digest the information from the meeting this morning and a chance to tour the city and get the lay of the land. Now, we need to start figuring out how we’re going to proceed with this operation.”
Carzona arrived with the folders from the earlier meeting. Quietly he handing them out to the group.
“Do we have any idea when the arms will be moved?” De’vor asked.
“No, we don’t,” Tarkov answered. “That is information we have not been able to gather.” The room was silent. Everyone grimaced as they returned to reading their files.
“How old is this intelligence?” Sauwa asked. “I’m looking at the reports more closely, and some of the dates are more than a week old. Is anyone still collecting information on these guys, or is this all we have?”
Tarkov remained composed, though the look on his face suggested he was anything but comfortable with the question. “We still have assets that are keeping loose tabs on The System as much as possible. As far as the arms trafficker, your assessments from the earlier meeting were right, he’s a very well-connected man. The firm contracted to fill our intelligence gap here won’t go any further with him than what you’re reading now. Essentially we’re on our own to fill in any intelligence void when it relates to him.”
“Then what you’re saying is we’re working blind!” Gorzo growled speaking up for the first time. “Bad enough we come into this operation with no plan, now they want us to work with limited intelligence! How the hell do they expect us to do this?”
“This is how it’s done,” Sauwa snapped in a tone that took command of the room. “This is how it works in the field when you're operating as part of a clandestine mission. You collect your own intel on the enemy. You develop your own plans and operations, and you work alone!” Her eyes were hard and focused as she cast her gaze on the entire room. She had everyone’s full attention. “As I see it, we’re wasting our time being too focused on either this Kalopolis person or the Filipino businessmen. Both are protected by professional security and are anticipating us, or someone like us. There are too many possibilities of getting caught dealing with them directly. Concentrating on them would not only be fruitless, but it is ultimately a dangerous endeavor. We need another route.”
“What do you suggest?” Sacchini inquired.
Drawing a sheet from the file she had in her hand she approached the group.
“Him.” She went to the board behind Tarkov and stuck it in the center next to the picture of Kalopolis.
Everyone was now looking at a picture of a man who looked to be in his late forties with a receding hairline and worn, lined face. “Yannis Prokopis.” She turned to face her comrades. “Our intelligence source, whoever they are, were good enough to furnish us with a quick overview of those who work for Kalopolis. So, what we do know is that he is working on the illicit side of the business. We see
him in several pictures with the arms merchant, and he looks to be someone Kalopolis takes into his confidence.”
She paused as everyone returned to their file packets and began studying the succession of photographs. They also began to see the number of times the man showed up in the same surveillance shot as their target. In almost all the pictures, the two looked to be engaged in important conversations, or Prokopis was standing next to his boss while he was conducting business talks with possible clients. In either case, Sauwa was right, the man looked like he held a position of significance with the arms trafficker.
After a few minutes, and everyone had a chance to absorb the information, Sauwa continued. “When it comes to guerrilla, terrorist, and criminal groups, I have found that while the senior leadership tends to be highly concerned with their own safety and puts great emphasis toward protecting themselves, their right-hand and middle-management people tend to be less so. They’re often overlooked by everyone, including professional intelligence services, who are concentrating on the top of the organization. The right-hand and middle-management people are the ones on the streets doing the dirty work and managing the mechanics of the business. I say we target Prokopis as our primary means of intelligence gathering. We probe him and maybe we might get the answers we need to plan our next move.”
Tarkov was nodding as he listened. “It’s worth a shot.” He turned his head to check Carzona. The Filipino had his thumb pressed to his chin and tilted his head. “Yes,” he said, “that definitely sounds like a good idea. We just have to figure out how we begin.” The room fell as deadly silent as a cemetery. Sauwa looked up to see Tarkov looking in her direction. Behind him, she saw Carzona doing the same. By their expressions, they were waiting for her to proceed. Not wanting to misread their expressions, she waited a few seconds for someone else to speak. She saw their expressions become more obvious letting her know they were waiting for her.
“There is a multitude of ways we can collect viable intelligence,” she began. “In this case, we’re better off identifying where this guy lives and works. We identify his home, conduct a recce, and see where we can establish an observation post to keep an eye on his activities. Then we graduate to other measures like sifting through his garbage to see what he might have thrown away that could benefit us. Eventually, when we know enough, we break into his house and search it.”
“Sift through garbage! Establish a fucking observation post! What bullshit is this? Why don’t we just get some cars and follow him around?” Gorzo spoke up as if he were introducing the obvious solution. “I mean that’s what cops and spies do in this situation.”
“Yes, they do,” Sauwa replied. “But, professional law enforcement and intelligence agencies have resources for such missions. We won’t have those resources and obtaining them could be more trouble than they're worth. In the case of vehicles ─ where do we get them? If we steal them, we have to worry about what happens if a cop pulls us over, and we can’t produce documents that prove we have the car legally. On stakeouts, it’s not uncommon for surveillance teams to be compromised because they hung around in a place too long, and it roused the suspicion of the police. If we’re thinking of buying or renting a car, we still have to go to someplace that would require we show identification and fill out paperwork. This means we have a paper trail linking us to vehicles we intend to use for illegal purposes. In addition, most car dealerships tend to have their lots and offices manned with video cameras in case someone swindles them or steals a car. This means that in addition to having our identities and pictures on record somewhere, we are also on camera footage.”
“Even if we did have the means to obtain vehicles through fake documents, someone like Prokopis may not be walking around with professional bodyguards, but he could be using a state of the art security system. He is someone working in an extensive criminal enterprise, and he has ascended up the ranks to his current position. A guy like that certainly pays attention to details and people, because he’s accustomed to being followed or having someone come after him.”
“Understand that police and intelligence agencies have fleets of vehicles to work with, and they can switch them out so the same cars aren’t following the same person all the time. They also have a number of agents they can alternate so the same faces don’t become familiar. We won’t have any of that to work with. I doubt anyone here has had any training surveilling people. He’d pick up on us after a few days at best, and then we’re screwed.” She looked around the room, the atmosphere was sullen as her words sank in. The mercenaries were out of their element, and they knew it.
“That’s all well and good,” De’vor jumped in. “But, he still is not our primary target. This doesn’t change our problem of how to get at Kalopolis or his clients. They are our prime targets and are still too well guarded for us to touch.”
“Which brings us to the next point,” Tarkov suddenly interjected. “I have been considering our situation. I came to the realization that no matter which group we hit, even if we’re successful, all that would do is delay the situation. If we hit the Filipino delegation, another would simply arrive to take over. If we managed to take out the arms trafficker, the Filipinos would simply find another supplier through the same avenue they used to find this one. Inevitably, we would just be doing a short-term fix for a large-scale problem.”
“What then are you recommending?” Sacchini asked.
Tarkov turned back to Sauwa. “I believe clandestine destabilization is still your area of expertise.”
Finding all eyes turned to her again, Sauwa went on. “The issue isn’t the people, it’s the location. Why are Filipino businessmen trying to buy weapons all the way around the world when they have access to similar markets closer to home where they have better connections and greater familiarity? The answer is that here they can operate with more secrecy. Everyone knows that Cyprus is a hub for the black market. Intelligence services and criminal organizations often run money for black operations through Cyprus banks, and Eastern Europe houses large sums here too.”
“The country accommodates criminal markets in many ways. The most likely reason why this deal is being done here in Cyprus is because it is a virtual hub for every kind of black market. That said, the target is the shipment itself. We need to make enough noise that the anonymity surrounding this deal is shattered. We need to hit the shipment and draw attention to this operation. If we stop the shipment, they lose an expensive investment at the very least. If we make it loud enough, we draw a lot of attention to this operation that would make it very difficult to continue if everybody is watching.”
“That is an idea,” Tarkov said as he turned to Carzona looking for approval.
Sauwa returned to her seat. De’vor was glaring at her. His disdain was all too apparent.
Sacchini opened with the next question. “What are we going to do about weapons and equipment?”
“We have a contact of our own that can supply us with a wide variety of weapons for what we may need,” Tarkov explained. “When we are ready and have a better idea of what we’re up against, we’ll submit our requests through our employer. In the meantime, I don’t want to have a bunch of weapons and explosives to worry about hiding and storing until we are ready to use them.”
“I don’t like the idea of going out and watching this guy without some firepower,” Gorzo protested.
“If we get caught by the police carrying guns, it will be a lot worse,” Sauwa said. “Countries like this don’t take well to people walking around with guns. Since our status here is cosmetic and wouldn’t hold up to any serious check, we’d be screwed. Besides, if we get discovered doing our recce, we should consider the mission blown and our next option should be getting the hell out of the country.”
The meeting adjourned with everyone handing Carzona their folders. Sauwa made her way to the workout area. She was feeling a little tense, anxious to get in a little bit of exercise. She had learned early on the dangers of neglecting her phy
sical condition when out in the field.
Dressed in a tank top and cargo pants tucked into her black combat boots, she started with the chin up bar. She had gotten six good reps in when she was approached by De’vor, who wandered over to her as if their meeting was purely by chance. She continued her workout ignoring him. The cold shoulder and dismissive attitude had become their ritual when around each other. This time it was different.
“You really enjoy all this, don’t you?” the De’vor said as he began perusing the line of dumbbells. Sauwa didn’t respond. She jumped off the bar and began a regimen of pushups. She figured he was just making conversation as usual and expected him to saunter off. Instead, he stayed and looked at her as if waiting for an answer.
She continued working out saying nothing and offering not the slightest acknowledgment of his existence. “I want an answer from you,” he said sternly. “I really want to know what makes a psychopath like you tick.”
She leaped up to her knees and then onto her feet. “I enjoy being called such things by a person who earns his money killing people, too.”
De’vor’s eyes turned cold and steely as if he was deciding whether to kill her. “I’m a soldier. I kill on a battlefield, and the ones I kill are soldiers themselves. I don’t murder those who are fighting dirty wars or are killed indiscriminately.”
“If you say so,” Sauwa replied indifferently as she went around him to the dumbbells. His piercing gaze followed her making it clear he was not finished. She reached for two twenty-pound weights and began lifting one at a time, but she kept the Frenchman in her sights. If he tried anything she was ready to throw one of the weights toward his stomach, the other toward his head and follow through with a violent assault. She couldn’t stand self-righteous soldiers who indulged in making moral judgments. No matter what he said about the nobility of soldiering, he was here fighting the same war she was.