“Like a dog’s balls, that’s a good one.”
37
John and Steve walked into the hotel bar and looked around. The bar was half full of travelers and businessmen, and in the far corner Mansur sat by himself, facing the room, a glass with an umbrella in front of him. John was relieved he had changed into something less noticeable and looked like a traveler from somewhere in the Mediterranean.
“Over there,” Steve said as he saw a hand being raised. They spotted Craig sitting at a table in front of a large man with his back to them. They walked over as Craig stood up and reached out his hand.
“Good to meet you, at last, Craig.” John shook his hand. He had a firm grip and looked thinner than on the video call, his face drawn and tired.
“You too, John, Steve.”
They turned to face the man sitting opposite him, who was studying them with small cynical eyes set in a corpulent face. His hair, greying at the temples, was slicked back, and his thick mustache twitched as he regarded them without warmth, weighing them, figuring out where they stood in the scheme of things.
“This is Mehmet. Mehmet, John and Steve.”
Mehmet didn’t stand, just nodded, so John held out his hand. Almost reluctantly, he leaned forward in his chair and took John’s hand, a loose handshake, his hands soft and fleshy. Steve didn’t bother, just nodded, and moved around him to sit down.
John and Craig sat down as well, and Craig waved for the waiter. “What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer,” Steve replied.
Craig nodded and turned to the waiter who had appeared by his side. “One beer, another Glenmorangie,”—he glanced at Mehmet, who nodded—“a raki,” then turned to John. “John?”
John turned to the waiter. “Do you have Botanist?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Large Botanist and tonic, lots of ice, slice of orange, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
John felt Mehmet staring at him, and he gave him a smile. “I’m particular about my drink.”
Mehmet nodded slowly. “You are English, no?”
“Yes.”
“And you?” Mehmet turned to Steve.
“Australian.”
“You are not Muslim,” he said as a statement, not a question.
Both men shook their heads, and Mehmet frowned, his eyes almost disappearing between the fleshy folds of his face.
“Then why you want to go to Syria?”
John glanced at Craig. “You didn’t tell him?”
“No, just that you wanted to go there.”
John turned back to face Mehmet as the waiter arrived with their drinks. He waited until the waiter was out of earshot, using the time to think about how much he should tell him. He didn’t know the guy and wasn’t getting great energy from him. He pulled his drink closer, swirled it around, and held it up.
“Cheers...”
“Cheers.”
Mehmet took a sip of his raki, then put the glass back on the table. He tapped out a rhythm on the tabletop with his index finger as he waited for John’s answer.
“We want to find someone.”
The tapping stopped. “Who?”
John glanced at Steve.
“A girl.”
“Ha,” Mehmet snorted and looked around the table. “I can get you girls here. Beautiful girls. Why you want to go there?”
Steve banged his bottle of beer on the table and sat forward. He leaned toward Mehmet and growled, “The girl is my niece.”
Mehmet raised an eyebrow and looked from Steve to John and back again. “Your niece?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He raised both hands in a placatory gesture. “Sorry.” He took another drink. “And where is this... niece?”
Steve looked at John, and John gave a slight shake of his head. “I... we don’t know yet.”
Mehmet pursed his lips. “You don’t know,” he repeated, one eyebrow raised. “What is she doing there? Journalist? Like Craig here? Aid worker?”
“No, she...”
“She made some wrong decisions, and she needs help to come back. So, we are going to get her,” John interjected.
“Ah.” Mehmet nodded slowly. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I see.”
“Craig said you could help get us across the border?”
“Hmmm.”
Steve shifted in his chair. “Well, can you?”
Mehmet’s eyes flicked from John to Steve. “It will be expensive.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand U.S. dollars.”
“What?” Steve spluttered on his beer. “You cheating son of a...”
“Steve.” John held up his hand. He fixed his gaze on Mehmet. “Mehmet, we can’t afford that.”
Mehmet shrugged. “I have expenses; I have to pay people to look the other way.”
“Yeah, and buy yourself more gold rings,” Steve muttered.
“Steve...” John admonished him.
“Gentlemen, let’s keep things civil,” Craig attempted to play peacekeeper. “Mehmet, there must be something you can do to help these gentlemen?”
“Nothing I can do.” Mehmet shrugged and turned out his bottom lip. “It’s a war zone.”
“Mehmet, do you have a family?” John asked.
“I do.” Mehmet narrowed his eyes.
“Children?”
“No.”
John nodded slowly. “Steve doesn’t have children, either, but his niece is like a daughter to him.”
“And?”
John leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on Mehmet’s.
“Imagine being in his position. You have a daughter, and she is in danger. She’s in a war zone, fearing for her life. The only one who can help her is you.”
Mehmet said nothing, the only sign he was thinking about it a twitch of his mustache.
“Now, imagine your daughter has a baby, a granddaughter you have never seen. A granddaughter whose health is failing, and if nothing is done, will probably die along with your daughter. What would you do, Mehmet?”
John sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and waited to see if he had struck a nerve.
Mehmet stared down at the tabletop as he played with his glass, turning it around and around with his gold ring clad fingers.
Looking up, his eyes darted around the table, looking at each man before settling back on John.
“Okay.” He pointed a fat finger at John. “I deal with you. Because of the... special circumstances, I will not charge you my fee, only my expenses. Ten thousand U.S. dollars.”
Steve snorted, and John shot him a warning glance.
“Five thousand.”
“Seven. Upfront in cash.”
“Half now, half when we are across the border.”
Steve made to protest but stopped when John shot him another look.
Mehmet stared at John, his mustache twitching, “Done. When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Mehmet sucked air in through his teeth.
“Okay. Take my number from Craig. Call me at ten tomorrow morning. I will give you instructions.”
“Thank you.” John reached forward and held out his hand. Mehmet looked at it as if wondering what it was, then reached forward and shook it.
“I will give you a discount for the return journey?” he asked before letting go.
John smiled without mirth. “That’s generous of you.”
Mehmet released his hand and stood up. He nodded at Craig, glanced at Steve, then back at John.
“Call me tomorrow.”
“I will, oh, and Mehmet?”
“Yes?”
“There will be three of us.”
“Three?”
“Three.”
Mehmet frowned again, then nodded and turned for the door.
The three men waited until he had left the bar before Steve exploded.
“What a prick.”
John gave a slight nod across the ba
r to Mansur, who pushed back his chair and walked out, then turned to Steve.
“He might be, but we need someone to help us.”
“But, John, seven grand?”
“Steve, don’t worry about it. I’ll cover it.”
“But...”
“No buts, Steve. It’s okay. Besides, I didn’t want to haggle too much. We need to leave some profit in it for him; otherwise he’s bound to sell us out.”
“Good thinking, John,” Craig said. He picked up his whiskey, knocked back the contents, and signaled for the waiter. “Same again, gents?”
“Yeah,” Steve replied. “I didn’t enjoy the last one.”
“John?”
“Not for me, thanks.” John held his hand over his glass. “How well do you know this guy, Craig?”
Craig exhaled. “Not well. I just know he’s heavily involved in cross border traffic. He smuggles people out all the time and sends weapons in.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t trust any of these guys. For them, money is more important than human life, but given the short notice and the lack of legal options for you, he was the best I could think of.”
“He’ll have to do. As you said, we have little time and few options.” John waited while the waiter delivered Craig and Steve’s drinks before continuing, “Did you have any luck with bulletproof vests?”
“Yes, I’ll drop them off in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“You told Mehmet, three people. Who’s the third?”
John glanced toward the door. “Here he is now.”
38
“He got into a black Mercedes, I have the registration number.”
“Good. Alone?”
“No, he had two men with him. One had been in the bar.” Mansur nodded to a table near to where they were sitting. “He sat over there. The other was sitting out in the lobby. Big guys. Looked like bodyguards.”
“Thank you, Mansur, please grab a chair.”
Mansur sat in the seat Mehmet had occupied.
“Craig, this is Mansur. He is the third man.”
“Mansur, nice to meet you.” Craig reached across the table and shook his hand.
“Mansur, once this is over, you should come and work for me,” Steve joked and punched him on the arm. “You did well.”
Mansur smiled shyly.
“Can we get you a drink, Mansur?” offered Craig.
Mansur held up his hand and shook his head, “Thank you, no.”
“Mansur, it looks like we can cross over tomorrow. The man we just met will give me the arrangements tomorrow,” John explained.
“Okay.”
John turned to Craig.
“Now tell me, Craig. What’s it like over there? What should we expect?”
39
Craig shook his head, reached for his drink, took a large swig, then placed the glass back on the table.
“It’s not pretty.” He looked at each of the men in turn. “I think what you are doing is admirable, I would do the same if it was my daughter, but...” He shrugged. “It's bloody dangerous.”
“We’re expecting that.”
Craig studied John’s face. “Yes, I’m sure you are. Okay, let me put it this way. From the minute you cross that border, you will not know who you can trust. Who is a good guy, and who is a bad guy. They are all good guys, all bad guys. It depends on your luck.” He took another sip of his drink, warming to the subject. “You’ve got multiple anti-government factions in the area she’s in, all affiliated to Al Qaeda. Some of them genuinely feel they are fighting for freedom from Assad. Others are just Islamic extremists who dream of a caliphate.”
John decided he would need another drink and signaled for the waiter.
“You will also have the Turkish Army. They are easier to deal with, but my point is, you will be crossing checkpoints, not just around Idlib but every step of the way once you set foot in the country and have to justify your reason for being there.”
“Understood.”
Craig waited while John’s drink arrived before continuing.
“How will you communicate?”
John tipped his head toward Mansur. “Mansur speaks Arabic.”
“Good. Arabic and English will be sufficient for dealing with the Syrian Army, the Russians, and the Kurds. If you cross the front line, you will have the Turks and the rebels to deal with. Again, Arabic and English should get you by. You mentioned before you are going as Press?”
“That’s right. Doable?”
“You’ll need documentation. You can’t just wander around with a notebook.”
John reached into his pocket and removed a laminated plastic card in a leather holder and handed it over.
“I have this, letters of invitation, and everything else you said we’d need.”
Craig examined the card and nodded his approval.
“How did you get this? Adriana?”
John glanced at Steve, who gave a subtle shake of his head.
“It’s best you don’t know.”
Craig stared back at John, then grinned. “Okay.” He picked up his drink and knocked back the rest of the whiskey. “I’ll throw in some Press badges for the bulletproof vests before I bring them over. I’ve got some extra in the flat. You just Velcro them to the front and back.”
“Thank you.”
“Now remember, a vest will not be enough to protect you if it turns to shit, and it turns to shit really quickly. If bullets start flying, your instinct will be to run. Don’t! Nothing attracts attention more than someone running. Drop to the ground and find something substantial to hide behind. And I mean substantial. Rounds can cut through most things like paper. Stay down, stay hidden until you have an escape route.”
John glanced at Steve, who looked increasingly nervous.
“Take money but keep it hidden. Bribery can help at a checkpoint but only use it as a last resort. Remember, you are supposed to be legitimate journalists. Take notes, photos, look like you are supposed to be there, but be careful what you photograph. Try to avoid pointing your cameras at the fighters. Some love their photos being taken, but others can get really angry and will turn on you in seconds.”
Steve exhaled loudly. “I need another beer.”
Craig smiled in sympathy.
“Just keep your wits about you and always be calm and polite at the checkpoints. These guys want you to know who’s in charge. If you do all that, you should be okay.”
“Yeah.” Steve waved for the waiter.
“Do you have transport once you are across?”
“Ah... no.” John cleared his throat. “I assumed we might find a taxi, someone to drive us from the border.”
“Yes, there are plenty of guys who will do that for you. You will see them hanging around, depending on where Mehmet makes you cross. Pay them well and win their trust. They’re pretty good at getting you through checkpoints.”
“Good, thanks.”
“I...” Craig stopped, his eyes on something over John’s shoulder, his mouth hanging open.
John turned to see what he was looking at, and his frown turned into a grin as Adriana and Maadhavi, both dressed to kill, entered the bar. He turned back, noticing that most of the conversation in the bar had stopped.
“Craig, why don’t you join us for dinner?”
40
After a large breakfast, they all gathered in John and Adriana’s room. At exactly ten o’clock, John dialed the number Craig had given him. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
“Alo?”
“Mehmet? This is John.”
“Yes, John. Good morning. It is all organized. I want you to fly down to the town of Cizre. The nearest airport is Sirnak, and there’s a flight just after one. Book yourself into a hotel there and text me the hotel name. My associate, Hemin, will call you. He will take you across the border tonight.”
“He is reliable?”
“John,” Mehmet scoffed. “You doubt me? He is my best man. He makes the
trip many times already.”
“Thank you, Mehmet.”
“Oh, and John. One of my men is waiting in the lobby. You pay him half now and the balance to Hemin once you are over the border.”
John pursed his lips. He didn’t like to part with the money before they had even left, but he didn’t have any other options.
“Okay.”
“Iyi şanslar.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Good luck.”
The phone went dead. John stared at the blank screen for a moment.
“All okay, mate?”
John looked up and smiled at Steve.
“Yes, all good. We have to get a flight down to Sirnak and book into a hotel there. One of his men will meet us and take us across the border tonight.”
“That’s good, then,” Steve replied. “Why the frown?”
“We have to pay half the fee now to his man in the lobby.”
“Hmmm.”
“What if he doesn’t go ahead with it?” Adriana asked.
John thought for a moment. “Well, then we are down three and a half grand. We have no-one else, so I say let’s do it, but Steve, it’s your call.”
“Yeah, okay. We’ll pay him. It could take us days to find someone else.”
“Okay. Mansur, can you go down to the lobby and hang around? Just keep an eye out for any trouble. Steve or I will be down in five minutes with the money.”
“Okay.” Mansur nodded and walked out of the room.
“Steve, do you want to go, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it, mate.”
“Okay. We’ll book flights and a hotel. We don’t have much time.”
“I’ll do the flights,” Adriana offered.
“And I’ll look for a hotel,” added Maadhavi.
“I’m not even going to insist you two stay here. I know I’d be wasting my breath.”
Adriana grinned at Maadhavi.
“But...”
Both women turned to look at John.
Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020) Page 9