Chapter 16
Breaking Good
Then my cell phone rang. Artem was on the call. He was breathless, a trait I did not think he was capable of. He said we needed to meet face to face and Osanna should be there as well. What was this? He said pull it together quickly and we should all meet in the next couple of hours. Meeting at the Tulip Hotel was the suggestion. My thinking was there should be somewhere less obvious to locals observing our movements.
Artem thought for a moment and then came back with a small Armenian Pizza joint up near the Opera House. Acceptable I concluded and the time was set. Artem said he would contact Osanna and ensure she got their safely. It came together and there was an excitement in the air.
Meanwhile I was hungry and took the liberty of ordering. Osanna suggested I try the Armenian version of pizza called Lahmajoun. This was a mixture of ground lamb and beef with tomato and local spices smothered over thin flat dough. Artem educated me suggesting it was actually more an Arabic item than Armenian but regardless Armenia has made it their own.
It can be reported I would do this again. Coupled with Armenian coffee the Lahmajoun was a great variation from the everyday limp pizza found back home.
The conversation began. Artem stated he had found the diamond recipient was still in Yerevan and did not give up the stones to the Russians. The cousin told Artem the satchel was given to him to hide in his balcony planter. The recipient said he would collect it when he felt it safe to move about. In the meantime he was laying low with his family hiding him a few kilometres out of Yerevan. What great news!
Did we want to find the recipient and punish him or did we just want to recover the diamonds? I wanted both. The bombshell was about to drop. Artem choked a bit as he whispered across the table. “Mr. Blacke it is all about the Mossad! It is the Mossad behind the disappearance of the stones!” Osanna and I looked at each other in disbelief. What the hell! Apparently the value of the diamonds was deemed far too much value to be gratuitously handing over to graft riddled Armenian government officials.
The Mossad never believed prior investments in Yerevan infrastructure renewal got to where it did any good for the citizens. They were of the thought all the Israeli efforts went into the pockets of corrupt government people.
One only had to look around the city and see the number of 600 series Mercedes and black Hummers parked outside the Tulip Hotel. The obvious was nobody in government was paid the kind of money needed to display such blatant opulence. The underground was functioning in high gear.
The Mossad decided to turn the recipient and craft the story of both personal greed and absconding with the diamonds. It seemed they did a great job because the smoke and mirrors left all parties totally unclear of what happened. Accusations everywhere but all without authority.
What a beauty I thought. Very cool outcome. Unfortunately the stones were still not back in the Israelis’ hands but sitting in some dweeb’s planter.
I asked Artem did the Mossad actually know where the stones were and he smiled for the very first time since I met him. “No.” He, and now we, were the outsiders who knew where they possibly were. An opportunity not to pass as they could slip out of reach again very quickly. I mean, could anybody really trust Mossad and their agenda?
Chapter 17
Raiding the Ark
We jumped up and got into Artem’s vodka vapour reeking car. As the heater warmed up we opened the windows wide which meant about a quarter inch. A hell of a way to die.
Artem had the address of the cousin. We rushed to the location. Osanna still hurting from the still suspicious accident remained in the car. Artem and I ran up the stairs of the apartment and banged on the door. Apprehension ran through us as the big door just swung open on its own. Cautiously we went in. The place was torn to shreds. Everything was everywhere. In the kitchen we found the cousin. Obviously a tortured man. He was unmoving on the floor still tied to a tipped chair. Artem determined he was dead. For the first time realization really set in. Somebody was pissed off.
We did not take time to be sorry but scrambled onto the balcony looking for the planter and there it was in the corner untouched. Artem pushed it over and we dug with our hands into the dirt. I felt the strap and pulled. There it was. The satchel now in our hands. Amazing. We looked at each other, went inside to keep from prying eyes viewing us from an adjoining balcony and opened the satchel. There it was. All the diamonds in a black felt bag glistening madly on the coffee table as they fell out of their womb. Artem quickly tossed them back into the satchel threw it too me and moved to the door. We were out of there.
Getting into the car our nervous giddy glee quickly caught Osanna’s attention. She saw we had the goods. I never had heard her gasp with appreciation and finality. Osanna was ecstatic. This woman hardly showed emotion but it was evident now she could.
I yelled to Artem “Head for the Israelis’ cutting facility.”
I could not believe this car. Here I was under the impression Artem was a mogul in his own right and of course he was. He just did not want to show this around the city and kept his secret close. This car put him in the league of the average. Nobody was following us or came out of the woodwork.
We found our way to the Israelis via cell phone directions. They were waiting. Quickly we slipped into a building into a room and there was a delegation of Israelis sitting with absolute gratitude on their faces. We were greeted like royalty and offered coffee and tea immediately.
The satchel was put on the table and when the stones were revealed, the room broke into dance and jubilation. We were hugged. Kissed. Shook. It began to get just too weird for me. It was the type of scenario Taylor would revel in. He hugs most anything, with a skirt or not.
Osanna was holding back tears from her injuries being jostled about. Artem was the happiest guy as once again his people were very responsible for solving the mysterious loss of the stones. We left everybody happy.
Unfortunately the government recipient of the stones was no longer happy. Someone found his hiding place. The Israelis reported he was found spiked to a door frame of the Blue Mosque; "Gök Jami" built between 1764–1768, located on Mashtots Avenue, right in busy downtown.
The building is the only operating Mosque in Armenia. Refitted and paid for after the Russians left by the Iranians with Armenian approval. Armenia is overwhelmingly Christian. There are some 1,500 churches spanning centuries. Some of them are active and others are now architectural icons.
Christianity came into Armenia as early as AD 40. King Taridites 111 (AD 238–314) made Christianity the religion of the state, AD 301, creating the very first officially Christian country, ten years before the Roman Empire gave Christianity an official acceptance, and, 36 years before Constantine the Great was so baptized. Many deem Armenia the cradle of Christianity.
Why the Mosque? The significance escaped me.
The death statement really did not seem to be valid. What objective or purpose could be drawn?
The poor Dick was badly tortured and brutally killed. An odd outcome for this diamond recipient. Maybe there was an unknown buyer left wanting. What was with the Mosque?
Maybe the Armenian government believed the embarrassment of financial loss was unacceptable. Maybe the Mossad just wanted to leave a message. Maybe the Americans were just screwing around. There is no doubt it was a significant amount of stones. None of it really mattered to me. This was Yerevan were intrigue, double cross and vengeance was part of life.
I returned to the streets of downtown Yerevan and simply took time to drink in this city. The impatience of drivers created chaos at the intersections. Learning to cross the streets as a pedestrian took some observation. Armenian women walked hand in hand. Men walked in small groups. The older people shuffled along likely dreaming of their better times. There was hope in the air regardless. These people would prosper soon even if many of the young were leaving the country for Europe or Moscow to find work. They would return.
I saw the
Armenians very much like the Israelis. This was their land. This was their history. Nobody would take it away again.
Chapter 18
Checking Out
It was time for me to get out of town. The Israelis were delighted. We really did not know what the hell Mossad was thinking. I am told nobody ever does. Nobody showed up to say thank you or anything else for that matter. Maybe they wanted the stones for themselves.
My presence kick started the search and recovery. The explanation for the disappearance was always suspect but like everything in Armenia nothing is what it seems.
I liked Yerevan. It was a clandestine city. Black seemed the prevailing wear for both men and women. Everybody wore black, dark somber clothing mostly leather. Nothing expressed more than the clothes. Nice clothes but unexpressive black. Don’t forget the shoes. Crafted European leathers were a necessity.
One could see, however, in a few years a full recovery would be evident where happy citizens would elevate to color and flash. A cosmopolitan city in the making. European in nature. Yerevan an ancient city upon cities.
Worth a return episode.
My handler got me out to the airport through the early morning darkness. We nodded goodbye. Strange dude. Competent. Silent. Effective. Still strange. Was I supposed to tip?
There too was Osanna and Artem. I was caught off guard but genuinely delighted. They wanted to express their personal appreciation for the bird dogging and loosening of tongues that helped determine what happened to the diamonds. Besides there was a loose bonding and trust between the three of us. Osanna said her injuries would heal soon. A good thing indeed.
Nobody was clear if Mossad were happy or not. None of us were dead so we concluded they probably approved of our venture.
I thanked both Osanna and Artem for their assistance knowing they had to live in Yerevan and deal everyday with government people and other elements that controlled both the city and country. Hopefully they will be regarded neutrally and not subjected to the black side of scrutiny. Both were intelligent players in a world of possibilities. They could come out on top anywhere they chose to operate.
I found my way through the departure procedure with some trepidation. The airport had an interesting check in I had not seen elsewhere. You put your finger print into a machine when you picked up your boarding pass and after getting to the actual gate, and, before boarding, you placed your finger into another designated spot and trusted the light came up green.
Sure enough I was told my visa time was exceeded by one day and of course I had to be subject to another $100 US fine after signing a paper saying I was a bad person.
The little tin soldiers put you in a Closter phobic room, stare at you, and as is popular in so many of these countries of the old regime, communist intimidation is priority. Rather than play the game it really is best to just give them their bribe and be done with it. If I had the time screwing with them would be therapeutic.
I could almost get used to this harassment. The plane waited. I boarded. It roared off the runway. Armenia was done.
Back home I reported to Taylor on the outcome and the relief he showed was outside the normal. He admitted the fact he knew it was a family member responsible for accepting the diamonds for the government. The tortured and killed recipient was distant family. The tortured and killed cousin was obviously distant family. I did not display sympathy. There is nothing personal in this work.
All in all Taylor’s role was compromised early and until the situation was resolved, his position was held under serious suspicion. Did I really give two bags of camel dung?
Hell. He owes me!
Conclusion
Thank you for downloading The Armenia Caper. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I feel that I was particularly privileged to travel to Armenia at a time when the country was in transition between the pre and post Soviet Eras. The country and particularly its capital, Yerevan, with a culture and history that spans several thousand years with its ancient remnants of architecture remarkably well preserved, easily begins to play mind games on you. Diplomats at every corner. Business tycoons cutting deals over glasses of fine cognac. Exotic women straight out of Vogue. It’s an intoxicating cocktail and one that makes for good tales of espionage and subterfuge. The Armenia Caper is fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
If you enjoyed reading The Armenia Caper, do me a favor please. Could you leave a review on Amazon.
Finally, this is my first book. In my travels I have visited destinations that are not on anyone’s travel posters. There are more books in the pipeline. If you enjoyed The Armenia Caper and would like to know about my upcoming books, just REGISTER HERE.
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The Armenia Caper Page 4