Licensed to Kill

by Robert Young Pelton

  Simon initially estimated it would cost $2.5 to $5 million for an Executive Outcomes–style operation in which a group of men would enter, subdue, and hold a small territory until the “cavalry” arrived. According to Mann’s later confession, Khalil confided in him that the Spanish government had promised Moto that they would have troops standing by to pacify both the island of Bioko and the mainland government seat of Bata. Though no conclusive evidence—other than the statements of coup plotters—has been uncovered to prove the backing of the Spanish government, changing the leadership in EG would have been in their strategic interests. Spain has a growing demand for oil, and it would have thus brought great economic benefits if they’d been able to reassert their influence over the former colonial holding. The number of dissident exile groups based in Spain also indicates that the Spanish government had a pretty strong opinion about Obiang’s leadership of the country.

  Even if he truly had the Spanish prepared to provide backup after the coup, Simon knew he would also need people inside Equatorial Guinea laying the groundwork far in advance of the operation. He needed a coordinator on the ground, someone who could keep his mouth shut and who had experience with mercenary actions. For that, he turned to Johan Sevrass Nicholas du Toit.

  Niek had known Mann since he had approached Simon regarding an investment in a Congo diamond mine back in 1989. Niek had also worked for EO in Angola and Sierra Leone. Conflicting stories have circulated about when, how, and to what level Niek got involved in the EG plan. One source in the Equatoguinean government told me that Niek first came to the country in 2003 for a stint training the military, but Niek refused to answer questions about that, possibly to protect the contacts he had cultivated at that time. What is known for certain is that Niek relocated to EG in 2003 and began setting up what on the surface looked to be a legitimate commercial enterprise. In the confession he signed after his arrest, Niek conceded that he had come to EG with the purpose of setting up a front company that would arrange logistical support in advance of the coup—an assertion that correlates with what Simon Mann also admitted in his confession. However, Niek now maintains that his business venture was an aboveboard undertaking funded with insurance money he had received from a business partner’s death in a plane crash. He claims that he knew nothing of the coup until Greg Wales first outlined the plan to him in a meeting at a South African hotel on January 3, 2004. However, Logo Logistics bank records indicate that Mann started transferring funds into Niek’s new business, Triple Options Trading, in June 2003. Since one of the partners in Niek’s company was Armengol Ondo Nguema, Obiang’s half-brother and head of security who ended up returning to government service after a very brief postcoup detention, Niek has good reason not to come completely clean about the initial planning phase. With the possibility of being silenced hanging over his head, Niek may not want to upset his still-powerful former partner.

  The earliest documentation to have surfaced about Mann’s part in the coup preparations comes from the notes of a February 12, 2003, meeting between Simon and his accountant, friend, and business advisor Greg Wales. It is clear from the notes that Wales and Mann had a long list of things to go over. They needed to develop a code for discreet communications, “pre and post” contracts for the coup, and maps of oil blocks in Equatorial Guinea. They even discussed concerns about “what gets the marines coming in” and whom to hire to do PR in Washington. The document also indicates that Wales intended to attend a November 19, 2003, meeting of the International Peace Operations Association (IPOA) in Washington, DC, in order to put out feelers about support for the impending coup. The IPOA is an organization of private military companies and security contractors who had a special interest in privatized force being used in Africa for peacekeeping or interventions.

  When he attended the conference, Wales was there to meet Theresa Whelan, the U.S. deputy assistant secretary of defense for African affairs, and hear her speak about the U.S. military’s use of contractors for logistics and training support under an AFRICAP version of LOGCAP. In her closing remarks, Whelan stated, “I think that from our perspective, contractors are here to stay in supporting U.S. national security objectives overseas and really in the aggregate we think that they add considerable value to the process by bringing a dimension of flexibility that we really didn’t have before and that we desperately need now as things in the world are so fluid and changing.” Her comments seemed terribly naïve, considering that the whole purpose of IPOA was to promote the idea of companies like Executive Outcomes and Sandline for use in intervention and peacekeeping operations.

  Attendees recall seeing Wales chatting with Whelan at the conference. Though there are no indications that Wales raised the subject of the upcoming operation in Equatorial Guinea, he did try to cultivate Whelan as a professional contact—interesting for someone who was supposed to be an accountant and financial advisor. Bank records released by Equatorial Guinea after the coup indicated Mann paid Wales $8,000 in November of 2003, presumably for expenses related to the trip. Simon must have liked what Wales had to report after returning to the UK, since he asked Greg to make another trip and made a second $35,000 deposit to Wales’s Sher-bourne Foundation in January 2004.

  Wales returned to the United States in February for a scheduled appointment with Whelan on the nineteenth, the exact date the coup was initially supposed to occur. In a statement released after the coup, the Pentagon said that though Wales and Whelan had a wide-ranging discussion about many issues related to Africa, there had been no specifics discussed regarding EG. One U.S. official privately recounted that Wales wrote down more information than he provided.

  During his February trip, Wales also took steps to ensure that Moto would have an opportunity to solidify his relations with the U.S. government after the coup. He offered $40,000 to a former senior State Department employee turned lobbyist named Joe Sala to set up a four-day program to introduce the soon-to-be-installed Moto to Congress, think tanks, academics, and the media. During Sala’s first meeting with the State Department, an official told him that Moto had been there the year before with Khalil as sponsor and had been given a cool reception. Sala claimed he hadn’t known about Moto’s main backer but learned quickly that Khalil and Moto wouldn’t be welcome in Washington. His efforts on Moto’s behalf petered out, and Sala claims he was never actually paid any money by Wales. Mann never heard that Moto and Khalil were persona non grata in DC or that Wales had never clearly made his case or obtained the slightest indication of approval from the U.S. government.

  As Wales worked to make contacts in the United States, Mann worked to raise the money for the operation. To handle the business aspects of the plan, Simon would use Logo Logistics, a company he had set up in October 2000 one month after Tim Spicer left Sandline. The initial fund-raising did not go as smoothly as planned, and Mann struggled to convince people to put in money, even though he expected they would receive a fivefold return on their money. According to a source close to Mann, Simon had to sell nearly a half million dollars’ worth of diamond concession shares in order to have his own investment staked in the operation. Like any troubled business venture, the dreams of finding a single backer devolved into half-million-dollar shares; then each shareholder resorted to raising smaller pieces to make up their shortfalls. What should have been a tight-knit, tight-lipped group of half-million-dollar men became a huckster cluster with nickel and dime shares.

  Though Khalil had initially promised Simon $1.8 million, he later complained that the French government had frozen most of his assets. Khalil was only able to scrounge up $750,000 but did refer Mann to friends who could be approached for more. On November 15, 2003, Logo Logistics signed an investor agreement with a Lebanon-based company named Asian Trade and Investment Group SAL, run by Karim Fallaha, a friend of Khalil’s. The half million from Fallaha was reportedly collected from smaller investors, though there is no indication they had any idea to what end their money would serve.

  Big inves
tors who had allegedly pledged or given up to a half million included David Tremain, a South Africa–based businessman who reportedly represented a number of smaller investors; David Hart, a former advisor to Margaret Thatcher; J. H. Archer, a disgraced politician turned author of potboiler novels; and Gary Hersham, the director of a London real estate brokerage who had introduced Mann to Khalil. Afterward, all of these men would provide denials and alibis, and none would be charged with any crimes. Hersham says he only introduced Mann to a mortgage broker so he could mortgage his million-dollar-plus home on Portobello Road in Notting Hill. Wales later claimed that he was simply acting as middleman for Eli Khalil and/or that he had been discussing multiple possible projects with Mann, though nothing coup-related had been raised. Wales had known Mann for years, and even back in the days of Sandline would reportedly hang around the company’s Chelsea offices “to catch scraps off the table,” as one associate remembers.

  The two investors who actually suffered serious consequences for their involvement in the venture, James Kershaw and Mark Thatcher, both fell under the jurisdiction of South Africa’s recent antimercenary legislation. Kershaw, a twenty-four-year-old accountant and computer expert in South Africa, invested only a measly $90,000 of his own money, but also took on the role of being essentially the office manager for the plan—arranging payment for the foot soldiers and other contingencies.

  Thatcher is the investor who has drawn the greatest amount of public scrutiny, since his mother is the former prime minister of England. Thatcher paid his half million in two installments, though would later claim that he had been contributing to the purchase of an air ambulance. Thatcher’s cover story stretches credulity, since he and Simon Mann were friends and neighbors, and bank records indicate some of the supposed air ambulance money took a circuitous route into Logo Logistics.

  The only son of Margaret Thatcher, Mark studied accounting but failed the licensing exams three times. At Harrow, he earned the nickname “Thickie” and has been described by those who know him as “not very bright.” During his stint as a dilettante racing driver, he somehow managed to get himself lost for six days during the Paris-Dakar.

  In 1981, Mark had worked as a rep for a British construction company and pushed for a $600-million university construction contract in Oman while his mother was there on a trade promotion trip. His role as middleman in another $25 billion arms deal to Saudi Arabia earned him $15 million while his mother was still in office. Separately, he also brokered an arms deal with the sultan of Brunei. His numerous business dealings and peddling of influence drew enough public criticism to be considered a minor scandal in the UK, though he was never brought up on any charges of impropriety. Regardless, Thatcher clearly had no problem in making his money in creative and slightly questionable ways.

  Neither Mann nor Thatcher were really part of polite society in the UK, but in South Africa they were minor local celebrities—Mann for his life as a mercenary, and Thatcher for his jet-setting days as racer, pilot, bon vivant, and famous son. The two had much in common, including their love of flying, and over many neighborly dinners they would discuss their adventures and business ventures. Though Thatcher has publicly maintained he had no foreknowledge of the coup, it is inconceivable that they did not have discussions about Mann’s upcoming gig in Equatorial Guinea, particularly considering how many times Thatcher met with others involved.

  Thatcher met with Simon Mann and Niek du Toit at Lanseria airport near Johannesburg in July of 2003, ostensibly to discuss Thatcher’s purchasing two of Niek’s Russian-made Mi-8 helicopters for a mining operation in the Sudan. Niek was to meet Thatcher four times over the months leading up to the coup but claims to have never specifically discussed the planned operation with him. In December 2003, Mark Thatcher met with Greg Wales and coup pilot Crause Steyl at Lanseria airport, and later with Simon Mann and Crause Steyl in Constantia, South Africa. According to Thatcher, he eventually agreed to invest in Triple A Aviation Services (the “AAA” comes from “Air Ambulance Africa”), and funded the purchase of a French-made Alouette III helicopter that could double as an ambulance or a gunship for the coup.

  Triple A Aviation, with Crause Steyl as one of the owners, was set up in January 2004 to hold Thatcher’s contribution and to act as a buffer against his exposure if the plot was discovered. Thatcher transferred $275,000 to Triple A on January 8, and the final payment of $255,000 was deposited on January 16. Bank records show that $100,000 was transferred on March 2 from Triple A to Mann’s Logo Logistics, essentially creating a pass-through to the coup investment.

  After the exposure of the conspiracy, Thatcher claimed he had no knowledge of the coup plot and insisted that he only intended to contribute funds for purchase of an air ambulance. It could almost be plausible that Mann, Wales, and Steyl kept Thatcher uniformed about the actual final destination of his investment, if memos seized from James Kershaw’s computer after the coup didn’t express concern that “MT” might be discovered as a backer and insist that all precautions be taken to protect his involvement.

  It is unclear why Mann continued to seek Thatcher’s money, since by the time Thatcher had decided to put in his half million, Simon had already received a $5 million promise from a Verona Holdings of Vaud, Switzerland. He may have worried about the other investors actually following through with their deposits or have been planning other uses for future endeavors. The five-page Verona Holdings contract outlines how Logo intends to develop potential projects in the fields of mining exploration, commercial fishing, aviation, helicopter charter, and commercial security in the following countries: Guinea Republic, Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Angola. Equatorial Guinea is not mentioned. Simon’s signature is clearly legible on the last page of the document, but that of his new business associate appears as nothing more than a scribbled line with a bump at the end. Thus far, the person or people behind Verona Holdings have yet to be identified.

  With the money finally coming in, things were finally looking up for the conspirators. To end the year on a good note, Mark Thatcher threw a big Christmas bash, held at his home in Constantia. Mark flew his seventy-year-old mother down for the occasion, and Simon, Greg Wales, and other coup plotters were in attendance. Guests at that party recall Wales and Mann discussing the idea for the coup as casually as if it were a horse race.

  The Best-Laid Plans

  Any good conspiracy requires multiple layers of cover stories and intrigue, and Mann had experience creating credible diversionary tales from his experience with Executive Outcomes and Sandline. For all public purposes, Mann’s Logo Logistics activities were part of a mining security contract in the Congo, and versions related by different backers were mostly variations on this same story. Even the mercenaries hired for the job were told they would be guarding a Congolese mine.

  Mann may have told a variety of cover stories, but the July 22, 2003, document titled “Assisted Regime Change” makes clear the intent of the plotters. The document is one of a number that have surfaced through the legal proceedings against those charged for the coup attempt. They all sound like accurate representations of the conspirators’ plans, but since they were slipped to the prosecution by a journalist and not all seized directly from Mann, it must be mentioned that there is the slightest possibility one or all could be forgeries.

  The Assisted Regime Change document lists as its number-one objective: “To replace, in the shortest possible time, the controlling unit of a country.” The four-page plan outlines the most important steps to quickly replacing all the existing power structures of a country, and recommends a functional PR program to market the new and improved leadership domestically and abroad, a disinformation campaign to discredit the old regime, and a formal pogrom against the previous supporters—all to begin within twenty-four hours of a coup.

  Another July 22 document crudely lays out a two-part contract between “Mr. M” and “Captain F.” Mr. M is clearly Severo Moto, and Captain F is former SAS captain Simon Francis Mann. The copy
of the contract I viewed had Simon’s signature but not Moto’s, and it established the intended business arrangements and cash bonuses to be given by the leader of the provisional government to the backers and executors of the plot. By signing, Moto would agree to pay four unnamed participants (possibly Crause and Neil Steyl, Niek du Toit, and Simon Witherspoon) $1 million each, six men would get $50,000 (the advance team with Niek), and seventy-five men $5,000 each (foot soldiers). Captain F was slated to earn a generous $15 million for his role. If the coup was successful, each would also be given EG citizenship, passports, letters saying they were members of the armed forces, and immunity from extradition. Captain F would also be contracted to become the new president’s personal security contractor and would be given a diplomatic passport, any rank of his choosing, and controlling interest of a “newco.” A common name used to describe a yet-to-be-formed business entity, the newco would handle much of the business deals to be redirected to the benefit of the coup backers. Moto probably did not realize that if he agreed to give Captain F the right to hire, train, and command his bodyguard, he would have literally signed his life away. Another document that purportedly originated with Mann indicates that after the coup, the power behind the new EG president would not hesitate to dispose of Moto if he turned out to be less than completely pliant.

  The “Bight of Benin Company” (BBC), written in the archaic British schoolboy style typical of Simon Mann, is a Machiavellian plan laced with paranoia and greed. The document lays out a plan to turn EG into something resembling the British East India Company. It details the coup backers’ intent to claim the sole right to make agreements and contracts with the newly installed government—essentially becoming a board of directors that would dictate the decisions and actions of whoever ruled Equatorial Guinea. The BBC makes it abundantly clear that Moto is disposable and that his main backer, Eli Khalil, was not to be trusted.