“And once you’re registered it’s real.”
“Exactly. And now you have a temporary residence permit allowing you to stay for one to six months. Then you decide if you want to live and work in Greece illegally, or move on. Most move on.”
“But either option is infinitely better than fighting for, or against, ISIS.”
“That’s it. But that’s if they get halfway,” Abbey said.
“What happens on the Turkish side?” I said.
“Different story. The Turkish Coast Guard can be confusing in their choices. Usually they make three quick, consecutive circles around your raft. This fills the raft with water and sends the passengers overboard. If everybody looks to be surviving at that point they just hang out for awhile. Rub a little salt in the wounds in hope they remember the next time the get the urge to try crossing. Then they round you up and take you back to Turkey, where you’re sent on a bus somewhere else. Often times, just up to Istanbul, but you’re out of sight and out of mind.”
“So you try to make a go when you know the Turkish side is likely to be understaffed. When shifts are changing over. When it’s dark. Anytime there’s an advantage to be had. Just to improve the odds by a fraction.”
“Or to improve them infinitely if your handlers are paying off the Turkish Coast Guard or someone with inside knowledge of patrol times and patterns.”
“Good system these guys have going.”
“Very good. And very good money for all the smugglers, no matter what they’re smuggling.”
“But The Turk is surely using better boats and has better connections if he’s moving drugs.” I said.
“He might, but if he does he’s not using them. First, it’s easier to hide amongst the other rafts. They’re often leaving in formations, believe it or not. Just a row of rafts. And this whole time nobody’s checking their bags. All the way from Syria and never once been asked to open a bag. Not until they get to Athens to get documented, but at that point they can just leave the drugs in a storage locker at the Port of Piraeus and then retrieve them after their paperwork is processed. Second, there’s a new problem that’s developed. Something much bigger than anything the government might throw at them.”
“Pirates?” I asked.
“You guessed it. Your specialty actually from what we hear. We read in your service records what you did time and again with those Somalis. Incredible.”
“Thanks.”
Abbey continued, “The pirates were already happy with the regular refugees. They’re loaded down with all the money they have plus jewelry. Exactly what any thief would be after. Now that they’ve found out about the drugs passing through the area they’re foaming at the mouth like dogs. The take can be astronomical.”
“And can go right into the pockets of ISIS,” Bill said. I had almost forgot he was with us. He’s not a forgettable guy; I was just really connecting to Abbey’s intel before she broke out the plan.
“OK, so I see what we’re facing now. A few different threats and risks, but minor compared to what I’m used to.”
“In that sense you’re correct. But we’re asking you to do something totally different than something as routine as a snatch-and-grab.”
“You want a full infiltration.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Frost and Abbey turned to each other and hi-fived. It took me off guard, but brought a smile to my face at the same time. The rah-rah stuff since our first meeting didn’t really sit well with me. It was like they were playing by some psychological playbook. He’s a SEAL. He likes a team. Adrenaline rush. Dopamine fix. Give him that camaraderie. Give him that thrill. It sounds so rudimentary and arrogant, but boy is it effective. At least it was working its magic on me. “And how do you plan on accomplishing that?” I asked.
“We have an agent missing so we don’t have time to wait. Don’t have time to build it up from the ground. We need something quick.”
“Like a show of loyalty to win trust.” They both nodded in agreement. “And the plan for accomplishing that is?” I asked.
“Win over The Turk immediately. These kids are important to him. Their dad has lost a lot of power due to ISIS, but he still has a lot of connections and pull within the Middle East community. Everyone knows who he is. He’s a bad guy, but he’s well liked and respected. Gives a lot back to the community. Helps out.”
“You make him sound like a good guy.” I said.
“Public perception only. In the eyes of the public he’s a hero.”
“Because it’s not their kids he’s getting hooked on smack.”
“Exactly,” Abbey replied.
I could see the excitement in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. I knew she couldn’t wait to tell me what came next.
“You want a sea battle? Get me to within 100 yards of ‘em and I’ll hit ‘em right between the eyes. One right after the other. They’ll be fish food before they know what hit them.”
Frost and Abbey glanced at each other.
“We don’t want an itchy trigger finger. We want low risk in a highly controlled environment,” Frost said.
I almost reached across the table and slapped him. I knew what he was talking about, but he didn’t have the guts to say it. He probably had my service records memorized by now. They get all excited over the good parts, and there are many, but one little thing gets blown out of proportion.
“You referring to Kandahar, Frosty?” I said.
Abbey wisely intervened, “Zamora, we’re not referring to anything. We just can’t have any bodies. Bodies equal a lot of explaining to a lot of high-ranking people and ultimately it works against our interests. Bodies will spook everyone we’ve been watching. They’ll go into lay-low mode. Ruin all the work up to this point and set us back weeks if not months.”
She was right. I didn’t say anything. Frost kept calm and just continued like nothing happened. “We lower the risk by keeping everything on land. We know that The Turk knows he just has to get them past the Turkish Coast Guard. He has connections inside and can get them through easily, although if they wind up in a big pack of rafts they could get caught.”
“Why don’t they just leave separately and he can phone it in?”
“Zamora,” Frost stopped momentarily. “It’s unbelievable. We’ve been watching them from shore. Just the sheer number of them. There are so many of these rafts taking off, especially early in the morning before dawn that even if they don’t start as a pack, they wind up as a pack. The sea just brings them together. They’re trying to go vertically so they all just get swept into the same current. You would think there’s safety in numbers but it works against them. These overcrowded rubber pieces of junk bump into each other and capsize. It’s a weird twist of fate.”
“Crazy, but true,” Abbey said. “Far and away our best chance is on land. On the Turkish side. Before they even hit the water.”
I stopped and thought about it. They wanted a SEAL for the job and they were about to get one. Ironically the sea part of being a SEAL was the part they didn’t want. Or at least that’s what their plan lacked.
“So, what’s the plan?” I said.
“ The refugees are hiding in the olive orchards that line the coasts. These coasts are very rocky in many places. The combination of the olive trees and the rocks make it impossible to see them from the sea. It’s also hard to reach these areas on foot. They’re isolated. You have to come in with a boat. The refugees wait their turn in these areas. Waiting for a boat that they’ve already paid a third party for. The third party holds the money until the refugee calls saying they’ve made it safely across. Then they release the payment to the traffickers. It’s a good system. They see when you leave. From that point you have three days to contact them. If you think you’ll just reach the other side and not call in your arrival then you’re mistaken. They’ll release the money anyways after three days. The reasoning is that if you get caught you can come back and they’ll see you were caught. If you don’t come back then you made it. O
r you didn’t. Either way they keep the money. So they wait in these areas. It’s a tense time. They’re waiting for their boat. Sometimes fights break out if they feel they’re waiting too long or if they feel someone’s jumping them in line. Money and lives are on the line. The locals are afraid to go to these areas. They know there are guards there. You can spot them. The human traffickers have placed them there to protect what they consider their investments. Those guards are in control of these areas. There are only scattered villages around there so you rarely see police. The officers are in the more densely areas handling day-to-day incidents like traffic accidents, petty theft, and things like that. That and in the tourist areas making sure the tourists in Bodrum are safe.”
Abbey folded the first piece of paper. I had only looked at it briefly, but saw that it was essentially a map showing the water passage routes and how the authorities cover the area. Or don’t cover it if they’re getting kickbacks from the traffickers. She pulled out a second piece of paper. It was photographic paper. She flipped it over to reveal an image. “This is a satellite shot of the cliff which we think The Turk will use as a launching off point for the al-Atrash kids.”
“What makes you sure he’ll use this point?”
“Historically he always has for the big players or their families. He uses a bunch of other ones for everyone else, but this one is reserved for his VIPs.”
“Very Incarcerated Persons,” I said.
“If we have a say so,” Abbey replied.
“The good thing is that this area is away from the higher trafficked areas. It’s even more secluded than normal and he just keeps a couple guards here, and they’re spread apart.”
“Armed?”
“M-16s. Nothing special.”
“Dangerous?”
“Hardly. We could pick them off whenever we want.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing. We don’t need them. They’re too low level. Just average street criminals willing to stand around all day for a few Turkish liras.”
“He’s cutting corners.”
“The wrong corners. That’s why we have a great opening here.”
“What’s the angle?” I said.
“You’re going to get your chance to go after pirates,” Abbey said. “But not the normal pirates. Our pirates.”
“Bodrum on Broadway.”
We all laughed. “Something like that,” Abbey said. “I forgot to mention something about these pirates.”
“What that they don’t wear eye patches anymore?” I said.
“Not usually, but also not what I forgot. They’re dressed like commandos. They’re trying to imitate the Greek or Turkish Coast Guard depending on where they attack.”
“Simple, but effective.” I said.
“Very effective. Some of the immigrants that make it all the way to Kos in their plastic rafts tell the press they’ve been beaten and robbed by the Greek Coast Guard on their way over. Not good for PR. And not even true in nearly all cases.”
“Are the rafts rubber or plastic?” I said.
“Everything imaginable,” Abbey said. We’ve even seen kitchen tables flipped upside down and an outboard engine attached. Inner tubes. Hand made wooden contraptions. Once we saw some kites strapped to some PVC pipe. It really shows you the desperation of these people. They get the best thing they can find for the four miles, load the numbers of Greek Coast Guard rescue into their phone, push off and pray for the best.”
I had goose bumps. I felt chills across my body. I felt like I was suddenly slapped square in the jaw with a reminder how lucky I am to be born to fortunate circumstances.
“Many times the smugglers captain doesn’t even go. At the last second before departure he shows one of the passengers how to operate the motor. When they ask him how to navigate he just tells them to head for the lights on the other shore. Luckily some of them have charged phones and think quickly enough to pull up GPS. It can be a lifesaver.”
Now I was getting angry. Really angry. This needed to stop. These guys were gutless. I was all in.
“What’s my job?”
“There’s a small path leading up to this area.” Abbey pointed to the spot she had marked on the map. The spot where Adnan and Amena would be positioned until their vessel came along. “Conceivably that could be a jogging path.”
“Conceivably or realistically?” I said.
“Conceivably.” Abbey said. Her jaw was firm. She seemed sure of her decision. I preferred to start with something that’s at least believable, but wanted to see where this was going. “You’re a tourist. You’re already in Bodrum so it is possible that you might want to go for a jog, walk, or hike. Some tourists get burnt out on just the beach. They want to enjoy nature too.” She had a point. A good one. “We have our two planted commandos come in for the robbery. They take out the guards, begin the robbery, and you save the day.”
“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Just like that.” Abbey could see I was mocking the simplicity.
“That’s the short version. The long goes something like this. You decide to go for a jog.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Why would I go for a jog in an area where surely my resort warned me not to go?”
“They didn’t. This place is not really that close to the other launching points. That’s part of its beauty. You can see tourists within one hundred yards of this area, just not this close to the water. An adventurous, young guy? He could absolutely wonder down this area for a closer look, a pic, or just to take in the tranquility.”
“OK, so it’ s possible.”
“Definitely. So, you’re out for a jog. I like the jog better because it gives you a uniform. Sure, it’s just short shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes, but it is a uniform. A reason for being. Not so random as a guy taking a walk. You’re already doing something of your own choosing.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Their security guys are lazy. And they drink a lot of Coke, which means they go to the bathroom a lot. They’re even consistent with the trees they choose. First guy wanders off to go to the toilet. He always puts his rifle down on the ground a few feet away from him. We come up from behind, gag him, pick up the rifle and then wait on the other guy to come over after he realizes it’s taking too long.”
“But he’ll be on high alert” I said.
“Probably. If he’s not, it’s easy. He’s getting paid peanuts, so he’s not going to put up much of a fight if he gets caught off guard with a gun pointed at his temple.”
“True, but how do you propose we get a gun pointed at his temple.”
“Distract and divert. Stun grenade.”
“Still a lot of risk there.”
“He’ll be off balance,” Frost said. “We can take him down.”
“I thought we didn’t want bodies.”
“We don’t. We can come in on top of him. Canopy. Armed team with Kevlar if need be.”
I paused. “Too risky. He could fire.”
We sat staring at each other for a few minutes. To me that pretty much settled that that idea was out the window.
“Trapping pit,” I said. “He falls in, we slide a cover over. Quick and effective.”
Frost scratched the back of his head. “We have to lead him to it.”
“He’s nervous. He’s scared. It shouldn’t be too hard. If not then he just runs away,” I said. “Deserts his post.”
“He could fire off rounds,” Abbey said. “Which technically gives us justification to do what we need to do.”
“But we’d like to avoid that,” Frost said.
I thought about it for a second. “He knows what he’s doing. Naysayers are going to say he’s just some low level guy trying to make a buck. I say he’s an armed trafficker. He gets what he gets. I say we make it a trou de loup. Put a sharpened wooden stake in the bottom of the pit.”
Abbey and Frost looked at each other and shrugged as if to say OK.
“What’s next?” I said.
“And a Good Samaritan comes along wearing running gear?”
“No. The runner has been attacked by the guards. He manages to take one of their guns, subdue the other, and then save the kids.”
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