by James Ward
“You do that, Gunny. I’ve got to decide how much further to go with you guys.”
About ten pm Gunny and Brandt left for their hotel. Steck decided to stay at Anwhar Trading Company for the night, sleeping on a cot in one of the back rooms. At three am, he stood in front of the digital displays in the operations room. He studied the information tree with intensity. His thoughts were mostly focused on Paul Roche. Finally he decided to get some rest. “Roche, you bugger, I’m gonna get you this time!” he shouted to the wall.
CHAPTER 30
Ryall Morgan and Mort Lindsley made their presentation to the director of the CIA early next morning. The director listened intently to what they had to say then fired questions at both of them for over an hour. Finally satisfied that they had a succinct and comprehensive briefing to present, the director arranged for their attendance at a meeting of the National Security Council with the President later in the morning.
The President and his advisors took in the briefing without much comment but a lively question and answer session followed. Finally, the President spoke.
“I would like to thank the director for this briefing. I especially thank these members of the JUMP team, Mister Morgan and Mister Lindsley and their associates for the exemplary work they are doing. As you know, I have been following this issue for some time, receiving updates at my daily security briefing. Your presentation today sheds new and disturbing light on the matter and leaves us with sobering choices to make. I’m sure you will agree ladies and gentlemen that we cannot allow this symbolic figurine to fall into the wrong hands. I am asking that members of this council be briefed in detail daily by the director of the CIA or his designate and I expect that some of you in this room will want to attend the meetings of the JUMP team. I will speak with the prime minister of Canada by telephone. The Secretary of State will join me on that call. We have a long history of cooperation between our two governments. I will commend them for stepping forward and offering assistance. Please accept it and use it wisely.
I’m directing each of to you provide all necessary support to this effort as and if requested by the director of the CIA. Mister Director, I don’t need to remind you of the potential consequences of failed operations in the part of the world we are dealing with here. Do the job, but keep a lid on it.”
The President rose. “This meeting is adjourned.”
________
Bob Steck received a call from Randy Pullin early next morning Amman time. He shut himself in Charlie West’s former office and locked the door. This would be a private conversation. He listened to the animated Pullin, who sounded all business. Pullin had a dossier on Ajir that far exceeded the information Langley had been able to come up with so far. Steck was impressed, and thanked him. Pullin also had three helicopters and twenty armed men enroute from the town of Masr E Sharif, in Afghanistan to the desert region in the southeastern part of Turkmenistan. They would be in place within an hours flying time of Ashgabat by day’s end. He gushed on about other resources he was preparing for Steck’s use. Finally, Bob interrupted him.
“Randy, listen to me!” Steck shouted. Pullin stopped in the middle of a sentence.
“Randy, I appreciate all you’ve done and all you’re doing but you need to hear something.”
“Go ahead, Bob.” Randy said, “I’m listening.”
“The Canadians have reported to us that one of their agents has turned up dead in Montana, a girl named Carole Hinson. They also believe that the death of a man named Ralph Baker in Idaho was connected to her disappearance. Do you know anything about that?”
“Why should I?” Randy’s voice sounded cautious.
“Steck had hoped for candor from his old friend. “Because Carole Hinson’s assignment was to get information about Free Nation’s involvement in moving stolen antiquities through Canada.”
“It’s probably just some liberal jerks trying to discredit us, Bob. We get it all the time.” Randy was trying to act nonchalant.
“For God’s sake, Randy, she was traveling with young Brandt at the time of the incident.” Steck was feeling disgusted with Randy Pullin’s evasiveness.
Randy paused for too long. Steck watched the sweep hand on his Rolex tick off twenty seconds.
“So what does this mean?” Randy had a lot of guts asking.
“What it means is I don’t think I can protect you once this operation is over. The FBI will mount a formal investigation and you guys will be up to your neck in trouble. It means if I were you I’d be concentrating on getting to know some real good lawyers rather than helping me chase some antique out in the backlands of central Asia. It means I should throw Grundstrom and Brandt out of my operation if I ever expect to collect a pension.” Steck was more exasperated than he thought he would be.
“But you need me, Bob.” Randy Pullin was the kind of guy to never, ever give up.
“Like a drowning man needs a drink of water, Randy.”
“I can help you finish this mission successfully,” Randy began. “You guys don’t have any assets in Turkmenistan. I have men on the ground as we speak and I can get more. I can get you into the highest circles of Turkmen government if you need it. Don’t you know what’s at stake here? Bob? The world as we know it could radically change or pass away if this thing gets into the wrong hands. I love my country and I want to help. When it’s over, I promise not to ask any favors. In the meantime, you have two of my best trained guys watching your personal butt. You would be eating sand in a Yemeni grave if it wasn’t for my guys. They saved your sorry backside in Yemen and I hope they get to save it again. Just let us help.”
Steck knew that Pullin was right. He had no way to get agents in or even to get intelligence out of Turkmenistan without going through the American Embassy. At the moment, that was far too public. The only assets he could bring to bear in the short run from outside the country were big, military and already busy fighting a war. He figured that Morgan was about to be told by the President to keep the operation undercover, so all those American machines and soldiers would be of no use at all. He needed undetected penetration in Ashgabat, and he needed it now.
“Okay, Randy. I’ll accept your help. You must understand that the folks you are helping here will be your worst nightmare once this operation is over.”
Pullin didn’t hesitate. “What can I do for you?”
“I want you to get Grundstrom and Brandt into Turkmenistan without the authorities knowing they are in country. I’m going to contact our Embassy in Ashgabat. Depending on what I learn from that, I may want to join them in a few days, as soon as I’m sure we have a game there.”
“I’ll do it,” said Randy enthusiastically, “Anything else?”
“Yes, there is plenty. Start thinking about how to assist us if we have to go in to Iran. We think the guy that’s got the object may try to sell it there.”
“I’m on it!” Randy Pullin was, if anything, unflappable.
Steck clicked off wondering how he could be stupid enough to risk his whole career on such a crazy plan. After a moment, he laughed out loud, thinking to himself, “Plan? What flippin’ plan?”
________
Paul Roche sat in the restaurant of the Sheraton Hotel in Ashgabat, reading Neutralny Turkmenistan the government run newspaper. He could make out just enough Russian to catch the drift of the stories. One extolled the virtues of chicken farming, another talked about the prospects for a successful cotton crop. The rest of the paper was filled with stories about the pending capital infrastructure contracts to build the petro-chemical industry and a massive resort area on the Caspian Sea. Most of these contracts were let to firms in Saudi-Arabia and the UAE. Roche remembered that Osama Bin Laden’s family had made their fortune in these kinds of building projects. He wondered whether the next big terrorist organization would be financed from Turkmen profits.
The waiter brought Roche his meal of roasted chicken, plov, which is a traditional central Asian rice dish and tea. A small tray of fruit and three small
glasses of assorted fresh juices completed the meal. He longed for a good beer to wash it down, but there was none. He decided to go to a place called The British Pub later on. It was one of only two places in Ashgabat that was a hangout for émigrés. At least there he could have a pint before bedtime.
Two days in country and he already had made good progress, he thought. He had the addresses of Ajir International Trading Company and of Ajir at home. He had studied both locations and had photos of the entrances and exits, a map of the areas and a plan of attack, should that become necessary. He had photos of each of the family. He had followed Ajir and family to the home of his wife’s only relatives in Turkmenistan, a place she would certainly go to if there was trouble. Chris Taylor had hired two native Turkmen agents, former KGB who now lived in Tajikistan. They were on their way to Ashgabat and would soon be at Roche’s disposal. Finally, he had risked a visit to the Ajir International Trading Company. Presenting himself as Attorney Jacob Breen, he had proposed a deal to buy Cotton through Ajir to support needs in Britain. As Ajir himself was out of town, he was hosted by one of the junior members of the firm, a man named Suleiman, whose business card said he was an assistant to the managing director. He charmed the man into boasting of his position, his accomplishments as a trader and his future prospects in the company. He had finally managed a complete tour of the facilities.
Back at his hotel, Roche had sketched the interior layout of the building, including the elevator that seemed to go nowhere. He was certain that would lead him to The Hand of Mohammed. The only problems he had not solved yet were how to defeat the Russian security system and what sort of locks or vault lay at the exit of the elevator.
Back in his room, he thought of calling Taylor in Dushanbe, just to check-in. He decided to wait, giving Taylor the opportunity to originate the call at his convenience from an untraceable source. Sure enough, moments later the phone rang.
“It’s Chris Taylor. How are things going?”
“Things are going just fine. I’m all set up and waiting for the gentlemen from your end to show up.”
“You’ll find them at the President Hotel,” Taylor said. “If Ajir is going to hold an auction for visitors the President would be the likely spot for the meeting.”
“I’ll contact them tomorrow,” said Roche. “Urgabat is the name, right?”
“Right, Mister Urgabat and his associate, Mister Gronakat will be waiting to meet you.”
“I need some help with Russian electronics and security systems,” Roche declared. “Are either of those men able to give it?”
“Urgabat is your man,” Chris replied. “He has extensive experience with common types of installations in Turkmenistan and their operation.”
“I’m all set then,” Roche declared. “This should be easy.”
Taylor certainly hoped that Roche was right. “I’ll call tomorrow evening, your time. We will need to do this as soon as possible. The more days that go by, the better prepared Ajir will become.”
“Tomorrow night, then,” Roche said and clicked off.
_________
Ajir flew in to Teheran, arriving quite late in the day. He dispatched his plane back to Yemen, where it would pick-up a load of employees to shuttle back to Ashgabat. He planned to stay at his parents’ home for the next few days until the plane returned.
The men that the plane would collect in Yemen were part of the small militia that he maintained for security. Trained in terrorist techniques as well as guerilla warfare and special operations, these men would be protectors of The Hand of Mohammed until after its sale.
Riding from the Airport to downtown Teheran, he marveled at the pace of development, the modern buildings and showcase atmosphere of Teheran built up since his last visit home two years ago. The place was teeming with the prosperity that only an oil-rich nation can enjoy.
As he rode along, he relaxed, shedding his usual businessman persona to enjoy the company of family and friends for the next few hours. Except for tomorrow’s meeting, the next two days would be like being a kid again. This would be the first time he had spent away from business for more than a year. He hoped it would be a taste of what would come after his big score.
Teheran was built right up the side of a mountain. At the foot of the mountain urban sprawl crept out onto the desert. At the top of the mountain, snow fell for a good portion of the year. In the heights of the modern city, just below the entrance to the lift that took tourists and lovers to the top of the mountain, he arrived at his father’s posh home. The Ajir family came out to meet him at the curb. Early to bed, he promised himself. Tomorrow would be a long day.
CHAPTER 31
After speaking with Ryall Morgan about the orders from The Man, Steck called the U.S. Embassy in Ashgabat. He had not realized that this embassy had become more than just a backwater over the past few years. Langley even had a couple of agents on the ground, but they had not been there long. At least not long enough in Steck’s mind to commit to Operation Retrieve without vetting. Even so, he was glad to have whatever assistance they could offer.
Within minutes, they had located Mister Jacob Breen, esq. He was staying at the Sheraton. Steck now had to decide how to use that information and whether to ask these junior agents that he knew nothing about to get closer to Breen. He decided to wait until he had checked these guys out. There was no use risking the loss of those two agents to that fox Roche before the time.
Steck figured that Roche would move quickly, as he usually did. Roche knew better than to let the underground eyes of any strange city gain information about him. Better they should be left to do that after he was long gone and his mission accomplished.
Steck checked the agents out by calling an old and trusted friend at Langley. He was surprised to find that they were two of the best men the agency had in central Asia. He figured they were part of the agency’s renewed efforts to get back in the game across this part of the world. Both of the men spoke fluent Russian and were also able to read and write several local dialects, including Turkmen, a most difficult language to master. The official Turkmen alphabet had gone from Arabic to Cyrillic to Latin in just the past hundred years. Able to speak the language, they were well connected among the locals and had done some excellent field work. Their experience in clandestine operations was sparse. Still, they were what he had to work with so Steck called back and asked them to tail Roche.
The great decision that faced Steck this day was whether to stay in Amman where he knew the communications to be much better than he could hope for in Ashgabat or to go to Turkmenistan. If he waited longer, Roche might make his play before Steck could counteract it. He wished that Charlie West was still at the helm in Amman. If that were the case, he would be better off on the scene of the action. After much consideration, he decided to spend the day thoroughly briefing Ravi then to leave for Masr E Sharif in Afghanistan. From there, he could be inserted into Turkmenistan by Randy Pullin’s guys. That way he would not show up in the official records of those who came and went through the airport at Ashgabat. It would also give him time to re-route from Masr E Sharif if the action turned in some new direction. At the end of the day he typed a dispatch about his plans, sent it to Morgan, and caught a flight to Istanbul.
_________
Ajir emerged from his meeting in Teheran a happy man. It was a long day of very delicate negotiations with men he knew did not have the authority to make a deal. He knew from long experience that the fate of the deal rested with these underlings. Nothing would come of it unless he persuaded them to take it to the next level. He remained polite, taking care to stroke inflated egos and kowtow to idiocy. No less than eight detailed explanations of the deal and its terms had to be made before the buffoons began to understand it. The patience his father had taught him had paid off in the end, when the meeting was suddenly adjourned for three hours with no explanation. Ajir knew that the hiatus was for information to be presented to the Grand Ayatollah himself. He sat, drinking ice water a
nd chatting affably in Farsi to those who had remained to keep watch over him.
In the end, the meeting was re-convened. The spokesman simply presented a receipt for a one million Euro deposit made to Ajir’s account in Switzerland.
As he was driven back to his father’s house Ajir reflected on the day’s success. He allowed himself to entertain the thought that Allah might be guiding him to put the prophet’s hand into the right place. The resulting personal wealth would certainly be his just reward. Nevertheless, he would not talk of it nor boast even to his father until all was accomplished.
That evening, the family gathered at a restaurant owned by one of Ajir’s brothers-in-law. He had closed for the evening in order to make it a private party for the family. They would enjoy Chalu-kabob, a lamb and rice dish with yogurt sauce. They would laugh and listen to secular music and re-tell family stories that everyone knew by heart anyway.
Tomorrow the airplane would return to Teheran to collect Ajir for the final leg of his business trip, to the Peshawar region of Pakistan. There he would arrange for the third and final bidder.
________
Rashid the butcher constantly received feedback from his network of operatives all around Amman. He had gradually collected pieces of information about The Hand of Mohammed until the picture was quite clear to him. This was clearly the biggest deal in the entire Islamic world. Information about this would be valuable to many of his customers in the snoop business. He had been paid for the services performed for Roche and Taylor. In the customary unwritten rules of his business, that meant he was now a free agent.
After much thought, he decided that his most profitable next play would be with the Saudis. They had the most money to pay for good information and were usually ready to do so. He began by contacting a member of the Saudi security forces that he had dealt with in the past. He was careful not to disclose too much, but just enough to raise consciousness and interest in the rest of the story. By the time he had reached the third level of hierarchy, farther up in Saudi security than he had ever been, Rashid knew this would be a really big score.