The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  ‘I see you have been flying Ilyushin for 40 years, how many more years Roman do you think you will get out of her? Or even yourself?’

  ‘I think I have another good five years. I think Ilyushin may have less time left but we will find out if she starts free falling herself.’ Full of quick witty remarks he was a likeable character. Gerry was feeling good about this so far. The question circling in his head was whether he should just cut to the chase or keep putting the feelers out. Roman was a menace, slightly mental but that was a precondition for his occupation backed up by being Russian. He decided to continue and use his instinct to know when to launch into it properly.

  ‘After five years what will you do then? I take it you’ll miss these crazy seasons down here hitting the Blue Ice every few days?’

  ‘Yes it’s exciting, but it’s only challenging when the weather is really bad. I have over 500 ice touchdowns. Last year we miscalculated the fuel. We were only 100 kilometres from the landing strip and the weather was way too bad. Normally we always have enough fuel to make it back to Punta Arenas if we abort. This time we didn’t. Sometimes I do misread the dials, as it’s such an old aircraft and it’s not all computerised.’

  ‘You what?’ Gerry interrupted feigning shock but with an appalled grin on his face at the same time.

  ‘Yes, but it happens. I’m sure you have free-fallen a little drunk and forgotten something, but not your parachute I can tell that looking at you.’

  Again the hard and fast funnies kept coming.

  ‘So what happened Roman?’ Gerry asked like an excited schoolboy desperately wanting the outrageous answer.

  ‘Well, we told the passengers we were heading back due to bad weather and they could see and feel that anyway. After a few minutes I realised we did not have enough fuel in the tanks, well, in fact it was Andrei my co-pilot who noticed it. Lucky because he’s normally asleep. So I calmly told the passengers that a window had opened up and we were going for it. They were happy with that. Not knowing we were sweating and panicking in the cockpit I told Union Glacier we had to land as we had a technical fault. It would have been commercial suicide if I told them we had forgotten to fill the fuel tanks up properly. We would have been jailed and our licences taken away. It was a white-out so I ordered them to set the runway flares off. As long as I caught sight of one of the front markers I was confident I would pull it off. We caught the marker. It wasn’t the front one, but not the last one so we had a chance. I put her down and prayed we had enough ice left. Like a movie we did it, I had to reverse her, as there was not enough ice left to turn. No one knew anything was wrong, just the ground crew, but I blamed the surface for not allowing heavy braking due to the snow condition. It was almost a disaster, but we did it.’

  Gerry was convinced now that Roman was the man for this back channel insertion. He knew he could fast-forward his retirement plans. But before he got in to the figures he needed to covertly establish the check-in procedures the crew went through.

  ‘Roman you’re an iconic character in this part of the world, scary but impressive. It seems like it’s cowboy country out here. I mean you like your drink and like you said, I have done lots of free falls pissed with people attached to me, but doesn’t anyone check you before you get on the plane?’

  Roman threw his head back and roared. ‘This is Chile, Punta Arenas. I have worked 20 seasons here. We drive past in our van in the cargo entry point, give them a wave and drive on to the Iluyshin, we are like family here.’

  This was great news for Gerry. This meant Mick and Robby could be in the back of the van without being checked. It really was cowboy country. In the ass end of the world why would you bother checking the crew flying to Antarctica? And it was Latin America, a culture that considered itself too ‘cool’ for doing anything properly. Gerry quickly added, ‘ I take it they don’t stop you on the way back either then when you’re really pissed.’

  ‘No, no, we go as we please. I mean what can you smuggle out of Antarctica apart from ice creams.’ Laughing yet again at another one of his own quirks Roman raised his glass.

  Touching glasses, Gerry smiled genuinely with Roman, liking the cut of his jib. He sighed inwardly hoping that he would not have to resort to blackmail, it was always a last resort. Years of recruiting agents or handling sources had taught him a few things; for longevity of any professional relationship, how you get the initial buy-in is critical. He had found that most people normally want to offer their services for the traditional exchange of money, obviously through the medium of working for the greater good. Wanting to ‘make a difference’ was the sort of bullshit most agents added to give them credibility and distance them from simply being a grass or blatant deserter. This type of false play just flew over Gerry’s head. Unless they really put their bollocks on the chopping block to gain hardcore information, or contact with really bad people, it was for the green, the US dollar. Money talks all the time. However this was different. It was a one-off job. Benign country. No hostilities that Roman knew about. How would he react to a favour for a few million odd bucks? Without having to apply the pressure with the honeytrap ace card. Gerry just knew he had to act as professionally and seriously as he could and to demonstrate that he was not winding him up. He would give him half of the plan, and half of the money.

  ‘Roman that last story about the fuel shortage and your amazing landing in complete white-out was outrageous. Have you ever committed an act of lunacy or covered up a mistake that no one will ever get to hear about?’

  ‘Ha Gerry, a question like that means you must have, right?’

  ‘We all have our secrets Roman, for the greater good, and to save marriages of course.’ Laughing and raising his glass again they both have another toast recognising their deceitful similarities once again.

  ‘In England we say, “What goes on tour stays on tour” so what happens in Punta Arenas, stays in Punta Arenas hey?’

  ‘Exactly, “what goes on tour stays on tour” I like that one. But Gerry I have a few things I will never tell anyone. In fact sometimes I hate reminding myself I actually have done some of these silly things. But there is always a good reason at the time I think, you agree?’

  ‘Totally. There is a reason for everything we do in life. Sometimes we don’t know why we do these things but it’s for the right reasons I believe.’

  ‘Yes. We do Gerry, we do. I’m not a bad man just a little crazy.’ Gerry paused while Roman seemed to analyse himself and be content with the results.

  ‘It’s a good crazy though from what I have witnessed and read about you,’ Gerry placed his elbows on the table both hands clamped together and briefly stroked his lightly stubbled chin, signalling to the team surrounding them that he was about to break his proposition to Roman. Smiling at Roman, nothing was out of place. They were both having fun, and Roman had turned out to be a right character.

  ‘Roman,’ Gerry said with a crisper and more authoritative tone. Roman simply nodded and instinctively took the glass away from his lips, before placing it back on the table.

  ‘I don’t want to be the first team to free fall in to the South Pole. Therefore I don’t want to carry out any reconnaissance or dry runs in the Ilyushin. I am here for another reason. This reason will change your life forever if you want to be a part of something I consider extremely special.’ Roman’s face lit up with this, and a certain degree of soberness gave clarity to his eyes. He was focusing intently on Gerry’s words now. The jokes were gone, the games were over.

  ‘In two days’ time on your planned logistical flight to Union Glacier I want you to fly two men into Antarctica. Undetected.’ Roman lent back a little, raising his eyebrows, about to talk, Gerry placed his palm up to indicate him to listen, before continuing.

  ‘I want you to take my two friends in your van and get them onto Ilyushin with no one else knowing. They will have all their own gear. All you
have to do is open the tailgate of Ilyushin at the release point, they jump out, parachuting of course and you continue as normal. That’s it.’

  Roman looked completely confused. Squinting his eyes and just looking at Gerry in amazement. He thought it was definitely a joke. Gerry interjected again as Roman was about to ask for an explanation.

  ‘This is just another one of “those secrets”. This secret will earn you and your crew two million dollars. You will never see me again or the men you meet briefly. I have half a million dollars for you tonight and you will receive the rest when we are all gone. And believe me, this conversation is taking place Roman, and I am deadly serious. Any questions?’

  ‘Are you fucking crazy? Is this for real?’ Roman was starting to get a little agitated glancing around the restaurant and bar before looking back at Gerry.

  ‘I am a highly professional man within a highly professional group of people. We are good people but doing a sensitive type of job, that everyone will benefit from in the future. We need your help Roman, and we will pay you substantially. I am British, but working for a lot of people and countries. Maybe in the future you may realise you helped more people than you can imagine.’

  ‘But, what is happening in Antarctica. Why a secret Gerry?’

  ‘We both agreed earlier some things never need to be disclosed, but that doesn’t mean it’s about a bad thing. This is just a sensitive secret. I want literally six hours of your time. Six hours means you and your crew could quit after this season is out,’ Gerry purposely tried to make light work of the situation.

  The waiter came to the table and asked whether they would like to order. This gave another opportunity for Gerry to show his expertise. In fluent Latin American Spanish, he effortlessly told the waiter that they were fine for the moment, and the wine was extremely well balanced and light on his palette.

  Roman immediately tuned in to what Gerry was attempting to exemplify; his knowledge, expertise and highly intellectual capacity. Almost reassuring Roman he was a consummate professional and English gentleman.

  Gerry handed over his iPhone to Roman. ‘Scroll through these photographs.’ As Roman did Gerry kept talking. ‘We are a top-end asset as you can see. We’re not here to intimidate you. Those pictures are not there to threaten you. I am just reassuring you we are at the top end of our business working for powerful organisations. We don’t muck about. There are other ways that I could ask for your help, but that would not be asking then, that would be telling you and we don’t want to do business that way do we?’

  Roman was looking at images of him and Andrei from the previous three days. Leaving their hotel, eating in cafes, drinking in bars. Even visiting the penguin farm on a one-day boat trip to an island off Punta whilst Gerry’s smoothly articulated tones ran over him.

  The honeytrap images and film were not there. Gerry was playing clean, at this moment. He was hedging his bets on the fact that Roman would be impressed by the clinical approach to his request, without applying undue pressure.

  ‘Roman let’s drink up, pay up and go for a quick drive.’

  ‘A drive where?’ Roman inquires, still a little unsettled but no doubt running a few figures through his head.

  ‘Around town then I will drop you back. I have something to show you and we can talk properly.’

  ‘I don’t know Gerry. Things have changed a lot in the last five minutes.’

  ‘Yes they have, you can plan your retirement and I can plan the next two days for my two men.’ Nodding his head at Roman to indicate agreement, this subliminal gesture was a classic technique to get the other person nodding too.

  ‘Come on Roman, there is nothing to be afraid of. Let’s talk more.’ Gerry reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handful of notes and placed them on the table to cover the bill. Standing up he gestured for Roman to walk before him, as any polite friend would do. Obliging, the men headed for the entrance.

  ‘Zero. November that’s B2 and Gerry walking towards exit.’

  ‘Roger November, standby Yankee for pick-up.’ This instructed the driver that it was time to pull up and pick up Gerry and Roman.

  ‘Yankee, that’s me approaching the pick-up point,’ Gerry was walking Roman outside to where Yankee had just pulled up in a Black BMW 6 Series. Opening the rear left door, Gerry gestured Roman inside.

  Within seconds of the car pulling away Gerry continued his pitch. A brown leather bag was in between them, the size of a weekend bag. This was the type of bag that Gerry had lived his whole life out of.

  ‘Open the bag Roman,’ Gerry asked. Roman paused. ‘Go on open it,’ Roman still a little shaky located the zip and pulled it open to look inside. ‘There is five hundred thousand in there as a deposit. That’s yours now to keep. Count it back at the hotel but I assure you it’s five hundred. I have a few bags like that. If you prefer I can wire transfer to an offshore entity, but I thought you would prefer this type of transaction for returning to Russia, right?’ Gerry confirms.

  ‘Do I have a choice Gerry about this whole thing?’

  ‘Make the choice that is best for you and your family’s future. This car is obviously not a taxi Roman. You are a pilot of a very unique taxi. We want to use that taxi for a drop-off. Think of that money as a tip. The only risk you run is getting caught with the two men in the back of the van entering the runway. If you do get caught they will tell the authorities you knew nothing about it. This I can assure you.’

  ‘What are you people? Spies, an assassination team or CIA? I don’t believe this is happening. It’s a lot to take in right now,’ Roman said still shocked by the disclosure and proposition.

  ‘I know that, but it’s so simple. In two days’ time you will open the tailgate and your passengers will jump out. Done.’

  ‘If I say no, though, I’m getting the feeling that “no” is not a possible answer.’ Gerry remained deadpan and stared straight ahead.

  ‘What will happen to me?’

  ‘We have been following you everywhere Roman. I think you know that the images I have shown you are very tame in comparison to the other stuff we may have possession of. The other stuff can go viral instantly, globally. The email addresses we have for you, you would find interesting. As I said, let’s do this the right way and everyone wins. The cleaner the better for us both, no friction equals no problems. I won’t lie. Whatever you do, say or send we will know about. That’s our insurance policy for the next few days, your insurance policy is in that bag.’

  Gerry knew he was on the tip of turning Roman. Though it was coercion, no direct threats were issued. ‘We are going to drop you off now at your hotel. I will phone you in two hours to get your answer.’

  Roman let out an uncomfortable sigh to suggest he was only ever given one choice. And he was right.

  He held the bag firmly in his right hand, and walked thought the revolving doors of his hotel. With his back to Gerry it was difficult to imagine whether Roman had a huge smile on his face, or whether he was going to do something stupid.

  Either option the surveillance teams had him covered physically and their technical infrastructure had all of his communications monitored. Roman had an interesting two hours ahead of him whether sweating it out or jumping around on a bed full of dollars.

  Chapter 21

  These two hours were crucial for Gerry who had to co-ordinate the next item on his to-do list, acquiring the weapons to kill WHITEOUT. Arms dealers could be very touchy characters to new clients especially foreigners. However this Santiago dealer was another favour from his Venezuelan friend so Gerry hoped suspicion would be avoided.

  So far all his requests had been honoured perfectly. No doubt this would be the same. Whoever was dropping the weapons would just want the money then to be as far away from the weapons as possible.

  Pablo’s Bar had all the markings of a seedy little side-alley es
tablishment that offered refreshment both in the form of liquid and in women. For a small town, the micro-economies of drinking and prostitution seemed to be flourishing.

  Parking one block away to the west Gerry and a surveillance team operator started walking to the bar. The rest of the team carried out the standard drill of providing 360-degree coverage of the area so that in the event that things got heated they could be in close support of Gerry and also catch the arms dealer if he tried to make a quick break. Gerry was seasoned and never really fazed by these encounters. It was what it was, and he had a reliable source saying this dealer was okay. In his eyes the meet would involve the introduction, the inspection of the goods, then the fee exchange, probably in a backroom that the whores used. Arms dealers usually had a sidekick for safety. He might be with him or over watching inside the bar, or even parked up somewhere just like Gerry’s surveillance team. The team would pick this up for sure. This was a classic scenario called ‘watching the watchers’. It was this aspect, when one inexperienced asset’s cover gets paranoid and jumps the gun, instantly turning an innocent handover of weapons or drugs, into a horrific bloodbath. The authorities loved these types of exchanges. Self-policing and culling by gangs themselves was something happily reported on numerous occasions in South American enclaves. Gerry pushed these thoughts out of his mind knowing that the team could handle themselves. This was Latin America, one layer of protection in a ruleless world, not Eastern Europe where they would do dead letter box exchanges or brush contacting information to the drop point knowing the layers would be deeper.