He was shown into a large dining room with a table set for lunch. He was offered wine and a seat. Lesta appeared to great him. They sat and lunch began.
“You know Dovzhenko?” asked Lesta.
“Not really, I was in the market for something and he recommended you.”
Lesta was being guarded. He did not know this man and he need to tread cautiously. “I am a banker. Is it perhaps a loan you seek?”
“That would be nice, but in truth I was hoping to buy some machinery.”
There was silence as they ate. Lesta had tried to gain as much information as he could about the man he was sharing his table with. There was reassuring little to be found out about the Driver. He did know that he had worked with Hambros Benedict and that was a name that was known and trusted. “Tell me about Mr Benedict?”
The Driver realised that this was a test as to his credentials and his identity. It soon been clear that Lesta and Benedict’s paths had crossed. The atmosphere between the two men lightened as each gained confidence in the other.
How can I help?” said Lesta.
The Driver pulled his shopping list from his pocket and placed it on the table between them. Lesta read in silence and stared long and hard at the man opposite. “This is a very expensive list. Can you afford it?”
There in lay the Driver’s problem. Adnan had made it clear that ISIS would only pay on receipt of the goods in Syria and not before. He would need to do the deal of his life if he was to pull it off. With Benedict’s help, he could raise about seventy five million. He decided to be honest. “I am not sure. What do you have and what can you supply?”
“I can supply four Buks and an extra set of Grizzly missiles. For each, three hundred million dollars”
“Two hundred, I will pay fifty million as a deposit and the balance when I sell”
“You want me to trust you with a loan of one hundred and fifty million?” Lesta stayed calm showing no emotion, he had paid Dovzhenko nearly half of what was on the table. “I am sorry, I don’t think we can do business;”
It was so close the Driver could taste it. “Two hundred and fifty million and seventy five down. That’s my limit” He had agreed a price of what amounted to five hundred million dollars with Adnan. That would effectively turn his and Benedict’s seventy five into two hundred and fifty million.
“You are responsible for transporting the goods from where they are, which is in the Crimea by the way. I will arrange the export licence outward, but you need to sort the end user certificates and onward transport.”
“Agreed”
“I will arrange a line of credit for one hundred and seventy five million with a Bank, so you can pay me the full two hundred and fifty up front.”
“What bank would lend an arms smuggler that sort of money?” The Driver was puzzled.
“Oh! Do not worry, it is called the Baltic Bank and I guarantee it is ready and waiting to do business with you.”
Chapter 11
The Driver knew that he was playing for high stakes and his chance to bat in the major leagues. With the proceeds from this deal, he could be that step closer to not just being rich but part of the super rich. Now he had agreed his price with Lesta, he needed to sell on to Adnan and his ISIS chums. He was sitting at a table outside the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. Adnan had texted the location from the airport when he had landed. Adnan was late, so he sat and sipped his coffee and people watched.
There was the usual motley crew of street vendors chasing Tourists and pickpockets plying their trade. For both, pickings were slim. The recent bombings and rise in state control were ensuring the downward trend in tourism was increasing. The rising rate of unemployment was having visible effects as well. Men were gathered on street corners waiting for casual labour or just smoking and talking. The influx of Syrian refugees had added to the pool of unskilled labour in the Country. Syrian boys as young as twelve would do the lowliest of jobs for a few pence a day. While the Government took vast sums from the EU, to prevent the refugees overwhelming the borders of the EU Countries with unwanted migrants, the camps in Turkey filled up with them.
A Syrian woman, dressed in the long black traditional dress, was making her way past a group of men standing by the corner of the alley, a few paces from where the Driver sat. They watched her progress, as she turned to pass them and go down the side road they started calling out racial abuse. It was clear that they had a real hatred and disgust for the woman. It seemed that the feeling was shared by the majority of the passers-by, who ignored the unfolding assault.
“Syrian whore,” seemed the most popular insult the men employed as they pushed her from side to side. While brothels were legal and State sponsored in Turkey, the conservative government were steadily closing them down or driving them away from the centre. The prostitutes were licensed by the State and they were just not granting new permits to the sex workers, consequently the number available to the brothels were diminishing, so they had to close their doors. The biggest demand among Turkish men was for shemales, pre op transgender men and they were visible sitting on balconies in the old part of the town. The demand was, of course, still there for female prostitutes but the supply was diminishing. The Syrian women, in a bid to feed their families and with no work available for their husbands, were filling the gap.
The men were becoming increasingly abusive to the woman. “Like it up the arse?” one shouted to the encouragement of the others. Most of the sexual activity of the prostitutes, legal or illegal, centred on anal sex. The young Turkish men watched a diet of Western porn with the uninhibited porn stars being sodomised and apparently enjoying it. Their wives, more traditional and constrained, did not provide the service at home. The Syrian women were cheap and available but still denigrated.
The group of men had pulled the woman further back into the alley and were pulling at her clothes, grabbing her breasts and pushing their hands up her long gown, between her legs. The Driver wondered if he was to witness a rape over his coffee. It was clear that the police and passers- by had no intention of intervening and he certainly had no intention of drawing attention to himself. In any event, the Driver was not of a heroic disposition.
Matters came to a swift but violent conclusion. A young athletic man appeared and moving fast, with obvious combat training and almost balletic movements, broke noses and jaws. The man ran and the young man waved the Syrian woman on her way. The incident was over in a Split second, the Driver noted that he certainly would not want to be in the young man’s bad books.
Adnan walk from the affray and sat down opposite The Driver. “Nice to see you again,” he said, with no hint of breathlessness following his fight with the men. He had been watching the Driver at the table for some while when the assault on the woman had begun. He was a Syrian, had joined up to overthrow Assad. He had taken part in the demonstrations as a student, but become more and more of the opinion that there was something better in this life and had gravitated towards fundamentalist Islam. His aim now was the restoration of the Caliphate. Not a single country, but a Muslim area stewarded over by a single spiritual successor to the Prophet Muhammad.
“Impressive,” said the Driver.
Adnan smiled, “Not really, I get quite a lot of practice.”
There was a silence while the Driver looked for a way to broach the subject of arms selling. He called the waiter over and ordered two more coffees and sat back while they were made.
Finally, Adnan broke the silence, “Well?”
The Driver reached into his pocket and handed the specification across the table. He watched as Adnan’s expression changed from one of mild impatience to disbelief. “You have this?”
The Driver nodded. His exterior calm covered the tension he felt. The price was now the issue. Would ISIS pay the figure he had in mind.
“How much?”
“Half a billion US dollars,” the Driver said it matter of factly as though he was asking for payment of the weekly shopping bill in a superm
arket.
Adnan’s eyes widen and he let out a long slow breath. “When can we have them?”
“When can you pay?”
Adnan took a slow sip of his coffee and stared into the middle distance. The Driver felt his heart rate rise. This was the make or break. He waited trying to keep a poker face and betray none of the eagerness he was feeling. Finally, the silence was broken.
“We will pay your price, but there will be conditions.” He paused and watched as The Driver’s facial expression tried to remain impassive, but he knew that he was eager to do the deal, hungry in fact and greedy.
“What conditions?”
“Cash on delivery in Syria, once we have the goods we will transfer the money electronically. Secondly you organise the paper work and transport.”
The Driver could not believe that his price had been accepted without argument. He had underestimated the need for ISIS missile defence against the US air attacks. If, and when the Russians were persuaded to work jointly with the Americans and target ISIS, the air assault would be devastating. The Grizzly missiles and the mobility the Buk-M2E system offered, would mean that ISIS would have a much better chance of prevailing.
The Driver knew that he had one big problem ,Turkey. Lesta could get the missiles out of the Crimea, given the right paper work. The Driver intended to obtain a purchase order from the Saudis and supply Lesta with it. He would then have to import the shipment into Turkey and truck it to the Syrian border. While he had connections with Saudi Arabia and knew their support for Al Qaeda, he had no contacts in Turkey.
He thought and decided that he had no alternative but to come straight out with it. “I have no contacts in Turkey. I need to truck the goods from Istanbul to the border. I cannot take the risk, I need the paperwork.”
“We have the contacts. A man called Mehmet, he is head of Turkish Intelligence. He is a greedy and dangerous man but we have dealt with him many times. I will need to pay him, so I pay you less”
“How much less?”
“Two hundred million”
“That is ridiculous”
“So is your price.”
The Driver was secretly overjoyed. The deal could not be better. He was putting up a mere seventy five million, the Baltic bank were lending him one hundred and fifty to pay Lesta and he would clear three hundred million before expenses, such as transport and bribes. His seventy five million would turn into a quarter of a billion dollars or more.
Both men shook hands and both men walked away happy. Now the hard work began. Adnan had to deal with Mehmet and The Driver had the Saudis to convince. Things were progressing nicely thought the Driver, as he sat in the taxi to the airport.
Chapter 12
Adnan had arrived two hours early for his meeting with Mehmet. The road, in which the Hamam or Turkish bath was, was in a busy area of the Faith district, making it easy to merge with the shoppers. He had met Mehmet, the deputy head of the security service, on two previous occasions and he had nothing but dislike for the man. He had no choice but to do business with him, but there was always an element of uncertainty in the outcome.
The Turkish attitude towards the more fundamental Islamic movement was mixed and often contradictory. Whist along with the Kurds, ISIS was branded a terrorist organisation, the more fundamentalist views it propounded to were closer to the Governments more reactionary beliefs than to the secularism line promulgated in the Country. It was also an elite divide, the more wealthy, looking to maintain the secularism in which they thrived, while the poorer mass of the population were looking for change. The conflict over the Kurdish homeland also added confusion to the mix. The Government was not averse to using ISIS as an excuse to cover their attacks on the Kurds.
The background tension within Turkey made Adnan’s position and relationship with Mehmet precarious. There was no doubt that he would take a bribe if it suited him, but in the final analysis he would put Turkish interest first. Adnan was banking on the fact that a fully armed ISIS in Syria served Turkey’s aims. Tensions between Turkey and the Russians were high after the shooting down of a Russian aircraft that had flown into Turkish airspace. The conflict between ISIS and the Kurds was also not unappealing to the Turks.
Adnan had arrived early to see if any form of trap was being set to take him. If it suited Mehmet, he was quite capable of using the capture of a high ranking commander to further himself or curry favour with his superiors. He had scouted the baths and surrounding area and was fairly confident that today was not the day Mehmet was going to take him prisoner.
As he watched the entrance to the baths, situated between two small shops, he was curious to see two young men kissing just behind the narrow arch that lead to the entrance. Whist homosexuality was not a crime, a public display such as this was highly unusual and risky. One of the men continued to the baths and the other walked off and disappeared into the crowd.
Adnan did one last circuit of the immediate area and headed inside to the bathhouse. The outside had seen better days and could have done with some renovation work, but the domed interior with its columns rising to the roof was splendid. He underessed and placed his clothes in the full length lockers. The young man he had seen kissing his lover outside was busying himself assembling oils and towels, ready for his massage duties.
He waited outside the bathing area for Mehmet’s arrival. He arrived exactly at the appointed time. They acknowledged each other and proceeded to the washing, scraping and steaming ritual. The baths had been a meeting place for socialising and business since the Ottomans. Adnan and Mehmet were following an age old tradition as they sat to discuss matters.
“We need clearance to move some goods from Istanbul to the Syrian border.” Adnan reached the point of their meeting after exchanging pleasantries.
“What sort of goods?”
“Let’s call it humanitarian aid.”
“Let’s not. Why don’t you tell me, exactly what you want me to allow into Syria.”
Adnan was fairly sure that Mehmet did not give a flying fuck what went into Syria as long as it posed no risk to Turkey and lined his pocket in the process. The issue was that if Mehmet knew the cargo, would he adjust the price accordingly? He tried to obscure the exact contents of the convoy,” Ammunition, light arms and medical supplies.”
“How many trucks?”
“Nine or ten”
“Now here is an odd thing. As you may know I operate an intelligence network and it is telling me something different. Now how would you account for that?” said Mehmet.
Adnan was beginning to feel that this was not going to be a cheap day. The Driver had extracted a very full price for the missile systems and now it looked like safe passage was going to add to the tally. “You obviously have your answers, so shall we move to the price?”
“My sources tell me that at least three or four of the trucks will need to be extra wide. To me that suggests something very big, but more to the point, something very expensive. Am I right?”
Adnan nodded and knew the price was rising by the sentence.
Mehmet smiled, “Well I think fifty thousand a truck. Call it half a million dollars.”
Adnan was shocked, that was five times more than he anticipated. He now had a dilemma. Did the man sitting in the towel in front of him really know what he was transporting or was he fishing. “That is a crazy number,” he said.
Mehmet sat silent for a while. He too was trying to gauge the value of the load. He was a good reader of men. He had not risen so far without the ability to see if someone was lying. “I think it is a reasonable number given what you want me to let pass.” He was bluffing. The only information he had was from some haulage contractors who had been in discussions with an Englishman. He was not even sure that the two were connected.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand,” said Adnan.
Mehmet knew his hunch was right. If he had said ten thousand a truck he would have accepted it was food and small arms, but to offer that sort of money,
he knew Adnan had something far more valuable to ISIS than a few automatic rifles.
“Half a million or your trucks won’t leave the quayside.”
Adnan knew he was outmanoeuvred. “Ok. But we will only pay when we cross the border”
“I think not. You have ten days to put the money in this account.” He removed a card from the small bag he had beside him in which he had his keys, phone and wallet.
Adnan took the card and holding on to it got up to leave. Mehmet spoke again. “Won’t you join us for a bit of fun and games?” He indicated the young gay man Adnan had seen kissing earlier.
“I think you have shafted me once and I think that is enough for one day.”
Mehmet could not help but laugh as he made his way to the private massage room with the young man.
Chapter 13
The Driver received the news from Adnan that the way was clear for the transit of his cargo across Turkey from Istanbul to the Syrian border. He now needed an export license to move the goods from the port of Sevastopol in the Crimea and across the Black Sea to Istanbul
The political situation of the Peninsular presented its own challenges. In 2014 the Crimea and Sevastopol became part of the Russian Federation following the annexation of the territory and a dubious referendum held under Russian military supervision. However the European Union, most nations and the United Nations still consider Crimea and Sevastopol to be part of Ukraine
The Driver knew that there was a real danger in exporting arms from the region. Sanctions existed and even without them, the Russians were not likely to allow the export of rocket launchers that may be used by ISIS against the Russian air force in Syria. The solution was Saudi Arabia.
The Driver needed an order from the Saudi government to satisfy the export requirements to ship the missiles from the Crimea. Pressure in Britain, which had been selling vast amounts of weapons to the Saudis, was building to stop the trade. Human rights violations and the active support by the Saudis of dissident groups in the Yemen and all over the region were beginning to raise concerns. The US had stopped supplying the Saudis with arms and Britain had stepped in to fill the gap. Momentum was gathering among the Members of Parliament in the UK to stop the trade. Time may well be running out for the Driver to use the Saudi route to acquire the documentation.
Dealer (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 3) Page 5
